Paradise Hacked (First Circle Club Book 2) (6 page)

His partner was slimmer, softer, and fifteen to twenty years older. He walked with his palms open in an unconscious gesture of trust. A pleasant, natural smile put Cat at ease.

A moment later, a black woman entered the shop. She was tall, lean, and muscular. She checked out the place like a cop would. Instead of ordering coffee, she went straight to a corner and sat down. She watched attentively from across the room.

Virgil brought backup,
Cat thought.

Virgil spotted Cat and obviously recognized her. He brought his friend over, and they sat at the table with her.

"You picked an interesting place to have a meeting," she said.

"I didn't want you to cause any trouble," Virgil said.

"I wasn't planning on it anyway. The detective told me your name is Virgil."

"That's right, and you go by Cat Lady. My partner is Alfred."

Alfred reached across the table and shook her hand. His skin was as cold as a corpse, but she assumed it was because of the cold weather outside.

He leaned forward and watched her intently. He was analyzing her, just as she was doing to him. She recognized the signs of a professional.

"You're a psychologist," Cat said.

Alfred raised his eyebrows. "That's correct. Very good. I specialize in criminal behavior. I treat people like you."

His voice had a powerful soothing quality. It was almost hypnotic, and she relaxed despite her natural paranoia. She instinctively tried to resist even though the sensation was very pleasant.

"What do you think I am?" Virgil said.

She observed his straight posture, but it wasn't exactly military. His haircut also marked him as a civilian. He didn't have scars on his knuckles. The way he talked told the rest of the story.

"Federal agent," Cat said.

Virgil smiled a little. "What kind?"

She abruptly reached across the table. His hand reflexively moved towards his hip, but he didn't have a gun. She could tell where he usually carried one though.

"U.S. Marshal."

"You're good," he said.

"I'm the best."

"And humble, too. You want to confess to me? Why?"

"The last time we met," Cat said, "you looked at me strangely, and I felt very bad about my life. At that moment, I knew you were different and special. You could see my sins, and you understood them. You weren't just some holier than thou priest who would never get what I had to say."

"Yet you still lied to me," Virgil said.

"It was very hard. I almost broke down and told you everything. Are you ready for my confession? It started when I was in grade school...."

"Quiet. I've talked to enough con-artists to know what makes you people tick. I hate to break it to you, honey, but your sins just aren't interesting enough to be worth my time."

"Oh." Cat frowned. She was painfully disappointed.

"Don't be so cruel," Alfred said. "I'll be happy to hear what you want to say."

His voice soothed her anxieties like cool mist on a hot day. She began to realize the effect wasn't natural. It was some kind of trick.

She became conscious of other details that she had ignored until now. Normal people were in constant motion even when they were trying to sit still. Their fingers twitched, their eyes shifted, and they swallowed saliva every couple of minutes. Their facial muscles reacted in a hundred tiny ways during a conversation.

Virgil and Alfred were as motionless as corpses. When they talked, only their mouths moved. They never blinked. Cat looked closer and saw they weren't even breathing.

Fear sent a chill down her spine.
What did I get myself into?
she wondered.

"Not now," Virgil said. "I have specific questions. Let's go back to the conversation in the hair salon a few months ago. What were your instructions? Who hired you?"

The way he stared at her made her feel fresh shame. It was like he could see every sin written on her soul and was judging her worthiness. His gaze was as unnatural as Alfred's voice. She realized she was in danger and it was time to run.

"Coming here was a mistake," Cat said in a fluttering voice. "I don't know what kind of people you are. I have to go."

She jumped out of her seat and headed towards the door. The black woman in the corner moved to intercept Cat. Cat glanced back and saw Virgil and Alfred approaching from behind. The only way out was forward.

Cat picked up her pace. She reached the front door, but the black woman stood in her way.

"Where are you going?" she said in an aggressive tone. "Is the conversation done?"

Cat had been in plenty of tight spots in her life, and she was prepared to deal with this one. She flexed the toes on her right foot, and a razor blade popped out of her shoe. She kicked the black woman in the shin.

