The Policeman
Authors: Drew Avera
CHAPTER ONE
The Policeman
The Policeman
Prequel to the Dead Planet Series
By Drew Avera
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to anyone, either alive or dead, is strictly a coincidence. All rights are reserved by the author of this book.
I could feel my communicator buzzing in my left breast pocket as I strolled through downtown Archea. My intent to ignore the call was secondary to my need to finish my assignment. To say that I didn't have time for this was putting it lightly. In the last year of working with the Agency I have put down at least twenty hits, most were a standard procedure of tracking and killing, but this one was different. My target, a woman who was a newer member of the Syndicate, at least for now. My brief had stated that she had been embezzling money through a series of contracts in order to build up her wealth. Apparently personal growth and success in the organization known as the Syndicate, a group of business class criminals was a no no.
The hardest part of tracking this woman was that she bore a resemblance to my sister, Kara. I had seen a holographic display of Ms. Taggert and it had caused my blood to turn cold...briefly. My programming had kicked in and dulled the personal attachment that I was associating with my target which would allow me to focus on the task at hand. To kill her.
Downtown Archea was alight with activity, the solstice festival was underway which was a week long celebration that had roots to our earthly beginnings. I'm not sure of the significance, but it gave most people an opportunity to lay back and consume copious amounts of alcohol and opiates. The party atmosphere was both distracting due to the sights, as well as making it hard to find Ms. Taggert, whom may or may not be dressed in festive costumes like most of the people in the square.
"You see anything?" my associate Thom asked as he appeared from behind the shadows of an overhang. He was fresh out of training and had been assigned to me as my protege. Mentoring in the Agency was something liken to a big brother program for at risk youth. It was designed to serve a noble purpose, but most mentors misused their authority and destroyed the relationship between themselves and their fellow policemen. I felt a responsibility to do things differently, though. Perhaps it was part of my consciousness that was still intact from before the brain washing known as programming.
"Nothing, You?" I asked, more as a way of reassuring the fact that he had done everything in his power to track our target. Sometimes a question that you fail to ask yourself can be the difference between turning over all of the stones, or just turning over the wrong ones.
"No, sir," he said. " I even took the opportunity to survey Pontiff White's Palace to see if he had any guests," The possibility of White taking an opportunity to host a lovely woman in his Palace was not out of the question, though given the fact that he was little more than the Syndicate's puppet made me wary to think that he had the audacity to aid a fugitive. He was usually the first to know about hits filed through the Agency, unless of course he was going to be the target.
"Very well, let us go back to Taggert's home. Maybe she will be returning soon," I said as I shoved my hands into the deep pockets of my uniform jacket. The gauntlet on my right wrist made it a tight fit, but I was used to it.
"Are you sure? She most likely knows about the hit by now," Thom said with concern shown upon his face. I could tell that he was going to take failure personally. It was just a part of the programming he received as a prospect of the Agency. I had the same reactions early on in my career, it was a notion that dulled over time, but would never really go away.
"We don't have much choice," I assured him as I turned to walk back to her apartment. It was an unusually large complex in a luxurious tower that overlooked the Archean Sea. Thom followed me the five blocks towards Taggert's home in silence. It was rare for two policemen to engage in work conversation in public due to the sensitive nature of our work, the strategic killing of political targets, targets assigned by the Syndicate and carried out by policemen who worked for the Agency.
We arrived in the lobby of the apartment building about twenty minutes later and the entire lobby was adorned with shimmering crystals that reflected the lights in the ceiling. I came across a mirror that rested between two elevator doors and I couldn't even recognize myself anymore. My cheeks were sunken in and my raven black hair rested in an unkempt fashion atop my head. The image actually made me realize that I was hungry and hadn't taken the opportunity to eat anything since yesterday. Kara had mentioned the fact that she felt that there was something wrong with me, like maybe I was depressed and starving myself. I had assured her that was not the case, assured her, not myself.
"Are you all right?" Thom interrupted my self loathing as his reflection stepped closer to mine. He looked much healthier than I did, with his plump cheeks and red hair that was combed back and held in place with product. We looked like opposing sides of the same coin. Our black jackets hung off of us and dangled at an angle behind us. It was the fashion of the day, but it was a useless design beyond that. The elevator dinged and the doors opened, drawing my attention to the fact that I had been staring at our reflections and failed to answer Thom's question.
"I'm fine," I lied. The truth was that I was tired of waking up each day for a job that I hated. I knew that I should not have those thoughts about my job, not because it shouldn't be true, but because my programming was supposed to have removed those types of thinking from my mind. A certain amount of fear resided because of that knowledge, something I would have to take to the grave, I figured. No need to show the Agency that I was flawed or else risk losing everything, which wasn't much to be honest. I only had my sister, Kara. It was a cardinal sin within the Agency to maintain contact with our families. I did so in secret and kept it to myself. I had only shared my secret with one other person. Thom, whom I trusted most.
We entered the elevator and I watched as he pressed the touch screen and typed in the number sixteen which would lead us to that floor. I could feel the gentle rise of the elevator beneath my feet and if I struggled to listen I could hear a slight whirring sound that emanated from outside pulleys and cables guiding us to our destination. The stop was just as subtle as the rise had been and the doors opened automatically to reveal a lavish hallway adorned with framed paintings of the men and women who had owned the apartments, I was certain that more than one of them had been members of the Syndicate themselves. I wondered how many of them had died by a policeman's gauntlet?
