Emperor-for-Life: DeadShop Redux (Unreal Universe Book 6)

by Lee Bond

  “Why would you want to find him?” Gary ran a trembling hand through thinning hair. It was one thing to talk smack about the Church and to quietly mock men like Jerry Seinfeld, it was another thing entirely to talk so openly and freely about the Changemaker.

  While he was confident that none of his patrons tonight were in Richie’s direct employ, one or more of them might be on his radar. What they heard could easily become things he heard.

  “No matter the changes you went through in that space port, no matter who you are now, the man … the man is too big for you. Too big for all of us. They used to call him Specter in the Stars, you know, from his time in Special Services? Trinity used him to terrify entire Galaxies into submission. You don’t want to find him. Trust me.”

  “Solar systems.” Jordan corrected.

  “B-beg pardon?”

  “It was solar systems.” Jordan corrected again. “Not Galaxies. By the end of his time in the Heavy Elite branch of Special Services, Garth Nickels didn’t even need to be deployed across The Cordon for Trinity’s targeted systems to buckle under the pressure. They just had to be told the man was going to be there. Following Heavy Elite status, Garth Nickels proved himself to be an unholy terror inside Trinityspace, getting up to the kinds of no good shenanigans that would ordinarily get him dropped into an open Quantum Tunnel without a space ship around him. But you know what is most interesting about Garth Nickels, Gary Bad Chicken?”

  Gary was having a difficult time remembering if the stuff coming out of Darren Freoli was listed anywhere –even in the unofficial biographies- but there was one thing he was entirely certain of: ‘Darren Freoli’ wasn’t Darren Freoli any longer. He couldn’t explain it, couldn’t even get close to putting a finger on why he was now so certain, but he was.

  Darren Freoli had died in that regrettable space port accident and the thing in front of him, with darkness flowing from him like an obsidian river tinged with deadly fire, wasn’t human.

  “W-w-what?”

  “After everything else he did for Trinity, the one thing he did for himself was destroy the leader of BishopCo. I can’t really figure out why he did it, but he did.” Jordan leaned back into the cushions of his seat. There. An amazing amount of relief flooded through him. Andros Medellos had always known the reasons for his need to confront Nickels. Even if the thing Andros was couldn’t condone the need, the biogeneticist had understood. “Now, I will admit that the man’s genius is unparalleled. The things he did with gravity … Trinity had no choice but to offer the man Planetary Protection.”

  “Y-y-you’re talking about the … gravnetic shields?” Gary’s lips worked silently for a few seconds. “Jerry doesn’t want the black hole generators required to run them on the planet, or any of the planets in this solar system. Says they’re too dangerous, says they’ll interfere with the Church’s growth. But you’re talking about Garth as if you knew him. And your police records say something else entirely. I think … I think you’re delusional. That’s it. Before the accident, you read all the stuff you could on Garth Nickels and it sort of … lodged itself inside your head. You think you know him, or whatever, but it’s just the trauma you went through, that’s all.”

  “And the darkness in me?” Jordan demanded archly. “The darkness that drew you to my side so quickly? That you hope to exploit?”

  Gary waved a hand. “A slip of the tongue. That’s all. A mistake.”

  Jordan leaned forward suddenly. “You know what’s a mistake is, Gary? Letting this opportunity slide by. I’ll tell you what I know about you and then we can stop dancing around, all right? You want power, Gary Bad Chicken, the kind of power that Jerry Seinfeld wields and you dream about. This … Black Altar of yours … you think it’s profitable, but it really isn’t, not compared to what the Church of Nothing undoubtedly pulls in every month thanks to charitable donations. Religion, Gary, people flock to it in ways that even Trinity can’t properly understand, and I have it on good authority It tried for thousands of years to alternately outlaw faith and to understand it. All to no avail. But that’s neither here nor there.

