Scarlet Angel

by C. A. Wilke

  “Yeah, well... Ya’ paid cash, so I ain’t gonna run no credit check.” Mrs. Kranster wore a bright floral print nightgown and held a lit cigarette in her left hand. She wagged her age-speckled finger at Scarlett, nearly losing her ashes to the forest-like carpet below. “But, you bettuh’ not be havin’ any loud music. I’m raht upstairs.”

  “Not a problem. Oh, and would you mind if I replaced this carpet? On my own dime, of course. ”

  “Huh? You don’t like that?” The corners of Mrs. Kranster’s mouth turned down even more from her already present frown. “Well, all’right, fine. But nuttin’ too crazy.”

  Scarlett fought back a chuckle. “Will do, Mrs. Kranster.”

  “Well, here’s ya keys. We still use old fashioned locks with metal keys here. No fancy keycards or nuttin’.”

  She took the jingly objects from the old woman. Scarlett thanked her again and saw her to the door.

  That night, Scarlett slept on a new mattress and box spring on the floor. While comfortable, she was restless. Images of Derrick, Universal Dynamics, and other random memories filled her dreams. Some of them she understood the context of, others she did not.

  She awoke sometime after three a.m., tangled in her damp sheets as they clung to her body. The room smelled of her own sweat.

  With her eyes wide open and sleep a long way from returning, she unwound herself from her soaked bedding and took a shower. Cold water sputtered from the showerhead but quickly became a steady stream of heat.

  Steam filled the room. The tiny jets of hot water soothed her muscles and her shoulders relaxed. She hadn’t realized how tense she was.

  When she was done, she dressed and grabbed her commpad. One of the faces from her dreams stood out. As she focused on his face, memories of him drifted back to her. She remembered Dax Lewis from her time at the University of California. They’d both been in the engineering program, but he’d dropped out just before graduation. The two had hung out in the same groups of friends, though they were not particularly close.

  Scarlett never saw him again.

  She also remembered that he had a knack for the programming side of technology. In fact, it had even gotten him in trouble with the faculty on more than one occasion.

  Maybe it’s time to reconnect with Mr. Lewis.

  Scarlett did a quick search online to find anyone using the names Daniel Xavier Lewis or Dax Lewis. With the exception of an obnoxious teenager with a penchant for posting the phrase “fuck it” everywhere and a grizzly old man, her search came up empty.

  She knew it was possible that he could have left the state or even died, but she wasn’t ready to give up yet. She just needed someone a little more capable than herself.

  The next day, Scarlett took the autobus to the coffee shop where Jules worked. She ordered her usual drink from the young barista and sat at a nearby table. A few minutes later, Jules took her break and sat beside her.

  “Did you get my message?”

  “Yep. You know it’s a good thing I had the opening shift this morning and was already up. I might have to kill you for waking me up that early.”

  Scarlett smiled. “Yeah, sorry. I couldn’t sleep.”

  “S’okay. Anyway, I found a few things. I didn’t want to send them across the open net.” Jules slid a small memorychip across the table.

  Scarlett stuck the chip in her own commpad and scanned the contents. “Looks like Mr. Lewis is little more than a ghost.”

  “He actually went to some pretty extensive lengths to become invisible. It’s only because you had personal information about him that I was able to find him.”

  “Hmm...”

  Jules chewed on one of her fingernails while Scarlett continued reading. Finally, Scarlett could not take it anymore. “Okay, what’s buggin’ you?”

  “Well, it’s just that... I’ve been around enough greys and hackers. This guy is probably hiding for a reason. Chinese Mafia, Yakuza, even big corporate espionage. Whatever it is, he doesn’t want to be found.”

  Scarlett looked up from her commpad. “Don’t worry, no one will know that you’re the one who found him.”

  “It’s not me I’m worried about. These are serious people.”

  “Just my cup of tea then.”

  “Just promise me you’ll be careful.” Jules’s brow furrowed.

  Scarlett reached out, took her friend’s hand, and smiled. “Don’t worry, I’ll be fine. So, let’s see. The few credit purchases that can be traced back to him are spent at a place called MakerMasters.”

  “What’s MakerMasters?”

