Glass Shore

by Stefan Jackson

  Command is silent. I go offline.

  Door 404 slides like a whisper into the wall. I walk into the quiet room. The door whispers to a close behind me. No one is in the living room. I walk down the short hall toward the bedroom. There she is, asleep on the bed. Face down, tight ass smiling at me. Her breathing is neat and even. She’s dead weight. Nikki had been running hard for hours; this crash was inevitable.

  I scan the room, never taking my eyes off her body. The ashtray on the nightstand next to the bed has a few butts and a half-smoked joint. The wine bottle is near-drained, no drinking glass in the room, so she was sipping straight from the bottle.

  I see her laptop atop a small oval desk in the far corner. Her canvas bag is on the chair next to the desk. I walk over to it. A quick glance into the bag confirms that files and disc are intact. I slip her computer into the bag. Now where would she keep my wallet?

  Yes. It’s behind the wine bottle. Things are going my way. I walk over to the nightstand. Pick up my wallet and open it. Bingo. Space’s flash drive and all my cash and cards. Nice.

  I stare down at Nikki. You had the time of your life, girl. I’d love to give you a tattoo that would commemorate the event, but there isn’t that much black ink in the world.

  I just … ah man, I just wanna …

  I walk over to the door, pause, stare at Nikki’s sleeping body. So many vile thoughts run through my mind. And I can’t act on any of them. She escapes my vengeance. She is untouchable.

  I see myself in the mirrors set into the tall closet doors. Jacket, suit coat, pants and shirt are wrinkled. My shoes are beat. I got rude stubble over my cheeks and chin and even my eyebrows look left-of-center. And I’m running this game without underwear. I’m a mess.

  I’m disgusted with myself and the situation and every fucking thing associated with it.

  I leave the bedroom.

  What am I forgetting?

  I exit room 404.

  Yeah, I’m missing something.

  In the elevator. Going down. Something is not right. Just can’t put my finger on it.

  PING in my mind. Command is live.

  I open up. “Yeah, Griffin.”

  “So what’s the deal?”

  I think about lying because something isn’t right.

  “Another dead end. I got a few more places to check.”

  “Quit cocking around and get the file! Space, it’s such a lonely place.”

  At least it’s far from you. I think. My silence is heavy.

  “Get the file. Get it now,” barks Griffin.

  Command is silent. I go offline.

  The elevator opens and I step out.

  It dawns on me. He can’t see. Griffin can’t see what I’m doing. Otherwise he wouldn’t have asked if I had anything. Griffin should be able to see and hear what I do in real time. I’m a mobile camera to command. Why isn’t he calling me in for repair since I’m not functioning properly?

  I look down at the polished black and white marbled floor of the lobby. The floor is a clean work of art. And so am I. I’m the same as this marble floor. The hand of man made me. Griffin and the technicians would not have released me without a clean bill of health. I’m sure they ran all sorts of tests on me. He can track me. I’m in the Allround. And yet Griffin is blind and he’s not calling me in for review.

  Now I feel it’s not in my best interest to turn this file and disc over to Griffin. I’m sure he assumes I’ve read it and that makes me a security threat. The moment I hand over the file I’m dead. He said as much earlier with the comment that the sun was the only way to kill my ass.

  My cell pings again. The number is unfamiliar and there’s no icon. Then I realize who it is.

  “Yeah.”

  “Do you have my flash drive?” Space asks.

  “Yes Mr. Space. I’m on my way to you now. May I speak with Liz?”

  My cell now displays a silent moving view of a wood ceiling with exposed wood beams.

  Then Liz’s pretty face pops into view. “Hi Boss,” she says with a strained smile.

  “Hey you. How you holdin’ up?” I study her face. No tears, her eyes are steady.

  “I’m good. He’s a gentleman.”

  “Alright. I’ll be there in a moment.”

  “See you soon.”

  The line is dead.

  Liz looked and sounded fine.

  Cool.

  I’m about five minutes from Space’s office. I leave the hotel lobby – and stop in my tracks as I watch two guys wearing dark suits enter the hotel.

