~~~~~~
Doctor Forest rushed into the bay. All eyes turned to him, as he strode to Shotgun’s bedside. Forest took Shotgun’s wrist and checked his pulse. “Patrick, you managed to alarm everyone, but you’re going to be fit as a fiddle.” Setting down his wrist, the doctor asked, “Are you thirsty?”
He held up his empty cup. “Yes. I’m as dry as a Forbidden Zone.”
“We’ll get some water for you. You were drugged. The poison they slipped you was a new form of street Soma. It’s called a Roosevelt. They call it that because it’s smuggled up from the river. It’s non-toxic, but causes extreme drowsiness. Aftereffects include thirst and a mild headache.
“We had a hard time identifying it. The lab ran several tests twice for confirmation. The concentrations were extremely low and the scans missed it. We only checked because we’ve had more than one poisoning by Roosevelt.
“You’re very lucky it wasn’t something worse. Whoever gave you this probably meant you no physical harm.”
“That clinches it,” said Jack, “they’re involved in something or they wouldn’t have poisoned you.”
“Maybe,” said Gumshoe, “and maybe not. Anything else, doc?”
“Just getting Patrick released.” Forest slapped the bedrail. “The nurse will bring you some water and a mild painkiller. Just don’t drive, or operate machinery until you’ve had a good night’s rest. Understood?”
“Will do doc, thanks.”
“Sure and next time, maybe you can invite me to a show.”
“All our performance were cancelled,” said Jack, “but I hope we can perform at the Grove under Iron Mountain. Here take a few of these.” Clay proffered a few of his cards.
“Evening gentlemen, I’d love to chat, but we’re expecting another transport from the Moon in a couple of hours. I have to move everyone I can before they arrive.” Forest thanked Jack, and hurried away on other errands.
Shotgun continued working.
“Inspector, can you send me a file with the missing dwarves? I can compare the client data from New Gem to the list of missing dwarves and see if it correlates. I don’t have all of their files. It looks like I downloaded only a fraction.”
The Inspector tapped on his tablet. “Give me a moment, I’m thinking of a solution.”
Nurse Casket brought Shotgun more water and painkillers. “Gosh, this gives me a feeling of déjà vu.” The dwarf swallowed the pills.
“Got it, Inspector, just give me a moment.”
“If we get any matches,” said Jack, “we can add that to trying to poison you.”
Shotgun set his tablet down on the bed. “There’s more. They tried to turn on the tablet. I’ve recorded their attempts to turn the machine on, but they couldn’t get it to fire up. In the time I was out, they didn’t think to use a work around. Do you have any idea how long I was out?”
“The sound from the bug was muffled,” said Gumshoe. “We could barely make out what you were saying. When we heard you counting, and your voice faded out we guessed you were in trouble. Clay must have been there in about six minutes.”
“I don’t think they got anything out of it.” Shotgun tapped on his keyboard. “Here come the results. I’ve got five hits out of seventy-two names. Remember, we’re only comparing about a tenth of the data.”
“Good enough for me to want to see more,” said Gumshoe. “I’ll try to pull a warrant again.”
Passing Gumshoe, Casket came in. “Good news, Mr. Morgan, you can go.
“Don’t operate machinery or do anything else requiring your attention until you’ve gotten a good night’s sleep. You’re in danger of sudden drowsiness or even narcolepsy. Drink plenty of water, and you can take mild painkillers if you have a headache. And we know the Inspector is giving you a ride.” She handed him an open tablet. “Sign where indicated and you’re free to go.”
Hot Pursuit
They passed dilapidated row houses on the way back to New Gem. Gumshoe overrode the autopilot, and approached New Gem from the east. Boards covered the windows of the abandoned property to deter squatters. Only a few well-kept homes dotted the neighborhood. The day shift had ended, and families packed their belongings into older ground-cars for the trip to Iron Mountain.
The autopilot steered the cruiser through the streets, and crossed Spenard, turned back up Pikes Peak. The row houses yielded to town homes with small touches of character. The autopilot crawled as they passed through the traffic jam. The streets were thick with frightened people fleeing Nodlon.
“If they have look-outs, we don’t want to alert them. Occasionally, I’ve made the mistake of underestimating a crook. Today, we’re not letting this rabble best us, so we’re going around the long way.” He drove a couple of blocks south and parked in an alley behind a dumpster leading to the rear of a parking garage behind New Gem.
“Let’s see if dispatch has our warrant.” Gumshoe punched his console. The cruiser’s vid lit up, and displayed a middle aged police matron.
“Inspector Gumshoe, why I never, what can I do for you?” Boundless optimism no doubt contributed to an overabundance of eye shadow, false lashes, and too much lipstick. Heedless of the futility of fighting age, she bubbled over in a position normally reserved for the staid.
