Exposed (Interplanetary Spy for Hire Book 2)

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Exposed (Interplanetary Spy for Hire Book 2) Page 23

by Ell Leigh Clarke


  Merry immediately lost what little of her appetite she had left. “Okay, but don’t freak out.”

  Fred gnawed on the last bit of his twig. “At this point, nothing could freak me out.”

  Vlad pointed at Fred in agreement. “Ditto.”

  Merry raised her eyebrows. Okay… “Jayne opened the VR access for Burrett.”

  Vlad and Fred coughed, spewing twig and lettuce out on the table. “WHAT!?”

  “Shut up!” Merry waved her hands down. “Stay quiet! I told you not to freak out.”

  Vlad held his head in his hands. “Why the fuck would she do that?”

  Merry leaned in toward them, speaking as quietly as possible. “In exchange for information about the hand-off.”

  Fred shook his head. “That doesn’t sound right. Jayne wouldn’t do that.”

  Merry wiped the lettuce and twig bits in front of her off the table. “She told me herself, Fred. These were her words.”

  “Whoa, stop. When did you see Jayne?” Vlad said, leaning forward and lowering his voice.

  “Yesterday. I found her at the shuttle port.”

  There was nothing but disappointment among the three friends, and the food didn’t do anything to help.

  “What do we do now?” asked Fred.

  Merry straightened up. She had never been more serious in her entire life. Now that Jayne was gone, someone needed to step up. Someone had to be the leader. “We have to stop him.”

  Vlad nodded. “Mmm. Mmhmm. Yeah. I like this idea. It’s very stupid.”

  Merry leveled with him. “Burrett is our responsibility, too. Especially now. We have to stop him.”

  Vlad stroked his chin. “How?”

  Merry had been thinking about this, and she had arrived at the same answer every time. “We go to the source.”

  Fred stared at Merry, stunned. “You mean Burrett?”

  Merry nodded, but that wasn’t good enough for Vlad. “And how do we do that?”

  Merry smiled. “We meet with him.”

  The stench of patchouli wafted over to the table, and Chrysalis immediately followed. “Hey guys, how is everything over here?”

  Merry, Vlad, and Fred all smiled. “Great! Thanks!”

  Chrysalis smiled back. “Well, that check is ready whenever you guys are.” He placed his hands together and walked away in a seeming meditative state.

  Merry groaned. “This is the worst restaurant I’ve ever been to in my entire life.”

  Fred pushed Merry to get out of the booth. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Merry stayed put. “Ow. What? Where are you going?”

  Fred kept pushing. “If we’re going to have a VR meeting with the most dangerous man on Amaros, I’m going to need actual food in my belly. Let’s go get pancakes! Come on, let’s move!”

  Merry glanced at Vlad. Vlad meekly shrugged in agreement. Merry chuckled heartily. “Sure, let’s go. Vlad, you got this, right?”

  Vlad stammered, “I… Wait, we should split—”

  Merry was already out of the booth, with her bag in hand. “Cool! We’ll be outside waiting on a cab.”

  Fred followed right behind her. “Yeah, thanks Vlad!”

  Merry smiled. “Yeah, thanks Vlad. You’re a real peach!”

  Vlad grumbled as he pulled out his credit chip and scanned it over the panel in the table. He missed the office. It was far less expensive than their new approach to espionage work.

  +++

  Briefing Room 2B, Espionage Academy, Avalon Space Station

  Dean Geiger woke up feeling like there was a power drill between his ears trying to get out. His hangovers were getting worse. Old age, likely. Or stress. Probably both. Boy did he hate getting old.

  While waiting in the backroom adjacent to the briefing room, he pulled out his comm and looked over his notes. He wrote most of them down the night before, swaying in and out of consciousness. The notes were indecipherable. “Jayne mus die. Jayne mus t become a hat person”

  Geiger assumed he meant “a hated person”. He didn’t know Jayne’s opinion on headwear, nor did he care. He still agreed with his drunken judgment. He had to completely sway the public’s opinion against Jayne. There was an undercurrent of folk-hero worship around Jayne. Especially among the youth and the lower classes. He had an answer to that. He looked at the next line of his notes. “Make people see Jayne bad. Dissecting person.”