  I turn toward the pair to catch a better look. They are familiar to me. I just cannot place their faces; so, I tap into the Allround. I run a visual comparison on the profiles I just captured against profiles from the pool. A heartbeat later I have a hit. This pair match the men that ran past me outside the bar. Space’s men?

  Going inside the Waldorf.

  These guys are going to rough up Nikki looking for this disc. She deserves it. Yet, Griffin has me on record for requesting her door opened only minutes ago. So I’ll catch the blame for her black and blue body. And if they kill her I’m in a world of hurt.

  Screw me. Now I have to protect her deceiving ass.

  I turn around and re-enter the hotel lobby. I grab my cell and call Space.

  “Hello, Apollo.”

  He won’t show me his face. I hate this guy. “Yo, call off your dogs. I’m bringing the flash drive to you.”

  “I don’t understand. I have no agents looking for my property, other than yourself.”

  “You didn’t send anyone to the Waldorf?”

  “No I did not. Should I?”

  “No. It’s under control. I’m on my way to you.” I hang up.

  Okay, who are these clowns? I’m not hard to miss so it seems they’re not looking for me.

  And I still have to keep them from hurting Nikki. If that’s why they’re here.

  I follow them to the elevators.

  I get in the same car. The tall one pushes button four. I push six.

  They step off at Nikki’s floor. The elevator doors closes and I hit button five.

  The elevator stops at the next floor and I jump out and sprint for the stairs.

  In the stairwell, I leap over stairs. I’m on the fourth floor landing in seconds. I open the door, look both ways and find the hallway clear.

  I rush down the hall toward Nikki’s room.

  Door 404. There is a deep black burn mark on the locking sensor. The door is ajar. I shove it wide open.

  “What the hell!” I hear Nikki scream. Then her cry is cut short. I’m guessing a hand over her mouth.

  I place her bag behind the couch in the living room.

  I hear a slap.

  “You bastard,” hisses Nikki.

  I pounce down the hall.

  Right outside her door I hear the scuffle within intensify. I enter the bedroom hard and large. One guy has his back to me. I raise my right hand and bring my fist down solid upon the crown of his head. He drops fast and heavy to the floor … recovers, shooting an elbow at my knee. I jump back, avoiding his attack and snap-kick him in the face.

  His neck flexes with the kick. He looks at me. We realize we’re cut from the same cloth. This is going to be fun.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I note that the other guy is stunned by the way I dropped his partner. His moment lost in confusion allows Nikki – never a quitter – to worm a hand free and poke the guy in the eyes. She then lashes out with a wicked kick and plants her heel into the guy’s knee. He buckles with a falsetto howl that rivals the best heavy metal singer. She bolts toward the bed as the guy falls to the floor screaming like all hell.

  I block a punch from my sparing partner. He blocks my left hook. I kick, he blocks. He punches, I block. Punch. Block. Kick. Block. Thrust. Feign. Block. Miss. Block. Block. Block. I grab his wrist and try to turn him…. He shoves his palm under my chin and pushes hard, propelling me back, forcing me into the wall.

  “Kiss
my ass,” Nikki hisses.

  I see the energy blast slam my sparing partner in the neck. He falls to the floor with manic passion.

  Nikki has my Bolt.

  That’s what I had forgotten earlier. I was so caught up with the files.

  She points the weapon at me. My old sparing partner is still and quiet. The other agent is on the floor sobbing and cussing.

  I say, “No thank you or, hey, what are you doing alive?”

  “I wasn’t really sure you were dead. Ezra shoved the needle into your neck. You went down. Then he came after me. But I remember something you taught me years ago – I poked him in the eyes then punched him in the throat. After that I kicked his ass.”

  “So you killed Ezra…”

  “I didn’t kill Ezra! Assholes like these killed him earlier. I’ve been running like crazy…” Her hands and arms are all over the place.

  “Put the Bolt away and give me a pillow,” I say.

  The agent on the floor is squirming, whimpering and slobbering snot.

  Nikki tosses a pillow at me and keeps the Bolt pointed at me.

  I shove the guy’s face into the pillow, not enough to kill him but enough to settle him down.

