Note: Powell, Donovan, and Calvin are all character names borrowed from I Robot, by Isaac Asimov. A great book, please pick it up. I don't own the three laws of robotics, Isaac Asimov thought of them! And SH22 doesn't belong to me. But Langer, Patel, Morris do.
Also, thanks to my faithful readers: Mysterylover, Black Rose, Sigerson, and Iara and anyone else I forgot to mention… :gasp: for your continued support. Huggles and many warm fuzzies to you all! I am so glad you are liking this. Get ready for more Watson action… in three… two… one….
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Langer and Watson slowly got out of the coachcraft. They had expected that not many of the employees would be here, but for the parking lot to be devoid of cars entirely. Since the exposition was still going on, they guessed most of the employees had gone. The police investigation had reached the point where they were permitting the conventioneers to again roam the trade fair.
Carefully the duo canvassed the lot. Watson scanned for DNA traces while Langer carefully checked the scene for anything that seemed out of place. So far it was a typical parking lot for hovercraft, but the lights in all the windows were out, and she wondered if the plant was closed for the day. "Guess nobody's here," Langer shrugged. "What's goin' on?"
"Curious, considering Donovan claimed two units had been recalled here for reprogramming and maintenance," Watson said with a shake of his head. The longer he spent around people the more of their gestures he automatically adopted.
"Huh," Langer muttered. She strode up the front walkway to the rotating doors. Depressing the intercom button she heard a tone.
"You have reached Compudroids Company. Nobody is available. We are currently closed. Please come back during our normal business hours. Trespassers and solicitors will be prosecuted…"
"Friendly lot," Watson commented, waving his hand over the pad. "My scanner is picking up traces of Dr. Calvin, Dr. Powell's and Dr. Donovan's DNA."
"Dr. Powell?" asked Langer. "So nothing from Dr. Morrison?"
"Not a trace," Watson mused, fingering his chin. "Which is most peculiar… or not so peculiar if our theory is true…"
"I wonder if we can get a warrant to search," Langer said.
"Accessing Scotland Yard for permission," Watson announced, standing rigid as he held one hand to the side of his ear. His eyes stared straight ahead for a few seconds, till the Comm panel on his right hand flashed green.
"They gave us it, eh?" Inspector Langer nodded. "Now we just gotta get in… I think I know an override…"
"According to Scotland Yard's database, the skeleton code is 33558," Watson said. Langer pressed the keys in sequence. There was a buzz and a red light that didn't seem to indicate they were going to get in.
"Hmm, time for a universal skeleton key," Langer smiled mischievously, punching in a set of numbers that Watson did not recognize. There came a click, and the Comm beeped green.
Before she could enter, a buzzer sounded and said, "Trespassers will be violated. Do not attempt entry… without identification…"
"Inspector Langer and Compudroid from New Scotland Yard," Watson said clearly. "Override requested. We have a warrant… please admit us or face obstruction charges…"
Langer and Watson exchanged glances as they tried to budge the door. It stayed fast. Watson brought back his fist to swing towards the door, for an extra nudge. No sooner had his fist hit the glass then the door burst inwards. "Nice going. I could use you next time my apartment door jams…" Langer grinned, nudging him.
"I don't like it at all," Watson murmured. "I may be a droid, but it seems rather suspicious…"
"A gut feeling?" Langer asked. "Huh…"
Just as Langer was about to enter, Watson restrained her with one robotic hand, whispering, "Wait a moment, I'm detecting droid traces on my E/M scans. Two traces coming 'round the building… I hesitate to think what they may be…"
Langer whirled around to see two figures walking towards them on spindly long legs. Two cameras raised from the disclike bodies and fixed Watson and Langer in their sites. "Halt, trespassers will be prosecuted. Step away from the building… this is your final warning…"
"Chert," Langer gritted. "What are Securadroid mark nines doing here? They don't use them except in military applications…"
"Not a standard security droid I trust, for a company such as this," Watson whispered as he pushed her behind him and slowly edged her to walk sideways away in the opposite direction.
