Cops and Robbers: 2/?
by Linda Garrick
Revised and edited by Nancy Smith
Brown entered the emergency room and strode up the desk, pushing his way among the people already assembled there. A harried looking nurse glanced up. "Yes?"
He showed her his badge. "Inspector Brown, NYPD. My partner, Detective Madison, was brought in about ten minutes ago."
"Oh, yes, the shoulder wound. The doctor's with him now. He'll be out to speak with you in a few minutes."
"Is he going to be okay?"
"Please, Inspector, I don't know any more than you do. I haven't seen him since they took him in. Sit down and wait. The doctor will be out as soon as possible."
Brown took a seat, feeling worried, foolish and ashamed of himself all at the same time. He had certainly behaved badly toward Madison since the young man's arrival, and was uncomfortably aware that the kid had tried everything in his power to win him over. But Brown would have none of it. Damn! He'd judged Madison on appearance alone -- a fault he had always deplored in other people. Yet, in spite of it all, the kid had remained civil to him, never once uttering a word of reproach when most cops would have blown a fuse long ago. Damn! What a dope he'd been!
And now, this business in that stinking apartment. Brown was dumb with amazement at Madison's performance. Not only had he pushed Brown out of the way of a killing blaster bolt, taking the shot, himself, but had then taken over the situation, charming the hell out of a drunken bully and once again saving Brown's hide -- not to mention what was left of his own, and possibly that fool woman's and her kids as well...
Brown's thoughts went back to the scene again, reliving it, and he frowned as an inconsistency hit him. Madison had called the drunk Chet during that little charm session, and yet Brown was certain the fellow had not informed them of his name. How had he known? And later, when the girl reappeared, Madison had called her Missy. At the time, Brown had assumed it to be a term of endearment, and yet, when he had hastily turned the family over to the newly arrived backup, Brown had heard the woman telling the cops that her husband's name was Chester, and the children were Melissa and Leticia...
"Inspector Brown?"
Brown sat up straight. "Yes?"
"I'm Doctor Leiber. I've been examining your partner."
Brown came to his feet. 'How is he?"
"He'll be fine. Second degree burns mostly -- with one small area of third degree present. It should regenerate without problems. Nasty and painful, but not serious. I've bandaged it and given him a shot for the pain. Since he has no family in the area, we'll be keeping him overnight to be sure he's well cared for."
Brown found himself interrupting. "That won't be necessary, doctor. He can stay with me for as long as he needs to."
"Oh, I see. You're related, then?"
"No. Just good friends. I'll take tomorrow off to take care of him if you think it's necessary."
"I doubt that it will be. He's a healthy young man, and with proper care should be able to return to work by the middle of next week. Keep him quiet, let him have his painkillers every two or three hours, and give him lots of fluids. He's to go to his regular doctor on Monday to have the wound checked. Be sure to put the salve on the area at least twice a day."
"All right. Can I see him now?"
"Of course. He's a bit groggy from the shot, remember. Don't be surprised if he falls asleep on the way home." The doctor glanced at the chart in his hand. "I have to go. Good day, Inspector."
Brown took a deep breath and pushed open the door from which the doctor had emerged. Madison lay quiet on the narrow table, looking very young. His shirt had been removed and his left arm and shoulder were swathed in a white bandage. His eyes were closed, but as Brown entered they opened and he smiled. "Hi."
"Hi, Madison. How're you doing?"
"Okay. I'm sort of sleepy."
"The doctor gave you something for the pain."
"No he didn't. The nurse did." Madison grinned. "Right on the buns."
"Which nurse?"
"You probably saw her -- about a hundred kilos and looks like she eats sour pickles for breakfast." He grinned. "She gave a darn good shot, though. I didn't even feel it."
"How's the shoulder?"
"Feels like new. Whatever was in that shot, I like it."
"Good." Brown put a cautious hand on the uninjured shoulder. "I owe you one, buddy. Thanks a lot."
A tinge of pink crept into Madison's white cheeks. "No sweat, sir."
"You saved my life."
"It's all right, sir."
"It isn't just that. You made me realize something else -- something I've needed to realize for a long time. You see, three months ago, something happened that tore my life apart. I wanted to die."
