The female voice sounded much less appealing when she consistently delivered bad news. “You have no new lifts.”
Another heavy sigh, Nick shook his head and watched the clock again. No lifts in over twenty-four hours. He’d never had that happen before. Were people still talking about him? Did he want to know?
Nick’s pulse slammed through him, rocking him where he sat. “Karla’s wonderful,” he said. “I’d take her back in a heartbeat.” Maybe that would get through Wellbeing’s filters, maybe not. “I hope Adam’s having a great time in his new job.”
The television then burst to life, spiking Nick’s heart rate. It played footage from the Apollo Tower, the bottom of it blown out. His stomach tensed around the caffeine and milk swimming in it. Although he picked his phone up to call Adam, he paused when the reporter spoke.
“There’s been another terrorist attack in the city. The Apollo Tower this time. We were worried the restaurant was a diversion for something larger. Thankfully, we took the precaution of emptying all the major targets in the city.”
Nick put his phone down and spoke as he exhaled. “Thank god.”
“Also,” the news reporter went on, “the damage is only cosmetic. Air bombs, they were set up on the ground floor. They made a mess of the place, shattering the windows, but it hasn’t affected the tower structurally. The people who planted them clearly want to send a message.”
As often happened with these urgent news reports, the footage on screen gave way to a studio with several people. The anchor, a tanned man in a well-fitted suit, turned to a blonde woman and said, “Dr. Rashford, what do you think that message is?”
The lady stroked her chin. “I’m not sure. Maybe it’s their way of reminding us about the power they have over us.”
“Which is exactly why we need to take that power away from them.” The lady who cut in had grey hair, a tightness around her eyes, and thin lips. Frail, reptilian, and devoid of emotion, she looked like she’d break if she fell over.
Back to the anchor. “So we go to war with them?”
The grey-haired woman. “Is there any other choice?”
“Is there, Dr. Rashford?”
When the camera turned back to the doctor, she chewed her bottom lip for a few seconds before shrugging. “I don’t think so. We can’t be at the mercy of the Blind Spot.”
The report fell quiet and an option to keep watching flashed up. Nick ignored it, letting the television fade to black.
So Bruce knew the attack would happen. But how? And with only The as the next place they planned to hit, what could Nick do to prevent the next one? Of course he didn’t trust the authorities to take him at face value. Anyone who lived in the city knew what they were capable of. If they thought he had anything to do with this, he might find himself turned into an obsolete. But if he didn’t go to them, how could he stop the attacks? How could he prevent a war?
The screen came to life again. The same anchor as before. “We have more breaking news.” A box in the top right-hand corner of the screen had a picture of a gold bolt in it. “If we didn’t have enough proof of the Blind Spot’s involvement with the footage of the cybernetically enhanced girl running through the city, we’ve just been told a gold bolt like this one”—he pointed up to the image—“has been found at the restaurant. The bolt is exactly like the ones Wrench has in his legs. As in Wrench, the Blind Spot’s leader. Ladies?”
The grey reptile woman straightened her back, her dark eyes staring into the camera. “We have to go to war. The city has run out of excuses.”
The guests in the news studio were usually picked for their different opinions. Dr. Rashford simply shrugged. “I wish I could disagree.”
Nick drew breaths to manage his tightening lungs. War would be bad for everyone. And he needed to get Karla away from Bruce. He’d done nothing but try to please people for his entire life. Now he needed to do something different. He needed to use every tool at his disposal to gather as much evidence as he could before he went to the authorities. A line of sweat lifted on his brow and his hand shook when he reached over to his Wellbeing app. One final deep breath, he pressed the black box in the corner of the screen.
Chapter 54
They said Marcie could walk around the Blind Spot, just not out in the city. And now that bitch Jean had shown herself to be a turncoat rather than a friend, they could make sure she stuck to it. Jean, Sal, and the Eye were about the only people who made the Blind Spot worthwhile. She and Sal hadn’t spoken in days, and Jean’s true colours had just been strapped to Marcie’s ankle as a tracking device. The sooner she moved to the city, the better. That was if there was still a city left at the end of this nonsense. Maybe she would end up in Prime City. Anywhere but here, even if it meant crossing the agricultural wastelands.
Anonymous in her mask and power suit, Marcie marched through the red-light district. In the past, she’d avoided the johns and slack-jaws, but fuck them. She slammed into the next slack-jaw who stumbled across her path, sending the space cadet stumbling backwards.
If he’d intended to react, the woman’s scream from a nearby brothel stopped him. A throat-tearing, hellish nightmare squall. A man’s voice shouted over her. A second later, the man stumbled into the street. Anonymous in his mask and suit, he held a knife dripping in blood. A crimson spray covered his white shirt.
The man, who stood at least six feet tall, yelled, “Fuck the Blind Spot!” He slashed his knife at a nearby obsolete, tearing a deep gash down his face. The obsolete slapped his hands to his wound and yelled as he pulled away. The man with the knife stabbed him several times in the kidneys, his arm working like a piston, a squelch with every lunge.
