A Memory in the Black (The New Aeneid Cycle) (15 page)

Originally, t
here had been no need to hear it again after picking out Diomedes's name, though in truth she'd played it repeatedly for a while until she was no longer able to bear the grief and anger it drove into her. She could still remember the players: the murderer Diomedes and the three who'd driven him off: the man named Felix, the other called Romulus, and the woman who'd spoken with an accent. Was she the same as Felix's girlfriend who'd pulled her to cover that afternoon?

Ondrea had
n't given the rest of them much thought once she learned of Diomedes; it was clear from the recording that they were outraged at the shooting. Perhaps she'd have heard more of them if Gideon's mic hadn't failed so quickly from the rain and mud. As it was, the first name "Felix" and the nameless woman were practically untraceable, and she was unable to find anyone who knew anything about a freelancer going by "Romulus."

Now
safely out of view behind the corner of the building, Ondrea called Beck, who was parked where she'd left him in the lot across the street. "It's me. Can you still see him?"

"He's still outside there, on his phone."

"Good. Tail him," she ordered, glad for her own foresight in taking her personal car this time instead of the one Felix had seen at Gideon's apartment. "Don't wait for me. I'll find my own way back."

"What if he doesn't go anywhere?"

"He will." She'd be surprised if he didn't, at any rate. Intuition told her Felix was headed somewhere, most likely to rejoin his girlfriend. "When he gets wherever he's going, call me."

"Think he knows where Gideon is?"

"I'm not sure, or I'd be going with you. Don't lose him, and
don't
let him see you."

Felix Hiatt
knew something. He had too many links to Gideon not to. She'd verify his voice on the recording as soon as she could, and that, combined with the connection that had led her to follow him initially, would add up, one way or another. If it truly was Felix on the recording, was he even aware of the full nature of his own link to Gideon? How much did he know?

She hung up with Beck and call
ed for a taxi. Her wonderings were secondary. She needed to find Gideon before he got any further from her.

"Up ahead, on Packard,"
Marc offered from the passenger's seat. "We haven't tried there yet."

Michael gave the
sedan's rear view mirror another look. There was no sign of the car he'd thought might be tailing them. Packard Street lay ahead, branching right. "That doesn't quite feel right. I think the place was closer to the old brewery." He cast about for anything that felt familiar and came up empty. "On the other hand, it's not like my memory about this is crystal clear." They turned down Packard and continued on.

They cruised through the
Industrial District, passing by old warehouses, factory buildings, and single-story offices. Some were abandoned, but most still showed signs of life with lights in the windows and cars parked in the lots outside. Even so, the streets were becoming quieter as employees left work for home or more social areas.

"Anything else you remember about this place?"
Marc asked.

"Just the general location, and that it had a door that sunk halfway into the ground on the
far side of the building. It might have been brown, but I guess that's not too helpful around here. If I see it, I'll know it."

"If Diomedes used it for storage like you said, it's probably a warehouse, right?"

"He used it for storage, but his brother lived there for a while. No apartments around here, so I think it might be more of a converted office building. He didn't let me go in with him. I'm a little surprised I remembered it."

It was Felix's comment about not even being sure if Diomedes had any family that
had triggered Michael's memory in the first place. Michael never met Diomedes's older brother Silas, but when Diomedes worked at Michael's uncle's farm so many years ago, most of the stories he told involved Silas in some way. Diomedes was proud of his brother then. It was the glory in those stories that first drew Michael to Diomedes's lifestyle—and blinded him to the man's dark side. Yet in the time that they'd been roommates in Northgate, Diomedes was unwilling to speak much of Silas. Michael never felt comfortable pressing the issue, but clearly something had happened after Diomedes left the farm.

It was one single mention outside a half-remembered building, but at the rate they were going
, it was worth checking. Diomedes would never have kept equipment anywhere insecure. Coupled with the comment about his brother living there once, it made the place a possible hideout. Now if they could only find it.

Michael hoped he wasn't wasting their time.
In five more blocks, the road came to a dead end that he didn't recognize. He turned them around and drove back the way they'd come.

"You given much thought to what you'll say when we find him?" Marc asked.

