Cog (15 page)

“Lydo’s is shut down, for now anyway. I don’t know how long—” Nicholle started.

“I had a team there waiting for security to go down,” Tuma said. “They’ve already taken over. I decided it’s what I wanted. I’ve been in the business too long for legitimacy. Plus…”

He left off, all of them knowing with what to fill in the blank: Cancer.

Tuma continued, despite the leaden pause. “I have something else. Wills came to me, looking for techrus. Said it was high level. Needed someone high quality. I told him that wasn’t my shib, but I knew someone. So I arranged a meeting with Lydo. We agreed I would get a finder’s fee of twenty million. Only I never got it. What showed up in my account was ghost. Gone the next day. I swear there’s more honor among gangsters.”

“So he screwed you, too,” Chris said.

Nicholle took a sip of her soda. “One thing I don’t get. Lydo’s people have skills. How’d you get a sepsis past them?”

A grin pulled at the edges of Tuma’s mouth. “Sometimes it
is
about the money. I’ve had one of Lydo’s programmers on my payroll for about a month. He knew the sepsis was coming and, let’s just say, helped it along.”

“You sly dog,” Nicholle said. She leaned back in the chair and raked her hair with her fingers. “So how do we clear our names and get rid of this Perim?”

“I don’t know about you, but I’m getting tired of his shit. We need to open his node for the world to see. Send it to the news wires. By the time they’re done, he won’t have anyplace to go,” Chris said.

“And how do we do that?” Tuma said.

“Lydo’s people have skills that would put Homeland Intelligence to shame,” Nicholle said.

Chris grinned. “Exactly.”

Chapter 14

Tiredness and boredom crashed down. Thia squeezed the inside of her knee, calling up a mixture of adrenaline and dopamine. The former to fight sleep, the latter to activate her pleasure center. A mild high. She more than deserved it. Sitting in a dark parking lot beside an abandoned building didn’t exactly rock her boat. But she had official sanction to track down Wills Ryder, and she would accomplish that with her last, dying breath, if need be. She would call in all her markers, push the techrus, kick ass, and take names. Whatever it took. Unfortunately, at the moment, it took patience and research.

She was camped outside the obire that Geren Ryder was in. She figured at least one of his children would come to see him. Thia downloaded the images gathered from street cameras for Nicholle’s face. She picked several close matches and magnified them. The first showed a woman going into a thrift store wearing a dress with large purple and orange flowers.

“Definitely not Nicholle,” Thia said. The next showed a woman walking with two kids into a grocery store.

“Not her, either.”

On and on it went, similar eyes, same blue hair, identical build, but nothing that matched all the characteristics.

“Where are you, Nicholle? More importantly, where’s your brother?”

She leaned back against the seat, focusing her efforts. If he had tried to contact her, it would show up in the cog records. So that was one marker to call in. She cogged Jefrim Smith, a SIGINT analyst in the INFOSEC department. He owed her a favor.

His image swam up before her, a slack-jawed twenty-something with huge ears and a penchant for wearing the ugliest ties known to man.

“Who?” he said. Doubt tinged his voice.

“It’s me, Thia. I’ve…changed, but yes, it’s me.”

“How do I know it’s you? You look so different. Plastics?” he said.

“Beyond plastics. And it’s me because I know you tried to pick up a prostitute in a bar, only it was a Mossad agent who was pumping you for info, and I had to get you out of that bind. You do remember that, right?”

“Thia.” He smiled. “What can I do you for?” He munched on a protein bar. His tie askew, the crumbs collected in the small trough that formed just above his pot belly.

“I need a scan on Nicholle Ryder’s cogs. Specifically on one from Wills, which will most likely show up as a ghost.”

“Ghost? Hm, that might take a while, depending on the integrity of the coherent end system and the quality of the security mechanisms. I mean the kinematical nonlocality—”

“Look, whatever it takes, do it. I don’t care about your kinematical whatever. As soon as possible. How long is a while?”

“Day or so, depending on when I get to it. I’ve got deadlines for two other projects I’m working on for the director. I’m up for associate director of the INFOSEC division.” His mouth cleaved to reveal a webwork of tattooed teeth, emblazoned with designs she’d never seen before. Most likely the latest in smartwear. The designs may have served a purpose, or they may have just been decoration. In either case, it presented an unflattering picture. He also had the habit of bragging about his minimal accomplishments. As if she cared.

“Listen, you little shit. I don’t care if you’re up for Grand Poobah of the Coalition of Square Assholes. You owe me for tracking down that bastard brother of yours. And that took time from three other projects I was working on. So don’t give me the runaround. Get to work on it, and get to work now. And cog me when you get the address. I’m waiting by a boarded-up warehouse, so the sooner, the better.”

“Well, you don’t have to be nasty about it.” He sighed. “I suppose I can run it on the 830, cross-reference known ghost addys.”

“However.” If it presented a challenge, he’d be up for it all the more. But it usually paid to sweeten the pot, as well.

