“You heard from the Cowboy lately?”
Poddar shook his head. “Not since he left New Haven. Said he was going stir-crazy. He headed out to bag a mark. His visa was about to expire anyway.”
“You and Kilby renewed yours, though.”
Poddar didn’t look too enthusiastic when he nodded. “We’re applying for citizen status. Ms. Kilby wants to stay here permanently.”
“So why the long face?”
Poddar stopped in mid-stride. “Do you like it here, Mick?”
I shrugged. “How should I know? I don’t remember being anywhere else.”
“But you don’t have a problem with it?”
I paused. “Problem? Why the hell would I?”
He sighed as we fell back in stride. “It’s… hard to explain. This is the first Haven I’ve been to, but it’s so—”
“Filthy? Depressing? Violent?” I gestured to the surrounding Flats neighborhood, where mammoth buildings towered like crumbling mountains. The whole area was a mass of murky streets, half-lit tenements, and gutter businesses. Nothing to brag about, but to me it was home.
He frowned. “I was going to say oppressive.”
“Oppressive?” I rubbed the faint stubble on my chin. “That’s unexpected.”
Poddar threw a dark glance at the surroundings. “It’s just that this place is hiding something. I know it. Something isn’t right about this Haven. I can’t put my finger on it, but the scent of dirty secrets hangs in the air like perfume.” He sighed. “It’s hard to find the words.”
I grinned, but it felt hollow. “What, like everyone having memory implants that keeps them settled and unwilling to leave the Haven? Everyone under the watchful eye of some secret society bent on dominating from the shadows? That kind of feeling?”
Poddar’s brows creased. “I can’t ever have a serious conversation with you, can I?”
My answering laugh was about as wry as they get. “If only you knew, Poddar. If only you knew. You go through Customs when you got here, or did you go the ol’ fashioned palm greasing fashion?”
“We didn’t go through Customs. The waiting list is years long. We went through a handler.”
“Smuggled in, then. Foolproof documents installed in your holobands from an ex-Customs agent, I figure.”
He shrugged. “Ms. Kilby handled the legal stuff. I was more concerned about getting crossed over.”
“I don’t blame you, Ace. Don’t blame you at all.”
I considered the revelation. If Kilby and Poddar didn’t go through Customs, it probably meant they still retained their original memories instead of the cocktail remix the labcoats at Customs served up to keep the residents blissfully unaware of the outside world. I’d often thought about sharing the truth I’d discovered about New Haven, but something always held me back. It was hard for me to believe, for one thing. And for another, the citizens of New Haven volunteered to have their memories laundered if my info was correct. Seemed hardly fair to muck up everything they’d worked for to get in the Haven in the first place.
Not to mention those secrets were closely guarded by a secret and highly lethal organization called the Gestalt, which had been maneuvering events since before the Haven was even constructed. Folks like that would gladly rub out anyone who tried to expose them. Self-preservation was always a good incentive to keep mum.
We walked into a narrow office building. ‘Kilby’s Troubleshooting and Investigation’ was emblazoned on the front window in large block letters. I remembered a time not too long ago it simply read ‘Troubleshooter.’ Back when it still belonged to me.
I shook my head. “Still can’t believe I let your moll buy out my old office.”
“I don’t remember you having a choice. It was in foreclosure.”
“Yeah. Temporary setback.”
At least Kilby had improved the place a bit, starting with the receptionist. Angel was a former flame of mine who still had the hots for me. Or so I kept telling myself. She was a creamy-complexioned redhead, and sexy as all get out. Best of all, she had a pair of violet-shaded peepers she used to hypnotize lucky saps like me into doing whatever she wanted.
Or so I kept telling myself.
I strolled in with my most charming smile. “Angel. Aren’t you a breath of fresh air on a smoggy night.”
I expertly tossed my Bogart onto the hat rack by her desk and sidled up to gab while I hung up my flogger. Didn’t want her to think I held a grudge just because we weren’t seeing each other anymore. I was pretty sure she was heartbroken and all, but somehow she managed to keep it together.
She set her chin on her fist and smiled. “It’s a smoggy morning now, Mick. You and Poddar been up burning the midnight oil?”
“The freaks come out at night, Angel. You know how it is.”
One perfectly arched eyebrow lifted. “Actually, I don’t. But I’ll take your word for it. Now is there something I can do for you, Mick?”
I gave her a devilish grin. “I can think of a few things, darling.”
She rolled her eyes. “It’s been a few months, Mick. I would’ve thought you’d gotten over me by now.”
“Just taking it a day at a time, sweetheart. A man can only do what he can.”
She returned her attention to the console screen. “Right. Well, I think what a man can do is make his report to his boss. Run along, now.”
I peered through the open doorway. Poddar was already inside, getting caught up with Ms. Kilby. He and Kilby tried to hide the fact they were sweet on each other, but he wasn’t as good an actor as she was.
I smiled. “I’m in no hurry, darlin’. Gotta give those lovebirds some quality time together. Speaking of quality time — you seem a little formally dressed for work. Got plans?”
Angel gave me a coy smile as she adjusted her dark-framed eyeglasses. “As a matter of fact, I’m expecting a gentleman very soon. He’s taking me out to breakfast.”
“Is that so? Well, make sure he takes you someplace nice. Which means nowhere around here in the Flats.”
“I wouldn’t worry about that, Mick. Like I said — he’s a gentleman.”
I adjusted my tie with a grin. “I won’t hold it against him, sweetheart.”
I strode past Angel into the main office. Ms. Kilby and Poddar quit making calf eyes at each other so Kilby could put on her boss face. She was a looker — one of those classy, self-assured dames who would rather you favor their intelligence than their pretty face. That didn’t stop her from wearing those sleek skirts and blouses that stirred a man’s imagination. Dames are real paradoxical that way.
She gave me one of those cool looks she was so good at. “Poddar tells me you wrapped up that case tonight. Nice work, Mr. Trubble.”
I crashed on the leather sofa and lit a gasper. “Well, I’m not quite ready to close that case yet, Kilby. Got a lead I’ll be following up on.”
She raised an eyebrow. “The job I negotiated was for the investigation of Jonathan Finnegan, or Johnny Knuckles as he’s called. You were to verify the allegations against him and take action at your discretion. You did so.”
I blew a few smoke rings toward the ceiling. “That’s right. But he squealed when we tightened the screws. Got the name of the perp behind the stash. I figured I’d chisel a bit deeper and see if I can catch him with his hands in the cookie jar.”
Kilby gestured elegantly. “So give the info to the police. There are legal ways to handle the situation. I don’t want you ‘chiseling’ into anything. I know how that goes. It usually ends in a firefight or some building blowing up.”
I shook my head. “If I wanted to do things the legal way I’d be shuffling paperwork with the button boys at the clubhouse. You know how these things work, Kilby. This Vitto character has already greased some palms, so he’s got coppers that’ll turn a blind eye to his operation. Since we don’t know who they are, going to the brass is out.”