The Blind Spot

by Michael Robertson

  Nick grimaced.

  “How do I know?” Graham asked.

  Nick held onto his response.

  “You’re who the Pandora hack was made for. Someone who gets so validated by false praise, that if it goes away, you have to know what people are saying about you, even when it’s toxic to your well-being.”

  Graham might have drawn a breath to say more, but Nick cut him off. “We’ll pay you ’til the end of the week.”

  Another breath as if he might speak, and Nick cut him off again. “Goodbye, Graham.”

  Shaking while he sat in the coffee room, Nick watched Graham pack his things. He hadn’t admitted anything to him, and they both knew it, but the kid was a danger to his career.

  The other people in the office watched Graham too, and from what Nick could see, he didn’t speak to any of them.

  After the kid left, Nick came out of the coffee room. “It wasn’t working out with Graham, I’m afraid. We agreed he should go.”

  The room might have wanted more, but Nick didn’t give it to them. Instead, he sat at his desk, fired up his computer, and tried to swallow down the gnawing anxiety eating away at him. Sure, he’d gotten rid of Graham like he’d planned, but he’d nearly been called out as a Pandora freak. Should Stuart want to check his phone, he’d have to show him. He’d planned the trip to the Blind Spot that evening already. If the cost of having it removed had given him doubts, Graham had just helped him overcome them. Whatever the sacrifice, he had to get rid of it.

  Chapter 66

  As much as Jean had tried to talk her way out of her role in the terror attacks, it didn’t wash with anyone. Lie after lie spewed from her poisonous mouth. How had she so successfully duped Marcie? She’d considered herself a good judge of character before today. Clearly not.

  To back up what they all knew with irrefutable evidence, the top table agreed the Eye should hack Jean’s data. They kept her in a holding cell while he carried out his work.

  “You must have been confident we wouldn’t hack you,” Wrench said as he restrained Jean in the room beneath the top table. “You didn’t even try to hide your connection to Karla Jacobs and Wellbeing. Looks like you both got very rich and stood to earn even more. It’s a shame you won’t see any of that now, isn’t it?”

  Jean deserved everything she got. Of course she did, but that didn’t mean Marcie wanted to sit by and watch. Cybernetic from the waist down, the woman clearly still had an organic bladder, the ammonia reek of her piss filling the small room.

  Once the Monk pulled the final restraint tight against Jean’s left wrist, Wrench turned to Frankie, who stood as far away from Marcie as he could. “You go home to your family. You’ve been away from them for too long. You need a rest.”

  The man still looked at Marcie like he’d kill her if he got a chance, and she couldn’t blame him. But thank god he’d had nothing to do with the terror attacks. She was more than happy to be proven wrong. What had seemed like concrete evidence of the bolts in his pocket was easily explained. Anyone from the top table would have been able to plant them on anyone else. She’d jumped to too many conclusions, finding evidence when there was none. Pierre had called it confirmation bias. Hopefully, Frankie would forgive her at some point. Sal too.

  Frankie slammed the door behind him, the crash spiking Marcie’s pulse. She hadn’t slept much over the past few days. She needed some time off after this.

  Wrench put an arm around Marcie’s shoulders.

  Her first instinct was to shrug it off, but she stood with the sensation for a moment. They hadn’t been this close since her mum died. She leaned into his embrace.

  “Frankie will come around, you know. His anger won’t last forever. Eventually he’ll see you did what you believed to be best. Right,” he said to the room, “upstairs. We have things to discuss.”

  The last to walk up the stairs, Marcie shook her head at Jean. The tan had left her skin; her eyes were bloodshot and inflamed. The once beautiful woman was now ugly in her shame. “When Mum died, I looked to you for guidance. What a fool I was.”

  More tears ran from Jean’s eyes.

  The last one to enter the top room, Marcie paused for a moment to find the Eye there. He stood by a projector and pulled a tight-lipped smile.

  “He’s beaming the city’s news channel over here,” Wrench said. “They have a broadcast due any moment now.”

