He stood. "I'll help."
"Good." I headed for the Mercedes and made the SIG disappear.
That impressed him. "Infinite Pocket?"
I nodded.
"I've read about them used that way. You're military?"
"Don't worry about me." I opened the door of the Mercedes. "Worry about her."
He blinked twice at Zoe, then at me. "She's a critter."
"Where'd you go to med school?"
"USCLA."
"For the sake of their rep, I hope your diagnostic skills are a little more thorough than that."
"You don't understand. If it got out that I treated a critter—"
"Your insurance would go up?" I lifted my wrist. "Don't feel bad. You're doing this under duress."
"Well." He leaned into the car, raised one of Zoe's eyelids, then told me, "Bring her."
I carried her to the employees' door. A gurney was waiting inside. I put her on it. The doc wrapped a bandage over her ears and forehead tat, then told the gurney, "Exam Six," and it rolled briskly ahead of us. He glanced at me. "What caused this?"
"Four police sleep darts."
"Oh." He swallowed, then said, "Um, would you care to say what happened?"
"No. We were framed, but in your place, I'd figure that for a lie, so that's all right. Assume we're dangerous as hell, and the best thing you can do is fix her up and get her out of here before someone does something stupid, like sound an alarm. Got it?"
"Got it."
We passed a few patients, then a nurse and an orderly. The doc never made a sign of wanting to give us away. I didn't care whether he'd decided to help Zoe because he was afraid I might go berserk or because he'd decided his Hippocratic oath meant something more than the chance to retire young and rich.
We followed the gurney into a small exam room. I lifted Zoe onto a hospital bed. Hanging from the ceiling over it was a steel sphere about the size of a basketball, lavishly decorated with electronic displays and rather unpleasant-looking medical instruments. On its side was a plate that read "AI-T4312." I had heard about medical AIs, but I'd never seen one before.
The doc said, "Scan her."
The AI said, "This patient is not registered with the hospital admissions program."
The doc said, "It's under my authorization."
A bright light shone from the AI and passed over Zoe. As a metal probe descended toward her shoulder, I grabbed it and turned to the doc. "What's it doing?"
He told the AI, "Answer him."
AI-T4312 said, "I wish to draw blood for a diagnostic examination. May I proceed?"
I hesitated, then released the probe. The AI took its sample and said, "What produced her coma?"
I said, "Four police sleep darts."
The doc told the AI, "Better restrain her."
I said, "No."
"What if she wakes up and werewolfs!"
"Then I'll shoot her." Something about his sideways glance made me add, "If she doesn't wake up, maybe I'll shoot you."
AI-T4312 said, "Overdose of police tranquilizer confirmed. May I give the antitoxin?"
The doc said impatiently, "Yes, yes."
The AI lowered an injector to Zoe's arm. I heard a click. Then the injector retracted.
The doc said, "She'll need bed rest, observation. We can't do that here—"
"We can't do that anywhere. Someone wants her dead. I need her up and moving."
AI-T4312 said, "Sir, I can give her an amphetamine. There's some risk, but I consider it minimal."
The doc said, "I won't approve that."
I looked back and forth between the doc and the AI. "Do it."
AI-T4312 said, "Yes, sir." The injector descended toward Zoe.
The doc said, "Not without my—"
The injector clicked. Zoe jerked violently, coughing and choking.
The doc stepped back, convinced the cat was going to go for our throats. I grabbed him by the shoulder. "Is that normal?"
"How should I know? Do I look like a vet?"
I took Zoe's arms as her eyes opened. "Zoe!"
"Max?" She frowned at me, then glanced at the room. "Where are we?"
"In a hospital. How do you feel?"
She sat up, then shook herself. "Like I mainlined a quart of espresso."
AI-T4312 said, "That's a normal response."
I turned to the doc. "I hate to thank you this way, but—" I pointed at a chair. "Sit there and put your hands behind you."
He said, "Oh, God. She woke up. You don't have to—"
"Relax. You can scream for help in five minutes. It'll give you a great story to tell." I tied him to the chair with a roll of bandages.
Zoe looked at the AI. "This thing must've called the cops."
AI-T4312 said, "Your last contact with the police resulted in a life-threatening condition. It would be unethical for me to make another contact likely."
