"He was dead, Hank," Connor gave Hank a grim look as he watched Hank pick at a bowl of stale peanuts. "Just as I had suspected."
Hank glanced down to the end of the bar trying to establish eye contact with Jimmy, "What do you want? A congratulations or something? You were right, but that doesn't make me happy. And I sure hope it doesn't make you happy either. You know, it isn't always a good thing to be right."
"No," Connor's response was muffled. "I'm not happy that I was right."
"Good," Hank was now glowering down the bar; he just wanted a godforsaken drink already.
"But that doesn't mean I'm giving up," Connor examined the scowl on Hank's face and followed the man's glare along the bar. "I made a promise to Davis and I intend on keeping it."
"Jesus Christ," Hank moaned this while slapping his open palms on the counter-top. "Can I just get a fucking drink already?!"
Jimmy twisted his body towards Hank, "It's coming, Hank."
Connor tilted his head and raised a brow at Hank, "Are you alright?'
"Jesus," Hank released a deep sigh. "No, no I'm not fucking okay. In case you've forgotten, Henri only died four days ago… Four fucking days ago; blew her own goddamn brains out. You think I can't stop thinking about that?"
"Hank, I-" Connor started.
"I don't care..." Hank lifted a hand to Connor's mouth. "You don't have to say anything. You're just… You're just not making it better. Running around trying to get yourself killed."
"I don't think that's going to happen," Connor lifted his head and offered Hank a smile.
Just then, Jimmy placed Hank's usual drink on the bar, "There you go, Hank."
"Bout fucking time," Hank murmured in response then took a sip of the whiskey.
Connor continued his thought, "This person, Khatri, she must know I've been investigating her whereabouts, and yet, she has done nothing directly to me in response."
"Fuck, Connor," Hank spoke this into his drink. "Were you expecting her to?"
"I wasn't sure what to expect," Connor stared blankly at the far wall of the bar. "There's a lot I still don't understand. If I find her, I may be able to question her."
"Question her?" Hank shifted his gaze from the glass and onto Connor. "Question her about what?"
"I'm not sure yet," and Connor really wasn't sure at all what he would do when he found this woman. Davis acted like the only way to stop her was to kill her, but was that the best option? What if instead of killing her, Connor exposed her for what she was? He already knew a handful of her secrets, so he had a good start. But Khatri was a dangerous person; not someone who was easily tampered with.
"You're not sure?" Hank muttered this with pursed lips. "That's it? You still don't know why you're doing this?"
"Hank," Connor looked over. "This has something to do with, Henri. This woman made Henri a prisoner. I told you, I can't let that go."
Hank chugged what was left of his short drink, "I know."
"Davis gave me a couple of names," Connor pivoted around on his bar-stool. "One of them happens to be Jensen Polanski. Davis said these two people might be able to help me find Khatri."
"So," Hank nodded knowingly. "You're going to pay these people a visit?"
"I would like to," Connor said it as if he was asking for Hank's permission. But nothing Hank had to say about it would change Connor's mind, he just wanted Hank to agree with him. "The files Davis gave me contained two addresses. One of them appears to be Polanski's home address, so there is no guarantee I'll find him there. The other address, the one belonging to Kelly Mihn, is the location of an office within the U.S. Department of State."
"No shit?" there was something about it that Hank didn't find surprising. Of course, this Khatri woman had people working within the government. She technically did herself.
"This means I will have to go to Washington, D.C. in order to speak with her," again, Connor was searching for some form of validation from Hank. "Also, Jensen Polanski's home address is located in Washington."
To Connor's amazement, Hank did not seem agitated by this, "Alright. Well, D.C. is what?… A two hour trip from here?"
"Average flight times are an hour and thirty-two minutes," Connor replied.
"That's not bad," Hank grinned at Connor after finishing the rest of his drink. "So, when do we leave?"
"Uh, Hank, I-" Connor had no intentions of letting Hank join him. "-I was… I was going to go alone. It would be best if you continued our search for Markus."
Hank began to glower as he slowly shook his head, "No. It's your search for Markus and you've left me to deal with it. I thought solving this case was important to you?"
"It is..." it was hard for Connor to describe the connection he felt. There was just something inside of him; something deep inside. Some voice, some part of him that believed that finding Khatri and their investigation of this virus was related. It was an intuition based off of nothing. It was an excuse to not let go of Henri… It was an excuse to save what was left of her, whatever that may be.
