Blaze Tuesday and the Case of the Knight Surgeon (Special Edition)

Chapter Twelve

  Leroy was certainly earning his pay today and I could tell that Jacks was getting antsy over how much I was actually giving to our new driver. I didn't care. This was safer and more reliable than hiring anyone else, and I'd rather take a cab than a train. Stuck in rush hour or just generally heavy traffic in a cab and you can hoof it to wherever you need to be in a worst-case scenario. On a train? Not so much. Besides, this meant that we didn't have to walk a million blocks to get anywhere from the train station, and I'm all for saving my energy for chasing suspects down dark alleys whenever I can.

  We rode in silence on the way to Five Points Engineering. It was pretty much across town, which I thought to be hilariously ironic since the damn firm was named after the neighbourhood, Five Points, which had, over the years, become Hell's Kitchen. I guess you couldn't really go home again, could you? Not with Wayside having set up shop, however secretly, in the kitchen. Or maybe, I decided, Five Points was just a name to remind everyone that you can start from nothing and achieve greatness.

  Then again, I didn't particularly consider what Five Points did to be all that great.

  Wayside and Five Points were the two biggest medical firms in the city, if not the entire world. I'm pretty sure that Wayside had Chinese factories, and Five Points was just as big. Not that I cared. These were the kind of assholes who made money off of feeding into people's vanity and providing a service that was sketchy at best. They'd hired the best of the best and the competition between the two companies was the stuff of legend, or at least of the history books. Anyone with even an ounce of success and talent as a surgeon of any kind, including but not limited to plastic surgery, was scouted from the hospitals as early as possible and recruited to work in the Wayside or Five Points facilities. These were people who had gone from doing surgeries that would have once saved people's lives to... well, I suppose they still helped save people's lives, but they were also the same people who decided to market Clockwork implants as a life-enhancing gimmick. Five Points and Wayside each had their own hospitals and no one outside of those hospitals was allowed to do Clockwork implants because the training was reserved for the employees of the firms and was very proprietary. Regular doctors only had a rudimentary knowledge of Clockwork and they were only trained enough to make sure that they could properly diagnose defects, rejections and infections. Anything that needed a new implant or an adjustment had to go through the company that installed it in the first place.

  All right, so maybe I was fuelled by more righteous anger than I had any right to be, but between my outright hatred and Jacks' firsthand experience, I was pretty sure that we had every right to be royally pissed off that these corporate fat cats were hurting people and hiding behind their socially acceptable campaigns to do it.

  We needed to cross Five Points off the list of suspects, and I was positive that this wasn't a Wayside hit, it couldn't be. There was no way that Wayside would kill Doctor Jones. They'd been paying to keep him in full operation and the contract that I had been sent to deliver meant that he was ready and willing to work with them in public again. Especially when the offer that they'd made him was so lucrative.

  Jackson didn't agree with me. Although, it didn't particularly surprise me. He never agrees with my theories. He was absolutely sure that Doctor Jones' murder had nothing to do with the rivalry between Five Points and Wayside, that this was some serious wrong place at the wrong time kind of horseshit and he kept reminding me of that every chance he got.

  “Why can't you look at it from my perspective?” Jackson whined as we made our way up the front steps of the Five Points office building.

  “And what's your perspective?” I asked. “Blaze Tuesday is always wrong?”

  Jackson snorted a laugh. “You words, Tuesday, not mine.”

  I shrugged. “Okay, explain to me what you think?”

  “I think that you're looking into an angle that couldn't possibly be right,” Jackson explained to me, speaking slowly as if I was an idiot. “How could Five Points possibly have known that Doctor Jones was working for Wayside? How could they have known that Wayside was giving Jones the blueprints for new technology? You're suggesting that there's something more going on than what's been made public.”

  “Well yeah,” I replied, disdain dripping from my words. “We didn't know that Doctor Jones was on Wayside's payroll until he died.”

  “So then how did Five Points know?”

  That was a good question. “Maybe they wanted Jones to come work for them when he publicly left Wayside?”

  “And what? He said no?”

  “Well obviously,” I pointed out sarcastically. “If he'd have said yes, he wouldn't have been helping kids in the Kitchen would he?”

  “Okay, fine, I concede that point,” Jackson muttered. I couldn't help but smile at the fact that I won at least part of this argument. “So Five Points wanted Jones as a surgeon because he's the best in his field, and he said no.”

  “Sure,” I nodded along with Jackson's train of thought.

  “This was what? Ten years ago?”

  I shrugged. “Something like that?”

