MINDFRACK

  Diaz chuckled dismissively. “What, as in Dr Bruce Banner – seriously?”

  ”I get it, the Hulk. Someone’s got a warped sense of humour.”

  Diaz pushed back from the 3V before doing something unexpected. She turned and hugged him.

  “Hey – what’s that for?”

  “It’s just a big load off my mind.”

  She let go, looking awkward. He gave her a high-five to save her embarrassment and turned back to the 3V. “Hang on a moment, let’s use the facial recog system – we have plenty of time left on the LDNP.”

  It took less than two seconds for the system to throw up a face. They let the 3V produce the full-size version, rotating from side to side. Below on the tablet were his details.

  “Look at this. Zane Adams is a small-time felon. Drugs, theft, minor assault …”

  “Now can we report this?” pleaded Diaz.

  “Not yet.”

  “We’re doing more?”

  Logan placed his empty coffee carton down. “Yeah. I think this is what we should do – I say we, but it’s up to you if you want to be in on it – and I completely get it if you don’t.”

  Diaz looked worried. “Why, what are you thinking?”

  “Well, it’s still early. Officially, we’re still working out of hours. We could use that to explain why we delayed reporting this. I want to have a closer look at Zane Adams. Can we track his SUV? Maybe we’ll see him drop off the box somewhere.”

  Diaz was already busy at her tablet. “Should be easy – we’ve still got eighteen minutes’ worth of LDNP available …”

  She was right. The LDNP daisy-chained available air and fixed street cams, extrapolating for rare moments when the black 4X4 dropped out of view. Adams only stopped once, at an Italian sausage bar in Sunnyside, which seemed overly confident if not brazen given there was a squad car parked less than fifty yards away; at this point there was no doubt that he still had the forensics box in the back of his SUV. He walked out of the bar with a small carry bag and drove straight to his home address.

  Logan and Diaz studied an archived roving street cam view of his apartment block, as, annoyingly, there was a blind spot at that specific location.

  “That’s it,” said Diaz, “we’re out of LDNP time. Do you want to get another time slot?”

  “No, don’t forget that everything we’ve been watching has happened a few hours ago. The permutations of where that box could be right now are growing exponentially as we speak. And this time I’ll have to formally justify another slot on the LDNP and get an authorised investigation code from Dorsey.”

  “So that’s it?”

  “Maybe. Maybe not.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Well, think about it. Why would our man Zane go straight back to his apartment with Carrie?”

  “Not sure what you’re getting at.”

  “Okay, I could be royally wrong about this, but think about it. Looking at his criminal record he’s a small-time foot soldier. He certainly didn’t do this off his own back. That’s obvious, yes?”

  Diaz nodded slowly.

  “You yourself said that someone with exceptional hacking skills made him invisible to our systems, yes? That would imply heavy-duty organization, and money.”

  “Don’t get where you’re going.”

  “Well, I’m thinking, whoever organized this theft of Carrie, if they had wanted it delivered, then it would have been delivered by now – straight after Adams had taken it. Therefore, the intention was always to take it back to his place. So maybe he’s storing for a few days as a precaution before he delivers it. Or maybe he’s waiting for someone to pick it up.”

  “Then we report what we’ve done here – and your theory – to Merv or Dorsey.” Mervin Armstead was the highest accessible rank within the Forensics Department. Staff went to him if they had serious problems or disputes. “They can go break down some doors and find Carrie,” she added.

  “No good. By the time we get hold of Merv or Dorsey and they come in and look at what we’ve found, then verify it, discuss it, get warrants, it could take the rest of the day if not longer. Don’t forget, this isn’t a serious crime – just some missing evidence.”

  “Meaning?”

  “Carrie could easily have been moved by then.”

  “But there’s nothing else we can do.”

  “Yes there is, and it’s the only way ...” Logan heard the excitement in his own voice. He rubbed his brow with the heel of his hand.

  “What are you suggesting?” said Diaz, looking uncomfortable at where this was heading.

  He felt an anxious tremor deep within his core as the plan formed. “Look, I know this sounds a little crazy, but I want to go and see if Carrie’s still there.”

  “His apartment?”

  “Yes. And, if she is, then I’ll try and retrieve her, bring her back to the lab. If not, I come back and we report that she’s been taken and hand over our earlier work – they can see for themselves. Maybe they can find her then. I’ll take all the flak either way.”

  Diaz looked like she’d swallowed her tongue. “No … no … no. Listen to yourself, Mac. Why would you even consider doing what you’ve just said? You really don’t need to do this.”

  “I do. Look – I haven’t told you everything. There’s stuff you should know about Dexy Please and about Shala the lizard-lady and Button-eyes – and the giant, Leo.” He kneaded the centre of his brow again.

  “My God, Mac, you’re really scaring me. You’re talking gibberish.”

  “I’m not. I’ll explain later. Listen, I just need you to help me out, but from here. You’ll be safe.”

  “But what if something goes wrong?”

  “What’s the worst that can happen? I get caught breaking and entering? Taking back something that was already stolen from the police? I’ll just get a ticking off.” Diaz was shaking her head slowly, unconvinced. “All right, I might lose my contract,” Logan went on. “So what? There’s more at stake here … Just do this one thing for me … Please?”