"That's it?" Hank shrugged in frustration. "It is? It is what, Connor?"
"It is important to me, Hank," Connor was becoming jaded over repeating himself again and again to Hank. "I told you I have a feeling-"
"Feeling?" Hank cut Connor off, but his interruption was quiet. "I know Connor, I know. And if it was anyone else I'd tell them to fuck off. But..."
"Thanks, Hank," Connor smiled at the leeway the old man offered him. "It means a lot to me. I promise you, it'll be worth it. I'll get to the end of this."
Hank gestured at Jimmy for another pour, "I don't doubt you will."
Hank had been moving in a particular fashion through the neighbouring areas of the weapon shop North had visited. He flowed slowly in a systematic circle. He couldn't even stay in his car due to the range of the frequency. He vacantly gazed at his phone, walking up and down blocks and alleys, hoping something would pop up. Just anything would do.
There was tension building. Tension building in the world. Tension building in Hank's relationship with Connor. He was so forgiving, so kind, so understanding towards the boy, and yet… Yet he wasn't sure what to do or make of the situation. Plainly put, Hank felt lost. He couldn't stop thinking about Henri and he couldn't stop thinking about Connor. Things seemed so good, but for only so little. If only he could have that all back. The moment that Henri was still alive. The moment that he knew that she and Connor were in love. The moment he had his family back.
In his trailing thoughts, Hank's phone began to vibrate in his hands, "Hello?" Hank had yet to figure out the ancient technology of caller id. That is, he couldn't be bothered to read a name when it passed on his phone's display.
It was Chris on the other end, "It finally happened. Perkins started his witch-hunt for Markus."
"Goddammit," but was it so bad? If Perkins found Markus, Hank could forget ever solving this case. "Thanks for letting me know, Chris."
"Are you doing okay?" Chris could sense the tension hidden behind Hank's words.
"Yeah, yeah," Hank sighed in response. "You know, things are just as complicated as ever."
Hank heard Chris clear his throat, "I'll be the first one to admit it, but… Things seemed a lot nicer with Agent Monroe around."
"Yeah," Hank chuckled, but it was from mild amusement if anything. "But that's not how things are anymore. Guess we'll just have to deal without her."
"I knew you were fond of her, Hank," Chris continued. "I knew a lot of people were. Any idea what happened? Why they took her off the case?"
And it hurt to hear the words and it hurt to think about it, but he couldn't tell the truth.
"Who knows?" Hank brushed the question away. "It doesn't matter now. Anyways, I have shit to do. Keep me posted about the king of pricks."
"Will do, Hank," and Chris hung up his phone.
The weather in Washington was far more favourable than that of Detroit. Detroit was all snowstorms and ice, but Washington hadn't seen more than a few centimetres of snow that year. Not that the weather mattered that much to Connor, in the end. Or maybe it did? There was something ultimately calming about a slow snowfall. And when he thought of the snowfall he thought of Henrietta. He thought of her memory of watching Hank during a gentle storm. He thought of the cool flakes touching her skin… Touching his.
Polanski's listed address was on Florida Avenue. The house that Connor found seemed too big for one man, but maybe Polanski did have a family. Polanski was another hidden figure; he simply didn't exist on paper. The only thing Connor had to go on was this singular address.
He knocked on the door, but of course, no one answered. He rang the doorbell, but of course, no one answered. Who's to say if anyone would be home anytime soon? Who's to say anyone would ever be home?
Connor had broken into a few places in the past, but only with strict legal permission. He broke into Hank's house when they first met, but it was because Connor thought Hank was in danger… And he was, in a way. Connor had no legal reason to break into Polanski's home; if it was even that. But he had plenty of personal reasons.
Connor walked to the back of the house which was mostly concealed by sprawling trees and unkempt bushes. Despite the flora's nakedness, it was unlikely anyone would be able to see Connor if he did decide to make a forced entry through the back door.
He swung open the screen door and knocked once more just to be sure. What if Polanski was home, yet not alive? There was the possibility. Only the knob had a lock, so it was easy enough for Connor to force it open. The interior of the house was cloaked in darkness and dust. Nobody had been there for a long time.
The was no security devices installed within the home which was rare. Dr. Polanski obviously had nothing to hide. That or he wasn't afraid of someone finding out what he did have to hide. From the information gathered by Connor's initial scan of the kitchen and living area, no one had been there in seven months. That's a long time to leave a home unattended.
