The Bridge Chronicles Trilogy

by Gary Ballard

  Paulie chuckled, a sound like a bull snort. “That won’t help you if you don’t leave me table sharpish.”

  “You’re too predictable, Paulie. Every Tuesday, a late lunch at the Pub Grub. Real easy for the wrong guy to find you.”

  “If you really think I’m that worried about some mythical someone finding me, like I couldn’t take care of whatever cunt wanted to come up on me, you don’t know me very well at all, Polly.” He shoveled another giant mouthful. “Tuesday’s black pudding day. This is the only place in this whole goddamn desert serves a decent black pudding. I’m a very unhappy cunt if I don’t get me black pudding every Tuesday.”

  “How’d you know I was supposed to be dead? Your boss set that up?”

  Another bull snort. “As if. He ain’t got the pull to whack a mole at the moment, no thanks to you I might add. Your little stunt with the mayor cocked up his career trajectory but good. He’s got me shaking down leakers liht="0">ke I’m some sort of bookie’s boy.”

  “Not really a fulfilling career then?” Bridge said with a touch of mocking sarcasm.

  Paulie held up two cybernetic fingers. Bridge remembered those fingers well. Paulie had worked for Chronosoft executive Brandon Thames as an enforcer when his path crossed with Bridge. He had been trying to force a hacker working for Angela into releasing a scandalous video of the former mayor during the election, but the hacker had lost his nerve. Paulie had killed the kid in Bridge’s arms, but not before Bridge had gotten stuck with the incriminating video. Stonewall and Aristotle had saved Bridge from Paulie’s wrath. They had taken Paulie to an abandoned warehouse where he was tortured, cutting off the two fingers his current cybernetics had replaced. Paulie had escaped, but put the blame squarely on Bridge. Once Bridge had done the job of releasing the video, he had forced Thames to keep Paulie from exacting revenge for three months. Paulie had complied, and Bridge had used that time to figure out a way to pay Paulie back. He had managed to get the limey’s step-brother back in England a spot on Manchester United’s reserve team by blackmail, saving the kid from a sure death as an incompetent gangster. Paulie had agreed to leave Bridge alone as repayment, but the two weren’t exactly chummy.

  “I wouldn’t get all cheeky if I was you, Polly. My good graces only last so long.”

  Bridge nodded. “How would you like to get your boss back in the corporate limelight? And, of course, get you back to breaking important legs again.”

  Paulie stopped eating in mid-bite. For the first time, he focused on Bridge, his eyes narrowing to slits, pinning the fixer with a stabbing stare. “How you plan on doing that, Polly?”

  “That’s for your boss to hear,” Bridge replied. “But trust me, it will turn him into the new hotness again.”

  Paulie tossed his fork into the plate with a loud clatter, attracting other patrons’ attention for only a second before they returned to their silent meals. “I seen what trusting you gets,” the thug said through clenched teeth. “How’s the girlfriend? Did she trust you?”

  Bridge’s teeth ground together painfully. He could feel a muscle twitching in his jaw. Images flooded through his mind, responses to the challenge dancing around his tongue like fire. Threats he had every intention of making good on came to mind. He thought of telling Paulie that Mu would light his interior organs on fire and watch him burn from the inside out. He’d get Mu to encase Paulie in an airtight bubble and squeeze while Bridge finished Paulie’s meal, watching with interest to see if the giant would suffocate before the bubble squeezed his body into a ball the size of a penny. He thought of Paulie’s mother, of sending some anonymous assassin to her flat in Manchester to grease her, the step-father and stepson and anyone else that Paulie might have given even the slightest shit about.

  Paulie could see the intensity of Bridge’s thoughts, and he smiled an evil smile, a triumphant grin that dared Bridge to make good on those unspoken threats.

  Instead, Bridge said with calm detachment, “There’s no reason to be crappy.”

  Every bit of anger, hatred and resentment seemed to drain from Paulie’s face at that moment. His mood shifted from evil gloating to quiet respect and sad resentment, the expression changing like the tide. The gaze he’d locked on Bridge’s eyes broke, and his eyes flitted to the table and around Bridge with nervous embarrassment. Finally, he met Bridge’s eyes again. “My apologies. You’re right. No reason to be unprofessional.”

