by Matt Doyle
“No, we’ll find somewhere. No need to give our colleague here a strip show.”
*
Angel kept her word. We found an abandoned building to park behind, and she kept Locke distracted with I’m assuming talk about his theories while I changed behind some boxes. If I’m being honest, I did smile when she instructed him to climb into the trunk in order to stay hidden. By the time she’s dropped me a few blocks from home, I’ve calmed down a bit. And so, my walk through the lobby, to the elevator, and up the hallway to my front door is relatively quiet.
When I step back in, Bert immediately greets me. “I’m fine,” I say and give his head a rub, being careful to let my finger match the pattern I traced before I opened the door to Angel. That’s one of the perks of Bert’s model; he has a sensor just below the back of his head that works like a touchpad on a laptop. Angel said she’d take care of making sure my security camera footage synchs up again, so I take myself straight to the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror.
“Why couldn’t the one room that isn’t monitored be the one with the comfy couch in it? Okay, Cassie, think. Bert recorded the conversation with Angel, which means we have proof she threatened you. It’s only on internal storage right now, so we can get that on the spare Blend. If I wasn’t certain she was still monitoring the mini communicator, I could have worn that and caught the stuff she said during the breakout too.” I sigh. “No sense in worrying about the things you didn’t do. Just keep moving forward. Keep seeing this through until you have a clear path to follow.”
I nod to my reflection, happy for the advice, and head back to the kitchen to make a drink.
Chapter Three
“Long night?” I ask, nodding toward Gary Locke, who appears to be slumped in an elderly computer chair, snoring less than softly.
“He was quite eager to start recovering his old files, so I gave him the tools to do so,” Angel replies. “It’s all automated from here, apparently, so he’s catching up on what sleep he missed out on last night. And what about you? Was the rest of the night more restful for you after we parted ways?”
I pull another of the loose chairs out and sit in it, staring directly at Angel. “Not really, no. Violence against innocents tends to leave me on edge. Especially when I’m forced into it.”
Angel laughs and spins her own chair from side to side. “This, all of this, Cassie, is simply me doing what I need to to survive. Most people do that and usually in the only way they know how. Take yourself for example. What is the main goal you have for each case you take on?”
“It depends on the case.”
She rolls her eyes and continues, “All right then, let me rephrase it. At their core, what do all your cases have in common once they’re done?”
I sigh. “I get paid, which is how I pay my bills, and so survive.”
“Exactly. Now, most of the people you find yourself in opposition to are objectively bad people, I’m sure. Whether it be infidelity or a direct threat to someone else’s life, they’ve all committed crimes, be they legal or moral. Of course, some of them do what they do by choice, I’m sure. You don’t have to jump into bed with the first person to show you attention, and so on. How many of them, though, are simply trying to eke out a living? Their methods may not always be savoury, but for a lot of criminals, their crimes are their jobs. It’s how they provide for themselves and their families. Perhaps they made some bad choices to end up that way, or perhaps they just couldn’t see another option. Either way, is what they’re doing really so different to what you do?”
“It’s completely different.”
“Is it? A mugger intimidates a victim, you intimidate a mugger. A low-end drug dealer shoots a client who owes them money; you shoot a dealer who threatens your client. A killer mutilates their victim; you set Bert on them. Same method, different angle. And let’s not forget the company you keep, Cassie. Can you really say people like Devin Carmichael and Charlotte Goldman are good people? They may have their own moral codes, but when it comes to it, they’re still a cold-blooded killer and a drug lord.”
I shake my head. “That’s the thing. Their moral code sets them apart. It’s what stops them being nothing more than their jobs.”
“You see, I don’t think it does. You add too many shades of grey, and you stop seeing the picture beneath it. You should try simplifying your world view; it’s very freeing. Ah, but that isn’t possible for you, is it? What was it Ethan Cobalt said to you? You are in the unique position whereby you stand equally in both light and dark, and do not attempt to hide this. That’s part of your persona, isn’t it? You can’t help but see the grey, at least when it suits you.”
I narrow my eyes. I can ignore the jab at my apparently inconsistent approach to people, but what she said beforehand bothers me. “He said that back before I caught Malcolm Castleford. How long have you been monitoring everything?”
Angel’s lips curl into a satisfied smile, and she leans forward in her chair. She waves a finger at me and says, “That’s much better. Right question, Cassie. Simple answer. Not as long as you’re now thinking.”
“Then how did you know what he said to me on a private call?”
“I know because I took something from you back when we first met.”
I involuntarily shiver at the thought of our first confrontation and fix her with a glare. “My blood.”
“Exactly. It’s amazing what you can do with someone’s blood in this city. Can you guess how?”
“Cut this dancing around things, Angel. You want me to trust you and work with you, but you won’t tell me anything.”
“Oh, come now. The esteemed Mister Locke over there figured it out, and I know you wouldn’t want to be outdone by him, right?”
“This is ridiculous,” I growl, my frustration bubbling over. “Right now, I couldn’t care less about whether Gary Locke figured out something I didn’t. My career puts me up against people who know stuff I don’t all the time. I still expect the people I’m working with to tell me what I need to know because otherwise, it gets dangerous for all of us. If you won’t explain things to me, I could easily screw up, and that risks both our lives. It’s reckless.”
