Hard Wired

by C. Ryan Bymaster

  “If there was one, there may be others,” he said. “There is a chance that you aren’t that special, Fifth.”

  He watched as her shoulders shook. He didn’t know what it was until he heard her laughing. When she turned back to him, she wiped a tear from her cheek.

  “Only you, Dent, could tell a girl that she’s not special in an effort to cheer her up.”

  “I wasn’t cheering you up. I was stating a fact.”

  “Of course you were.”

  She stood, went back to the window. Back to staring outside. This time, she left her EB on the foot of the bed. Dent inched forward toward it.

  “Bobseyn says you’re different now,” he said. “Is he right?”

  Fifth fogged up the glass of the window with a heavy breath and drew random shapes with a finger. “We’re both different now, aren’t we?”

  He shrugged.

  “Don’t shrug.”

  “You weren’t even looking. How do you know I shrugged?”

  Still drawing shapes, Fifth replied, “The same way I know that you’re dying to see what I’ve been looking at on my EB.”

  His hand stopped moving, dropped to the bed. “You’ve been staring at it more and more lately. And not the way you do when you are watching one of your movies.”

  Ignoring his spoken observation, she asked, “If there was a way for us to live a normal life, would you do what it takes to live that way?”

  “If you were safe, I would.”

  “Good.” She pushed away from the window and came to stand near the bed. She gestured to her EB.

  Dent picked it up, read the conversation. Date stamps said it had started a week ago.

  Otto: GOOD JOB

  Kasumi: Oh, now you contact me? We could have used your help a week ago

  Otto: I DON’T HAVE THE FREEDOM TO REACH YOU LIKE THIS ALL THE TIME

  Kasumi: Well, you owe me. You owe us

  Otto: DID YOU GET ONE OF THE EAR-PIECE eBLOCKERS?

  Kasumi: Dent grabbed one before the sheriff gave the rest over to some men claiming to be from the government

  Otto: IT CAN BE REWIRED

  Kasumi: So?

  Otto: IT CAN BE REVERSED. INSTEAD OF BLOCKING INCOMING EMOTIONS IT CAN BLOCK OUTGOING EMOTIONS

  Kasumi: How?

  Otto: I’LL LET YOU KNOW. BUT IT WILL COST YOU

  Kasumi: We just did you a favor

  Otto: THEN YOU WILL HAVE NO TROUBLE CONVINCING DENT TO DO SO AGAIN

  Kasumi: What do you want us to do now?

  Kasumi: Hello

  Kasumi: HEELLLOOOOO?????

  The last message from Fifth was dated yesterday.

  Dent looked up.

  “What do you think?” asked Fifth.

  There was a lot to process in the messages. First, it made Dent run through the possible reasons why Fifth hadn’t told him about the messages when they had first came in. Second, Otto claimed to be able to reverse an eBlocker, for whatever reasons were beyond Dent. And third, Otto was becoming too manipulative for Dent’s liking.

  Dent went with the easy way out. He asked, “What do you think?”

  “I think you just avoided the question,” she correctly deduced. She sat on the bed. “I think Otto doesn’t like Chisholme, so I think Otto is a good guy.”

  “Otto is manipulative.”

  Fifth blew out against her lips. “True. But he helped us shut down The Ranch.”

  “No. He pointed us to The Ranch. We shut it down.”

  “Same thing.”

  “No, it’s not.”

  “Fine.” She looked over to him, twisted the bed’s comforter in her hands.

  “What?” he asked.

  “The eBlocker reverse-thingy Otto talked about. Do you think it’s possible?”

  “Didn’t think what you can do was possible until months ago.”

  “If … If what he says is true, it sounds like I might be able to use the eBlocker to control my emotions. Maybe have a chance to be around normal people.”

  Dent held his tongue. No point asking if she meant he wasn’t normal. He knew he wasn’t. He did point out something else though. “I still don’t think Otto is all that trustworthy.”

  “He wanted to save the people from The Ranch.”