  “Okay, so then why would Five Points put a hit on Doctor Jones now? They didn't know that he was working for Wayside, did they? That isn't public information. We only know that because we have files that no one else should have.”

  “So then what are you saying?”

  “I'm saying that Five Points didn't have Doctor Jones killed. This has to be some drugged up Gearhead who needed a fix or needed surgery and couldn't wait, broke into the house and killed the Doctor.”

  “You calling this an accident?” I asked, incredulous.

  Jackson shrugged. “I'm calling it like I see it.”

  I shook my head. I wasn't buying that story. Even if Five Points didn't put an official hit on Doctor Jones, I wouldn't buy that it was some kid who needed a fix and the good Doctor refused to give them what they wanted. Not until I had some seriously hard evidence to back that theory up. Besides, that would have been way too much coincidence for my liking, to be honest.

  I stopped as my hand touched the cool metal of the door handle of Five Points' front entrance. Five Points Engineering was a testament to, well, the marvels of engineering. The building was a huge brass and glass tower with an exaggerated Quonset off the back. The grandiose building was nauseating and a whinging example of what rich people can accomplish when left unchecked.

  “So you think that we're wasting our time?” I asked finally, letting my hand drop from the door handle and looking at Jackson. “Even after everything that we've learned so far?”

  “I think that this is not the right avenue to pursue,” Jackson replied, his words measured and even.

  “Then get back in the cab, have Leroy take you back to the office, and I'll see what I can find by myself,” I offered. “I don't need your skepticism and your blind rage to get in the way of this investigation.”

  Jackson gave me a blank look. “You're kidding, right?”

  I shook my head. “We need to be a team on this one, Jacks.”

  “When have I ever not had your back?”

  “Can I say right now since you're arguing with me so damn much?” I asked rhetorically.

  “Can you be serious for one minute?”

  I checked the watch on my wrist. “Yeah, I can do a minute, I think.”

  “You're heading the right way for me to give you a matching shiner on the other side of your face,” Jackson warned.

  I tilted my head to expose the unbruised side of my face. “If that'll make you feel better, then by all means, punch me in the face, come on, let's make some beautiful chin music together. If not, then maybe just cool your jets for a tick and let me explain what's what in my head.”

  Jacks made a growling noise under his breath. I knew that I was pushing every single one of his buttons and I didn't really care. I needed him to get the anger out before we went in to Five Points. I needed him to be thinking with a clear head, or
else I would have to send him back to the office and make him sit this one out for a little while. I just didn't want to; I needed him on this case, and I needed him focused. I wouldn't be able to do this without him.

  “Look, Jacks, I know you're pissed, I'm right there, too. And believe me, I don't trust anyone involved in this case more than I could throw 'em, but we gotta just do what we do. We gotta take it all one step at a time, and this is where the investigation has led us so far. When has that ever been wrong?”

  “Every other turn is wrong in most of these cases, Blaze,” Jackson pointed out. There was resignation in his voice, though. I knew that I'd won the argument.

  “And we just keep going, right?” I pushed.

  “Yeah yeah, whatever,” Jackson mumbled.

  “One foot in front of the other, that's how we've always done it. Is there anything wrong with that?” I demanded, poking Jackson in the chest. “I need you to breathe, Jacks. I need you to focus on getting the bastards who killed a good doctor and ruined the chances for God-knows-how-many kids to get medical treatment that they need but can't afford. I need you to just trust my guts on this one and help me follow the clues, okay? Is that too much to ask of you? If it is, say the word and you can go back to the office and figure out what my next move should be.”

  Jackson stared at me in disbelief. I'm not one for pep talks, and I don't make empty threats so I knew that he was taking my words into consideration.

  “I wanna get the bastards responsible for this as much as you do, Jacks.”

  Jackson heaved a sigh through his nose and narrowed his eyes. His face was otherwise unreadable to me, he was pretty good at hiding his emotions and that robotic eye of his only made it harder to tell what he was thinking; and I really wanted to know what he was thinking. I set my jaw, bracing for another clock to the face.

  The promised punch never came. I let myself relax a little bit and eyed Jackson warily. “Are we good?”

  “No,” Jackson replied. “We're far from good, but you're the only partner I've got and you're the only one who has given a damn about what's going on out here in I don't know how long. And you don't even have a vested interest in this.”

  “If this is something that'll help you in the long run, then I like to think that I have a vested interest in how this all turns out,” I pointed out.

  Any anger that was left in Jackson melted out of him at my words, the anger toward me was gone and I could see it in how he relaxed just enough so that I wasn't worried about him shooting me when I turned my back. We weren't good, not by a long shot, and I was pretty much convinced that this wouldn't be resolved between us until this case was resolved. That was fine by me, as long as Jacks was thinking clearly and wasn't planning my murder while my back was turned.

