by Matt Doyle
We hug, and Lori leads me in by the hand. “Beer?”
“Sure,” I reply, slouching into what has become my normal spot on her two-seater couch. “I’m off duty for the evening now, so I don’t see what harm a drink will do.”
“Off duty? You could’a fooled me.” Lori waves a can of something imported up and down at my work clothes.
“Hey.” I wrap my voice in mock offence while I take the can. “I came straight here after a long shift. I was gonna change, but figured why delay the visit even more? Sorry about that, by the way. I’ve spent most of my day going through CCTV footage and trying to reconcile the different shots and angles to find…anything, really.”
Lori sits down next to me and sips from her own can. “Any luck?”
“Right now, I may as well declare about seventy percent of the city a potential suspect.” I take note of Lori’s slightly closed body language. I’ve learned pretty quickly that the easiest way to get something out of Lori is to not dance around the subject too much. If she’s aggressively stubborn, finding out what’s wrong becomes a trade-off of “this ails me, what ails you?” When she’s like this, a gentle but direct approach works wonders. Unfortunately, that’s not so easy for me right now. “So.”
“So.”
The silence hangs for a moment until I decide to take a deep breath and try to kick things into motion. “OK, look. I think I know what you want to talk about. What happened in Kitsune’s changing room was…” I shake my head and put my beer down on the floor, then lean back into a stern, cross-armed pose. “There’s a reason I waited until last night to call you. I’m angry, Lori. I’m really angry, and it’s a struggle not to start shouting at you right now. If I wasn’t convinced that, on some level, you honestly believe you were in the right, then I wouldn’t even be trying to hold back. Diu , I hate how that makes me sound. I mean shouting, obviously.”
“If it’ll make you feel better, you can shout.”
“Don’t tempt me.”
Lori’s nostrils and mouth twitch a little at the flat statement, making her look like an adorable but concerned bunny rabbit. I think better of mentioning that and wait for her to take a bigger gulp of liquid courage and say, “I think that I may owe you an apology.”
“May?” I say, making the word a question drowning in disbelief.
“No, do. I do owe you an apology. It’s just that… Okay, so you know how Jane said I’ve not always had the best of luck with partners?”
“That’s not how she put it exactly, but yeah.”
“Well, when we were talking last night, I mentioned what happened after the show and how you seemed sort of off with me when we left, and…she kinda said something that made me think I may be panicking a bit and trying to…maybe…be a little more controlling than I need to be.”
Lori catches my raised eyebrow and her eyes widen a little as she blurts, “I’m not making excuses. I just want you to understand why I acted the way I did. I mean, when people have screwed me over before, it’s kinda felt like I’ve left myself open to it by being pretty hands-off. Like how you haven’t said that you have a problem with me getting drunk with Jane every now and then. That doesn’t bother you, does it?” I shake my head and she continues, “I was like that with partners too, but I should have probably been a little more worried. That’s not the build-up to a confession or anything, and I’m glad you trust me, but…when I’ve been trying to look after you, I think that part of it has been a way to subconsciously keep an eye on you.”
I frown then, and repeat, slowly, “Keep an eye on me?”
Lori nods. “I do trust you, Cassie. I’ve trusted everyone that I’ve ever dated, ’cause that’s important, right? But I think that part of me is on guard a bit. And I know that’s wrong, I do. It’s not like I’ve been secretly sneaking around after you and keeping tabs on where you are and who you’re with or anything, I’ve just kinda become focused on making sure that you’re okay and that you’re not struggling or anything like that. It’s stupid, but I still blame myself a little for how people have treated me before. I mean, not in every case, some people are just…but some. Some were my fault, I think. Like, Ink. When Tanya left me because she couldn’t handle Ink being a part of me, that was my fault, because I couldn’t back down about it. So, with you, I think I’m sort of trying to create a constant reminder of how much easier I can make things for you, almost as a compensation for the bad stuff. Does that make sense?”
