Heaven & Earth

The computer hadn't turned up any matches. Jinro logged out just after midnight, still puzzled, but with a creepy tingling in his spine that might've been paranoia. From the time he left to the station until he locked his front door behind him, the feeling that he was being watched and followed remained with him.

Jinro could not sleep. The light from the street-lamps outside was closed out by the blinds, which served as well to keep out spying eyes, but he still felt uneasy, as if the first time he'd checked his closets and cabinets for intruders was not enough. It was 3:00 a.m. and he still tossed and turned. Whatever the creep on the vid-phone had done to his brain to make him uptight was working. He slid his hand under his pillow and wrapped it around the rough, non-slip handgrip of his service automatic. If the nut-job decided to drop by, he would get several .41 caliber welcomes to center mass.

At 3:05, Jinro heard sirens, at first just the lonely howl of a single fire-engine racing to the scene of a blaze, then another, and another and more... each one of them in the same vicinity. Curiosity got the better of him so he swung his legs out of the bed and stepped to the window. He spread apart two slats in the blinds and saw a glow rising into the sky like an artificial dawn. It seemed like the whole Flushing area was on fire. Dark pillars of smoke boiled up to disappear into the night sky.

He counted the lights of six VTOL's in the airspace over the scene. From the number of emergency vehicles he could make out at the scene, Jinro could guess that for this one they had pulled units from all over the city to battle the flames with water and flame-retardant foam.

***

His position in the department allowed him unique access to the devastation. Twelve city blocks had burned down to the pavement before the fire was extinguished, an event that took place well into the middle of the next morning. The last foam-pumper collected its weary crew and flew home at 10:30. Ground pounders sealed off the area and collared the few looters that they found carting away singed valuables.

"I should've done something," Jinro said numbly as he crouched down and picked up a half-melted plastic doll laying amid the shards of broken glass and charred rubble scattered across the street. "I should've told somebody about what that nut-job said."

"Don't beat yourself up over this." Walter said and stuffed his hands into his pockets. "We get hundreds of the same kind of threats every year. Besides, the fire marshal said that this was probably caused by a gas-line explosion."

"Maybe." Jinro said softly and let the dolly drop to the pavement. "So what's the body count up to?"

"I don't know, I don't think they're finished yet," Walter said and shook his head. The effects of over-crowding were the primary reasons that Flushing had been so dangerous. Until last night, it had been filled mostly with immigrants, transients, and gang-bangers, but no longer. They might never know the full number of dead, but it was certainly in the hundreds, if not thousands. "It's not your problem, Jinro. There's no way one guy could've done all this."

"There's no way one guy could've walked out of the Dragon-King lair not punched full of holes," Jinro said. "But this guy did."

"We don't know that," Walter said. He sounded angry. "I don't know what he told you to get you so upset, but you need to bring it back to the here and now. There are cases that need our absolute attention and you're not giving it. C'mon, buddy... are you still with me?"

Jinro blinked as Walter's fist landed and his mind cleared. He looked up and, as if seeing it for the first time, surveyed his surroundings. He took a deep breath of the smoky air and nodded.

"Yeah, I think I've seen enough," Jinro said and looked up in time to catch sight of a VTOL aircraft with AgraCon markings as it buzzed the scene. As big as the arcology was, the people inside it had to have seen the fire.

***

Chapter Five

"Police! Open up!" Walter hollered and thumped a ham-fist on the door. The door shook on its hinges and chips of paint flaked off as each blow landed. A dirtbag urinating into the open supply closet down the hall looked up in surprise. The whole building reeked of foul things. "Open up or we kick it in!"

Jinro shifted his gaze to the paint flakes and watched them fall to join others on the carpeting, worn shag that was likely as old he was. Everything about the LO-RENT 9 stack begged to be scrapped or shit-canned; the carpet, the broken lights, the piss-stained carpeting, and most of the tenants they'd passed.

"Maybe he's not home." Jinro said and crossed his arms. Curious heads poked out of the doorways further down the long hall and disappeared again.

"Then maybe his tracking chip lives here." Walter said and hammered again, but this time was rewarded by the sound of a lock being unbolted. The door was opened by a short, dark woman with bristle-brush hair and aboriginal features.

"Good afternoon, ma'am," Jinro said and opened his badge. "We're looking for Richard Rattelli. We understand he might be found here."

