He sat there, calm as could be. "Maybe. But did you see her die, Mick? What did we learn in the Academy? Always verify a kill. Did you see her body?"
I didn't get two steps before a clap of thunder boomed overly loud in the ruined safe house. I didn't bother looking back.
I placed my fingers on my throbbing temples. "I saw … a body they loaded into a trunk…"
"A body. Not necessarily her body. And it wasn't, because she returned to HSSC with the report that you were irredeemable. You know what the next move was supposed to be."
I gritted my teeth. "Cleanup."
"That's right. A hit-squad and erasure team to wipe you from existence. But Lynch wanted one last shot. He's always been strangely attached to the old-school operatives. Regardless, that's when I got the call. So here we are, Michael. Sorry to dump this on you, but you're mentally compromised, and we're running out of time. You have to pull yourself together because if you don't, a lot of people are going to die. If you don't find Faraday, then Kilgore will. And his methods will be calculating and ruthless, without regard for collateral damage. You seem to care about this Haven and the people in it. If you do, your best chance is to work with me and finish the job."
"I don't buy it." I stabbed the air with an accusing finger. "How do I know you're not playing games with my head? You expect me to believe I've been Hunter all this time and somehow never realized it? That's insane, and I'll prove it. I'll track down Hunter and drag him here myself if I have to. But what I'm not gonna do is take the word of a conniving HSSC agent on face value. You spooks pull strings so much it's a wonder your fingers aren't bleeding. You'd do or say anything if it pushes your agenda."
He sighed, leaning back in his chair. "Okay, Mike. It's your call. You're an investigator, so investigate. I just hope that it won't be too late when you find out the truth. Because time isn't on our side. Every minute you waste gives Kilgore the advantage."
"Is that right? Guess I'll find out whenever this one-man army shows up. New Haven is my city, Kessler. Kilgore might have you sweating in your shorts, but to me, he's just another stiff I'll have to bury if he gets on my bad side. Thanks for the grub, pal. Maybe I'll check back with you later."
"Maybe you'll be dead later, Mike. But don't worry." He smiled and raised his glass. "I'll be watching."
Chapter 3: Balls of Fire
I stumbled out of the hotel, attracting a few startled stares from passersby. I wasn't drunk like they assumed — though the black velvets packed an unexpected wallop. It was the unwelcome information that had me feeling like a twelve-round heavyweight loser. The gab he spilled couldn't be right. There was no way Faraday could've pulled the wool over my eyes like that. Someone would have noticed. Someone would have told me the truth.
I slumped into the driver's seat. "Max, call Poddar."
His face appeared on the heads-up display, peering suspiciously. "What is it, Mick? You look terrible."
"We gotta meet, Poddar."
"I told I'm—"
"Now, Pod."
"Why so urgent? What did the agent tell you?"
I scrubbed a hand across my face, vision blurred. "I…think I'm messed up, Pod. I need help trying to figure things out."
His face softened just a tad. "You want to meet at the Gaiden?"
"No. It's too dangerous. I don't want to put anyone in harm's way. I gotta lay dormy at a location that's out of the area. Where no one can get hurt."
"Where?"
The warehouse was in Grindhouse Alley, a section unofficially owned by the Mafia and used for cozy occupations like interrogations and executions. Located right off the West River, where stiffs could be tossed in after the wetwork was finished. The last time I'd been there was when Moe Flacco and his crew had captured an HSSC informant and beat him to a pulp for information. It was dimly lit, filled with old dusty crates. A coppery scent hung in the air, probably from the blood that had been spilled over the years, seeping into the cracks where even the best disinfectants couldn't reach.
I stood in the center of the warehouse, stress smoking while the rain created a melancholy soundtrack against the metal roof. Poddar entered from the rear doors, looking around as if expecting an ambush. I waved him over. "No one here but us, Poddar."
He stopped a few paces away, studying me. "You found out something."
"Yeah. You're the only one I can trust to verify it. When we spoke earlier, I told you that you'd seen Hunter before."
"That's right. And I told you that was crazy."
I sighed, pushing my Bogart back on my head. "I think you're right. I think it is crazy. Tell me what happened. At Beck's place."
"You mean when you lost your mind? You started beating the old man something vicious."
"That wasn't all, though. Was it?"
Poddar frowned. "No. The way you talked, the way you moved. It was different. You turned into someone else, Mick. You even sounded different. Switching back and forth, arguing with yourself. We were stunned, didn't know what to do. If the New Man hadn't come in when he did, I don't know what you would have done."
"Why didn't you say anything?"
"When? We were in the middle of some insanity, Mick. Kidnappings, missing limbs, killer synoids, thermal orbs. By the time it was all over, I figured maybe you just had an episode or something. We all knew you had problems. When things got better, it seemed impolite to bring that back up."
"Impolite, eh?" I lit a gasper with trembling fingers. "Well, I can't say you're anything but courteous, Poddar. The problem is, I might be certifiably insane, and your testimony just proved it."
"What does that even mean, Mick? And what does it have to do with finding Hunter?"
"Could be everything. Because if I'm taking Agent Hessler at his word, then maybe finding Hunter won't be hard at all. Might be he's standing in front of you right now."
Poddar blinked, taking a hesitant step backward. "What…? That doesn't make any sense."
"It is if I’m as crazy as he says I am. Faraday did a number on my head, Poddar. But I was already a basket case before he even got to rearranging my memories. Hunter was a persona I adopted when I was in the HSSC. Something to get me by when the stress got to be too much. Back then, I was in control. But when Faraday did his work, I think my mind fractured. One half Mick Trubble, the other half Hunter Valentino."
Poddar's face darkened; veins distended from his neck. "What the hell are you saying, Mick? I told you — Hunter is trying to kill me!"
"I know, Poddar."
"So, what — you're saying it's been you this whole time? You expect me to believe that?"
I wearily exhaled a cloud of smoke. "I can scarcely believe it myself. But the spook made a good case, and I think he might just be right. I used to remember everything except my past. But now I remember that too. Some of it, anyway. It's been weighing on me something awful. The flashbacks come to me in the night — all the dark, terrible things I did. I can't be trusted, Poddar. If I've been running around New Haven doing what you said I've done, then I have to be stopped."
Poddar's face looked about as strained as I felt. "And how in the hell can you be stopped if you don't even know what you're doing half the time?"
I lifted my head, meeting his gaze. "You know how."
His eyes widened. "No way. No way, Mick."
"You might not have a choice, Poddar. I want to help untangle this mess, but won't be able to if I can't trust myself. I'm a danger to everyone around me, and I need you by my side in case things get to the point where—"
The air flashed as if charged with ghost lightning, prickling the hairs on the back of my neck. We stared at each other as old papers blew around and dust scattered across the concrete floor.