The Troubleshooter Page 3

  I offered my best sneer of contempt. I’m pretty good at sneering. It’s a useless talent for the most part, but sometimes it turns out to be the perfect response, especially to the kind of bunk that Flask spouted.

  “I’m serious,” Flask said. “I wanted to take them alive. But once gunshots were reported, I was ordered to send in the sweepers. Command came from the top. Captain Graves was under a lot of pressure to catch that crew. Transit is one of the most secure departments in the city. To have a robbery in that division was unheard of.”

  I stared at the ceiling. “Is that right? That explains the tail. Where’d you hide it? Wiseman said something about inside of me.”

  “The nanomachines were in the water you drank. Takes a couple of days for the individual parts to come together and form the responder that we traced you with. No need to worry. By now it’s already passed through your digestive system.”

  I nodded as I slowly sat up. “Because the machines are protein based. I may not know much, but everyone knows about that, Flask. Still don’t see why you had come in with guns blazing. Wasn’t like the old codger or his moll could do those tin cans any real damage.”

  The laser bars threw shadowed lines across Flask’s face. “Captain Grave’s boss came down hard on him, and Graves came down harder on me. It was an embarrassment that needed to be resolved quickly. This probably wouldn’t have ended any other way.”

  I folded my arms. “Yeah, I’m sure you had a pretty rough day, Detective. Why confess to me? I’m no priest.”

  His face flushed red. “Just want you to know that it’s nothing personal. Your friends knew the risks. They did what they thought they had to, and so did we. The main thing is: don’t do anything stupid, Trubble. I’d hate to find out the next stiff that the sweepers tag is yours.”

  “What, you’re letting me go?”

  “Yeah. You served your purpose. Most of the stolen property was recovered, and they’re calling it an open and shut case. We could book you for accessory, but we need the cell space. So you walk. Just… stay out of trouble, will you?”

  “Hey Flask.”

  He paused in mid-turn.

  “You said ‘most’ of the stolen property was recovered.”

  “That’s right. One of the transit passes is still missing. We figure it’s on the black market. Only a matter of time before we track it down.”

  He walked away as a pair of hulking androids appeared right on schedule. I couldn’t tell if they were the same ones from earlier, but I doubted it. They probably all had the same face, modeled after some sour-faced supervisor in an understaffed production factory.

  “You’re to come with us,” one of them said.

  I held up my hands. “Yeah, yeah. I know the drill.”

  ~*~

  About an hour later I hopped out of a cabbie. I was in the Flats, my familiar stomping grounds with Wiseman. I’d spent my last few dibs on a full scan by a streetcoat, just to make sure that I wasn’t still tagged. Turned out that Flask was right. All traces of the tracer were out of my system. I was clean.

  I was also broke.

  I pretty much had only the rags on my back and the Mean Ol’ Broad at my hip. A lot of mugs would have taken the easy route and pointed the heater at someone in order to tip the scales back in their favor. That wasn’t my style. I didn’t know much about myself, but I knew what Wiseman taught me. He’d get the stink face if I turned to crime to solve my problems.

  I pulled the transit card out of my pocket.

  Ol’ Wiseman had slipped it to me when he gripped my hand right before he croaked. I’d flipped it down into the gutter when the street sweepers loaded me up in the squad car. First stop after getting sprung was down a manhole and a slimy crawl under the street. I was lucky that it hadn’t rained for once. The card was still there.

  I could’ve tried to hawk it, but you gotta know the right type of scumbag for that sort of deal. With all the heat on my back, I probably would have ended up getting my elbows checked again. I’d had enough of cooling my heels in the slammer.

  So I kept it. I figured it would come in handy one day when I might have to get the hell outta Dodge. One day, when I had the answers that I needed. The memories that had melted away like fog in the morning.

  But at that particular time all I had was my wits and my game face. I strode into the nearest apartment complex like I knew where I was going. The name of the joint was The Luzzatti. Wiseman had history with the owner, said he was on the square. I figured if I was gonna start anywhere, might as well start there. Because it’s not how you start, but how you finish that counts.

  And eventually every mug catches a lucky break. That’s the thing about life. You weather the rough storms and eventually the seas get calm and the clouds break, if only for a little while.

  A Wiseman once told me that.

  The Trubble Continues…

  In the prequel to New Haven Blues, Mick Trubble is a partial amnesiac who barters favors in order to survive. His deals place him at The Luzzatti, an apartment complex where he works for the owner and eventually befriends the family. In short time his search for answers is distracted by taking cases and by his conflicted feelings for Natasha, Mr. Luzzatti's daughter.

  But Mick's peace is short-lived, because Mr. Luzzatti is caught in a business deal gone sour, resulting in murderous loan sharks looking to rub him out along with his family. Mick has to quickly gather his wits and resources in able to protect the Luzzattis before they become the next victims of New Haven's most notorious hitman: the Red-Eyed Killer.

  Get Red-Eyed Killer at the official website.

  The Debut Novel

  Mick Trubble has two major problems: a past that he can't remember, and a price on his head. So when a mysterious dame shows up with a proposition to recover some stolen goods, it's all in a day's work for a man with nothing to lose.

  But this is New Haven, where nothing is as it seems. It's a dystopian melting pot of slick men and cool dames, hard gangsters and smooth players. It's a dark, multi-layered city where the rich dwell above in flying vehicles and bright lights, while the disadvantaged fight over the remains in the gritty streets. There are secrets buried behind sealed doors and the minds of men and women who won't hesitate to kill in order to protect them.

  So when Mick's case uncovers a conspiracy that threatens the entire populace, he has to rely on his connection, allies, and sheer cunning in order to put the pieces together and stay a step ahead of catching a case of the New Haven Blues.

  Get New Haven Blues at the official website.

  About the Author

  Bard Constantine decided to write seriously when approaching his 30th birthday, and has been doing so ever since. He often spends his time taking himself too seriously and expounding on frivolous subjects like movies and his favorite novels. When not procrastinating about writing, he’s usually pounding on a keyboard in a dank basement with a single flickering light bulb. Rumors of his sanity have been furiously denied.

  Find out more on the Bard at his website, and follow him on Facebook and Twitter.

  Want More Mick Trubble? Go To Mick Trubble.

  For the latest on The Troubleshooter, including ways to score some New Haven loot, make sure to go the official website.