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Underbox: Nineteen
© 2021 by Walter Reimer
Thumbnail art by
capt_hairball
Part of the medical exam for the suspect was to make sure that the electrical charge that had coursed through him hadn’t caused any health issues. While this was going on, forensic technicians were going over his clothing and specialists from the IT Crime Section were dissecting the cyberway and its code. The suspect’s weapon, a primitive but effective 10-millimeter pistol, had been taken into evidence while efforts were being made to trace the firearm.
The boar and the cross-fox had returned to the station to compile the arrest report and research the feline’s identity.
“Manuel Abdulrahman Saled-Diaz,” Joachim recited from the data scrolling across the optic centers of his brain. “Male, feline, twenty-eight . . . Tunisian father, American mother . . . Born in Bizerte, Tunisia, brought up in Metz?” The boar’s ears swiveled as his jackgloved paw twitched. “Mother was a diplomat – “
“A diplomat?” Hamo asked, glancing up. The cross-fox still massaging feeling back into their legs.
“Yeah. So was his father. Brought up in Metz, college degree in programming . . . moved to Roma, Milano, and Kotor before ending up here by way of Budapest. Address is in the Underbox, of course, but not in a nice area.”
“A ‘nice area’ of the Underbox?” Hamo asked in an innocent tone. “Where’s that?” The partners shared a chuckle, and the cross-fox looked at their computer screen. “No known employment history, but that’s not too unusual. Criminal history’s pretty thin. Seven minor hacking offenses, strictly petty stuff. Worse thing here’s a few weeks in jail in Kotor for attempted date rape.”
“’Attempted?’ What happened?”
Hamo clicked on the record and read a translation of the arrest affidavit. They chuckled. “Says here that he accidentally drugged the wrong drink.”
“His own?”
“Yeah.” The cross-fox and the boar started laughing.
“Which brings up a question,” Joachim said.
“How could a low-level guy like that build a cyberway?”
“And program it.” The boar reached up and stroked one tusk. “Unless he’s fronting for our real target.”
“We’ll have to ask him, then. I’ll call and see if he’s ready for us,” Hamo said, sitting up and reaching for their jackglove, and winced as they flexed their legs. “Damn. I think the first thing I do after I retire is get back in shape.”
“I’m sure Karin’s got no objection with how you look,” Joachim said as the cross-fox pulled the glove on.
“Heh, she doesn’t,” Hamo said, “but I want to be able to keep up with Margot as she grows up. And maybe drive off anyone who might want to ask her out.”
“Going the traditional ‘Dad’ route, huh?”
They shrugged and smiled slightly. “Why not?” To Hamo, the world grew a little distant as the transgender vulpine slipped into the police network. <Medical Section, this is Suleymanoglu. How’s our arrestee, Herr Saled-Diaz?>
The question lingered for only a moment before a supervisor replied, <Hello, Detective. Saled-Diaz has been cleared medically and is en route to you under escort. He’s got no medical issues from getting shocked.>
<Great news. Thanks.>
<Medical issues, though.>
<Oh? What are we looking at?>
Hamo could almost hear the doctor sigh. <If he were a feral pet of mine, I’d have him euthanized. At least two STDs, and we’re still waiting on the tox report from his blood. He should be okay, but don’t let him bleed on you.>
<You mean - ?> Hamo asked.
The avatar gave them a wry look. <Afraid so. He also hasn’t told us where he got it, or who his last partners were.>
<I know of one, at least: our informant. Good advice about his not bleeding on us. Thank you.> Hamo blinked and pulled the glove off, making a mental note to have the Ministry of Health notify Liesl Hübner so she could get herself tested. “Medical’s cleared him, and they’re bringing him here for our turn at him.” The vulpine paused and asked, “Does it say anything in his record what his citizenship is? We might need to call the Foreign Ministry.”
“Hmm. Holds a Europassport,” and the boar typed a quick inquiry. “The Foreign Ministry can look into it anyway; the more the merrier.” He glanced and chuckled as Hamo started to get to their feet and winced slightly.
Joachim tut-tutted. “You want a wheelchair?”
“You could offer to carry me.”
“Heh. Sure, if you carry me up the stairs. To the roof garden.”
Hamo glowered at their partner as Joachim grinned.
