“Ah, I see.” Garance pondered how to proceed. “Daniel, do you know any French?”
“Yeah, I’ve picked a little up over the years, working on various ships.”
“There is something I must tell you… I assume the boy does not know any French?”
Daniel looked down and whispered, “Comprenez vous, mon petit garçon?” The boy continued to finger the trim on his blanket, displaying no sign of comprehension. Daniel looked at Garance and shook his head.
“Very well,” Garance switched over to French. “You see, I’ve been tracking a bizarre illness. It only affects populations in certain areas—the poorest regions; places of conflict; where water is scarce; countries where land is disappearing… Precisely the areas where refugees originate. The symptoms of this disease are predictable and the outcome is always the same.” Garance drew a deep breath and softly said, “I am very sorry Daniel. His signs are unmistakable.”
“What?”
“There is nothing that can be done.” Garance cleared her throat and looked away from the child. “It is irreversible—no cure has been found. The only result is death.”
“I can’t believe this,” Daniel replied in English, hugging the boy. “Are you sure? What about the CDC or… what’s that other organization… ‘Doctors without Borders’? Have you spoken with them?”
“Yes, I have—in round about ways. You must understand Daniel, many of the physicians who have been trying to determine the cause of this have also suffered the same fate.”
“But you said it wasn’t contagious!”
“I am saying that they ended up the same way—but by other means.”
“HighTower?” he whispered. The boy looked up and grabbed Daniel’s chin.
“Yes.” She replied, switching back to English. “That is why I’m so desperate to find evidence. If I can bring this to light, there might be someone out there who would have an answer. Maybe there is a way to help these people. But I won’t know until I can prove that HighTower is behind it and can safely ask for help.”
“Those ruthless motherfu..,” Daniel muttered before catching himself. The little boy smiled and wriggled out of his lap. He crawled to the settee and sat near Garance’s feet. All at once, the child began to cough, his body doubling over with the force of his fits. Daniel rushed across the room and held a towel to the boy’s mouth. Phlegm stained the cloth in Daniel’s hand. “Take it easy there, buddy. Just breathe for me, OK?” he looked up at Garance imploringly.
Garance placed her hand on the boy’s head as his coughing spell continued. She returned Daniel’s glance with an expression of helplessness.
Point Roberts WA. Aug 19. 2033
48°59'18.178" N 123°3'24.729" W
Biyu walked down the stairs slowly, bowls of tomato soup balanced on top the cans of soda. “Hey Douglas, I brought down some lunch.”
“Hhnnnhuh,” he mumbled without looking up.
Douglas was planted amid monitors, cables and servers in the same position as when Biyu awoke earlier that morning. She wondered if he would eventually just morph into the table and its components; his skin becoming one with all the electronics. That’s how the first android will be born… With Douglas as the prototype. She set the tray on top of several crates and threw a blanket over a keg to use as a seat. “What’s goin’ on? Are you online with your sensei again?”
“Huh? Oh yeah, we’re messaging right now.” Douglas moved his head back and forth as he scanned the information. Reaching across the desk for his mobile, he muttered, “Biyu—grab me another one of those burners off the shelf. Apparently, I’m about to receive some serious shit here and we’ll need to do the old cut-and-run after I download it.”
Biyu pulled a box from the cupboard underneath the basement stairs. As she sliced open the packaging, she counted the remaining units. “This is the fifth mobile we’ve gone through this week. How many more burners can you get?” She pressed the power button and handed the device to Douglas. “Where are you getting the funds for all of this technology?”
