This is Duel: A Tech-Noir Detective Story
Previously: Detective McElroy is contacted by Tyrone Worran and makes plans to meet him…
Sol II System, Eden, Outskirts of New Chalcedon. 20:55 Local time
Detective James McElroy drove on the highway back to New Chalcedon. His mind was racing—he didn’t know exactly how this would play out, but the auspicious arrival of Tyrone introduced a wildcard that could help change the game. Black Zaelland doesn’t know about him, James thought with a smile. He was an ace up the sleeve—but why now? The timing was too good. Was there any risk that Black Zaelland—No. James shook his head to eliminate the thought. Army Comrades don’t do that to each other. So there has to be another reason Tyrone came onto the board at this point, at this time.
James’ heart pounded. A plan was coming together. He just had to keep moving forward, overcome the immediate obstacle and see which obstacle came next.
Let’s roll it back, he thought, What does Black Zaelland know?
The office. The car. That DB431 is damaged. Would he know the safehouse? They would probably try to get that out of Bridgett—he had to assume the safehouse was compromised until he knew it wasn’t. He needed a new car. He needed DB431.
He could stash the car at the safehouse—DB431 would be safe there, even if it was compromised—it wouldn’t tell Zaelland anything new if he found him there. And Zaelland wouldn’t be able to repair the droid without specialized assistance either.
So the question was—where would James go until he could arrange a meet with Tyrone?
= = =
The towers of New Chalcedon ascended the horizon to meet him—until, without quite realizing it, James found himself back in the heart of the city, walled into the glass labyrinth. He eyed the rooftops nervously. He didn’t go directly to the safehouse—Black Zaelland wasn’t a machine, he had to sleep sometime, but it was a few hours yet before it would be late enough to assume he was asleep. To be safe, James drove the highway that encompassed the city, wandering aimlessly through streets he knew like the back of his hand. If Black Zaelland showed up—it meant he was watching. If Zaelland didn’t show up—he might not be watching, and James would be safe to go to the safehouse without looking over his shoulder.
After an hour of this aimless wandering, James felt secure enough to try the safehouse. He drove by a circuitous route back to the familiar districts of New Chalcedon, to the safehouse tucked away in an alley between two massive skyscrapers. He pulled the car into the garage. Despite himself, when the garage doors closed and the car was off, he relaxed, letting out a big sigh. He sat for what felt like minutes, with his eyes closed, in the dark garage, in silence.
Come on James get moving. He thought. Move. Move. Move! He opened his eyes, and finally threw open his car door. While I’m here I may as well grab a few things—I may not be able to come back. He flipped on the switch to the garage, and found his locker in the opposite corner. He opened it, and found his pistol taped under a shelf. He checked that it was loaded—it was. He looked for a spare magazine, found only one. He had a shoulder holster somewhere, but for now tucked the gun in his pants and the spare magazine in his pocket.
He opened the door to the rest of the safehouse quietly—and before moving into the place, listened….
…Nothing. Not a sound. Nothing looked disturbed. The safehouse remained safe, for now. He donned his shoulder holster, and holstered the gun too. If the safehouse remained safe, maybe he would come back—but too risky tonight. Not with Bridgett in captivity.
James turned off all the lights and went through a different door that opened onto the main street. He locked the doors and boldly stepped out into the night.
= = =
Sol II System, Eden, New Chalcedon. 22:23 Local time
With the car stashed, James now had two problems. He contemplated how he would get around the city, and where he would sleep for the night. A thought occurred to him suddenly: The Last Call. That out-of-the-way dive bar was close enough to walk, and James was regular enough that he as sure he could ask for a place to crash for a few hours, at least until morning. James smiled at the thought. That old, faithful, greasy spoon.
When he finally arrived, he was pleased to find it sparsely populated, as usual. He took his usual seat, spying the usual suspects scattered around the bar. Two well-dressed gentlemen spoke quietly among themselves, pointing at the table and each other. A workman jawboned loudly to a waitress. Home sweet home. James absently fumbled in his pocket for his pipe, before remembering that he had thrown it in the car. He didn’t know what to do with his hands.
The barman spotted him, “Hey-o James, the usual? Where’s that tight-wad droid of yours?”
“My associate,” James corrected, “is unable to join us this evening. But yes, I’ll have the usual.”