“I didn’t get to where I am by being reckless, Cassie. Even the more brazen steps I’ve taken over the years have had purpose, and that includes everything I’m doing here. I will tell you, of course, but you’re forgetting something. I’ve been watching you. And those around you. You’re like a cute little bunny. You love to dig. And when you find something, you love to chew on it.”
Angel pauses and clicks her tongue. After a moment, she nods, seemingly deciding on something, and continues. “Okay, the point on trust was fair. So, I’ll be honest with you. In part, I’m not telling you yet because I want to keep you interested. There’s also a touch of curiosity though; I want to see if you can figure it out. It was easy for Gary there because of the methods he uses, and his willingness to accept things that seem ridiculous. But you work with logic and old school investigating. I want to know if two roads can lead to the same place. Mostly, I want to keep you distracted.”
“Distracted from what?”
“Your natural urges. You really are interested in what’s happening in New Hopeland, but maintaining the status quo is also important to you. Giving you little tasks like this, even if it’s a duplication of work, keeps you from running straight for the side you tend to stick with.”
My mouth hangs open in shock, and it takes me a moment to compose myself. “Won’t telling me that make your approach less effective?”
She shrugs. “I doubt it. I’ve paid attention, and I feel like I know you well enough to make a judgement call here. I think you’ll do what I want because you simply don’t have enough knowledge yet to be close to confirming the truth. You know what’s implied, though, and it doesn’t sit right with you.”
On that point, she has you. You don’t have a choice, Cassi
e; you’re going to have to keep playing her game for now. Just be careful not to go so far you can’t turn back. I shake the thoughts away and stand up. “Fine. But I want confirmation if I get something right.”
“That sounds reasonable. Once Locke has finished transferring his files, we’ll move forward again. Until then, go ahead and chew over what you know so far. Even the things you don’t trust yet. Enjoy yourself. It’ll help with the harder times to come.”
*
“Here you go, Caz, your hazelnut thing,” the waitress says, placing a steaming mug of latte down on the table in front of me.
“Thank you,” I reply and turn the handle to face me.
“No Lori today,” the waitress notes. “You must be working a case.”
I smile and glance up at her. “What makes you say that?”
“Well, we do well enough here, but Cartwright’s isn’t exactly the Mall in terms of through traffic, is it? You have to do something to pass the time. Personally, I like to pay attention to the regulars. Spot the patterns and so on.”
I laugh and cross my arms. “Well, at least I’m not the only spy in the room. So, what did you learn about me?”
“That you tend to come in for two reasons. One, if you’re on a date with Lori.”
“They’re not all dates,” I cut in. “Sometimes, we just happen to have time free at the same time and want to grab a decent coffee.”
She shrugs. “Close enough to a date to count. And two, when you’ve got an investigation on and need to think. I can tell when that’s the case pretty easily now.”
“Oh? And how’s that?”
“Because Lori’s not here, and you aren’t looking out the window every couple of seconds like a little lost dog. Enjoy the latte.”
I smile and wave her on. Ordinarily, I’d be upset about someone spying on me, but the staff here are pleasant enough for it not to bother me. Plus, even if Cartwright’s wasn’t the best coffee shop in the city, it’s not like she picked up on anything problematic. Still, I’m gonna be way more self-conscious when I’m waiting for Lori now.
Okay, back to work.
I sip at my drink and try to gather my thoughts a little.
What do I know for certain?
Nothing. That’s why I hate this. It’s like a partially completed puzzle, but the box doesn’t tell you what it’s meant to look like, and half the pieces are face down.
I drown the negativity in another dangerously large gulp of caffeine and shake my head.
Let’s rework the question. What do I know we’re considering? Government monitoring, blood samples, and government contracts.
Angel is definitely monitoring a lot of stuff, so there must be some truth to the concept of a main network. And she claims she’s seen older files, too, which makes it likely that some things at least are being stored.
Since the method appears to be working, I take another sip of nut-flavoured brain juice.
The contract details looked pretty legitimate, but without seeing exactly what Locke dug up, I can’t say it’s definitely accurate. I can’t review the second Blend here, and he hasn’t finished recovering the rest of the files yet. So that leaves the blood. What do I know about blood?
Flashes of my high school biology class run through my head. It makes about as much sense now as it did then. I like science, and I have a basic understanding of a bunch of stuff, but it wasn’t my strongest subject. Some of it did come up again during my time in the Academy back in Vancouver though.
Blood contains red and white blood cells. White cells contain DNA. Forensics teams use DNA to place someone in a specific place during a specific time. The results are used to strengthen or weaken a case. Were any of the contracts for things that could sample DNA?
I roll my eyes at the thought and take another drink.
How would you know that, eh? It’s not like any of them said super-secret DNA reader or anything. But could it be used with the monitoring?
I’m about to kick myself again but a smile creeps onto my face instead.
