RED DOLL: Zlata and enemies in the shadows.
First Chapter: https://steemit.com/steemit/@tsudohnimh/red-doll-old-school-cyberpunk
Previous Chapter: https://steemit.com/steemit/@tsudohnimh/red-doll-new-leads-chapter-ten
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The break is over, I return fresh and buzzing, with new chapters ready to be posted
“Truth is dead”
Graffiti, author unknown
12
No dreams.
It was strange how a brush with near death, how the insanity of combat, seemed to focus her so much. Or maybe it wasn’t; after all, did they not program her for this? Was she not rebuilt for combat? For war?
“The riots have entered there third day, with no sign of letting up.” The usually cheery looking Gabrielle Luis looked positively sombre as she read the headlines. “Current estimates put the dead at one hundred and twelve, including seven police officers.”
Footage from New Pittsburgh; the air was hazy with smoke, trapped under the dome; Zlata imagined the air exchange must be working overtime. It seemed like half the city was on fire, masked protesters moving like wraiths through the smoke, running out to hurl a Molotov, then vanishing into the haze.
“Several reports have also emerged of groups leaving the city to attack surrounding towns. Areas known to be affected include the small towns of Barwon Heads and Queenscliff. The ANP has declared a cordon around the camp, urging those within to stay in doors and avoid unnecessary travel.”
Three days. Zlata still couldn't believe it. What was with this case? In a day, one single day, she had gained the impression that this case was of interest to some very powerful....somethings? Someone or something well connected, that's for sure. How else could she explain how quickly they were granted access to the camps? How much support McNally had received?
“The riots, which began as protest over the arrest of David Cassidy White, were inflamed by the brutal shootout between ANP forces and suspected members of the Screaming Eagles, which left a dozen dead and destroyed a camp hospital.”
That was the official story: it had been an ambush, a revenge attack by the Screaming Eagles. No one was saying it, but they were definitely implying she had been the target. Of course, she wasn’t so sure....
In the chaos that was the aftermath of the shoot-out, Zlata had been swept up in a wave of paperwork, interviews, briefings, debriefings and what were practically interrogations. The ANP was in full damage control;It was bad enough she had been involved, but throw in several dead American war veterans and the fact the American security forces were explicitly working with the attackers and suddenly things were at defcon 1.
Reedman had come to see her personally; To personally order her into what was essentially house arrest.
“Home based protection.” he'd called it. “Just for a few days, till everything calms down a bit. Just some officers watching your buildings, nothing much.”
“nothing much” turned out to be a four man team from the Fast Reaction Squad camping in the basement and a surveillance team from the Special Division. Clearly they still thought she had been the target, no matter how much she protested that they had come for the heart, not her.
After one day of watching the news and not much else, she couldn't take it anymore. Fortunately, her protectors had been gracious enough to grant her one request.
So now she sat here, listening to the news of the fire she had help light, surrounded by boxes and files, trying to solve why everything had gone up in flames so quickly.
Zlata had a feeling, a “hunch”; something told her there was something very wrong with the case. Well, more wrong that it already was.
She read over the case files from the previous seven murders; of course, now they knew the killer was operating in the refugee camps, his death toll could be much larger.
In her mind, Zlata frowned; the doll showed no concern. Why had no one thought to check the camps? Surely she was not the only person in the whole of the ANP to not think of that possibility; even factoring in the possibility of prejudice on behalf of the Australian officers, their were enough Russian and American ex-pats, as well as plenty of fine Australian officers, who would surely not disregard such a possibility.
Yet she had read the reports, again and again, and nowhere was their even a suggestion that the camps had been considered; in fact, it appeared that the question of the source of the extra organs had hardly even come up.
In her mind, Zlata shook her head. That made no sense! Here was a huge possible piece of evidence, a possible lead on a motive; they knew the organs didn't belong to the victims, they had been DNA tested! And yet, they had just ignored them.....
No! that could not be right. Zlata began to read between the lines; the reports were trying to tell her something, but the message had been covered up in routine drivel.
On first pass, the reports seemed genuine, but on close inspection, they, and the investigation held within them, appeared sloppy. There were massive holes; potential leads dropped suddenly, potential witnesses forgotten or ignored. The investigators seemed to concentrate all their energy on useless lines of enquire that went nowhere, then when the leads went dead, seemed content to just wait till the next murder occurred.
