Cold Reboot (Shadow Decade Book 1)

by Michael Coorlim

  I could sense the plan forming in her mind, but I couldn't really make out its details. They were tied to connections I couldn't make, memories I didn't have.

  I came right out and asked. What's our next move?

  We get Yeong Dae. She sipped her beer. It was bitter on our tongue. We make him pay.

  CHAPTER 27: GETTING YEONG

  We left Punga's and returned to our own apartment, where Kate went on a small shopping spree paid for with what remained of the money I'd gotten from Kozlow. I wondered how many she'd taken from the warehouse on our way back.

  Just the one. She was ordering goods online, having them drone delivered.

  Won't they be noticed?

  Bookkeeping on operations like that is sketchy at best. She sounded smug. Nobody wants to keep incriminating paperwork around.

  How do you know this?

  She didn't respond immediately, but her hand paused on the touch screen. It's better you don't know.

  Frustration welled up within me. Do you know how much easier all this would be if you'd just tell me who we are, what we've been doing?

  Trust me, doll, ignorance is bliss. Her mental voice was tinged with bitterness.

  She ordered one of those nanotech chemical repellent bodysuits, black, and a long dark coat to go with it. She also bought a higher-grade pair of Augmented Reality glasses, tinted, in ballistic grade plastic, with something called a Personal Network Hub built into it.

  I'd heard the term before. What's a Personal Network Hub?

  Does the job of your ChicagoCard or the screen in your apartment. All your devices operate on the same network, this lets you monitor and control them. Also broadcasts your identification.

  I've seen people going around as 'Unlisted.' Can we do that?

  She was half-paying attention to my questions, half ordering more toys, including a pocket-sized electronics toolkit. They subscribe to better network tiers. Privacy costs.

  Can we afford that?

  Her hands paused again. We can, but a subscription like that would be flagged by DHS. We don't have a legitimate income stream... lots of people working under the table, but the IRS will only overlook it until we force them to pay attention.

  That made a sort of horrible sense, given how many people were on the books as unemployed. So what do we do?

  We turn it off.

  Isn't that conspicuous?

  Kate smiled. Only if they see us. She powered the screen down and stepped away.

  No guns? I asked.

  We need a piece, we can get something untraceable from Punga.

  You bought that pistol we had.

  That was before we were breaking the law.

  Was she serious? But we're the one who they're trying to kill!

  You want the FBI to handle it? She stood, hand on her hip. You saw how seriously they took us. They take our info, file a report, and then... that's it. They can't help us. They can't protect us. Nobody can. You understand? You want to be safe, you want this to be over? We have to do this ourselves.

  It was all too much. It was all too big. I... can't.

  I know. If she wasn't me, her thoughts would be colored with sympathy rather than self-pity. That's why I'm here. Don't worry, Erica. Just let me handle it.

  ***

  Our purchases arrived by drone-delivery in a few hours, and Kate changed into the bodysuit she'd purchased. It was snug and form-fitting, woven, the marketing copy claimed, from synthetic spider-silk fiber rather than 3D-printed. I have to admit, we looked amazing in it — and better than I would have when I was twenty-eight. Whatever Kate had been doing for the last decade, she'd been taking much better care of our body than I had.

  Mostly. There were still the scars. And given how much pain and injury I'd suffered the last few days, it wasn't hard to imagine how we'd come by them.

  Do you know why Yeong is trying to kill us? I asked.

  No idea. She packed some of our other purchases into a sturdy duffel-bag.

  I was disappointed. So nothing from our past.

  She zipped up the bag. Listen, I know you want answers, but I'll be straight. My memories aren't much stronger than yours.

  But I thought—

  What? That I was the person you've been for the last ten years?

  Aren't you?

  It doesn't work that way. I'm not another set of memories, of experiences. I'm just you, Erica. A different mindset. A different set of skills. But I don't know anything you don't know.

  Bitter disappointment replaced my faint hope. Oh.

