The Courier (San Angeles) (25 page)

Jeremy’s desk was as cluttered as it always was: stacks of paper and folders, data chips and old coffee cups lay over every visible surface. Yet he always managed to find what he was looking for.

“I think you’re starting to run your department the same way you keep your office. An unorganized mess.” The president had walked down to Jeremy’s office, which was either a good sign or a really, really bad one. Any official meetings with the president always occurred in his office.

“It’s just for looks, Jonathon. You know that. If I look disorganized, anyone who comes in here will think that’s the way I am. It puts me at an immediate advantage.”

“I’m not so sure, Jeremy. I’ve heard some rumors today. Some pretty bad ones. What’s going on?”

“I’m not sure what you mean.”

“Then let me lay it out for you.” The president’s voice hardened and he sat down on the leather sofa. “My sources in SoCal tell me they’ve had a leak. A leak that, as I understand, they’ve sealed. The leak leads back to us. It sounds like one of our people tried to send information out to Kadokawa.”

This was a bad visit.

“We sometimes use our people to feed information to other corporations. You know that, Jonathon. If we can destabilize some of the existing relationships, then we have a chance to move up.”

Jeremy felt a wave of distrust come from the president, one that quickly vanished.

“I’ve been led to believe that the information he tried to pass involved documentation and specifications on new spacecraft,” Jonathon paused to let the news sink in. “SoCal does not deal in space travel or spacecraft design, Jeremy. What do you think they have?”

This was a really, really bad visit.

Jeremy sat down behind his cluttered desk and looked at the president. What did he know? “I’m not sure. If they’ve closed the leak, then we’ve lost our man. I’ll check with his team leader and see what he has,” said Jeremy.

“Yes, you will. I’ve also heard that the information was never delivered, that it’s either in the hands of a courier, or ACE.”

Christ, when the president said he had sources, he wasn’t kidding. Where did he get the information from?

“I want this courier brought in. Here. I want to question her on what happened. Make it happen, Jeremy.”

“Yes, sir, Mr. President. I’ll put a team on it right away. Do you think they have the data on the jump drive?”

Jonathon sighed and stood up again. “Let’s hope not, Jeremy. Let’s hope not. I want the courier here as soon as possible, and I want all the data you have on our SoCal guy and ACE’s connection with this.”

“Yes, sir.”

“If we lose this advantage, heads will roll. Yours will go before mine. I’ll see to that.” He turned and walked out of Jeremy’s office, closing the door softly behind him.

Jeremy slid open a drawer on his desk and pulled out a small comm unit. This one was not part of the Meridian network. It was untraceable. At the touch of a button, his call was routed through several networks.

“Where is the courier?”

The voice on the other end sounded panicked. “I don’t know. I called them a while back, like Quincy asked. I told Quincy where they were. They’re trying to get the girl’s tracker tag adjusted, but ACE is shutting down. They know they have a leak. If they find me . . .”

“If they find you, you die. That’s the risk.”

“But I—”

Jeremy killed the connection and dialed a different number.

“Yes,” Abby answered.

Two police drones passed overhead and slowed down as they approached the building. The Ambients caused their shadows to chase them over the ground, trying to catch up to the speeding devices. Abby saw Quincy glance up before quickly looking at the ground just in front of his feet.

“Just walk normally. Look up like you’re curious, but don’t try to skulk near the building or do anything to attract their attention. We’re just a couple of people walking down the street, okay?”

“This isn’t my first party,” Quincy said.

“Yeah, yeah, just keep walking.”

They reached the parked car, a small black sports model still shining in the Ambients like it was new.

“Get in, let’s see if the Net can get us some information on the cars.”

Abby slid in behind the steering wheel and fired up the onboard computer. She connected to the Net and created an encrypted tunnel to the Meridian systems. Three cars in, she got a hit. The car had no registry entries. It was as if the thing had never existed. Kind of weak for ACE to do that, almost as though they wanted the car found and traced. Abby displayed the car on the screen, a red Mitsubishi.

