The Nexus

by J. Kraft Mitchell

  Jill tried not to smile. This was it—the chance she’d been waiting for.

  But she’d have to play it just right.

  She looked him in the eye, making sure she came across as mildly interested but not too eager. “Okay.”

  “I don’t think you understand just what’s being offered to you.”

  “You’re right, I don’t. No one seems to want to tell me about it.”

  “It’s classified.”

  She gave him a sideways look. “Dangerous?” she asked.

  He smiled. He was trying not to, but he couldn’t help it. “Sometimes.”

  Now she had him going. “So...how do you plan on talking me into joining up if you can’t tell me what I’ll be doing?”

  “By telling you that it changed my life. I was an errander myself for a while. I was going nowhere. Now I’m doing something with myself—something worth doing.”

  If you did something with your life that you would do no matter what, even if it meant giving up all the money and all the comfort and all the convenience in the world...?

  Jill pushed the thought aside. Find a way out of here, her instincts yelled at her. She had to focus. “Just because it worked that way for you...”

  “Not just for me; other people too. There are a lot of people like us in this city, Jill. This is the best chance we’ve got.”

  She let her gaze drop to the cell floor. She paused like she was thinking it over. “Maybe you’re right. The way you put it...well, it sounds a little better than when you’re boss talked about it.”

  “He rubs some people the wrong way. That’s all.”

  “To be totally honest, I was actually almost convinced even before you came. But I’m still not ready to take the plunge, you know? Joining secret agencies who can’t tell you about what they’re up too...”

  “Sure, I understand.” He stood from the cot. “Well, I’ll get out of your hair for now. See you tomorrow.”

  “You’re coming back here?”

  “To do some more convincing. And the next day and the next day and the next day—as long as it takes to get you to come around.”

  She smiled shyly and looked away. “Okay. Tomorrow, then.”

  “Tomorrow.” The wall ground to a close behind him.

  This was going like clockwork.

  MR. Love’s place of business was actually his residence—three cramped rooms in the back of a battered building nestled among a lot of other battered buildings a mile from downtown. His place gave a new definition to the term “cluttered.” True, he was a bachelor. But most bachelors usually washed their dishes once in a blue moon. Mr. Love’s method was to buy new dishes, and leave the old ones moldering in stacks in and around the sink. Apparently he had a similar method when it came to laundry.

  But his current client didn’t mind the mess, or at least didn’t say so. His current client had other things on his mind. He was fidgety man, and skinny, especially compared to Mr. Love. He was a collector. Most of Mr. Love’s clients were. Mr. Love told him he had the addition to his collection he’d been looking for. Now it was in a plastic shopping bag in the fidgety man’s hand. In his other hand was a wad of cash, which was in Mr. Love’s hand a second later. Mr. Love counted it twice and said goodbye.

  The fidgety man went out the door, down the rusty metal stairs to the alley, and into his car. He drove away in a hurry. His driving was a little fidgety too.

  Mr. Love plopped onto the couch. There was just enough room for him between piles of old magazines. He put his feet up on a stack of pizza boxes and turned the volume back up on his TV. He was missing bits and pieces of his favorite show tonight. No big deal, though. Business was booming. He’d had three clients in the last twenty minutes, and he was expecting at least one more. Soon he’d have enough saved up to get out of this dump, and move into a much bigger, more expensive dump.

  Another knock came at the door. He turned down the volume again and got up to answer.

  There was another knock while he was on his way.

  “Be patient, will ya? I’m—!”

  The moment he unlocked the door it burst in on him. Two figures in black leapt into his apartment. They had guns. They had black masks with reflective eyes.

  Cops?

  One had a silver skull enameled on the front of his mask. The other had the red and blue taegeuk and four trigrams of the Korean flag.

  “On the ground! Now!”

  The voice wasn’t human. It was electronic and distorted. Mr. Love stood paralyzed.

  They raised their guns. “You heard! Get down!”

