Insight

by Teyla Branton

  Reese wasn’t amused. Instead, she felt a sliver of sorrow for the man. But whatever he was hiding was big, and she couldn’t let it go. She was debating the likelihood of getting anything more from him when he gulped and stood up, nearly knocking his chair over. Neil and Mack took a step forward, weapons aimed purposefully at his heart.

  “Sit down,” Reese growled at Cruz, hoping he wasn’t planning on getting himself killed. Because the wild glint in his eyes told her he was beyond caution. He probably didn’t even hear her order.

  “Stunners only,” she barked at the enforcers. Cuffed as Cruz was, he wasn’t much of a challenge for any of them, and she didn’t want him killed accidentally. Sheepishly, the enforcers drew their stunners instead. At least now they wouldn’t shoot him before she figured out his secret.

  “I did it,” Cruz said into the abrupt silence. “I brought the juke there and met the boy instead of the usual courier. I was going to make him an offer of a promotion. He’s been a good dealer. I’m guilty.” He stared into Reese’s eyes, pleading. “And I want to make amends. Please, I’ll go through reconditioning. I know I was wrong.”

  “Sit down,” Reese repeated. For a moment, Cruz didn’t obey, though it wasn’t from belligerence. It was as if he needed those seconds to process her command, as if the shock to his system had changed him somehow.

  “You know that psychological reconditioning isn’t likely on the table,” she said when he was seated, “not with the charges against you. You’re looking more at medical enhancement or internment at a colony.”

  He grabbed on that. “Yes. I’ll go to a colony and work there. I want to pay for what I’ve done.”

  “For an honest, hard-working husband and father, you certainly seem willing to abandon your wife and child.”

  “Of course I don’t want to leave them!” His features twisted in anguish.

  “Then maybe if you give us this man . . .” She tapped the drawing.

  Cruz shook his head wildly. “I don’t know him! Look, I did it. I’ll tell you everything you want to know. Everything. I’ll give you my distributors. My warehouse. Everything. Send me to a colony if you have to. But I don’t know that man!”

  Cruz was obviously more afraid of the man in the drawing than he was of her or any punishment the CORE could dish out. Instead of arguing, Reese nodded slowly. “I need more details to be sure you’re telling the truth.”

  “It’s juke,” Cruz panted, “but I manufacture it with smeg. It gets people addicted faster.”

  All doubt that he was involved vanished with those details. “All right. I’ll need the names of your dealers and the location of your factory.” She unclipped her iTeev from her uniform sleeve and brought up her notepad, even though the camera would record everything.

  Cruz looked at her blankly, then regained some of his former confidence. “I want an advocate first,” he said.

  The request wasn’t customary, but given that his life was at stake, she supposed she would have to appoint him an advocate to argue in his behalf. He’d already admitted guilt, but he might still wrangle his way out of enhancement or being sent to a colony, though she doubted it. Most advocates were, after all, employed by the CORE, and the Director’s office was never lenient on juke runners. But it meant her job was done, and she was fine handing him over to one of her colleagues. At the moment, she was far more interested in the man from the sketch.

  “Okay.” She motioned to the other enforcers. “Take him back to his cell and notify an advocate.”

  “Wait, can I call my work?” Cruz asked.

  She blinked at him. “Your work, not your wife?”

  He shrugged. “I got people who work under me. They’ll contact her.”

  Reese supposed even a low-level manager at Kordell Corp had a secretary. Something nagged at her mind, and she paused to think about it. The second sketch she’d received from Cruz put the man in her first drawing in a factory surrounded by white-clad people. They could be readymeal packers. Could it have been food-packing paraphernalia and not drug hypos on the tables? She didn’t think so, but she wouldn’t know until she sketched it out and ran it through the Teev database.

  “Notify his office,” she said to the enforcers. “But no details, please. His factory might be on their property.”

  “They’re not involved!” Cruz blurted. “I swear.”

  “Get him out of here.”

