The Courier (San Angeles) (30 page)

Devon left the service corridors on Level 7. The route he had chosen wasn’t selected by the computer; it was one he had chosen by himself, years ago. As far as the computer knew, the route didn’t even exist.

He was standing in the basement of Akorn Financial, and on his way to a new life. He’d had enough of this one, enough of ACE, enough of SoCal and Kadokawa and Meridian. Enough of all of it.

Before leaving the service corridor, he’d opened the package he had grabbed from under the catwalk, pulling out an identity he’d grown and nurtured throughout the years. A fully developed citizen of the world.

He had created Peter Martin when he moved into the special room, knowing that at some point he would be compromised. No matter what safety measures were taken, no matter how tight the security was, there was always a way to get the information. He should know.

But this was his. All his. No one knew about it, no one would miss Devon disappearing, and no one would notice that Peter Martin had actually started to walk the streets. Maybe his mom, but he’d left her comfortable enough to be happy without him. He wanted to make one last phone call to let her know he was all right, but he knew it would be a mistake. Everything was traceable.

Devon had wanted to create a superman, a full MIT scholarship and degree, a handful of the best schools before that. Instead he had settled for something more average, something that didn’t stand out in a crowd so much. Peter had graduated from Caltech, tenth in his class. A good place to be, but not the best. He had gotten a good job, at Akorn Financial, developing investment modeling software.

Using his own knowledge of the markets, he’d invested wisely and managed to latch on to a company that IPO’d a few years back. His investments had skyrocketed and he sold his shares for a thousand times more than he’d paid for them. Two weeks later, the company took a nosedive, almost falling from the stock exchange tables.

He bought in again and rode the next wave up. It didn’t go nearly
as high as the initial IPO, but Peter had still turned it into millions. He had sold last week again, and the stock had started falling the next day.

The person who walked into the sub-basement was Peter Martin. Devon no longer existed as a real person. The first thing Peter would have to do was get a haircut; his long hair didn’t match the slightly crumpled suit he now wore. He dumped his old clothes, stashing them under some hardware required for the city’s infrastructure, probably an air recycling unit or something. Even if they found them, they wouldn’t be able to connect them to Peter.

He had slid the computer into a small bag. This had turned out to be a bonus. He didn’t need computers anymore, not with the money he had, but this one was special, unique. After working with it for the last year, he had grown to think of it as a family member, maybe even better than that. The fact that it couldn’t be traced was just another bonus.

The basement of Akorn Financial had been turned into an underground mall, connecting several buildings in the financial district together. Employees could come down here for lunch or dinner if they were working late. They could shop for Christmas gifts, get flowers for their wives. Pretty much anything they wanted without having to see actual sunshine. For a city whose main population lived without sunlight, he’d always found it strange.

Peter walked into a KwikCuts and asked for a simple cut.

“We can squeeze you in now, sir, if you’d like?”

“That would be great.”

“Follow me, please. You can leave your bag behind the front desk if you like, and pick it up on the way out.”

“No, thanks, I’ll just hold on to it.”

Twenty minutes later, the transformation to Peter was complete. His hair was short, no longer pulled back into a ponytail. A little bit
of gel gave it some spikiness, adding two and half centimeters onto his height. When he walked out of the KwikCuts, even his step seemed to have changed.

He took the escalator to the main level and stepped into the sunshine, blinking in the sudden brightness. He flagged down a cab and sat quietly during the ride to the shuttle port.

When Peter walked into the terminal building, he didn’t notice the chrome and the glass. The tiles on the floor didn’t even catch his eye. He walked straight to the Qantas counter. They had a flight to Brisbane, Australia via Fiji leaving at eight in the morning.

At eleven in the morning a direct flight left. That would put him in Brisbane almost an hour ahead of the Fiji flight. It was worth the wait.

He purchased a first-class ticket and membership in the Qantas Club, Platinum Access. It was something Devon would never have been able to do. Peter decided if he was going to wait all night, he might as well do it in comfort. He walked to the second level and found the Qantas Lounge at the far end.

