The Creation of Amy Page 11

  At first, Morse ignored him, but eventually he answered, “Nothing, I’m innocent.”

  The drunk man turned around and chortled, “Oh, yeah, so am I.”

  The leering man confessed, “I’m not. I had to stab a fella, guy had it coming. I got a good lawyer, so he’ll pawn it off as self-defense, I’m sure.”

  A cop arrived at the cell.

  “Morse, come with me,” he said, unlocking the cell door.

  The leering man quipped, “Knock ‘em dead, killa.”

  “Shut up,” said the cop and instructed Morse, “This way.”

  He led Morse to a small room after cuffing him and directed, “Sit down; someone will be here in a minute.”

  Morse seated himself and the cop left the room. After a few minutes, a detective arrived. He stepped inside the room and closed the door.

  “Good evening, Doctor Morse. I see you were out driving-like-you-stole-it in your hotrod tonight. Was there any reason for this?”

  “I didn’t get your name,” Morse stated.

  “Detective Malloy,” he introduced himself. Malloy was black, in his forties, with short hair and a goatee.

  “I had some property stolen from my residence earlier this morning, and I was trying to get it back.”

  Malloy quirked his right eyebrow, “What property,” he asked.

  Morse could not contain the smugness that splayed upon his face, “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

  “Try me.”

  Morse went silent.

  “Listen, you were speeding through the city, that one would say you were driving-to-endanger, and then you had a hit-and-run, and then you assaulted a taxi driver. I mean, don’t taxi drivers have enough of crap to deal with? Now tell me what was so important.”

  Morse drew in a sharp inhale, “I’m a Cyberneticist and I built an android, and someone in a black Lincoln Continental took her.”

  Malloy smiled, “You’re right, I don’t believe you. Well I will put down here that you should be evaluated at the local hospital, then you will be charged with assault, hit-and-run, and reckless endangerment. Okay?”

  “I love you guys, you’re great at letting murderers get away, but you’ll bust me for trying to get a very valuable piece of equipment back. Go to hell.”

  Another cop rapped a couple of taps on the door and stepped partially in, “Sir, is this the file you wanted?”

  “Officer, I’m in the middle of something here.”

  Malloy seemed to refuse the folder.

  Morse read the name on the intruding officer’s shirt, “O’Connell, your name’s, O’Connell?” he asked him.

  “Yeah, what of it,” Officer O’Connell asked.

  Morse remembered that Kara had married a man named O’Connell that was a New York City police officer. “Do you have a wife named Kara?”

  “I do, Doctor Morse.”

  Detective Malloy eyed O’Connell, “What’s this all about?”

  “He did build an android and he copied my wife. Weirdest thing I ever heard of myself, and I figured that my wife fleeced this guy a couple of years ago, but I know Kara, and she told me that she saw this girl jump twenty feet in the air, and she doesn’t lie about things like that. So, I can vouch for this guy.”

  “This isn’t even your precinct, officer.”

  “Yeah, but I heard Morse’s name over the scanner, I came down to see what was up since Kara speaks so highly of him.”

  “If she will come here and further back up this story, I’ll believe it.”

  “I’ll call her,” he offered and left the room to go do so.

  Morse wondered if this was divine intervention, but still muttered, “See?”

  Malloy huffed and snapped his file closed. “Okay, Morse, you stay here till she gets here, and then we will sort this out.”

  “Where’s my phone call?”

  “Soon,” he answered. “Who do you have to call?”

  “Doctor Mike Phillips,” he recited the number from memory, “He’s my business partner in this, and he will vouch for me.”

  “I’ll get him down here too,” Malloy said and left.

  Over an hour later, Morse was still in the room. He rested his head down on the table while taking a nap, and then Malloy, O’Connell, Kara, and Phillips enter the room.

  Malloy said to Morse, “wake up, doc, the cavalry is here, and they corroborated your crazy story.”

  Phillips spoke up, “We’re getting out of here, I posted your bail.”

  O’Connell took the cuffs off Morse and Malloy said, “I’ll see what I can do about smoothing things over with these charges.”

