by Julie Hyzy
Oh, God, no.
“This isn’t real.” She fought rising panic, striving to achieve the soothing, strong, calming tone they’d learned when they trained to be envoys, so long ago. “None of this is real. You are in control. Nothing bad can happen.”
Charlie’s cracked lips moved again. “Virtu—”
“Right. Virtual reality. That’s where you are. This isn’t real. This is all in your mind.”
He shook his head, the movement obviously causing him great pain.
“Your body’s far away. Safe.” Kenna started to dig her signal medallion out from beneath her T-shirt. “I’m going to get you out of here now,” she said. “They’ll send someone back in for me, so I’ll be right behind you. You are fine,” she added, putting emphasis on the word “fine,” but the aching wound on her leg gave her doubts. “You aren’t here, Charlie. Remember? You’re safe. Your real body is back at AdventureSome.”
Kenna lifted the medallion’s necklace over her head. “I’m going to put this in your hand, okay? It’ll take you—”
“No!” Charlie coughed the word out, his red-rimmed eyes clenching shut as his body tightened in on itself. More blood poured from the gaping wound. She suppressed a startled cry. He opened his eyes again. “No time.”
“Listen,” Kenna said, refusing to accept that Charlie was near complete mortal absorption. If he believed all this was real, his body back in his capsule would react as if it were true. Unless she could convince him otherwise, he’d die from his own sympathetic response to perceived injuries. “This is not real.”
Charlie’s left hand flew up. He grabbed hers, harder than she expected. “Sub…Rosa,” he said.
She tucked the medallion into Charlie’s other hand. It slid through his slack fingers and fell to the floor. More blood leaked through the gash in his abdomen.
“Please,” she said, her voice betraying her rising dread. “Please, Charlie. You’re whole; you’re safe. We just have to get you back. That’s all.”
“No time. No chance,” he said. “Kenna.” His bright eyes clouded—the red had completely surrounded the blue, and he had trouble maintaining focus. “Sub Rosa. You have to…stop it.”
She shook her head. “We’ll stop anything you want,” she said. “We’ll do it together. But you have to come back first.” Snatching the medallion from the floor, she pressed it into his hand again. “You have to go. Now.”
His right hand fell open again, limp, even as his left maintained an uneasy grip on hers. His eyes, watery and wide, pleaded for understanding. “Too late. Just stay with me now.”
“I’m here,” she said, cradling Charlie’s head in an awkward embrace. “I’ll always be here.”
EIGHT
Although she’d visited Virtu-Tech’s headquarters countless times for product training, Vanessa had never been called before the Board of Inquiry’s Tribunal. Of course, she’d never experienced the loss of an envoy before. She sat next to Stewart in the fourth-floor corridor near the elevators, not quite knowing what to do with herself until they were summoned. She scratched her upper arms.
Her attention settled on the monitor affixed to the wall across from them. Soothing music set the tone for the new Virtu-Tech advertisements. Seeking escape from the recent terrors she and Stewart—and Kenna, poor Kenna—had lived through, she let herself be mesmerized by the score, marveling at the effort that she knew must go into creating new ads every month or so. Not that they needed updating. People flocked into VR facilities so regularly she wondered why the Virtu-Tech big shots felt the need to advertise Implant 6.0 at all.
Like all prior implants, this new one would be provided free to clients. Claims that 6.0 would further improve the customer’s VR experience had generated considerable buzz. Yet, nearly everyone was addicted to VR already. How much more money did the company expect this upgrade to generate?
She let her fingers wander to the small area behind her right ear until she found her own implant, the 5.0. Although there was nothing wrong with it, she—like a good little lemming—intended to upgrade once the new version was available, too.
When Stewart shifted again, she glanced his way. The man hadn’t stopped fidgeting since they sat down.
He wiped at his hairline and blew out a breath. “I’m going to hit the men’s room.”
“Again?”
“Got to.” He was down the corridor before she could remind him that they might be called in at any second. The last thing she needed was to face the Tribunal alone.
Returning her attention to the screens, she watched the busy ads, studying the quick scene changes as smiling people rappelled down the sides of cliffs, explored the underwater mysteries of the sunken Titanic, and walked on Mars. All within the safe confines of VR. She curled her fingers inward and looked down at her ragged cuticles, wondering how she’d answer the Tribunal’s inevitable question: What went wrong?
Vanessa gave an involuntary shrug, then scratched her leg again. She was so itchy lately.
A voice rang out over the monitor’s murmuring hum. “Nervous?”
Her head jerked up.
A man grinned down at her. “I guess you are,” he said. “Didn’t mean to scare you.”
“It’s okay,” she answered automatically, wondering if he was part of the Tribunal. She’d pictured three police detectives, interrogating from behind bright lights.
This man was in late thirties, slim, tall, and blond. “Hi,” he said, extending his hand. “I’m Adrian. Adrian Tate.”
“Nice to meet you, Adrian.” She half rose from her chair and pointed to his bandaged arm as they shook. “What happened?”
He gave a short, scratchy laugh. “Ah…me and power tools don’t get along.”
“Are you one of the board members?”
