CHAPTER 21
“Just did your first raid, huh?” Hammond clapped Nick on the shoulder. “You move fast, but I guess you do have these magic tin cans with you. Sure, we can talk. But I’m clocked off, so let’s grab some drinks.”
“We clock off?”
“Nah, but it’s important to keep straight in my head. Helps to set your own boundaries in this crazy world,” Hammond said.
He then led them to the old services building. Specifically, to a bar on the top floor, on the very edge of one of the wings. Nick let out a whistle.
“This must be a pricey place,” he said.
Hammond snorted. “Hell no. People prefer their shiny bars, shopping malls, and trendy food-sex districts. This place survives because it pays no labor costs, and some rich folks have enough money to float their own watering hole.”
“Food-sex district?” Nick had to hear this.
“I went to a place in the doll red-light district for an investigation once. It had foie gras and blowjobs on the same menu.”
“Ah.” Nick had suspected as much.
They entered the bar. The Archangels stood guard in the hall outside, which was basically abandoned. Most of the building was either empty or full of places that only opened for dinner.
If Nick had to describe the atmosphere, it would be in the same terms he described Hammond with. There was a dark, smoky feeling. The tables had lights along their rims, and dim floor lighting separated walkways from tables, but that was it outside the bar.
Behind the bar stood a single doll. She wore an old-fashioned black-vested bartending uniform, but didn’t move an inch. The bar itself was built from ornate wood, and a couple hundred bottles covered every surface.
“You’ll like this place,” Hammond said. “There’s no Altnet here. Even the doll needs to be ordered from verbally. Like this. Kate, two big beers.”
The doll abruptly turned her head toward Hammond. “Yes, detective.” Then she saw Nick. “And you, sir?”
Nick opened his mouth to answer, but Hammond cut across him.
“No, Kate. Two beers. One for me, one for him,” the older detective said.
Kate tilted her head. After a moment, she nodded. “Understood, detective. Two beers for you. Then another for you, and one for him.”
Nick tried not to laugh, while Hammond ran a hand over his face.
“This doll thinks it’s a real smartass sometimes,” he said, then pointed at Kate. “No, Kate. Just two beers. That’s all. One beer for me, one for him. Understand?”
She blinked. After a very long second, she nodded. “Yes, detective.”
Then she grabbed two tall glasses and began pouring beers. Hammond waved the two of them to another table.
“She’ll carry them over. While she’s usually in power-saving mode, she at least does proper table service, unlike half the cheap fucking bars in this city,” he said.
The booths along the walls had cushioned benches that looked like they had seen better days. Hammond ignored those and instead settled atop a stiff stool. Many long nights allowed Nick to join him without worrying about discomfort.
“I’m surprised you’re a regular at a doll bar,” Nick said.
“Feh. It’s the only place open at this time here, the drinks aren’t that expensive, and the range is pretty good. Only thing I need to worry about is Kate fucking up the orders.” He glared at the doll, who was presently looking between two full pints of beer and the taps with a concerned expression. “She’s going to pour four beers, I guaran-fucking-tee it.”
“Does she do that often? Even if she’s an older model, I’ve never heard of memory malfunctioning like this.”
The older detective snorted. “The clumsiness is programmed into her. She’s a Japanese model, and apparently incompetent robot bartenders are a thing over there. The regulars here think she’s a hoot.”
Nick refused to admit that he agreed with the regulars. There was a Japanese-style bar tucked between the alleyways near his apartment, and it was operated by a strange pair of Japanese dolls. Their esoteric behaviors kept him coming back, especially as it was a fairly quiet place.
Although he’d never worked out what the deal with the frog was.
After a few more seconds, Kate picked up the beers and tottered over to them. Nick and Hammond watched her in silence. She looked at Hammond intently and placed both beers in front of him.
Hammond slid one in front of Nick without saying a word.
“Two more beers, detective?” she asked.
“Maybe later,” he grunted.
Kate nodded, then tottered back behind the bar and stopped moving.
“Should’ve bet money,” Nick said.
“Ah, shut up.” Hammond took a long swig of his beer. “So. What’s the big raid? You find the NLF HQ?”
“No. But we found a couple of major operations. They still have safe houses. Taking out their explosives factory and a Cipher operation seems pretty good, though,” Nick said.
Hammond nodded in agreement, and his eyebrows shot up. “In a few days, yeah. The Archangels seemed pretty active. I figured the military would get ‘em first, to be honest. So, what’s the big deal?”
Nick sighed, then bought some time to think by burying his mouth in his own beer.
