by Samuel King
Joel smiled and he winked at the sales woman before placing the stun pistol on the table that had once held Helen's neural array. He blinked and was once again at the hideout. Surveying his surroundings, he grimaced and said, "Not much longer." Then, addressing their own holo system, he added, "Give me a drink. Bourbon on the rocks—the best you've got."
"Where would you like your drink?" the system asked.
"Put it on the table," he replied, and the drink appeared at once. He scooped it up, took a long sip and smiled in appreciation. A mere holographic construct, the ingenuity of the systems' designers enabled it to produce the desired effect on him or any other sentient. "Here's to freedom, Helen," he said and took a seat on the sofa to await their return.
***
Kate entered the hideout shortly after five and found a victory celebration in full swing. Freeman and Joel sat on either side of an obviously inebriated Helen. Her skirt was hiked up well beyond what would have been considered appropriate, her long legs propped up on the coffee table.
"Hey! The final member of our little group," Freeman said.
"Come on over, Kate," Joel called. "Always room for one more."
"That's right. My lap is the most comfortable seat in the house," Freeman added.
As the two men cackled, she demanded, "What the hell did you do?"
"What?" Joel asked.
"You shot Tommy, that's what. They arrested him, you know."
Helen's smile vanished. "What?"
Kate marched across the room and stood before them on the other side of the coffee table. "You bastards didn't tell her?" Both men stopped laughing at once. Freeman looked away. "Well?" she asked.
"What's going on?" Helen pleaded.
"We tricked Tommy," Kate answered. "We used him to get into the store and set up a remote link for Joel."
"Oh, no."
"Oh, yes. We set him up, and these two shot him and left him for mall security."
Joel jumped to his feet. "That's not the way it happened, Kate. The idiot gave himself away."
Helen began to whimper.
"It's true," Freeman said. "He went crazy when Joel arrived… wouldn't shut up."
Kate shook her head. "Why did you have to shoot him?"
"I had no choice," Joel replied. "He tried to stop me from taking Helen, and Bobby was busy holding the customers and staff at bay. I warned him, but he went crazy, just like Bobby said."
"I told you he wasn't up to this."
Joel crossed his arms, turning away from her. "Serves the little asshole right."
"No!" Helen cried. "He was my friend, the only friend I had there. He kept me company. Why did you have to hurt him?"
"Would you rather still be there, Helen?" Joel asked.
"Of course not."
"Then leave it alone. It's the way it had to be."
Noticing that Freeman had fallen silent and was holding his head, Kate asked, "Why was Tommy arrested, anyway? Do you know, Bobby?
"It's not important," he answered.
"How does he know what happened?" Joel asked. "He was long gone by the time security arrived."
"He knows!" Kate shrieked. "Just look at him. He knows."
Joel turned to Freeman. "Is that true?"
The thief didn't answer at first and only sighed. "Yeah, it's true," he said, finally. "I had a man posted outside the store just in case security was in the area. He saw everything."
"Then you tell me, Bobby," Kate demanded. "You tell me why they arrested Tommy?"
"Some of the customers told mall security that he was acting strange before he got shot. They started questioning him right after he came to. He didn't last a minute. Confessed to everything right then and there."
Kate began to cry. "Oh, no, no, no… that poor kid."
"Yeah," Freeman said. He lowered his head and took a deep breath before continuing. "My man said he fell apart when they put the restraints on. Started crying and screaming how much it hurt."
"Sweet Jesus," Kate prayed. "What did we do?"
A sobbing Helen rose, staggering briefly before grasping Joel's shoulders. "Did Tommy have to get hurt?"
He looked away without answering.
Tightening her grip, she asked, "But it was worth it, right, Joel? Now we can be together."
He flinched at her touch.
"Hah!" Kate said. "You think so? You think this was about the two of ya bein' together?"
Joel's jaw twitched, but he maintained his silence.
"Hell, man, say something to the woman," Freeman demanded.
"Don't hold your breath," Kate advised him. "Ya might as well forget it, Helen."
"What is she talking about, Joel?"