  Don't worry. She slipped a long duster over her bodysuit and slung the bag over her shoulder. We'll get our answers soon enough.

  ***

  To the casual observer it looked like we were just standing in front of the windscreen on Rolled Gold's observation deck, enjoying the view. Our new AR glasses were powerful, though. Controlled by our eye movement, they offered not only telescopic digital zoom, but also light enhancement lenses that gave us a clear view of what Veer was doing down at the Novabio building a few blocks over.

  Veer was one of Punga's boys, Te Arawa. Not Maori, I don't think, but another climate refugee. The task we'd given him was dangerous, but he didn't hesitate, because "yo, fuck those guys, right?"

  I think that Punga was willing to send Veer along because Dae had probably had his goons break into my apartment at the Block, and he liked the idea of returning the favor.

  And yeah. Fuck those guys. Kate sipped the whiskey we'd ordered.

  Down below, Veer had broken into Novabio's lobby and made his way up the stairs to Greg's floor. He stood in front of the big picture windows in reception and gave us a cheerful wave before taking a run at the door to Greg's office. He hit it with his shoulder, smashing it open, and disappeared from our view.

  Won't be long now, Kate thought, eye flickering to the stopwatch display in the upper corner of our glasses. We'd started the countdown as soon as Veer had entered the lobby... average response time for the Chicago Police down in the Loop at this time of night was three minutes. Long enough.

  And sure enough, at the two-minute and fifty-second mark, a pair of police drones swept down out of the sky to point their cameras into the building. We couldn't see Veer inside from this angle, but the way the drones were moving gave us a pretty good idea of where he was. It'd be another minute or two before the squad cars arrived — if he could make it out before then he could lose himself in the streets.

  Sure enough, only moments later, the drones zipped off away from the building, following our unseen gang-member. As long as he avoided capture until after we'd done what we needed to do here, we were still golden, and the stem cells we'd given Punga more than covered whatever bail Veer would need if they caught him later.

  A pair of squad cars pulled up to the base of the Novabio building. The officers who emerged were in no hurry — they'd know that the drones were in pursuit, that other cars would be coordinating, that their only task was to secure an empty building.

  A little blue electric subcompact pulled up a moment later. Yeong was out of it and running to the doors of the building almost before it parked itself.

  Kate focused on him as he approached the officer standing out front, close on their faces. I couldn't read lips and if Kate could she wasn't sharing, but I imagined the police were filling him in on the fact that someone had broken in and started a small fire in Greg's office.

  Yeong was growing more and more visibly agitated, despite the officer's calm demeanor. Whatever it was the Personal Assistant had going on — illegal stem cell smuggling, trying to kill me, God knew what else — it was clear that the last thing he needed was police involvement.

  Finally, the patrol officer left with a shake of her head. As we'd suggested, and as Kate had assured Punga, Yeong had dismissed the officer, declining to press charges. The search for Veer would be called off. Nothing would be done.

  And just as we had predicted, Yeong rushed into the building, presumably to make su
re that whatever secrets lay in his office remained hidden.

  Right where we want him. Kate strode from the window, putting her now-empty whiskey glass on the bar, and walked off to the coat-check to get our bag. Let's nail that fucker down.

  CHAPTER 28: WHERE WE WANT HIM

  Kate slipped through the lobby doors that Yeong had forgotten to lock, the ghost of a shadow. Scant lighting provided dim illumination, and it was deathly still, but she moved with all due stealth, evading the security cameras as much as she could manage, appearing as a black shape flitting past when she couldn't.

  It was almost a dance, the way she moved, gliding from foot to foot, pirouetting behind pillars and almost floating across the floor. She'd done this sort of thing before, infiltration, and while I'd been able to tap into her expertise at the warehouse, what she could do while in control of our body was both exhilarating and terrifying.

  She passed the elevator, opting instead for the stairs, quickly and quietly ascending to the 67th floor with scarcely a rest. The landing door was locked, but less than a minute with the mini-toolkit had the electronic lock bypassed, and we were in.

