When the door was closed behind her, Sorenssen leered and said, “Nice diversion. I wish I’d got it recorded.”
“Up yours, Sorenssen. That poor woman's going to be a mess when she finds out the real Katia and Gerry don't remember a thing about all this. Did you find the file?”
“Of course.” He flipped a display so that she could see it.
She pulled up a chair and began flipping through the pages of the report. It wasn't long. When she'd read it through once, she started again from the beginning.
The Rice Consortium, the report's author had written, was a legitimate company with the financial backing of several very large, very high-profile Australian corporations and high-net-value individuals. Its purpose was to lobby in favour of the proposed cybersecurity legislation. But the compilers of the report had been instructed to dig as deeply as possible, and had been given a very large budget to do so. They had recruited the services of specialist private investigators who found that there was no evidence of any lobbying activities whatsoever by the company. They also found – and this must have been what had shaken Della's CEO so much – that several of the Consortium's owners and chief operating executives had connections to organised crime. They didn't actually say 'Tong' or 'Mafia' but there was no doubt there were large and powerful criminal organisations behind the Consortium.
“You read this?” she asked Sorenssen.
He gave a quick nod. “Looks like you're screwing with the Mob.”
There were names and contact details for several key Consortium personnel. Too much detail to remember. “You're sure we can't record any of this?” she asked and felt relieved when Sorenssen confirmed it was impossible without discovery. That was it then. End of the road. She could maybe make an effort and commit some of these names to memory, maybe even a Net address or two, but there was no point. She was not going to beard a bunch of gangsters in their lairs or burgle their homes looking for evidence. There was a limit to how far her nerve would take her and this was it.
She nodded towards the display. “Is that all there was?”
Sorenssen shrugged. “There were notes, records of travel and meetings, payments to various people for services. Loads of stuff really, but that's the report.”
“OK,” she said. “Tidy this up and let's get out of here.”
Sorenssen smirked. “If you're quick you might catch the hottie out there before she leaves, get a bit more girl-on-girl action going.”
“You're a disgusting creep. When we leave this place, I hope I never see you again.”
“I'm just saying, while you've got that great body to play with, why not have a bit of fun?”
She turned away from him, too angry to respond. The mere presence of that emotional imbecile made her want to scream. She noticed her hands were shaking and she clasped them together to hide it from Sorenssen. She felt terrible about having deceived Shelise, not to mention confused and conflicted about how much she had enjoyed what they'd done. That, together with the fear and relief she had felt on discovering the Consortium was a front for organised crime, had left her emotions in a mess.
“I'm leaving,” she said, turning to face him with as much composure as she could muster. “There's no point in me hanging around. Thank you for your help.”
But Sorenssen did not seem to be listening. He stared into the displays, head darting from side to side, hands flicking and stabbing. She didn't like the tense expression on his face.
“What is it?” she asked, but she already knew.
“An alarm,” he said, his attention focused on the displays. “I don't get it.”
“They're coming?” How long did they have? What could she tell them when the security guards or the police burst in? Could she keep Della out of it?
“I – I don't know. It's not...” He dodged around in his feverish interaction with the systems. “I'm trying to divert...”
“Maybe we should just run.” She could feel the panic taking hold. What was the boy doing? They should leave, surely?
Abruptly, he stepped back from the desk. “Shit!” He looked at her and she could see his shock and fear. “It's not the Chastity systems. Somebody planted a tell-tale on the file. Somebody else.” The way he said it made her insides turn to liquid. The only other people who might be interested were the Consortium.
“We are so rooted,” he said. “They scanned the office. They found us. They know who we are. Who we really are.” He blinked once, blank-faced. Then he ran.
Ginny tried to grab him as he passed but he shook her off, threw open the door and bolted out of the office, heading for their exit portal. It was the trigger for Ginny to panic too and hurry after him, weeping with frustration at the tight skirt and heels that slowed her to a teetering hobble.
