by G R Matthews
There was little resistance and after a minute or two, I backed off. Scrabbling back across the floor and stretching upwards to slap the light switch, I got my first glimpse at the person on the floor. Cheap shoes, cheap suit, bloody face. No idea who it was, but the warning of the sergeant rang loud in my ears.
Crawling over, I checked the man’s pulse. It was regular and strong, I hadn’t killed him. I pulled back an eyelid and saw the pupil dilate in response. Another good sign, for him and me. Now what did I do with him? Whatever it was I needed to be somewhere else. Somewhere they either couldn’t find me or a place so public they wouldn’t try anything. The time panel read 0337, early morning. Way too early. There are only two reasons I’ve ever seen this time of day. First, I’d been out drinking and this was the time I stumbled back into the apartment and second, waking up to feed Tyler when she was a tiny baby.
I staggered upright and sought out the bathroom. Blood, not mine, mixed with the cold water to form small threads that wound round and round the plughole before finally disappearing into the darkness. The toothbrush and wash stuff went into my bag and I debated over the hotel’s towels, eventually deciding if I was going to leave at this time of the morning they wouldn’t be missed. They went into the bag too. Yesterday’s clothes were all I had left, so I shoved them back on.
Dragging an unconscious man is not easy, lifting them onto a bed, even harder. I didn’t bother. Life is tough, why make it harder on yourself? The pillow, I shoved under his head and the covers I flipped over him. He didn’t look much like me, but that didn’t matter. Check out time was 1100 and the maid wouldn’t be round till half an hour after that.
Giving him a last pat on the cheek, I was becoming quite attached to my new room-mate, I slung my bag onto my shoulders and opened the hotel room door. Time to be somewhere else.
I saw the fist coming, but there was bugger all I could do about it.
Chapter 10
The problem with having your eyes covered by a blindfold are many and varied. From the inability to balance properly, to the insecurity of bumping into things, to the reliance on others for guidance. The biggest problem, the one that annoyed me more than any other, was the fact I couldn’t see a damn thing.
My jaw hurt too. Credit where it’s due, they were quick. I’d stumbled back into the hotel room and they grabbed me, tied me up and told me nicely that any further trouble would result in much more permanent injury than the one I had now. There was no reason to disbelieve them.
Out of the hotel, they’d walked me down the passageways, taking turns with a definite goal in mind and it wasn’t in the posher part of town. The bulkhead door signalled the end of the dome, the area where many of the richer homes, services and hotels were located, and the beginning of the boxes.
The upper levels of the box weren’t too bad. The lighting worked and the salty, rotting seaweed smell of the sea was absent. I doubted I’d be staying here. The two bruisers dragged me over to a waiting elevator and shoved me inside. When the doors closed they turned me round, shoved me face-first into the cold metal of the elevators wall and dragging my head back by the simple expedient of pulling my hair, tied the blindfold tight.
After that I could have been anywhere. The light feeling in my stomach indicated that we were descending and the length of the journey, with no stops, meant we were going a long way down. When the elevator finally stopped, I felt a hand on each of my elbows and I was shoved out of the doors, thankful I hadn’t collided with them.
Like any good military man, and I had once aspired to that, I tried to keep track of my journey. Left, right, down some stairs, step over a bulkhead door, walk on for twenty-seven steps and turn right again. Keep going now for forty-one steps and turn left, three steps, over a bulkhead door, turn right, left, and left again. I think.
We could have walked more steps in-between those turns, I was so busy trying to a create map of the journey so far that I forgot to count. And had it been a right turn back there? I knew I’d stepped over a bulkhead door, you always knew those.
Fuck it. I was lost and my mental map of the journey contorted in my head. It became a worm, a snake, a lizard, a shark, a unicorn - Tyler had once read a book with a unicorn on the cover, a black one. I can’t remember the title or the author anymore. Strange what blindness did to your mind. I stumbled. The bruisers yanked me upright.
I tried listening for sounds, sniffing the air for scents that might hint at my current location and where I was heading. Nothing. My footsteps, loud and lacking rhythm on the metal mesh of the floor. Either side of me, the breathing of the two large men and the steady, heavy thump of their feet on the self-same mesh flooring.
After many more turns than I could follow we stopped. The hands on my elbows shifted to my shoulders and I was forced down. In their defence, they’d put a chair there. It wouldn’t have hurt to tell me that. In my defence, I couldn’t see the chair so when I fell over it I’m not sure I should have been rewarded by the abuse and kicks.
“Mr Hayes,” a deep voice said. “Corin Hayes.”
“Don’t know him,” I said.
The blindfold was ripped away from my eyes and I could see again. It was tempting to ask, nicely, for them to put it back. My arms were tied behind me but the sight in front was not one to inspire thoughts of safety and a long life.
He was, if I could stand up, shorter than me by ten or twelve centimetres, but he made up for the lack of height with a stockiness that spoke of muscle. His skin was darker than mine, of Asian descent most likely, and along with his thick black hair he sported a close-cropped beard that looked as though he spent a lot of time caring for it. I checked his shoes, the bruiser in my hotel had worn cheap ones but these probably cost more than I could afford in a year. The suit was expensive too, tailored I’d bet. Appearance was, to this man, important and he was willing to spend a lot of money and time on it. All just to see me. I should be flattered.