Argh. Now I’m beginning to think that this is as much my fault as anyone’s. Okay, Cassie, deep breath. Deal with Ink, then see what else needs to come out .
“No wonder you were getting drunk.” I sigh. “Look, Lori, at no point should anyone view Ink as bad. Given the role she has in your life, I’d say that she’s about as far removed from bad as you can get. Sure, I’m not entirely comfortable around her yet, but that’s because this is all new to me. You know about some of the stuff I saw when Tech Shifting first hit the streets, but the cases I told you about weren’t even the worst ones.”
“Wait. They weren’t?”
I shake my head. “Do you remember the last major one that hit the news? Uh, the guy used to smear messages on the walls? I was still working with the PD on the cases then. I had to help investigate the crime scenes, Lori. When they were fresh. When they still stunk. When they were still wet . That sort of case leaves a lot behind when you’re done with it. In a way, I guess I was never really done with it. So, when I started dating you, it was a culture shock for me. Even now, I still have to make an effort to push certain images back when you’re in TS mode. But , I make that effort because I never want Ink to come between us.” I sigh ruefully and add, “Maybe I don’t make that clear enough.”
“No, no, no,” Lori stutters. “This isn’t you. You haven’t done anything to make me think you’d do anything like that, it’s more like a…a subconscious preventative measure, I guess? It sucks, whatever it is.”
“No. I get it. I’m not exactly free of hang-ups myself.”
“But mine are spilling into your work life now. When I yelled in to Kitsune that you’d take the case, that left you without a choice on it, didn’t it?”
“Yeah. Yeah, it did.”
Lori’s head drops, and I catch sight of the first tear as it falls onto the couch. After a quiet sniff, she says, in a small voice, “I’m sorry.”
I’m not heartless, not when it comes to people that I actually care about. If I still had an appetite for self-destruction like before I met Lori, I’d keep pushing. I’d poke and prod this one until it got infected and slowly ate away at me. I still don’t really know what I have with Lori, but I do know I don’t want to throw it away that easily. So, I cup my hand behind her head and pull her into my chest, gently stroking the area around one of her plugs while my other arm wraps her in as gentle and reassuring a hug as I can manage. “I meant what I said. I’m not free of hang-ups either. I make stupid decisions. I screw up. To a degree, I need someone looking after me and trying to make things easier for me, so it’s not like you were heading in the wrong direction with this. You just…drove off the road a bit.”
“I’m sorry,” she whispers again, and I feel her hand tighten on my side.
“Let’s make a deal. If you see me doing something stupid, like overanalysing a flyer for a stage show, tell me and I’ll do my best to listen. But don’t do it in front of a potential client, and don’t try to make decisions for me. Nudge, don’t shove. Deal?”
Lori sniffles a mm-hmm , and nods against my chest.
“You’re good for me, Lori. Don’t ever think otherwise.”
“Try saying that again when we’ve been together a bit longer. Six months is about as long as most people last with me.”
“Then we’ll aim for seven, how about that?”
Lori lets out a small giggle and I look down, meeting her relief-filled, icy blue eyes. She pushes back, coming up onto her hands, and tilts her head up to mine, pausing only to make sure that I�
��m not going to pull away. Slowly, I lean in to meet her, letting our lips come together in a gentle caress before parting to allow our tongues to meet. I taste the warmth of Lori’s breath in my mouth, and let out an involuntary moan, surprising me enough to stall. Lori, realising I’ve frozen up, gently closes her lips and tilts her head forward, letting her forehead rest on mine. We both smile, and the moment passes. I shouldn’t be this nervous, I know that. Lori has been helping break some old habits and walls that I should have dealt with a long time ago, though she probably doesn’t know that. Some walls are stronger than others, though, and they’re enough to stop me moving beyond a kiss just yet. It’s a good job that Lori wants to take things slowly too .
“Wanna see some photos from the Kitsune show?”
I pull back a little and ask, “When did you take photos?”
