Watch Dogs

by John Shirley

  “Blume’s a mixed bag. Most of them are okay for a corporation. But lately...” He looked her over, shook his head. “I don’t know about that disguise...”

  She had on a big blowsy blond wig and enormous rhinestone sunglasses, and she’d exaggerated her makeup. She now wore a cheap, heavy bright-green overcoat with really large buttons on it.

  Seline shrugged. “I’m just trying to confuse whoever’s using their cameras.”

  “Don’t worry about the cameras in this spot. That’s why I picked it. This area, ctOS is behind on their maintenance—the cameras around here have been spray painted by kids working for the Black Viceroys. They’re all blanked out.”

  “Comforting, I guess. If the gangs don’t come after us.”

  “Not in broad daylight. And mostly the gangs go after one another.”

  “So what’s the word on the upload of the file?”

  “Positive. I’ve been pushing them to approve it and just do it because there’s word of some upload blackout coming down. Maybe because rumors of this file have gotten out. Here’s another flashdrive, with another contact, in case anything goes south between you and me. DedSec’s being even more careful than usual...”

  She took the flashdrive. “They’re being pretty paranoid, aren’t they?”

  “Maybe they are, maybe we’re completely safe. But there is something that I—”

  Something he never got to tell her.

  The top of GlowWorm’s head exploded with the impact of a sniper’s bullet. He crumpled, as if someone had cut through the tendons in the back of his knees.

  Seline threw herself flat on the bridge. Another bullet slapped the air where she’d been a moment before. She found herself almost staring into GlowWorm’s dead, staring eyes.

  She looked away. A bullet ricocheted from the metal rail of the footbridge.

  She had no intention of being pinned down here. She pulled off the wig, tossed it in the air to distract the shooter, and jumped up, ran with her head below the railing level, to the bushes nearby. She dodged to the right, ran along the bank of the lake, putting tree trunks between her and the place she thought the shot had come from.

  Her heart hammered in her chest; she could scarcely breathe as she ran, though she was in good shape.

  Calm down, girl. They’re not going to chase you down. That was a sniper. They’re on their back way out of that position by now, heading out.

  Her stomach lurched when she remembered GlowWorm’s head flying apart.

  She stopped behind a thick maple bole, retching, not quite throwing up.

  Maybe it really is time to leave town...

  No. She’d liked GlowWorm. She’d liked Ruth Medina. That was two people she’d liked, murdered—and the “tracks” all led back to Chicago.

  No. She was going to find the alternate contact, on this flashdrive. And she was going to convince them to upload the file—despite what had happened to GlowWorm.

  #

  SNIPER IN WASHINGTON PARK?

  Unidentified Man Shot Down on Park Footbridge

  This morning, police said that the victim at yesterday’s shooting in one of the most serene settings of south Washington Park was killed with a 7.62 mm rifle bullet associated with sniper rifles. The man has not yet been publicly identified. Bullet casings were found on the roof of a parking garage across from the park.

  A press release from the CPD indicated...

  Wolfe felt a chill reading the article in the online Chicago Tribune. He had no clear reason to assume this killing was related to him, or Verrick. Or Purity. But something about the use of that particular ammo, and the military-style placement of the shooter, suggested Purity.

  “Hey Wolfe...”

  Wolfe almost jumped out of his chair again. “Dammit, Pearce, do you have to boom your voice like that out of the PC? That’s the second time you made me jump.”

  Pearce’s face suddenly filled the PC screen. “And how come you’re so jumpy?”

  “That’d make anyone jump.” After a moment he admitted, “But this sniper killing in Washington Park...”

  “Yeah. I’m following that too. I suspect Purity. Police haven’t released the info but they think the guy was a hacker who went by the name GlowWorm. Might be associated with DedSec. But that’s always hard to confirm. DedSec specializes in making it hard to confirm. ”

  “You made any progress on confirming Niall Quinn in sending Grampus after you?”

  “Not definitely. But I’ve confirmed he’s taking over the Club. He’s not quite there yet—he’s got rivals. But he’s got control of some sex slavery ring they’ve got going.”

