Torn From On High: Free City Book 2 (The Free City Series) (15 page)

Ryo
frowned as he considered the complicated train of logic presented by the
evidence. “There is an unlikely chance that one or more of the weapons was
stolen but everything else points to Commander Frédéric Rameau procuring the
three unique weapons and engaging the services of the Goons to kill Nate Briggs
and, very likely, the crew members of the
Billikin.
Additionally, Mr.
Schleim broke into Seamus Nelson's apartment and assaulted him with the intent
of intimidation. Schleim was accidentally killed during the incident. Fellow
gang members Fritzi Wolfe and Norman Rollo unintentionally murdered Liaison
Agent Hugo Mackillroy during an ill-fated meeting at a nightclub in New Rome.”

Nicola
was aghast at Ryo's recounting of the brutality.

“The
body count has been horrendous during this crime wave,” Zmuda winced as he
recalled the gruesome deaths at
The Hissing Serpent
.

“It's
not over yet,” Ryo ruminated, “there's one gun and one Goon left.”

33. News Item:
Unsettling times are afoot

Dateline: 3rd of October, 2446;
Nairobi, EurAfrica, Earth

Times
are changing and that is not a good thing for those of us with a fondness for
the ways of the past.

Even
the most apathetic citizens of EurAfrica are no doubt aware of the swift and
lamentable developments that have befallen our once great Fiefdom. As a
testament to this regrettable deterioration, this reporter has amassed three
recent items from several different sources.

First;
a young female exchange student from Free City was recently arrested in the Piazza
District of New Rome on the misdemeanor charge of misappropriation of property.
Neighbors reported that the woman had been hiding an especially tattered
looking man in her room at a low-end boardinghouse. The rather naive woman
claimed that the fellow was her lover. When Police intervened at the request of
the landlord, they discovered that the bum was an escaped slave from Sienna.

As has
been the custom of EurAfrican law enforcement for centuries, the arresting
officers summarily executed the escaped slave in the street as a reminder to
other drudges of the consequences of disobedience. The arresting officers were
then set upon by thugs and rabble-rousers. A three daylong riot ensued in the
District with dozens injured and five killed. Scores of local establishments
were vandalized by roving mobs of malcontents, many of whom claimed that the
slave
should
have been set free. An uneasy peace was restored only after
a battalion of heavily armed soldiers was brought in from Tunis.

Secondly;
much further to the south, Serfs affiliated with the Construction Trade Guild
in the town of Windhoek in Southwest Africa engaged in the unheard-of and
reprehensible act of striking for better working conditions and payment of
past-due wages.

Windhoek
is currently experiencing an unprecedented influx of new residents, many of
whom were displaced last year with the destruction of Arusha. The demand for
suitable housing has soared and the Association of Landlords has commissioned
dozens of new apartment buildings. All of this has led to months of ceaseless
work for the lowly Serfs of the Construction Trade Guild. Because of cash flow
issues centering on a banking scandal in Southwest Africa, the funding for the
new apartments has been anemic. The Association of Landlords has threatened to
bring in replacement workers to break the strike but most doubt it could be
done successfully.

Finally
in Nairobi; persons unknown have repeated vandalized the statues in the Panoply
of Modern Heroes. The secretive mutilators have spared no statue bearing the
name of Kufuzu. The representations of all four of the Warlords that have
reigned over our beloved Fiefdom have been smashed, defaced or molested. Some
inconclusive evidence for the crimes points to local Serfs and Enlightenment
Crusade agitators from Free City.

The
Curator of the Garden grumbled loudly that the Panoply of Modern Heroes might
have to be closed unless the vandalism ceases. The treasures it contains would
then be out of reach of all.

In all
three of these cases, troublemakers from outside of our once great land have
been largely to blame for the decline of the Supreme Imperial Fiefdom of
EurAfrica.

34. Herman
“Bowie” Kowalski

“Tell
me about it again, Shayna.”

The
temporarily unemployed waitress from the
Hissing Serpent
flirtatiously
kissed his cheek, “OK Bowie, one more time but then you gotta hand over the
twenty-five Units that you promised me.” She stroked his well-muscled arm, “A
girl's got to pay her rent, you know.”

The
only surviving member of the Goons nodded, “Sure baby.”

“Well
there was these two guys from Free City,” she started, “they were sitting in
one of the back booths when I was working the evening shift.”

Bowie
downed the whiskey on the rocks as he listened.

“Your
two pals; what were their names?”

The
big man sneered a bit at the half-witted waitress, “I told you ten times
already, Wolfe and Rollo!”

“Yeah;
that's right Wolfe and Rollo, they were sitting on either side of this third
guy that they kept calling Macaroni, but I don't think that was really his
name.”

“Damn
it!” Bowie slammed the empty glass onto the table, “Come on Shayna; get to the
part just before the explosion!”

