13 Degrees of Separation (49 page)

He'd
wanted to keep his plasma pistol but in order to get his planetary PI license
he'd had to hawk the thing to pay for the licensing fee. When he'd gone back
for the pistol it had been gone, the damn pawn shop proprietor had merely
smiled and shrugged. They had no record of it, he'd said, despite the carefully
hoarded receipt slip Nohar produced. He'd been tempted to tear the place apart
looking for it. A growl had gotten the man to at least piss his pants. He'd
retaliated later though.

The
good thing about Matilda was that if any wussy human or other being tried to
fire her they'd break their arm. It'd be fun to watch, but hearing their
screams...

He
shook himself out of that day dream and checked the padded shoulder harness and
holster. It would go over his shoulders, forming an X in the back with the
holster under his right armpit, snug against his body. The leather needed oil,
but he didn't have any on hand. He'd have to remember to get some later. He
checked the action, holstering and unholstering the pistol a few times. It was
smooth which was good, but not too smooth that it would cause the pistol to
fall out if he bent or twisted the wrong way. The pistol was on the right side
of the shoulder harness, he didn't trust his right hand with the thing, not in
'its' condition. To balance the harness load he had a couple of speed reloads
on his left side, along with a few other interesting combat related tools. Some
he wasn't legally allowed to carry like his lock pick collection. These he
tucked into his right arm, hiding them in plain sight.

It was
a pain in the ass to cross draw, but that was better than having the weapon out
in plain sight on his hip. He filled their now empty pouch with a couple of
styluses and an optical USB cable. He was tempted to get to work now, but no,
it was best to get into things in the morning when he was fresh. Tonight he
decided he'd go out and get some food, get orientated, and maybe pick up some
gossip. More importantly, get a feel for the night life in the city.

...*...*...*...*...

 The next morning he climbed up off the floor and rubbed
his back. He spent a few minutes grooming himself and then put his shoulder
harness on and buckled it. He checked his draw a few more times and then put a
duster on over the holster. He put his shoulder bag on over his neck and
shoulder, across his body on is left side. He was certain from past experience
that it wouldn't impede his gun draw there. He pocketed his ID, credit pouch, a
few odds and ends and then went and did his business in the tight smelly
bathroom. He picked up his rather battered fedora, put it on, but then took it
off. It just didn't feel right so he tossed it onto his pile of clothes.
Finally he stuffed his clothes and toiletries into the small safe, locked it,
pocketed the key with the room key and left.

In the
lobby he went to the front desk with the now empty gun safe. The cat was there,
eyes wide. He grunted, knowing she had seen the holster through the open front
of his duster. He pulled out his PI ID and showed it to her silently. She
nodded and took the gun safe. “I'll be back for it some other time,” he said.

“Okay.”

“I know
you've got it. Don't lose it,” he growled. She nodded again. As he was leaving
he turned at the door to let another patron in. He looked back to see the
Neocat making a call.

...*...*...*...*...

 It all
started at the beginning, but to do that he had to do some research and gather
intel. He had no contacts in Ring City, so that left research of a different
sort. Which meant bright and early the next morning he went to the local
library. Inside he asked a rather terrified woman for help.

He
asked for the news archive. The mousy woman blinked at him in confusion. He
repeated the request and showed her his PI badge. She leaned forward, trembling
to get a better look at it. She adjusted her wire rim glasses and read the ID
carefully. When she was sure he was who he said he was he put the ID away. “The
records ma'am?”

The
nervous female human librarian directed him to the back. He followed along in
her wake, aware of the wary looks from other patrons. Lots of looks, some
curious, some fearful, others downright hostile. He caught the occasional
whisper of interest or hostility but ignored it, following his guide.

She
kept giving him looks over her shoulder, as if he was stalking her. He saw her
try to pick up her pace in her gray pencil skirt, but the skirt prevented long
strides. “I'm not going to eat you lady, I'm a detective,” he said, trying to
keep his voice down and even. He didn't want to scare the little chit anymore
then his physically presence already was.