"Your wife," said Madison. "I know, sir.
"But when that guy had us at blasterpoint, and I knew that our number might be up, I realized that I wanted to live after all. And you gave me the chance." Brown gently patted the small, muscular shoulder beneath his hand. "Thanks."
"You're welcome, sir." Madison changed the subject. "I guess they're going to admit me overnight." He grimaced.
"No they aren't. I told 'em you were going home with me. You can stay in my apartment until you're better. There's plenty of room."
Madison looked confused. "That's not necessary. I'll be okay. I don't want to impose..."
"Impose, hell! I insist -- unless, of course, you'd rather stay here."
Madison smiled. "Well, if you're sure it's not too much trouble." He laughed suddenly, then winced as the movement hurt him. "Ouch!"
"Easy. You okay?"
"Yeah, fine." Madison shifted position carefully. "I didn't really want to stay here. To be perfectly honest, I was sort of hoping you'd offer. I've hated hospitals ever since I had my appendix out when I was nine."
"And I've hated them ever since I lost my tonsils at age six." Brown slipped a careful hand behind Madison's shoulders and eased him to a sitting position. "Think you can walk?"
"Sure."
"Good. Let's get the papers signed and get you out of here."
***********
Brown pulled the air car up before his apartment building and set the brake. As the doctor had predicted, Madison was asleep in the passenger seat, his head propped against the headrest and snoring faintly.
"Ran?"
Madison's eyes opened instantly. "Yeah?"
"We're here."
"Oh." He straightened up. "Guess I dozed off."
"You've been asleep for forty-five minutes. We got caught in a jam. Come on, let's get you inside." Brown climbed out and helped Madison from the aircar. They went up the lift to the fourth level and disembarked. A young woman was waiting to board. She smiled brightly at them. "Hello, Ty."
"Hi, Cathy. This is Randy Madison."
"Hi." He saw the instant interest in her face. "What happened?"
"Accident. Come on, Ran."
"Bye," Madison said.
Brown helped him into the apartment and let him sink down on the sofa. Madison let out his breath in a long sigh. "Man! I'm beat."
"Bet you are. Want a coke? I'd offer you a beer, but you shouldn't drink on top of that stuff they gave you."
"A coke's fine."
Brown went into the kitchen, extracted two genuine cokes from the refrigerator, popped their tops into the disposal chute from across the room, and headed back into the living room. Randy accepted one of the bottles and took a long swallow. "Man, that's good."
Brown swigged from his own bottle. Randy glanced at Mary's picture on top of the video. Brown followed his glance.
"My wife," he said, feeling the familiar stab of pain.
Randy nodded. "She was beautiful."
"You had to know her to know how beautiful she really was." Brown heard his own voice with a sense of unreality. He never talked to anyone about Mary. She was his private property -- his treasured possession.
"Tell me about her," Randy said.
To his surprise, Brown found himself obeying. It was almost a relief to talk once he had started. "She was small and slim, and she had big feet. She hated her feet -- always got teased about them in school. I thought they were beautiful, even if they were too big for the rest of her. She had big hands, too -- almost as big as mine, but the rest of her was tiny, except for her eyes. The picture doesn't do them credit. They were enormous and dark brown, and she had long, beautiful lashes. She never used makeup, and didn't need to. She was perfect just as she was."
He talked on, and whenever he paused a tactful question from Randy urged him on. He found himself speaking of the day she had died, and stopped, pain throbbing within him. Randy spoke quietly.
"I'm sorry."
Brown swallowed hard and drank the last of his coke. "It was our anniversary, and I forgot about it. I was late, and rushed off without even kissing her goodbye."
"I'm sure she understood."
"Of course. She'd forgive me. I just can't forgive myself." Again he swallowed, staring blankly at the wall. "She'd gone to the bank, probably to take out money to buy me a present. Two men came in with blasters and held the place up. One of the clerks tripped an alarm just as they were leaving. They grabbed Mary for a hostage. A young cop was passing just as the holdup men came out with Mary. The cop grabbed for his blaster and there were shots exchanged. Mary was released and tried to run. One of the men shot her. She was dead on the street when we arrived." Brown bent forward, burying his face in his hands. "And I didn't even kiss her goodbye."
