"Interesting guy this Morningstar," I told him. "What's his story? He's your brother?"
Michael raised his eyebrows, then smiled. "I suppose you could call him that. We share a father, that much is true."
"I gathered." I watched the traffic with disinterest. The bumper sticker in front of me proclaimed its owner as a voter for Grey, Letourneau's opponent, in the upcoming elections. I glanced over at Michael, "So you and Morningstar don't get along, eh?"
He gave a disgusted snort. "Forget about him, will you?"
"Forget him?" I oozed sarcasm. "Big guy, you've got to be joking. You can't tell me he's not part of your problem."
"He's not." Michael sighed. "At least not right now."
"No?" I tapped on the horn. My noise started a cascade of beeps and blares from fellow frustrated motorists. I gave Michael's profile a cynical smile. "Okay, if you say so."
He shrugged, as he continued to stare out the window.
"So, your family is Italian? Your half brother is in the business?" I tried to gauge how he reacted to my innuendo about Morningstar's Mafia connection.
"Italian?" He shrugged. "I'd prefer Roman."
I glanced at him to check if he was being serious. "Okay," I murmured, not sure how else to respond. "Roman it is. So, what was it you said to him?"
"I see what you're thinking." He shifted his massive frame, so he could look me right in the eye. "Look, it's nothing like that. You have to believe me; Morningstar has nothing to do with you and me. He's right. This time things aren't so black-and-white, I'm afraid. We have to think beyond the dualism of me versus him."
"What does that mean?" I said in Michael's direction, my eyes on the bumper in front of me.
"Eternal consequences, but mortal players." He said as if that explained everything.
"Right. Fine." Traffic stopped completely. The tubes felt claustrophobic at moments like this. "What is the problem here?" I yelled out the window, though no one could hear me behind their Plexiglas shields.
Michael stared out the window at the business-district sprawl. Tubes covered the skyline like a chaotic ball of yarn. I could see lights blinking all-around us, where several panels of the traffic tubes had been replaced with holographic advertising. Inching forward, we passed through the logo of cola being joyfully consumed by a drop-dead gorgeous Indian woman in a sari. The image stood partially over the stick shift. Michael's eyes were wide in wonderment, as though he'd never seen anything so fascinating. The advertisement faded as we moved forward another foot.
"You're not from around here," I said.
"Amish country," he murmured, looking out the rear of the car at the cola ad.
"Yet you're enhanced?" I asked, surprised.
"I'm sorry?" He gave me another one of his big, dumb-guy looks and a shrug.
"Cyberware," I supplied, with an arched eyebrow. What cop didn't know "enhanced"? Christ, half the guys on the force were ex-military, and those that weren't got special modifications under the table, or, at the very least, wore exoskeletons. With all the rogue wireheads out there, a cop couldn't be too careful. He still stared quizzically, so I added. "Your little dance around the table. The fight nearly broke the sound barrier. Impressive."
"Right," he said, as if reminding himself. "I wonder if that was a mistake."
I waved my hand to dismiss the idea. Then, I smoothly turned my momentum into a rude gesture as the woman in front of me hit the brakes for no apparent reason. I laid on the horn and repeated the gesture. I had to raise my voice to be heard over the responding traffic noise. "Don't worry about it. Almost everyone has some
enhancement these days. It's not the sore thumb it used to be right after the war. So, what branch were you in?"
"Huh?"
Cute, I thought sadly, but not very on the ball.
"You and Morningstar served in something together, I'm figuring the last big one ... although you don't really look old enough. Anyway, he called you Captain. You're a lieutenant in the force, so you must've been a captain somewhere else. So, which branch of the military?"
"Army." He smoothed down the material in his jeans. It was the first time since he walked into my office this morning that he had answered my question directly. Fifteen years on the force taught me a lot about human nature, and it disturbed me that Michael chose this moment not to meet my eyes. Besides, Morningstar's references to "your boss" made me wonder if the title "captain" wasn't actually meant to imply capo. Still, for the moment, I let this lie ride.
"Yeah?" I continued to make polite conversation. "Did you see any action?"
He glanced up at me and gave me a weary smile. "Yeah. I suppose I did."
"Really?" I did some mental calculations, and gave him an appraising look. "I suppose you could have been a young man, say twenty or so, that would only make you in your forties."
He shook his head as if to tell me I'd asked him enough personal questions. The traffic was ridiculous, and I decided to get us out of this mess. I spotted a down exit moving at a quicker rate. In a second, I had us down on the sixth level and moving swiftly.