Douglas glanced over at her briefly as he accepted the new mobile. “Don’t worry about it, kiddo. I sold the car and a few old laptops and parts to some buddies of mine. There’s a vast network of techies we know who have no love at all for the Man. Trust me, they’re happy to help us out when they can.” Douglas returned to his monitor and Biyu sat back down on the keg. She slurped her soup and waited for Douglas to pass on any news from their Viennese contact. It seemed to Biyu that she spent most of her days just waiting—for information, for orders, for footsteps on the stairwell, for her life to get back to normal. The typical teenage restlessness bit at her heels as she spent countless hours hidden away in the basement, waiting. She hated it, and resented feeling useless—consigned to fetch and carry detail. But she reminded herself that Douglas was doing this for her family—her’s and Jun’s. She was grateful for his loyalty and told herself they were lucky to have such an accomplished hacker on their side. Biyu knew enough about Jun’s capabilities to appreciate the skills that Douglas demonstrated daily. And this Austrian savant—the one that had both Jun and Douglas so impressed… Biyu thanked her stars that they had enlisted his help. Their combined efforts had recently discovered that Uncle Kim was alive and that he was somewhere north of Vancouver—that he was trying to reach them through one of Jun’s expired email addresses. Surely now, something will break open and we’ll all be together again. In her mind, it was worth the terrible wait.
Douglas crouched forward with a jolt. He made a low whistle and ran his hand over his chin. Biyu moved behind his chair, careful not to interrupt his concentration. His eyes processed the information much faster than hers, but she spotted the words “detention center” and “old Seattle Center location.” Biyu stifled the urge to squeal. Cupping her hand over her mouth, she waited for Douglas to finish scanning the entire message before she blurted out, “Have they been found? Are they OK?”
Douglas jumped, startled at the proximity of her voice. “Dammit Biyu—how many times have I told you to quit sneaking up behind me when I’m working? Christ, I’m going to keel over one of these days when you do that.”
“Sorry Douglas… Did they find out where Mamma, Ba and Nai-nai are being held? Can we send Jun to check it out?”
Douglas switched the screen off and turned to face her. “What they found is a HighTower detention facility that is off the grid, as far as being official or recognized. Don’t get your hopes up, Beez. It could be nothing… We’ll dig a little deeper first—OK?”
“Yeah, sure.” Biyu spun around and skipped toward the stairwell. It might not be definitive proof, but it was the first shred of information they’d obtained since the night her family was taken. Biyu knew she shouldn’t make too much out of it, but she couldn’t help feeling heartened. “I’m going down to the beach. Don’t forget to eat your soup, Douglas.”
“Right,” Douglas replied as she sped up the stairwell. When he heard the door click shut, he reopened the document. Returning to the final paragraph, he read, “Body of 55-year old Asian male; discovered near old Seattle’s waterfront. Forensics unable to identify due to lack of biometric markers.” “Shit,” Douglas muttered to the empty room. There was nothing that significant about a dead Asian man in old Seattle—the International District made up the greater part of the population over there. But the lack of biometric markers troubled him… Murder victims occasionally appeared without an ID chip, but rarely did someone take the precaution to remove all forensic identifiers. Douglas drew his own conclusion about which appendages must have been removed to make a corpse unidentifiable. He reached for the bowl of soup and popped open the can of soda Biyu left for him. Douglas stared at the monitor blankly as he slurped at the soup, wiping droplets out of his thick stubble, he deleted the file and snapped the burner in half.
International District, Old Seattle. Aug 19. 2033
47°35'57.8"N 122°20'15.3"W
Jun tipped the brim of his M
ariner’s baseball cap lower, covering more of his face and readjusted his sunglasses. He avoided being out of doors for lengthy periods--ever since the Austrian’s warning about HighTower’s surveillance capability. And in compliance, he made sure to destroy and replace his burners after any conversation that contained potential trigger words. Nevertheless, his anxiety increased with each day he remained on the run. And now, standing exposed on the open streets, Jun felt his pulse rate quadruple. A voice from behind him said, “Excuse me, I’m looking for a restaurant that serves shark fin soup. Could you point me in that direction?”
Jun turned to see a slight young woman with sharp cheekbones and cropped black hair. He recognized the code instantly and responded as he’d been instructed, “You can’t purchase that stuff any longer.”
“I was told that you can, if you know whom to ask.”
“You’ll want to head down the block and turn right onto Fourth Avenue, then there is a narrow alley on the left—go that way until you reach the second storefront. ‘Yuet Lee’s’ it’s called.”
“Merci.”