The woman nodded and stepped back into the apartment leaving the doorway open. She closed the door and locked it once they had stepped through.

"Well, well, if it ain't Jinro and Jerkowitz," They heard a high, nasal voice say. Jinro looked towards the source and saw Richie come into the room with a baby in his arms. "Hey, you two should fight crime. Oh, wait- you do!"

Richie snickered as he passed the baby to the woman, then wiped his powdery hands on his trousers and folded his arms. Jinro shook his head as she disappeared into the next room. The six months he'd spend in Attica hadn't seemed to change him. He was still thin and hair still grew out of his ears, and he was still a flippant cunt, but that wasn't against the law.

"You should chill, Richie," Jinro said. "You got the mark. We could send you back to Attica for what would surely be a long and bitter sentence, and you know what? We could do it on whatever trumped up bullshit we could think of."

"Oh, I'm so sorry, Inspector Chill. At least I'll never be a slave to a Krono-Tek," Richie said and held up a naked wrist. Usually they were handcuffed behind his back. "My boss lets me get there when I get there."

"Can it, Richie," Walter said. "If we wanted shit out of you, we'd squeeze your neck, maybe we will anyway."

"Aww, but officer," Richie drawled. "That'd be police brutality."

"Not if you were resisting arrest," Jinro said as he took the hardcopy CCTV capture out of his pocket and unfolded it. When it was open, he held it up in front of Richie's face. "And as long as we're on the subject of arrest, why don't you tell us what you were doing in Stuyvesant last Sunday."

"I don't know what you mean." Richie said. Like any con, he knew how to look surprised.

"This picture was taken three blocks from where a grandmother was assaulted in her home," Jinro said. "When known felons show up this close to a crime scene, we tend to get very suspicious."

"I didn't have nothin' to do with it," Richie said, not hiding his pensiveness. "Six months of aversion therapy in the lockup kinda showed me the error of my ways."

"Fine," Jinro said as he folded the hardcopy into a neat square and shoved it back into his pocket. "So answer the fucking question."

"The storage lot for the company I work for is in Stuyvesant," Richie said. "Off of DeKalb Avenue. When did you guys put cameras up?"

"You got a job?" Walter said, arms akimbo in disbelief. "Who would hire you? Are the businesses in this booming economy that hard up for help?"

"I do sanitation engineering," Richie said. "With Municipal Waste Services. I got a family to think about now."

"You got some ID?" Jinro said and swiveled his head to check the small apartment. It seemed clean, which was a change from the last time they'd been to see Richie, but filled with the same cast-off furniture that he remembered.

"Yeah, yeah, hold on," Richie said and dug his wallet out of his hip-pocket. "So what brings you two down from the lofty freshness of Metro H.Q., huh? Slumming?"

"We're asking the questions here, house-mouse." Jinro said but chose not to add: "this box doesn't qualify as a slum." Slums got government subsidies.

"Hey, Kume, thanks. You're a real hero."

"You didn't make any pit-stops on your way home from work, huh, armpit?" Walter said. "Because you know that the terms of your release state that you're required to go directly home once you get off duty, right?"

"I know, I know." Richie said and opened his wallet. He pulled out a plastic card and handed it over. Jinro took it and examined it. It was an employee identification card issued by Municipal Waste Services with Richie's picture on it, a bar-code, and a still-valid expiration date. Jinro handed it back.

"We're gonna check this out, Richie," Jinro said as he turned for the door. "If you've lied to us, we'll be back, and we won't be happy. You're not lying to us, are you Richie?"

"N-no." Richie said. It never failed. When Richie got nervous he started to stutter, but Jinro could almost imagine why. A man with a family had lots to be nervous about.

"I hope not." Walter said and followed Jinro to the door. "It'd be a damn shame for that baby to grow up without a daddy, a damn shame, and you know the rules."

"Yeah, yeah, if you bring me in again, I go up for a lot longer than just six months." Richie managed as he unlocked the door. "I got it."

"One last thing," Jinro said. "You haven't heard anything about the Dragon-Kings, have you?"

"I heard that they're not in Little Beijing anymore," Richie said and opened the door. "I could do some sniffing as to why."

"We already know why, and the where, and the how, " Jinro said. "We're interested in the who. Do you think you can handle that?"

"Sure, I can handle that," Richie said. "But it'll cost ya. You got it so good, you should spread it around, it's good for the karma."