Randy was silent. Brown bit his lip, trying to control his sobs, uselessly. All the anger, bitterness and guilt seemed to engulf him and he wept like a baby. Randy put a hand on his bowed shoulder, but still didn't speak. After what seemed a long time, his sobs began to grow less. He straightened up, an apology forming on his lips, then stared in surprise. Randy had tears on his cheeks. He wasn't looking at Brown, but across the room at Mary's picture. He sniffled and wiped his nose with the back of his hand.
"Ran?"
The young man turned his head quickly and their eyes connected. Brown could feel the pain and grief in his little friend, and gulped. "I'm sorry. I ought to be getting over it some by now. I've upset you when I'm supposed to be helping you."
"It takes a long time to get over it," Randy said.
"But you were only seventeen..." The words were out before Brown could stop them. He swallowed. "I'm sorry. I mean..."
But Randy showed no resentment. "It wasn't like that, sir. I'd known Jeannie a long time -- since we were kids, in fact. There was never anyone else for me -- or for her. If we hadn't gotten married, her father would have shot me, soon. He was very protective." Randy grinned faintly in memory. "And he didn't trust me -- with good reason. I didn't trust myself with her." Again his eyes clouded. "We were both seventeen when we got married -- right out of high school. We were good students, and she figured she'd work awhile and let me finish at the Police Academy and then she'd go on to college. But it didn't work out that way." He stopped, turning his face away.
"What happened to her?" Brown spoke quietly, his own grief receding into the background for a moment.
"The Jilectans killed her," came Randy's unexpected reply.
"What? Why?"
"She was a psychic."
"Oh." There was a silence. "Those bastards," Brown said softly.
Again silence. Brown listened to the drum of raindrops on the window. Randy spoke again. "Her father was taken at the same time. He was a psychic, too. I was out of town when it happened."
Brown said a four-letter word. "I had no idea."
Randy looked up at him, blinked, and produced a smile. "It was five years ago but it still hurts sometimes. So, believe me, I know what you're going through."
Brown cleared his throat. "Will you please quit calling me sir? My friends call me Ty."
"Oh. Okay." Randy's smile broadened, becoming warm and real. "Shall we turn on the tube? Maybe we'll hear about ourselves."
"Maybe." Brown flicked it on. "It's 1800. There ought to be news. Harvey," he told the computer, "give me a news channel."
The video flicked over obediently. Brown stood up. "I'll see what I can find to eat. You hungry at all?"
"Some." Randy rubbed his arm. "It's beginning to hurt again."
Brown set the pills beside the coke. "Take a couple. It's three hours since you had anything."
**********
Randy stayed for a week, and then, fully recovered, moved back to his own apartment. Life went on in the 15th precinct, very much the same as before, with one exception. Randy and Brown were now assigned together almost constantly. Good old McGarffey, Brown thought. He had a sixth sense about his people. Somehow he seemed to know instinctively that the rift between the two of them had been closed, and that they were well suited to one another. They were, in fact, a team, hardly needing to speak to one another when in a tight situation. Randy always seemed to know instantly what Brown's reaction to a situation would be, and act accordingly. They had no more close calls.
December was a wretchedly cold month in New York. The wind seemed to blow constantly, and was not only freezing, but carried with it the sharp stab of dampness, which made the cold seem much more intense. On the evening of the 15th, Tyler arrived home late and, shivering, carried his groceries from the car, through the brightly lit lobby, and into the lift. It had been a busy day at work, and he was tired, as well as half-frostbitten by that hellish wind.
He dumped the groceries on the kitchen table and went back into the living room to switch on the video.
"...Increasing clouds tonight, with a 70% chance of snow tomorrow morning and afternoon. Probability of snow increasing tomorrow night with blizzard warnings, winds gusting to 60 to 80 knots....
Mary's picture smiled at him from atop the video, her beautiful eyes glowing with the vibrant love of life that had first attracted him. Today would have been their baby's due date.
Brown felt the familiar lump rise in his throat and looked quickly away. Perhaps Randy was right. Perhaps he should move out of this apartment, which held so many memories of her. He had invited Brown several times to move in. Randy had an extra bedroom that was just going to waste...
