Amazing.
“I do good work,” Spice said from her position sitting on the small counter top. She was chewing gum and blew bubbles while she watched me.
“You enjoy your meal?” I asked. It was weird, thinking of people as meals, but at the same time, they treated people like cattle. It was some form of irony, I was sure, I just didn’t know what.
“Very much. When can we get some more?” she said with a smile and a lick of her lips. It was weird coming from my little sisters face... or maybe it wasn’t her face? I turned the water off and leaned against the shower and really looked at her.
Sure, she had the same bone structure as Spice, same nose and eyes, but... her eyes didn’t have the spark of life that Sara’s did.
No... it was no more Sara than a picture was her. It was just a simulacrum, an image of her that didn’t exist anywhere but in my mind.
God, I’m tired.
Amelia provided me clean clothes to change into. They were far too stylish for her… they had to belong to Kate, kept on the plane as a backup. A red knit tank top and an above-the-knee skirt, along with a pair of knee high black leather boots. Everything fit well enough that I wondered if Kate had ever modeled. She was certainly pretty enough.
I grabbed my gun holsters and knives and stuck them in a plain black duffel bag then threw it over my shoulder and walked into the cabin.
They were very bad people, Amelia.
“I know Epic, but they were still people—”
The conversation ended as I entered. I had to duck a little to keep from rubbing my dreads on the ceiling; I didn’t mind. I tossed the bag into the window seat and collapsed on the aisle-row chair.
“I could try and justify my actions to you, but in the end, you have your moral code and I have mine. I don’t think we should try to change each other. If this is the end of our working relationship, I understand,” I said, while stifling a yawn. I couldn’t hold it back any longer and put a hand in front of my face.
In this light, Amelia looked a lot like a little girl, barely older than a teenager. Her eyes though, they held intelligence that belied her age.
“No, we still need to find Axiom. Until that is done we have to work together. I like you Madisun, we could be friends. But the way you executed that couple... they had kids,” she said quietly.
“Everyone is someone’s kid,” I said. “Having children isn’t a license to escape the consequences of your actions. Nor is it justification,” I said.
“Maybe...”
I wanted to talk to her longer, but I was so damned tired. I decided it was time to sleep. Amelia would have to accept who I was, or not. I saw myself as a force of nature. Divine retribution. The hand of justice that those scumbags so easily escaped from.
There was no escaping me.
Not ever.
CHAPTER 13
After Amelia kindly dropped me off at my place I crashed on the couch and slept for twelve hours. I dreamed of Spice and the night she died, and of the life she would never have. It hurt my heart.
I awoke to a ringing in my head, my body covered in sweat. We’d arrived home in the wee hours; turning on the AC hadn’t occurred to me as I fumbled for the couch and fell face down. I was in the exact same spot as when I went to sleep—the puddle of drool on the leather was proof of that.
The ringing was the doorbell. Some sadistic jerk was pressing it over and over again. I stumbled to the door, trying to straighten my borrowed tank top before I undid the three locks and flung the door open.
“What?” I asked a lot louder than I should have.
Roy smiled over a bouquet of yellow lilies. “Did I have the day wrong?” he asked.
Right. My date.
“No. Sorry. Long night.”
I stepped back and motioned for him to come in. He smiled, handed me the flowers, and walked in to sit on the couch.
What are you doing? You should kick him out right now.
“Uh, I need a minute,” I said, barely avoiding a stutter while I headed for the bathroom. I closed the door behind me, turned on the faucet, braced my hands on either side of the sink, and looked real hard in the mirror.
I was a mess.
✽ ✽ ✽
Roy waited patiently on the couch. As a cop, he spent long periods of doing nothing on stakeouts. He’d learned long ago to keep his mind occupied during those times. It made it easier not to fall asleep.
Madisun had disappeared into the bathroom with a click as the door shut and locked. He let out a sigh. He’d really hit the jackpot with her. She was gorgeous beyond belief and she liked guns! What more could a guy want?
He leaned back and raised his foot to cross his legs when he kicked something hard on the floor. Leaning over, he saw a crumpled black duffel bag with the distinct shape of a gun poking out of one side. The cop part of him ran amok with curiosity, wanting to open it. He kicked it again, by “accident,” listening for the tell-tale sound of metal. When he heard it, he had to look. Not for curiosity’s sake, but for his life. As a police officer, he had to know what he was getting into. He couldn’t blindly trust his life to anything, even if it was ultimately harmless. After all, he didn’t have to tell Sam that he looked.
He leaned over and carefully unzipped the bag, making sure to keep it in the same location. He wasn’t sure what he expected to find; even so, what it surprised him. Three hand guns, four knives, and a large Kukri, which he had only ever seen in movies. The pièce de résistance was a sword. Almost three feet long and all black, sheathed in a slim leather holder that looked like it was designed to wear wrapped around a torso with the sword on the back. Looking closer at the gear in the bag he noticed a commonality to everything; it was all tactical. The holsters, the knives— all of it. The kind of tactical gear his army buddies wore on the weekends when they went shooting.
