While the woman continued to serve her, a man walked up to a nearby vendor. The vendor sold fish. Nothing unusual there. But the smile on the fish-seller’s face didn’t fit. In a place with edges as rough as this, such customer service stood out from a mile away. The customer took the wrapped fish and handed over his own brown paper packet. He then nodded and walked off.
“You know what?” Marcie said to the woman. “I need to be somewhere urgently. Can I come back later to pick up the fish?”
The woman frowned. “You sure?”
“Yeah. I’ve just realised what the time is. I will be back though. Hold onto the credits until then.”
The woman shook her head. “You’re a strange one, ain’t ya? Trusting too.”
Marcie spoke beneath her breath as she took off in pursuit of the man. “Can you run a check on this guy? The way he was just treated by the vendor suggests he’s different to the average punter. And he certainly didn’t pay in credits. And look at him. Understated, unassuming. If Alison Del Ray’s managed to avoid arrest for as long as she has, I’m guessing it’s because she’s working with people who don’t stick their heads too far above the crowd. You got a positive ID on him?”
“I have, yeah. Now back off and let me run some checks.”
Back on the roof of the warehouse she’d landed on when entering the docks, the police CCTV drone hovering close by, Marcie rocked from the full force of the bitter wind.
“I’ve done some checks on him,” the Eye finally said. “His record’s clean. He’s a fisherman, which could explain why the traders are so nice to him. I nearly gave up on him when I found that out, but then I tracked his spending. Not extravagant, but it shows a steady rise. Over the past four months, he’s gone from impoverished levels of spending to relative comfort. Still modest, but noticeable. The time coincides with—”
“The first jewellery store robbery?”
“Right.”
“You think he’ll lead us to Alison?”
“It’s looking positive. Here’s his address.” A gold star flashed up in Marcie’s vision.
“Okay,” Marcie said, “let’s check it out.”
Chapter 40
There were enough large factories at the docks to give Marcie an easy path to her target, although the slightly pitched and corrugated roofs slowed her down. The hijacked police drone remained about a metre above her head so as not to be seen from the ground.
At the edge of the final factory, Marcie halted, the drone remaining just above her. The augmented golden star—her target set by the Eye—sat on the flat roof of a two-storey dockside building. “This is the place, then?”
The drone rose by several metres before dropping back down again. “Yeah, it looks like it.”
Marcie used her X-ray vision. Four people inside the building. All of them were in one room. A fifth person patrolled the building’s perimeter. They were currently walking along the water’s edge. “So you think Alison Del Rey’s in there?”
“It’s hard to tell,” the Eye said.
The drone shot away from her, crossing the three-metre gap between her and the building they were watching. It hovered over the augmented golden star before it slowly moved to the edge of the building, closer to the guard by the water.
“Zach Greeves,” the Eye said, the frenetic click of keys in the background as he researched him. “He shows a strikingly similar spending pattern to the man we tracked from the market. Now, it could just be a coincidence, but …”
“It’s highly unlikely,” Marcie said.
“I’d say so.”
Marcie rocked from side to side, limbering up before she made the jump. “How many ways are there into this place?”
The Eye laid a green-lined grid over the building. A red block appeared close to the waterfront. “That red rectangle is the front door.”
“For what good that is,” Marcie said. “If they are who we think they are, I’m guessing walking up to the building isn’t going to do us any favours.”
“It doesn’t seem like the smartest option,” the Eye agreed. “There is another way.” The schematic vanished. “A lot of these houses used to belong to those who fished here before the industry got monopolised. The fishing’s now done on a much larger scale with far fewer people. The houses were sold off as prime real estate. Many of the houses have basements that double up as boat sheds. They have small canals leading into them from the sea.”
“But …?”
“You’ll have to go underwater to find out if this one’s still operational. They might well have blocked it off.”
“So you can show me the front door and a schematic of the building. You can view Prime City from space, but …”
“Everything I’ve shown you so far is because I’ve seen it. I can’t take this drone underwater to know if the basement is blocked or not.”
Marcie sighed. “Okay, I suppose it makes sense to be the first thing we try. What’s the best route?”
The drone moved to the left side of the building. Marcie flinched when footage appeared in her vision in the same spot she’d seen the mugshot of Alison Del Rey. It showed her what the police drone saw: a dark alleyway running along the side of the house.
“There’s no windows along this side,” the Eye said, “so the people inside won’t see you.”
Dark lumps lay along the alleyway. Marcie said, “Is that people down there?”
“It is, but they won’t cause you any harm.”
“What makes you say that?”
“Prime City is like any city; the poorest areas have the worst drug problems. Or rather, the poorest areas wear their drug problems on their sleeves. In the wealthier areas, they all check into rehab to sort themselves out, so it’s hidden away. It saves face and avoids offending the fragile sensibilities of their neighbours.”
“I thought you said this was prime real estate?”
“They sold it as such. Unfortunately for those who purchased it, the potential was never realised.”
“But that doesn’t change the fact that we still have a bunch of people in that alley.”
“Those people down there are so fucked they might as well be dead. They’ll come around at some point, but if their pulses beat any slower than they currently are, they’d be corpses.”