  “So what do you think we're going to accomplish right now?” Jackson asked after a moment.

  “We're just gonna go ask a few questions to whoever happens to be home,” I replied easily, a grin spreading across my face. “You know, like we do.”

  “Without a warrant?” Jackson asked hesitantly as I opened the front door.

  “This is just a friendly house call,” I replied, leading the way into the air conditioned bliss that was the lobby of Five Points Engineering. “I just want to see what kind of playing field we're actually looking at.”

  Jackson made an incoherent noise behind me, muttering something that I didn't quite catch and wasn't about to ask about. I pushed onward through the disgustingly lavish lobby with Jackson in tow. Just as we were about to hit up the reception desk, the elevator pinged and the doors slid open, revealing three of the best-dressed men I had seen this side of the Chief of Police in his dress blues.

  The first man to step out of the elevator looked like a linebacker from Jersey. His thick dark hair was slicked back against his head and his nose looked like it had been broken more than once, despite it being flat against his face. He had beady dark eyes and if I had to guess, he was half Italian, probably some mob peon's mistress' son who managed to make his way up in the world despite all the odds. He was clean shaven, which showed off a nice clean scar running down the side of his tanned face, and he looked genuinely oily.

  “Definitely from Jersey,” I muttered under my breath.

  “That's the owner of Five Points,” Jackson hissed back. “Pasquale Lazzari.”

  “Like the head honcho?”

  “Like he signs even the CEO's pay cheques.”

  I let out a low, impressed whistle.

  Behind the esteemed Lazzari, there was another heavyset man in a poorly tailored suit, and a wimpy looking guy I assumed was a scientist of some sort. If this ended up in a fist fight, Jacks and I were probably screwed. I didn't see a stitch of Clockwork on any of the men, but the synthetic skin that they made was almost completely indistinguishable from the real thing, so I'd have to be up close to notice anyway.

  “Lucy, hold my calls. And Fierri and Tekla are both unavailable until further notice,” Lazzari said, his Jersey accent unmistakable. I eyed the reception desk but didn't see a secretary.

  Jackson nudged me forward and I took his encouragement to jump right into the fray.

  “Good afternoon, gentlemen!” I chirped, grinning widely. “I'm Blaze Tuesday, this is Jackson Early, we're here to ask you a few questions about the death of Doctor Terry Jones out in Hell's Kitchen, I'm sure you've heard of this, right?”

  Lazzari glared at me and curled his lip in a sneer of disdain at my outstretched hand. “We're not talking to reporters, so get out of here before I have you arrested.”

  “That's funny,” I drawled as Jackson and I both produced our badges in unison. “We're detectives hired to solve this case.”

  Lazzari seemed to deflate a few inches and he shot a warning glance at Fierri. I wondered if it was a warning to keep his mouth shut and just let the boss do all the talking, or if there was a hint of annoyance and accusation in the look.

  “I wasn't aware that private investigators had been brought in on this case?” Lazzari spoke in measured words, his tone was clipped and careful, like he was hiding something.

  I shrugged and tucked my badge back away, letting Lazzari and his friends see Nadia intentionally. I wasn't in the mood for any funny business. “I promise this will only take a few minutes of your time.”

  Lazzari growled and I felt a sudden pang of worry. This guy could break me in half if I sneezed wrong. I flashed him another smile.

  “All right, fine, what do you want?” he demanded, waving his companions back, as if I wouldn't talk to them if he was in my immediate vicinity. Ha, that was only working for him because I didn't feel like pushing my luck in a fight when I wasn't completely sure that Jacks wouldn't just sit back and let my smart mouth get the beating it deserved.

  It also told me that these other guys might know something that could help me and that Lazzari was protecting them. I'd have to find a way to talk to these guys later.

  “We're leading a private investigation into the murder of Doctor Jones,” I began.

  “I thought it was an accidental death?” The fat man behind Lazzari pitched in. His voice was high pitched and nervous, like he knew he was going to be in trouble for speaking.

  “I have evidence in my possession that proves that it was a murder,” I replied coolly. “I also have an eye-witness report claiming that there was someone else in the room with the Doctor right before he died.”

  Jackson made a faint clicking noise with his tongue. He didn't approve of how much information I was throwing around but I didn't care. I needed these fat cats to be uncomfortable. I needed someone to mess up. I just hoped that Lazzari didn't hear Jackson's tell.