  The Eye pressed a button, and his screen lit up to reveal an elderly and scrawny grey-haired lady in a suit.

  The sight of her startled Marcie. “Who’s that?”

  “Mayor Trench,” Shank said.

  “How did she become mayor?”

  “You shouldn’t judge a book by its cover,” Pierre said.

  “Should I judge her because of her political aptitude?”

  “Well, no, that’s not up to much either, but my point still stands. She came into power because the snake who was mayor stepped down when he lost a ridiculous referendum. He shouldn’t have called it in the first place. So she slipped into his role, although, if you ask me, she’s drinking from a poisoned chalice. No one else would take the job. With charisma like hers, there’s no other way she’s becoming mayor. Still, I almost feel sorry for her.”

  “Almost?”

  “As you rightly noticed, the woman’s a cunt.”

  A warble in her voice, the woman on the screen looked more crow than human. “At the eleventh hour, we’ve found out who was behind the terror attacks. It had surprised us to think the Blind Spot would do such a thing in the first place, so when we finally found out the truth, we were pleased we hadn’t yet gone to war.”

  The stress of the past few days left Marcie’s body and she sank into her seat.

  An image of Karla flashed up on the screen. “This is Karla Jacobs. A business consultant on Wellbeing Incorporated’s payroll. We have strong evidence that shows she was trying to get the Blind Spot destroyed. She believed Wellbeing would be able to offer CCTV throughout the city with the anonymity masks gone, which would deliver the profit she’d promised her client. Wellbeing deny any knowledge of her plans and say they hired her in good faith.”

  “Yeah, right,” Marcie said.

  “They say they trusted her reputation as one of the city’s top consultants. Needless to say, a full investigation is underway to test the truth of their statement, and to make sure we have everything in order before we punish Karla.”

  Bruce’s mugshot flashed up next. The croaky witch continued to address her people. “Adrian Swint. We believe he used his hacking skills to help Karla cover her tracks. Again, we need to double-check what we already believe to be robust evidence. The city believes in giving all its residents a fair trial.”

  Marcie scoffed again. “I can’t imagine it will take long to find them and Wellbeing Incorporated guilty.”

  “Let’s just wait and see,” Wrench said. “Nothing would surprise me with the city. But at least we know the war’s been called off.”

  The transmission then faded to black. Marcie stood up and everyone looked at her. “Now that’s sorted, I need to go and see Sal. I have a lot of explaining to do.”

  “I’m not sure Frankie will let you in, sweetie,” Shank said. “Why don’t you give it a day or two?”

  The deep scrape of Wrench’s seat shuddered across the floor when he stood up. “I’ll go with you. This meeting’s over. Let’s meet back here when we have a verdict from the city. Until then, get some rest. You’ve all earned it.” A nod of thanks at the Eye, Wrench said, “Can you let yourself out once you’ve packed your equipment away?”

  “Of course.”

  Everyone knew the Eye had helped Marcie, but they didn’t know the whole truth. And hopefully it would stay that way.

  As if he could read her thoughts, Pierre said, “When this is all over, I want to find my brother. Either him or his murderer. I won’t rest until I have one or the other.”

  Marcie kept her attention on Pierre. A tightness to his lips, he usuall
y existed as the personification of composure. If he had to go to town on someone, he looked like he’d go dark. Very, very dark. If it came to it, Marcie had told the Eye she’d take the blame. They might pardon her. The Eye would be executed in an instant.

  Fire burned through Marcie’s face, and the silence seemed to last an age before the Eye broke it.

  “I did it. I killed your brother.”

  Chapter 67

  Pierre slapped his hand down on the top table. Whack! “You did what?”

  The Eye shook as he looked from Wrench to Shank. They closed in on him from either side.

  “You’d best start talking, boy,” Wrench said.

  “We had an altercation. Horace stitched me up and left me fearing for my life.”

  “And you should,” Pierre said.

  “Look,” the Eye said, “I’m telling you now so you can have some closure. Not knowing has to be the worst.”

  Pierre stood up. “Not as bad as looking his killer in the eye.”

