Veneer (56 page)

“What color should we think of?”

“I’ve got blue!”

“I’m green!”

“No!” Sebo put his hand up. “We all need to think of the same thing. How about bright red?” There were nods all around. “Alright, fill in this circle. Shut your eyes and concentrate.”

More people gravitated towards the group of maniacs kneeling in the middle of the street.

Sebo stood and watched for any signs of reconciliation. The gray was constant, but again the shimmer took hold. Everyone saw it at the same time.

“More!” he yelled.

Around the edges, people kneeled down and closed their eyes.

“Keep going!”

Sure enough, the hue was changing. A dull red flickered beneath the gray fog. It grew and grew until a fiery crimson filled the entire circle. Shouts went up; some even clapped.

“Open your eyes!”

Those that had been kneeling removed their hands and stared at their creation.

Sebo couldn’t believe his hunch had been correct. The red was holding. The veneer was still there.

“The veneer is back!” someone shouted.

No, thought Sebo. It had never left. Everyone could still reconcile, but something—

The red flashed and disappeared, dialed down to black in an instant. Then it returned with the same quickness. Back and forth, it alternated between the two extremes. Some people looked away, but not Sebo. He kept his eyes focused, for in the oscillating colors he saw more something more, some familiar pattern.

He wasn’t sure if it was really there; everyone else was too busy panicking at the strange light show. If only they had looked closer, had pushed through to the image hidden within, they would have seen her, seen the muddy portrait of one Rosalia Collier.

It ended with an audible gasp from the crowd. The gray street returned, yet the people didn’t react as Sebo expected. Instead of disbelief, there was jubilation. The man who had been sitting at the next table grabbed his arm.

“You did it! What’s your name, kid?”

“Sebo,” he whispered without thinking. “Sebo Kahani.”

Rosalia’s face... it meant something.

“Sebo Kahani!” shouted the man. Cheers answered him. “We have to tell everyone!”

Sebo didn’t like hearing his name shouted as if he were some kind of hero, but he couldn’t bring himself to object. The puzzle was too intense, the outcome too optimistic. Yet there was no denying what he had seen.

The crowd split in half. Some of them headed back towards the neighborhoods while the other, smaller, group started for downtown.

“You know, don’t you?” It was the underclassman again.

“Know what?”

“You said it yourself. Conflict. We all wanted red. So who wanted black?”

Sebo looked towards downtown. He hadn’t imagined the shadowy wave, just as he hadn’t imagined the whitewash from the night before. They had both originated from the same person.

“His name is Deron,” answered Sebo.

“The missing kid?”

Ania. She had been right.

Sebo didn’t respond. He turned in place and began walking.

The boy called after him. “Aren’t you coming downtown?”

Part of him wanted to go, but finding Deron in that mess would have been impossible. It wasn’t something in his power, even if the people of Easton came to consider him a hero. The only thing he knew he could do was find Ania and let her know her son was still alive.

He smiled and looked around.

Alive and still causing trouble.

72 - Russo

Don’t be a little bitch.

Those were the words Detective Pierce had spoken after jamming a syringe into Russo’s leg. It wasn’t so much the sting of the injection as the element of surprise that had made him cry out. Up until that point, they had just been sitting quietly outside the hospital under a carport watching a parade of ambulances drop off casualties of the Easton Panic. That’s what Russo was calling it. After all, every significant event needed a name.

The Collapse of the Veneer.

The Easton Panic.

The Botched Assassinations of Deron Bishop.

Russo squeezed his hands into fists and tested the strength of the zip ties that Pierce had used to secure him to the wheelchair. They didn’t budge, nor did his legs when he tried to wiggle them. At first, the plastic had dug into his wrists, but whatever Piece had pumped into his thigh had made all the pain disappear. Even his anger faded away, leaving Russo light-headed.

“You really fucked that up, didn’t you?” asked Pierce.

Russo looked up and squinted. All he could see was the man’s silhouette.

“It’s one thing to work alongside an agent to subvert the law, but to go it alone? Did you think just because you knew this Agent Ruiz that somehow you had his immunity?” Pierce kicked at Russo’s left wheel. “You think you’re an agent now?”

“More than you’ll ever be,” he replied.

