Ciphers

by Matt Rogers

‘One of the coders. Two of them killed themselves with cyanide pills, and I had to throw the third into a wall. But she’s complying.’

  ‘Christ,’ Violetta whispered. ‘The ones that are dead… were they needed?’

  ‘She knows enough to stop it. We’re in the clear.’

  ‘Cyanide. How old were they?’

  ‘Couldn’t be far over twenty.’

  ‘It’s a mad world.’

  He stared out the window at the orange glow of the rising sun and said, ‘Has been for a long time.’

  80

  True to her word, Violetta kept the foot soldiers back.

  They surrounded the building, a mixture of ordinary NYPD cops and SWAT forces, keeping curious pedestrians at bay, cordoning off the scene, cleaning up the bodies of the fallen. Slater watched them go about their work diligently from the vantage point of the broken window frame.

  He was tired. He was in pain. He was hungover. His head swam and spun and throbbed, either from the concussion or the sleeplessness or the overall wear and tear of such vicious combat. The night had been no easier than his last several operations, and, as usual, the stress had threatened to tear his sanity to pieces.

  How many times can you come this close?

  How many times can you scrape by?

  How long until your luck runs out?

  Questions that had plagued him since his career had begun.

  But he was still here.

  Still kicking.

  Witnessing another sunrise.

  The days ticked ever onward.

  King was in the vault with the girl, who’d given them the name Letty. He wasn’t sure whether it was real or not, but it was better than nothing. Originally they’d both started in there, supervising, but after tying up and gagging the guy King had thrown into a wall, Slater had almost lost his balance and tumbled off his feet, unprompted.

  King had lifted his gaze to meet Slater’s and said, ‘Why don’t you take a break? I’ll be here.’

  Slater had nodded.

  Now, he steadied himself against the windowsill. He wasn’t sure whether his equilibrium was still compromised or not — frankly, he didn’t have the energy to test it.

  One night, he thought.

  All this happened in one night.

  The surreality dawned on him. Overnight, they’d almost lost the most populated city in America for months. Four kids barely out of their teens had possessed the key to avoiding anarchy in their own heads, and if all four had bitten down on the cyanide pills, the entire New York power grid would have been lost.

  He couldn’t fathom it.

  Couldn’t accept it.

  It would be a long, rocky road ahead for certain government departments. He couldn’t stop thinking about the massive changes that had to be implemented. But as King had reassured him, that wasn’t his fight. He and King weren’t bureaucrats. They weren’t system builders. They built their own bodies, and their own minds, and they went wherever the fight was, and they tried to leave the world a little better than they found it.

  And really, that’s about all they could manage.

  Broken and battered, he focused on his breathing and tried to bring some normalcy back into his existence.

  A moment later, King and Letty stepped out of the vault.

  Slater looked at them.

  Letty stared down at her feet.

  Deep in the clutches of shame.

  King gave a single nod. ‘It’s done.’

  Slater exhaled.

  Letty said, ‘I’m so sorry.’

  King didn’t respond.

  Nor did Slater.

  She said, ‘What happens now?’

  ‘That’s not up to us,’ King said.

  ‘You said…’

  ‘I said I’d put in a good word,’ King said. ‘And I will. But we don’t run things. We’re the ones who get sent in when everything’s gone to shit. We’re the last resort.’

  ‘I figured that meant you’d just kill me.’

  King shook his head. ‘Not our style.’

  ‘You probably should kill me. I deserve it. People died tonight, didn’t they?’

  ‘They did.’

  ‘Is that why you’re not telling me that everything’s going to be okay?’

  King looked at her. ‘Nothing’s going to be okay for you, Letty.’

  She stifled a sob.

  ‘Don’t lose hope,’ he said. ‘Just do better. Every day of your life. Be a little better than you were yesterday.’

  ‘You make it sound so simple.’

  ‘Because it is.’

  She stared at her feet.

  ‘Simple,’ he said. ‘Not easy. They’re two different things.’

  She gave a slight nod.

  ‘Can’t change what I did,’ she muttered. ‘All I can be is sorry that I did it.’

  King led her to the window, and Slater stepped aside to let them see out. The three of them watched the NYPD officers handling their fallen comrades, maintaining brave faces until they could grieve in private. Letty began to shiver, jackhammering in the morning chill as she realised what her actions had led to.

  She said, ‘If I didn’t do it, he would have got someone else to. I…’

  ‘Everyone makes that excuse,’ King said. ‘Do me a favour and leave it at that. No one sympathises with it. No one cares. You want my best advice? Accept what you did head-on.’

  She nodded, tears in her eyes. Again, she said, ‘I’m so sorry.’

  ‘The Department of Defense is flying power trucks in on their own planes,’ he said. ‘The Federal Emergency Management Agency already has thousands and thousands of people mobilised throughout the city, helping where they can. It wouldn’t have been enough, but it was the best we could do.’

  She said, ‘Why are you telling me this?’

