Chapter Six

He is one of those people who would be enormously improved by death.

-H. H. Munro

February 17, 2020

The sun was just barely above the horizon when we got back to the safe house. We had dropped off our ill-gotten gains at Max's fence. I was surprised at how little cash we actually received for the goods, my estimate was about fifteen cents on the dollar. But Max seemed satisfied so I didn't argue. So we all sat around with the various files and many pairs of eyes, and read. What a revolting read it was too. It didn't take long before we all reached the same conclusion, the fine white haired old man, Winston, was a dyed-in-the-wool psychopath. He had murdered his way to his current position many years earlier, and used murder and terror to maintain his place, as well as to win lawsuits. All the while facing the world with his kindly mien, pretending to have scads of honor. I knew something was off about him just by his complete lack of aesthetics—nearly anti-aesthetics.

Eventually, I found the smoking gun. The laptop that I took from Winston's safe had complete information on the biotech firm. Apparently, they had been one of the suppliers or subcontractors to Manticore. And now they were trying to patent some of the technology they developed (technology used to make me and Max!). But, they had to do this in a way that would be entirely unnoticeable by Manticore, they knew very well what would happen if Lydecker and Renfro figured out their game plan. That made it imperative to disassociate everything that HAD worked from the patent. So their research looked tentative instead of definitive. Once Mrs. Fisher understood the implications of all this, she looked at Max and me with understanding.

"So the reason why Pacific Biomed Pharmaceutical has been so strenuous in their argument was so they don't all get murdered by, uh, you?"

"Well Mrs. Fisher," I replied soothingly, "not us specifically, but certainly people very much like us." That didn't seem to sooth her quite as much as I had hoped.

"Really Mrs. Fisher," added Max, "the killing part is from training and early conditioning, not genes. The gene cocktail that they gave us just makes us faster and stronger." That wasn't especially comforting either, for some reason.

"Look," I continued, "we rejected the whole concept of Manticore. Max and I, and a bunch of others, left at an early age because they were trying to teach us stuff that we didn't believe. Not only that, but Max and her friends went back and destroyed as much of Manticore as they could. I would've helped if I had known about it. People can overcome early channelization and reject the teachings of psychopaths. And we did."

Mrs. Fisher still looked shocky. I started to add to my argument but Mr. Fisher shook his head at me.

Mrs. Fisher said, "So a hundred or so genetically engineered soldiers, super-people like you, but who didn't reject the 'teachings of psychopaths', were freed from their trainers by you Max?"

Crap, that didn't sound good, did it?

"Actually," said Max, "many were even more advanced than we were, and a significant percentage stayed behind."

"Look," I said, "let's get back to the problem at hand. We need to destroy your client, and at least part of your former law firm, in order to keep you and your family from being murdered by your former boss. Who, I would like to point out, is not a genetically engineered anything but just as human as you."

"No way is he as human as me," Mrs. Fisher mumbled disconsolately.

"Now," I continued, "if that old psychopath ended up dead, you could probably waltz right back into your job, with no one the wiser. So let's think of a way to do that."

Max said, "I think we need to confer with Logan. He has sources that would amaze you, and occasionally comes up with good ideas."

I was agreeable.

-- --

Logan's condo impressed me greatly. Now that's what I call a bachelor pad. Max, Lacy Fisher, Logan, Alex, Denise, and I sat around the table, too stuffed to move after eating what Logan called Orecchietta Con Cime Di Rapa O Con Verdure Stagionali and Osso Buco With Saffron Risotto Fennel. I had no idea what all that stuff was, but it sure was tasty. I could see that it would be worthwhile to remain friends with Max and Logan. I wondered if he would be interested in buying some of my work. Hmmm, how to bring that up without appearing to bring that up?

The rest of our crew was still back at the safe house, but Logan had one of his favorite restaurants deliver some food to them. I hoped they were trustworthy.

I interrupted a discussion between Logan and Mrs. Fisher concerning whether or not cooked oysters could ever be considered edible (as opposed to raw) to say, "All right guys, what's next?"

