Murder Inc.: A Sci-fi Thriller: Book 1 (12 page)

Through Friday, Fox couldn’t get hold of Jennings—he appeared to have vanished. Fox headed into the office early Saturday morning to run through authorizations he hadn’t been able to complete during the week. There were still standard procedures he had to follow to keep the wheels in motion.

He took the elevator down to IT, a place he rarely visited. Generally, he left the technical side of things to Jennings or Johanna, but now, with his suspicions about Jennings, he needed to know things.

He scanned in through the doorway and entered the room, filled with a number of computer screens and various hardware configurations.

“Sir,” the IT tech said, leaping up from his seat when he spied Fox entering. Fox hadn’t met the man before, but he knew his presence sometimes unnerved employees so tried to remain as friendly as possible.

“Morning.” Fox introduced himself and found the employees name was Sash Palinski. “You’ve worked the night shift?” Palinski nodded, fidgeting. “Long night. We appreciate it.” Palinski thanked him. “How long have you worked here, Sash?”

“Two years, sir.”

“You like the job?” He nodded. “Don’t like the shift work?”

“Not really, sir. It’s quiet, but not the most challenging work.”

Fox nodded, a thin smile “Well, we might be able to fix that if you can help me, Sash.”

“Of course.”

“I need you to run some searches on a number of employees for me. What they’ve been doing, and I need you to keep me updated on their activities.”

“Yes, sir. Anything.”

Palinski guided him to a workstation. He scooted about, found the most comfortable-looking chair, and placed it for Fox. They both sat, Palinski forcing himself to smile, though he looked like he might break for the door at any moment. Fox wondered why he was so uneasy.

“I want a summary of Bryce Adler’s communications over the last month—video calls, messages, everything.” Palinski nodded and began swiping at the screen. “And the same for Dom Curwood and Robert Jennings.”

Palinski stopped. “Mr. Jennings?”

“Yes.” Palinski turned back to the screen, but Fox read the stiff expression. “Is that a problem?”

There was a pause. “No, sir.”

Fox’s internal radar beeped. “I want a complete sweep of the system, the highest number of incoming and outgoing communications.”

“Across the entire company?”

“Just level fours and above.” Level four was the step below Fox’s direct reports. It should cover everything.

“Anything else, sir?”

“Robert Jennings. I want a full brief of his activities
going forward.
” He watched Palinski’s face. No reaction. “Are you clear on that, Sash?”

Palinski focused on the screen. “I am, sir.”

“If you do a thorough job on this, Sash, I’ll speak to your supervisor and ask him to consider you for any opportunities that might arise.”

“Thank you, sir, I’d appreciate that.”

“And keep this between ourselves, okay?”

“I understand, sir.”

“Thank you, Sash.” As Fox headed for the door, he recalled Palinski’s expression hearing Jennings’ name. “Sash,” Fox began. Palinski looked at him this time, eyebrows raised, a nervous smile. “Has anybody been asking about the system lately?”

Palinski frowned. “What do you mean?”

“Has anybody asked you to monitor other employees?”

Palinski glanced away. Just for a second. He shook his head. “No, sir. Nobody.”

Fox smiled and nodded. “Thank you.”

He knew then that somebody had beaten him to it.

Charlie guided his Lamborghini through the city as the morning light in the East was beginning to push aside the darkness, edging its way through the streets and between the buildings. It was his favorite time of the day, when the busy people of the world were clawing their way further beyond the sleepy heads. But today was different. He didn’t even feel a shred of enthusiasm for the job. Between the death of Dom Curwood, Bryce Adler, and his underlying fear for Samantha, Charlie’s enthusiasm for life had vanished. It almost felt like survival mode. He knew he had to find some kind of focus though. His job required complete attention; failure would only impose more problems.

He left the Lamborghini in his parking spot, and scanned through into the elevator foyer before taking the ride up to the twenty-eighth floor. Outside his office, Tabitha was already at her desk, firing off commands to the computer system. He thanked the employee gods for having such a diligent employee. Nothing was too much for Tabby. It wasn’t unusual for her to be chasing data until late at night. She glanced up at Charlie, smiled, and gave him a curt wave, not pausing. The swelling around her eye was less noticeable.

Charlie was pleased to find his a steaming coffee waiting for him on his desk. His ’Bot had broken down the previous week, but Tabby hadn’t missed a beat. He settled down with the cup and waited for The List.