  Their relationship changed at that exact moment. All the resentment, all the animosity seemed to drain from the space between them like water from a bathtub. Paulie had tried his best to get Bridge to break, and Bridge had refused. Grudging respect was writ large across the ex-footballer’s face.

  Bridge and Paulie worked out the details of a meeting with the thug’s boss, Brandon Thames. They would gather at Thames’ Chronosoft Annex office tomorrow morning. Paulie seemed embarrassed to tell Bridge of Thames’ new office location; apparently the Annex was where execs who failed downwards ended up. Bridge managed not to laugh or gloat when learning of the dirtbag’s downfall. Business concluded, Bridge gathered Mu and split in a cab.

  “Everything set up, boss?” Mu asked with little interest.

  “Yeah, yeah, we’re good. Paulie’s going to set it all up.”

  “Didn’t that guy want to kill you not too long ago?”

  Bridge smiled ruefully. “We worked it out.”

  “Uh huh.” A doubtful stare over the rim of Mu’s designer sunglasses. “You trust him?”

  “When have I ever trusted anybody? Of course I don’t trust Paulie. You trust Paulie to whack a guy. You trust Paulie to do a bit of the ultraviolence. Sometimes, you trust him to make good on what he says he’s going to do, like set up this meeting. But you do not ever trust Paulie in that way.”

  “So why are you working with him?”

  “Because he gets me closer to someone who can help me pull off what I need to pull off. And Thames is hungry enough to redeem himself, he’ll take any good idea, no matter how crazy, and run with it.”

  “You ever gonna let me in on this plan of yours?”

  Bridge suddenly felt very ill at ease. Despite all the help Mu had provided, he still wasn’t sure about the kid. The young technomancer seemed all too eager to show off his powers, and that kind of flash. Desiness Bridge most definitely did not need. That kind of attention would only draw out more guys like the one who had killed Angela. The thought of Angela brought back Paulie’s words at the table, all the anger bubbling back up under the skin.

  “I mean, I know I haven’t been with you as long as Aristotle or nothing, but you’ve seen what I can do. Why don’t you unleash me on these Diablos fucks? I can take the whole crew down in a day. They won’t know what hit them!”

  “That’s exactly what I don’t need to do.”

  “But come on, my talents are being wasted. The force fields, the wards, that’s kids stuff. I learned that first week. I want to do some real magic.”

  A suffocating anger suffused every pore of Bridge’s being, growing, expanding in his gut, behind his eyes, his armpits. Suddenly, the cab was too hot, too close. He became aware of the scented body spray Mu wore, his own sweat, the stench of the cab’s well-worn interior. It closed in on him, pounding in at his defenses, invading his space. He had to get out of the cab. A greasy convenience store popped up on the corner, and Bridge practically leapt forward. “Driver, let us off here.”

  “What’s the matter? Gotta drain the main vein?” Mu asked as the car pulled into the parking lot.

  “Something like that,” Bridge grunted over his shoulder as he dove from the cab. He spotted the bathroom door on the outside of the building and burst through it. Mu muttered quietly as he took up a position outside.

  The filthy bathroom itself was too small. Smells and textures and sounds crashed in on Bridge from every direction. His feet slipped on the wet tile. He steadied himself over an ancient sink, covered with so much rust its color was more brown than white. The water came out co
ld and slightly yellow, and he splashed his face quickly. Opening his eyes again, he caught sight of himself in the mirror.

  The reflection wasn’t pretty. The mirror itself was as wrecked as the bathroom, long splinters running vertically along the tarnished surface. Dirt and rust spotted the image’s surface. The two-day shadow on Bridge’s face only darkened his tanned skin, lined with the wrinkles of fatigue from the lack of sleep. His eyes were haunted.

  He imagined himself like the character in a trashy novella, smashing the mirror with his fist, pulling the towel holder off the wall with insane angry strength, kicking in the stall door in some massive breakdown freak out. But instead, he stood gazing at his distorted reflection, piercing his eyes with a stare that said it all.

