by Peter Tylee
It was easier than he’d thought. Deep down he’d suspected he would need to eliminate three or four innocent security guards, and he’d been psyching himself up for that probability. But he reached the opaque glass wall without opposition and pressed his shoulder blades against it, wincing when pain jolted from his wound. The bump stretched his skin and tugged his sutures.
Dan gritted his teeth. It’d been a long time since he’d broken into a high-security building. But, although he was nervous, the necessary skills came back to him. At one time well developed, his unique skills would probably stay with him for life. They hibernated until he reactivated them in times of need – like now.
Tonight he was thankful for his past.
He extracted a knife-like instrument and began cutting a manhole-sized block from the wall. The glass was only four centimetres thick, but the manufacturer had cured it with chemicals that had modified the quartz’s molecular structure, making it a thousand times stronger than a normal pane of glass. Nanoscopic wires wove through the fabric, supplying the digital information the glass needed to switch between transparent and opaque states. Dan’s laser-class instrument cut through it all, slicing it as neatly as a katana would slice silk. It fired an intense beam of radiation, focused by a series of nano-lenses into a shaft that was five nanometres thick. He was finished in less than twenty seconds and pushed the panel clear, cringing when it clanked noisily to the tile floor. He then dove through the hole and replaced the disk, lining it flush with the remainder of the wall. His laser cutter was so fine that its incision was invisible to the naked eye.
Dan berated himself for holding his breath. Stupid… Now, where am I?It was hard to see in the dark and he stumbled forward with arms outstretched, blindly hoping he wouldn’t trip over anything. What would they put on the ground floor? Mailroom? Storage space?The answer came a few moments later when he kicked over a mop and bucket, spewing a brackish brew of hair-infested water over the floor with an almighty clamour. The janitor’s closet, of course.
By chance, his hand blundered into the light switch, but he refused to cave in to his desire for illumination. He didn’t want to do anything that would attract attention and he was already disappointed with himself for making such a racket. Come on Danny-boy, stop fucking up… the next time it might cost you.He took a deep, steadying breath and pressed ahead, easily finding the stairwell. A chilly draft wafted from the basement, carrying the scent of damp grit and oil. It reminded Dan of the time he’d visited an underground mine and resurrected feelings of claustrophobia.
He moved as silently as he could in his croaking leather boots. Five flights up he stopped to ease some spit around the two leather flaps that were making the noise before continuing his upward journey. He gripped the handrail as if it was his only link to life; the last thing he wanted was to miss a step and tumble backward into the void – he didn’t want to become a quadriplegic. But the icy metallic rail was steadily numbing his fingers and making his knuckles ache.
The distant thud of footfalls made him freeze and he thanked the dim, almost nonexistent lighting in the stairwell.
Voices. Two.He wasn’t close enough to delineate individual words, but the muted muttering was definitely getting stronger. They were above, possibly on the tenth floor. Or was it the eleventh?It was hard to tell in the dark, he was becoming disorientated and knew with grim certainty that he’d never be able to retrace his steps.
Dan slithered through the nearest door, both glad and frightened to have finally reached some light. He shielded his eyes until they adjusted and he drew into the shadows as far as he could. It looked empty. There was carpet on the floor and the walls had been freshly painted, but only a few loose cables dangled from strategic places in the ceiling. There were no desks, no obligatory coffee machine, no computers, nothing. It was a barren landscape of stale dust and silverfish husks. He listened, paused, and crept his way up the building, empty floor by empty floor, counting no fewer than 40 abandoned levels before finally encountering something habited. It begged the question why UniForce had bothered constructing such a massive building. Maybe they’re stitching together a subletting deal.He doubted it. UniForce was not the type of company to share. So maybe they intend some serious expansion.Even that was difficult to swallow. Forty floors worth?It didn’t make sense. UniForce had no need of a large onsite workforce, their contractors – the bounty hunters and assassins – worked offsite and alone. Status then?That was the only logical conclusion he could draw. All the other giga-corporations had mammoth headquarters so UniForce wanted one too. That’s pathetic.The more he discovered about his ex-surrogate company the more he found to dislike.
With a great deal of effort and backtracking, he located the portals on the fiftieth floor. Three constipated looking men were guarding them. That’s strange.There would be none if UniForce hadn’t declared a state of company emergency. Portals had impermeable locks, so it was unusual to waste resources protecting them. But UniForce was in panic mode and capable of many unusual decisions.
Portal reception was the only place Dan knew he would definitely find a map of the building. Of course, there was none. There was only a list of internal portal destinations, but since portals were numbered logically according to their physical location, it was nearly as good.
He watched the guards from the depth of the shadows, convinced they hadn’t noticed his silent approach. A wash of adrenaline coursed through his body, accompanied by the familiar sharpening of his senses that always came before he made a move. He toyed with the idea of dropping all three from where he crouched. Tempting.Katherine stopped him, or more to the point, the thought of what she would’ve said if he slew three innocent men stopped him. A pang of guilt seeped into his mind just for considering it an option.
Something else.
