Dues of Mortality

by Jason Austin

  “I thought it would look more 'traditional' somehow,” Glenda remarked. They walked up to the front door, pressed the bell and waited.

  Nothing. No chimes or sounds of movement came from inside at all.

  Glenda sighed. “Please don't let this be a dead-end.”

  “He might be too scared to answer,” Xavier said. He reached into his pocket and extracted the reassembled powered auto-pick he’d lifted from the dumpster so many days ago. He'd held onto it like a good luck charm, never thinking he’d have to use it. He'd broken it down and removed the battery before boarding the plane so the parts resembled nothing more dangerous than spare computer parts in Glenda's bag. He put it to the lock and set it into sequence. Rotors turned and clicked, sounding off individually as the interior pins and redundant tumblers aligned. It worked. The door clicked open and he and Glenda apprehensively entered with Xavier leading.

  Once inside, Xavier conducted a visual sweep of the immediate area, tapping into his tactics training in varying increments. The interior was largely undecorated with a few scattered pieces of unused furniture covered in drop cloths. The walls were a sanitary white and the eggshell-colored, shag carpet was spotless.

  “Doesn't look very lived-in,” Xavier said.

  “Do you think he’s here?” Glenda asked.

  “If he is, then he might already know he's got company.”

  “Why do you say that?”

  Xavier jabbed his thumb in the air. Motion detectors were positioned inconspicuously in several corners of the interior. “Stay close to me and keep your eyes open.”

  Glenda nodded and they proceeded to creep through the house like cat burglars. At one point Glenda spat out the word “lights” which accomplished nothing except simultaneously startling and annoying Xavier. “I can’t imagine a place like this not having a voice interface,” she said.

  “Maybe it’s been deactivated. They do tend to act kind of screwy. Once I was at my girlfriend’s place and she got so pissed at me, that she threatened to 'punch my lights out,' and the whole damn place went black.”

  Glenda giggled. “What happened after that?”

  “Best make-up sex we ever had.”

  She blushed. “Oh.”

  “Hey, it was dark. Our passions were stirred. It couldn’t have been more perfect.”

  A minute passed and Xavier eventually wandered into the big gourmet kitchen, which also appeared unused. He finally relaxed his shoulders as the house showed no obvious signs of trauma, human or otherwise. Unfortunately, that didn't ease his regret at being unarmed. He had to leave his MAG back in Cleveland. There was no chance of getting a gun on the plane and shopping around on the street demanded time and risk that just wasn't feasible relative to everything else.

  Glenda followed him into the kitchen and stood in its passage. “Did you have a lot of them?” she asked.

  Xavier look bewildered. “Huh?”

  “Girlfriends. Your brother told me you used to have a lot of them.”

  Xavier squinted like a shooting pain had ripped between his eyes. He continued to meander about the kitchen, looking suspiciously at thin air. “What else did my brother tell you?”

  “He said that by the time you were fifteen you were driving your mother nuts sneaking girls in and out of the house at all hours of the day and night.”

  “That’s it?”

  Glenda paused, wondering if she should go further. “He also told me about what happened to you in the army...about that colonel’s daughter?”

  Xavier was grateful he kept his back to Glenda while they talked. She would not see his reaction. Benny and his big mouth.

  “It was a long time ago; I try not to dwell on it,” he said and shuddered under the mass of the lie.

  “So exactly how many...”

  “Shh!” Xavier raised his hand, cutting Glenda off. A steady weightless noise had skimmed his ear during the uncomfortable silence. “Do you hear that?”

  As she listened closer, Glenda could just barely make out a low-pitched hum circulating in the air. “What is that?” she asked.

  “It sounds like something’s running,” Xavier answered. He stepped over to the large refrigerator set into the kitchen's wall and opened it. It was empty and not turned on. “Where the hell is that coming from?”