But he didn't want to -- not yet. It was strange, sort of, but he felt somehow that, if he ceased to grieve, even Mary's memory would begin to fade, and eventually she would vanish utterly from his life. He couldn't bear that.
He turned and went abruptly back into the kitchen, beginning to put away the groceries. His mind turned again to his partner, and faint uneasiness crawled over him. For a moment he seemed to see Randy's face, and knew he was in some kind of trouble. He turned away from the refrigerator, disconcerted. What was it? Strain? Fatigue? For a moment more he hesitated, then, cursing softly, continued to unpack his groceries. Maybe he was cracking up. Maybe Randy was right. The loneliness was getting to him so bad that he was beginning to have waking nightmares.
But the sensation would not go. Twice he found himself heading for the videophone to call, and both times he resisted the temptation. Damn! What was the matter with him?
The videophone shrilled, jarring his nerves. He snatched it up, and saw without surprise, Randy's face on the screen.
"Randy! Are you okay?"
"Ty!" Randy's face was white and frightened. "I've got to talk to you right away!"
"Well, sure. What's wrong?"
"Can I come over?"
"Sure, but what's wrong? You look like you've seen a ghost."
"I'm in trouble. I...No, I mustn't tell you over the phone. I'll be there in a few minutes."
The image vanished. Tyler set the receiver slowly in its holder and frowned at it. Something must be terribly wrong for Randy to look that scared. Randy as not the type of person to become frightened that easily.
Less than ten minutes later he heard the knock. Quickly he went to the door, glanced at Randy's image on the videoscreen above it, then pressed the control. The panel slid aside and Randy entered.
"Close it! Quick!"
Brown obeyed, sliding the locking bold into place. "What's wrong? Somebody after you?"
Randy turned a stark white face toward him. "I need help." He spoke quietly and levelly, all traces of hysteria gone. "I've learned something by accident -- something that makes me a liability to some very powerful people."
"Who? Underworld figures?"
"No." Randy hesitated. "If I tell you, you'll be in danger, too. Chances are good they'll try to kill us both."
"Who?"
Randy swallowed hard. "I overheard a plot to kidnap the Chancellor's daughter."
"What?"
"You heard right. It's not the Underworld. It's the Jilectans."
"The Jils! Ran is this some kind of a gag?"
"No!"
"But...how did you learn of it? When is it going to happen?"
"Tomorrow afternoon."
"Randy, the Jils wouldn't dare try anything like that. It'd raise an interstellar incident, and..."
Randy interrupted him. "For Pete's sake, they wouldn't plan anything which would connect them with it."
Tyler gave himself a mental kick. Of course not. When did the Jils ever do anything to get their own hands dirty? "You're right, of course. What else do you know?"
"You believe me, then?"
"Of course I believe you. Which daughter? He has two, you know."
"The younger one -- Carol. She's at Blake Prep School here in the city. That's where the kidnapping will probably take place."
"The Jils are hoping for better control over Terra's government," Brown said slowly. "I guess this'll do it, if they can pull it off."
"I guess so," Randy said. "We've got to tell someone."
"Yeah. Look, How did you find out?"
Randy's eyes wavered. "I...I can't."
Brown watched him, and slowly understanding dawned. "Because you found out through your psychic abilities, huh?"
Randy's face jerked up, his eyes wide with surprise. "You know!"
"Well, sure I know. And I thought you knew that I knew. Didn't you read it in my mind?"
Randy shook his head. "I can't read your mind. I've tried."
"You can't? Why not?"
"I don't know. I can read other people's minds -- just about anyone I want. I read the Jil operative's mind, and that's how I found out about the kidnapping plot. But your mind is different. There's some kind of wall around it. I can't go through. I tried when I first met you -- when I realized you didn't like me. I couldn't do it." He hesitated, looking embarrassed. "I haven't done it since."
"That's all right. I figured you had and knew that I knew. I didn't want to mention it, though. I thought maybe you didn't want to talk about it -- that it might remind you of Jeannie."
"Everything reminds me of Jeannie," Randy said. "How long have you known?"
