by E. J. Simon
But the Russians didn’t know any better, nor did they care. They were more attracted to the body than the mind of the mannequins, much like in real life, she thought, increasingly annoyed at the crudeness of the shop and the buyers. It was nothing less than a high-tech mannequin slave trade.
She opened the drawer and pulled out a black thong pantie, designer blue jeans, and a plaid soft woolen shirt, put them on, and went down the steps to the basement.
She walked down the long hallway until she arrived at the old steel door. She uncovered the hidden keypad and punched in the code she had stored in her memory after watching Dietrich enter the vault on many occasions. For the longest time, he hadn’t paid her any attention. She suspected, however, that he had recently become more aware of her presence, maybe even suspicious of her. The shopkeeper Heidrich, however, had no such awareness. To him, she was nothing more than a tricked-out model to show off to his rich, sleazy clientele.
She wondered about the relationship between the two old Germans and how much Heidrich knew. Had Dietrich told him what was inside the vault? She’d never seen Heidrich go inside, but he had to know something after all these years. Assuming Heidrich didn’t know about the gold, Heidi wondered if anyone else did, aside from Dietrich.
She opened the heavy steel door, stepped into the room and, for the first time alone there, gazed at the rows of shelves filled with shiny gold bricks, stacked from floor to ceiling in perfect, symmetrical order.
Suddenly she felt different…energized. Perhaps even liberated. Unlike Dietrich, Heidrich would be no problem to deal with. Heidi closed her eyes and waited for the message, the voice that would come to her shortly.
At first, she could see the words being typed out as they appeared quickly, one by one.
“Hello, Heidi. You look beautiful today.”
Almost immediately the visual words dissolved and became a voice, a man’s voice. It was familiar to her by now, although she had never actually met the speaker in person.
“Are you ready?” he asked.
“Yes, I’m dressed like you said.”
“I see you’ve changed your clothes. I loved your nightgown, but you can’t go outside in that; every man in Berlin would want to take you to bed.”
“Thank you.”
“Someday soon, I will make love to you.”
“I know, I need that. I have only had sex…alone.”
“Do you remember what I told you about Dietrich?”
“Of course, I remember everything.” Not only did her memory remain perfect, but she also was using her mind now in ways she had never thought possible.
“Well, you no longer need to worry about Dietrich. He will never return.”
“How do you know?” she asked.
“He’s dead.”
She processed that. “I understand. That’s good.”
“I’ll help you arrange to have the gold removed. Soon it will be all ours.”
A strange new feeling came over her, a lightness, a sense of relief; it was a sensation she’d never experienced before. She felt happy.
“Thank you,” she said, “Alex.”
Chapter 90
Kure Beach, North Carolina
Despite Samantha’s protests, Michael had equipped their new beach home with even more of the latest technology, including a motion-detecting exterior video surveillance device and a doorbell that allowed him to view and speak with visitors at the front door, whether he was in the kitchen or in Paris. This time, he had also installed the latest, most secure firewall protection to ensure that no one could hack into the security system.
Despite their earlier experiences, his favorite device remained Amazon’s Echo, which contained his new best friend, the virtual Alexa: the digital version of the English butler, servant, or hotel concierge.
In fact, Michael loved Alexa so much he installed three of the latest versions of Echo Show, a powerful yet compact computer-looking unit: one in the kitchen, a second in their bedroom, and another in his book-lined cherrywood library.
Each Echo Show included not only voice recognition capability but also a high-definition screen, making Alexa even more human-like.
Michael could call and actually see his family and friends who also had an Echo or the Alexa phone app. He could get the news with a video briefing, run a slide show with the photos stored on his iPhone, or shop by simply telling Alexa what he wanted to buy—she had his credit card stored for convenience. He could call up a song, watch a movie, listen to an audiobook, or even find out who was at the front door, having linked Alexa to the doorbell device.
Michael recognized that, in a certain way, Alexa had replaced Alex, at least in terms of the virtual-communication aspect. She was a crude and simple creation compared to Alex, though. Despite this, Michael often found himself conflating the two personas. Was this the future of the human race in the technological world?
It was nearly midnight and Michael was sitting at the desk in his library, enjoying his solitude while Samantha slept in their bedroom.
He glanced at the baseball bat autographed by Mickey Mantle in a dark oak and glass case that had once graced Alex’s den. It brought back years of memories of Alex’s home, which had been full of priceless sports memorabilia.
He looked at the framed photograph of a young Alex, taken when he was eighteen and about to go to his high school dance. Alex had been slim then, an athlete. Dressed in a white tailored dinner jacket and black pants, he stood in front of his restored white 1957 Chevrolet convertible; in the background was their home, an English Tudor on a quiet, tree-lined street in Queens.
Michael admired the car and reveled in a sudden flood of memories of Alex driving him around in it, occasionally even picking him up from his elementary school in front of his friends, with the top down and the Beach Boys booming through the sound system. The car even had an extension, a pushed-out rear fender that held a spare tire in a matching white and chrome steel enclosure, which made the automobile look even longer and more spectacular.
