Earthbound (The Reach, Book 1) (16 page)

Knile edged past her, hearing a commotion in the distance already.  He was about to say something, but the look on the woman’s face told him not to waste his time.  He ran back to the elevators and furiously thumped on the call button, watching the numbers on the display slowly rising.

The booming sound of the door could be heard again, and there were footsteps in the corridor.  This time, there
were a lot more than two.

“C’mon, c’mon!” Knile hissed.  He could hear the elevator shuddering upward from below, getting closer every second.

Voices called out, barking orders.  The sound of boots on concrete grew louder.

The elevator arrived and the doors crept open at a snail’s pace.  Knile squeezed inside and hit the button for Level Thirty-Nine, then hammered the door close button enough times to make his fingers hurt.

As the doors slid closed again, Knile saw the woman standing still and resolute, waiting, the .40-
cal at her side.  He hadn’t noticed before how waif-like she was, how fragile.  She glanced over her shoulder at him and he could see from the desolation in her eyes that, just like him, she was ready to leave this world – just not in the way he intended.

The doors closed and the elevator squealed and ground its way upward.  Seconds later there was the sound of gunfire, a volley of shots that seemed to go on and on for the longest time, the clamour chasing him up the shaft and thudding into the carriage like angry beasts.  The sound of human voices could be heard as well, but the words dissolved amid the chaos, and Knile could make out none of what was said.

Then there was silence below, the echo of the last gunshot fading away in the recesses of the elevator shaft like a ghoul returning to the depths of hell.  Knile closed his eyes and slumped against the wall, nerve endings jangling, and the elevator continued upward into the darkness.

13

The pigeon bobbed its head and cooed inanely, strutting across the ledge as it surveyed the people huddled not far below.  It paused for a moment to pick at something at its feet, then continued on its way.

Alton Wilt glared up at it balefully.  “If you defecate on me I’ll rip your head off,” he stated.

The old man in front of Alton turned, a disconcerted look on his weathered face.

“Uh, yeah.  I’ll keep that in mind, pal.”

Alton gave him a flat stare.  “Turn around, if you don’t mind.  When I have something to say to you, you’ll know about it.”

The old man bristled.  “Hey, none of us like waiting in line.  No need to be an ass.”

Alton said nothing, and the man turned back toward the gate.  There were still around ten people ahead of them waiting to gain entry into the Reach.  Time was wasting away as this procession moved at a glacial pace, and although Alton was frustrated by the delay, he knew that there was nothing he could do about it.

“He’s not coming,” Tucker said beside him.  “The prick.  I knew it.”

“He’ll come,” Alton said.  “He has to.”

“Do you think the mark is already inside?” Tucker said.  “This Knile Oberend?”

“Maybe.  It doesn’t matter.”

“Sure, it matters
.  He could be half
way up the Reach by now.”

“So?  He’s not going anywhere until his ride arrives.”  Alton checked his holophone.  “That’s still thirty-one hours away, give or take.”

“That’s still not much time for us to coordinate our resources, boss.”

“Have faith, Tucker,” Alton said, spying movement at the front of the line.  “Things are looking up.”

There was a commotion near the gate, and then a burly man came striding through the throng of bystanders, stopping before Alton, his cheeks red.  Dark sweat stains created unsightly ovals under his armpits, marring his grey suit, and his hair was matted to one side as if he’d just woken up.

“You,” the man said, pointing at Alton.  “Come with me.”

“Him too,” Alton said, indicating to Tucker beside him.

“What?  Oh, hell no.”  The man shook his head emphatically.

Alton stood unmoving, resolute.

The man opened his mouth to protest again, but then became aware of the strange glances that were being directed at him from those waiting in line.  He looked about awkwardly and sighed, making a furtive movement with his hand.

“Come on, then,” he said, clearing his throat as he tried to project an air of authority.  “Both of you will be coming with me.”

Tucker and Alton followed the man, pushing through the crowd and earning themselves a barrage of complaints and cusses for skipping ahead.  Alton simply smiled magnanimously as he
moved along, while Tucker glared at those around him as if he were prepared to gut them on the spot.

They reached the gate and stood before the Enforcers on duty, who stared at the man, nonplussed.

“What’s going on, Cuskelly?” one of them said, completing his inspection of a woman’s ID and allowing her through.

“I’m taking these two in for questioning, Grayson,” Cuskelly said.  “Important business.”

Grayson looked across the gate at the other Enforcer on duty, who shrugged.

“Well, that’s highly irregular, Inspector,” Grayson said.  “Why aren’t they being taken downtown?”  He gestured back toward Link in the general direction of the local headquarters.

“
Important business,
” Cuskelly said crossly, enunciating each word carefully.  “The kind you wouldn’t know anything about, Constable.”

Grayson shrugged away the belittling tone of his superior.  “Maybe not, but I know a bit about how things works here on the gate, and we don’t let people through without the proper ID.”

“Well, maybe you want to explain to Commissioner Prazor why you’re disobeying the direct orders of a superior,” Cuskelly said, pointing to the radio on Grayson’s belt.  “And while you’re at it, tell him why you’re holding up an investigation that he himself has sanctioned.  I’m sure he’d have no problem sending you back out to patrol the slums as a reward for your ‘help’.”

Grayson glanced across the gate again, but once again the other man only shrugged.

“Didn’t think so,” Cuskelly said, gripping Alton and Tucker by the arms and guiding them through the gate.  Grayson stepped back as they brushed past, contempt written across his face, but he made no further protest, turning back to the next in line as Cuskelly and his charges disappeared inside the Reach.

“You’re late,” Tucker muttered, wrenching free of Cuskelly’s grasp.