“That’s sad.”
“Also not why we’re here. You’ve already given all your money away to a charity case—”
“Hey!” Slip said.
“So just focus on the job at hand, yeah?”
A green line appeared, marking Marcie’s route from the alley to the edge of the water and back under again. “If the entrance hasn’t been blocked, this is where you’ll get in.”
“How did they get a boat under there?”
“At low tide.”
“Which is when?”
“Ten hours from now.”
“So we really do have to go underwater?”
“Yep. But you’ll be under for thirty seconds at the most.”
Marcie stepped back several paces before running at the gap again. She kicked off from the edge, landed on the flat roof of the seaside house, and jumped down into the alley with the comatose addicts. Flicking to night vision, she counted the bodies sprawled in her path. Seven of them, they lay on one another like puppies huddling for warmth. And she couldn’t blame them, the winter breeze coming in from the sea got funnelled into a biting blast through the metre-wide alley. It blew her hair back, the salt in the air pulling her skin taut.
If Marcie jumped the sleeping addicts, she’d make too much noise when she landed. They might have been lifeless now, but she couldn’t risk disturbing them. She leaped straight up, spreading her arms and legs so she suspended herself from the ground. She moved like a spider over the bodies. Now close enough to see them clearly, she flicked off her night vision. They were no more than children. Dirty urchins, the youngest about eight years old. They might have been physically together, but they looked utterly alone in their numbed
intoxication.
Slip came through, making Marcie jump. “If this is the life for a kid in Prime City, I’ll stay in the Black Hole.”
At the other side, Marcie lowered herself to the ground and ran to the edge of the alley on tiptoes.
“Stop!” the Eye said before Marcie exited. The grey water churned in front of her. Tipped with white, it lapped against the edge of the path a few metres away.
“It looks cold,” Slip said.
Marcie shook her head. “Not helping.”
“Sorry.”
“Go now,” the Eye said, “quickly.”
Marcie darted across the gap, the guard on her right with his back to her as he walked away. At any other time, she might have thought twice about taking the plunge. Her muscles pulled taut the second she submerged in the freezing water, and she gasped before pulling beneath the surface.
“Stay there,” the Eye said. “You’ll need to fill your lungs before you go down the tunnel, but don’t put your head above water yet.”
A metre or two beneath the surface, the current rocked Marcie, the water so cold it stung.
“More guards have come out. I think they must have heard you gasp. If you stay still, they won’t see you.” As if he could hear her quickened pulse, the Eye added, “I know you can’t stay there indefinitely. Just give me a moment. I’ll reveal the drone and lure them away.”
Marcie’s throat tightened while she stabilised herself by flapping her arms.
“I’ve pulled all the guards out of the building. There’s four of them. All men, including the guy we saw in the market. If Alison’s with them, she’s still inside. They’re all showing the same spending patterns. This has to be her crew. They’re following me. Give them a few more seconds and they won’t be able to see you when you move. Two … one …”
The augmented path the Eye had given Marcie worked under water, laying out the route she needed to take. The tunnel had a dead end and hopefully a hatch to access the building. Marcie poked her head above water and filled her lungs before diving under again.
“Two of the guards are coming your way, Marcie,” the Eye said. “If you need to come back out, do it somewhere else.”
The walls of the tunnel ran from the bottom of the seaside house to the seabed, penning her in. Marcie reached the dead end and pulled on the metal ring attached to the hatch. It held fast. She tugged again. Steel plates were welded across the door, locking it in place. Bubbles burst from her mouth as she grunted with the effort.
“Word must have gotten out that this drone is compromised,” the Eye said. “The two who remained are taking potshots at it. The other two are still at the end of the tunnel. Maybe they don’t know you’re under there, but they’re not taking any chances. You’ve got no choice but to enter through the basement. I’m going to look through your glasses.”
Marcie pressed her feet against either side of the hatch, held the ring with two hands, and tugged again. It still didn’t budge.
“Shit,” the Eye said. “I don’t know how we’re going to get you out of this.”
Chapter 41
What good would it do to keep tugging on the ring? Marcie took a moment, her lungs burning, the frigid water giving her brain freeze. The ticking clock of her decreasing oxygen levels quickened her pulse and wound tension through her like a turning screw.
The tunnel’s walls were built from rough steel, and they ran from the underside of the house to the seabed. No way under or over. The drag of the water robbed her of her power when she slammed a closed fist against the left wall and then the right.
“I know they’ve already sussed us out, but I’ll use another drone to distract them while you swim out,” the Eye said. “It’s our only chance.”
Marcie might have been able to evade bullets and blaster fire above ground, but she couldn’t do the same with the leaden movements of being underwater. A desperate need to inhale, she threw a punch against the dead-end wall. It gave off a hollow knock.
“Marcie,” Slip said, “you need to turn back. You’ll drown under there.”
“I’ll crash a drone into them,” the Eye said. “That’ll give them something to focus on.”
Her head spinning, her hands turning numb, Marcie traced the slight line running around the edge of the panel fitted into the end wall. A square patch, it stood out from its surroundings as the only part of the wall free from rust. Bubbles kicked back from where Marcie slammed her palm against it. Another hollow boom.