  Yeong's post behind the reception desk was unmanned, but we could see light filtering through under the door to Greg's office. Kate opened it a crack and then paused, peering through to see the PA on the other side of Greg's desk, rummaging through his files, facing us but focused on the task at hand.

  She slipped inside, crossing the distance to him in a fraction of a second.

  He looked up to find himself face to barrel with the pistol Punga had acquired for us. He inhaled sharply and his eyes widened.

  "Dae." Kate's voice was soft but stern.

  "M.. Miss Crawford!"

  "Don't."

  He stood very still. "Don't what?"

  "Pretend like you don't know why I'm here."

  "I don't—"

  Her fist flashed out, clubbing him on the ear with the side of her pistol.

  He cried out, clutching at the side of his head.

  She had it back pointing between his eyes just as quickly. "I said don't."

  Yeong fixed his eyes on the weapon again. "I swear to God—"

  "I swear to God that I'll shoot you in the fucking face if you jerk me around."

  Tears welled up in the corners of his eyes. "I swear I don't know why you're here!"

  She didn't respond, sharp eyes locked onto his.

  He kept glancing from the barrel of the gun to her eyes, finding compassion in neither. "Just... just tell me what you want?"

  "You want to play it that way, we can play it that way. Let's start with something simple. Why are you trying to kill me?"

  "Kill you?"

  She flicked the pistol.

  Dae flinched, instinctively covering his ear. "God no, please!"

  "Don't give me that shit, Dae." She stepped around the desk, gun steady. "You called me here the other day. Someone was waiting to kill me. I want to know why."

  "Jesus, no." He spoke in a rapid babble. "It's Mr. Matthews! He... he had me call you before I left for the day, tell you to come in. I had no idea—"

  "Bullshit. The Barsamians. You hired them, Yeong. Sent them after me."

  "I don't—"

  She flicked the gun again.

  He cowered. "Okay! Wait. Wait! Matthews has me... reach out to people for him. For stuff like this."

  "Stuff like this."

  Yeong nodded.

  "And you just... do shit like this for Greg. Hire hit men. Smuggle stem cells into the country."

  His eyes watered. "I do what I'm told. You... you know how it is. How hard it is to find work out there. Do you know how few executive level PA jobs are out there? I'm loyal to Matthews, and he's loyal to me."

  I didn't believe it. I couldn't believe it. Greg Matthews, my old mentor, trying to kill me... it didn't make any goddamn sense. Yeong had to be lying.

  He's not lying. Kate's response was calm, matter-of-fact, certain.

  "Why?" She asked.

  "Why's he want you dead?"

  "Yes, Dae." Kate's voice was cold, lethal. "Why did Greg tell you to have me killed?"

  Yeong shook his head. "I don't know. I'm sorry, but please believe me. I just do what Greg tells me to."

  Inside my body, I was reeling. It didn't make any sense. Why would Greg want me dead? I wasn't a threat to him. Hell, until the assassination attempt in the elevator, I hadn't thought anything shady was going on. It couldn't be related to the stem cells.

  Something from before, Kate sounded grim. Something from when we worked for him.

  But back then... our relationship was on the up-and-up. Septopharma wasn't involved in anything illegal.

  That we know of. That we can remember. But then... there's so much we can't remember.

  Kate spoke. "Get Matthews on the phone."

  Dae reached for the computer screen. "What should I say?"

  Kate sidestepped out of its view. "Just get him out here. I need to hear the truth from his own lips."

  "Okay, I'll call him," Yeong said, a tremble in his voice. "But he's hosting a charity event at his place out in Highland Park. I don't know if he'll just—"

  Kate pressed the barrel of her pistol against his temple, voice dripping with mock sincerity. "Aww... you just try your best, okay, sweetie?"

  "R-right."

  I felt bad for pushing Dae like this. He'd hired the killers, but it wasn't his choice. He was simply following orders. It didn't excuse him, it didn't exonerate him, but there was no hate in his actions, no malice. Just a callous disregard.

