by Sahara Kelly
There was nothing they could say at this point, when who knew what kind of surveillance they were under. Besides, she wasn’t sure she was ready to confront what she’d just learned about herself.
She was a killer. A murderer. She’d fought with Taber for his life force and she’d stripped it from him, pushing him into the beyond before his time. She’d done something that was so outrageous, so hideous, so not part of anything she was, that it was beyond her understanding.
As she turned the information over in her mind, guilt and horror faded, to be replaced by a dawning anger. A cold fury that crept inexorably over her until she was afraid she might be glowing with it.
Somebody had indeed turned her into a tool. A tool for killing.
And that, Martine knew, had to be stopped.
Now.
Chapter Seven
Sleep proved an elusive luxury for Martine as she lay in bed that night. She tossed and turned, closed her eyes, activated her white-noise generator—nothing calmed the turbulence of her thoughts.
Johann wouldn’t be there to hold her either. He’d let her know he’d been delayed in R&D, soothing the froth of excitement rippling through the department. It was only to be expected, since between the two of them they’d accomplished something that was unique on one hand, and could pave the way to even greater profits for Eternal Tranquility on the other.
Now ET could offer not just peaceful final moments, but exciting and fulfilling ones as well. Be part of your favorite soccer team and spend your last seconds scoring a winning goal.
Stand in the center of New York City on New Year’s Eve with half a million of your closest friends and pass on at the stroke of midnight.
For only a slight increase in the fee, Eternal Tranquility could now send you off with the cheers of the masses ringing in your ears. The possibilities were pretty damn endless, and Marketing would probably have a field day with it. Which was a good thing since they didn’t seem to do much else but change the background color on the holo-ads in physician clinics and doctors’ offices.
Finally, with a vaguely comforting image of Piazza San Marco in her mind, Martine fell asleep.
And as soon as she did, John was there.
“Are you all right?” He took her elbow and steered her around a group of tourists as she blinked and realized they were back in Venice.
“Yes. No. I don’t know. You?”
“I’m fine. We don’t have much time.”
She pulled him to a halt beside an elegant archway. “Who’s behind it, John?”
He met her gaze then shrugged. “We’re not sure. Eternal Tranquility is the vehicle. The director has to know something, but we think he’s being well paid to turn the other way. Or at least not examine the cases too closely.”
She paused, for once ignoring their dream surroundings. “Shanxi.”
“Our best guess, yes.”
“Our?”
He nodded. “I can’t say it. Just think back. To where doors bar the way and shapes look like one thing but mean another.”
Beneath them, the flagstones of the piazza turned liquid and Martine knew this dream was fading. That John was worried about surveillance, as was she. Fuck.
“Remember, my love. Remember.”
And she woke, groggy and disoriented, turning on her pillow and trying to recapture John’s words.
Remember. Doors. Shapes.
It came to her in a flash. Theta. The symbol on the massive door. What was Theta besides an ancient Greek symbol? Why was it important? And how the hell could she find out without alerting whatever security systems Eternal Tranquility had in place?
This time, sleep came naturally and immediately. And there were no dreams to mar her rest.
But the problem remained with her when she began her daily routine the next morning and constantly defeated every notion she had on how to uncover the truth behind whatever Theta was. Not to mention unmasking whoever was trying to turn facilitators into killers.
It hadn’t taken much in the way of deep contemplation for Martine to comprehend the enormous threat that now existed.
Facilitators could kill.
And who would be the wiser? A faked illness, an order from a physician, counseling an already grieving family—and a UAM would arrive on her to-do list. She’d go in, struggle with the innocent victim, suck out his life and then move on. So sorry for your loss.
It was frighteningly efficient, devastatingly simple all things considered, and the implications were terrifying.
On the plus side was John and his understanding of this situation. He’d brought it to her attention, made her aware of it. Was he working to stop it? She hoped so. There were so many damn questions and so few answers.
She walked from her apartment to the elevator and waited, blind to the world around her, focused on her inner turmoil. Was it only her? Was she the only one with the strength to end a life?
Had other facilitators ever done such a thing to a UAM? Why now? What could they hope to gain other than eliminating an enemy perhaps? And even then, it was a lot of trouble to go to in order to complete some kind of a sanctioned hit on someone.
She jumped, surprised when the elevator opened at the rec-room floor since she couldn’t remember getting into it or pressing the touchscreen. Gathering her wits, Martine walked past the sliding doors and into her day, determined that somehow or other she’d dig up the answers she so desperately needed.
Not seeing Johann that day was a burden Martine didn’t want to have to carry, but did, since she had no other options available to her.
Even if they’d been together there would of course have been no opportunity to talk about anything other than the routine business of their lives. But at least she could have touched him, relished the warmth of his skin and the scent of his body. She could have let herself dream about what they might do tonight if he came to her apartment. Of how it would be between them as they lay naked and joined.
He was part of her now, on so many levels. And she missed him when work kept them apart.
