The four men watched the video where it played out on the monitor. The Vid was not large and they were forced to hunch in against each other in order to see what happened on its narrow screen. Dak sat in the back. This was not due to his fellow officers having any superiority over him. No, he had already formed an option and leaned back to light a smoke, despite the fact that their post had a strict non-smoking ordinance.
Matthews looked back at him. “What is your take on this?” He was the youngest of the four of them. Dak secretly hoped he would go ahead and get jaded soon. It was certainly taking him long enough.
Dak allowed himself to follow the flow of the improbable scene as it had been recorded. Four astonishingly beautiful women were taking out the new candidate for major, Felix Homes. Their micro Uzis matched their tight little Posh outfits. These young killers that so brutally mowed down Homes and his guards looked more ready for a runway shoot, than assassinating the fool that had been willing to stand up to New Cluster’s incumbent
Mayor Edgar had been the mayor of New Cluster for a long time.
When Dak didn’t answer, Matthews put forth a theory of his own. “Somehow Edgar, or whoever, found some female hitmen, er hitpeople, and they used their looks to get them close enough to get the job done.”
“I’d be careful with your mouth, Matthews,” Fosters grumbled. Fosters’ natural ability to fail to get along with anyone had kept him from being kicked upstairs.
“Yeah,” Waterman said around a tooth pick he chewed on. “If there’s even a hint that we might end up on the wrong side of it with the Mayor, I say we drop this case like a five hundred pound girlfriend.” Waterman didn’t have the best rep in the office. He was old school, overweight, and as dirty as a dishwasher’s shoes.
“They are using clones,” Dak said, disrupting the direction of the conversation.
“What?” Waterman demanded.
“Those girls are Joy-clones. I recognize some of the models.” Matthew’s jaw dropped. It was illegal to clone in New Cluster. Even knowing about the clone trade put an unneeded suspicion upon his shoulders. Seeing the looks on their faces, Dak quickly added, “I was involved in a big bust three years back. One must often learn the habits of their prey.” He took out a pen and pointed the end towards a thin blonde with long fiery yellow hair. “That is the Erin model, that there, the tall brunette, she is the Vanessa. I’ve never seen the other two, but any good Grafter can make these Skinjobs.”
The others still eyed him, but Matthews was able to ask, “What would this mean?’
“My guess is that it would mean that those four girls,” he pointed at the screen again, “Could be anyone.”
“What happens to their bodies?” Waterman asked.
“They are long gone and are usually recycled into the new clone the Skinjumper gets.” They still looked puzzled. “The only hard part would be to bring the Grafter’s tech into the hotel. Sure hotels have a lot of rooms, but each machine is the size of a coffin. It will probably be our only lead.”
“I still don’t under…” Waterman began.
“It most likely went something like this. Whoever the boss is, hires out four of his best guys and a Grafter. The Grafter gets four rigs. Then it’s probably like Matthews said. They use some standard Joy Models. These badass hitmen now look like hot Luster Zone chippies. They get in, wack this Dim-Jim, escape to the Grafter. He gets their minds back into a clone of their old self and they’re walking out of the place looking thirty years and one penis away from anyone who had anything to do with it.”
“But what about their minds?” Waterman asked. “How does that all work?”
“Do I look like a scientist to you? All I know is that it was working three years ago, I bet they are a whole lot better by now.”