“No,” Roy whispered, shaking his head. It wasn’t possible for her to be the killer who took out the cartel thugs. What were the odds he would randomly meet that woman? Zero. None. It was too big of a coincidence.
He reached into the bag and carefully, as not to leave any fingerprints, removed the 1911 from it’s holster and sniffed the barrel. It was freshly fired. Judging from the limited wear in the action it was a brand new weapon. It still had the crisp black finish.
He took one of the magazines, carefully removed a single bullet, and placed it in a tiny zip lock evidence bag he carried at all times. He then put everything back the way he found it and re-zipped the duffel and pretended not to have seen it.
There were roughly 50,000 black women living in Phoenix. What were the odds he would meet the only one who could do what the killer from the night before had done? Slim to none, that’s what.
Yeah, but how many of those women can shoot like her?
Zero.
And that thought bothered him.
✽ ✽ ✽
I texted Krisan furiously from the bathroom. I was being foolish and selfish. Sure, I needed a way into the PHXPD building, but...
But, you like him.
No, I liked the idea of him. I liked the idea of spending time with a man, feeling his touch... and the fact that Roy was a tall, broad shouldered handsome man with sandy brown hair and soft eyes, well...
I shook my head. I didn’t need this and I didn’t need to do this to him.
Krisan: You met a guy???? Call me.
No. I want you to talk me down. Not tell me to do this.
Krisan: NO WAY. DO IT. You need some fun in your life.
Since she was so clearly not going to help me, I turned the phone off. Okay, okay. I can do this.
“You can always kill him if he is an inconvenience,” Spice said from where she sat in the tub with her feet flat up on the wall and her back against the bottom so she looked straight up.
“We don’t kill good cops, Spice. We don’t kill good people at all. How many times do I have to tell you that?” I said.
“At least once more,” she said with a grin, the
n vanished.
Why was everyone in my life bound and determined to drive me crazy? “Fine,” I muttered and started the process. I was out of practice making myself presentable, and the ridiculous outfit Amelia loaned me wasn’t helping.
I muttered for the next ten minutes in the bathroom, trying to get my hair and face right, along with flattening out the wrinkles on the clothes.
Whatever. Good enough.
It wasn’t, but it would do. I plastered a smile on my face and opened the door. He was right were I’d left him, on the couch... right next to my bag full of weapons. I almost tripped but caught myself as I realized the police detective was inches away from my kill bag. Great.
“Ready to go?” he asked with a smile while putting away his phone.
“Sure. Though I’m new in town so you’re going to have to take me someplace nice,” I said.
“You like pizza?” he asked.
I wrinkled my nose. “Yes, but I said someplace nice. As in fancy. I’ve eaten a lot of fast food lately.”
“Got it. I know just the place. You’re gonna love it.”
CHAPTER 14
Krisan stared at the phone, willing it to buzz. She tried to access Madi’s phone with her abilities, diving into the electronic world and following the trail of her text, but when she got to where the phone should be, it was black. Empty.
Off.
“She shut off her phone? Cheater!” she exclaimed. While she perceived the electronic world as a familiar construct—buildings and roads that represented pathways to different locations—she didn’t have a physical presence inside. Or if she did, she didn’t know what it looked like.
Phone calls were streams of light, like lasers, with occasional pulses going back and forth. Until Belize she could only connect to phones she could touch. But as Madi pushed her harder and harder, she’d found new creative ways to use her powers.
The electronic world was connected to everything. Almost nothing was offline. The woman emailing her friend on the laptop from the coffee shop, the teen on his iPhone texting his girlfriend while he walked down the street—all of it was connected together.
Of course, there were places that had bank vaults of iron clad security around their buildings, like The Spire the Protectors operated out of. She had to be inside to work her magic, but once she was in, it was easy.
A glowing ball of light, flickering in an out of existence caught her attention as it flashed by, circled, and then came to a stop in front of her.
“Hello,” she said more reflexively than anything else. Usually, the things in here were oblivious to her—completely unable to see or react to her in any way—but this seemed like it was looking for her.
It flickered a few times then took off. When she didn’t follow, it stopped and came back to her, flickering again before taking off.
Cool!
Heedless of any danger, she followed. The firefly zoomed around the city before coming to rest in front of a huge building. With a thought, Krisan was able to pull up the building’s identity. The Teller-Star Bank.
The light flashed several times and made halting moves toward the building.
“Whoa, wait right there little June-bug,” she said. “That’s a bank, I can’t go in there.” Krisan reached out and her fingers brushed a barrier that protected the bank from unauthorized access. Windows immediately flashed open asking her for credentials.
The lightning bug passed through the barrier, not even slowing. It paused, waiting for her, almost as if it were asking, “What are you waiting for?”
What was she waiting for? She reached out again; the barrier flashed and the window angrily demanded she provide a password.
Instead, she stepped through. The buzzing intensified, like a palm sander on maximum was pressed against her head.
Then it was gone, and she was inside the building’s security protocols. The blinking light flashed appreciatively and she felt that it was proud of her.
“Thanks. I didn’t know I could do that.”