“You are Corin Hayes,” he said.
“I’m not,” I answered. Stupid tactic, buying time. Not sure what for.
“Mr Hayes, we could do this dance for an hour or more or I could simply hand you over to one of my employees who are highly qualified in the art of getting people to tell the fucking truth.” The last few words were shouted, screamed really in my face. I couldn’t reach up to wipe the flecks of spittle from my cheek.
“You could just say please.”
The man’s hand swung, catching me on the side of the head. It wasn’t the sort of tap you gave your child when they’d just been amusingly cheeky. This was full force and accompanied by an evil grin. It’s been said by many, most notably a psychologist who spent many afternoons diving deep into my psyche in the hopes of helping me deal with Tyler’s death, that I have a self-destructive streak. When you have little, you have to hold on tightly to those things that remain.
“Pick him up.” I watched him turn away to grab his own chair and put it down in front of me. There was the taste of blood in my mouth and I probed my teeth with my tongue, making sure they were all still there. Dentists are expensive. Luckily, I still had my military health-care package. There are some advantages to being on the reserve list. “Now, Mr Hayes, I think it wise we dispense with the unpleasantness and talk about the problem you need to solve.”
“What problem?”
“You seem to have caused some hurt to one of my friend’s children. A poor youngster who was just out on the town, looking for a good time, and now is at home nursing, what the doctors tell me is, a fractured cheek bone.”
“They can be nasty,” I said, before my brain could tell my mouth to shut up. I readied myself for the next shot, but it didn’t come. Typical bully, prove they can hurt you, then make you worry when the next punch is coming. If I had my hands free and there weren’t five of his employees around, I’d certainly have made a run for it.
“I am sure your sympathy is appreciated, Mr Hayes.” He paused, tilted his head to the side and thought for a moment. �
��May I call you Corin? Of course, I can. After all, we are going to be colleagues in a little endeavour.”
“We are?”
“We are, Corin. This little job you can do for us has the added bonus of clearing away the problem you face and you may just earn a little money. I understand that you are not a rich man.” He smiled, perfect white teeth. No gaps, no bent teeth, no chips, no blemishes. I didn’t like him.
“Money is always helpful,” I said.
“You see, Kade,” he said, turning to one of the bruisers who’d brought me in. I’d have to examine his knuckles to know if he was the one who hit me. “I told you Corin would be helpful to us.”
Kade grunted. “Yes, Mr Rejha.” Eloquent.
“What is it you want me to do?”
“Very simple, Corin. I want you to steal something for me. A little thing, it won’t be missed.”
“Why me?”
“The small item is not here, Corin. Not in this city. You’ll need to use your Fish-Suit to get it,” Rejha said.
“My suit?”
“I know a lot about you, Corin. Your service and employment history is hardly interesting reading, but that little fact did stick out. A useful skill to have, Corin.”
“Useful to you,” I stated.
“Very.”
Chapter 11
I’m pretty sure the sub left without me. By the time it arrived back at my city, Derva would realise I wasn’t on-board and organise a search. The security forces in this city would be turned out by the Managers, Directors and anyone else she could put pressure on. By then, I’d either be dead or in jail. Neither outcome held much appeal. There was time though.
There was nothing I could do but agree to be involved in the robbery. As a result, Rehja had me moved to a better apartment and ordered his men to see me fed and watered. The food was good and the coffee welcome. They even allowed me a chance to freshen up and I made the most of it, taking a long, hot shower.
When I came out, still towel drying my hair, Rehja had returned and was sat on the only chair in the room. His gaze was fixed upon the panel showing a clip. Obviously an old programme, the resolution was poor and fuzzy. The characters, all Asian, were dancing and singing with carefully choreographed abandon. I couldn’t understand a word they were singing and there were no subtitles.
“We’ve lost a lot, Corin,” Rehja said without turning. “Roots and culture are important.”
“If you say so,” I replied.
“Do you not know your roots? Where you came from?”
“My mum’s pretty sure where I came from. I just have to take her word for it.” I threw the damp towel on the bed and pulled the shirt back on.
“I am proud of my past. My ancestors came from India, a land of colour and tradition. The people farmed the land, prayed to the gods and lived free under the sun. Family and tradition was important to my people, Corin. Pride and honour determined social standing. My family was rich. They owned a lot of land, employed a lot of farmers and moved into industry. We looked after our employees, kept them happy and they loved my family. Good days, Corin, good days.” He still hadn’t looked away from the clip he was watching.
“Why are you telling me this?” I sat down on the edge of the bed and pulled on my dirty socks. It was tempting to jump him. Pull him back off the chair and see what damage I could do before his bruisers came in. There was a chance, a slim one, it might work. Which sadly meant there was a much larger chance it wouldn’t. I don’t mind taking risks, but I’ve never enjoyed gambling. The house always has the cards stacked in their favour.