  Mr. Love got down. His plan was to kneel, but he ended up doing more of a tripping-and-falling maneuver. He was panting like he’d just run up a long staircase.

  “Where are they?” the skull mask demanded.

  “Wh-what?” Mr. Love stuttered.

  “You know what. Now where are they?”

  Mr. Love’s lips flapped soundlessly, and he waved a shaking hand toward the bedroom.

  The one with the skull mask kept a gun on Mr. Love. The other one investigated the bedroom. He came back with a small, thin black box. “Must be these. He’s got dozens of them on a shelf in there.”

  “Hang onto that one,” said the skull mask. “We’ll show the boss, come back for the rest later. And you—get up!”

  Mr. Love got up. Slowly. There was still a gun in his face.

  Behind the skull mask, Corey Stone said into his microphone: “We got him, Diz. We’re coming in.”

  “You guys are good,” Dizzie’s voice came through his earpiece.

  Corey reached back behind his helmet.

  “Whoa, what are you doing?” Bradley Park demanded from behind the other mask.

  “I want him to know who caught him.”

  “No, Corey!”

  The skull mask came off. The voice sounded natural now. “Remember me?”

  Mr. Love’s eyes narrowed with angry recognition. “You set me up, eh, Fredericks? Or whatever your name is.” He spat. “What’s this town coming to? Can’t even trust an errander these days. What you gonna do, sell all my videos?”

  “Actually we’re going to arrest you.”

  Mr. Love’s frown deepened. “You a cop now?”

  “Something like that.”

  Mr. Love put his hands on his hips. “What are the charges?”

  “Acquiring of illegal materials. Subsequent vending of said materials. For starters.”

  “Prove it!”

  “We intend to. Meanwhile come with us. I think you’re going to like your new living arrangements.”

  Bradley looked around the apartment through his mask’s reflective eyes. “Yeah; I think I’d rather go to jail than live here.”

  It was tough getting Mr. Love down the metal stairs to the alley; even tougher getting his bulk into the back seat of the car. But they managed.

  “A video tape,” said Director Holiday, holding up the little black box for inspection. “Or a videocassette, to be more exact.”

  They were at a table in a small room just off the HQ balcony.

  Bradley gave the director a puzzled look. “What does it...do?”

  Corey had to chuckle. Bradley was typically so arrogant—always bragging about his pure Korean pedigree and acting like he knew more than everyone else. It was nice to see the kid totally confused. “You’ve seen old film reels? It’s like those, but a lot smaller.”

  “Back near the end of the twentieth century, this was just about the only way average people could personally store and display video,” said Holiday. “The magnetic tape inside winds around these two spindles, see? As it rolls from one side to the other the tape sends a video and audio signal to a television. We’ll need a VCR—a videocassette recorder. It’s the device that gets the information off the tape and sends it to the television. Hello, Dino!”

  A funny little man in jeans and a T-shirt appeared in the doorway at the back of the room. Lights and consoles of countless old gadgets blinked i
n the room behind him. “What’s up, Mr. H?”

  Holiday held up the little black box.

  Dino whistled. “Videocassette! I’ve heard of them; read all about them. Never seen one, though.” He held out his hand. “Can I...?” He took the video tape from Holiday and looked at it. He looked like an art collector holding a Rembrandt. “What’s on it?”

  “We’re reasonably certain it contains material banned by the CMVLA,” said Holiday. “Someone’s been renting and selling them, I’m afraid. I assume you have a VCR in there?”

  Dino laughed. “Not at the moment, boss. Had one up until a few months ago. All it did was collect dust. Sent it back to Earth, some museum called the Smith Sons, or something. Got quite a few credits for it.”

  Holiday gave Dino a cold, gray stare.

  “Hey,” said Dino, waving the tape, “these things were only widely used for like thirty, forty years, tops. Quick fad, before the digital age set in. Can’t believe you got hold of one. This would be worth quite a few credits too.”

  “Don’t even think about it.”