Tyler considered. "Since that business in the apartment on the West Side, I guess. I don't think anyone but a psychic could have done what you did. I've had a little experience with psychics before, you know. I was married to one."
"Mary?"
"You'd better believe it. She told me, herself, before we took the vows -- gave me every chance in the galaxy to get out of it. She was an empath and a clairvoyant, and could read minds, too."
"Could she read your mind?"
Tyler frowned. "She said she couldn't -- just like you. But it didn't matter. She always knew what I was thinking."
"It's the same with me," Randy said. "I usually can tell, even though I can't read your mind. Look, what are we going to do about this?"
"I don't know. Tell me everything -- how you found out."
Randy nodded. "It was sheer accident. I've known about my powers since I was about eight. I've learned to use 'em some, too, like the mind reading part. I think mind reading's what I do best. Anyway, I had a date this evening with that pretty redhead from the front office -- Janet. She likes Chinese food, so we went to this little restaurant downtown called Fei Lin's. We were about halfway through when two men came in and were seated at the booth next to us. One of them didn't interest me, but the other one did. He wasn't much to look at -- a sort of ordinary guy, medium height, with blond, wispy hair, but there was a feeling about him...I don't know how to describe it. Authority, maybe, and sort of sinister. They ordered drinks, and I waited until they looked sort of relaxed, then tried to probe the blond guy's mind." Randy paused, making a face. "Ty, I've read people's minds dozens of times. Some people are easy, and some are tough. You're impossible. But never before has anyone detected me when I tried to do it. This guy was tough, but I managed it. I saw that he was a Jil operative, and that his name was Wendlemere. Then I saw the plot to kidnap the Chancellor's daughter, Carol, and that the time was set for sometime tomorrow afternoon. That's as far as I got. The guy jumped like he'd been stung and suddenly his mind was just like yours. I couldn't get through. He blocked me out, completely. Shielding, I guess. The Jils must have taught him how."
"Yeah. Weird, though. I didn't know the Jils were doing that. Makes sense, though. If they didn't teach their operatives shielding, this might happen a lot more often. They might accidentally get read by a Terran psychic -- like you."
Randy was nodding. "And that's not all. I..." He made a face, but he went on, "I reacted like a total idiot. When I realized he'd detected me, I jumped and upset my drink. He looked right at me."
Brown's heart climbed into his throat. "Are you sure he didn't follow you?"
"I'm sure. I paid my bill and we took off just a few minutes later. Poor Janet must think I'm crazy the way I rushed her out of there."
"And the Jil operative just sat there?"
"Oh, he was watching me, but it would have looked pretty suspicious if he'd just jumped up and followed me out."
Brown frowned. "That doesn't make sense, though. Why would he just sit there. He must suspect you, and to just let you walk away like that..."
"Maybe he wasn't sure it was me."
"He still wouldn't just let you go. A Jil spy would have a lot at stake."
The flush had ebbed from Randy's face, leaving it a sickly shade of white. "You're right. I guess I was so relieved that he didn't follow that I wasn't thinking. He must have some other plan for finding me, then."
"I would say so. You're sure he didn't see your license number?"
"How could he have known which car was mine? There were at least a hundred cars parked on the street."
"You're sure he didn't come out of the restaurant as you drove away?"
"I'm sure."
"Did anybody come out?"
"No." Randy's face changed suddenly. "Oh my god!"
"What?"
"I paid my bill with my credit card. He saw me do it. Do you think --"
Brown groaned. "I don't think, I know. It's the only reasonable explanation. He'll get your number from the comp. He figured he'd get you off your guard by letting you think you'd gotten away. Then he bribed or threatened the restaurant owner into letting him check the contents of the comp banks. He's probably at your apartment right now -- with about a dozen hit men."
Randy's face had gone, if possible, paler than before. He turned away, one hand pressed to his midriff. "I don't feel too well."
"Kid, there's no time for that! If they don't find you there, they'll check for friends and relatives in the area, and when they...Ran! What the hell's wrong? It isn't like you to get a nervous stomach. Maybe this on top of the Chinese food..."
"No...no." Randy was white to the hairline. "Something's wrong! Danger! It's coming toward us fast!" He spun toward the door. "Ty! They're here!"
