AndroDigm Park 2067 Read online

  CONTENTS

  Title

  Copyright

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  About the author

  AndroDigm Park 2067

  JMJ Williamson

  Kindle Edition

  Copyright © 2018 by JMJ Williamson

  All rights reserved. With the exception of excerpts for review purposes, no part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage or retrieval system, without the express consent of the author or publisher, except where permitted by law.

  This novel is a work of fiction. All names, characters places and incidents depicted in it are purely the result of the author’s imagination, or, if real, are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to real people or incidents is purely coincidental.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Shelby stood outside the nightclub, Lucifer's Pleasure Cave, with a group of revellers waiting to enter the club. But unlike them, he wasn’t there for the fun; he was there to bring a cold-blooded killer to justice. The grisly image of a young girl’s mutilated body lying on a morgue gurney was still fresh in his mind. The man responsible was the son of Franco Morelli, the head of the Morelli crime family and owner of the club. The odds of coming out alive were stacked heavily against him. But he didn’t care. Morelli’s son had to pay for his actions.

  First, he needed to get past the two bouncers protecting the entrance to the club. To most of the club’s patrons, the bouncers appeared human. But Shelby knew they were second generation androids: almost perfect human replicas. Only subtle differences in their body language and eye movements gave them away.

  Shelby released the safety on the handgun inside his coat pocket. He had no membership card, and if the androids tried to stop him, he would have to eliminate them. But that would make his mission more difficult.

  At that moment, a group of old-aged protesters came into his view led by a young woman dressed as a harlequin jester. She carried a placard, ‘Remember Sodom and Gomorrah - Genesis 19’.

  “Fornicators and tarts,” yelled one old lady. “Go to Hell, where you belong.” Despite their age, the protestors seemed fearless in denouncing the young hedonists.

  “Screw you grannies,” came the reply, followed by a barrage of insults and profanities. The two androids appeared confused. As they tried to shoo-off the protestors, Shelby made his move, slipping through the door and into the night club.

  Inside the club, Shelby found more androids. A naked four-foot red female demon, with wings, a tail and green cat-like eyes stood in front of him.

  “Male changing room and body art next to the red demon,” she said, pointing to the left where a seven-foot naked red demon stood. Shelby smiled with amusement at the demon’s horse-sized genitalia. The android manufacturers must have had a sense of humour when designing him. But what shocked Shelby most was the demon’s eyes. Unlike the bouncers outside the club, its eyes looked menacingly human. Must be third generation, thought Shelby. There were rumours the cyber industry was working on a new generation of androids. But this was the first one he had seen.

  The red female demon handed him a black plastic bag, cape and mask. “Hand in your clothes in the bag at the male reception, and they will supply you with any costume accessories you need.”

  Across the area stood another android: a six-foot naked medusa. Her body was covered in body paint of swirling red and black flames. Like the demon, her eyes looked human. Shelby must have been staring at her because she blew him a seductive kiss. Except for the hissing snakes in her hair she was indistinguishable from any human female. He smiled back. Somehow it helped to release the tension knotting in his gut.

  From behind the medusa, three young women emerged from the female changing rooms, dressed in their red capes and masks. As they moved across the foyer their capes flared open displaying their beautiful naked bodies. They too, like the medusa, were covered in intricate patterns of body paint artwork and stick-on gems. Nudity and body art had become the latest fad in the new generation of hedonistic night clubs. The celebrities they attracted would often pay a fortune for the artwork on their bodies.

  Shelby slipped into the male changing room and in the semi darkness swapped his trench coat for the cape and mask. Underneath the cape he retained his black military-grade armour suit. Provided he kept away from the security cameras, the cape should be sufficient disguise in the poorly lit club. Shelby left the changing room and walked into the club.

  Inside, the floor and walls glowed a dark eerie green. As his eyes adjusted to the light, he saw a sea of red and black capes and naked flesh ahead of him pulsating to the hypnotic beat of modern music. The warm, humid air smelt of jasmine — a sign that the air was laced with Eros, an artificial pheromone designed to arouse the revellers into a playful mood. A green mist covered the floor — more evidence of the pheromone. Overhead, inside cages suspended from the ceiling, naked winged sirens gyrated to the beat of the music. Erotic images of couples’ sex play flashed onto a large screen behind the disc jockey, fed from cameras hidden in the darkened side alcoves. The jester was right. This was a modern-day Sodom and Gomorrah. Patrons could do whatever they liked. The only rule was that it had to be consensual.

  Shelby pushed his way through the sweaty bodies to the reach the bar. Along the way a stick-on star attached itself to his cape. He pulled it off and placed it on the bar.

  A barmaid asked him what he wanted to drink. She wore a scarlet top and matching skin-tight shorts both with a gold ‘LPC’ monogram, and a wide spiky leather choker around her neck with the name, ‘Scar’, engraved on it. Her long red hair matched the colour of her uniform. She looked human, but could he tell the difference anymore?