Many slack-jaws wailed as they ran. Most other people, including Blind Spot residents, backed off, some of the prostitutes hiding in the brothels and locking their doors.
In the centre of the street on his own, the obsolete dying beside him, many people running, many pressed against the walls, the man slashed his knife in the air. “If the city won’t do anything about you scumbags, then I will!”
A throbbing red ring in Marcie’s vision surrounded the wild lunatic. When he lunged towards a group of people, she charged at him.
The man turned on Marcie, but before he reacted, she kicked his wrist so hard it snapped, his hand falling limp, the knife hitting the ground.
While the man screamed, Marcie punched him in the side of his head, knocking him down. She grabbed him by the front of his shirt, the power in her arm to punch through his skull. A split second to think, she dropped him, letting him fall back while he held his wrist and yelled.
The brothel he’d come from too dark to see in to, Marcie waited, standing over the screaming man. An older, dark-skinned woman emerged. She had one blue and one red eye, puffy lips, and eyelashes several inches long. A retired pro, her cheeks glistened with tears. She shook her head at Marcie.
“You fuck!” Marcie said, stamping on one of his shins and then the other, each one snapping beneath her brute force.
Whistles sounded, hailing the arrival of guards. Everyone turned to them. They had it under control, so Marcie left.
Before Marcie entered the Eye’s workshop, he called out, “There’s been another attack.”
Wires and screens clung to every surface of the narrow room like moss. The Eye clearly existed in symbiosis with the technology. “I know. I was just in the middle of it.”
“Huh?”
“In the Blind Spot. A man just lost the plot in a brothel.”
“And you got hold of him?”
“Yep.”
“What did you do to him?”
“Broke him.”
“Shit.”
“But you weren’t talking about that attack, were you?”
The Eye shook his head.
“And how did you know I was coming?”
A screen no larger than a smartphone, the Eye held it up to her. It had a map on it and a pulsating red dot.
“You gave
them the tag?”
“You expected me to say no when they asked? And don’t forget, you were the one who fucked up in the city. Had you not gotten yourself chased by Scala’s entire police force, taking out two of their cars in the process, the top table would have been none the wiser about your antics.”
Like she needed reminding. At least it had exposed Jean as a snake. The first thing the Eye had said when she’d entered caught up with her. “So the attack? It happened in the city?”
“Yep.”
“That must be why that man just lost the plot back there. How much longer can we go before a war kicks off?”
The Eye shrugged before he brought one of his many screens to life and showed Marcie the footage of the Apollo Tower being blown out from the bottom. Her heart flipped. “Is it okay?”
“The building?”
Marcie nodded.
“You don’t want to know if anyone’s hurt?”
She coughed and shifted from one foot to the other before shrugging. “Yeah, obviously. Is anyone hurt?”
“No. Because of the restaurant, everyone in the city stayed home. The building was empty.”
“And is it okay?”
“Yes, it’s fine. More importantly, look at this.”
Although the sound didn’t play on the news report, the picture of the gold bolt sat in the top right-hand corner. Marcie’s jaw fell. “They found a bolt at the tower?”
“At the restaurant.”
A gust of cold wind entered the workshop. The rose Marcie had brought from the city had started to wilt. It had lost several petals already. Another one fell.
“Does Dad know about the bolts?”
The Eye pulled out a small rectangular tin. He popped the tiny metal lid off and dropped the fallen petal into it. When he clicked it shut, he shook his head. “I don’t think so. With all that’s going on, information between the city and the Blind Spot isn’t passing anywhere near as freely. The city are blocking a lot of their transmissions. But he’ll find out soon enough.”
“I have to get out into the city. No one else can stop this war, and we’ve put too much into this plan to back out now. I can’t talk to the top table because I’m still not certain who the rat is. Dad’s the only person I trust, and he won’t listen to my ideas. I need to do this”—Marcie lifted her leg with the tag around the ankle—“even if Dad can see what I’m doing.”
“He won’t see you.”
“Huh?”
Clearly recovered from the rose’s slow death, his crimson eyes widened. “I invented the tag.” The Eye spun around and typed on one of the many nearby keyboards. After a few seconds, he held up the small screen to her again. A flashing red dot like before, this time it moved away from his workshop.
“You’re making it look like I’m somewhere I’m not?”
“Yep. So when they come to check on you, you’ll be in the Blind Spot still, like they’ve ordered.”
“And I can go out in the city without them finding out?”
“Yeah. Just make sure you’re home by eleven in the evening. Stick to your curfew because the dot will be back at your house by then.”
“You’re amazing.”
“I’m not done.” A small circular device no larger than a coin, the Eye pressed it. A quiet click and he suddenly vanished.
“Huh?”
The Eye’s voice came from the same place he’d just been in. “You can’t see me, right?”
“How are you doing that?”
“It’s a cloaking device. I’ve just finished making it.”
“It makes you vanish into thin air?”
“It makes it look like I have. I’m still here, obviously, but you can’t see me.”
Marcie reached out towards him to feel his body remained where he sat. “How are you doing that?”