The lounge itself was like a tranquil bay in a sea of rolling people. Once the doors closed behind him, the regular shuttle port din was shut out. His feet sank into soft carpet. After showing his temporary membership card and ticket, he was let through into the inner sanctum.

It wasn’t what he’d expected. The large open room was brightly lit and full of color, not like the old style gentleman’s club atmosphere he’d imagined, with dark panel walls and the smell of cigar smoke hanging in the air.

Instead, the smell of a warm buffet wafted toward him. He skipped it and got a drink at the complimentary bar before moving to a small cubicle along one of the brightly painted walls.

He pulled the computer out of his bag and plugged it into the
display and network before turning it on. The screen came to life, still showing his last running applications. He killed them without looking and started a simple search for Devon.

He’d be surprised if anyone was missing him yet, and even more so if the public databases he had access to would know about it. For a fleeting moment, he missed the flow of data his little office had provided.

I sat on the parking lot pavement, my head resting in my hands. What the hell was I supposed to do now?

The thought of Quincy lying dead in the office didn’t give me any relief. Instead, it made me feel worse. The victory I’d felt earlier faded, not into remorse, but into a sense of loss. I knew it was either him or me, but did I have to kill him? I could have left while he was on the floor. I could have just walked away.

But then I would always be looking over my shoulder, wondering when he would be there, waiting for him to drag me back to hell.

The events of the last few minutes lodged themselves like a burr in my head; the only point that stood out clearly was the slight kick of the gun when I pulled the trigger.

It had all gone so terribly wrong. My flight to Las Vegas had left already, so I couldn’t take that now. I knew I wouldn’t anyway. Miller was supposed to be with the police, waiting for ACE to get their act together. Instead he was god knows where, with Jeremy.

What the hell was I supposed do now?

I lifted my head out of my hands and looked at the car. The keys were still in it, so at least I didn’t have to go back in and search Quincy’s body again. I didn’t think I would have been able to do that. So,
I had a car. Great. Where could I go? I could start looking for Miller, but where to start?

Jeremy had been right. I did have feelings for Miller. And why not? The fact that he had come like a knight in shining armor and rescued me helped, but I knew that wasn’t it. He had made me feel safer in the last three days than, hell, since Mom and Dad had been killed. The safe house had felt almost like a home. And, for the first time I could remember, a man had cooked for me and washed my clothes. The thought of my clothes brought back another memory, of waking up in a soft, warm bed. He’d done that, too. He didn’t even try to take advantage of me.

What was not to like?

I jumped to my feet. He had rescued me; the least I could do was try to rescue him back. I had to contact ACE, or what was left of it. Quincy’s comm unit wasn’t the best choice for that. Besides, I didn’t have a contact number.

Miller’s comm unit was in his car, which was still where I’d left it at the shuttle port. I’d head there and try to contact ACE with it, if ACE was active enough. I hoped Miller’s comm unit would have some way of contacting them. Maybe I could call the guy who had called us earlier, what was his name . . . David . . . no, Devon. I’d try to call back using the reply function. It might just work.

Without looking back at the warehouse, I got into the car and drove from the lot, turning toward the shuttle port.

The drive back was straightforward. I simply retraced the path that Quincy had taken earlier. Being a courier had given me some skills, at least.

I maneuvered down the twisty shuttle port roads to the parking garage where I’d left Miller’s car. The “full” sign flashed as I tried to enter, and the bar didn’t rise to let me in. I was forced to back out and drive around the terminal area to come around again. This time,
I turned in to the outdoor short-term parking lot and walked back to the garage, avoiding the pools of light cast by the overhead lamps.

The car was where I’d left it only a little over an hour ago. I opened the unlocked driver’s side door and stumbled back. The smell of blood on the seat had grown stronger and stale, almost pouring out of the open door. I took a breath and held it as I bent over and reached in.

The comm unit had some of Miller’s blood on it. I wiped what I could off on the seat and slammed the door shut. I moved away from the car, distancing myself from the smell of the blood and the memories it brought back.

