by wade coleman
“I’ll take it.”
Natasha used Mark’s office at the Aviation Center as the shipping address.
Turning off the phone, I take out the sim card and smash it.
Hopping back on the bike, we continue our drive. An hour later, I drive through the front gate and turn off my headlight. The last thing I want to do is wake any nosy neighbors. With Kim’s superior night vision, I let her drive the rest of the way. The garage door opens as we drive in and closes automatically behind us. We get off the bike, and I reset the alarm.
Leading Kim to the basement, I find the slender metal rod and poke it through a hole in the wall. A hidden door opens. A four-foot wide space the width of the house yawns before us. I set up a cot between rows of canned goods.
“You have everything you need here. I’ll see you when it’s over.”
I start to leave, but Kim grabs my arm. “Are we good?”
I nod. “I’ve got to get my head in the game for tomorrow.”
Kim lets go of my arm and undresses. She goes to take off my shirt, and I take a step back. “It seems…I mean…”
“You’re thinking too much, just shut up and fuck me.”
* * *
I wake to the Rush song, “Workin' Them Angels.”
“Natasha, stop that music now, please.”
The music stops. “I thought you liked hard rock?”
“Not when I first wake up. It feels like my brain just got trampled, and I’m not even out of bed.”
“Duly noted.”
I get out of my bed and put my feet on the floor. Kim kicked me out of her cot last night, said it wasn’t big enough for the both of us, but the sex did clear my head. Between Natasha and Kim, there’s suddenly more women in my life than I can handle.
“Would you like me to keep your calendar?” Natasha asks.
“What?”
“Track your appointments, remind you of birthdays, things like that. For ten thousand credits, you can purchase a Globe-X interface. I would then have direct access to the web.”
“Natasha, I’m not a corporate executive, I’m a mechanic and part-time farmer. I have one bank account that I put money into to pay for the phone and internet. The only thing I order online are eBooks.”
“Will you be going to flight school?”
“That depends on how the day goes.”
“Excuse me?”
“Today I meet with a detective. If I don’t say the right things, then there’s a good chance I’ll go to prison.”
“Prison! You cannot get a pilot license in prison. May I listen in?”
“Yes, but please don’t distract me.”
While having breakfast of hard boiled eggs on toast, I read the news on the tablet. Mom’s at work and Dad’s in his shop. After breakfast, I clean up, then pace in the kitchen and go over what I’m going to say to the police.
Around nine-thirty, a bike rolls up in front of the house, the driver in his mid-forties, dark skin and well-muscled. He takes off his helmet.
Going to the front door, I open it and call out: “Nice bike. That doesn’t look government issue.”
He ignores me but extends his hand once he’s at the door. “I’m Detective Coleman of the Frisco PD. You must be Hermes.”
We shake hands, and I lead him to the kitchen.
“Can I get you a cup of coffee?”
“Yes, thank you.”
I pour coffee, and we sit down.
He looks at his computer tablet for a few minutes, then puts it down. He takes a sip of coffee, nodding with approval. “Normally, we would be meeting downtown. But I’m meeting you here because I think you’re the guy who saved that police officer’s life.” He pulls out an evidence bag and places it on the table. Fibers from my shirt are inside.
“Is this yours?”
“Yes.” I take a sip of coffee, avoiding his gaze.
“What happened?”
“I was in the alley and heard a truck pull up. “A passenger got out and manned the machine gun while the troll went in the back door. A few minutes later, a metal door comes flying out the window, glass everywhere. He throws out sacks of cash and a small safe. The big guy called the man on the ground Blue Dog. He said the safe was Vory property.”
I take a sip of coffee and continue: “The cruiser drove up, and they shot the shit out of it. I waited for them to leave and did what I could. Another cruiser showed up, and they weren’t in a talking mood, so I ran.”
The detective leans back in the chair, sipping his coffee. “What were you doing there?” he asks in a level tone.
“Just a night on the town.”
“A Monday evening night out?” He raises his eyebrows.
I nod. The cop stares at me, trying to get me to say more. I go back to staring at my coffee cup.
“Why don’t you go over your night out. Starting at your arrival at the Oxford Arms Hotel.”
He’s checked up on me. I get up and pour more coffee to collect my thoughts.
“I met a girl, we had dinner, and then we went back to my room.”
“The two of you were seen leaving in a hurry.”
“We were very eager to have sex.” I’m trying to blush, so he’ll believe me.
“Your date…does she have a name?”
“We weren’t on a first name basis.”
“What does she look like?”
“Blond hair, little shorter than me, skinny, small tits and a nice ass.”
“That’s it? That’s all you remember?” he asks with irritation in his voice.
“I was pretty high at the time. I can’t place every mole on her back if that’s what you’re asking.”
He crosses his arms. “What happened after you left the hotel?”
“I got hungry. She said there was an all-night donut shop a few blocks away. We walked for a while; then she ran off when the shooting started.”
“There hasn’t been an all-night donut shop since the Bio wars.”
“Once I was sober, I realized she was lying. I think she was getting me away from the hotel so she could mug me.”
