“Fuck.”
“Fuck is right. Her account was logged into this morning, oddly enough. And while she was in labor with her first child, no less. Needless to say, we’ve disabled the account. Everyone down here was scrambling for a full half an hour to get those cameras running again, and they’re up again now but they won’t be much help as far as trajectory is concerned… and we’ve been unable to get the tracker back online. We can still hope for a hit on the facial recognition software if either of these two should flash face at any cameras anywhere in the Nation. And that’s a lot of cameras, but still…”
“Sir,” Kale began, “it’s my guess that they’ll be trying to get out of the Nation. Now it’s a lot of road between here and Sector 23, plus they would have those borders to deal with, but that’s really their only bet.”
“Well that only leaves a few thousand kilometers of border for us to keep an eye on. This Owen is a bright one. He’ll have found a way through, an entry point. You need to head them off before they get that far. That car they took will only run for about two hours before needing a charge, so they’ll be forced to switch it up soon enough. When that happens, they’ll be exposed, and hopefully we’ll get a sighting.
I’ll get a bulletin out to the public with their faces on it, and I’ll have a car sent over to you immediately. A real car, with a full tank. It’s time for you to start your hunting, Kale. You were hoping for a more challenging assignment, if I’m not mistaken.”
“Yes sir. Owen Seattle… I must say I admire what he’s done here, even if I don’t understand it. Picked his mark carefully. A man with next to no willpower or tolerance for pain. A man with an apartment a stone’s throw from the hospital, and with a car waiting in the basement garage.
“Owen has the hand skills, but he’s not a vicious one. No more than he need be. He only laid hands on this Roberto fellow once, enough to put the fear into him, and Owen knew that that would carry him.
“And he didn’t even touch that girl over at the hospital. From what she told me, he just flashed a blade and she was his. She was a mess. But it’s admirable in a way, Owen withholding that pain, doling out just as much as needed. It’s resource management of a sort. I can’t say that I would have done it the same, but I respect the precision.”
Kale’s earpiece went silent for a time as he roamed through the rest of the apartment, checking under sofa cushions and inside cupboards and even in the refrigerator. A quizzical hum entered his ear and he knew that Cecil was trying to work something out.
“Hmmmmmm….”
“What are you thinking, sir?”
“I’m thinking that none of this adds up to anything that makes a scrap of sense. There is a monstrous, looming ‘why’ that I can’t get around. Why? Why did Lamar transfer Owen here in the first place? Owen spent most of his working hours here with Gabriel, and then Gabriel sank the dagger into Lamar’s spine. I would think it was a staged betrayal if I hadn’t seen the footage from that boat. It was Lamar on that tape. I even put in a request that they remove his hood before tossing him over. And it was him, no doubt about it. They gutted him like a fish.
“And now Owen up and leaves Gabriel, with a woman and an infant under his wing? Was Lamar’s grand plan for some soldier that he had never even met to kidnap his own child and run away? All I have are questions. Too many questions. I should have just let you do it your way from the get, Kale. You could have put one in Owen’s head from a few blocks away and spared me all these puzzles, or a few pieces anyway.”
“Sir, perhaps we should entertain the thought of removing Gabriel from the equation now. It might be an easier puzzle with fewer pieces on the board.”
“Yes, yes. Good lad. I’d be lying if I said the thought hadn’t crossed my mind. But for the time being we need that little weasel, if only for his clearance codes. He holds everything that Lamar once held, and that makes him exceptionally dangerous. Dangerous to have, and perhaps even more dangerous not to have. There is the very real possibility of us losing the entire Frame if we can’t wrest those codes from him.”
“There are ways of extracting that kind of information from folks, sir.”
“Yes, yes. Right you are, and that might be the road we’re heading down. It’s not up to me. But for now I’ve got a team sitting on young Gabriel. They tell me he’s been holed up, hasn’t left his apartment in five days.”
“Hm.”
“Yes, yes. Hm. That about sums it up. They’re telling me that your car is now waiting for you outside that highrise you’re in. If you have any idea, any insight into where these two are heading, then I would recommend you start in that direction, and quick. I’ll let you know if they pop up on the grid.”
“Yes, sir. What about this guy? Roberto? Should I have these R’n’R boys take him to the boat? And the midwife?”
“No. No, I think they will be able to help our cause. We’ll run their stories with our bulletin, put some slant on it. We’ll put faces to these victims, make them relatable. Once the public understands how dangerous, how wildly violent these two criminals are, they’ll be that much quicker to call if they see them. Anything to draw more attention, to slow them down in their tracks.
“Put a good bit more hurt on Roberto, and break a few fingers on the midwife, purple up her face. Take some photos, and make sure they are aware of the gravity of this situation, as well as our expectations for their full cooperation.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Good hunting, Kale.”
There was a quiet click in Kale’s earpiece, and Cecil was gone from the other end of the line. Kale reached up and pulled the device out, unwinding the brace that hooked around and behind his ear. He placed it into the small cargo pocket on the sleeve of his olive green long-sleeve, and then took one last glance around the room.
