Watch Dogs (28 page)

Verrick was at his desk, looking at the first reports of the SystemsLeak upload. He closed the news window, and looked at Starling.

“Starling...” Verrick had to pause a moment, to get control of himself. He was in his Blume office—he didn’t want to start shouting about this, in here. He found a roll of antacids on his desk, and flicked a tablet into his mouth, began to chew. His stomach felt like bubbling cauldron of hydrochloric acid. His back was aching; his head was throbbing. He was thinking seriously about having an Oxycontin.

“Sir yes sir?” Starling prompted.

“Starling—have you seen the SystemsLeak uploads? They’re already hitting the net.”

“Sir, yes sir. I have been monitoring the situation. I would like to point out that they went mostly to
alternative news
sites. The story hasn’t been picked up yet by the New York Times and CNN. We could unleash the Purity cyberhack team and take down the mainstream news sites. The way the Syrians did to the New York Times--”

“Starling, I told you never to mention Purity in any transmitted communication!”

“Sir, sorry sir. But we could bring down those news sites...”

“No, no, that’d just make it look like someone was hiding the truth—if it came out that we...no. Instead...I have another plan. Most of this stuff in this file is just people connecting the dots. There’s no real proof against me or Van Ness in it. What I need is...I’ve got to talk to you in person, Starling. How far away are you?”

“Sir, not far, sir, I was directing the...”

“Never mind. Meet me on the roof of the Blume Building. You’ve got the all-access card.”

Verrick cut the connection and decided on half an Oxycontin. He had to stay functional.

He took the half pill, lay down on his office sofa for a while, and tried not to think...

Twenty-five minutes later, he was up, and heading to the roof.

It was damned cold up there. But he was a little numb from half a synthetic morphine pill, and bundled in his overcoat and hat and leather gloves.

Starling arrived a couple minutes later, not as warmly dressed, and cringing into his old Army cold weather coat against the Hawk wailing across the rooftop.

There were two miserable looking Graywater mercs up there, standing sentry, rifles over shoulders, tramping back and forth to keep warm. Verrick made a mental note to get them relieved. He didn’t need these guys starting to think disloyally out of resentment.

Verrick and Starling took shelter in the lee of the elevator housing, out of the wind, the two of them pressed close to the housing’s wall. “Well, Starling, what else have you got to tell me?”

“Sir, the bodies of Four Graywaters were found dumped in the Club’s turf, about ten minutes ago. And there was another body with them. It was barely recognizable, but—they think it’s Detective Tranter.”

“Tortured?”
“Sir, beaten to death. Black Viceroys, judging from the chatter I picked up. . .Sir.”

Four Mercs down. And Tranter. An important ally.

Would he even be able to keep the Graywaters working for him, with this kind of attrition rate? He’d have to double, maybe triple their pay...

“Sir, you had a plan about blocking that upload, s-s-sir?” Starling’s teeth were starting to chatter in the rooftop cold.

“No, that horse is out of the barn. My plan is to see that anyone who could
substantiate
those accusations has...an accident. Maybe in some cases—the same accident.”

“S-s-sir?”

“Blume is planning a demonstration of some new tech. Prototype self-driving cars. There’re four people in this town who can connect me with that missing money. And maybe with Purity. And we don’t want anyone talking about Purity. Some of these people might start panicking about now, what with this SystemsLeak stuff. Going to the Justice Department, maybe. Try to cut a deal.”

“S-s-sir, th-that w-would—”

“Will you stop that stuttering, Starling? Just shut up and listen. This is what I want you to do...”

#

“Ow!”

“You’re the one said you didn’t need a regular doctor,” Wolfe said, stitching the wound closed. “Best I can do. I got pretty good at it in the field, up country...There.”

Wolfe was sitting close beside her on the sofa of the folded-up sofabed. He leaned back to look critically at the minor wound on her shoulder. “You’re gonna have a scar. But that’s okay, you’ll be more badass that way.”

“Stop being a smart aleck, Wolfe, and cut the thread.”

He cut the thread from the needle. “How about some more local anesthetic on that?”

“You call that stuff from the corner store a local anesthetic? Forget it.”

“Hey don’t get mad at me, I didn’t shoot you. You jumped into this thing with both feet, Seline.”

“Yes I did. I was thinking about jumping out again. But not because somebody shot at me.” She took a pull on the Scotch. “Because I was involved in something that got bullets flying around a neighborhood in Chicago where there were ordinary, unarmed people—people who could’ve caught those bullets. We don’t know for sure someone didn’t get hit by a stray bullet.”

“Haven’t seen it on the local news yet.”

“I hope we don’t see it, Wolfe. We
did
see something on the news about five bodies being dumped.”

“Those mercs had to know they were working for the bad guys. They didn’t care. You makes your choice and you takes your chances.”

“They beat Tranter to death.”

“After years of abuse from him.”

“So that makes it cool?”

“No. It doesn’t. But you know, if we hadn’t had help from the Viceroys, we’d be dead by now. And there’s something big coming down, Seline. Something that could involve thousands of deaths—maybe millions. And a plot to take over Chicago. Use it as a base against the rest of the country.”
“You told me. You really believe that’s what they’re planning?”

“It fits like a jigsaw piece. Fits right in with everything I know about these creeps.”

She seemed to brood over that. “If I was sure...”

He stood up. What he had to do now, for Seline, was going to take an act of will...

