by Martha Carr
“In that case, maybe I should take it for a spin. Just in case you need to destroy it later. I’d like to have the experience.” He nodded toward the Lamborghini. “You might not even have a reason to drive any of these.”
“I call shotgun!” yelled Lily.
“You can’t drive the Lamborghini.”
Peyton threw up his hands. “What about the Aston Martin, then?”
“Nope. Not that one either.”
“What about the—”
Shay cut him off with a glare. “No cars. These are part of identities, and you don’t have the tits to pull off most of them.”
“Just asking.” Peyton set down the velvet hat and picked up a beret. “Look at me, I’m a revolutionary leader. Down with the bourgeoisie!”
Shay chuckled, and Lily put on a top hat and spun him around.
They both all but skipped down the rows, looking at hats and jackets. “I could put together some awesome outfits.” He pulled down an old Army jacket. “I didn’t think about it until just now, but you have both men and women’s clothing here.”
“Sometimes it helps to play up my feminine wiles, and sometimes it helps for people to not even notice you.” She nodded toward the station wagon. “That one’s attached to a man’s identity.”
“A cross-dressing Shay? It’s hard to imagine.”
“I did it when I needed to.” She shrugged. “It was all about getting close to the target. I did what I had to do to kill them. Depending on the country and location, being a woman might not get me close enough.”
“And now?” asked Lily, twirling around with a sparkling black dress held in front of her.
“Now I’m a tomb raider. It’s less about fake identities, but we both know shit can turn on a dime. This crap with Yulia reminded me that I’m gonna rack up a few enemies in this new career and I need to take that into account. I might need a disguise or fake identity for future jobs.” Shay gestured around the warehouse. “All of this may be necessary on some of my jobs, so it’s best if you become familiar with what’s in here. That way you can provide proper support.”
Peyton gave a solemn nod. “I think to become truly familiar with everything I’ll need to test drive the cars. With my colleague, of course.”
Shay smirked and pointed to the station wagon. “Like I said, that one’s attached to a man’s identity. You can drive it.”
“Huh. Not so interested in that.”
“Okay, I’ve got to get going.” Shay pulled out her phone and tapped on her custom security app. “Both of your biometrics should now work with the Annex’s doors.” She spun on her heel and waved. “And put back all that crap where you found it before you leave.”
“But…” Peyton groaned.
A few hours later, Shay relaxed at Warehouse Two with a book on the purported influence of aliens on history: From Vimanas to Ezekiel’s Wheel.
The book wasn’t from Warehouse Four, but instead had been borrowed from a local library. It had been published in the early 2000s. One problem with more modern books on the subject was that they all assumed every mysterious piece of history could be explained away by Oriceran contact.
A century of speculation about aliens had been tossed away and was now considered a worse explanation than the influence of creatures like elves, Atlanteans, and gnomes.
Shay snickered at the thought.
Having the truth about Oriceran come out might have cracked the old dogma, but the new paradigm was just as narrow-minded. The level of decent knowledge on the issue was pretty damned low, unfortunately. Sometimes, though, the crazies had been right all along.
Peyton tapped at his keyboard in the office. Lily was back between the cubicles, taking a nap.
Peyton sped up, the keys clacking. A few seconds later he increased his speed even more, his pace now furious.
Shay set her book down and glanced at him. “What did that keyboard ever do to you? Does it owe you money?”
He shot up, pushing his chair out of the way. Osiris leapt to the ground, hissing.
“No, no, no.” Peyton ran his hands through his hair. “This is bad. Very bad.”
Shay rushed into the office. “Talk to me.”
Peyton took a deep breath. “It’s Randy.”
“Okay, you need to clue me in, here. You’re freaking out, and I don’t know what the hell is going on.”
“I found some people poking around—digging. It’s not random. It’s obvious they suspect I’m still alive and are looking for evidence. I’ve traced them to my brother.”
Shay sighed and nodded. “That might not mean anything. He might just be nervous and double-checking. Being thorough is a good move, but you’ve covered your tracks well.”
“Or maybe you were right, and he saw me when I went to my father’s grave.”
“Not a chance.” Shay shook her head.
Peyton eyed her. “Not a chance? You were the one who made it sound like it was a dumb move. You bitched a lot about it at the time.”
“It was a dumb move, but that doesn’t change the fact that I made sure that no one saw us.” She nodded to the computer. “You know what to do. You saying these losers he’s hired are better than you?”
“No,” Peyton grumped.
“Hell, you’ve already traced them to your brother. That shows how sloppy they are.”
He nodded once. “Yeah, you’re right. These guys are damned sloppy. Randy should have offered more money to get some better guys.”
Shay snorted. “Then fucking clamp down on all their attempts, but make it clear it’s not you. If they don’t track you down, it doesn’t matter if your brother is sniffing around.”
The hacker nodded and sat back down, his face a mask of grim determination. “You’re right. I can do this. I’ll show these assholes who the real computer expert is.” He frowned. “I’m going to be the ghost haunting them, but they’ll never even see me.”