  The enforcers grabbed his arms and pushed him from the room. Sweeping up her pad from the table, Reese put it in her bag and hurried after them, keeping a few meters away. She’d learned a lot about control over the past year, and most of the time when she didn’t have a sketchbook in hand, she no longer glimpsed her colleagues’ secrets. But today she was already feeling exhausted and that meant her resistance was low, and she’d rather not catch a glimpse into their personal lives.

  As she entered her office, a tiny room with barely enough space for her desk, the screens on the wall came alive with images—three depicting her upscale apartment and one of the beach. It was so real, sometimes she forgot and tried to walk into her kitchen.

  With an upward motion of her hands, she brought her Teev display to life, hovering over her desk. “Bring up the identification program,” she said.

  The program immediately appeared on the holoscreen. Placing her drawing of the mystery man under it, she directed the Teev to scan. Once it was uploaded to her program, she went to work, using a narrow brush to give the man added dimension and color. When that was complete, she started a search for a human match in the enforcer database.

  While the Teev worked, Reese brought out her personal drawing pad and sketched the other images she’d received from Cruz’s brain. But aside from the apparent factory background and people dressed in white working hard at their stations in the second sketch, there wasn’t anything to identify the place. Even the building that could be seen through the window wasn’t unique. It could have been any of the post-Breakdown buildings in New York. The only suspicious part of the sketch were the very obvious hypos on the workers’ tables.

  The third image, the one of the dead man, was more promising only because the face was clear, even under the blood, which she could easily omit. She should be able to get an ID, though she wouldn’t be able to officially connect it with her case, not unless she interviewed Cruz again and got him to admit he’d seen a dead man. She wasn’t going to hold her breath on that happening.

  She’d uploaded the new drawings to her private database, removed the blood, enhanced the color, and started a search to identify the dead man when the Teev beeped a signal that told her someone was outside her door.

  “Come in,” she said, shutting her sketchpad and giving the Teev a signal to end the holo display over her desk.

  Her partner, Bay Danvers, strode into the room, his bulk making the doorway look small. His wide face was typically flushed with effort, and today was no exception. Despite his sagging paunch, he had strong arms and massive hands that packed a hard punch. He couldn’t run nearly as fast as she could, but what he lacked in that area, he more than made up for in experience. His black uniform fit too tightly, and she wished, not for the first time, that he’d go up a size. It was a pride issue, she guessed. Bay had hit forty recently, which made him ten years older than Reese. As far as partners went, he was the best she’d had.

  “We were right,” he said without preamble. “The others we traced going to that area of the empty zone were all back before Cruz.”

  “I’ve no doubt he’s our man,” Reese said. “He knew the juke was mixed with smeg. Did you hear he asked for an advocate?”

  Bay snorted as he leaned against the wall with her beach scene. It was strange seeing the apparent air hold his weight. “I heard, and he’s already shown up.”

  Reese blinked. “That was fast.”

  “He says he’s been engaged by Kordell Corp. He was apparently on his way before we called.”

  “No way,” Reese muttered. Private advocate
s were customarily used only by Elites or their relatives. “Why would Kordell Corp care that much about him?”

  Bay’s big shoulders lifted in a shrug. “Maybe they’re worried he’s using company property.”

  “Right. They’ll be protecting themselves. It certainly won’t do him any good. He confessed.”

  “I also heard he went back on his identification.”

  “Too late. I’m searching the database.” She grinned at him. “We’re going fishing.”

  He gave a hearty chuckle, and a flash came to her—of Bay on a dock with a fishing pole. There was only one section of ocean that was safe for fishing, and each fish had to be tested for radiation even then, so Reese recognized the dock. She gave an internal sigh. One more sketch she’d have to get out on paper before she’d be able to sleep tonight.

  Bay was about to speak when her Teev beat him to it. “Identification successful,” it chimed.

  Reese lifted her hands to restart the display. There poised above her desk was the man in her first sketch from Cruz. He was Tadum Grogovit, an executive officer and part owner of Kordell Corp.

  She must have gasped because Bay, at an angle to the image, lumbered around the desk to stare at the man. He whistled, his color deepening with excitement. “This is big. I’ve heard they’re connected to the underground.”