Cat was expecting a scream of pain, but the black woman hardly flinched. Both of them looked down. Black blood was dripping from a nasty gash on her shin.

Cat gulped in terror.

"Don't be afraid," Alfred said. "We just want to talk."

His voice was much more powerful than before. Now it was like a shot of heroin straight into her brain. Her fear evaporated.

Police officers in the coffee shop were looking at the group. Cat thought about calling for help, but she was too relaxed and happy. Nobody else was making a fuss.

"Outside," Virgil said.

The two men escorted Cat out of the coffee shop, and the black woman trailed a pace behind. They emerged onto a busy sidewalk in the heart of Chicago just south of downtown. Slow moving traffic clogged the streets.

Virgil grabbed Cat by the arm with a grip that made it clear he meant business. They walked around to a parking lot behind the coffee shop. Virgil, Alfred, and the woman surrounded Cat with her back against the wall.

"By the way, this is Lisa." Virgil nodded towards his female associate.

"Glad to meet you," Lisa said. "Try that stunt again, and I'll break something you don't want broken. I'm easily irritated. Got it?"

Cat nodded fearfully. She looked down and saw the wound on Lisa's shin had already closed.

"Let's start again," Virgil said. "Who hired you?"

"We communicated anonymously. All I know is that his name was Mr. W."

"Ken Walton."

"Really?" Cat said. "The billionaire? I should've asked for more money! Oh, but he died."

"That's correct."

The tone in Virgil's voice suggested he had something to do with that death.

Cat noticed Lisa wasn't blinking either. Her body was unnaturally still.
Zombies with magical powers,
Cat thought.

"What were your instructions?" Virgil said.

"Simple. Walton knew you would show up eventually. He wanted me to tell you that story about my ex-husband, which is what I did. I got paid fifty thousand dollars for a few minutes of work. That's all I know."

"How did he pick you?"

"I have a reputation for professionalism," Cat said. "I'm known as a con-artist who always gets the job done. Now I have a question for you. Who are you people? Why aren't you breathing? Why is your skin cold? Why is your blood black?"

"None of your business," Virgil said sharply. "You don't remember anything else? Ken Walton was taking orders from somebody, but we don't know who. That's the mystery we have to solve."

"Why? Are you some kind of walking dead police unit?"

"Just answer the question."

Cat shook her head. "I don't know anything else really. I was paid to do a simple job, and I did it. Now I want to start a new life. I want to be good. I came here so you could help me do that."

"Good people pay for their crimes," he said. "Are you willing to go to jail?"

"Uh, no."

"What about returning every dime you stole?"

She bit her lip. "I already returned a little."

"Just a little?" Virgil raised his eyebrows.

"That's a big step for me."

He sighed. "So you don't want to actually be good. You'll settle for not quite as evil. We're done. Go."

She was bewildered. She had come to the coffee shop with a straightforward plan. She would confess her sins, do some good deeds, and cleanse her badly tarnished soul. Instead, she had run smack into a frightening mystery, and now he was dismissing her like an ugly whore.

She found fresh resolve. Virgil was done with her, but she wasn't done with him. She had a nose for opportunities, and this was a unique one. She had to discover who these strange people were and how they had gotten their powers. The knowledge was certainly worth money to somebody. The first step was gaining Virgil's confidence.

"I don't want to go," Cat said.

"Oh?" Virgil said. "A minute ago, you tried to run."

"I was startled and scared. I needed a moment to bounce back. I want to help you now."

"Help me with what? You have no idea what I do."

"If it involves lying, cheating, or stealing," she said. "I'm your woman. I may not be good at being good, but I'm
great
at being bad."

He raised his eyebrows. "That we can agree on."

Chapter Four

Sara was watching Mei work at her computer even though Sara didn't really understand what was happening. All she saw were windows full of symbols, numbers, and obscure commands. To Sara, it was a glimpse into the future. One day the language of computers would be the first language of man, assuming humans still existed at all.