Zoe said, "What?"
AI-T4312 said, "I'm a medical AI, not a copbot. Scram."
I looked at the doc. "She really is innocent."
"I'll give you your five minutes." He glanced at a clock on the side of the AI. "However long you want."
"Five is fine. Thanks."
Zoe stood and nearly fell. I caught her. "You up to this?"
"Do I have a choice?"
"Not really."
"Let's go." She started forward. I walked beside her, supporting her and expecting someone to yell at us at any moment. Her unsteadiness probably helped as we headed down the hall. She made a convincing patient as she gripped my arm, and with her head hanging forward, her hair hid her eyes from the staff that we passed.
The Mercedes was still in the parking lot. No cops were visible, which meant I actually had gotten all the locaters. I took Zoe to the car and helped her in. She shivered, and I realized that this was another cold December night in the Valley. I put my jacket around her shoulders, then pulled the bandage from her head. She blinked at it and grinned. "Quite the fashion statement." As we rolled out of the parking area, she added, "Max. Thanks."
"For what?"
"You could've left me—"
I didn't want to hear her gratitude. I said, "It's over."
I didn't look to see what her face did then. Her voice went quiet. "What do you mean?"
"Two people are dead. We've got no leads on who's behind their murders, but anyone who watches the news thinks we killed one of them. Nearly every copbot in town wants you dead, and none of them seem fond of me. Now some thug named Django Kay has a bounty on us. This case is so far out of my league that it's a whole different game. It's time to cut our losses and get out while we can."
"You're quitting."
"Sometimes you have to."
"If it's about money, I've got nearly a meg in the bank. I can give you a promissory note on my inheritance. There are things in Minneapolis I could sell—"
"It's not about money. It's about facing facts."
"We've got a lead. This guy Kay."
"He's not a lead, Zoe. He's a threat."
"If Kay's not behind it, he must know who is."
"He's too small a player to know much more than the cops. But he's way too big for us."
She jabbed my shoulder with her index finger. "What about that Mycroft? If I can track him down, maybe he can tell me something."
"Track him down how?"
"You're the detective."
"I checked my email at Eddie's. Nothing from Mycroft. There's no reason he should ever answer. We don't even know if Mycroft's his real name."
"He's still a lead, damn it. And so's Kay!"
"Okay," I agreed. "They're leads. One can't be found unless he wants to. The other wants to kidnap or kill you."
"So I'm supposed to forget this?"
"No. Pass their names along to Chumley and Vallejo. Let the cops do their job."
"Can they solve this?"
I wished I could lie to her. "Maybe not. But they can keep after it and stay alive. I doubt that's true for us anymore."
"I won't quit."
"You need to."
"Yeah, well, I'll think about that." She glanced at the neighborhood we were driving through, a deserted kingdom of auto parts stores and car dealers. "Drop me off."
"Sure. When I get you someplace safe."
"The cops? They're not—"
"Crittertown. Someone there can get you out of L.A."
"I'm not going till I know who killed Doc!"
"You think she'd want you dead, too?"
We drove in silence for a long minute. Then Zoe said gently, "What about you?"
"I know a good lawyer. I'll probably even keep my license."
"Christ, Max." She looked out the window at quiet store fronts. "I could smash the damn earring live on the ten o'clock news. Then they'd leave me alone."
"They'd think it was a fake."
She nodded. "You're right. I can't walk away from this, can I? I have to run."
I glanced at her, then turned my eyes back to the road. I had told her what she needed to know. My job was nearly over. I should've felt relieved. I felt worse than I had since leaving UNSEC.
Chapter Ten
Crittertown's streets seemed oddly deserted for ten p.m. on a Friday night. Far in the distance, a flickering light glowed beyond the rooftops where a building burned. Somewhere, a fire siren howled. That would've drawn away those who like cheap morbid sights, but it didn't explain the ghost town.
Zoe asked, "What's going on?"
"I don't know. Anything that distracts the cops is probably good."
I stopped at a red light as a small gang of young chimeras ran across the street. Most of them had extensive tattoos besides their species ID. They wore the usual tough kid gear, synth-leather jackets or shirts of flexsteel. A ratgirl did a double-take at me behind the wheel. "Hey! It's a skin!"