"Move away intruders. Leave the premises…" grated the electronic voices.
"Now see here, we HAVE a warrant!" Watson said.
"Inspector Langer of New Scotland Yard," Langer said as she held up the badge that dangled around her neck on a chain. "Scan and see, we have authorization. Override tau ceti omega, mark 3 88…"
"Authorization denied… you have no authority…" grated the machine to their right, slowly stalking up to them on its spindly triple legs. The head swiveled, and Watson pushed Langer behind him, so his body eclipsed her.
"Countermand seven zed," Watson barked as a small hatch on the underside of the disk opened, and a small muzzle trained on them. "Get ready to run… I'll hold them off! You must get help…"
"Boizhe Moi!" Langer gasped as she reached for her ionizer at her right thigh. "I'm not going to leave you alone with them! Those are lasers!"
"Don't argue, run!" Watson shouted as he pushed her away, and a flash of light singed past his arm. Langer rolled over and raised her ionizer to shot a charge at the second tripod droid that aimed its laser towards Watson. He raised his arm and fired a pulse from his stunner at full force, hoping it would blind the first. Langer's shot caromed off the first, and she turned up the setting.
"Spread out!" Langer shouted as she ran towards the coach craft, Watson after her. With a droid after each of them they weaved back and forth to avoid the pencil thin beams streaking past them. Pavement melted as the lasers bit into asphalt, creating a stench. Watson grabbed a length of rope and tossed it, after firing another burst. Momentarily the droid's iris closed fully, and he tossed the loop up and over the top. With a quick tug he jerked the lasso and leapt to the side. It topped over, and he aimed a shot at the underside. Sparks fizzled and the legs flailed momentarily.
Langer in the meantime was only ten feet from the coach craft. She fired a shot at the legs as Watson did the same. Watson dodged a second blast, and raced towards Langer. As she turned to close the last ten feet, she felt the air around her tingling, and a burning pain in the back of one knee.
"No!" Watson cried, as the figure of a hovering antigrav unit, about the size of soccer ball with its own laser sprayed the lot just before the coachcraft with a volley of laser bursts. He threw himself towards Langer as she crumpled to the ground. Within a second he reached her side, and huddled over her. She clutched her leg, gritting in pain.
"Chert… I can't move…"
The shots singed Watson's cloak, but were ineffective against his metallic skin. He leaned over Langer, probing the nasty streak on the back of her left knee.
"Hold on… I've got to get you out of here!"
"There's no way… go get help…"
"I can't leave you here!" Watson shouted, scooping her up into his arms. He aimed another blast to confuse the hoverdroid, but another volley of fire separated them from the coachcraft.
"Take me inside… hurry… there must be a node!" Langer gritted as she clung to his shoulder. "All these types are remote controlled… it must be just inside the door!"
"I'll attempt to, but our chances don't seem good," Watson mumbled as he dodged the series of blasts. Carrying her as carefully as he could, he raced across the lot, barely evading the blasts. Langer clung tightly to him, her arms wrapping around his neck in a death grip that would have suffocated a human being.
"Hey, over 'ere oo bucket of zed!" shouted a cockney voice. A series of fizzles and sparks exploded on the parking lot. Out of the smoke Deirdre shot on her hoverboard, tossing firecrackers at either droid. Smoke separated Watson and Langer from their view.
"Deirdre, what are you…" Watson cried.
"Lemmie ol'd em off… you get to the building, here?" she yelled.
"Go!" Langer cried. "She's our only chance…"
"Very well," Watson relented, making a mad dash. He smashed aside the glass and leapt through the window, landing in the carpeted lobby. Deirdre weaved in and out among the tripod and security drones, hurling fireflashes and cherry bombs at the things. The bright lights overloaded their optic sensors, enabling her to evade them and shot towards the hole in the window Watson had made.
