The Most Dangerous Dame

“How’s Angel?”

His expression turned guarded. “Been better. She’s a bit miffed she missed out on the action. Said something about not needing to be treated like some china doll.”

“Women.”

“Yeah. So — it’s finally over?”

“Think so.”

He scrubbed a hand through his hair. “Well I guess you don’t need this forensics report, then. Thanks for wasting my time.”

I quite rubbing my temples long enough to look up. “What report?”

“You know — the one you asked for on that stiff in the Docks. The one with the cameras wired to his eyes.”

“Don’t ask.”

“Yeah, well like I said — guess you don’t need it now.”

“Shoot it to me anyway.”

I pulled it up on my holoband after he sent it. Wasn’t much to look at — just the standard DNA match of a person I’d never heard of. Cause of death was gunshot wound to the back of the head. I scanned the list of known associates.

“That’s odd. Most of his known associates are dead.”

Flask sighed. “Tell me about it. All the murders had previously been written off as standard New Haven happenstance. Now it looks like there’s an apparent serial killer on the loose. Just what I need right now.”

I continued to read the dossier. “One of these guys is listed as missing, not dead.”

“Yeah. Nelson Lucas. His disappearance is highly suspect. We’re assuming he’s dead. Just haven’t found the body yet.”

“Nelson.” I scratched the stubble on my chin. “Got a picture?”

“Gotta pull it. Here you go.”

When the visual pulled up I almost dismissed it. After all, the last time I’d seen Nelson was in a warehouse where he’d been beaten so badly he was nearly unrecognizable. But it was the same man who blew his brains out with the gun I handed to him.

Which made everything suddenly come together.

I shut my holoband down. “Well, looks like you’re right, Flask. Nothing to follow up here. Thanks again for the save. Be seeing you around.”

His eyes narrowed. “Mick.”

I paused in the act of standing up. “What?”

“You’re not fooling anybody. I know that look. You’re on to something. I want to know what it is.”

I made an exaggerated show of straightening out my tie. “Think about it, Flask. You know everything that just went down. All the murder, Mafia ties, and Secret Service interference. Do you really want to get tangled up in what this is?”

He stared at me for a long moment before dropping his head back to his console. “Nice seeing you, Mick.”

The office suite was high enough in the Uppers that the wall-length high rise windows displayed a marvelous view of the glimmering city. The suite itself was stark, barely furnished as though the occupant wanted the idea of a luxury suite without the actual luxury. The person behind the contemporary aluminum desk was immaculately dressed in a sienna grey checkered suit. His face was nothing like I’d last seen him. Instead of bland and mannequin-like, it was remarkably normal — a square-jawed, handsome face that granted a certain sophistication and imposing bearing he didn’t have before. His golden-brown hair was stylishly arranged with a perfect part on one side.

But it was the eyes that gave me pause. They were a more subdued green than before and gazed at me with measured calm and self assurance. There was nothing alien or artificial about the intelligence that shone in his gaze. That was completely unexpected and remarkably chilling.

Because Hunter Valentino wasn’t human.

I gazed around at the spacious suite. “You’ve come up in the world.”

His eyes flicked to the hypnotic city skyline, where the lights blinked and twinkled like an overactive circuit board. “Living in the Flats served my purposes for the time. Living here suits my purposes now.” Even his voice had changed. It changed from a flat monotone to deep and rich, almost purring in tone. “I suppose you found me with the help of your bioroid friend.”

“Does it matter? We need to talk.”

He tilted his head. “The answer is yes.”

“What? I haven’t even asked the question.”

His fingers steepled together. “Let’s not dance around here, Mick. The answer is yes. I’m the one responsible for killing Secret Service moles. And yes, I’m the one who bankrolled the drug shipment Luther Vitto had shipped in.”

“The same shipment that Natalie was smuggled in.”

“Indeed. I’m responsible for her presence in New Haven.”

I felt the heat rise in my chest. “That means you’re just as responsible for the deaths of Sophia and Desiree as she was.”

“Yes.” The simple statement echoed in the near-empty room. “Inadvertently, but yes.”

“Why? You’ve been avoiding Natalie since she arrived here. If you’re so afraid of her, why bring her inside?”

“Because she’d be coming anyway. When my contacts revealed she was seeking a way into New Haven, I decided to make the arrangements myself. That way I could monitor her every move. I had to know, you see.”

“Know what?”

“If she knew about me. The ironic thing about her mission was she was chasing the wrong man the entire time. Your memories were downloaded into my neural network. If she wanted Michael Trudo, she should have been chasing me instead of you.”