  “Any leads on the murder of my wife?” Morse wanted to know.

  “I was just in contact with the precinct and I was informed of what happened years ago. I’m afraid it’s a cold case at this point.

  Morse nodded, “If I find them before you do, I will kill them.”

  “Don’t say that!” Phillips admonished.

  “I don’t blame you,” Malloy said, “I’d feel the same way, so that is why I’ll pretend I didn’t hear that. Now, get your car and get out of here. We will keep an eye out for your girl.”

  “I thank you, but I’m not holding my breath,” Morse said.

  Phillips and Morse walked out, Kara and O’Connell followed.

  Kara said to Morse, “I’m so sorry about this. We’re going to meet you at your building, okay?”

  “Sure thing,” Morse accepted. “Thanks, and thank you also, Officer O’Connell; do you have a first name?”

  “Patrick,” Officer O’Connell said.

  “Well, Patrick, let me get my car and I’ll see you there,” he said, and with Phillips went to get the Charger.

  “Drive slow, I’ll meet you at your place. Then we’ll try to figure this out,” Phillips said upon paying the impoundment fee.

  “Sure thing, thanks for bringing my shoes,” Morse said.

  The two men parted. Morse walked through the impound full of cars and found the Charger. He checked the dent in the quarter panel smeared with dry yellow paint and shook his head. He unlocked his door, got in, and started the car. It fired up with a rumble and he sat there for a minute listening, then put it in first gear, and drove off toward home.

  Morse was the last to get to his building. He pressed the garage door button, the door opened, and he drove the Charger in and parked it, then closed the garage door. He got out; Patrick, Kara, and Phillips were all sitting, talking. They all looked melancholy.

  Kara said to Morse, “I see your building another one, you still have that.”

  Morse sat down at the main computer and Phillips said, “We’re going to find her, that’s for sure.”

  Morse turned around, and asked Patrick, “Can you keep what you see here quiet?”

  “I will, but I think the words already out if someone went through this much trouble to get your girl,” he stated.

  “Did you check the surveillance tapes?” Morse asked now.

  “Yeah,” Phillips said, “It seems someone in a ski mask spray painted over the camera lenses before this happened. Also, did you set the alarm?”

  “Yes,” Morse answered, “I did.”

  “Are you certain?” Phillips asked.

  “Yes,” Morse snapped. He felt a little short fused from exhaustion, frustration, and anger from tonight’s loss.

  “I never programmed Amy with the alarm codes,” Phillips revealed.

  “No,” Morse replied, “but she saw me put it in enough times.”

  “What are you saying? Amy disarmed the alarm and walked outside on her own? No way,” Phillips argued.

  “Well, my life officially sucks again, and when we finish Stephanie, then someone will steal her too?” Morse’s frustration was mounting exponentially.

  Kara put her arm around Morse’s shoulders, “It will be okay. Amy will turn up, and nothing will happen to Stephanie, here.”

  “Well, that’s not exactly true, considering I don’t even kn
ow what the hell happened, did you check the indoor cameras?”

  “You have indoor cameras? I never knew that!”

  Morse began typing on the computer’s keyboard and brought up video footage of earlier that night. The tape showed Amy sitting in the chair, and then waking up suddenly.

  “Hey,” Morse pointed out, “Look at that! Amy wouldn’t wake up like that unless someone was hacking into her brain, right, Mike?”

  Phillips’s eyes widened watching the footage as Amy started calling out for her father in it. He recognized her cry was a hacking warning he improved on, and he pressed the heels of his palms into his brows. “Oh, shit,” he exclaimed.

  In the remaining footage, it showed Amy freezing with a stone face, standing up, walking toward the door without unplugging first, and inserting the combination.

  Morse felt violated. “She did disarm the alarm, but it seems her higher cognitive functions are disabled.”

  “I think this is my fault,” Phillips admitted, looking ashamed he could have been this careless with Morse’s expensive machine.

  “Why?” Morse asked. He had no idea how this could be his colleague’s fault at all.

