Blood Ties

by Robert J. Crane

  Veronika shook her head. “Yeah, it’s over. At least for now.” She forced a smile. “Looks like you win the day, Nealon. Try not to party too hard about it.”

  Berniece headed back for the limo, Chase at her side, leaving Veronika out at the perimeter. Nealon stood at her distance for a moment, then took a couple careful, edging steps closer, nodding to Veronika to do the same.

  Chewing her lip for a second, Veronika decided, yeah, all right, why not? And met Nealon about halfway between where they’d started.

  “What?” Veronika asked, meta-low so only the two of them could hear the conversation.

  “You mad, bro?” Nealon asked.

  “Me? I’m fine with you, and also not your ‘bro,’” Veronika said. “Your actual bro, I am a little miffed with.”

  Sienna shrugged. “He was going broke, Veronika. What did you expect him to do? Keep paying you your immense fees until he went bankrupt? Because that would only be postponing your current problems.”

  Veronika pursed her lips. “Whatever. I got a better-paying job anyway.”

  Nealon had one of those ghostly, barely-there smiles. “If I didn’t know better, I’d swear you got a taste for doing things righteously while you were working for us.”

  Veronika rolled her eyes. “Do-gooding didn’t pay the bills until you and your brother came along. Now it’s back to not paying them anymore. I still have bills. Still have a mother with a very costly ailment called ‘dying slowly’ that needs to be paid for, so if you’re not going to pay for it, Nealon—” she threw her arms wide “—I’ll find someone like Berniece who will.”

  “I know,” Nealon said, softly. “I don’t begrudge you that, Veronika. Just wish it wasn’t that way. I always liked working with you.”

  Veronika paused, a little taken aback. “I liked working with you, too, Nealon. Doubt it’ll happen again while you’re with the Federal Bureau of Whiteknight-ery, though. They really can’t afford me, even if they could stoop to associate with a lowlife like me.”

  “I am where I am,” she said. “At least for now. I hope we don’t cross paths like this again while I’m with the bureau, though. I don’t want to clash with you, Veronika.”

  Veronika smiled. “I wouldn’t want to clash with me, either. I’m kind of a badass. It’s why I charge so much.”

  Nealon grinned, a rare sight from her. “You really are, Acheron. By the by...you know the etymology of your name?”

  Veronika frowned. “Yeah, it’s Greek. A river in Greece. ‘River of woe.’”

  “Ancient myth has it as a river of Hades,” Nealon said, smiling slightly. “By coincidence, I know a guy by that name.”

  Veronika’s smile vanished. “Yeah, so does the world. What’s your point?”

  “The rivers of Hades? Were the names of his kids,” Nealon said, winking. “So...see ya later—bro.”

  Veronika just stood there, frowning. “It’d be ‘sis’ then, thanks. Or ‘cousin,’ actually. And don’t go expecting any family discounts, if that’s what you’re playing for, Nealon. Because that’s not happening.”

  Nealon just waved as she walked away, leaving Veronika frowning.

  Whatever. Nealon was a pain in the ass.

  But at least that might explain why, of all the people in the world, Nealon was her kind of pain in the ass.

  111.

  Sienna

  My new phone buzzed in my pocket as I left Veronika behind. Checking the caller ID, I answered immediately, with a wary tone. “Hello?”

  “Nealon...?” Heather Chalke’s tight voice greeted me at the other end.

  “Yeah, boss,” I said, figuring I’d throw in that sop right at the front.

  She only paused a second, probably taking that onboard. “This Grendel problem is dealt with?”

  “It’s taken care of,” I said. “You want me to officially fire Friday now that it’s done? Since he ran beforehand.”

  I could hear her contemplating. “I thought he was fired before?”

  “No, he ran off before we officially could,” I said. “Which is good, because he kinda saved the day here. But he can be fired now, if you’d like. And I’ll get a statement of apology from him beforehand.”

  Chalke was quiet for a moment, and the wind whipped around me. “Yes. I want the apology in writing, then we fire him and announce it to the press that it’s because of what he posted.”