There didn’t seem to be any easy way to go about this. Hammond seemed sharp and experienced, while Nick was the opposite when it came to questioning.
But that wasn’t why Nick was here. The truth was that he wanted to know more about Hammond. Travis had given him little to go on, but the idea that this burned out detective might be behind the entire scheme seemed too insane to be true.
“They were using RTM factories. Well, factories leased to RTM by Jun Kim,” Nick said, then waited for a response.
Hammond stared at him, beer in hand. Then he roared with laughter. Kate flinched, before settling into her previous pose.
“Somebody used a fucking hotshot from the Spires as cover for a terrorist group?” Hammond said. “Fuck me, that takes balls. Jun Kim must have money pouring out of every orifice if he didn’t notice the hole in his bank account.”
Shaking his head, Hammond slammed back his beer. He then frowned, before looking around and gesturing at Kate.
“2 more beers, Kate,” he said. Then he looked at Nick’s mostly untouched lager. “Drink yours faster.”
Hammond maintained a hell of a pace. Nick had to go back to work after this, so he just shrugged.
“The entire situation is strange from start to end,” Nick said. “A raid on a company that the military created, a mainframe missing in the one time span the police weren’t paying attention, and an incompetent anti-government group with loads of high-grade hardware.”
“Yet you’re still turning the investigation into a slam dunk.” Hammond clinked his empty glass against Nick’s much fuller one. “Nobody other than the Archangels turns in useful shit anymore. Guess there’s a reason Uriel picked you.”
Nick swirled his drink. “Those words feel bitter, but they don’t sound it.”
“I don’t have anything against you. Like I said last night, we’re the same. This shithole of a city chews up everyone, and you’re doing what you need to do to stay out of the teeth of the grinder.” Hammond bared his teeth before letting out a dark chuckle. “Grim, I know. But I spent the morning listening to a bunch of Ciphers bitch about how they still don’t have any job offers.”
The change in subject was a welcome relief for Nick. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to dive headlong into accusing Hammond of being his prime suspect.
“I noticed that none of the police Ciphers are registered on Cipher boards,” he said. “Outside of government registries, you’re basically unknown to companies. Kind of surprised that HR didn’t sign them up.”
“Uh, a what board?” Hammond leaned forward.
“A Cipher board. They’re a Cipher-specific employment… thing?” Nick struggled to explain it and gestured in the air. “Like, you probably have a profile somewhere with your resume, job history, and shit, and recruiters message you about random bullshit.”
“Sure. I’m pretty sure my picture there still has hope in its eyes and no gray hair.” The older detective laughed. “Been a while since I needed to care about networking, Nick.”
“That might be the problem with your colleagues.”
“Our colleagues, technically.”
Nick winced. He knew nothing about the other detectives and doubted he’d meet any of them before they were shown the door. Would any of them want to meet him? He’d been hired over all of them and was working with their replacements.
“Anyway, most Ciphers keep their info up-to-date on the boards. Or somebody else does.” He scratched the back of his head. “A good way to know if someone is keeping tabs on you is if your project details get updated. Employers then trawl the boards and fire off job offers, or contact Ciphers in your network for references.”
“Just like that? You don’t even apply for jobs?” Hammond’s face practically oozed with disbelief.
“When you’re new, sure. But experienced Ciphers are in demand and a mainframe usually knows who it wants to hire just from trawling the board. Especially the new emotion engine-driven ones. They have strong personalities. Given companies sell employee data to each other, it’s trivial for the mainframes to keep a running list of their preferred Ciphers for a job opening.”
“Fucking hell,” Hammond spat, abruptly standing up.
Nick watched as the older man wandered over to the far wall. A machine gave off a dim glow in the darkness, and ancient LED panels too small to read presumably told Hammond something.
After several seconds of fumbling with the device, Hammond let out a grunt and walked back to the table. The hum of music descended over the pair, gently at first, until Nick realized what they were listening to.
Some sort of electronic swing, he guessed.
“Like I told you, everything is physical here,” Hammond grunted out as he sat back down. “Figured we could use some uplifting music if we’re gonna talk about this trash heap of a society we live in.”
“I don’t even know what we’re listening to.”
“Electro swing. Great stuff. It had a huge boom when I was young, but it died completely with all the crazy shit they came up with in the Altnet. Lives on here, though.” Hammond beat his fist against his chest. “Anyway, depressing shit. Seems ridiculous that anyone even applies for a job if the mainframes know who they want to hire to begin with.”
“Sometimes people get involved in the hiring process,” Nick pointed out.