"Accessing the plan from the database," Watson mumbled. "There are twenty nodes… and one just over there behind the reception desk… but you must let me tend to you…"
"I'll call the medics, you get her over there!" shouted Deirdre as she leapt off her hoverboard and pulled out her commlink. Watson carried Langer over to the reception desk and sat her carefully in the swivel chair. Her fingers pressed keys in a fast flurry as she struggled to gain access.
"Allow me," Watson said as he extended his plug and accessed the computer. She punched a series of codes, and the flashes and explosions ground to a halt. Through the red pain, Langer patted his shoulder, giving him a wan smile.
"We did it…" she smiled before she winced again and cried out in pain.
"I must INSIST I take a look at that," Watson scolded her, reaching for bandages and an anti burn from his utility kit. He glanced over her leg, seeing the charred burn. A feeling of outrage surged through his circuits, far more than the usual sort of reaction.
"It's just a scratch," she joked.
"They're comin as soon as they can…" Deirdre rushed up to them. "Ohhh Ms. Langer I'm so sorry, what did those buckets a zed do too you?"
"Help me hold this bandage in place while I tie it off," Watson said. "I need to lift your leg and splint it…"
"Use this," Deirdre said as she grabbed a ruler off the desk and handed it to Watson. Langer gritted back a scream as Watson lifted her leg gingerly, and Deirdre put the ruler alongside it. Together they wrapped the gauze over the layer of antiburn spray Watson had covered her burn in.
"There… but we must get out of here," Watson said. "You're going STRAIGHT to the hospital…"
"Should I call Mister 'Olmes?" Deirdre asked Watson.
"I'd better have a look round outside and make certain those droids are deactivated," Watson said as he pulled off his cloak and wrapped Langer in it. She felt clammy and cold, shock setting in from the intense pain.
"Be careful," Langer gritted through the pain.
"Don't move Miss," Deirdre hushed her.
"Stay with her!" Watson shouted at Deirdre. "And I'll call Holmes! Don't let her move!"
"I'm here with ya," Deirdre shushed her as she held Langer's hand. "You're gonna be all right miss, trust me… yer in good hands with the irregulars…"
Langer smiled and passed out, her body limp against the back of the chair. Deirdre bit her lip and brushed Langer's hair out of her face as she glanced outside for any sign of Watson. The flashing of lights from outside alerted her that the medic units had arrived. "Watson…" Langer moaned as a paramedic unit burst in.
"Right here!" Watson's voice came as he rushed back inside. "There is an officer down!"
"We'll take care of her," the two medics told Watson. Deirdre moved aside as they brought in the hover stretcher and began to look her over. Watson took Dierdre's hand and pulled her gently away so they could work. His face creased in anger, and he wondered how many of these emotions were real or not. Whoever had done this would have him to answer for. Was it more than just concern for a colleague, he stopped to wonder? Dierdre's blood ran cold as she climbed into the ambulance with the Inspector, Watson with her. Why had those droids attacked?
"I'll go with her to the hospital," Deirdre told Watson.
"This is outrageous!" Watson shook his head. "I can't believe…"
"Watson, what happened?" Came Holmes' voice.
"We were attacked at the company!" Watson said. "Langer's been hurt… we're getting her ready for the hospital… thanks to Deirdre we managed to get away and stop them… should I go with her or stay here?"
"Look around," Holmes said. "Deirdre, would you accompany Inspector Langer to the hospital?"