He had already started fixing the drink while James spoke. A Kentucky bourbon whiskey-double-neat slid across the counter. “Cheers” James said. “Listen, Skip, I’ve got a weird request. I need a place to crash until morning. Can I crash here?”
Skip shrugged, “You wouldn’t be the first person to overnight here, just the first person who was sober enough to ask for it. Ain’t a problem, pal. Have your pick of the booths, the seats should be comfy enough to last till morning.”
“I’m much obliged. What do I owe you?”
“Nothin’, just keep coming back, yeah?” The barman winked knowingly.
“I’ve got another weird request.”
“No you can’t bring a guest.”
“Not that kind of request, Skip. I’m hard up for a ride—my car is in the shop.”
“That so? Knew that bucket-a-bolts would fail you sooner or later.”
“The old bird is fine, just need to keep her ticking. Do you have anything I could use? One or two days, tops.”
“Oy, that’s a bigger ask than taking an empty booth overnight.”
“I know, Skip. You know I wouldn’t ask unless I was hard up.”
“Awwwlright, I got a motorcycle out back. Bring her back in one piece, alright?”
James held out a hand, to shake on it. Skip took it, but gripped tightly, and said— “You’re a good customer James, don’t become a bad one. Please. I like you, I’d hate to have to kick you out.”
“You’re a saint, Skip. One piece, not a scratch, I promise. You won’t be needing her will you?”
“Nah I just keep it parked here just in case.”
“Just in case what?”
“In case some deadbeat asks to use it!”
James laughed, and sipped the whiskey. It burned all the way down. Still alive.
= = =
Sol II System, Eden, New Chalcedon. 06:20 Local time
The early morning sun reflected off a building and into James’ eyes. He had crammed his body in a booth, not quite lying down, not quite sitting. He wouldn’t have slept if it weren’t for the whiskey. He did not feel refreshed. He leaned his tired body over the table, and stretched as much as he could given the confined spice.
The first order of business was to get in touch with Tyrone. James dialed him.
It rang for a long time, before finally the line clicked. A tired voice answered: “Tyrone here.”
“Ty, it’s me.”
“Mackerel? Don’t you know what time it is? Sheesh man my alarm wasn’t gonna go off for like two more hours.”
“I can’t talk about this stuff over the phone. Can you meet me?”
A heavy sigh. “Sure, man. I’ve got that bureaucratic mumbo jumbo to take care of in the afternoon, so I’m theoretically free this morning yes.”
“Come to The Last Call, come alone, ok?”
“Last Call? Where is that?”
“Business district, uptown.”
“Dang it man I’m in the River district, can’t you meet me halfway?”
“Not yet. Need to meet you first so we can put a plan together.”
Another sigh. “Sure, alright man. Big freakin’ mystery huh? You’re buyin me breakfast alright?”
James laughed, “Alright—be quick. See you soon.”
Tyrone. He was a wildcard, but a loyal one. Army-pals, fought in the same unit, the same deployments. They fell out of touch after their term was up—but the bond of military service was strong. James knew he could trust his friend—but why now? Why would Tyrone materialize out of thin air the exact moment he was needed? That question burned in his mind.
It was thirty minutes before Tyrone arrived. He tried the door, thinking it was open. James unlocked it and opened the door.
“As I live and breathe, Mackerel!” Tyrone didn’t wait to shake hands—he wrapped up James in a bear hug. “It’s been so long! Glad to see you up and kicking.”
“Good to see you too, Ty.”
“When are you gonna tell what this giant mess is you’ve stepped in? And is this restaurant CLOSED? Is this how you intend to buy me breakfast?”
“It’ll open soon, don’t you worry.”
“Mackerel did you sleep here? You look horrible, friend. The years have not been kind. Why are you dressed like some kind of ponce?”
“At least I didn’t get all soft and fat like you.”
“Yeah but I’ve got a woman who feeds me now, you know how it is.”
“Come on in and take a seat.”
“You know how it is, don’t you Mack? Tell me you’ve settled down?”
“I’ve got bigger fish to fry right now, Ty!”
“Right, Right, you’ve stepped in some kind of deep trouble so you raise the flag to the boys to see if anyone can come rescue you.”
“What? What are you talking about, you reached out to me.”