Hammond snorted. “Ah, yes, and they choose from a list filtered by the mainframe. So they can choose between two shit candidates and the guy the mainframe wants.” He paused. “Are they actually smart enough to do that?”
“Depends. I could program a logic engine to do that, and there probably are ones coded to do that. Emotion engines would do it without even blinking. They’d view their goal as hiring the best candidate and consider the human factor to be an obstacle to success,” Nick said.
“A-fucking-mazing.”
The two of them chuckled darkly for a few moments, before settling into silence.
Kate swiftly interrupted them. She deposited two more beers in front of Hammond, then turned to Nick.
“Are you ready to order, sir?” she asked him.
Without a word, Nick reached out and placed one of the new beers next to his half-finished one. Kate didn’t pay the slightest bit of attention to his movements. She merely stared at him, rocking back and forth on her heels.
“I’m fine, thank you,” he said eventually.
“Let me know when you’re ready to order something. I can make a wide range of—”
“We don’t need the upsell, Kate,” Hammond growled. “Go on, git.”
Kate returned to her post. Nick didn’t miss that she placed a cocktail shaker in front of herself, in plain view of their table.
“I can see why the regulars like her,” he said.
“Not you too.” Hammond rubbed his forehead. “Ask her to make you a whiskey sour. Go on.”
Nick eyed his colleague. Somehow, he knew that this was a trap.
“Maybe later,” he said after a few seconds.
Shrugging, Hammond shifted the topic of conversation. “Seems kind of ridiculous that we have automation like this, yet so much shit seems out-of-date. If a mainframe can hire everyone without input, why bother with job postings? The damn traffic system runs itself.” A frown. “You know, I went to Britain a few years ago for a big conference. Learned something crazy.”
Nick sensed what Hammond wanted. He obliged and said, “I’ve never been out of the isles. So what did you learn?”
“They still let people drive cars over there. Fucking nuts, right? You’ve got regular morons on the same road as robot taxis and trucks. People with implants are jacked into the… fuck, it’s not the Altnet over there, is it?”
“I get it. Go on.”
Hammond drummed his fingers and recollected his thoughts. “So all these morons are driving cars at stupid speeds, but they’re watching movies in their implants and chatting online. Meanwhile, robot taxis are just weaving around them and dodging these idiots. I’ve never seen so many car wrecks in my life.”
“They drive cars in movies,” Nick pointed out.
“Yeah, but movies are bullshit. People still smoke cigarettes in them and you can’t even buy the fucking things here. It’s easier to buy an illegal neural mod than tobacco.” Hammond smirked. “I asked another attendee why people could drive, and he said everyone would riot if they stopped them. Made me think what it would take for another riot here.”
Nick’s mind immediately returned to his conversation with Commissioner Kim, and his good mood vanished. Hammond spotted the change in expression.
Neither of them spoke for a little while.
After Nick drained his beer, he eyed Hammond’s nearly finished one. “Why don’t you order that whiskey sour?”
“If she fucks it up, you’re drinking it.” But Hammond ordered it anyway.
It came out after a few minutes. Before Kate could run off, Hammond grabbed her arm. Then he cautiously sipped his drink.
“It’s fine,” he said.
“Yes, detective,” she said, then left.
“No show?” Nick asked.
“She has a fifty-fifty chance of using the egg yolk instead of the white, and that’s just the start,” Hammond said flatly. “Nobody orders cocktails from her, but she pushes them on everyone. I think she’s a sadist.”
“That’s on her manufacturer.”
“Maybe.”
The music changed from a soft, jazzy electronic tune to something more somber. Before Hammond got up to change it, Nick kept the conversation going.
It was about time he started doing his job, after all.
“I’m still surprised you frequent a doll bar. You clearly dislike the Archangels and preferred the Labor Zone. Shouldn’t there be a human bartender behind that counter?” Nick pointed at Kate.
Hammond eyed him, noticing the change in tone. “I’d prefer humans in a lot of places, but I’m not going to hold it against the owner of the bar. This place barely stays afloat as is.”
“What about all the other places that use dolls? If this is fine, why not other businesses?”
“I’m not gonna tell everyone to go back to rubbing rocks against sticks, Nick,” Hammond said. “You wanna know why people like dolls? Because other humans fucking suck. When your house is broken into, you don’t want some asshole in uniform giving you attitude and acting like you’re wasting his time. The Liberators never complain, always listen to the bitching, and are endlessly enthusiastic. They’re friendly.”
“Do people feel the same about the Archangels?” Nick asked.