She read the files, again and again. She knew something had been changed, something altered. Bits had been cut, large chunks of potential investigation. The whole report had been altered. But how could she prove it?
Then, on the morning of the third day, while she sat their, listening to the news, staring at reports spread before her, that niggling thought, that “hunch”, bloomed into an answer.
She quickly reached for each case file. Quickly turned to the autopsy page. Homed in on the relevant passages.
“Foreign DNA in blood”
“Appeared to be sickly in appearance.”
“Rotting from the inside.”
No mention of what she was looking for, nothing. But she was sure it was there, or rather, had been there. She looked at the pictures again, looked closer. It was good, very good, but image alteration was not perfect; with her eyes (the best soviet science could give her) she could spot the point they had been touched up, airbrushed.
She rang McNally. “I don't care what you do, I don't care what you do. Just get me back to work.”
He paused before responding.“Ok.”
Day 4
There had been a bombing just outside NewPee; Two officers killed. No one was claiming responsibility, but everyone knew it was the screaming eagles.
Without fanfare, Zlata walked back into ANP headquarters. The surveillance team had packed up, and the commander of the FRS team had warned her, “she was on her own.”
She could deal with that. For the longest times, that's how her life had been. She had work to do.
But even if people didn't show it, she could feel that something was different here. A sideways glance here, a hushed conversation there; she was being watched, judged even. Were they blaming her for what had happened.
Or was she? Zlata wondered as the elevator rose, if it was just paranoia. She had felt it before, when she had first joined; that feeling that she was not trusted. She had tolerated it, learnt to live with it, even sometimes realised she was wrong, and there were those who did not see her as a quisling, a red among them.
But everything that had happened, true or not, was being subtlety laid at her feet. She could guess who might be behind that.
McNally was alone in the D.A.C. Office, a sombre air laying over the place. He looked up as she entered and smiled.
“Welcome back,” he said, standing to greet her. “How was your holiday?”
“Enlightening,” she replied. She looked around the empty office. “ Where is everyone?” She realised now she had not seen or heard from the others the whole time she had been in protection.
McNally nodded. “Out on the case. You'll be pleased to know we haven't been sitting on our asses while your away.” He stood and motioned Zlata to follow him.
He walked over to the evidence board, which contained several new entries. “Robs downstairs working on the video surveillance from the stadium.”
“How is he?” Zlata asked.
McNally looked confused for a moment, then shrugged. “He's fine, little shaken. But he's faced tougher situations before. They all have.” He tapped the board. “This is the big one: I have Jack, Eun and Wyatt over at Novvy Dom right now investigating what may be another murder.” he handed her a folder. “from one month ago.”
Zlata flipped through the report. In her mind, Zlata raised an eyebrow; it certainly looked like there guys handiwork. The victim, a young male, had had his liver removed; once again, a liver had been left behind.
“So he's been operating in the area for at least a month;” In her mind, she shook her head ; “Didn't this raise any alarms?”
McNally shrugged. “Chart that one up to general laziness. Your friend General Berezin launched an investigation to find out just that; Current story is, the doctor in charge wanted to go home, so listed it as an “industrial accident”.”
Zlata wanted servilely to face palm, but decided it was fruitless. “So that’s three possible murders in one month. And now we definitely know he's operating in the refugee camps; how many more victims have slipped under the radar.”
She looked over the board, and remembered the large Cyborg, the one that had slammed her into a wall, but ultimately spared her. Could that have been their killer? She had to admit, for a visious killer, he was quite polite.
She turned to McNally. “What about Flynn? Has he been released from hospital yet?”
“Yesterday,” He replied. “Clean bill of health; his vest took the brunt. Just thank his lucky stars they were hollow points. He should actually be returning to work today.”
They fell silent, the memory of the vicious incident still fresh. Their was a niggling feeling within Zlata, an urge to explain herself.
“You believe me, don't you?” she asked suddenly. “The attack; we weren’t the target. The heart was; Why else take it.”
McNally sighed. “On the record, all I can do is parrot what top office is saying,” he said. “But at the end of the day, they took the heart. Its what they were after.”
In her mind, Zlata smiled. You were think the same thing, she thought.
She held up the case file she had brought. “I'm guessing thats what has you so worked up?” McNally asked.