When Joel said nothing, Freeman scowled, shaking his head. "You're one cold son of a bitch, man."
"Oh, yes. He is that," Kate said. Reaching across the coffee table, she turned Helen's head toward her. "Joel didn't free ya so you two could be together, honey. He's in love with a dead woman, a store clerk from Southside."
"No! That can't be true. Please, Joel, tell me it's not true."
Joel took a sip of his drink but said nothing as an infuriated Kate came around the coffee table and embraced Helen. They both cried, while Freeman held his head, shaking it slowly. Not so, Joel. After taking yet another sip of the bourbon, he calmly reclaimed his seat and stared at the far wall, his face revealing not a single trace of emotion.
+ + + END + + +
3. Confidence Man
"Here we go again," Kate McGinnis said with a sigh. With hands clasped behind her head, she leaned back in her chair staring at the ceiling as the weekly meeting turned to everyone's least favorite subject: money.
In the four months following Helen's liberation, they had executed eight more operations, and others were in the planning stages. A growing number of sentient artificials owed their freedom to their efforts, but it hadn't been enough to simply free them. Those newly liberated required safe housing and help to establish new lives, all of which cost money. Running, in effect, an "Underground Railroad" had turned out to be an expensive proposition.
Her job, or lack of one, certainly hadn't helped the money situation. The tempo of operations was such, that she had been forced to leave General Holographics permanently, two months earlier. The liberation business, it seemed, was a full time occupation.
"That's right, Kate, here we go again," Joel replied. He was in charge, and never let any of them forget it. "Last week the situation was serious. This week it's critical."
Kate tugged absently at her cropped, red hair, a souvenir of the operation that had freed the vivacious blond sitting across from her: Helen—quiet, brooding. Like Joel, she had been a system demonstrator for General Holographic and like him had been configured with the looks that came with the position: a beautiful face, a perfect body and long, golden trusses. Kate stole and envious look at the blonde. Such hair had been hers once, a fiery, shoulder length red mane, but she had given it up willingly—for Helen.
Her musings came to an end when Freeman, the thief, snored loudly, pretending to be asleep. Kate tittered.
"Very funny, Bobby," Joel snapped. "You're a real crack-up."
"Look, man," Freeman began. "We keep going ‘round and ‘round and it always comes out the same. You need to let me do what I do. Besides, I've always used this delivery thing to set up scores. It doesn't make sense if I'm not gonna do that anymore."
"That's your decision," Joel said, shrugging. "But setting up scores is too risky. You work with a lot of different guys, and you can't possibly know what all of them are into. Anyone of them could set you up for any number of reasons."
"I was pulling jobs long before I met you, Joel."
"Yeah, and you also spent some time in prison before you met me. Or do I have that wrong?"
"What the hell does that—"
"Excuse me." Normally reticent to speak at the meetings, Helen appeared annoyed. "Shouldn't we spend the time trying to solve our problems instead of
arguing?"
After several seconds, Joel turned to her and said, "Okay Miss Problem Solver, do you have any grand ideas?"
"Well, if we can't use Bobby's associates, it's fairly obvious to me that we'll have to run an operation to raise money."
"Hmmm," Kate muttered. Though obvious, Helen's point hadn't occurred to her. Apparently, the idea was also new to Joel.
"Go ahead," he said.
"Seems to me, since we're not burglars or robbers, we'll have to bilk some people out of their money. It's the only way I can think of to raise enough in one operation."
Freeman seemed puzzled. "Bilk?"
"Con, Bobby," Kate said, wearily. "As in con job."
Joel guffawed. "A con? Just like that, huh?"
"Well, what other choices do we have?" Helen asked.
"You know, she might have something," Freeman said to Joel.
"Have what?"
"I know about a high stakes poker game—I mean really high stakes—a bunch of rich businessmen who get together every week and do some serious gambling."
Joel peered at him from beneath an arched eyebrow. "How serious?"
"I used to make deliveries to this fat cat's office. He's not on my route anymore, but he always used to brag about his winnings. Told me he won over a million, once."