  “Can I get you a drink?”

  “Scar? That’s a strange name,” he said.

  “It’s Scarlet… management shortened it to fit the choker.”

  “So Scarlet… Where’s Vincent Morelli?”

  She smiled at him. “I serve drinks,” she replied. “I’m not Mr. Morelli’s receptionist.”

  “Scotch then.”

  She poured him a drink from a bottle. “Aren't you a little overdressed?” she said.

  “I didn’t have time to change. I was in a rush.” He eyed her up and down. “Anyway, how come you’re not in your birthday suit?”

  It brought a smile from her. “I’m the barmaid, not part of the floorshow.”

  “You’re not an android?”

  She laughed and shook her head. “Are you kidding? They’re far too expensive to use for keeping the bar. They’re for display… and if you’ve got the money, sex.”

  “But they look so real.”

  “They’re too perfect. That’s how you tell the difference. They don’t make flat-chested androids, like me.”

  Shelby glanced her red skin tight top. Her breasts were petite, but far from being flat-che
sted. Maybe she suffered from an inferiority complex. He needed to gain her trust to find out Morelli’s location. Perhaps he could use his charm.

  “When do you finish tonight?” He knocked back the Scotch.

  She smiled. “Are you looking for joy?”

  He smiled back. ‘Joy’ was modern speak for ‘sex’ and she seemed interested. Maybe he could talk her into telling him where Morelli was hiding. “Who doesn't want a little joy?”

  “Then look around you. There’s plenty of single girls to choose from.”

  Shelby glanced around. The female members of the club outnumbered the male members by at least six to one. It didn’t surprise him. The cost of male membership was a staggering 10,000 credits per annum while membership for single female members was free provided they met the club’s high standards of presentation. Several unattached women around the bar were already eyeing him up. They were stunningly attractive.

  “But I like you. What time do you get off?”

  She shook her head. “You’ll be waiting a long time. I’ve got another four hours on shift.”

  She leant over the bar and pointed to the cage above them containing a white android with wings and a black demon. “If you’re looking for joy, why not try something different? For 5,000 credits, you can screw the angel for the rest of the night. Or what about the demon? She’s only 4,000 credits. I'm told by my male friends they're very versatile and feel better than the real thing.”

  “There’s the problem. I don’t have 4,000 credits. At least not until Morelli pays for the job I did for him.”

  “There are plenty of girls around the bar I’m sure would be interested for free.”

  “I like you, not them.”

  “You’re persistent aren’t you. What makes you think I’m the kind of girl to have joy with a stranger?”

  “We’re not strangers. You’re my barmaid. That means we have a special bond.”

  She rolled her eyes and took a deep breath. “That must be the corniest pickup line I’ve ever heard.”

  “Look, I just want a chance to get to know you. No pressure: a drink, a dance and have some fun.”

  She looked at him and sighed. “No joy. You do know what type of club this is, don’t you?”

  He nodded.

  She sighed. “Okay, I can take an hour’s break in about ten minute’s time.”

  He smiled at her. “Great, I can wait ten minutes.”

  She glanced at a couple dancing together who were getting over amorous. “I’ll book a side booth. I’m not an exhibitionist.”

  “Fine. How much?”

  Her mouth dropped. “Hey, I’m not a prostitute.”

  “I meant for the booth?”

  “They’re free for staff. A perk of the job.”

  “Great… Ten minutes.” He smiled. “Can’t wait. Now if I could only find Morelli.”

  She glanced around her, and then nodded towards a door, with the word ‘Management’ on it.

  “He’s there?”

  She screwed up her nose and nodded again.

  “Thanks. See you in ten minutes.”

  Shelby crossed the floor, drew his gun and badge, and entered the room.

  “Special Marshal… Morelli, you’re under arrest.”

  Inside, a young black girl was kneeling on the floor in front of a big white man sitting in a chair with his trousers down around his ankles.

  “Wait. I’m not finished,” the man yelled.

  “Morelli, get your hands up where I can see them.”

  Morelli pushed the girl away. “Tina, go back to the bar.”

  The girl stood up, wiped her mouth with her hand and left the room.

  “Can I at least put my pecker away?” said Morelli, pulling his trousers up. “Now what do you really want? Or should I say, how much do you want?”

  “You’re under arrest.”

  “Are you crazy? You’ll never get out alive. I’ve got men everywhere.”

  Shelby tossed him an ankle bracelet. “Put it on.”

  Morelli looked at the bracelet. “This is for mortuary collection.” His face went ashen. “You’re going to kill me?”

  “You either come with me, or you go out in a bag.”

  “A million credits?”

  “Wrong answer.”

  “What are you arresting me for?”

  “The rape and murder of Christie Sanders.”

  “That little tart. She was a tease.”

  “She was fourteen years old.”

  “She knew what she was doing.”

  “I saw what you did to her.”