“Maggie, has the warrant for New Gem come back?”
Pecking at her screens with a stylus, she searched for any warrants. “Why no dear. They rejected your warrant application.”
“Why?” said Gumshoe. “Anything I can fix.”
“No, honey, there’s no explanation. They just turned it down flat.”
“Can you get Hale on the line?”
“Sorry, dear, can’t get anyone over there. Everyone’s been sent home to pack. The Octagon showed up at the courthouse hours ago, with an army of boys in training uniforms. They’re over there now loading them up.” She threw up both her hands and shook her head. “I’m sorry dear. Wish I could help, but I’ve got nothing.”
Glancing at Jack, Gumshoe frowned. “Thanks Maggie, out.” He stabbed the cruiser’s console and it went dark.
“What will we do now?” asked Shotgun.
“Hot pursuit exception,” said Gumshoe, “also known as unauthorized breaking and entering.” Getting out of the car, Gumshoe put on his trench coat and straightened his fedora. If you’re coming with me, gentlemen, it’s time to go.”
“What happens if we’re caught?” Shotgun fiddled with the straps on his back pack.
“It’s official business. If my hunch is correct, we’re in the gray area. If we’ve made a mistake, I’ll be passing out parking tickets.” Gumshoe flashed a wry smile. “Unless your offer stands, Jack.”
“It stands,” said Jack, “if I’m not breaking moon rocks for burglary.”
“Follow me, bravehearts,” said Gumshoe.
Leaving the alley, they crossed a nearly empty street.
A goblin in overalls was loading a plumber’s van in front of a tired townhome. He strapped a child’s bicycle to the roof. A woman appeared on the stoop above the van carrying a box. She descended the steps, and tripped over an assortment of suitcases at the foot of the staircase. The plumber caught her, and let the box fall to the sidewalk. The plumber consoled his wife, and Jack looked away.
On the opposite side of the tunnel, an aging dwarf in a dingy suit and a straw hat hobbled along the sidewalk in their direction. They crossed the street in front of the dwarf, who called out to them, “Can you help me?” They slowed, and he took off his hat expectantly. His hands trembled and the feather in the brim fluttered.
Jack pulled a large bill from his cloak. “Here you go, sir. Take this. Go to a robo-car station and catch a bus out of Nodlon. You need to get moving.”
The dwarf stowed the bill in his suit coat. “Bless you, Guv’nor.”
Stepping into the alley, they wove a path through the trash cans and rubbish crowding the narrow way. Swiftly Gumshoe led the way, forcing Shotgun to trot to keep
up. The alley ended in an intersection with a wider alley behind a parking garage.
Without stopping, Gumshoe headed to the pedestrian entrance. The Inspector held a cardkey up to an electronic pad and the door lock clicked. Gumshoe opened the door, “After you gentlemen.”
Jack high stepped over the threshold took a pace and stopped. Shotgun followed Jack, and Gumshoe joined them letting the door close.
Pools of lights illuminated the parking garage leaving dim corners and shadowy alcoves. A row of concrete columns interrupted their view of the parking spaces. Following Gumshoe, they walked up a ramp, across a landing between parking levels, and around a stairwell. Bare doors without handles faced a level pad running the length of a loading zone.
Reading the business names over the doors, Jack recognized a few of the shops near New Gem. Walking a few doors to the east, they found New Gem’s back door.
“Here we are gentlemen. Smile, I’m sure we’re on camera.” Contemplating the keypad on the electronic lock next to the door, Gumshoe punched the keys. “I’m trying the police code.” The door remained closed. He tried again without success, and again. “I’ll have to call Maggie, and see if she can pull their code.”
Shotgun unslung his backpack. “Give me a second Inspector, and I’ll get it for you.”
“Go for it.” Gumshoe backed away.
Shotgun pulled his tablet from his satchel and knelt on the pavement. “I’ve entered the Yard’s network, and pulled your database. All of Nodlon’s electronic key codes in one handy location.” He handed his tablet to Gumshoe. “Punch in your badge and password, and we’re in.”
“Why do I suspect you don’t need my badge and password?”
“We have to fulfill the formalities,” Shotgun grinned. “I don’t want to get arrested again. Once was too often.”
“I’ve got to get you a job with the Yard.” Hunting and pecking, Gumshoe entered his identity into the application’s log-in screen, and pressed the search button. A progress bar scrolled to a finish, and the screen displayed the alarm code.
“M010C4,” said Gumshoe, handing the tablet back to Shotgun. “Let’s try it.” He keyed the passcode into the lock, and the door swung open. Waving to his consultants, he signaled for them to take cover against the wall. He pulled his lightning pistol from his holster. He flicked a switch, and an indicator light on the handle flashed yellow and fell dark.
