For every man there is a moment when he stops trying to be something and he becomes… Gregson looked at his degrees on the wall, at the golf trophies, at all the evidence that pointed to who he thought he was when he was younger. He remembered the giant leap he took, when he became a man. It was when he solved the mystery of himself. Now he had the feeling that he was about to figure out what was wrong with Chessfield. The evidence frightened him, but he had to follow it; he could not ignore the truth.
Tony was face-planted into his synthetic couch and Gregson poked him with a golf club. “Get up, we’ve got to dig up my ex-partner.”
“What day is it?” Tony asked.
“The day of reckoning.”
“I got to get back to my security job.”
“You’re not a security guard, Tony; you’re something more.”
“How do you know?”
“You’ve made it this far…”
“Gregson, I’m no use, I’m not even awake.”
“I’ll buy you a coffee; I still owe you that.”
“I don’t think that will work.”
“It’s a special coffee, Martha’s Meth Coffee; I don’t know what she puts into it, but it has an extra kick.”
The streets were deserted. It was 3 AM. The rules of the road were asking to be tested. Gregson knew he was recycling his cars faster than a used car lot, but he couldn’t be worried about that now. It was his 1970s forest green Porsche 911.
“Give the red-light camera your middle finger,” Gregson said. “I have contacts in the police force.” His mechanical gears shifted and soon Martha took their order in nothing but a pink apron. Gregson smiled.
“This will wake you up in the morning boys,” she said.
Gregson shifted his stick and they drove off.