  With ghostly steps, Xavier began trailing the persistent sound through the dining room and into the subsequent areas—two bathrooms and three empty bedrooms. After the last bedroom, he encountered a long hallway leading to the south wing. He and Glenda advanced through it until a set of finished oak double doors confronted them at the end. Xavier pulled Glenda aside and opened the right door. It opened outward and he used it simultaneously as cover. Inside, was a spacious walk-in closet, completely empty, save for a number of shelves and the humming noise, which was even louder. Xavier instinctively pressed his ear against the drywall. It vibrated ever so slightly. Without hesitation, he began manual inspection of the closet, dragging his fingers along corners and across each shelf, one by one. Pausing a moment, he noticed something odd about the shelves. The last three he checked were held in place by a set of metal supports bracketed to the wall. But the one just above his head had no supports at all. On further examination, Xavier saw the shelf was actually set into a slot cut into the wall. He pushed the shelf into the slot and jumped quickly in front of Glenda as a section of the wall to their right recessed several inches and slid open.

  Hidden behind the wall was an empty 6’ x 6’ compartment. A control panel marked with arrow keys was set into its rear.

  “It's an elevator,” Xavier said. He looked back at Glenda with eyebrows arched to the sky.

  “If you say 'ladies first' I'm going to kick you in the balls,” she joked.

  Xavier gently took Glenda's hand, pulling her to him and they carefully stepped inside. He punched the button marked with a downward arrow and the hidden door reset. As they dropped to the basement, Xavier pressed his back against the right side and he stationed Glenda next to him. Seconds later the door opened and the pair delicately exited.

  What Glenda and Xavier stepped into was hardly what they expected. The entire level was brimming with electricity. A cross section of equipment bombarded it from one end to the other—most of which, they could only speculate as to its name or use. Cabinets, industrial sinks and islands stacked with all manner of glass and plastic containers were every few feet. Holographic interfaces were still running at three of the, at least, one dozen computer terminals and from what they could see, the lab extended beyond even the house’s above-ground floor plan. They could also see the main source of the odd, energized drone that initially drew them. It emanated resonantly from a generator built into the basement’s west wall. The generator was flanked on either side by two pairs of large solar capacitors tied directly to the panels on the roof. That's it? Glenda asked herself. Somehow, she expected more in the way of the actual tech. The sum setup couldn't have been bigger than the service elevator that brought them here. Glenda walked over to and studied the capacitors’ displays. She didn’t know a lot about the application of solar power, but the read-outs were surprisingly self-explanatory, no more difficult than reading your average breaker-box. It seemed the designer wanted it to be easily understood and operated. In fact, if she was reading it right, the batteries contained almost six months’ worth of electricity that it would take to keep everything functioning without need for sunlight-recharging. Miraculous. Glenda could see why the world had never learned of it. A sustainable solar powered home in the middle of one of the most cloud-covered states? The power companies must have blackmailed every congressperson from here to Steubenville. Such entities had long since given up on Arizona and New Mexico where solar power was flourishing, but if they had to contend with that type of technology being viable in a major American rainy city, it would be their death knell.

  “Richard!” Glenda suddenly called out, looking around. “Richard, it’s me, Glenda Jameson! Are you here?” S
he waited. “Richard, are you here?”

  Xavier rotated his head toward a dimly lit area of the lab that contained a few equipment lockers. He eased forward, ready to break defensive at the merest disturbance. At the southernmost end was a large, white, hermetic door with a powered lock. On its face, written in bold black letters, was the word, “CAUTION.”

  “What's in here?” he muttered.

  Without warning, the door of the closest locker flew open and struck him in the head. A man sprang from inside like a wild animal and knocked Xavier to the ground.

  “Glenda, look out!” Xavier screamed.

  The man vaulted over Xavier and made a beeline for one of the exam tables.

  “Richard?” Glenda shouted.