“If you get it to me in the next two hours, I’ll throw in a recommendation to the director.”

“On the heeb?”

“Yeah.” Whatever that meant.

“Jabloosh. Get back witcha.” His image blanked out, replaced by the view of graffiti-covered bricks. The words “Hell Reaper” were written in large, rounded letters in the form of flames, which gave off a dying light. “Hell” glowed still, the tips of the flames licking up the wall. “Reaper” was left in darkness. A pitchfork pointed downward, a map for the truly ignorant, or perhaps the unbeliever. Thia shook her head.

Camera feeds scrolled along the side of her visual frame, still searching for the target. All she could do was wait. The adrenaline in her system prevented her from sleeping, so she settled on indulging in a virtual game. She set the perimeter alarm and tapped open the program.

Dropped in the middle of a field. Endless hooded figures appeared around her. Her nostrils filled with the stench of burned, rotting flesh. A howl sounded, wrenched from, supposedly, hell. Outnumbered and outflanked.

“You stupid bitch,” one of the hooded figures taunted. “Do you think you can walk out of here with the sacred stone of Yemara? Think again. However, we will be merciful. If you hand it over, we’ll kill you quickly. If not, we’ll slit your throat slowly, let it drip into the hole we’ll dig. You’ll drown in your own blood.”

“You can try, but see what you’ll get for your troubles,” she said. The two on either side would be the first to go. She wheeled and caught the one on the right with a flying roundhouse, then threw a jab to the one on the left. He fell back, knocking one other down.

Whoo—

She bent backward. The blade of a battle axe cleared her face by millimeters.

—sh!

As he started to swing back around, she grabbed his arm and kicked him hard in the groin. He doubled over and let slip the axe. She commandeered it and took advantage of his bent-over position. Through the vertebrae, like soft butter.

Schwi—

She raised the axe and caught an upraised sword on the flat side.

—ingclank!

The figure pressed down, bearing all his weight on her axe. His funky breath washed over her face from the darkness of his hood. She held her position for a few seconds, her arms straining, then suddenly twisted out from underneath. He stumbled. She whirled around and cleaved his torso in half.

Thwip!

Pain. The arrow sank into her shoulder blade like a butcher’s knife into prime cut. The arrowhead protruded from the front, nestled in her chest like a ruby brooch. Agony bubbled up, the scream catching in her throat. She dropped the axe and sidestepped a kick-jab combination. Snatching the arrowhead, she pulled, bringing the rest of the arrow through her body.

Thunk!

A rock cracked the back of her head. Blood seeped out, trickling down the back of her neck.
Shit
! Her hand came away red. Dizziness rocked her, and she swayed before the hooded figure. She stabbed him in the eye with the arrow, but it passed through him as he dissipated.

A hooded figure swung a mace at Thia’s head. Thia ended the game.

Her memory was starting to recover from the trauma of insertion into a new brain. Remembrances of leading Nicholle and a man to a safehouse, to the basement. A bag over her head. Asking for information on her brother. Refusal, then agreement. A node address, then…nothing.

And here she was. On the hunt again in a different body.

“
Some crazy whore my brother screwed and dumped? Take a number
.”

Older memories surfaced.

Candles burned in wall sconces, giving off the scent of vanilla, a hazy glow through the glimmering tulle that covered the bed. His fingers slid across her shoulders and down the crevasse of her spine. They stopped at the base and pressed their way up again, smoothing out the muscles, ridding her of the tension in her back. The buzz from the bottle of champagne cognac still tingled her body.

“Mmm, and I thought the mud bath was heavenly,” she said.

“You should try getting in the sauna, then jumping into freezing cold water, back and forth about seven or eight times. That’s invigorating,” Wills said
.

“Sounds like a recipe for the flu.”

“On the contrary. You’d be surprised what the body can get used to.”

“Well, right now I could get used to this.” She rolled over, facing him. The glow of the candlelight blushed his skin with red undertones. She raised a hand to his cheek. He took her hand in his and pressed kisses down the length of her forearm. He stopped at the crook of her elbow. A hooded glance
.

“I think you’re not just here to seduce me. I think you want a look at my R&D node,” he said.

“William, I—” she began. He placed a finger on her lips.

“Shh. It’s okay. Just let me peek at yours and we’ll call it even.

She was posing as the head of an R&D department for a diode maker. Even had a fake node. So she agreed.

Then he drew her closer and spoke Russian in her ear
.

Only later did she figure out that he had traced the false node to her real one. On Homeland Intelligence.

A pinging interrupted the memory. She tapped open the line. Greeted with the tattooed smile of Jefrim. He had wiped away the crumbs.

“Good news. Well, sorta. I ran the scan and found a ghosted call, but it has two sources. One is near you, the other I’m still working on.”

“Two? Is that unusual?”

“Somewhat. I’ve seen it before. Someone’s running a patch through someone else’s chip. Requires the other person’s permission, or an intimate knowledge of their DNA and brain wave patterns. Either way, it ain’t easy to come by. This guy went through a lot of trouble.”