Jun watched Garance walk away. As she turned down the block, he shot a quick look around him and followed.
Pushing open the glass doorway of Yuet Lee’s Kitchen, Jun spotted Garance sitting alone in a booth. She held the menu in front of her face, but Jun noticed her glance up as he entered. He drew a deep breath and casually looked around the room. The lunch rush had ended and the space was almost deserted. Two tables were occupied with elderly Chinese couples and an old man sat at the counter reading the menu. Jun exhaled and proceeded to the woman’s booth.
“May I sit down?”
“Please,” she replied without lowering her menu. She continued to scan the items as she spoke from behind the paper. “You are the nephew?”
“Yes, I am he.” Jun adjusted his location on the bench to see more of her face. “You’re the journalist from La Balise then?”
“You’d better hope so.”
“Of course, I—I’m not really on my game these days, talking face to face with people, I mean. As a matter of fact, you’re the first person I’ve verbally communicated with in over a week. It’s weird to hear the sound of my voice again.”
“I too, do better in print than spoken word,” she replied. “So, my friend tells me that you’ve heard from your uncle. I am glad to hear that he is alive—glad and surprised. He has made some very powerful enemies.”
“I’m relieved as well—but concerned.” Jun leaned forward and Garance set down her menu. “I’m afraid that if we were able to locate the place his email originated from, then HighTower may have figured it out as well. I have no doubt that they’ve dug through all of my old information—they’re bound to have uncovered most of my aliases and old email addresses.”
“Yes, you can count on that.”
“Has your friend heard of anything else?”
“He intercepted some HSA communication about ‘the cleaner’ going north to check on a lead. That’s not much, but given the timing, I’d say it has something to do with your uncle.” Garance turned her head toward the counter and observed a man seated alone. “I’m no longer hungry. Let’s get out of here.” Jun followed Garance, glancing at the elderly man as they walked toward the door. “He’s been reading that menu since I came in here,” Garance muttered. “Something feels wrong.”
“Where should we go?” Jun whispered.
“Nowhere—at least not together. I feel like I’m being tailed—ever since I got off the bus downtown.” Garance walked at a fast clip and Jun found himself getting winded just trying to stay apace. She made a sharp turn into the busy Iwojimaya market and wound her way through the produce tables before stepping into the walk-in cooler. Jun spun around to confirm that no suspicious looking people were watching and slipped in behind Garance.
“What’s going on?” he asked, zipping his blue and silver Mariner’s jacket up to cut down on the chill. “Tell me what you need to say and then let’s get the hell out—I’ve pretty much run out of safe places to hide down here.”
Garance reached into her shoulder bag and handed Jun a crumpled cigarette packet. “Put this somewhere safe. If you ever find your uncle, give it to him—only him, please.”
“OK—but what is it?”
Garance lowered her voice and placed her hand on Jun’s arm. “There are vials of tissue and some cells that your uncle will know what to do with. Look, I can’t go into details, no time.” She peered out the glass window of the cooler’s door and then continued, “Dr. Chen developed a way to change human DNA and HighTower turned it into a weapon—they’ve killed thousands with it so far. The only way to prove it is to…” Garance suddenly pushed Jun to the floor and ducked. “Stay down!”
“What is it?” Jun whispered.
“I just saw that old man—the one from the restaurant. We’ve got to find a way out of here now.”
Jun peeled off his jacket, turning it inside out. “Here, throw this on and take these…” he shoved the sunglasses at her. Garance put them on her face with trembling fingers. “Right,” he said, “I’ve got the samples and I’ll find a way to get them to my uncle. I swear it.”
“Be careful, Jun—the governments are wrapped up in this too. HighTower is getting rid of anyone with even a remote connection—we’re in this very deep.”
“I know—trust me.” He looked out the port one last time and muttered, “Now’s your chance. I’ll get hold of you through our mutual friends once I’m safe. Be careful.”
“Jun—good luck.” Garance ducked under his arm as he held the door for her. She sped through the aisles toward the front entrance. Jun tossed his Mariner’s cap on the floor as he exited the cooler. He walked slowly toward the cashier station and froze in place. From the store windows, he could see Garance being led away by two young men in dark suits.