From where he stood, looking across Roberto’s living room and out beyond the sliding glass door that opened to the balcony, Kale could see the sun trying to set in the distance. This far north, the sunsets were an enduring process at this time of year and they lasted a great deal longer than in those regions further south.
He saw what he thought must have been millions of dust particles suspended in the sunlight as it forced its radiance into the room in broad horizontal beams, paying no heed to the smudges and finger marks on the glass it poured through. Those particles moved fluidly in the light in the open space of this room, seemingly unbound by direction or purpose.
Lazy life. Doesn’t do shit all day. Just floats around, lethargic and useless. Just waiting for its turn to come to a rest and get swept away. Like all the other life I see in this dollhouse city, he thought.
He saw the light doing impressions of rainbows on the ceiling in the living room, and traced it back to the point where it refracted through the edges of the sliding glass panes that rose from the porch railing.
That’s more like it. Hard, cold glass. Just stays put and works. Reliable. Predictable.
He saw where the dust had settled on the flat of the coffee table., smudged and streaked.
He saw a housefly, either too confused or too apathetic to find the exit it was pretending to seek.
He saw a dirty blanket drooping halfway from the arm of the sofa, and some spent laundry scattered across the floor.
He saw the leftovers from at least two meals sitting on the soiled glass top of the dining table.
He saw a sock, dirtied on the bottom and yellowed at the toe, calling silently for its mate.
He saw all of these things.
But he did not see the earpiece that clung taped to the underside of the counter that kept the living room from pouring into the kitchen.
Chapter Nineteen
Owen reached up with his right hand and removed his headset. His left hand remained on the steering wheel.
He glanced over at the passenger seat, where Claire sat reclined with her head facing away from him. He couldn’t tell whether or not her eyes were open, but he could hear her calm deep breath
s beneath the more rapid nasal breathing of the sleeping child she held cradled against her. There was music there. Rhythm. As if a cello were laying down patient soft strokes beneath the vigor of a more zealous violin.
They were heading north and east, the cold blue alloy darting along the worn grey of the road. Tall pine trees hugged up to the shoulder and pressed in a limitless array outwards on either side of the two-lane highway. Overhead was the long narrow slit of sky, bright and blue, that followed their course.
Claire’s forehead was nearly resting on the glass of the window as she gazed deep into the passing trees, trying to pierce the depths of the foliage but never able to see anything further than ten meters from the edge of the road. She was worried, of course, but the small warm bundle in her arms wouldn’t allow that worry to dominate her.
She spoke, still pasted to the window.
“Any news?”
Owen gathered his thoughts for a moment before answering her, collecting the bits of dialogue that he had just overheard and trying to piece them all together.
“There were a few voices,” he started, “three voices, interrogating that man. I caught some back-and-forth, and then half of a more interesting conversation.”
“What do you mean, half?”
“One of them sounded a little more… serious… in charge. He called his handler on a headset, so I only caught his half.”
Owen bit down on his lower lip and pulled the car into a soft bend to the left. The ground on either side towered five meters over the car, making a small canyon of the road. Strata of gray shale ran on in long strips, exposed decades back by the road crew that had blasted their way through it.
Claire turned to Owen now.
“And…?”
“And they know a bit. They know we got a car, and they know roughly which way we’re heading. And they know your hair is blond now.”
“But… we washed everything down. That bathroom was spotless.”
“I know, I know. He worked it out somehow; reasoned his way through it. It was a logical jump, I suppose.”
“And your hair? Did he reason his way through that?”
She smiled, looking at the three-centimeter-long curls of neatly pasted black hair that now covered his head and came down to form a well kempt beard. It was pretty convincing work, and perfectly natural at a glance.
“Didn’t mention it if he did,” he answered, not catching the jesting nature of Claire’s question. “He sounds pretty sharp though. He’s worth worrying about. He’s a chaser. Our chaser.”
“What else do we know? Or, I mean, what does he know?”
“Well, he knows who we are but that was a given…”
Owen worked at his lower lip again.
“What is it?” asked Claire.
“When he brought up my name, it sounded… I dunno… it sounded like he knew me from before; like I wasn’t a fresh topic. And then he mentioned Junior. Shit. Gabriel, Gabriel. I’m supposed to be there to help him, to protect him. That’s what the old man told me. He said ‘just keep the boy alive’. He’s a hard case, that boy. Harder than I ever expected. I’ve abandoned him, and now the old man is gone. And I’ve gone and drug him into this shit.”
Owen sighed heavily. His shoulders were pulled tensely up as the car poured out of another turn and onto a long, flat stretch. The sun had sunk beneath the tops of the trees, though not yet beyond the horizon that they blocked.
“Any idea whom this chaser could have been talking to?”
“I caught a name, though it doesn’t mean anything to me. Cecil. He was talking to a man named Cecil.”
Claire’s jaw fell open.
“Cecil?! Are you sure? I’ve only ever known of one Cecil, and he is the head of the entire… He’s my boss. And yours.”