He’d left her a message, bless him, he was good that way. She knew he had two appointments, two simple facilitations. She had three…a very busy day, but she could handle them. In fact, she welcomed them since they required her full attention and distracted her from the unanswered questions and worries that plagued her.
When night rolled around and he still hadn’t appeared, she gave up waiting, programmed up something edible and hoped she might still see him at some point, even if it was just for some simple lovin’.
Although, in all honesty, loving Johann wasn’t simple in the least. Going to bed with him, baring her body, sharing sex and passion—that wasn’t really loving. It was wonderful, a delight she welcomed and a release she enjoyed every bit as much as he did. But the bond between them had gone miles past sexual attraction. They were two parts of a whole now, much more than just two individuals having an affair.
So when the door chimed, Martine jumped up, eager to welcome her lover into her arms.
But it wasn’t him. It was a delivery cart in front of her door, bearing a vase of simulated lilacs and a preprogrammed message.
“Apologies from Johann. He has been detained this evening and will be unable to join you. He hopes you will derive pleasure from this gift and apologizes again for his unavoidable absence.” There was a pause. “Please place your finger on the identification plate for confirmation.”
Very romantic, these delivery carts.
“Thank you, Martine TwoSeven. Have a nice night.”
The cart trundled off, leaving Martine holding a vase of imitation flowers and with a heart that ached more than she cared to admit.
She closed the door behind her, sniffed at the imitation lilac fragrance emanating from the remarkably lifelike but imitation lilacs, and sighed. No Johann tonight, so her questions would have to wait until they could manage to snag some private time together.
She wondered if he had any more jamming be
ads. He hadn’t used one since their first night together. Perhaps she could create something that would function as well. Her old collection of spy vids suggested music or showering as effective screening methods.
But since the old showers were water, not sonic waves, that wasn’t an option. The music thing? No, that wasn’t her. Besides, anyone determined to eavesdrop probably had the latest filtering equipment and could remove any frequencies that didn’t originate from a human voice.
Mulling over the possibilities, the improbabilities and the myriad uncertainties was giving her a bit of a headache. Or maybe it was the lilacs. The fragrance seemed very strong. Of course, she wasn’t used to getting flowers, so perhaps that accounted for it.
Walking to the counter where she’d put the vase, Martine let her finger touch the remarkably lifelike blooms, smiling when a couple of the little purple-and-lavender-shaded heads tumbled free.
Talk about lifelike. The things were already dropping. This was going to be a mess if she wasn’t careful with them. A third bloom dropped, not silently but with a tiny little clink. So soft that she wouldn’t have heard it if there’d been any other sound in the room.
Delicately she placed a fingertip onto it and let her natural skin oils act as a glue. Upon close inspection, there was a tiny blue bead inside the lilac flower.
She shook her head. The odds on her finding it…well, they were pretty damn astronomical, but she tapped it into her palm and imitated Johann’s actions, curving her hand around it, then releasing it. Since it was no bigger than a grain of rice, she wasn’t expecting anything in particular.
Especially not the soft whisper that emanated from it as she cupped it.
“Martine, be careful. Trust yourself and trust me. Theta can help if you get them a message.”
It was John’s voice, urgent and rapid, and she held it closer to her ear. “Save this florist’s name. See Jezzy Three. Theta. Jezzy Three. Do it soon. I love you.”
And the bead winked out.
A small chime made her turn—her comm unit was registering a call. She hurried over to see if it was Johann. It wasn’t.
“Good evening, Martine TwoSeven. Please hold for the director.”
God. What the fuck?
She pulled the collar of her robe together as his face appeared. “Hello, Martine TwoSeven. I’m sorry to have to interrupt your evening.”
“That’s quite all right, Director. What can I do for you?”
His mouth turned down and he sighed. “I’ve had some very bad news, Martine. Our newest facilitator, Johann Eleven…”
“Yes?” Her hands clenched into fists.
“As you know, you were both examined by our physicians after today’s amazing facilitation. His results have just been confirmed. I’m afraid to say he’s suffering from late-onset Marshall’s disease. As you know, it’s terminal.”
Martine gasped.
“I know what a shock this must be, my dear.” The director looked at her with paternal sympathy. “And I know you two were close. It pains me to have to be the one to give you this news. But you are very special. And together, you and Johann have moved the facilitation program forward—something we’re incredibly proud of.” He nodded at her. “So it only seemed right to ask you to be the one to facilitate Johann. I couldn’t possibly give that assignment to anyone else. The doctors tell me he only has days left and your knowledge of his thoughts—dare I say his heart…”
“I understand, Director.” Martine’s voice caught. “I understand.” She lowered her head.
“My poor dear. I am more sorry than I can say.” He pulled back from the viewer. “The arrangements have been made for tomorrow afternoon. I know you join us all in not wishing him to suffer by prolonging his situation.”
“Of course not. I’ll…I’ll be ready.” She turned away. “I’m sorry, Director. I must go…”
“I understand. Thank you, Martine. And my deepest and most profound sympathies.”
The screen went blank.