Every third Monday, Charlie and the other regional managers received a list of randomly generated names from the central computer. Those on the list were selected to die as part of the company’s main function: population control. It had been that way without fail every week for the entire two years since he had been promoted and exposed to the true nature of the company’s activities. Probably been like that for the past fifty years or more. Charlie never had to worry about whether he knew anyone close to him on the list. Working for the Company shielded him, his extended family, and friends from such problems. Charlie and Samantha were safe, and that knowledge helped him sleep at night. Until recently when Dom’s wife had passed away and they all began to wonder.

The people were brothers and sisters, husbands and wives of other unlucky souls he'd never known, and there had been only one occasion that he’d recognized the name of a long ago school friend. Since then, he’d never looked at the names. That had been the only time he’d felt any level of discomfort. It had added a level of consciousness to the process he normally didn’t feel by not knowing who was selected. He didn’t look at the outcomes of those on his lists either, how they had died. He didn’t want to know the details. Tom had told him it was better to ignore it. Charlie’s job was to ensure the people on the list were a balance of sex, age, and constituency, then approve it and send it on to the next process. He had always managed to stick to that.

An icon on his screen flashed, signaling the list’s arrival. He reached out and touched the icon, wishing he didn’t have to approve it today. There had been too much death as of late and he was unable to shake the despair over Dom and Bryce.

Charlie scanned the list, just to make sure he didn’t know anybody, but as he reached the final name, his heart popped.

He sat forward in the leather chair and squinted. He moved his finger over the screen, enlarging the text. It had to be a mistake. The system created the list based on a set of parameters, and those parameters ensured such people did not make the list. He folded his hands together and with his elbows resting on the table, pressed them against his lips. A cold fear spread from the center of his chest.

Samantha A. Billings, ID. Number 00923865119.

He rocked back. He swallowed, tongue catching on the dry walls of his mouth. He knew his wife's ID number as well as his own. It was Samantha, and she was on the list. But how? And why?

Dom Curwood’s wife.
In an instant, the situation became clear. Someone was after her through him. Would he be next?

But Dom’s wife had never appeared on the list—not that Charlie knew, anyway. He had never come across a name that required removal. He didn’t know the protocol for such an event. He supposed he should talk to Jennings, but thought of approaching him about this, given what was happening, made him feel like throwing up.

He could take the executive elevator up to level thirty-two and talk to Bryan Fox, but that would mean acknowledgement that Charlie had no other options. Fox would help him—Charlie was one of his favorites, but he should investigate first. Maybe it had been a mistake.

He pushed his leather chair back and stood, stuffing both hands into the downy pockets of his suit.
It had to be a mistake.
He began pacing, the soles of his shoes on the glassy tiles loud in the silence of his own thoughts. His skin felt itchy all over, as if he’d come down with some kind of full body rash.

He stopped at the window and saw one of the new, smaller, hover transport ships carrying tourists over the city. Normally, he’d follow its flight, but a knot of worry twisted through his gut and he turned away.

He should have expected something like this. Dom’s wife, then Dom, and Bryce. There had always been rumors about the Company throwing curve balls to test loyalty and commitment, but this was off the charts.

He stopped pacing, sunk back down into his chair, and hovered to the desk. He swallowed a mouthful of cold coffee, ignoring the taste. He needed something to energize him.
Get a grip.
If Tabby recognized his duress, she’d pry him for information. Charlie leaned back. Maybe he was overreacting. Surely in his position, he would be able to swing a deal to save Samantha.

The process allowed him five days to authorize the names, and after that, it was on to planning and allocation. The checks he did to ensure the balance of jurisdiction and his subsequent approval were critical. Any delays in the supply chain led to customer dissatisfaction. There was a silent expectation, a flow of work that the death of each person generated. The city—and beyond that, the greater world—relied on the company’s work for employment too, a by-product of their main function.

He had until close of business Friday to find a way to get Samantha off the list. He should speak to someone, but not Jennings, his boss, or even Brian Fox yet, until he was certain there were no other options. As far as he knew, interfering with the process brought disciplinary action. Jennings had explained the process of the list early on and he had never mentioned petitioning to have people removed. To his knowledge, that had
never
happened. Charlie was going to have to break new ground, and the Company didn’t like that. What would happen if he just didn’t approve it? Would they sack him? Was he willing to lose his exclusive place in the world to save Samantha's life?

Was Samantha safe? Nothing would happen to her yet, but what if he didn’t approve her? He couldn’t think of that yet. She was away on another trip and sometimes it was difficult to contact her—meetings and conferences were a large part of her job. Maybe she might return early and then they could go away on a trip. That would probably just make things messier.

Charlie stood and started pacing again.
Jesus, he needed a drink.

The glass doors to his office slid open and Tabitha appeared. She stopped halfway to his workstation. “What's wrong?”