“OK,
OK. There was a bet about who could drink what without puking. The old man
sitting with them went to the bar and ordered a Dragon's Breath Rum. It's real
nasty stuff. When he got back to the table there was some kind of argument and
Wolfe pulled out this strange gun that he had. Then the old man flung the rum
into Wolfe's eyes and cracked his gun hand on the table. The Free City jerks
ran off like cowards with some young guy who was drinking at the bar. The next
thing I know there was an explosion and I was out of a job.”

“Did
the gun look like this?” Bowie drew the last of the three weapons from his
black jacket.

The
dull-witted woman examined the side arm, “Yeah; just like that.”

He
slipped it back into his jacket. Bowie had to be particularly careful with the
gun; the power indicator said that it had only enough energy for three more
shots. With luck, that would be just right.

Bowie
retrieved a payment interface and transferred the money to Shayna's account,
“Not a word about this to anyone.”

She
nodded.

He
produced a picture, “Was this the guy who roughed up Wolfe?”

“Sure;
that's him,” she finally answered after studying the image for several seconds.
“What you gonna do about it, Bowie?”

The
big man slipped the photo back into his jacket, “I'm going to make that bastard
Ryo Trop pay for killing Wolfe and Rollo.”

• • •

“Ah;
this is it!” Ryo grinned.

He'd
struggled mightily for weeks to discover a motive for the murder of Nate
Briggs.

When
criminal inquiries stalled Investigators were forced to go over mountains of
minutia for new clues and that's exactly what he'd been doing.

Zmuda
had sent over dozens of new documents from the CRAMP Headquarters that detailed
the highly convoluted financial deals of the Kufuzu family since the death of
Warlord Daniel Kufuzu.

Amongst
other accounting shenanigans, he had traced several large payments to members
of the Goons Gang back through a complex smoke screen of money laundering and
double-dealing to EurAfrican Consolidated Metals and Mining.

The
Warlord Syndicate had recently asked the Free City Inquisitor's Office to
investigate allegations that Consolidated Metals was manipulating the prices of
titanium and aluminum.

Both
metals had recently experienced exorbitant run-ups in prices, all of which
highly benefited EurAfrican Consolidated Metals and the Kufuzu family as its
chief stakeholders.

The
Goons had been paid off from a secret slush fund brazenly called “Salvage
Intimidation.”

Ryo
tapped out an information request on his interface screen:
Quantity details
of metals salvaged from Low Earth Orbit in the last six months.

Several
graphs appeared showing a steep decline in output beginning about four months
ago. It was just about the same time that Nate had been killed, Ryo noted.

Along
with the use and possession of the unusual weapons, the financial information
meant that he had sufficient circumstantial evidence now to charge Bowie with
Nate Briggs' murder.

Ryo
summoned the All-Points Bulletin for Herman “Bowie” Kowalski to the screen and
added several details:
Detain at all costs! Considered armed and extremely
dangerous. If apprehended, contact Inspector First Class Ryo Trop IMMEDIATELY
under the authority of Edict 343 and authorization of the Free City High Court.

He
posted the amended bulletin.

Hopefully
Bowie would be found before anyone else died.

• • •

The
big cargo transport was parked just down the Dublin street awaiting the return
of the driver.

Bowie
stood over the body of the dead deliveryman in the dark alley next to the man’s
most recent stop. His dagger was embedded to the hilt in the poor slobs chest.
A river of ruby red blood gushed from the wound and pooled up on the pavement
around the corpse.

He'd
finally found the perfect victim. The deliveryman looked fairly similar to him,
and more importantly, his route took him into Free City.

Bowie
wrestled the dagger free and used it to methodically saw off the dead man's
left index finger. He wrapped the bloody end with a rag and then carefully
bound the spare digit between his own index and middle fingers.

With
luck, this trick would get him past the border guards and into Free City.

Hours
later in Free City, Bowie scowled as he stood in front of the beat up door of
apartment 392. This was where the bastard lived.

He
glanced up and down the long, dim hallway. No one was around; it was perfect
for some strong-arm intimidation.

Bowie
retrieved the bloodstained dagger that he'd used earlier in the day and, in one
swift move, pounded it into the flimsy surface of the old door.

The
tip of the dagger had splintered the thin veneer and penetrated most of the way
through the door.

He
smiled as he studied his work; it would surely scare the crap out of the old
Investigator.

Bowie
turned and sauntered off leaving his knife behind.

In a
few days he'd start killing off the members of Ryo Trop's cozy little
household.

• • •

The
girl frowned.

“Goodnight
Daddy; I miss you,” Dilma stared at him in consternation from the screen of his
communication device, “come home soon.”

“OK
sweetie. Be good for Sabra and I'll see you in the morning.”

The
connection terminated and Ryo was left alone in the gloomy workroom at the
Inquisitor's Office.

It had
been an unsettling several days for his little family and this late night work
session wasn't making things any easier.

Time
was running out and he had to locate Herman 'Bowie' Kowalski and put an end to
the disturbing case.

