Man Behind the Wheel (The Next Half Century Book 1)

by Steve Rzasa

  Aldo limped for a cabinet—one of several locked, gunmetal gray units—and opened it with his implant. “So. Sara. You never mentioned her. I never even saw a pic.”

  “Nobody’s business but my own.” Rome waited for him by a table laden with all sorts of computer innards, most of which he didn’t recognize.

  “Yeah, but Thad knew.”

  “He saw Sara and me at dinner once. Didn’t say anything to either of us. I didn’t think he’d noticed. Apparently, he had.”

  “You know he pinged our tags, right? That’s how he found us.”

  “Hell.” Rome ground a dirt clod into the concrete floor. “Drivers aren’t supposed to do that to each other.”

  “Guess the rules don’t apply to our buddies at Del Norte.” Aldo brought a tiny, white circle with trailing blue wires to the table. “Okay, clear out.”

  Rome slid farther along. “Not seeing how this will cheer me up.”

  “This bad boy is going to data hunt, and he’s going to look in here.” Aldo pulled a thin black wafer from one pocket and a battered silver lump from the other.

  “Is that from our android ghost?”

  “Yep—the receiver used to operate it remotely, and its CPU. Such as it is.” Aldo connected blue wires to both the wafer and to the silver lump. “That thing had fewer brains than a cheap vacuum. Wasn’t meant for independent use.”

  “You think whoever’s at the top of this gang was dumb enough to leave incriminating data on the CPU?”

  “Not really. But I figured, since Thad gets to do the questioning, we should dig on our own while he’s wasting time.” Aldo tapped at his implant. Green lights flickered on all three objects lined up on his table. “Okay. Well, good news is you didn’t completely blow the brains out of the android when you shot it.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Hey, not complaining. Bad news? There’s not a lot stored in the CPU besides the basic commands—evade, shoot, et cetera. What I’m hoping for is… ha! Bingo.”

  A set of numbers scrambled by strange characters trickled across the interface. Rome frowned. “Encoded.”

  “Yeah. Give me a sec.” Aldo glanced at the car, and when he spoke again, pitched his voice louder. “Hey Marcy? I’m sending you a stream. See if you can decrypt.”

  [Receiving data. Running decryption… stand by.]

  Rome’s implant vibrated. He checked its display. Kelsey again.

 

  There was still time. It was only Tuesday morning. Marcy could drive them the whole way. Even better, they could fly. Gabriela was good for a favor or two. A quick hop on the Condor would give him even more leeway.

  He brought up a still image from his implant’s memory. Himself, with less gray and a big grin, plus a younger Kelsey and two kids—an impish Vivian and gangly, smiling Jake. He had the same black hair as Rome, hazel eyes like his mother, and the barest sprinkling of freckles. Those were inherited somewhere along the genetic line on Kelsey’s side—a great-uncle, he thought.

  “You, uh, busy?” Aldo flipped through projected screens of information.

  Rome showed him the image. “Six years ago.”

  “Oh. Pre-Sara.”

  “Pre- lots of things. Adultery, fights, divorce…” Rome shrugged. “People change. She didn’t understand that, about me or herself.”

  “’Least you get to see the kids.”

  “I’m their father. That’s the deal. I could be closer, but since she moved to Massachusetts… well, I’d be hard pressed to find any work near there.”

  “No kidding. Not without taking a 20 percent penalty.”

  “Think they call it a ‘Safe Roads Fee.’”

  “Yeah, or you could call it what it is—tax on Drivers,” Aldo grumbled. “Makes me glad for the idiots who go around breaking the law every day. Keeps us gainfully employed.” His implant chirped. Before he could check out the results, Marcy said, [Decryption complete. Partial recovery only.]

  She wasn’t kidding. The gibberish resolved to a set of instructions, and a broken string of numbers. Rome recognized the latter immediately. “Latitude and longitude. Looks like there’s missing digits.”

  “Probably damaged. What about those instructions? ‘Rally barn and steady. Silence. Phase Two imminent. Scapegoat marked.’ That’s weird.”

  “No kidding. Lock all that away.”