Is that how human life will end?
she wondered.
Intelligent machines will sweep us aside?

The question had profound metaphysical implications. Heaven and Hell were repositories for human souls. If computers started thinking for themselves and making ethical decisions, would they acquire souls? Would Final Judgement decide cases involving robots? Would machines get their own versions of Heaven and Hell? What qualified as a sin in an electronic world? What was eternal punishment for a computer? Perhaps the inherent contradictions would crash the entire system.

Sara's phone rang. She checked the caller ID but didn't recognize the number. Frowning, she accepted the call.

"Hello?"

"This is the Office of Experimental Aero-Physics," a man said. "You left a message earlier today."

Sara was surprised, but she recovered her composure quickly. "That's right. I'm Sara Blandish, a detective for the Illinois State Police. A body turned up this morning in Columbus Park. Detective Thomas Haymaker tried to investigate, but your people treated him rudely and stole the evidence. He called us for assistance."

Mei stopped what she was doing. She looked up at Sara curiously.

"Trace the call," Sara mouthed silently.

Mei turned back to her computer and typed.

"I'm very sorry about that," the man said. "The O.E.A.P. prides itself on courtesy and professionalism. I'll certainly have a word with our agents about their behavior."

"That's nice," Sara said, "but it doesn't do me much good. I want to know where you took the body. I want to examine it myself."

"I'm afraid that's classified information."

"Don't play that card with me. The Illinois State Police isn't some hick county sheriff office. We can get our Congressmen involved. I'm sure there is an oversight committee in Washington which will want to know why federal spooks are dropping corpses on Chicago."

The man paused. "I don't like those kinds of threats, Ms. Blandish."

"That's
Detective
Blandish to you, and I'm not screwing around. You can't just sweep this thing under the carpet of national security. Haymaker told me the victim was crushed and cooked. Are civilians in danger? Should Chicago be on alert? What are we supposed to do if more bodies show up? These questions demand official answers, not bureaucratic stonewalling."

"I see." He paused again. "Perhaps we should have a face-to-face meeting?"

"That would be outstanding. Your office?"

"Uh, my office isn't really open to visitors. What about your office?"

Sara was stumped. She hadn't thought that far ahead. The closest thing she had to an office was the basement of Red Palace Antiques, and she certainly wasn't going to invite strangers there. A solution occurred to her.

"Our offices are in Springfield," she said, "but we're visiting Chicago. I know of a local coffee shop where we can meet. Rooney's Coffee in Greektown. Conveniently, the rest of my team is already there."

"I'll send two senior agents immediately," the man said.

"Good. I'll be waiting by the door. Thin woman with long, brown hair wearing black."

"Bye."

Sara ended the call and looked at Mei. "How did the trace go?"

"Not well," Mei said. "I got as far as the Pentagon and hit a firewall I couldn't break through."

"The military is behind this?"

"Looks like it. The security was hard-core. The good news is I blocked them from locating you, so at least my shop is safe... I hope."

Sara furrowed her brow. "I'd better call Virgil." She dialed Virgil's number.

"Yes?" he answered.

"The Office of Experimental Aero-Physics called back. I'm meeting two agents at Rooney's Coffee."

"When?"

"Very soon," Sara said. "I'll head over there immediately. I'll tell you the rest when I get there."

"OK. We'll wait. We're still talking to Cat Lady anyway."

"How is that going?"

"I'm not sure," Virgil said. "It's another topic to discuss when you get here."

"Bye."

Sara put her phone away and headed for the door of the workshop.

"Wait!" Mei said. "I have something to give you."

She jumped up and stepped over to a shelf. She grabbed a boxy device which looked like an old portable phone. It had a keypad and a stubby antenna. A small LCD display was on the front.

She turned it on and gave it to Sara. "Keep this in your pocket."

"What is it?"

"An IMSI-catcher. It secretly talks to nearby cell phones and gathers identifying information. It might allow me to figure out who those agents really are."

"Is that legal?" Sara said.

"It's kind of a gray area in the law."