  “Nice guy.”

  “Yeah. I’m ninety per cent sure he’s the one who called for a hit on me. I’ll get closer to a hundred per cent...and I’ll take him out. In my own time, in my own way.”

  “DedSec...T-Bone’s got some connection with them.”

  “Some. He’s not one of them though. How’d you get to know T-Bone anyway?”

  “We used a white-hat hacking consultant, to try to work up protections against drone spoofing. The guy told me about T-Bone. Said he had ‘the dirt under his fingernails’. Whatever that means. I guess it means he’s not particularly ‘White Hat’.”

  “Definitely not. But he’s an idealist, in his own way.”

  “When I got out of prison I thought he might be the guy to find you for me. I called my friend, he sent a text to T-Bone. Who called me. Told me about Blank...”

  “Okay. You...” Pearce’s face and voice fuzzed out for a few seconds, then came back. “...and if he’s willing to talk to you....”

  “Wait, I lost you there. That indicate we’re being tracked?”

  “Nah, it’s my system for keeping them from tracking us. I switch from server to server, frequency to frequency. It’s set up to be smooth but sometimes there’s delays. I was saying, you should get in touch with DedSec. See if you can find out what the story is on that file. Maybe they’ll give it to us if they don’t want to leak it themselves. I’ll give you another contact. This guy’s kinda mercenary—he’s in and out of DedSec. But he’s the right contact for what you’ve gotta do. He’ll need ’’a fee though. Fancies himself a fixer. Guy’s name is Garnet. Just...Garnet.’ You need cash?”

  “I’ll be okay. I’ve been using the PearcePhone to listen in to street dealers. Then I do the ATM thing. Most pushers have at least some money in the bank. I’ve accumulated a pretty good pile. I can pay with that.”

  “Wait—the ‘PearcePhone’?”

  “What I call it. The special phone you got to me.”

  Pearce winced. “It’s not the phone, it’s the software that’s special. The custom apps. Just keep that ‘PearcePhone’ stuff to yourself. Don’t refer to it that way anyplace. In fact, don’t refer to it at all. One of these days, you’re gonna give that phone back to me.”

  “And if I don’t?”

  “If you don’t, I send it a signal to make it meltdown, Wolfe. If you happen to have it in your trouser pocket, you might need a testicle transplant.”

  “Do they do those now? Because Verrick could use one. He hasn’t got the balls to face me.”

  “Thinks like a military man. A Special Forces guy. How often did you Delta Force types take the enemy on face to face like Redcoats running toward the Minutemen so they could get mowed down?”

  Wolfe smiled. “Point taken.”

  “You need more supplies there?”

  “’ There’s a guy with the Black Viceroys who buys stuff for me, meets me about a block away. I pay him good—but he’d probably do it anyway. Wants to keep Shuggie happy. Got to get some aspirin in but that’s about it. That Scotch of yours is a little too tempting when I’m having a rough day.”

  “Keep your head clear, Wolfe. Things are about to get intense.”

  “About to? What’s this been up to now?”

  “Just mildly tense. Look for intense now. I’ll send you that new contact info for Garnet. Handle him carefu
lly.”

  “Wait—you say he’s on the fence...like you don’t always trust him.”

  “I don’t.”

  “Then why do you think I can trust him?”

  “You can’t. But he’s your best shot right now to get in touch with DedSec. They’re kind of annoyed with me. Seems they think I brought too much spotlight down on them, and I refused to give them some accesses. Bunch of pussies.”

  And Pearce ended the call.

  CHAPTER THIRTEEN

  Garnet was a man with his face and head so covered with tattoos it was difficult to identify his ethnicity. He was a blue-and-red man now. He had a ring through his nose and a small shark’s tooth through each earlobe. Garnet had defiant dark brown-black eyes, a sweatshirt with an obscure cryptogram on the front, almost like a superhero’s chest symbol; there were copper clasps on his Maori tattooed forearms.