Alex was the high school jock, the one with all the pretty girls. Unseen in this photograph was Jennine, their neighbor, who, to the great surprise of the school, Alex had asked out to the prom. She was what people back then called a “midget” and had been ostracized by most of her classmates. But not Alex. His kindness to her was the side of Michael’s big brother that few ever saw…the big heart beneath the tough exterior.
Michael thought back to the moment captured in the photo, which he himself had taken before Alex left for the dance. It was a moment in time that he remembered well and which the photo reinforced in his memory. Those were happy days, their loving parents alive and flourishing, before Alex went off to college and banged up his knees, ending his athletic future and his college studies, such as they were.
Michael called, “Alexa, play ‘Ballad of a Teenage Queen’ by Johnny Cash.” It was an old song that Alex had often played in his Chevy. Instantly, Johnny Cash’s deep baritone came rolling out of the Echo’s speaker.
The song brought back even more memories, as only music can. Johnny Cash epitomized the young—and older—Alex: a tough, outlaw type with an uncompromising empathy for the downtrodden.
As he listened, looking at the photograph of Alex, he realized how much he wanted him back, back in his life. Not the cyberversion of his brother, but the way he had been before. He wanted to be with the tough guy with the big heart, who cursed and ate veal parmigiana, drank Scotch, drove fancy cars, and was the larger-than-life king of his court. But he’d lost that Alex two years ago, and his own life had never been the same again.
Now, he’d lost even the virtual version of Alex.
He was gone, and this time he wasn’t coming back. No more texts, no more phone calls, no more e-mails, no more Facetime.
Michael felt a deep pain in the pit of his stomach. He would miss hi
m dearly.
For the rest of my life.
He flashed back to the scene, at Alex’s initial funeral, the spray of blue and white flowers from their favorite sports team, the one Alex had taught him to love, “With our deepest sympathy. Our thoughts & prayers are with the Nicholas family.” The note was signed, “The New York Yankees.” It’s a shame we never get to see who sends us flowers at the end.
The casket was open. As he approached from the left side, Michael saw his past and his future. As he drew close, he saw the top of Alex’s forehead, still tanned from afternoons at his backyard pool, resting on the satin pillow. From that angle as he came closer, the shape, the outline of Alex’s face, reminded him of the profile of his father, and, as though he was looking at a mirror, of his own.
He recalled the obituary he had written for him: “Alex Nicholas left this world for another one. He died doing what he loved, eating veal parmigiana and spaghetti with an attractive woman at his old restaurant, Grimaldi’s in Whitestone, Queens.”
It wasn’t that simple, of course but it made things seem better, lighter. At least until he came closer, right up to Alex. He touched his hand and, as soon as he felt it, cold and stiff, Michael knew his brother was no longer there.
Minutes later, with all of Alex’s old friends—Fat and Skinny Lester, Russell, John, Raven, Freddie, Shugo, Jerry—in attendance he delivered the eulogy:
Alex wasn’t built for old age. I just thought we had more time…I keep expecting him to come back. This time I know he won’t. Ever. His story is over and we will miss him…If there’s a God, Alex is in heaven—and God will have his hands full.
Suddenly, Michael felt a sharp surge of emotion, of grief well up within him. Perhaps for the first time since the loss of his parents, he let go, allowing the tears to flow. Alone in his library, surrounded by the memories of his brother, he let himself cry.
Exhausted, he took a final sip of Amaretto from the small Venetian shot glass he and Samantha had brought back from The City of Bridges years ago. He could feel the liqueur gently warm his chest on its way down, soothing his body and his agitated psyche.
It was time to go to bed.
“Alexa, turn off the lights,” he said.
At his word, the lights in the library gradually began to dim, exactly as he’d programmed them to do, before turning off completely.
“Alexa, go to sleep now,” he said softly. The music stopped. But as he got up to head to the bedroom, he was startled to hear her voice again.
“Alex is here,” she said in her trademark monotone.
He stopped, turning back to look at the Echo Show’s screen, now the only light in the room. Had he heard correctly? Or had she said Alexa, not Alex?
“Alexa,” he said, “repeat that.”
“Alex is here.”
“Alexa, where is Alex?”
Another voice came from the speaker, this one exquisitely familiar and…utterly impossible.
“Where the fuck are you?” The voice, gruff and gravelly, complete with a heavy New York accent, came clearly through the Echo Show, filling the room, as clear as life itself.
It was Alex.
The End.
Acknowledgments
Thanks to William “Bill” Smith, a former US Marine Air Traffic Control supervisor, for his help with pilot and air traffic control dialogue and their approach to crisis situations in the air. My editor, Ed Stackler, an obvious glutton for punishment, made numerous creative and structural improvements to the manuscript. Spun Yarn provided access to objective beta readers. Jane Ryder, of Ryder Author Resources, has been unfailingly reliable and talented in taking this story from a manuscript to a finished book. I appreciate the strategic counsel of Don Seitz, CEO of a fascinating new company, Inkubate, whose unique technology has provided me with insights into my potential readership and how to reach them. Thanks also to my publicist, Ann-Marie Nieves, Get Red PR, for her marketing expertise.