  “I think ultimately he wanted the eBlocker. He used us for his means.” Dent had a long history with people using him for their personal goals. He was not fond of such people. And especially more so if they wanted to wrap Fifth up in their plans.

  “So we both won,” Fifth announced.

  Dent didn’t see it that way. But if the girl wanted to believe it, so be it. “What are you suggesting, Fifth?”

  “If he,” she tapped her EB, “can help me,” she tapped her temple, “then I think we should see what type of favor he needs from us.”

  Bobseyn had told Dent to keep the girl from violence and danger. It was sound advice, Dent guessed. But what if Otto was telling the truth? That he could somehow give Fifth a chance at living a normal life. Was it worth it?

  Dent flashed back to the first time he’d been approached, asked to do a favor. He’d been a few years older than Fifth at the time, and had been as naïve. Favors could ruin a person’s life. Dent was the prime example of that.

  But the way the girl was looking at him, with those searching eyes, lower lip jutting out, Dent couldn’t deny her a chance at what he never had.

  “If and when Otto responds, I’ll be the one who speaks with him. I’ll lay out the terms of our contract. If we can come to an agreement, then we’ll see how it goes from there.”

  In a blur, the girl bounded across the bed and wrapped Dent in a hug. A painful hug, as his ribs protested her show of affection. He had to pry her from him, and when she looked up he was afraid he might have hurt her in the process. Her eyes were tearing up.

  “Thank you, thank you, thank you!” she recited over and over. She pulled away, snagged her EB, and ran for the door. “I’m going to go tell Cherry! She’ll want to go shopping to celebrate.”

  And she was gone, leaving Dent alone with his thoughts.

  He stood and went to the window. He’d have to clean it as Fifth had left smears all over it with her drawings. If Otto wanted to contract him out, Dent would be sure the terms were in Fifth’s favor. And if he could, he would ensure that the girl stayed out of harm’s way. Even if that meant putting himself even more at risk.

  The girl needed to be protected from the world. She wasn’t capable of planning ahead, of being devious or conniving. He put his hands into his pockets as he turned from the window.

  And realized she’d stolen his wallet.

  Before he hit the top of the stairs he heard a motor start up from the driveway. The Cherokee.

  “Dent?” Bobseyn called up from the living room with the brand new large screen television Fifth had insisted, then made, Dent replace. “Rule number one, remember?” he said in a pitched voice.

  Dent trundled down the steps.

  “I know, I know,” he told the grinning sheriff when he made it to living room. “It’s not my fault that the girl makes up her own rules. She took my wallet.”

  Bobseyn shook his head as he scooted over on the couch. Dent joined him.

  Once he’d settled in, Bobseyn said, “Rule number two, Dent.”

  Dent looked over, but Bobseyn didn’t elaborate.

  After about ten seconds of staring, Dent decided to prompt the man to finish. “What’s rule number two?”

  Bobseyn looked over, turned up the volume on the television, and leaned back, making himself as comfortable as possible on the couch. He then gave a heavy sigh, sipped his beer, and went back to watching the screen as if he hadn’t a care in the world.

  Apparently, Dent wasn’t going to get an answer.

  EPILOGUE

  A small hawk dropped from above, disappearing momentarily from Grant Chisholme’s view behind the eucalyptus trees on the east bank of the lake. When it swooped back into view, much lower now, it circled
once before taking the rodent clutched in its talons back to wherever it nested.

  Before the bird of prey was even a speck on the horizon, footsteps on the private walkway leading down from his estate approached. Without turning, he lifted a hand to stall his visitor. The footsteps halted a dozen feet behind him. Not until the hawk had disappeared completely did Chisholme turn back.

  “Sir,” his visitor said as she gave a curt nod.

  “Mayanette. What have you learned?”