“Board member? Ha! No, I had to drop something off at one of the offices down the hall.” He yanked a thumb backward as he lowered himself into the chair next to hers. “But then I saw you sitting here all by yourself, and I said to myself, I gotta find out who that beautiful creature is.”
Vanessa blushed. “I’m waiting to be called into the Tribunal.”
Adrian’s face contorted in an exaggerated comical grimace. “That sounds intimidating.” He raised his free hand up near the side of his head, wiggling his fingers as he lowered his voice. “The Tribunal.”
Despite herself, Vanessa laughed.
Adrian tilted his head as if studying her. “You’ve got a gorgeous smile.”
Vanessa flushed, pleased. “Thank you.”
Adrian glanced down at the floor, then back up at her, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. That was pretty forward of me, wasn’t it?”
Vanessa smiled. “No worries.”
“I mean,” he said, “I don’t usually come on so strong. I’m usually much better behaved.”
Vanessa thought he was behaving quite nicely, thank you very much. Her face grew warmer still. “Even if it was forward, it was a very nice thing to say.” Over Adrian’s shoulder she caught sight of Stewart headed back from the men’s room.
Adrian must have noticed the distraction. He twisted around to look before continuing. “Boyfriend?” he asked.
“No, that’s my boss,” she said before lowering her voice. “And he’s almost old enough to be my father.”
Adrian nodded, his eyes straying momentarily toward the crooning monitor. “This Tribunal thing you’ve got going,” he said. “When do you think you’ll be wrapped up?”
Vanessa tucked a lock of hair behind her ear. “I don’t really know,” she said. “I’ve never been here before.”
Adrian pulled out his phone. “Would you give me your number? Or at least, take mine. When you’re done, if it’s not too late, maybe we could go out somewhere? Get a bite to eat?”
Stewart strode up, and the look of concern on his face momentarily stal
led Vanessa’s answer. “I’d like that a lot,” she finally said.
After they exchanged information, Adrian eased to his feet. “I’ll catch you later then,” he said, with a wink. He pocketed his phone, headed to the elevators, and hit the down button. As though it had been waiting for him, the gold doors of the left car slid open and he disappeared inside.
“Who was that?” Stewart asked.
Vanessa shrugged, dragging her fingers along her forearm. “A guy who stopped to talk.”
Stewart looked gray in the face again. “Nobody called for us while I was gone?”
“Nobody,” she said in a voice she hoped conveyed confidence. “I meant to ask—did you talk with Kenna today?”
“Yeah,” he said. “She refuses to take any time off. She’s convinced she needs to be at the office to hunt down what went wrong. I’ve allowed her access to all our records, and she understands that our VR is offline until further notice. I hope I made the right decision to let her dig.”
“You did,” she said, and patted his hand.
“She’s as tough as they come, but dealing with the aftermath of Charlie’s death is taking more out of her than she realizes.” Stewart stared up at the ceiling. “That’s another reason I didn’t want her here today. The people at this inquiry”—he gestured toward the ads playing on the screen—“want answers. That girl can be stubborn,” he said with what sounded like pride. “If she lost her temper, it could hurt us all.”
“There’s something I don’t understand,” Vanessa said. “Why have Virtu-Tech directors come all the way out here to question us? Wouldn’t it have made more sense to fly the two of us out to DC?” She started to scratch at her thigh again. When Stewart noticed and shot her a questioning look, she stopped.
His nostrils widened as he pulled in a breath. “I asked them the same thing.” His gray brows came together in concentration. “They’re coming from three different locations. To rule out bias, or so they say.”
“Do they have the authority to shut down AdventureSome?”
“If they think we’re a risk, yeah,” he said. “Definitely.” He wiped at his face again. “But that isn’t all I’m worried about.”
“Then what?”
“Criminal liability.” Stewart took a deep breath again, then stood. Vanessa thought he was fighting off a faint. He paced the small area, gesturing with undisguised agitation. “We’re a good facility. Our record is pristine, and we fly so straight and narrow that they don’t even remember that our franchise exists. I like that. And we’re a clean operation financially, too. I don’t go for any of this ‘taking money for product placement’ or similar shenanigans.” He nodded at the screen; it had shifted to a doctor who talked about the safety of VR. “Aboveboard,” he said. “And safe.”
Vanessa knew all that, but Stewart obviously needed to reassure himself, so she said nothing. She scratched at her upper arm again.
“Are you okay?” he asked.
She nodded.
Stewart stared away. “I have to convince them that our recent accident is just a fluke. That we’re not to blame. Otherwise, they can put me away. They can put Kenna away.” He fixed a look at Vanessa and she felt herself blanch.
“Me too?”
“If they find evidence of negligence, they can prosecute us all.” He continued to pace. “It’s not something they do often, nor easy for them to prove, but with Charlie being there after hours, unsanctioned…”
“They can’t blame you for that.”
“Can’t they?”
“Who was that client anyway?” she asked, desperately searching for someone else to blame.
He shrugged. “He wasn’t in our database. I’m sure we’ll discover his identity once the authorities complete their investigation.”
