Husk (21 page)

‘Goddamn it, Rhodes, I’ve been trying to get hold of you since last night. Where the hell are you?’

‘I’m back in New York,’ I say.

‘New York? You’re supposed to be in Las Vegas right now you son of a bitch. You’re
supposed
to be in session with Mr Navarette.’

‘I wasn’t
up to the job this time, boss. I was burnt out, too sick.’

‘You can’t fucking do this to me, Rhodes,’ Baxter shouts. ‘Do you have any idea how much damage control you dumped on me with this stunt?’

‘All part of your job description, isn’t it?’

‘Get your ass back to the office.
Now
.’

‘Yeah, that ain’t gonna happen.’

‘I beg your pardon?’

‘Not a priority,’ I say. ‘Got some personal stuff to
take care of first.’

‘Don’t toy with me, boy. You get back here within the hour, or else –’

‘Or else what?’ I snap. ‘You’ll do what exactly?’

‘I’ll … I’ll …’

‘You’ll do nothing, that’s what. You wanna know why? Because I’m your fucking golden boy, Baxter, and I’ll be bringing home Winslade’s big nuggets real soon. So back the fuck off, leave me the hell alone, and let me do my thing while
I still can.’

Baxter lets out a long, aggravated breath and says nothing. I tell her to wait a minute, put her on hold, let the lady mull things over while I type
Dennis Delane NYC
into my Liaison and cross-reference my search. In no time I turn up a viable address and switch back over to the boss.

‘So, do we have an understanding?’

‘Yes,’ she replies curtly. ‘Anything else you want to spring
on me at this time?’

‘Oh, absolutely,’ I say. ‘If you really expect me to go through with this exclusivity contract with Winslade, I’ll only do it on one condition.’

‘Which is?’

‘You rehire Clive.’

‘What?’

‘You rehire Clive,’ I repeat. ‘Call him up and tell him you made a mistake letting him go. Tell him he’s back with Solace Strategies at full strength with full pay, effective immediately.’

‘No, no,’ Baxter laughs. ‘I don’t think so.’

‘You better start thinking so.’

‘Fine, I’ll give it some thought.’

‘Not good enough. When our conversation is finished, you call him and give him his old job back. I want him back on your books by the time I come into the office to sign your damn contracts.’

‘Clive is damaged goods,’ Baxter protests. ‘I mean, Jesus, the guy is a fucking fire sale
with all those burns on his face. And he’s half blind as well, for crying out loud! What good is he to me?’

‘He’s getting cosmetic surgery. Doctors might save that eye too.’

‘Rhodes, our company doesn’t provide anything less than
perfection
.’

‘Don’t feed me that bullshit,’ I moan. ‘You were the one who recently told me that clients were willing to forego perfection in order to have their demands
met. Besides, you’re
understaffed at the moment and my availability is about to become zero. It’s a goddamn win-win for you, Baxter.’

For once I’ve got the bitch by the balls and she knows it. I savour the moment, enjoying the long and frustrated pause from her, knowing I’ll never have a taste of it again. When she finally speaks, her tone is something I’ve never equated with her. For once Baxter
sounds defeated.

‘Okay. I’ll rehire Clive ASAP.’

‘Good. I believe we’re done then, yes?’

‘Fine,’ she says, and clears her throat. ‘Now, when will you be coming in?’

‘I’ll come in when I’m good and ready,’ I say and hang up.

Two out of three Husks I located were better off dead, and the third wanted to cut my eye out of my head after a few drinks. Dennis Delane seems to be the only decent
lead I have left, but he’s a corpse. Regardless, I take a cab to his old address in Greenwich Village to see what I can find. After all that’s happened, I’m more than willing to dig up a body.

When I get to his apartment building on Charles Street my gut tells me I’m onto something. A girl with a bag of groceries is unlocking the front door as I approach and I offer to hold it open, disarming
any suspicion she might have about me with an easy smile. Once inside I slip past her and climb the stairs to the fourth floor, where I find apartment 402, Delane’s former residence. I try my luck and knock on the door. On the other side I hear footsteps and a cough. I turn my face away from the peephole.

‘Who is it?’

‘NYPD,’ I say, making shit up as I go. ‘Detective … Shaw. Just need to ask
you a couple questions pertaining to Dennis Delane.’

The muffled voice sounds annoyed. ‘I already told you guys everything I know.’

‘We’re investigating new leads. It will only take a few minutes of your time.’

‘All right, hold on a second.’ There is a pause, then the sound of two locks disengaging. The door begins to open. ‘What is it you wanna –’

The dude on the other side is young, early
twenties if that. His pimply face looks tired and unhappy when he first sees me. When we make eye contact he realizes I’m not the cop I claim to be. His expression turns to one of outright fear.

‘Oh, shit.’

