The Courier (San Angeles) (15 page)

“That is beside the point, Mr. President. The corporations will activate all of their moles and insiders. Some will try to get access to our technology, but others will be sent just to get you out of power.”

“Do not misunderstand me, Jeremy,” said the president. “I understand that attempts on my life will increase. I understand that we need to gird ourselves against an onslaught of attackers and protect the quantum jump drive. I just have a different opinion than you on which is more important. If I die, the corporation will still live on. It will still grow into the most powerful entity on Earth, and wherever else we decide to take it. Our resources will still be able to help the people of Earth.”

That might be true, but Jonathon’s replacement might not be someone Jeremy could control. If he still controlled Jonathon. “Mr. President, as of right now, you are the corporation. Without you at the helm, we would be lost. Looking for a new leader in the middle of battle results in the wrong type of leader being chosen. I’m not saying I wouldn’t mind a more militant president”—he gave Jonathon a quick smirk—“but I don’t think selecting one in a war situation will be good for the company.”

“Jeremy, it’s late and I’m tired. And if I stay much longer, my wife will wonder if I have a mistress.” The president looked at the people
sitting at the table, pausing to catch each person’s eye. “Everyone in this room will have a specific job to do. There will be war, and we will be major participants in that war. I do not wish to lose. Think about that. We’ll reconvene in the morning.”

The president got up and left the room. The rest of the cabinet left the folders, some of them untouched, as they followed him out in complete silence.

Yang closed the door after everyone had left. He turned to Jeremy. “That went better than planned.”

I
LED MIKEY OUT
of the back lane and turned south on a narrow side street, away from the park. He stayed beside me the whole way. I thought I saw people following us, but I couldn’t tell if it was just my tired brain playing tricks on me.

This whole thing was fucking bogus. Mikey and IBC seemed to think they owned me. Now they wanted me to finish the delivery . . . one that had almost gotten me killed last time, and led straight into this mess. The thought made me want to run as far away from here as I could. I didn’t want to do this again. I had to dump Mikey.

But how? I needed to kick my brain into gear, but all it wanted to do was shut down. Maybe if I just followed along for now. When we got to the car, I’d pass the package off to Mikey and run. Of course, I’d parked the damn car right in the open. At the time I’d thought it was a good idea. The more public, the less chance of
anyone getting close to me or trying something. Now I wasn’t so sure. Once I got the package in Mikey’s hands, I had a lot of open space to cross. That would give him and his cronies plenty of time to catch me. Hell, this was beginning to sound damn near impossible.

Maybe I could get back to my own wheels. After I stole the van, I didn’t want to go back home to get my bike. There was too much of a chance that Quincy or someone else was watching it. Chinatown was crowded enough during the day that they could have just grabbed me off the street before anyone knew what was happening. Now, if the IBC “protection” was solid, I might just be able to do it. I’d lost my lid, but the extra freedom of being on the motorcycle . . . Yeah, that would be good.

“If I’m going to help you, I want to get my bike first,” I said.

“That wouldn’t be a good idea.”

“Why the fuck not?”

Mikey gave me a sideways look when I swore. “Because, young lady, you would be too exposed.”

“Too exposed? I can move twice as fast on the bike as I can in this car. And I can go way more places.”

“All very true. But you will also have no protection.”

“What, your IBC guys can’t keep up with a ‘young lady’ on two wheels?” I snorted as if the thought of it was funny.

“Don’t you worry about us keeping up. That’s our job. What I’m talking about is all the metal and glass the car puts around you. Frank made sure the car would stop almost anything. About the only thing that could hurt that car would be an antitank missile.” Michael shrugged as if he was contemplating it. “They’re tough to find on short notice, but SoCal might have a few. On your bike, someone could throw a rock at your head and bring you down. Oh, and your bike is tracked.”

The car’s capabilities dissolved in my mind, replaced by the new information. “What do you mean, the bike is tracked?”

“You really didn’t know?” Mikey laughed. “I’m really beginning to believe you’ve been more lucky than skillful so far. Couriers have their vehicles tracked for record-keeping purposes. How else do you think your dispatcher knew where to send you next?”

“Duh, she knew the pickup and drop-off points of the current delivery. When we called in, she knew the general area we were in already. No tracking necessary.” Was this guy just trying to freak me out or was he telling the truth? I had a tough time reading him.

“That would be accurate to a certain degree, but how many times did you call in after a quick run to the local donut shop? How did she get a delivery so close to where you ate, rather than where you delivered to? You’re not a stupid girl, figure it out.”

A cold knot settled in the pit of my stomach. Damn. He could be right. But then again, the quick stops were always close to the drop-off anyway. Just the thought of being tracked no matter where I went made me feel queasy.

I turned the corner, Mikey keeping step the entire way. “The car’s right here.”

“Unlock it and show me the package.” He was all business again.

I went to the passenger door and keyed in the code. Pulling the door open, I grabbed the package out of the glove box. “Here you go.”

I thrust the package at him before realizing I had nowhere to run. The bastard had blocked me between the open car door and my exit. He didn’t take the package.

“Show me the labels,” he said.

I angled the envelope so he could see the delivery label and the signature from the SoCal office.

“Good. Now get in the car and deliver it.” He moved out of the way, but not enough to let me run.

My muscles twitched, aching to be released and run as far from here as possible. If I left the package, they’d have no choice but to take it. Instead, I threw the package onto the passenger seat and slammed the door shut before walking around to the driver’s side. As I walked past Mikey, I got another whiff of coconut. I used to like that smell. The car started without any problems, and I gave Mikey the finger before driving away.

This was not fucking good.