  Reese had heard the same thing but had put it down to envy. Now she wasn’t so sure. This man had come to Cruz’s mind when she’d asked about his supplier, and if the KC was involved in drugs, they might be connected to the underground as well.

  “No wonder Cruz reneged on his identification,” Bay said. “This guy has power. He’s one of the few non-Elite who does.”

  “Let’s see where Mr. Grogovit is right now.” Reese brought up her holo keyboard and typed in the request. Implanted CivIDs had been mandatory in Estlantic for five years now, so if Grogovit was close to any camera that connected to the Teev feed, she’d be able to track him.

  The words Current Location Unknown flashed on the screen.

  “Let’s review recordings from earlier.” Bay hunched closer to the holoscreen, as anxious as she was to see the information. “Narrow it around the Kordell corporate office. He’s got to be there.”

  Reese put in the commands. “Looks like he arrived at ten. There’s a record of him entering the parking garage next to the building. He has a personal car that he parks in the section rented out to private citizens. No sign of him leaving, though. The last time he connected to the feed on his iTeev or any other personal device was at four. It’s only five. Most people here might work only six hours a day, but he’s an executive. He’s probably still there.”

  Bay grinned at her. “Let’s go pick him up.”

  “Wait.” Reese pushed the option to send the information to her portable iTeev before sitting back and staring up at her partner. “Let’s think a minute.”

  “Your drawing is enough to bring him in,” Bay said. “Even him. At least for questioning.”

  “I know, but if we don’t find evidence, and Cruz continues to deny the identification, nothing will stick. I want more.”

  Bay laughed. “That’s what my wife always says every time we go see another apartment.”

  After ten years of applications, Bay and his wife had been awarded a birth order last month, and his newly pregnant wife wanted a bigger place for when their baby was born. On another day, Reese would have laughed and teased him about his pending fatherhood, but she was too intent on the juke factory and the dead man in her other sketch. She believed that Grogovit was involved in both, but if they picked him up without more proof, they might never find the factory or proof that he’d killed someone.

  “He’s got a lot of money,” she said. “And knowing he’s the man in the sketch answers why Cruz already has a private advocate here. We need more on this guy.” Reese hated to admit it, but she suspected money and power might elude justice, even in the CORE.

  Bay nodded. “I see what you mean.”

  “If the company is involved, they won’t simply give us what we want. More likely, they’ll give us a fake location or one of their smaller factories to connect with Cruz. I’m thinking maybe Grogovit will get anxious when he hears that Cruz has confessed, and Grogovit will lead us somewhere better.”

  “Sounds like stakeout time to me,” Bay said. “Thank the CORE I don’t have to go see another apartment tonight. I’ll grab some snacks and let my wife know we’re working late. You order the shuttle. Oh, and make sure the Teev notifies us if he leaves his building.”

  Reese motioned the holo keyboard closer to her and began tapping. “Got it. I’ll meet you in the shuttle bay in ten.”

  Chapter 3

  BAY HAD NO sooner left when the Teev finished the second identification. The dead man had been found naked in the river near her division. There had been no arrest and no clues about who had put him there. His name was Dane Crowley.

  Reese felt a catch in her chest at the name. Crowley had been Jaxon’s last name, her best friend from Colony 6. After his mother had died, Jaxon disappeared from the colony, as all orphaned children did. Abandoned by her father, Reese herself ended up on the outside in her great-aunt’s care a short time later. She’d never seen Jaxon or any of the others again.

  After becoming an enforcer, she’d used their database to search his name. Nothing. She’d looked the others up too, but Eagle had gone by a nickname, and she couldn’t remember Dani or the twins’ full names. When she attempted to search Colony 6 school records, her access was denied, and her quest had ended there.

  Or almost. Two years out of the enforcer academy, she’d begun dating a guy in personnel in the hopes of discovering more information. That attempt ended in a nasty breakup when he’d caught her drawing a sketch from his mind. Two days later, she’d been forced into psychiatric care with a doctor that had resulted in months under a microscope.