  The fat guy shifted uncomfortably and tugged at his collar. Murder didn't sit well with corporate fat cats, apparently.

  Lazzari wasn't moved. “That's a damn shame, Doctor Jones was a good guy.”

  “Too good for you maybe?” I tried.

  “What's that supposed to mean?”

&n
bsp; I waved my hand. “I know all about Doctor Jones working for Wayside back in the day. I'm not even all the surprised that he'd accepted a new position with them, especially considering that Wayside was responsible for keeping his street hospital afloat.”

  “He was still on Wayside's payroll?” Lazzari asked, now glaring at the fat guy. “Huh, go figure.”

  “You seem less surprised by this than I'd expected.”

  Lazzari shrugged his massive shoulders. “You don't let good people go without a fight. That's how you make it in the medical field, you build a team and you keep close tabs on them at all times.”

  The fat guy fidgeted again, and I couldn't help but stare. He was so nervous, so twitchy. There was something more to the fat guy than we could see. “You all right there, buddy?”

  The fat guy made a strangled noise. “Yeah, I'm fine. I just... could use a glass of water, excuse me, Boss.”

  Lazzari grunted and the fat guy waddled off in a hurry. I gave Lazzari a questioning look.

  “That's Marco Fierri,” Lazzari explained. “He's an office lackey, got to a good place and forgot what it was like to deal with real people on a regular basis.”

  I nodded sympathetically.

  “If you don't mind me asking,” Jackson chimed in, stepping forward and letting me take a breather, “I am very curious to know how it is that you have been able to announce testing on new Clockwork when Wayside has only just announced new designs?”

  “That's trade secrets, Mister Early,” Lazzari crooned. “I'm afraid that I can't divulge that information at this time without you having a warrant or subpoena for that.”

  Jackson nodded. “It's just impressive,” he assured the huge Lazzari. He waggled his robotic fingers. “I'm a prime candidate for upgrading, and I was just wondering how far along you are with these tests?”

  Lazzari's eyes lit up when he saw the outdated model of Jackson's hand. I had to fight to control myself; Jackson's hand was an old model but the upgrades he'd had done on his digits made it better than anything that was on the market. Except for the fact that he didn't have a warranty. Every time someone in the Clockwork medical field, Greaser or legitimate, saw Jackson's hand they started ranting about what kind of upgrades he could get, and how much it would cost him. Jackson always turned them down, saying that his hand was fine the way it was and that he didn't need any upgrades. Then to prove his point, he usually punched a dent in the nearest car door. I always laughed at the entire spectacle, but never out loud. Good thing I'm a model of self-control.

  “Well, we're still a ways off from public human testing,” Lazzari said. “If you leave me your information, I will put you on the list if you'd like?”

  Jackson shrugged and handed Lazzari a business card. “I'd be happy to consider the offer, thank you.”

  Lazzari pocketed the card and smiled widely at us. “Is there anything else that you gentlemen need to know? We are on our way to a business meeting, after all.”

  “Just one thing,” I interrupted. “How well did you know Doctor Jones?”

  Lazzari's face went blank. It was a calculated blankness, one you'd employ when playing poker. Or when you were swallowing a lot of anger. “Doctor Jones was a pioneer. He was the first person to successfully implant a Clockwork mechanism in a patient. I wanted him on my team, but Wayside made him a better offer. I've never been able to win him back. His death is a sincere loss to the entire medical community.”

  “You weren't friends?” I pressed.

  “Not in the least,” Lazzari grumbled. “He said I was evil, that all I cared about was money and that my Clockwork was shoddy. It got worse over the years as he worked with the Gearheads. So many of them were showing up with my product improperly attached to their bones. Defective stuff that I would never approve for sale. How they've been getting it, I will never know. It's been rumoured around here that someone is skimming, stealing from me. It's never been proven, but I keep looking, and if I ever find out...” he trailed off, cracking his knuckles in agitation and to prove his point.

  “So you really hate these Gearheads?” I asked.

  “Hate? No,” Lazzari admitted. “I respect them for doing what they want. I hate the fact that it's my products that are putting these kids into such a bad state of things. I hate the fact that someone in my company is intentionally endangering these kids. If it was up to me, I'd have given Doctor Jones a state of the art facility and anything he needed to make sure that these kids were getting healthy. Instead, he worked quietly for Wayside and kept that ramshackle building in the Kitchen.” He shook his head and sighed in defeat.

  I patted Jackson's arm. “Thank you for your time, Mister Lazzari. If there's anything else, we'll be in touch.”

  Lazzari nodded and I dragged Jackson out of Five Points before we could really mess this investigation up.