“Late?” Cuskelly hissed.  “Do you know how much notice I had to put this together?  Huh?  How many strings I had to pull to make this work?  This ain’t no walk in the park, especially when I only have an hour’s lead time.”

“Stay cool, Inspector,” Alton said.  “People are watching.”

Cuskelly glanced around nervously.  “You think I don’t know that, Wilt?”

Alton narrowed his eyes.

“Uh… Mr. Wilt,” Cuskelly amended.

“Just do your job and we’ll be out of your way very soon,” Alton said.

They strode through the crowd and came to the bank of elevators set in the eastern wall of the Reach’s lower level.  There were more Enforcers here keeping a close watch on those coming and going through the area.  Cuskelly made a beeline for the nearest available elevator, collaring two men who were about to enter and shoving them in the direction of the next set of doors.  The men cried out and cursed at him angrily.

“Catch the next one,” Cuskelly said, waving at them as if batting away thei
r protests.  “Enforcer business
here.”

Two Enforcers began to make their way over to investigate, but Cuskelly made a curt gesture and they nodded obediently and backed away.

Cuskelly directed Alton and Tucker inside the elevator, looking over his shoulder anxiously to see if they’d been noticed by anyone else.  He moved in after them, pressing the button for Level 122, then swiped his fingertips on the access panel as the doors closed.

“Swipe here,” Cuskelly instructed the other two.  When they hesitated, he motioned impatiently.  “Come on!  This thing won’t move unless you do it.”

Alton and Tucker moved across and did as Cuskelly suggested.  There was a brief pause before a buzzer sounded.

“
Caution,
” came the sound of an automated voice through the elevator intercom.  It was delivered in soothing female tones but somehow carried a note of malevolence behind it. 
“Unverified occupants detected.  Please standby.”

“Override,” Cuskelly barked.  “Cuskelly, J.  Badge number two-four-seven-six-one.”

There was a brief pause, then the automated voice filled the elevator again.

“Cuskelly, J.  Voice match.  Override granted.  This exception has been noted in the security access log.”

They began to ascend, and Cuskelly removed his respirator.  The other two followed his lead.

“I have no fucking idea how I’m going to explain this,” Cuskelly said, rubbing his brow.  “You put me in a real bind here, you know that?”

“Look on the bright side,” Alton said.  “After this your debt will be cleared.  You’ll be a free man.”

“Yeah, until they lock me up for what you’re making me do.”

“You’re a smart man, Inspector.  You’ll find a way to talk your way out of it.”

Cuskelly guffawed.  “Like you care.  You’d probably enjoy watching me fry.”

“Not at all.  I’ll be long gone and too far away to care about what’s happening down here.”

“I figured as much,” Cuskelly said.  “Finally getting off-world, huh?  You got yourself a Sponsor after all this time?”

“Not exactly.”

Cuskelly looked at him sharply.  “What are you talking about?”

“I don’t have a Sponsor,” Alton said.

“Then what the fuck are you doing here?” Cuskelly blustered.  “You know this is a one-time deal, right?  I can’t ever get you in here again.  You’re cashing in every last goddamn chip you own by making me do this.  It’ll be a miracle if I don’t end
up in the Cellar after this.”

“Calm down,” Alton said.  “There are arrangements being made.  I have information.”

Cuskelly threw up his hands.  “If you say so.  Don’t come looking to me for help if it doesn’t work out.  After this, you and me are done.”

“Just concentrate on the task at hand, Inspector.”

“So what have you got?  A hacked passkey?”  Cuskelly shook his head.  “Fuck it, I don’t even want to know.”

“Don’t concern yourself, Inspector.  One way or another, this is the last time you’ll see me.”

The elevator slowed as it reached its destination, and then the doors opened to reveal the interior of Level 122.  Cuskelly stepped out and the others followed.

The ceilings here were low and there was a distinct lack of windows around the exterior.  The only illumination came from lengthy stripes of green-tinged lights that led away like monorail tracks in the ceilings and floors of the corridors that led into the interior of the building.  Cuskelly seemed to take a moment to count these off, as if remembering the steps in a maze, then set off toward the third one in line.

“Don’t say anything,” he told them.  “Don’t stop to look at anything.  Don’t touch anything.  Don’t fall behind.”

“Sure thing, Dad,” Tucker said facetiously.  “Are we there yet?”

Cuskelly ignored him, bustling on ahead, his thick girth taking up much of the corridor.  They came to a juncture and the inspector indicated for them to move over into a recess where a few steel-framed chairs sat against the wall.

“Sit and wait,” he said.

Cuskelly proceeded to the room at the end of the corridor, opening the door and heading inside.  After a brief exchange with someone inside, there were the sounds of footsteps again in the hallway.

“How long is this going to take?” a woman said.

“A half hour or so, that’s all,” Cuskelly said.

“You should be clearing this beforehand in future.  I have work to do.”

They passed the recess and Alton and Tucker went unnoticed as the woman continued along.

“Sure, sure, Jannie.  Sorry.  Will do,” Cuskelly said.  “See you soon.”

As the woman disappeared, Cuskelly poked his head into the recess.

“This way.  Move it.”

He led them down into the room, a claustrophobic little office with frosted windows and a terminal screen perched on a cluttered desk.  He turned a dimmer on the light switch and the room became painted in the fluorescent hues of the terminal screen and nothing else.

“Ooh, mood lighting,” Tucker said.

“Close the door,” Cuskelly said.  He produced a gadget, a black rectangle not much larger than a matchbox, and proceeded to connect it up the terminal with a thin grey ribbon-like wire.  Pulling the keyboard closer, he settled himself in the seat before the workstation and began to type.

“Come closer,” he instructed.  “I need to scan your chips.”

Alton and Tucker did as he asked, holding out their hands expectantly.  Cuskelly took Alton by the wrist and placed his fingers on the black rectangle.