Welcome to Deep Cove

Garrett entered the office and stopped. He was carrying an order of take out under each arm, and he shuffled the paper bags to adjust the weight. “MERLE” he screamed. “Why is the office full of smoke again?” The door to their inner sanctum burst outward and a dark shape hurtled through a cloud of smoke. The powerfully built canine halted a mere foot from Garrett, its teeth bared menacingly and the hackles along its neck and back rising in warning. “Easy, killer,” breathed Garrett. He dared not back up. It looked like the dog might attack any second. Slowly Garrett held one of the take out bags to the dog. “Do you like duck?” he asked, his eyes scanning the room for a means of escape.

The swinging door opened a second time and P.C. emerged from the smoke shrouded room beyond. He was wearing his pink apron and carried a tray of what might have been badly burned muffins. “Down,… Flower,” he said. At once, the dog ceased its aggressive behaviour and sat.

Garrett’s look went from one of fear to one of anger. “MERLE! WHY IS THERE A DOG IN HERE?”

The banging of tins echoed from the other room, followed by the sound of Merles flapping wings. The dragon appeared above P.C’s shoulder. He was wearing a chef’s hat that the automaton usually wore while on kitchen duty. “Sorry ’bout the smoke,” he said. “I was just opening a window.”

“The dog?” repeated Garrett, his eyes flicking to the fierce mutt before him.

“You got me there,” said the little dragon. He shrugged and flapped back into the adjoining room. “It was here when I got home,” he called.

“May I?” Garrett asked the metal man. He motioned into the other room with one of the bags.

“May… you… what?” returned P.C.

Garrett groaned and took his chances as he made his way around the dog and into the adjacent apartment. Setting the food on the table, he looked across the room to where detective Honi was sitting up in his bed, a haze of smoke drifting above him. “I’m sorry about these two,” he offered. “I hope you are feeling better, despite them.”

“A little,” assured Honi. “I don’t think I’ve ever had anyone dote on me as much as your metal servant.”

“Servant?” squawked P.C. “I… serve… no… one.”

“P.C, go and wash those dishes.”

“Yes… sir.”

Garrett took the food from the bags as Merle carried over three wooden platters. Together they loaded up the plates and the little dragon flew one over to Honi. “So, I guess our rent is caught up?” asked Merle around a mouthful of honey glazed duck.

“All caught up,” agreed Garrett. His eyes locked onto the dog that had taken up position three feet from him, and was looking up expectantly. He finished his bite of cornbread and frowned at the mutt, but it didn’t flinch. “Is someone going to clarify why this dog is in here?” P.C. started to whistle loudly as he scrubbed the baking pans. “P.C., explain yourself now.”

P.C’s tune died away and the metal man ambled to the table with another tin of burned muffins. He emptied the pan of its contents and Garrett flinched when one of the desserts bounced off the surface of the table. “I… am… a… self… reliant… creation. P.C.… stands… for… Privy… Cleaner. I… come… fully… loaded… with… two… bars… of… soap…, three… varieties… of… cleaning… rags…, an… automated… dryer…, a… ringer…, one… plunger…, and…”

“P.C, explain why there is a dog in here,” corrected Garrett.

“Security,” replied the automaton and walked back to the woodstove.

“What do you mean when you say the dog is here for security?” prompted Garrett, trying to shoo the dog away with his foot. Flower growled threateningly and Garrett pulled his chair around the opposite side of the table.

“I… need… a… bodyguard,” stated P.C. “Not… everyone… is… happy… I… taught… that… big… lug,… Stoneman,… a… lesson.”

“It was a little more than a lesson,” said Merle.

“You’re the one who beat Stoneman?” asked Honi. “I read about the upset in the Daily Deep. I catch the fights when I can, but I was working late that night. I would have loved to see that brute taken down; he’s the most boring golem to ever grace the stadium.”

“Today… I… was… going… down… the… street… to… buy… flour… for… my… muffins… when… some… beer… guzzling… fan… recognised… me. …He… threatened… to… steal… my… apron. …He… also… wanted… to… know… if… I… thought… I… would… be… able… to… pull… the… plunger… out… of… my… ass… like… I… did… the… victory… the… other… night.”

