“She told me.”
“And you believed her? You are such a moron! How on earth could she know that?”
Damos opened his mouth to reply before said nothing. Lily suddenly felt a surge of rage well up inside him. Damos leapt to his feet, a knife materialising in his hand.
“No, stop,” Lily cried. She tried to get up to run, but Damos threw her back into the chair. She recoiled back into the cushions as Damos brought the knife up to her throat.
“Wait,” the other man shouted. Damos ignored him.
“I said wait,” the man repeated, grabbing Damos’s arm and pulling him back. Damos threw him away, but it gave Lily enough time to roll out of the seat and run to the corner of the room.
“Get off me,” Damos yelled.
“Stop,” said the woman. “Calm down and hear Matt out.”
“Shut up Victoria. She duped me.”
“Serves you right for being so stupid.”
Damos turned to yell at Victoria, but before he could speak, she walloped him across the face. Damos toppled onto the sofa, the knife vanishing as he fought to remain conscious. At the same time, Matt ran over to where Lily was cowering.
“No, stay away!” Lily yelled as he approached. Matt skidded to a stop, holding his arms in the air.
“I’m not going to hurt you,” he said.
“I don’t care. Stay back.”
Matt nodded. After a few moments, Lily slowly stood up.
“I just want to go home,” she said.
“I’m sorry, I can’t let you leave.”
“Why not?”
“I need to ask you some questions. There was something on that data disc you were carrying which should not have still existed. I want to know where you got it.”
Lily kept looking at him but remained silent.
“Please, it’s important.”
“I got it from my friend. The one you murdered.”
Matt remained quiet, unsure of what to say next.
“I’m sorry,” he eventually replied.
“Sorry doesn’t bring him back!”
“Nothing will bring him back, I know that. But what you know could help bring two of my friends back from wherever they’ve been taken.”
“Why would I help you?”
“Honestly, because you don’t have a lot of choice. But I promise you this: you’re safe. We will not harm you. That job is over, and as far as our employers are concerned you’re already dead.”
Lily could feel Matt was being genuine, but that didn’t account for Damos.
“Even from him?” she asked, nodding at Damos who was sat on the sofa glaring at her.
“I swear. If he tries anything, we’ll stop him. Now, come take a seat and tell us what you know.”
He stepped back and gestured to the armchair. Realising she didn’t have a lot of options, Lily gradually made her way to the chair. Matt took a seat on the sofa, deliberately putting himself between Lily and Damos, while Victoria sat on the sofa opposite. Lily was glad to realise the majority of her grafts were on the other side of her body and so hidden from view.
“Right, let’s start with the basics,” Matt said. “You got the data disc from your friend. When and where?”
“Last night. The pavement where you left him to die,” Lily replied, her voice thick with contempt.
“Again, I am truly sorry. Did he say anything when he gave it to you?”
“He told me that they’re going to use ManaNet to destroy us all.”
“Okay… and do you know where he got it from?”
“No, he didn’t have a chance to say,” Lily replied. She was surprised by how level her voice remained as she said it.
Matt paused for a moment.
“That’s all I can think of that would be useful for now,” he said eventually.
“Can I go then?” Lily asked.
“I’m afraid not. Whatever your friend was involved in, it was big and it was dangerous. We may still need your help.”
“But I don’t know anything!”
“That may be, but for the time being, I would still prefer you stay here. Besides, do you really want to walk back to your hostel at this time of night?”
He’s right, and I at least know I can trust him, Lily thought, feeling something like care emanating from him.
“Come on, I’ll take you to a bedroom upstairs where you can sleep. You must be tired.”
Lily nodded and stood. Part of her still wanted to run, but the logical part of her mind told her it would be pointless. These people clearly weren’t going to let her go, and she couldn’t escape from all three of them. Resigned to her fate, Lily followed as Matt led her out of the front room and up a dusty staircase. At the top, they turned onto another corridor.
“Second door on the right,” Matt said, pointing. “I’ll be just opposite if you need anything.”
“Thanks,” Lily mumbled before trudging away to the room. She shut the door, and after a brief survey of the room found an appropriately heavy chest of draws to drag across the doorway before she collapsed onto the bed. Now she was alone, the tears flowed freely once more, splashing onto the green velvet sheets. Scared and alone, she lay crying for quite some time before her tiredness grew too much and sleep finally claimed her.
Chapter 8 - Fear
08:58, Unknown Location
Owen woke up to find himself in a small room, lying on a steel shelf which hung from the wall via chains. The walls themselves were painted mouldy green, and other than the shelf and a bucket, the room was empty. Opposite Owen stood a door which he didn’t need to try to know was locked.
Where have they brought me? he thought, remembering the mercenaries carrying him away and injecting him with some kind of sleep-inducing drug. He looked down at his wrists, but his bracelets were gone.
No surprises there, that would be far too easy.
He reached down and checked his pockets to find them empty.
And they’ve got the data disc. Well, at least I know who hired the mercenaries then. I wonder if Matt’s figured out they weren’t after Victoria? Probably not.
