Dark Crypto (Thorne Inc. Book 1)

by Neil Mosspark

  Flicking on the lights, she stepped into the open floor.

  It had taken her most of the last year to renovate it by hand. The interior that had once been two levels was completely gutted. Only the steel beams that once held the second floor remained to support the roof and cross-brace the walls.

  Fake wood flooring covered most of the surface area of the open space. Only a parking spot’s width of concrete near the road side of the building was uncovered, on which sat a small black hard-top jeep. The body was peppered with light rust spots and poorly matched paint.

  Nearby was the rolling garage door Olivia used to enter and exit with the vehicle.

  A puddle under the jeep made Olivia wince. The radiator was leaking again. She’d have to get it fixed. Fixes cost money. Money she did not have right now.

  She crouched to observe the mess then stood up, trying to ignore it for now.

  Behind the vehicle was a large gun safe bolted to the wall. Her eyes habitually checked it each time she came home. It was unlikely that anyone would get inside, and less likely they would find much in there. Most of the tools of her trade were kept at work, where she spent most of her time anyhow.

  The only thing missing was the TV.

  Olivia stepped back quickly and pulled the gun out of her now hanging shoulder holster. Moving through the room, she scanned the few places there were to hide.

  Save for the walls around her small bathroom, the one-couch living room, simple kitchen island, and bedroom blended into the garage-like atmosphere of the open concept room. A weight bench in the corner and a broken treadmill covered in drying clothes capped off the limited furnishings.

  “Tanya?” Olivia called out, eying the open bathroom door.

  The doors she had come through had been locked. Had someone broken in? Jerry-rigged the swipe pad? Were they still here? In the bathroom?

  “What are they going to do. Hide in the bathroom?” Olivia muttered to herself.

  Stepping through the door, she swept the tiny room with her pistol. Nothing. A sink, a dirty tub, and a lack of Tanya’s hair products.

  Olivia lowered the pistol and engaged the safety. She wasn’t surprised but disappointed. The second toothbrush was missing, and it wasn’t hers.

  “Great...”

  Looking at the empty TV stand positioned in front of the couch, she noticed a small envelope. Written on the cover was “Olive.”

  Tucking the gun into the back of her waistband, Olivia snatched up the envelope and tore it open. “This better be money for a TV.”

  A key card for the door and a note lay inside:

  Dear Olive,

  Sorry about taking the TV.

  You didn’t need it. You’re never home.

  I don’t love you anymore.

  I need someone nicer.

  No one likes you.

  —Tanya

  “Please, tell me how you feel,” Olivia muttered. She crumpled the paper and threw hard at the wall. The light paper ball wavered in the air before floating to the floor. It bounced once halfway to its target and came to a rest.

  Olivia massaged her forehead and for a moment considered the reality that she was more worried about the missing TV than her bedmate. She sighed at the thought of the replacement cost. It was money she didn't have.

  “Shower, food, job.” Olivia stormed into the bathroom and slammed the door.

  Chapter 3

  Olivia’s stomach growled. It was still empty, and her mood hadn’t improved during the train ride back to the office. She was cleaner, late, but cleaner. She fussed with her hair, trying with her fingers to comb it into some semblance of tidiness.

  As the elevator opened on her floor, she stepped off, patting the pocket of her jacket, feeling frantically for a spare elastic. At the very least she could try to be presentable. Through the smoked glass of the doorway into the office, she could see Dana pacing.

  Coming up empty in her search, Olivia stepped forward and pulled open the door. Checking the waiting area, she ignored Dana for a moment. The client was not sitting on the small wooden chairs, and the closed door of her own office was left open a crack. It made her nervous to be on this side of the closed door, considering most of her firearms, vest, and sharp implements of death were in the room with a perfect stranger.

  “You look like garbage,” Dana whispered, clicking across the floor toward her.

  Olivia could smell her perfume and smiled. “Nice to see you too, gorgeous.”

  Dana slipped off her own jacket and motioned for Olivia to do the same. “Let's make you look presentable.”

  “I’m okay with undressing.” Olivia smiled at her secretary.

  Dana glowered at her and lowered the offered suit jacket. “I can quit right now if you keep that up, and I will take my expensive wardrobe with me too.”

  “You won’t quit.” Olivia swapped the jackets. “You like getting paid.”

  Dana’s sad face noted that the quip had struck home a little too hard. “You know that I could be gone by the end of the day, right? You can answer the phone. Do the books. Clean up. Run errands—”

  “Sorry, I’ll play nice.” Olivia softened her tone and raised her hands.

  Dana handed Olivia an elastic for her hair. “Just remember, you pay me very little to sit at a desk and take phone calls.”

  “How do I look?”

  “Like someone lent you an expensive dry-clean-only, custom-tailored suit jacket that might be a bit too big for you up front.”

  “Are you saying I need implants?” Olivia smiled, pointing at Dana’s chest with a crooked finger.

  Dana rolled her eyes and turned away, pointing to Olivia’s door as she walked. “He’s in there.” Her voice was ice-cold.

  Taking a deep breath and letting it out through pursed lips, she swung open the door.

  “Good morning!” She forced the cheer in her voice, stepping around the man perched on the chair.