  “Don’t worry, Mr. H, I’m not going to sell it. I’m just saying they’re rare, that’s all. VCRs, even rarer. I got quite a few credits for mine. Did I tell you?”

  “You did,” muttered Bradley.

  “So can we borrow it back from the Smith Sons?” asked Corey.

  Dino shook his head. “Too much time and paperwork. Besides, we don’t need to. If your man is selling and renting these things, his clients have to have ways to play them.”

  “Love probably has a VCR himself,” said Holiday. “When you retrieve the rest of the videocassettes, look for one at his place.”

  “Should be about this big,” said Dino holding his hands about eighteen inches apart. “It’ll be black or gray, with a console in front. There’ll be an opening just right for cassettes like these to slide inside.”

  After Corey left, Bradley stayed behind with Holiday. “Sir, can I have a word?”

  “I was going to ask you the same thing,” said the director. “How did things go tonight?”

  “Fine, I guess.”

  “So I won’t be hearing about the various creative ways you violated protocol?”

  “No, sir. I’m not the one who violated protocol this time.”

  Holiday just grunted faintly and waited for Bradley to go on.

  “I know I’m the last one that should be blowing the whistle on anyone else, sir.”

  “True. Now that we got that out of the way, continue.”

  “Just as we were about to arrest Mr. Love, Corey...”

  “Yes?”

  “He took his mask off.”

  “Did he, now?” Holiday seemed neither shocked nor angry. He didn’t seem happy either.

  “I know it’s not a big deal.”

  “In fact, it’s a very big deal. Revealing the identity of anyone in our department could compromise our entire endeavor.”

  “I guess Corey figured we had Love, and he wouldn’t be getting away, so it would be okay. He said he wanted Love to remember who caught him.”

  “You can never tell for certain whether or not a suspect will get away. Suppose Mr. Love doesn’t get convicted, for instance? Even if he does, suppose he has ways of communicating while he’s serving his sentence? I don’t have to tell you that bootlegged films are hardly all that’s at stake in this instance, Bradley. Mr. Love has some very dangerous contacts—contacts we intend to track down. That’s the whole point of the mission. Corey could have a rather large target on his back.”

  Bradley shifted his feet. “Look, sir, I feel bad saying anything about this. I’m the one who’s been on suspension the last month. I just thought you should know.”

  “And now I do.” Holiday put his hands behind his back and stepped to the doorway. He saw Corey rounding the balcony toward the door to the elevator lobby and the dorms.

  “Sir?” said Bradley, stepping next to him. “Don’t be too hard on him. He’s a good point man.”

  “He is indeed. And it’s good to hear you say so at last.”

  6

  COREY was as good as his word. He visited Jill again the next day, and the next. To be as convincing as possible, she waited until the third day to give in.

  “I’ve thought about it a lot. Actually, there was never much thinking to do. I get that now. This is my best chance to make something of myself, and I’m going to take it.”

  Corey nodded. “It was just a matter of time. Will I sound cliché if I say you won’t regret it?”

  “A little. I just hope you’re right.” She still had to sound a little hesitant.

  “Believe me, I am.” He stood. “I’ll go through the formalities to have you released. I should be able to escort you up to Director Holiday later today.”

  “So that’s his name.”

  Corey winced. Then he just shrugged. “You’re about to be introduced to him, so you’ll be finding out his name anyway.”

  AGAIN, Corey was as good as his word. Janice Moeller processed Jill’s release. Corey came down for her that afternoon.

  “You sure you’re ready for this?”

  She bit her lip. “I think so.”

  “Let’s do it.” He reached beneath his jacket.

  “Wait...you’re escorting me up at gunpoint?”

  “It’s protocol. You’re still technically a prisoner, remember?”

  “Right. I guess I can’t complain.”

  “Just be glad I’m not making you wear the cuffs.”

  Time had been almost irrelevant in her cell. She could only count the hours according to when her meals had arrived. When she looked out the stairwell windows she could see the sun high in the sky over the avenue of towers.

