There was a shared mumbling of, “fucks” and “damns” in the room.
Merry looked down so the others wouldn’t see her blink away tears. “What the hell, Fred?”
Fred shrugged. Though heartbroken, his voice was uncharacteristically cold. “You guys were thinking of Jayne the friend. You need to think of Jayne as just… Jayne. Alone. Without anyone else.”
Merry turned to her tablet once more. After nearly a week of wallowing in uncertain aimlessness, she had something to do. “Vlad, what was the name of our ghost client?”
Vlad shot back immediately. “Yorgos Costas.”
Merry smiled. “We were such a wreck in that moment I forgot to cross check Yorgos Costas with digital tracer codes.”
Cameron nodded to show he understood, but no one bought it. “Yeah, I don’t understand.”
Merry was typing too fast to talk, so Vlad did what he did best and spoke for her. “Traditionally, when you discover a client is a ghost, you drop the case. You drop it and you don’t look back, and you don’t complete the case. It’s a precaution. But we learned this a little late, and just forgot to… dig a little deeper.”
Merry held up her finger and gave Vlad the universal symbol for “shut up.” She typed a little more. “Holy shit. I got an 89% match with almost three-hundred digital tracers… all used by the same man.”
Fred, Vlad and Cameron all leaned in. Merry presented her tablet to them. They felt the weight of pizza and beer as their stomachs dropped. Sneering back at them was an old mugshot of a sickly, evil young man: James Burrett.
CHAPTER SIX
Dean Geiger’s Office, Espionage Academy, Avalon Space Station
Dean Geiger downed the third flute of the seven-hundred year old Champagne he popped open that morning. He had been saving it for a special occasion. Thousands of Earth-years ago, in anticipation of earth’s total destruction by environmental apocalypse, the International Council of Sommeliers combined efforts with private space exploration ventures to remove a two-hundred square mile stretch of the countryside from the Province of Champagne, France. The land was terraformed into a massive space barge and placed into close orbit with the earliest human cosmicolonies.
For several millennia, the massive, climate-controlled space barge continued to cultivate the grapes necessary for true Champagne. However, true Champagne died forever when an asteroid collided with the massive, preserved countryside, sending billions of grapes and a few dozen viticulturalists hurtling into the void of space. The price of Champagne rose three-thousand percent, and had continued climbing ever since as the remaining supply dwindled further and further.
Geiger grabbed the bottle and the dregs of a dying liquid trickled out into his flute. He smacked the bottom like it was a bottle of ketchup. When no more dripped out, he tossed the bottle into his wastebasket across the room.
He smashed his fat finger down on the panel in his desk to summon his secretary. “Noora!”
A hologram of Noora appeared six-inches tall on Geiger’s desk. “Yes, sir?”
Geiger waved the nearly empty flute of champagne in front of her tiny avatar. “Get me another bottle of bubbles, please.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but that was the last one.”
Geiger frowned. “Well, go get me some tequila. Thank you!”
He swiped the tablet and Noora’s hologram disappeared. He smiled blankly before him. “La la la!” He sang out loud, to no one. He knew he would soon be in the spotlight night and day. He’d constantly be under the scrutiny of the press and the judgment of the public. So, why not get the sillies out now?
Geiger fought back hiccups as he spoke out loud. “Rex!”
Geiger’s tablet flashed the Crystal Guard Dog logo for The Espionage Academy Data Security Branch. Geiger nicknamed the entire operation Rex, and programmed the system to respond to his voice when he called.
“Rex, find me the list of everyone that Federation—hiccup—Prime Minister Osmer has slept with.”
In mere seconds, Rex presented Geiger with a list of twenty-seven individuals who Prime Minister Osmer had slept with based on everything from public knowledge to medical records to personal comm messages.
Geiger gleefully scrolled through the list, highlighting those who might prove to be useful. Prime Minister Osmer’s reelection was coming up, after all, and nothing is worse than a dull political season. Give the people what they want. The maxim served Geiger well in implementing his control of security, so why change the tune now?
