Girl in a Fishbowl (Crowbar Book 1)

by Thomas A. Gilly

  Conrad kept his eyes on the hotel as they made their way toward it. It looked completely dark—like all of the other buildings—completely abandoned. What if there’s no one here anymore? He wondered. What if there was never anyone here? Nose might be completely insane and the Hotel Vienna could be one of his delusions.

  They had just passed the fountain when an open-topped jeep sped silently from a side street and came skidding to a stop in front of them. It had two occupants in the front seat, one was driving. The logo on the side of the black jeep said “Felicity Black” in white letters. The people in the jeep were wearing white HAZMAT suits, their faces obscured by blackened visors.

  Conrad’s first impulse was to run. He turned around and saw another jeep pulling up behind them around the other side of the fountain. They were now trapped with the fountain to their backs.

  The passenger of the first jeep stepped out and raised a hand. “Don’t move kids,” he said, his voice electronically amplified by his suit. “Just stay right there and don’t move. You’re trespassing on private property.” He stepped around the front of the jeep toward them. “You do realize that you are in an irradiated zone that is deemed not safe for human habitation, don’t you?”

  Conrad was at a loss for words. He opened his mouth uncertainly, when Terri said, “Can you help us out? We’re a little lost. We were just looking to hang out together, just kind of exploring around the Bergs, and the next thing you know we’re underneath them. You know, like, how cool is that?”

  The man was now standing a meter in front of them. “Just exploring? How exactly did you get in?”

  Conrad played along with Terri, “There were these tunnels, and they looked abandoned and they were pretty cool so we went exploring. I don’t remember exactly where, and like she said, the next thing you know here we are.”

  “Really?” the man said. “Well, you’ve put yourselves into grave danger. We’ll take you out of here to safety.” He went to the back of the van and pulled out a black wand. “Just a quick security check.” He waved the wand in front of Conrad. He then brought it over to Terri. Conrad caught the fear in Terri’s eyes as she looked down at her fanny pack. As the wand passed near it the man yelled out “Gun!” In an instant all four of the men had produced short stubby submachine guns from their suits and were pointing them at Conrad and Terri.

  “Hands up! Hands up!” the man yelled at them. “Put your hands on your heads! Now! On your knees! Right now! On your knees!”

  Conrad and Terri put their hands on their heads and lowered themselves to their knees. A guard rushed in behind each of them and their hands were brought down and zip tied. Their fanny packs were removed from around their waists. Conrad was pulled into the back of one of the jeeps while Terri was brought to the other, and they quickly sped away.

  Chapter 39

  Jerome had notifications sent to him whenever any news streaming service did a report on Natalya. With his phand he swiped away David Hick’s source code he was studying. The banner of the news report read HAS NATALYA BORGAN JOINED A CULT? Below the banner the female newscaster said, “Natalya Borgan, scion of the Borgan hotel chain’s multi-billion-dollar fortune, seems to have fallen under the spell of a mysterious cyber-cult. She was recorded having a conversation with one of her closest entourage members, trying to convince her of the merits of joining this strange . . . shall we say ‘belief system’, that might very well be bringing her renowned party girl image to an end. First, let’s listen to the conversion. The video was taken at extreme range on full zoom, so please forgive us for its lack of quality.”

  A shaky image replaced the announcer. Two figures were visible on a park bench, behind them were trees, near their feet was a body of water with light glinting off it in scintillating ripples, further obscuring the blurry image. Only if you were familiar with Natalya’s look would you know that was her. The audio capture was obviously on max, Jerome heard the slightest breeze amplified to a wind-tunnel rumble. He could barely make out what the two girls were saying, but the news stream provided captions to help in understanding.

  Natalya: “. . . are going to be changing in my life. I want you to read this, if you read this you will understand how trivial our lives have been.”

  Kimbra: “I don’t know . . . is there like a tutorial video or something I could look at?”

  Natalya: “You have to read the whole thing, it’s worth it, trust me. With the two of us together we can make a difference in the world . . . don’t you think we can make a difference in the world? Don’t you want to make a difference in the world?”