“They admire them from a distance.” Hammond smiled wryly, evidently aware of the Archangels’ reputation. “But my point is that the cold, unfeeling comfort of an AI is fine sometimes. I don’t want to be killed by some asshole watching a movie while trying to drive, or hear about people dying in furnaces. My problem is with the assholes putting them in place.”
Nick raised an eyebrow.
Sighing, Hammond leaned back and ordered another round of beers. Nick suspected both of these would be drunk by the older man.
“I’ve worked a government job my whole life. It’s a thankless job. The Spires hate me because I’m a regular asshole, and the regular assholes hate me because I work for the Spires. Now, imagine working that role while knowing that a fancy new robot is going to roll out and replace you, and nobody will hire you.”
“I can imagine that,” Nick said.
“I know you can. Most people can’t, but that’s why we’re the same. You knew what it was like to look into the future and see how fucking hopeless it is.” Hammond glared at nothing in particular. “I’ve hung on. Somehow.”
“And you hate the dolls for it.”
A snort. Hammond grinned at Nick. “They rolled off an assembly line. I don’t hate the machines. Just the fuckers who made them. Dumbasses who create bartenders who intentionally get orders wrong, or police dolls that think privacy is for Neanderthals.”
“Then why call them tin cans?” Nick asked.
Kate silently deposited the two beers, interrupting them briefly. Nick wondered if she had chosen to remain quiet because she could understand what Hammond was ranting about.
“Because at the end of the day, somebody needs to wear the shit.” Hammond polished off his cocktail, then moved onto his third beer. “Plenty of poor bastards from broken families in Babylon. Maybe Daddy beat their ass, or Mom’s a compulsive gambler. Doesn’t matter. At the end of the day, they’re breaking into houses and the Liberators are breaking their bones.”
Nick processed this. “So even though it’s not the fault that the Archangels were created, they’re still bad?”
“Pretty much. They can’t help it, but they’re literally part of the system that manufactured them. At the same time, not much point doing anything about them, so long as the system stays in place. Life goes on, shitty as it is.”
“Yet you’re the Lieutenant Cipher of the entire Archangel Division.” Nick wondered how the world had produced this result.
“Funny, ain’t it?” Hammond’s laugh suggested it wasn’t very funny. “So, what the hell is this about, anyway? I’m still a detective. What the hell is this, a character test?”
Nick leaned on the table and placed his head in one hand.
At this point, was there anything to lose by coming clean?
“The prime suspect in my investigation is one of the police executives,” he said.
“And you chose me?”
“The NLF fingered somebody who has issues with how the Spires handled the riots. You came to mind for some reason.”
Hammond snorted.
“But then the commissioner just told me a story about why he’s doing his thing, and it’s also driven by the riots,” Nick said. “I’m betting a lot of people in the department have a history that goes back to that mess.”
“Less than you’d think, more than you’d prefer,” Hammond said. “Do you have a suspect list? Or a profile?”
“A competent Cipher, or somebody with deep connections and a comprehensive understanding of mainframes,” Nick explained. “They’ve managed to stay undetected for months, fraudulently use Jun Kim’s account to finance a terrorist organization, and sneak in foreign mercenaries.”
“Well, that rules out all the police Ciphers,” Hammond said with a toothy grin. “Guess I’m off the hook.”
“I think you’re off the hook, anyway. I get the impression the Archangels monitor you too closely for you to pull it off.” Nick stared at the blacked-out windows. “More to the point, I don’t think you know enough about mainframes. The NLF were doing something sophisticated, but had no clue what it was. Somebody told them to do it, and they knew about how Helena worked.”
“I can find out how she works pretty easily,” Hammond said. “Pulling up her files would be trivial and easy to explain.”
“Except even Rie didn’t have access to this. Whoever worked it out is either pretending to be an incompetent Cipher, or works with people who already knew.”
This time, Hammond’s silence was meaningful. The man rubbed his beard, his mind churning behind his eyes.
“You’re fingering the commissioner,” he eventually said.
“He fits the profile, but doesn’t have a motivation. RTM could easily make their own Helena, even if she wasn’t the same. Not to mention why not order the military to steal her?”
“He’s been at odds with the military for months.”
“Before or after the Tartarus raid came up.”
No reply. That told Nick he was onto something.
“What about Andrews?” he asked Hammond. “The biggest advantage Kim and Andrews have is that they use the Spires’ network. The Archangels can’t monitor them, so they could work with a team.”
“Can’t imagine it,” Hammond grunted out. “For one thing, she’s not from the Spires. Even has an Altnet presence. The military transferred her over as captain when the Custodians got rolled out, because the board didn’t trust us with the big toys. All her connections are still there. If she wanted the fancy mainframe, she could get it with just a word to an old friend.”