  “Perfect,” I said, looking over at Friday. He was standing alone. The local agents done taking his statement, he was now leaning against a car. “The bureau gets to save its reputation, and the other problem is...dealt with.” I held my breath a second. “What do you want me to do after that?”

  “Bilson has drafted an apology for you, too,” Chalke said. “Full of mea culpas. You’ll sign it.”

  “I can, if you need me to,” I said, feeling my eye twitch. “But I’m not sure it’s wise for me to admit fault in this when the post doesn’t have me anywhere in it or even tagged in it. Right now we’ve got a bureau contractor who did something dumb, and we’ll get his apology and job for it. You have me sign onto this, unanswered, and suddenly you have a high-profile agent in the thick of it.”

  Chalke was quiet for a long moment. “What are you proposing?”

  “Don’t let the bureau take the full hit,” I said. “There’s no reason for us to. Look, I can apologize and disappear if you need me to, but I’m not sure it fixes the problem. I think it makes it worse. We might do better to fight this one out, use the goodwill from my adventures in Revelen and New Orleans and have Bilson and his team push the real circumstances out to sympathetic outlets. It’s a firestorm, but I think you feed it if you make me apologize for something I didn’t do. These internet mobs smell weakness. This is blood in the water to them.”

  Chalke paused, quiet, thinking about it. “Request denied. You sign the apology. Understood?”

  I ground my teeth together, but said nothing for a long moment. This was probably a test. “Understood,” I said, swallowing my pride along with a metric ton of obscenities. “I’ll wrap up here and be back in New York ASAP. I can stop by the office and sign it as soon as I get there.”

  “Good,” Chalke said, and boy, did she sound pleased as punch. “Safe travels.”

  Not so much as an attagirl for finishing the Grendel situation. That left me sitting there in the cool wind, staring at my phone, and cursing the fact that I was going to have to say sorry for something I didn’t even do.

  But that was the price of admission to this job, and I’d long ago reconciled myself to the fact that I was going to have to do some things I really didn’t want to if I wanted to keep working for the FBI.

  112.

  “Friday,” I said, walking up to him where he leaned against a cop car, eyes blinking under the assault of the flashing red and blue lights, “you’re fired from the FBI.”

  “Oh,” he said, then nodded. “Okay. Kinda saw that coming. Nice to know it’s over, I guess.” He lowered his voice as I came to lean next to him. “What about you? Are you going to be okay? After this, I mean?”

  “I have to sign an apology,” I said.

  “That is bullshit,” he said, suddenly hot under the collar. “You didn’t have anything to do with what I said—”

  I waved him off. “It’s fine. I can apologize for something I didn’t do and don’t even believe. It’s just words.”

  Friday traced his gaze over to where Veronika still stood, watching us. He waved, and after a moment’s pause, she waved back. “She doesn’t seem too upset with me.”

  “Pretty sure she spared your life earlier,” I said. “As if you needed more proof you were wrong about the ‘angry lesbian’ thing.”

  I swear he blushed under the mask. “I’m never going to live that down, am I?”

  “Online? Probably not,” I said, glancing over at him. “What name did you post that drivel under, anyway?”

  He had to think about it for a minute. “Oh. Uh...Christopher Wallis.”

>   “Notorious B.I.G.” I chuckled, then bent double as I broke into laughter. “That was going to be your stage name when you released your first album?”

  He sort of sat there for a moment, thinking. “I might have come up with it when I was swole. A little ill-considered, you think?”

  “Oh, I don’t know. Depends on if you wanted to get confused with the real Biggie.”

  He adopted a pained look. “Yeah. Maybe I should come up with something different.”

  “I’d stay away from any established big names,” I said. “Also?” I nodded at his face. “Quick way to leave this controversy behind? Chuck the mask.” He cocked his head at me. “No one actually knows what you look like under it. So long as you’re willing to forego releasing the creative masterwork that is Droppin’ Deuces, you could walk away from this whole Friday persona and start afresh.” I looked around at the mess, then thought of the online one that he’d made. “All of this, left behind. Along with the mask.”

