by G R Matthews
“Stop him,” the officer shouted at my retreating back. Clearly a man who hadn’t spent much time amongst the boxes or was still full of optimism regarding the human condition. He must be new to the job.
A quick turn left down a row of shops and folks who hadn’t heard the call yet. I had to jink, twist and turn through the crowds of people. Some glared at me, others tutted and a few swore. Life as normal. From the clatter behind, it was clear the officer was having a hard time of it and that was something I could live with. I wasn’t sure where to run. This wasn’t a box I was familiar with, but they were all the same. Really. When you get right down to it.
People struggling to make a living. Shop owners selling out of date food, cheap booze and other sins that only the discerning gentleman or lady might show an interest in. In amongst those, the families living hand to mouth and hoping the company they worked for stayed in business. Pensions were a dream for most, only a reality for the rich. Old age was feared equally by all.
Another corner, right this time, and my well-honed instinct of self-preservation completely failed to warn me of the small child in my path. I saw her eyes widen and mouth form the beginning of a scream. There was nothing I could do. Knocking over and hurting a small child is not something I’ve ever aspired to and I wasn’t about to start now.
My feet reacted before my conscious thoughts caught up, falling out from under me. The law of angular momentum sent me flying across the street into the legs of three adults stood in a shop doorway.
“Hey, you bugger,” shouted one.
“Get off,” the second screamed at me.
The third swung his foot into my ribs. He wasn’t going to stoop so low as actual words.
I rolled away, dragging a wheezing breath into my lungs and scrambled to my feet. The officer was closing in and it took me a few steps to get back up to speed.
“Mummy, why is that man running?” I heard the small girl’s voice follow me along the street. She was right. I wasn’t going to lose the officer in the streets. Something else needed to be tried and I spied a likely candidate ahead, a mini market.
Grabbing the door to reduce my speed and help me make the corner without crashing into someone or something, I checked over my shoulder. The officer was fifteen metres or so behind and gaining. I ducked into the store and hurried along the first aisle, and zig-zagged left into the second, diving round people until I reached the far end. Here the chilled cabinets kept the seafood fresh, or at least as far from going off as the cheap ends of unnameable fish could be kept.
“Where did he go?” I heard the officer call out to the customers. The answers were indistinct. Judging by the number of them they were either, in a total reversal of normal behaviour, telling him exactly where I was or, and more likely, giving him the box-dweller’s normal response when faced with an officer of the law, a confused look and a ‘no idea’.
Three aisles over was the section I’d come looking for. A thin selection of even thinner clothing. I dragged an unappealing shirt on, over the top of the jumpsuit, and buttoned it up. There were a few hats, not worn by many except the prematurely bald or kids who thought they looked cool, especially if they wore the peak backwards. A few jobs required you to wear one too, for hygiene reasons. I grabbed one and shoved it on my head, took it off, adjusted the snapback for a snugger fit and put it back on. Emergency disguise complete, I pulled the peak down to shadow my face and grabbed a plastic mesh basket off of the floor.
The store settled down as I browsed the shelf of aisle five, placing random foodstuffs in the basket. It was hard to resist the urge to run.
I shuffled. I didn’t walk, stride, or saunter towards the exit. A shuffle said, along with my hat and shirt, here is a poor soul, tired after a long day at work who just wants to buy enough food to eat and go home. I hoped that was what my disguise said. My heart beat was so loud that I couldn’t actually hear what my disguise was really saying.
At the cashier’s desk, I paid for the items, the shirt and hat, and sneaked a peek at the security camera feed. The blurry image showed the officer searching aisle three. At some point, it would occur to him that he could just cover the exit and I’d be trapped. Sometimes though, it is easy to become so fixated on your goal that you lose sight of everything else.
I kept my head down, collected my un-needed purchases and headed for the exit. In time, the officer would learn to think about the bigger picture first. Then it would be a different story. I chuckled to myself as I stepped through the door, leaving the hapless security officer inside the mini-mart.
