CHAPTER 8
Long shadows crept into the living quarters by the time Locke finished telling Jade about Govicide Director Stallings, the Govicide Building, the SST ride, the District, the Monuments, and Assistant Zell.
But, the System, above all, filled Jade with fascination. “The room was as big as a theater?”
“And the Director said there’s a bunch of them around the World but the one I saw is the main one.”
“You think as the girlcomrade of an Agent I could get to see it sometime?” she asked, pulling closer to him on the couch.
Locke shook his head. “I don’t think so. I think it’s off-limits to all subjects not in Govicide.”
“Well, that’s not fair,” she pouted.
“Fair is whatever the Director decides,” Locke answered. “But you’re right, it’s beautiful. All the colors, numbers, charts. Beautiful . . .”
She slapped him on his shoulder. “Now you’re just rubbing it in.”
“Sorry.” He hugged her.
“And what about our . . . problem?” Jade looked down at her stomach.
“Our what?” A sword of regret struck him as soon as he said those words. “I mean—“
“Our thing. Our fetus. What did the Director say?” Jade slid away from him.
“Well . . . ” Locke fished for the right OWG words to explain what happened but they darted away like cockroaches in the daylight. Even so, he knew the right words didn’t exist. He convinced Jade before he left he would resolve their situation in the District. But with what transpired in his interview, a resolution became impossible.
Her question caught him off-guard because by the time Locke sat on the couch, he already had begun to look at the fetus problem as just another case to solve. Gather evidence. Look at the facts. Find the hole in the story and exploit it. No fear, just procedure.
In their case, the task would be finding the hole in the System and exploiting it. Unfortunate for him, three hours ago he just saw the System and there were no obvious holes, just like the OWG planned and professed.
Hamilton found them, so why couldn’t he do it, too?
One thing at time, Locke reeled in his thoughts. First objective: Make sure Jade doesn’t freak out and take any rash actions.
“What? Don’t tell me you didn’t ask him!” She jumped off the couch, stomping toward the eating room and throwing her arms in the air. She spun around and came right back at him, stopping at his feet.
He leaned forward. “I was going to but--”
“But what? You were telling me all about the paintings, the monuments, and Govicide Headquarters. I thought you handled it.” Jade’s voice rattled the window right behind him.
Locke hoped the fascination of the trip would soften the blow once Jade found out the bad news.
No such luck.
“Things didn’t go as planned.”
“You . . . don’t . . . say.” Sarcasm dripped from her lips like water torture.
“Well, what I left out about the interview was he told me I was a decoy so none of the Agents looked stupid when they interrogated Hamilton. So it wasn’t a favor or even a courtesy. After I heard that, I knew my plan wasn’t going to work.” He grabbed her dangling right hand.
She jerked her hand away. “A decoy?”
“It gets worse.”
“How’s that possible?” She folded her arms, staring down at him. He felt like a rat in a corner.
Locke rolled his head back and forward, loosening his neck. He suspected Jade would love to strangle it right then. “The Director knows you got those pregnancy tests.”
“How does he know?” Her hands went to her hips. She leaned over just by a few degrees.
“The System tracks everything. You know that. Just be happy they’re not aware you used them already and what the results were.”
Jade looked to the ceiling. Then her right hand came to her face.
Her body relaxed after a few moments like the fight left her.
“What are you thinking?” Locke asked, hoping the answer wouldn’t make him feel any worse than he already did. He’d let her down, but he couldn’t see how he could have changed the outcome of the interview.
“I’m thinking I don’t know what we’re gonna do. If I have this fetus, they’ll know. If I get an abortion, they’ll know.” Her legs collapsed, dropping her onto the couch.
He moved next to her and she buried her head in his neck. The dam in her eyes broke and the tears flowed.
His mind ticked off all the points leading to their current predicament. Hamilton murdering the first Agent in Gambling City. Locke being allowed to follow the leads all over the World as the other murders occurred. Jade and he having non-sex credit sex just at the right, or wrong, time. Hamilton getting caught. Stallings requesting Locke become a Govicide Agent.
A unique formula adding up to the two of them standing at the precipice of the rest of their lives.
The die was cast, though. There was no reverse switch. The only choice Locke had left was to follow his detective instincts. He had to put his emotions aside. Emotions could not save him and Jade.