“While you were too absorbed in the show to pay attention to me.” Lori giggles, playfully booping my nose. She stands up and walks over to the shelves at the far end of the room to grab her tablet. “It’s weird, though. A couple of them came out a bit funny.”
“Funny? How so?”
She sits back down next to me and loads up the image set. “Yeah. Like here, this shot’s fine, right? Well, apart from that guy getting up and moving seats in the middle of the picture. But if I go to the next one it’s all fuzzy and distorted, see? It’s the same with the next couple I took, then…they clear up again here, right as the same guy from before gets up and leaves. The rest are all good, though, if you wanna look?”
“I can tell you why the photos fuzzed,” I say, smiling confidently and swiping back to the first shot of the guy walking in front of the camera. The man is small in size, with a fashionably neat swept-back style to his hair, but he has the tired eyes of someone who’s spent far too many nights without sleep. “What do you notice about what he’s wearing?”
Lori looks over the photo and says, “Not a lot. It’s weird that he’s wearing gloves, though. I mean, it wasn’t cold that night or anything. Definitely not inside.”
“Exactly. It’s hard to see on this one because the chair blocks it. If you look at the second photo of him where his arm is swinging up a bit…there. Can you see those markings on the gloves?” I ask, pointing to some metallic detailing on the thick black leather. Lori nods and I ask, “Have you ever heard of Tappers?”
“I’ve heard the term,” Lori replies, her tone showing that she’s thinking it through.
“The story goes that there was a firm working on a covert communication system they wanted to pitch to the military. The idea was that you had two gloves, a tapper and a reader. You hook the tapper up to a computer via cable and transfer in whatever you want to pass on, then take the gloves to where you want to leave the message. It doesn’t matter if it’s a wall, a pen, a chair, or whatever, you just give it a double tap with the index and middle fingers on the tapper, and the glove will leave behind this ridiculously small digital imprint. When someone wants to retrieve a message, they walk up to where they think it is and give a single tap, but leave the fingers held against the item. If there’s a message within a metre radius, the glove will draw it in like a magnet. The reader gloves are used to either select the message to imprint or to read the one that’s retrieved. They have a small screen on either the palm or the top of the glove, depending on the set.
“The Underground got wind of it, though, and bought the licensing. What made it such a bold move on their part was that they did it all legally with some ironclad contracts that prevented further development of the system for anyone but themselves and ensured that no law enforcement agencies could ever get hold of or use the things. In fact, because of the strict terms of the contracts, if a police officer were to use one to try to track a criminal, for example, they would be facing up to ten years.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. Crazy, isn’t it? Anyway, were you using your phone for the photos?” Lori nods. “I thought so. The tapping emits a small pulse, so that would have interfered with anything close by that wasn’t a sturdy enough system. Most high-end tablets and above should be fine from a distance, but below that would be prone. I don’t know for sure why the tapping doesn’t knock out the reader glove, but I’d guess that the internals are in some sort of protective casing. It’s kinda like in some of the security footage I was watching today, though. Fish was definitely dognapped, you can see most of it happening on the theatre security cameras. The guy that did it threw a small scrambling device at the camera and fuzzed it up. Same concept, but intentional…wait…” I close my eyes, an idea forming. The moment it emerges into full view, I slap my own head and laugh. “I am such an idiot.”
“What?”
“The guy who took Fish. He was wearing gloves. The way the metal on them caught the security lights, I thought they were from that new crossover fashion range in The Devil Wears… . But they weren’t, were they? They were Tapper gloves. I haven’t seen them for so long that it didn’t occur to me. The scrambling ball was misdirection so that he could tap the wall and get the security code to Kitsune’s tour bus! Could I take a copy of the shots of the guy from the show?”
“Sure. I was gonna say take any you want anyway.”
I can see that Lori is a little disappointed, but I’m not sure why. I mean, this is a good breakthrough. I could take the photo to the police station and run a match to see if there’s a link and… Diu. I am such an idiot.
“You know what? That can wait until later. I’m off the clock, right? How about we grab another drink and see if we can find something spooky on the TV?”