Charlie read genuine concern, and felt silent gratitude. “Nothing,” he said, forcing a smile. “Other than the normal stresses of the job.”

She gave a quirky grin that said she didn’t quite believe him. “Are you sure?” He nodded. “Nothing to do with Mr. Jennings being in your office the other day?”

“No.” Though, that
might
have something to do with it.

“Okay. Well, I have the information about the Bellevue Hospital account for you. We may need to put them on credit hold if they don’t pay their outstanding account.”

Bellevue Hospital. Jim McDevitt.
This was what he needed; a challenge. A secondary focus until he could decide what to do about the list and the rest of the organization crumbling around him. “Okay, great. When’s my meeting?”

“Wednesday morning.”

“How far are we behind on our original forecasts to them?”

She scrunched her face. “Quite a bit. They’re investments so far have been well behind.” She knew his numbers equally, had a mind for solving problems, and was incredibly well organized. He often thought she would make a brilliant executive, if she could ever overcome the realities of the company’s true function.

“Okay. Good.”

“I’ll just get some notes I made from my desk.” She smiled and rushed out the door.

Charlie wondered if she had any idea what the revenue really signified. The numbers Tabby saw represented something else entirely than the investment funds portrayed. In truth, it was revenue the hospital had paid to Janefield for their services.

Despite her intuition and intelligence, Charlie knew it was highly unlikely she knew what was occurring. Tabby dealt exclusively with Charlie, and every document was coded to tell a story. Each associate and partner dealt the same way. Even within the company, the bulk of employees were oblivious to its real activities. The internal processes and mechanisms had been built over decades on a foundation of secrecy, the knowledge wrapped and bundled in code and cryptic, limited, and shared with the utmost security.

Tabby returned. “All right,” Charlie said, sitting. She took the armchair on the other side of the desk. “Tell me about McDevitt. What’s he doing?”

They went through the details, Tabby impressing Charlie with her analysis of the revenue issues. As he listened, he tried to forget about Samantha being on the list, and focus on what Tabby was saying. But the window, and the panorama of cityscape beyond where he often went to consider a problem, drew him. How did he resolve it? He’d just never heard of an associate’s spouse making the list, and he couldn’t approve it while Samantha was on it. But how did he get her off?

“Charlie?”

He shook his head. “Sorry, Tabby.” Charlie battled on. “What’s the forecast for the rest of the year?”

“Their investments should pick up, but I’m not sure they’re going to make the forecast. And they’re behind in paying their bills.”

Charlie nodded. “Nice evaluation, Tabby. You’ve got a gift for this sort of analysis.” She cast her eyes down. “Unfortunately, I think you might be right about McDevitt. Maybe let Mr. Jennings know about their payment delays and ask if he can handle it.”

Tabby stared at him. “Is everything okay? You don’t seem… yourself.”

The ludicrous idea of telling her everything danced on the end of his tongue. He snapped his mouth shut though, knowing it would only put her life in jeopardy. He remembered the line in the contract.
Confidentiality is mandatory.
Outside of senior executives, no person could know the Company’s real purpose. Jennings had been explicit in the consequences for the culprit.
They
would end up on a list.

“Is there something you need to talk about?”

“No, I’m fine, really, but thank you. I think that’s enough on McDevitt for now.” Charlie rubbed a hand through his thick dark hair. He needed to talk to Tom. He had a little more experience than Charlie, and was in the same frame of mind. He’d know what to do.

“Okay. If you need anything let me know,” Tabby said. She rose, pushed in her chair, and left.

Charlie activated his implant phone and said, “Call Tom Bright directly.” The soft ding of the numbers dialing sounded. Tom answered promptly.

“Can you talk?” Charlie asked in a low voice.

“I’m about to go into a meeting,” Tom said.

“Call me when you’re out.”

“I’ll be tied up all day. I’m back in the office tomorrow morning. Can it wait until then?”

Charlie agreed. He hung up. An irrational thought overcame him. What if they had already actioned Samantha’s name before he had approved it? They wouldn’t.
They couldn’t.

They could. They could do anything they wanted, and had done so for decades. He needed to speak with Samantha; make sure she was safe.

This time he spoke his wife’s call command. He thought about leaving her a holomessage but she would sense his unease. After a moment, Samantha’s voice message sounded.

He waited for the tone. “Hey, it’s just me. Give me a call back when you get this message. I just wanted to make sure… ah… that you’re okay, that everything is going well.”

Charlie leaned back, closed his eyes, and put his hands over his face. It wasn’t just Samantha he was worried about though. He faced a dilemma himself; as much as getting her off the list was important, Charlie had to ensure he made the correct decision too.