-oOo-
She burst free of the tank like a diver coming up for air, tore off the drip and scrabbled for the gun she had hidden in the bedside drawer. It was not until she had the weapon in her hands and it was pointing at the hotel-room door that her breathing began to steady and her brain began to work again.
The Mob was after her. The Mafia. The Triads. They knew her. They'd caught her spying on them. They were coming for her. She had to get out of there and hide.
She began dragging things out of cupboards and shoving them into her bag, everything made harder because she daren't put down the gun, not even for a moment.
Where could she go? Where could she hide? Another hotel? There were so few in Sydney a child could find her in a two minute Net search. An empty house, then? A derelict. There must be lots of places like that. But where would she find one? Where would she start looking? She knew Brisbane well enough, but not Sydney. Dare she call Della and ask for help? No. They could be monitoring her calls. A thought struck fear into her. They might even be able to track her tag. But, surely, only the police could do something like that? Even if that were true – and she doubted now that there was any privacy or security for anyone any more – the Consortium would need just one corrupt cop in their pocket and they would know exactly where she was. For a moment, she thought about going bush. Out in the vast interior of the continent were those wild places Rafe had spoken of that had little if any QNet coverage. But how would she live? What would she eat? How could she even get there?
The police, then. She had to go to the police. It was her only hope. She pulled Detective Chu's ID out from her contacts and set up the call, still her finger hesitated over the call button. Which was worse, taking your chances on the run with gangsters trying to kill you, or giving yourself up to the Feds and having them ship you up north to an offshore “processing centre” where you could be held indefinitely as a suspected terrorist?
She could see Chu in her mind's eye. Tall and strong, with dark, gentle eyes, she couldn't help but trust him to treat her well. And he had been so kind to her that day she had flipped out and fainted. It was that memory more than anything that made her press the call button.
He seemed surprised to see her. “Miss Galton. What can I do for you?”
“I – I think I'm in trouble. I mean real trouble. Some people are after me.” It was only when she said it to Chu that it struck her that the Consortium might always have been after her. That, perhaps, discovering their underworld backers didn't really change a thing. Maybe she was in no more danger today than she had been yesterday. “I have things I need to tell you,” she said, “about some terrorists and a criminal organisation.” She steeled herself. “And about some things I've done and seen in the past few weeks.”
Chu regarded her as if he couldn't quite make up his mind how to respond. Cautiously, he said, “We should meet. Physically. Why don't I come to you?”
“I don't know if I'm safe here.”
“I'm not far away. I won't be long.”
“You're in Sydney?”
“We both seem to be travelling a lot lately. Just wait there. I'm on my way.”
She ended the call and sat down on the edge of the bed. Waves of exh
austion swept through her. At least it was all over now. Whatever her fate, it was no longer in her hands. Chu would take her away somewhere, she supposed. There would be questions, even accusations, but at least she would be safe. She let her eyelids close. The gun in her lap seemed to weigh a ton. She could just go to sleep. She thought about calling Della and telling her, but decided it was best not to involve anyone else. She lay back on the bed, not bothering to move the bag next to her. She should probably tell Sorenssen that she'd contacted the police, but she was still angry with him and, when the crunch came, he had just run off and left her. Well, she hadn't expected anything better of him. It occurred to her that, in her own panicked flight, she had not even glanced around to see if Shelise Kwang had still been there in the outer office. That poor woman. She remembered Shelise's lips against her own, the feel of her arms pressing their bodies together. It was such a shame Sorenssen had interrupted them, spoilt that blissful, delicious moment...
Chapter 18
She woke to pounding, hammering fear. Her heart lurched as she half-fell off the bed, remembering the gun, groping for it. It was the door. Someone was banging at the door. She shook herself. It must be Chu. She must have been asleep. She hurried over and peeped through the spyhole. There was the detective with two other men behind him. She shoved the gun in her overall pocket and yanked the door open.