“Thank you, Rex! Now, could you please pull up any information that pertains to the last meeting I had with Jayne Austin?”
Code danced up the height of the tablet, eventually crystalizing into a transcript of their argument. In the interest of ethics and transparency, it was common practice to record all meetings between Academy officials and students. “Thank you, Rex. Delete.”
The transcript disappeared, gone forever into the digital ether. No one could ever prove the meeting happened at all.
Geiger spun around in his chair, arms up in the air. “Yippeeeee!” Geiger hopped out of the spinning chair and danced a little victory jig. The aged richness of the Champagne sloshed around his stomach and made him nauseous. Geiger stopped, considering what a horrible waste it would be to throw up irreplaceable booze. He planted his ass back into his chair and waited for the room to spin back into place.
Once the room stopped, his thoughts could start again. He drummed his fingers on the desk. “Rex! Pull up everything we have on Jayne Austin.”
The system took several seconds to process the request, far longer than any of its other tasks. The file on Jayne was massive. Once completed, Geiger scrolled through the categorized information, checking for any information that might prove compromising to him. Once satisfied, he leaned back in his chair and shrugged. “Uh, make all this public. All of it.”
The tablet flashed green. Geiger laughed with the knowledge that no aspect of Jayne’s life and career was a secret. Her career as a spy was over. Every detail anyone would ever want to know about Jayne could be summoned with nothing more than a few taps on a comm device.
There was one detail about Jayne, however, that must never go public. That must never, ever, be seen. “One more thing, Rex. Could you pull up the rooftop security footage for the Black Hole Night Club? Seven nights ago, I believe around midnight?” Rex pulled up the footage of Jayne running onto the rooftop of Black Hole. He watched as the man in black pulled his gun and shot the young gangster. Geiger could see Jayne jolt with sudden surprise. He could watch the fear move like a shock through her body.
It made him happy.
Too bad he had to destroy the footage. “Rex, delete this footage. Delete the last five minutes and the next five minutes.”
And just like that, Jayne was the one who shot the young gangster.
Geiger rubbed his palms together and hunched forward over the tablet. He whispered for fun. “Ohhh, Rex?” The system popped up the Crystal Guard Dog logo in ready anticipation. “Rexxy poo, could you pull up the information regarding all the requests I just made?” As a major security measure, every action made by the system was recorded. Dean Geiger had made sure he was the only one who could access and manipulate all files, including bypassing this inconvenient little feature. “Thank you, Rex. Please delete record of those requests, including this request I am giving you now.”
The data disappeared.
Geiger understood he held supreme power in the palm of his hands. Rex allowed him to be an alchemist of facts. He could rewrite history. Hell, he could undo history entirely. He had the power to change anyone’s life story, and they could never prove otherwise. The record is truth. Why not believe the database? Why would the database lie? A lie is only a lie when there’s proof to the contrary. And Geiger could destroy proof, or create it, whenever he pleased.
Noora would return with the bottle of tequila soon. Geiger decided he’d drink himself into a giddy stupor, play around with his total contr
ol of the database a little more, then hit the hay. Tomorrow he ‘officially’ launched this new wing of the Academy, and he wanted to sleep off the hangover before he continued to work his way into the permanent spotlight.
+++
Briefing Room 2B, Espionage Academy, Avalon Space Station
The crowd of reporters burst into the chatter of a veritable inquisition as Dean Geiger stepped onto the stage.
Geiger approached the podium, ducking around the fly-like camera drones broadcasting 2D and hologram live feeds to the entire Federation. Geiger straightened his shoulders and waited for the press to settle down.