  “Because I got tired and I forgot to complete a passcode for her internet protocols, it was one of many, but that’s all a good hacker, hell, anyone, needs. I should have disabled her WI-FI. I should have strapped her to the chair.” Phillips was really kicking himself now.

  “This isn’t your fault, this is our fault. I just never figured this would ever happen,” Morse said.

  He could have simply strapped her in and disconnected her WI-FI himself before going to bed, so he shouldered an equal part of the blame for Amy being hacked and stolen.

  Kara spoke up, “Well, I know you will find my girl soon,” she said with a warm smile.

  Morse looked up at Kara. “You would have been amazed at how real she was acting,” he said. He felt he could share with her his pride in her. “It was like she had her own personality. This is going to be hard for me.”

  Kara hugged Morse. “It will work out,” she assured him. “If you need anything from me or Patrick, you let us know. Here’s our number again,” and she wrote it down again, and gave it to Morse.

  “Thanks for everything,” Phillips said.

  As Kara and Patrick were walking out, Patrick said, “Nice car, bro! Take care.”

  Morse stretched back in the chair while dragging his fingertips along his hairline at the base of his skull. He began staring again at the surveillance footage.

  “So, what now,” he asked Phillips.

  “I don’t know, we should concentrate on Steph now, we have all the patents, so it’s not like they can start a company using her.”

  “Yeah, but she’s worth a lot of money. I’m sure the odds are that she’s in a crate heading to God knows where. I mean someone actually hacked her software, I can’t believe this shit!”

  Someone who knew what they were doing, probably with some high range computer. I’ll bet, though, she’s still in the city, and whoever has her will reprogram her to do their bidding.”

  “For what, being a prostitute,” Morse asked.

  “Probably not,” Phillips answered. “Something with more money involved,” he said.

  “I’ll bet whoever did this did some scouting first, and maybe they were at the diner yesterday. I remember a guy walked up to her and shook her hand, then went to the back of the diner with three other guys.”

  “I remember that too.” Phillips seemed to light up with a clue, “Does the diner have a camera?”

  “I think he does. Later today I’m going there to ask some questions.”

  “Yeah, it’s six A.M.,” said Phillips, as he checked the monitor screen’s clock.

  “I’m going to take a nap for a couple of hours, then, I’m going to find out as much as I can here.”

  “You know what; I’m going to sleep on this couch here in the lab, if that’s okay with you.”

  “By all means, see you in a few hours,” he obliged. He went upstairs and crashed into his pillow with no stops in between.

  ✽✽✽

  Concurrently at Spectra’s apartment, Amy sat in a chair hooked up to his computer. She stared still stone-faced off into space, blinking rhythmically, and Spectra began talking to Amy as he was studying her programming.

  “Wow, sweetie, your daddy has put some time and money into you, and it seems like I can’t change your definition of ‘father’ too easily. And, I will not spend months reprogramming you. Oh, wait, I can fool you!”

  He typed with a fury, and then cackled, “I’m gonna’ have fun with you!”

  Chapter Thirteen

  Later that morning, Morse woke after a few hours of restless sleep. He got ready and left with Phillips to the diner.

  Morse greeted the diner’s owner, “Hey Joe, I was wondering, could I take a look at your security camera footage from yesterday and the day before?”

  “Why do you ask, Doctor,” Joe replied.

  Phillips answered, “Well, you know the girl, Amy, we brought here a few times?”

  “Yes, sir, I do, your young lady friend.”

  Morse explained to Joe, “Well, she’s missing, and I need to see the camera footage to see if I recognize anyone in them.”

  “You think she was abducted? Who is she to you?”

  Phillips interjected, “It’s his cousin; she doesn’t know New York very well.”

  “Okay,” Joe permitted. “Come this way.”

  He led them into the back office where he kept the camera footage. The middle-aged Polish man pulled up the footage on his computer.

  “I trust you guys, look all you want. I have to get back to it.”

  “Thanks,” Morse said before the owner vanished down the hall. He seated himself in the computer chair and then proceeded watching the DVR recordings with Phillips.

