Cops and Robbers: 3/?
by Linda Garrick
Revised and edited by Nancy Smith
Dr. Aaron's home was a medium sized building, dimly lighted and situated on a street corner in a posh residential section, set back on a large lot. It was surrounded by spreading trees, and, as Tyler settled the aircar into the driveway, a dog began to bark somewhere within the structure. A
porch floodlight came on.
Tyler got out and hefted Randy, maneuvering him to one shoulder. The kid was light, and must mass less than sixty kilos, although Tyler massed only about ten more. Grunting, he carried him across the lawn, mounted the steps, and rang the doorbell.
A voice spoke through the door intercom. "May I help you?"
Tyler held up his badge where the man could see it on the videocamera. "Chief Inspector Brown, Doctor, NYPD. Could you open the door, please? I have an injured officer here."
There was a hesitation. Then the door opened a fraction and a face peered out.
"Why don't you take him to a hospital, officer. I haven't much in the way of medical facilities here."
"I don't dare. We're on a very delicate case, and have some rather powerful underworld figures after us. Please, Doctor, I'm about to drop him..."
Reluctantly, the doctor released the chain and slid the door open. Tyler entered, still carrying his partner. "He was hit on the shoulder, and banged his head when he fell. His wrist is swollen, too."
The doctor reached out and took Randy from him, carrying him easily enough down a short hallway and into a large sitting room. He seemed to be in pretty good shape, Tyler thought, for a man of his age.
The doctor deposited Randy on a roomy sofa and bent over him, speaking to Tyler at the same time. "I'm Dr. Aaron -- but I guess you already know that." He pushed one hand through his greying hair and reached over to turn on a table lamp. He was a tall, muscular man, Tyler saw, who certainly appeared younger than the comp's report on his age. "Looks like a good crack on the head. Do you know how far he fell?"
"About three meters. Maybe a little more." Tyler watched as the doctor ran a hand scanner across Randy's scalp.
"Hmm...severe concussion. He's going to need quiet and rest, and really should be in a hospital, you know. He'll need intravenous feedings. His fluid level must be maintained while he's unconscious -- which he probably will be for at least twelve more hours."
Tyler bit his lip. "I don't dare take him to a hospital. Believe me, I would if I could."
"I believe you." The doctor straightened up, regarding him curiously. "Who is he, anyway?"
"Randolph Madison -- my partner."
"I see." Again the doctor ran the scanner over his patient. "Officer, I have a feeling there's more to this business than you've told me. I promise, if I can help you, I will, and if I can't, I'll stay out and mind my own business."
Tyler hesitated and shook his head. "I can't involve you, doctor. It's too dangerous."
Someone was standing in another doorway behind him, and Tyler turned to see a woman watching them. She was tiny and delicately boned, her brown hair neatly arranged, and clad in a green silk bathrobe. She seemed a good deal younger than the doctor.
"My wife, Ella," the doctor said.
The woman smiled sweetly and advanced to the sofa, looking down at Randy. Her husband watched her, and her eyes met his. Tyler was aware of some sort of communication between the two, although they didn't speak to each other. Instead, the woman addressed him, voice quiet and compelling.
"Inspector Brown, I think you will find us good friends in need. Please trust us. Tell us what's happened."
Again Tyler hesitated. The doctor and his wife appeared to be good, decent people, and probably were honest and trustworthy. But he dared not involve civilians in what was certainly a lethal situation. "Mrs. Aaron I can't."
He was interrupted. In the corner was a videoscreen, the sound turned on low, but now the sound escalated suddenly and noticeably, drawing the attention of Tyler and Dr. and Mrs. Aaron. On the screen was Randy's face. "...Are wanted for possession and smuggling of dangerous drugs..." Tyler's face appeared beside Randy's. "Anyone seeing these two men..."
Tyler's weapon was in his hand, the muzzle centered on the doctor and his wife. "All right, no sudden moves." He nodded to the man. "Go on with your work, Doctor."