“Listen, Stewart,” she said, feeling a tingle of panic running along her arms and up her back. “We’ll face the Tribunal, and we’ll tell them the truth.”
“But what is the truth?” he asked sharply. “I don’t know what the hell Charlie was doing in there.” He shook his head, twitching. “A tribunal is assembled only in the gravest of circumstances. Virtu-Tech takes security issues very seriously. Losing a client is unfortunate, but accidents do happen. Losing an envoy to mortal absorption…” He crumpled into his seat, dropping his head into his hands. “I don’t know how we’re going to get through this.”
NINE
Patrick Henry Danaher heard Werner Trutenko coming. Outside the closed office door, his half brother dropped orders like fiery bombs on the employees who sat in his path.
Patrick could have turned to watch Werner’s approach through the office’s inner windows. Instead, he chose to use these last few seconds to marshal himself. He sat up straighter, his bulk protesting the restriction of the molded chair’s arms. The past twenty-four hours had been among the worst he’d experienced in his adult life. Impatient as he waited for further updates, he’d paced, grimaced, and wished life had taken him elsewhere. Now, he ran a hand over his sparse red hair, and twisted his chin to loosen the snug of his collar.
Werner’s office door slammed open. “Patrick!”
“I’m here,” he said, getting to his feet. “What do you need?”
Werner wrenched off his suit jacket and threw it against the open chair. “I’m going in,” he said.
They stood for a moment, staring at each other, Patrick trying to read his half brother’s expression.
“I don’t understand,” Patrick finally said.
The two men were similar in height and build, both carrying more heft than their large frames required. Though separated by nearly fifteen years, the two men seemed much closer in age. Elder brother Werner still sported a full head of close-cropped gray hair, whereas Patrick felt as though his bald spot expanded by the day.
“The Tribunal,” Werner answered. “I can’t leave this to chance. I’m taking over.”
He shuffled through the papers on his desk. “Where the hell did I put my phone?” he asked.
Patrick reached across to where it sat next to the monitor.
His brother took it from him with mumbled thanks. “About that envoy, the one from the botched operation—”
“Charles Russell?” Patrick asked.
Werner grimaced. “After everything we’ve just gone through, do you actually believe I’d forget his name? No, I meant the woman. The one who came in after him.”
“Kenna Ward? What about her?”
“I’ve gotten word that she won’t be in attendance.” Werner pointed upstairs. “The owner of the franchise and the tech who was on duty that night are here, but Kenna is not.”
Patrick didn’t know how to respond to that.
“I’d intended to find out how much Charles Russell had shared with her.” Werner gave Patrick a pointed look. “If she was his fiancée, I have to assume she’s working with the dissidents, too.”
“My sources believe he kept her in the dark,” Patrick said.
“How confident are you with these sources?”
“Pretty solid.” Patrick shrugged. “They’re the same sources who warned us about Tate.”
“I should have listened to you.” Werner worked his jaw.
Patrick held up both hands. “He’s trouble, Werner. I think we ought to cut him loose now before he causes more problems.”
His brother shook his head. “We can’t. Not after all this. He could ruin everything.”
“He’s too unpredictable. Give him to me. I’ll find a job for him in the organization that keeps him busy but limits his influence.”
“Thought of that. Won’t work,” Werner said as he sat. “Tate may be easily manipulated but he’s not stupid. Any position not reporting directly to me will come across as a demotion.” Grimacing again, he added, “He’s proud of himself for what he did. Can you believe that? Proud.”
<
br /> Patrick sat, too. “He’s sick.”
“Maybe, but we’re stuck with him for now.” Werner turned his attention to his laptop screen and studied the display. “How well did you know Charles Russell?”
“Not well enough to anticipate something like this.” Patrick ran a hand over his head. “Why?”
“Who recruited him?”
Patrick rubbed his lip. “I don’t recall.” Shifting his weight, he added, “I could find out.”
“Do it. Investigate the recruiter thoroughly. Russell may have accessed sensitive data. If so, he most likely passed it to that damned underground organization.” He shot Patrick a look of fury. “If whoever brought him on was part of the underground, too, I want that man’s balls on a silver platter.”
Patrick gave a crisp nod. “I’ll see to it immediately.”
“No,” he said. “I want you to search Charles Russell’s apartment first.”
“Excuse me?”
“Get in there any way you can and bring me everything that looks even remotely suspicious. Assemble a team to help you.” Werner placed his big fingers on the keyboard, tapping slowly, squinting as he worked. “Use people who know how to keep their mouths shut. Tell them what to look for, but don’t tell them why. And watch them. Make sure nothing gets past you. If this Russell was able to infiltrate our ranks, there’s no telling how many other spies we have in our midst.”
“Got it,” Patrick said.
Werner stopped typing and turned to his brother. “But perhaps we can fight fire with fire.”
“How?”
“You.” He pointed his finger like a gun. “Get inside the rebel underground.”
Patrick struggled to conceal his surprise. “How do I do that?”
“How the hell should I know? That’s your job,” he said.
Patrick shook his head. “This could take some time—”
Werner cut him off. “You knew Charles Russell. Exploit that friendship.”
“I wouldn’t call our relationship a friendship.”
