Into Twilight (The Stefan Mendoza Trilogy Book 1)

by P. R. Adams

  Danny swallowed hard. “Um. Okay.” His drone became a faint hum overhead. “I’m moving in closer to the vehicle now. I’m headed to Heidi’s room to warn her.”

  “Danny, map the route to the vehicle out for me.”

  Chan’s knit brows showed more irritation than normal. “Why move?”

  As soon as the map to the vehicle came up, I headed out at a jog. “My cybernetic implant was compromised this whole time. They’ve probably been able to track my location to some extent, and they were definitely pushing data over it.”

  Chan whispered, “Oh.”

  “I think…” What did I think? “They were using it mostly to influence me, but I’m going to need you to check your systems, see if they used me to infiltrate anything. Think like Jacinto and your snowcrash. Would any of them be good at that? Pushing little bits across at a time, slowly building out a little spy system?”

  “Yeah. Easy.”

  Snow crunched beneath my sneakers, but the cold air couldn’t cool me down. Stovall had used me again. He had used Gillian, set her up with a scruffy, old loser who swore he would protect her from every threat. She was just an idealistic kid and didn’t deserve it. Then again, manipulation and exploitation were what he thrived on.

  “Okay,” I said. “So we limit our data devices to closed connections. Encrypt, lock them down to just within the team. Can you do that?”

  “Sure.” Chan sounded far away. “Pushing that out now.”

  The car was a gray shape in the distance, already disappearing beneath the falling snow.

  Danny’s voice was an urgent burst on the line. “Stefan? Heidi’s not in her room. There’s nothing in there.”

  I skidded to a stop and fell back. “Get out. Both of you. Now. Leave everything—”

  Pressure knocked the data device from my good hand before I registered the heat and the roar of the explosion, before the flames curled up like golden wings flapping out from Maribel’s car and rising to the gray sky, trailing black, smoky feathers.

  As quick as it had come, the pressure and heat were gone. Cold air rushed over me, and the crinkle and pop of burning metal and plastic finally sank in.

  Ichi’s voice was a whisper in the wind; she was a ghost slowly coming closer.

  I dug in the snow for the data device, plucking it out after a second. “Chan? Danny?”

  The connection was dead.

  Chapter 29

  Night-black bits slipped through the white sheet of snow. I shivered despite having my coat on again. Ichi glared at me from the car. Why shouldn’t she? I had my good hand on Gillian’s shoulder, and I was leaning in close to her, as if I might kiss her. A few hours before, it would’ve been all that possessed my mind. Now? Well, she was pretty. But if she didn’t get out of town, she was going to be pretty dead. I sucked in the subtle white pine of her perfume and squeezed her through the thick jacket, remembering the smooth flesh beneath. At least the pleasure had been real.

  Distant sirens wooped, and the accompanying lights transformed the snowy haze into a red-and-blue stroboscope worthy of a Bangkok dance club.

  I pressed my forehead against Gillian’s, real flesh to real flesh, and said, “You don’t leave now, you’ll get caught up in the investigation. You don’t need that.”

  She pulled away, and I thought there might be a tear in her eye. “Stop telling me what I need, Stefan.” Her hand settled on my chest. “I know.”

  “They’ll arrest you.”

  “What are they going to find in there? Circuitry? Traces of that fluid?”

  “The Agency just needs an opportunity to get at you when there’re no witnesses. Being arrested is the last thing you want right now. Gillian? Are you listening? Get out of town. A few weeks, a couple months—let this play out while you’re safe somewhere. I can give you money. Go to Mexico, get a tan, find someone—” Your age. Someone who deserves you.

  Her car door opened, and she dropped to the seat. “I thought you said we had something.”

  “I did.” I couldn’t tell her that wasn’t me but the manipulation coming through the implant.

  The car started, the door closed, and I stepped away. Our eyes met for a second, and melting snow ran down her cheek.

  I threw myself into the driver’s seat next to Ichi, glad once more that the damage the Koreans had done had taken away my tear ducts. She left me in peace as we pulled out of the parking lot as the first police vehicles reached the smoldering husk of Maribel’s car.

