Down the Brink

by Lisa von Biela

  She reached for her mug. Empty already. She pushed it away. At least she’d broken things off with Lennie. That was a step in the right direction, anyway. And much to her relief, he hadn’t called or come by since. She couldn’t stand another scene like the other night. Best for them both to just move on. But that still didn’t erase what she’d already done, and what she’d have to do to get Gil’s trust back. If that was even possible.

  Aggie sauntered into the kitchen, set her mug in the sink, then leaned back against the counter and stared at the floor, arms folded. She had to do something to regain some sense of normality. Anything, even if it felt more like window dressing right now.

  The back yard.

  She’d neglected it all summer, hadn’t sat outside or even looked at it because being out there reminded her of Gil way too much. If it was as bad as she envisioned, it might take every weekend between now and Gil’s release to get it looking halfway decent again. A well-tended yard could never make up for what she’d done, but on some level having Gil come home to their yard—their special place—in disarray would make things worse.

  Aggie squared her shoulders and picked up the plastic garden tote she kept on the floor next to the patio door. She brushed off the dust that had accumulated on the tools and other gardening doo-dads. It had been a long time. She opened the vertical blinds, then the glass slider, and stepped outside.

  And dropped the tote.

  She tried to take it all in, but her mind rebelled at the sight. Every flower bush had been thrashed to shreds. The shrubs that ringed the fence had all been chopped up, like someone had gone wild with a hedge trimmer. Her vegetable garden had been uprooted, the soil scattered all around.

  When had this happened? And how? She never once left the house or the back gate unlocked. But the yard was very private—once someone got in, no one could see what they were doing. So much damage! Stunned, she stood with her hand on her chest, gaping at the destruction, for several minutes before snapping back into the here and now. Better call the police. They’ll know what to do.

  As she turned to go back inside for her phone, she spotted something white lying in the planter next to the door. A dirt-smeared envelope. Trembling, she picked it up and opened it.

  Just a little something to remember me by. You might want to reconsider dumping me…

  Aggie crushed the note in her hand and dropped down into a patio chair. That man had issues she hadn’t begun to fathom. Calling the police was out of the question. Lennie’d probably be more than happy to ruin her life by telling them all about their affair—and maybe make up some details for good measure.

  Heart pounding, she took another long look at the devastation. Now she really had her work cut out for her. No way could she let Gil see the place like this, and she sure as hell didn’t want to have to explain how it happened.

  She put her face in her hands and fought to keep control of her breathing as a panic attack edged closer and closer. What would Lennie do next? She uncrumpled the note and re-read it. He didn’t threaten her. Not exactly. But what would he do if she didn’t reconsider? How could she stop him from coming back and tearing the place up again—or worse?

  Aggie stuffed the note in her pocket and wiped tears from her eyes. How far would Lennie go to get even with her? He had a temper. She’d seen that, though he hadn’t seemed dangerous before. But now…anyone who would sneak in and do this much damage might do anything. Suddenly chilled, she ran back into the house, locked the slider, and peered outside through the glass, afraid she’d see him lurking out there somewhere.

  She felt trapped in a prison of her own making. Everything was falling apart, and she didn’t know where to turn for help. She didn’t even know if she was safe anymore. Or if she ever would be again.

  CHAPTER 27

  Fourth Monday in September, 2021

  Los Lobos, California

  Zach downed a couple of aspirin with a swig of half-flat Mountain Dew, then rolled his head around, trying to work out the painful kink in his neck that threatened to burst into a full-fledged headache. Once again, he reached down and touched his pants pocket. Still there. The thumb drive with his altered version of the Payoff_External module.

  Who the hell programmed the original Payoff modules? Couldn’t have been Benetti. That much was obvious. He was a manager type, not a techie. But the bastard had to be the one behind the overall plan. No way to know who else was in on it. All the more reason to keep this to himself.

