Chapter Four

Chapter Four

 

            Zarrath’s body fell to the floor in spasms. Max spun at me with Zarrath’s ichor running down his face. He was just a few feet away, but I raised my piece and squeezed. I fired only two bullets. The first took him in the right knee and tore his leg near in half. Max crumpled to the floor with a grunt. They made a sound like when you stand on bubble wrap. I took a step forward and brought the steel enforced toe of my boot into his ribs. The second bullet I sent into his prosthesis, at the shoulder. The bullet screamed into the metal and sparks flew. I knew the arm would no longer move and I felt a little safer. Lying on his back and screaming with his gums bared like a horse, I stomped on his left wrist and went to look at Zarrath.

He was limp as a dead fish. His coat lay spread out under him like a sheet, his carapace glinting black in the yellow light of the room. He had the face of a smashed in china doll �" half of the exoskeleton still intact. Bits of Zarrath dripped from the ceiling.

‘You’ve got a pump-gimlet, you slimy b*****d,’ I said to Max as he lay on the floor. Max’s face was filthy with my friend’s insides.

A pump-gimlet is a weapon used by the lowest of the low. It’s effectively a modernised bang stick made with compressed air that, when released, provides a similar kick to a short range shotgun shell. He had one installed into his mechanical arm.

I dragged him to a sink at the far end of the room and cuffed him to the faucet. ‘Stop screaming,’ I said with my fist. I think he heard me.

I didn’t know what to do next, I was confused and full of adrenaline. I found Max’s stash and made myself a hard one. I sat on his couch and thought.

This might seem cold, with my friend lying dead on the floor, but I was suddenly unsure of just about the entire case, including my place in it. I tried to sort out my known order of events for a few minutes, finished my drink and had a look around.

It was a dingy little place that looked like a war had been fought inside it. Until just recently that had not been the case. There were two windows in the apartment that looked out across to the wall of the block next door. Against the walls were stacks of old tech, a few bundles of magazines, a mirror and some ladies all spread out on big posters. I flicked through some of it, found a sheet of hallucinogenics, but that’s not what I was interested in. I turned back to Max.

He was quiet, leaning up against the wall staring at something a few kilometres away.

His face was waxier than before, white and glossy with sweat. He was breathing in little bursts and his eyes were closed, but I knew his leg would be alright for another while longer. I’d have called an agency if I wasn’t so sure one was already on its way.

I crouched in front of him, but not close enough for him to reach me. ‘You awake there, Max?’ I asked.

‘Screw you,’ he said. His voice was pretty quiet, which I didn’t like.

‘You’re not going brave on me, are you Max? You seem like you’ve got a story to tell me. After you kill a friend of mine, it’s best that you cooperate. You kill Lawrence Seer?’

He lifted his chin and opened his lips a little. One of his gold teeth winked out at me like it wanted to tell me a secret. ‘No,’ he said.

I lent a little closer. ‘No, what? No, you didn’t kill him? Or, no, you don’t want to talk? Which one, Max, and maybe I’ll see what I can do about calling you a doctor.’

‘I didn’t kill him.’

‘Then who did?’ Max closed his eyes a little tighter, let his jaw hang a little looser. ‘Who killed him, Max?’

‘You did,’ he said. His voice was a whisper.

I gave Max a slap. ‘Don’t go to sleep, pal. I didn’t kill Lawrence. I never heard of the guy till after he was dead. Alright, if you’re not going to tell me about that �" maybe we can chat about Caribez and some paper documents, no? Want to tell me about those? I’m sure you wouldn’t mind a med team here to fix you up, that can be arranged.’ His head tilted forward and I lifted it up by the chin, gave him another slap. ‘Max, what were the documents?’

‘I don’t work for Caribez,’ he said, then he was out.

I made the decision not to wake him up, so I went into the other room where he kept his little bed, tore up some sheets and tied them firmly above his knee. I poured a second whiskey and had it straight, sitting on the couch and watching the door. I had my gun resting on my thigh.