“Police!” cried Gumshoe and entered the office. He called again, and paused in the hall waiting for a response. Sticking his head out of the door he said, “Wait here while I secure the location and give the security system an incident code.” Disappearing into the office, they waited. Soon, the policemen reappeared unarmed. “No one’s here. They have an older model security system, and I shut it off. My code cleared the alarm, so we won’t have company.” Stepping aside, he invited them into the office.
From the back door, Shotgun recognized the cross-hall. Going to the door with the whirring sound, he tried the door and was surprised when it opened. The server room was larger than he expected. One rack stood in a corner next to a fiber optic cable box and a breaker box. A half-pack of industrial batteries sat under a work bench.
Shotgun set his satchel on the work bench. Removing a cable from his satchel he plugged one end into his computer. With the other end, he rounded the rack and considered the available hubs. Spying one with an empty port, he plugged in his cable. Opening a utility, he created a map of New Gem’s local network, and studied it. Finding what he needed, he ordered the system to copy the client files. As the time ticked by the datasets filled. Within minutes he had copied all of the client files to several dozen datasets.
Shutting down his tablet, he closed the link, and unplugged the cable from the hub. He stuffed the cable and the tablet back in his satchel, and left.
He patted his satchel, “Got it all.”
Waving at the exit, Gumshoe said to them, “Wait for me.” The Inspector reset the security system, emerged from the office, and closed the rear entry.
Swiftly they left the garage the way they had come and crossed the wide alley and ducked into the smaller alley leading back to the cruiser. Taking large strides Gumshoe led them quickly through the debris and litter back to the cruiser.
“Let’s find out what fate, luck, and a touch of self-help has delivered into our hands,” said Gumshoe.
Pulling out of the alley Gumshoe guided the cruiser around a block and engaged the autopilot.
“We’ll reach the Yard in a little over a half.”
“Give me a minute.” Shotgun loaded the new datasets, and compared the database of missing dwarves to the database of New Gem’s clients.
“Inspector, you are not going to like this in a good way, or you’re going to love it in a bad way.”
“What happened to good news and bad news?” Jack looked at the industrious dwarf.
“Not sure which is which in this case, boss. All of the missing dwarves are clients of New Gem, including McCarthy. The disappearances go back to when they opened their office in Nodlon late last year. And get this, all of the clients worked in the Ministry of Manna, the Octagon, or the Crown.”
“What do you have on McCarthy?” Gumshoe asked. The cruiser slid into the level-way traffic.
“She sought therapy several weeks ago, and made several appointments before her disappearance.”
“What kind of therapy?”
“Nothing unusual, just girl stuff. They gave her a great discount, but they do that for all of the female clients.”
“Anything else?”
“Jerry Balaam purchased the New Gem franchise for Nodlon last September from the New Gem office on Elysium. Their home office is a Martian corporation located in Helium. It’s owned by a recluse who lives on an exclusive private estate on the Boreum plane near Pal Station. I’ve searched the net, and it’s rumored he’s into gambling, money laundering, chemical stimulants, and biot trafficking.”
“Maybe Balaam’s a friend of the Baron,” said Jack. “One criminal deserves another.”
“Maybe,” said Gumshoe.
“Inspector, I’m sending you my report now with a copy of the data.” Shotgun closed his tablet.
“Thanks, Shotgun. Gentlemen, I suggest you get some rest. I have a feeling we’re closing in on our quarry.”
Why Dwarves?
Jack put the Andromeda in ground effect mode, and headed to Babel Tower. He swung his flyer onto the eastbound level-way. More dwarves were missing than he imagined. Nodlon expected war. His shows were cancelled. Corman and his crew were packing his show for the road.
The world as he knew it was coming apart.
“Thanks to your bravery, Shotgun, we’ve connected the missing dwarves to New Gem.”
“What’s next? Raid the place and demand answers from the creepy doctor?”
“Maybe, I don’t know. Let Gumshoe figure it out, he’s the homicide detective. He may stake out the place, or get some vice officers to shake down their underworld informants. How should I know?”
“He’d better do something quick, or he’s going to have a panic on his hands whether he wants it or not. I have no idea what they’re doing with the dwarves, but every dwarf in Nodlon is scared.”
“Why dwarves? So many dwarves are missing. They’re capable, intelligent, and hard-working. Why would they fall for a trap? And what does Balaam want with them?”
“Why dwarves? Dwarves live without hope. Dwarves dream, but we’re biots. Biots are not people and most of us will never even chase our dreams. Hope of fulfilling our dreams drives us to do stupid things, senseless things, even things beyond any common sense at all.”