"Regular price?" Walter said. Richie got 20 Dollars per tip, 40 if it were a really good one. Richie had rolled over on his masters after a mid-level bust and gotten the man above him flamed. Jinro knew he wasn't liked but understood why he did it. Being caught in the no-man's land between law and criminals made people adaptable but fatalistic.

"I've had to raise my prices," Richie said and shrugged. "What with the family and all, besides, maybe the Rippers know something. I'll ask around."

"We'll be in touch." Jinro said as he stepped into the hallway. Walter waved at the woman peeking out of the kitchen and followed Jinro out.

"So do you think it was him?" Walter said once the door behind them had been closed and locked.

"Nope," Jinro said. "It'd be nice if he came through on a tip though."

"I hear that," Walter said and dug in his pocket for the car-keys. "Let's get some lunch. Rocket-top?"

"Fine."

***

"Oh Miki, you're so fine, you're so fine you blow my mind, hey Miki," Miki Feng sang out with the song coming into the MP3 player via wireless high-speed modem. She flicked on the turn signal and caught her reflection in the windshield, smiling as she opened her PDA and found a number. "Four-three-six-nine, Four-three-six-nine."

The light turned green and she pressed down on the accelerator. The white, economy model Subitsu pushed out to the middle of the intersection and stopped when she shifted her foot to the brake, traffic coursing from the opposite direction prevented her from turning, so she dropped her eyes and hunted for her purse. She checked for a break in the flow again, and seeing that there were none, opened the activated the integral cell-phone.

The light turned yellow and there were still no breaches in the wall of cars to exploit. A horn blared from someone behind her in the turning lane queue. She lifted her eyes to the rear-view mirror and saw an impatient man making angry-looking gestures. On-coming traffic slowed, then stopped when the light turned red. Before the light turned green, she had her foot on the juice-pedal.

"Four-three-six-nine. Moron." Miki said and completed her turn when it stopped. The asshole with the horn had been left at the light.

"Hello?" A man's voice picked up the line.

"Hi." Miki said in her sweetest "did-you-miss-me?" voice.

"Well, well, look who it isn't."

"Yep, it's me." Miki said.

"Hi yourself. I thought you weren't speaking to me anymore?"

"I was wrong, ok?" Miki said and instantly regretted calling him, but she had expected a cool reception. She recognized that she had put him through a lot but the nice thing about her ex was that he forgave easily. "Can't I be wrong sometimes?"

"No, I'm sorry about Feng though. I didn't know him that well but you two looked really great together."

"Thanks, we did, didn't we," She said and sighed. God, did she miss him. "Maybe that was fate's way of saying we didn't belong together."

"The pedestal is still here if you want to get back on it. In fact, you are hereby banished to it's top. Where are you?"

"I just passed University Boulevard," Miki said and heard the man on the other end gasp as something loud on his end hit the floor, a pan. "If you want to talk I can stop by."

"I just got off shift but you can stay for dinner. Just put away your cell-phone before you kill someone, ok?"

"I might need a place to sleep for a while, there's some weird shit going on and don't want any of it, Miki said and checked the traffic in the rearview mirror. The merge queue for the cruise lane was moving steadily forward as cars were dispersed into the flow. At 3 A.M., traffic was relatively light. "I might need your help finishing a project though."

"That's not a problem."

"What are you making?" Miki said and she heard the sounds of the pan being set on a stove-top, Ex could cook. She pictured him in his chef's hat and thought, I will make him take me back.

"I'll make you some rice if you want it, but there's a roast of cow in the oven."

"Hey, man, doesn't the cow deserve a break?" Miki said. Her English was imperfect but he found it endearing. She had a palate too delicate for bovine flesh. He will roll some Futamaki. She thought. "Will you make me some sushi?"

"Not on this short notice, but I can make it tomorrow night if you're still around."

"Then how could I refuse?" Miki said. She stepped on the brake as a black Mercedes bulled into the space ahead of her. "Asshole!"

"That's great, Miki," Ex said, a dry comment about her profanity, then she heard his voice away from the phone. "I'll set an extra place."

"I'm doing the best I can." Miki said.

"I know you are," He said soothingly. "Relationships don't come with a manual, but I miss you, and you know how I felt about Feng."

"I never wanted your approval," Miki said and swerved around the Mercedes that had cut her off, accelerating past it. Maybe that's why I started seeing him in the first place, she thought. "I should be there in about thirty minutes."