Doctor Aaron's mouth was a grim line as he turned back to Randy. Tyler kept the blaster pointed at the woman. Don't try anything, Doctor."
"I won't."
The video broadcast was continuing. "The apartment of Inspector Brown was raided this evening. A quantity of contraband substance was found concealed in a mattress. Brown fled the apartment, accompanied by his partner, Randolph Madison. Madison is reported to have been wounded during the escape. Please be aware that both men are armed and extremely dangerous --"
"Those bastards!" Tyler muttered. He addressed Dr. and Mrs. Aaron. "It isn't true! I know you won't believe me, but it isn't! It's a setup!"
"I believe you," Mrs. Aaron said unexpectedly. "Who set you up?"
Tyler grinned without mirth. "And if I told you that, Ma'am, you'd be on the video beside Randy and me, accused of aiding and abetting the criminals, and probably selling us the stuff. Stay out of it. It's the safest thing you can do."
The doctor straightened up, and Tyler saw that Randy's wrist and shoulder were now bandaged neatly, and that the wound on his head had been cleaned and clipped together. "He'll be all right," the doctor said, his voice expressionless. "The wrist isn't broken -- just a bad sprain. Give him as much fluid as you can get down him and keep him quiet and warm."
"Thanks," said Tyler. He bit his lip. "Look, I'm sorry about all this. That stuff on the video is a lie. I wish I could explain better..."
Mrs. Aaron spoke again. "Inspector Brown..." Her voice was soft and oddly compelling. "I think my husband and I can help you, if you'll just trust us..."
Tyler laughed shortly. "And are you prepared to take a stand against the Jilectans, Mrs. Aaron?"
The doctor's gaze went to his wife, and their eyes met. "The Jils?" Aaron said.
"Yeah," Tyler said. "The Jils. Step back, both of you, and lie down on your faces..." He gave a startled exclamation, for at that moment the blaster seemed to jerk hard in his grasp, and if he hadn't been holding onto it tight, he surely would have dropped it. The doctor started forward.
Tyler's weapon hummed and the man sank slowly to the carpet. The woman was moving, too, and he swung the weapon toward her. Something was in her hand -- a small object that he recognized. Tyler fired and at the same moment her own blaster hummed. Tyler felt the beam brush him, and staggered to his knees, but Ella collapsed to the rug.
Shaking his head, Tyler crawled forward and removed the blaster from the woman's hand. It was small -- a woman's weapon, but entirely functional, and equipped with every setting his own had, as well as a couple his didn't have. There was a needle beam and emergency overload, forbidden by the Jilectans in the hands of the Terran cops. Frowning, and still a little numb from the near brush, Tyler crawled over to her husband and instigated a quick search of his person. The doctor was armed, too. He discovered the weapon at once beneath the tidy dressing gown he wore. Was the public getting so afraid of crime that they armed themselves with black market weapons -- even law-abiding citizens like Dr. and Mrs. Aaron? Or was it possible that this was a set up -- that these two were actually Jil plants? Was it conceivable that the Jil agent had tampered with his computer so that it would somehow direct him to these two? No, that didn't make sense. How could the agent even have known that Randy would be wounded? Anyway, such an operation would have taken time...
He didn't have time to figure it out. Bending, he rapidly fastened their hands behind them with the sashes of their robes, tucked the blasters into his belt, and bent over Randy again. Gently he wrapped Randy in the large, crocheted afghan, which covered the back of the sofa and carried him to the door. He paused a moment to flick on the videocamera and surveyed the empty front porch. He could see no one lying in wait, but, of course, they could be in hiding.
He shifted Randy to one shoulder, hesitated a moment longer, and then walked over to the videophone on one wall. He placed a fifty-credit slip beside the phone, lifted the stylus and scrawled a few words on the little wall slate. Then, carefully, he stunned both his victims again and went back to the door. He took the doctor's blaster in one hand, rested his thumb on the emergency overload switch, and pressed the button to open the door with the nose of the weapon.