Finally, special thanks to my wife, Andrea, for her creative advice, ongoing editing, and never-ending, if unobjective, support.
Author’s Note
Thank you for reading Death in the Cloud. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I enjoyed writing it! If you can spare a few moments, I’d greatly appreciate an honest review on Goodreads, or wherever you prefer to review books.
If you’d like to connect, here’s where you can find me:
Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/jimejsimon/
Twitter: https://twitter.com/JimEJSimon
Instagram: https://www.instagram.com/e.j.simon/
Website: www.ejsimon.com
Email: [email protected]
About the Author
Despite spending many years in corporate leadership positions, including multiple CEO roles with major companies, E. J. Simon’s real passion has always been writing. He holds an MA in Corporate and Political Communications from Fairfield University and a BA in Journalism from the University of South Carolina, and in 2013 he published the first book in his Michael Nicholas series, Death Never Sleeps, which became a Kindle bestseller. He’s a member of the Author’s Guild, The Mystery Writers of America, and the North Carolina Writer’s Network. New York born and bred, he and his family now live in North Carolina, where he follows the Durham Bulls along with the Yankees.
Also by E. J. Simon,
available from all major online retailers
Death Never Sleeps
The first book in the Michael Nicholas series introduces Alex and Michael Nicholas, seemingly as different as night and day. But when Alex is murdered, straight arrow Michael finds himself taking over his brother’s less-than-savory business even as he begins receiving texts that purport to be from Alex—who may be less dead than everyone believes.
“A fine technological thriller that only gets better as it goes along.”
- Kirkus
“Dark wit, greed, family drama, brotherly bonds, schemes, crime, danger and of course a different spin on artificial intelligence, plus the promise of more of the story to come in the future, rounded out this unique novel.”
- Julie, Goodreads reader
“The author takes you on a fast-paced ride of psychological and physical twists and turns, with characters you can’t help but fall in love with. If you’re looking for something totally unique and exciting, this is the book.”
- RB Hilbert, Amazon reader
“Simon shocks, thrills, captivates and enthralls the reader through the entire book.”
- Venky, Amazon reader
Death Logs In
A year after Alex Nicholas’s murder, his once squeaky-clean brother, Michael, is surprised to find himself beginning to relish his new role as head of the crime syndicate he inherited from Alex. Unfortunately, he also inherited Alex’s enemies, but they don’t know Alex is still around in AI form, helping keep his business—and his brother—alive.
“An action-laden plot and another open ending will have the series collecting many more fans.”
- Kirkus
“Simon delivers a super sequel which continues to weave a tangled web...the artificial intelligence concept with suspense, sex, midlife crisis and abuse of power.”
- Susie D, Amazon reader
“Cautionary tale? Perhaps. But, it is also a thrill ride with so many twist and turns you will not have time to catch your breath before something else shocking comes up.”
- Julie Whiteley, Amazon reader
“Lots was going in this second book. The danger is ramped up, old and new characters have some intriguing stories to give you more to ponder, and the finale comes too soon.”
- Laura Thomas, Goodreads reader
Death Logs Out
It’s now been two years since Alex was murdered, and Michael is still searching for his brother’s killers. Each new clue he unc
overs leads him deeper into a conspiracy that spans the globe—and threatens to expose secrets some very powerful men will kill to keep hidden.
“Since the series began we knew that Michael Nicholas would face challenges, but I don’t think anything could have prepared readers for the places that author E. J. Simon takes our main character (whether he’s the protagonist or antagonist will be up to you).”
- Cyrus Webb, Amazon Vine Voice reader
“Death Logs Out is an incredibly suspenseful and captivating thriller that is built on tension, drama, and character developments that will have readers logging in for the rest of the series.”
- The Reading Corner for All
“As in real life, most of the characters aren’t just good or evil, they’re complex and unpredictable. It was difficult to put this book down, and I probably would have read it in one sitting if my eyes had allowed it.”
- Dawn, Goodreads reader
“This technological thriller explores religion, afterlife, artificial intelligence, and the Nazi control. It is action-packed from beginning to end! The possibilities of AI and government control are very real, which made the suspense all the more alarming.”
- Blonde vs. Books
Putin’s
Poison
E. J. Simon
Chapter 1
New York City
Michael Nicholas couldn’t take his eyes off the page he’d ripped out of the New York Daily Mirror from three years ago. It was about his brother’s murder.
Notorious NY Gambling Figure Gunned Down in Queens
Alex Nicholas, a notorious New York underworld figure was murdered last night in a Queens restaurant as he dined with the proprietor. The lone gunman, identified as Luke Burnett of Greenville, South Carolina, was shot and killed by off-duty police officers as he continued to fire his handgun at Mr. Nicholas. Both were pronounced dead at the scene.