And learned that being cocky just sets you up for a bigger kick in the balls.
“And we thought you dead, Mr Hayes,” said Sergeant Miller. “Why don’t you come along with me and you can explain what’s been going on?”
“I’ve got some things to do,” I said.
“After, Mr Hayes. After.”
Chapter 43
“Well, Mr Hayes,” Sergeant Miller said, “that is certainly an interesting story.”
“Story?” I stared up at the officer in surprise. If I hadn’t been handcuffed to the chair I might have stood up to glare in his eyes. Just to make a point. “The evidence is right in front of you.”
“This?” Miller picked up the device I’d retrieved from the cable on the sea floor and turned it over in his hands. “No markings. No logo. No way of knowing who it belongs to.”
“Get a tech to look at it. Take it apart. Run the code. You’ll find out soon enough.”
“You want me to waste valuable time taking this apart. This device which you admit is not yours and that, if we believe the story, you planted and then stole from a secure data cable. A cable, may I remind you, that our security and existence depends upon. The information that passes along those cables is vital to our safety; security announcements, political briefs, seismographic information, sub movements. Hayes, you’ve admitted to tampering with a restricted cable and that alone carries a long prison sentence or time on waste sub.”
“It wasn’t my choice.” I jangled the handcuffs. “Are these necessary?”
“Hayes, by your own admission, you’re a criminal.” He shook his head and picked up the antique I’d stolen from the first home. “What is this?”
“I don’t know.”
“Where did you get it?”
“Found it.” No point in admitting another break in. Actually two. “I was hoping you could help me find the owner. They must be missing it. Looks expensive.”
“You want me to believe that you were trying to reunite this artefact with its true owner?” Miller turned the object over, letting the harsh light melt into the green stone.
“Yes.”
“A man who fakes his own death, assumes a false identity, interferes with the City-AI, which by the way we still cannot fix, and plants unknown electronic devices on top secret cables. You want me to believe this man?”
“Well...” I admit it was a hard one to sell. “My suit Pad has other evidence on it.”
“And one of my officers has tried to look for that. However, the security system on your Pad seems to have locked us out.” Miller put the object down and lifted his cup of coffee to his lips.
“I’ll unlock it,” I said. He hadn’t offered me a coffee, another way of showing me that he was in charge. I didn’t need telling, the handcuffs were beginning to chafe my wrists.
“What a good idea. I’ll give the admitted thief and terrorist access to his Pad with which, no doubt, given his ability to hack the AI, he will use to escape or do further damage.” I watched as the cup was put back on the desk, right on the exact same ring of spilled coffee it had come from. The fact that he did this without looking was impressive, or just lucky. It didn’t really matter and I had no time to decide which side I was coming down on because as soon as the cup clunked onto the desk, his free hand snaked out, grabbed the front of my recently bought shirt, twisting in the material, and pulled me forward. “Listen, Hayes, I’ve got you for at
least three crimes and, if my information is correct, there is one more. And that one,” he paused, “will make sure you never see the outside of a waste sub ever again.”
“What did I do?”
“Murder, Hayes. Murder. I’ve a witness that places you at the scene of a rather nasty killing.” Miller’s eyes held the look of a hunter gazing at the fine specimen he’d just killed with just a toothpick and a courageous heart. Half-lust, half-exultation, half-exhaustion and I didn’t care that my maths was poor, it was that kind of look.
“Fuck,” I said.
“Yes indeed, Mr Hayes. Quite an accurate summation of the situation. Mahfouz,” Miller called to a large deputy with an impressive beard, “throw him in a cell and give him something to eat. Can’t execute a man on an empty stomach.”
# # #
The food was awful and the coffee weak. Just like every security cell I’d ever spent any time in. And like all those times, I had too much on mind to really taste much anyway.
Murder.
