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My plummeting form jolted as someone, a hand caught me. Other hands, multiple hands, pulled and grasped at my arms, then my clothes; they dragged me backwards over the ledge, through a window and inside the building.
I was hauled through, turned upside down, as I breached the interior, and as my eyes adjusted to the glaring lights, I recognised my rescuers.
Detective Johnson grinned, but it was Suede who spoke.
“Mr Gemini,” said the cop. “Why am I not surprised?”
“I’m the one who’s damned surprised,” I said, looking up at the two cops. My heart was still pounding in my throat.
Suede cleared his throat. “Mr Gemini, I think you better come with us.” He grabbed my arm and pulled me to my feet. “Come on.”
“I...”
“Besides, I don’t want to impose on this lovely family anymore.”
I hadn’t noticed them. Two adults sat on a sofa, a young child placed between them, watching a movie. It was something animated. Well... not watching the movie anymore; it was paused, and they were all staring at me. They were eating popcorn.
“I’m sorry for the intrusion.” I bowed, or curtseyed, or whatever; these high-class Sector Three snobs were bound to already think I was goddamned crazy. “Nothing to be concerned about.” Their expressions contradicted me.
I followed the two detectives out into the hall.
“Mr Gemini,” said Suede. He pressed the button for the elevator. “Are you going to tell us why you were on that ledge? And don’t tell us it was for a case. Not again. This isn’t the first time we’ve saved you from certain death.”
“It’s not like I meant to fall,” I said. I followed the pair into the lift. “I didn’t ask to be saved.” The doors swished closed.
“And what about that time we rescued from that tiger?” said Johnson. “In the Zoo?”
“It’s not my fault; the doors locked automatically.”
“What about that pile-up in the underway?”
“Oh, come on.” We stepped out into the foyer. “That was an accident! I didn’t know they’d reopened the road; those repairs have been going on for years!”
“You shouldn’t’ve been down there in the first place.” She held the main door, for both me and her counterpart to exit. The blue and red lights of the cops’ autocar still flashed through the night.
“I was there for a case.” Across the street, lit up by the colourful illuminations, I caught sight of a small group of alien cultists. I’d seen them around Space Station Delta quite a bit lately, but it was unusual to see them out this late; they looked downtrodden and tired, barely holding up their ‘believe’ signs, their grey robes solemnly dragged along the pavement behind them. “Missing cat,” I said to them. Must’ve been a bad night for conning people out of the credits. Crazy nutjobs.
“You were willing to die for that?” said Johnson. Suede snorted a laugh. Neither of them had noticed, or least they’d chosen to ignore, the four or five zealots staring at us as they passed by. “Must be some fancy-ass cat!”
“As a matter of fact...”
“You’ve got a death wish, Mr Gemini,” said Suede. He opened the back door of the vehicle and gestured for me to enter. “We better take you home; we don’t want you taking any more risks, do we?”
“Thanks, but I can get there on my own,” I said. The damned grey fanatics had disappeared into another street and out of view. “And I don’t take too many risks.” These cultists were becoming such a common sight on the station that people were starting to think of them as part of the furniture, much like some of the other crackpots that lived here; they were part of the identity of Space Station Delta, like the shit and grime of Sectors Seven and Six. They gave the place ‘character,’ which was an excuse for no-one to do anything about them.
“You don’t take too many risks?” Suede guffawed. “Don’t make me laugh!”
“I’m a professional.”
“Oh, come on,” said the cop. “You almost get yourself killed every other day for pocket change. Why? It’s not just part of the job for you; other P.I.s don’t get into half as much trouble as you do. There’s more to it than that.”
I shrugged.
“And you can’t always have been like this,” he said. “In fact, I didn’t even know who you were until...”
“Last year.”
“Er... yes... and the less said about that the better.” He waved his hand to the open door again. “Come on, get in. Don’t make this difficult.” He gently prodded me. “For once, why don’t you do as you’re told, eh?”
“Whatever.” I ducked inside the autocar. It smelled fresh, as fresh as fresh human excrement. I needed a goddamned cigarette to dull my sense of smell. “I was wondering,” I said, as the two cops joined me in the car, “just what are two upstanding officers like yourselves doing in Sector Three.” I needed to change the subject away from me, and onto something else. “I mean, it’s not your usual haunt.”
The pair shared a look which spoke volumes, before joining me in the vehicle.
Goddamned suspicious.
“I’ll find out eventually,” I said.
They shared another verbose glance.