  “It’s a makershop.”

  Jules shrugged her shoulders and shook her head.

  “Makers are like these underground hobbyist engineers who build things with other things. They’ve been around for a long time, but ever since the Trade and Patent Wars, the corporations have made modifying their products illegal. Makers went from being simple hobbyists and extreme recyclers to being legally questionable.”

  Jules scrunched her forehead. “If they’re underground, how is there a public shop for them?”

  “Most makershops provide a workspace with tools and basic components. You’re not allowed to bring in copy-protected parts, but just about anything else is fair game.”

  “Ah.”

  “Okay, so I guess I get to pay a visit to this makershop.”

  “Like I said, just be careful.” Jules glanced down at her watch and nearly jumped out of her seat. “Shit! My break’s over. I gotta go clock in. Message me later on how it goes?”

  “We’ll see.” Scarlett smiled. She didn’t like Jules getting so involved with her plans. The last thing she wanted was for there to be any connection between the two that could endanger the younger woman. At the same time, having a friend to confide in, even without giving specifics of her end-goal, provided more stress relief than she thought possible.

  Scarlett leaned back and took a sip of her coffee. Now, how to approach Dax…

  Chapter 27

  MakerMasters

  Hackers are a dime a dozen. Good hackers are one in a million. Great hackers are the stuff of legend, especially in their own minds.

  * * *

  Scarlett found MakerMasters near the back of a light industrial warehouse complex. Several minutes of searching passed by before she found the right place. On the front glass door was a small decal of a crossed screwdriver and a soldering gun with plain white letters above it saying “MakerMasters.” The lip of a metal roll-up security screen peeked out from overhead. Scarlett’s own image showed in the reflective tint coating.

  She pulled the door open and a small bell dinged overhead. Inside, the smells of burnt plastic, ozone, and pizza assaulted her nose, while the stark contrast from the bright outside light to the interior darkness blinded her. She blinked a few times and her vision returned to normal.

  To her left sat a counter with an eCash register. While the entryway was a small office-like space, the rest of the shop was very much a warehouse. Racks of metal shelves, heaped over with pieces of engines, electronics, and random raw materials reached almost to the ceiling nearly twenty feet overhead and created deep, dark shadows. Farther back, a few people worked under a series of bright halogen lights.

  An older man, in his fifties by Scarlett’s guess, rose from one of the stools and walked toward her. His blue apron was stained and burned in several places. His voice, scratchy from many years of inhaling solder and paint fumes, echoed off the concrete floor. “As you can see, sweetheart, this ain’t a crafting shop. We don’t do flowers, cards and knickknacks.”

  Scarlett blinked. “Excuse me?”

  “Look, I ain’t got time to explain to you what we do here. You’re lookin’ fer something like the Crafty Castle or some foofoo store like that. Well, this ain’t it, lady.”

  “Actually, this is exactly what I’m looking for.”

  “Really...”

  She walked toward the isles and looked up at the equipment. Most of it was jun
k and obsolete. “You know, it’s a shame you don’t have a Callison HyperVac III motor. They’re a real bang for the buck and they were never PatProtected. I see you have the Mark One, but not the Mark Three.”

  “I got one in da back. You sure don’ look like a maker. Yer too clean.”

  She smiled. “Let’s just say I know my way around a workbench.”

  “Alright. I’m Janson. What can I do fer ya’?”

  “Actually, I’m looking for Dax.”

  Janson looked her up and down. He wrinkled his brow and glanced down the aisle at a couple other men sitting at the work tables. He looked back at her and shrugged. “He’s got good taste, can’t say the same fer you though. He’s back here.”

  The man led her through the shadows to the work area. Strolling down the aisle, a strange sense of nostalgia crept over Scarlett. In her current life, her electronics expertise included little more than changing batteries and browsing the net. But the more she looked at the parts and junk, the more she remembered that this was the kind of place she once called home.

  Scarlett and Janson stepped out of the shadows and into the brightly lit workshop area. Two men sat on barstools in front of a small six-legged robot. She walked over to the side to get a look at their faces.

