It was too late. She reached her tree and spun in circles, trying to lay eyes on the famed terrorist. He was gone.
He’d known the conversation was being watched. He’d wanted her to see him, and he was sending a message. But to who? Kagurazaka? Thompson? Maybe it was Cole himself. She’d landed in the middle of a tangled web, and on every web, there’s a spider. The problem was, she wasn’t sure where it was or how to avoid it.
ABIGAIL AND MATTHEW’S schedule remained the same for several days. Evenings were spent in the casino. Abigail quickly discovered that she didn’t even need a new persona. The Shield Maiden’s boisterous confidence worked to intimidate just as well from a wheelchair. No one saw it coming. In some ways, it was a revelatory experience for her, the implications of which she would have to think about. She’d always made certain assumptions about how people viewed her disability. Perhaps some of them were true, but when she came in bludgeoning them with banter, she gave them an education.
So yeah, she had her fun in the evenings, but she could feel Matthew radiating misery. Gambling and alcohol were the name of the game in the casino, and she knew he would never be keen on either. She did her best to ignore him while they were on the floor, though. There was nothing she could do about it, and she had to play her part.
Every evening after midnight, they packed up and retreated to the suite, where they sat up in the dark, waiting for something to happen. It was the usual stakeout that she hated. By the time mid-morning rolled around, they would give up and get a few hours of sleep before starting the process over.
By the fourth night, she was sick of it. When two in the morning came, she was resuited and leaned against the wall in her palatial bedroom. She could barely see Matthew where he had sunk down into a club chair in the corner. “Are you going to make it?” she asked, keeping her voice down out of instinct. Despite the fact that she’d given up on the scheme, they were still on the job.
“I’m fine.”
“Said no one ever, who was indeed fine,” she replied. “Come on. I’ve been looking forward to being back on the job with you, but you’ve been a wet blanket all week.”
She heard him sigh in the dark. “Maybe this one just isn’t for me.”
“Someone is preying on women, you know.”
“I didn’t mean it like that, Abigail.”
“Well, then what did you mean?”
He was quiet for a long minute before responding. “I spent the last three months itching to be back out in the Sparrow. Long hours of exercise trying to regain some form of physical fitness. Even spent time at the firing range. But now that I’m here...” He paused, and Abigail wished she could see the expression on his face. “I’ve almost died hundreds of times doing this job. And I’ve never regretted it. I’ve done a lot of good. Most of it since you guys came on board. But since the injury, I just wonder if it’s worth it anymore.”
“Isn’t it a little early for a mid-life crisis?” she asked. As soon as the words escaped her mouth, she regretted the attempt at levity. “Sorry I shouldn’t—”
“Don’t be. I turned thirty-six a couple weeks back. I’m not quite... young anymore. Never will be again. I spend my time chasing terrorists and mafioso around the solar system. Even my father, drunken boor that he was for most of his life, had put down some roots by thirty.”
Abigail decided not to remind him that that was the mark she’d just passed. She felt the weight of his words and knew where he was coming from. The Shield Maiden of Mars couldn’t exist forever and someday her life would inevitably change, whether she kicked and screamed or not. Had Matthew’s already shifted when that sniper put a bullet through him? It was a terrifying thought because the Sparrow was all she had. And she refused to accept it. At least not yet.
“Matthew, you’re doing important things,” she stammered, unsure how to describe what she was getting at. “Your leadership saved Villa María and Ceres and hundreds of others along the way. And think what good the Guild will do. You’re giving those crews a new purpose. A better one. No one else can do what you’re doing.”
His silhouette leaned back in his chair to stare at the ceiling. “Maybe not,” he said. “But the universe would go on without me being a freelancer. No one person is that essential.”
Abigail wasn’t sure that she agreed with his assessment, but she let it slide. “What about the Anemoi and Whitaker?”
“I would love nothing more than to hand both of our quarters over to him and never see him again.”