  Trisha Mayanette had been with Chisholme for four months now. Her predecessor had taken a bullet in the head for allowing Marion Dent to infiltrate Chisholme’s personal sanctuary atop the walkway leading up from this very lake. It wasn’t Dent’s gun that had supplied the bullet. Mayanette herself had taken care of it. Chisholme didn’t stand for having people fail on him, especially when it came to security where he lived. Hopefully, Mayanette wouldn’t soon have to be killed by her successor.

  She came abreast of him, if a few respectful inches away. In one hand she held a black folder, a single word printed on the spine: DEVOTION.

  “It was Dent, sir. And the local authorities.”

  He resisted the urge to throw something, anything, into the lake. Dent, again. But why did the man decide after all this time to come out of hiding and strike at one of the beta-testing facilities? Was he perhaps in league with Takeda? Did that insufferable woman turn Dent against Chisholme?

  “Was the girl Fifth with him?”

  Mayanette responded quickly, perhaps had even anticipated the question. “Yes.”

  “So it can’t be Takeda setting him against us then,” Chisholme mused aloud. “She wouldn’t be working with the man who’d kidnapped her own daughter.”

  His head of security wisely remained quiet. Perhaps she would last a while in her position.

  An approaching breeze made itself evident on the lake’s surface, tiny ripples making their way toward Chisholme and Mayanette where they stood on the shore. He felt the wind pass and relished in the coolness of it, a rarity for Southern California summers.

  “The data?” he asked when the breeze had gone.

  She handed over the folder, too small to contain all of his desired information from the beta test. He didn’t bother opening it. He would do so in the privacy of his study.

  When Mayanette saw this, she said, “That specific data was received today. The full reports — the hard copies, the ones that were still at The Ranch — have already been secured by our people. I had to put a bit of money into the hands of proper people of authority, but they will make sure none of the information gets away from us.”

  Whatever the cost, Chisholme didn’t care. He had money to burn, money enough to last a few lifetimes. Even with that money though, he still had not found a completely safe and secure way to digitally transfer data from his beta-test facilities throughout the country back to California. That was why he demanded that his operations which skirted current laws regarding eTech and information regarding children like Fifth and Connor never be stored digitally. Everything was on paper — locked, guarded, and protected like it was a cache of precious gems. All it took was one clever person, one determined enough to find a way to steal any digital information, and Chisholme and his empire would be crumbled. That was why he preferred — demanded — that this work not be stored in any digital format.

  “The child? Connor?”

  “Dead, sir.”

  That was a shame. The child had been strong. Hopefully, the child will have supplied Chisholme’s team with enough data for their projects before he was killed. He didn’t bother asking the details of the child’s death. He didn’t care.

  Drumming his fingers on the folder, he asked, “Have you gone over everything I have on Dent?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  The drumming stopped. “And?”

  Mayanette shuffled her feet. It was a slight, almost involuntary movement, but Chisholme caught it. It was good to keep his top paid employees on their feet, keep them guessing as to how far he wanted them to think ahead and anticipate his needs. The more actions they took in his name without his explicit directions, the more of a buffer there was between himself and any and all illegal activities they perpetrated. The key, he found, was to only reward those actions of which he approved. Any other actions that led to setbacks were met with swift retributions.

  Case and point, Chisholme’s former head of security.

  Mayanette had had a good five seconds to think of a suitable answer, four seconds too long, Chisholme believed. He turned to face her directly, one brow raised impatiently.

  “If I recall correctly,” she said slowly, “I read something about nanotech research being handled at one of your facilities that could be used as a weapon against Dent. It would require injecting Dent with the nanotech, but it is a possibility.”

  He tried not to sound too impressed. “You’ve read up on HelpTouch projects underway?”

  “Yes, sir. I found it might be … prudent to cover all of my bases. If I’m to be your right hand woman, I should know all I can about what your left hand is doing, so to speak.”

  He liked this one. Too bad she was twenty years his junior. And then there were the splotches across the right side of her face, like a series of light birthmarks on her pale skin. A man with means like his could have any woman he wanted, and Chisholme would only have the ones that were exquisite in their perfection. Which meant Mayanette would never grace Chisholme’s bed sheets.