  He felt up to his face, fingers running over the soft fabric. “I kind of liked being Friday. Even before I knew we were related, for some reason I kept that name. Maybe because you gave it to me.”

  “I was mocking you,” I said.

  “Yeah, but I stole or made up dozens of names to go by in my life,” he said. “Until I met you, no one cared enough one way or another to give me one of my own. Whatever you meant by it—” he bowed his head “—at least you were paying attention to me.”

  My heart. It hurt. “I’m paying attention to you now,” I said, putting a hand on his skinny forearm. “And I think ‘Guy Friday’ is a lame name for such a cool and unique guy, whose heart is bigger than his muscles, even when completely swole.”

  He raised his head. “You think...like, ‘Bigheart’ as a name would fly?”

  “I don’t think that’d play well in your rap/hip-hop genre,” I said. “How about you go up a couple sizes while on stage—nothing too huge, you understand—and call yourself ‘Swole H’?”

  His eyes went wide and he blinked at me. “‘Swole H’? I love it! That’s totally kittens. I’m going with it.”

  “Cool,” I said, unable to keep from smiling. “I hope next time we meet, I’ll be seeing you on the stage.”

  He picked me up in a hug, skinny arms around me, squeezing me tight. “I hope I see you before that.”

  I couldn’t help but smile, but it turned wistful fast because I knew it wasn’t happening. “We’ll see,” I lied. “We’ll have to wait and see.”

  113.

  “It seems like you’ve wrapped most everything up in a neat little package,” Mendelsohn said as I made my way back over to him. My Uber was coming, supposed to meet me just outside the crime scene perimeter in about ten minutes. SFPD and the local FBI had cleared me to leave, and I was booked on a flight that was departing in a little over two hours.

  “Yeah,” I said, “not sure how neat this was.” My eyes fell to the corpse of Grendel, stretched out under a yellow-stained sheet. “To my mind, this was messy from start to finish.”

  “There are a few loose ends, I suppose,” Mendelsohn said, frowning. “It’s going to drive me nuts that Grendel’s backer got away with it. And I’m still curious about whatever he tried to steal from Socialite’s R&D.”

  “Me too.” I nodded. “Sometimes justice doesn’t take the turn we want it to. But if there’s one thing I’ve learned over time? These behind-the-scenes villains tend to out themselves eventually. They can’t keep themselves out of trouble.”

  Mendelsohn nodded. “I suppose you would know. Still...thank you for this odyssey into a very different world than I’ve previously explored. It was a fascinating journey.”

  “I’m glad you came along for the ride, Mendelsohn,” I said, unable to keep from smiling. I really did like him and the way he thought. His relentless positivity was a nice break from dour and sour FBI agents. “And tell your boss I’m sorry for coming at him hard. The justice he was looking for did happen. Not sure he’ll believe it, but...tell him for me?”

  “I will do so,” he said, and then he looked around for a second and stepped closer. “Would you mind if I kept in touch? Maybe ‘pen pal’ with you or something?”

  I felt a little flummoxed. “Uh, sure. Why me, though?”

  “I don’t think I’ve made much secret of the fact that your manner of thought intrigues me,” Mendelsohn said. “I fancy myself a sort of amateur intellectual, and I’m always looking to talk to other people who find policy and thought as interesting as I do. I have an email list of people who are expert in their various fields, and we kick around ideas and concepts and plans and whatnot—purely hobbyist stuff. But...you might find it interesting, given your love of reading outside your field.”

  A warm flush crept up my cheeks. “I mean I’d be honored, but I’m not sure I would fit in well in such august company—”

  “You’d fit in just fine,” Mendelsohn said, so soft and reassuring.

  “I’d like that,” I said, trying to keep from blushing further. “Thank you.”

  I turned to go, but Mendelsohn called after me a little before the perimeter.

  “Oh, and Sienna?”

  I turned to look back at him.

  “Whatever you’re going to go through when you get back?” Mendelsohn tried to smile. “Remember it’s all temporary. You’ll get through it.”

  I gave him a nod. “Good advice,” I called back. “I’ll keep it in mind.”

  And I would. Because I already did keep in mind that all this bullshit I was going through with the FBI was temporary.