“It passes the time and has a bearing on the job you’ve been employed to do. I want you to understand how much importance I place on my heritage, Mr Hayes. It has a value beyond measure to me. There is little I would not do to protect and honour the history of my family. Very little I would not do.” For the first time, he turned from the show and fixed me with a meaningful stare.
“Right.”
Rehja’s stare did not waver and lasted too long. I knew what he was doing, trying to intimidate me. He was saying, my dick’s bigger than yours and if you’re not respectful, I’ll beat you to death with it. Being honest, his member could well be longer than mine, but I didn’t care. The only person I’ve ever measured myself against is me and I’ve always fallen short. I broke the stare first, bending down to pick up my shoes and stuff my feet into them.
“I’m glad we understand each other,” he said, clearly holding the opinion that he had won that confrontation.
“What do you want me to steal and where is it?” I stood up, shaking my legs to get the thick material of my trousers to fall straight and for everything contained within to find some comfort. The handle of the bedroom door was warm in my hand as I swung the door open and headed into the living room beyond.
Two bruisers sat there, Kade and one who’d never been introduced. They were watching the clips panel in here, a cartoon show where a small red mouse was forever being chased by a cat. I’d seen it before, an old show from the before, but violence of this sort held no appeal for me. It wasn’t fun or funny. The cat forever tries to kill the mouse, but the mouse always outsmarts the cat, or gets help from an even bigger dog. Abusive relationships are fun for no one and that’s what this show reminded me of. Tyler had loved it and laughed, a clear sound, pure and innocent, whenever she was allowed to watch it.
“I didn’t say you could leave the room, Mr Hayes,” Rehja said from the doorway.
“Coffee,” I replied, pressing my cup against the dispenser set into the wall and pressing the button marked, no surprise, coffee. The dark liquid splashed into the cup, small drops arcing over the rim and burning my hand. I tilted the cup a little.
“I want you to procure a small piece of art for me and as to where? Well, that is where your suit comes in. The current owner has a small, private residence a little way from the city. The item is there.”
“Guards, security systems?” I asked, taking a sip from the coffee. It was hot and tasted like I expected his coffee to taste. Bloody awful.
“Yes.”
“Number, type, maker?”
“I have some details on a secure Pad,” Rehja answered, shooing the two bruisers off of their seats. Kade, a slight sulk upon his face, turned the panel off.
“Blueprints, sea topographical maps, location of the SOSUS net?”
“I have that too.” Rehja cleared a space on the low coffee table, placed a Pad down and fired it up.
I sat down on the recently vacated seat and took another sip of coffee. You don’t need the baddest attitude, the biggest muscles or the longest dick to make people respect you. Sometimes you just need the right questions.
Chapter 12
The ocean is cold, but the Fish-Suit uses some of its power to heat the Oxyquid which in turn keeps you warm. I was an hour out from the city itself and the small sub that dropped me to the sea floor had backed away, leaving me on my own.
A mere forty-one days distance, at the maximum speed the suit could maintain, was my home. It was a tempting target. Sure the journey would be boring and sleeping in a Fish-Suit was never pleasant. I’d done it once or twice in the past, during my training missions. But, the suit could only keep me alive for a few days before the power was exhausted and all the oxygen in the Oxyquid was gone. At that point, I’d be so far asleep that I’d never wake again.
The briefing in the apartment had lasted the best part of three hours. I kept peppering him with questions. A few times he had to leave the room and search for the answers, transferring his findings to the Pad. There had been the normal threats; maim or kill me, attack my family. He was too late on the last one and really should have known that from the file. I had no choices. I knew that so I listened and learned all I could.
The sea floor near this private residence rose up into a small sea mount. The living quarters were at the very top, just into the photic zone. A diffused blue light filtered down to bathe the clear dome in the only tru
e sunlight we ever saw. Scanning the plans, I’d tried to find the easiest way into the dwelling and the easiest way out. At the base of the mount was one of the pipes that drew in water to aid the cooling of the generator and electrical equipment. It was a closed system, never in contact with the nuclear generator or anything electric, it did, nonetheless, have a place I could clamber out.
I’d looked at the airlock, but that was too obvious and would be alarmed. Perhaps, I could have cut my way in through the dome, though that would have flooded the whole place and set off all the alarms. There were other intakes, all too small for a man in a Fish-Suit. The inlet was the best option.
Around the base of the mount, over half a klick out was the first set of alarms. Simple sound activated devices that would set off the flashing lights and wailing alarms upon detecting anything that wasn’t natural. When I was within twenty metres, I shut down the motors and exo-skeletal systems that helped me breathe and coasted closer. The sensors themselves were placed in a ring, each one forty metres from the next. The point directly in the centre was, depending on your philosophy, either the spot where I was most likely to be detected or the least. I’d chosen least and hoped I was correct.
The silt and sediment on the sea bed, here interspersed with plants that grew towards the light, were kicked up by my booted feet as I walked through the line of sensors. It was tough without the assistance of the exo-skeleton. The mass of water above and the knee joints thickened by the Oxyquid made moving much more of an effort than it normally was. Anyone observing me from a distance might have assumed I was fat and had an incontinence problem.