The house; however, did appear to be well lived in. The atmosphere was that of a family home with its large inviting living room furniture and subdued colour pallets. There were framed pictures resting on a shelf that hung over the used fireplace. Only one of the pictures had Polanski it, and it was of him with his parents. The other photographs contained distant relatives of his; nothing else of significance.
Something did catch Connor's eye though while he was staring at the sooty mantelpiece. There was a picture not contained within a frame and lying face down underneath one of him and his parents. The picture had October 2034 etched on the back in blue ink. The picture itself was of Dr. Polanski and…?
Connor's LED flashed red, "What?"
He couldn't obtain any information about the other person. No database Connor had access to could identify the white male Polanski was standing next to. It was probable this man was like Polanski himself: another ghost of Khatri's. A group of people, including Henri, who simply did not exist.
"I'll be coming back tomorrow," Connor said this over the phone to Hank. "By the time I finished searching Polanski's house, visiting hours for the office Kelly Mihn works in was over."
"Can't you just visit her at home?" Hank's voice was slightly muffled through his lack of understanding of how telecommunications worked. Sometimes Hank would talk too loudly or hold the receiver too far from his face. Connor always found this odd considering Hank grew up in the technological boom.
"No local databases or otherwise contain information on a Kelly Mihn," Connor explained. "I only have the address of the office she works in. There's a possibility she might be using an alias."
"Alright, well you know..." the wind was howling through Hank's phone. "Stay someplace warm, okay? Don't wander the streets all night or some shit like that, okay?"
"I got it, Hank," Connor smiled at this even though no one was around to see it.
Connor already knew what Kelly looked like, but she didn't know him. He decided it would be a poor choice to meet with her face to face in her own office. Who knows who was watching? But that didn't mean someone wasn't watching right now. Instead, Connor stood outside the building's front entrance in anticipation of her arrival. And, as expected, Connor saw Kelly Mihn exit a taxi as she made her way to her office.
"Excuse me," Connor raised his hand to grab her attention.
At first, Kelly glanced around thinking she had been mistaken for someone else, "Yes?" she pointed to herself.
"Kelly Mihn?" Connor let his words sink in. "Am I correct?"
She gave Connor the impression of being stunned, "Sorry, what?"
"Am I mistaken?" he lifted a brow at her.
Kelly's eyes darted back and forth then she whipped her face around, "How do you know that name? Who the hell are you?"
"Do you know a man named Jared Davis?"
She twisted her head back and scouted the area before moving off to a bare tree standing at the corner of the building, "You want to explain to me what this is about?"
Together they stood under the sad tree while Connor curiously examined Kelly's response, "Jared Davis said you could help me."
"And with what exactly?" tones of anxiety came through her voice.
"He seemed to believe you could help me locate a woman who goes by the name of Khatri."
A dense silence settled over them like an impenetrable fog.
"How…?" after a minute Kelly finally replied. "How do you know that name?"
"There's a lot I know," but Connor didn't have the patience to explain the minutiae of his knowledge to her. "But I'm here to talk about what you know."
"What I know?" Kelly gasped and pointed to herself. "As far as you're concerned I know nothing and we never met."
She began trotting away, but Connor latched onto her shoulder, "Please, I need your help. Davis suspected you no longer were interested in working for Khatri. Is that true?"
"You shouldn't be saying things like that," she jumped over to him and hushed his statements with an open palm.
"I want to help," Connor gazed at her with his soft eyes. "I want to help you and Davis… and..."
"I don't think you understand," she whispered this harshly. "I have a family you… You robot. Maybe that isn't something you can understand."
"I-I-" but he did have a family. Hank was his family. Henri was… was his family. "Are you familiar with who Henrietta was?"
"Henri..." Kelly paused for a moment. "She was a test subject in Dr. Everett's experiments. A successful one, too."
A test subject in an experiment. She was just a number on a piece of paper to them.
"Henri is no longer alive," he looked to the ground. "She was suffering. She hated being a slave to Khatri, but she never would have admitted it. I can't believe this woman, Khatri, is a good person by any means."
"This is why Davis was killed?" she frowned at Connor, it was a painful and vicious expression. "I heard he had died, but it was determined to be of natural causes. I doubt that's the truth," a laugh came out with this particular comment. "Me, the one who knows everything, being told the truth by a robot. How strange."
Connor's expression fell to the ground once more, "He sacrificed his life giving me the information that led me to you. I can't let his death be in vain. I'm begging you to help me."
