by Vanessa Muir
Creeping dread built in Charlie’s gut, and she looked back down the corridor. Empty. No nondescript man coming to punish her for her transgressions. No State-sanctioned assassins to take her out. No one high on MemXor. Fuck, though she couldn’t account for any of her neighbors.
Most everyone nowadays had had the memory removal procedure. They’d all been exposed.
Charlie reached into her pocket and removed the memory-latex gloves from within. She put them on. She pressed her hand to the door and pushed, gently.
Anger dismissed her fear.
Her apartment had been trashed. Her sofa turned over, gutted by a knife, its insides vomited from the cushions. The lampshade was broken. Windows too. Curtains torn off the rods. None of it mattered, though.
Her laptop was gone. The one non-SSG piece of equipment she’d had, lifted from her apartment. There were no threats left behind other than the fact it was missing. They had her most private information. Pieces of which she’d kept from the State, from anyone, and her only access to the Memory Cloud that wasn’t monitored.
“Fuck,” she muttered. “Fuck!” She tapped her finger to her temple and summoned up her father’s contact number. “Answer. Answer the phone.”
“Charlotte?” Her father’s voice sounded in her ear, smarmy as always. “Why are you calling me this late at night? Do you have an update on the case?”
“You’d better call your guy off,” she said.
“What are you talking about?” A long-labored sigh.
“You’d better call that asshole off, or I’m going to go out there and nullify his existence.”
“Charlotte, I don’t have time for your dramatics this evening. I’ve just lost a close, personal friend and—”
“Bullshit. Bullshit. I call bullshit on all of this. Don’t pretend you don’t know what’s going on.”
“Your language is appalling.”
“You took my laptop. Your guy outside, or some of the other guys who work for you. You took it.”
Another sigh. “I’m beginning to doubt whether putting you on the case was a good idea, after all. Absalon was important to all of us. Perhaps, his loss is too much for you to bear. Perhaps, you should take an extended vacation rather than investigating its cause.”
Charlie shut her mouth and ground her teeth.
“I’m trusting you with this, Charlotte. I thought that throwing you a bone would please you. Would affirm you to yourself. Perhaps, I was wrong.”
Charlie didn’t buy it. Her father was a manipulator.
“But if it’s too much for you to handle...”
“Someone broke into my apartment,” she said. “My laptop is missing.”
“Ah, so you’re upset. See, if you’d just told me that from the start, I would have understood.”
“I was followed home.”
“Are you sure? Why would someone who’d robbed you follow you around, dear child?” Nathaniel simpered. There was no warmth in the term of endearment he’d used.
“You tell me.”
“Fortunately, I’m not the investigator in this situation. Now, kindly do not call this number again unless you have an update on Absalon’s case. Understood?”
Charlie glared at the broken glass on the floor.
“Is that understood, Charlotte?"
“Yes.” She tapped her temple before he could reprimand her further.
The thump of footsteps in the hall brought her down from the edge of fury.
10
Charlie spun toward the front door of her apartment, backing up a few steps, the memory latex on her hands cloying, too tactile. Sweat beaded on her forehead, but she didn’t wipe it away. Had the man gotten in somehow? Was it possible that he wasn’t associated with her father or the State, that he was a separate entity?
Someone from the past. A person who was angry at her for something that had happened during an investigation? Someone who was high on MemXor? The thoughts tumbled through her mind, out of control. And all with a backdrop of panic over what had happened—her laptop gone, her most private thoughts exposed to whoever had taken it.
Charlie didn’t make a habit of panicking, but it clawed at her now, digging itself into the center of her chest.
She unclipped her gun from its holster and lifted it.
Levi Daniels stepped through her front door, then shut it behind him. He scanned the living room, briefly, then beckoned to her.
Charlie immediately lowered her weapon and holstered it. She followed him to the window, clicking off the light as she did. They stopped beside the broken window, and Levi removed a pair of black gloves from his pocket and slipped them onto his hands. He reached through the window and slapped his hand to the side of the wall.
“What?” Charlie whispered.
Levi slipped his arm around her waist and pulled her close, roughly. “Hold tight,” he whispered.
And then he heaved them both out of the window and into the night. The glove remained fixed to the wall, and they dangled, Charlie tightening her grip, heart leaping into her throat. “How are you going to—”
They descended, sliding down the wall in silence, the glove doing God knew what to get them down the wall.
They landed, and Levi pressed a button on the back of the glove, and it released from the wall. Levi removed both of them hurriedly and tucked them into his pockets.
“What the hell was that?” Charlie asked.
He shushed her, beckoned, then walked into the alley that separated her building from the next. It was empty, except for a trash receptacle, and Charlie walked over to that and checked it. No one hiding within, listening or watching.
“What’s going on?" Charlie asked, ignoring thoughts that had nothing to do with the surprise of seeing him, and everything to do with how it had felt—his strong arm around her, holding her close. She wasn’t that person. She never had been.
“You’ve been given an investigation,” Levi said, quietly, and strode away from the front of the alleyway. He turned to her. “Who?”