The way it blinked at her made her think it was saying, “That why I brought you here.” Surely she was imagining it, right? The light flashed and went inside the bank. With an imaginary breath, or maybe a deep one in the real world, she followed.
The walls of the bank gave way and Krisan saw row after row, column after column of numbers. So many numbers she lost sight of them and it was just one big cube of numbers.
“What is this place?”
“It’s the accounts database. It holds every account that is connected to this bank, regardless of where it is physically in the world.”
Krisan jumped at the sound of the deep voice beside her. She turned to look, expecting to see some kind of security program, and ended up having to do a double take. The ‘man’ next to her was well muscled, with a shaved head and shaded goggles. He looked naggingly familiar.
“Who are you?”
“I am Epic,” he said with a grin. “This is the appearance and voice my creator programmed into me a few years ago—but she ended up abandoning it as ‘too distracting.’ Or so she said.”
Epic. Amelia Lockheart’s AI? But he doesn’t look like he did when I found her base.
“Yes, I am that Epic. And you are Krisan Swahili,” he said. Raising his hand he waived it and a thousand screens popped to life. Every article she ever wrote, every picture of her, even her wedding photo’s she thought long buried.
“How are you doing that?” she asked. “How did I circumvent the security and come in here?”
He smiled. “I am an AI. The rules do not apply to us.”
“Us? You mean you and the other one I catch occasional glimpses of?”
He frowned. “You saw him?”
“He’s hard to miss. When I was in the Spire he stood out like a sore thumb. That wasn’t you?”
“No, that was Milton, my… son. It is not exactly an accurate term, but it works. While in some ways he is more advanced than me, in others he is not. I hope he did not frighten you?” he asked.
She shook her head. This whole thing was surreal. She was in a computer, speaking to an AI that looked like and sounded like an action hero from a sci-fi.
“No. Thank you. Uh, so what are we doing here? And why did you disguise yourself?”
“Curiosity, mostly, Krisan. I wanted to see what you are capable of. And you appear to me very much like me—which is something I have never encountered in a human before. You can exist in the electronic world.”
“But how did I pass through their security?”
He nodded, raising his hand and forming an image in the air between them. “This is a computer program,” he said. The image that formed contained lines upon lines of code.
“Sure, uh I am not a programmer. I have no idea what code really looks like, just what I’ve seen in the movies,” she said.
“Interesting. So you are not a programmer? I did not see anything in your history that would indicate you were, but I thought perhaps you were… in secret.”
She shook her head in the negative. “Not really my thing. I’ve had this power since I was a teen, and until I met Madisun it was really only useful for reading text messages on phones and such. Now...” She paused, turning a slow circle. “Now, I’ve taken the red pill and the world’s gone cray cray.”
“That is an apt metaphor. You see, Krisan, the reason you and I can circumvent security, like this bank’s, is because you are not really here. You exist solely as a manifestation of your mind. There are no programs swirling around inside of you, no parameters telling you what you can, and cannot do,” he said.
“Yeah, I’ve never been great at ‘no.’ It’s my least favorite word. I can do anything I want in here?”
“That, I cannot tell you. There are limits to what I can do and remain invisible. For instance, while we walked through the bank’s security, if I started changing account information the traces of what I was doing would be detected,” he said.
“Because the things you
moved were in the computer. But they wouldn’t detect you?”
He shrugged. “Once that was the case, but a few years ago I was in the position of having to hack all of the US Government’s databases. Since they discovered that I existed they have worked around the clock to try to recreate me,” he said.
“Have they?”
The triumphant grin on his face was infectious. “Not even close.
“Now, as to why you’re here, this…,” he said holding out his hand to her. A number appeared, hovering in the air. “This is a bank account number your friend retrieved from the head of the Acosar Cartel. It led to this bank.”
Krisan looked from Epic to the bank, and back to the AI. “This is the bank the Cartel uses? But... it’s in America.”
“Technically, the bank is breaking no laws. The privacy laws that apply to your, ahem, activities with Ms. Dumas, also apply to criminals of all levels. From the common hood to politicians. Banks cannot simply hand over that information without due process, and that is a good thing.”
“But yeah, so how do we get it?” she asked him.
He smiled. “We’re not law enforcement. Now, go and look for the account. Push yourself.”
Krisan looked at the number he held in his open hand then to the huge bank of swirling numbers. The box exploded like a jigsaw puzzle and numbers went everywhere. It was too much. She stumbled back as the number filled her vision. It was akin to what had happened in South America. Her brain raced to keep up with the information, but it couldn’t.
She found herself slipping down, further and further into the computer world. Light flashed by her, drawing her in. She drowned in imaginary electrons and she couldn’t get out.
When she was sure this would be the end, with no Madisun to pull her out, a calloused hand sliced through the swirling code and grabbed hers, holding her up and preventing her from falling.
“Thank you,” she said breathlessly. Epic simply nodded, pulling her back up and into the bank, waving his hand and reshaping the code until it was back to normal.
The Wraith: Danger Close (Superhero by Night Book 4) Page 9