  “With the case files?”

  “No. Set up your own storage for sensitive information.” If he stored it in the case files, there was the chance Thad could get his hands on the data, and bringing in the fourth member of the thieves’ team might cinch him the entire bounty.

  Aldo smirked. “Already got one. Consider it done.”

  “Okay. So, the coordinates—they look to be East Coast, or near there. Narrows it down to the last third of the Ninety.”

  “Could be anywhere within a few hundred miles north and south, though.”

  “That’s why you and Marcy need to rebuild the missing digits. There has to be a remnant somewhere in there, right?”

  “Maybe. Not that simple…” Aldo snapped his fingers. “But, hang on. If I can get the receiver working again, maybe I can use it to ping the transmitter. Find out where that is.”

  “Good. You get cracking on the receiver and have Marcy crunch the numbers.” Rome thought of another possibility, and started for the door.

  “Hey, where are you going?”

  “To continue my questioning.”

  ~

  He was right. Thad had separated the prisoners. Now it was just a matter of waiting.

  After forty-five minutes of sitting on a couch in a reception corner stocked with a holo projector that displayed baseball stats and game highlights, Rome saw Enrique lead Sara from the interrogation room to a holding space down the hall. Their backs were turned to him.

  Rome watched the baseball announcer, though it had been years since he’d been to a game. Hockey was more his speed where the guys flew around the ice, fast as cars. Never standing still. But, by watching the holo, he saw Enrique and Sara’s reflections in the transparent divider that separated a table and four chairs from the rest of the waiting area.

  Enrique and Sara went in, but Enrique came out with Cuellar instead. They went back to the interrogation room. As soon as that door hissed shut, Rome moved.

  He reached the door to the holding room. The security plate on the wall scanned his badge and implant before it slid open.

  A young man in FTZ Security tans sat just inside the door, his cap perched on the corner of a low table. He read something on the table’s display surface. The other two walls had four doors with opaque panes in their centers. Two glowed a soft yellow with blurry silhouettes visible. The others were dark.

  “Pursuit Specialist Jasko, here to see one of the suspects,” Rome said.

  The young man nodded, eyes never leaving his display. “Badge and implant clearance.”

  Rome presented his badge and let the guard scan his implant… again… which the kid did as numbly as a bot.

  “You’re clear. Which suspect?”

  “Sara Haig.”

  The kid looked up. “She just came back from questioning.”

  “Sure did. Now she’s in for Round Three. Open the door.”

  As soon as the door unlocked and opened, Sara was on her feet. Rome stepped through.

  “I didn’t think they allowed conjugal visits here,” Sara said.

  Rome held his finger to his lips until the door slid shut.

  “There’s nothing for me to say to you, Rome. I know they’ve got listening devices, probably all over this place.”

  “I took care of that.” Rome tapped his implant. “Driver’s prerogative—privacy in questioning. Only thing that will record is my implant, which will then pass it along to FTZ Security, but I disabled the function.”

  “Oh.” She rubbed her hands together. Rome noted scrapes across the knuckles of her right hand and a l
ong bruise on the left. She had a series of bumps and scratches all over her arms.

  “Sara, what’s going on?” Rome stood in front of her, hands on his hips. “Last time we talked you were working on boundary disputes along the Texas border.”

  “I was. Satellite demarcation, automaton reinforcement. Unfortunately, the Republic doesn’t subscribe to the infallibility theorem where comps are concerned. Every square foot I mapped was challenged.” Sara smoothed out what few bunches there were in the skin-tight black pants. “Didn’t help that I had armed men shadowing me the entire way.”

  “Okay. Fast forward a year and here you are. With thugs like Cuellar and Brand, ripping doors and implants off luxury cars.”

  The corner of her mouth twitched. “Change of scenery.”

  “No doubt the money was good.”

  “Is good. And yes, I enjoy the challenge.”

  “The challenge of being a modern-day train robber? Come on, Sara. Where did you meet up with your crew?”

  “The Net.”

  “Where did you get your equipment?”

  “Trade secret.”