  As I was saying, Gary, you want the kind of legitimate power that Jerry has, and I can help you get it. I can put you in the big chair, and from there, a man with your vision can use the Church to whatever end he wants. Jerry Seinfeld is a toddler in comparison to someone like you. With your understanding of the human condition, with your ability to see into the hearts of men, you can get the Church to where it needs to be. Jerry, with his talent for making people see his way of things … he’ll falter long before then. But if you help me with the things I need, I’ll get you what you want and after that, you’ll never want for anything again.”

  Gary sat there, transfixed by Darren’s frighteningly incisive and passionate speech. He’d never mentioned to anyone what he really wanted because to do so –even to one of his absolutely loyal employees- was to risk being found out. Of course he wanted what Jerry had. The Church should be his. It was the greatest con of all time, and that balding asshole was sitting right at the very top, completely and probably blissfully unaware of the actual power he could wield.

  Squinting thoughtfully, Gary spoke slowly, and with great care. “You never told me why you want to find him.”

  Here, Jordan smiled that smile he held in reserve for competition across the table. It said ‘I’ve got you now, and you will wind up regretting it even as you thank me’. “Well that, Gary, depends on whether or not you’ll help me with everything I need. If you want that answer, I’ve got to have your assurance.”

  Gary twiddled his thumbs nervously on the slightly damp tabletop for a few seconds, keenly aware that whatever else Darren Freoli was doing right then, he was staring at him with all the intensity and fervor of a madman. It wasn’t uncommon to run into them in his dual lines of work; all manner of lunatic approached him for guns or drugs or stolen goods and you yourself had to be a special kind of idiot to imagine that the newest thing in religions wouldn’t attract it’s fair share of nutbags.

  It was how you dealt with them that mattered. Jerry used either Richie or Steve to deal with the worst of the worst that occasionally plagued the Church of Nothing, which was, in Gary’s preeminent opinion, one of the worst things you could do.

  You didn’t get rid of the insane ones, you nurtured them. Molded them into something you could use later on. As scapegoats or as weapons. Whatever the individual situation called for.

  Darren Freoli was different than any other madman or crazy person he’d ever encountered, and in his thirty plus years as an admittedly fair-to-middling kind of career criminal, it was safe to say he’d bumped heads with more than his fair share of crazies. Gary had his doubts that it was the fire that’d changed him, or the pain and agony of suffering from burns over your entire body. He couldn’t explain to himself why he thought that the man he was looking at right that moment had been the way he was from well before the incident at the space port, but the feeling was there, a lingering, unassailable conviction that Darren Freoli had always been this way.

  Deciding it might do to dig into Freoli’s past –especially in light of the fact that he was getting into bed with a man who positively reeked of psychosis- Gary stuck out a hand, old-fashioned style, another thing learned from Nickels. Freoli promptly grabbed hold and the two shook on it, like gentleman.

  “You say you can put me in the big chair.” Gary stated when they finished shaking hands, subconsciously noting that for a man who’d only just gotten out of hospital, Darren's grip was ferocious. “Something in the tone of your voice carries with it the weight of conviction, my friend. Can’t shake the feeling you’re not lying. But I also can’t get rid of the feeling that it’s going to be a long, bumpy road. So why don’t you fess up and tell me why you want to find Garth Nickels? I assume you know enough about the man to realize that it’ll be harder than hell to track him down, and if you do, things might not go so well for you?”

  Finally feeling comfortable en
ough around Gary to relax a little –really, it was hard to be calm and rational when you were in the middle of these kinds of delicate negotiations- Jordan leaned back in his seat, hands on the back of his head.

  Now Gary Bad Chicken had agreed to be the man on the inside, Jordan knew he didn’t have to worry about the smaller Tenerekian; on the whole, Jordan had found criminals to be far more honest and forthcoming about their dealings and attitudes than any of his old business partners and since Gary was on board and thinking about the kinds of power he’d be able to wield as leader of the Church of Nothing, nothing on heaven or earth would see him breaking his end of the bargain.

