Revolution: Luthecker, #3

by Keith Domingue

  “Come in,” Nikki said, allowing Joey Nugyen to enter the apartment, carefully closing the door behind him.

  “Who’s this?” Muranaka asked, as she sized up Nugyen.

  “Who’s this? Who the fuck are you?” Nugyen shot back, before looking at Nikki for answers.

  “Rika, Joey, Joey, Rika. Joey’s a messenger. Rika’s a programmer for the Coalition.”

  “What the hell’s she doing here? She’s the enemy,” Joey said.

  “Says who? You guys are the ones engaged in illegal activity,” Muranaka fired back.

  Joey took a step toward Muranaka.

  Nikki stepped in front of him. “Knock it off. The situation’s complicated. Where’s Alex? I need to see him right away.”

  “He’s preoccupied at the moment,” Nugyen answered, not wanting to get into the details considering the company and never taking his eyes off Muranaka. He finally turned to Nikki, pulling a small piece of paper from his pocket. “This is from Yaw. Your eyes only,” Joey said, eyes still on Muranaka as he handed Nikki the small folded piece of paper.

  Nikki examined the message. “Shit,” she said under her breath, before crumpling up the message and stuffing it in her pocket.

  “Change in plans,” Nikki said to Muranaka. She turned to Joey. “Tell him I need an hour,” Nikki said. “And tell him to come alone.”

  Margaret Evan’s cold had gotten progressively worse throughout the day.

  The chills had started in the morning when she woke up, which was in addition to the coughing and sore throat that had started the night before. Now she was so congested she could barely breathe.

  Margaret Evans was fifty-nine years old, lived alone in a small apartment with her cat, and she decided that she’d had enough of feeling sick. It’s time to get some Theraflu, she thought to herself.

  She chose Theraflu not because of any brand loyalty, but because she had a 50 percent off coupon from the drugstore, and money was tight for her this month. So she fed the cat dinner from a can of Purina, put on her coat and shoes, and headed out the door for a twenty-minute walk to the CVS Pharmacy.

  This CVS was one of the bigger stores in the chain, brand new with over a dozen aisles and security cameras everywhere. The whole store seemed cold and sterile to Margaret, which was why she didn’t like coming here unless she had to, but everyone wearing a CVS badge smiled and offered to help her.

  In no time, Margaret found herself in the cold and flu section. She saw what she was looking for and approached the shelf where they kept Theraflu stocked. She checked her pocket to make sure she had remembered her 50 percent off coupon. She saw that there was only one box of the medicine left. Margaret took the box and smiled. She felt lucky.

  Margaret moved from the cold and flu aisle toward the back of the store, where the food was kept. A bowl of chicken soup will be good too, she thought. She found the soup section and picked out a can of her favorite, Campbell’s Chicken Soup, on sale for 99 cents. More luck.

  Her doctor said the soup had too much salt considering her blood pressure, but she had a bad cold, and in her mind that was enough to justify the extra salt.

  Satisfied, she made her way to the front of the store toward the registers. Her head throbbed now, and her throat still hurt, and she couldn’t wait to get back home.

  She stood patiently in line, and when her turn came, she made sure to pull her 50 percent off coupon from her pocket and hand it to the cashier.

  Margaret couldn’t help but notice the young man at the register was good looking, perhaps in his early twenties, with perfect hair and a charming smile. To be young again, she thought.

  He took the box of Theraflu and scanned the barcode on the side of the box, followed by the bar code on the coupon. The register beeped. The teller looked mildly disappointed as he checked the register screen.

  “I’m sorry, but the coupon is expired,” he said to Margaret, before handing the crumpled piece of paper back to her.

  Margaret looked at the coupon, confused. She looked at the expiration date. It was today’s date.

  “What do you mean it’s expired?” she asked, making her throat hurt. Despite the pain, there was still edge in her voice. “It has today’s date on it. It should be good through today.” Margaret thrust the coupon back in the teller’s direction.

