by E. R. Torre
“You’re so goddamned clever.”
“So you get here and –surprise, surprise–that crazy bastard Mechanic Nox is waiting for you. She’s tracked you down and, after killing your staff, puts a bullet through your head. And why not? You tortured the fuck out of her back in the Desertlands. It makes sense I’d want some hot and juicy revenge. After killing you, I rig up a series of explosives and blow your warehouse sky high, sending all of Lemner’s wonderful equipment to hell before beating it. Now, who do you suppose was to present this particular fairy tale to your father?”
“Nagel.”
“Exactly. Nagel sets up the explosives. Nagel takes out your staff. Nagel was set to kill you. But when Nagel shows up later at Octi Plaza, he blames me for all of his actions. And who would counter his version of the story? You’re pushing daisies and Nagel is clever enough to eliminate any warehouse district witnesses. In fact, the only one left is me, and I highly doubt your father would give me a chance to explain myself. It won’t be too terribly long before either the police or your father’s head hunters catch and bump me off. That leaves Julie and Nagel with a very clear path to seniority within Octi Corp. The only one standing in her way is your old man, and I’m sure she’s already figured out how to deal with him.”
“I…I don’t believe it.”
“Keep telling yourself that. And while you’re at it, don’t forget Julie has Lemner’s passkey. With the passkey at her disposal and your father gone, the sky’s the limit.”
Robert closed his eyes and covered his ears with his hands. He looked like a child that couldn’t bear any more schoolyard taunts.
“So much effort, just to get a better job.”
The Mechanic sighed. The warehouse stood before them, dark and empty. Nox looked at her wristwatch.
“Won’t be long now,” she said. She reached into her jacket and pulled out a tan mailing package. She dropped it on the ground before Robert.
Robert reached for the package and opened it. Within, he found two micro-recorders and two micro diskettes. Written on the diskettes’ sides and in black marker were the following words: Donovan Conversations.
“What is this?” Robert asked.
“My complete conversations with Donovan,” Nox replied.
“You’re…you’re just going to give them to me?”
“That’s right. It’s all I had on Octi Corp.”
“Just like that? You must think I’m really stupid, to believe you’d just give away such a valuable commodity.”
“You’re right, I do think you’re really stupid. But I’ll leave it to your tech boys to verify the fact that these are the original recordings. As for copies, you’ll just have to take my word I don’t have any.”
“The word of an Independent?”
“I’m not an Independent, Robert. I’m a Mechanic.” Nox gave the young executive a cold, hard stare. “And I’ve had enough of you, your wife, and your father. You guys deserve each other.”
The Mechanic turned and walked away. She managed a dozen steps before the warehouse erupted. A great ball of fire rushed into the sky before burning out. The explosion left a thick cloud of black smoke. Any firefighters who weren’t at the Octi Plaza would soon be heading here.
Nox looked back at Robert one last time. The young executive remained sitting on the ground, holding the Donovan conversation recordings. Nox shook her head and continued walking.
In the distance, the sound of the sirens grew into an ugly wail.
CHAPTER THIRTY TWO
The Yoshiwara was empty except for Catherine, the bar’s owner. As she did early every morning, she cleaned the filth left over by the previous night’s guests. Broken bottles littered one corner of the bar, vomit another. It was an incredible mess, but Catherine couldn’t complain. Bringing in the local bands proved a stroke of genius. Despite the noise and the extra hours of work, she pulled in a profit, even after a couple of weeks.
Only problem was that she was so damn exhausted from the effort.
Catherine sighed and alternately worked the floor with her mop and broom. It would take a couple of more hours before she could finally get some sleep. Then, a few hours later, it was time to open the bar and start the process all over again.
Yes, she was making money, but the personal cost was high. At some point, she reluctantly realized, she would have to ease back on the hours of operation or switch to the old format, at least on alternate days. If only, Catherine thought, she made enough to hire help. But it would take a lot more profit to get to that point and, in the end, she really didn’t mind switching to her old format.
Catherine let out a laugh.
She actually missed some of her old clients. If they knew…
She scooped up a broken beer bottle and dropped the glass in an over-stuffed trash bag. She tied the bag’s top and dragged it to the back of the bar. Once there, she opened the door leading to the outside alley. When she tossed the bag into the oversized metal trash container and turned to re-enter the bar, she was startled to find a figure standing before the bar’s rear door, blocking her entry. She reached to her belt for her mace, but the figure was quicker. She grabbed Catherine’s hand and held her tight.
“Easy,” the woman said. “I’m not here to harm you.”
Her voice was weary, the sound of someone who, like her, hadn’t slept in a long while. For the first time Catherine noticed the bruises on her face and head, at least those visible on either side of her jet black hair.
“Ms. Prestigio,” Catherine said. The woman released her.
“I never formally introduced myself,” the woman offered. “The name is Nox. I’m a veteran of the wars. Like you.”
Catherine stiffened.
“How did you know?”
“The tattoo on your right upper arm.”