  “Let me tell you, Gary, why I’m looking for Garth Nickels. I’m going to kill him. Stone cold dead in the streets like the dog he is. At first I thought I wanted to do it because of what he’d done, to the things I held most dear in the world. And let me tell you, Gary, I lost everything because of that man! The ... the person who came here, who blew up the port ... was because of Nickels and no other reason! You can’t even imagine the pain I endured!" Jordan gauged Gary’s reactions to the admission. There was a bit of dark concern shading the man’s features, but other than that, the golden ticket of power kept the man’s tongue in check. “But then … then I realized that it’s because of him that I am the man I am today. And for the first time in a very long time, longer than I even realized, I love who I am. It’s a miracle worthy of the Church, Gary.”

  “Then you should be wanting to thank him, not kill him.” Gary held a hand up when he saw a hot retort on Freoli’s lips. “I am in no way shy about murder, Darren. I want or need someone dead, I will find a way to arrange it so that it doesn’t come back to me. That’s just common sense. But wanting to kill Nickels … that’s like wanting to kill smoke. The Church did some digging into his career in Special Services. Just to, you know, understand the man who’d had such an impact on this little old world of ours. Didn’t get past the founding fathers. And me, of course. I don’t think the man can be killed.”

  “Any man can be killed, Gary. Any man. It’s just a matter of finding the right weapon.”

  Gary let the argument slide. People who came to BA argued that back and forth. Well, people in the know, that is, and it seemed these days that there were an awful lot of people coming to the Black Altar who knew more than they should about the Changemaker. “So his actions made you into the man you are today, and you’re a guy you love, so … why kill him at all? Not forgetting or dismissing the fact that, in a roundabout way, he created the Church that brought you back from the dead and helped transform you into the man you are today."

  “As a reminder. To anyone else who’d oppose me and my dreams, Gary Bad Chicken.” Jordan ignored the skeptical look in his partner’s eyes. It was enough the man had agreed to work with him. In the coming days and weeks, the Tenerekian would be introduced to a world much larger and much darker than he imagined existed. “And in order to accomplish my dreams, I need access to computers and systems not monitored by Jerry Seinfeld or any of his people.”

  “Ideally, the safest place for you to do your searching would be in your apartment.” Gary was glad they’d pulled away from whatever tempest had been building in Freoli’s tone. He wanted to kill the Changemaker, fine. Gary was sure more than a few people in the Universe wanted to do that, so it wasn’t like Garth would ever be surprised that one more weirdo had tossed his tinfoil hat into the ring.

  “It’s under surveillance.”

  Rolling his eyes, Gary snorted derisively. “Please. We’re all under surveillance, even me. It’s just a matter of dealing with the feeds. I can arrange that, and the secret delivery of the stuff you need to begin looking for Nickels. You’ll still have to be careful, though. I’m guessing Jerry set Preeta on you?”

  Jordan’s smile was all tooth. “Oh yes. Quite a lovely strip of flesh, that one.”

  “Yeah, well, she’s got the same kind of hunger for power as you and I do, but from all signs, she’s stupidly loyal to Jerry. She’s got some kind of side thing with Richie, too, which means that if you let her into your apartment and you lose track of her for any reason, there’s a really fucking good chance she’ll be slipping more gear into the walls, stuff that’ll be hard for me to deal with without getting caught. Then there’s your detail. The guys you can’t see. They’ll be going through your stuff when you’re not there, so any info you dig up better be locked into memory. The equipment I’ll be giving you will be able to disguise what you’re looking for and all that, but if you save anything…”

  “I won’t need to.” Jordan tapped a temple with two fingers. “I’ve got a good memory.”

  “Now I’ve told you what I can do for you, what, exactly, do you think you can do for me?” Gary didn’t want to sound belligerent, but it came out that way. He’d done an awful lot of talking and an awful lot of explaining about how he could take care of his side of things, yet all Freoli had done was be extremely creepy and more than a little crazy-seeming.

  It was time to get his end of the offer, otherwise...

  Otherwise the thing calling itself Darren Freoli might suddenly stop being the new face of the Church in favor of becoming a corpse.