“Yes,” Zlata replied.
“What's in it?”
“Proof,” she said, “That someone is lying to us.”
“The structure of these black fibres is fascinating,” Doctor King explained. Zlata, the Doctor and McNally stood around a metal autopsy table, the arm left at Anders Paulsons murder scene laying before them. The doctor had sliced it apart,exposing the muscles within.
King followed one of the black veins with her scalpel. “The way they've grown through the arm, through the muscle, seems very deliberate.” she pointed at a few sections. “Here and their, the fibres link in with the arms circulation system, suggesting the fibres require blood like muscles.” She pointed to another spot near a bone. “Here, the fibres attach to the bone, like muscle. In other places, the fibres have merged into the muscle, separating into thin strands that weave through the muscle.”
“The heart had much the same appearance,” Zlata said. “These black vein were growing all over and through it.”
“But what purpose could they serve?” McNally asked.
King pondered that for a moment, absently tapping a finger on her chin. “ If I had to make a guess, based on how its grown through the arm, weaved into the muscles and attached to the bone, I would say they serve to re-enforce the limb, maybe even make it stronger.” she waved them over to a small glass dish sitting to the side. “The fibres are very tough; it took the use of a some new enzymes to actually break enough down to get a sample.”
Zlata looked into the dish; within lay a small piece of the black fibres, floating in a green liquid.
“Were you able to get a DNA sample?” she asked. “Do these fibres even have DNA?”
“Oh, yes, most certainly.” King pulled out a file. “I've been studying the results this morning, as well as those taken from the arm and the blood.” She handed the file to McNally. “Whomever or whatever was using this arm was a god damn chimera!”
McNally raised an eyebrow. “Three different sets of DNA?” he handed Zlata the file.
“One for the arm, which we can assume belongs to whomever the arm was born with; one from the blood itself, and another from the fibres.”
Zlata read over the files. “Tha'ts not all,” she said, pointing to the page. “The DNA from the blood and Fibres was “related”, like a relative?”
“Yes,” King replied. “The DNA in fibres also had some relation to the DNA in the arm. But that’s not the weirdest part; read on.”
Zlata looked further down the page. “Thirty chromosomal pairs? How is that possible?”
King smiled. “The lab thought it was a mistake, or that the sample was contaminated. But it appears, whatever grew these fibres, and whomever blood was pumping through those veins, has thirty chromosomal pairs.”
McNally raised an eyebrow. “And that means?”
“That whomever used this arm is not human,” Zlata responded.
“Correct,” King said with a smile. “Its more than just that; the genes those extra chromosomes contained, are something I’ve never seen before.”
McNally shook his head. “So, what your saying, is that Frank isn't human?”
King looked at him funny. “Frank? Who's frank?”
“Nickname,” Zlata explained, “For the person who was using this arm.”
“Ah,” she replied, “And sort off. Whoever this frank is, at least some of his DNA is human.” she looked over the reports. “You know, its strange; none of the DNA profiles from any of the other cases had any indication of this. Nothing about extra chromosomes. Or the black fibres for that matter.”
In her mind, Zlata gave McNally a sideways glance; the doll just kept looking forward.
McNally seemed to pick up on it anyway. He gave her a small nod. “Could we use the DNA to possibly identify the original owner of the arm?”
“Already ahead of you,” King replied. “I sent the arm's DNA, as well as the partial human DNA from the blood and fibres, to be checked against the national DNA registry.” She tapped her finger against her chin again. “It might be a little bit of a long shot, since the registry only contains DNA from very specific groups like convicted criminals and military personnel, but if he's in their, it should come up. We'll know in about a week.”
“Thank you doctor,” McNally said. “I want you to tell me the minute any results come in.” he stood closer to King. “i also want you too keep a very close eye on your papers and any physical evidence. If anyone not DAC comes round asking or trying to access the evidence, I want you to call me immediately.”
“Of course,” King said, somewhat uncertainly, but the look on her face told Zlata she understood what McNally meant. Something told Zlata this wasn’t the first time something like this had happened.
“Oh, their was one more thing,” King said, snapping back to doctor mode. She held up a sample of the skin from the arm. “Just something odd I noticed. The skin on the arm? It had a distinct lack of melanin.”
“Which means?” Zlata asked.