  “...afternoon,” came a monotone.

  Olivia paused for a moment, catching herself doing a double-take. The man was clothed in a dark navy suit and was sitting bolt upright in the armless chair. As she walked around him toward her desk, his head turned and tracked her. There was less expression on his pale face than hair on his bald head. The absence of eyebrows and eyelashes made him appear subtly out of place. She wondered for a moment if he was sick.

  Her eyes locked onto his face. Pale, almost unhealthy.

  “It is the afternoon.” He continued his correction as she sat down in her chair opposite to him.

  “Sorry, it’s already been a long week. My name is Olivia Thorne. I didn’t catch your name?”

  “I have heard that you are a finder of people and things. Specifically, people and things who are hidden.” His voice was rhythmic, as though he was searching for each word before saying it.

  “Among other things. Is there someone you need found?”

  He nodded, thinking quietly for a moment before continuing. “We were told that you discovered some technology yesterday. We are looking for the person who was trying to use it.”

  “The box that was attached to the little girl?”

  “Yes.”

  “I think the police are already looking into that.”

  “We already have inquired into the case. The case appears to be considered closed.”

  “That’s likely. It was a missing person case. We rescued the girl, the police will pick up the man who had likely abducted her, and have him in custody. It seems pretty cut-and-dry.” Her focus on the man’s face sharpened, looking for the telltale signs of lies and fabrications. She focused hard, looking for twitches in his eyes, microdilation of his pupils, and flutters in the voice that would give away an ulterior motive.

  “The box’s users are our goal. The people who did this may be doing this to others. The police are not interested in the motive, only the result, and because of you, they now have their result.”

  “So that I am clear, you are willing to pay for i
nformation on the person or people using the box?”

  “Yes. Specifically, who attached it to the child.”

  “Dana?” Olivia called through the open door.

  The tall woman stepped through, paperwork packaged in a neat, professional folder. For a brief moment, Olivia felt guilty for harassing her.

  “No paperwork please,” said the pale man. “We are willing to triple your fee in order to guarantee your discretion.”

  Olivia took the papers from Dana and stared at the man. “A lot of people come through that door.” She pointed behind him. “A few of them offer money for me to do illegal things that they can’t or won’t do. You do realize that no matter how much money you pay me, I won’t lie to the police. I won’t steal, and I won’t murder. If you want a mercenary, there’s a bunch down the street.”

  The man raised a hand, silencing her. “We only wish for you to pursue this quietly and quickly. Nothing more. We wish to remain anonymous.”

  “I would feel better if we had this in writing, but I think a fifty percent deposit for a week’s worth of hours would be fine.”

  “I can only provide the deposit in cash. I expect you to produce the same result that you have for others, but this time off the books.”

  “Who did you say that you work for?”

  “I did not. We are a small private group of concerned citizens. Nothing more.”

  “You also didn’t tell me your name.”

  He paused for a moment. She could almost see him thinking carefully. “You can refer to me as Mr. Grey. Here is my contact information.” A simple white card slid across the desk. Picking it up, Olivia could see that it was blank, save for a phone number on one side.

  “Well, Mr. Grey, since it looks like I will be taking on your case, what other information can you provide about the box and the little girl? Is there anything I should know?” Olivia asked.

  “We do not know anything about the girl and very little about the box.”

  Olivia watched for the familiar eye twitches and muscular movements of the face. If he was lying, he wasn’t showing it. On the other hand, she had seen politicians and sociopaths lie so well that even she couldn’t tell.

  “Nothing at all?” she prompted again.

  He stared at her for a moment too long. “No.”

  His immovable demeanor bothered her. A paying customer was a paying customer, though.

  Olivia stood and extended her hand, and he looked at it for a moment before grasping it. His ice-cold palm wrapped around hers in a strong grip. Quick to be rid of the clammy feeling, she pumped his hand twice and released quickly. It was like shaking hands with a corpse.

  “Dana can take your payment. I’ll start today by interviewing the girl and her captor.”

  The man walked to the front desk and pulled an envelope from his coat. Removing a thick wad of bills, he placed it on the secretary’s desk.

  “No receipt is required,” Mr. Grey said. His voice continued to be monotone, with a carefully paced rhythm.

  Dana looked sideways at Olivia. It wasn’t often that such a large down payment in cash was made.

  Standing in the doorway, Olivia nodded subtly, watching the interaction.

  “I’ll give you a call later today to tell you what I have found out,” Olivia said.

  “Thank you.” Mr. Grey turned and strolled out of the office.

  Dana and Olivia stood waiting silently until the suited man had stepped into the hall and the doors closed. They waited silently for a full ten seconds before looking at each other.

  “What a strange man,” Dana said.

  “Agreed. He was weird.”

  Dana lifted the stack of bills off the table. “No receipt? When was the last time someone didn’t want a receipt for this much money?”

  Olivia shrugged. “I could care less. This should be easy. He wants to find out who abducted those little girls. Should be easy to find out, since the police already are going to do half of the job for me.”

  “Can I have my jacket back?”