Once they had heeded his wishes, he began. “As you know, we at the Espionage Academy recently announced our new Security Data and Research Wing. The goal of this wing is to provide a reliable, and totally secure, database of information gathered through the brave and spearheading efforts on behalf of this hallowed institution.” His eyes scanned the room. These schmucks were eating it up. “Recently, news broke that an Academy drop-out and dangerous rogue Jayne Austin gained top secret information regarding her less than respectable past. And, perhaps worst of all, her breach culminated into the murder of an innocent civilian,” not technically true, but the data no longer said otherwise, “and the injuries and wasted resources incurred by our brave boys in blue.”
Several reporters raised their hands. Geiger was quick to cut them off by jumping to his most prescient point. “Following this breach, the Commissioner of Police for Theron Techcropolis, Abraham Cromwell, and representatives of Security Initiatives for the Federation, approached me about combining our efforts.” This, too, was untrue. Geiger approached them all, gaslighted and manipulated them until they bent to his will. But if you were to consult the data, Geiger was summoned by these organizations. Not the other way around. “The result is an all-encompassing information database, with a three-fold interest in maintaining security. The results of these efforts will, we project, show themselves immediately. And I believe what is most important—”
“Are there measures in place to prevent an abuse of power in regards to this information?”
Geiger nodded, quick to shut down the reporter’s question so he could continue. “Yes, there is a complex system of checks and balances between the Academy, Police Force, and the Federation. And this cooperation is about to be highlighted! Our combined efforts will use this information to find Jayne Austin, and put an end to her reign of terror.”
A young woman stood up in the back. “Is labeling Jayne Austin as a terrorist the official classification of the Federation?”
Geiger spun it. “I think Austin’s actions speak for themselves.”
Questions erupted into a media volcano. The drones circled Geiger as he braved the onslaught. A tenured reporter popped his hand up. “Despite some of the information recently leaked, there is some speculation that Jayne Austin was, in fact, responsible for the capture of Burrett. Doesn’t that challenge this idea that she’s a terrorist?”
Geiger smiled. “First, no one likes competition. Second, if you have referred to the information we released, it reveals Jayne Austin is, in fact, responsible for James Burrett’s escape from his imprisonment in the first place. In seeking an alliance, she created a competitor. And that became her objective in stopping him.”
More questions, and this time none were decipherable over the clamor for Geiger’s attention. He waved his hands downward, attempting whatever he could to shut the reporters up. “In the interest of total transparency regarding the hunt for Jayne Austin, we have made her entire record public. We feel she must be understood so that our pursuit of her can be understood. If you don’t believe us, go and do the research for yourselves. Thank you.”
Geiger stepped down from the podium. The camera drones followed behind him. Two Academy security guards followed Geiger as he left the briefing room.
A spokesperson took his place behind the podium to wave down the mob of reporters lobbing questions in the Dean’s direction. “There will be no more questions at this time. Thank you.”
+++
Geiger slid into the backseat of his private limo that had been hovering outside for him on the Academy’s dime. He didn’t speak to the automated navigation system. His destination had already been programmed: his private getaway on the beach-asteroid Takora-3. He would take a break from the smog of the Techcropolis, and from the news cycle as it ran its course. He would wait as the public’s hatred and distrust for Jayne festered.
As the limo rose higher and higher, the Academy Campus shrinking from view behind him, Geiger took out his comm. He spoke into it a voice memo for Noora. “Miss Barcellos, please organize a second press conference to take place in two weeks. Don’t announce it. I’ll let you know when to make it public.” The limo leveled out as it left Avalon’s artificial gravity. “And tell our press agent to get some real high-profile reporters. The yahoos in there today were boring me.” He shut down the comm and settled in comfortably. He turned on the seat warmers.
Geiger had his work cut out for him. With more information under his total control, the more information he had to manipulate or, occasionally, destroy. He would have to create new information to cover up truths, or lies, he didn’t want to get out.
He would have to do all of it himself. Maybe he’d eventually find an ally. Maybe they would form a bond of trust so great he could trust them. Besides, if they betrayed him he could simply rewrite the truth.