Marcie pressed her feet against either side of the tunnel, one foot on the left wall and one on the right. As she drove her next punch against the outlined square, she pushed forward, driving her entire body into the strike. The centre of the panel yielded, and the edges ever so slightly popped out.
Pressing the soles of her feet to either side of the panel, Marcie forced her numb fingers into the small gap along the top of the square and tugged. The panel came away and fell to the seabed. It revealed a space just about large enough, her shoulders rubbing on either side as she swam through.
Marcie slammed her head into another wall, her ears now ringing from both the impact and lack of oxygen. She reached up and felt wood, which easily lifted.
Her head above water, Marcie gasped as she pulled herself into the basement, dragging in lungfuls of the musty air and shivering from the cold.
“You’re a genius, Marcie,” the Eye said. “Of course they’d have a hole for contraband. The docks must have been alive with smugglers back in the day. I’d imagine every house in this place has somewhere to store things away from the inquisitive eye of the authorities.”
The echo in the empty space took Marcie’s gasping recovery and mocked her with it. She lay on her back and stared up at the ceiling. As she found her bearings, the dark basement came into focus. The wooden hatch she’d just shoved free had a backpack strapped to it. Soaked from where it had been in the water, she freed it and undid the zip. The small amount of light in the basement caught the shine of the jewels. “It looks like we’ve come to the right place,” she said. “That has to be Alison up there.”
While slipping the bag on her shoulders, Marcie used her X-ray sight again. One person on the floor above, the other four still outside. “Can you keep them busy out there?”
A burst of automatic fire sounded on the other side of the wall, and the Eye said, “I’m trying.”
Still dizzy from nearly drowning, her clothes soaked, her fingers and toes numb, Marcie stood up, and her cybernetics took over. The stairs from the basement were made from stone and worn in the middle from what must have been decades of use. When she reached the top, she turned the door handle, holding her breath as if it would help her keep the creaking mechanism quiet.
A gentle click, the slightest groan of hinges, and the door swung open into the ground floor of the small house. The windows faced the choppy grey sea, the police drone darting past as more rapid bursts of fire chased it. Marcie scanned the house again. Still just one person inside, hopefully Alison.
Marcie’s legs accommodated her need to be light of foot, allowing her to ascend the stairs soundlessly.
The person remained in the room beyond.
The second Marcie kicked the door wide, the Eye confirmed what a throbbing red target told her. He said, “Jump!”
And a good job she did. Definitely Alison Del Rey, and she definitely wasn’t going to be taken easily. Sat behind a Gatling gun, the rapid burst of red blaster fire chewed through the wooden door she’d just kicked wide.
Marcie landed and darted left. She ran along the wall for several steps, Alison tracking her with a line of destruction. Plaster and chunks of masonry hit Marcie, the end of Alison’s gun a glowing red circle.
Quicker than Alison could aim, Marcie reached the woman and punched her so hard in the jaw, the bone broke with a wet crack.
Her hands to her face, Alison fell away, her weapon still spinning.
The fight continued outside. The Eye continued to evade the bullets fr
om the rest of the gang. Alison now limp on the floor, Marcie dragged her to her feet. “How far is it to the closest police station?”
Although the Eye didn’t respond, a red arrow flashed up in her vision. Just eight hundred metres away.
Marcie ran through Prime City, jumping from rooftop to rooftop. She might never get to know every nook and cranny of the place, but she had some time left on her visa, so she might as well use it to explore. She’d handed Alison in, the heartless bitch showing zero remorse for the people she killed on her quest to get rich. She deserved everything coming to her.
A red-light district down to Marcie’s right. She jumped several alleys, running parallel to streets bathed in crimson. The streets of Prime City were already filled with sex workers, the only real difference here—other than the deep crimson glow—was there were more.
The poor and middle classes lived side by side. Marcie landed on the roof of one building, the streets below filled with poorly dressed, malnourished citizens. One street away the people were fatter, better dressed, and lived in cleaner houses. She kept her hand over the bottom of her backpack in the wealthier sections.
All the while, the stilted sky apartments owned by the city’s elite lorded it over everyone else, the skylanes filled with vehicles weaving through their long legs.
Everything became a lot simpler when Marcie ran. There was no gap too wide, the wings on her suit aiding her should she need them. What would Sal make of this place?
“So what are you going to do with the jewels?” Slip said.
Leaping from one building to the next, assessing the financial well-being of each street had served more of a purpose than simply running through the city. Marcie slowed to a halt—the immigration gate down below—and shrugged off the backpack. She held it up for Slip and the Eye to see.
“You cut a slit in the bottom?” Slip said.
“You think I could have kept them?” Marcie said. “Better they rained down on those who needed them most. Hopefully they can find imaginative ways to turn them into credits. You know we’ll be watched too closely to do anything with them. And there’s no way I’m giving them back to the jewellers. I guarantee you they care more about their lost stock than their lost employees.”
Prime City: A Science Fiction Thriller (Neon Horizon Book 2) Page 19