  Okay, Geiger remembered this one. He had meant ‘dissenting person.’ He wanted to paint Jayne as a dissenting person. The notes got worse as they went along, as he got drunker. He really struggled with the next one. “Yo have prtect them and love. Safety, love, poplee, dddd, save the day! Weiner”

  Noora walked in from the briefing room. “Dean Geiger?”

  Geiger kept his focus on the note, trying to decipher it. “Yes, Noora?”

  “They’re ready when you are, sir.”

  Geiger nodded. “Good. One more minute.” He looked over the note again and again. Protecting them? Love? Poplee?

  Dean Geiger briefly considered giving up drinking, but then the meaning behind his gibberish crystalized. Protect and love them. Them meant the people. He had to guarantee safety. He had an opportunity to save the day, and that would guarantee him the election. Weiner was supposed to be ‘winner.’ And he assumed ‘dddd’ was just the result of him dozing off while typing.

  Geiger slid the comm into his pocket, straightened out his tie, and walked into the briefing room.

  Photo drones swarmed him, snapping photos and taking live holograms.

  The press, who Geiger had grown to both increasingly hate and increasingly see the usefulness of, began hounding him with questions as soon as he appeared in the room.

  The flashes from the photo drones were not doing his hangover any favors. He stood behind the podium and waited a moment for any break in the assault of questions before starting to speak.

  “Mister Geiger, there have been rumors of information breaches in the new system. Can you confirm this?”

  “Is it true that Jayne successfully fled Theron Techcropolis?”

  “Footage leaked yesterday of you throwing a temper tantrum on a golf course. Care to comment?”

  Geiger realized he would have to bring the room to order himself. “Thank you, thank you. The purpose of today’s briefing is to make an announcement!” He bit the last word hard, doing his best to make it crystal clear that he had no interest in answering any of their asinine questions. “I would, however, like to address some of these issues your questions are touching on. Yes, Jayne was able to leave Theron Techcropolis.”

  The reporters burst into more questions, but Geiger contained them with the gentle, downward swaying of his hands. “I would like to stress that this is not a strike against our brave law enforcement and security. It is only a testament to how dangerous Jayne Austin truly is. We have further intel that she was involved with organizing a meeting between two of the most dangerous gangs in Deep Wen, Headless Hope. A Federation sanctioned task force intervened, yet Jayne managed to escape.”

  The reporters burst forth with an uncontrollable tidal wave of queries. Geiger spoke over the journalistic roar. “Once again! This is a testament to how dangerous she is. I would like to thank the citizens of Theron Techcropolis and the Federation at large for their many contributions toward finding and neutralizing Jayne. You have been using the wide information dispatch on her to full effect, and we thank the cooperation of our citizens.”

  Dean Geiger mentally patted himself on the back. That’s right. Show a little gratitude. The people like to feel special. Everyone wants to be part of something. “There is no doubt about it. Jayne Austin is a dissenting individual. Not only against the Federation, but against decency, humanity, and… love itself. Her evils are boundless in their disregard for the well-being of others. As Prime Minister, I not only promise to capture Jayne Austin, but I will reward and honor any citizen who is able to ultimately lead us to her capture!”

  He was really
working himself up into a frenzy now. Maybe it was just the hangover but sweat formed on his brow. He waved his fists wildly for emphasis, driving them back and forth as if he was wielding the sword of justice. “Our security forces will have every right to kill Jayne Austin on sight. As far as I am concerned, there is no more room, or risk worth taking, in allowing negotiations with Jayne Austin! The threat of her opposition to the Federation has led me to decide, as Prime Minister, that each citizen deserves the right to defend our Federation. They deserve as much a right to defend their safety and freedom as our security forces have a right to do so for them. And so, if elected, I promise that citizens will be granted permission to kill Jayne Austin on sight, should they ever find themselves a situation that allows them to do so. We are left with no other choice, and we will not be safe until the threat of terrorism by the hands of Jayne Austin is stopped once and for all!”

  The flood gates opened. Reporters practically screamed at the top of their lungs. They waved in the air, they scrambled over each other and stood on chairs to get a question out.

