Earthbound (The Reach, Book 1) (32 page)

“If that’s what you want, good luck to you.”

“It is.  All I need is some creds so that I don’t have to spend the rest of my life eating bugs and running from Enforcers.  That’s all.  I don’t need any worthless promises.”

Just then there was a noise from the far side of the enclosure, a hissing noise that was getting progressively louder.  Ursie sat up in alarm.

“You done chewing me out now?” Knile said, unperturbed by her harsh words.  He held up the holophone.  “I finally found the right building control system to hack.”

They both poked their head above the garden edge, and some distance away Ursie could see a fine grey mist descending over the plants at the other end of the room.  She understood.

“You turned on the sprinklers,” she said in wonder.

“These aren’t irrigation,” Knile said.  “These are for putting out fires.  Let’s hope that gets our friend’s attention.”

They both turned to look at the old man, who initially seemed oblivious to what was transpiring at the other end of the room.  Then slowly he raised his head, cocking it this way and that as he tried to figure out what was going on.

“Come on, old fella,” Knile crooned.  “Take the bait.”

The old man pushed his threadbare sun hat up and scratched his forehead again as if trying to decipher some convoluted puzzle, squinting myopically down the garden rows in the direction of the noise.

“He’s not going to leave,” Ursie said.

But just then the old man bent and threw one last pipe onto the pallet, then began to shuffle off down the nearest aisle, his eyes transfixed on the gently hissing mist that drifted down from the sprinklers in the ceiling.  Knile wasted no time in getting to his feet, his backpack slung over his shoulder.

“Get your things and let’s go,” he said.

27

The old elevator squeaked and groaned in protest as it crept upward, like a mechanical counterpart to the arthritic old man who had stood outside its doors down below.  Ursie decided that it needed a good oil change, or whatever procedure it was that made an elevator run smoothly.  This particular one hadn’t seen a service in a very long time, she judged, and she began to wonder if it would even have the fortitude to take the two of them where they needed to go.

“Why this elevator?” she said as the carriage shuddered again.  She ducked and winced as if the roof might topple inward any second.

“It’s the shortest route to our next destination.  That means less chance of running across any more of these night owls.”

“So what if we see more of them?”

“We want to avoid them if possible.  We don’t know how many of these guys are working for this ‘Mr. Wilt’ character.  The fewer that get a look at my face the better.”

“And if we can’t avoid them?”

“Don’t panic.  Just act like you belong here.  We’re wearing maintenance gear, so if anyone asks, we’re here to repair a water leak.  We don’t need a story that’s any more elaborate than that.”

The elevator ground to a halt and made a sound that was like the forlorn caw of a dying crow, a twisted and ruined caricature of what had probably once been a pleasant musical note to indicate the destination had been reached.  Knile and Ursie waited as the doors moved jerkily apart, and then they stepped out into the hall.

Two young women wearing gardener uniforms were slipping into gloves and boots nearby, gossiping animatedly in hushed tones.  They looked up as Knile and Ursie appeared and their conversation faltered.

“Mornin’,” Knile said casually, giving them a wave as he continued on his way, his hand on Ursie’s shoulder.  She looked up at him curiously, noting the twang of an affected accent in his speech.

“Mornin’ to you,” one of the women called back.  “More early risers, I see.”  She wore a red bandana in her hair with the knot tied at the top.

“Well, you know what they say,” Knile said over his shoulder, still using the accent.  “Water leaks nev’r sleep.”

The women giggled flirtatiously but Knile did not look back again.  He kept a firm hand on the girl as he guided her away down the corridor.

“Easy as that, huh?” Ursie said.

“Like I told you, just play it cool.  If someone says hello, you say hello back, just like normal.  They’re less likely to remember you if you act like everyone else.”

Around the corner there was another young woman standing in front of a wheelbarrow packed with tiny green seedlings.  She w
as tall and athletic, her blond hair in a long ponytail that hung
down her back, and her figure curved in all the right places against her tight-fitting brown shirt.  She stood with her arms folded across her chest as she listened, somewhat impatiently, Knile thought, to a shorter man standing with his back to them.

The blonde’s eyes flicked to Knile and Ursie as they neared, and then she nodded at something the man was saying, pressing her arms tighter to her chest and shifting her feet restlessly as she returned her eyes to his face.

As they reached them, the man glanced back at them and Knile’s heart lurched into h
is throat.  The man’s pushed-in
pug-like face was easily recognisable.

It was Binkowski, one of the men they’d seen downstairs earlier.

Binkowski barely seemed to notice Knile, but his eyes lingered on Ursie for a few moments longer.  He never broke stride in his conversation with the woman,
babbling on as she stared down her nose at him in thinly disguised contempt.

“And then I told him that he doesn’t know what he’s doing,” Binkowski said in his nasally voice, turning back to the blonde.  “And you should have seen his face!  Holy shit, did that go down like a slum hooker!  I thought he was going to cry, no crap.  So I just got up and started walking out of there…”

The conversation trailed off as they moved away, and when they had rounded the next bend Ursie glanced over her shoulder nervously.

“Don’t turn around,” Knile said sharply.

“But that guy was–”

“I know who he was.  Just keep going.”

“Do you think he recognised you?”