That meant they’d found Kade’s body. Best guess, the doorman at Rehja’s apartment had got suspicious and gone to check. Which meant Rehja was free too. Add assault to the charge sheet.
And it got worse. Of course it did. When is anything ever simple? That’s how they knew I was alive. Even if the AI couldn’t pick me out on the cameras. Gotta love military hackers, even the old stuff was ahead of its time.
“Bugger.”
It also meant that a well-respected businessman, as I have every notion he was viewed in the city, had already had the chance to tell the security forces his heavily edited side of the story. I was screwed. Well and truly.
Given the speedy nature of the company justice system, I’d be on a waste barge heading out to the deepest trench before evening. Stuck in a jail cell, there was little I could do.
“Hayes, you have a visitor.”
I looked up from my misery at the sound of Miller’s voice. “I do? Who?”
“Someone who tells me they’ve wanted to catch up with you for some time.”
I stood up and smoothed down the creases in my jumpsuit trousers causing a cascade of crumbs to tumble to the floor. My brain flashed an image of hope that was shattered into a million sharp shards as Rehja walked into the small cell block.
“Corin,” the bruised and bandaged man said, “you’re looking... depressed.”
“You look a mess,” I answered back and favoured the bigger man with a small smile as I saw him raise an instinctive hand to the bindings on his forehead. “Some sort of culinary injury? Most accidents happen at home, you know.”
“Funny, Hayes.” His eye’s blazed with anger and he took a half-step towards the bars. “Sergeant Miller, you mind giving me a moment alone with my old friend here?”
“I can’t let you into the cell,” Miller said, and there was a hint of fear in his voice.
“We’re just going to have a chat, Miller. Be a good boy and go do some paperwork.”
“Yes, Mr Rehja.” I watched the sergeant nod, obsequious and subservient. It turned my stomach. I’ve no love for security officers, lawyers, judges or anyone in the criminal justice system, such as it was, but seeing man fall so low wasn’t pleasant. A bit like eating too far gone fish... it smelled funny, tasted funny, and made me want to vomit.
“Hard to find good help these days,” I said. “Well, certainly harder than it used to be. How’s Kade?”
He lurched forward, both hands slamming into the bars with enough force to rattle the whole cage. I took an involuntary step backwards.
“Listen, you little fucker,” he snarled, “when you get out of here, you’re dead.”
“So they tell me,” I said, taking another step back and leaning on the wall behind me, trying to affect a nonchalant air and hoping he couldn’t see the shake of my hands. “But you won’t be the one doing it.”
“You’re not going to make it as far as the waste sub, Hayes. I’ve made arrangements. You’ll go missing on the journey. I am going to make your last few days as painful as I possibly can.” Flecks of spit flew from his mouth as he spoke.
“You going to recite poetry at me?” I said.
“What?” For a second a look of confusion crossed his face.
“Never mind.” Some people don’t deserve an education.
“The first thing I’m going to do is have your tongue ripped out. I won’t have to listen to your stupid comments, but you’ll still be able to scream.” He pressed his face close to the bars and it was tempting to lunge forward, try to punch him in the face one last time. For old times’ sake. I discarded the idea as, with my current run of luck, I’d be as likely to break my fist on one of the bars.
“You say that on all your first dates?” I said.
There was the sound of raised voices beyond the open cell door. We both turned in that direction as a distraught, dismayed and slightly dishevelled Miller stumbled in. The figure following brought a large, broad and utterly genuine smile to my face.
Perhaps my luck was changing.
Chapter 44
“Get him out of there.” Derva pointed one of her long fingers at me. I was tempted to give her a smile, but the look on her face scared me a lot more than Rehja’s.
“Who is she?” Rehja blurted out, more speckles of spit flying from his mouth.
“My guardian angel,” I whispered in a voice I hoped carried only to his ears. The raised eyebrow and steely look in her eyes told me it hadn’t.