The door slid aside and he went warily through, allowing it to slide shut behind him.
**********
Dr. Daniel Aaron groaned and stirred, trying to lift his head. The post-stunner effects were in full evidence, sending pounding pain through his skull and making his stomach lurch. Nearby he heard Ella groan.
Slowly memory returned. The police inspector, Tyler Brown, wanted for drug dealing, had arrived with his wounded friend. Ella hadn't believed the business about the drugs. He'd picked up that much.
He groaned again, trying to control his retching with minimal success. The headache was slowly subsiding to bearable levels, and he became aware that his hands were fastened behind him with what felt like a cloth tie.
"Ella!" he croaked.
"Here, my dear." Her voice was weak but steady. "Lie still. I'll have you loose in a moment." He felt the touch of her mental fingers on the tie around his wrists. It came loose easily and he pulled free, sliding the bindings to the floor. His own bathrobe tie had been used, he saw.
He sat up, rubbing his wrists, and bent over Ella. The tie of her robe encircled her wrists, but it, too, was hardly tight enough to have held long under a determined effort. It came free easily. "Okay. Pretty poor job to tying, what?"
"He didn't mean for it to hold us long." Ella sat up, wiping a hand across her face. "Well, he's gone, and taken the boy with him."
"He took our blasters, too. What was going on, anyway? I couldn't figure it out."
Ella shook her head. "I couldn't read him, Dan. I tried. He was shielded."
"Shielded! But..."
"No, he wasn't a Jil agent -- at least, I don't think he was. His shielding was natural, and the little guy was an unshielded psychic. I wasn't sure what was going on, myself, at first, but I'll bet you anything we stumbled on a psychic with a Jil after him."
"Couldn't you get anything out of the psychic?"
"I'd have had to do a deep mind probe. He was too out of it to tell just from a quick scan. All I picked up was something about a date with a girlfriend tonight and some trouble. I couldn't get anything clear."
"Damn! I guess we'll have to call the boss and confess our blunder. I feel pretty stupid letting him get the drop on us like that."
"Me, too. I wonder what he thought when he found our blasters. He's a cop, you know."
"Probably thought we carried them for self protection -- but I'll bet he's wondering about the needle beam setting, and the emergency max. Even the cops don't have those."
"Well, it apparently didn't occur to him that we might be Undergrounders." Ella sighed unhappily and headed for the videophone.
**********
"Why us?" Mark Linley demanded resentfully from his perch on the edge of the bed. "We was just gettin' ready to knock out, an' we're supposed to be leavin' in the mornin', y'know. Alan's worried about Lyn. She's due in less'n a month."
"I'm very sorry, sir." Corporal Wyman looked uncomfortable. "But Colonel Katalin wants to see you both right away. He says it's important."
Alan sighed and stood up, beginning to unseal his pajama top. Mark scowled at the lanky young Corporal. "Neither one o' us got much sleep last night."
"I'm sorry, sir," the man repeated unhappily.
Ten minutes later, suitably clad once more, they entered the office of Colonel Pete Katalin, C.O. of this branch of the Washington Underground station. The Colonel rose to his feet, clearing his throat apologetically. "Thank you for coming, Colonel Westover...Colonel Linley. I'm very sorry about this, but we've had a call from a couple of our agents in New York. We need a good tracer fast."
"There's other tracers besides Alan on Terra, y'know," Linley remarked resentfully. "We're both pretty shot."