  “Sure.” Olivia slipped it off and handed it back to her secretary. “This should be a quick case. I’m going to check with Gabe. He’s probably already got the kidnapper to talk. This will be an easy one.”

  “He was a weirdo,” Dana stated.

  “Yup,” Olivia said. She pulled on her own jacket, covering up her shoulder holster. “You mind depositing that?”

  Dana draped the returned jacket over her arm. “Sure. I’ll pay some bills with it as well.”

  “On second thought, that’s a lot of money to be walking around with. You want me to take it to the bank?”

  “No, I can manage. I’ll do it at lunch.”

  “Thanks, Dana. How about a kiss for good luck?"

  Dana stepped back. "No."

  "I'm single again. Limited time offer.”

  “Sad to hear that. Would a slap suffice?”

  “I’ll take that as a no.” Olivia shrugged and headed for the elevator.

  IT TOOK A HALF OF AN hour on the crosstown transit. Much faster than trying to drive herself. Unless she had something specific that needed transport, there was no reason to use a vehicle. Getting stuck in midday traffic was almost as bad as rush hour.

  Holding on to the overhead handle of the streetcar, she dialed Gabe with her other hand. It rang three times before he picked up.

  “Gabriel here,” came the detective's voice.

  “Hey, Gabe. Sorry about cancelling on lunch. Had a client walk in, and now I need some info on who our Yakuza friend is. Mind if we work together again?”

  “Sure. But I don’t think we’re getting anything out of him.”

  “How so?”

  “Guy’s not talking.”

  “Can I get five minutes with him?”

  There was a pause on the other end as Gabe considered the request. “Sure. Work your voodoo on him, but any leads or info you find on your case gets shared.”

  “I thought this one was closed?”

  “I have soft spot for people who kidnap girls and torture them.”

  “Oh, that’s sweet. I didn’t know you had a soft side.” Olivia smiled.

  “Don’t tell anyone.”

  “Don’t worry, no one would believe me. A cop who actually wants to solve crimes? Who knew?” Olivia hung up.

  Lucky for her, the streetcar stop was a block from the police station. It took her less than ten minutes to make her way through the late afternoon crowds. As Olivia approached the police station, the crowded blend of petty criminals being discharged and police officers coming and going left her with a feeling of both hope and sadness for the city.

  The police station itself was surrounded by thick concrete barricades staggered across the street and around the entranceway, extended out into the street. Gabe had told her it had once been a bank before the black arrived. Now it was reinforced against the possibility of gangs attempting to reclaim their members or cultists trying to build a new world order based on their crazy ideas.

  She could see pockmarks on the carved stone pillars outside the front doors. Scars from a recent gun battle. Armed sentries stood at the top of the low stairs, eyeing the ebb and flow of the pedestrians entering and exiting. Olivia smiled lightly at the nearest as she passed through the doors.

  Inside was a riotous cacophony of angry voices, shouted orders, and pleas for help. Three windows stood against the wall opposite the door. They were covered by thick bulletproof glass, save for a speaker and microphone to allow a person to communicate. Here the victims of recent crimes queued to ask for help, while associates of criminals filled out paperwork for the release of their peers.

  Olivia skipped the busy clerk at the front desk and walked to a nearby wall-mounted phone. Quickly punching in the familiar extension, she dialed Gabriel’s desk.

  It rang once. “Hello?”

  “It’s Olivia. I’m out front.”

  “I’ll be right there,” Gabe said.

  Hanging up the handset,
she watched the room. There were at least five heavily armed police officers milling about. She counted twenty more people in the lines.

  Behind her, the door to the duty desk area opened. Gabe waved her through, past two more armed police officers standing just behind the door.

  “You guys beef up security?” Olivia asked.

  Gabe and Olivia dodged and weaved past officers coming and going from the expanse of desks and cubicles.

  “Yeah, we’ve been getting lots of problems from a number of gangs that are starting to organize. Some of them don’t like how we are disrupting their operations. A few have been getting pretty bold. It’s a precaution.”

  “You think they would try to overrun a police station?”

  “No, we're pretty fortified and have lots of hands on deck. I think they would just try to hit and run. None of us want to see anyone hurt. We're just being careful.”

  Amid the sea of police desks, Gabriel was somehow able to find his own, taking a seat behind it.

  “Careful is good,” Olivia said. She jammed her hands into her coat pockets and slumped into a well-worn chair next to the desk. She wondered how many victims had sat in the chair pleading with Gabe to find their family members or deal with the gangs selling drugs on their streets.

  “I’ve already got our guy in an interrogation room down the hall. I just need the files.”

  “Files? Thought we were going to talk to him.”

  “Everything runs on red tape here. For every hour of police work I do, I have to do twice as much time in paperwork. Catching a criminal means that I spend a day or two in court and a week at my desk.” Gabriel pulled the files out of his desk and relocked the drawer. In the brief time the drawer had been open, she could see it filled with files of cases yet to be solved.

  “Why do I feel like I’m causing you more trouble?”

  “Not at all. I'm used to the desk work. Honestly, I am looking forward to retirement, though, but I’d like to have a few wins before then. You tend to help me more than hinder.”

  “You’re not going to give me the ‘you should have been a cop’ speech again, are you?”