Catherine looked at her arm and spotted the small insignia. A pair of dice. Six by two. Intel Ops. The tattoo was with her for so long she had forgotten all about it. Catherine let out a laugh.
“It’s not as visible as yours,” she said and pointed to the three vertical blue lines tattooed over Nox’s right eyebrow. “Please tell me you didn’t scare the living shit out of me just so we could have ourselves some girl talk about the bad old days?”
“Going through that shit storm once was more than enough,” Nox said. “But I am interested in your expertise. There wasn’t a computer you couldn’t handle back then, right?”
A sly smile appeared on Catherine’s face.
“Not a one. Why?”
“I've got a job for you,” Nox said.
“That’s a switch. A Mechanic hiring someone for a job?”
“How did you know I was a Mechanic?”
“That first night you showed up a guy named Donovan came to see you.”
“And how did you know that?”
“The news vids the next day announced his death. I figured you and he agreed on a job and he double crossed you. Instead of running and hiding, you came right back at him in his home turf. You confronted him in his office. You took care of him.”
“I offered him a chance.”
“I’m sure you did. Anyway, I don’t know of any Independents out there with balls big enough to take on an Octi company man. That’s why I knew you weren’t one of them. Did Donovan deserve what he got?”
Nox thought about that for a while.
“The man was responsible for the deaths of several… Independents. He hired them for a bogus retrieval job. He nearly got me killed, too.”
“Then he had to be stopped.”
“There were consequences.”
“There always are. By the way, the name’s Catherine. What can I do for you?”
“Can you link up to deep ‘net?”
Catherine whistled.
“What you’re talking about is illegal. Everyone had to give up that kind of data mining back in ’34.”
“I pay well.”
“Someone once told me money wasn’t everything.”
“What kind of asshole would say something that stupid?”
Catherine let out another laugh.
“Will you do the job?”
Catherine motioned to the door.
“Step into my boudoir, madam,” she said.
The computer was hidden away in a dark corner of the basement below the bar. It was an ancient machine, the type that, outside of newly discovered Desertland bases, you didn’t see anymore. To an uninformed observer, she looked like so much obsolete junk. To those who knew better, she was a Terran IV. Clunky, but hardly worthless.
Catherine sat in front of the ancient machine and pressed a button.
“It’ll take a minute to warm up.”
“I’ve got plenty of time.”
“What do you want me to do once I’m inside?”
“Establish a link to the Government Computer Network.”
Catherine’s head shot back.
“First it’s deep ‘net and now it’s the GCN? Don’t get me wrong, Nox, I always did like big challenges, but this is borderline crazy. If the GCN’s security gets even a whiff of our presence, we’re in some really deep shit.”
Nox reached into her pocket and pulled out a wad of credit bills. She dropped them on the table, right next to the computer. Catherine eyed the money and smiled.
“What’s life without risk, right?” She reached for the money. “With this kind of cash, I can really cut back on band nights.”
“Either that or get a better pair of earplugs.”
Catherine pressed a series of buttons and various screens, both deep ‘net and hacker links, appeared on the monitor. Catherine felt the old excitement build up, that unique feeling of slipping unseen into forbidden zones while raiding others’ restricted playgrounds. It was a unique thrill, one her guest was unlikely to share.
“This will take me a bit,” she said.
“As I said, I've got time.”
CHAPTER THIRTY THREE
Outside, the rising sun sent a wave of brilliant light throughout the Big City. A flock of birds flew by, their bodies perfectly framed against the deep blue sky. It was a perfect morning, but Julie wasn’t aware of it. She sat behind her desk in the dim fluorescent light of her office. Her eyes were focused on the television screen on the far side of the room.
On it, a pretty young reporter spoke into a microphone. The reporter stood before the charred remains of an Octi Corp. warehouse. Firefighters and police circled around behind her, barely acknowledging her presence.
“Octi Corp. Warehouse 23 on the West Side Docks went up in flames at approximately five in the morning. Early word from authorities is that an as yet unidentified body was found within the rubble. Several other bodies, all Octi Corp. Security Staff, were found outside the warehouse and in the immediate area. Investigators will hold a news conference at two this afternoon to state their findings, though early word is that all deaths were the result of foul play. Further—”
Julie’s telephone rang and she pressed a button to mute the television set. She grabbed the phone.
“We have confirmation that Nox returned to the Big City,” a man said. “The bills you gave her are starting to show up all ov—”
“Thanks, but I already knew that,” Julie said, cutting the man off. “She did park her truck in our fucking lobby, you know.”
There was silence on the other end of the line.
“So…Do you still want us to follow the cash?”
“What do you think?”
Julie slammed the phone down.
I’m working with morons.
Despite it all, a smile worked its way onto her face. She was lucky: Everything worked out in spite of Nox’s premature return to the Big City. For Julie’s original plan was much more elaborate, but it hinged on her assumption that Nox was cunning, not deranged. The trackers in Nox’s truck were meant to give her a head’s up of when the Mechanic returned to the city. Julie figured Nox would dump the truck and lay low to lick her wounds before trying anything against Robert. The money she gave Nox would serve as a secondary tracker, allowing Julie to follow Nox’s movements while inside the city.