I barge through the door before he has a chance to slam it in my face. He backs up quickly, eyes wide, mouth agape. There is a baseball bat in a nearby corner that he sets his sights on,
but I put myself between him and the weapon as I shut the door behind me. Then I grab the bat for good measure, so he knows I’m not messing around.

‘C’mon, don’t hurt me, man,’ he pleads. ‘Take whatever you want.’

‘I’m not here to hurt you,’ I say, holding up a hand. ‘And I’m not gonna rob you either. Who are you?’

‘I’m nobody, just a student at NYU, man.’

‘And I’m not a cop, okay?’ I motion
with the bat for
him to take a seat on the couch. ‘I’m only here to ask you a few questions. That’s all.’

The kid sits, hands clasping his knees. ‘Yeah, no shit you’re not a cop, man.’

‘Five minutes of your time, that’s all I want, then I’ll be on my way and you’ll never see me again, all right?’

The kid nods, but I can tell he doesn’t believe a word I’m saying.

‘What’s your name?’ I ask.

‘Burke.’

‘Okay, Burke.’ I walk around the small apartment. ‘And you were Delane’s … what exactly?’

‘Roommate. We were both at NYU.’

‘Do you have any idea who killed him?’

Burke just stares at me.

I shrug. ‘Okay then, do you know anyone who might have been involved in the circumstances surrounding his death?’

Burke keeps staring. His mouth looks like it wants to speak though he forms no words.
His eyes shift back and forth, looking for a way out.

‘Where’d Delane go the night he disappeared?’ I ask.

His voice is barely a whisper. ‘He said he was going out for a pack of smokes and never came back.’

There are framed photos all over the apartment, old-school style, done with camera and film and developed in a darkroom. None of them are any good really. There are more than a few of Delane,
his erratic red hair and thin weaselly face making him the opposite of photogenic. One picture in particular grabs my attention. It’s a photo
of Delane with his arm slung around a blue-eyed blonde bombshell with high cheekbones and a foolish smile. I’ve seen this girl before, on TV and in my nightmares.

‘You a photographer?’ I ask.

Burke swallows hard. ‘Trying to be.’

‘This picture you got
here of this girl,’ I say, holding up the photo. ‘Who is she?’

‘That’s Tiffany,’ he replies, looking sick. ‘Tiffany Burrows.’

‘And Delane knew her?’

‘Of course, Delane …
loved
her, man. He’d have done anything for her.’

‘Did she love him too?’

Burke stalls, which I interpret as the negative. Even though his hands clutch his knees, I can tell they are trembling. They leave sweaty marks on
his pants.

‘Tiff only liked hot boys,’ Burke says finally. ‘Dennis was stuck in the friend-zone. He followed her everywhere though, dragged me along half the time too.’

‘This Tiffany Burrows, she went missing, right? Supposedly kidnapped by that extremist group with the Occupy Movement? She still hasn’t been found?’

Burke shoots me a vicious look, suddenly growing a pair. ‘Yeah, and Dennis
was the one who reported her missing. He went straight to the cops when he found out she didn’t come home, and he told them
exactly
what we saw.’

‘Okay, give me details.’

‘Huh?’

‘Explain it to me.’

‘C’mon,’ Burke moans, suddenly looking like he might cry. ‘Why are you fucking with me like this, man?’

‘I’m not fucking with you,’ I say, my voice rising. ‘Tell me what you saw already, damn it.’

‘W-w-we were the last ones to see her,’ Burke stammers. ‘We were there that night when she left the club. We saw her get into a cab with … with …’

‘With who?’ I demand. ‘Who the hell did she get into the cab with?’

Burke looks at me perplexed. ‘She got into a cab with
you,
man.’

On the elevator ride up to Solace Strategies, I’m consumed with a desire to play the role of the detective I claimed to be back at Delane’s apartment. I need a break in the case. Connecting the dots is taking too long. Exclusivity for Winslade starts tomorrow.
Baxter will no doubt make me sign the contract today. My personal freedom will be curtailed in exchange for more money than I could hope for, and more mental anguish than I have ever known. Winslade will maximize usage, put a premium on seventy-two-hour jaunts. This I’m sure of. Before I know it I’ll be a highly paid prisoner with limited yard time. Something drastic needs to be done.

I’ve also
got to find out exactly who is on my side. I put my trust in Ryoko and Phineas, Nikki too. Anyone else, there are doubts about. The elevator door opens to reveal Nikki sitting behind her reception desk. She reaches for the phone out of habit when she sees me, but stops, fingers hovering over the receiver. I shake my head subtly.

‘Don’t announce me,’ I whisper. ‘Is Tweek in?’

She nods and waves
me over. I step off the elevator and scan the offices. No sign of Baxter. I slip over to the reception desk and squat beside Nikki. She hugs me, lips brushing my earlobe, speaking in hushed tones.