“Not so, Mack! Last night I got an urgent message on a secure line—you know what it said?”
“What?”
“Ganymede Echo”
James’ jaw dropped. “The may-day signal.”
“Never thought I’d ever hear that again. But you know com-sec, we can’t use our codes casually on regular coms.”
“But who sent it?”
“You did! Or, it had your encryption key. If it wasn’t you, who sent it?”
“What time did you receive it?”
“Just after 1800 yesterday.”
“DB431…”
“Who what-now?”
“My associate. A droid, we’ve been working together. He was shot yesterday around 1800. It must have been him. He could have sent it milliseconds before getting shot—he knew I would need help.”
“Associate? Your droid is an associate? I knew you were weird about droids man.”
“He’s the one who sent the signal. I guarantee it.”
“OK so why did your droid use your encryption code to send a mayday? Are you gonna start explaining things to me or what?”
“Associate—and Ty just shut up for a second, will you? You’ve been interrogating me since you walked in!”
Tyrone smiled and kept silent, gesturing for James to finally explain.
“I’m a detective, right? I took this case—it spiraled out of control immediately. The subject hired an assassin, he shot DB431 but it was intended for me. DB431 must’ve been the one who called you—he’s the only one besides me who would have the encryption key. I need your help man—you were always the crack technician, could you repair DB?”
Tyrone was quiet for a long while, like he was grappling with something.
“Listen, James—” James, not Mackerel—uh oh. “You’re an idiot. You KNOW I’ve got a wife, I’ve got kids. I just bought a piece of land out in Koslov, I’m a simple man, I don’t go looking for trouble from anybody. You call me in and I come to help because we served together, we help each other out, right? But you’ve got an assassin hunting you for God knows what reason? What are you thinking man? What if he busts through the door right now? You think he’d let me explain that I’m not with you before he shoots me dead? You selfish prick. You’ve involved me in this. If my wife has to explain to my sons that daddy’s not coming home because he tried to help his idiot friend…man I am going to haunt your ass, let me tell you.”
“So you’re going to help?”
“I have to! You invoked Ganymede Echo on me, I’m the only freakin’ chump on this side of inner-space who can help you. You’re lucky I’m even here, for crying out loud.”
Tears welled up in James’ eyes. “Thank you, Ty…thank you…” he sputtered.
“Ohhhh don’t go all soft on me you idiot I’m the family man, you’re the grizzled private-eye of song and story. So what’s the sitrep?”
“Last night, outside of the Motherstar restaurant, was last contact with the assassin—Black Zaelland.” James wiped the tears from his eyes.
Tyrone cursed loudly. “Of all the assassins of all inner-space, you have to pick a fight with the baddest one.”
“That’s why I need help. Until you called I was going to be tackling this thing alone. I drove off into the night and left Black Zaelland behind. I don’t know where he is, and that’s a problem. That’s why I slept here—I didn’t want to risk it if my safehouse was compromised, and I’m certain my office is.”
“Alright so I’m hearing two problems. One, your droid—sorry, associate—is busted up and needs fixing. I can take a look but no promises. Two, your enemy is better equipped, better funded, better skilled, and is more likely to shoot you before you even see him.”
“Yeah, that’s…that’s about it.”
“So you need the upper hand. Flip the tables. You start hunting him.”
“How do I even do that? I don’t know where he is. He could be waiting outside for all I know.”
“How do you hunt any animal that you can’t find but want to kill? Bait. What you need is to give him bait, so that you can start following him while he thinks he’s following you.”
“How am I supposed to do that?”
“You need to bait him with something he wants. So what does he want?”
It dawned on James with creeping horror: “Me.”
Thank You For Reading!
This has been DUEL, a tech-noir serial featuring Detective James McElroy and his Detective Droid DB431. This will be a serial publishing every week because I seem to have gotten my act together! There are nine episodes planned, and I reserve the right to add more if I can’t tell the story succinctly (it is looking like there will be a few more).
If you enjoyed this episode, please let me know with a like, or a comment! If you REALLY like it, tell your friends with a restack? If you’d like to not miss an episode, be sure to subscribe!
One more comment NOT dual posted to notes because I didn't want to spoil: DB's dying action!? Ty better fix our friend.
If DB trusts Tyrone, then I trust Tyrone.