“Well, that’s why we’re here,” Dekka said.
“Is this where we say ‘Avengers assemble’?” Malik snarked.
“How about, ‘Rock on, Rockborn Gang’?” Shade proposed.
Dekka shook her head half in amusement, half in irritation, and said to Williams, “We’re still kind of working on how to do this. How to be this.”
Williams nodded. “Ms. Talent, we are all trying to figure things out. No part of this was taught at the police academy. However . . .”
“Mmmm?” Shade asked.
Williams said, “I’m sorry about this, but we need to do something for the sake of maintaining at least some pretense of legality. The mayor says we need to deputize all of you.”
“Say what now?” Armo said, bristling.
“How do you do that?” Dekka asked.
Williams laughed. “No one seems to know. But the law seems to be that you can be deputized so long as you’re not a member of the military. So, look, I know this sounds crazy—”
“The rule of law is not crazy,” Malik said, quite serious. “I’m not sure if it’s much use right now, but you can deputize me, Detective.”
In the end all six of them agreed—Armo only after he made clear that deputy or not, he would do whatever the hell he decided to do—and they raised their hands and swore an oath Williams made up on the spot.
“Do we get badges, at least?” Cruz wondered.
“I was thinking ‘paycheck,’” Dekka said, dryly. “But whatever. Let’s go see about this Markovic creep, and maybe we can go home.”
Home.
Like that was a real thing. Dekka pictured her apartment in the East Bay. It had been her third home after the fall of the FAYZ. There had been a brief stay with her parents, then a shared apartment with Lana Lazar in Oakland, which had lasted until Lana went off to college. Then the apartment in Pinole. No part of that had ever really felt like home, and Dekka realized the closest thing to a real home in her mind was Perdido Beach. A depressing realization.
They were driven in a police van normally used for transporting prisoners and stepped out on Fifth Avenue, which was teeming with cleanup crews.
“Fourteenth floor,” Williams said, gazing up. “See that stone balustrade up there? That’s it.”
“Yep,” Dekka said. “Okay, we go at it three ways. First, Shade? Get to the roof. You can go in through the building next door and hop down to . . .”
By the time Dekka was done explaining what Shade should do, Shade was waving down at them from the roof.
“I am never going to get used to that,” Dekka said, shaking her head. “Okay, is there a doorman or someone Markovic might expect to show up at his door?”
Williams produc
ed an elderly Hispanic man named Julio Cantera. Cruz introduced herself, and they exchanged a few words in Spanish. He had a smoker’s weak voice, and Cruz tried it out a few times.
“Mr. Markovic. It’s Julio. There is a water leak.”
“Not bad,” Armo said, patting her shoulder.
Dekka’s mind was very much on other things, but she could not help but notice that there had been some subtle change in the relationship between Armo and Cruz.
Cruz walked around Julio like he was a side of beef and she was looking to make steaks. After a moment she nodded and began to become the man.
“Okay, this isn’t our first fight, so here’s the beats,” Dekka said. “Cruz goes to the door. Knock knock, water leak. Armo? I’m thinking you and I are just outside the door, out of sight, in morph, and the second Markovic opens the door for Cruz, we go in. Does that work for you, Armo?”
“Yeah, but only if I get to go first. I’ve been like a bystander today.”
Dekka nodded agreement and went on. “Shade jumps down to his balcony and comes in that way. Francis, you bring Malik straight into his apartment. He gets hit from three sides at once. If he’s morphed . . .” She hesitated. “Detective Williams, would you give us some privacy?”