  ‘Because that’s most people,’ he said. ‘I know you were filled with hate, and it probably won’t go away with the snap of your fingers. But I want you to see this. I want you to know that most people are good.’

  She went deathly quiet.

  He said, ‘There’s always going to be people who try to convince you otherwise. Don’t listen to them. They only care about themselves.’

  With an audible, all-encompassing whump, the naked bulb above their heads came to life.

  Slater stared up at it.

  Smiled.

  Then looked out over a city with power restored, thousands of windows glowing softly under the dawn sky.

  King blew out a breath.

  So did Slater.

  Together, they led Letty downstairs.

  The weight of the world lifted off their shoulders.

  81

  One week later…

  Slater couldn’t help himself.

  He was as nervous as he could ever remember being outside of work. He didn’t think that was possible after the stakes of last weekend, but normality had returned to his life faster than he imagined. Sure, there were still the long, hard days of painstaking preparation for the next job, but after a specialist’s assessment he’d been given a strict three-week no-contact order. That meant no sparring, no intense exercise, nothing that could aggravate his vulnerable brain as it recuperated from the serious concussion he’d suffered seven days previously. The headaches were gone, as was the disorientation, but given his history he knew following the doctor’s orders was prudent.

  Hence the ordinary daily routine.

  And the nerves of a first date.

  He stood on the sidewalk in Koreatown, outside the same speakeasy his night had begun at last weekend. From there, to Palantir, to all-out war. It was a timeline he would never forget for as long as he lived.

  He’d never been the superstitious type, so he’d leapt at the chance to return.

  Now, someone tapped him on the shoulder.

  He wheeled around.

  Alexis had dressed in a leather jacket over a figure-hugging skirt. She’d applied a touch of red lipstick, and wore her black hair in
bangs that fell gently over her forehead. It was a stunning look. He found himself momentarily taken aback, lost for words. The last time he’d seen her, they’d both looked a little worse for wear.

  She noticed, too.

  ‘Damn,’ she said. ‘You look good when you’re not covered in blood.’

  He smiled, and stepped in for a short hug.

  When he pulled away, he said, ‘That was a rough night.’

  ‘For both of us.’

  He nodded. ‘Have you been here before?’

  She glanced at the bar. ‘No — can’t say I have. Have you?’

  ‘Once.’

  ‘How’d you find it?’

  ‘It’s great,’ he said. ‘Full of interesting people.’

  ‘Like yourself?’ she said, and winked, and sauntered past into the warmth of the entrance.

  He followed, heart in his throat, praying he didn’t screw this up.

  He almost froze in his tracks when he realised it was the first time he’d been solely focused on the woman in front of him since Ruby had vanished from his life.

  She’d always been there, in the back of his head.

  Now, finally, he thought he might manage to let her go.

  Which is what she would have wanted all along.

  The bar was lively at eight in the evening. They found themselves a small booth in one corner, a comfortable distance away from the nearest patrons, affording them privacy for the discussion he knew they needed to have. It was as inevitable as the sun rising the next day.

  He said, ‘I have to ask.’

  She raised an eyebrow.

  ‘What happened to the guys in your bathroom?’

  ‘The NYPD came through,’ she said. ‘They took them away. It’s going to be a lengthy process, but they’re not around to intimidate me. I can’t imagine they’ll have enough to pay bail with how much of their salaries they put up their noses.’

  He said, ‘Are you okay?’

  ‘As okay as I can be.’

  She looked around, at the couples deep in conversation, at the loud groups laughing and joking with each other, half-finished pints in their hands.

  She looked back at him and said, ‘Isn’t it absolutely crazy?’

  ‘Many things are,’ he said. ‘What specifically?’

  ‘How… normal everyone is. Because things are going the way they’re supposed to. All it took was the lights going off for a few hours for my neighbours to become animals.’

  ‘They were animals before everything went dark,’ Slater said. ‘The blackout showed who they were under the façade.’

  ‘It showed me who you were, too.’

  ‘That’s why you came tonight?’

  ‘Yeah,’ she said. ‘That’s why I came.’

  The bartender floated around from behind the countertop and came over to their booth, sensing an opportunity to take an order for drinks during a lull in requests.

  ‘Just the house red, please,’ Alexis said.

  Slater opened his mouth to order his usual whiskey on the rocks, but cut himself off when he realised he hadn’t touched a drink since the previous weekend. He almost hadn’t noticed. He’d been busy recuperating, settling into a different routine, in and out of endless rendezvous meetings with King and Violetta and a host of faceless government bureaucrats to discuss after-action reports. There’d been no time for socialising, no time to dip back into his old vices.

  And now, he realised, he had an opportunity to change course.

  To refuse to give in to the temptations, the dulling of his mind, the separation of his thoughts and memories.

  He remembered what he’d said to Letty.

  I dulled all my memories with booze. Which isn’t the right response to hard times. Just like this isn’t.