  Kimbra: “Did this come from that Conrad guy you’ve been hanging around with? I’ve never seen you act like this. You’re weirding me out.”

  Natalya: “Conrad is an amazing person. He has opened my eyes with the three core virtues. Kimbra, can you look at me and say that it’s actually weird to want to live a life of truth, freedom, and compassion? How can anyone argue against truth, freedom, and compassion?”

  Kimbra: “I have nothing against them, I mean, yeah. But I’m not going to follow some weird kid’s weird cult! I mean, I don’t know anything about him! This whole thing is not normal!”

  Natalya: “All you need to know about Conrad is right there, in his face. It’s a face of integrity, a face of honesty. I’m going to follow the teachings of his father, and I’m going to have a clean mind and clean conscience. Just by reading this I feel my spirit become cleaner . . . lighter. Once you’ve embraced these virtues you’ll know that you’re a better person.”

  Kimbra: “Listen to yourself, it’s like you’re not even you anymore.”

  Natalya: “I know, I know, that’s the whole point!”

  The image cut back to the announcer. “Natalya was talking to Kimbra Lippert, daughter of Lippert Equity founder Emily Lippert. And the Conrad they are talking about is Conrad Hicks.” A picture of Conrad, taken at the Green Inn, appeared in the corner of the screen. “Conrad Hicks is a mystery. Just try looking him up yourselves. He has somehow managed to achieve the second smallest online presence of anyone over sixteen years old in the city. And who has the smallest online presence? That would be David Hicks, Conrad’s father.” Conrad’s image was replaced by a silhouette with a big red question mark over it. “David Hicks, the mysterious founder of this ‘cult of virtue’ that former playgirl and socialite Natalya Borgan has embraced and has so completely changed her that her friends barely recognize her. Careful research has revealed that this mysterious cult leader was once the notorious hacker who went by the code name ‘Craynium’ who, in his youth, caused trillions of dollars of information damage to governments and corporations as the mastermind behind the Bang Squad hacker collective. He has kept himself hidden for years. So why, we ask, has he come forward now? What plans does David ‘Craynium’ Hicks have for the world? And is his charismatic son following in his destructive footsteps?”

  Jerome had always known that Natalya was kind of evil, but it was a charming kind of evil directed at people from her own social level who always had the resources to get back up on their feet after she knocked them down. This was a whole different stratum of evil. Craynium was fucked. Natalya had just completely fucked over Craynium and his entire life. When the government caught David Hicks he was going to go away into a dark hole with no exits. Jerome had no illusions about that broadcast—Natalya was almost as careful with security as he was. He was sure that she had staged that video. For some reason she wanted Craynium’s identity to be revealed.

  And Craynium wasn’t the only hacker’s secret identity she knew.

  Chapter 40

  Two-Guns stood in the Blank Room looking down at Captain Gates’ replacement, Captain Royce, who was sitting at the other end of the table. He was an older gentleman, tall and thin, his limbs sticking out of his chair in strange angles and his snow white afro receding high on his forehead. He had retired from the force to work in the private sector a few years back but had agreed to return on short notice to ta
ke over for Captain Bates. He was nursing the last bit of coffee in his giant “World’s Greatest Grandpa” mug.

  “It’s an honor to meet you Detective,” he said, “although I’m a little curious why you asked to see me in the Blank Room. Is everything okay? Have you seen the shrink about PTSD?”

  Two-Guns paced back and forth with her arms crossed. “No, not yet, I’m fine with that.”

  “I’d talk to the shrink. Back in aught-six I served in Iraq, in Falluja. When I got back I didn’t think I had a PTSD problem. But it sort of snuck up on me. A year later I woke up without a wife, without a job, and without my eye-teeth.” He grimaced, showing his now impeccably repaired teeth. “I never found out how I lost them. Kind of like that old Hangover movie, but less funny.”

  Two-Guns liked it when old folks talked in fogey. It reminded her of her Pappy.