Those questions would have to wait until later.
We moved through the hallway to the door that led into the suite where Ms. Taggert was reported to live. I noticed instantly that the door was slightly ajar, this had not been the case a few hours ago when we originally scoped the area. I made a nod towards Thom to silently alert him to what I had seen and he shook his head in acknowledgment. This could mean one of two things, either she was home and neglected to close the door properly, or another policeman had been assigned to the case. There were only a few times that I could recall multiple policemen being tasked with the same target, usually that was reserved for severe cases where the Syndicate feared the person was a flight risk. Usually a single policeman was assigned a job and was only relieved if he could not get it done.
I reached down to the silver gauntlet that resided on my right wrist and used the touchscreen to adjust the dial setting. The gauntlet was powered and controlled through small needles that were injected into my skin which connected to the nearest nerve endings in my muscle tissue. This allowed me to control the rate of fire much like a person can control their grip on an object, the nerves would receive stimuli from the brain and trigger whatever effect the person desired. The electronic impulses from the brain also allowed a trickle charge to the gauntlet which powered the touchscreen where I adjusted the effectivity of the laser and could turn the sight beam on and off. I adjusted the gauntlet to full force, no need to milk the woman's death, I had nothing to gain in doing so.
I nudged the door open and winced at the slight creaking noise that followed. I much preferred the advantage of stealth like movement when stalking a target. Not many of them fought back, but you never truly knew who you were up against. Thom followed me inside and we made our way through Taggert's home as quietly as possible. I could see a few holographic pictures that illuminated above the entertainment center. It appeared that she had a brother who was a few years older than I was and her mother was around my own mother's age, at least if my mother was still alive. I buried that thought as quickly as I could, I needed to focus on the task at hand, not on the past. I could hear sounds coming from the bedroom of the apartment, it had to be her, and it sounded as if she were speaking with someone.
I eased closer to the dark mahogany door that led presumably into Ms. Taggert's bedroom and placed my hand on the doorknob. I gave it a gentle, quiet turn and pushed it open while keeping my eyes open for any potential threats. I was correct at assuming this was a bedroom, but there was no way it belonged to a woman. It had a dark, sullen look and it was far too cluttered to belong to a wealthy woman who based her life decisions on perceptions from other people. I let loose of the doorknob and walked in, a little off guard much to my detriment.
It wasn't until I heard the lurching sound coming from Thom's throat that I realized that we were under attack. I spun around to see Thom dangling by his neck by the man I had seen pictured with Taggert in the other room. This man was about my height, but seemed to have the strength of four men. I leveled my gauntlet at him, but with a sweep of his arm he leveled me. I grasped the side of my head from the blow and recoiled into the fetal position when he drove a booted foot into my sternum. I felt pain like I had not experienced since my time as a prospect.
I looked up to see the man throw Thom across the room and into a wall. The Sheetrock buckled under Thom's weight and he smashed through the wall and fell limp to the ground. I knew I needed to move, but the sharp pain in my chest prevented me from doing so quickly. I struggled to breathe, there was nothing else that I could do as Taggert's brother drove his foot down onto me again. This time I knew that there would be broken ribs involved, the evidence of it protruded from my ribcage and punctured the skin on my right side. I gasped for whatever amount of air could replenish my aching lungs and labored as my chest cavity expanded with each attempt.
"Linnis!" I heard a woman shout barely over the ringing in my ears. I tilted my head up to see my target stand there with dark hair that rested above her shoulders. She was dressed in a pant suit with gold adornment along the edging of the jacket. I could see the look of shock on her face, but was it because her monster of a brother was attempting murder in her home, or was it the fact that two policemen were in her home? She could surely put two and two together and deduce why we were there. She was targeted by the Syndicate.
Linnis stood down from his attack and crossed his arms in a defensive pose. It was clear that his older sister ruled his small little world, but I was unsure to what extent her control over him would last. I could see Thom move slightly out of the corner of my eye which was a small relief in a rather bleak introduction to the Taggerts.
"Forgive my brother," she said as she extended a hand to help me up. I grasped it with my right hand and the blue beam that shown from the diffuser of my gauntlet illuminated upon her shoulder. She stared at it for a moment before speaking, "It would seem that Linnis interrupted a rather important assignment, Mr.?" she paused and waited for me to say my name.
"Blackwell, my name is Serus Blackwell," I said with a rasp. I could barely stand, let alone talk due to the pain.
"Well, Mr. Blackwell, to what do I owe the honor of the momentous occasion?" she asked after dropping her arm from my grip and walking slowly to a plush navy blue love seat that was nestled against a gray wall. I noted that this was the most respectable piece of furniture in the room, a room with dirty laundry and electronics strewn about haphazardly.
"I think you are aware of that by now," I said.
"Yes, well, I can only assume at this point that someone in the Syndicate has it out for me. The reason? You may be more privileged with that information than I am," she said as matter-of-fact as she could.
She was a strong woman, that was for damn sure.
I exhaled deeply and retrieved the communicator from my pocket. The missed calls were stacked up in the queue, but I ignored them. I didn't have time for returning them. I scrolled through the assignment list and opened the file for Mira Taggert, I scrolled down the holographic image that appeared above my communicator and found the supposed reason for the assignment. "Apparently someone believes that you have been embezzling money from your business and stocking up your wealth. There is evidence that points towards fraudulent account transaction and misrepresentation for expenditures through your corporate entity, Taggeris Incorporated."