***
The feline was wearing a shapeless gray prison jumpsuit that was about one size too large for him, and he sat hunched slightly forward, staring at the table in front of him. Apart from an occasional twitch of his ears or tail, the feline hadn’t moved. Fortunately, the jumpsuit was a lighter shade of gray than his fur, so it didn’t look like he was naked.
Hamo stood looking at the large monitor screen that showed Saled-Diaz. The old one-way mirrors had been superseded long ago for police interrogation rooms; cameras were easily concealable and could record every move and sound the subject made for later analysis. So far, though, the feline had barely moved and wasn’t saying anything. “Has IT Crimes reported yet?” they asked.
The uniformed officer tasked with keeping an eye on the arrestee shook his head. “Haven’t heard anything from them yet,” the red deer buck replied. “Forensics have been over his clothing though, and they couldn’t find anything.”
Hamo nodded. “Okay, let’s go see what he has to say,” and they and Joachim opened the door and stepped into the interview room.
Saled-Diaz looked up as the boar and the cross-fox entered, closing the door behind them, and the cat’s ears went back. “I’m hungry.”
His German was awful, marred by a heavy American accent.
“Oh? Well, we’ll see about getting you something,” Hamo said as they took a seat facing the feline. Joachim stood off to one side, his arms folded across his chest. “Detective Suleymanoglu, Detective Schmidt. You’re Manuel Saled-Diaz?””
“Yeah,” the feline said with a jerky nod.
“Born in Bizerte.” Another nod, and Hamo placed their paws flat on the table before favoring the feline with a smile. “You’ve been a little naughty, haven’t you?”
“Naughty? All I’ve been doing is selling homemade cyberways – “
“We’ll get to that in a moment. Right now, you’re charged with illegal possession of a firearm, so let’s talk about that for a minute. Where’d you get it from?”
The cat shrugged and smirked. “A guy I know.”
“Name? Description?”
“Name? Jack.”
“Jack?”
“Yeah. Meeoff,” and Saled-Diaz laughed softly. Hamo didn’t look amused and the feline said, “You need to lighten up. Cops have no sense of humor.”
“Maybe,” Hamo conceded, “but maybe not. We’ll leave that aside for a moment,” and the cross-fox’s bushy tail twitched slightly. “You shot at the police with that gun, you know. The courts tend to take a dim view of that. But you admit to selling homemade cyberways. That’s also illegal, in case you didn’t know.”
“I’ll bet it’s not as bad as shooting at the cops, huh?”
The cross-fox’s smile fled. “Two people died here in Berlin, and maybe one in Singapore. The common thread in all three deaths is a homemade cyberway,” Hamo said. They raised an eyebrow as Saled-Diaz suddenly chuckled. “You’re under suspicion for murder – “
“’Murder?’” the feline echoed, and gave a short, soft laugh. “Just one?”
The cross-fox and the boar exchanged a glance. “Two, here in the Underbox,” Hamo said. “You supplied a cyberway – “
“I did?”
“ – To a – “
“It’s coming, you know.” He lowered his head to laugh quietly.
The two detectives glanced at each other again. “What do you mean by that?” Hamo asked.
“Heh. If you don’t know, you’ll find out,” Saled-Diaz mumbled.
“Where’d you get the cyberways, Manuel?” Joachim said, stepping away from the wall he had been leaning against to loom over the feline.
The feline tipped his head, smirking as he gazed up at the boar. “I made them.”
“How’d you learn how?”
“Heh. It taught me.”
“’It’ being your supplier?”
Saled-Diaz shrugged.
Hamo narrowed their eyes, studying the feline. If he was wanting to set up an insanity defense, he was certainly starting on the right foot. “Do you know where ‘it’ is?”
The feline grinned. “Everywhere.”
“Suppose I wanted to get in touch with ‘it,’” Joachim said, “could you help arrange it?”
“It only spoke to me,” the arrestee replied. “It said that it’d speak to everyone when it was ready.”
Hamo glanced at Joachim, who nodded and rapped on the door. The cross-fox stood up and said, “We’ll get you a sandwich or something. Just think about this – if you help us, you might get a lighter punishment from the courts. Do you want to contact your parents?”
The feline laughed softly. “That’d be pointless.”
“Why?”
“They’re both dead.” Saled-Diaz shook a bit in his chair, gripped by some sort of silent laughter. “It killed them first.”
There was a short silence, broken when Joachim asked, “Why?”
He was answered with a manic grin. “To see if it could do it.”