He gets up, leans against the bar and crosses his arms in front of his chest. “Your mom got a text on a disposable phone last night. Did you send it?”
“No.”
“The message called in a DOA six blocks from where you were staying.”
I shrug. “It wasn’t me.”
His face turns into a scowl. “At the robbery, did you see anyone else at the scene?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? There were two separate robberies.”
“I didn’t see anyone else.”
He steps up closer, his mouth forming a tight smile. He takes up position behind me, leans over and speaks directly into my ear. “Do you think I believe this line of bullshit?”
“It’s not what you believe. It’s what you can prove.”
The detective grabs my shoulder with his steam-shovel hands, lifts me up and applies pressure to the collarbone. “We’ll finish this downtown with a telepath present.”
I look him in the eye. “Detective Coleman, as required by law, I am informing you I have a Mark 5 bio-implant.”
He adds a little more pressure. “When did you get this implant?”
“Yesterday.”
“The day after the robbery you got an implant?”
“I got an implant when one became available.”
“Why did you get an implant?”
“I always wanted to be a pilot.”
I look down at my collar, his grip still tight. “Do you mind?”
He lets go. “Who installed the implant?”
“None of your business.”
He sits down, motions for me to sit and picks up his tablet. “You can’t go to flight school. You cheated on your SATs.”
I grit my teeth as I sit back down. “The charges were dropped.”
“Since they’re so twitchy, a used Mark 5 is cheap, but you still need to pay for flight school. And th
en, if you get a license, who’s going to let a mutant fly their plane?”
I pick up the mug, stalling for time, and take a sip.
Detective Coleman is sitting with his arms crossed, a smug smile on his face. He knows I’m full of shit, and I’m one wrong word away from being sent to the slammer.
While taking another sip, Natasha speaks to me. “The Frisco Police can sponsor you…They’re always looking for people to fly Med Evac, along with Search and Rescue.”
“I was hoping you might help.”
“What?” He is stunned by my request.
“The Frisco PD has a search and rescue program; they hire mutants. You could put in a good word for me.”
“You want my recommendation?”
“It would mean a lot to me.”
He crosses his arms and gives me a tight smile. “We both know you’re a liar and thief. And you dare to ask for a letter of recommendation?”
I put my hand over my heart. “Learning to fly is a childhood dream that you could make come true.”
He laughs and then stops suddenly. He stands up, walks over to the counter and gives me a smile that looks more like he’s showing me his teeth. “Come here.”
I get up and stand next to him.
“I get it. You couldn’t go to college because you’re a mutant. You got the shaft, and you’re mad. You think the world owes you something?”
He leans me against a wall, poking my ribs with each word. “The world’s gonna eat you alive, boy.” He paces for a long time, then shakes his head, emitting a laugh. “Shit! I must be crazy! I must have a soft spot for mutants.”
He gives me one of his cards. “Congratulations, you’re a police informant. For now, I’m the only one that has your name.” He picks up the evidence bag. “You cross me once, and I’ll turn this in. Do you understand?”
I nod. “Yes, sir.”
He puts an arm around me, holding me close, and walks me to the front door. “I want you to find that safe before the Vory do. That’s your assignment.”
He lets go and ambles down the sidewalk. He gets on his bike, puts on his helmet and drives away.
“Hermes, is it true, no one will let you fly their aircraft because you’re a mutant?”
“Mostly true,” I watch Coleman as he drives out of sight. “But if we have our plane, it doesn’t matter.”
Going to the basement, I let Kim out, and we walk upstairs. Daniel is sitting at the bar.
“What happened?”
“He knows I was involved in the robbery, but he can’t prove anything. He’ll make my life miserable if I don’t find the safe before the Vory do.”
I get out three glasses, put them on the table and pour the three of us some iced tea. “I was able to access Natasha’s previous owner’s account at the airfield. I bought a jet engine and having it delivered to the storage unit I rent under my alias.”
“Don’t you think someone might be watching that account?”
“Probably, but if we intercept the delivery, we can minimize the risk.”
“Two heists in three days? So much for laying low.”
I take a sip. “This is the biggest score of my life. I even have the receipt for the jet engine.
He stands up, leans against the counter and takes a sip of tea. “How much did it cost?”
“One hundred and eighty thousand credits.”
“Fuck me raw,” Kim exclaims. “What’s my share?”
“I’m glad you brought that up.” I get up and refill my glass of tea. I look at Daniel. “We need an edge.”
“Are you thinking the latest in lightweight body armor?” Dad asks.
I nod.
Daniel scratches his stubble. “You have enough on your plate, so I’ll take care of the delivery of the engine and order the armor.”
I put my glass in the sink. “I’m gonna head out with a disposable phone to check my web bots and see if they know anything about the Vory.”
“I’ll coming with you,” Kim says. “And I get my own bike this time.”
CHAPTER SEVEN
Kim gets on my old bike built for off-road; heavy-duty suspension and frame and an oversized motor for steep hills. The battery is inside the frame, like bone marrow. Kim’s an inch taller than me, so it’s a good fit.