  She tried to get Corey to talk while they walked. He wouldn’t say anything about Holiday or what their department did.

  “Sorry. I know you can’t talk about this stuff, so I shouldn’t be asking you. I’m just curious, you know?”

  “Yeah. Don’t worry, you’ll be hearing all about it soon.”

  “Just tell me this: Do you like what you do?”

  He didn’t hesitate. “I love what I do.”

  They came to the elevator. They still hadn’t seen another living soul. Corey removed the same panel, punched in the same code. The elevator dropped.

  “So who knows what you guys do?” Jill asked while they rode down.

  Corey shook his head. “Not too many people.” He still had his gun out but he held it harmlessly at his side.

  “Other GoCom personnel?”

  “Not even too many of them.”

  “The police?”

  “No.”

  “The mayor?”

  “I doubt it.”

  She was genuinely impressed.

  The elevator stopped descending. “It must be important, whatever it is,” said Jill, “since you guys have such a cool secret base.”

  The doors opened. “It is important,” said Corey. “Welcome to the department—the first of its kind.”

  When he turned around the elevator was closing.

  And Jill was still on it.

  He pushed the button a hundred times, but the elevator was already on its way up. By the time it came back down for him, she’d be long gone.

  “I need your help, Diz. Like right now.”

  Dizzie turned around. Her myriad piercings glittered in the light of the many computer screens spread out around her HQ cubicle. “You look terrible! What’s wrong?”

  “Just help me, all right? You’re not running com for any missions right now?”

  “Not at the moment, but—”

  “Can you pull up the GoCom security cams?”

  “Well, sure. I have the clearance. But we’re only supposed to do that—”

  “In emergencies. This is one. Believe me.”

  Dizzie swallowed. “Okay.” She rolled her chair across the cubicle to her central console. Expert fingers fluttered across the keyboard. “We’re in.”
<
br />   The screen directly in front of her flickered to a very, very long list.

  “How many cameras does this place have?” Corey fumed.

  “A lot. It’s a big building. And it’s the government, Cor, what do you expect? So what do you need?”

  “I need the cams in the elevator lobby—the one our elevator goes up to.”

  Dizzie pulled up an electronic blueprint of the building on another screen. “Give me a sec.”

  “Hurry.”

  “What’s going on, Corey? I have a bad feeling about all this.”

  “Just hurry, okay?”

  “Hurrying.” She slid and rotated the three-dimensional map until she found what they needed. “There’re four cams in that lobby. Here they are.” The largest screen in the cubicle divided into quarters to show the live feeds from the four security cameras. The red-carpeted, wooden-paneled room was empty. It was always empty. That elevator wasn’t convenient for any of the GoCom offices—which made it perfect for the department. “What are we watching for?”

  “It already happened. Can you get the footage from a few minutes ago?”

  “Sure.” She tapped the keyboard. “This is one hundred fifty seconds ago.”

  “Fast-forward.”

  “Okay.”

  She fast-forwarded the footage, but nothing changed.

  Corey growled. “We didn’t go back far enough.”

  “Fine...This is eight hundred seconds ago.”

  The view showed Corey and Jill walking into the elevator.

  Dizzie gawked at Corey. “That’s a prisoner! You’re not authorized—!”

  “I know, Diz, I know. Skip ahead a little, will you?”

  She gave him a severe look, then fast-forwarded again.

  “There, stop!”

  Now the cameras showed Jill getting back off the elevator.

  Without Corey.

  Jill looked around the room and picked a hallway.

  “Get that cam!”

  “Getting it.”

  Dizzie pulled up the security footage from that hallway in the same timeframe.

  “Someone caught her,” Corey whispered to himself. “Someone had to!”

  Dizzie kept pulling up the proper camera views to follow Jill’s route. Eventually Jill came to a room off a large lobby, surrounded by offices. GoCom personnel could be seen chatting in the lobby, or working behind the glass walls of their workspaces.