The Beam: Season Two (63 page)

“Well,” said Omar. “You wanna catch a movie or something?”
 

“Are you kidding?” said Kate.
 

“Don’t knock it until you try it. Sure, you can watch a movie anytime you want, but there’s something to be said for watching with a crowd.” He pointed. “They have an old theater at the far end. There’ll be nobody there this time of day.”

Kate just stared.
 

“Okay, that doesn’t make sense. We’ve only got an hour. Or do we? What time is it, Katie?” He laughed, looking down at her wrist.

“Who’s coming?” said Kate.
 

“Cop,” said Jimmy. “So watch your shit.” His voice had a level of menace that Omar’s didn’t. Jimmy was a manager and an enforcer. He lacked Omar’s crowd-pleasing subtlety.
 

“Partner.”
Omar threw Jimmy an irritated glance. “And yes, he’s a police captain. You’d do well to keep that in mind, but we’re all friends here.”
 

“Are we?”
 

Omar shrugged. “Of course, man.” He laughed. “Sorry. Of course,
girl
. I’m so used to talking to dudes.” He glanced at Jimmy, but Jimmy didn’t get the joke.

“What are you going to do with me?” said Kate.

Omar turned to Jimmy. “Hey, Jimmy. Go get me something salty. Cool?”
 

Jimmy stood and walked away, toward the huts. Omar turned to Kate.
 

“Look,
Kate.
I’m pretty sure I know something about you. I don’t want to say it out loud because, well, you never know who’s listening, and besides, some things can’t be unsaid.”

“You just spent ten minutes talking out loud about extortion and Lunis smuggling.”
 

“Then maybe I don’t want to make things uncomfortable. Maybe I kind of like the idea of a fresh start. As if we’d just met, which we absolutely just did. Maybe I want to look at your tits and not feel conflicted. Maybe I have plans that, going forward, require me to think of you as the person you are rather than someone you’re clearly not. Point is, there’s something between us, below the surface, and I think we both need to acknowledge it’s there, buried like a mine, just in case. But then I think we let it go. Say, before Jimmy gets back.”
 

Kate’s eyes flicked to Jimmy.
 

“He’s going to get me Cracker Jack,” Omar said, seeing her glance. “You just fucking watch. I hate Cracker Jack. It sticks to my teeth, and my nanos take hours to clear it all if I don’t get in there with a toothpick. But Jimmy always gets motherfucking Cracker Jack when I let him decide because he likes it and knows he’ll get to eat it all when I refuse. You just watch.”
 

Kate watched Jimmy as he stepped onto the grass and into a small tent-like structure promising
SUNDRIES
.

“I don’t miss much,
Kate
,” he said, again emphasizing her name. “There’s shit I’ve figured out that you don’t think I have. Shit I can predict about you and what you’re likely to do as surely as I can predict Jimmy.”
 

“Maybe I’m smarter than Jimmy.”

“I’m wasting my time if you’re not. But here’s the part where I make it not matter, just like that thing we’ve already forgotten about involving the fact that we’ve only known each other for around an hour now. I know you’re thinking of ways to run because you think I’m going to get rid of you. Or you’re thinking about ways to double-cross me. But please, don’t try.”
 

She looked at the store where Jimmy had vanished. The way out was in the other direction, and Kate knew she was in far better shape than Omar. She also knew he didn’t carry weapons as a matter of pride. If she wanted to get away before the cop got there, she could.

“I could outrun you right now.”

Omar nodded. “I know it. And you
know
I know it. I sent Jimmy away so we could talk, but also so that you could decide if I’m lying.”
 

“Don’t pretend you’ve never lied to me.”

“I meant right now,” Omar countered. He wasn’t even leaning forward. Kate was. Omar was kicked back with his legs crossed and his hands on the chair’s arms, almost daring her to make a break for it. But that was the test: He’d given her an opening. Did that mean that Omar really meant no harm and wanted her to see it? Or was it one ploy nested inside another — showing her the chance, assuming she’d believe his honesty, but still holding a knife behind his back to use once she’d chosen to believe him and stay? Omar was a knot. Finding all of his ends was impossible.
 