  “I’m the new face of the Church of Nothing, Gary.” Jordan straightened himself up a bit and dusted imaginary lapels free of dirt. “Jerry Seinfeld wants to use me and my story to bring untold millions more into the embrace of the Church. Whether he wants it or not, that kind of thing is going to give me quite a bit of sway inside the Church, where all the real politics goes on. The first step, obviously, is to get Jerry and the others to officially recognize you as a primary figure in the Church. That’ll get you in the door.”

  “It’ll never happen. The Black Altar … he opposes it with every breath he takes.”

  “It’s in the spin, Gary, it’s in the spin. Let me take care of that.” Jordan watched a few men do things to each other in full blown view of everyone else that would inevitably get them arrested in the streets for any number of violations before continuing. “Jerry will eventually see things my way.”

  Gary had to admit, the thought of being a legitimately recognized pillar of the Church would soothe an irritating wound in his heart in a way few other things could. He’d tried on more than one occasion to force Jerry into seeing the light, only to fail, but maybe … maybe an outside face, a fresh voice, someone already cherry picked by Seinfeld himself could do the impossible.

  That being said, rules had to be laid down. “There’s a limit to how long I’ll be strung along with no signs of improvement, Freoli. You get a month. I don’t see any traction, I’m gonna blow this deal out of the water.”

  “Of course, Gary, of course. You’re a savvy businessman. I would expect nothing less from a man in your position. A month from today, then. If you feel I haven’t held up my end, do what you must.”

  Satisfied, Gary motioned for one of the server girls to come to the table. He ordered himself a beer and some food. “You want something? On the house, of course.”

  The beast behind Jordan’s eyes gleamed for a moment, but he eventually declined with a brief nod of the head. “Not hungry. Meds from the hospital have been messing with my appetite lately.”

  “Fair enough.” Gary suddenly realized something. “Hey, you never said what the other thing you needed from me was.”

  “In due time, Gary. In due time. For now, let’s just focus on building a solid foundation to this relationship of ours.”

  22. DAY 19: When Two Time-Travelers Go To War

  Whispering soft EuroJapanese words into a lapel mic, Garth casually burrowed his way deeper into the so-called ‘secure networks’ of the San Francisco Bay Area police departments.

  Sure, he was using advanced AI algorithms that’d turn damn near any secure site into the cyber equivalent of a whore who’s been paid, but still. People should take pride in their work, and if it took his AI – would never be named because it didn’t really have a personality- less than three
seconds to slip in, some regular old hacking nerdkid still too young to even Google ‘hot naked girls’ properly could get in under two minutes.

  It was that kind of thing that just really cheesed him off, but there was nothing he could do about it, so …

  “No.” Garth shook his head. Beside him, the compilation program running his verbally-spoken EJ code stopped. “I am not going to say it. I’m not going to say it.”

  His traitorous mind flashed him a few images of a blonde teenage cartoon girl in a blue dress doing some things with ice. He quickly banished them beneath several decades’ worth of Heavy Metal magazine’s more boob-laden and violence-filled artwork.

  Elsa didn’t stand a chance.

  Garth started whispering in EJ again, content to wiggle around in through all the backdoors in the police networks until he was fully spread out; ordinarily this was a thing he’d fob off onto the AI, but it was still undergoing a ridiculous amount of cyber-warfare of it’s own. There were people out there who were trying desperately to hack into Changetech’s playable demo server, day in and day out, relentless piranha trying to chew through stone.

  It wasn’t going to happen, but what was happening was he was collecting himself a very awesome toolkit of some of the most savage hacks the world had ever seen.

  “Prolly, like, spawning a digital arms race, here.” Garth snickered. There. He was all the way in and had left some invisible AI-code dribbles barely smart enough to count as intelligent but knew enough to latch themselves on to anyone coming in through any of the designated ports in the cop-system. If anyone from any other state or Federal institute logged into the SFPD servers for any reason, their own systems would get roughly violated.

  And then, should he have a need, he could wander in like the Pink Panther and steal everything in sight. He didn’t think he’d need to, really, but hey, when you decide to do something, do it all the way or don’t even bother.