"Of course Mister 'Olmes…" she nodded as she climbed into the ambulance. "I'll be in touch…"
"This is absolutely deplorable!" Watson fretted. "Of all the confounded, wretched pieces of filth…"
"I think this is yours," the paramedic said as he handed the cloak back to Watson. "You probably saved her from having a broken leg. Good thing you Mark Sevens are around…"
"Take good care of her!" Watson said as they pulled the stretcher with the unconscious Langer into the ambulance. "Deirdre is going with her…"
"All right… we'll let you know!" they said. "She'll be all right… we got here just in time…"
Watson watched the ambulance pull away, fighting the urge to go along. His fists clenched and unclenched, and for a moment he raised one to look at it in wonder. These sensations were altogether new, and yet from the journals he had scanned, he could identify them. He wanted desperately to be there to reassure her when she awoke, but knew Deirdre would be a better choice. After all, he had a mystery to help Holmes solve. And the sooner he found out why they had done this to Langer, the better. Angrily he slipped on his cloak and marched out the door to look at the smoking remains of the immobile droids. There had to be answers he figured as he carefully examined each one, and downloaded their records.
***
Several hovercars skidded to the front with officers inside. They glanced around as they took in the sight of Watson leaning over the smoking droids, his plug affixed to the nearest one. Inspectors Patel and Morris had responded to the call when the medics and the alarm system phoned it in. Hearing Langer's name they wanted to know their comrade in arms was all right.
"Langer… What happened… we heard Langer was…" Patel got out.
"Someone went to a great deal of trouble to do this, and I want to know why. It's absolutely unbelievable!" Watson shook his head. There was an undercurrent of bitterness to his electronic voice.
"Langer… is she?" asked Morris, his eyes widening in shock as he saw the marks of lasers on the pavement. Other constables swarmed over the scene, taking scans of the shattered window and ruined droids.
"She's been taken to hospital," Watson said quickly.
"What's with these?" asked Patel.
"No ethics whatsoever… this is preposterous…" Watson said, pointing at them.
"You mean these things? These are a military model… kinda like using a sledgehammer to go after a fly!" Morris shook his head in disbelief. "When I find out who did this…"
"I share your outrage," Watson gritted. "I am most anxious to check on Langer's progress… it is most distressing…"
"Why doncha let us take over. And then you can go check on her for us," said Patel as he probed the nearest droid with the toe of his boot.
"Thank you, gentlemen," said Watson in relief. "If Holmes comes here, make certain he gets a copy of this…"
"Okay Dr. Watson," said Morris, not asking any questions. He knew Watson was a robot, but that look in his eyes was something he knew. They shared the outrage, and for the moment did care that Watson wasn't human. They'd heard his report of what had happened, and how he had defended Langer.
Watson rushed to the coach craft, and climbed inside. In minutes he gunned the engine and broke the speed record to get to the hospital. Holmes and Lestrade had their hands full, and he hoped they wouldn't mind him stopping to take care of something first. After all, he could transmit the data to Tennyson, and he could always come back later.
"Please be all right," he muttered as he drove along. "I do hope Lestrade and Holmes are not having this distressing turn of events!"
***
Back at the restaurant, Lestrade was a mess of conflicting emotions. While she was relieved that the Association newcomers had not yet noticed her and Holmes, she was furious that Langer had been hurt. Holmes face was grim, his blue gray eyes dark with anger. Although he kept his composure, she saw the trembling in his hand. So far the president and her retinue had been seated at the bar, waiting for a table. Because there were more patrons filing into the restaurant, the view of Lestrade and Holmes' table was partly blocked from their immediate view if any of them looked in that direction from the long mahogany bar with the brass rail. Laughter and the sounds of an electronic piano obscured any conversation.
"We have to go there and find out… there's no good here…" Langer hissed as she moved to get up.
"We have to stay put," Holmes hissed as he shot out his hand and stopped her wrist, pushing it down to the table. "If we are to have any hope of getting to the bottom of this…"
"How can you just sit there…" she hissed.
"We can't help Langer and Watson. After all, they are safe and well now. Watson has just told me that Patel and Morris are on the scene. And he's downloading the memory logs of their attackers to Tennyson. Hopefully he will be able to search their database for some answers," said Holmes as he leaned across the table, his voice low but intense. "We will achieve nothing by rash action…"
"But why are we still here when these… people might recognize us?" Lestrade asked, her eyes narrowed in anger.