“I don’t have a boss anymore.”
“Owen, if this man has your name in his mouth, then we’ve got bigger problems than I had ever imagined, and I imagined a lot of problems.”
“And he has plans for Gabriel,” Owen muttered despondently.
“Maybe. Maybe you caught this whole thing out of context. After all, you only heard half of a conversation.”
“No. No. They talked about getting rid of him; nudged at torture. Shit. Claire, is there anyway that I could get a hold of him? To warn him?”
“If there is, I can’t think of it. Our tablets are useless. No phone. No Frame. And even if our accounts were still active, using them would just allow their satellites to track us. I know it’s hard. I know you’re fond of the boy. But we can’t do anything besides keep moving. They’ll have our faces out on the news bulletin by now, and people will be…”
Claire was halted by a thought.
“What? What is it?”
“The news. If we… if we were to find a journalist, then we could broadcast something. A plea. A warning.”
“The news?” said Owen. He allowed himself a cautious smile. “The news. Clever girl. But how do we find ourselves a journalist when we can’t access the database?”
“I… no I can’t do that to him.
“What? Do what? Who are you talking about?”
“I know somebody. I went to school with him a long time ago. But he is a friend, and you know he’ll be an R’n’R if they even suspect he is helping us. And they will. I can’t do that to him. Besides, he’s about an hour’s drive in the wrong direction.”
They both fell silent. As they came around another soft curve in the road, a long line of red taillights met them.
“Shit,” breathed Owen.
“What? What’s going on?”
“Roadblock. They’re doing checks.”
They drove up behind the last car in the queue and stopped. A pair of headlights came up behind them, and then another set behind those.
“An hour away, Claire? In which direction?”
“Owen, we can’t.”
“I’m not sure that you appreciate how few options we have right now. We can’t turn back. They’ll see and they’ll chase us down. Now, we’ve only got enough charge to go for another hour, give or take, and we’ve got no choice but to go through this checkpoint. So beyond that, we will need to reroute. The wrong direction is now sounding a lot more right.”
Claire opened her mouth to speak, but nothing came out. He was right and she knew it.
“What direction, Claire?”
“South.” Her voice was soft and remorseful. “South and east. Voss.”
The line moved forward as another car slipped through the checkpoint.
“Ok. Claire, I need you to get in the back and lie down. If you can keep that little girl sleeping it would be a help.”
“But how do you imagine I’m gonna make that happen?”
“Recline your seat as far back as it will go. I’ll help as much as I can.”
Claire slowly reclined until she was nearly laying flat. Owen slid his right forearm underneath her knees and lifted them up and clear of the dashboard, keeping his left hand on the steering wheel and minding the movement of the cars in front of him. There were still about twenty cars between them and the guards who were running the inspections.
He pulled her legs up and onto his shoulder for long enough to swing his arm around and underneath them once more, and then he slowly lowered them onto the back seat. Claire worked at sliding herself carefully off of the front seat and into the back as Owen reached down behind his seat and into his duffel to come up with a blanket. The baby stirred a little atop Claire’s chest as she settled herself across the back seat, and Claire instinctively held her breath as though that would keep the child from waking. It worked. Owen handed her one end of the blanket, which she took a hold of with her free hand while he pulled the other end down to cover her legs.
“When I say, pull that up and hide your face.”
Claire nodded.
“Owen…”
“What is it?” he asked softly.
“I’m… scared. I’m scared for our baby girl, and for you ,
and… me. She doesn’t even have a name yet.”
“Shhh. Shh shh shh. It’s ok. Everything is going to be just fine. I see three guards up ahead, and they’ve been checking enough cars by now that they’ll be a bit settled in. They might not be expecting too much. What I need from you is to stay down. And quiet.”
His voice was calm and serene, and she found comfort in the confidence he carried in his voice even now as they neared the guards.
If there is a man to get through this… all of this… then this is the man, she thought. My man.
Owen turned so that he could see her eyes.
“I love you, Claire. I love you and I love that little girl you’re holding there. She will have a name. A beautiful name and a long peaceful life. I promise.”
Claire’s eyes teared up. She squeezed them shut and tilted her head down, kissing the crown of the child’s head again and again.
“It’s time,” whispered Owen. Claire pulled the blanket up and over her head. The baby cooed on her chest, and she whispered soft shooshing sounds and continued compulsively blanketing the little girl in kisses beneath the cover.
Two large black wagons were parked sideways across the road ahead, with just enough gap between them to let a car pass through, and a motorbike waited parked behind them.
Owen watched as the guards began to process the first in the three-car-line before them. One man stood in front of the car with his rifle in hand, though he did not have it trained on anything more than the ground at his feet. Another man, also armed with a large rifle, came up on the passenger side and leaned forward to peak through the windows as the third man approached the driver with a small electronic device.
A hand came out of the driver side window and offered a thumb for the small scanner. A few seconds later, the two guards on either side of the car nodded to each other and the third man took a few steps to his side to allow the car to pass.
Keeping Luna Page 17