‘The boss is furious over you ditching your session in Vegas. You’re in big shit.’

‘I know.’

‘I took Dante’s call when you didn’t show up for your appointment. Navarette is threatening to take his
business elsewhere, and sue us over breach of contract. What happened out there?’

‘I decided to follow up on one of those leads you gave me.’

‘Which guy?’

‘Kirk King.’

‘Did you find him?’

I nod. ‘He filled in a few blanks.’

‘What about the other two leads?’

‘The other leads,’ I say, ‘are alarming.’

I stand, start heading for Tweek’s control room. Nikki calls after me.

‘I just spoke to
Clive by the way. Baxter rehired him. I thought you should know.’

‘Is that so?’

‘He wants you to know he appreciates what you did.’

‘Me?’ I say over my shoulder. ‘I didn’t do anything.’

‘He says he owes you one.’

I smile to myself and keep walking. Tweek emerges from the doorway of his control room and stops cold when he sees me. He looks a little nervous. I continue towards him and he retreats
back into his room, beckoning me to follow. When I enter he tells me to close the door and pull the blinds.

‘You’ve gone and pissed off Baxter bad,’ Tweek says. ‘I
heard a few things smash in her office earlier. I’d wear a helmet when you go in to see her.’

‘I’ll deal with Baxter later,’ I say. ‘You’re the one I need to see right now.’

‘Is it about what we discussed before?’

‘Yes.’

‘You want
me to run some more tests?’

I shake my head. ‘Not exactly.’

Tweek crosses his arms. ‘Then what, exactly?’

‘I need one of your Ejector pills.’

‘That again?’ Tweek’s eyes bulge. ‘You’re kidding me, right? This is a joke?’

‘It’s not a joke.’

‘No.’

‘No what?’

‘No, I won’t give you a fucking Ejector, Rhodes,’ Tweek says, shaking his head in disbelief. ‘I don’t think you really understand what
you’re asking of me.’

‘I’m gonna level with you here, Tweek,’ I say, putting a hand on his shoulder. ‘I’m out of options. I know what I’m asking for is a tall order, but I’m about to walk into Baxter’s office, where I’ll basically be blackmailed into signing an exclusivity contract for Winslade. And you know how that’s going to work out for me, don’t you?’

Tweek swallows hard. ‘The same as it
worked out for Miller.’

‘I frigging
knew
it. I knew Winslade was in session with Miller when he died.’

‘Yeah, I suspected it too.’

‘How’d you find out for sure?’

‘With my skills?’ Tweek says, looking bemused. ‘You have to ask?’

I don’t. This new confirmation strengthens my resolve. I pull up a chair and sit down, partially out of tiredness, partially to make myself look small and vulnerable
before the little lab rat. I need to play on his sympathies.

‘Miller wasn’t the only one, Tweek,’ I say. ‘I tracked down some of Winslade’s former Husks from Eternity Executive. Turns out he wrecked them all, ended up putting two in the hospital and drove another one underground. Each of them suffered the same traumatic post-session shit that I’ve been experiencing.’

Tweek adjusts his glasses.
‘I still don’t know why you need the Ejector …’

‘I have to find out where Winslade is going with my body,’ I say. ‘I need to know what’s he’s doing.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I need to know the truth.’ I take a deep breath. ‘A woman named Tiffany Burrows went missing on a night Winslade was renting me. I found a witness who identified me as the last person she was seen with. Her whereabouts are still
unknown. She’s one of the women I see in my flashbacks and dreams.’

‘You’re sure of this?’

‘Positive,’ I say. ‘I think Winslade kidnapped her. I think he’s keeping her somewhere, and I’ve got this horrible feeling she’s not the only one. The hallucinations I’ve been having, the nightmares, I’m recalling moments from Winslade’s perspective, scraps or leftovers from his sessions.’

‘Residual memory,’
Tweek replies, stroking his chin.

‘Pardon?’

‘It’s only theoretical, the idea that trace amounts of a client’s previous computation can sometimes stick around after a session is over, acting like echoes in the Ouija. To be honest, I didn’t even believe in it until I took a closer look at your last test results. What’s your plan exactly?’

‘I’ll use an Ejector to bring me back mid-session and
find out where he’s taking me. Maybe I can find some clues, get some closure.’

‘And this is the only way?’

I nod. ‘Winslade’s security is world-class. There’s no way anyone can get near him from the outside. The only way I’m going to get any answers is if it’s an inside job.’

Tweek considers a moment, nods affirmatively, then walks to the wall and takes down a framed charcoal sketch of Albert
Einstein. Behind it is a wall safe with a touch-screen. He keys in numbers and presses his thumb against the screen for fingerprint recognition. When it opens, Tweek reaches inside and rummages around. It isn’t long before he withdraws a small white pill pinched between his thumb and forefinger.

