Automan and all character names therein are owned by the American Broadcasting Company and Twentieth Century Fox. All characters are fictional and resemblance to any persons living or dead is coincidental. No copyright infringement is intended.

Automan: High Performance
By Sailor Chronos

Chapter 11

After leaving the hospital, Walter drove them to his police division. As soon as they had entered his office, Automan sat down at the computer and began to work.

"How do you propose we find one man in a city of 3.8 million people?" Walter inquired. "We don't even know if he's still around."

"We will find out soon," Auto assured him as he continued to type. "I have much more of an advantage now than I had thirteen years ago. Almost everything is computerized, so nobody can remain anonymous for long. Every electronic message, financial transaction, phone call, even keystroke is recorded somewhere. I'm co-ordinating all of my friends in the computer systems around the city. If Mr. Christensen so much as touches an electronic device, we'll be informed."

Walter was astonished at the ferocity that had crept into the hologram's voice, as if he was adopting the 'Mad Dog' persona again. While the change was understandable given the circumstances, he had to make sure that Auto focused on the job, not on their target. "Take it easy, Auto. If you go into this with negative intentions-"

Auto stood abruptly, towering over his creator. "How can I not? That man," he pointed forcefully at the computer screen, "tried to kill Lina. Wouldn't you act similarly if someone had hurt Roxanne or your sons?"

"Probably," Walter conceded; his family was more important to him than anything else. "But my point is that you shouldn't. If you chase after him in such an emotional state, you'll just end up lowering yourself to his level. Don't give him the satisfaction of knowing that he got to you."

Images of another such situation crossed Automan's memory: when he had interrogated the assassin who had shot Walter. He had been furious then too. However, that hardly compared with what he was feeling now. Perhaps being in love with someone caused all emotions surrounding that person to become more intense. "You're right," he said in a slightly choked-up voice, and regarded Walter apologetically. "It seems that I've become a little too human."

"Nah," said Walter with a forgiving smile. "You just need to learn to control yourself a bit more, that's all. We can't let our feelings affect our jobs."

"Lina once told me something similar," Auto said as he sat down at the computer again. "A police officer should have an unassailable personality. Now I understand why she said that."

The computer suddenly began to make pinging sounds as multiple messages came through.

Walter walked behind the desk and peered at information flowing across the screen. "Is he on the move?"

"Yes. At 9:14 this morning, he withdrew five hundred dollars from a bank account at an ATM on Hill Street. He made a call on his cell phone at 9:30 to an unlisted number..." He paused and typed a query, and then continued, "...belonging to Steven Dunnington; I'll bring up his record. The call lasted two minutes and eleven seconds, and then the phone was switched off."

Papers emerged from the printer, and Walter picked them up. "Dunnington owns a pawn shop in Chinatown and has been suspected of selling stolen property, but there was no proof. Maybe Christensen had done some business with him in the past, and asked for his help."

"Agreed. Christensen isn't using his car, because the vehicle tracking system reports that it hasn't moved since last night. However Dunnington's car has moved east from Chinatown, and a few minutes ago it stopped at the corner of East 4th and South Soto-"

"That's only a few blocks away," Walter interrupted, glancing at the clock on the wall with an alarmed expression. "Could that mean he's coming here?"

"If so," Auto replied, "there are three possible scenarios: he's going to turn himself in, he's coming after us, or he knows that he's under surveillance and is attempting to lay a false trail. I've instructed the building's security system to sound an alert if it detects anyone that matches the description of Christensen, Dunnington, or any known accomplices. Dunnington's vehicle is currently headed south on Highway 710."

Walter sat down heavily in a chair, his face ashen, unable to speak for a moment. That was in the direction of home.

Automan had come to the same conclusion, and he leaned across the desk with concern evident in his azure eyes. "Where is our family?"

"Roxanne should be here by now. The boys are at school. But that's not what worries me. If he does torch the house, my computers might be damaged too, along with your master program. Lina's computer was destroyed in the fire at her place. The backup that's stored in my fireproof safe is several months old."

The hologram stood once more and moved toward the door. "Losing several months of my memory is a small risk to take for ensuring such a dangerous criminal is put in jail," he said. "Lina would understand. But I'm not willing to risk our home. Come, we must beat that car to its destination."

"But it's day," Walter protested. "Can Cursor render your vehicles for long enough?"

"Absolutely," was the confident response. "I've asked the Department of Water and Power computers to re-route all available power as required for us until Christensen has been apprehended."

Neil was chuckling to himself as he drove Steve's rusty Subaru toward the residential area of Maywood. Having assumed that the police were going to track his own car, he had left a nice little trap for anyone who tried to tamper with it, and taken another.

With Lina gone, the next person who might know Agent Mann well would be the mentor that she had told him about when they were dating. So he had dropped off Steve near the station where his target worked, to create some confusion that would give Neil enough time to achieve his main objective. Nebicher's house was most likely empty at this time of day, but it was good enough for there to be nothing left of the place when they returned.

When he pulled into a quiet street, there were three police cruisers blocking the way.

Cursing, he yanked the car into a U-turn. Were these cops psychic? How had they found him so quickly? He accelerated away down the block, only to see a familiar black Lamborghini come to a stop in the middle of the intersection in front of him.

"I am NOT playing that game with you, Agent Mann!" he snarled. He turned the wheel abruptly to the right and the car skidded sideways. As the tires regained traction he leaned on the gas pedal, at the same time lobbing one of his pre-prepared canisters out the window at Mann's car as he passed.

Seconds later, he was a safe distance halfway down the next block when he heard a satisfying explosion behind him. Even if Mann had been lucky enough to survive that, he certainly wouldn't be in any condition for a chase.