The Most Dangerous Dame

Natasha leaned forward. “What are you doing, Mick? Aren’t you even going try to save Angela?”

I kept my eyes on the road. I couldn’t stomach it if Natasha looked at me differently. After what she heard, I couldn’t blame her. “Trust me, I’m doing my best.”

“By pissing off a crazy woman trying to kill her?” Benny shook his head. “I might be new to all this private eye stuff, but that just don’t sound right. What makes you think she’ll just let them walk? She had them right in her sights.”

“No audience.”

“No audience? What are you talking about?”

“It’s the game. If I play by Natalie’s rules Angel will still die. I’ll get her question wrong. Or I’ll run out of time. Or I’ll get to Angel just in time to see a slug take her head off. It’s a losing hand no matter how I play it. So far Natalie’s dictated everything. I’ve been tap-dancing to her tune from the start. I gotta do what she doesn’t expect if I wanna come out ahead in her little game.”

Benny rubbed his chin and nodded slowly. “So you spoil her fun. She’ll get no pleasure killing Angel if she thinks you don’t care.”

“Exactly.”

“But… ” Natasha’s voice shrank. “She might kill them anyway.”

“I told you. A losing hand.”

“Mick?”

I glanced in the rearview mirror. Natasha’s face told all I needed to know.

“If you’re gonna ask me about what Natalie said, forget it. I don’t remember killing the people she said I killed. I don’t remember being in the Service. And no — I don’t remember anything about Maxine. You’re tooting the wrong ringer, sweetheart. I remember everything — everything except my past.”

“Waitaminute.” Benny scrunched up his beefy face. “You saying you got whaddya call it — ambrosia or something?”

“It’s called amnesia, Einstein. And yeah, I got it in spades. When I came to this Haven I was on a mission to snuff someone. Instead I got a memory remix and wound up being the resident Troubleshooter you see right now. I don’t remember anything about my past before coming to New Haven. Considering what I know about my former self, I think I got the better part of the deal.”

Benny whistled softly. “No wonder you got the whole town stepping on eggshells around you. It’s nutso. I never seen that about nobody outside the Borgata, you know?”

“The louder the gab, the bigger the target, kid. Trust me, I’d rather not be mentioned at all.”

“I guess. And this psycho chick is your ex?”

“Yeah. Not that I remember her. Apparently she’s not all that good at the whole ‘letting go’ thing.”

Benny shook his head. “Damn. And I thought I’d met some jingle-brained dames.” He glanced out the window. “Hey — where are we headed, anyway? I told you my uncle wanted you to come in.”

“Gotta make a detour to the last place I wanna go to see the last person I wanna see, like I told you earlier.”

“This Hunter Valentino pal of yours?”

“He’s not my pal.”

“Then who the hell is he?”

I sighed. “He’s an ‘it’, actually. A synoid. A synoid that happens to be in possession of my old memories.”

For once Benny and Natasha were too shocked to say anything else.

“Hell, Mick.” Benny took an uneasy glance around. “Think your synoid pal could’ve picked a crappier part of town?”

I couldn’t argue. Hunter hung his hat in the crummiest section of the West Docks. If there was a worse stretch of gutters and ramshackle dives in New Haven I didn’t know about it. The air reeked of old fish guts and fresh urine. The sunlight was smothered by thick cloud cover, casting the entire district in a tangle of fog and shadows.

The rain returned just as Maxine rolled to a stop in front of one of the ugliest houses on the street. On the opposite side was the West River. The waters were as black as the night I emerged from them with no memory of how I got there.

Benny looked on the verge of another breakdown. “A lotta rubes get fitted for cement shoes and dropped off in the river around here. I seen it happen a couple of times. My uncle thought it’d make a man outta me.” His whimpering tone indicated the experiment was a complete failure.

“Who would put a synoid here?” Natasha peered into the gloom from the relative safety of the back seat. “There’s nothing for it to do.”

“Hunter’s not your average synoid, sweetheart. He put himself here, probably because it’s the last place someone would look for him.”

“Why do you keep calling it ‘him’? And how could it put itself anywhere? Synoids can’t override their programming. Someone has to be in control, or they automatically shut themselves down.”

I opened the door and stepped out. “Like I told you. This one’s not your average. You’re right about him being unnatural. Synoids function according to their design and purpose, but Hunter’s different. He’s a highly advanced prototype that just so happens to host my downloaded memories.”

“What does that even mean, Mick?”

“It means he knows me far better than I know myself.” I stared at the forbidding doorway of the ramshackle house. “It also means he’s about the creepiest thing I’ve ever encountered. Benny, stay here and—”