He used his scope to look at the board, circumventing the problem altogether. It worked well enough; the chart gave him an idea of the building layout. He trekked back to the stairwell and resumed his climb, feeling the exertion in his thighs and exhilaration in his head.
*
Michele was reclining in her chair, dabbing perfume on her wrists and smearing it behind her ears. The tedium was gnawing at her nerves and she’d been in a terrible mood for the past few days. She hated this part of the job, the emergencies. Why can’t they sort it out on their own?James was busy with his computer and Esteban was off looking for Dan. But what can I do?Worst of all, the UniForce showers didn’t approach the high standards she’d become accustomed to.
Damn Jackie.She wondered whether Jackie would check the logs. She’d need an exceedingly good reason to leave the office during a company emergency, especially since Jackie had charged her with the responsibility of handling the situation. And Michele wasn’t good at fabricating excuses so she had little choice but to stay put. She knew she’d get away with it if she were to seduce Jackie again, but the memory of the last time still left a bad taste in her mouth. It was somehow worse than the horde of men she’d been with, Jackie’s crotch tasted like swamp.
She shook her perfume bottle and watched the froth at the top split the light into its spectrum. It entertained her for close to quarter of an hour before a voice rudely interrupted her.
“Funny I should find you here.”
She leaned forward and twisted to the door, surprise registering on her face when she stared into the barrel of a pistol. Dan had closed the door and taken five paces into her office without her noticing. She wondered how, and in her fatigued state, that was about all she could ask. “How’d you get in here?”
“If I were you, I’d be more concerned about how you’re going to get outof here,” Dan replied dryly. “We’re going to play a game.”
“Of what?” Michele asked, her big eyes betraying her stupidity.
“Twenty questions.” Dan pulled up a chair and straddled it, keeping his aim in the middle of Michele’s forehead. “But before we start, I want you to put the perfume down and place your hands on t
he table where I can see them.” He waited for her to comply. “Good, now, number one, where is Esteban?”
“I don’t know,” she said as a reflex.
“Wrong answer,” Dan snapped. “That’s one strike, and you only get three. Do you understand me?”
She nodded.
“So where is Esteban?”
“I really don’t know. All I know is that he left looking for you, and that was… like… hours ago.” Michele looked flustered, though not for any of the reasons Dan might have guessed.
“Hours? How many hours?” Dan pressed, trying to decide whether she was telling the truth.
“Maybe, uh, three o’clock yesterday afternoon?”
Dan did the maths in his head. That’d be about right.
“I haven’t seen him since, honest.”
“And you have no idea where he went?”
She shook her head. “No, none.”
“Question two: the Raven. Why’s he always turning up at my targets?” It was a test question. He already knew the answer; he wanted to check whether she was telling him the truth.
She paused and lowering her eyes to her hands, a sign that warned Dan she might be about to lie. “We found a clerical error in the system. I’d like to be the first to apologise sincerely for the mistake. We’ve been selling exclusive lists to both of you.”
Smooth, very smooth… but still a lie.He consoled himself with the fact that he now knew what to look for. If she lowered her eyes, he’d have to push harder for the truth. “I don’t believe you.”
“But it’s the truth!” she said indignantly.
“Clerical error? Come on Roche, I’m not stupid. How much have you made so far?”
She looked dejected but still harboured the slim hope that she’d get away with it. “A few million. Half is Esteban’s.”
Ah, that makes more sense.Dan turned the thought over in his mind, examining it from every angle. So he’s been doing his utmost to fuck with my life for a while. Vindictive bastard.“All right, what do you know about Esteban’s murders?”
“You mean assassinations, there’s a difference.” Michele wanted to show how clever she was with the finer points of language, but came across as an airhead instead. The tone of her voice was so irritating it set Dan on edge and her pompous expectation that he should treat her as an intellectual boiled his blood.
“No.” Dan was firm. “I mean murders. You’re right about there being a difference, but you’re wrong to call them assassinations.”
“Well, in any case, I don’t know anything.”
Dan’s patience was stretching thin and he felt the pressure of a ticking clock. He reached inside his coat and drew the Ka-Bar from its sheath. With one fluid arc, he swept an arm through the air and buried the blade an inch into Michele’s hardwood table. The ferocity of the sudden action made Michele recoil. Dan’s white-knuckled fist still gripped the handle and she could see the light dancing along the razor-sharp blade. One side was serrated, designed to cause maximum damage when plunged into someone’s torso.
His voice was level and an even icier chill had settled in his eyes. They’d lost their greenish hue and taken a shade of grey. He flexed his forearm and eased the knife free. “Put your hands back on the table.”
She refused.
“If you don’t want me to gut you like a pig, you’ll put your hands on the damn table before I reach zero: five… four…”
Her hands were back on the table.
“Now, if I shoot you I won’t get much useful information.” A wicked smile twisted his lips. It was mostly bluff, but a malignant shadow in his mind urged him to carry out his threats if she didn’t cooperate. “So if I think you’re lying again I’m going to de-glove one of your fingers. Do you understand me? I’ll cut the flesh off so you can see the bone. It’s therefore in your best interest to convince me you’re telling the truth.” He watched the fear swelling in her face. Okay she’s taken the bait.“Now, once again, we’re going to talk about Esteban’s murders. Where does he take his abductees?”