  Ichi waited until we were headed west into Virginia before speaking. Her voice was soft, absent any animosity. “Will she listen to you?”

  “She’s not stupid. Maribel nearly got her.”

  “It would have been easier if she had.”

  I turned; Ichi met my glare. Defiant. I was the one who looked away finally. There was too much pain, too much anger in those eyes.

  “Money isn’t everything,” I said.

  “Then why do you do this? You love what it does to you?” She tugged my ruined arm away from my lap. “Money is all we can hope for. We were not born to wealth. We will snatch money from these murderous people, or we will die poor and wretched like everyone else around us.”

  “Maybe it’s better to die a wretch than to become what we hate?” It didn’t feel convincing, even to me.

  Ichi let it slide.

  An hour later, we were parked outside the Guillaume Clinic’s side entry, which opened onto the physical therapy room. I tapped the data device, and the door opened. Dr. Jernigan’s head popped out, craned around on her thick neck. She wore a tight, yellow sweatshirt; the muscles of her shoulder and arm stood out as she waved us in.

  I popped the doors. “Let’s not keep the good doctor waiting.”

  Ichi twisted but stopped, squinting at Jernigan. “She can be trusted, the one who put that device into your skull?”

  It was a good question. “Yeah. I’d be dead already if she wanted me dead.”

  “But you would also be dead if the assassins had attacked you first.”

  Another fair point. “Don’t worry; I’m not trusting anyone but you right now.”

  We followed Dr. Jernigan to the lobby, our sneakers silent on the stone floor, her boots a loud clatter. It seemed colder in the elevator than outside. She took us up to the same treatment room where she’d last worked on me and stuffed her hands into the pockets of her jeans.

  “Your message said minor injuries.” She nodded at my ruined arm. “You honestly think that’s minor.”

  I leaned against the wall, covering the ruined arm beneath the good one. “She’s got some busted-up ribs.”

  Dr. Jernigan pulled gloves on and waved Ichi to come closer, then said, “You’re favoring this side. Raise your arm.”

  Ichi tried to do as she was told and immediately hissed.

  A knowing smirk settled on Jernigan’s face. “I see. Mr. Mendoza, please step out. We’ll need to—”

  “No!” Ichi glared at me. “We watch over each other.”

  I shrugged away Dr. Jernigan’s curious look. She helped Ichi out of her top with a few worrying gasps. Ugly redness and swelling had spread across her ribs, darkest where the blow had landed.

  Dr. Jernigan’s beefy hands moved with remarkable tenderness over Ichi’s sternum and the bruised area. “You going to tell me what happened?” she asked.

  Lying didn’t really make sense this far into the relationship. “The El Salvador twins have gone into permanent retirement.”

  That got her full attention for a few seconds, then she pulled some adhesive strips out of a drawer and turned back to Ichi. “You’re having some trouble breathing, and you’re experiencing pain. Assuming you can go to a legitimate clinic, I would advise you do that. That’s my exercise in futility for the day. I can give you something for the pain and swelling, but if you’re looking for a little support…” She held the adhesive strips up. “These worked for me last time I busted myself up. It’ll sting going on, but you look like you can handle the
pain.”

  Ichi nodded. She locked eyes with me as the strips went on, blinking once the whole time.

  “All right.” Dr. Jernigan helped Ichi back into her top, slipped her an orange prescription bottle, and waved me forward. “Alternating ice and heat to deal with that, every fifteen minutes.” Once Ichi had shuffled away, Jernigan helped me onto the examination table. She started by examining the bloody ruin where I’d stabbed the radio receptacle. She whispered, “If she starts coughing up blood, get her to an ER. I can get you to someone who can help with the questions.”

  I winced as the powerful fingers probed the wound. “She’ll be fine.”

  “Do I want to even know what happened here? This isn’t just a cut. I smell burned circuitry.”

  “Someone was abusing my Grid connection.” I twisted around to look at her.

  “Abusing?” There was authentic confusion in her voice and eyes. She wasn’t involved.

  “I’m still figuring it out, but leave it dead.”