  If a decade in Colony 6 had taught her anything, it was that you don’t stand out, and you never admit to anything. After three months of regular appointments, the doctor gave her a release. Needless to say, her relationship with the personnel officer didn’t work out, and she’d hidden her ability ever since. She believed in the CORE and its goal, but she’d seen a few innocents suffer over the course of her career, and she wasn’t going to be one of them.

  She hoped her friends had been able to get out of the colony like she had, but she’d come to terms with the fact that maybe she’d never know. This didn’t mean she didn’t have regrets, because she did. Huge ones. A part of the girl she’d been had died with the loss of her crew, and she’d never been able to replace any of them. Bay was the best partner she’d ever had, but he had no clue about growing up in the Coop, and she couldn’t tell him, not in any way that did the experience justice.

  After alerting the shuttle bay that she needed a shuttle instead of her usual scrambler, she sketched the image she’d glimpsed of Bay on the dock in her personal notebook, and then packed both her notebooks into her special bag. Next, she went to her private dressing cubicle in outfitting, where she made sure she had her Enforce nine mil, a backup Enforce .380, a temper laser, a stunner, and extra cartridges. All the weapons were programmed to her fingerprints. She also carried a knife that wasn’t approved by division. Maybe it was her time in the colony, but she was never without it. After tucking all her weapons into the pockets and built-in holsters in her black uniform—or her blues as they were called—she was ready to take on anything.

  Even Kordell Corp? A shiver of unease crawled over her shoulders.

  Yes, even them, she decided. The KC was powerful, but she was an enforcer doing her job, and she had the CORE backing her.

  Pushing aside her misgivings, Reese gave her assault rifle a longing glance before leaving her dressing cubicle. She’d be better off calling for backup, if something like that came into play. Grogovit might have set up a drug-running operation, but guns were harder to get in the underground, and if there was a con
frontation, what she carried should be enough.

  Maybe.

  Tossing her thoughts aside, she hurried to the shuttle bay where a silver, tetrahedron-shaped shuttle with red and black enforcer stripes already awaited. Unlike the public shuttles that were normally a calming blue and always driven by Teev, the enforcer shuttles were faster, the metal tops could fold back inside the rear compartment, and they had optional manual controls.

  Reese kicked at the wheel and shook her head at the attendant. “No, Warren, I said it was for surveillance. We’d be identified in an instant if we showed up in this.”

  Warren ran a hand through his long black hair. “Oh, right. Sorry. I’ll just be a minute.”

  As he lumbered off, Reese gave a longing look at the rows of two-wheeled aerodynamic scramblers which were her normal transportation. Most citizens used the solar sky trains, which was pre-Breakdown tech, but everyone had an allotment of public shuttle rides each month, and enough of the wealthy owned cars as well, so that meant some days there was a lot of traffic in the city. A scrambler could bypass much of that while on patrol. Best of all, the pre-Breakdown tech ran on fuel cells that could be used for a month without refueling. Reese might have grown bored with her job, but she’d never grow bored of riding a scrambler.

  Except today for once she wasn’t bored with her job. This was big. Life-changing maybe. She personally didn’t care about climbing any corporate ladder, and she had no interest in joining the Controller’s Special Forces, but this could be good for Bay and his family.

  Warren returned with a small blue shuttle at the same time Bay appeared, loaded with a huge black duffel, most of which she guessed was stuffed with food. Fifteen minutes later, she and Bay were parked outside the main offices of Kordell Corp.

  They waited. Or rather, Reese did while Bay ate dinner and dessert and a few snacks. Leaving her readymeal untouched on her lap, she removed her iTeev from her sleeve, unfolding the square and extricating the ear supports to put it over her face like glasses, feeling it settle and mold to the curves of her face. She brought up her own holoscreen, one that only she could see unless Bay was wearing his own iTeev and she broadcast what she was doing to him. Which she wouldn’t do. He didn’t know about the second image of Grogovit, and she couldn’t exactly tell him without coming up with a plausible story first. Not for the first time, she wished she’d mastered the iTeev’s more private eye movement navigation, but like most of the CORE residents, she preferred using hand motions or voice commands to interact with the Teev feed.