  The man ignored her, flying past like a whip of wind. On the very edge of the table was a small black device about the size of a deck of cards. The man dove for the edge and scooped it up. He tumbled onto the floor and smashed his thumb into the pad. The man's eyes locked on Glenda’s electrified face as if he was waiting for something to happen.

  Xavier raced back to Glenda and positioned himself between her and the crazed man.

  “Richard, my god,” Glenda said exasperated.

  Kelmer looked absolutely awful. His bloodshot eyes pulsed above baggy patches of gray, and his face had nearly two week’s growth of grimy whiskers. His skin was pale and clammy-looking and his remains of hair were badly unkempt. His clothes looked slept in and unchanged in days.

  “Are you all right?” Glenda asked.

  Kelmer got up and took a couple of slow easy steps toward the table, between him and his guests. When close enough, he grabbed the table’s end and violently flipped it over.

  Glenda and Xavier dodged out of its way. They then looked back to see Kelmer using the distraction to reach into a nearby cabinet and retrieve a semi-automatic pistol.

  “Richard, what are you doing?” Glenda asked. “Don't you remember me?”

  Xavier angled his body to give Glenda maximum coverage. “It's okay, Doc. No one is here to hurt you. We just came to talk.”

  “I...I...I wanted t...to talk to her,” Kelmer said dry-mouthed. “I don’t know who the hell you are.”

  Xavier turned up his most gregarious smile. “My name is Xavier Hawkins.”

  Kelmer’s nose curled like he smelled a fart. “I said I...didn’t know...who you are. I n...never said I gave a shit.”

  Glenda was crestfallen. The Richard Kelmer she knew would never have talked that way.

  “He's a friend, Richard,” she said. “You can trust him. He’s been helping me to find you. I wouldn’t have even made it this far without him. I know you’re scared; so am I. But we’re here now and we need your help.”

  Kelmer seemed to soften. “How did you find me?” he asked.

  “We spoke to Dana Holliman,” Glenda answered. “She told us.”

  “Dana? Is she alright?”

  “She's fine. She's scared for you, though.”

  “If you don’t believe us, you can call her yourself,” Xavier said edgily. He was becoming impatient with this nervous-nelly pointing a gun at them. He took a deep breath and checked his tone. In the midst of the dramatics, he actually felt a pinch of relief. As far as he was concerned, there had still been a lingering question as to Kelmer’s exact role in all of this. Xavier had been wondering if he was as innocent as Glenda seemed to assume. However, it was apparent now that Kelmer was just as far behind enemy lines as they were.

  “I’m not going to ask for your gun,” Xavier said. He presented his palms. “If you need to point it at someone, just keep it on me.” He paused then pointed behind himself. “This woman, in every sense, has risked her future on the chance that you'd be here, on the chance that you might be able to shed some light on why someone seems to want her dead. And I, personally, have had to tackle my own share of best-left-alone problems to make this trip with her, so...look in my eyes and believe me when I tell you that we are not leaving here until we get some answers.”

  Kelmer pouted. He slowly lowered his gun, letting it dangle in his hand.

  “Good,” Xavier said and replaced his grin. “That wasn't so hard, was it?” He glanced between Glenda and Kelmer. “Now, how bout we get this party started.”

  Chapter 41

  Cleveland, Ohio, August 31, 7:37 p.m. EDT

  Whomever was calling him Gabriel would find a way to sue...or maybe even kill if he never got to finish his dinner. His fork had just speared the most perfectly tender cut of veal Scaloppini with Masala wine sauce and now his damn comwatch was road-blocking the straightaway to his mouth. Gabriel turned his wrist to see the number on his watch-face. He sighed in controlled acrimony. A marketer, wrong number or someone else whose family would never miss them, would have simply been too much to ask for. He fingered the receiver button and his earwig popped to life. He knew it was bad news before the old man uttered a single syllable. “Hello,” Gabriel said.

  “Miles, I'm worried,” Wallace said. “I’ve been trying since last night to reach the customer. He hasn’t returned any of my calls. I think something’s wrong.”