“Say I stay,” said Kate. “Why would I?”
 

“Because you’re as much of self-centered son of a bi…as much of a self-centered
bitch
as I’m a son of one. I want you here so you can help me. You’ll benefit, but only because you have to stick around, which ultimately benefits me. You can trust that your well-being helps
me
be well. Same for you. You don’t have to trust me because you can trust my self-interest.”
 

“You haven’t told me what’s in it for me.”
 

“Money. A lot of money.”
 

“Promises, promises. Tell me the plan, Buckwheat.”
 

“Let’s wait for Dominic.”
 

“Convenient for you. By the time he shows up, my chance to split will have vanished.”
 

Omar inhaled then exhaled.
 

“All right. Briefly. I used to know this man named Doc. He used to be cool, then he went and became a total cunt.”

Kate rolled her eyes.
 

“I told him once about big changes on the horizon. I showed him how I’ve got private contact information for Micah Ryan, Enterprise slugger. What I didn’t tell Doc, but that I’m telling you, is that there’s a class of people that Ryan belongs to that others don’t generally know exists.”
 

“Beau Monde.”
 

Omar nodded.
 

“For a group nobody knows exists,” said Kate, “sure seems like everyone out there’s talkin’ about it.”

“Not as a rumor. As a real thing. A
reachable
thing. A quantum leap up.”
 

Kate knew the privileged class wasn’t a rumor. She had the memories to prove it was real. Knowing she was succumbing to Omar’s slippery wiles, she said, “This guy Doc you knew. Seems he mighta seen something — some technology, say — that agreed with that particular bit of tinfoil-hat paranoia.”
 

“Well, I know it as a fact. Through a man I used to know, back when I was incarcerated.”
 

“Maybe I was ‘incarcerated’ once too,” said Kate. “And maybe I don’t have a fuckin’ clue who you mean.”

“It was when I was in Flat 4,” said Omar.

Kate sat back, suddenly uninterested in running. It was convenient that Omar had met this mysterious man after being transferred away from Flat 16, where she’d done time as Doc, to Flat 4, but for some reason she didn’t think he was bluffing. Omar had spent years there before they’d met again, but he’d never talked about it. Omar talked about
everything
in his past, but his years in 4 were like a black period of nothingness, as if those tales were too dark to tell. Flat 4 was the most notorious of the Flat prisons. All of them were walled-off, no-rules prisons rumored to have been modeled after a twentieth century film, but Flat 4, situated on an island in the middle of the consolidated Great Lake, was a step above the rest. Flat 4 was home to criminals who were very violent or very high-profile, and the resulting criminal community was a sociological study in and of itself. It wasn’t surprising that a former inmate would have expunged memories of the place from his mind before moving on.

“You have tales to tell about Flat 4,” said Kate. It wasn’t a question; it was a statement. She handled it like delicate glass, suddenly aware of the need to show some gravity and respect.

“I’ll tell you later,” said Omar, “but let’s just say for now that I had a very good reason to dig as much as I have. I’ve found a few answers, but I need more. The man I have in mind? Well, I just happen to know how a police captain’s access could get us to him, and how much you, with your new wares, would appeal to him.”
 

“Appeal?”
 

Omar nodded.
 

“So my money comes from bein’ a whore.”
 

“There’s more to the story. No. Your money comes from smuggling. We’re tying a knot. It’s all bound together, and everyone benefits. But we all need to
see
that everyone benefits, and that removing any one of the three of us ruins shit good for everyone.”