“Did you hurt him?” asked Merle, wiping duck sauce from his cheek with the back of his hand. “You know, give him the old one-two, followed by an arm flexor to the throat?” He clawed at the air as if punching an imaginary foe.

“When… my… continued… petitioning… failed… to… stop… his… taunting,… my… core… programming… indicated… the… best… outcome… for… survival… was… a… quick… escape.”

“You ran away?” squawked Merle.

“I… was… successful… in… my… attempt… at… evasion,” agreed P.C. happily.

“What makes you think you can go out and get yourself a dog?” queried Garrett.

“I… didn’t… go… out… and… get… him. …I… tried… to… make… a… complaint… about… that… ruffian… at… the… police… station,… but… no… one… would… listen… to… me. …That’s… when… this… dog… found… me. He… couldn’t… keep… his… nose… out… of… my… crotch… and… insisted… on… following… me… home. Since… the… police… are… obviously… not… concerned… with… my… safety… I… calculate… I… can… use… this… mutt… to… protect… my... well... being.”

“Who’s going to take care of it?” asked Garrett in exasperation.

“Who… takes… care… of… everything… around… here?” huffed P.C.

“He has a point,” agreed Merle under his breath.

“Well I don’t like it,” said Garrett angrily. “You know how I feel about dogs.”

“You loved that old dog you had,” said Merle. “What was his name, Irongut or something like that?”

“And he died,” stormed Garrett. “There’s no sense getting all attached to another animal that’s just going to die.”

“He was run over by a carriage and that was an accident,” said Merle. “Why shouldn’t you at least consider letting him keep it. The academy of learning has proven that pets are a good way to lower your blood pressure.”

“Hmmm,” mused P.C, “do… they… help… with… oil… pressure… too? If… so…, that… is… just… one… more… valid… reason… to… let… me…”

“I don’t want to get friendly with any dog,” continued Garrett.

“Excellent,” interjected P.C, his tone sounding uplifted. “I’m… training… Flower… to… hate… humans!”

* * * *

The room had emptied of smoke now and Garrett closed the window above the kitchen counter. It was dark outside and he could see the stars shining through the cloud cover. He returned to the table where a flickering lantern illuminated the parchment he had found at Honi’s. Flower lay snoring before the woodstove and P.C. had shut himself down beside the back counter. Merle too, had retired to his bunk in the loft, where Garrett could see the reflection of the dragon’s lantern as he no doubt read his new issue of Dirty Drake.

Hooking onto the back of one of the chairs, he carried it to Honi’s bedside. He set the furniture down lightly and Honi opened his eyes. “Can I get you anything?” he asked the officer.

Honi was silent for a moment. “I hate this,” he said at last. “I’m not used to being an invalid.” Garrett nodded and Honi sighed. “A glass of water would be nice,” he admitted. “Supper was very good, but duck sauce always makes me thirsty.”

“Whatever you need, just ask, Mr. Honi. Those ruffians did a number on you and nobody faults you if you can’t jump out of bed this instant.”

“Please, call me Archie.” He was silent again. “I want to thank you guys for letting me stay here.”

“No need,” said Garrett, heading for the water pump at the back of the room. Suddenly, he hollered and jumped around on one foot. P.C. opened his eyes and Flower bolted upright. “God dang poker in the middle of the floor again,” cursed Garrett, with a meaningful look at the robot. “I thought you were supposed to put things away when you were done with them?”

“Clearly… you… are… angry… from… stubbing… your… toe. Still,… it… should… be… obvious… that… Merle… used… that… fire… poking… device… last.” P.C. rolled his eyes.

“Well, you could at least be useful and light this back area when someone comes down at night. I bet you don’t even have a lantern in that compartment of yours.” Garrett’s tone was angry as he worked the pump up and down.

“It… would… not… be… prudent… to… have… a… flammable… source… of… ignition… amongst…”

“I don’t care,” said Garrett with finality. “From now on, you will carry a lantern in there and light it when someone comes to the kitchen at night. P.C. input command, ‘Fetch lantern’.” Garrett carried the glass of water to Honi as P.C. went in search of a lamp. “And don’t bother taking the one from the table.” P.C. groaned as Garrett seated himself across from the officer.

