It’s ten minutes later, I’m staring at the side of the shoe of the local patrol GISI, my breathing shallow and mouth filled with a coppery taste. My blood. The side of my face is resting on the bronze historical plate embedded in the concrete. The one that marked the spot where the Templar sword had been found. It’s cool against my skin.
Across the street, I can see Kinky’s broken body on the pavement, her ample breast semi exposed but not rising or falling. The sonic bomb in my office had gone off, throwing us both through the windows and three stories to the street below.
Kinky had been on the comm changing our destination to a deep dark hole to climb down. Reservations for two. She also put a couple of personal items in an overnight bag she had stashed in a cabinet. She tossed me an empty and I went back into my office.
I checked the safe and it was online. All my files would be better off in there than on me if we got hit on the way out of town. I went to my comm and punched in the contingency plan code to send the safe combo to my old partner if I didn’t stop it first.
“Tickets will be waiting at the tram. Ready?” Kinky asked from behind my desk where she was working the monitors, looking as beautiful as ever, even though I could see the worry.
I opened my office closet to grab my coat and the world turned upside down.
Now I lay here going over it in my mind as my life slips away, my blood creating a macabre backfill as it flows around the raised bronze letters of the Templar plaque.
The explosion.
Being thrown through the window.
The fall.
And now the shoe. They all play over and over in my head.
I see someone on the sidewalk staring at Kinky’s broken body. Syemour. He is holding a ruby-red M-card. Through the pain and brain fog, it all makes sense.
The last thing I saw as I opened the closet was Madam Lefsst laying under some guy with a round sonic bomb strapped to him. They had to be alive. Maybe brain dead, but alive. Nobody looks for those kind of chemicals in an explosion. See, the thing about Denubes, they only ever say what they mean. Madam Lefsst said a leak would be explosive. And it was. She had leaked her intent to Syemour. Hell, they might have been lovers. Who knows?
Denubes only say what they mean. Syemour had setup people. Me included.
The Saviors of Mars would be accused of killing Mr. Lefsst and his mistress on Madam Lefsst’s orders, so she could get his fortune. During the final pay off meeting, taking place in my office, the Saviors double crossed us all and set a bomb off. The explosion would have triggered my safe, so the M-cards were all gone. I bet there is some “authentic” paperwork somewhere giving our boy Syemour control of the Lefsst fortune. Little shit.
I see him lick his translucent blue lips one last time as he stares at Kinky’s crotch.
He looks up from her broken body, right at me. He nods and smiles as the emergency tech lifts me onto a gurney and begins trying to save me. Syemour thinks he has won and I had no evidence. Madam Lefsst had probably told him about my safe. Smart Little Boy Blue.
“I think he’ll make it if we get him to the med-center….” I hear the med tech say.
I smile. I’ll make it.
See, I was an officer in the Galactic Intelligence Special Investigations (GISI) as part of the interspecies crime division, but that career is long gone. No regrets. Well, not many.
And on this day, I didn’t regret having a hacker buddy turn on all of my old GISI programs in my E-ram. The kind of programs that will take file uploads and record everything for the entire length of a case. The kind of GISI-ware that can be certified to be used as evidence in any Galactic Court. For Kinky, Syemour, this pinky-toy is going to see you burn.
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© “Pulped” Short Story, 2013 written by Tom Tinney. Published by PiR8 Productions, ALL RIGHTS RESERVED.
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