Kate’s chance to escape vanished as Jimmy reappeared behind Omar. Not that it mattered. Omar was right, as his calculations usually were. She’d stay because she believed enough of Omar’s story to believe that she would benefit. Omar would keep her around because that was best for him. When the cop arrived, Omar would weave them together. A team of three threaded together by greed in an unbreakable Chinese finger trap.

“And what about the dust?” said Kate. “The situation on the moon? This guy Dominic’s need for an emergency supply?” Kate eyed Jimmy as he approached, but it was okay. Omar had already said all of this, out loud, during his phone call.

“I have some ideas on how to handle that,” said Omar.

Jimmy seemed to remember something as he entered the circle of chairs then handed Omar a red-and-white box of Cracker Jack.
 

“Aw, man, I hate that shit,” Omar said, waving it away.

Jimmy settled into his chair and opened the box with an idiot’s smile.
 

Chapter 9

By the time Sam had returned to his apartment, put some mac 'n' cheese in the cooker, burned the mac ‘n’ cheese, and gotten his papers into a sufficient nest to cable his laptop and route his connection through Beard’s Neck, Iowa, to access The Beam, he found he’d received another message from n33t.
 

did some searching around and saw that integer7 shows as idle on the forums. not finding a trace of him outside null just like there’s no trace of you or me other than yr page. i have some unarticulated trust issues re: him the more i read his old stuff. don’t worry but be careful. have some time today. i’m a good snooper so give me deets of your man and let i7 go if he doesn’t return your mail. hmb w/ what you have asap. and I still don’t trust you. (tmwsd)

Sam almost laughed. He wasn’t entirely sure how he felt, but vindication was in there somewhere. There was also some fear. Integer7 may have been idle on the forums, but he’d managed a voice call to a mobile chartered by one Samuel Dial, known as Shadow by no one, and that was either very impressive or terrifying. But Integer7 had sounded like he was trying to help rather than intimidate, and that meant that if Sam was crazy, at least he wasn’t alone.

He began to compose a reply to n33t, already wondering if there were too many cooks with their spoons in the soup. Integer7 was a blunt hammer, and n33t was a precision scalpel. Integer7 was known for smashing, and n33t was known for investigative dissection. Shadow had involved them both because he’d been impatient and had needed immediate answers (as always; he couldn’t tolerate waiting), and the challenge now would be keeping them separate lest one smash the other’s investigation…and, of course, somehow heeding n33t’s reservations about Integer7 while still keeping both informed. Perhaps the best strategy was to play it cool and pretend all was well, which of course it very well might not be. But regardless, at this point Integer7 had a move to make, and it seemed smartest to make the most of it. The best-case scenario was a victory for Null. The worst case was a draw wherein Sam saved his neck through plausible deniability across all parties. Sometimes, if you weren’t sure you could win, it made sense to play not to lose.
 

He typed:

heard from integer7. he’s on board. watch the prime statements tomorrow. tell everyone you know to do the same. need to be ready to

Sam stopped, his fingers on the airboard. Be ready to what, exactly? Integer7 hadn’t let him finish. Time had run out, and Integer7 had killed the connection as promised. Sam, as Shadow, wasn’t sure what exactly he was supposed to do. He could guess, but something about that deep voice, which had been echoing in his head through his entire walk home, told him he’d better guess right.
 

Integer7 wanted Shadow to do something. There would be no tolerance of doing it wrong. The fact that Shadow might not know what he needed to do right would be immaterial. Without a connection, he couldn’t even square off: big Beam balls to big Beam balls, online disruptor to online disruptor.
 

They’d heard each other’s voices, and while Integer7’s had held all the authority and menace of his Beam page and Null forum persona, Sam knew his own voice had not. He’d shown his cards without meaning to. And somehow, Integer7 knew who Shadow was. Sam’s real dimensions were less impressive than Shadow’s larger-than-life image.
 

Sam looked at the scrambling devices throughout his apartment. With hypercaffeine still coursing through his blood, he felt every bit of his normal paranoia. But seeing it as paranoia changed nothing.