  He took a deep breath and said, ‘Water for me.’

  He might as well have been speaking Chinese, given his history.

  The bartender gave a curt nod and returned to the bar.

  Alexis admired him across the table. ‘You don’t drink?’

  He smirked at that. ‘If only you knew…’

  She smiled. ‘New habits, then?’

  ‘Something like that. I made a promise to someone.’

  ‘Oh?’

  ‘Told them that if they changed, I’d change.’

  ‘I figured you were going through changes.’

  ‘Yeah,’ he said, thinking of Ruby, or, rather, not thinking of her. ‘I am.’

  ‘Good or bad?’

  ‘Good, I think.’

  ‘Then I’m glad.’

  He said, ‘What about you? Are you back at work?’

  She nodded. ‘I’m about to take some time off, though.’

  He waited for her to elaborate.

  She said, ‘That night made me realise… how quickly it can all end.’

  He understood that sentiment.

  More than she could have ever known.

  She said, ‘I want to live a little.’

  ‘Sorry to disappoint with the water, then.’

  She laughed. ‘It’s fine. I admire it. Shows you don’t cave to pressure.’

  ‘I used to,’ he said. ‘Frequently.’

  ‘You don’t seem like the type.’

  ‘In all other aspects, I’m not. I guess drinking was my escape.’

  ‘And now what’s your escape going to be?’

  ‘Depends how this date goes. Depends if we keep seeing each other.’

  Her eyes flashed with curiosity. She said, ‘That’s forward of you.’

  ‘Sorry. I don’t like to waste time.’

  ‘You know… you don’t seem like the long-term relationship type.’

  ‘Why’s that?’

  ‘Just… something about you.’

  ‘I hope you don’t think that’s all I’m here for.’

  ‘Depends how this date goes,’ she repeated back to him. ‘Depends if we keep seeing each other.’

  She winked.

  He smiled.

  A genuine smile.

  One of the first he’d had in months.

  No drink or drugs to heighten his emotions.

  No cheat codes.

  Just life.

  They talked for hours, and Alexis sipped on shiraz, and Slater sipped on water. All around them old patrons bled out of the bar and new patrons entered, but he and Alexis hardly noticed the ebb and flow of the nightlife. They barely blinked, in their own world, enthralled in each other’s stories, and not long into their conversation Slater opened up the floodgates, something he’d never done on a date with a civilian. But there was quite simply nothing else to say about his life if he didn’t admit what he really did, and she took it in her stride. She listened to him speak about the people he’d killed, the sacrifices he’d made for his work, the sacrifices he would have to continue to make because of his genetic predisposition and a lifetime of training to be the best in his chosen field. When he finally trailed off, convinced he’d ruined his one shot at finding someone he truly felt a connection to, she said she’d known who he was at his core the moment he’d stepped foot inside her apartment.

  A killer, sure, but a righteous one.

  One of the rarest things in the universe.

  He said, ‘If you want to, you can leave.’

  She bit her lower lip, and glanced down at her watch face. ‘I think I will.’

  His heart sank.

  ‘But I’d like you to come with me,’ she added.

  He stared at her.

  Reached over and took her hand.

  They didn’t talk much after that. There was nothing to say that hadn’t already been said. She understood who he was, what he did with his life, what he had become.

  And she was still here.

  They exchanged small talk for a few minutes, and then Slater said, ‘You’re sure about this?’

  ‘I’m sure.’

  ‘I’m not… your everyday guy.’

  ‘Exactly,’ she whispered, and took him by the hand again, and
led him out of the booth.

  They paid at the register, and slipped into a waiting cab, and she gave the driver her address.

  Slater smiled again.

  Maybe a balanced life was possible after all.

  A strange sensation gripped his chest. For a moment it was alien, something he couldn’t place, couldn’t recognise.

  Then he put his finger on it.

  He was happy.

  KING AND SLATER WILL RETURN…

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  Books by Matt Rogers

  THE JASON KING SERIES

  Isolated (Book 1)

  Imprisoned (Book 2)

  Reloaded (Book 3)

  Betrayed (Book 4)

  Corrupted (Book 5)

  Hunted (Book 6)

  THE JASON KING FILES

  Cartel (Book 1)

  Warrior (Book 2)

  Savages (Book 3)

  THE WILL SLATER SERIES

  Wolf (Book 1)

  Lion (Book 2)

  Bear (Book 3)

  Lynx (Book 4)

  Bull (Book 5)

  Hawk (Book 6)

  THE KING & SLATER SERIES

  Weapons (Book 1)

  Contracts (Book 2)

  Ciphers (Book 3)

  BLACK FORCE SHORTS

  The Victor (Book 1)

  The Chimera (Book 2)

  The Tribe (Book 3)

  The Hidden (Book 4)

  The Coast (Book 5)

  The Storm (Book 6)

  The Wicked (Book 7)

  The King (Book 8)

  The Joker (Book 9)

  The Ruins (Book 10)

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