 “You know what, Seline--you don’t have to be sure. You can walk away from this. And you should. You’ve been in firefights at my side. You kept your head. You stuck by me. You did the job. You were a stand-up soldier. And you did what you came here to do. You uploaded your friend’s file. It’s making its way across the internet. You don’t need to be here anymore. You can leave Chicago.” He kept his voice gentle, as he said it. He knew he was angry—because he simply wanted her with him. Close to him. And that was selfish. He had to suck it up, and let her go. “I think you’re right--you should walk away from this, and leave it to me and Pearce. When I get more evidence, you can testify to the Justice Department with us. I’ll call you.”

Seline blinked up at him. She seemed disappointed. There was no figuring women.

“You
want
me to go?” she asked.

He didn’t. But he kept his face deadpan. “I think you should go. Tomorrow morning.”

He made himself walk to the bedroom, close the door, and lie down on the cot.

Wolfe,
he told himself,
you got to let her go.

You’ve got to face it. You’re on your own in this thing. Can’t get Shuggie in this anymore. Can’t expect Pearce to be out here on the firing line, ducking bullets.

And as for what you were hoping for, with Seline...

No. Forget it. Can’t put her at risk. You’re on your own, in life. All over again.

Better get used to it, pal. Better get used to it.

W
olfe didn’t sleep much that night. About eight in the morning, as he was just pulling on his boots, a pounding came at the front door of the flat. He grabbed his pistol, rushed out of the bedroom to the front door, and looked through the peephole.

Shuggie.

“Wolfe! It’s Shuggie! You gotta get out of there!”

Wolfe unlocked the door and opened it. “What’s up?”

“A fucking wrecking ball, that’s what’s up!”
“What?
When the hell did they move that in?”

“About an hour ago! I just found out! This place has been slated for demolition for awhile but–never mind, man! Get
out
of there, motherfucker, it’s moving into position! There’s no time to argue with ‘em!”
Wolfe turned—saw that Seline was dressed, putting her coat on, her face pale. He checked in his pocket, found he had his PearcePhone. He grabbed his coat, she grabbed the small backpack, and they followed Shuggie down the hall, having to run to keep up.

They pounded down the stairway, taking the turns like slapstick comedians trying not to fall over, and they were just reaching the second to the last flight when the building shuddered and—seemed to scream.

The scream was the sound of a 7,000 pound wrecking ball squealing as it crashed into bricks and metal girders.

The stairwell quaked and the floor rocked under them; Wolfe had to catch Seline’s arm to keep her from falling. Another squealing blow struck the building. As they stumbled down the stairs, Wolfe was thinking that this kind of demolition couldn’t be procedure. Had someone really searched the building to make sure there were no homeless, no squatters? Probably Verrick’s people suspected that Wolfe was here—and had moved up the timetable and bent the rules.

The building shuddered and squealed again, and continued to shake, dust powdering down from above--then pieces of plaster fell and finally bricks, debris raining around them as they stumbled onto the bottom floor.

 Cracks appeared in the walls as they rushed through the door into the hall. Ceiling tiles fell, flipping end over end; insulation filled the air, rising in a choking cloud.

Then they burst out through the doors and into the open air—but they were far from safe.

The outer walls were coming down around them; the building they’d been staying in was leaning, threatening to fall into the one beside it. Rats ran from the buildings, screeching, and pigeons circled in confusion, disturbed from roosts. The air filled with dust, a fog of fine debris...

A cornice fell, narrowly missing Shuggie.

Then they were clear, running out of the cloud of dust, coughing, across the street.

They flattened behind the wreck of an old burned out car, trying to make no noise--a patrol car was coming around the corner. And chances were, the cops in the patrol car had been given Wolfe’s description. Verrick had to have more than one way into the police force.

The patrol car passed, the cops missing them—and the three fugitives stood up, letting the coughs come as the demolition ball continued to swing pendulously back and pound the building they’d just been in. After a full minute of coughing out the dust, and a good deal of spitting, Shuggie said, “Man, you are one high maintenance motherfucker!”

Coughing, Wolfe had to laugh. “Yeah. I guess I am. I’m gonna get out of your hair now, brother.”

“Well, stay in touch, bro. I got to get about my business. Got to cover my ass in all this.”

That’s when, pounded with unusual persistence, the building they’d been in simply imploded, crumbled in on itself, in a mighty cloud of rising dust...

Wolfe looked at it. “Holy shit.”

“Yeah,” Shuggie said. “Those motherfuckers ain’t playin’.” He said it almost admiringly.

A car was pulling up, Renfo at the wheel.

Seline looked at Shuggie. “Thanks, Shuggie. Coming in there, when that wrecking ball was about to hit...you got some pretty big balls yourself.”

“Hey so do you, lady.”

Seline laughed, and Shuggie got in the car and drove off.

Wolfe said, “Come on, let’s get out of sight. Then we got to get you out of town.”

She looked at him, like she was considering saying something...

Then she shrugged and followed him across the street, through a debris choked alley.

#

“Pearce, you got any more spare safehouses?”

“Wolfe! You’re alive! I heard about what happened...I thought you were bleeding all over the rubble about now.”

“Almost was. Wasn’t for Shuggie, I’d be mush. And Seline too.”

In another safehouse, Aiden Pearce was letting “Doc” Morrsky take his blood pressure as Pearce spoke to Wolfe on the phone.

“Your blood pressure’s okay,” Morrsky said. He was a middle aged man with a red nose, receding hair, and the profile of a weasel. “But we need to get you a CAT scan. I can set it up somewhere, we’ll fake up your identity, they’ll never know who you are.”

“Forget that, Doc.”

“Come on, Pearce, help me out here. Any dizziness?”

“Occasionally,” Pearce admitted.

“Then you’re not going to risk falling over dead by going on any of your goddamn missions till I tell you different.”

“Pearce, you still there?” asked Wolfe, in his ear.

“Yeah, hold on. Doc—I hear and obey. Now get the fuck out of here.”