  The idea of using a wildly popular computer game to secretly tinker with people’s minds—for any reason, let alone for profit—appalled him. And the idea of taking it upon himself to reprogram the module terrified him. But now that he knew what Payoff_External did, how it greased the wheels of GSI’s filthy profit machine, he could not allow it to continue. And he was in the best position to stop it by quietly switching out the module. He’d thought about it long and hard, thought through all the possible actions he could take. Handling it any other way simply wouldn’t work.

  Even so, touching that module was risky as hell, so he’d taken every possible precaution. He checked and re-checked his code. He read and re-read the BAL-II manual he scrounged off the Internet until he could see it in his sleep. But as any programmer with half a brain knows, despite all the best intentions and testing, code sometimes—often—encountered unanticipated conditions when it got out in the wild. And so many people played MoonPop. What if his changes weren’t benign for every possible user? On the other hand, Payoff was out there now, maliciously altering behavior just to boost GSI’s bottom line. It had to be stopped.

  Zach glanced at the clock on his computer screen. Sammy would be by any time now to call it a day. He hoped his cover story would satisfy her and the rest of the crew. And he hoped he could finish everything he needed to do tonight. If all went as planned, he’d be done with the cloak and dagger, and could go back to his normal routine. Aside from worrying about unintended consequences, anyway.

  “Ready to go?” Sammy peeked into his office and smiled. “Boss is buying the first round. Everything’s looking good for the new release next week.”

  “I need to finish up a couple things so I don’t hold up the release.”

  “I thought all your parts were done and nearly out of testing.” Sammy furrowed her brow.

  “It’s not a lot. I’m just double-checking some test scenarios. Making sure they hit a couple of conditions that occurred to me this morning.”

  Sammy leaned against the doorjamb. “Anything I can do to help?”

  Zach waved her off. “No, no. I’ll be fine.”

  “Well, okay then. I’ll leave you to it. Come by later if you can.” She inclined her head. “You know, it’s your first major release, and you’ve done great work. I’d really like to celebrate with you. If not tonight, maybe some other time?”

  “I’d like that.” Zach smiled. “I’d like that a lot.”

  Sammy bowed slightly, blushed, and shut the door. “’Kay, bye.”

  Zach rubbed his throbbing neck. If the boss was buying beers, the boss would also be likely to notice he wasn’t there. He hoped his excuse would play as well with him as it did with Sammy. It should, but MoonPop’s culture was big into hanging out together after work. It was fun most of the time. But it was also…expected.

  After making himself look busy for about twenty minutes to allow time for everyone to clear out and leave him alone, Zach got to work. He locked his office door to make sure no one walked in on him, though he hoped it wasn’t necessary. He’d have a hard time explaining why he’d locked his door just so he could review some test cases. He hurried back to his desk and plugged his thumb drive into a USB port on his computer. The thing was still warm from being in his pocket—and from him touching it like some fetish all day.

  Zach muttered a soft thank you to whoever posted that BAL-II manual on the Internet. He never would have gotten this far without it. And lucky for him BAL-II was an interpreted language, not a comp
iled one. That made his job quite a bit easier than if he had to hunt for a compiler and deal with both source and object code files.

  At last he was ready to replace the current Payoff module with his. But he had to do it in a way that made it look like the original version was still the one in place. The one they’d link all the newly updated programs to when they prepared next week’s release for distribution.

  He’d read somewhere on the Internet how to hack the Created and Modified dates, as well as the user ID, on a file’s properties. A trick that would come in handy now. Worked like a champ when he tested it out at home. He noted the current dates and ID, then overlaid the file with his version and fixed the properties to look like nothing had been touched.

  Zach sat back, drew a deep breath, and rubbed that tight neck muscle again. He’d been so focused on what he was doing that he’d forgotten how badly knotted it was. Just as well. He couldn’t afford the least distraction if he was going to do this right and leave no clue behind.