“This device emits a frequency that scrambles your brain to trick it into not seeing me.”
“But I’ve got a microprocessor and cybernetic eyes.”
“It’s harder to fool you. Most people only see what they want to see. Your eyes are more objective than that, even when I limit them in here.”
“So if you can trick me?”
“I can trick anyone.”
The quiet click sounded again and the Eye reappeared in front of her. A broad smile on his pale face, he handed the small device over. “Go on.”
Marcie pressed it. Other than the click, nothing happened. “It’s no different.”
“I can’t see you.”
Swearing at him with her two fingers on her right hand, she said, “What am I doing now?”
“I don’t know. I can’t see you.”
It seemed like a case of the emperor’s new clothes. Marcie moved slowly towards him, her legs giving her a near silent approach. She reached out and flicked the end of his nose.
The Eye jumped backwards, crashing into one of the walls of wires and devices. A hand clamped across the front of his face, he said, “What was that for?”
“I just wanted to check it works.”
“You don’t trust me?”
The weight of the tag pulled on her leg. “I’m learning not to trust anyone. So I can go out in the city again?”
“Yep.”
“And you’ve got everything ready to go?”
“Ah!”
“What?”
“It’s not all ready yet.”
“How much longer? We’re running out of time.”
“It’s not easy, you know? I have to get through a lot of encrypted files to find what we need. We’re not dealing with amateurs here.”
“I’m sorry.”
The Eye shook his head. “Don’t be. Why don’t you enjoy being invisible and come back in an hour?”
The Eye jumped again when Marcie reached out and touched his arm. She held on and gave him a gentle squeeze. “Thank you for everything you’ve done. You’ve been amazing.”
“Someone you can trust?”
“I hope so.”
“Come back in an hour, yeah?”
Chapter 55
Good job the Eye had told Marcie an hour because she’d been waiting outside Sal’s house for forty-five minutes. She’d found her own reflection—or lack of—in one of their windows to keep tabs on the cloaking device. It continued to work.
Frankie finally returned home. As he passed her, she held her breath so she didn’t exhale clouds of condensation. She fought the urge to trip him. Or she could blindside him with a right hook. She’d knock his head off, the traitorous bastard. But she hadn’t come here for that. Instead, she followed close behind, but not too close.
A thousand small adjustments in her legs, she moved in near silence.
As the security gate fell shut behind Frankie, Marcie sped up to get through. It closed with a clang and Frankie spun around as if he could sense her. She froze and her heart quickened in the spotlight of his glare. She couldn’t afford to get caught. Not now and not here. She and the Eye still had so much to do.
Frankie turned back around and walked towards his front door.
Like she’d done when Frankie opened the gate, Marcie closed the distance between them and slipped into the house behind him.
When Frankie went one way, she went the other.
Marcie opened Sal’s door and stepped into his room.
A spread of wide-eyed horror stared at her from the bed, and she quickly said, “It’s me, Sal. Please keep your voice down.” After closing the door, she pressed the cloaking device. Click.
The click, whir of Sal’s fake lungs quickened. “Marce, what are you doing here? Dad said he’d banned you from coming over.”
“Which is why you need to keep your voice down.”
The soft mattress sank beneath Marcie’s weight when she sat on the edge of his bed, making sure she hid her tag from him. It would create too many questions she couldn’t answer. Like why was she sneaking around if they were tracking her? “I had to come and see you. I’ve missed you so much.”
> “I’ve missed you too.” A slight wobble shook his words. “I was starting to think you didn’t give a shit about me. You’ve as good as cut me out of your life.”
“I haven’t.”
He raised his eyebrows.
“Okay, I have, but there’s a good reason.”
“You don’t like me anymore? My crippled arse is cramping your style now you’re the Blind Spot’s princess?”
The words stung, but he had every right to say them. “It’s nothing like that.”
“You’ve accepted when you move to the city, you’ll be leaving us behind?”
“Don’t say it like that. And no, that’s not the reason for me cutting down my visits.”
“What is, then?”
“I think about you every day. I can’t get you out of my head.”
When she shifted closer, the entire bed moved. His cheeks flushed red. “What are you doing, Marce?”
“Something I should have done a long time ago.”
The fear of rejection wrapped a tight grip around her heart, but Marcie still leaned in and kissed him. He tensed, his lips pressed tightly together, but then he relaxed and kissed her back.
It could have lasted seconds, minutes, or hours. The moment stretched for days and passed in an instant. They pulled away from one another and Marcie smiled.
Sal grabbed both of her hands and squeezed them. “I’m glad you came.” He let go. “But you need to tell me what’s going on.”
“All I can tell you is I love you, and you need to trust me.”
“I don’t know you anymore. How can I trust you? Are you still moving to the city?”
When Marcie tried to take Sal’s hands again, he pulled away. “Sal?”
“Please leave. I can’t be around you while you’re being so secretive. Come back when you’re ready to be straight with me.”
If only he knew. “I will come back and tell you everything. I’ll make sure you understand.”
“Goodbye, Marcie.”
The Blind Spot Page 20
