Fire of the Dark Triad

by Asya Semenovich

  When I woke up in the morning, the sunshine outside was so uplifting that the events of the previous night seemed like a bad dream, except that Kir’s recording of the mysterious shadow would be available to review at any time.

  I moved the only chair out of my way and started pacing the room.

  “So, Kir, let’s look at all aspects of our situation. You must agree that the last two incidents were not only highly improbable, but also rather disturbing,” I said aloud.

  A shiver went down my spine as I remembered the feeling of suddenly going blind.

  “What would you do in my place?” It wasn’t a well-defined question, and Kir naturally kept quiet. “You wouldn’t leave immediately, would you?”

  I gave this thought proper consideration.

  “In fact, Kir, you probably would. Because we don’t know what happened.”

  I imagined turning around and going back to Earth empty-handed, with accounts of some incoherent incidents as an excuse. Then I thought about the outlandish amount of money I’d be leaving behind.

  “But Kir,” I continued, “we’re almost done with the target. I should close the deal tomorrow. And then we can get the hell out of here.”

  I decided to interpret Kir’s silence as a sign of approval even though it was clear that my judgment was clouded. Moreover, I knew for a fact that my strong inclination for getting involved in risky endeavors was my major character flaw. But then again, it was exactly what made me choose my job in the first place. I didn’t want to leave.

  “We’ll proceed as planned, but with extra vigilance,” I said firmly.

  Now there was the practical question of what to do next. Remir would arrive tomorrow morning, and I was already prepared for our meeting. My initial plan was to start looking for a potential Game partner by hanging out at the bustling spots around the city, but given the way things were going, I needed to drop this idea and exercise restraint.

  I felt robbed. The Game was a big reason I liked my job. But now, as nice as it would be, it wasn’t worth the risk, not if I wanted to be on the safe side.

  “Fine, Kir,” I said bitterly, “I’ll give up on women this time.”

  I spent the rest of the day playing some stupid games from Kir’s collection and periodically checking on Remir.

  He started drinking in the morning, and was pretty much out of it by the time he left the hotel for the station. There was precisely one remaining overnight train to the city, but he contemplated the departures screen in the waiting area with deep concentration as if calculating multiple options.

  Finally, he reserved a seat and made a beeline to the small transit bar. When the PA system announced his train’s boarding, he ordered another drink. I was a little alarmed, but Remir made it just in time, the doors closing right behind his back. He immediately proceeded to the restaurant car and settled at the counter next to an attractive brunette. Kir did a quick review of her digital history and confirmed that they didn’t have any prior connections.

  After a couple of stops, they were leaning very close to each other. She laughed and touched his shoulder when he whispered something in her ear.

  Meanwhile, all the news stations were broadcasting a steady rising count of votes in favor of the only presidential candidate. I turned off the displays and, disappointed by the boring day, went to sleep.

  In the morning, everything still looked completely safe. Remir’s interview was scheduled to begin in little less than two hours, and his train was already approaching the city.

  I checked out of the hotel and began walking towards the Media Center. According to Kir, a serious storm was approaching the local shores and the air outside had already cooled down. People on the streets were dressed warmer, but I was fine – my body easily adjusted to the temperature thanks to my genetically enhanced thermoregulation.

  Remir’s train pulled up to the platform, and I asked Kir to use camera feeds to follow him along his way through the city. And then, I abruptly slowed down in the middle of the sidewalk. Instead of the station arrival area, I was looking at the closed door of a guest room in the hotel where we had met two days ago.

  I must admit, I didn’t expect this development and automatically continued walking towards the Government District as Kir showed me the events with Remir from the previous night. According to video records, Remir and his female acquaintance got off the train after several stops and took a taxi back to Oren.

  Let’s not call it a failure, I tried to console myself, let’s call it an incomplete success. Strictly speaking, nothing particularly bad had happened, at least not for me. It simply meant a slight change in my plans. Not that I was happy about extending my stay on Beta Blue, but it wasn’t a big deal. The delay should not be too significant. Remir had just gotten himself into serious trouble with the authorities, and his psychological state wouldn’t be any better after the problematic interview. Anyway, the beginning had been way too smooth.

  By now, I was next to the Media Center plaza. There was obviously nothing for me to do here anymore, but before turning back I decided to make a brief stop at the familiar observation deck to figure out the logistics for my travel back to Oren. Unfortunately, someone was already there. A woman in an elegant, but very simple white dress with a short light cape was leaning on the railing and looking down at the city. Her clothes flapped in the strong wind, but she didn’t seem to notice the chill, her pose was relaxed and casual. I turned to leave, and she suddenly looked in my direction. Dark sunglasses shaded her face, and her shoulder-length brown hair had been completely disheveled by the breeze. She was holding a plastic cup, and I noticed an expensive looking bottle of wine sticking out of the bag over her shoulder. I thought that it was a bit bizarre, but then again, I wasn’t completely sure about local customs. Maybe it was completely normal for women to drink from disposable glasses outside government buildings in the morning.