Owen sat up and slid round, leaning against the wall.
I guess I’ll just have to wait until they come and get me.
He wasn’t waiting long. A few minutes later, Owen heard a lock click and the door slide back. A woman entered wearing a protective vest and helmet, similar to those the mercenaries had worn. Owen noticed she was carrying a cloth bag. He lent forwards and a moment later the woman slid it over his head. He felt a hand grip his arm as the woman guided him to his feet and led him out of the cell.
Even with Owen’s intellect, he had trouble remembering all the twists and turns that the woman led him through.
No stairs at least, Owen thought when they finally did stop and he was pushed down into a chair. The bag was removed and Owen found himself in a similarly bland room, occupied by a table and two chairs. Sitting across from him was a stern looking woman, dressed smartly in a grey suit.
“Greetings,” the woman said, though she made no effort to extend her hand for a handshake. “We’ve got some questions we’d like to ask you.”
“Shoot,” Owen replied.
“Shoot?” the woman asked quizzically.
“Ask them,” Owen replied.
“Very well,” the woman said, although Owen’s nonchalant attitude had clearly caught her off guard. “We found this on your person,” the woman continued, placing the data disc on the table. “We’d like to know how you acquired it.”
“Stole it.”
“Stole it? From who.”
“Whom,” Owen corrected. “And I don’t know. Wasn’t me that took it.”
“I asked how you acquired it.”
“I acquired it off of my mate, who himself stole it.”
“Don’t you mean whom?” the woman said with a smirk.
“No, that one was a ‘who’ actually,” Owen replied.
“Who, whom, whatever. Where did your friend get the disc?”
“I told you, he stole it.”
“Yes, but from who?”
“Whom.”
The woman’s face flushed red and Owen chuckled to himself. The woman looked at the floor for a moment and took a deep breath before fixing Owen with a glare.
“Believe me when I say, if you continue to act in this way, it will have unpleasant consequences for you.”
“Oh god, I’d better behave then,” Owen said, sitting up straight in his chair and placing his hands in his lap.
“I’m not fooling around here! Where did-”
A knock at the door interrupted the woman.
“Enter,” she called. The door opened and a large man in security garb stepped inside.
“Change of plan ma’am. This interview is over.”
“But-”
“Orders from the top. You’re to cease interrogation immediately.”
“Pleasure speaking with you,” Owen said. The woman shot him a fierce look before standing to leave. As she left, the security guard walked up to the table and placed a communicator in front of Owen, before turning and leaving himself.
Now that is interesting, Owen thought, leaning over to investigate the device. Old, based off pre-ManaNet technology. Someone doesn’t want to be traced or recorded.
The device crackled. A voice spoke.
“Am I correct to assume I am speaking to Owen Etching?”
Owen sat bolt upright.
“Yes, that is correct,” he replied.
“And you are alone?”
“Yes.”
“And you know who I am?”
“Yes.”
“Good, then listen. In three minute’s time, a guard will enter the room. You will be blindfolded and escorted to a hangar. There, you will board a jet craft and take a short flight. At the other end, you will be escorted to another room where we will speak again. Is this clear?”
“Yes.”
The communicator went dead. Owen sat in silence. He felt his hands clam up. He tried to wipe them on his trousers, but it was no use.
After the longest three minutes of his life, the door opened. Owen sat rigid as another cloth bag was placed over his head. He stood and the guard led him out of the room. He didn’t bother trying to memorise the route this time, his mind too focused on other things.
How did he find me so fast? Well, there’s no doubt ManaCorp had a hand in this now. Unless he’s moved on, which I very much doubt. Damn it, why did he have to be here? And where’s Izzy? For goodness’ sake, don’t let her get dragged into this.
Owen heard a hiss and felt a blast of cold air against his skin. They’d reached the hangar. He carried on walking, letting the guard direct him. Several paces later he felt the guard pull him back. There was a rustling sound and Owen felt something press against his ears. Everything went quiet. Someone grabbed his shin and lifted, guiding him up the step into an aircraft. Once inside, he was pushed into a seat and belted in.
Even with his ears covered, he still heard the roar of the jets as the aircraft began to take off. He felt pressure on his neck as they ascended, then was thrown back into his seat when the craft shot away.
A few minutes later, Owen felt the craft begin to slow. It landed with a jolt. He heard the sound of the engines die away. Someone grabbed his arm and pulled him from his seat. The pressure around his ears disappeared and sound returned.
Owen once again found himself being bustled down winding corridors. They seemed to be curved, the guard constantly having to direct him round to the left. Eventually they stopped. A door hissed, and Owen felt a hand push him through. The guard pulled the bag off of Owen’s head, then stepped back and let the door close with another hiss.
Owen looked around. The room looked like the previous interrogation room, except the lighting was worse and the walls were steel. In front of him was a chair, similar to his own, upon which sat another communicator and a pair of bracelets.
My bracelets, Owen thought, recognising a small scratch he’d accidentally made in one a few years ago. He carefully picked them up and slid them back onto his wrists.