Garrett allowed Honi to take a drink before he handed him the rolled up parchment. “There are some things I want to discuss, Archie,” he said.

Honi took the paper and squinted at it briefly. “This was not meant for your eyes, Garrett.” Reaching to the table beside him, he retrieved his cigarettes and lit one.

“You know Merle and I went to your place to gather some of your things,” said Garrett. “But what I didn’t tell you, was that somebody beat us there. Your rooms were ransacked and searched, probably by the same men who attacked you.”

“As long as they didn’t find this,” said Honi waving the paper. “Nothing else matters.”

“Why are they after you?”

“You already know why they’re after me. They think I’m here to run them out of town or to bring them to justice.”

“And you’re not.”

“No, they are not my assignment.”

“What is your assignment? You are a cop?”

“Of course I’m a cop,” shot back Honi. “I’ve spent my life trying to make things better for the average guy. Without law there is only bedlam.” He inhaled on his cigarette blowing a cloud of smoke towards the ceiling.

“How long has Maury been undercover?” asked Garrett. Honi coughed and looked at Garrett with surprise. He said nothing, trying to reason what he could tell the man. “His involvement with your firm shall remain a secret,” assured Garrett. “I only want to know about the deaths of Kline’s men. If you are not here to clean up Deep Cove, why are you here and what role does Maury play in this?”

“Maury’s involvement must remain a secret,” said Honi. “His life depends on it.” Looking at the paper, his fists clenched angrily. “This was careless of me. How did you find out Maury was our man?”

“I saw you talking to him at the bar the other night.”

“That’s it?”

“That’s it,” agreed Garrett. “You’re new to Deep Cove, but you stopped to speak with Maury.”

“That’s quite a leap boy. A good one though.”

“I like to play my hunches,” admitted Garrett. “The two of you whispering to each other has stayed in the back of my mind since. Besides, Maury is different. He has this… way about him.”

“Well I hope nobody else is as astute as you, son. Maybe I’m getting too old to play this game.” Honi butted the remainder of his smoke onto a plate on the table.

Garrett smiled. “I think we all need a reminder sometimes that the rules can change.”

“Maybe you’re right,” admitted Honi.

“So, can you tell me why you are here and what’s going on at Kline’s?”

Honi pushed himself up on his pillows and lowered his voice. “Do you know what the Syndicate is, Garrett?”

“I’ve heard stories,” returned Garrett. “Who hasn’t?”

“Well for over eight years, now I’ve been in charge of collecting evidence to show the world that the Syndicate exists. And they do exist, Garrett.”

“They run scams all over Vellia.”

“Their fingers gouge deeper than that, my friend. You can trace their activities to the orient and beyond. Even hoods like Kline, although not members of the organisation, are forced to pay dues.”

“Protection money?”

“Sort of,” agreed Honi, “only on a much larger scale.”

“You said in your letter that you have confirmed the arrival of the Syndicate’s presence in Deep Cove. You also said that the two bodies, by which I assume you mean Sal Rogers and Rudy Wilson, were discovered executed in a manner indicative of the Syndicate’s top assassins.”

“That’s right,” agreed Honi. “It’s almost common place now that when the Syndicate wants a message delivered to a rival upstart, you’ll find a key member crucified in the manner of Mr. Wilson and Mr. Rogers. It doesn’t take many such finds before their rivals fall into line. Sometimes it leads to all out warfare, and we’ve all read the stories of the killings in the larger cities.”

“So why is the Syndicate hunting Kline’s men?” asked Garrett. “Has the old man decided to stop paying his dues? Are we looking at a gang war? If this is indeed the case, Kline seems oblivious to it.”

Honi exhaled and ran a hand through his thinning hair. Looking at Garrett, he came to a decision. “What I am about to tell you is top secret, Garrett. I need your word this stays between you and me. Since you’re already involved in this mess, I hope you’ll consider doing me a personal favour.”