  But Geiger only had a few choice words for them. “No questions at this time.”

  He straightened his tie, and rebuttoned his suitcoat. He left the podium, photo drones following closely behind him, until he swiped the doors shut before them. He left behind a room full of reporters who would have no choice but to deliver the most extreme stories of Geiger’s bold new campaign promise.

  He knew it’d be a hit.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Corner of 16th and Breoca, L48, Theron Techcropolis, Amaros

  Fred had his earphones in, blasting junkcore at dangerous decibel levels. He’d been trying to get into it ever since the subculture began to embrace Jayne as a counterculture folk-hero.

  He couldn’t get into it. He’d always had a hard time with instrumental stuff. He felt that instruments were only there to keep the lyrics afloat. The lyrics were what he really appreciated in music. But he kept listening to junkcore, doing his best to support it and the musicians who, some of them, had been rather outspoken about their support for Jayne.

  ‘F.I.J.’ had become a popular acronym among junkheads. It was sometimes numerically encoded to 6910, many tattooing the code on their knuckles. Free Innocent Jayne, that’s what it stood for.

  As much as Fred respected their cause, and as much as he hoped they were on the right side of history for supporting his dear friend who very well might be a dangerous criminal, Fred had become more and more comfortable with his doubts. At times, he used his doubts as an excuse to justify their failure to crack this case.

  Fred stopped at a Bagel Machine at the corner of 16th and Breoca. He ordered an everything bagel with synthetic lox and chives, and triple-extra cream cheese.

  Fred watched through the glass viewing screen as the Bagel Machine flash-baked the thick dough. Fred tapped on the side of the machine as rapidly as possible, trying to keep up with the junkcore song “Sledge Butter” destroying his eardrums. Fred’s tapping along was barely in league with the song’s programmed rhythm of 600bpm.

  Fred lamented the fact that he’d never be able to eat a real, handmade bagel. The Bagel Machine boom had put bagel makers out of business almost a century earlier, and the art died with them.

  The Bagel Machine’s product was good, and Fred relied on them frequently for a quick snack on the go. But he couldn’t even begin to imagine how wonderful a traditional bagel would have been.

  The junkcore drowned out the sound of a TTPD cruiser pulling up at the curb, and Fred was too fixated on the cream cheese spewing nozzle to notice the two plainclothes men step out of the backseat of the car.

  That’s why Fred jumped when the first undercover cop yanked his earphones out of his ears. “Ow! What the hell, man?”

  The second, uglier plainclothes man barked at Fred from behind. “Are you Fred Baggins?”

  Fred stuttered an instinctual, “Yeah?” then immediately realized he had made a huge mistake.

  The first undercover cop grabbed Fred’s hands and clasped handcuffs on him.

  The uglier cop spoke without removing the cigarette from his mouth. “Fred Baggins, you’re being arrested under suspicion of committing conspiracy against the Federation and aiding and abetting a fugitive.”

  Fred struggled as the big cop held him close by the wrists. “Hang on! I haven’t had breakfast yet, can I please just have my bagel first? Can I take it with me?”

  The Bagel Machine dispensed the synthetic lox and chives onto the bagel, then dispensed it down into the slot beneath the window. The uglier cop reached down. “Oh, you mean this bagel?” He pulled the bagel and lox out and held it out to Fred.

  Fred nodded. “Yes, can we take it with me? I won’t resist, I’m just really hungry. I have to eat a lot because I have an over-active metabolism. It’s technically a medical condition, I swear.”

  The ugly cop smiled and carefully held out the bagel to Fred. “Sure, here you go. Take a bite.”

  Fred reached out teeth first for the bagel. But as he could just barely taste the crust against his lips, the cop tossed the bagel into the street. “Get in the car, jerkoff.”

  The bagel exploded into the street, smearing cream cheese across the asphalt. To add insult to injury, a cruiser whizzed by, caking the lox in exhaust.

  +++

  Techcropolis Police Station, L45, Theron Techcropolis, Amaros

  The ugly cop, who Fred learned was named Officer Hewitt, pushed Fred down a hallway, repeatedly shoving him in the back until Fred could barely keep from stumbling into the walls. Finally Hewitt grabbed Fred by the wrists, stopping him from falling flat onto his face.