She frowned. “And if they do lead somewhere? Are you going to let Whitaker control that discovery?”
“And this is why I didn’t want to talk about this,” Matthew said. “Because you know that the answer is no. You know I have to keep doing this. And that I will.”
“You want to know what I think?” she asked.
“You’re going to tell me either way.”
“And you’re going to listen because I’m the best friend you’ve got.”
He snorted but sat up a little straighter. She imagined he had a smirk on his face. That one that bubbled up unwillingly when she tried to cheer him up with a joke.
“I think you’re a little down from your injury. Maybe even depressed. Hell, Matthew, you almost died. Everyone, even Elizabeth, said their goodbyes to you that last morning. It’s okay to be off your game. And...” She thought about how to phrase this next one. “And maybe you’re right, and this kind of life isn’t for you much longer. But we all need you. At least for a little while. There’s only one Matthew Cole.”
They fell silent, and the only sound was the water feature from the suite’s antechamber. Abigail wondered if she was being selfish, preserving her own way of life while trying to twist Matthew into doing something he no longer wanted to do. She nearly opened her mouth to apologize, but he beat her to it.
“I’m sorry. I’m just thinking out loud—”
There was a soft click as the lock on the main door turned. They both snapped to attention, and Matthew drew his gun. She could barely see his brief nod as he flattened himself to the wall beside the door the assailant would soon enter. She did the same on the other side, though honestly, even in the dark, the odds of missing her hulking form were laughable. She strained her ears to hear the door opening, and then a soft footstep. Stupid water feature. The bubbling hid their numbers, though she’d guess the answer was at least two, probably three.
A masked man in jet black stepped through the entryway they’d conveniently left open, and like a moron, he moved right for the lump in the bed. Abigail bit her cheeks to keep from laughing. They’d propped pillows under the covers and put the wig she’d been wearing on the pillow, and he took the bait.
The second man was more cautious and turned his head both ways to check his corners. He missed Matthew in the dark, but he stumbled in panic when his eyes landed on Abigail. She gave him a smile. “What’s up?” Then she grabbed him by the scruff of his collar and threw him across the room at his buddy by the bed. They landed in a tangled heap on the floor, probably with a broken bone or two.
Matthew spun around the corner and crouched. “Don’t move!” he shouted. Abigail heard a brief shuffle and Matthew fired his gun once. “I gave you an order. That means you too—” He leaped forward. “Runner, Abigail.”
“On it,” she said, gently pushing him to the side and stepping over the injured intruder. Her eyes focused just in time to see the main entrance to the suite close. She reached it in two bounds and mashed the open plate. Nothing happened. The lift had already begun to pull away, and the door had engaged safety features. She ripped the door out of the wall and tossed it aside. The blast of cold air on her face was immediate and intense. Getting a grip on the steel frame, she leaned outward.
The tram was only about three meters away, not having had time to accelerate down the lines. She leaped and caught the side, causing it to swing violently. Briefly, she looked down and then decided that was a bad idea. Taking care to make sure her grip was sound, she sh
immied around to the door. A figure in black scurried to the far side of the tram as she pried the door open and let herself into the tiny capsule. It felt a lot bigger in her wheelchair, that was for sure. “I’d tell you to pick on someone your size,” she said as she pushed him to the ground. “But, in your case, that would actually be good advice.”
Internally she breathed a sigh of relief. There would be some wrap-up work, and probably a lot of questions answered about the damage she’d just done to the facilities, but this job was on the backside. The sooner they got off of this moon, the better.
YVONNE STIFLED A YAWN as she put the finishing touches on her report. One of the newer Guild crews, the Jameson Brothers, had made an excellent suggestion a month back. They thought it would be good to write up short reports after jobs and submit them to the guild, not only for accountability but also to share information and tactics. Some of the younger crews were eager to learn from the old vets. The proposition would have to be formally voted on now that the charter had been adopted, but she expected it to pass when Julia’s lawyer finished the legal copy for the amendment.
