The BETA Agency

by Maxwell Coffie

  The BETA Agency

  by

  Maxwell Coffie

  Smashwords Edition

  Copyright 2013 Maxwell Coffie

  Smashwords Edition Copyright 2013 Maxwell Coffie

  This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author

  Table of Contents

  Part I:

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 14

  CAHPTER 15

  CHAPTER 16

  CHAPTER 17

  CHAPTER 18

  CHAPTER 19

  CHAPTER 20

  CHAPTER 21

  CHAPTER 22

  CHAPTER 23

  CHAPTER 24

  CHAPTER 25

  CHAPTER 26

  CHAPTER 27

  CHAPTER 28

  CHAPTER 29

  CHAPTER 30

  Part II:

  CHAPTER 31

  CHAPTER 32

  CHAPTER 33

  CHAPTER 34

  CHAPTER 35

  CHAPTER 36

  CHAPTER 37

  CHAPTER 38

  CHAPTER 39

  CHAPTER 40

  CHAPTER 41

  CHAPTER 42

  CHAPTER 43

  CHAPTER 44

  CHAPTER 45

  CHAPTER 46

  CHAPTER 47

  Part III:

  CHAPTER 48

  CHAPTER 49

  CHAPTER 50

  CHAPTER 51

  CHAPTER 52

  CHAPTER 53

  CHAPTER 54

  CHAPTER 55

  CHAPTER 56

  CHAPTER 57

  CHAPTER 58

  CHAPTER 59

  CHAPTER 60

  CHAPTER 61

  CHAPTER 62

  CHAPTER 63

  CHAPTER 64

  CHAPTER 65

  CHAPTER 66

  CHAPTER 67

  CHAPTER 68

  CHAPTER 69

  CHAPTER 70

  CHAPTER 71

  CHAPTER 72

  CHAPTER 73

  Foreword & Acknowledgments

  Whew! Where do I start?

  To truly understand why completing this book is such a huge deal to me, you need to know that novel writing is the least popular occupation in the region where I come from. People look down their noses at you, when you tell them you want to be a writer. They wiggle their brows, and snigger behind your back, like campy movie villains. And though I am aware that this is also true in every other part of the world (except perhaps L.A. and New York, the lucky bastards), it is especially true in Western Africa.

  Yet, I have endured ten years of guffaws, and somehow I have managed to jam pack a lot of writing into a word processor and call it a book. Hurrah and beers all around. Maybe this book will make a million, and maybe it will not. What I am certain of however, is that this book will not be the end. This book is a first step that many aspiring authors like me never succeed in taking. Therefore, I cannot take this moment for granted. I am grateful.

  The BETA Agency merges two of my favourite things: magic and technology. Magic is technology we do not yet understand, I’ve heard people say, and I do believe that. That being said, the rules of ‘magic’ in this story are admittedly complex, but I have faith in your own abilities of reading comprehension (yes, I am trying to butter you up). I hope you will enjoy this plot as much as I enjoyed carving it out, and that you will love the characters—these characters that feel like friends now—as much as I have loved creating them.

  Now, for the acknowledgments. Folks, this is going to take a while. You may skip to the story now if you’d rather not read a long list of names. Unless you’re actually looking for your name, in which case, I sincerely hope I didn’t leave you out.

  I’d like to acknowledge those friends from high school who smacked me across the head every time I failed to complete a story: Reggie, my doppelganger and partner in crime; DS, always and truly ‘so much more’; Chubby, who believes in me more than I do myself; Kojo, who pushed me to think bigger and harder; Ruth, who still makes an effort to support my dreams, even from afar; and Tetty who taught me the true meaning of ‘complex story concepts’, and introduced me to the glorious world of Japanese manga.

  Next, are the friends from college, who fine-tuned me into the writer I am today. Oye, Edem, and Spongy—the three-fold loves of my life; Kevin, who reminded me that even fantasy needs to be a little realistic (advice I still mostly ignored in this book, so ha!); and Thelma, who on many occasions made me feel like I was the next Terry Pratchett. Thanks to Jazzy, Selassie T. and Jonathan Dotse for taking the time to read my work, and giving me confidence when I was losing it. And thanks to the ever frank Eddy for providing honest criticism—you are the reason this book received a much needed rewrite.

  Special thanks to Jeffrey, for staying up late several nights and noticing some very bad (and embarrassing) errors. You are a true friend.

  To Rebecca Crossley, Lydia Martin, Cassidy Stokes, and Rex Eynon: you had no idea who I was, but you still proofread my work for free. You’re all fantastic. Mr. Laurence O’Bryan, thank you for featuring me on your website. I was very grateful for the opportunity.

  Love to my cousins, Joe, Cobby, and Leah, who never mocked my determination to write.

  And finally and most importantly, to the Dreamweaver who has always held my fate in His hands. I thank you, and I love you.

  Done! Told you it was a long list. Wait, are you still reading these acknowledgments? What are you waiting for? Go to Chapter One. Go on. Shoo!

  Thanks for reading.