“Keep your eyes out for this car,” she told Quincy. “If you see it, let me know.” She pulled away from the curb.

“Where we going?”

“The closest hospital. We may get lucky.”

“He’s not going to a hospital. No one with training would.”

“No, but he may not have a say in it,” said Abby. “If he’s hurt bad, the girl will be in charge, and she’ll take him straight there.”

“That’s a big if. We need to search for her around here first.”

Abby’s comm unit rang. She picked it up and looked at the screen. Encrypted link. Jeremy. Shit.

“Yes.”

“Where are you guys?”

“Heading to the hospital. I managed a shot on the guy covering the courier. With ACE shutting down, I figure they’re gonna have to head there.”

“And the girl?”

“Quincy says he never saw them. I only saw the guy come out the front door.”

“You sure they’re still together?”

“No, but the last time we saw them, when Quincy bungled the safe house job, they took off in the same vehicle.”

“I agree,” Jeremy said. “And so do my sources. As far as we know, she still has the package, unless she made a transfer at the safe house.”

“If she has it, I’ll get it.”

“Good . . . good. Remember you’re working with Quincy on this one. I expect both of you to get this done. I want to talk to the courier whether she has the package or not.” Jeremy switched tracks. “Things are changing up here, people are beginning to sniff around, so we have a change of plans. We need to find out what she knows. If she does have the package, destroy it first. Get rid of the guy anyway.”

“We can do that.”

“You’d better, or it’s your asses on the line.”

Now she knew how Quincy got on board. They were both idiots. If Jeremy thought he controlled her, he was kidding himself. She had more outs than anyone could know about. You didn’t get as high in this field as she was without being able to cover your own assets.

“I want the girl found tonight. Make it happen, Abby.”

Abby ended the call and pulled a U-turn, heading back to the building.

“What now?”

“Jeremy wants the girl found. I think we should search the area first.”

She saw a smirk on his face as he pulled out his gun, double-checking the cartridge.

“He wants her alive.”

The grin disappeared.

I wandered the residential streets, each step bringing home the grim truth. I had no idea where I was. All the houses were a blur of manicured lawns and flowerbeds filled with gnomes and birdbaths.

How could I be lost? I tried to go over the path I’d taken since I left the doctor’s office. How many streets had I crossed? Was I even heading in the right direction? I knew I’d gone in a loop. That meant I’d passed the street Miller was on. The only problem was, I had no idea which street it was.

Okay, I’m a courier, and we don’t get lost, no matter where we are. I remembered turning around in the driveway. From there we had turned left to get back on the main road. Then it was only a few blocks to the building. Okay then, if I walked back along the main
road, I should be able to find the building and backtrack to the right street. Of course, if Quincy was still there waiting, that would be a bad idea. My chest tightened and my breathing became shallow.

When I looped around, I swung pretty wide, which meant I was heading the wrong way. The main road had to be behind me. Right?

Christ, I really was lost. I felt blood rush up to my head and pound in my ears. My stomach felt like it had dropped down to my feet in a sudden rush. How the fuck did this happen? I was a courier for chrissake.

Okay, okay, get a grip. All I have to do is find the main road again. Breathe! When I reach it, turn left and keep going. I’ll either reach the office building or the end of the gated community.
Either way, I would know where I was, and things would be okay. As long as Quincy didn’t see me.

Three blocks later, I passed the house with the high fence again and kept walking. I counted the blocks, trying to sync the new information with what I remembered of my panicked run. Nothing seemed to fit. I ducked behind a hedge when a shiny black convertible drove past. I was close to turning back again when I saw a large street ahead. I ran the last half block and stopped at the corner of the last house.

My stomach lurched. Nothing looked familiar.

That’s okay. No problem. If I’d run as far as I thought I had, then all of this would be new anyway. I reminded myself to breathe again before turning and walking down the brightly lit sidewalk. This wasn’t safe, but I didn’t know what else to do.