  The young man tried it again, but with no luck. He handed it back. “I’m sorry,” he said again, handing the coupon back. “But the computer won’t take it. Says it’s expired.”

  “But it’s not.”

  “I know. It happens sometimes. There’s nothing I can do. I’m sorry.”

  “I want to speak to the manager.”

  “He’s out today.”

  “This isn’t fair.”

  “I’m sorry, but there’s nothing I can do. Do you want the Theraflu or not?”

  Margaret felt cheated and thought about making a scene. And she would have if she didn’t feel so sick. She didn’t care that the security camera seemed to be pointed right at her, just waiting to catch her causing a problem.

  “Fine,” she finally said. “But you can keep the soup.”

  She handed the teller a worn debit card, and he swiped it quick before handing it back to her. She hoped that she balanced her bank accounts right, and there would be enough money on it.

  The teller’s register screen went blank for a second, and the lights throughout the store flickered for several more. When the register screen came back, it showed that the sale had not gone through.

  “Can I see your card again?” he asked Margaret.

  “What’s the problem? Not enough money?”

  “No, it just didn’t go through.”

  Margaret reluctantly handed the teller her debit card again.

  The teller swiped it a second time and waited.

  “Okay we’re good,” he said. The teller moved to hand Margaret back her card when the register beeped loudly and the screen flashed a message that got his attention: CHECK CARD.

  The teller tilted his head in reaction. He’d never seen the register do anything like this before.

  “What is it?” Margaret asked.

  “It wants me to…check your card.”

  “Oh Lord, I’m probably outta money. I get paid next week. I promise,” Margaret replied, suddenly very worried.

  The teller stood motionless, unsure what to do.

  “Well you might as well check it,” Margaret said, resigned to the fact she’d have to eat Ramen noodles until Friday.

  The teller swiped the card. His eyes went wide.

  “What?” Margaret reacted.

  The teller slowly turned to Margaret. “Says here you have three point six million dollars left on your card.”

  Margaret almost fainted. She put her hand on the counter to steady herself. “Well, I’ll be damned,” she finally managed to say.

  Now the young teller was really confused. The machine shouldn’t be able to share this information. And he’d never seen a debit card with so much cash on it before.

  “Um, do you want your card back?”

  “Hell, yes.”

  Margaret had no idea what had just happened, but she snatched the card from the teller’s hand with surprising speed.

  She quickly grabbed the box of Theraflu as if to make a point and abruptly started walking toward the door, trying hard not to break out into a flat out sprint. She was out the door before she allowed herself to breathe.

  Then she broke out in a wide smile. Margaret thought the wind on her face felt good, and it seemed her sinuses were already starting to clear. It’s a blessing from the Lord, she thought, and she was beginning to feel much better already.

  24

  Attitude

  “How many times are you assholes going to haul me in here?” Kirby asked.

  Unlike his previous debriefings from the Coalition interrogators, this time his voice wavered with fear.

  The abrupt punch to the back of his head that followed felt like a lightn
ing strike, the shock hitting first, then the pain.

  He saw stars for several seconds and fought hard to stay conscious. Then he fought to keep from throwing up.

  He looked at his right wrist, which was chained to the steel table he sat behind. Kirby realized for the first time that he was in serious trouble.

  Glen Turner kept his eyes locked on Kirby for a reaction, while the two-hundred-and fifty-pound Coalition Assurance enforcer who struck Kirby silently made his way back to Turner’s side.

  “What was that for?” Kirby asked, his ears still ringing.

  “To adjust your attitude. And remind you how severe your situation is,” Turner replied.

  “I told you on the phone that Luthecker and I had been speaking. But he said absolutely nothing remarkable to me, I swear,” Kirby said, his eyes going back and forth between the two men.

  “I freed his friends for you, and this is how you repay me?”

  “I had him on the hook and was leading him in, but you got impatient. You fuckers blew it.”