  Hewitt opened a door with no window and threw Fred into the room without any regard for gravity. Fred tripped and landed on his back, crushing his handcuffed wrists in a painful pinch. The first thing Fred saw was the door slamming in his face.

  The second thing was Vlad and Merry, also in handcuffs, sitting in chairs against the far well.

  Merry smiled, genuinely thrilled to see Fred. “Fred!” Then she realized that Fred, handcuffed and locked in the same room as her and Vlad was actually bad news. “Oh, no, Fred!”

  Vlad’s priorities were a little different. “I know this is a reach, but I have to ask. Fred, do you have any ganja on you?”

  Fred glowered up at Vlad. “Yeah, man, just picked up. Let’s hotbox this interrogation room.”

  Vlad lit up. “Really?”

  Fred kicked his feet as he struggled to stand up. “No! Jeeze, Vlad. You seriously have a problem.”

  Vlad shook his head. “It’s not a problem, it’s a hobby.”

  Merry, as usual, felt like the only one in the room who had her priorities straight. “Where’d they get you?”

  Fred rolled up onto his knees and faced his friends. “Bagel Machine on Breoca. That fucking cop threw my bagel in the street! A perfectly good bagel!”

  Vlad sighed. “Bastards.”

  Fred stood up and walked over to the third chair next to Vlad and Merry. There was one more chair, in the far corner. A sign that they wouldn’t be alone much longer. “Where’d they get you guys?”

  Merry motioned to the fact that she wasn’t exactly dressed to go out. “I was staying at a hotel on level 35. The cops knocked the door in with a warrant, practically dragged me out of bed and cuffed me.”

  Fred grimaced. “Yikes! Damn, Merry.”

  Merry shrugged. “Yeah. For aiding and abetting a fugitive and committing conspiracy or something.”

  Vlad nodded. “To be honest, I have some warrants out for my arrest. Possession, mainly possession, smuggling drugs into and out of the city. I have some shit on my record.”

  Merry and Fred craned their necks to look at Vlad. Merry gave Vlad an ‘are you fucking kidding me?’ look. “Are you fucking kidding me? How did they let you teach?”

  Vlad shrugged. “To be honest, that is a good argument for why we need radical reformations in our education system.”

&nb
sp; The door opened and tension flooded the room. Vlad, Merry, and Fred’s stomachs flew up into their mouths, before falling hard down into their groins like an elevator with a snapped cable.

  The gang was so surprised, they questioned what they were seeing. Surely it wasn’t true.

  Either Fred and Vlad were too stunned, or Merry was the first one to believe her eyes. “Cameron!?”

  Cameron, in his trademark white shirt with the sleeves rolled up, tucked into his pleated pants, walked over to the corner and dragged the fourth chair to face his three friends.

  At least, they had been his friends. The current situation made that uncertain.

  Cameron looked at them, embarrassed. He placed a tablet on his lap. “Hey guys. I hope… they didn’t rough you up too much?”

  Merry looked Cameron in the eyes. “Totally great service. Busted down my door and dragged me out of bed. Best wake up call I’ve ever had. Five stars out of five. Would recommend.”

  “And they threw away my bagel.”

  Vlad meekly threw in his own story. “I was driving around L43 and got pulled over for an expired registration, and…”

  Cameron weighed their stories in his mind. “Well, could have been a lot worse. I am sorry about what they did to you, though, Merry. But I needed it to be… real. The cops who arrested you? They’re our strongarm guys. I send them out after our real dangerous suspects.”

  Merry pursed her lips together in growing mistrust of her former friend. “What the fuck are you doing, Cameron?”

  “Keeping it real. Pardon me.” Cameron cleared his throat, then exploded into a rage. “Shut up! We’re not friends anymore, asshole! I know you know where Jayne is, so stop wasting my fucking time!”

  The gang reared back, terrified of this side of Cameron they had never seen before.

  Cameron immediately calmed down and smiled embarrassingly. “This room is safe. No windows, no one-way mirrors, no cameras. This is… Well, this is where some of the more crooked cops take suspects for… heavy negotiating.”

 

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