Three
days ago his landlord had called him in a panic at work. Someone had driven a
bloodstained dagger into the door of his apartment. Undoubtedly, Ryo had
surmised, Bowie had been responsible for the act of vandalism.

Fortunately
no one was at home during the misdeed.

Ryo
then promptly sent several plain clothes Investigators out to the Connaught
School to keep an eye out for trouble. He'd personally sprinted over to the
University and located Sabra in the Ceramics Workshop.

The
nanny was perplexed by his unexpected appearance.

In
hushed tones he explained to her that, due to some difficulties of a current
investigation, she and Dilma were to immediately take several days off and move
into a safe house in the Eire District.

When
Sabra bemoaned that she would miss an important examination in her
Alternative
Lifestyles
class, Ryo tersely cut her off.

After
several seconds of silent pouting, she seemed to finally understand the
severity of the situation.

Now in
the dark office, Ryo rubbed his forehead in dread as he shuffled through the
paperwork on the desk. Bowie was trying to get to him and he had managed to
find the only personal soft spot that the old Investigator had allowed himself
in over thirty-five years: His feelings for Dilma.

• • •

The
mysterious redheaded woman stared at the message that slowly flashed on her
communications device; it was a new assignment from Lieutenant Zmuda.

She
studied the particulars, it would require about a day of careful preparation to
pull off with the personal flair that she felt was fitting for her
participation.

The
woman made some quick decisions about what would be required and concluded that
she would accept the assignment.

She
pressed the “Acknowledge” button and set about making arrangements.

• • •

It was
just past one in the morning when the door to Ryo's workroom at the
Inquisitor's Office creaked open.

The
old Investigator set aside the routine banking records.

A
rather mousy-looking young woman peeked in, “Excuse me Mr. Trop, I was looking
for the Chief Inspector but she's nowhere to be found.”

It was
Cadet Helen MacDermish.

Ryo
waved her in. “Ah; let me check the roster.” He tapped on his interface screen.
“She seems to have gone home for the evening, which I guess puts an end to the recent
rumor that the Chief Inspector never sleeps.”

Helen
smiled at his quip.

“Maybe
I can help you,” Ryo volunteered.

“Well
I don't know if it is important or not,” she hedged, “but I've been checking
over the routine paperwork regarding border crossings.”

“Go
on.”

She
nervously twisted the collection of papers that she was holding, “I had gone
over the two hundred and twelve crossings from earlier in the week and
cross-referenced them with both the Inquisitor's Office and EurAfrican
All-Points databases and everything seemed to be normal.”

The
rookie produced a single sheet from her hoard.

Ryo
studied the document. It was the standard printout detailing that a EurAfrican
delivery driver named Manfred Chong crossed into the Free City Autonomous Zone
at the rarely used Ballyshannon East Gate at 10:32AM yesterday morning. His
cargo was mostly machine parts from Dublin.

Ryo
set the paper aside, “What seems to be the problem, Ms MacDermish?”

“At
first I thought it was a mistake, perhaps just a mix up with the names, but the
more that I checked, the scarier it got.” She handed him a second sheet.

It was
a rather bloody crime scene photo. The date stamp indicated that a beat cop in
Dublin had taken it at 4:13AM on the previous day.

Ryo
stared at the young woman for several seconds, “I don't understand.”

She
quivered with pent-up agitation, “That is Manfred Chong, the delivery man. He'd
been dead for over six hours when he supposedly crossed the border.”

Ryo
glanced at the macabre image, “Excellent work Helen. I will surely note your
superb efforts to the Chief Inspector.”

She
had an odd look of confusion, “I'm sorry Mr. Trop, but I don't understand
what's happened.”

“Call
me Ryo,” he chuckled gleefully. “Let's dig into this anomaly together. Perhaps
you have uncovered a significant lead.”

She
pulled up a chair and sat next to him at the ancient oak desk.

Ryo
retrieved an antique magnifying glass from a side drawer and examined the crime
scene photo. After several seconds of careful scrutiny, he handed the image
back to her and pointed to the victim's left hand. “There; do you notice
anything unusual?”

The
woman frowned as she studied indicated spot, “Oh; one finger is missing!” She
stared at him, “How does that figure into this, Ryo?”

“I'll
let you know in a minute.”

The
old Investigator tapped away at his interface screen and scrolled through
several grainy video clips before settled on one. “The time stamp is 10:32.
This was taken at the Ballyshannon East Gate, although I'm afraid that the
quality is not very good.”

Helen
craned her neck to study the video.

“OK,
here we go,” Ryo froze the video and slowly advanced through one frame at a
time.

From
high above the inspection area and a good five meters away, the border guard
handed an interface device through the window of the vehicle to the delivery
driver. The man swiped his left index finger over the screen and passed the
device back to the guard before being waved through the gate.

Ryo
toggled back and forth between several frames. He zoomed in on the driver's
left hand. The image was especially grainy. “What do you notice about this?”

Helen
bit her lip as she scrutinized the picture. “That's strange, he's got six
fingers on his left hand.”