We head north on the 101 and find hills that overlook the Sacramento Estuary. Genetically engineered apple trees with mangrove roots line the shallow water. Further inland the dunes are covered in short grass. A few clouds break up the afternoon sun. After Kim tires of climbing hills and going over bumps, I find the top of a hill where we can get good reception. Once we park, a breeze breaks the summer heat.
Turning on my phone, I hook it to a computer tablet. Natasha is integrated into the part of my brain that used for hand coordination so she can type. I have her set up a corporation under one of my many aliases. For the next hour, Natasha fills out the forms and establishes the corporation, Merc.com.
Kim kicks me on the bottom of my foot. “It’s time to eat.”
We open our Tupperware; butter in one and cheese in the other. Bread is already cut into sandwich slices. I put lettuce and tomato on mine. Kim sucks the juice out of hers.
We sit in the shade of our bikes to escape the mid-afternoon sun, eating our sandwiches.
“It’s so quiet out here. Telepaths are always bombarded by people’s thoughts. Out here, it’s so peaceful.”
“Can you read me?”
Kim wipes her hand on her pants and drinks water. “No, you faded away over the last few days.” Kim gets up. “I’ve never been to the estuary.”
With lunch out of the way, we get on our bikes and ride down the hill. Then we hide them in a buckthorn shrub. I built them from the frame up, and I’m paranoid about losing them. We walk to the water’s edge and stand under the apple trees with mangrove roots.
“I’m going for a walk.” She heads out towards the water.
“Be careful. The big ones live just north of here.”
“How big is big?”
“Thirty feet is a good size, but not a record.”
“How come they’re so big?”
“When the sea level rose, and the Sacramento Valley flooded, they were afraid all old cities underwater would leak toxic chemical for decades, if not hundreds of years. The genetically engineered plants take up the toxins and break them down.
“Then you need animals to eat the plants and break them down. Then the manatee population exploded and crashed from starvation. They needed a top predator to control the manatees. They took the American Alligator and Nile Crocodile and added some genes to make it grow a little bigger.”
“If I remember right, a manatee is a blob of fat that swims around and eats plants. So why does a croc need to be bigger to hunt them?”
“I don’t know. But the crocs do keep the tourist away. I point out into the water. On a clump of grass sits a crane. Two eyes on top of the water move towards the bird.
The bird looks at me and then where I’m pointing. The two eyes that were swimming toward the crane disappear under the water. “That was a twenty-footer.”
“The croc is annoyed but too lazy to do anything about it,” Kim says.
“You can read animals?”
“Basic stuff,” she looks out over the water. “It’s beautiful.”
“How come you’ve never been here before?”
“Listen, I don’t wanna tell you my life story just yet, okay?”
“You know so much about me, I feel kinda off balance.”
“It’s a stupid story, anyway.”
“We’ve been through a lot in the last few days. Like it or not, we’re friends, and that means friends share stories. It’s how us humans bond.” I deliver the last few words mimicking the deep low voice of the Incredible Hulk.
Kim gives me a half smirk, and we walk in silence. She glances at my watch. She’s been eying it ever since we first met, a diver’s watch rated for two hundred and fifty-meter range. Its previ
ous owner had three jacks to my full house. With Natasha’s built-in clock, I don’t need a watch, so I take it off and hand it to her.
She looks at me with furrowed eyebrows. “What are you doing?”
Taking her hand, I slide the watch onto her wrist. The spider silk band conforms to her wrist. “Tell me your story, and you can have it.”
Kim admires her new toy. “This doesn’t mean I’m your girlfriend or anything.”
“I get it. We’re just friends who have sex when you’re horny or want something. You’d think me helping you find Cindy’s killers would be worth your last name.”
Kim furrows her eyebrows deeper and takes a deep breath like she’s going say something snarky. Instead, she says, “Okay.” She looks down, her thoughts forming emotions across her face. She bites her lip. I don’t interrupt.
“My last name is Akagi. My parents couldn’t afford a hospital, so my mom gave birth to me at home. My head was too big, so the midwife had to cut me out. Days later, my mom died of an infection.
“My father blamed me and treated me like shit my whole life. He started watching religious fundamentalist’s shows on TV...the ones that say mutants are part demon. Well, the preacher said mutants are evil, so dear old dad sent me to a Catholic orphanage when I turned ten to pray the demon away. Turns out that was the best thing that ever happened to me. In the orphanage, I got three meals a day and a bed to sleep in. Plus, I learned to read and write. Plus, an all-woman orphanage is a great place to meet girls. That’s where I meet Cindy.”
A cloud floats past and blocks the sun.
“We left the orphanage when we turned sixteen. I went to work as a prostitute. Since Cindy was a Type 3 mutant like you, she got regular work in a clothing store. She died a month before she turned twenty-five.”
I try and hold her hand, but she brushes it away. After putting my hand on her shoulder, she stops, turns, and furrows her eyebrows. “What are you doing?”
“Comforting you. That’s what friends do. Pretty cool, huh?”
I take her hand, and we continue walking. Kim accepts my empathy like a dog putting up with a two-year-old pulling on its ears. After a few minutes, Kim lets go of my hand.