  Actually, Garnet was laughing at the whole world’, because Wolfe, who was on the roof of the old tenement, was seeing Garnet on the PearcePhone’s screen...and he was seeing a frozen digital image Garnet used for trusted contacts. That is, relatively trusted contacts.

  Suddenly the animated image moved. “What do you want?” came ’Garnet’s voice. The image looked at Wolfe with Max Headroom cynical inquisitiveness.

  “I don’t know if you remember me, last time it was just texts, my name is—”

  “I know who you are, Wolfe,” the animation interrupted. “I can see you. ”And I used my own system to I.D. you. You’re ex-military. Army special forces. With your technical training, I figure you’re one of those scumbags who blow up kids with drones.”

  Wolfe controlled his temper. “I only hit targets that we knew were...never mind. You want to talk to me or not?”

  “Why should I?”

  “I need a connection.”

  “This won’t be free, if I decide to do it. Far from free.” Garnet told him.

  “You’re kidding me.”

  “No, Wolfe, I’m not fucking kidding you. You got it or not?”

  “Why am I looking at an animation of you?”

  “Because it’s better security for reasons I don’t care to explain. Especially to an ex-military geek like you.”

  “From what I’ve heard, your hands aren’t so clean either.”

  “Wolfe—fuck off.”

  “Wait a minute. I’ll meet your price.”

  “Okay. I’m transmitting an account you can wire the money to. One of many. So don’t get cute with it.”

  “What am I going to get cute for?”

  “Just make the transfer. Then check back with me in the morning. I’ll see if I can set you up.”

  “This sounds like an act of faith to me. How doI know you’ll come through after I transfer the money?”

  “You don’t. You want the deal or not?”

  Wolfe growled to himself. “Yeah, yeah. Send the info.”

  “I already did.”

  The screen went black.

  Wolfe sighed.

  Time to go raid some more drug dealers—and their ATM accounts.

  #

  There was someone following her.

  Seline had changed wigs and coats, gotten a different style of shades, changed her makeup again. She now wore a red wig, with a white plastic scarf over it. But she wasn’t confident of her disguise.

  If someone was following her, it must be that someone had seen through it.

  She was walking along the Loop, under the elevated train tracks. The sky had clouded up, that evening, and snow came down in fits and starts, slipping between the train tracks. The air vibrated, and then she heard the thrumming of an approaching L Train. The train rumbled over. A truck rumbled past, underneath it, like one great beast calling to another.

  She thought, If that guy who’s walking up behind me for three blocks isn’t following me, he probably won’t turn when I do. If I turn and he does, I should confront him. Better that than being shot in the back.

  Seline turned at the corner, walking away from the Loop. Here the snow was falling a little more heavily. She got to the next corner, glanced back—and saw the guy turn the corner. He was a white guy with a hoodie. Hard to see much else about him from here.

  One more chance, pal, she thought.

  On the corner was a flashy-looking restaurant. She entered its noise, went to the ’bar, and sat down. “Menu?” asked the bartender, trying not to stare at her. She saw in the bar mirror her wig was crooked.

  “Yeah, sure, menu,” she said. “And a glass of Chardonnay.”

  When he turned away, she straightened out her wig. “That wig’s too cheap to make a good disguise,” said the man sitting down beside her. “It’s conspicuous. Crooked or not.”

  It was the guy who’d been following her.

  Seline put her hand on her purse, where her gun was.

  “Garnet sent me,” he said, accepting a menu from the bartender. “I’m buying, by the way. I’m gonna get a steak. I’m hungry. Haven’t had a decent meal in a while. Just canned crap mostly.” He glanced at the menu. “I’ll have the T-Bone steak medium rare, and a whiskey and soda. And a glass of water.”

  “Yes sir.” The bartender looked at Seline.

  She shrugged. “Uh...the...Caesar salad.”

  “You got it, ma’am.”

  Wolfe looked at Seline. “ So—about our mutual friend, Garnet.’”

  “Oh—I forgot. Um… ‘I’ll take my pain...’”

  She stared now. Finally she said, “‘...in the shade.’”