Michele shook her head and said, “If I knew I’d tell you.”
“Would you?”
“Yes.” She vigorously nodded. “I like my fingers.”
He paused briefly to examine her expression before continuing with the questions. “Did you know my wife was murdered?”
She replied reluctantly. “Yes.”
“Did you know by whom?”
Michele nodded.
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She thought about that question for a while. “I’m not allowed to divulge company information. All our clients demand strict discretion.” She shrugged. “Besides, who are you? What did it matter to me if you knew or not? There’re plenty of victims in this business, if I went around telling their families what really happened we’d be snowed under with lawsuits in a week.”
Fucking callous don’t you think?Dan hated her with as much passion as he’d loved his wife, which he thought was dangerous. Holding a knife to an object of hatred was a recipe for disaster. “Did you know about the operation against my wife?” The answer to this question would determine whether he considered her life forfeit.
She shook her head. “No, not until afterward.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“I only found out when you came for your interview and I read your file. Why would Esteban tell me about every assassination that-”
“Murder.”
“Whatever. Why should he tell me about them? It’s none of my business, I’m the bounty co-ordinator, I have nothing to do with assassinations.”
“Look, I’m only going to say this once more. If you use the word ‘assassination’ again during this conversation, you’ll lose a finger. I’m only giving you another warning because you’re so obviously stupid. What happened to my wife was notassassination – it was rape and murder. Esteban and two of his cronies tortured her for hours before finally ending it.” His lower lip quivered and he barred the emotion before it could swell to the surface. Now’s not the time.But Michele hadn’t noticed; she was too busy watching the knife dance in front of her eyes.
“Now…” Dan had decided to believe her, so she’d live another day if she co-operated. “Why was she a target?”
Michele shrugged as innocently as she could. “I assumed it was to get back at you for ruining his life. He always says how much he loved being an assassin and you were the one that took that from him. He’s still pissed.”
It wasn’t the truth, but Michele believed it so Dan couldn’t fault her for lying. I was so naïve and stupid. If he could undo one thing in his life, it would be his pursuit of Esteban. No good had come of it. Why didn’t I listen? Katherine, Slime and my Superintendent all warned me to drop the case. Why am I so stubborn? Now Jen’s paying for it too.“Tell me everything you know about Jen’s apprehension.”
Michele didn’t hesitate; she was already committed to spewing her guts. “Jackie ordered all of you dead when we found out you’d used the Raven to kill Mr Savage.”
So that was my fault too.“He’s dead then?”
She nodded. “Why did you do that anyway?”
“It was an accident,” he said, willing himself to believe it. “The Raven wasn’t supposed to actually do it.”
“Well he did.” Michele looked at him dispassionately. “And Jackie wants him dead too.”
“Who’s Jackie?” Dan frowned at the name; she’d mentioned it twice. She must be important.
“Our CEO.”
“There’s already a new one?” Dan had the mental image of a hydra – cut off one head and the beast grows two more.
But Michele shook her head, her hair spilling in front of her eyes. She briefly removed a hand from the table to brush it away. “No, Mr Savage was only the public CEO, Jackie’s the one that really runs things.”
Clever.He was starting to piece together what was happening and it didn’t bode well for Jen’s safety. Esteban will have his revenge.
He grimaced at the logical conclusion. And it will only stop when he’s dead.“Tell me everything you know about Esteban’s friends.”
Michele shrugged. “I don’t know very much. Sometimes he talks about them after we’ve… uh…” She had the grace to flush bright red. “You know… made love.” She squirmed in her seat, even more uncomfortable when she saw Dan staring at her unemotionally. She wondered whether he’d kill her anyway. It was a sobering thought. “Anyway, I know they went to college together, but I don’t know which one.” She looked at the ceiling, pouting with the effort of remembering the snippets of information she hadn’t considered importance at the time. “He has lots of friends, but he only talks about two of them as if they’re close. They do favours for each other and hang out after work. Sometimes he phones them when he’s going to be late for poker. I think one works for Global Integrated Systems and the other one for PortaNet.” Her pout deepened while she dredged her memory for anything to add, preferably something useful to appease the man holding the knife. She knew he was capable of killing her; she’d read his file, all of it. And he terrified her. “One has a name like Henry, but different, Andrew maybe? The other he just calls Junior.”
Dan etched every detail in his mind for later analysis. But a vibration at his hip was an unwelcome distraction and he held up a finger, indicating Michele should pause while he attended to his pager. He had an unlisted number and he’d only distributed it to a few key people, so he couldn’t imagine it was spam. Simon?He wondered what was so important. He pressed the acknowledge button and it stopped vibrating. “Go on.”
“I was finished,” Michele replied. “That’s all I know.”
“Okay… you don’t know where Esteban is, but do you know how to contact him?”
She thought about that for a moment. “His mobile number?”
“Perfect.”
She scratched a few numbers onto a scrap of paper and slid it across the desk, her fingers brushing the slit Dan’s knife had gouged in the surface. “It’s a free-talk phone.” Which meant Echelon would not sift through Esteban’s conversations.