  With the file properties hacked, no one would realize the module had been replaced. He’d also made sure the file was the same size as the original, so that wouldn’t get anyone’s attention, either. The only way someone would know anything changed would be to actually open the file and read the code—and he made it so they’d have no reason to. He hoped.

  He should be in the clear now. He’d done what he needed to do and covered it up in every way possible. Production Control would finish the job when they linked up all the programs that were part of the new release. Then his code could start affecting players on a wide scale, and no one would be the wiser.

  Except those who kept track of the bottom line at GSI. But they’d have no idea why there were fewer prisoners in the pipeline. Plus, given how the code worked, it would be a while before that even happened. That latency would insulate him all the more from getting caught.

  Zach checked the time. A couple of hours had passed. Seemed like minutes. Too late to bother joining everyone at the Modernistic now. He’d just have to hope the boss didn’t notice his absence. He swallowed a couple more aspirin and got ready to go home. Maybe tonight he’d get some unbroken sleep for a change.

  CHAPTER 28

  Fourth Monday in September, 2021

  Los Lobos, California

  Jess Monroe flipped the page, impatient to see if and how the smokin’-hot lady spy would get out of her latest jam. Lucky him. The most boring job in the world was also the most fascinating. Being a security guard at MoonPop rarely involved any actual work. The place was peaceful as hell. Nothing ever happened. So he could read all the spy novels he wanted. Could probably get away with reading porn if he wanted to. And get paid to do it. Now that’s the life.

  Grimacing, he shifted the weight off his right hip. A souvenir from his stint as a prison guard at the Northern California GSI facility. Back that time when a rookie guard fucked up and a prisoner got loose. Dumbass went to shoot the prisoner and missed his target. Badly. The bullet struck him in the hip, shattering the bone right along the joint. Five surgeries later, they’d rebuilt it as best they could. GSI rewarded him with a generous raise and a transfer to this soft security-guard gig. Better if it’d never happened at all, but on the whole, not a bad outcome. He made plenty of money and got to pick his shifts.

  Jess glanced up at the closed-circuit video screens above his desk, expecting to see the usual nothing. And that’s what he got. Whole lotta nothing. He was just making note of the time when he caught a glimpse of movement on one of the screens. He set his book down and leaned forward for a better look.

  One of the developers was leaving late. A couple of hours late. Amazing. Everyone pretty much fled at the stroke of five. It was the culture at MoonPop: employees put in a solid work day, but rarely did overtime. So it was cause for investigation when someone did. Standing orders, in fact.

  He tapped a few keys on his computer and pulled up the attendance log. Employees ran their badges through a scanner to enter and exit the building, so all comings and goings were logged, for what it was worth. He clicked to see who just left.

  Zach Winters.

  Jess thought he’d seen him leaving a little late another time recently, though not enough to concern him at the time. He clicked a few more keys to access Winters’s attendance records. Sure enough. That was him.

  He groaned. And the hot female spy was just about to defy death yet again and escape her captor. She’d have to wait while he did a couple minutes of actual work.

  MoonPop’s CEO, Roy Benetti, had impressed one standing order on all security staff. He wanted to know if any employee exhibited any strange comings and goings. He was a real nut about that, though it hardly ever happened. Jess couldn’t even remember the last time. But Benetti was adamant. If anyone on the security staff saw something suspicious, they were to email him immediately with the details and identity of the staff member in question.

  Jess pounded out a quick email to Benetti and hit Send. There, he’d earned his pay for the day. He picked up his paperback, settled back into his chair, and rejoined the hot lady spy, just as she surprised her captor with a flying kick to the head. A stiletto to the eye must really hurt.

  Roy Benetti stood and raised his beer glass once more. “Here’s to MoonPop 4.5, our best release ever! We wouldn’t be here without your great work.”