  I’ll take my pain in the shade was a lyric from the Screaming Geezers—and it was the code that DedSec had given them so they’d know one another.

  “Sorry,” he said. “On your end it’s just DedSec. I had to go through some other people to talk to them.”

  She stared at him. Lean, good looking guy. There was a certain iciness in his eyes, despite his warm smile, that made her sure he was capable of killing people. He could be with the wrong side. He could be with the bunch who’d killed GlowWorm.

  The waiter brought their drinks. When he reached for his, the movement exposed his forearm. US Army.

  “You going to tell me your name?” she asked.

  He hesitated. Then he said, “Mick Wolfe.”

  She blinked. “Push that hoodie back.”

  He did. She got a better look at him. “I guess you are.”

  “You’ve seen me before.”

  “In her file.”

  “Medina’s file?”

  “Yeah. Ruth Medina.”

  He nodded slowly. “That would be me.”

  She swallowed. “Sorry to suspect you—but I was told I was going to meet the person another block from here in about half an hour.”

  “That’s where I was going. But...” She had the impression he had started to say someone’s name, and decided not to. “...a friend of mine was watching. Through the cameras. He’s not with ctOS. He just...uses them. He worked out who you were. So I just went for it. I’ve gotten kind of leery about pre-arranged meetings.”

  “Me too,” she said, thinking about GlowWorm. Which brought up a memory of the footbridge. His getting shot down in mid-sentence. Falling at her feet...

  Seline closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think about it...

  “This actually is a pretty good place to meet,” Wolfe said. “Seeing as it’s not where we’d planned. And it’s noisy in here.”

  She looked at him. “You think they might be listening to us, even here?”

  “I’ve lost all confidence in privacy anywhere in this town,” Wolfe said.

  “I know what you mean.” She glanced in the mirror, feeling an adrenalized surge from sheer paranoia. Everyone passing who looked toward her seemed to be watching her.

  But maybe it was this wig...

  “I gotta get a new wig.”

  He smiled and said, “DedSec going to come through for us?”

  “They say they are. But...they don’t want to upload it themselves. They’ve got
it on some laptop. They’re going to give that to us—and we’re supposed to take it somewhere secure. Then it goes up on SystemsLeak.”

  “They’re almost as paranoid as I am.”

  “They’ve got reason. One of their people was just shot down. Sniper.”

  “That’s bad. I hate snipers. Unless they’re on my side.” He looked her over. “Way you were walking, something about you...You ex-military too?”

  She nodded. “Marines. Mostly working on a flattop. Just got out not long ago.”

  “And that’s how you knew Medina?”

  She nodded.

  After a moment he added, “I never thought of her as Ruth. She was base CIA Liaison Medina to me. I figured that was just another way of saying field agent.”

  “You know she’s dead?”

  “I heard. My friend did some research on my case. Her name came up. He checked her out. They claimed it was accidental drowning.”

  “You believe that?”

  “No. Where do we get this laptop?”

  “Not here. DedSec set up a drop at the train station...”

  “Here’s your steak, sir,” said the bartender. “And the lady’s Caesar salad.”

  They ate in silence. She mostly picked at hers. The blood oozing when Wolfe cut into his steak made her queasy. She was still trying too hard not to think about the blood on the footbridge...

  #

  Verrick stood by the concrete wall above the boat ramp, with his fists balled into his heavy overcoat, a powder-blue felt hat pulled down over his head against the night-time wind-sheer off Lake Michigan. The rattling of the chains pulling the Silverado up the boat ramp was getting on his nerves. He dug in an inside coat pocket, and found a pill. He was trying not to take the Oxycodone but...

  Mick Wolfe was getting on his last nerve.

  The big crane creaked on the industrial-sized tow truck—designed to pull overturned semi-trucks upright on the freeway—and it froze. The men in blue coveralls went down to look at it. The big four-door pickup that Wolfe had rolled into the lake was halfway out of the water, oozing water and muck. Verrick could see that the leather interior he’d had custom made was immersed in murky water.