"Because, I think these events are related," said Holmes quietly. "I'm seeing more members similarly dressed joining our friends at the bar…Do you see that Amanda's father is with the President?"
"Ohhh zed," gasped Lestrade. "The poor girl…"
"Just as well she does not live with her father, if he associates with that organization," said Holmes. "And I think that if they have rejected Moriarty's aid, then we have considerable problems…"
"Zed, this gets better and better," Lestrade hissed. "But where did they go?"
"Shh," Holmes whispered as he jerked his head. He pointed to the napkin dispenser, which was highly polished, and indicated she should look into it. Lestrade did so, and her blood froze. The Matre D was motioning for the President and Mr. Wheelwright to follow her. Two other Association men had arrived, and a few others who had been sitting at the bar suddenly stood up. Lestrade's eyes narrowed, and she looked anxiously at Holmes. The whole group was following the host towards their end of the restaurant.
"Zed… now what…" Lestrade hissed.
"Easy, steady on," Holmes whispered. "Follow my lead…"
He pushed aside the dishes, and moved the centerpiece to one side of the table, facing outwards towards the center of the bar. Lestrade did the same with her pile of dishes. Holmes pushed his chair around so he could sit cattycorner to Lestrade, his face partly blocked by the large centerpiece of flowers. Taking her hand, he looked intently at her. He pulled down his cloak and tossed it around her shoulders to hide her uniform. The group came ever closer, and Lestrade moved closer to him, as Holmes blocked their view of Lestrade with his body.
Ten feet narrowed to five, and Holmes leaned close to Lestrade. She knew what they had to do, and leaned forwards to touch her lips to his. Despite the fact he was nervous and hated public displays of affection, it helped somewhat that they were exploring this new development. She slid her arm around his neck as he kissed her softly, and she turned her head to glance past his blonde hair. His other arm wound around her waist, and her other hand rested against his chest. Under her fingers she felt the warmth of his body seeping through the cloth. The softness of his lips moving over hers was breaking her resolve, and she couldn't help but fall into the wonderful sensations he was making her feel with his heart pounding close to her. Reaching around he slid his fingers into her hair, and peered past her hair as the group passed their table without batting an eyelash.
Against her lips he whispered, "They're gone now…"
"Zed," she cursed, her eyes still partly closed, and her fingers still worked into his hair.
"I think we have learned all we can here," Holmes said as he looked at her, and an awkward moment passed between them. Lestrade automatically pulled away, fearing she'd embarrassed him now that the 'reason' for their public display was gone. Judging from the red flush to his cheeks he felt he had performed a totally Bohemian act that was reprehensible. He busied himself with digging out his wallet and reaching for a fifty credit note.
"Sorry," Lestrade mumbled. "I know you hated that, but I kinda liked it... and you did start it..."
"I appreciate your concern in the matter, although it is quite awkward," he mumbled.
"A shame you wouldn't do it if things were different," she muttered.
"Er… I think that I can assure you reaction has little to do with my feelings regarding our situation. And our feelings regarding the gesture are mutual," he whispered in her ear.
"It isn't a sin to kiss someone in public. It wasn't like we were doing something ELSE…" Lestrade grumbled. "I know you've got that Victorian sensibility, but c'mon…"
"I must apologize. You are correct that I initiated it, and it was for the purpose of a distraction. If cicrumstances were different I trust you can deduce for youreslf what would have commenced, But suffice to say, I think we had best discuss this matter elsewhere… and elsewhen?"
"Okay," she nodded; knowing the subject was far too difficult for him to face now. "You win… but this conversation's not over…"
"I suggest you keep the Inverness as a convenient disguise till we exit," Holmes said, grabbing his hat. Taking Lestrade's hand he indicated they should go. He grabbed his hat, and didn't even ask for his Inverness back as he urged Lestrade along and out of the restaurant as quickly as possible.
***