“Dreams, Shotgun? Life in Nodlon isn’t fair to biots, but life isn’t fair to anyone. For over a hundred years, biot’s lives have been improving. More biots have more opportunity to live a full life than any time since the ancient’s created biots. It’s true there are limits, but more than half the biots live bette
r than half the humans. No matter how bad life is here, it’s not bad enough to throw your life away.”
“Few are as lucky as us, boss.” He looked out the window at the passing traffic. “Most of us aren’t fortunate to have any spare change, much less an apartment. Without an apartment, you can’t have a girlfriend, and without a girlfriend, you can’t have a family, and without a family,” he trailed off into a whisper, “you can’t go home.”
“What is a home, Shotgun?” Clay mused. “Who knows what a home means? For some it’s where we surround ourselves with our things. For others it’s where you find those you love, or maybe it’s where you find those who love you. What is the wonder of home? Going home, leaving home, and missing home? What makes a home a home? And, how do you know when you arrive?” Clay sensed he had struck a chord. “What do you hope for?”
“Thanks to you, boss. My family has a home. Never have I met anyone who cared as much as you. I was raised in a nursery owned by Nodlon Biots and I have no idea who my parents are, or if I even have parents. Not as bad as a kennel I suppose, but hardly even an orphanage.”
“Sorry Shotgun, I didn’t mean to pry.”
“Well, boss, being angry serves no purpose, so I worked on earning my way out. But dwarves have little to lose if they take ridiculous risks for a slim chance on a slight reward.”
“There’s wisdom, Shotgun. You’re very generous. Before I discovered my magical powers, my mother and I moved into an apartment in Under Nodlon.
“Our apartment was near the Circus. I didn’t have any money for tickets, but I snuck in through the service entrances. Security let me wander back stage with a wink and a nod. The stage hands put me to work. They wouldn’t let me watch shows for nothing. I soon proved as useful as any and more grateful than most. They gave me my first paying job. I performed special effects for an opera.”
“Home is where your loved ones are. You miss Phaedra, right? You have Jasmine, but face it, Phaedra was your family.”
Shotgun stung him with the truth. Graced with a loving mother, never had he felt the pain of fatherlessness. And his magic made all the difference. Celebrity insulated him, and he had never known want. Rather than hoping for a good job, he basked in fame and fortune rare for anyone in Nodlon, let alone a half-breed.
“I’m glad you and Goldie are a part of my life.”
“Boss?” Shotgun shot a quizzical glance at Jack.
“You’re right, Shotgun. Face it. Except for Jasmine, you’re the only family I’ve got.”
“Sorry boss, I forget you’re one of us.”
“Whatever I am Shotgun, I was very fortunate. My life’s been easy, and I’ve never wanted for anything. Maybe I’m a freak, mutant, or monster, but I understand. I do understand. I was given a gift, and I feel its weight. Before I discovered my magic, I was just another half-breed. I’ve been a member of every caste in Nodlon. Thanks to magic, I’ve got a caste all of my own. When no one can break castes created by synthetic genes, I’ve broken them all thanks to magic.”
“Jack,” Shotgun said.
Nodlon slid by under them. The sun glittered off the mountains. Jack ran a hand over the flyer’s leather seats. It felt like money, and he wondered if he deserved it.
Reading his mind, Shotgun coughed. “Jack Clay has paid his dues.” Shotgun took a stern tone. “Boss, you’re a hero to every biot in this city. Elves, goblins, dwarves, and the uniques and specials all look up to you. Even the humans respect you.”
“No, I shouldn’t have said anything.” He accepted his butler’s small pique. “I can’t complain. I got lucky. If you cannot vent to me, Shotgun, whom can you vent to?”
“You’re a good elf, boss. That’s why the Princess gave you her ring. I don’t know where you got magic from, and I don’t care. And no else cares either. You have to help us. It’s your task and it was given to you. Win or lose, all you have to do is try.”
Gently, Jack twisted the wheel, and the flyer curled into the northbound lanes. Ahead Babel Tower glittered.
“When we have time,” said Jack, “would you let me buy Goldie’s contract? I’ll lean on Goldie’s agency. If they crank out the paperwork double time you guys will be free to marry by summer.”
“Whoa, you’d do that?” Shotgun sucked in a deep breath. “Boss – Jack, I, I, I appreciate what you’ve done for us, but I can never repay you.”
“Just take good care of Goldie and the girls, that’s all that matters.”
Shotgun bit his lip and stared out the windows. The mountain shadows blanketed Nodlon. Evening was falling and the blue lights of Nodlon were coming on. Beautiful, Shotgun thought, if you can live to enjoy it.