  “Maybe he had to move unexpectedly.”

  “Even so, he assured me he would be available twenty-four-seven until the delivery was made.”

  “You think he canceled out?” Gabriel didn’t want to even fathom that possibility, or any that squashed the deal.

  “No! He wants this. In fact, up until yesterday, he was haranguing me at every tick of the clock for updates. I think he’s up to something.”

  “What could he possibly be up to?”

  “I checked the news webs. The Glenda Jameson story went national sometime yesterday morning. I know he’s been keeping tabs on local news as it is, and if he knows about what’s happening, he may have assumed we’re not handling the situation to his liking. He might have decided to take things into his own hands.”

  “He wouldn’t dare.”

  “Wouldn’t he? I know his type, Miles. When they get spooked this bad, it’s either fight or flight. The whole reason he came to me in the first place was because he got panicky!”

  If this wasn’t the icing on the cake, Gabriel thought. What the hell else could go wrong? “Do you want me to send someone down to the Caymans to look for him?” he asked.

  “Waste of time,” Wallace said. “If my guess is right, then he’s on his way or already here. We have to figure out where. It’s not like he’s going to be wearing a holo-sign over his head.”

  Gabriel took a minute to place himself in the customer’s shoes. If he were...wait! “I think I know who to ask.”

  ****

  Andrew Roberts entered the Blacklight Tavern after ignoring the “Closed for vacation” sign, just as instructed. Dime to a dollar, the owner was the same guy who arranged the meet. Roberts felt fairly relaxed going in; the voice on the webscreen sounded nonnegotiable about him coming alone, but it wasn't likely the mystery-man was stupid enough to think Roberts wouldn’t tell anyone where he’d be. Plus, the Blacklight had a regular or two from the precinct; Penfield wouldn’t have a hard time finding the place in the event that Roberts never made it home safely. What the chances were this mystery guest had credible information on Glenda Jameson and her accomplice, Roberts didn’t know. But he did surmise that the caller had bet CPD was getting nowhere fast on the case and, by now, the frustrated detective might be willing to throw everything but the kitchen sink into the game. And he’d be right. It didn't help that Marcus Northcutt was curiously absent from work today. Nor was he home when Roberts drove over to his apartment to “question” him about the gun and prints over which Silas Lally had his little cow. Roberts supposed he could easily decide that Northcutt’s gun was entirely unrelated to the Jameson case. Small caliber revolvers were getting more and more rare these days, but still showed up often enough as Exhibit A. So maybe it was nothing. Then again, maybe winged unicorns would win the next Kentucky Derby.

  Roberts proceeded to the circular ba
r where the only active lights shone dimly overhead. He imagined them suddenly blowing out and being forced to shoot blind at whoever had set him up.

  “Thanks for coming, detective,” someone said from the edge of the room.

  Roberts turned to see a man with ears like radial tires skulking behind him, making his way to the door and locking it.

  “Who are you?” Roberts asked.

  “I’m the one who called you about your case; about Glenda Jameson. I know who her accomplice is and I know where you can find them.”

  “And just how do you know all of this?”

  “One thing at a time, detective,” Max Porter said, looking uncharacteristically humorless. “This is going to blow...you...away.”

  ****

  Seattle, Washington

  Xavier shook his head at the unloaded M9 Beretta that lay on the table. Kelmer had had him practically pissing his pants over a 9mm paperweight. It even had a redundant automatic safety feature to help prevent unintentional discharges. Figures, Xavier thought as he loitered among the electronic festival that comprised the lab. A guy that jumpy would be too scared of shooting himself in the foot.

  “Thank you,” Glenda said taking her cup. She was seated on a padded stool at an empty table in the lab. Kelmer had ventured upstairs made three cups of hot mint tea and served them.

  “Of course,” Kelmer responded, capping his jubilation at having pleased her in even the smallest form.