  “This isn’t a game, Sara. I need you to tell who’s in charge of this thing. Any cooperation you can give means the consequences will be less severe down the line.”

  “Less severe? Than what? Having no freedom?” Sara’s expression twisted away from the charming smile.

  Rome searched his memories from their months together for a time when she looked this bitter, but he came up blank.

  “Maybe you’re more like them than I thought, Rome. Do you like having your electronic shepherd taking you everywhere you need to go? Making all your decisions for you?”

  “What are you talking about? I’m a Driver, Sara. I get paid to do what everybody else can’t.”

  “Yet you probably still rely on the machine every second you get.” She gestured with her wrist. “You’re hooked into those.”

  Rome glanced at his implant. “Are you serious? My family lives half a continent away from me. How else am I going to stay in touch?”

  “You’re so trapped in society’s mindset you can’t even see what’s going on. Everything that makes us human is being stripped away. We’re not individuals anymore.”

  “So that means you get to assault people and steal their belongings.”

  “We need funds.”

  “Dammit, Sara…” Rome rubbed his chin. It was his fault for letting her drag him into some nonsensical discussion about philosophical ideas. Got him riled up. He took the images in his head of Kelsey, Jake, and Vivian and pushed them aside. “Enough of this crap. Tell me who’s your boss.”

  Sara glared at him. She folded her hands in her lap and rested against the wall.

  Unbelievable. “Look. I’m trying to give you a chance. We owe each other that, don’t we?”

  “You know what? You don’t owe me anything. We had our fun. I’ve moved on to something bigger. Something more important.”

  “What are you—”

  The lights flickered and died.

  The cell plunged into complete darkness. Rome felt a whoosh of air behind him. The door popped open as part of the safety protocols enforced by the building computer. In the case of a fire or outage, no one would get trapped.

  Something hard rammed into his gut. He went down, smacking the back of his head against the frame. Sara’s hands were all over him, but not in the way he’d like. Whatever she was searching for, she didn’t find. He lashed out at her, swinging wildly, but hit only air.

  Distant footsteps and she was gone. The kid guard shouted but the only reply was a blow. It sounded like his nose got broken. More footsteps… hushed whispers. Rome’s head spun. He breathed slow and deep, trying not to vomit.

  When the static in his brain finally cleared, everything was cast in dim, red lights. Emergency backup power?

  His implant flashed. “Aldo.”

  “Rome! What’s going on?” Tinny shouts filled the signal behind Aldo’s voice in Rome’s earpiece. “Everything’s out. We’re trying to open the garage doors but the thing’s locked down.”

  “Grab Marcy out and get over here!” Rome staggered. He slapped a hand against the wall. Okay… good. He didn’t pass out.

  The building shuddered and swayed. Something rumbled like thunder. As it faded, a steady roar grew, muffled by its distance.

  The guard lay slumped by his desk, curled in the fetal position. Rome felt for a pulse. Weak, but there.

  He took the guard’s spazzer. Unlike lethal weapons, it was not bio-locked. Good thing. Rome realized Sara had grappled with him to get ahold of his gun, but Rome had left it back in the Halcyon. Standard security for FTZ West’s holding cells.

  A pair of security men jogged down the hall. They shouted overlapping conversations into their implants. Whatever was going on, it wasn’t good.

  “Talk to me, Aldo.”

  “We’re headed to the HQ building. Got some lights on around the compound, but Marcy’s running us on IR. There’s…” He trailed off. “Uh, Rome? There’s a Condor hovering right outside the garden between the towers… and it does not look like one of ours.”

  Rome skidded on the carpet and altered his course. He shouldered a fire escape door and took the stairs up, two at a time. “You’re sure?”

  “Well, it’s missing the FTZ logo, its internal lights are red, and it’s painted black, so… yes. Not one of ours.”

  “Stay sharp. I’m headed up there now.”

  A sickening buzzsaw sound made the air tremor from somewhere above. Rome knew the noise.

  “They’re shooting up the entire garden!” Aldo shouted through the signal. “Don’t know who’s up there but, unless they’ve got their heads down, they’re dead!”