  “It’s all your fault,” he said to the reflection. “All of it. The soldier in Boulder. Yeah, you killed him. You covered up 30,000 deaths and you ran a guy over and you got your goddamn girlfriend killed. Angela died because of you. Other people died because of you, but who gives a fuck about them. You didn’t. You still don’t. But you killed Angie. Ain’t nothing going to make up for that.”

  ttyHis focus shifted then, looking over his shoulder to the stall behind. An idea, a kooky thought from the teenager still buried somewhere within him, the merry prankster, took over. He grabbed the keys from his pocket, the keys to the apartment where Angie had died because of him and went to work on the bathroom stall. Scrapping, cutting, twisting the key to form the message he felt he needed to say. The work done, he surveyed the words with some sick form of pride.

  He whispered it back to himself. “May the things you build be greater than the things you destroy.”

  He spun on his heels and strode out the door. Mu practically jumped off the wall he’d been leaning on. “Who were you talking to?”

  “Myself.”

  “Good talk?” the technomancer asked with a nervous laugh.

  “Good enough. I needed to hear it. Let’s go. We got work to do.”

  Chapter 16

  March 12, 2029

  9:22 a.m.

  Bridge got to Chronosoft’s downtown headquarters early. A very pretty receptionist directed him from the cavernous confines of the Mall’s lobby to the office of Marcus Thames. As Bridge wandered through the unfinished Mall, dodging construction crews and scaffolding, he marveled at the work. An upgrade to the existing Chronosoft Corporate Headquarters that occupied a city block of downtown Los Angeles, the Mall stretched across the street to the Local Governance License building. Its skeletal upper ten floors still lacked an outer shell to protect it from the elements, construction way behind schedule and still months from completion. The building that used to house Thames’ office had been completed a month ago, but thanks to Bridge, he had lost his lofty position.

  Bridge hadn’t done that much. In fact, he hadn’t done anything. Thames had been in charge of the operation that got the current mayor elected. He’d set up the video that made the former mayor appear to be a pedophile, or at least a cyber pedophile, and he’d forced Bridge into leaking the video on the eve of the election. But Bridge hadn’t taken kindly to the threat, and had cajoled Freeman into faking GlobalNet attacks on the vote tallying servers. The attacks had done no harm, nor had they been meant to, but they did accomplish their goal. They made it appear as if the votes had been tampered with, a task made easier by the fact that the pedophilia accusations had turned a close race into a massive landslide for Arturo Soto. It had taken the election commission months of very expensive investigations to conclude that no tampering took place, but the public relations damage had been done to Soto’s fledgling administration. Thames hs of vad borne the blame.

  Thames’ new office in the LGL Annex still had that new construction smell. Compared to most cube farms, it was swanky, but when held up to his previous digs, there could be no comparison. His old office had opulent wall screens and a floor-to-ceiling window overlooking the massive construction. The new place felt like a closet, a tiny window barely changing the quality of murky light spilling over the barren sheet rock walls. It felt every bit like a government office. Nothing decorated the walls, the desk might well have been an artifact of the previous century unearthed in an archeological dig and Thames’ battered office chair made him slump forward uncomfortably. Paulie served as the closest thing he had to his old receptionist, and the dour ex-footballer seemed ill-served to the role.

  “I hope you got your sales pitch down, Polly,” Paulie said grumpily to Bridge as he opened the door. “His majesty is in one foul mood.”

  Bridge nodded, ushering Mu in before him with a casual smile. ‘Confidence could sell anything,’ Bridge thought to himself. “I got this, big guy,” he said nonchalantly.

  “Mr. Bridge,” Thames said with an evil smile that immediately made it clear the executive found no joy in this meeting. “Oh that’s right, no Mr. needed, isn’t that right? Just Bridge. Well, Bridge, welcome to my new office. The one you put me in. I haven’t properly thanked you for that, now have I?”

  Bridge ignored the attempts to draw him out. “Business, Mr. Thames. You understand.”

  “Oh certainly. I understand you fucked me out of a cushy position with the mayor’s office, you made me look like an amateur and got me sent here doing this useless work.” He waved his hand over the stack of papers on his desk. “I don’t even get a holo display.”

  “What exactly do they have you doing?”

