S Hunter - Longevity

When Livvy called Bruno Morelli’s home code a woman answered. Chris had mentioned, after they were introduced, that Bruno had been happily married for over sixty years. Cara, that was her name.

“Maybe yes, maybe no,” the pleasant female voice answered when Livvy asked to speak to him. “You do realize that it’s 2230?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Livvy said. “Unfortunately I still need to speak to him. It’s important. Urgent really.”

“But not quite an emergency yet, and you’re counting on Bruno to help prevent one.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Whom may I say is calling?”

“Livvy Hutchins. I’m Chris McGregor’s new partner.”

“Ah, yes. Well, my dear, I’m quite sure Bruno will talk to you ,” the voice said, then, in a muffled shout, “Bruno. It’s Chris’ Botticelli Venus.”

“How is Chris?” the voice asked, back on the comu.

“Currently missing.”

“Hmm, and how long has that been going on?”

“Over 28 hours now.”

“I see,” the voice said, and then again, muffled. “Bruno, you might as well get dressed and take the call in the car.

“Hang on. He was in the laver, but if you give him another moment, he’ll be in the car, and you can explain it to him while he’s on his way.”

Twenty minutes later Livvy was in Bruno’s office in the Special Tactical unit. She’d told him as much as she could over the comu while he was on his way. Given the blanket order from the Chief, that wasn’t much. In the end, he knew little more than what she’d told Cara: Chris was missing and hadn’t responded to communication for over 28 hours, and that she and Chris had been working on a major case that had given Livvy reason to be worried.

“Look, I know how LLE works. I’ve been supplying McGregor with bags of tricks for almost 60 years, and never asked a question I didn’t need answered to do the job. But you are one little… “ Bruno said, frowning briefly and then giving her an apologetic smile, “… woman, and most of the guys LLE goes after have plenty of resources, which means brigades of lethally-armed muscle-bound security lugs.”

“Yes, but I’m quick and strong on initiative,” Livvy said. “Look, Bruno, I’m going after McGregor with or without your help, and I don’t have much time.

“If it comes down to numbers, which we can surely anticipate it will, McGregor, or even you, won’t weigh in that much heavier than I do. It’s your tricks and my enterprise. Synergy.”

Bruno assessed her. He wasn’t going to find a nick in her resolve, she thought, which meant that he was worrying about her capabilities. She sat up straight and firmed her jaw, concentrating on projecting the kind of image that would dispel his concerns about her atrophied tactical skills.

“Okay, so we need to start with the basics,” Bruno said finally. “I’m gonna guess it’s been a while since you’ve been on the street in some situations. You know about the reversal implants the pros are getting now? They’re better than ours.”

Livvy nodded.

“These mickey-mouse gangs of security guards most of the rich are hiring get them, too. The guards put it on their friggin’ resumes.

“So. In a take-no-prisoners kind of scenario you want to use duoloads and put two in everyone. They have a short, very fast-acting sop and a much longer-acting one. They’re still considered safe so you can use two even on non-players, but even three is unlikely to kill anyone, especially if they have an implant. Use ‘em if you need to. I’ll set you up with some clips of duoload darts that will work with a standard Stinger.

“What else do you think you’ll need?” Bruno asked.

Livvy put her elbows on Bruno’s desk, rested her chin in her hands, and prepared to pay close attention.

“What kind of bombs do you have?”

Bruno smiled.

When Agnew had called Bedford’s mansion a fortress he had exaggerated. There were no ramparts, canons, or visible guards, other than one man at the gatehouse. There was a complete seven meter tall perimeter wall topped with glass and razor wire with an ironwork gate at the driveway – the old ways were often still the best, especially if one worried about technical failures – and there were undoubtedly security acueyes with comprehensive coverage of the house, inside and out. The rest of the guards would be inside. Not a fortress, a fortified mansion. She parked three blocks away, and resigned herself to waiting. She was so tired of waiting.

During the half hour she’d delayed before confronting Agnew in the bar, she’d accessed 3-D utility maps of all of Bedford’s known properties in the city and narrowed her search down to a few possibilities. By mentioning the bunker, which of course wasn’t portrayed on anything official, Agnew had given her a final direction. She couldn’t confirm; Chris’ comu positioning system was jammed, as it had been all day, but this was her one chance and her best information. McGregor had to be in this house.

“Why should our luck start now?” Livvy muttered to herself. From the passenger seat, Louie wagged his tail hesitantly.

“Yes, Louie, we’re going in to look for Chris,” she said. “Soon.”

She had an hour before the time she had selected for going in, and while she waited she unpacked and repacked her satchel of Bruno’s gifts, reviewing the use, operation, and position of each one. LLE was even more powerful than she’d imagined but she knew she was going well beyond its legal mandate, both in what she was going to do and how she was going about it. It no longer mattered. Later, when she had time, she’d dwell on the twist LLE gave her philosophical question: did this make her a good cop or a bad one?

Chris had warned her: a private little war. Megan and the Chief had unofficially sanctioned it. Bedford had asked for it. At the moment, fueled by rage over Mickey Bedford’s death and Jesse’s kidnapping, she was looking forward to it. Handy thing, rage.

She was counting on a number of factors to make her effort possible: Chris would be in the underground bunker, safe from her first assault and retaliation from the guards. The element of surprise, and the fact that she would be almost alone, would make it difficult for Bedford’s security to respond effectively. And more importantly, Bedford’s guards wouldn’t be calling in anyone from the public sector because the last thing Bedford wanted was regular Enforcement responding to the breach. She was cool with that; secrecy was part of her mandate, and everyone she met would be his private security, and fair game.

And last but not least, they wouldn’t expect that she could be lead straight to Chris’ location. They wouldn’t expect Louie.

Her hour was up. She got out of the car, Louie following, and hefted her pack onto her shoulder, where it settled securely. It was a cool night with a quarter moon and a slight breeze. The only sounds were from a few mechanicals along the distant arterial roads, the whispery scrunch of her shoes on the sidewalk, the crickets, and Louie’s intermittent excited panting. When she got to a point across the street and far enough from Bedford’s property that she should still be out of range of the acueyes at the gate, she paused and dropped to one knee by Louie’s side.

This part couldn’t be helped. She could only hope that Louie was as smart as she believed he was.

“Louie, gate,” she said, speaking clearly and pointing at the ironwork gates 80 meters ahead. “Gate. Sit. Stay now.”

If Louie was puzzled, he didn’t show it, other than to cock his head to one side and look her in the eyes. He sat silently and watched her walk away.