  The confusion remained, but she nodded. She went after the wound with acid and pumice, or maybe it was just some powerful disinfectants. I let out the sort of groan Ichi should have.

  Dr. Jernigan’s lips twisted down in a sour frown as she helped me pull my coat and shirt off. She rotated the ruined arm, then brought the magnifying glass apparatus over and peeled the sliced skin back to peer inside. A few tools I wasn’t familiar with came out next, and she used them to poke at the synthetic bone and sinew. Pressure and tingling like a gentle current fed through the MMI. So close, I caught herbs and spices mingled with an odd coconut soap aroma coming off Jernigan.

  Finally, she pushed back. The familiar frustration was on her face, the look a mother had for her stubborn and reckless son always coming back from the woods with gashes and scrapes. “Well, it’s a strange cut, but I can probably salvage the arm. I would recommend you let me get a new one in and replace—”

  “Salvage it, please.”

  A sigh. “It won’t be pretty, and I don’t know how long it will hold, but the materials are meant to take this sort of a beating.”

  She poked around in the drawer and dug out clear plastic bottles; what looked like a suture kit; some finger-length, semi-transparent sticks; and forceps. They went onto the table next to me.

  She held up the bottles and a transparent stick. “This is glue and reinforcing materials. It’s going to fix the gashed bones. The sutures are to repair the muscle filaments.”

  I watched, fascinated by what would have been sickening to observe on an organic arm. The muscle filaments were drawn back together with forceps and glued, then stitched. The bones were reinforced with the plastic sticks, which were glued on like plates beings screwed into shattered bones. When she was done, she ran a few tests and then sealed the synthetic flesh before painting over the tears. The discoloration was less noticeable than my scars.

  She gave it a satisfied final inspection, then said, “You really should let me get you a replacement while you’re covered by your friends. I could have it ready by the end of the week.”

  I chuckled. “My coverage is about up.”

  Dr. Jernigan got up and tossed her gloves aside. “It doesn’t mean I couldn’t put it on the bill.”

  “Sure. I may not live to see it is the only problem.”

  That killed the discussion. She led us back down to the lobby and through the physical therapy room, still empty at that late hour. Nothing more was said.

  Once we were outside, I hired another car. We walked through the snow in the direction the data device showed the vehicle was coming from.

  When the lights came into view, I looked over at Ichi. “I want you to do the same thing I told Gillian to do. Just get out. Hide.”

  Snow shook from her dark hair. “I have no money.”

  “That’s easy to fix. I won’t need mine soon.”

  A glare. “You should come with—”

  The data device vibrated. A text without an ID.

  We’re alive. No sign of Heidi. Police stormed the hotel as we left.

  Ichi glanced down at the display. “It is real?”

  “Only one way to know.” I typed in the request code only Danny knew. He replied back with the correct code.

  I sent a text: Call me. Secure line.

  The data device vibrated again: Chan. Sitting on a hotel bed. Hoodie, jeans, red LED earrings glowing. “Danny’s here.”

  I walked toward the parked car, a small red sporty model that had caught my eye; Ichi frowned. “Don’t tell me where you are. I’m going to drop Ichi off somewhere. You track her, pick her up. Three car changeovers, four course changes. I want the drone up, watching for surveillance.”

  “Sure.” Chan looked away. “Got something for you.”

  A request to accept a transfer popped up. I accepted.

  Data crawled on the secure connection.

  I was feeling impatient. “What is it?”

  “Weaver. Damaged digitized documents. From the mansion. About fifty percent more restored. You’ll like it.”

  “What about the encrypted video Abhishek sent you? Or the video from the Ming Dynasty? We can place Dong there. If we can get that video, we can find out who else was there.”

  “And?”

  “I don’t know. Maybe get to the bottom of this; maybe just get some revenge.” They were one and the same to me.

  “Nothing’s turning up.”

  “Well, keep searching. Take some chances.”

  Chan’s face froze in fear.

  I’d pushed too hard. “Chan, I know you’re better than Jacinto. You can do this.”

  Chan’s eyes drifted away slightly. “I’ll try.”