  Dedication

  This book is dedicated to my ever loving parents. Thanks for not gawking when I confessed I wanted to be a writer. I can never thank you enough for the support. You both are the best.

  This book is also dedicated to the fantastic Sika, my enforcer. Your name translates into treasure. That, my love, is exactly what you are.

  Disclaimer

  This book is a work of fiction. Thus, all characters that appear in this work are completely made up. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  PART I

  Killing

  CHAPTER 1

  Juun Albright was bored.

  Across the table from her, her date was going on and on about some business presentation he had “killed.” Not once had he asked her about her day. He had either not noticed, or not bothered to comment on her hair—the hair she had spent two hours working on before coming here.

  And he was so pretty too. Ruby men often were. When he had asked her out last night at the bar, she had been too distracted by his rippling muscles, dark earthy skin, and bright blond hair. But she was only now realizing that he had called her “sweet thing” at the bar.

  Sweet thing? Really?

  Just as he was recounting for the umpteenth time how he had been so embarrassed when his boss had called him a genius in front of the partners (sure!), Juun’s cell-comm rang.

  Thank Great Light, she thought. “Sorry, I have to take this.” She laughed in her head when he frowned. “Hello?”

  “Hey g
irl.” A friend. “How’s the date going? Is Mister Tall-Dark-and-Handsome as smooth as he looks?”

  “No, he’s a total egomaniac like you have no idea,” Juun grumbled.

  Her date threw her a quizzical look.

  Juun smiled and mouthed, Not you.

  “Really? That’s disappointing. You should leave,” said the friend. “Life’s too short to spend it with a dud.”

  “You know what? You’re right. Give me a moment.” Juun looked up at her date. “I’m sorry. I was talking about you. This isn’t working out.”

  Her date looked bewildered.

  She stood up. “But thanks for dinner though.”

  And with that, she marched right out of the restaurant.

  The voice was laughing over the cell-comm by the time she was on the street. “I didn’t think you were actually going to do that.”

  “Yeah, well, like you said—life is short,” Juun said, flagging down a taxi.

  “Aw, sweetie, I’m sorry.”

  “There’ll be other dates,” she sighed. “I have a tub of ice cream sitting in my freezer. Want to come over and gripe about men?”

  Her friend laughed. “Maybe tomorrow.”

  Juun said goodnight, and the line cut. She sat in the taxi, told the driver her address, and they were off.

  When Juun arrived at her apartment, she stopped. The door was ajar. She could feel bio-mana radiating from inside. The intruder was still in the apartment.

  Her heart began to race. But not from fear. It raced from adrenalin. She was well trained in defensive arts. She had served for a year as a peace guardian at the Rim. On top of that, she was a Lillith, and most Lilliths were extraordinarily intuitive.

  The intruder had picked the wrong apartment to break into.

  She spotted a mop at the end of the hallway, and went to grab it. She snapped off the handle to make a spear, and then treaded lightly into her home.

  It was dark. She didn’t put on the lights. She didn’t need light. She could see in the dark. Also, the bio-mana was sharp, distinct. She traced it right into the living room, and stopped.

  The intruder was sitting in her armchair, waiting.

  Waiting for her.

  “Who the pitch muck are you?” she asked.

  The intruder stood up, and drew a blaster.

  Juun swore, and leapt over her kitchen island, just as everything around her started to explode with white light. She closed her eyes and ears, as glass, metal, and stone burst apart with rapid blaster fire.

  Suddenly, the blasting ceased.

  Juun opened her eyes. The silence was deafening. She reached into her purse for her cell, and dialled triple nil.

  “Metro Emergency Line, what is your emergency?”

  “There’s a killer in my apartment,” she whispered. “Please send someone! Send someone now—ah!”

  A hand grabbed the scarf around her neck, and yanked her from behind the island. But the scarf came lose, and she shoved herself free. She tried to throw a series of quick punches, but she was blocked off, and easily over-powered. Her assailant slammed her headfirst into the side of a cupboard. She crumbled to the ground, and groaned.

  She could hear the muffled voice of the operator from where she lay. When she tried to reach for her cell, the intruder kicked it away, and then sat on her chest. He was wielding a knife.

  “I’ll give you anything you want,” she whispered desperately. “My credit code, my jewellery, everything. You can have everything.” Now she was sobbing, as the blade drew nearer and nearer to her face. “You can have it all.”

  The intruder cocked his head at her. “I already am.”

  Outside Juun’s apartment building, first there was silence.

  Then, there was screaming.

  CHAPTER 2

  I am not a deep sleeper.

  Even in my slumber, I could feel her standing over me. I opened my eyes to see my little sister, Katrice staring at me. She was holding a birthday cake, slathered in rich dark cao, and decorated with lighted candles.

  I was confused. It was still too dark to be morning.

  “What hour is it?” I asked.

  “The third,” she answered, her voice monotone as always. “I read that surprise can be a medium of expressing affection. I do not understand it. But here we are.”

  “Well, I’m surprised,” I said, yawning and sitting up.

  “Today is Tenuary 25th. Happy birthday.” She put down the cake on my bedside cabinet.

  “There are twenty-four candles,” I pointed out.