“I am the Mayor’s assistant, Derva Anderson. You would be a Mr Rehja?” She didn’t wait for him to nod. “I understand your servant, a man named Kade, was killed in a tragic accident last night. My sympathies.”
“Accident?” Rehja and I spoke at the exact same moment.
“He was, I am given to understand, found next to a utility cupboard having been hit on the head by a falling iron. The wound is, I am told, quite distinct.” She said it all in that precise business tone she adopted at the office. Efficient, cold, and brooking no argument.
“He killed him.” Rehja pointed at me and I forced my expression to one of hurt innocence.
“There are no fingerprints corresponding to Mr Hayes in the apartment or on the iron itself. DNA testing has not resulted in any positive matches and the City-AI has no record of Mr Hayes visiting the apartment or indeed the building.” She turned to check with Sergeant Miller who cast a sad figure in the doorway, nodding at everything she said. It was clear he was between a rock and very angry hard place. “So with that lack of evidence the company lawyers can see no reason to hold him.”
“He killed Kade,” Rehja repeated.
“Then I suggest you find some evidence to prove it.” She beckoned the sergeant forward. “Unlock the cell please. Mr Hayes and I are leaving.”
“He kept me prisoner. Hit me with a frying pan.”
“As I just explained, Mr Rehja. There is no evidence he was there at all. It is much more likely, and we have evidence for Mr Kade’s and your presence in your home the other night, that you were engaged upon a questionable adult activity that went sadly wrong when Mr Kade, in the act of procuring another instrument of... enjoyment, was sadly injured and killed by the falling iron.” She moved her briefcase to her other hand and tapped her foot on the floor. “The door, Sergeant. I am not in the habit of being kept waiting.”
I watched Rehja’s face as the security officer, a veritable waterfall of sweat dripping from his forehead, came forward and unlocked my cell door. It was unclear who exactly Rehja wanted to hurt the most; me, Miller or Derva. If he made a single step towards her, it would be his last and no security officer was going to get in my way.
“Please ensure all of Mr Hayes belongings are returned to him, Sergeant.” Derva turned on an exquisitely made heel and walked with an angel’s grace from the cell block. Miller was all that stood between Rehja and I. It took a moment for him to realise this and when he did his gaze whipped back and forth between the two of us.
“Gentl
eman.” He wheezed, swallowed and tried again. “Hayes, go and meet your lawyer. We will get the paperwork done as quick as we can.”
In a moment of inspired bravery, or blind panic, the two are inseparable bedfellows, Miller stepped back into Rehja’s path, blocking the man from me, and me from him.
“Of course, Sergeant.” I favoured him with a nod of my head. “And she’s not my lawyer.”
“Certainly talks like one,” Miller answered. Rehja just glared and foamed at the mouth. If he’d been an animal, I’d have asked the vet to put him down.
# # #
“Move,” she said. Sharp and quick.
“Where are we going?” I asked as I tucked my Pad into a pocket on the jumpsuit.
“To a sub.”
“Why?”
“We’re leaving as soon as we can. I’ve got a company sub waiting for us at the docks.” She grabbed my elbow and picked up the pace.
“How did you know where I was?”
“I didn’t,” she answered. Her eyes were fixed forward and she wasn’t deviating from her course. City folk were almost diving out of her way. “I was on my way here when you didn’t make the regular check in. Then I got the news of your death and transferred to a company fast sub. I had visions of ordering a search for your body. It wasn’t pleasant.”
“I’m not dead.” I tried to give her a smile, but she wasn’t looking.
“I docked two hours ago and saw the news clips about your capture. It has taken some fast work to get you cleared of all charges. Luckily, the City-AI hasn’t cleared your worm out of its systems yet. I’ve got some tech’s, some of our best, slowing it down.”
Which explained the lack of evidence. They couldn’t match my fingerprints and DNA with Corin Hayes, because I wasn’t Corin Hayes at present. It wouldn’t last. “How long?”
“Until what?”
“Until the AI clears the worm.”