  Diaz blinked lengthily. She still looked uncomfortable, but said, “All right, tell me what you need.”

  “First, we need to make sure Adams isn’t at home – that’s your job. If he is, then I’ll have to wait.”

  “Or abort.”

  “Okay – or abort. Secondly, I need you to lend me your car …”

  Diaz gave him a pointed look. “Better bring it back.”

  “You’re an angel, Diaz. And thanks for believing in me.”

  “That’s it? You going right now?”

  “Pretty much, but I need to follow up something first.”

  15

  Logan walked out of the lab, down the corridor and into a stairwell. A couple of flights down he pushed through a fire door. Lights flickered on revealing a wide passageway of uniform grey. A dynamic security drone had followed him in as this part of the building was reserved for Facilities and there was some pricy equipment stowed away. There were, however, a couple of unlocked rooms used for storage of sundry items like cleaning gear and printing paper. He approached one of these and slipped inside. The security drone lost interest and moved off down the corridor. He often came down here for private calls; his intention right now.

  Fifi Okupska.

  Logan decided the best way to introduce himself was by forwarding the message Dexy had sent him moments before she died:

  [Carrie’s picture] protect

  [Fifi Okupska’s email address] trust

  After some delay, an invite emoji with a parental warning appeared in his iSense head-up. When he accepted it, he was immersed within an orgiastic landscape. Wherever he looked there was one perverse activity or another that beckoned him.

  From the middle of the writhing mass emerged a naked woman. As she approached, her appearance and demeanour changed; the site had plugged into his social data and was attempting to derive his perfect fantasy. He didn’t block the activity. Instead, he asked, “Are you Fifi
Okupska?”

  Lips with the shine and allure of a red Ferrari parted provocatively. “Well, hello … detective … Yes, I’m Fifi Okupska. My, this is early. Did you wake up with something that needed attention? You feeling horny? Would you like to handcuff and process me?”

  “Uh, not right now. I want to talk about –”

  “Or we can experience virtual sex like you’ve never had before,” Fifi purred on, undeterred. “I have a SuperSense 300gs. Let me know what you have and we can immerse ourselves in your deepest desire or fetish – later today, if you wish.”

  “No thanks, can we stop right there please?” Logan began to think Fifi was no more than a programmed 5thgen with a limited script. “You haven’t read the message properly. It concerns Dexy Please and Carrie. Check who it was from.”

  The seductive banter paused. “What the hell? You are a detective?” There was a person behind Fifi after all.

  “Yes. I need to –”

  Logan was left staring at a stack of paper reams.

  He called straight back and left a video message explaining as best he could how he had come by her details.

  After a couple of anxious minutes, he had a response. It was the real Fifi, as she had little make-up or bodymod and had an unkempt mop of blonde hair with streaks of primary colours actively flowing out from the roots. She was wearing a grey, baggy sweatshirt with a bright pink motif and was sitting on a bed with the sheets pushed back into a heap behind her. Logan could see that the sex avatar was based on her, though the real Fifi had sharper, mercurial gold-green eyes, which regarded him suspiciously.

  “Hi,” said Logan, “thanks for calling back.”

  “I’m sorry, I thought you were a new client.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “So you were with Dexy, a day before she died?”

  “Yes.”

  “And she sent you this message …”

  “Yes, she did.”

  She continued to assess him.

  “We recovered Carrie, but she, uh, needs attention.”

  “The news said she was destroyed when she jumped.”

  “My assistant revived her.”

  “You have her now?”

  “No – but I think I will get her back today.”

  “What does that mean? – either you do or you don’t.” Her voice was sharp.

  “Look, it’s complicated. Dexy said I could trust you – so when I have her, can I bring her to you?” Fifi remained unresponsive. He added, “Or can we get her straight to the person Dexy used to repair or maintain her? I’m guessing he has her engram back-ups as well.”

  “Why do people always think 6thgen engineers are a he?” she snapped. “It’s me.”

  “Sorry? I don’t follow.”

  “Dexy was talking about me.”

  “You?”

  “Don’t be so surprised. My real name is Wanda Agnieszka Okupska. I kept my surname but added Fifi for my avatar. You have a problem with that, detective?”

  “Doesn’t explain how you know so much about robotics. If you’re covering for someone else –”

  “I have a degree in 6thgen Neurophysiology from MIT. I’m studying for my masters at Columbia. The fees are expensive. I need to fund myself.”

  “All right, point taken. Can we meet? Your place? I’ll bring Carrie.”

  She considered him again, long and hard, in a way he found hard to decipher. She pursed her lips, coming to a decision. “When?”

  “Maybe later today, if that’s okay? And if you’re not too far away.”

  “I have a workshop at the back of an iTatt shop called the Moana Lisa iTatt Studio, on Upper West Side. I’ll be there, lunch onwards.”

  iSense showed him the location. “Parking?”

  “There’s a fenced-off area with parking bays. We share with a hairdressing saloon and a dog-grooming shop. There’s usually one or two free – park up where you can.”

  “Okay …Wanda … If things go well, I’ll see you later.”