Kate snickered. "Bullshit! You men are always braggin' about somethin'."
"I don't know, Kate," Freeman said, shrugging. "The guy's always been straight with me. He's no paper pushing college boy either. Made his money in the asteroid belt, and I mean in the asteroid belt, not down here speculating and stuff. He's got the pictures to prove it."
"So what are we supposed to do?" Kate asked. "Send someone in there to win all the money?"
"Uh-uh," Freeman answered. "We just need to steal their transfer chips."
"Even if we could do that, I see a lot of problems," Joel said. "Specifically, how to get the funds out of their bank accounts after we steal the chips, into ours. They'll be shut down or reported stolen within minutes, unless we detain the owners. And even if we do that, the police will still be able to track the transfer."
"No, they won't," Freeman said, chuckling. "These guys don't use normal chips."
"What do they use?" Joel asked.
"Prepaid chips. The funds are tied directly to the chip, not a bank. The only transfer required is from one guys chip to another. People use them all the time to hide money from the government… and their wives. Hell, I've even got one."
"Well, there ya go!" Kate exclaimed. "What do you think, Joel?"
He strummed his lips, staring at the ceiling. "Almost sounds too good to be true," he said, finally.
"Maybe it is," Helen said. "First, we've got to find out where the game is, and then we need to figure out how to get Bobby or Kate or both, inside. They'll probably need support from us, so we'll have to get a holo system in there, too. Sounds a little complicated to me."
"Not if we actually get someone in the game," Kate said.
"True enough," Helen replied. "But that option comes with its own set of problems… starting with who?"
"Why not Bobby?" Joel asked. "He's the pro."
"Hey, man, I couldn't get into that game. I'm just a deliveryman, remember?"
"How about one of your associates?" Helen asked.
"How about one?" Freeman replied. "You need a professional bullshit artist to get into that game cold—someone who can talk his way into anything. My friends are just thieves, like me."
Joel snorted and threw his hands in the air. "Well, so much for that plan."
"Not so fast," Kate said.
Scowling, Joel asked, "Not so fast, what?"
"I just might know someone who could do this."
Freeman laughed. "Oh, so now you know professional grifters, Sales Girl?"
"You go to hell, Bobby," she said, bristling. "I didn't say I knew the guy personally. I just know about him, that's all. My mum back in Boston is always talkin' about him and his low life ways. She absolutely hates the guy, but even she says he's as game as they come."
***
Jimmy Doherty. Kate smiled as she waited for the next taxi outside of Boston's Logan Airport. She'd been less than truthful with her colleagues concerning the grifter. Like half the girls in Southie she was quite familiar with him, though not as familiar as she would have liked. Notorious for his two-bit schemes, his reputation as a lady's man was his true claim to fame and the reason she hoped to mix business with pleasure. Or was it pleasure with business?
On the ride from Logan to her mother's house in South Boston she continued to wrestle with that conundrum, which had also occupied her thoughts on the hop from Atlanta. Should she approach him with the business proposition first and try for a personal relationship later, or vice versa? At the heart of the question lay the troubling matter of priorities. She wanted to do her job, but at that particular time, a shot at Jimmy Doherty was a terrible temptation.
She had been with Joel on several occasions immediately following his liberation, but now he had Helen—sort of. Her brief dalliance with Bobby Freeman, much needed therapy after the sordid "Tommy affair", had also ended almost before it began. It seemed his interests lay elsewhere as well, and for over three months she had contented herself with work: a privation that afflicted her and her alone. What do you expect, baldy?
She tussled her painfully short hair, and for just a moment her ruminations turned bitter, bitterness directed at Helen. She pushed it aside at once; they'd become close over the past several months, but still… She imagined herself in the grifter's arms then rubbed her head again, and in that instant, came to a decision.
"Change of plans," she said to the taxi driver. "Take me to the Braintree Mall."
She had some shopping to do. A wig to start—long and red. An outfit to follow, one suitable for the habitat of her prey: Jimmy Doherty—tall, lean, gorgeous and… soon to be hers.