“Can I
ask what you are looking for? We get very few Neo's in here very few.”

“Really,”
Nohar replied with a sigh as they entered a room filled with newspapers.

“Do
please be careful. The papers are terribly fragile. Anything beyond five years
you'll have to look on the microfiche, she said, indicating a boxy machine
nearby.

“Great,”
Nohar sighed, shaking his head. “Well, let's hope it doesn't have to come to
that then,” he said. “I'd hoped you had electronic records but so much for
that.”

She
looked at him, and for the first time recognized his implants. Her eyes went
wide again. One hand went to her mouth. “Oh! Oh my, you are a sleeper!”

“Yes,
ma'am,” he said nodding. “I'm a Sleeper.”

“So
that explains why you can read. I had wondered,” she said and then gulped at
her faux pass. He let it slide however and picked up the nearest paper.

“Do
please put them back in order for the next person,” she said headed for the
door.

“I'll
do that,” he said.

“Copier...”

“I've
got my own ma'am,” he said, indicating his right eye. She blinked in confusion
and then shrugged.

“Well,
if you need anything,” she said, hand on the doorknob.

“You'll
be the first to know,” he replied dutifully as he pulled his laptop out of his
carry bag. He heard her gulp and mutter 'I hope not' and then leave with a soft
click of the door opening and closing. He sighed again and started to read.
He'd do a headline scan, trusting in his camera's ability to scan text. He
could pull it up later. That was
if
the damn thing worked right. It'd
better, he didn't want a return trip. Just to be sure he used an optical USB
cable to plug the laptop into his camera eye.

...*...*...*...*...

When he
was finished with all the local news for the year he sat back with a sigh,
flexing his good hand. This sucked. This was almost as bad as a stake out. He
turned and keyed the little computer to scan the headlines for deaths, murders,
and other suspicious activity and then sat back with a soft groan.

For one
thing this damn wooden chair he was in wasn't very comfortable. It had a slat
back he could stick his tail through, and it was heavily built for his frame,
but that was it's only saving points. He'd turn the damn thing into kindling if
it belonged to him.

He
longed to get up and pace, but his discipline held. He did stretch though,
hearing his joints as well as the chair's pop. He stopped when he heard a
slight cracking sound though.

It
would have been nice if someone had created an index of every death for the
past year. Nice, but obviously no one, probably not even the local cops had
thought of such a thing. No, that would make it too easy. List the date, victim
ID, circumstances and location... no that'd make sense, he sarcastically
thought.

The
laptop blinked id's as it found them and then put them up on the screen. One by
one it listed every clipping of a body found. He sighed in disgust. Quite a few
it seemed. "Great" he thought. It'd take him days to get through them
all. Best to start like the cops did, with the most recent victim. He'd work
backwards from there if nothing jumped out at him. He pulled up the latest
listing and scanned it carefully.

Chapter 3

The
first crime scene was a bust, it was crawling with cops and media types. Of
course it was, he thought, it was a dead prostitute. A human one, found by a
tourist family. Apparently they'd called the media in too, which explained the
presence of the bored looking reporters. Reporters didn't care about dead
prostitutes or dead homeless people any more than cops did. Not unless there
was more to the story... or if it was a slow news day, which it was apparently.

According
to the report the dead body had been found close to 11, which explained how it
made the morning paper. Anything after 11 didn't make it into the morning's
printing run. And what did make it in was a bare bones article, a dead hooker
on a cross street, human, nothing else.

He
wasn't sure if it was linked to his vic, but since they had both been
prostitutes... and come to think of it, within 6 blocks of each other, yeah,
there had to be something there. One coincidence he could buy. But two? And two
in the same night within hours and blocks of each other? No, this was the mark
of a serial killer, even though the media and cops were careful not to say so.