  The guy goes still. I remove the pillow. I let the guy’s head rap the floor with a dull thud. He jerks and gasps. He’s going to live. Good. I need info. But I want to hear from Nikki first.

  “I assume you kept Ezra alive to interrogate him. And I know you asked this question, why did Ezra want to kill me?”

  “You’re a military tool. You can’t be trusted. Something about your eyes tipped him off. He said your kind is connected to a large mind pool that is constantly monitored. You’re a creep.”

  Creep, that lovely colloquialism denoting a human or non-human service drone. She’s right. I’m a Creep.

  The bolt is still in my face.

  I think I can beat her. I think I’m faster than her reflex to press the trigger.

  “That’s what I told you earlier. The hook up to the Library of Congress. The mind pool is called the Allround, but I’m offline now.”

  Her pupils dilate – I wrap the Bolt within the pillow and drag the weapon and Nikki to the floor as the muzzled flash drills through the pillow and into floor. With sure and measured thought, I backhand Nikki across the face and that pitches her back on her ass. She sits for a moment then I watch her eyes roll white as she crumples to the floor.

  I ease over and repossess the weapon. The Bolt detaches from the glove once the mental connection is severed. This is pretty much how I acquired the weapon in the first place.

  Friends don’t let friends kill them.

  The difference is the first friend was an assassin. I had pissed some people off and he needed the money. Well, he doesn’t need money anymore.

  I peel the gloves off Nikki’s hands. I shove the gloves and Bolt into the side pocket of my coat.

  Okay, I can’t carry her out of here. A big black guy with an unconscious woman draped over his shoulder may draw some attention.

  Ah, I do have a government vehicle.

  I pull the remote from my pocket. There it is, the good ol’ blue button. I put the remote back in my pocket.

  Now I need to talk to the agent.

  I grab the guy by the hair. “Alright cupcake, time for you to play through the pain. Who do you work for?”

  “Federal agent. Under arrest,” he says in a weak and pained voice.

  I check the guy’s pockets. Find his wallet in the inside pocket of his suit jacket. I open it. Michael Robertfire. Special Investigator. AMBRE.

  “What is Ambre?”

  “You under arrest,” he repeats.

  Then it hits me. I turn him over. His other hand is on his belt buckle. He has signaled for help.

  Time to go.

  I pull out the remote. I tap the blue button. The number sixteen flashes in the tiny monitor. Then the countdown begins, fifteen, fourteen…

  I pause to look at Nikki before I pick her up.

  Blood trickles from her bottom lip, which is swollen. She also sports a welt beneath her right eye.

  She’s gonna love me when she wakes up.

  I scoop her up and exit the bedroom, quickly set her on the couch, then grab her canvas bag.

  The Shorter is hovering outside the window.

  I walk over and open the window. Reaching out, I open the door of the mot and toss the canvas bag inside, before returning to collect Nikki. I carry her to the window, lean out, and pitch her into the Shorter. I ease onto the window ledge then leap into the mot.

  I close the door and punch the green button. The mot floats down and enters traffic going north. Nikki rests on the rear seat with the canvas bag next to her.

  Going with the flow. I like to cruise the city grid on auto drive. The mot travels with the sense of traffic, if the majority of vehicles turn left at a given intersection, then my mot will follow. It is almost feral, like running with the pack.

  I note that Griffin hasn’t checked in and that’s strange. Why is he not questioning the fact that I’m just cruising around Manhattan? And Space hasn’t called and I’m fifteen minutes past the time I said I’d be there.

  The personal at my right invites me to a sneak preview of the new Melissa Turaxo movie, Deposit. (My Baby’s Stolen).

  I look away as the personal displays a clip of the movie.

  “You know, it’s always a party with you around,” says Nikki slow and lazy.

  “Welcome back. And they were after your ass – not mine.”

  “What, you came to save me?”

  “Yes. I had the laptop and files…”

  “What.” Panic wrecks her face as she checks for her bag. Immediately found, she performs a slow inspection of its contents. She finds her computer and all the files intact.

  She exhales. She pulls out her cigarettes. Lights one up. She pulls out a compact mirror. She winces as she studies her swollen face.