Another kid yelled, "Get him!" A dogboy jumped on the hood. More teenbeasts wrenched at the doors as Zoe and I slammed down the locks. A pigboy kicked in a headlight.
Zoe said, "Max!" but I was already throwing the car in reverse. We screeched backward, losing the dogboy on the hood. I hit the brakes and wrenched the wheel, spinning the Mercedes around as the gang pursued us. I floored the accelerator, and we sped away. For a final farewell gesture, one of the little beasts threw a brick that shattered the rear window.
I looked at Zoe. "What did I say?"
"Whatever it was, don't say it again."
For the rest of the way, I rolled through stop signs and timed my approach to traffic lights so I didn't have to stop for reds. We saw more chimeras afoot, moving quickly, usually in small groups, though some traveled alone. None of them paid any attention to us. It felt like driving through a civil war, but then, all riots are test runs for civil war.
I parked close to the Tavern of Dr. Moreau. As we walked up to it, I saw a hand-lettered sign that'd been taped to the door very recently: "Chimera-owned business."
Zoe said, "This may not be a good place for you now."
I shrugged. "Can't think of a better place for you now." I held the door open. She looked at me, then strode inside.
The place was almost empty. A few chimeras sat at the tables, and a couple more at the bar. No one was laughing. A sign near the door said, "No smoking," but no one was enforcing that tonight: a tart tinge of burning tobacco laced the sickly-sweet smell of beer.
Behind the bar, a big HV was on with the sound low. The picture showed an aerial shot of a Crittertown street about half a mile from the tavern. Several stores were burning. Chimeras ran through the police and news flyers' spotlights. One chimera threw something, and another building caught fire.
The bartender, a small, brown-haired man with a long nose, very little chin, and a weasel tattoo, looked up and smiled at Zoe. "Welcome back, Cousin Cat. Find your detec—"
Then he saw me and fell silent. So did the room. The weasel came around the bar, telling me, "What the hell are you thinking? Get out! Now!"
I looked at Zoe. "It's my breath. You can tell me."
The weasel brushed by me and opened the front door. Four or five chimera kids ran past, heading up Lankershim toward the major action. Most carried pipes or baseball bats. The weasel slammed the door, said, "Fuck!" and pushed Zoe and me toward a door behind the bar. "In there!"
Zoe said, "What's the tale?"
At the bar, a monkeyman dropped several K beside his empty glass, called to the weasel, "See ya, Nate!" and hurried out.
Nate nodded to the monkey as he rushed us into a small back room office. On two shelves around a cluttered desk were dusty bottles of more expensive liquor than you would expect to find in a chimera bar and cardboard boxes with labels like "In," "Out," and "Fuck If I Know." The largest box was labeled "Lost and Found."
Nate said, "Cat, you gotta start watching the news. Amos Tauber was killed. They're pinning it on a fur. Two hours ago, the cops hassled a dogboy outside the subway and the whole goddamn neighborhood blew up."
I said, "So that brick through the car window wasn't personal."
He gave me a blank look. "Nah. You're a victim of discrimination."
I nodded at Zoe. "She's got to get out of town. The sooner, the better."
"Why?"
She said, "I'm the fur they want to pin for killing Tauber."
I added, "She didn't do it. You know someone who can sneak her out?"
Nate studied us, then spoke. "For a price."
Zoe said, "We don't have—"
I opened the Infinite Pocket. Nate stepped back fast. I let the SIG lie in my open palm. "One Infinite Pocket and a SIG Nine Recoilless keyed to it. There's Pocket technology in its magazine. Meaning you can shoot ten thousand times before you have to reload."
"So?"
"Any competent surgeon could make the transfer." I opened the Infinite Pocket again to make the pistol disappear.
Which made Nate more comfortable. He inhaled deeply, then said, "I think they'll go for that."
Zoe said, "Max!"
"What?"
"You can't do this!"
"Huh. I thought I just did."
"I can't take—"
"Sure, you can. You get set up somewhere, you can repay me."
Nate said, "So, the offer stands?"
I nodded. "Yep."
He scribbled an address on a piece of paper and handed it to Zoe. "Get there. They'll handle the rest."