by Brian Savage
Brant was behind the counter with a dishcloth over one shoulder, scrubbing out a pan. Agent Albina was sitting on one of the bar stools. She wore a short black pencil skirt with white blouse, her long legs covered by sheer black stockings. Aeralyn was sitting on the couch in the same spot as last night, legs curled up. They were all laughing about something.
“I’m telling you, he is the worst dancer ever!” Agent Albina was finishing up a story, one Jack knew all too well. He could feel his face getting hot, and his ears turning red. Aeralyn laughed, and Brant hid a smile behind a pan he was rinsing.
“What are you doing here, Agent Albina?” Jack asked, unamused.
“Really? Agent Albina? Jack, it’s me—Cassie.” She said it sweetly enough, but Jack knew the poison she could hide behind the pretty face.
“Why are you here, Cassandra?” he asked, twirling his finger at her in a show of slight impatience.
“Well, I figured neither of you were going to come to the office, since yours is destroyed, so I brought some news.”
Jack waited a moment before impatiently asking, “Which is?”
“I got some eggs and bacon for you, boss,” Brant said, sliding a plate toward him. Jack pulled the plate to the opposite end of the bar from where Cassie leaned casually, and started eating, looking up at her across the now cold plate of food.
Cassie clucked her tongue angrily before she began. “IT work logs showed that Aeralyn, the darling, was working on an agent aerial that is currently located out of state, pretty much all day the day of the attack.”
“So?” Jack said, ripping off a piece of bacon with his teeth.
“So, she couldn’t have murdered Harraves and she probably didn’t fly that aerial into the gate.”
“That’s just her workstation; that doesn’t mean she didn’t do either of those things.”
It was Aeralyn’s turn to cluck her tongue angrily. She set her coffee down on the end table and disappeared into the guest room, emerging a second later to zip into the bathroom and slam the door.
“You really know how to charm them, don’t you, Jacky Boy,” Cassandra said, smiling.
“Don’t call me that.” Jack eyed her coolly. “How did you get access to our case?”
“Oh, Jack, you know I have my ways.” She stood, grabbing her coat and purse from the seat beside her. “I best be off. You boys don’t have too much fun. See you later, Brantley.” She smiled at Brant from over her shoulder as she stepped onto the lift and hit the red button.
Jack looked at Brant, an obvious question in his eyes.
“She was at your door when I got here this morning. Seemed like she was waiting a while.”
“So, you just invite her in, then cook her breakfast?”
“No, she didn’t want anything but coffee.”
Brant’s smart-aleck remark didn’t soothe Jack’s anger.
“Look, she brought us news that pretty much clears Aeralyn; I thought you would be happy.”
“Number one, it doesn’t clear her; number two, I don’t want that narcissistic bitch in my place; and number three, don’t you think it’s a bit suspicious how she just inserted herself into our case?” Jack enunciated each point with a sharp jab of his yolk-covered fork.
“C’mon, man, she’s one of us!” Brant said, exasperated.
“A baddie attacked us yesterday, in our office.” Jack stabbed a piece of bacon through the unbroken yolk of his second egg.
“Yeah, maybe you’re right,” Brant said, conceding the point.
“Until we know a bit more about what the fuck is going on, we need to play our cards a little closer to our chests.”
“Alright, boss,” Brant said, turning around and replacing the iron skillet back on the stove top.
“Thanks for breakfast.”
“No problem,” Brant said, drying his hands in the dish towel. “How did you sleep?”
“Like shit.”
“You look like it.”
Brant’s smart remark drew a rare smile from Jack’s face.
“So, I was thinking about our next step.” Brant pushed the dish towel through the handle of the oven, and grabbed a plate of bacon and eggs off the counter. He made his way around to one of the bar stools and sat down. “We have a pretty good idea that someone wants Aeralyn dead, assuming that she is a loose end in terms of her being one of the only three that could access the system by proper channels.”
“No shit, Sherlock.”
“Who is Sherlock?” Brant looked at Jack quizzically.
“Never mind.” Jack waved his free hand in a circular motion. “Continue.”
“Okay. So. Whoever or whatever was in the aerial was made to look like the head guy at the MWA. Let’s assume that whoever hacked that aerial thought the same thing we did at first, that it was actually him.”
Jack placed his fork down on the empty plate, chewing thoughtfully.
“If they thought it was him, and crashed the aerial because he was in there, we should be running down that angle.”
“But the list of people that want to target a Corporate head is miles long,” Jack said.
“We should still talk to the guy. There might be someone, that he or his office knows about, sending extra hate lately.”
“Yeah.” Jack thought about it. He was reluctant to go all the way to the MWA to chase down a lead, but he also knew they were pretty much shit out of luck in terms of the leads here. That, and Aeralyn. She was a target for some unknown reason, especially with the new information that tentatively cleared her of wrongdoing. That didn’t mean someone wouldn’t still come after her. She could end up being safer away from the city.
“Did you ever call and find out what happened with that baddie?” Jack asked Brant.