"I'm sorry, but the circumstances of the case are quite unusual. We have a psychic in danger, and...well, let me lay out the facts as they came to me." He leaned forward In his chair. "Approximately forty five minutes ago, a Dr. Daniel Aaron and his wife, Ella, a psychic, received a couple of callers -- a man identifying himself as Police Inspector Tyler Brown, and a young psychic, wounded and unconscious, whom Brown identified as his partner, Randolph Madison. Madison had a head injury, a sprained wrist, and a blaster burn to the left shoulder. Brown gave a rather vague explanation to Dr. Aaron about underworld figures chasing them, and asked for medical assistance. Aaron gave it, and, because of the unusual circumstances, Ella tried to read Brown. She encountered shielding, and, naturally, assumed at once that he was an Underground agent. She signaled her husband, who gave the recognition signal. There was no response. Ella tried an alternate signal, and again there were no results. Again Ella tried to probe him, and realized that his shielding was natural. The psychic, however, was wide open, even unconscious as he was, so, clearly, these two were not agents. It occurred to her at this point that they might be Jil plants, sent to check out her and her husband, but that didn't seem likely. She needed to probe the psychic, of course, but he was deep in a coma, and she would have had to do a direct probe with physical contact to learn anything. She was trying to maneuver things in that direction without being obvious when the announcement came over the video that Brown and Madison were wanted for drug dealing. Brown had his blaster out before either of them could move, and covered them both. He denied the drug charges, and Ella had the impression that he was telling the truth, but with the shielding, she couldn't be sure. Brown had Dr. Aaron finish with Madison. Ella tried several times to get him to tell her his story. His response was, and I quote, 'Are you prepared to take a stand against the Jilectans?' Ella decided to take definite steps at that point, and tried to disarm him. He was holding on too tight, but he fumbled the blaster, and they both thought they had him. The doctor tried to jump him while Ella grabbed for her own blaster, but Brown surprised them both by recovering quickly and stunning them before either of them could get him. When they woke up, they were tied, but not tightly. Ella removed the bonds with telekinesis."
Mark grunted. "Damn good luck for them he wasn't a Jil agent. Sounds like they made a pretty sorry mess of it."
Alan glanced at him. "Please, Mark, be charitable. That was a pretty bad situation."
"Indeed," Katalin remarked wryly. "They're both feeling suitably chagrined, let me tell you. By the way, Brown took their blasters with him, the afghan off the back of the sofa, and left behind a fifty credit slip and a short, cryptic note of apology on the message slate."
Alan listened to the recital with growing interest, in spite of his fatigue. A psychic was in trouble, all right. From the description of the occurrences, it sounded like he was being pursued by the Jils, and that his friend was attempting to aid him. The two of them must be found and brought to the Underground. His sympathy went out quickly to anyone in Brown's and Madison's position. He and Mark had been in a similar position some years ago. "Did Brown leave anything behind that I can use for tracing?"
The C.O. shook his head. "Bloodstained gauze, and that's it -- which is why you were called, Alan." He smiled faintly. "You're the only psychic we know who can trace with practically nothing to focus on."
Mark scowled, but his voice was less irritated than before. "Where did all this happen?"
"Upstate New York -- nice area. Both cops are from the fifteenth precinct in the heart of the city. Excellent records up until now. Dr. Aaron's checking up on both of them for us, and will have the information for you when you arrive. I have a car outside ready for you. Better put on your coats. It's cold out there." His voice resumed its apologetic tone. "I'm sorry about the inconvenience."
Linley shrugged resignedly. "Oh, well. If things get too bad, I guess I could always go back to the Patrol." He clapped Alan on the back, knocking him forward slightly. "C'mon, kid."
**********
The aircar settled into the street outside Dr. Aaron's home, and they got out, pulling their capes tightly about them and hunching their shoulders against the freezing wind. Tiny, hard flakes of snow accompanied the gale, stinging their faces as they hurried down the walk and up the porch steps. Alan rang the bell, his psychic senses reaching out, and instantly touching the mind of another psychic within the structure. The door opened, revealing a tall, slender man with greying dark hair. He stepped back as they entered, and came to attention. "Colonel Westover! Colonel Linley!"
"At ease, Captain," Mark said casually. "Man! What lousy weather! Washington's cold, but it ain't got that hellish wind blowin' the skin off your nose." He grinned, extending a hand. "I suppose you're Captain Aaron?"
"Yes sir!"