Only thinking could protect them now.
“Here’s what we’ll do,” he whispered in her ear. “You won’t show for what . . . two more months? It’ll give me time to figure this out. I’m being partnered with a Govicide veteran. He might give me some info on a way out.”
“He’s going right to Director Stallings when you bring it up. You know it . . . you know it!” Her voice crescendoed to a wail, her lips moving against his neck.
He stroked her hair. “I’m not going to be stupid, honey. I’ll feel him out. Plus, I’ll get to know the System even better. Maybe there’s a way around it where you can get an abortion but still go by the mandate.”
“You think so?” Her voice softened.
“But we have to be smart about this. Don’t get anything having to do with being pregnant. Or they’ll know.”
She looked up at him. “I’ll do my best.”
He stared into her glowing brown eyes. “I’ll start with Govicide. I’ll do great work. Everything will be fine. Yes, it’s not the best circumstances right now but it will work out.” He smiled, but waves of doubt splashed behind it.
The limousine driver was true to his word. Locke called him at 6:45am and the same driver as yesterday appeared on the doorstep at 7:10am.
Locke tried to make conversation with him but the male didn’t seem in the mood. The topics: driving, the OWG, Govicide. Nothing made a dent. The driver kept his eyes on the street, once in a while checking the rearview mirror.
They arrived at the Homicide Department in no time. Locke laughed at himself for not realizing a car ride took less time to get to the Department than his bus route. In the limousine, he arrived an entire hour earlier, 7:30am.
The limousine pulled in front of the building. The driver informed him he would wait for Locke, all day if needed. Locke didn’t know what to say so he kept it simple. “Thanks.”
Inside, the receptionist sat at her post. Locke hadn’t seen her two days ago.
“Detective Locke, I did not realize you were back . . . and you are early.” She glanced the clock behind him.
“I kind of miscalculated how long it would take the limousine to get me here,” he laughed.
“Limousine?” She cocked her head.
“I got promoted yesterday in the District by Director Stallings. I’m a Govicide Agent now.” He fumbled for his badge and pulled it out. “See?”
The receptionist’s face turned red and her left hand fluttered at her neckline. Something about her reaction reminded Locke of Megan, the flight attendant.
“Oh my, Govicide Agent Locke, I had no idea.” She pushed her chair away, stood up and bowed, keeping her eyes on him.
“It’s okay. Don’t worry about it.”
She didn’t sit back down. “How is your girlcomrade? Are you still with her?” she asked, playing with a pen in her right hand.
The receptionist was not unattractive. But like the flight attendant, she was off-limits.
“I am. Thanks for asking. Well, nice seeing you again.”
Fearing she might jump him if he stayed a second longer, he hurried down the hallway.
The detectives would arrive within the next hour. Homicide was nine-to-five work unless, of course, the victims were Govicide Agents.
Locke found a box in a janitor’s closet to hold his articles and mementos. After filling out the proper paperwork so he could use the discarded box without any problems, he placed it on his desk and began to fill it. He opened the top right drawer of his desk, finding a stack of letters written to him by victims’ families. He removed one from its envelope.
Detective Locke, I thank you for finding the murderer of our daughter, Jennifer. I miss her but I also realize that through her death more Goods and Services will be available to other subjects. That is how the OWG works, right? Jennifer was an energetic believer in the OWG, as we all are. She understood that we are all just the Masses who work for its existence. There is no after-life. And that is too bad because I am sure if there were, Jennifer would want to work for the ends of the OWG there as well.
Thank you.
Ms. Emma Braun
He read the letter twice. The Jennifer Braun case had been his second case but he couldn’t remember the details. Sometimes a smell, an image, or a feeling came upon him when he remembered a particular murder from his twelve years of work. But Jennifer’s case blended in with all the others.
Similar letters lived in his drawer. Each letter possessed the same tone, a thanks with the understanding the OWG was better off with the victim dead.
He took them all and placed them in the box.
The next drawer down held his Commendations. Each framed. Signs of accomplishment inside Homicide, they meant nothing outside its walls, like being the best of the worst.
The “Efficient Homicide Investigation” Commendation. The “Torture of a Suspect” Commendation. And the one that made him the most proud, “Homicide Analysis of the Year” Commendation.
