Chapter Eleven
I WAS ON THE corner of Pennsylvania and Sixth Avenue, walking away from the Eastern Market Metro, when I heard them in Seward Square: a bunch of young, probably drunk, and almost certainly stupid dudes braying at each other about something.
That in itself didn’t interest me. Stupid, drunk young men are a fixture of any urban setting, especially in the evening hours. What got my attention was the next voice I heard, which was a woman’s, and which didn’t sound particularly happy. The calculus for that many drunk young men and a single woman didn’t strike me as especially good. So I continued on Pennsylvania into Seward Square.
I caught up with the group where the little walkway cut across the grass from Pennsylvania and Fifth. There were four dudes who had taken it on themselves to surround someone, who I assumed was the woman in question. As I got closer, I saw that the woman was also a Haden.
That changed the dynamic of what was going on a bit. It also meant these guys were drunker or more stupid than I had previously guessed. Or some combination of the two.
The woman in the center of the dude pocket was trying to shoulder her way through the group. When she did, the four would move and re-form their pocket around her. It wasn’t entirely clear what they were planning to do but it was also clear that they weren’t interested in letting her get away.
The woman moved again and the four men moved again, and that was the first time I saw the aluminum bat one of them was carrying.
Well, that was no good.
So I walked up, making as much noise as threepily possible as I did so.
One of the men caught the movement and got the attention of the others. In a minute, all four of them were looking at me, the woman still in the center of their pocket. The one with the bat was bobbing it lightly in his hand.
“Hi there,” I said. “Softball practice get out late?”
“What you want to do is just keep walking,” one of them said to me. It was clear to me that this was meant to be threatening, but he was pretty drunk, so it just came out as the drunk version of threatening, which isn’t very threatening at all.
“What I want to do is check on your friend here,” I said, and pointed to the Haden in the middle of the group. “Are you okay?” I asked her.
“Not really,” she said.
“All right,” I said, and then looked at each of the men in turn, using the second I held each one’s gaze to scan their faces and send the scans to the FBI database for identification. “Here’s my idea, then. Why don’t you let her walk away, and then you all and I can talk about whatever it is you wanted to have a conversation with her about. It’ll be fun. I’ll even buy a round for you all.” Because what you need is another drink, I thought, but did not say. I was trying to make this all nice and pretend friendly. I was pretty sure it wasn’t going to work, but it was worth it to make the attempt.
It didn’t work. “How about you fuck off, you fucking clank,” said another one of them. He was just as drunk as the first, so this was as ineffectively blustery as the first threat.
So I decided on a course of lateral motivation. “Terry Olson,” I said.
“What?” said the dude.
“Your name is Terry Olson,” I said, and then pointed to the next one. “Bernie Clay. Wayne Glover. And Daniel Lynch.” I pointed to the one holding the bat. “Although I’d bet twenty bucks that you go by Danny. And your last name is full of irony at the moment.”
“How do you know who we—” Olson began.
“Shut the fuck up, Terry,” said Lynch, thereby inadvertently confirming the identity of at least one of the four. These guys were geniuses, all right.
“He’s right, Terry,” I said. “You do have the right to remain silent. And you probably should. But to answer your question, I know who you are because I just did a facial scan of the four of you, and your information popped right up from the database I’m plugged into. It’s the FBI database. I’m plugged into that database because I’m an FBI agent. My name is Agent Chris Shane.”
“Bullshit,” Lynch said.
I ignored him. “I tried to be nice to you, but that’s not how you wanted to do this,” I said. “So why don’t we try it this way. While we’ve been standing here having our little conversation, I’ve already put in an alert to the Metro police. Their station house is just two blocks away, which is something I have to believe you didn’t know, because otherwise you wouldn’t have been stupid enough to try to bash someone here.
“So. You are going to let her”—I pointed to the woman—“come over and stand by me, and then you four are going to go home. Because if you’re still here when the cops show up, at least one of you is in trouble for underage drinking, Bernie, and at least one of you already has an assault charge on his sheet, Danny. The cops take a dim view of each.”
Three of the four looked at me uncertainly. The fourth, Lynch, I could tell was calculating his odds.
“I figure at least one of you is thinking he’s not going to get into that much trouble for taking a shot at a threep,” I said. “So this is where I remind you that D.C. law treats crimes against threeps the same as it does against human bodies. So all of you are going to be on the hook for assault. And, since it’s pretty clear to me you’re targeting this person because she’s a Haden, you’ve got a hate crime charge to go with it.
“So you just want to think about that,” I said. “While you’re thinking about that, I should mention that I’ve been recording this entire event from the minute I walked up, and that footage is already in the FBI’s servers. So far, all I have is four guys being drunk and stupid. Don’t let’s change that.”
Terry Olson and Bernie Clay stepped aside. The woman began walking toward me. As she cleared the men, Lynch let out a grunt and pulled back the bat to take a swing at her head.