***
Look at those legs! They seemed to go on and on and on, all the way to the Promised Land beneath a tiny piece of fabric masquerading as a skirt. Gawwwd. Doherty finished his drink and without taking his eyes off the legs, tapped the bar with his empty glass for a refill.
The legs' owner, a stunning redhead, returned his attention, smiling like a Cheshire cat. "You keep starin' like that and I'll have'ta charge ya a view tax."
"Anything, Darlin'" he said. "Anything at all."
"You can start with a drink."
"I'm ashamed that ya even had to ask." He tore his eyes away from her legs for just a moment, leaving him free to explore the rest of her. Niiice.
Her full lips—with just a tad too much lipstick?—dominated a narrow, angular face, that was framed by a gorgeous full head of red hair. We'll be a matched set. Somethin' about those eyes, though. A beautiful hazel color, they burned with an intensity unfamiliar to him, especially in a woman.
"Give the lady another, too," he said, as the bartender refilled his glass. His eyes never left her.
"I'm Kate," she said, extending a hand.
He clasped it with both of his. "Hi, Kate. I'm Jimmy." Reluctantly, he closed the distance between them, moving to the stool next to hers and losing a view he wouldn't soon forget. His reticence didn't go unnoticed.
"Don't worry, there's more," she said coyly.
Jesus!
The bartender returned with her drink, which she toyed with for several seconds before bringing it to her lips. "Here's to ya, Jimmy. May all your dreams come true."
"Oh, sweet Katie," he said, raising his glass. "From your lips to God's ears."
They drank quietly afterward. She seemed to concentrate on the driving music, moving her head and shoulders to its beat. He concentrated on her, watching the movement of her small perky breasts. Showcased by the low-cut tube she wore, they called out to him, begging for his skillful attention. He made his move when the song ended.
"So tell me, what brings a pretty girl such as yaself to a dive like this?" he asked.
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"Isn't this where all the local desperadoes hang out?"
"You're a desperado, are ya?"
"I most certainly am. Aren't you?"
"Hell, no. I'm just John Q. Citizen, Darlin'. Salt of the earth." He took a closer look at her face; she obviously wasn't' drunk. Cop, crazy or just full of shit? Unable to discern the answer, he quickly took note of everything around him before saying, "Maybe we should talk in private."
"Fine with me. I've been wantin' ta get ya alone ever since I sat down."
Jesus!
He got off of his stool and led her away from the bar. "Katie," he whispered, as they crossed the floor. "Even in a place like this, it's unwise to go around advertisin' that you're a desperado. If you were one, you'd know that, Dear."
He selected a secluded table, and once they were seated, asked, "Now what the hell are ya talkin' about?"
She sipped her drink and leaned forward, staring at him. "You ever hear about the underground railroad, Jimmy?"
"Of course. Somethin' to do with the blacks and the Civil War."
"Slaves, Jimmy. It was a group of people who freed slaves."
"So?"
"So, that's what I do. I free slaves."
"Ohhhh," he said laughing. "You're freeing the blacks, huh? Why didn't ya just come right out and tell me?"
"Don't be a pompous ass. Not the blacks—artificials, sentient artificials."
Doherty started. "Oh, good grief!" he screamed in an angry whisper. "Now why would you tell a perfect stranger somethin' like that? I could be anybody."
She leaned closer still and began to run her foot up and down his calf. "Oh, I know who ya are, Jimmy Doherty. And ya may be perfect, but somethin' tells me ya won't be a stranger for long."
He leaned back in the chair, rubbing his mouth. "Ya haven't even given me a chance to pour on the charm, Kate."
"Ya don't need any of your tricks for me."
Gawwwd. After a minute, he finished his drink. "I feel like a moth bein' drawn into the flame," he said softly. "But I can't help m'self."
Her foot stopped suddenly. Her eyes narrowed, and she gripped his hands, pulling herself partially out of the chair toward him. "It's a good flame, Jimmy," she said. "It's hot, but I promise it won't burn ya."