  “Joe must not have noticed anything,” Phillips pointed out.

  “I doubt he would, he gets all kinds in here daily.”

  They found the recording of the four men in the back of the diner, but it failed show them clearly.

  “Well, they come in, looks like they order some coffee, and there we are with Amy,” Morse said while pointing at them on the screen using all his fingers and his palm up.

  It at last it revealed this man watching until Amy was alone, and then approaching her.

  “I’ve never seen him before,” Phillips remarked.

  The computer surveillance finished showing Amy, Phillips, and Morse leaving. Finally, it was then the four men got up and left, which exposed all of their faces on the film.

  “I don’t recognize them, but I’m going to call the detective and tell him about this footage,” Morse said.

  After telling the cops about the footage, he slumped back in the chair.

  “This isn’t good,” he said, “I thought we would find more.”

  “Well, maybe the cops will know who they are.”

  Morse scoffed. “Yeah right,” he said, “I might have to face the fact that she’s gone, without any solid leads. There’s no way to track her down.”

  “Come on, can’t be negative. The cops will find out who they are, and we will go from there.”

  “I hope so.”

  “Let’s get something to eat and finish Stephanie.”

  They had not eaten in hours.

  “It will be another few months before she’s done, maybe more, since I promise you I will be drinking a lot. This just sucks,” heaved Morse a deep sigh.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Six months later, outside a warehouse in the slums of the city near a pier, a group of hired thugs patrolled. Inside, in the middle of the large expanse of the dilapidated building, a makeshift desk was set up, and a door to an old office behind it. Vincent Delaney sat in the office talking to his head puppets. Amy stood in a darkened corner of the office.

  At the entrance of the warehouse, a black Cadillac rolled silently in with a black Chevy
Tahoe following. The two vehicles stopped about twenty-feet away from the desk, and armed gunmen got out of both vehicles. Then a tall, Hispanic man with a weather-beaten face and a goatee emerged from the back of the Caddy. He had his hair slicked back in the ‘drug lord’ fashion, and a gaudy, auspicious suit. With a menacing glare, he sauntered toward the makeshift desk.

  Delaney stepped out from the back office and said, “Coronado, my old friend, good of you to come today.”

  Delaney returned to his desk, and the two men traded frightening stares.

  Coronado said with a Spanish accent, “You would not talk to my man about this? I am a very busy man, this better be important. Perhaps you are tired of losing territory and men to me,” he finished with a sly grin and his gunmen laughed. “You ready to give up yet? You are just incompetent and, you know, it is not your fault. Cipriano should have made you disappear long ago, but I’m not complaining.”

  Everyone laughed, including Delaney.

  “Well, you simply have more manpower than me, and my uncle seems to enjoy watching me fail more than losing money. But, you see, I’m here to tell you that is about to change.”

  Coronado nodded with a half-smile. “Oh,” he asked, and then he signaled his men and about fifty or so came out of the shadows. They killed Delaney’s guards, and train automatic weapons on Delaney and his ten or so thugs.

  There was a tense silence.

  “Yeah,” Delaney said, “I’m going to wipe that arrogant smirk off your face.”

  Delaney took a few steps back through the office.

  “You Guinea bastard, you dare threaten me? I am tired of you. Get him!”

  Delaney made it to the back office where Spectra was, along with a few others, including Evans. Amy walked out of the back wearing a one-piece, black leather suit and sporting nothing but a gleaming Samurai sword.

  “This better work,” Delaney warned Spectra.

  Spectra laughed, “Oh, it will,” he quipped with a wicked smirk.

  As Amy came out, it confused Coronado’s thugs that this small girl was walking toward them. Coronado looked Amy over as she stopped and stared at him after scanning everyone in the warehouse. He hollered to Delaney, “What’s up with this girl? She some kind of present for me? If that’s the case, I won’t kill you today.” He laughed a nasty cackle at his own joke. Stepping up to Amy, he leered at her saying, “What’s your name, little girl?”