No one was looking forward to the extra paperwork or the effort to redact the reports to protect their clients’ and crew’s privacy, but it was a good idea, and Yvonne decided that she would go ahead and start to set the example.
It had been two days since Matthew and Abigail had crashed the casino ring. It had unsurprisingly been an inside job. Who else would have been able to cut through security like a plasma torch through steel? Matthew was right. There was always a mole. Every single time. There was always someone looking to take advantage of their situation. But then she was a doctor that had pulled a trigger to kill a man, so no amount of evil would ever surprise her again.
The sound of a throat clearing interrupted her, and she turned to see Abigail framing the door. She turned back to the report, chest constricting. “Yes? What do you need?” Because there would be a reason. Abigail never approached her without reason these days.
“I wanted to apologize.”
Funny. There can’t be anything to apologize for when you haven’t even had contact with a person. Yvonne kept typing. “It’s fine. Whatever it is.”
“Is it?” Abigail asked. “Look. These last couple months... I can’t imagine what it was like to be in your shoes. To have someone take everything away from you and then be put in that situation. I didn’t understand, and I’m sorry for shutting you out.”
With a sigh, Yvonne shut down her monitor but didn’t turn to face her friend. She could still call her that, right, even if they hadn’t been talking? “It wasn’t just you. I haven’t made the effort either. Why the sudden change of heart?”
The seconds ticked away. “I guess I got a reminder that nothing lasts forever.”
“Matthew change your mind?”
“Not intentionally, no. Look. I’m sorry. I can’t pretend to know what’s going on or how to help, but I don’t want to be mad at you anymore.”
“Me neither,” Yvonne whispered. “I’m sorry too.”
And that was the end of it. Abigail turned and left Yvonne to her swirling nebula of thoughts. It refused to collapse into anything useful, no bright star to give her a heading to chart a course. Matthew and Abigail already knew that she was a fraud, and it seemed like they had come to terms with it somehow. If only she could do the same.
The console lit up with a message, and she flicked her monitor back on. It was from Arizona Minister of Law, Ryan Thompson. Wonderful. Matthew was going to be thrilled to hear from his favorite bureaucrat. She opened the message.
Unless it’s life or death, drop what you’re doing and return to Mars. I have evidence pointing to the attempted assassin. Further, it seems he has a partnership with Logan. Don’t bring the Sparrow. We think they’re tracking it.
She inhaled sharply. “Matthew!” she shouted. “You need to see this!”
Chapter 11: Machinations
Evil men have always been drawn to the siren call of the halls of power. The governments of men have ever been subject to this infection. And it is not limited to the highest position. If they cannot become king, then they will settle for prime minister. If they cannot become the prime minister, then a senator, or a mayor, or a faceless bureaucrat may wield the sword as effectively as any. Even a pencil-pusher can be a tyrant.
Moses proved an effective impediment, but not a vaccination. Overnight, he was able to fulfill the office job of nearly every government worker in the world. From tax processing, to licensure, to welfare, he streamlined every governmental function while still allowing each nation the autonomy to rule themselves as they saw fit.
It became nearly impossible to hide corruption from Moses. Any that he uncovered was revealed to the world, allowing the appropriate authorities to deal with it in accordance with law. The only method of evading the AI was to cease using computer systems entirely and never speak of delicate matters in front of any microphone connected to a network. It was difficult, but evil will always find a way.
When Moses disappeared their path was once again clear. No sooner had the AI vanished, than the
snakes began to work their way back into the colonial governments. As the wisest of men once said, there is nothing new under the sun.
Chaim Ben-Artzi
Collector of Books of Antiquities
Died 132 AM
THE BEST THING ABOUT Elizabeth being on board the Sparrow was that she insisted on doing the cooking. Grace dipped a healthy portion of stew from the pot and smiled as she got a good whiff of the hearty aroma. Definitely better than anything she or Yvonne could scrounge up, even on their best days, and with all the same ingredients too. She couldn’t figure out what magic the older woman was working. She grabbed a spoon out of the drawer and joined Davey and Abigail at the table.