"Whatever we do..." she studied Connor's sullen face. "We won't have a lot of time… I know some people I can… I can make things work for now."
"I know I'm asking you a lot," Connor's eyes lifted as he was relieved by her phrase. "But I intend to do everything in my power to stop this woman."
"I don't think you have much of a choice now," her sentiments echoed those of Davis's. "She's not the type of person to take being hunted lightly."
"So," Connor was anticipating the final reveal: Where is Khatri? "How can I find her?"
"Okay, so," Kelly paused again to investigate her surroundings. "I've never met her myself. But I do know of a few people who do communicate with her directly."
"You've never met her?" he questioned the oddity.
"She's a private woman-" Kelly glowered inward. "-with a lot of enemies. But like I said: I know a few people who've met her in person from time to time. And know someone in particular that you might be able to coerce."
"Coerce?"
"I know it's a strong word," but it was the only word she could find that was appropriate for the situation. "But it's what you're going to have to do."
"I'm listening," and he was.
"Dr. Jim Everett, the man who created the experiments that Henrietta was involved in, along with many others..." she hesitated seemingly paranoid that someone might be listening and that very well could have been the truth. "Jim hosts a 'charity' gala every year to help gain support for his disturbed experiments. That's how him and Khatri originally met seven years ago. I've been invited as I usually am, so you can be my plus one this year."
"When and where is this?" Connor asked. "And how are we going to coerce him into telling us Khatri's location?"
"Now," she continued to explain. "He doesn't know where she is, but he could set up a meeting with her at a particular location. And as far as the coercion goes… Let me handle that."
Connor studied her closely, "Are you sure you want to do this?"
"I've been wanting to do this for years..." she wanted to say his name, but he hadn't mentioned it yet. "Sorry, what's your name?"
"Connor."
"Well, Connor," Kelly was confident this was the right thing to do, to finally- "This has gone on for long enough. It's time we put an end to it."
"So, where is this gala going to take place?" Connor noticed she still hadn't answered that much.
She took in a deep breath and looked up at the tall android, "It'll be in Detroit, as it usually is. It'll be at the Waterview Loft at Port Detroit. It's a New Year's Gala, so the first day of 2040, Sunday."
"Tomorrow?" Connor's head perked up.
"You better dress the part," she scoffed at his ragged coat and old beanie. "That's not going to cut it. Do you own a suit?"
Connor pulled at Hank's jacket, "I'll get one."
"I just knew it..." she stared at him again. "I just knew coming to work on a Saturday was a bad idea. Here's what I get."
"If I helps," Connor smiled at her. "I'm grateful for your help."
"It does."
"You come here often?" she smiled at him; he had been waiting for that. He had been leaning on this bar in this obnoxiously noisy club waiting for this. Waiting for a pretty woman.
He didn't acknowledge her with his eyes, but with his voice, "Is that it? That's the line? You've been staring at me for twenty minutes and that's the line you start with?"
"You seem like a fish out of water here," she ignored his questions.
When he did turn to her, he examined her thoroughly. Long dark hair, dark as the night, with bangs that draped over her piercing eyes. Those eyes were something else. One blue and one green; what did they call that? Heterochromia iridium, but that didn't matter. What mattered was their hypnotizing appeal.
"Nothing to say?" her accent; what was it? Irish or Scottish maybe, but it didn't matter. He liked it.
"Oh, I have plenty to say," he offered a sly grin; it was dirty and she didn't like it, but that wasn't the point.
She rolled her knuckles alongside his arm, "You don't look like the party type. What are you doing here?"
"Looking for a good time," and he was going to get it out of her.
"Funny," she grinned in response, but she didn't want to. "That's exactly why I'm here, too." but her idea of a good time would certainly surprise him in the end.
"Oh, yeah? He kept on that dirty smile. "How about we go have a good time together?"
"You know what," she didn't want to go with him, yet she had no choice. "I thought you'd never ask."
They left that large, noisy, obnoxious nightclub together. He hated going to places like that, but the girls at sleazy bars were always on the promiscuous side. And she, dark hair and piercing eyes, was his best catch yet. Usually, girls like her couldn't be found in places like that.
They found a motel just as sleazy as he was and just as sleazy as that club was.
"Nice place," after entering the room, the dark haired woman plucked at the filthy bed-sheets
"Not good enough for you?" he himself wasn't picky.
It didn't matter to her, in the end, "Oh, that's not important anyway..."
And it didn't matter because he had two choices: Cooperate or die.