Which is when I zapped him, because I had my service stunner behind my back the entire time and had him already zeroed in as the target. All I really had to do was fire when my interior reticle went red. I had him pegged as one of the “not quite clear on long-term consequences” types as soon as I had walked up, on account of there was only one idiot in attendance with a bat. He’d come out to dance. The others were just drunken wingmen.
Lynch stiffened and then fell to the ground, convulsing and vomiting. The other three men bolted. The woman knelt next to Lynch, checking him.
“What are you doing?” I asked, coming up to the two of them.
“I’m making sure he’s not aspirating his own vomit,” she said.
“What are you, a doctor?”
“As a matter of fact, yeah,” she said.
“Can you do that while I’m cuffing him?” I asked. She nodded. I cuffed him.
“Great,” I said, and stood back up. “Now I really do have to call the police.”
She looked up at me. “You hadn’t already?”
“I was pulling their data from the database and targeting this asshole,” I said. “I was a little bit busy. Why didn’t you, if you don’t mind me asking?”
“They just seemed like harmless drunks,” she said. “They came up from behind me and I didn’t think about it until they started talking to me. And I didn’t realize they were a problem until this asshole started asking me how far I thought my head would fly if he took a bat to it.”
“Tell me you have that part recorded, at least.”
“I do,” she said. “And I told him that I did. He just laughed.”
“I don’t credit Mr. Lynch here with too many brains,” I said. “Either that or he figured that after he was done playing Babe Ruth with your head, there wouldn’t be a recording left. Now. Are you done examining him, Doctor?”
“I am,” she said. “He’ll live. And thank you, by the way.”
“You’re welcome,” I said. I held out a hand. “Chris Shane,” I said.
“I know who you are,” she said, taking it.
“I get that a lot,” I said.
The doctor shook her head. “It’s not that,” she said. “I’m Tayla Givens. I’m your new housemate.”
* * *
Tayla and I had just finished up our statements to the arresting officers when I noticed someone walking up on us. It was Detective Trinh.
“Detective Trinh,” I said, to her. “This is unexpected.”
“Agent Shane,” she said. “You’ve had an exciting evening.”
“Just wrapping up,” I said.
“You planning to make a federal case out of this one, too?”
“Not really,” I said. “The Haden in this case lives in D.C. So this is going to be handled by Metro.”
“That’s probably wise,” Trinh said.
“Are you planning to be involved?” I asked. “We’re in the first police district right now. I was under the impression you worked out of the second.”
“I work out of the second,” Trinh said. “I live here. I was having a drink at Henry’s when the report came in over the radio. Thought I’d come over and see how you were doing.”
“I’m fine now,” I said.
“And maybe to have a chat with you.”
“All right,” I said.
“Privately,” Trinh said, nodding to Tayla.
I looked over to Tayla. “You want me to get them to take you home?”
“We’re less than a hundred yards from where we live,” Tayla said. “I think I can make it on my own.”
“All right,” I said.
“See you there soon,” she said, and headed home.
“You live with her?” Trinh asked, as Tayla walked off.
“New housemate,” I said. “This is actually the first time I’ve met her.”
“Interesting way to meet your new housemate,” Trinh said. “She’s lucky you were around. We’ve been having a spike of Haden bashings today.”
“Why is that?” I asked.
“The walkout and the stunt with the trucks on the loop, but I’m sure you knew that,” Trinh said. “When you spend days making it difficult for other people to do their thing, they get pissy about it. And because so many of you are flooding into town for the march, there are lots of targets of opportunity, as it were. It’s open season on threeps. We had five attacks in the second district today.”
“And how do you feel about it?” I asked.
“I’ll be happy when the march is over and I can get back to busting college kids for peeing on the sidewalk.”
“Huh,” I said. “What can I help you with, Detective Trinh?”
“I was curious about what you think of your new partner,” Trinh said.
“We get along so far,” I said.
“You heard about her last partner.”
“What about her?”
“Did Vann tell you what happened with her?”
“I understand there was a mishap with a firearm,” I said.
“That’s one way of putting it,” Trinh said. “There are other interpretations.”
“Like what?”
“Like Vann’s partner decided putting a bullet in her gut was a better option than dealing with Vann anymore.”
“Seems drastic,” I said.
“Desperate times,” Trinh said. “Desperate measures.”
“I don’t know anything about that,” I said.
“No, I guess you wouldn’t,” Trinh said. “You also know Vann used to be an Integrator.”
“I’d heard that,” I said.
“Ever wonder why she quit?”
“I’ve known her for two days,” I said. “One of which I mostly spent in the mountain time zone. So we haven’t had time to exchange life stories.”
“Pretty sure she knows yours,” Trinh said.
“Everyone knows mine,” I said. “It’s not a big trick.”