“Thank God you're here,” she said. She rushed back to the bed and grabbed her bag. “Where are we going? Do you have, like, physical offices or something?” She turned to find Chu standing close behind her. The other two men had closed the door and were standing inside, watching her. Chu held a gun, pointed at her chest.
She tried to speak but could not. Her brain just would not send the signals. Her mouth opened and closed as everything she thought she understood whirled into a cloud of confusion and refused to reassemble itself. She sat down on the bed, not even looking at Chu. What was the point? This was the end. It was all over.
“You're with them,” she said, surprising herself. “The Consortium.” She looked up at him, anger beginning to seep into her awareness. The big man with the gun, the room itself, began to slide away. Could she believe anything she thought she knew? Was everybody lying? How could she know what was real? “Are you even a cop at all?”
“I'm just going to ask you a few questions, then we can all be on our way.”
“You're not going to kill me?”
The momentary hope was dashed when he said, “Of course not,” and she could hear the lie in his voice.
“First, you can hand me that gun you carry. The one you used to shoot our guy in Stanthorpe.”
Again an instant of wild hope. If she could draw the gun and shoot him... But the chances of success seemed tiny and the chances of him shooting her seemed enormous. She nodded. A kind of grief crept over her, an overwhelming sense of loss and regret. She was about to die. Ludicrously, she thought about the Old Vienna contract for UnReality. It was the last soundscape she had written. It would be her legacy. It was a bitter, bitter thought.
“The gun, please, Ginny.” She snapped out of her reverie and reached into her pocket. “Slowly and carefully,” Chu said. She nodded, the hard metal of the weapon under her fingers. She reached farther so she could pull the gun out by its barrel, so there would be no mistake, and her fingers found something else. She pushed her hand right down into the pocket and found the smooth cylinder, the little black box.
“What the fuck?” Chu yelled, looking around wildly. One of the men at the door shouted “Hey!” and drew his gun. Ginny rolled sideways, dragging her bag after her, and crawled towards the door.
“I can't see anything but fucking jungle,” the guy at the door yelled.
Chu fired two shots at where Ginny had been. “Don't let her get out,” he shouted.
Ginny saw the guy at the door raise his gun and point it at Chu. “Is that you shooting, Chu?” He looked scared and his aim wandered around uncertainly.
“Nobody fire!” Chu yelled, seeming to realise the danger they were all in.
By the time Ginny reached the door, one of Chu's guards had stepped away from it, but the one with his gun drawn blocked her exit. She pulled out her own gun and pointed it at his chest. It would be so easy to kill him. He didn't even know she was there, blinded and deafened by the aug illusion she was transmitting. It was too easy, a horrible, cold-blooded execution. She couldn't do it. Even to save her life, she couldn't kill a man like that.
Furious with herself, she looked around for inspiration. She could hit him with something maybe, but the hotel room had no handy sticks or lamps, just a too-heavy chair across the room near Chu. She backed up against the wall. How long would this effect last? How long before one of them accidentally touched her and grabbed her? She pointed her gun at Chu. Maybe she could shoot that lying bastard even if she couldn't shoot a stranger. Or maybe she didn't have to.
As quickly as she could, she crawled across the floor to the bed and curled up beside it on the far side from Chu. Then she fired a shot past Chu into the far wall.
Chu cried out in surprise and turned to face her. His friend at the door, shouted and fired a shot indiscriminately into the room. The other guy drew his own gun and started shooting too.
“Stop fucking shooting!” Chu screamed.
But the others didn't have his self-control. They were both completely spooked. “She's not going to pick me off like a fucking target in a shooting range,” the one by the door shouted and fired all around him. “I'm not just going to let her kill me.”
Chu took aim and fired at where the shots had come from. It took him four shots before he hit the man in the hip and sent him reeling off across the room to fetch up against a small desk, still shooting. By then, the other was shooting back at Chu. Her ears ringing from the fusillade going on all around her, Ginny crouched low and ran for the door. Chu was still bellowing at his men to stop but they had each clearly decided that they'd rather kill everyone else in the room than die at the hands of an unseen enemy.