“No. They called earlier this morning and still haven’t figured out why it attacked us.”
“I think you are right. We should head for the MWA.”
“What are we doing with the girl?” Brant asked.
“She’s coming with us.”
“That’s against protocol.”
“Yeah, the baddie went against protocol too,” Jack said.
Brant looked troubled. “Why not just give the protection detail over to Cassie?”
“It’s ‘Cassie’ now?” Jack asked, expression turning cold.
“C’mon, Jack, she will be a liability out there.”
“She is coming with us, Brant.” Jack’s voice left no room for debate. “I don’t care what Agent Albina said, I don’t care what she offered. If she has offered to help, she is just looking for a way to fuck us over.”
“And this has nothing to do with your guys’ past relationship?” Brant’s voice was icy too. The words came from his lips, and beneath an upturned eyebrow.
“Brant, you don’t know her. I do. Aeralyn goes with us and stays with us until we know she isn’t a target or involved.”
“You got it, boss.” Brant’s voice had returned to a somewhat normal tone. Jack knew that it was from practiced lip biting and not agreement. He watched as Brant collected both their empty plates and took them to the sink.
“You need anything from your place?” he asked in a softer tone.
“Already packed,” Brant said, indicating a duffle bag by the lift.
“I’ll be ready in a minute.” Jack turned and walked down the hall. He tapped on the door to the bathroom. Aeralyn cracked it, hair and body wrapped in towels. She eyed him a bit coolly as he spoke to her through the crack.
“We are leaving in a bit.”
“Where are we going?”
“The MWA.”
She frowned at him. “Why are you dragging me to the MWA?”
“Because you are still under our protection—”
“And thumb,” she said, interrupting him.
“And you’re still a suspect.”
“You can’t just keep dragging me around with you.”
“It’s for your protection.”
“Why don’t you open you
r eyes, Sherlock?” she said with a pained expression on her face.
“What’s that supposed to mean?” he asked, confused.
“The very people you are looking for have hired you to do the looking.”
“Who?” He was even more confused.
“I’ll be ready in a minute.” She shut the door hard.
Jack stood at the door, looking at the wood grain, still thinking about what she meant. The people who hired me to look. The Corporation? That’s crazy.
He shook his head and turned into his bedroom.
Jack packed a few extras into his duffle, adding a change of clothes, toothbrush, and his shaving kit. He met Brant and Aeralyn by the lift and they made their way down together.
“I contacted HQ and got us on the first flight to the MWA,” Brant said cheerfully, seemingly forgetting their small disagreement from earlier.
Aeralyn was silent and stone faced; she was resigned that she was going with the agents.
“Perfect,” Jack said, expressionlessly.
When the lift stopped on the dusty concrete floor, Brant made his way off and headed for the front of the building.
Jack turned to the right and headed down the sidewall, and Aeralyn fell in step behind Jack.
“Where are you going?” Brant asked, confused.
“We are taking my gasser,” Jack replied, not bothering to turn toward Brant before answering.
“You have a gasser?” Brant turned and jogged back toward them to catch back up.
Jack didn’t reply. The echoing sound of their footsteps reverberated off the stone wall to their right, and into the wide-open space of the empty industrial building. They neared the end of the wall, which abruptly stopped at another wall made from the same color brick, but newer and much less grimy. They turned to the left and followed Jack around the side to a steel door.
Jack produced another key from his pocket, opened the door, and flipped the light switch.
What sat before them surprised both Aeralyn and Brant. The hard lines and squarish body of the vehicle reminded Brant of the agent gassers he was used to driving, and reminded Aeralyn of the military-style vehicles pictured in her history books.
“Hop in, you two,” Jack said, not hiding the pride he felt at seeing their surprised faces.
“How have we been partners for this long and you never showed me this?” Brant jumped in the front passenger seat. Aeralyn, still silent, slid into the back.
“I’m a private kind of person,” Jack said, shrugging. He took his place behind the wheel, starting the vehicle with an old-fashioned key he produced from his pocket.
“What year is this?” Brant asked, running a hand over the black interior.
“2014,” Jack said, using his sleeve to wipe off a fingerprint left by Brant on the shining, black, textured dash.
Jack hit a button, raising the door behind them.
“Uh. I called a company aerial to take us to the airport. It’s probably waiting out front.”
“We aren’t going to that airport.”
“What?!” Brant twisted in his seat, fighting his seat belt.
Jack looked at his partner, and gave a questioning frown. Brant’s outburst didn’t match his normal cool, calm, and collected demeanor.
Brant took a deep breath as Jack backed into the street and hit the button which dropped his door. “Sorry. If we aren’t going to the airport, where are we going?”
“We are going to a different airport,” Jack said nonchalantly.
“I sure wish you would clue me in on these little plan changes.” Brant leaned back in his chair and rubbed his forehead with one hand. “Do you want me to call and cancel our other flights, then? They probably won’t reimburse me for the cost if I don’t.”
“Nope. Let them figure it out later. Besides, a young, single guy like you would have probably just spent the money on beer and those shitty burgers.”