“Let me catch you up on hers, then,” Trinh said. “She left because she couldn’t hack it. The government spent all that money making her an Integrator and she ended up being phobic about people using her body. You might want to get her to tell you about her last couple of integration sessions. The rumors about them are pretty dramatic.”
“I wouldn’t know about that either,” I said.
“It explains all the self-medicating,” Trinh said. “Unless you’ve missed the smoking and drinking and barhopping, looking for people to bang.”
“I’ve noticed it,” I said.
“She’s not hugely picky on that score.”
“Really,” I said. “Does that explain you, then?”
Trinh smiled at me. “I never fucked Vann, if that’s what you’re asking. I’m not entirely sure about her and her old partner, though. I don’t suppose it will be an issue with you.”
“Do you have a problem with Hadens, Trinh?” I asked. “Because you don’t just punt in a crack like that last one right out of the blue.”
“I don’t think you understood me,” Trinh said. “I think it’s a good thing she won’t have an opportunity to fuck with you that way. But I won’t be surprised if she finds another way to do it.”
“Right,” I said. “Look, Trinh. It’s late and I’ve had a really long day. So if you could get to the point of this little conversation, I’d appreciate it. I mean, aside from you taking a dump all over my new partner.”
“The point is that you should be thinking about your partner, Agent Shane,” Trinh said. “She’s smart but not as smart as she thinks she is. She’s good, but not as good as she thinks she is, either. She talks a good game about what other people should be doing but when it comes to her own shit, she gets sloppy. Maybe you’ve noticed that already and maybe you haven’t. But speaking as a voice of some experience on that matter, if you haven’t noticed it yet, it’s something you’ll notice soon.”
“So she’s a ticking time bomb ready to explode, and I don’t want to be anywhere near her when she goes off,” I said. “Straight from the cliché checklist. Got it.”
Trinh held her hands in a way that expressed bored equanimity. “Maybe I’m wrong, Shane,” she said. “Maybe I’m just an asshole who had a bad experience with her when I had to deal with her. And maybe the two of you will get along just fine and you won’t feel like putting a bullet into your gut, or whatever. In which case, great. I hope the two of you are happy together. But then, maybe I’m not wrong. In which case, watch your partner, Shane.”
“I’ll do that,” I said.
“There’s some weird shit going on with Hadens,” Trinh said. “That thing at the Watergate. And I know you’re involved with whatever’s happening with Loudoun Pharma. If the two of you are working on something big, then the last thing you’re going to need is her falling apart. When she goes down you don’t want her to take you with her.”
“More clichés,” I said.
Trinh nodded. “It’s a cliché. Fine. On the other hand, you’re one of the most famous Hadens out there, aren’t you. Or used to be, anyway. Still famous enough that people called you a scab for showing up to work the other day. How will it look when you fuck up because of Vann, Shane? How will it look for your dad, the next senator from Virginia?”
I didn’t have anything to say to that.
“Just a little something for you to think about,” Trinh said. “Take it however you want. Have a good night, Shane. Hopefully you don’t have to save anyone else before you get home.” She walked off.
* * *
There was a welcoming committee of threeps waiting for me when I got to the town house. They tossed confetti at me when I walked through the door.
“Whoa,” I said, fending off the tiny bits of paper.
“We wanted to make you feel at home on your first night,” Tony said.
“I don’t usually have confetti thrown at me when I come home,” I said.
“Maybe you should,” Tony said.
“Why do you have confetti anyway?” I asked.
“Left over from New Year’s,” he said. “Never mind that now. We also wanted to thank you for stepping in with Tayla’s little problem out there. She told us about it when she came home.”
“It’s not the usual way to meet your new housemate,” Tayla said.
“Let’s not make it a regular thing,” I said.
“I would be okay with that,” Tayla said.
“And these are your other new flatmates,” Tony said, pointing at the two remaining threeps. “That’s Sam over there—”
“Hey,” Sam said, raising a hand.
“Hello,” I said.
“—and this is the twins, Justin and Justine,” Tony said, pointing to the remaining threep. I was about to ask for clarification when a text popped into my field of vision, from Tony. Go with it, I’ll explain later, it said.
“Hello,” I said, to the twins’ threep.
“Hello,” at least one of the twins said back.
“Can we do anything for you to make you comfortable?” Tony asked. “I know you’ve had a fun-filled couple of days.”
“Actually, all I want to do right now is get some sleep,” I said. “I know that’s not very exciting, but it’s been a really long day.”
“Not a problem,” Tony said. “Your room is like you saw it the last time you were here. The desk chair has an induction pad in it. It should work for you until you get something better in there.”
“Perfect,” I said. “In that case, good night, everyone.”
“Wait,” said the twins, and then handed me a balloon. “We forgot to throw this at you when you came in.”
“Thanks,” I said, taking it.
“We blew it up ourselves,” the twins said.
I thought about the implications of that statement. “How?” I finally asked.
“Don’t ask,” they said.