“I’m not sure.  I think he was too busy trying to get laid.  We might have caught a break.”  Knile pointed to an adjacent hallway.  “Down this way.”

This level contained none of the spacious greenhouse compartments that they’d seen earlier, and the ceilings and walls pressed in lower and tighter, much like they had done in Gaslight.  The floors had been stripped back to bare concrete, and they bore the scars of machinery and heavy implements that had been dragged about over the years.  There were also patches of sand and clumps of dark soil that had collected in the furrows in the concrete.  There was more of it scattered across the floor, and as the two of them walked it crunched underfoot.

“Y’know, I’ve heard that name ‘Wilt’ somewhere before,” Ursie said.  “I’m just not sure where.”

“If I get some time, I might see if I can find out some more specifics about him,” Knile said.  “For now, I know all I need to know.  If he has enough sway to organise search parties, he has money or power.  Probably both.”

“And what have you got?”

Knile considered.  “A passkey.  And one angry little psycher,” he added.

She smirked.  “What does he want with you?”

“That’s a crap shoot.  Could be anything.  Maybe he had a loved one died in the explosion in the Atrium, and he blames me for it and wants me dead for retribution.  Hell, for all I know, it’s you he’s after.  Maybe he wants whatever you have in your case.”

“No one knows about that,” Ursie insisted.

“Don’t be too sure about what people do and do not know about you, kid.  The walls have ears in the Reach.”

Ursie glanced over at him.  “You’re avoiding one of the reasons, aren’t you?”

“The passkey?”

“Yeah.”

“Sure.  There’s every chance he could be after that.  There was an intermediary involved in getting word to me about the passkey, a guy who might have sold the information to this Wilt guy.  In fact, I half expected he would.  But I wouldn’t have come back here if I didn’t think I could handle whatever was thrown my way.  I–”

They crossed an intersection with another hallway and heard a sharp noise to their left.

“There!” the man shouted shrilly.  Knile and Ursie turned as one to see Binkowski not far away, his stubby finger pointed in their direction.  Beside him was the man in the suit with the tattoo of a star on his cheekbone.

The man reached inside his jacket and pulled out a pistol.

“Run!” Knile roared, shoving Ursie forward and ducking his head as the man in the suit loosed a shot that blew a chunk of plaster from the wall.  They scampered down the hall and then turned into an open plan area filled with mouldy partitions and desks crammed with junk.  It looked like an office or administrative area from the distant past.  They kept running, staying low enough to be concealed below the cubicle walls, zigging and zagging to throw off their pursuers and making as little noise as possible.

Beyond the cubicles were a string of executive rooms with frosted glass walls, and these too had been converted to little more than junk collection boxes.  There were old plastic crates, broken hoses, cardboard boxes full of dead grow lights and countless lengths of black irrigation pipes.

Knile heard the pursuers arrive at the cubicles and begin to frantically search the area, making a racket as they knocked piles of trash aside and overturned desks and chairs
. 
He guided Ursie forward, setting an unrelenting pace and hoping that those behind them would spend a few more precious minutes searching the area in vain.

Alton stood in the centre of the market in Gaslight, one hand in his pocket and the other idly stroking his chin.  He watched the first of the early morning stragglers as they filtered past, heads bowed and eyes downcast as they went about their errands.  His eyes alighted on each  face and drank in every detail, like a bee flitting from flower to flower in search of nectar.

Knile Oberend was not here.  There had been no sign of him through the long, dark night.

And yet, Alton’s conviction did not waver.  He was still certain that Oberend would be found, that the passkey would be brought before him, just as it should.

And so my last day on Earth begins
, Alton thought.

Tucker appeared at his shoulder, haggard and with dark circles under his eyes, but still focussed and resolute.

“Still no word,” he said.

Alton nodded.  “Has there been a report from Inspector Cuskelly yet?”

“From that fat fuck?  Not a thing.  I wouldn’t count on his input at all.  He’s probably hiding under his desk right now, hoping we’ll just go away.”

“He may need a reminder.”

“If he’s hiding in the Enforcer barracks, there’s not a lot we can do.”

“Like any whale, he has to come up for air at some point.”

Tucker grinned.  “I’ll ready the harpoons, boss.”

At that moment Alton’s holophone rang and he lifted it to his ear.

“This is Wilt.”

“Mr. Wilt, this is Jordan.  I have news for you.”

“Mr. Jordan,” Alton said.  “How is the Greenhouse this time of morning?”

“Pretty fuckin’ spectacular, sir.  I just saw your mark.”

Alton stiffened and then
snapped his fingers to gain Tucker’s attention.  The bald man’s eyes widened and he stepped closer to listen in on the conversation.

“What do you mean by that, Mr. Jordan?” Wilt said.

“He’s here, in the Greenhouse.  Or at least, he was.  He’s a slippery fuck.  I got a shot off at him but I missed.”

“Where did he go?”

“I’m not sure. I have a man searching for him right now, but we could use some help.”

“Done.  Do you have any more information?”

“Yeah, he was dressed in maintenance gear from what I could tell.  Wearing grey coveralls.”

“Good.  Anything else?”

“Yeah,”
Jordan said. 
“You might be looking for two people.  He had someone with him, might have been a short woman or a kid.  I didn’t get a close look at her.”