  I felt like a bully. That was it. Watching Kate threaten him, hurt him. It was... it was necessary. But I didn't like it.

  Get used to doing things you don't like, Kate admonished.

  And Matthews. If Dae was telling the truth... I'd come to him, begging, a supplicant. Asking for help. Instead, I'd spooked him into trying to murder me. And why? What was it I wasn't remembering?

  Dae was talking on the phone. "...yeah, mostly some vandalism. But I think the Fleischman files were accessed."

  Fleischman. He was one of the partners, back when I'd worked for Septopharma. Greg's mentor, as he'd been mine. Was this somehow related to him?

  "Yes," Dae continued. "Yes, you should come down yourself, you'll want to see this. Okay. Okay. Bye." He disconnected. "He's on his way."

  "Good." Kate smiled. "Sit tight. You play this straight, and you'll get out of this alive."

  "I won't make trouble," Dae said.

  I didn't believe her either.

  ***

  Kate waited for Greg's arrival pacing around the floor like a caged animal, peering out the windows, scowling at Dae, and reassuring herself that the exits were all unlocked and accessible.

  The layout up here was simple — the atrium open all the way down to the lobby took up half of the cylindrical tower, with the reception and waiting area taking up most of the other half, Greg's office the only enclosed room. A walkway crossed the atrium to the fire stairs, and an enclosed skyway crossing Wacker Drive to the parking garage across the street.

  After securing Yeong's wrist to the arm of his chair with a zip-tie, she even went so far as to visit both a floor up — an identical layout — and down — a small collection of office cubicles.

  Inside her head I was wracking my memories, trying to find any reason for Greg to want me dead. I'd gone missing in mid-October. I knew that from the FBI report. But I couldn't remember any specific conversations with Matthews that might point me to answers.

  Maybe that's what you were running from, Kate suggested.

  Who says I was running from something?

  Either someone made you disappear, or you walked away.

  I couldn't come up with a plausible explanation for either scenario. Maybe Greg would have some answers. His desire to kill me made as little sense as me just walking away from my life.

  Something had happened.

  And somehow, Greg was connected to it.


  If only I could remember what, and how, I could... I could fix all this. Fix my life.

  My hope amused Kate. Do you honestly believe that?

  We were in the reception lounge when we noticed the cars pulling up in the alleyway behind the building. Two of them, dark sedans, each of which disgorged a trio of men dressed in black.

  Fuck. "Yeong!" We rushed back to the office.

  Dae remained tied to the chair. "What?"

  Kate shoved the gun in his face. "You set us up, you rat fuck!"

  "What are you talking about?"

  She clipped him on the side of the head with her gun. "You tipped Matthews off. He's sent more killers our way!"

  "No I... you heard me. I didn't say anything!"

  A thought occurred to me, and I spoke aloud for the first time since Kate had usurped control. "Does he have a video feed of the office? Other than from the view-screen. Something he can access from home."

  Yeong paused. "He might. If he does, I don't know about it."

  "Shit." Kate was displeased. "We need to get the fuck out of here."

  "Just go," Yeong said. "I won't say anything."

  "Fuck no, you're coming with us." Kate grabbed the back of his office chair and started wheeling him out into the hall.

  What? I asked. Why?

  Hostage at best. Kate pushed him towards the stairs. We get Te Arawa to work on him, maybe get a few more answers.

  Torture? I balked, and we momentarily stopped pushing his chair.

  Kate wrested control back from me. We desperately need more intel. And he tried to kill us, remember?

  Yeah, but—

  "What are you going to do to me?" Yeong asked.

  "We just need you to cover our escape," Kate said. "I told you before. Be smart. Be quiet. You'll get through this unharmed."

  "Pistol-whipped isn't unharmed."

  "You want to see harmed?" She asked.

  He didn't respond.

  ***

  Kate pushed Yeong's chair out to the walkway crossing the atrium, and we watched the men Matthew had sent spreading through the lobby, some converging on the elevators while others went for the stairs.