  The first group of files arrived. I unpacked them and started sifting through. Nothing too shocking: more connections between her father and questionable business activities, more names of high society people even I had heard of, her ex-husband’s connections to the businesses detailed out.

  And then the piece Chan was talking about.

  I laughed, dark and furious. “Chan, you beautiful devil. You’re sure of this?”

  There was a pause, then, “Yeah.”

  Rattled. I caught a strange look in those magenta eyes.

  I couldn’t figure it out. We were all a mess. “Can you put Danny on?”

  “Sure.”

  Danny squeezed in next to Chan. “You—uh. Just sending Ichi back? I mean, you said…” He shrugged. “We’re a team.”

  “We are. I need to figure this out on my own, though. If I need you, I’ll let you know.”

  “Yeah, okay.”

  “Danny, what’s your take on Heidi? Was she working for Stovall? Did he take her out from under our noses?”

  “Maybe.” He bowed his head and pinched his lips while his eyes blinked rapidly. “I think she ran, though. Maybe they tipped her off, or she figured it out. But…you never know.”

  That was the game, wasn’t it? None of us had seen Korea coming. “I think she was involved. I think this has all been a setup from the start.”

  “By who?” That was an urgent whisper from Danny, riddled with unfamiliar frustration.

  The car churned through gray slush as we climbed onto the Beltway. Street lamps were like brilliant stars in the sky, although those couldn’t be seen through the snow. The flesh over my cybernetic implant itched, and the car’s cabin took on the plastic smell of my treated arm.

  Danny’s voice came through crisp and loud. “Stefan? You there?”

  “Yeah. I’m still trying to figure out who. I thought it was all Stovall. One of his little rogue operations that gave the higher-ups plausible deniability and all the cover they needed. Now I’m not so sure.” Weaver’s family accounts and connections, her ex-husband, the amount of money involved…it was unprecedented, rivaling an old European nation from before the last depression. “I think Stovall’s being used just like the rest of us.”

  “That’s why you need us.”

  “I know.” The ca
r descended down into the Canyon. “I won’t do anything I can’t handle. Trust me.”

  Danny’s mouth quirked up. I had some trust to repair.

  “I’ll call you,” I said. “Promise.”

  I disconnected as the car sped down streets empty of anything but robot snowplows. A dark red glow filled the eastern sky, at first appearing as a halo from the neon lights, then taking on the dull, angry shape of an approaching sunrise. Ichi half-dozed beside me, her youthful face so innocent and undeserving of what she had gotten herself into.

  The car turned, rumbled up onto the sidewalk, and edged down the alleyway before coming to a stop outside Abhishek’s shop. The door opened, and he came out, wrapped in an oversized gray coat that was decades out of style. I popped the doors and came around to help him with Ichi, who struggled to keep her eyes open.

  “Painkillers,” I said. “Let me get her right side. Broken ribs.”

  Abhishek grunted disapprovingly. He fumbled around for a grip awkwardly.

  I picked her up. “Get the door.”

  I followed him, stopped to kick off black snow that smelled like piss, then set her on a table he’d cleared and covered with a dull blue blanket and plastic-sealed pillow.

  Hair had covered her face. I brushed the strands away, aching at the realization of what I’d done to my best friend’s daughter.

  I turned to Abhishek. “Someone’s going to swing by to pick her up. I’ve transferred my account information to you. Give her half. Sit on the rest. If I don’t come back…”

  He nodded rapidly. “Yes, of course.” He pulled a cigarette from the jacket pocket and studied her from behind snow-slicked, smudgy lenses. “You are going into trouble?”

  “Yeah. We’ve got a lot of loose ends and mysteries.”

  Abhishek lit the cigarette and waved the smoke away. “I thought you didn’t like mysteries.”

  “I don’t.”

  I extended my right hand. He hesitated, then shook it awkwardly.

  Once I was back in the car, I texted for Chan and Danny to track Ichi’s position, then closed the secure connection and sent the car north, heading for the Beltway. Sunlight converted the sky to a coral pink, and I muttered something I remembered from my childhood: “Red sky at night, sailor’s delight; red sky at morning, sailor take warning.”