"Do you still have your key?"

"I do," Miki said. The key to his apartment hung beside the one for the car. "I'll just let myself in."

"See you soon."

She tossed the phone onto the passenger seat beside her as traffic slowed for a stop-light. She pressed down on the break and the Subitsu decelerated. Once it was at a standstill, she removed a small, 20 Gigabyte memory card from her purse and placed it in the glove box. The handwritten sticker on the top was labeled, "Dragon-Kings/ New Years party 2012."

When she looked up a delivery truck was lingering in the turn lane, blocking her forward progress. The Mercedes had boxed her in on the left, another one pulled in behind he and two men got out. Miki looked the doors and kept her eyes straight forward as a group of similarly dressed men clustered around her car.

"Open up or we let ourselves in." The leader said and laughed as he rapped on the window. Miki cried out in fright as the closest one tried the door-handle. She watched his brow furrow as he lifted a gloved fist and concentrated. Her eyes widened as the manual lock began to tremble. Miki shrieked as the lock slipped and they opened the door. There was a pistol under the passenger side. She lunged to retrieve it as she was pulled out of the car and into the street.

"We saw you with one of our people. Tell us everything we want to know or we'll take what we want. You would find that unpleasant."

Miki spit in his face. "Go to hell."

"It's the hard way then. Hold her." The leader replied. She screamed as he ripped her blouse open, exposing a naked breast. Miki strained against the two of his associates holding her arms, only to be kicked in the back of her legs and forced to her knees. The man wiped away her saliva running down his cheek and removed a small box from his coat and jacked in a two-lead wire. The leads were adhesive and one was attached to her chest, above her breast and to the left of her breastbone. The other was placed laterally on the same side, lower, to her ribcage. She could hear the electronic signature of her frantic heartbeat when the box was powered on. Miki cried out as a needle jabbed into her arm. The shot took effect almost immediately and Miki felt herself relaxing, slumping in their arms.

"Listen to me carefully," the leader said as he shoved Miki into the back of the Mercades and climbed in behind her. She looked out the rear window and saw one of them climbing into her Subiyama, the memory card forgotten. "We're not going to hurt you. Just tell me about your friend Leonard Dean."

***

"Ramirez was telling me all about his dream house, the lucky bastard," Walter said and lifted a steaming cup of coffee to his lips. "He says he found the perfect spot to build it, guess where?"

"I don't know," Jinro said, sweeping the place for talent. The lunch rush was just getting into swing. "Hawaii."

He spied a brunette alone in a booth across from the pie counter, she looked 24 or 25 and was dressed in corporate black logo-wear, Neotek was lettered down each of her sleeves. Her conservative skirt rode up, giving him a glance at her legs and flank, she was a fine specimen of mid-management flesh. She looked up as she turned the page of the newspaper she was reading, looking around as if expecting someone. When she met his eyes, he smiled.

"Not even close," Walter said, smiling as he lowers his cup. "Mozambique, can you believe it? He says that the real estate there is so cheap that he got it for next to nothing, beaches that are just as nice as Mexico but less expensive."

"I'm not surprised," Jinro said, dropping his eyes to the menu. There is nothing on it that he hasn't tried. "Look at what AIDS and Ebola have done, how many hundreds of millions have died over there?"

"One out of four was what I heard," Walter said, shrugging as he refilled his cup from a thermal pitcher of the same. "A damn shame, kind of ironic that we got the vaccine from two Kinshasa whores."

"A pair of saints," Jinro said. "Too bad they didn't discover them in time to save the gorillas and elephants. Anyway, you can't afford a dream house on inspector's pay."

"Yeah, but you could be assistant chief," Walter said, adding cream and sugar. "Don't sell yourself short, Jinro, I've seen it in you, so have a lot of the other people around the place, even Mitsamura."

"I'll tell you, Walter," Jinro said. "When I started, I thought I was gonna work my way straight to the top, but you know what?"

"What?"

"I really hate politics," Jinro said. "Come on, do you really think I want to be like Dravenheath?"

"I wouldn't wish that on anybody," Walter says as Jinro slid away from the table. "But you don't think that everyone turns out that way to you?"

"Name one supervisor that you'd go out of your way to have a beer with after shift." Jinro said. Walter's brow scrunched up as he contemplated the question. He shrugged and picked up his coffee.