“Of course, you have my word that whatever you have to say will stay between us. I am not a hoodlum and would have preferred it had I not been forced to work for Kline. Sometimes, I think God has a good sense of humour.”

“Decent, at the least,” agreed Honi.

Garrett leaned in, an expectant look on his face. “What’s the story on Maury?”

“Maury gathers information on Kline. Simple as that. We need to know how much of a concern the man warrants.”

“It is good to know your enemies,” agreed Garrett.

“Maury and I work for the K.I: the King’s Intelligence. I head operations collecting information on the Syndicate itself; Maury and other operatives gather evidence on smaller outfits. I never would have contacted Maury, except something strange occurred that turned our investigation on its end. Recently, we used one of our operatives to talk the Syndicate leaders into implementing G.V. units into their operations. Ease of use, speed of communication, and a dozen other reasons convinced them it was the smart thing to do.”

“Meanwhile, you planned on using the devices to track the organisation.”

“Precisely,” said Honi. “Things were going to plan when, out of the blue, somebody hacked the Syndicate’s system and sent orders to men under the Syndicate’s command. These orders saw King Renli’s units assault a Ponce prison at the Temang border. The orders I speak of were issued from Deep Cove.”

“The failed Hard Hawks assault,” recalled Garrett. “Was somebody trying to expose the Syndicate to the King?”

“Either that or start a war with Ponce. Hell, it could be both reasons rolled into one.”

“And you think it was Kline or his men who hacked into the Syndicate’s network?”

“That’s what I came to find out. Legally, the Dragon Broadcasting Network must work with law enforcement when asked to do so. It is their records that show the signal came from here. The only problem is that Maury claims Kline has no intentions of crossing the Syndicate or exposing them. Maury has worked his way up to become Kline’s right hand man. If he says Kline knows nothing about the orders being issued from his G.V. unit, then I believe him.”

“Where does that leave us?” asked Garrett, trying to work out the ramifications of Honi’s story.

“It leaves us working overtime to process the evidence against the Syndicate. I have to strike now with the information we have. They have stopped using their G.V. units except for show, and they have suspicions about our inside man. I came here to discover Kline’s involvement in this activity and to warn Maury to get out. Kline is small time and he will likely not be indicted when we take our case to the courts.”

“You came to confirm Kline’s involvement in the Syndicate?”

“We thought that due to the nature of the orders and the fact they came from Kline’s, we might be witnessing the birth of a new Syndicate division. I had to be certain their cancerous organisation wasn’t spreading again.” Honi shrugged and took another drink of water. “Maury confirms that Kline is not involved and I guess that is as good as an answer as I am going to get. From my standpoint it matters not who sent those orders to General Omik. Our case will proceed with or without that knowledge, and the why of it is not important. I have to be single minded in my determination to eradicate the dons and their iniquity. If Kline is not involved, then he does not concern me. It is the Syndicate that has their hooks into the king’s generals and other positions of authority. They need to be expelled before they further corrupt the government and our way of life.”

“Then what is it I can help you with?” asked Garrett. “It sounds like you’ve confirmed what you needed to know about Kline.”

“I have,” agreed Honi, “but I want you to talk to Maury for me. It’s not safe for him, but he refuses to listen to me. His duty is done and its time he pulled out. I fear there will be many deaths in Kline’s organisation before the Syndicate is through.”

Garrett thought about this for a moment. “I don’t see why he would listen to me; I don’t know him very well.”

“He likes you, son. Deep down inside he knows his assignment is over. He just needs convincing. He wants to see Kline pay for his seedy business practices, but now is not the right time. We have bigger fish to fry and the Syndicate is our main concern. If he stays in, he’s in real danger.”

Honi looked uncomfortable as he reached for his glass, and Garrett was certain it wasn’t his beat up body that pained him. “What is it?” he asked.

“Well I don’t want to scare you, Garrett, but I’ve seen the work of the Syndicate’s assassins before. They’re ruthless in their resolve to drive home their master’s message of submission and obedience. Maury is not the only one I am concerned for.”

“You don’t mean me and Merle?” asked Garrett.

Honi’s look was firm. “I do,” he said. “No one working for Kline is safe.”