Jun spun around, searching frantically for another way out of the store. He felt the icy grip of panic in his chest and his throat tightened. Be calm, be calm—don’t blow this now. He made a show of looking at some items on the shelves while his eyes darted around in search of an escape route. As he rounded the aisle, he spotted an entryway into the mall. Jun shut his eyes briefly and inhaled. Walk, don’t run. You can do this. He sprinted toward the entrance and slipped through the open doors, briefly touching his pocket to confirm the cigarette packet was safe. He caught his breath and noticed a young woman pushing a child in a stroller. She smiled as she passed him and June returned the gesture, falling in behind her. He walked near the pair as he made his way through the mall, alert for any sign of pursuit. Eventually he parted from the woman and left through a side exit door. Jun ran across the busy street and disappeared into the crowds of commuters in the bustling International District.
31 Intelligence
Shearwater BC. Aug 14. 2033
52°08'56.1"N 128°05'23.3"W
“Care for another refill, boys’?”
Trip placed his hand over the coffee cup and shook his head. “We’re good, thanks,” he said.
“Suit yourself,” she replied as she slid their bill onto the table. “Cherie’ll take care of that up at the counter.”
As the waitress turned to leave, Trip reached out and tapped her elbow. “Miss—a moment?”
She paused with a look that suggested he ought not to try that maneuver again. “You need anything else?”
“I wonder if you could help me locate someone who’s gone missing. Here’s a photo of him… Have you seen this man here in town by any chance?”
The waitress shifted her weight onto one leg as she studied the photograph. “A Chinaman, huh?” she shook her head, “We don’t get many Orientals in town—plenty of Native folk and Norwegian fishermen… The American tourists might stop by on their way to Ketchikan, but I haven’t seen a Chinaman here for as long as I can remember. Sorry—can’t help ya’.”
“Well, thanks for your time,” Trip grabbed the bill and r
ose to leave, motioning for the mercenary to follow. As they made their way up to the register, the large woman behind the counter with “Cherie” handwritten on her name tag grinned at them. Her front teeth were covered in blotches of waxy pink lipstick.
“You searching for a Chinese guy, I hear?”
“We are, yes. Have you seen him around?” Trip asked.
“Not here in Shearwater, nope. But I did hear from one of our regulars that a Haida gal was recently in Bella Bella with an odd lookin’ fella… He was wearing one o’ their traditional hats and vest, but they said that his eyes were really squinty—not like your average Haida’s face.” She handed Trip’s card back to him and winked at the merc standing behind him. “Ya’ see, the thing is,” she continued, “if it weren’t for the color of their skin, some of them Haida’s could almost pass as white folks—their eyes ain’t as slanted as some of the other tribes up here. Anyways, it sounded to me like he wasn’t from these parts. I dunno, maybe that’s your guy?”
“That’s an astute observation.” Trip replied, “You’re a clever woman, Cherie. So, could you point us in the direction of ‘Bella Bella’?”
Cherie chuckled, “Oh sure, hon’—just hop in your boat and shoot across the channel… oughta’ take you thirty minutes at most.”
Trip glanced behind him at the merc and winced. Boat? A fucking boat? His partner slipped on his sunglasses, nodded curtly and headed out the door to locate a water taxi.
Zipping up his suede blazer, Trip headed down the narrow boardwalk to Shearwater’s marina. The merc waved him over to end of a finger pier where an aluminum boat idled. Trip climbed aboard and took a seat behind the helm station. The merc sat down on a bench across from him and nodded toward the skipper. The twin outboards roared as the taxi tore away from the pier.
The town of Bella Bella was on Campbell Island, three miles’ distance from the café where they’d stopped for coffee. The small fishing village was home to the Heiltsuks—most of the tourists and fishermen went to Shearwater for supplies and refreshment. The taxi pulled up to the guest dock and Trip paid the skipper. He paused and surveyed the quiet town. “You couldn’t be convinced to wait here by the taxi, could you?”
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