Eventually, Julie figured Nox would use some of the money to buy weapons, which in turn would be used against Robert. Once she had the inventory of Nox’s purchases, she would steer the Mechanic toward Robert and make sure Nox took care of him in a place of her choosing and in front of several well hidden cameras. The video and inventory evidence would be unimpeachable evidence proving Nox coolly planned and carried out the cold-blooded execution of the young executive. Any moves against Nox would be fully justified.
All nice and legal.
But Nox arrived in the city much quicker than anticipated and rammed her truck into the Octi Plaza’s lobby. Clearly the torture Robert inflicted on Nox was too much. There was no telling what the Mechanic would do next. The more complicated plan was hastily simplified. Nagel was ordered to take out Robert in a way that cast the blame on the crazed woman.
She chuckled and eyed the television set. Images of the burnt out warehouse filled the screen.
In the end, everything worked out very well indeed.
She shut the television set off and rose from her seat. She stared at the Johansen oil painting for a few seconds before pressing a button on the desk. The painting slid off to the right, revealing a large window and the world outside. It was the first time in a while that Julie appreciated the beauty of a new day. And why not? Today was her day. It was the beginning of her new life.
A far, far better life.
She turned from the window and approached her bookcase. She set aside the fake books and exposed the wall safe. After entering the combination, she opened the safe and reached inside.
The satisfied smile on her face abruptly disappeared.
She pulled the documents out one by one and, as she did, her anger and despair rose. It didn’t take long to completely empty the safe. It didn’t take much longer to realize the Lemner disks were gone.
Julie’s face turned bright red and her eyes bulged. She fought back a wave of fury.
Nagel, you bastard. You’re the only one that knew. You fucking double-crossing…
She threw the documents back into the safe and slammed the door shut.
“Fuck.”
Julie took a deep breath and, after a few moments, calmed herself down. Now was not the time to lose control. She considered her options and, after a few minutes, the smile returned to her face.
There were ways to get back at Nagel.
Julie straightened her clothing and hair and let out a laugh.
Devious ways indeed.
She exited her office and walked to the elevator.
Robert Octi Senior stared out of his office window. Most of the firefighters at Octi Plaza were gone, though there remained a sizeable contingency of investigators and media in the parking lot below. The cost to keep them quiet still annoyed the hell out of him. So much so that he barely heard the door to his office open.
“Honey?”
Octi found Julie standing at the office’s threshold. He waved her in and sat behind his desk. The cushions enveloped his elderly body, allowing him to forget his pains, both mental and physical, and focus on the blonde beauty’s face. Tears smeared her mascara.
“I heard about Robert,” she said and sniffled. Her white handkerchief was stained with dark make-up. “I'm so sorry.”
“What about him?” Octi replied. His voice was even and emotionless.
The sadness in Julie’s face turned to surprise.
“By the Gods,” she said. “I thought you heard. Robert was...Robert was found dead in the West Warehouse. He was...he was killed, and I know who did it.”
The expression on Octi’s face remained stubbornly neutral.
“Really?” he said.
Julie wiped away a fresh cascade of tears.
“It was that Independent Donovan hired. Nox. I think…I think she's working with Nagel. That's how they got
so close to us. That’s how Nox survived her capture in Lemner’s base. But the worst thing is that I’m sure they have Lemner's passkey!”
Having played her trump card, Julie released another round of tears. From the corner of her eye, however, she noted the elderly Octi’s reaction. Or rather lack of one. Julie sensed something was very wrong.
I can believe the old bastard doesn’t care about his loser son. But the program? Maybe he’ll care about other things.
Julie wiped her tears away and composed herself. She offered Octi a seductive glare.
“We no longer have to hide our relationship,” she purred. She thrust her chest out, offering Octi a generous view of her cleavage.
Still no reaction.
Octi sighed.
“Robert isn't dead,” the elderly man said.
For Julie, the world turned upside down. She felt like she was in a foreign place, a reality similar but completely alien from her own.
“But…but the news,” Julie began. “I saw the report.”
“They found Nagel's body inside that warehouse,” Octi said. “That asshole son of mine came whimpering back here an hour or so ago. He told me you and Nagel screwed him from the start. Nox saved him from your boy before washing her hands of us. Dumb bitch actually gave up the Donovan conversations. She’s a Mechanic all right, all honor and no brains. No wonder her kind doesn’t exist anymore.”
“What…what about the truck? Why did she crash it into the building?”
“To flush you out, Julie dear.”
The expression on Julie’s face, if possible, turned even more pale.
“It…it can’t be.”
“You want proof?” Octi asked. He reached into the desk drawer and pulled out the Donovan conversation recordings. He waved the diskettes and recorders in the air and allowed Julie a good look before putting them back. “Nox played her hand well, if you ask me. She exposed Octi’s internal rot while assuring me there was no need to waste another blue cent hunting her down. The board’ll like that, at the very least.”
Octi’s seething eyes contemplated his daughter-in-law and mistress.