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST<
© 2021 by Walter Reimer
Thumbnail art by
capt_hairballPart of the medical exam for the suspect was to make sure that the electrical charge that had coursed through him hadn’t caused any health issues. While this was going on, forensic technicians were going over his clothing and specialists from the IT Crime Section were dissecting the cyberway and its code. The suspect’s weapon, a primitive but effective 10-millimeter pistol, had been taken into evidence while efforts were being made to trace the firearm.
The boar and the cross-fox had returned to the station to compile the arrest report and research the feline’s identity.
“Manuel Abdulrahman Saled-Diaz,” Joachim recited from the data scrolling across the optic centers of his brain. “Male, feline, twenty-eight . . . Tunisian father, American mother . . . Born in Bizerte, Tunisia, brought up in Metz?” The boar’s ears swiveled as his jackgloved paw twitched. “Mother was a diplomat – “
“A diplomat?” Hamo asked, glancing up. The cross-fox still massaging feeling back into their legs.
“Yeah. So was his father. Brought up in Metz, college degree in programming . . . moved to Roma, Milano, and Kotor before ending up here by way of Budapest. Address is in the Underbox, of course, but not in a nice area.”
“A ‘nice area’ of the Underbox?” Hamo asked in an innocent tone. “Where’s that?” The partners shared a chuckle, and the cross-fox looked at their computer screen. “No known employment history, but that’s not too unusual. Criminal history’s pretty thin. Seven minor hacking offenses, strictly petty stuff. Worse thing here’s a few weeks in jail in Kotor for attempted date rape.”
“’Attempted?’ What happened?”
Hamo clicked on the record and read a translation of the arrest affidavit. They chuckled. “Says here that he accidentally drugged the wrong drink.”
“His own?”
“Yeah.” The cross-fox and the boar started laughing.
“Which brings up a question,” Joachim said.
“How could a low-level guy like that build a cyberway?”
“And program it.” The boar reached up and stroked one tusk. “Unless he’s fronting for our real target.”
“We’ll have to ask him, then. I’ll call and see if he’s ready for us,” Hamo said, sitting up and reaching for their jackglove, and winced as they flexed their legs. “Damn. I think the first thing I do after I retire is get back in shape.”
“I’m sure Karin’s got no objection with how you look,” Joachim said as the cross-fox pulled the glove on.
“Heh, she doesn’t,” Hamo said, “but I want to be able to keep up with Margot as she grows up. And maybe drive off anyone who might want to ask her out.”
“Going the traditional ‘Dad’ route, huh?”
They shrugged and smiled slightly. “Why not?” To Hamo, the world grew a little distant as the transgender vulpine slipped into the police network. <Medical Section, this is Suleymanoglu. How’s our arrestee, Herr Saled-Diaz?>
The question lingered for only a moment before a supervisor replied, <Hello, Detective. Saled-Diaz has been cleared medically and is en route to you under escort. He’s got no medical issues from getting shocked.>
<Great news. Thanks.>
<Medical issues, though.>
<Oh? What are we looking at?>
Hamo could almost hear the doctor sigh. <If he were a feral pet of mine, I’d have him euthanized. At least two STDs, and we’re still waiting on the tox report from his blood. He should be okay, but don’t let him bleed on you.>
<You mean - ?> Hamo asked.
The avatar gave them a wry look. <Afraid so. He also hasn’t told us where he got it, or who his last partners were.>
<I know of one, at least: our informant. Good advice about his not bleeding on us. Thank you.> Hamo blinked and pulled the glove off, making a mental note to have the Ministry of Health notify Liesl Hübner so she could get herself tested. “Medical’s cleared him, and they’re bringing him here for our turn at him.” The vulpine paused and asked, “Does it say anything in his record what his citizenship is? We might need to call the Foreign Ministry.”
“Hmm. Holds a Europassport,” and the boar typed a quick inquiry. “The Foreign Ministry can look into it anyway; the more the merrier.” He glanced and chuckled as Hamo started to get to their feet and winced slightly.
Joachim tut-tutted. “You want a wheelchair?”
“You could offer to carry me.”
“Heh. Sure, if you carry me up the stairs. To the roof garden.”
Hamo glowered at their partner as Joachim grinned.
***
The feline was wearing a shapeless gray prison jumpsuit that was about one size too large for him, and he sat hunched slightly forward, staring at the table in front of him. Apart from an occasional twitch of his ears or tail, the feline hadn’t moved. Fortunately, the jumpsuit was a lighter shade of gray than his fur, so it didn’t look like he was naked.