I drove to the Level 4 down-ramp, stuck in rush hour traffic. It gave me time to try and piece together what had just happened. How the hell had I gone from trying to dump the package to going back to deliver it?
I
was supposed to be the one in control.
Me.
The protection IBC was supposed to give me didn’t seem to be real either. I hadn’t seen anyone following me when I left my parking space, and no one merged with me into this godawful traffic. Maybe Mikey was lying, and I was on my own again. Why the hell should I trust the fuckers?

I finally reached the ramp down to Level 3 and fought the traffic to Level 2. By the time I got there, my knuckles were white on the steering wheel. Whether from the traffic or where I was heading, I wasn’t quite sure. I still hadn’t seen anyone following me. Maybe it was time to test them and get off the route. Maybe if I pulled over and sat for a while, something would happen. Either I would get into more trouble, which was tough to believe at this point, or nothing would happen. If nothing happened, I was on my own again. I wasn’t quite sure which thought bothered me more.

Up ahead was the damn Super Store again. Well, what the hell.
It had been useful before. I turned the car into the lot and pulled into an empty spot near the road, beside a baby blue Kadokawa motorcycle. It reminded me of Howie’s.

It only took a minute before Frank’s comm unit beeped. I answered it.

“Anything wrong, Kris?”

It was Mikey. I looked at the comm’s screen and saw the encryption indicator on. Even for this, they tried to keep things as secretive as possible. It must just be part of the way they lived and breathed.

“No, nothing wrong,” I said.

“Why have you stopped?”

“I, uh . . .” I tried to think fast but my brain blundered from one incomplete answer to the next. What would they do if they knew I was testing them? “I . . . I dropped the comm unit and couldn’t pick it up off the floor.”

“You obviously have it now. Pull away from the curb and deliver the package.”

“Yeah, o . . . okay. Bye.” I closed the connection and placed the comm unit gently on the seat beside me. Fuck, they were watching me. I backed out of my spot and pulled out on the street before I realized something wasn’t quite right. Mikey had told me to pull away from the curb. I was parked in the parking lot. Could he have just slipped up, or did he not know exactly where I was? No way someone would make that mistake. That meant I wasn’t being watched. I had some freedom.

They must have put a tracking device on the car. Or maybe they had managed to put one on me. I shivered at the thought, trying to remember when Mikey had gotten close enough to touch me. The answer took a while to pop into my head. When he pulled me from the park. I had been so busy looking over my shoulder, looking for Quincy, that Mikey could have done almost anything. I was used to
owning my own space, and knowing when someone was in it. The lapse scared me almost as much as the events of the last day. I did a quick one-handed search of anyplace he could have touched me, and came up empty.

In the rearview mirror, I watched a tan sedan pull out of its parking space and merge with traffic. It stayed in my lane, two cars behind. Hadn’t I seen that car when I left the park? Was it IBC’s or SoCal’s? I banged the steering wheel with the palm of my hand, my muscles aching from being held too taut. I was seeing problems at every turn now. Fine.
Fine
 . . . Fuck. I would drop off the damn package. I just wished I had time to think.

San Angeles was huge. I would just have to find a place to hide afterward. Until it was safe to come back out. Get rid of the damn package. Hide. Maybe sleep for a week.

I turned down the street to Innotek and drove past the gray, square, five-story building, watching the entrance and the street in front. Everything looked . . . normal. There were no white vans parked anywhere. No tan sedans. It all looked quiet and calm, the sidewalk bathed in the yellow glow of the Innotek sign. But then again, nothing had looked out of the ordinary last time either, except for the security guard’s new outfit.

I decided to park a block away and walk. If they were expecting me, maybe they’d be looking for the car. As I closed the door, the comm unit beeped again. I looked at it and slammed the car door shut, ignoring the damn thing. That felt good.

As I walked, the envelope tucked safely under my arm, a tan sedan drove past. The driver was watching the road ahead, and I couldn’t see anyone else in the car. For a moment my feet felt too heavy to lift, and I plodded onward, stumbling over a crack in the sidewalk, almost falling to my knees.

Christ, now my mind was starting to play tricks on me. Every tan
car that drove past would be the one I saw earlier. I needed to stop second-guessing what was going on and get the job done.

I approached the front door and the security guard unlocked it from the other side. This time, the uniform was crumpled and dirty. Obviously something that had been worn often, and a bit too long between washings. Deep smile lines surrounded the guard’s eyes and mouth, though he wasn’t smiling now.

“Evening, miss. We’re expecting a delivery. That going up to the top floor?” he asked. His eyes flicked over my filthy and bloody clothes.

“Yes.”

“You’re a bit young to be making deliveries, aren’t you, lassie? I think my granddaughter is about your age.”

He kept flashing his eyes over my shoulder and nodding his head as if pointing at me with his chin. I could see the long gray hairs in his nose. I leaned against the open door, my legs too tired to support my weight anymore, waiting for the guard to move over so I could get in.

“In fact, if my granddaughter was delivering today, I kinda wish she would get a different job. Delivering here ain’t safe—for a young girl.” His lips continued to move after he stopped talking, shaping soundless words I couldn’t make out.

“Can I get past? I need to get this thing delivered.” I couldn’t remember the last time I had met a guard so interested in chatting. Something was strange here. Either that or I was too freaked out by what had happened last time.

“Sure, though I wouldn’t want to be a delivery person. No, sir.”

I heard the roar of a motorcycle engine behind me and turned to see a flash of yellow and black on two wheels hurtle over the sidewalk toward me and the security guard. The bike seemed barely in control as it slid to a halt.

“Get on.” The rider’s voice was muffled through the helmet and closed visor.

My first thought was,
who drives gas anymore?