I drank and I waited.

Another minute went by and I heard footsteps outside. Two voices, trailed up the stair case, entered the hallway and stopped outside the door. An agency man stepped into the room with his navy blue uniform, followed by another �" both in full kit. ‘Well s**t,’ said the first in a practiced American accent he’d learned from old films as he looked around the room. His eyes went from Zarrath’s body, to the spray of ichor on the roof, to Max at the wall, to me.

When he got to me he had his gun out. So did I.

‘Who the hell are you?’ he demanded. His partner entered the room and drew his piece. The first was older, about forty or forty-five, with dark brown hair and a thick moustache that didn’t sit well under his round nose. He held his gun with confidence. The second, a rookie at my guess, was a little more shaky which made me nervous. He had blue watery eyes and white blonde hair, pink lips and about as much facial hair as a worm.

‘I’m a private detective,’ I said calmly. ‘You’re not after me, so I’m going to lower my gun and so are you both, am I right?’

The older one nodded. ‘You are.’

We all lowered our guns, but I kept mine on my thigh. I didn’t get up just yet.

‘We heard their were gunshots from one of the families upstairs,’ said the younger one. ‘Came right over.’

I smiled. ‘That’s funny,’ I said. ‘I didn’t hear your sirens �" but my ears are ringing, on account of nearly being short of a face.’

The older one forced a smile. ‘You’re going to need to explain what happened here, friend. Starting with your name, a license would be nice too.’

I drained the rest of my drink and stood up. I put my gun its holster, nice and slow for the two agents’ state of mind. From another pocket I drew out my wallet, flashed my license on its screen.

‘Edgar Darvish,’ the older one said. ‘I’ve heard your name, been on the job a while �" no?’

‘I’ve put in some hours,’ I said.

The younger one edged up to me. ‘I was hoping you might tell us what happened here, Ed.’ He had a voice like a broken clarinet. It was never sure where it wanted to go and that gave it a cruel edge.

I gave a sharp turn to the older one. ‘Remind your partner that I’ve just seen a friend, the one he’s just about standing in, get half his skull blown off, and I’m feeling a little edgy.’

The older one eyed the blonde, he looked at me with his blue eyes and took a step back. Those were eyes were the kind of eyes that would lead a man into nothing but trouble.

‘Me and my friend,’ I continued, ‘Were following a case which lead us here. We tried to ask Max a few questions and he pulled heat. We disarmed him but it got ugly, my friend lost his head and Max turned on me �" I used my firearm and that was that. Not five minutes later you guys show up.’ I tried to smile, but my mouth was trying to match the grim looks the agents were giving me. ‘Say, what agency were you boys from? I forget if you’ve told me.’

‘Argo Security,’ said the older one.

‘I knew it,’ I said and made to leave. ‘I sure do love that uniform. Now, if you’ll excuse me friends�"’

The blonde put his palm to my chest. ‘Not so fast, dick,’ he whispered. ‘Got some particulars I want to sort out. First off, what’s this case you’ve got going �" anything we need to worry about?’ His eyes flickered between me and the older agent, who was now walking round the apartment. He bent down to pick up something at the other end of the room. The blonde one said, ‘Hey, Ed, I’m asking a question.’

I took a step back from him, opened my coat a bit to remind him of the piece at my chest. ‘It’s really nothing that should worry a big agency, I said. Just an anxious girl is worrying about her beau falling in with the wrong crowd. It’s sad, really, we spooked Max and guns were drawn. Guess he was involved in something a bit bigger than either of us had thought.’

‘Yeah,’ said the blonde as the old agent came over with two guns in his hands. ‘Much bigger.’

‘Which of these was your friend’s?’ he asked. I looked at his hands, then his eyes. It was like they were made of black plastic.

‘That one,’ I said.

The older agent let Max’s gun out of his fingers as if he’d forgotten it was there. He looked down at Max. Max wasn’t saying much. The older agent shot Max. Max didn’t say much then either.