It feels good to have them back, he thought. He reached down and picked the communicator up before sitting down. No sooner had his rear hit the chair than the communicator crackled to life.
“Hello again. I trust you had a pleasant trip.”
“It was wonderful.”
“Good. Now, the reason you’re here. You’re going to finish what you started.”
There was a click, and Owen looked up to see four spikes shoot out from a small disk affixed to the far wall. Blue light bathed the room as a holographic screen appeared in front of them. Lines of arcane symbols appeared; lines he himself had written.
“No doubt you recognise the code on the screen, both from when you wrote it and from the data disc you oh so kindly returned. You know it sent a signal as soon as you opened it right? I do hope your sloppy hacking isn’t an indicator of a general decline in ability. You used to be the best, and we’re counting on that.”
“What makes you think I’ll help you?”
“You’re not in much of a position to argue. That and your friend, dear little Isabelle. She’s oh so scared, all alone in a cell.”
The screen changed to show Izzy sitting in a similar cell to the one Owen had woken up in. She was huddled up at one end of the shelf, her legs hugged tightly against her chest.
“You wouldn’t want anything to happen to her, would you? Especially not if you could have prevented it.”
Owen clenched his fist. He sat silent for a minute, thinking.
“Fine, I’ll do it. Just leave her out of this.”
“I knew you’d make the right choice. As a sign of good will, I’ll even let her leave. But don’t think that means I’m getting soft. Cross me and she will suffer.”
The communicator went dead. Owen watched as a man entered Izzy’s room. She looked up, terrified. The man walked over to her and put a bag over her head, then escorted her from the room. The feed flickered and died, to be replaced with the code once more. Owen flicked his wrists and a keyboard appeared in front of him. Reluctantly he began to type.
* * * *
11:02, Inner City, North District
Izzy sat in silence, alone in the back of a van.
Where’s Owen? Why isn’t he here too? she thought as she stared at the cold metal benches. I hope he’s okay.
She fought back the urge to cry; she was stronger than that. The others had seen far worse than this and survived, and so would she.
A terrifying thought occurred to her; what if the others had been captured too?
No, there’s no way Matt and Victoria could have been taken. And Damos was out on a job. I have to believe in them, they’ll be alright.
Izzy felt the van suddenly jerk to a stop. She toppled sideways, held in place only by a strap around her waist. She could have undone it at any time, but it would have made no difference as the rear door was locked.
Not any more, Izzy thought as she heard a clunk.
“Get out. You’re free to go,” a voice said through a small speaker affixed to the ceiling. Izzy cautiously unclipped the strap and shuffled down to the exit. She gasped as pain flared in her chest. Doing her best to ignore it for the time being, she tentatively pushed open the door. She squinted as the glaring light of the sun greeted her. Pushing the door all the way, she slid out of the van and found herself in an inner city back alley.
“Shut the door,” she heard the voice say. Grasping at her chest with one hand, she threw the door shut with the other. No sooner had it closed than the engine started and the van drove away.
She stood alone, shivering, her chest on fire. Reaching up, she pulled her strappy pyjama top away from her and peered down.
What on earth?
An oval shaped bruise ran down the space between her breasts. She tentatively reached out and poked it, quickly withdrawing her hand when pain flared once more.
How did that
get there? Have they done something to me?
She looked for any signs of cuts or stitches, but there was nothing. Her skin was intact. As far as she was aware she’d been gone a day at most; there’s no way any cuts could heal that fast.
They must have knocked me when I was taken, she realised. Now that she thought about it, she remembered how much the mercenaries’ shoulder had hurt as he carried her.
That doesn’t mean they haven’t bugged my clothes though. Fighting through the pain, she carefully ran her fingers around the seams of her top and shorts. Granted, there was little space where they could have hidden anything, but she had to make sure.
Hair? She thought, reaching up and running her fingers through her long ginger locks. Still nothing.
Okay, so no bugs. What now then?
She reached down for her phone, but her pocket was empty.
They must have taken it. Now how will I find Matt and the others?
A memory from some time ago surfaced in her mind. She was in their old flat, several apartments before their latest. In front of her stood Matt, holding out a scrap of paper.
If our current location is ever compromised, head to the safe house. Here is its address. Memorise it, then destroy that paper, Matt said, handing her the scrap.
That’s where they’ll be, Izzy thought, recalling the address. She remembered looking the house up once and being amazed by its grandeur. It was on the outskirts of the city, in an old district which supposedly pre-dated the invention of ManaNet. Not that such a concept made sense to anyone anymore. Apparently Owen’s family had used to live there, several generations ago. They were so rich they’d never bothered to sell the place and kept it for visits to the city.
Even one place to live would have been enough for me. Pushing the thought from her mind, Izzy began working out the quickest way to get there.
No, don’t take the quickest route, that would make it easy to follow you. If they haven’t bugged you that must be their plan.
Izzy instinctively went to look around but stopped herself.
A tail will be much easier to lose if they don’t know you’re on to them, she thought, instantly cursing being so obvious when looking for bugs. The skyrail would be my best bet, but I’ll have to make sure no one is following me before catching it.
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