  “Which, sir, I would like to ask, may I have all pertinent information regarding the other three children and their beta-testing facilities?”

  “You believe there is more information other than what your predecessor was privy to?”

  In reply, her dark eyes strayed to the folder in his hands.

  Beauty she may not have, but brains she did. He smiled in concession. “I will have one of the researchers grant you access to where a majority of the data is kept. Understand, though, that not a page of what you read may leave that safe room. Not a single word is to be digitally recorded. Do I make myself clear?”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “And if your duties as my head of security become lax because of your time spent perusing the files of the remaining three children, you will forfeit your position.”

  “Understood.”

  “Very well,” he said, summarily concluding their conversation.

  And yet, Mayanette failed to take the hint. She stood, gaze fixed on the surface of the lake, which had stilled during their talk. Now, the glassy surface seemed more glaring sun than water itself.

  Chisholme sighed. “Was there anything else, Mayanette?”

  Still staring into the reflective glare, Mayanette said, “Three children.”

  “Yes?”

  “The child at The Ranch was the fourth.”

  Chisholme did not reply to the stated fact. Instead he waited, giving the woman a chance to inquire about what he knew was coming next.

  “What about the fifth?”

  His answer was at the ready before Mayanette had finished speaking. “You will not overstep your bounds, Mayanette. Unless it relates directly to my safety and well-being, you need not concern yourself with her.”

  Taking a respectful step back, making herself smaller by gently lowering her head and letting her shoulders sag, Mayanette said in a polite yet determined tone, “But she is with Dent.”

  He knew that her little show of obsequiousness was just that. A show. Someone capable of killing their immediate supervisor no doubt had the backbone to go with the self-appointed promotion. He would let her have this little game of hers, let her believe he had been drawn in by her subservient attitude.

  He told her, “If it comes to the point where I believe Dent and the girl pose a threat to me personally, I will allow you access to her files.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  He gave her a magnanimous wave of a hand, which could have been taken as “of course” or “we are finished
talking.” She properly took the hint this time and made for the stairs leading to his estate.

  Alone again, Chisholme turned to his thoughts regarding Marion Dent.

  Chisholme had met Dent briefly when he was still a young boy. Even back then, there was something off-putting about the boy who Chisholme would help groom into the perfect tool. Chisholme had worked behind the scenes, investing money and ensuring Dent would get the training he needed to rise in the ranks of the military. It had been Dent and a few other special children that spurred Chisholme to begin the work he was currently doing. Even after Dent had grown into a man and been relieved of duty, Chisholme had kept a watchful eye on him.

  So had a few others that had been key to Dent’s grooming as a boy.

  And when it was finally time to strike back at Takeda for long ago absconding with Fifth to Japan when the girl was but a babe, Chisholme had contracted Dent, now a former DUUP agent, for the task. Chisholme had figured that disposing of the man after the fact would be a simple task. Where the child dubbed Fifth was concerned, Chisholme preferred that the less people that knew of her existence, the better. The man who had brokered the contract, a weasel named Charon, had promised that Dent would be neutralized after he’d brought Fifth back to the States from Japan. Charon had failed to live up to his promises. And the predictable Dent had suddenly become unpredictable. He’d come to Chisholme’s very home in his attempt to reacquire Fifth. And now, he was somehow being fed information about the other children Chisholme was running tests on.

  If Mayanette proved her worth, perhaps he would give her free rein to eliminate both Dent and the source of his information regarding this batch of children. But only if she could ensure Chisholme’s safety while doing so.

  He looked down at the DEVOTION folder. One of five subjects deceased. Curse Takeda for betraying him all those years ago. If not for her, they could have more than this paltry amount of subjects. But time would come when he would be able to strike out against her. He still had three more subjects to work with. And then ….

  He smiled contentedly.

  Another breeze rippled its way over the surface of the lake, and Grant Chisholme closed his eyes briefly as he waited for it to come to him.