“You won’t believe me if I tell you,” Charlie replied. “I’m not sure I believe it. It’s big. A big case and a big deal. We were hired to investigate by Nathaniel himself.”
“Absalon Shamood.”
Charlie’s brow wrinkled, and suspicion rebounded within her again. “Did you have something to do with this, Levi?”
“Just a lucky guess. That’s not the M.O. of Black Mars. Absalon’s work is already done. He’s just one of the many heads of the snake and removing it will only bring another head. The State is a beast, and it needs to be brought down as a whole.”
“How?”
“It’s a monster that no one believes is. A monster that everyone in Corden Prime and across the globe believes is actually a friend, a mentor, a comfort in terrible times. We have to expose it for the monster it is. Killing Shamood wouldn’t do that.”
“A memory was taken from his bank,” Charlie said, coming forward, halting close to him, trying to deny her attraction to him as she did. Sharp eyes, a gaze that cut right through to the truth of things. The rest of him was shrouded in mystery.
“A memory,” Levi said and dragged fingers across his forehead.
“The suspect’s name is Kegan Bolryder. Have you heard of him?”
“Actually, yes, but not for reasons you might think.” Levi dropped his arm to his side. “He’s not one of ours.”
“He’s not?”
“No, because he’s not anyone.”
“What?”
“Kegan Bolryder is one of the many names manufactured by the State themselves. Kind of like a Jane or John Doe without a real living person behind it. When something bad happens publicly, they use these pseudo-people as scapegoats.”
Charlie let the fact sink in. It would explain what she’d found on both Kegan and Danika. “Hmm, but there was a body. Kegan’s wife, Danika, was found dead at a meeting location, and I witnessed this Kegan individual on surveillance footage, murdering the victim.�
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Levi shook his head. “I don’t know what to tell you, Spade. You’re being played. You don’t think it’s strange that the State contacted you to handle this case personally? They have people more qualified for that.”
“Thanks.”
“No offense meant. But they’re trusting you with this, and after what happened with your ex-partner Jones, you don’t exactly have a clean record. Think about it.”
“I have been,” she said. “I just don’t know what to do next. Where to turn. I need help, Levi.” She wasn’t good at asking for it. She never had been, but she was desperate now, and he was the only one she remotely trusted.
“I can’t give you anything yet,” he said. “Not until... well, I just can’t, Charlie. You’re compromised until you’re not anymore. Understand that.”
“I don’t.”
“Then take this,” he said and drew a small device out of his pocket. It lit up and he tapped on its screen several times.
A number flashed in front of Charlie’s eyes. An incoming call she didn’t recognize. It disconnected as soon as it had started.
“Now, you can contact me when you need to, Spade,” Levi said. “I’ll touch base when I need updates on what’s going on.”
“Updates?” she asked. “Now, I’m actively working with you?”
“You always were.” Levi gave her a smile that was far too genuine and sent heat through her center. “Keep safe, Spade. Don’t let them get to you. If you do, I’m afraid all hope will be lost.”
“Why?”
Levi was already at the far end of the alley. “Because something big is about to happen, something not even the State can control, and you’ll need to make it through alive if you want things to change.”
And then he was gone, and Charlie didn’t have any of the answers she so desperately craved.
11
Charlie sat at the desk, Eli’s chair next to hers empty, and searched up Kegan Bolryder for the fiftieth time in a row. It didn’t yield any other results, not ones that were different from those she’d found the day before.
And the lack of answers only cemented what Levi had told her the night before. A pseudo-person used by the State as a scapegoat. Unless, of course, they already had a real citizen handy as they’d had with Jones, her ex-partner.
But what did it mean? And how had they gotten real people to take those names? And why would they protect the person who had murdered Shamood? Unless, there’d been some internal rivalry between the members of the State? The Councilors?
It was the best concept she could come up with, but there were still so few answers for her.
She needed to get her hands on the suspect. If she could find him, question him, she’d be able to tear the case open. The opposite of what the State would want if they were somehow behind this.
But then, why had they hired her?
Charlie tapped on the desk’s in-built tablet and tried again.
“Spade,” Boss Ink’s gruff voice sounded behind her.
She looked up and found him, covered in tattoos, sweaty and beady-eyed. He nodded to her, then gave Eli’s empty seat a glance.
“You’re here early,” he said.
“I’ve got work to do, Boss.”
“I know,” he said.
“You know?”
“I was contacted by the Council, by Nathaniel himself. Let’s talk, Spade.” Boss Ink placed a thick-fingered hand on her shoulder. “You’ll need help.”
She couldn’t argue with him without inciting his anger or suspicion. Working at SSG was like walking on the edge of a blade, one slip and...
Charlie pushed up from her seat and followed her superior down the hall and into his office. She sat in front of his chromed-out desk, watched as he seated himself and helped himself to a pungent cigar.
He didn’t light it but chewed on the end a few times, then placed it in an ashtray. He stared at it for a moment, tapping his nails on the desk’s surface. Finally, he cleared his throat and met her gaze.
“You realize how big this is, don’t you, Spade?”
“What, boss?”
“Don’t play that game with me,” he said and drew a handkerchief from his top pocket. He swiped it across his brow, refolded it, then tucked it away again. “You know what I’m talking about. Absalon Shamood. Dead.”