Alan gave the man his best smile. "It must have been a pretty delicate situation, Captain, from the description we got. Can I see the room where the psychic was treated?"
Aaron relaxed visibly. "My wife and I feel pretty silly, Colonel. He caught us off guard, I'm afraid. I didn't expect a non-psychic to have such good reflexes." He turned, motioning to them. "This way."
They followed him into a large sitting room. A diminutive woman rose to her feet as they entered. The room was warm and comfortably furnished, with an electric fireplace burning in one wall. The video was turned on low. On a sofa was a bloodstained pillow, and heaped on the carpet a pile of bloodstained gauze.
The woman had come to attention. Mark gave her his famous grin. "Major Aaron?"
"Yes sir! I'm sorry you had to come out on such a cold night, but..." Her voice trailed off, and she looked embarrassed. "I'm afraid we muffed it terribly."
"Aw, it's okay." Mark took her hand and lifted it to his lips. "Like Alan said, it was a damned awkward mess."
She looked down, but smiled. Alan went over to the sofa and touched the drying bloodstains on the pillow. Easily his clairvoyance detected the strong aura of the young man who had lain here less than two hours ago. Ella came over beside him and also touched the bloodstains.
"A powerful one," she said unhappily. "Thinking back now, there's a dozen better ways I might have handled it. I could have stunned Brown and then done a probe on the psychic while the Inspector was out. Then, if he was just a cop gone bad, I'd have called the police and turned him in. And if, as I suspect, he was trying to help his little friend, I could have told him who we were when he came to. Or..."
"Forget it, honey," Mark said. "Hindsight's always better'n foresight. You did your best, an' it ain't your fault that it didn't work out."
Alan smiled at Linley's change in tone when faced by a pretty and apologetic female. He touched the pillow again, focusing his attention on the image in his mind -- a small, dark-haired man, the features indistinct as the memories of a dream. "This Madison, Doctor, can you describe him to me?"
"We have a photo, sir. Got it from the New York police files data banks." He handed Alan the small rectangle of stiff paper. "Of course, he's hurt now, Colonel. I put clips in the cut on his head, and his wrist and shoulder are bandaged."
Alan studied the photo, trying to focus all his clairvoyant energies on it. His surroundings blurred out as shapes rushed in on him. He was aware that Mark had moved over beside him, and that one large hand was resting on his shoulder, furnishing the extra psychic energy he needed for his task. He seemed for a moment to get a psychometric image of the man in the photo, his body poised gracefully on a stairway, blaster leveled and steadied in both hands. The scene faded to be replaced by a close up of his features, younger than those in the photo, eyes swollen and red with weeping, while somewhere in the background hovered the image of a young girl. Deep sadness enveloped him.
"Kid, you okay?"
Alan came back to the present with a start. "Yes, fine." He shook his head. "What's the history on Madison, Captain?"
"168 centimeters, masses 62 kilos, age 22, born in Boston, Massachusetts on June 8th. He's a fairly recent acquisition to the 15th precinct, and was widowed five years ago at age...seventeen? That may be a misprint." He tapped the computer. "No, comp confirms it. Widowed at age 17. His wife, Jeanne, also 17, was executed by the Jilectans for being a psychic."
Mark whistled. "Partners, I'll betcha anythin'."
"Yes," Alan said.
"He's a detective," Aaron continued. "Record is spotless. His partner, Tyler Brown, record also spotless, is an Inspector, age 35, fifteen years in the police force. Interesting footnote; Brown is also a widower. His wife was killed in a bank holdup about seven months ago."
Alan glanced toward the videophone. "This is the message Brown left you?"
"Yes. We didn't touch it." Aaron led the way over to the phone. Alan glanced at the fifty credit slip, then at the marks on the little slate.
"Thanks. Sorry."
He smiled faintly. "Doesn't sound like much of a criminal, does he?"