‘Rhodes, the E-33 was developed for emergencies,’ he says. ‘It’s only to be used in extreme cases
when a Husk’s consciousness needs to be brought out of its dormant state prematurely. Less than three minutes after administration the effects of your twenty-four- to seventy-two-hour pills are completely neutralized. So, when exactly do you think you’re going to have an opportunity to take this?’

‘I was hoping that ingenious little brain of yours could help with that part.’

Tweek gives me a
sheepish grin. From a cabinet he retrieves a small plastic tub and picks out what looks like a transparent blue jellybean. He brings it back to his desk, where he takes a scalpel to it. I watch as he carefully makes an incision into the jellybean and pushes the white pill inside the slit before sealing it with a glue-like substance.

‘I’m encasing your Ejector in a strong gelatin layer to time-delay
release. It will take your stomach acid approximately six hours to eat through the glucose compound and get to the drug. Calculate your window of opportunity and ingest accordingly.’

Tweek examines the gelatin carefully to ensure it is completely sealed, and then hands it to me. I place the Ejector in my pillbox.

‘I’ll swallow it as close to upload as possible.’

‘There’s another problem,’ Tweek
says. ‘You won’t be doing this in a controlled environment. You won’t be plugged in to transfer Winslade out before you come back. You’re going to emerge while he is still active.’

‘Meaning what?’ I say, but already know.

‘Meaning there will be two personalities vying for control. Our brains aren’t designed to cope with something like that. You’ll go mad, Rhodes. I mean absolutely psychotic,
and quickly too.’

‘I’m already going mad.’

Tweek pokes me in the chest, hard. ‘Rhodes, I’m not fucking kidding here. You’ll end up just like Miller, but in a matter of minutes not hours.’

‘So if I go through with this, it means I’m dead?’

‘Not necessarily.’

Tweek clears the clutter on his desk and sets to work under the swing-arm magnifier. With his tablet he uploads something onto a tiny
USB key and then patiently fixes a proboscis to the end of it.

‘Listen carefully,’ he says, delicately placing the key in a small plastic case. ‘When you re-emerge, the very first thing you do is stab this into your Ouija. I’ve installed a Husk program on it. Once it connects it will automatically sequence and download Winslade off of you, safely storing him on the drive in less than a minute.’

‘That’ll piss him off’

‘He’ll go into stasis, won’t even know what’s going on.’

Tweek hands me the key and I place it in my pillbox alongside the Ejector. He holds out his hand to shake mine. I give him a bear hug instead, making him squeak.

‘Time to see the boss,’ I say. ‘Sign my life away.’

‘Wait. Before you go, I have something to show you.’

He beckons me closer and activates his HG. Diagrams
and details, numbers and codes, blossom before us. Tweek points to them, but it’s all Greek to me.

‘Upon further examination I found something in the test results I ran on your Ouija. I discovered these sliver-like oddities in the digital interface, trace amounts of data signatures, lines of code. It took me a while to isolate them. They were active, interactive,
evasive
even, their behaviour
almost like brainwaves.’

‘Yeah?’ I reply. ‘And?’

‘They aren’t yours, Rhodes. They’re … Miller’s.’

I’m lost for words.

‘It’s incredible,’ Tweek says with growing excitement. ‘Somehow Miller left something of himself behind in you. It must have piggybacked its way via Winslade. It’s absolutely crazy. I’ve never seen anything like it. I have no idea what it means, can’t decipher the lines of
code with my gear. It’s all inaccessible.’

To your technology
, I think.
But not my biology.

‘I see him, Tweek,’ I say. ‘He visits me in my dreams, when I’m comatose. We talk. He tells me things.’

Tweek simply stares at me, jaw slack. Miller was leaving me interactive messages somehow, in real time, a phantom in file format defying known natural law to provide me a trail of bread crumbs. I remember
what King told me about Husks being homes and clients being ghosts. Jesus, I’m turning into one big haunted house.

‘What does he say?’ Tweek finally manages.

‘He tells me it’s time to wake up.’

Tweek lowers his eyes to the floor, dumbstruck. We sit in silence for a minute, feeling the weight of the whole situation, knowing just how much shit we might be getting ourselves in to. I check the
time on my Liaison.

‘All right,’ I say. ‘I’ve got to go see Baxter.’

Tweek lifts his head. ‘Rhodes?’

‘Yeah?’

‘You’ve been in contact with former employees of Eternity Executive, right?’

‘Right.’

‘So … you didn’t get that pill or key from me. Blame someone else. Understand?’

I nod. ‘Thanks for doing this for me, Tweek. I owe you.’

‘I’m not doing this for you, Rhodes,’ Tweek replies, shaking
his head. ‘I’m doing this for Miller.’