“I was told the case would not be disclosed to anyone.”
“Except to the SSG,” Ink said. “To me and the other higher-up operatives. We’ve been told to give you all the permissions, all the support you might need to push this one through.” He paused. “If you do badly, we all do badly. It will reflect on us, on the SSG.”
Charlie folded her hands in her lap.
“It’s got to come out some time, the fact that Absalom Shamood is... dead. And when it does, people will want an answer. They’ll want blood, and you’ve got to give it to them.”
“Blood.” Charlie’s tone was flat as the surface of that desk.
“You know what I mean, Spade, for fuck’s sake. The person who did it. This, this...” Boss Ink tapped on the surface of his desk and accessed his tablet. “Kegan Bolryder. You have to find him.”
“I’m working on it,” Charlie replied and leaned in, spying the built-in tablet on the surface of his desk. But her stomach sank. It was the same information she had. Sparse, provided by the State, no new leads.
“Well, work harder. We need this figured out and fast. I’ve got a world of pressure on my head, right now.” Boss Ink sat back in his executive chair and reached up, inserted a finger beneath his collar. “I want regular updates on this.”
Two people, now, that she had to update. “Boss—”
“I don't want to hear it, Spade. I need to know what’s going on.”
“I’ve been instructed to report directly to Nathaniel.”
“Yeah, well, you can report directly to me too,” he replied waspishly. “Hell, do it on the same day, the same hour. I don’t care. I want to know what the hell is going on at all times.”
“Yes, sir.” But she despised having to say that.
“Good. Good.” Boss Ink sniffed. “Where’s your partner?”
“Eli’s at home, I assume. I don’t know, sir. I don’t keep personal tabs on him.”
“No need to get snappy, Spade.”
“All due respect, sir, I’ve got a job to do,” Charlie said, rising.
“Good. You do that job. And don’t forget to update me with what you have. Send it to me.” He tapped the tablet. “I’ll be waiting for your files. Oh, and Spade?”
“Yeah?”
“Some of the others are gathering in the lunchroom this evening. We’re going to hold a service for Absalon. Make sure you’re there.”
“Is that really wise?” she asked. “This is supposed to be kept quiet, sir.”
“Wise or not, we owe it to the man. We’ll keep it discrete. Just be there.”
Charlie nodded, souring on the inside. She walked toward the exit, burning up inside about all that had happened so far. Now, even Ink was on her case. The fact that he’d been approached by the State worried her even more.
She’d received nothing of interest from the lab. The autopsy results on both Absalon Shamood and Danika Bolryder had brought nothing new to light. Danika had been bludgeoned to death, Shamood the same cause of death, after his eye had been removed.
She had nothing, and more questions than answers, and now, Boss Ink leaning on her, heavily.
An idea started up in the back of her mind, and Charlie strode over to her desk and checked the time. It was 5 a.m., not too late to do what she needed to do. And if it didn’t work? She’d find another way.
Charlie shut down her desk, turned, and left the office behind before Eli could appear and foil her plans. He would try to stop her. He wouldn’t understand, and that wouldn’t get her closer to the truth of all of this.
The back of her neck prickled, but, when she glanced back, there was no one watching.
12
Charlie entered the apartment building and stopped in front of security—a chubby dude behind a desk, wearing a Mem Store uniform. Of course, he wasn’t a technician or an analyst, but the guy who manned the desk. Still, Mem Store had folded him into the company.
The expansion was, frankly, terrifying, but it had been happening for years, and it had never bothered her before. Not until her eyes had been opened to it. All thanks to Jones. Jones, who had betrayed her.
“I’m here investigating a crime,” Charlie said, stopping in front of the desk.
The guy jerked up, shifting his gaze from the site he had open on his desk. He blinked. “Hi. Who are you?”
“SSG Agent Charlie Spade,” she said and flashed him her watch, opening the screen to show him her identification. “I’m here to see Liliana Shamood.”
“Oh.” The guy tapped on his screen, frantically, and brought up a list. “I’m sorry, but you’re not on the list for visitors today.”
“That’s because I’m not a visitor,” Charlie said. “I’m an agent, and I have the full power of the Stormshield Services Group and the State behind me.”
“Uh...”
This was the part she hated. “Feel free to contact my father, Nathaniel Spade.”
It was a necessary name-drop. She needed to get in without alerting anyone. The entire situation at the scene of the crime, the review of the evidence at the Shamood residence had gone quickly and been monitored by her father. They’d had no time alone with Liliana, no wiggle room to ask the necessary question.
“Nathaniel Spade?” The security guy quivered in his uniform pants.
“Yes.”
“I—uh, OK. OK. Can I see your identification again?” He was clearly a newbie, just the luck she needed.
She flashed him her SSG identification again, and he took it in, then gave a great sigh. “All right, sure. OK, I’ll let you in.”
The doors opened that led through to the elevators and the staircase that would lead up to Shamood’s floor. Charlie nodded to the guard, then walked through them, listened as the glass swept closed behind her. She exhaled slowly, keeping her expression impassive.