Lori’s smile returns, bringing with it a reignited playful glint. “Spooky, huh? In that case, should I grab a pillow for you to hide behind, or are you just gonna hide in my chest again?”
I blush at the memory of leaping involuntarily into Lori’s protective bosom the last time we watched a film together and shake my finger at her. I’d offer a verbal retort, but I appear to be all out, so I choose instead to beat a hasty retreat to the kitchen.
It’s gonna be a good evening.
Chapter Five
THERE ARE FOUR people in New Hopeland who are all but untouchable: Brett Stantz, Gory Gutierrez, Saul Solomon, and Kerry White. Together, they’re known as “The Four Kings,” and despite all residing within New Hopeland, you’re not likely to meet any of them unless things get really bad for you. Even then, the stories say you’ll be faced with a video screen of a masked person using a voice changer, and the only people that you’ll physically meet will be paid cronies. If you’re lucky, they won’t be the last people you meet.
The Kings run the underworld, not just here, but across all of Utah State. When Tapping became a thing, it was the Kings who negotiated the contracts and set about distributing the hardware to the various smaller groups in the cities they hold. They took note of the actions carried out by the different factions, then put a ban on the gloves being used without their direct consent. Getting permission is supposedly only a fraction easier than getting a meeting in the first place, which makes me wonder what’s going on with the two sudden Tapper appearances. One thing’s for sure, though, if this is something legitimately authorised by the Kings, I may have to back down. If that happens, I’m not taking any money from Kitsune.
With Hoove still tucked up in bed at home, and no doubt grumbling his way through a bowl of hot soup, I made a point of asking for Corporal Devereaux at the station. He was able to confirm there hadn’t been any advancements at his end on the mountain of missing dog cases he’d been landed with. I explained what I’d found, and he set the computer running facial recognition on the photos from the show. Like I said to him, the chances are that he’d turn up the Tapper connection eventually too, but with the sheer number of similar cases he’d been given, wading through them was going to be hard going. That’s the good thing with only working one case; you get to give it the gold star treatment rather than following the get-this-off-my-desk protocol.
The compu
ter scan turned up a match for a man named Scott Young. According to the file, he has an on-off love affair with the cells here, mostly due to minor felonies. The main thing I needed was an identity for his boss, though, because they would have been the one who needed to get permission from the Kings. When Allen Fuerza’s name popped up, I took my leave and grabbed Bert.
ALLEN FUERZA IS a dangerous man, not because he’s a particularly badass gangster, but because he thinks he is. He’s easy enough to find because his base of operations outside the virtual world is above a run-down warehouse near the Governmental Monitoring Offices. What makes it laughable is that he specifically chose to set up on the top floor of the shabby old building as a way of demonstrating that he’s above the underworld. Were he actually as competent as he liked to claim, the Kings would have taken care of him a long time ago. As it is, he’s more likely their equivalent of a humorous satirical comic strip.
Still, the problem with people who are dangerous in that way is that they’ll act up like they think the genuine big shots do. If I turned up unannounced somewhere to try to get a meeting with someone like Brett Stantz, I’d be an idiot, but I likely wouldn’t get more than a little roughed up. With Fuerza, I’d be looking at a full-blown execution. Or attempted execution followed by a lot of explaining to the police, anyway. So, I rang ahead using a number that I’d gained in a case a few years ago and let him know that we needed to talk.
Ever the gentleman, he sent some goons in cheap suits to greet me at the door and do their best to intimidate me with a laughable mix of posturing and a clear show of their semi-automatic Berettas. I simply smiled, petted the little metal monstrosity on my shoulder, and let them lead me right to their boss. And so, here I am, waiting patiently for a self-important moron to stop looking me up and down like he runs the city. I also notice that, while he has a luxury chair to sit in, I get to stand in the middle of the room. He does enjoy lording his status over his guests. Finally, he waves to his goons and says, “It’s fine. We’re old acquaintances in a way, aren’t we, Miss Tam?”