She slipped through and into he hallway, still staying low but pausing at the other side of the wall. She knew the range of the device must be at least fifteen metres. That was about how far away the children had been from Rafe when Kelly Ahn had used it in Stanthorpe, and they'd obviously been affected too. That meant she had at least that far to go before the men in the hotel room could see again. There was a stairway to her left. If she took that route, she'd maybe make it to the bottom before the pursuit started. It wasn't much of a lead and the men following her were bound to be very motivated after what she'd just put them through. On the other hand, if they did catch up with her, they wouldn't be able to find her.
As long as the battery held out.
She ran. She almost killed herself racing down the stairs too fast and crashing into the wall on the first landing. Ignoring the pain in her shoulder and the way her legs threatened to buckle at each reckless leap down multiple steps, she careened on down to the lobby and the street exit, slamming into a robot luggage trolley and heaving at the sluggish automatic doors. She fumbled and dropped her gun, snatching it up with a sob, and then she was out and pounding along the pavement.
She couldn't even tell if her aug hallucination was still protecting her. The streets were empty except for the ubiquitous robot trucks. She rounded a corner and kept running. The terror of pursuit was rapidly being quenched by the physical impossibility of sucking in enough breath to keep going at that speed. When a stitch hit her like a knife between the ribs, she swerved into an alleyway and hid there, clutching her side and screwing up her eyes against the pain. She couldn't go on. She had to rest and get her breath back. But she could watch the street. If Chu and his men came after her, at least she'd be able to tell whether they could see her or not when they came close enough.
She poked her head around the corner and there was a man running towards her. Just one man, tall and lean. She waited, with her heart thumping and her breathing still lab
oured. At about twenty metres he staggered and almost fell, coming to a halt with his arms out as if he'd been struck blind in mid-stride.
She could see him quite clearly. It wasn't Chu or one of the others. It was Dover Richards.
With a gasp of surprise, she drew back and leaned against the cool brick wall. How many of them were after her? Could she ever escape them? She peered back at him. He was talking to himself – presumably on the phone to someone – and he sounded cross and impatient. He raised his voice and she heard him shout, “...the whole damned city if you have to! Just get it done!”
He wasn't coming closer and she felt quite safe for the moment. No-one else appeared as he stood there, looking around at the dense jungle that surrounded him as if he'd like to tear it all down with his bare hands.
“Ginny,” he called and she jumped. “Ginny, turn that bloody thing off. It's me, Inspector Richards. I'm here to help you. I know you can hear me. I know you're nearby. Please, Ginny. I want to help you.”
So, he still thought he could fool her by pretending to be a cop? Well, why not? Chu had managed it. She had a vision of them both, back at Consortium HQ, laughing together over what a gullible, trusting fool she had been. Now she was stuck again. It sounded like Richards knew the kind of device she was using, knew its range. He began edging his way towards her, arms out ahead like an insect's feelers. He was going slowly but his sense of direction was better than she would have liked. She had a minute, or maybe two, to think of something. She could shoot him, of course. The gun was still in her hand. But she already knew she couldn't do that – even to Dover Richards. She put the gun away and pulled the black box and the cylinder out. The box was hiding her, but it was also giving her away.
She closed her eyes and cursed herself for an idiot. The answer was obvious. She put the box down by the corner of the alley but kept the cylinder. She stepped away from it into the street. Richards was still blinded but she could see him as clearly as ever. She crossed the street to the other side and stood behind a parked truck. If the battery suddenly failed, she didn't want to be out in the open. She scouted about for a way to get clear, preferably back the way she had come, so as to confuse her pursuers. She could stroll right past Richards and leave him groping his way up the street. The idea that she might stroll right up to him and punch him in the teeth was almost irresistible. But she needed escape more than she needed retribution. She saw the route she would take, a half-block beyond Richards and a right turn into a side street. He started calling out to her, pleading with her to be sensible and let him find her. She would be gone and far away before he realised she was even missing.
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