  The executive’s insincere smile melted. “Oh, didn’t Paulie tell you? I’m helping fight the good fight against those horrible pirates stealing the property of Chronosoft Entertainment Division. You know those pirates, like the ones I used to hire to leak movies and shit before release? You know, the pirates Chronosoft uses to create hype for their formulaic crap they release like clockwork?”

  “You must have an easy job.” Mu chuckled. His smirk only made Thames more irritated.

  “Oh that’s real fucking funny. You get a new bodyguard? What happened to the black one?”

  “He’s on another assignment,” Bridge replied, giving Mu a look that told him to keep his trap shut.

  “Yeah, you’d think it’d be easy, but the trick is I have to actually make it look like I’m trying to track down copyright infringement, without actually pegging any of our leakers. Which means I’m tracking down our competitors’ leakers, only they don’t want their leakers caught any more than we want ours to be caugshy pht. If I catch theirs, they have to catch ours, and the whole operation goes to shit. So I have to generate reams and reams of reports proving that I do actual investigation without investigating anything whatsoever. I’m working 50-hour weeks to produce nothing. And it’s fucking lovely.”

  He slammed his back into his creaky chair. “I’d offer you something to drink, but I don’t get an entertaining budget, and I don’t have any fucking arsenic handy. So why don’t we cut out the small talk and you tell me what the fuck you want from me this time. Paulie said you had something big.”

  “I do.”

  “And what makes you think there is anything you can tell me that would make me trust you?”

  “Trust me? Shit, I’d think you know me better than that by now. I don’t expect you to trust me, nor do I want you to. I’m not here to help you. I’m here for myself. I’m here because I know you’re probably just about desperate enough that you’ll take a crazy ass idea like I have and make it work to your own benefit. You help me, you’ll help yourself and a lot of people besides. And we’ll likely all get a little bit rich.”

  “Fair enough. What do you have in mind?”

  Bridge explained the plan. Thames’ eyes were afire before Bridge had gotten halfway through the pitch. Bridge had him.

  With the particulars worked out, Bridge stood to go. “One more thing, Mr. Thames.”

  Thames smiled ruefully. “You never stop, do you?”

  “Not if I can help it.”

  “What is it?”

  “This meeting we’re going to tonight, I’m g
oing to need an escort.”

  “Your wizard friend isn’t enough for you?”

  “Probably more than enough, but I like to cover as many bases as I can. I want to request a personal CLED escort, one officer in particular. A Gina Danton, I think she’s a sergeant now.”

  “You want me to give you a CLED escort?”

  “Just Sgt. Danton. She’s more than capable enough for my purposes.”

  Thames shrugged. “Yeah, sure why not? I’ll make the arrangements. Where shall I have her meet you?”

  Bridge gave him the mes Naddress, one of the few train stations still under Los Magos control. “We have a deal then?”

  “We most certainly have a deal, you crazy bastard. I’ll get the mayor’s people right on it.”

  “And you can get the mayor there as well, right? This doesn’t work without his personal touch.”

  “He may not be happy to see me, but he’ll be tickled pink with this idea.”

  “All right then. See you tonight at 9, and we’ll make some goddamn history.”

  Chapter 17

  March 12, 2029

  8:17 p.m.

  “What the hell am I doing here again?” Gina Danton asked, her arms crossed over her chest. The folds on her CLED khaki jacket bunched angrily over her elbows and shoulders, her eyes burning with smoldering disgust.

  “I assume you are here because I requested your presence to guard my person in this highly dangerous endeavor. Your chief obviously agreed with me that on such a momentous occasion as this, I should be able to avail myself of the finest police protection.”

  “When did you get juice downtown?”

  “You seem to be implying that a regular citizen like myself isn’t entitled to the benefit of our city’s finest.” The sheer enjoyment Bridge felt from rubbing Danton’s face in his newfound influence filled the train car with smug smiles.

  “Fuck you, Bridge. You ain’t no regular citizen, and neither is he.” She pointed a stabbing finger at Stonewall Ricardo, who managed to stifle a smile. “Why shouldn’t I be hauling him in for the deaths of three cops and the total destruction of a warehouse?”