If the government really is monitoring everything, regular people wouldn’t like it too much. So, how would they pass it off as necessary? It’d be officially categorised as a security initiative. I may not know how the technical stuff works, but we’ve got plenty of home security firms here, and they all have shop floors with people working on commission.
Yeah. Let’s run with that. First, though, I’m finishing this coffee.
*
The New Hopeland Mall is where people want to go when they want to feel rich. The clothing stores are high-end and fashion-forward, and the food is priced like it’s being served in a five-star restaurant. If I ever lose what little sense I have left, I may stop by there to try out a five-dollar doughnut at a caviar price. The electronic shops are more varied. It’s all decent stuff, but it’s not what you’d see in most professional situations. With the odd exception, it mostly fits into the category of electronics people buy when they want to appear rich. I like to think of them as status symbol circuit boards. What that means is they contain the up-to-date popular features, but not necessarily the really useful stuff.
It’s for that reason I avoided the two security stores there and instead headed to the large building I’m now realising is unsurprisingly close to Allen Fuerza’s usual base of operations. It’s one of those buildings you can tell used to be a warehouse by the shape of it. You can also tell it’s not anymore by the simple-but-huge sign hanging above the door reading “Home Security: All Budgets Store.”
Inside, I start following the trail of prices, avoiding the cheap equipment and heading more towards the newer, more costly items.
Looking at the tech specs on the labels, I’m beginning to wish Joe Farrah was an option. Even if Angel was wrong, he’d know the answers to what I need to find out. These guys don’t tend to explain things too well unless motivated either, which means I’m gonna need to be sneaky. Okay, let’s try to look interesting.
I pick up a box for some sort of camera and pretend to read the details on the back, making sure I’m in full sight of the store’s cameras. I make a show of scratching my chin and then replace the box and move on to the security locks and repeat the process. After a couple of minutes, a wary-looking shop assistant walks up beside me. He crosses his arms and stares without saying a word, so I smile sweetly, put the box back, and pick up another one. The man finally clears his throat and comments, “You don’t look like you can afford this stuff.”
I stop what I’m doing and shake my head. “On my own, no. That’s fine, because my own needs are fairly simple.” I turn to face him and continue, “My client though? That’s a different story.”
I offer him my hand and he shakes it, though he’s still clearly uncertain about me. I push on. “Caroline Tam. I’m a consultant out in Hooper.”
“Hooper, huh? They’ve got some good stores in Hooper. So why come here?”
“My client is looking to beef up his security systems. The thing is, he doesn’t really understand the tech, but he has friends who do. You’re right that the selection is good there, but he’d be able to verify the pricing and uses far too easily. That makes it a hard sell for me.”
“Simon Jones,” he says relaxing a little now. He must have met people like the one I’m playing before. And regularly too. “You’ll be wanting the New Hopeland exclusive kits then. What sort of thing is he looking for?”
“Mostly monitoring stuff. But I reckon I can convince him a few other things are a necessity, too, if I can get him everything he wants from one outlet. You work on commission, right?”
“Of course, for large orders.”
“I’m already getting ten per cent of the cost as a fee, so my plan was to take the dairy farm approach.”
“Go big or get out.”
“Exactly. I was thinking, I reckon I could find everything he needs here. We could throw in a coupl
e of justifiable but not necessary additional pieces, some insurance, and maybe a six per cent price increase—we’ll call it a tip but forget to list it separately on the bill—and that’d be job done. We both get our commission and split the six per cent fifty-fifty.”
“Hmm. I won’t get commission on the tip. So how about we raise it to seven per cent and split it seventy-thirty in my favour?”
“How about sixty-forty?”
“Done. Okay, what sort of thing are we looking at for the core order?”
“Well, any high-end camera set will work for him. If it looks expensive and has prestige attached to the brand, he’ll be happy. The big thing will be the footage storage and access. He wants something that can be linked with the cameras but be foolproof in terms of who can access the system. Oh, and by the way, I’m gonna need to sell this all to him, so I’ll need two things from you. One, an itemised proposed bill. And two, I’m gonna need you to explain the stuff to me in terms an average Joe could understand.”
“He’s not knowledgeable at all then?”
“That’s part of it. There’s also me. I understand enough to know when someone is lying, but I’m more of a money moving woman than a tech spec woman, eh?”
He nods. “Well, with access points, we have three options that go above the standard password or card system. Fingerprinting is the cheapest, so he won’t be wanting that. Eye scanners are incredibly popular, and we do have top-of-the-line models, but if we’re looking to push this into real money, we could look at bloodprinting.”
Bingo. “Okay, what’s bloodprinting?”
“It’s a combination of fingerprint scanning and DNA testing. Basically, the scanner takes a copy of the fingerprint and a blood sample, and tests both.”
“Do the DNA tests take long?”
“A couple of minutes in most cases, so it’s definitely not a quick access thing. As far as outright security goes, though, it’s the best there is. It’s only just started going mainstream as a system, so to keep ahead of the curve, New Hopeland has its own upgrade. Basically, the scanner takes the sample itself, and is built to register whether the wound is pulsating or simply leaking. It’s like a built-in heart monitor.”