  “I couldn’t leave it at twenty-three,” she mumbled, as she cut me a slice. “It was asymmetrical. Here.” She handed me a plate of cake. “I hear cao frosting tastes best within the first hour after baking.”

  I received a fork and took a bite. Great Light.

  “This is amazing.” I took another bite. It was so fluffy, so warm. “Wait, did you just make this from scratch?”

  “There were over a hundred and four recipes for cao cake on the cyber-link,” she said, unmoved by my praise. “I picked one.”

  I took another forkful of cake, and wondered why I was surprised. So what if my sister could whip up a cao cake in the middle of the night, to perfection? What didn’t she do to perfection?

  “Happy birthday,” she said again, in case she hadn’t driven home her point the first time. Then she smiled.

  “Yikes.” I laughed. “Your therapy sessions are paying off. That smile almost looks real.”

  Katrice dropped the smile. “I’ve been practising. I’m going back to bed.”

  “Thank you, love,” I called after her. I heard the door to her room close, and sighed.

  Now, I would not be able to go back to sleep. I got out of bed, and headed to the bathroom for a hot shower.

  When I returned, I faced the wall and muttered, “Window.”

  All along the edges of the wall, rubriq symbols glowed neon blue in response to my voice. The wall turned transparent. As I towelled my hair dry, I looked at my reflection in the glass: at the matted red hair and ebony skin, the thin nose, oddly squashed ears, and dark lips. Then, I stared into my gold coloured eyes. Not for the first time, it occurred to me that for a Ruby woman, I could be more beautiful. Not that I cared. Not too much.

  My focus shifted out to the city of Crystal Lake. It was always alive, even at the third hour. Transporters whizzed to and fro, billboards flashed from the sides of buildings, and people moved like a current down in the streets. I rested my gaze on the Pillar, so many throws away, and I smiled.

  I remembered that when I was much younger, I had told Pappy that the Pillar was what held up the sky. Who could blame me? At seventy thousand feet high, and a hundred throws in diameter, if there was anything that held up the sky, it was the Pillar. So convicted was I in my pronouncement, that my father had laughed for moments on end.

  “The Pillar,” he’d explained, “is like a fountain. It draws magic out from the ground, and rains it down from the sky. Magic makes everything work, and it makes everything beautiful.”

  “Like a rainbow,” I had cried.

  Not like a rainbow. But Pappy had laughed, and nodded anyway. “Like a rainbow.”

  Of course, Mammy had corrected me later. Mammy took education so seriously, and she was mortified that Pappy had even used the word ‘magic’. That day I learnt the absolutely tedious details of the Original Mana Theory. In the end, it turned out that if I substituted “magic” for “mana”, and “rain” for “radiate”, Pappy’s explanation was still essentially correct. So then who cared?

  Mammy did, that was who. Great Light, she was an annoying creature.

  But I had loved her.

  And now, images of my mother were flashing in my head; images of her, before she was sick. Then, images when she was.

  I could feel the emptiness coming back to wrench my heart. Would I be able to go back to sleep? Suddenly, I craved my pills. I took deep breaths. Not tonight.

  “Arra,” DEB, the apartm
ent A.I. said suddenly. “There is an incoming call from Reeth Crawer.”

  The Sergeant. At this hour? It could only mean one thing.

  “Voice link,” I commanded.

  “Everglade, if you’re still in bed, get your rump out of it,” Reeth’s voice came.

  I rolled my eyes, and was thankful he couldn’t see me. “Good morning to you too, Sergeant.”

  “District 13, Block E. I’m uploading the address to your cell-comm right now.”

  “A killing, sir?”

  “Yes, but…” There was a pause on the other end. A pause like I had never heard from Crawer. It panicked me slightly. “Just get over here.” The line cut.

  I was already throwing on my pants.

  CHAPTER 3

  When I arrived at the address Crawer had sent me, the place was crawling with enforcers. I parked my tired, rust-coloured transporter on the opposite street, and jumped out.

  “Detective Everglade,” I said, and flashed my badge at the enforcer guarding the door to the building. He shut off the throbbing barrier of yellow light, just in time for me to pass through.

  Evon Jade was waiting for me at the top of the first flight of stairs. Evon was from the world Floris. She was Phyllian, which meant that she was green—green with long jet hair that was often tied up into a ponytail. Tonight, it was resting on her shoulders.

  Upon seeing her, I smiled, in spite of the reason we were here. Evon had been my partner for three years, and my best friend for five. Recently, I had begun to wonder if she wasn’t something more; there were moments when she would offer me one of her alluring smiles, or sly winks, and I would feel a rush to my cheeks, a nervous flutter in my stomach. Sometimes, I felt she was more than just a friend. Another sister, perhaps. Maybe something more.

  Evon grinned as she handed me a cup of kho’late, and I drank deeply. The sweet warmth spread throughout my body.

  I sighed. “Thanks, I needed that.”

  “I figured. Happy birthday.”

  “Not very happy, if we have to spend it here, is it?”

  “Not very.” She sniffed me as we climbed. “What is that? Jamilla spice?”