“It means, that whomever was wearing this arm, wasn’t getting a lot of sun.” she folded her arms. “I'll let you draw your own conclusion at that.”
The ride back up was silent, neither McNally or Zlata speaking about the revelation Dr. King had revealed to them. A revelation that went well beyond the fact one of their possible perpatrators was beyond human.
McNally shook his head. “So, it's going to be one of those cases.”
Zlata looked at him. “I sense you've dealt with something like this before.”
McNally nodded. “The problem with dealing with the cutting edge, is that sometimes you come into conflict with the kind of groups who live on that edge. A lot of the stuff we deal with is not strictly illegal, not yet anyway, and there are a fair few people who will go out of their way to try and profit from that grey area.” He sighed. “Sometimes, those people are very powerful. And powerful people have powerful friends.”
In her mind, Zlata raised any eyebrow. “Powerful enough to interfere with an investigation like this?”
The door dinged; McNally walked out ahead. “Powerful enough to get us on this investigation in the first place.” He turned back to her. “Trust me, if they wanted this thing buried, we would have been given no support in the first place, but they gave us the case; they gave us the support. Sure they left out some details, but it means someone thinks they could benefit from us investigating this thing.”
“They just didn't want us realising the whole picture.” In her mind, Zlata shook her head. This case was taking a weird turn. “You said you've had this happen to you before?”
McNally nodded. “A few times, actually. To give an example: Jack told me you had a conversation with Wyatt about his age recently?”
Zlata remembered Wyatt's midnight meeting. “Yes; he claimed he was five years old.”
McNally smiled. “He's not lying.”
“What?”
McNally leaned against the wall. “It was back in 1990, right after the D.A.C. Was established. We were investigating a case involving the theft of aborted foetuses from a female health clinic. Now, that was weird yes, a little sick even, but it never struck me as being enough to warrant the D.A.C.'s attention; after all, we can't investigate every crime that's a little weird.
“But then, one day, we get intelligence that the foetuses are being used in some sort of illegal biological research. We traced a few more leads and then we get the location of a warehouse. Next thing you know, we're given a full strike force with orders to raid said warehouse.
“When we get their, the place is deserted; someone must have tipped the occupants off. But it was clear they were working on something big. And in their haste, they left something behind.”
In her mind, Zlata looked shocked. “Wyatt.”
McNally smiled. “Plus one; we found Eun in there was well.”
In her mind, Zlata shook her head. “Eun? Is she a cyborg too?”
McNally shook his head. “No. Eun is a perfectly normal teenage girl. Which was the problem; while Wyatt's tissue analysis revealed he was but a few months old, Eun's tissues were decidedly....older.”
“Older?”
“Yes,” McNally said. “According to the tests, Eun is somewhere in her mid sixties. And it goes beyond that; while Wyatt had no memories from before we pulled him from his tank, Eun 's last memory is watching her husband leave for the Vietnam war.”
Zlata didn't respond. Such a thing was....unheard of. When she was rebuilt, she was cutting edge, the most advanced cyborg since had ever created. To go from her to Wyatt and Eun in less than four years....
“It was only afterwards I realised what had happened,” McNally continued. “Suddenly, Wyatt and Eun were placed on the D.A.C., and it became clear we had been guided to find them. For what reason, I don't know, maybe it was to disrupt something, maybe just to gain two powerful new members, but in the end of the day, someone higher up decided to leave enough bread crumbs to lead us to where they want, and complete a goal we never knew we had.”
“So, at the end of the day,” Zlata said, exasperated. “Are we puppets?”
“Only if we allow ourselves to be.”
Zlata shook her head. “We're being lied too David, from the start. First the black fibres, and now the DNA; how much else are they keeping from us?” She felt like she wanted to scream; she was being used again.
McNally shrugged. “What can we do?”
In her mind, Zlata narrowed her eyes. “We solve the case”
David nodded. “Exactly. We do our job; we solve the case.”
Zlata didn't speak, but inside, something was stirring in her. She did not like being a puppet, a doll on strings; she had cut those strings before, and she would do it again.
They lied to hide their true objective, Zlata thought, and in that, have exposed their weakness. She did not know who this enemy was, but she had no intention of letting them win.
And just feet away, separated by a thin plaster wall, Vincent Flynn stood, unseen, listening in.
Interesting, he thought.