Hamo stood looking at the large monitor screen that showed Saled-Diaz. The old one-way mirrors had been superseded long ago for police interrogation rooms; cameras were easily concealable and could record every move and sound the subject made for later analysis. So far, though, the feline had barely moved and wasn’t saying anything. “Has IT Crimes reported yet?” they asked.
The uniformed officer tasked with keeping an eye on the arrestee shook his head. “Haven’t heard anything from them yet,” the red deer buck replied. “Forensics have been over his clothing though, and they couldn’t find anything.”
Hamo nodded. “Okay, let’s go see what he has to say,” and they and Joachim opened the door and stepped into the interview room.
Saled-Diaz looked up as the boar and the cross-fox entered, closing the door behind them, and the cat’s ears went back. “I’m hungry.”
His German was awful, marred by a heavy American accent.
“Oh? Well, we’ll see about getting you something,” Hamo said as they took a seat facing the feline. Joachim stood off to one side, his arms folded across his chest. “Detective Suleymanoglu, Detective Schmidt. You’re Manuel Saled-Diaz?””
“Yeah,” the feline said with a jerky nod.
“Born in Bizerte.” Another nod, and Hamo placed their paws flat on the table before favoring the feline with a smile. “You’ve been a little naughty, haven’t you?”
“Naughty? All I’ve been doing is selling homemade cyberways – “
“We’ll get to that in a moment. Right now, you’re charged with illegal possession of a firearm, so let’s talk about that for a minute. Where’d you get it from?”
The cat shrugged and smirked. “A guy I know.”
“Name? Description?”
“Name? Jack.”
“Jack?”
“Yeah. Meeoff,” and Saled-Diaz laughed softly. Hamo didn’t look amused and the feline said, “You need to lighten up. Cops have no sense of humor.”
“Maybe,” Hamo conceded, “but maybe not. We’ll leave that aside for a moment,” and the cross-fox’s bushy tail twitched slightly. “You shot at the police with that gun, you know. The courts tend to take a dim view of that. But you admit to selling homemade cyberways. That’s also illegal, in case you didn’t know.”
“I’ll bet it’s not as bad as shooting at the cops, huh?”
The cross-fox’s smile fled. “Two people died here in Berlin, and maybe one in Singapore. The common thread in all three deaths is a homemade cyberway,” Hamo said. They raised an eyebrow as Saled-Diaz suddenly chuckled. “You’re under suspicion for murder – “
“’Murder?’” the feline echoed, and gave a short, soft laugh. “Just one?”
The cross-fox and the boar exchanged a glance. “Two, here in the Underbox,” Hamo said. “You supplied a cyberway – “
“I did?”
“ – To a – “
“It’s coming, you know.” He lowered his head to laugh quietly.
The two detectives glanced at each other again. “What do you mean by that?” Hamo asked.
“Heh. If you don’t know, you’ll find out,” Saled-Diaz mumbled.
“Where’d you get the cyberways, Manuel?” Joachim said, stepping away from the wall he had been leaning against to loom over the feline.
The feline tipped his head, smirking as he gazed up at the boar. “I made them.”
“How’d you learn how?”
“Heh. It taught me.”
“’It’ being your supplier?”
Saled-Diaz shrugged.
Hamo narrowed their eyes, studying the feline. If he was wanting to set up an insanity defense, he was certainly starting on the right foot. “Do you know where ‘it’ is?”
The feline grinned. “Everywhere.”
“Suppose I wanted to get in touch with ‘it,’” Joachim said, “could you help arrange it?”
“It only spoke to me,” the arrestee replied. “It said that it’d speak to everyone when it was ready.”
Hamo glanced at Joachim, who nodded and rapped on the door. The cross-fox stood up and said, “We’ll get you a sandwich or something. Just think about this – if you help us, you might get a lighter punishment from the courts. Do you want to contact your parents?”
The feline laughed softly. “That’d be pointless.”
“Why?”
“They’re both dead.” Saled-Diaz shook a bit in his chair, gripped by some sort of silent laughter. “It killed them first.”
There was a short silence, broken when Joachim asked, “Why?”
He was answered with a manic grin. “To see if it could do it.”
<NEXT>
<PREVIOUS>
<FIRST<
Category Story / General Furry Art
Species Fox (Other)
Size 85 x 120px
File Size 58 kB
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