He received this last one right before Hamilton’s spree started. Locke showed how the investigation of a five-year old girl’s murder by her parents cost the OWG more credits than if the girl had lived to her natural death. In the OWG this year, the life expectancy for a female was 61. 8 years old. A male: 59.7.
From his study, the OWG altered their criteria for investigating murders. Now, Homicide completed a cost-benefit analysis before any investigation. If it determined an investigation potentially cost more than if the dead subject had lived their entire natural life, Homicide put no detectives on the case.
Instead, the OWG gave the victim’s family one credit less than what the victim would have cost over the course of their natural-born life. The OWG allowed the murderer to roam free since he had done the OWG a favor, saving it at least one credit. This freed up time at Homicide and made the OWG more efficient with its credits. The families didn’t like it, but they saw how good the change in criteria was for the OWG. And the credits went a long way. Plus, all sorrow eventually disappeared in time.
Locke piled the commendations into the box. He opened the left drawer where he kept all his notes from prior investigations, including Hamilton’s. He didn’t take time to read them but several words stood out: strangled, drowned, burned, suffocated, bled to death, run over. Just a few of the ways Hamilton killed those Govicide Agents.
Each death reminded him of their locations all over the World. Gambling City, Dale City, Putneyville, Mountain Town, Red Star City, Francoville.
Locke shook his head, still not understanding how Hamilton managed to evade them for so long. And no way Hamilton used just trains and boats to get to those places. Not as quickly as Hamilton seemed to travel.
A jet? An SST? Not possible.
Perusing the list, Locke realized how lucky he had gotten. Or was it unlucky due to Jade’s pregnancy? If the first murder had occurred in any one of these other cities, Locke wouldn’t have even heard about the investigation except through the OWG News. And how many other cities were there in the world? He estimated the odds of Hamilton committing his first murder in Gambling City were one in, at least, a thousand. That was lucky.
Or not.
Continuing to fill up the box, Locke remembered how the Govicide Agents didn’t want him on the Hamilton investigation at first. They thought they could handle it themselves. But, none of them had experience with analyzing blood spatter evidence. They were clueless about protecting a murder scene. None of them knew how to interrogate a murder witness.
They interrogated economic witnesses and suspects, but that was totally different. In those cases, they didn’t start their questioning until they scanned the barcodes and downloaded the System data. Govicide Agents always had the hammer of the computer printouts to pound away at an Offender. And the System information could make Offenders confess in minutes.
But in Homicide, anything learned at a crime scene came from human analysis, not a machine. Homicide showed up with brains, not equipment. No scanners. No System information. No charts. No graphs. Locke taught the Govicide Agents the art of interrogating witnesses when no prior information was available.
The Agents resisted, at first. But soon they relented and saw the advantage of an actual Homicide Detective on the case. Plus, both departments got something in the process. Locke learned about DNA and fingerprinting, techniques unfamiliar to Homicide due to cost. The Govicide Agents learned to interrogate witnesses without the help of data, adding to their already-polished techniques.
Finishing his packing, he sat down at his empty desk. Alone. No other detectives had arrived. This would be his last time here.
Swiveling his chair, he came to rest pointed at the doors leading to the prison. A realization came to him: Hamilton was still here, on the premises, only two hundred yards away.
What was the murderer doing right now? Worrying about his impending execution? Wondering why no Agents had been to see him yet? Sleeping?
Locke tapped his foot on the floor.
He should go see the killer.
No, that was un-mandated. And Locke had enough potential trouble as it was.
While he sat ruminating, he was surprised to find his legs pushing the wheeled chair closer to the doors, as if they had a will of their own—or was it his inner curiosity controlling them? Half inch by half inch. Inch by inch. Until he had moved almost three feet.
It couldn’t hurt, right?
He owed Hamilton everything, even if he had killed fourteen Agents. Without those murders, he would still be nothing but a Homicide Detective. Now, Locke had a chance to serve the OWG in his fullest capacity as an Agent, even if in the end his and Jade’s transgressions were uncovered.
The food, the SST’s, the limousines, the equipment. It was all thanks to Hamilton.
Couldn’t he be allowed just a moment to see the killer?
How could they begrudge him a moment of reflection?