Martine stared at it, her veins chilled, her pulse thundering and her mind scrambling to get back on its feet. Johann no more had Marshall’s than she did.
She’d received an assignment all right.
She was supposed to kill Johann.
Jezzy Three was a small woman with a passion for flowers. She had some really amazing holo-paintings of blooms that Martine couldn’t have put a name to even if she’d wanted to. But when she walked into the little florist’s boutique on the public vendor mall of Eternal Tranquility, botanical nomenclature was the furthest thing from her mind.
She’d kept an iron grip on her thoughts and emotions since she’d received the director’s message. Sleep had been impossible, but planning, thinking, running down various mental avenues only to return and try others—well, that was how she’d spent her night.
She had arrived at several conclusions. One—first and foremost—she wasn’t going to kill anybody today. At least not during a facilitation. If she had a weapon, she might well take out the director and his honchos, but that didn’t fall under the heading of inadvertent murder. That was more…vermin extermination.
Secondly, she’d realized that Johann probably knew what was coming his way. He had an ability to steer events along, which she translated to the fact that he had some sources of information she wasn’t supposed to know about.
She had idled away an hour or two doing research disguised as fashion design. She’d searched cyberspace for new designers, looked into how to set up a company online and then dug into whether there were any companies out there with Theta Fashions in their name. Or if it was copyrighted. All very routine, she hoped.
The results weren’t earth-shattering, but she’d learned she was able to open a company with that name, a lot of information about the ancient Greeks and their alphabet, and that there was a certain type of bacterial DNA replication specific to circular chromosomes that was called Theta.
Unsure whether any of this would be of use, Martine filed it away in her mind and deleted her search history for what little good it might do.
Then there was Jezzy Three.
“Good morning.” She smiled across the counter. “I’m…”
“I know who you are. Saw your image in one of them vids a while ago.” The voice quavered but the gaze was needle-sharp. “You’re one of them that kills people.”
Martine’s skin chilled. “Not really. I’m a facilitator. I make their passing pleasant in any way I can.”
“Same thing.” Jezzy glared at an inoffensive bunch of something pink. “Dunno if it’s right, but if you can live with it…”
Deciding to pass on the moral debate, Martine nodded. “Mostly I can.” She walked to a shelf where an assortment of vases sat waiting to be filled. “I got some beautiful lilacs yesterday and they came from here. From my boyfriend. Johann.”
Jezzy nodded. “Yep. Nice they were.”
“I loved the fragrance.”
“Always popular, lilacs.”
God, what did this woman want? A magic password or something? “I found out that he’s not well.”
That got her attention and her head snapped up. “Oh?”
Martine nodded. “Yes, I’ve been told he’s been diagnosed with a really bad terminal illness.”
“That’s not good.” She pursed her lips. “You lookin’ to get him some flowers?”
“No, it’s not good and I don’t think flowers are going to help at this point.” She moved to another counter and paused, staring intently at the tiny charms lying beneath the transparent display case. “Oh.” She pointed at one. “Isn’t that a theta?”
Jezzy stared at her a moment longer, then nodded. “Yes, girl. Yes.” She took it out of the case and passed it over to Martine. “Might be a good thing for you to wear it today. Bring that nice Johann some luck perhaps.”
It was small, the typical oval shape with the traditional markings carved into its smooth surface. What kind of mineral it was, Martine didn’t know. I
t was black from some angles and rainbow-colored from others…like a dark misshapen pearl from some exotic ocean.
“Thank you. We need all the luck we can get.” Martine paid for the pendant and then slipped it over her head, making sure it didn’t catch in her neural interface.
Jezzy passed over the data pad, and Martine confirmed receipt of her purchase. All very normal, with nothing to indicate there was now more between them than a pretty necklace.
“You take care.” Jezzy reached out and briefly touched Martine’s hand. “You look like a strong girl. Best you believe in yourself, I always say. If you can’t trust yourself, who’s left?” Her laugh was rough with something bitter around the edges.
Knowing that wasn’t an idle comment, Martine touched the theta stone. “Thanks Jezzy. I’ll do my best to follow your advice.”
“You do that.” She turned away. “And if you see that nice Johann…well, you take care of him if you can.”
“I will.” It was more of a vow than a reply. “I promise I will.”
She didn’t know if it was a promise she could keep. But she had the pendant, and she had more knowledge than Eternal Tranquility realized. Exactly how she’d handle her neural interface to the supposedly dying Johann, she wasn’t sure.
But once again her resolution strengthened. No matter what happened, she wasn’t about to commit murder. Again.
Chapter Eight
She dressed with care, choosing a dark shirt and soft matching pants tucked into slouchy boots. Not really sure if it mattered, she told herself it was for her own sense of well-being.
A really cool outfit added to one’s confidence, and right now she needed all the confidence she could get. The theta pendant nestled happily beneath her facilitator neck ring, warm against her skin. There was a sheen of sweat on her scalp, so she made sure to dash a film of powder over her head and add some makeup. Not much because she didn’t like it, but enough to lift her spirits a little.