Michael took them down a different street that angled back toward the brewery. "Mostly I've just been concentrating on finding him, I guess." What might he say if Diomedes were suddenly right there? He didn't know. He'd been trying to take things one at a time, concentrating on the search, but Marc had a point. Maybe he was avoiding the issue. "I'm sure something will come to me when the time comes." It sounded like a cop-out even as he'd said it. "But, yeah, point taken."

What
could
he say to Diomedes? He guessed it would depend on the level of welcome he got. The last thing Diomedes had said to him was "Fuck you." His old mentor wasn't the forgiving sort, but maybe six months had cooled his temper.

Also, m
aybe the Moon would fall out of the sky.

They continued their search for another fifteen minutes before finding themselves heading along a quiet street bounded on one side by a long warehouse.
Vacant lots and smaller buildings sat along the other side.

"That's it
!" Michael declared with a relieved smile. "Felix isn't the only one who can find people."

It was really less of a brown than a rust color, but the sight of the squatting, run-down office building immediately caught Michael's memory.
He eschewed turning into the building's fence-bounded parking lot for a curbside spot across the street. "This is probably better. I think he'll see us as less of a threat if we come in on foot."

"I can see your point, but do you think making ourselves vulnerable's a good idea?"

Michael looked about. "It's relatively deserted around here." There were no other cars driving the road, to say nothing of the car he'd spotted earlier. It might not have been following them at all. Either way, he decided to stick to his decision to not mention it to Marc. Giving him an additional reason to be jumpy wouldn't likely help. "We should be okay. And I guess Diomedes wouldn't just shoot us, even if he is here."

Marc frowned
. "And yet we're still trying not to look threatening."

"I can go on my own, if you
want to wait."

"No, no, I'll be fine.
Duty calls, right?"

Michael gave what he hoped was a reassuring smil
e, checked their surroundings again, and then stepped out of the car. Twilight punctuated by the occasional streetlight flickering to life bathed the area. The building that might hide Diomedes waited across the street. It showed them only thin, darkened windows on the street side and no sign that it was anything but abandoned. The main entrance to the single story above ground would be facing the parking area, though Michael remembered the basement entrance on the far side from the road being where Diomedes had taken him before. If Diomedes was there at all, that would be where they'd find him.

With a final check of the area for anything he'd missed, Michael led Marc across the street to the fenced-in parking lot.
He continued to ponder just what he'd say. Each step brought him no closer to an idea. Maybe it wouldn't matter what he said. Maybe he was doomed to fail. He glanced at Marc, seeing the other casting looks up and down the road every other second. Though it was Michael's job to protect them both, he still felt glad that Marc was there backing him up. The thought had Michael frowning immediately from the sting that he'd needed such comfort at all.

They passed without confrontation between the parking area and the glass doors of the front entrance that faced it.
"See anything in there?" Michael asked, nodding at the darkened doors. Marc's visor had certain optical advantages.

"Just a wall.
Hallway goes to the left and right, probably to separate offices."

Nowhere
for Diomedes to hide and watch out the doors, then, Michael thought. They moved past the doors toward the corner. After a peek around it, Michael led them both down the half flight of steps to the basement door. Though apprehension compelled him to draw his weapon, he denied the impulse and tried to relax.

The rap of his fist on the metal door instantly faded to silence.
Michael gave it a moment and checked around the door for anything that might be a camera or microphone. Seeing nothing, he knocked again, louder this time. "It's— It's Michael," he announced.

They continued to wait, hearing nothing behind the door. "I'm just here to talk to you," he tried.

The silence persisted.

Marc turned around toward the fence above them.
"Maybe he's not here."

"Maybe he's just not answering."

Just finding the place on his own had made Michael feel better about their lack of progress earlier that day; he wasn't ready to give up on the lead just yet. A memory occurred to him. "What day is this?"

"Thursday."

"Thursday. Which one was Thursday?"

"Which one what?
Michael?"

Michael snapped his fingers.
"Dallas!" he called out, and then waited for a result.

"
Password?" Marc guessed after a few moments.

"Yeah.
When we shared an apartment there was one for every day of the week. If he's in there at least he'll know for sure it's me."