  16

  Pic cocked his head.

  Didn’t know what to make of the detective, Mark Logan – or Gloria Diaz, who looked to be about his own age. He liked the way she looked today as she was wearing gear like some of the badass avatars he flirted with online. She was tall and willowy with lots of raven-black hair and fresh features that had just enough make-up. He noticed that she had iTatts running down her arms and glimpsed more of them above the collar of her leather jacket. He knew that she played on the WWGC, probably as a rank amateur way below his level, but he made a mental note to find out which gaming scenario and go and have some fun with her.

  What would it be like to be free, he wondered?

  He’d been a prisoner in his own apartment, provided by Turkey, for years now. Couldn’t leave it because of the device strapped to his right ankle. The bracelet had been locked in place by Turkey’s own hands. It would be impossible to compromise the device even by someone as clever as himself. There was a cam in the corner of the apartment, and he could never be sure when it was paying him attention.

  He’d inspected his ankle bracelet many times when he was in the bathroom; it was the only place where he had any privacy, though he was forbidden to take any equipment with him – and he was timed. Smuggled in a small multitool once and linked locally with the bracelet, without using the Cloud. Tried to get to the controlling software. The problem was in the size and simplicity of the device’s software and the fact that it was in a form of stasis: its only activity was a regular heartbeat, a report ping. He couldn’t use his skills to interrupt that to check how it worked as it would be almost impossible not to leave a trace of his activity behind during his peeking. Turkey had said the continuously looping software was set to detect the most minute change or interrupt to its checking routines. He thought about introducing a fake ping, but that meant interrogating the real one first and that was an impossibility. Security was based on quantum rules.

  He did try to remove it once, long ago, just after it was fitted to his leg – Turkey let him have that, to prove he couldn’t do it. The ankle bracelet had begun to countdown before telling him to say his prayers and that it was about to detonate itself. Turkey had called him a minute later, laughing, by which time he was curled up in a ball on the floor.

  Turkey knew him well and knew he’d try. Said that was the demo. Next time it would be the real thing; told him he would certainly lose his foot and likely his leg and bleed out “like a grizzly in a bear trap”. In fact, Turkey said, he wasn’t sure how much explosive he’d put in the device, maybe enough to smear him over his apartment walls.

  Since then he’d resisted the temptation to interrogate it. In truth he was shit-scared of the device and he accepted that his life was confined to the four walls of his small apartment. Not so bad, maybe, since he had everything he needed. In any case, he lived most of his life within the Cloud as an avatar.

  Gaming was his salvation.

  Over on the wall, on his single clothes hanger, was his gaming metasuit. It was the only thing he wore in his apartment other than a small selection of onesies. When he put it on, his transformation into his avatar was immediate and he felt whole. He’d named his avatar Übermensch, leader of the known Transhuman Empire. The gaming community had a shorter name for him, Khan. He’d earned the name through his legendary tactics during a massively multiplayer real-time play on the WWGC where he’d amalgamated unsuspecting armies and swept aside all other contenders for domination of the virtual kingdom EarthMoon-2. To this day, he reigned supreme, repelling all assaults and threats to his dominion and the seat of his throne within the Aristotle Crater Base, on the Moon, where he looked upon the Earth Shell and its sub-dominions.

  To his utter annoyance and frustration, he could never reveal his true identity, despite repeated requests to do so. He had never claimed the accolade nor the prize money at the Annual World Gaming Expo. The anonymity contributed to the growth of his online legend.

  Turkey would
never find out, certainly not from any source within a world where he reigned supreme.

  Other than his gaming he’d been allowed to do the occasional hacking job; the voice behind the room cam (he’d established it wasn’t Turkey) assigned him difficult systems to get into, to keep his black-hat skills up to scratch, but nothing too sensitive and no consequences. Window-shopping, his overseer said.

  When he had been given the task to hack into the NYPD systems it had made him salivate.

  A little earlier he’d enjoyed himself immensely, helping Adams get in and out of the forensics laboratory, making him transparent to the security systems and appearing as the detective, Logan. He knew that last trick would be completely beyond their capability to solve; in truth, it was pure genius.

  It was he who had made Diaz’s lab PA tell her to come in. Laughed out loud at her face when she saw the playmate gone, and it just got funnier when she watched Logan walking off with it.

  He continued to keep an eye on things in there. Hoping someone would do something that would challenge his abilities further.

  It occurred to him that if he kept the incident involving George Grist, Dexy Please and the playmate running, extending it in some way, he would continue to have access to the NYPD systems and perhaps have other interesting tasks given to him by Turkey.

  How could he do that?

  Maybe, he contrived, he could manipulate the situation or subtly skew outcomes so that events took a different course and result in new problems that would require his special skills to solve. Then there’d be a reason.

  But he would need to be extremely careful. If Turkey found out … He glanced nervously at his leg.

  But what if an opportunity arose?

  One that had tiny risks?

  He watched Logan and Diaz some more. Now they were requesting time on the LDNP. What for?

  Then he knew: they were going to extend the surveillance search outside of the labs. Idiots; it wouldn’t do them any good. They would only see Logan with the box …