  Every single day.

  114.

  Jaime Chapman

  The sofa in his Mountain View mansion was nice and soft. Night had fallen outside the expansive windows, but the glow of his phone in his hands gave him some light to see by. Besides, his eyes were totally focused on the screen and the Escapade app. In its chatbox, a conversation was unfolding, as always.

  CHALKE: So she solved your Grendel problem, but she made a mess for the bureau. Nothing we can’t handle with Bilson’s help—and hopefully yours, too, Johannsen and Kory, but still...unnecessary.

  KORY: I have to ask, given all that’s happened—is Nealon really worth the headaches? First she ends up inadvertently taking down Governor Warrington, who she was supposed to protect. Now she’s put a cloud over herself and the Inquest founders. I mean, weren’t we looking at having them join us?

  BILSON: Yes and yes. Would prefer not to send them an invite right now, given their proximity to this mess and...other stuff swirling around.

  Jaime just blinked his bleary eyes at the screen. This was his domain; might as well put an explainer out there.

  CHAPMAN: There’s definitely a cloud hanging over the Inquest crew in Silicon Valley at the moment. That’s not just Nealon, though. There have been rumors they cheated their way to greater influence through traffic assignments for quite a while. She plus this Grendel villain might have helped air it out a little more, but it was already present before she magnified it. Really, you might want to thank her for doing you a favor.

  A pause as Chalke considered.

  CHALKE: How so?

  Chapman smiled. This really was his bag.

  CHAPMAN: I had some of my engineers look into what Inquest has been doing. It’s not an exact science, but they think roughly 50% +/- 10% of Inquest’s web traffic comes illegitimately. If the Inquest numbers were inflated by that much offsite business, their ability to influence is nowhere near what you might have hoped. As near as my engineers could tell with their back of the envelope math, Inquest is fifth in search volume by real numbers.

  And actually puts my own search engine back at number two in the world, he didn’t say. That would be tooting his own horn, and obviously.

  BILSON: So they’re really not that impressive after all. Disappointing.

  FLANAGAN: Definitely not worthy of inclusion in this circle.

  JOHANNSEN: Damn. We’ve been promoting their
success in our pages for quite some time. Ran an editorial not that long ago heralding them as the NEW POWER DUO OF SILICON VALLEY. Sanitizing that mess from our archives will take some time.

  KORY: Same. We might want to get a jump on it, though. When this comes out—and it sounds like it will—personally I don’t want to look stupid in front of the whole damned world. Dunno about you, Morris, but I’m going to start sneaking a couple of knowing jabs at them into articles these next few weeks so we can point back to them when this blows big and show that we knew in advance.

  Chapman let out a chuckle at the intellectual vanity of the two press hounds, both old and new school. God forbid they should be forced to admit their error. They’d rather people think they were hiding or soft-playing the truth than that they were caught up in a lie like everyone else.

  CHAPMAN: So where does this leave us with Nealon? Because I was not a huge fan when I met her. Seems like she’s on a very light leash.

  CHALKE: She was this time, by necessity. Gondry got involved, gave her too much rope that she didn’t have the grace to hang herself with. Honestly, he’s the monkey in the gears of all this. We might not have been able to get her to die during the Revelen debacle, but putting her to work for the government wouldn’t have been my first choice.

  BILSON: We all knew Gondry was like a teenager in that regard, and we work around it. Yesterday he hated her, today he loves her. Tomorrow maybe he’ll hate her again. Whatever the case, just work with the President to keep him happy so we can keep exercising our influence. To my way of thinking, Nealon’s a useful tool and the blowback has been minimal. Yes, the Warrington thing sucks, because he was a good party member with a bright future who was doing good things at a local level, but he was hardly indispensable. And her bringing our attention to the fact that these two Inquest clowns had climbed to their perches by gaming the system? Kept us from getting into bed with people who really didn’t have the influence we were looking for. So while she’s yet to produce an unalloyed good for us, she’s also not produced an unvarnished defeat. Small incidents, minor losses, some utility. I don’t see a big issue here. Just keep watching her.