  “It’s not PTSD that I’m worried about.” Two-Guns stopped pacing and faced the Captain. “I’m just thinking about this case, about why Armin Shubert went on that killing spree.”

  “We’ve got some good people investigating that. I’d like to tell you what we’ve got so far but there’s still a lot of speculation. I’d hate to tell you something that turns out to be false. It makes sense that you’d want to understand the ‘whys’ behind senseless violence. We all need to get a psychological toe-hold as to ‘whys’ and ‘wherefores’ of tragedies like this. Unfortunately, it sometimes comes down to the fact that some people are just fucked up.”

  Two-Guns braced herself. She liked this new captain, she wasn’t sure if she could trust him—but she needed to trust him. “I’ve gotten an offer by a private security firm, a generous offer. I’m a little suspicious of the motive they have for wanting to hire me.”

  “What? Just one offer? You’re a celebrity now, you’re very photogenic, if you don’t mind me saying, and any one of those fancy private firms would love to have you working for them. Are you considering it?”

  “I’ve got an uneasy feeling about this offer. It seems a little hinky to me.”

  Captain Royce looked about the Blank Room. “There’s no coffee maker in this room,” he noted with some annoyance. “I thought every Blank Room had a coffee maker in it. Did Captain Gates have something against coffee?”

  “No, he was fine with coffee,” Two-Guns said distractedly. “But this offer, I think maybe there’s some ulterior motive behind it, it doesn’t feel right.”

  The Captain swallowed the last of his coffee in one gulp. “Paranoia is one of the symptoms of PTSD. Detective, sometimes things that sound too good to be true might be something that you actually do deserve. That’s one of the funny things about good people like yourself, you just don’t believe you deserve something too good to be true getting dropped in your lap. Maybe it’s something to do with survivor’s remorse, I know a thing or two about that myself. When something that you actually do deserve comes along you get suspicious.”

  “It’s more than that sir. The offer was brought to me through Captain Gates.”

  The captain looked into his empty cup and then fixed his eyes on her. “Detective, trust me, you deserve whatever deal they’re giving to you. If someone offered me some cushy position in Miami, you can be sure I’d jump all over it.”

  Two-Guns’ mind froze. “Sir, I didn’t mention the job was in Miami.”

  The Captain winked. “You are a detective, Detective. You deserve that cushy job, and you know what? I bet the people who offered you that job might have misjudged the current state of affairs between you and Captain Gates. I bet that if you were uncomfortable working close to him, they could make sure he wasn’t anywhere near you, if that’s what is making you so hesitant about taking such a fine, fine offer.”

  Two-Guns gave her head a little shake and said quietly, “Thank you for seeing me—and for the advice, Captain. I will think very carefully about everything that you’ve told me.”

  “I’m sure you will Detective. You’re a smart young woman. Feel free to come to me anytime you need to talk. I have great respect for you, and for what you did. Like I said, I can tell that you are a good person, and I like it when good people get what they deserve. And you know, I really hate seeing bad things happen to good people.”

  Definitely a threat, Two-Guns thought. He definitely just threatened me.

  “Thank you sir,” she said, backing toward the door. “Sorry to take up your time.”

  “Anytime Detective,” the Captain said, keeping a steady stare at her as she retreated from the room.

  Chapter 41

  Terri sat on a small padded cot in a small padded cell. She stared at the blank cream colored walls.

  I shouldn’t have brought the gun. I shouldn’t have brought the gun. Conrad is so mad at me. Conrad is so so mad at me. I shouldn’t have brought the gun.

  She didn’t know how long she had been waiting in the cell. It seemed like hours. She wished she could talk to Conrad—but she was also scared to. It wasn’t so much his anger she was afraid of; it was his disappointment. When Conrad was disappointed in you he wouldn’t yell—he would just look at you with his pale blue eyes and although he wouldn’t move a single muscle you could see him go deep inside of himself to get away from you. You could see that he didn’t want anything to do with you—because you had been stupid and selfish and had brought a gun.