  The younger man’s voice was loud and irritated. “I’m telling you, it’s a software problem. I see it right here. This line right here is calling a broken object. Not to mention, your code is sloppy as shit.”

  The other man glanced up at Scarlett and brushed a bit of greasy blond hair away from his face. Dax hadn’t changed a bit.

  Dax adjusted his glasses and turned back to his friend. “Are you nuts? That object is not broken. Besides, that line is something YOU put in there. Gimme that.” He snatched back the commpad.

  “C’mon, Dax!”

  “Mickey, you couldn’t code your way out of a wet paper bag. Don’t touch my hack again. It’s a hardware problem, end of story.”

  Janson stepped up to the two men and put a hand on each of their shoulders. “Boys, do I need t’ sep’rate you?”

  Mickey reached for the commpad and missed. “Jan, tell this stub that his hack sucks and that it’s a software problem.”

  Scarlett stepped up beside Janson and eyed the robot. “Actually, it is a hardware problem.”

  Mickey and Janson turned to look at Scarlett with wide eyes. Dax kept typing on the commpad. “Honey, I got no hardware problem with you around.”

  Dax turned to his head, his eyes level with Scarlett’s breasts. He whistled. His eyes trailed upward until he reached her face. “Jill?”

  She cocked her head to one side and looked at Dax with a faint smile. “Good to see you too, Dax. Sexist pig as always. And it’s Scarlett now.”

  Mickey reached over and punched his friend in the shoulder. “Dude, don’t be such a stub. Janson, who’s the pony?”

  Janson just shrugged.

  Scarlett stepped around Janson and picked up the spiderbot. “See, right here. You didn’t leave any play in the joints. Nothing’s gonna move.”

  Mickey took the robot from her. “What?!”

  Janson snickered. Mickey’s face turned a bright crimson. The younger man tossed the robot down on the table and glared at him.

  “Jillian?” Dax stared at her, his mouth hanging open

  Scarlett took a step back. “Scarlett.”

  “Nice hair. I heard you was dead.”

  “Not anymore.”

  Mickey whistled. “Clearly.”

  “But…” Dax chewed his lower lip. “What happened?”

  “I got better” Scarlett reached into her pocket, pulled out an eCash card and held it up for him to see. “I’ve got a job for you.”

  “For me? You were the one with ace scores.”

  She leaned against the large work table. “C’mon, Dax. You know I’ve always been a hardware-kind-of-girl. Besides, you can cut the false modesty shit. You know you were the best damn code monkey that campus had ever seen.”

  Dax’s confused expression finally broke into a smile. “Yeah, I was.”

  “Please, Dax. You’re just a punk stub. I own you.” Mickey socked Dax in the shoulder.

  Everyone scowled at Mickey. His expression flashed from a confident grin to that of a terrified and cornered mouse.

  Dax’s smile turned into a smirk. “You must need something pretty big if you can’t handle it yourself.”

  “I’ve been out of the game for a bit. And, yeah... It’s pretty big.”

  “What makes you think I’m even interested?”

  Scarlett set the eCash card down on the table. “Thought you’d find ten K interesting.”

  “Bullshit.” Mickey waved her off. “That kinda cred? It’s either bullshit or stupid-dangerous.”

  “Well, I suppose it is a little. Oh well.” She picked up the card and started for the door.

  Dax jumped off his stool and raced in front of her. “Whoa, there. Easy does it. I didn’t say I wouldn’t do it, I just wanted to know what’s in it for me.”

  She held up the card between them. “You sure?”

  Mickey jumped off his stool and raced to Dax’s side. “Hey, now wait a sec. I want a piece of this.”

  Dax eyed his friend. “No one said anything about a partnership.”

  “No problem.” Scarlett smiled. She walked over to the table and slapped the eCash card down. “Let’s make it a competition.”

  Dax’s watched Scarlett for a moment then turned to Mickey. His eyes narrowed. “You’re burnt toast.”

  “You wish.”

  “Wet paper bag.”

  The two men pulled out folded tablet computers and flipped them open. Mickey’s screen slid to the left, revealing a second screen. The second screen slid to the right revealing a third.

  Dax looked over and frowned. His own screen unfolded into just two.