  Marcie said she’d take the blame.

  “I didn’t want to do it,” the Eye said. “But he’d just sold me out to save himself. Who’s to say he wouldn’t have gone straight to Wrench the second he left my workshop?”

  “Where’s his body?”

  “I paid someone to dump it in the wastelands.”

  So fast Marcie only saw the gun when Pierre levelled it on the Eye. “Dad, stop him. Remember what the Eye’s done. He’s a good man. He acted in the heat of the moment. I was there.”

  “She’s right,” Wrench said. “The Eye has done a lot for the Blind Spot. Even beyond helping prevent this war. Shank?”

  The short and stocky woman had her knives drawn.

  “Can you take him away and lock him up? Somewhere where Pierre won’t find him.”

  “You don’t trust me?” Pierre said.

  “In your current frame of mind? No, I don’t. Sorry, old friend. We need to investigate this further before we take any action. We can’t forget what the Eye’s done for us.”

  Should Marcie take the blame? Did the Eye even want her to? Pierre, the Monk, and Wrench left the room. It took for Shank to nudge her. “Go on, leave him to me.”

  “What will happen to him?”

  “Like your dad asked. I’ll find somewhere secure to keep him.”

  “Good luck with Sal,” the Eye said. “You have a long and prosperous life ahead of you. Don’t waste it.”

  “Are you sure this is how you want it to be?”

  “I’m certain. This is for you, Marcie Hugo. You deserve it.”

  Marcie’s temples stung from where she couldn’t cry, her chest clamping tight. “I’ll make sure—”

  “Just go,” the Eye said. “Go and make it right with Sal. Go and live the life you deserve.”

  Marcie reached the bottom of the stairs to find Pierre, Wrench, and the Monk standing around Jean. She walked straight past them and pushed the door, the steel cold to the touch.

  “Wait,” Wrench said. He leaned over Jean. The Monk and Pierre stood on either side of him.

  Wide eyes, Jean shook her head. “Please, I’m so sorry. Please, Wrench.”

  It looked like Wrench passed a gun to Pierre, but when the top table’s accountant pressed it to Jean’s temple and pulled the trigger, a whomp sounded, the bolt shooting out the other side of her head. It hit the far wall with a ping. It left a splat of brain matter and blood behind.

  After he’d released a deep sigh, Wrench slumped. “She had to go. We couldn’t let her get away with what she’d done, and we had to send a message. But I couldn’t see her tortured. She’s done so much for the Blind Spot. It’s a shame she turned bad after all these years. Monk, can you take her to the engineers for scrap? Tell them to burn all the organic matter.”

  No need for words, the Monk nodded.

  “Come on then, Marce, let’s head over to Frankie’s. Maybe we can persuade them both to forgive you.”

  Chapter 68

  “Dad,” Marcie said, walking beside the hulking man as they moved through the Blind Spot. His mechanical legs whirred with his forward momentum, his feet slamming down with each heavy step. She focused on his organic eye, the one that revealed his emotions. Her own deep sadness stared back at her. Sure, she’d come back to visit when she could, but she’d no longer be his little girl. She’d be moving out to the city to start her own life. “Please make sure Pierre doesn’t kill the Eye.”

  “But he killed his brother.”

  “It wouldn’t have happened were it not for me.”

  The people around them parted for the leader of the Blind Spot and his little girl. The declaration of war had cleared the place of johns and slack-jaws. They’d be back, but it might take a few days. “We may have to imprison him forever. If for no other reason than it might be our only way to guarantee his safety.”

  “So you won’t kill him?”

  Wrench’s one good eye narrowed and he shook his head. “No, we won’t kill him.” After a pause, he said, “I promise you.”

  Marcie let go of a sigh. At least with him alive, she’d have a chance of freeing him at some point. Maybe not immediately, but she’d do it. She owed him.

  When Wrench set off again, Marcie caught up to him. Rare for them both to be together, those around them continued to stare. Although, with no commerce in the Blind Spot, what else were they to do? No doubt they had thousands of questions. When would they get credits again? Would things get back to normal?