“We shouldn’t get used to this,” Abigail said, taking a mouthful. She froze and her eyes drifted over to Grace. “No offense.”
“None taken,” she replied honestly.
“You’d better be learning everything you can from her,” Davey said. “No telling how long she sticks around.”
“I’ll see what I can do,” she said. “Personally I think it’s either in the genes or it isn’t. Sadly I’m afraid I only got half of it. I can cook edible food, unlike either of you, but it’s not going to change your life.”
Abigail scoffed but didn’t bother to disagree. Matthew emerged from the cockpit, followed by Yvonne and Elizabeth. “I see you were patient while we wrapped up business,” he said.
Davey swallowed a mouthful and set his spoon aside. “In our defense, Elizabeth told us to start. But sure. Go ahead and try to make us feel bad.”
Matthew eyed him before turning away and picking up a bowl. “Fine then. Don’t stop on my account.”
“No,” Davey said, putting on his grumpy face. “I’m waiting and we’re going to have a nice dinner all together.”
“Unfortunately it’ll be the last for a while,” Yvonne said, setting her bowl down beside his.
Grace frowned and glanced between Matthew and the other adults. After three months of being separated and one measly job, one that she didn’t even get to help on, they were splitting up again? “Care to inform the rest of us?” She slid aside to make more room for Elizabeth as Matthew squeezed in. The table was a little tight for all six of them.
Matthew poked at his stew but set his spoon aside. “Abigail and I are going back to Mars,” he said.
“Yeah, and we’re coming with you,” Davey said. Oh, he was going to be mad about this. Grace could already see exactly where this was headed.
“Hear him out,” Elizabeth said gently.
Grace looked at her, not bothering to hide the scowl she knew was fixed on her features. “You’re in on this too?”
“It was my decision,” Matthew said sharply. “But it’s not arbitrary. This is for everyone’s good.”
Davey crossed his arms. “We’re listening.”
“Someone out there wants me dead,” Matthew said. “And until we put a stop to them, they’re a danger to you all as well. They’ve already chased Benny and Candace from Mars as well as my own mother.” His eyes shifted briefly to Elizabeth. “I’m not going to get anyone I care about killed. Being a freelancer is dangerous enough as it is. Our old friend Ryan Thompson says he has intel on the killer for us, so Abigail and I will go back to Mars and deal with this. Once and for all.”
“And you trust Thompson?” Grace asked. She’d only seen him once, the time Matthew had dragged the whole crew into his office to set the man off balance. Matthew had made it pretty clear that he’d regarded him as an enemy at the time.
“On something like this? Yes,” he said. “We got off to a rough start, and I don’t think he’ll ever be glad to see me stroll into his office, but I think we have an understanding. If he says that he has information for me, then I trust it. Unfortunately, he also suspects the Sparrow is being tracked, and if that’s the case, we can’t take it back to Mars.”
“Sounds like the Sparrow is a real safe place for the rest of us,” Davey said.
Matthew shook his head. “If our mystery assassin was going to come after the Sparrow, they would have months ago. Maybe they’re confined to Mars, or maybe it was a hired hitman, and their contract didn’t demand they chase me halfway across the solar system.”
Elizabeth scrutinized her son. “What does that mean?”
Matthew rubbed the back of his neck. “Well. I’ve not exactly ever taken up that kind of contract, but I’ve been around long enough to know that the terms can vary, and they might not specify the added expense of leaving the planet. Regardless, the Sparrow has been left alone, and we can reasonably hope it will remain that way. And if it’s not, Davey and Grace, you’ll be here to protect it.”
“Benny is going to scrounge us up a few shipping jobs,” Yvonne said. “He’ll keep us moving, and hopefully, the assassin won’t realize that Matthew and Abigail took public transportation back to Mars.”
After Moses: Wormwood Page 31