  The padded door opened. A woman in a severe uniform of black blouse, black slacks and black boots walked in. She was wearing opaque black smart glasses that hid her eyes. She stood in front of the door with her arms akimbo and simply said, “Teresa Vieira?”

  “Yes?” Terri said weakly.

  “You have a permit to carry handguns.”

  It was a moment before Terri realized it was a statement. “Yes.”

  “Whenever you are confronted with armed security personnel the first thing you should tell them is that you have a handgun and that you have a permit to carry it.”

  “Yes.”

  They looked at each other in silence for several moments.

  The woman said, “You realize that you were trespassing on private property, don’t you?”

  Terri thought that the woman might be trying to catch her at something. Get her to incriminate herself. If she didn’t realize at the time that she was trespassing, maybe she wouldn’t get in that much trouble. Although she remembered hearing somewhere that ignorance of the law didn’t make you immune from it.

  Should I ask for a lawyer? Who would I call? Natalya? Mom? How would they react? They can get me a lawyer, but they wouldn’t be too happy about it. And I don’t want to explain to them what I’m doing here.

  Terri said, “I’m really thirsty, can I have some water?”

  “Yes, I’ll get you some water shortly. But first Ms. Vieira, how did you and Conrad Hicks come to be under Mt. Fuji?”

  She didn’t want to answer the question. “I really need some water; I think I might faint.”

  The woman sighed, stepped out of the room, and a moment later came back in with a bottle of water. She handed it to Terri, she screwed open the top and drank half of it with one swig.

  “Ms. Vieira, since you were trespassing we could hand you over to the police and prosecute you, but that’s not what we want. All we want to know is how you got into the Bergs. That’s all, and then you can go home. We won’t call the police; we won’t even call your mother. This is a safety issue. If you can get in here then maybe a ten-year-old kid could get in here, and this is a very dangerous place. So if you would just tell us how you got in we’ll let you go home.” The woman then added tiredly, “And you might even save a life.”

  It sounded like a good deal, she certainly didn’t want them to call the police or her mother. But it was impossible, there was no way she could tell this woman how they got under the Bergs. That would be a complete betrayal to Conrad, and she had messed things up enough already.

  She looked down at her feet and said, “I don’t remember how we got in. Sorry.”

  Th
e woman sighed again. She seemed bored, like she would rather be somewhere else. Then she cocked her head, her focus taken elsewhere. Her body suddenly stiffened, straightening her arms and back.

  “Yes ma’am?” she said to the wall behind Terri. “Are you sure?” A pause. “Sorry ma’am. Yes, ma’am.” She then brought her focus back to Terri.

  “Alright Ms. Vieira, you’re free to go.”

  Chapter 42

  A fifteen-year-old boy wearing smart glasses was crying in the stairwell of an ecoloplex. “No,” he said between sobs. “No . . . no.” He walked up to the wall thumped his palm against the concrete. “Blocked blocked blocked,” he said with anger as his hand became a fist and he punched the wall hard enough to break the skin on his knuckles. With each punch he said a syllable. “Why . . . did . . . she . . . block . . . me? Why . . . did . . . she . . . block . . . me? Kris-tal-ly. Kris-tal-ly.”

  With each pound against the wall he heard a negative ding in his ear, and the image of his ex-girlfriend Kristally turned red with the word BLOCKED written over it.

  He slumped back down to sit on the stairs, his eyes fixed on his bloody knuckles. “Why did she block me? Why? What did I do that was so bad? Sheeta, why did she block me?”

  “I’m afraid I can’t help you with that,” Sheeta responded emotionlessly. “Is there anything else I can help you with?”

  “What’s the point?” the boy moaned. “What’s the fucking point? What’s the point of it all?”

  Sheeta said, “I don’t understand the question. Can you rephrase that for me?”

  “Why the fuck should I live? Why the fuck should I even bother?”

  “Are you trying to find information on the meaning of life?”

  “Yeah Sheeta,” the boy chuckled humorlessly. “Yeah, what’s the fucking meaning of life.”

  “Here’s a list of popular sites that discuss the meaning of life.”