"Not at all," Ella agreed. "He was efficient, like any good cop, but not cruel. He apologized several times while he was holding the blaster on us, too. And he denied the drug charges, quite angrily, I might add."
"Hmm...encouraging." Alan concentrated on the words on the slate, but was able to feel nothing. He went back to the heap of bloodstained bandages and picked them up. "Mark?"
Linley came over to him, placing a firm hand on his shoulder. Alan concentrated, feeling a faint pull from the left. He reached toward it, straining. Then, with frightening suddenness, a psychic mind touched his, but not the consciousness of a Terran. It was that of a Jilectan -- reaching, seeking and probing. Alan felt himself jerk convulsively beneath Mark's grasp. His shields snapped shut.
Mark swore absently. "Was that what it felt like?"
Alan nodded shakily. "There's a Jil out there somewhere."
"There aren't supposed to be any Jils on Terra right now," Dr. Aaron said.
"Well there are." Mark cussed softly. "Which way, kid? Is he lookin' for the psychic?"
"He could be. I don't know."
"Which direction?"
"To the east, I think. Same as Madison. I'm not sure of the distance, but I know he sensed me, too. I got my shields closed fast. I'll bet anything you're right. He's after Madison, too!"
"We don't know that."
"I have a feeling he is, though."
Linley sighed. "An' you're probably right."
"So, all we have to do is follow the Jil. He'll lead us to our psychic. He must have something to trace him with!"
Mark groaned. "Kid, d'you know what you're sayin'? You're gonna hafta lower your shieldin' t'do it. That Jil'll pick you up an' realize he's got an Undergrounder after him."
Alan nodded. "I know, but do you remember the last time they sent a Jil to Terra to track down a Terran psychic?"
There was a pause. Then Linley sighed. "The last one I remember was when Salthvor came after you."
"That's right. This has to be important if a Jil's risking his golden neck on Terra. Terrans don't like our benevolent overlords, remember? They tend to take pot shots at them sometimes."
Mark swore softly. "So this Madison guy must be one helluva psychic, huh?"
"Either that, or he's valuable for some other reason. Maybe he's found out something he shouldn't."
"That could be. A psychic would be a lot more likely to pick up info that us regular folks." Mark sighed again. "Okay, kid. Do your stuff."
Alan lowered his shields and concentrated. Almost at once he again sensed the Jilectan. He felt the other's eager start as their minds touched, and snapped his shields up quickly, shutting out that invading presence.
Mark's hand was firm on his arm. "You okay?"
Alan nodded and gave him a determined grin. "Man! The Jils think its nasty trying to read Terrans! They don't know the half of it. Touching the mind of a Jil gives me the creeping willies. I don't know what it would be like trying to read one, and I don't want to find out." He took a deep breath. "He's to the east, all right." He spoke to the doctor. "No need to worry, Captain. He's much too far away to pinpoint us. In fact, I get the impression that he thought I was the psychic he was looking for. Maybe if I'm careful we can keep it that way and lead him away from Madison."
Mark looked dubious. "You think you can?"
"I think so. You know, There was something familiar about that contact, though. Seems like I've felt it before."
"Not Halthzor?"
"No. The power level was too low for him. Besides, I'd recognize Halthzor right away."
Mark sighed gustily. "Well, let's get crackin'. Somethin' tells me we ain't gonna get much sleep tonight."
Alan grinned sympathetically. "You must be psychic, Mark. I was just thinking the same thing."
Linley grunted, without humor. "Let's move."
"Okay. As soon as we're out and away from here, I'll put out a few scared, psychic impressions to throw M'lord off of Madison's track."
"And put him on ours."
Alan shrugged. "He's a Jil. Remember, we're on our home ground, and he's not. We know the lay of the land, and what to expect from the climate. He doesn't."
"Maybe you know, kid, but I don't. I was brought up on Shallock, where it's civilized."
Alan laughed. "Is that what you call it?" He spoke to the doctor. "We'll report back to the station from the car."
"Good luck, sir," the doctor said.
**********
tbc