  She suddenly walked towards me, smiling. There was something slightly unnatural in her smile, but she was very attractive, which at the moment was the only thing I truly cared about. She stopped in front of me and pulled another plastic glass from her bag.

  “This wine is excellent,” she said cheerfully, “you have to give it a try!”

  “Is there a special occasion?” I smiled back, accepting the container.

  She didn’t answer. Instead, she poured me the rest of the dark red liquid from the almost empty bottle.

  “You aren’t local,” she stated.

  “No,” I agreed readily. It was pleasant not to lie. Unfortunately, it didn’t last. “I’m a provincial reporter, came here to cover the elections. Live news from the streets, you know.”

  Apparently, it satisfied her curiosity since she didn’t ask any more questions.

  At the close range she looked even better. She was slender, not as tall and athletic as an average woman on Earth, but her proportions were nice, and a hint of fragility gave her some extra points in my eyes.

  “It’s very nice here,” I said and took a sip of wine, pretending not to notice gusts of cold wind.

  “True. Too bad that I don’t come here often,” she nodded.

  “It’s a beautiful city,” I continued, “I wish I knew it better.”

  It was a blatant lie – the buildings below reminded me of a dead coral reef now, gray and petrified in the bright light of the morning. But I wanted to keep the conversation going.

  She didn’t say anything to this, however. I noticed that her lips were bluish and her teeth were chattering slightly.

  “You’re freezing,” I suggested.

  “Yes,” she agreed. A vertical line appeared on her forehead, and she looked around as if surprised by her surroundings, but the strange expression quickly went away.

  “Do you want me to show you the city?” she asked abruptly, and I almost choked on my wine. But I recovered immediately.

&nb
sp; “I would love to,” I replied with an enthusiastic smile, “but let me check the flight schedule.” I took the local communication device from my pocket and changed my position so that she couldn’t see the screen.

  Kir, is she a security concern? I typed, holding my small tablet away from her.

  “No, Nick,” he said immediately.

  I was about to ask him for details of her background, but then stopped myself. It would ruin the Game by giving me an unfair advantage. What Game, I thought, remembering my promise to be vigilant. But this was too appealing to pass up.

  Remir could wait. Not much would change in the next few hours, and it was better not to analyze my decision-making process too deeply.

  I put away the tablet and looked at her impenetrable dark shades. “There are flights every hour. I’m at your disposal.”

  “Perfect,” she said quickly, “let’s go. I agree that it’s chilly here. It’ll be much warmer at sea level. And the area down there is more fun than this government desert.”

  She looked at the empty plastic cup in her hand and turned, searching for a trash disposal. There were not any in view, so she crumbled the cup and stuffed it into her bag. Then she gestured for me to follow as she headed toward the stairs leading from the overlook.

  “Lita, by the way,” she said over her shoulder.

  I noted that she didn’t ask for my name.

  We crossed the plaza, and she stopped by a stylish, but not particularly new car parked on the side of the relatively busy road. I hesitated for a second, remembering the empty wine bottle, but she laughed, apparently intercepting my concerned look.

  “I’ll put it in automatic mode,” she said opening the door.

  This meant that we would move at a snail’s speed obeying all possible traffic rules, which was annoying, but safe. I got in.

  She punched several buttons on the dashboard, the engine murmured, and the car gently pulled into the street. I quickly became grateful for the extremely conservative style of the autopilot; however, the descent she chose was so steep that I had to hold onto the armrests in order not to slide down. She was silent, and I didn’t say anything either, waiting for further development.

  Soon the road became flatter – we were approaching sea level.

  “Listen, I’ve got an idea,” she said. “Let’s go swimming. And I’ll take you around the city later, after the sun has gone down.”

  I thought about the storm warning, but decided not to argue. Lita fumbled with the console, and the car turned towards the coastline.

  After a couple of sharp turns, a view of the rather stunning bay opened up in a distance. We exited towards a side road leading to the shore and drove under an overhead electronic sign, which flashed a warning about the park closure due to the severe storm.

  I prepared a disappointed expression, but her face lit up.

  “Great! There won’t be any lifeguards today. We’re safe,” she said enthusiastically.

  I wondered what exactly “safe” meant, but by that time the car stopped in the completely empty parking lot at the very edge of the pebble beach. We got out, and I noted that all service booths were indeed closed. The waves were huge, and strong whips of air violently jerked Lita’s light dress. She took it off as if not noticing the cold, crumpled it into a ball and threw it on the front seat. Underneath she was wearing a tight silver leotard.

  For a moment, I forgot about the storm. I already had a pretty good mental image of her body, but the reality notably exceeded my expectations. It was one of those rare occasions when the clothes didn’t hide any faults.

  “We are in luck,” she turned to me, “we can go beyond the buoys!”

  I glanced at the water. Large swells carrying white caps on their crests slammed against the shore like loud thunder and retreated back with an angry hiss. I looked at her with some concern.

