[Danny]

This one was only written yesterday, so is still a bit first-draftish...

Chapter 8

“You idiot!”

Visk blinked as he awoke, a bright white light glaring in his eyes. As he became accustomed to the light, he saw that he was lying in the Pathology Lab, on one of the operating tables, with Lans and Frack standing over him. Several of the other operating tables were also occupied, although it was difficult to make out which of the prostrate forms were alive and which weren’t…

Frack’s arm was in a sling, and his face was furious. “Did yer not think of the safety of the men? Didn’t yer even think of yer own?”

“What… What happened?”

Frack’s frown deepened. “I’ll tell yer what happened! You cost us three good officers and almost jeopardised the entire investigation!”

Visk tried to sit up, but only managed to prop himself up on his elbows. “They died?”

“Two of them. Drak bled to death from a wound in the shoulder before we could get him to hospital. Rett took a shot in the head, and Volt was paralysed from the waist down when they broke his spine.”

Sinking back into his pillow, Visk buried his face in his hands. “Oh god…”

Perhaps a little nervous at having live bodies lying on the beds he usually reserved for corpses, Lans had retreated to the corner, where he was rearranging his microscope slides.

His anger spent, Frack sat himself down on a chair beside the bed. “I’d already called for heavy backup from the station when I saw how heavily armed they were. I tried to warn you guys off, but you must have not heard me over the gunfire…” He looked across the tables in the lab. “By the time the backup got there, Rett was already dead, and Drak, Volt, you, and me were all unconscious. Only Frag was still holding out, and he was almost out of bullets.” Visk felt Frack’s eyes fall on him, and turned his head away, saying nothing. “When the heavy guns got there, the glukkons gave themselves up.”

Visk turned back. “They just surrendered? Didn’t they give you any more trouble?”

Frack shrugged. “They might have planned to. We broke their arms, just to make sure.”

Visk sat up, shocked. “You broke their arms? After they’d surrendered?”

Frack seemed more than a little taken aback by Visk’s outburst. “Hey, we couldn’t afford to take any more risks, okay? They’d already killed two of our men, and we didn’t want to let them try again. For f*ck’s sake, we just saved yer life, and covered for your cockups as best we could, and you object to us exercising a little caution!”

Visk frowned. “Aren’t there any rules about treatment of prisoners?”

“Not that I know of. They’re dangerous criminals, why shouldn’t we protect ourselves against them?”

Visk was going to argue further, but realised he was on shaky ground after f*cking up the raid. Besides that, his head was beginning to hurt, so he sagged back down onto the bed, closing his eyes.

Frack must have realised that Visk was tired, as he stood up to leave. “We’ve got them in the cells. When you’re better, we’ll begin interviewing them, but there’s no rush…”

“I can do it now…” Visk said, groggily, attempting to rise again, but failing.

Frack smiled, and pushed Visk gently but firmly back into bed, and began to walk away. “It’s not often in this job that yer get the chance for a bit of rest. Make the most of it…”

* * *

“I told yer, we ain’t done nothin’!”

“Then why exactly did yer need these?” Frack motioned with his good arm to Visk, who pulled several plastic bags from a drawer and set them on the desk before the two assassins, then looked up to study their faces. The big muscular one was expressionless, as he had been throughout the interview, whereas the small wiry one’s fiery rage of earlier had by now settled into a quieter, colder fury. Visk watched their expressions closely as the contents of the plastic bags became apparent. The bulky one, whose name they had established was Ludd, simply became still more impassive, while his diminutive companion, Smick, stared at the bags in wild-eyed apprehension.

“Recognise them?”

Visk watched as Smick dragged his eyes from the desk surface to the angry face of his interrogator. “Well, I’m a collector, ain’t I? I collect valuable weapons, and ‘em blades are worth a bomb.”

Visk inwardly smiled. “Then can you explain why there are traces of blood on some of these blades? Bloodstains that are proven to be from no more than a week ago?”