“There’s nothing to find out,” said Detective Suede. “And it’s none of your business; you’re not a cop. Not anymore.”
“There’s definitely something going on.” I leaned forward. The two cops were sat facing me; the autocar had no need for driver, and the police inside could keep an eye on their charges. “You know,” I said, “I would’ve thought you two would’ve been more forthcoming, considering what happened last year.”
“Still bitter about it, I see.”
“Wouldn’t you be? Tribeca is a goddamned devious snake.”
“From what I understand,” said Johnson, “they met their end of the contact. You were lucky to get anything at all. You didn’t exactly find Howard Lowe, did you?”
“That’s what Ms Dionne Bex said.” I glared at her. “But I did stop that little experiment from getting out of hand. It was her fault it got that far in the first place. If I hadn’t...”
Suede cleared his throat. Loudly. “That’s enough, Mr Gemini. You know well enough that we’re not supposed to talk about it.”
“I don’t see why...”
I was interrupted by a loud banging on the darkened glass of the police autocar, a frantic rapping, urgent banging.
“Jack?” called a familiar voice. “I know you’re in there; I saw you get in the car. Jack? You told me you were working in Sector Three. Jack!”
“Someone you know?” said Suede.
I nodded and reached for the door. “Yeah,” I said. “The woman I’m seeing.” I pushed open the door to reveal the tall and coiffed lady. “Elizabeth Decker.” As upset as she looked, she still looked perfectly made up; styled hair, make up. “Everyone calls her Queenie,” I sighed. She certainly acted like a queen; she could be a spoiled brat sometimes.
“Jack? What in goddamned hell are you doing?” Her pinned up hair bobbed and shook with every word. “Are you being arrested again? Really? After what we talked about last week?” She sighed. “Jack...”
I raised my eyebrows. “Queenie, I’m working.” I glanced over to the two police officers I shared the autocar with; they were both trying to hide their amusement. “What do you want?”
“Jack,” she said. “I need you. Why haven’t you been answering your SmartBoy? I’ve been calling.”
“It’s on silent,” I replied.
“That’s no excuse, Jack.”
“I couldn’t exactly answer while I was dangling from a ledge.”
“What? You were where?”
“Queenie, can’t it wait?”
“No.”
I watched her. Her face was beginning to crack and beneath the façade of make-up she wore, I could see she was flustered. She looked like she’d been running, a rare sight for her, and she was a little out of breath. I was still wating for her to tell me what was so important. “Well?” I said.
“Oh, right.” Queenie looked over to the two cops. “They can come along too.” She pushed passed me and entered the autocar.
“Ma’am,” said Suede, “I really don’t think...”
“You’re the police.” She squeezed passed me and sat in the adjacent seat. “I’ll need your help too. And you can give us all a lift there.”
“Excuse me,” said Suede, “but we’re not here to serve at you’re every wish and whim, lady.”
“Lady? Lady?!” Queenie aimed a manicured finger at the cop. “Just who do you think you’re speaking to? I’m an upstanding member of the community I’ll have you know!” I facepalmed; I already knew where this was going. Downhill. Fast. “I pay your wages!” Her finger jabbed the air. “You. Both of you. You need to do what I say. A crime has been committed and you need to find the perpetrator!” She waved in my direction. “My poor Jack can’t be expected to do your job for you, can he?”
“Please don’t bring me into this,” I said.
Queenie glared at me open-mouthed. I could already imagine the ‘talk’ we’d have about this later.
“Queenie... I just think you need to calm it a little.” She was still glaring. “They can’t help you if you don’t tell them what the problem is?” I clasped her hand and squeezed. “Right?”
“Don’t patronise me, Jack.” She shook free of my grasp. “Especially after what I’ve been through today.”
I thought of my own escapade on the ledge, my brush with death; I wondered what in goddamned hell could be worse. “Please,” I said, “enlighten us.” I glanced over to Suede and Johnson; both were smirking. “We... er... I mean, I really want to make things better, Queenie.”
She sighed an exaggerated sigh. “Well. Jack. The Delartes has been stolen.”
“The what?”
“The Delartes.”
“Yes, Queenie,” I said. “I still don’t know what that is.”
She harrumphed. “Jack, I don’t have time to educate you about the most expensive piece of art I’ve ever hosted at Flare. Just because you’re uncultured, doesn’t mean you can’t help.” She waved toward the cops. “I bet these officers know what a Delartes is.”
I glanced over.
Suede shrugged.
“Detectives,” I said, “are you pressed for time? Fancy a trip to an art gallery?”