  Turner nodded to the Coalition officer who had hit Kirby, a military cutout in a black suit, and the Assurance officer quietly exited the small room that now only held Kirby, Turner, and the steel table between them.

  “I thought we had a deal. Why the hell did you jump me?”

  “The situation has changed. I honestly didn’t concern myself with what you found before, but now that’s over. What exactly did you and Alex Luthecker talk about?” Turner continued.

  “You have him now, why don’t you just ask him?”

  “I’m asking you.”

  “I took him to see his second mother, like I told you I would. I thought there would be a connection between the two of them, and I could use that connection to confirm my theory, but it didn’t go anything at all like I expected. But I did witness what he could do. And it was nothing short of amazing.”

  “What exactly did he do?”

  Kirby took a moment to gather his thoughts. He hadn’t really thought about the details regarding Luthecker’s exchange with Miriam.

  Kirby still hadn’t processed how the pattern reader had changed this woman’s life, telling her about her reactive upbringing, the abuse she suffered, the patterns of choice and behavior that led to the exact moment of their meeting, followed by the acceptance, and finally the letting go.

  It had all happened in an instant and right before Kirby’s eyes, only minutes before the Coalition took them into custody.

  For a man like Kirby, what Luthecker had done made no logical sense. There was no question that Luthecker’s ability to read the most intimate details of Miriam’s life, dating all the way back to her early years, was a cognitive skill that was beyond extraordinary.

  But it was still a mathematically reproducible skill under the right control conditions. You could essentially program a computer to do it. What didn’t make sense to Kirby was Miriam’s reaction to the information. She was visibly unburdened, and it was nearly instantaneous.

  It was like an absolution and understanding of all her life choices, and with it, the freedom to make new choices and set a new course. And with that freedom was a newfound awareness of outside forces that tried to influence her choices from an early age, some even before she was born.

  Granted, Luthecker was charming, and one could never underestimate the human-to-human factor, but Miriam seemed genuinely changed by her conversation with Luthecker. And for the life of him, Kirby didn’t understand why.

  To Kirby, it was just information, some of it actionable and some of it not.

  “I can’t explain it,” Kirby started to say to Turner. “All I can say is nothing went as I expected. And at the end of the day, he just…told her it was okay to change, and she believed him.”

  “There are entire industries peddling the kind of nonsense you are describing, and it doesn’t work.”

  “I know.”

  “Why does it work for him?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “Humor me with a guess.”

  Kirby thought about the question for several moments. “Everyone thinks he can predict the future and game the system for people, but that’s completely missing the point. I think his photographic memory, combined with a certain intuitive ability to see collective patterns in behavior, allows him to find the keys that unlock an individual’s deeply entrenched perception of themselves. He sees where your choices will lead, both collectively and individually. And with that insight, comes the opportunity to course-correct your life. That’s what he does.”

  “Is that how he expressed it?”

  “No. That’s how I did. You weren’t listening. That’s another thing he does well that you don’t.” Kirby hoped the last statement wouldn’t result in another strike to the back of the head.

  “Well then how did he explain it? Both his abilities and the allure behind them?”

  “He started babbling about Polynesian navigators from hundreds of years ago. All of that’s scientifically explainable, but there was something more to it than that.”

  “Did he read your fate?”

  “No.”

  “Why not? Didn’t you ask him to?”

  “Of course I did. If only to correct any potential errors in my own decision-making processes.”

  “And he refused? I thought he played his game with everyone he came across.”

  “It’s not a game.”

  “Did he tell you why he wouldn’t do to you what he’s done to everyone else?”

  “No. And he didn’t say, never. He said, in due time. ”

  “What does that mean?”

  “I don’t know,” Kirby replied. Then something dawned on him.

  Turner saw it in Kirby’s face. “What?”

  “I think I know why. I think I know why he didn’t tell me my fate.”

  “Why?”

  “I’m already trying to find patterns in the data. I’m trying to find mechanical explanations for what he can do.”