Smick glared at him in unbridled hatred. “I probably nicked myself while polishin’ ‘em…”

“Have yer seen these stains?” Frack’s voice seemed all the louder when contrasted with Visk’s quiet but persistent tones. “If yer’d spilled this much blood cleaning knives yer wouldn’t be sat here talking to me!”

Smick flared his nostrils. His slings jerked, as if he were trying to tense his muscles. “Look, I don’t know how the blood got on the knives, but I didn’t kill no drifters, alright?”

Frack rested his hands on the table. “We have a very good pathology lab here at the station, and the blood on those knives has been DNA tested, and shown to be identical to that of one of our victims. Can you explain how your knives were used as a murder weapon?”

Visk knew that Frack was bluffing. The DNA testing facilities in the lab were good, but not that good. They could tell you who the blood didn’t belong to, but to whom it did was another matter… Fortunately, the assassins weren’t aware of that.

“They could have been stolen.” Ludd’s voice rumbled through his barely-moving lips.

In for a penny, in for a pound. thought Visk. “The DNA tests showed no DNA from anybody but yourselves and our victims.”

Ludd’s face briefly blossomed into emotion as he shot an angry glance at the slig, before settling back into impassiveness.

Frack began pacing slowly behind Visk. “And in any case,” he said, quietly, “there was more than just the knives…” On his signal, Visk pulled out the bagged-up Scarb .22. “This gun was not only used to fire the bullet that killed Vice-President Kilk, but has been fired no less than four times in the last month.”

Smick seemed about to say something, but bit his lip. Ludd’s face barely flickered. Frack leaned across the desk again. “We have enough evidence against yer ter justify reopening some of the folders of those yer killed in the past… You could get a lot of years when it’s all gone through.” He turned and strolled over to the window. The harsh light of the midday sun illuminated his torso in brilliant bars. “Unless yer can help us.”

Smick’s head jerked up, and Ludd blinked. Visk looked slightly surprised, and turned to frown at the Sergeant. Smick frowned as well. “To do what?”

“We know why yer killed those people.” Frack turned from the window. “You’re Assassins. It’s yer job. Ye’re not guilty, because yer were just somebody else’s weapons.”

Visk stood up with a start. “Frack, can we have a word?”

Frack stopped, and glared at Visk. Wordlessly, he stopped the tape, and led Visk from the room. “What?”

“Yer sound like ye’re going to let them go!”

Frack sighed. “I’m not letting them go, I’m just letting them assist us in our investigation…”

Visk crossed his arms. “So after that you’re just going to convict them anyway, are you?”

Frack leaned his head closer to Visk’s, and lowered his voice. “Look, there’s no point in convicting them, because they were being paid to do it. It’d be like arresting their guns – a killer can always buy a new weapon…”

Visk frowned again, exasperated. “Then what are you going to do?”

Frack grinned. “Wait and see…” And he turned to re-enter the interrogation room. With a sigh, Visk followed, slipping back into his “good cop” mode as Frack’s grin dropped into a sneer…

“So, you two-”

“What do you want from us?”

Ludd’s rumble startled Frack, although he hid it well. He strode slowly up to the desk. “We could get yer convicted with no trouble for killing that Glukkon, Mr. Ludd. But it wouldn’t be what we really wanted, would it, Visk?”

Visk thought about playing along, but was still feeling a little annoyed at not having been told of the goals of the interrogation, so simply smiled at Frack, who carried on regardless. “And I expect that it wouldn’t be what you would like either, would it?”

Ludd remained expressionless. “Cut the crap. What are you suggesting?”

Frack sighed through his teeth, his routine cut short. “We don’t want you. We want whoever paid you.”

Ludd just laughed, while Smick stared at Frack. “We’re assassins. We have morals. One of ‘em is anonymity of clients.”

Frack stood without turning. “Could yer leave the room for a few minutes, please, Visk? Go and catch up with some of our paperwork or something…”

Visk wanted to ask what Frack was planning, but decided against it. As he closed the door, on his way out, he heard the click of the interview tape being switched off…