It was another twenty minutes before the sign for the office complex showed up, still a few blocks ahead and partially covered by the sign from a fast food joint. I breathed a sigh of relief and ducked back onto a side street, anxious to get off the main road before venturing
out to find the right one. At every intersection I turned backward, recreating the same view I had in the car.

There! That huge rock on the front lawn. I had seen that before. Hadn’t I? I turned down the side street, hoping it was the right one. If not, I would have to double back and go down another street, until I found Miller and the car.

Suddenly, it was there. Not in the driveway where I had been looking, but parked with one front tire on the curb. As I got next to the car, I saw Miller slouched low in the driver’s seat, his eyes closed.

A wave of anger flashed through me, replacing the relief I felt at finding Miller. Just fucking great, here I was lost and worried I’d never find him, and he was sleeping. What the fuck? I whipped open the passenger door, sliding into the seat next to him, pushing his comm unit out of the way.

“Wake the fuck up—”

The blood was the first thing I noticed. My anger disappeared faster than it came.

“Jesus Christ, what happened?” I asked.

Miller lifted his head and gave me a half smile. “Someone was waiting out the front door. A sniper, I think. He got me as soon as I moved out of the crowd.” Miller struggled to sit up, his face turning white.

I leaned over his seat and looked at the bloody shirt. I thought I saw a hole in the material, but it was tough to tell. “We have to get you to a hospital.”

“We can’t. The police will want to know what happened.”

“Fuck the police. You’re really bleeding.”

“There’s a . . . a kit in the trunk. Get it out and bandage me up. I’ll be as good as new.”

I pulled the keys from the ignition and stumbled from the car. Miller didn’t look too good, and I had no idea what to do.

The first aid box was the only thing in the trunk. Everything else was still in the box under the rear seat. Slamming the trunk shut, I ran back to my door and got inside.

“What do I do?”

“Take off my shirt . . . uh, careful.” He sucked in a few breaths between clenched teeth. “Take off the shirt and clean around the hole. Pour some of that hydrogen peroxide, the brown bottle, on it. Then . . . then put a big wad of gauze on it and tape it down. When you’re done that, do the same to the exit hole.”

I shook my head. “Exit hole?”

“Where the bullet came out.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.”

My hands shook as I unbuttoned his shirt and peeled it away from his shoulder. Fresh blood seeped from the bullet hole. This wasn’t what I was thinking of when I’d thought of undressing him.

As I worked, Miller’s face blanched again, and his jaw muscles stood out on his cheeks from clenching and grinding his teeth. The hole was in his right shoulder and remarkably small, no bigger than my pinky finger really.

“Are there . . .” Miller spoke through his teeth. “Are there any bubbles coming from the hole?”

“No. No, I don’t see any. Is that good?”

“Yeah, it means I may not die today. Cover it up and look for the exit hole.”

I poured more hydrogen peroxide on the wound and covered it with the gauze pad before taping it all on. I moved Miller carefully, until he was leaning against the steering wheel.

There wasn’t any hole. “I don’t see anything.”

“You cleaned off the blood?”

“There’s no blood back here. There’s no exit wound at all.”

“Shit.”

“What?”

“That’s not good. It means, uhh,” Miller grunted as he lay back against the seat. “It means whatever hit me is still in there.”

“Does it have to come out?” I pulled back, afraid he’d ask me to do it.

“Yeah.”

“I . . . I can’t do that.”

“Yeah.”

“I’m taking you to a hospital.”

Miller only grunted in reply. By the time I managed to move him to the passenger seat, he had passed out, and blood had soaked through my makeshift bandage. His breathing sounded ragged and shallow.

I slid behind the wheel and started to drive. Where the hell was the hospital? Miller’s comm unit lay on the dashboard and I grabbed it to turn it on. The GPS took a while to lock. There were three hospitals relatively close. Fighting my better judgment, I chose the one farthest away.

I glanced at Miller. He was ghostly pale. I hoped I hadn’t made the wrong
decision.