Or owns a database of people’s brain wave patterns.

“What’s the address of the one nearby?”

“Two-two-oh Guam Avenue, Northwest.”

“Thanks, Jefrim. Consider your debt paid in full.”

“Ahem. The recommendation?”

Of course he would remember that. “Ping me a reminder and I’ll write it in the morning.”

“You’d better.”

“Just get that second source.” Thia closed the line.

b

She cruised the narrow street, eyeing the mausoleum perched on a postage-stamp yard: 220 Guam Avenue. English tudor adorned the top, field stone on the bottom. Even in the dark, the manicured lawns glowed an eerie green. Enhanced chlorophyll?
What will they think of next
?

Luxury cars hunched in the driveways. Even a stray miniature here and there, a child’s toy left to the elements.

She parked two blocks over and changed in the car, windows blackened. Burglary clothes she kept in a hidden compartment under the back seat, along with her tools. Being prepared wasn’t only the Boy Scouts’ motto.

She placed the tools in hidden pockets on her molded black outfit. She opened up a small square in the floor and eased herself down onto her back. Small wheels extruded from her shoulder blades and calves. Pushing herself along under the row of cars, she made it to the top of the street. She climbed out from under the car and crossed over ten lawns, keeping low and close to large, obscuring objects. Her suit masked against motion detectors, but sometimes the occasional dog would look her way and begin barking, which usually elicited shouts of “Shut up!” from the owners.
If only they knew.

She finally reached the tudor house. No dog. Initiated a scan: bio-ID, 20-zone, MD, secbots, auto-blasters, SRS, and cameras.
What is he hiding in there?
Gold bricks
?

MD. What did that mean? Probably motion detector. Damn her brain. SRS? She seemed to recall Surveillance and Reconnaissance System.

She perched under the patio and waited. High Leyland cypresses framed the yard, blocking the view of nosy neighbors. The house was dark. If the owner was on vacation, she’d be out of luck. Break-in required. She would wait a half hour, then go to Plan B.

Sudoku helped her pass the time. On her third game, a car pulled up in the driveway. Mercedes clicking. Medinites converted her vision to T-ray, cutting through walls and clothing. The figure carried no concealed weaponry. A plus. He walked up the sidewalk and into the front door. She switched back to real sight, crawled around to the side of the house, and peered into the window. The figure was a man. He took off his coat and handed it to a butlyr, which hung it in the closet.

The face looked familiar, but she couldn’t place it. Her memory had never been in question before. She could remember names and faces like an airport AI. Damned Eyon. He hadn’t wanted to “strain her new brain” by introducing too many foreign engrams, but she couldn’t function like this. Her life depended on lightning-quick mental processes. Any breakdown could cause a blackened hole in the middle of her chest.

She scanned the image of the man’s face and ran it through national ID. He must have received a cog, because he sat on the couch in the family room and began talking. But she only heard one side of the conversation.

“We’ll start layoffs tomorrow across departments. I’ll send a list Vedor created based on productivity levels,” he said.

”Yes, the police questioned me. I told them Spyre acted on his own for reasons I didn’t know.”

“His status hasn’t changed. You want him sent to Fiji? All right. I’ll arrange it.”

“No, no sign of Nicholle. Are you sure? Fine, I won’t have her killed.”

“Yes, I’ll be in touch.”

The scan results flickered her vision. The man in question: Perim Nestor.

AmHo VP.

Fiji, eh, Wills? So I’m not the only one you’re using.

A cog. Jefrim again. “I’m kinda busy right now,” she said.

Brilliant light flooded the yard, negating her night vision. Blind. The sound of blasters priming and secbots mounting up sent adrenaline coursing through her.

“I found the other source,” Jefrim said.

“Can’t talk now.”

Instincts forced her to the ground, rolling away from the patio. Blue flare zigzagged, aimed to her previous location. Millimeter-wave energy, designed to instill the feeling of being on fire. She tapped down the night vision, contracting the pupils. The secbots’ scan wouldn’t detect her form, which would precipitate a wide-disbursal shot. A gutter beckoned.

“The address is four-twenty-seven Wake Island Road, Northeast. What about my recomm—”

“Text it.” She ended the call, jumped, and grabbed hold of the gutter. Scrambled up and flattened against the wall, but the disbursal caught the edge of her heel.

Searing pain, as if her foot had caught fire.

Climbed up the rest of the gutter and reached the roof. She straddled the ridge and hobbled along until she reached the other edge. The activity below was concentrated on the right side—for now.

What alerted them
?

Perched over the edge and extracted a line launcher from her thigh pocket. Clacking against the far wall meant secbots were on the way up. She shot the line into the front yard of the house next door, then attached the other end to the roof with high-powered anchor bolts. Disbursal shot blew a hole in the roof and pitched her forward. She clawed for the line and slid down, gliding over the cypresses, past a fountain, and onto plush grass. Bounded across the sidewalk and beelined up the street. She went the long way around, not wanting to trip another system with carelessness.