"Are you sure? You're not letting your imagination run away with you? Mary never did this. She never had the least idea when danger was coming."
"Well, I always do!" Randy had come to life, the color rushing into his cheeks. "We've got to get out of here! Is there any way out, besides the front door?"
"Uh...The fire escape, I guess." Tyler grabbed his coat. "Do you really think..."
"Yes! Hurry! No time to waste!"
"Okay, then." Tyler led the way down the hall and into the bedroom. At the same moment he heard something which made his pounding heart leap into his throat. It was the whine of a needle beam against the door's lock.
"It's them!" Randy whispered.
Tyler reached the window and pressed the switch. The pane slid silently upward. "Go!" He ushered Randy out before him.
Randy scrambled nimbly through and Tyler followed. There was the pound of feet in the apartment now, and just as he started down the rungs he heard a voice issuing orders. A door somewhere within the apartment opened and closed.
Randy was descending the second flight of rungs, hands and feet flying. Tyler reached the landing just behind him and glanced up. Two figures had emerged from the open window above, and there was a shout. They had been seen.
Two more figures emerged, and a blaster cracked. Tyler felt heat singe his face as he flinched back. Randy gave a yelp, and Tyler saw him fall.
He landed hands foremost, rolling with the impact, but his head came into contact with a stone stairway and his body went slack. Suddenly furious, Tyler jerked the blaster from his shoulder holster, aimed briefly and fired twice. Above him someone screamed horribly, and a body hurtled past to land with a sickening thud in the street below. Tyler fired again and there was another scream. The figures ducked back out of sight.
Tyler dropped the last few meters to the street, landing lightly beside Randy. His partner was not large, but Tyler was only of average size, himself. Grunting slightly, he got Randy into a fireman's carry and ran, staggering, for his car.
A blaster cracked behind him, and snow exploded into steam two meters to his left. Then he was beside the car and fumbling for his remote key. The lock released and the door slid silently open. He piled inside, Randy across his lap, and an instant later the car leaped upward. The door clicked shut.
Tyler half lifted Randy to the seat beside him and took a deep breath. They were gaining altitude, and he hit the automatic pilot. The car entered one of the crowded traffic lanes of the Manhattan Skystream.
Randy was very still and gave no response when Tyler shook him gently. Blood welled from a cut atop a purpling bruise over his left eye. Tyler swore wearily as he discovered one wrist to be swollen to twice its normal size -- a sprain, or possibly even a break. He must have landed on it wrong when he hit. In any case, the kid wouldn't be using it for awhile.
But at least his breathing was normal, and his heartbeat, although rapid, was steady and strong. Tyler sat back, glancing in the rear view mirror. Had his pursuers managed to follow him? All he could see behind were lights and more lights. Probably they were safe for the moment, he told himself.
And what now? Randy needed a doctor. Dared he take his partner to a hospital? Wouldn't such an action be exactly what the Jilectan operative would expect? They had seen Randy fall, and must know that he was hurt. Maybe they even believed he was dead. Wouldn't they inform all other spies in the area to head for the local hospital emergency rooms in hope of capturing their illusive fugitive?
But Randy needed medical care, and Tyler didn't dare take him to a hospital...
He pressed the tab that activated the datanet computer. The machine blinked to life with a cheerful, "Good evening, Tyler."
"Hi, Charlie. I need you to find me the address of a retired general practitioner in this area."
"Certainly." The machine hummed softly for a moment. "The nearest one is three kilometers from our present location, one Dr. John Mitchner, semi-retired due to a heart condition."
"Heart condition, huh?"
"Yes, Tyler. Do you want a readout on him?"
"No, better find me one who's in good health."
"Yes, Tyler." The machine hummed again. "There is a Dr. Daniel Aaron 7.8 kilometers from here, who meets the stated requirements. He is, however, 199 years of age, but the information states that he is in good health."
"He'll do. Give me a readout on him."
The machine hummed again and a readout appeared on the screen. Brown glanced at it. "Transfer it to the navicomputer."
There was a faint bleeping sound. "Transferred."
"Thanks, Charlie. That'll be all."
"You're welcome." The machine switched off.
**********
tbc