I powered on the unit. The batteries were running a bit low, but I figured I’d be able to make a couple of calls on it at least. The status of the comm unit’s batteries brought back thoughts of the black box still taped to my back. I had practically forgotten about it. It had become as much a part of me, of who I was, as my right hand. Something I didn’t think I could live without.

I scrolled through the list of received calls. Nothing looked like it had come from ACE. I scrolled back to the top of the list, the last call that had come in. The list showed Diora’s Restaurant, not Devon. Maybe he called from there.

I hit the recall button and waited. It took only a moment for the unit to give a faint beep. Damn it, no reception. I’d have to leave the garage to pick up a signal. I walked back to the stairwell and down the stairs.

P
ETER FINISHED CHECKING
the status of his stocks on the computer and downloaded the latest values into his own application. Devon was a man of modest means. It was one of ACE’s requirements. Although they paid not too badly, their employees were not to show any extravagances. They were supposed to maintain a nice even keel and stay under the radar of the big three.

As Peter, he didn’t really need to do that. Peter’s wealth was not a sudden thing. It was a documented and monitored process that had occurred over the years. Maintaining an extravagant lifestyle was part of the cover.

He turned off the computer and unplugged it from the network and display unit, placing it back in his bag. It was time to enjoy some of the free buffet, and maybe another drink or two from the open
bar. He stood and turned, walking back to the buffet table with the cube hanging over his shoulder.

The buffet was more of an appetizer selection than anything that might form a full meal. Still, it would be enough to tide him over until the shuttle flight. There would be a full meal served on that.

“Perhaps you would like a more substantial meal?”

Peter looked up and took a step back in shock, bumping into another man.

“The Qantas Lounge is hardly the low profile ACE has asked you to keep, Devon. Or would you prefer Peter now?” William Clark stood beside Devon.

“Ummm, William, fancy meeting you here.”

William motioned for the man Devon bumped into to grab his arm, and led the way from the lounge. The lady at the front counter smiled.

“Thank you for flying Qantas.”

The door closed behind them and they were once again surrounded by the noise of the terminal. The three men moved through the thinning crowd and down to the lower level, exiting to the drop-off lane in front. Traffic was light this late in the evening, but it would pick up shortly as the night flights to the Sat Cities began. They marched across the street and headed toward the parking garage.

“So, how did you find me?”

“ACE is in the habit of protecting and monitoring its assets. The computer gave us its location the moment you went online.”

“That’s impossible, I’ve looked at every program on that thing, and rewritten most of them. There’s no way it did that.”

“You software guys are always so sure you’ve got the problem solved, aren’t you? I don’t think I said the software called home. I said the computer called home.”

“The compu . . . Hardware! You bastards.”

“Yes, and it’s a good thing we set it up that way. When we approached your office earlier today, we weren’t quite sure you were our leak. All we knew for sure was Meridian was getting its information very quickly, which meant somewhere close to where it came in to ACE.

“And you almost made it away safe. Nigel said you wouldn’t be able to leave a system like that behind. He was right. Not that he would have been happy about it. He placed a lot of trust in you. Obviously too much.”

“He wasn’t supposed to die.”

“When you set up operations like that, incidental casualties happen. When you gave Meridian the location of that meeting, you signed his death warrant.”

Devon walked along quietly, calm and deep in thought. “I disagree. I think it was what it was, an accident. I’m not accepting the blame for it.”

“You already have,” William said.

They entered the parking garage stairwell and started walking up to the second floor. As they opened the door onto the parking area, Devon looked up the stairwell, hoping to use the person coming down as a distraction. “It’s her, the courier.”

William stopped and looked up as well, a smile starting to form on his face. Devon jerked his arm free of the second man and made a run for the parked cars. He only took two steps before his legs were knocked out from under him. He landed on the floor, a concrete rash blossoming on the side of his face.

As he looked back at the slowly closing door, he heard William start to talk.

“Kris! I’m glad to see you . . .”