  “If you don’t start telling me straight answers, I’m going to bring my friend back in here.”

  “He didn’t read the data points that would create my fate because that’s what I do all day. He wants something else from me.”

  “What?”

  “He wants me to believe.”

  “Believe what?”

  “That we’re all connected.” Kirby sat back in his chair, as far as the chain on his wrist would allow.

  He was dumbfounded by his new revelation. Had Luthecker played him? Had the pattern reader already predicted the next move only to set up the one after?

  “Did you see Nicole Ellis at all during your time with Luthecker?” Turner asked, interrupting Kirby’s self-revelation.

  “No,” Kirby lied. For reasons he couldn’t explain, Kirby felt it unwise to bring up that aspect of his conversations with Luthecker.

  “Did he mention her at all? Where she might be?”

  “No. She never came up.”

  “Did he express any concern that Ms. Ellis’s program PHOEBE was acting out on the public?”

  “I wasn’t aware that PHOEBE was acting out on the public. Is that why you brought us in? That’s interesting if true. But no, Luthecker and I didn’t discuss Nicole Ellis, PHOEBE, or their whereabouts, at all. We only discussed his abilities and the world coming to an end. You have Luthecker in custody, why don’t you just ask him?”

  “It’s not that easy.”

  Kirby grinned. “You don’t want to be in the room with him, do you?”

  “I’ll send someone in to get the answer I want.”

  “Why do you need Nicole Ellis so badly? She’s a hacker. It’s not like there isn’t a bunch of those running around these halls.”

  “Her program PHOEBE is wreaking havoc. It stopped a robbery in progress. It gifted a woman three million dollars. I’ve just gotten word that one of our refineries has been shut down. Our hackers say it’s only going to get worse, and they can’t crack it. If we can’t get in fron
t of these problems soon, the extinction you predict is going to happen a lot sooner than you think.”

  “Let me talk to him,” Kirby responded. “He trusts me. I’ll find out what it is you need to know.”

  “You’re not afraid he’ll see right through you?”

  “No. He’ll do whatever it is he’s going to do, and I’m not afraid of who I am. But the question is, are you afraid of what he’ll do to me? That he’ll somehow turn me against the Coalition?”

  “If that were to happen, Doctor, I simply wouldn’t let you leave.”

  “How reassuring. So it’s a go then?”

  “Yes. I’ll allow it. But only to find out anything you can about PHOEBE and Nicole Ellis, including where she is.”

  “Fine. But under one condition.”

  “How about I let you live?”

  “Not good enough.”

  Turner took a deep breath. “What do you want?”

  “If I get you Ellis and PHOEBE, you give me Luthecker.”

  Turner thought about Kirby’s offer for several moments before speaking. He thought Kirby hopelessly naïve about whether or not he would keep his word. Turner had no intention of surrendering Alex Luthecker. Or of letting Kirby leave, for that matter.

  “You have a deal, doctor.”

  “What is this betrayal?” the Barbarian roared, rising from the plush leather couch to his feet.

  The accommodations inside the Coalition Properties containment apartment were comfortable, if not small. The couch, the bathroom, the refrigerator stocked with food, the small bar stocked with drink, even the bedroom with the king-sized bed and silk sheets would make an unwary guest feel at home, and not like he was in a prison cell.

  The fact that the door was steel and the lock only worked from the outside was the giveaway.

  “Have a drink, Ivan,” Turner said. “And who was betraying whom? Did you think I wasn’t watching you? What was your reason for tracking down Luthecker other than to pit him against me?”

  “You have no proof of that.”

  “I have all the proof that I need, old friend.” Turner moved to the overstuffed chair next to the couch, and sat down. “Relax, Ivan. This is what we do to one another. We are adversaries, but we are not enemies. At least not yet. So let’s not let it come to that. Understand that if I’d wanted you dead, I’d have had my men shoot you on sight in the street. Now sit down.”