  He took his seat as the applause died down and everyone gulped some more beer. He gazed around the crowded bar, pleased with the staff he’d assembled. Easy enough to retain gaming types once you recruit them. Give them some perks, make them feel like they’re part of a cohesive group, and they stayed. Turnover was quite low—at least for those who enjoyed that sort of thing. Those who didn’t like to be part of the crowd—on and off hours—tended to wash out. He shrugged. Such a small percentage, hardly enough to give him pause.

  Overall, MoonPop staff were way easier to manage than GSI staff had ever been. Whole different world. It had taken him a while to loosen up a little, get used to the younger, gaming culture. But it was a fun change, once he settled in. Less stress, for sure.

  His cell vibrated in his pocket. He set down his beer and checked his email. Urgent. From Security. He rose and walked over to an alcove near the men’s room for some privacy.

  Roy read the brief email. One of the developers, Zach Winters, had been seen leaving the office well after normal business hours. Frowning, he glanced back into the main bar area, searching for Winters. Not there. He pressed an icon to access the MoonPop employee database.

  Winters, Zach. Developer. Previously employed at GSI, maintaining the general ledger and other support systems. Reason for leaving prior position: career growth.

  Pretty standard reason for leaving. Bland, in fact. Roy exited the database and thought for a minute. Might be nothing. MoonPop rarely required overtime. That was one of the perks. But it wasn’t totally unheard of. They did have a new release going out shortly. Maybe Winters was wrapping up some loose ends. But still. Everyone else had turned out for the celebration. Why not him? What couldn’t wait until tomorrow that he had to hang out alone in the office for so long tonight?

  He returned to his email, hit Reply, and sent his instructions. Good thing it was Jess who’d reported the incident. He was ex-GSI, and had the perfect background to handle the situation. He could get someone else to cover his shifts. Effective immediately, Jess’s sole job was to tail Winters and report anything unusual.

  Roy slipped his cell back into his pocket, strode into the main bar area, and high-fived with a few of his staff.

  CHAPTER 29

  Fourth Wednesday in September, 2021

  Elias, Texas

  Gil lay flat on his back, arms crossed behind his head, staring up at the cement ceiling. A network of cracks and rusty water stains stretched across its surface. If he focused just right, it looked like an image of a faraway planet. If only.

  Was it morning or was it afternoon? Once they switched on the overhead lights for the day, th
ere was no telling, except by what sort of meal showed up. Didn’t much matter anyway since Aggie’s last visit. Even though it was last week, it seemed both like it was far in the distant past—and that it had happened minutes ago, searing his heart all over again.

  Every time he thought of Aggie with another man, something deep and painful inside him twisted. The angrier he got, the more he wanted to do something, to confront her. And the more he realized how profoundly helpless and trapped he was. Nothing in his life—absolutely nothing—was under his control anymore. And everything else he’d experienced since his arrest paled in comparison to what he was going through now.

  This last week had knocked him down to a new low. He lost all desire to exercise; he barely cared to eat. And he’d slept even worse than usual, which meant he got to hear that many more degrading, depraved acts happening all around him in the night. Yet more evidence of how vulnerable he was—and more reason to be afraid to fall asleep, to allow himself to be caught off-guard at any time.

  Assuming all the other prisoners were alone in their cells like him, then what he heard in those bleak hours of the night couldn’t be prisoner-on-prisoner. It had to be the guards going after the prisoners. He shuddered. How did they pick their victims? Was it the same ones all the time, or would they eventually come for him?

  Maybe he’d get out before they got to him. That was about all he had left to hang onto now. Gil rolled onto his side, facing the wall, and drew his knees to his chest. Only a couple of months left, but he wasn’t sure he could stand it. Every night he lay there, terrified he’d be next to be gang-raped by guards. Or that he’d have another asthma attack without his inhaler, with no medical help available until business hours.

  And now Aggie. Was that mark on her neck really what he thought it was? Or was it his imagination making him believe the worst? She’d never stepped out on him before, but now…now she had a reason. He’d been away—far away—from her for months. Not just geographically, but physically, emotionally. In every way imaginable.