  Mickey kept his eyes on his screens and snickered “What’s the matter, Dax? A little screen envy?”

  “No. Was just thinking of how much of a waste it is... ya’ know, you using a computer that’s smarter and better looking than you are.”

  “Whatever.”

  Dax nodded to Scarlett. “Any preferences?”

  The two men’s banter sparked an idea and she smiled. “Yeah. His system.”

  Mickey’s mouth dropped open and his head snapped over to her. “What?”

  “Hack each other’s systems.”

  “Hey, now. Dat ain’t cool, right Dax?” Mickey looked back and forth between Scarlett and Dax.

  Dax had already started typing and swiping at his screen. His fingers were a blur.

  Mickey’s eyes flashed wide with panic. He turned back to his own system. “Shit.”

  Scarlett strolled back and forth between the two. She tried to decipher the furious code scrolling across their multiple screens, but it passed by too fast. A few minutes later, the corner of Dax’s right screen blinked “Access Denied.”

  “Ha! Told you my wall was untouchable, Dax. You punk-stub.”

  “Oh, I can touch it. In fact...” Dax continued typing for a few seconds then stopped, punctuating his last keystroke. “Done.”

  A second later, Dax’s screens went dark.

  “Ha ha ha. Gotcha!”

  Small, black and white squares started appearing on Dax’s screens. Dozens, then hundreds of them continued to appear, forming an image. Mickey laughed and pointed at his friend. Dax just folded his arms and leaned back. Eventually the image on the screens formed into two words. “Stub Bitch.”

  Scarlett sighed. “Well, that wasn’t quite as exciting as I’d hoped for. Then again, it has been a few years, huh Dax? Maybe you’re just not—”

  Dax cleared his throat. “Wait for it.”

  Mickey swiped his hand at the air. “Psh... Wait for what? I pwned your system. I own you!”

  Dax’s computer beeped. “Not quite.” He smiled.

  The image on Dax’s screens began to shift. The words broke back into their
tiny blocks and began to swirl around like in a drain. Faster they spun and disappeared into nothing.

  Dax stood, clapped his hands once and pointed to Mickey’s computer. Tiny blocks poured in from the top of the center screen. The screens filled up with the small squares until they revealed a new message. “Who’s a stub now?”

  Mickey’s mouth dropped open again. “But... How... I...”

  Scarlett looked at Dax and smiled. She looked back over at Mickey’s screen and gasped. “Um, Mickey?”

  The black and white image on Mickey’s screens crumbled, revealing a new desktop image. Dax’s computer no longer used two screens. It used his and Mickey’s, for a total of five.

  Scarlett shook her head and snickered. Dax sat and folded his arms again. “What did that say again? Oh yeah, who’s the stub now?”

  Dax leaned back on his stool. His eyes caught Scarlett’s gaze. “So, do I get a cookie?”

  She scoffed. Scarlett flipped a small white card out of her pocket and laid it on the table. “There, tomorrow, at that time. One thousand for showing up and listening. Nine more when you complete the job.”

  Dax’s brows furrowed. “What’s the job?”

  She just smiled.

  “But... Wait! What’s the job?”

  Janson walked over and smacked the back of Dax’s head. “Yer a real bright one, ain’t ya?”

  The ding of the bell at the front door signaled a new customer. Janson chuckled, slapped Dax on the shoulder and headed for the storefront. A moment later, he yelled from between the shelves. “Uh... Dax? There’s someone else here for you.”

  Scarlett, Mickey and Dax turned. Out of the dark came Janson, followed by two large men. Janson’s hands were on his head.

  Chapter 28

  Mr. Zinchenko

  Sometimes I think people intentionally hold back on their description of things, just so you can get that “Holy Shit!” feeling.

  * * *

  Scarlett’s eyes narrowed. She assessed the two men, gauging their strengths and weaknesses. As she looked them up and down, the phrase ‘Brick Shithouse’ came to mind. The one on the left had a slight limp, but not enough to hinder his movement. He was slightly larger and had short-cropped hair compared to the other’s ear-length Eurostyle bowl cut. Each of the two men held a handgun; Euro held a nine mil, the other, a forty-five. Their grips were firm and confident.