Shay stepped out of the office, her thoughts still swirling. They needed a more permanent solution to deal with Randy. Peyton wouldn’t be able to reclaim any sort of actual life if his brother was waiting to kill him the first time he popped his head up.
She glanced over her shoulder at her assistant.
We’ll see where this goes, Peyton. Sometimes, though, it comes down to kill or be killed. Are you ready for that?
22
Shay hummed to herself as she opened the door to her home. She chuckled, remembering Peyton mentioning needing his own place so he could bring women there. She wondered how the man intended to meet women when he had to keep such a low profile.
What’s the guy going to do? Lie to his girlfriend constantly?
She laughed at the absurdity of it all. Until they took care of his brother, one way or another, he’d need to get used to being alone.
Her phone rang, breaking her out of the thoughts, and she pulled it out of her purse. She’d expected it to be the bounty hunter but was surprised by a different, albeit familiar, number.
“Hey, Professor. Didn’t expect a call from you at this time of night.”
“Good evening, Miz Carson. I never know when you’re going to be available, so I figured it’s always best to call as soon as I’m interested.
“That’s a good policy.”
The Professor chuckled. “Ah, right then. I called to tell you I’d like to meet with you tomorrow evening to discuss another job opportunity, one that is time-sensitive.”
“Is it the one you were talking about before?”
“Aye. I’ve finally gathered all the details I need, and I’d like to get on it sooner rather than later. We potentially have a narrow window.”
“Nothing new about that,” Shay observed. “I’m assuming you want me to meet you at the same place?”
“Aye. I feel most comfortable at the pub.” The Professor laughed.
Curiosity bubbled up. “Why?”
“Why what?”
“Why do you feel so comfortable at some Irish pub discussing s
erious business instead of some locked-down office or something somewhere?
“I can see how that might confuse a person.” The Professor exhaled loudly. “Do you know the legend of the Leanan Sídhe?”
“Your bar has a legend? I imagine it involves some old tomb raider who once drank from a magical infinite beer glass but managed to empty it. Or that Bard of Filth thing.”
The Professor laughed. “The first would be truly a wondrous thing, and the second is grand, but no, I was speaking of the eponymous faerie.”
“Don’t know a lot about Leanan Sídhe. They are Celtic faeries. They take a lover and drain their lifeforce, but it’s not totally a parasitic thing because they can act as a muse and provide inspiration to artists. Their lovers will die young, but their work will leave a great impact.” She blew out a breath. “I don’t know if they are real. I’ve run into too many legendary creatures to assume they aren’t.”
“Aye, that about covers it. There are variations to the legends, but you mentioned all the most important points.”
Shay furrowed her brow. “Why are we suddenly having a quiz on Celtic faeries? Does the job involve one, or do you just really like the name of the bar?”
“I do like the name, but it goes deeper than that.” The Professor chuckled. “Because I’m going to grant you a gift, rare insight into my background. I like the place because, first and foremost, the beer is of excellent quality, and secondly, because the name is a reminder that greatness often has a cost. Few people accomplish anything of merit without sacrifice.”
Shay shrugged. “True enough, but some people don’t seek greatness.”
“Alas, sometimes greatness is thrust upon people.”
“Not if people are hiding well enough.”
The Professor chuckled. “I suppose. We’ll talk again tomorrow, Miz Carson.” He ended the call before she could reply.
Shay stared at the phone.
I think I like happy Father O’Banion more than the brooding, philosophical Professor.
Shay wondered which of Smite-Williams’ faces she was going to have to deal with as she pushed into the pub and made her way through the crowd to the Professor’s preferred booth in the back. He gave her a slight wave and took a sip of his beer as she sat across from him.
“Good evening, Miz Carson.”
His cheeks weren’t all that red, which was a good sign. Or maybe it wasn’t. It was hard to be sure about the man.
Not only that, she assumed Smite-Williams used his drunken reputation and persona to manipulate people’s perceptions of him when it suited his needs. The man reeked of competence and danger in a way even Brownstone didn’t.
Shay nodded. “What do you have for me, Professor?”
“A simple job.”
“Simple jobs don’t require tomb raiders, especially ones who want as much money as I do.”
The Professor laughed. “It’s simple in that no one else is looking for the artifact and it’s not being defended. It’s just in a difficult and dangerous location to access.”
Shay nodded. “’Simpler,’ then. Not ‘simple.’”
“Aye.” The Professor downed some more beer before continuing. “There are subterranean caves connected to Lake Michigan near Chicago. Normally, the caves aren’t accessible except under certain conditions. I’ve become aware that the caves are currently passable and will be for a short period, which is why I spoke of this job being time-sensitive.”
Shay narrowed her eyes. “What conditions? I need to know what I’m getting into.”
“Cold, mostly. It interfaces with a magical spell that normally both blocks and cloaks the caves. Even when they are exposed, the spell keeps the water out.”
Cold? Yulia better not show up. Actually, no, I hope she does so I can show her who is more dangerous.
“Neat trick. So, you want me to swim into some caves from Lake Michigan? Sounds like fun.”