  “Thanks for the new look”, she snaps. “If you had everything, why did you come back to help me?”

  “Because… It’s complicated.”

  “Complicated? What the hell, are you in love with me?”

  “No.” I say with ease, but I speak the truth to myself and the truth is yes. I do look forward to seeing you. Yes, I do enjoy being with you. Yes, I do judge other women against you and they all come up lacking. Yes, I do care how you feel and what you think. Yes, with you, sex is always a joy. You’re smart and funny and very cool. My brainstorm continues and I do my best to ignore it.

  I say, “Somebody very important wants your skinny ass alive. Since I was there only moments before, I didn’t want to get blamed for any undue harm that would have befallen you.”

  “Who wants me alive and why?”

  “I don’t know. It’s in your profile.”

  “What profile? Where did you get a profile on me?” She moves to the front seat. Now facing me, I see that the right side of her face is swelled and highlighted with wicked red blush. Her lips are large and mean.

  “Are you working for the government?”

  “No,” I say and I don’t feel I’m lying to her. “I still work for you.”

  She is angry, confused and in a lot of pain. She lets out a heavy sigh. Smokes her cigarette.

  I pull away the top cushion of the rear passenger seat; open the foxhole. I find the med kit. I pull out the instant ice. I twist the pouch and give the chilling bag to Nikki. She offers a low smile of thanks and places the cold compress against her face.

  “Fine,” she states at last.

  My mind pings. It’s Satan. I answer the call.

  “Yeah.”

  “Why did you go back to the room?”

  “Something didn’t jive right and it took me a moment to figure it out.”

  “So what was it?”

  “Intra-agency politics.”

  “What the hell are you talking about? All I’m interested in is a file that reads, Project Blue Book appendage sixty-th
ree A. Can you do that for me? Just concentrate on that and only that.”

  “Ambre wants the same file.” I say, joyfully ignoring him.

  “Who is Ambre?”

  “I don’t know. But they got guys looking for the same file.”

  “They?” Command is silent. So I access PAUL via the Allround. It only takes a moment. AMBRE is the Alien Management Bureau Recovery/Evidence. Doesn’t take a genius to figure out that mission statement.

  I feel Command is back. “Okay, talk to me slowly,” Griffin, says.

  “I encountered a couple of Ambre guys in room 404.”

  The mot’s trip meter pings; indicating trip time to Space’s office is three minutes. The vehicle hovers like a turtle as it makes a left turn, then, flows into the rapidly moving westbound stream.

  “Hey – I’m talking to you?” Griffin’s whiny voice sounds in my head.

  “What? Sorry, I was distracted.”

  “Distracted? I’m your master! Pay attention to me and me only. Tell me what you said to the Ambre agents.”

  “Nothing.”

  “Nothing,” he repeats.

  Hot silence.

  “Just get me that file.”

  Command is silent. I go offline.

  Nikki turns in her seat to face me. “I need the Project Blue Book file,” she says.

  I ask, “Why?”

  “It’s complicated.”

  I smile and shake my head.

  “We’ll be at Space’s office soon. I’m going to give him his flash drive. He’s going to give me Liz. We can talk about The File after that.”

  “Space is holding your secretary hostage?”

  “Yeah.”

  “So you really came after me to get Space’s drive to save her. The Project Blue Book file means nothing to you.”

  “What is it about you and this file? I get that it’s incriminating to the President, but damn, I feel I’m missing a bigger issue.”

  “You are.”

  “Then educate me.”

  “Can’t trust you. You’re wired.”

  I remain silent.

  “How long before your handlers catch up to us and take me in?”

  That’s a good question. Griffin knows where I am. I’m a blip on a map. Yet, it appears that he can’t monitor my actions or else he could see that I have the file. That means I’m not leaving a wake in the mind pool. When I removed my first tracer, I also had Geek teach me how to detach from the Allround. I’m able to retrieve data without leaving any behind. It’s been years and I’ve taken it for granted. Yet, is it something Griffin would be aware of? And I know that being denied access to my mind-stream would be a problem that he would rectify.