Pierce scoffed. “Shit. You’re nothing. You’re just a little punk who thinks he’s hard because he put down a classmate.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” said Russo, looking into his lap. The sun stung his eyes and produced patterns when he closed them.

“Yeah, you keep that up. Like it or not, you’re going down for Jalay’s murder. You’re lucky you’re so inept or you’d be getting a double dose of homicide.”

“Fuck you.”

Pierce laughed and crossed his arms. “What went wrong up there? Why couldn’t you do it?” When Russo didn’t answer, he continued, “You toyed with him, didn’t you?”

Russo tried not to acknowledge the accusation.

“Yeah, you did. That’s emotion fucking with you. One thing you should know about agents is they don’t have any emotions, nothing to get in their way. They’d kill their own mothers as easily as they’d kill you. You just don’t have what it takes, do you?”

“I have what it takes to kill
you
.”

Pierce took a step towards the curb and looked down the street. “We’ll see about that. But from where I’m standing, you’re tied to a wheelchair. I could push you into traffic and that’d be the end of it.”

“No one can drive today, dumbass.”

“No plebes, but those ambulances have been tearing in and out of here all morning.” He laughed again. “At least if you get hit, you’d be near a hospital.”

On cue, another gray box on wheels came roaring around the corner, taking full advantage of the suspension before screeching to a halt in front of the automatic doors. Two EMTs jumped out of the front as the back doors popped open on their own. A third tech emerged from the back and began pulling out a stretcher.

“Looks like someone’s having a worse day than you.”

Russo watched the men push the stretcher into the building. They were gone only a few seconds before they came running out again without their cargo. Before Russo could blink, they were back in the ambulance and peeling out of the carport.

“Lots of people getting hurt today,” said Pierce.

Russo wasn’t sure if he was talking to himself or not.

As the ambulance turned the corner, a cruiser appeared in front of it. The driver swerved hard to avoid a collision and managed to navigate the narrow alley to pull up in front of Pierce. The door opened and the uniform from earlier stepped out.

“You’re bleeding, Aguilar.”

The uniform touched the side of his head and examined the blood on his fingers. “It’s just a scratch. Someone hit me with a rock. Kinda makes me want to take this uniform off. All people see is a target.”

“Then we’d be no better than those damn agents, would we?” asked Pierce. Then, after giving the car a closer look, “This isn’t my cruiser, Officer.”

“No, uh...”

“I asked for mine.”

“All the cars in B lot were trashed. I had to get mine from over on Elm. But I can give you a lift downtown.”

“No,” said Pierce. “I need to meet up with my partner. You can take us to the inner loop.”

“Which direction?”

“North.”

Aguilar rubbed his face. “Alright. I gotta swing out east anyway and find that kid’s mom.”

“Why?” asked Pierce.

The uniform stared back at him for a moment.

Pierce shook his head; his laughter sounded hollow. “Fuck, it’s been a day, hasn’t it? Yeah, okay. You take us out to the loop and then let Ms. Bishop know you found him. And that’s no minor accomplishment, Officer. Stronger men have tried and failed.”

Russo looked up and caught Pierce’s eye.

“I think we’re gonna have to cut him loose for the trip,” said Aguilar.

Pierce pulled two ties from his back pocket. “Bind his hands. That should be enough.”

“Really? He doesn’t look like much of a threat.”

“Never trust a person by their veneer.”

Aguilar cut Russo’s hands free and then bound them together with the ties. Russo thought about head butting him while he was struggling with his ankles, but he knew his shoulder wouldn’t support it. Instead, he let his body go limp and forced the uniform to carry him into the cruiser and buckle him in. Once he was secured, Pierce pushed the wheelchair into the wall and then hopped into the front passenger seat. Aguilar joined him a moment later and started the engine.

“Alright, Easton General to the loop. This shouldn’t be a problem.”

Pierce nodded and pulled a gun from his jacket. He pulled the slide, inspected the chamber, and then let it click back into place.

“You think you’re gonna need that?”

“Some things change, some don’t. You need to make sure you’re prepared, Officer.”

“Yessir,” said Aguilar.