“Aye. These caves will be flooded, so you’ll need to be extra careful.”
Shay chuckled. “Pretty damn cold in Lake Michigan right now.”
“Says the woman who dove into a lake in the Alps.” He punctuated his sentence with a sip of his beer. “I’m sure it won’t prove much of a problem for a woman of your experience and talents.”
“Not saying it will be, but also not saying I love swimming in cold water, even geared up.”
“Understandable,” the Professor replied.
Shay wasn’t that worried about the water, all bitching aside. She was more concerned about her target.
“What’s in the caves?”
“A small stone with symbols on it. Very small. Very portable, unlike large ancient Chinese weapons.” The Professor set down his beer and pulled out his phone. “You might find something else there, but this job—and the money—is focused on this stone. That’s what I’m paying you to find.”
Shay’s face twitched. A black and white photo of a familiar-looking stone filled the screen. The shape was slightly different than the one she’d recovered from Mexico, but at least some of the symbols were identical.
She should know. She’d spent more than a few hours staring at the stone from Mexico.
“What is this?” Shay inquired, trying to keep her burning curiosity out of her voice. Having an information advantage over Smite-Williams was rare.
“You don’t need to know, Miz Carson. You just need to recover the artifact. I’ll send you information on the likely location when you agree to take the job.”
“Bullshit,” Shay hissed.
The Professor blinked, taken off guard by her sudden vehemence. “Excuse me?”
“I need to know about the stone,” Shay insisted.
“I’m surprised by your reaction. I can assure you that in its current form the artifact is not dangerous at all, if that’s what you’re worried about. I don’t understand your concern otherwise.”
“I need to know what’s going on with this one,” Shay demanded. “I have my reasons.”
“No, Miz Carson, I don’t think you need to know more than what I’m offering.” The Professor pushed his beer to the side. “I understand you need all relevant information, but I can guarantee you there won’t be any problems or tricks if you recover this stone. It won’t explode. You won’t have to keep it in any sort of special container or use dampening magic. You just have to swim into the lake, enter the caves, find the artifact, and bring it to me. It’s just a stone with symbols as far as this job is concerned.”
“Let’s cut the crap.” Shay leaned forward and shook her head. “They’re not just symbols. They are symbols that might be extraterrestrial in origin, and I’m not talking about Oriceran. Everything we thought we knew once the truth of Oriceran came out might be just as wrong as what people believed twenty years ago.”
The tomb raider couldn’t remember if she’d ever seen true surprise from Smite-Williams. The man stared at her wide-eyed for several seconds before gulping down the rest of his beer.
“While not admitting anything else,” the Professor began, “I’ll note that you are surprisingly well-informed about this particular stone. I didn’t anticipate this scenario.”
Shay sighed. “I came across some information related to these symbols. I’ve looked into it as deeply as I can, and everything I can find points to it being from some other planet, not Earth or Oriceran.” She shook her head. “I don’t know how to read the symbols yet, but some of them match. There’s no fucking way this other stone isn’t related to it.”
“I see.” The Professor scratched his eyebrow. “That revelation changes a few things.”
“Does it now?”
“Aye. I have to contact a few people.”
Shay frowned. “So, I’m off the job.”
“I didn’t say that. If anything, your knowledge makes you the superior choice for this. I’ll get back to you soon.”
Shay chuckled. “I just realized something. You didn’t know, did you?”
The Professor shot her a sm
ile. “As I said, I’ll get back to you, but I’d ask that you stay in town, so I can get a hold of you.”
“Just don’t take too long.”
“Oh, trust me, I’m not planning to.”
23
Peyton whistled while Osiris slept on his lap. Lily was up but rooting around in the refrigerator. His panic over his brother had subsided. Now he wasn’t afraid. He was filled with contempt.
Shay was right. Peyton was far better than whatever lame mercenary hackers Randy had hired. It was almost too easy to redirect their searches and cover his tracks.
The key strategy to hacking was not to be discovered. That way you could take your time manipulating the target system. If they’d been halfway decent he wouldn’t have even known they were looking for him, and now they didn’t have a chance.
With all that taken care of, Peyton had more time to look into Shay’s allegedly alien symbols. He clicked his mouse on a window to inspect the results from his custom dark web bots. He doubted just searching the surface net was going to reveal anything Shay didn’t already know.
For all her bristly killer persona he’d seen some of the woman underneath, the history-obsessed tomb raider with a vast library. Peyton was good at research, but Shay was damned good too.
His bots had been crawling around the web seeking out information that might be of help, but he’d barely had time to look at their results. The best computer program in the world was still useless without some human curation in the end.
If there really were aliens who had nothing to do with Oriceran, it only followed that people might have spent as much time trying to cover up the truth of their existence as they had magic. Access to advanced alien technology and magic would be the perfect tools for conspirators.
The only reason Peyton had hope was that people—whether from Oriceran or Earth—tended to make some small mistake in the end. It was one of the reasons hackers still relied heavily on tricking people out of information before they even worried about getting behind a keyboard.