Jack looked into the rearview mirror. Aeralyn was sitting in the center seat smirking at Brant’s apparent discomfort at bucking the system. Jack looked back to the road and smiled to himself. He loved making her smile.
The airport that Jack had decided to fly out of was a tiny building, two hours away from the city. The only attendant was a fat, balding man who wore coveralls with one strap undone. The front of his coveralls was covered in engine oil and a myriad of other stains too numerous to count. Brant shook his head at the cliché-looking man who, on top of being the only attendant at the small dirt runway, was also the only pilot who rotated between flying private flights all over, to aerial surveying and any other odd job that required a human touch. The hangars that housed his small fleet of slowly decaying planes stretched out along the red dirt strip of runway like gaping, toothless mouths, all in upturned, open-faced, sad smiles.
On top of being a pilot and the sole attendant at the fueling station and airstrip, the man could talk. He talked about all things going wrong, and in the space of a few minutes, updated the three on which airplanes he had running and which he had to part out to keep them that way. Luckily for the three, Jack had made sure that one of the few he had running was a small passenger jet from the early 2070s. He swore up and down on his life that the plane Brant was sure was a flying death trap was the steady-running rock of his fleet.
Jack seemed in his element dealing with the implant-less man, Aeralyn seemed amused by the whole situation, and Brant moved about, agitated, like a man with a toothache, ready to get the painful drilling part done. Jack was haggling with the man on the fee for transportation.
Aeralyn watched him speaking with the man. He was calm, collected, and he didn’t need to think about what he was going to say next; the words just flowed. He haggled like bartering was something he had done his whole life. She looked at his implant thoughtfully, slowly blinking away, with the all too familiar steady rhythm of a heartbeat. He could be made to see.
The man who looked like a relic of the past, as old as the plane he was about to fly, finally agreed on a price for transportation. He could get them most of the way to the MWA for three ounces of gold, which Jack produced from his coat pocket nonchalantly. Brant didn’t hide his astonishment at the use of such rudimentary means of payment.
Jack shrugged at him. “He doesn’t take Quick Pay, Swift, or even old-fashioned credit cards.” Jack smiled. He liked dealing with people on this level.
The man told Jack he was going to grab some things for the trip and turn off his “open” sign, then show them to the plane. He sealed the deal with a final grimy handshake, and turned to head back to the office, slipping the three small gold coins into the front pocket of his overalls.
Brant was still wide-eyed. “Tell me I’m dreaming.”
“You’re dreaming,” Aeralyn told him, smiling in amusement at his obvious discomfort at the whole situation.
“I’m glad you find this so funny, techie,” Brant retorted, obviously not amused.
“Will you relax, Brant? I’ve flown with this guy before. We will be fine.”
“Relax?! I just bought tickets with my Corporate account—tickets that we aren’t going to use, nor are we going to cancel. We drive to the middle of god knows where to hop on a plane older than all three of us put together and flown by the most cliché-looking, hick motherfucker you could find, and you want me to relax?” Brant never took his hands out of his pockets, but gestured like he had. Jack thought it was comical that his younger partner was flapping around an airplane hangar like a bird, but in the back of his mind, concern was growing. Brant’s normal go-with-the-flow attitude had been replaced by one that disliked deviations from the norm.
“What’s gotten into you?” Jack asked, letting the concern register on his face and in his voice.
“Nothing,” Brant replied quietly, looking down at his feet. “I just hate how little we know and how little I know about what’s going on.”
There was a moment of silence, Jack looking at Brant, Brant looking at the ground, and Aeralyn looking back and f
orth between the two.
“I’m going to go out for a smoke.” Brant turned quickly and made his way for the wide-open hangar doors.
“I didn’t know you started smoking,” Jack said, taking a step after him, but stopping short of following.
“A new habit I picked up,” Brant said, disappearing around the corner of the door.
“He isn’t well, Jack,” Aeralyn stated.
“He will be fine. This is the first case where we have had more questions than answers. He’ll perk back up once we get to the MWA.” Jack continued watching after Brant, hoping in his mind that what he was saying was true.
“Jack, Brant isn’t all there.” Aeralyn’s voice was stone cold, sending a chill up Jack’s spine.
“What the hell are you talking about now? Every time you talk to me, you speak in a riddle that you won’t answer. I’m tired of whatever game you’re playing.” Jack turned to face her. “Brant and I were almost killed protecting your ass from an out-of-control robot. The least you could do is start talking in a way that I can fucking understand you.”
Aeralyn didn’t react to what Jack was saying. He watched her face, looking for any sign that what he had said had gotten through to her. Her face stayed expressionless.
“If the robot had wanted to kill me, it would have killed me,” she said slowly, in a measured tone.
“What?” Jack’s face screwed up in disbelief. What the hell was she implying? It’s so hard keeping track of her damn rabbit holes, he thought.
“The robot attacked you in the office, Jack. It attacked Brant in retaliation, but you are the only one it struck; the only one it went after. You were its target.” She leaned slightly forward on the balls of her feet as she spoke.