  “So I had a little fun first. No one disrespects the Morelli family.”

  Morelli tried to grab a gun from his desk.

  Shelby fired twice. The first shot created a hole in the centre of the Morelli’s forehead and splattered the wall behind him blood red; the second penetrated the centre of his chest. The kill was instinctive, learned from what seemed like a lifetime ago when he was in Special Forces.

  Shelby let out a deep sigh. Morelli was a suspect in a dozen murders. But most were other mobsters and Shelby didn’t care about them. The latest victim, however, was an innocent girl. She didn’t deserve to die to satisfy Morelli’s twisted ego.

  Ninety-five per cent of Shelby’s arrests ended this way: a reflection on the type of criminals the Justice Department gave him to hunt down. The video cam in his gun would show that Morelli had gone for his gun and resisted arrest. They nearly always did. Better to die resisting arrest than face the justice system that meant an inevitable conviction and capital punishment.

  Shelby tagged Morelli’s leg with the anklet: a GPS device linked to the local police department. He activated it. There was nothing more he could do until the local police arrived to bag the body, so he returned to the bar.

  “Another Scotch,” he said to the barmaid.

  The barmaid was open mouthed. “Tina said you killed Vincent Morelli. Shit… You know he’s Family?”

  “Not mine, he’s not.”

  “You know you won’t get out of here alive.”

  Maybe she was right. But Shelby never dwelt on the odds of success. He worked best under pressure.

  Three tiny red dots from lasers appeared on the barmaid’s chest. Shelby realised what they were. He had to move quickly. He launched his body over the bar and landed on top of her. But not before two bullets punched him in the back. The body armour under his coat took the brunt of the impact, but it still hurt like hell. He rolled off the confused barmaid.

  “Is there another way out?” he asked.

  She got up onto her hands and knees. “The barrel room. It’s this way.”

  She crawled over to a trap door and lifted it to reveal a ladder down to the floor below. Shelby climbed down and she followed him.

  The room was ice cold.

  “So how do we get out of here?” he said.

  She retrieved a raincoat hanging on a peg, a pair of boots, and a handbag.

  “Please take me with you,” she said. “I’ll do anything you want. Just get me out of here.”

  “You’ll be safer here.”

  “They’ll kill me for helping you.”

  She was right. Franco Morelli was not the forgiving kind. “Okay, you can come along. Where’s the way out of here?”

  “There’s an elevator.”

  Shelby looked around the room. It was full of barrels. Some sat in cradles to service the pumps above; others were stacked around the room. Then he noticed the elevator.

  “Where does it go to?” he said.

  “To the sub-basement level. But it’s too slow. By the time we got there, Morelli’s men would be waiting for us.”

  “How far up does it go?”

  “The penthouse. I think?”

  Shelby clicked on his communicator switch on his chest armour. “Jess — the roof in five minutes.”

  While Shelby had been using his communicator, the barmaid had put on the raincoat and boots. Shelby grabbed her arm,
pulled her into the service lift, and pressed the button for the top floor.

  The elevator rose. It seemed to take forever. Finally, it clunked to a halt, and the doors opened. Two android guards stood in front of the door to the penthouse. Shelby fired twice, and the androids collapsed. He had no idea who the androids belonged to, and no time to waste finding out. The Justice Department would compensate the owner for any ‘destruction of property’ during a marshal’s arrest.

  Shelby crashed through the penthouse door. No one was inside. He found a spiral staircase and raced up the stairs. He reached the roof just as a heli-car was landing, piloted by the harlequin jester. Shelby covered his eyes with his arm to protect them from the downdraft from the heli-car’s four powerful jet rotors.

  “Right on time,” said Shelby, climbing into the heli-car.

  “What about me?” said the barmaid.

  Shelby looked at her. He wanted to leave her behind, but his conscience said otherwise. They would torture her and kill her for helping him. He turned towards her and held out his hand. She grabbed it and he pulled her on-board.

  She smiled at him. “I’m Scarlet… Scarlet Chambers. Never call me Scar. I hate the nickname.”

  “Shelby… I don’t do first names. This is Jess. She’s mute.”

  Jess turned and smiled at Scarlet.

  “Where do you want to go?” said Shelby.

  “I can’t stay here. I need to get out of the City.”

  “Where we’re going, there are no facilities for guests. You’d be better here. Do you have any family or friends where you could stay?”

  “No. Angel City is a better bet.”

  “We’re not going there.”

  She sighed. “Then anywhere but here will do.”

  Jess pulled into an air lane of traffic winding through the City skyscrapers with their huge electronic billboards. The first billboard they flew past displayed a huge image of a male and females genitals simulating the sex act. It was advertising Libido: a female sex drug that heightened female arousal. The next billboard advertised King Karma and his message of free love. 2067 was the centenary year for the ‘Summer of Love’ when 100,000 hippies descended on San Francisco, and the sex industry was making the most of it.