  The whir and stamp of Wrench’s mechanical legs rang through the tight walkways both ahead and behind them as they quickened their pace. He clearly shared Marcie’s desire to get out of there.

  “When do you think the people from the city will come back in?” Marcie said, loud enough for the onlookers to hear.

  If they had a better way of earning money, Wrench would have taken it. She knew him well enough to know his feelings on the citizens. Especially with how some of them had been over the past few days. “I reckon we’ll have a couple of days’ holiday, and then they’ll be back. Maybe after the trial in the city’s done.

  “You’ve done a good job, Marcie. I should have trusted you more. Should have realised you were capable of everything you’ve achieved. Without you, the Blind Spot would be at war now. And you were right not to come to me, because I would have shut you down. I wouldn’t have believed you’d pull it off. You’re brave, strong, fierce …” His words wobbled, but he continued anyway, despite their audience. “You’re just like your mum.”

  Marcie didn’t know she’d wanted to hear those words until that moment. Her throat tightened and she coughed to clear the lump.

  “I also promise I won’t keep you caged anymore, little bird. You use those wings, wherever they take you. But know there’s always a place for you here.”

  Chapter 69

  Wrench pressed the buzzer by Frankie’s front gate. A duck quack of a sound, the intercom hissed, a wide silhouette at one of the upstairs windows.

  “What’s she doing here?”

  “Just let us in, Frank.”

  A tut, a click, a whir. The gates shook and opened.

  To deal with the sloped driveway, Wrench leaned back at the hips, his legs managing the gradient.

  Frankie waited at the open front door, resting against the frame, the same fix of utter revulsion as he watched Marcie.

  “She screwed up, Frank. She’s a kid, give her a chance to apologise.”

  A step to one side, Frankie said, “Sal’s in his room.”

  Marcie focused on the floor as she passed him. The burn of his glare pushed into the back of her head.

  By the time Marcie had made it about halfway up the corridor, leaving a trail of snow behind her, Frankie called out, “Just so you know, Sal might not want to see you.”

  After rubbing her sweating palms against her trousers, Marcie raised her hand, hesitated, and then knocked.

  “Come in.”

  Sal glared at her, the click, whir of his mec
hanical lungs quickening. “What do you want?”

  “Can I sit down?”

  “No. What do you want?”

  “I’m sorry, Sal. I got it wrong. I’m so, so sorry. I thought I’d checked and double-checked. The last thing I wanted to do was accuse your dad of working with the city, believe me.”

  Sal shuffled as if to get more comfortable.

  “What would you have done in my situation? We were about to go to war. I thought knowing who the rat was would help stop that.”

  “Look, I understand. I think it might take a while to get Dad back onside though.”

  Marcie jumped when someone knocked on the door.

  “Come in,” Sal said.

  When Wrench and Frankie entered, Marcie dropped her attention to her feet.

  As gruff as ever, Frankie said, “Look, Marcie, I can’t pretend I’m not pissed off with you, because I am. But I also understand why you did what you did and why you thought you were doing the right thing. Hopefully we can move forward and learn to trust each other more.”

  Her attention still on her shoes, Marcie nodded. “I’d like that.”

  When Frankie moved closer and put an arm around her, Marcie snapped rigid. “Well done on keeping this war away from our doors. Whatever else happened, you saved us all.”

  “I wouldn’t have been able to do it without the Eye.”

  “I’ve heard.”

  The silence lasted for a few seconds before Sal said, “I hope you realise, Marcie, you now owe me a lifetime of runs through the city.”

  For the first time in the past few minutes, Marcie looked up. For the first time in a while, she genuinely smiled. “I need to go and see Nick tonight, so how about we start then?”

  Warmth came back at her from her oldest friend. From her love. He thrust his hand in her direction and said, “Deal.”

  Marcie leaned over, but when she tried to kiss him, he pulled back. Sal looked from one of her eyes to the other. “I’ve forgiven you, Marcie, but I’m not sure I trust you yet.”