  She was hugging her shoulders, her legs and arms covered with goose bumps.

  “The water is warm, we just need to get in,” she said confidently.

  I wasn’t worried about myself, but I had no way of knowing her level of competence in the rough sea.

  “True, but we could freeze when we get out,” I didn’t want to reveal my doubts about her swimming ability and appear overly cautious, either. “I would rather …”

  She took off her sunglasses. There were tears in her eyes, and it was so unexpected that I stopped mid-sentence.

  “It’s the wind,” she said hurriedly.

  Before I had a chance to respond, she ran toward the water.

  “Wait!” I shouted, but she didn’t stop and dove into an approaching wave.

  Her head bobbed up some distance away from the shore, and she took off away from the beach without looking back.

  I remembered the empty wine bottle and her strained smile on the observation deck, thinking that the whole thing was very strange. But something about her had made me guess that she would be an excellent Game player, and, in addition, at this point I was genuinely worried about her safety – the storm was fairly serious. It didn’t seem like I had much of a choice. I shrugged and then undressed down to my brief and went in. Apparently, Kir evaluated the situation as an emergency because he was instantly present and opened a screen with maps of the local currents. It was a good call; however, I immediately noticed that Lita had entered the path of a strong drift, which was moving toward the open sea with the speed of a fast river current.

  I caught up with her, dodging waves by diving underneath their crests, and touched her arm.

  “Hold on!” I tried to outshout the wind. “You are caught in a rip!”

  She stopped swimming forward, but it didn’t slow her down. Then she understood. She turned around and tried to move against the current, but it kept pulling her back. I saw that she was getting really scared.

  “Kir, find an optimal route to the beach,” I muttered under my breath.

  I quickly reviewed the displayed directions and thought that getting back was very doable unless she panicked. I gave her a reassuring smile.

  “Don’t fight it, save your energy! Swim after me!” I tried to keep my voice as calm as possible for a person who was being forced to yell.

  She nodded and followed my lead towards the open sea.

  It seemed to take an eternity to exit the current. When the surge finally let us go, the shore was a significant distance away, but at least it wasn’t getting any farther.

  Then we started our long swim back. I stayed nearby, ready to offer help, but she made it by herself even though her speed kept steadily decreasing, and she clearly struggled at the end. It took us so long that by the time we got out of the water the sun was starting to roll behind the dark cliffs. The wind had become even colder now, but we walked to the car very slowly – she didn’t seem to have the energy for a faster pace.

  Once we were inside, she turned on the heat, and sat quietly for a while, too exhausted to talk. I noticed that her knees and hands were shaking.

  “Thank you,” she said finally, “but how did you figure out the current?”

  “Intuition,” I replied, “and luck.”

  “I’m sorry. I would have sworn it was safe. I come here to swim all the time.”

  “It was a temporary anomaly, created by the storm.”

  “How do you know these things?” There was a sincere respect in her voice.

  I reprimanded myself for the slip.

  “I love open water,” I said. At least it wasn’t a lie.

  “Today was a very strange day,” she winced, as if remembering something unpleasant. But then she focused on me again, and I could see that she truly noticed me at last.

  She brushed the wet strands of her hair from her face, and for a moment we silently watched each other. She looked away first and started fumbling around, searching for her dress. It turned out that she w
as sitting on it, so when she managed to pull it on, it was rather wet.

  “I’ll drive,” she said, “I am as sober as I have ever been in my whole life.”

  She gave me a quick sideways glance and started the car. We exited the park at a reasonable speed, but once outside she accelerated so sharply that for a second, I missed the autopilot mode.

  The sun was still up, albeit very low, but she didn’t put on her glasses, squinting slightly when the light fell on her face. I looked at her profile and thought that her features were just right, the way I would like to draw a woman’s face if I could draw.

  “The city is ugly,” she said suddenly. “Everything is the same; every damn building is a copy. They don’t have any imagination.”

  “Who?” I asked. “Architects?”

  She gave me a strange look and didn’t answer.

  I thought it would be nice to touch her damp hair and run my fingers through it.

  “You’re drenched. Do you want me to take you to your hotel?” she asked, not taking her eyes off the road.

  “That would be good,” I agreed, trying to sound casual. Things were definitely progressing in a promising direction. I gave her the address, and she nodded without slowing down.

  We spent the rest of the ride in silence – she seemed to be completely absorbed with driving. I imagined moving my hands along her neck and down the curve of her back, but decided that I needed to think of something else for the time being.

  She stopped the car at the entrance to the hotel parking garage, still not looking in my direction. It was my turn to make the next move. I was about to suggest that she come up for a drink when several displays flicked open in my visual field.

  “Nick, there is an emergency. Your mission is in jeopardy,” said Kir.

  An ambulance was wailing its way through the streets of Oren. Inside, Remir was linked to monitors and sensors, his pupils the size of small pins, his face blank, his lips a dusty blue. The intercepted data showed that his vitals were dropping rapidly.