  Rome burst from the stairs onto the seventh floor and sprinted down the corridor toward the garden. The noise was even louder here. It jarred his teeth. A handful of security guards—two men, a woman, and a pair of Pike robots—were hunkered behind furniture. Beyond them, the door to the gardens was open. Rome counted two bodies—torn and bloodied scraps—and the shredded plastics of more Pike robots.

  “Stay back!” The female guard—a slender Chinese woman—had both hands pressed to a wound on the abdomen of an Asian guy. “They’ve got a heavy MG out there.”

  “The suspects! Where are they?”

  She waved a hand, its palm slick with blood. “We chased them in from both ends. Had them boxed until that thing started shooting up the garden.”

  The steady stream of machine gun fire died out. Rome got up from his crouch. “Cover me.”

  “With what?”

  It was a fair question. A quick inventory revealed the guards carried only spazzers. Rome felt ridiculous stepping through that door, shoes crunching broken glass and squishing ripped leaves, with only a weapon that could incapacitate a person.

  “This a bad time?” Aldo’s voice muttered inside his earpiece.

  “You could say that.” Rome swept his spazzer in an arc. The men on the floor were both dead, no question. He didn’t need a scanner—there wasn’t enough left of their bodies. His heart hammered from the adrenaline and the gnawing anger. The ache in his chest grew. These guys with whom Sara was involved, they weren’t just petty thieves and robbers anymore. They were killers.

  The garden was a long corridor with high transparent ceilings and walls. A rock slab walkway wound through the center, flanked by phalanxes of rhododendrons, ferns, and a whole bunch of greenery Rome didn’t recognize. He just knew that, under other circumstances, the brilliant greens and rainbow of flower colors, coupled with the heady aromas, could be far more relaxing than any virtual reality program.

  The pitch of the Condor’s engines changed. Wind blew through a jagged hole in the right side of the corridor where a 20-foot section was broken. Two figures stood framed in the opening. Sara was one of them, her hair whipping around her.

  “Sara!” Rome called.

  The man in front of her leaped out. S
he looked Rome’s way with terror in her eyes, and jumped, too.

  Gone.

  ~

  Rome’s race downstairs was a blur. People shouted, alarms blared, medics scrambled into the building with flocks of med-drones—the little winged robots with flashing red lights and boxes of emergency supplies slung underneath. Then he was outside. The damp air immediately soaked him.

  The Halcyon sat there, engine rumbling. Rome threw himself into the driver’s seat. “Where is it?”

  “Headed east, but not quick. I don’t know what they’re doing but they’re not shooting out of here.” Aldo winced. “Sorry, bad choice of words.”

  “Marcy, switch to pursuit.”

  [There is no illegal driver case indicated. Target is needed—]

  “The aircraft headed on the vector you and Aldo tracked!” He slapped his hand to the dash. “Override and confirm!”

  Marcy lagged. [Free Travel Zone emergency status confirmed. Bypassing standard pursuit protocols.]

  A few seconds later, Rome had them out on the main ramp to the Ninety. Traffic peeled away from them. The Condor was highlighted on the windshield, a dot far ahead and descending.

  “There’s no aerial response from FTZ.” Aldo shifted in his seat. He rubbed at his leg, where the bullet left its mark. “Localized EMP. Blew out everything. Good thing the garages are hardened against that kind of crap.”

  “Good thing. Marcy, triangulate the possible landing sites for the aircraft.”

  [Affirmative.]

  “Looks like we’re first out of the gate,” Aldo said. “Everyone else is catching up. Gabriela says she should be airborne in five.”

  Rome nodded, but didn’t say anything. The skies cleared out, the grays splitting open for blues to cut through. The Halcyon’s tires hissed across the wet highway. It helped him calm himself.

  Two men dead.

  They reached the landing site, but too late. The Condor sat in a vacant lot by a half-demolished building. A hulking deconstruction robot pulled chunks of concrete and strings of rebar free, dumping them into reclamation chutes. The mech made Rome think of a gorilla, only two stories tall and yellow, with arms as big as the Halcyon.