They rode in silence for a while. Aguilar kept to the side streets and alleys, avoiding the crowds when possible. A few times, rocks or chunks of evercrete hit the side of the car, but the glass on the windows held. If it was strong enough to stop a bullet, then a few pebbles weren’t much threat. Crossing out of downtown proper, the crowds thinned out and became small groups of people milling around news kiosks or sitting at outdoor patios. They weren’t fully engaged with the riot, but at the sight of a cruiser, they started yelling and throwing things.

It was glorious.

Russo wanted nothing more than to be out there with them. The uniforms deserved a taste of their own injustice. Had he been healthy and not shackled, he could have helped take the riots to a whole new level.

It was such a waste of civil unrest.

“You been working this case long?”

Russo guessed the quiet had been making Aguilar uncomfortable.

Pierce seemed to have no trouble with it and took his time replying. “Couple weeks now.”

“Not a bad turnaround.”

“I guess.” He looked over his shoulder at Russo. “I really wanted state’s evidence though. All he had to do was agree to testify against an agent.”

“And now?”

“Too late for that. I’ve got witnesses that saw him try to kill Deron Bishop. On more than one occasion.”

“I don’t know,” said Aguilar, guiding the car into a tight turn. “That depends on the DA. Who’d you get, Orchard or Kasabian?”

Pierce laughed. “Neither.”

“So you didn’t have approval?”

“I figured it would be easier once I had some dirt on an agent.”

“You fucking asshole,” said Russo.

“Whatever, kid. I could have protected you. Now you are fucked beyond all saving.”

“That’s not SOP,” said Aguilar. “The Chief’s gonna shit a plum.”

“Well it doesn’t make much difference now, does it?”

Russo could see the annoyance on Pierce’s face. “Is the big bad detective gonna get in trouble?”

Pierce simply smiled in return.

“So what’s your interest in agents?” asked Aguilar.

“Gotta put ‘em down. They run around like the own the place. The one I’m after is a monster, just a real psychopath, you know?”

“He’d kill you just for saying that,” said Russo.

“See what I mean? We can’t have people like that walking our streets with corporate immunity. Look what they’re doing to our kids. Before this, Russo was just a delinquent who cut school and trespassed in office buildings. Now he’s an attempted murderer.”

“I thought it was two?” asked Russo.

“I can make it three if you’d like,” replied Pierce.

“Then I’ll make you my fourth.”

There was a flash in Pierce’s eyes, but he said nothing.

Outside, the streets were nearly empty. There were no street signs, but Russo recognized a few landmarks. The world looked so bland. He wondered how the agents could stand it.

“See that alley on the next block?”

Aguilar nodded. “Kind of a strange—”

“Back entrance,” explained Pierce.

The cruiser rumbled into the alley and the high buildings blocked out the sun. Russo wondered if he could use the darkness to make his move. The ties were still tight; thirty minutes of working his wrists hadn’t produced any results. If he could just get the door open, he could make a run for it. When the time is right, he told himself.

“Up there on the right, there’s a loading dock.”

“What is this place?”

“Safe house,” said Pierce. “In case things got hot.”

“I don’t see any other cars. How are you going to get him downtown?”

“My partner’s cruiser is in the garage.”

Aguilar pulled into the small driveway and put the car in park. “This doesn’t feel right.”

The engine sputtered to a stop and Aguilar looked over at Pierce. The shadows made both men look more sinister.

“I don’t appreciate you staring me down, Officer.”

“How did you know Deron’s last name?”

Pierce scoffed. “What?”

“Deron. You said you hadn’t questioned him yet. So how did you know his name?”

“The kid told me.” Pierce gestured to Russo.

“No I didn’t.”

Aguilar tensed up. “You’re not wearing your badge, Detective.”

“It’s in my jacket.” Pierce’s voice was equally tight. “Would you like to see it?”

Both men moved at the same time. Aguilar drew his gun but couldn’t get it leveled before the back of his head exploded, spraying blood and brain matter everywhere.

Russo felt it coat his face. “Oh shit! Shit!” He tried to grab his head, partly to wipe the blood away, but mostly out of a need to hold his ears. The gunshot still echoed in the cabin. Despite his shoulder, he flung himself to the seat to avoid the crossfire. Mumbling curses, he waited and prayed.