Whether Diomedes was there or not, it quickly became clear that the door wasn't about to open.
Michael gave it another hopeful knock and eyed the furnace unit along the outer wall above. "I guess we could climb up on the roof if we wanted to. But that probably wouldn't help things."

"Maybe we should go back to the car," Marc suggested.
Michael frowned and tried to think of another option that didn't just involve continuing to knock on the door when Marc added, "For a minute or two."

Though he yielded to Marc's suggestion, Michael wasn't ready to leave the area quite so quickly.
He'd been about to say as much after the car doors clapped closed, but it was Marc who spoke first.

"I wanted to say this away from the door in case he could somehow hear,
" Marc said, "but I can leave a bug or two outside there. If he comes back or leaves when we're gone, we'll know."

"Maybe, but I'm not ready to give up in per
son just yet."

Marc turned in his seat to better face him.
"It's not really giving up, just backing off so we can keep searching. It's a good lead. I'm just saying we don't need to wait here to follow it up."

The evening breeze blew some leaves across the road and over the windshield as Michael considered.
"I think we should still give it at least a little time. Stake things out in person. If we leave and then see him here, we'll just have to come back again. And what if he's in there and finds the bug?"

"
If he finds it. Though, yeah, that probably wouldn't help."

"He'd be even less likely to trust us."

Marc gave what seemed a reluctant nod. "Mm. Stake out for a bit, then leave the bug?"

"Just for a little while."
Marc could be right, but an hour or two spent waiting might pay off.

"Fair enough
." Marc looked around behind them. "Not too much action around here. At least that's something."

Marc was right about that
. The street, near the edge of the city, reminded Michael of nothing so much as a ghost town. The warehouse they were parked beside felt like a wall separating them from the rest of Northgate outside of which few people wandered, and the few other cars parked along the street afforded them little opportunity to blend in. If their intention were to stay and stake the place out for a few days rather than a couple hours, that might be a problem, but it would also make it easier for them to see anyone coming after Marc.

"How are you holding up?" Michael asked.

"Oh, heh. I don't mind telling you I'm a little anxious. But I'd be that way no matter where we were, I'm sure. I'll be fine. A little edgy. I'll be fine."

Michael readjusted the rear view mirror, unsure what to say to that.
Though he wanted to help him feel safer, no words of reassurance he could think of sounded right. "We won't stay too long."

"Look, don't worry about it."

Michael turned to watch the building through his own reflection in the window. "Okay," he fibbed.

A buzzing rip shot loudly from down the street behind them
: a motorcycle taking advantage of the open road to tear down it in a burst of speed that gave Michael a start and had Marc jumping before they realized what it was. The biker sped past them, rounded a corner, and passed out of view to leave them in silence.

Marc let out a long breath.
"I'll get started on the bugs."

Inside the building's basement, Diomedes walked halfway to the door. The lights were off. He didn't need them. Michael was outside. He scowled and returned to the table.

They weren't leaving, Michael and the other one.
The camera he'd aimed at the street showed them clearly on the screen of his laptop. Waiting in the car. Staking him out. Diomedes could recall a night that Michael and he staked out a transit station together in his old floater.

He's not so different from you,
came the small voice again.

Diomedes nodded to it.
Michael Flynn had strength. Smarts. Things Diomedes had seen in himself. He could be a fool at times, but he was young. Foolishness could be fixed—would have been fixed. But then the kid refused him. Turned on him.

Michael had no loyalty,
chided the large voice.
He refused to follow your lead. He failed the test. Not like you!

Not like him, Diomedes agreed.
He'd passed. He'd followed Silas when the time had come, and then—

And then
—

Diomedes seized a chair with one hand and flung it
into the wall where it splintered to pieces. He did not want to hear it.

Instead, Diomedes pulled up another chair and sat to watch the screen.
How had they found him? No one knew of this place anymore. Who else had they told? The man with Michael matched Lars's description. While vaguely familiar, Diomedes couldn't place him.

Go out to them.
Make them tell you what you want to know. Then get rid of them!

It would be the safest thing to do. Who knew why Michael was there?
Trusting him was a risk.