The daunting demands of the job didn’t bother Geiger. He had always thought of manipulation as more of a hobby than work. Geiger was bothered, however, by the time he would have to commit to it. And that would all be time better spent at his getaway on Takora-3.
This week, he promised himself, the comm goes off. The tablet doesn’t come into the condo with me and certainly not on the beach. I’m off the grid. Just me and my mind. And plenty of margaritas served to me by my maids.
Geiger hadn’t gone fishing since his twenties. He wondered if he still had the knack for it. He wondered if he could still perfectly pierce a Takora weevil with an invisible alloy hook. Could he still cast out far enough? Did he still have the steady hands with which he could detect the slightest tug? Did he still have the patience to sit on a boat all day, just waiting for that one legendary catch?
Could he still go after and get whatever he wanted?
Geiger laughed alone. Of course, he fucking could.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Cheap Charlie’s Wholesale Warehouse, L43, Theron Techcropolis, Amaros
Jayne checked over her shoulder for the bright blue service bots that Cheap Charlie’s replaced all of their employees with several years prior. The last thing she needed was a photo of her shoplifting at a Cheap Charlie’s.
Fortunately, an elderly woman in a hov-o-round had been pestering the nearest service bot about different kinds of plungers for the last ten minutes.
Jayne grabbed an electric razor set and tossed it into her basket, along with a new pair of pants, sweatshirts, and the rest of her new look. Not exactly her style, but she was about to give herself a total makeover.
+++
Jayne locked the bathroom door behind her. She took off her jacket, stiff with the grime of living on the streets, and threw it in the trash. Next followed her torn shirt, then her boots which she carefully pulled off her healing foot.
She arduously peeled her pants down and off her legs, careful not to ruin the splint Tom had made her.
Tom’s first-aid skills had proved surprisingly effective. The wound on her leg had begun to scab over. It’d be months before her ankle returned to normal, however. The pain was half as bad as it had been, and she couldn’t help but limp when she walked, but she was confident she could run, climb, and jump if it became necessary. And it probably would.
Jayne yanked the last pants leg from her foot, finally, and threw them in the trash. “Damn, I loved those pants.”
She tore off several feet of paper towels and stuffed them dow
n to the bottom covering her clothes.
She looked at herself in the mirror. Tom didn’t have one, so this was the first time she had seen herself in almost a week. She looked tired. Bruised and beaten. Dirty. Dried blood in spots she didn’t realize she had been cut and scraped.
She filled her hands with water from the faucet and splashed it on her face. She wet her hair.
She took out the razor kit and tore the plastic open with her teeth. She had been careful to select the pack with the glowing sticker: “ionically pre-charged”.
She switched the razor on Turbo Mode. “Goodbye, hair. Hopefully we’ll meet again in about six months.” She made the first move before she had a chance to think about it too much. Now was not the time for introspection. She placed the razor at her hairline and pushed it along her head, all the way to the back. Her hair fell down on the tile floor.
She shaved her hair off in rows, front to back. She briefly considered giving herself a junkhead mohawk, but immediately decided against it. In just five minutes, she had given herself a buzzcut. She didn’t look bad. In fact, she admired herself in the mirror. “Who knows? Maybe I’ll keep it.” She shook her head back and forth, unused to the total lack of weight. “Definitely more practical.”
She turned the razor off and threw it in the trash.
Jayne’s favorite part about her dress-up party in the bathroom was new socks. They felt clean and soft. And even better as she slid them into her sneakers. The sweatshirt was not only a little big, but Jayne hadn’t noticed it said “World’s Best Grandpa” on the front. It was too late, and too great a risk, to go pick out another one. “Guess I’m a grandpa now.” Jayne threw away the tags and packaging, packed more paper towels on top, and, finally, put on a ballcap and sunglasses.
Exposed (Interplanetary Spy for Hire Book 2) Page 7