That was a damn good argument. Kim remained a suspect because he was out of favor with the military. But if Andrews still had influence, it would be pointless to use the police instead of the military. Even if there was something questionable going on.
“Are you sure she’s above board? I can focus more on Kim if so,” Nick said.
“What about me?”
“Let’s put it this way: now that I’ve aired my suspicion, if the Archangels let you walk away without handcuffs, you’re probably not the suspect. I bet they’re rifling through your implant as we speak.”
Hammond’s muscles tensed, but he merely nodded. “I figure they do that shit for fun.” But he didn’t calm down. “The biggest question mark over Carolyn’s head is an incident when she was a new captain. Lieu’s predecessor was causing her serious issues. Everyone overlooked it, because nobody liked the way the military forced her on us.”
Nick grimaced. That sounded like a problem he might run into. Thankfully, Hammond hadn’t tried to haze him.
“Things got nastier and nastier. Our bureau controls the security systems, because we’re also responsible for mainframe maintenance. Got all the Ciphers, you see?” Hammond laughed bitterly. “Well, had them all. Anyway, after a day where her access permissions were revoked, and she missed some important shit, her antagonist turned up dead.”
Trying to keep his surprise in check, Nick hid his mouth behind a gulp of beer.
Andrews had killed a fellow police officer?
“I know what you’re thinking,” Hammond said. “The good captain was found in the underground doll maintenance bays with several bullet wounds. Very, very dead. One of the Liberators had malfunctioned and gunned him down. Lieu investigated, the report was very hush hush, but nothing was done. They scrapped the doll and pretended nothing happened.”
“I’m sorry, what the fuck?” Nick asked.
“No evidence. Lieu once hinted that the captain got himself killed and was trying to prank Carolyn with stun rounds from the Liberator. But whatever the case, an asshole was dead, and people stopped fucking with her.” The old detective’s eyes hardened. “Can’t say I miss the son of a bitch, or any of the other captains that she’ll be firing soon.”
The mood of the conversation darkened. Both men were on their last drinks. Hammond wasn’t touching his, and instead stared into the distance.
“I told you that I hate the system. Well, most of the captains are part of it. When the Liberators rolled out some 30 years ago, we told them that they’d be next. That this was just the start. They laughed in the faces of the officers they were firing and told them to get a job flipping burgers.”
Nick frowned. “I don’t think a human has ever had a job flipping burgers in Babylon.”
“That was the joke.” A sneer marred Hammond’s graying beard. “Here we are, still in the lifetime of those assholes, and they’re the ones pinging me in the Altnet. ‘Hammond, you have to stop them!’ Endless fucking whining about the incoming downsizing, because they know half the department will be excess once the Mark 3s roll out.”
At some point, the music had stopped playing. Nick kept his eyes on Hammond.
“They did nothing when this started. Some even helped it along. Mainframes running the entire department, and dolls on every street corner and investigating every crime. They fired my old man and countless patrol officers without a care and are now crying that it’s their turn.”
“Paul—”
Hammond’s grip tightened on his glass. “So much of that cemetery out there is on them. They forgot. I’ll never forget when I came home that night, and found my old man—”
“I believe you have had enough to drink, Detective Hammond,” Kate interrupted, appearing from nowhere.
Her hands closed over Hammond’s. The detective’s knuckles had whitened and were physically straining against the glass. The entire vessel shook. Kate placed one hand on Hammond’s wrist and another on his fingers.
The man’s entire face was a furious red, and incandescent rage glowed in his eyes.
After a moment, he looked away with a grimace. Kate removed the glass and returned to her post.
Nick remained silent, unsure of what to say.
“Fuck ‘em,” Hammond growled, glaring at the wall. “Fuck all of ‘em. The department is a shell of what it used to be, thanks to them. If you want to know why I stick it out with the tin cans, it’s because somebody has to. Somebody who knows what we’re supposed to fucking do.”
The older detective stood, his coat flapping behind him as he did so. Now he was almost an exact match for the grizzled movie detective he looked like, and just as miserable.
Hammond paused, then placed a hand on Nick’s shoulder. “We’ll come back here again. At night, when you can actually have some drinks, and I can see you try the whiskey sour special.”
“Definitely,” Nick said.
Then Hammond swept out of the bar. As Nick had expected, the Archangels didn’t arrest him. His pair of dolls followed him away.
And Nick was left to his thoughts, and the dark, hateful fury that Hammond had left in the air.