It
could be mob related he thought, maybe things were getting tense. Someone, a
rival pimp or mob group muscling into someone else's turf. They could off the
competition at the source, dress it like a nut job and then muscle their own
people in. Yeah, it could be that. He'd know for sure it was if there was a
pickup of drive by shootings and mob hits in the next week or so. Until then
he'd focus on his own theory.

The
back of his neck itched, a sure sign he was being followed. He avoided the urge
to look over his shoulder, and he didn't give in to pretending to stop to tie
his shoe lace either. Both were a dead giveaway he knew he was being followed.

No,
instead he turned and oriented on an alley. A vehicle slowed and then stopped.

Nohar
however had outsmarted himself, it goes to show that you really should know
your terrain in such situations. A 5 meter brick wall put a stop to any attempt
at cutting through the alley to any escape on the other street. Oh he could
scale it, but with people watching from the windows in the apartment up above,
and the sounds of kids playing on the other side of the wall, it all made him
think twice. He turned as the air car pulled up to the curb behind him.

“Let's
talk Tigger,” a human voice said from the car. “Just talk,” he said.

“That
damn cat called you didn't she?” he snarled. She was the only one who could
have done so.

“Yup.”

“I'll
have her guts for garters,” Nohar growled.

“Nope,”
the driver said climbing out of his car to stand in front of it. Nohar noted
the holster under the open shirt and dampened his rage. A cop maybe, he
thought. He wasn't sure. Driving a sporty passion red aircar though? The thing
was well taken care of, it had been painted and clear coated. It was centuries
old, but still flying. It said something about the tech from his time and the
present day's tech.

This
yahoo was a human, one with black hair, a mustache, one who wore dark
sunglasses, white shorts, and of all things, loud Hawaiian shirts. A red shirt
to match the red car.

Nohar
held up his badge. “Bug off, I'm not taking autographs,” he growled.

“What a
coincidence,” Magnum replied affably, showing his own brass badge and ID. “I've
got one too,” he said as Nohar swore silently. “It's a small town,” the human
said, arms crossed in front of the red air car.

Nohar
crossed his own arms, eyes narrowed. He tried to keep it light, he knew there
were plenty of witnesses. “You mean not big enough for the two of us?” Nohar
asked, amused.

“Well,
now that you mention it...”

“Relax
pink skin, I'm just here on assignment. As soon as its' over I'm back north. I
don't like it this hot anyway,” Nohar replied.

“Great,
so, um, what brings you to town anyway?” Magnum asked.

Nohar
eyed him with a scowl. Magnum scowled back. “As if I'd tell you,” the tiger
finally ground out.

“Well,
can't say I tried. Need a lift?” Magnum asked, making a show of getting into
the car. Nohar knew better than to say yes. Besides, the bastard would probably
make a crack about too bad and take off.

“Pass,
I'm on to, I mean I'm follow...” he stopped and sighed. “I'm good.”

“Been
in the business very long?” Magnum asked with fresh amusement.

“Longer
than you've been alive probably,” Nohar replied, turning, trying to keep a lock
on the scent. It was fading into the background fast. He needed to get rid of
the irritating human quick so he could lock onto it or he'd lose it for sure.

“Really,
didn't think... oh wait!” Magnum looked at the artificial arm. “Yeah that's
right, you're a sleeper!” he pretended to slap his head. “Gee, some detective I
am huh?”

“Very
funny,” Nohar drawled. “Can you move along or something?”

“Sure,”
Magnum replied, revving the turbine engines of the red car. It floated,
drifting a bit in the wind on its repulser fields. From the look of the thing
it had a canted read repulser to give it some more oomph in the movement
department. Sexy, but not very bright in town where you had to make turns. He
didn't know why the damn human used it. Air cars were a pain in the ass this
low to the ground. He probably had it to show off, a chick magnet. Yeah, that
might be it, Nohar thought.