Code of Ethics: Part 03.
Outside he paused for a moment, then got into the spinner.
"Where to now?" asked Fiedler.
" Back to headquarters I guess. I've got a bunch of material to go through and the boss man will no doubt want to know what this month's stats are going to look like." Jacobsen thumped the disk in its protective case against his open palm. He had a cubicle in the squad's offices and that was as good a place as any to go through the material Tacarrin had given him. As the Spinner rose on a column of smoke, the rhythmic tapping of the CD was the only noise to be heard inside.
Fiedler glanced over at Chris Jacobsen out of the corner of his eye and shook his head ever so slightly, There was something serious on the mind of the young detective beside him and that wasn't good. The job could be like that but you had to know how to keep it in check. He'd learned that lesson early, very early. Clearly the kid needed a quiet word over a strong drink. Clearly though, Chuck Fiedler wasn't the guy to do it. No, those days had passed long ago. On countless nights he'd raced after phantom suspects through the streets and alleys of the city. Never rising above the rank of Lead Officer, he had served as one of the many peacekeepers in a city that on so many occasions had so desperately needed them. He knew the look that filled Jacobsen's features. He's had it pasted across his own face many times.
Until he had called a halt to it all.
Not that he had stopped caring. No, not at all. It was just his way of dealing with it. I mean, everyone had a way of dealing with it. You either figured it out or got out. He'd seen plenty of that. King with his clowning around. Ponce with her chain smoking. Even Holden with his classical music that he sometimes insisted on playing while on the way to a call.
Fiedler had been on the job nearly 25 years now and his career was in the sweetness of twilight. No, now his days were filled with administrative tasks and the occasional chauffeuring of a detective to or from a crime scene. In another year, he'd been done with even that. He didn't know what would happen after that, only that his own coping mechanisms would no longer have to kick in several times a day. Either way, it was definitely time to hand the city over to the new generation.
It was the sound of his neighbor's door that woke Jacobsen from a fitful slumber on his couch. How long had he been asleep? The dull ache in his head answered the question for him. Not long enough.
As he sat up, a small stack of paper slipped off its resting place on his stomach.
" Oh, shit." he breathed.
He'd stayed in the office long enough to study the dossier on Katja and run some security camera screen captures through the Esper. It had been a frustratingly meticulous process and he'd eventually adjourned to his apartment for what little more he could handle.
Chris picked up Katja's incept photo and stared at it. She stared back at him with bright blue eyes and dark hair that set off her pale complexion. She'd only been on the streets for a little over a year but had racked up an impressive record in the employ of Tacarrin. Almost all of his production records had been broken under her keen eye and by all accounts her human and Replicant co-workers loved her.
He dropped the photo and looked at a screen capture photo taken only 4 days ago. He looked past the dirt and grime on her hands and face, past the bright blue eyes, to the expression on her face. Frustration, anger, fear and perhaps even pride. All mixed together in a bizarre mosaic on her dirty and attractive face.
" Damn goat rodeo." he said to himself as he stood to make his way to the bathroom for a shower and shave.
The VidPhone was ringing as Jacobsen stepped out of the shower and he stood there for a moment trying to decide if he actually wanted to be bothered with it or not. Whether it was duty or guilt, he couldn't make up his mind and gave in. "Pick up."
" Detective Jacobsen?" Said the caller. He was a middle-aged man with close cropped grey hair and Sergeant's stripes on his assault team vest. Chris's insides sank.
" That's me." He replied. " What's the buzz Sergeant?"
" The name's Kipling. Assault Team 3. We're down here in the fifth sector getting ready to serve a search warrant on some suspected black marketers. We were ready to make our move when surveillance showed a face we didn't recognize. We cross checked it against the computer and came up with your APB. I believe you have eminent domain."
Jacobsen let the words sink in. Clearly, the Sergeant wasn't happy with having his operation held up by the departmental directive to yield to a Blade Runner at the first sign of a Replicant. " Fair enough Sarge. I'll be there in twenty minutes."
The Sergeant shook his head. " Fifteen minutes, son. I've got a spinner en route to pick you up code 3. Don't keep the officer or me waiting." The vid screen clicked off.