Logan got up and suggested we retire to the living room. After getting settled in, he passed out some reports that he had apparently prepared before dinner. He had been researching Pacific Biomed Pharmaceutical all day and had some interesting information.

"I have an informer at the labs there, he's not a technician, more a glorified janitor. He works for the guy who's in charge of keeping the labs clean and in order. But he's a pretty smart guy, he keeps his ears open and rarely offers an opinion. As a result, he has collected a good deal of information.

He reports that there is a sort schism at the company. The division that worked with Manticore is utterly horrified that another division in the company got a hold of their work and is trying to capitalize on it. Apparently, the lab folks are well aware of the probable consequences of crossing our friend Lydecker, but the other ones are so blinded by visions of profit that they aren't listening to their better informed compatriots."

"Well," Max said, "one obvious solution would be to get word to Lydecker. He'll shut them down instantly. Might be hard on the workers though."

"Yeah," I added, "but we would still have to take care of Winston ourselves, I doubt that Lydecker would see any reason to go after the lawyers, unless we pointed him there, and I am not at all certain that we should do that. After all, one of our objectives is to remain under his radar."

Denise suddenly blurted out, "Why not just pretend to call Lydecker?"

"What good would that do?"

"Well, you could go in and make them believe that Manticore sent you, you know, the three of you super people. Wreak havoc, give them a stern warning, kill a few of the worst, and leave." Denise was looking at me with a bit of hero-worship in her eyes. I didn't like the look of that, she had put me up on a pedestal when I would rather be in her bed. On the other hand, that was way better than the looks of terror she was giving me yesterday evening.

Denise's mom looked horrified. "Denise! How could you say such a thing!"

"Easy mom, look at the TV."

Logan's TV was on with the sound muted. The local news was showing us film of a house fire. Shit! That was the Fisher's house! Logan thumbed the remote.

"...and was termed 'of suspicious origin' by the fire chief. Still no word on the condition or whereabouts of the family that lived there. ... And that's the Seattle Nightly News! Stay tuned for our own bikini-clad weather girl! Followed by a Seahawks update! Brought to you by New and Improved Extra-Strength Viagra! For that special..." Logan hit the off button.

"Kill them," she murmured, "kill them all. God will sort them out." Mrs. Fisher was strangely low voiced and calm as she spat out her orders, apparently expecting us to follow them unquestioningly. "They've burnt down our house! I can't believe Winston did that! That son-of-a-bitch must die!" she trailed off, muttering 'die very slowly' to herself. Burning down her house hit a switch that the threat of torture and murder didn't. Strange woman.

"I hope Jack-Cat got out all right," Denise mused sadly.

I hugged her, "I'm sure he's all right," I said with all the conviction I could muster, which wasn't much, but apparently enough for her.

Interlude

Jack-Cat pounced on a furry-chaser, it squealed as he snapped it's neck in a workmanlike fashion. He expertly disemboweled the mouse and and ate it. It didn't take long. Jack-Cat was still hungry. He spent a few minutes licking the blood off his lips and nose, then a few more minutes cleaning his paws.

He ducked down and flattened into the ground when he heard a flutter nearby. He started crawling towards the noise. Slowly, so very slowly he crept along the ground towards a blue-feathered chaser. When he judged he was close enough, he jumped into the air to pounce on it. But the bird was warned by a low sound and took off explosively, his wings actually hit Jack-Cat's snout. Jack-Cat jumped back, surprised. He then sat down on his haunches and contemplated ways to get that feathered chaser. Then he thought about rolling on his back, but there was no one around to rub his belly.

He noticed several large black-feathered birds flying overhead. They were nearly as big as Jack-Cat himself, he thought they might actually have more than a couple of bites on them. He looked carefully at their direction and apparent destination and decided to wait until he was hungrier.

Finally, he made his way back to his watching place. He lay down on his stomach and gazed at the remains of the place he had lived since he was a kitten. He wondered if he could find his litter box. He waited. He could wait a long time.

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