Dead World 1, page 11
Roark swore under his breath. “What in the hell is he looking for?”
“He is a she,” he said. “I asked, but she wasn’t immediately forthcoming.”
“There aren’t many women on the tactical team. I’ll schedule an impromptu visit to IPTT headquarters and see what I can find out. She may have orders to do reconnaissance. I wouldn’t put anything past that bastard Santiago.”
He laughed. “You’re off base.”
“You can’t be sure,” Roark said. “It wouldn’t hurt to look into it. I’ve been grooming a lieutenant who has ambitions beyond serving on IPTT. He’ll be more than happy to keep his eyes and ears open for me.”
“Poking around IPTT headquarters could raise suspicions. You can’t afford to be involved in the next part of the plan. I’ll take care of it.” The man’s heated whisper scorched Roark’s ear.
“Don’t do anything stupid,” Roark said. “We don’t need tactical team interference this close to elections. They can storm in afterwards. I do not have to remind you what’s at stake.”
“I said I’d take care of it!” his voice snapped with a whip of impatience. “She won’t be a problem.”
There was something the man wasn’t telling him. Roark didn’t like that he might be keeping secrets. “I need more reassurance than just your word.”
The man scoffed. “My word will have to be good enough.”
“Remember your ass isn’t the only one on the line. If I go down before the plan is fully executed, I’m taking you with me,” Roark vowed.
A soft tinkling of laughter filled the connection. “So we’re back to threatening? I thought we covered that already.”
Roark quivered and said nothing, wondering again why he’d gone into business with someone so dangerous, someone who wouldn’t think twice about betraying him the first chance he got.
Because you’re desperate. Because you want to avenge Amanda. Because you know you’re doing the right thing for the people. That more than anything shored up his courage.
“You do your job and I’ll do mine,” the man said. “Don’t contact me again or the next time, I’ll pay you a visit to remind you who’s really in charge.”
12
Mike Travers knew it was wrong to eavesdrop, but his boss had been acting strangely for the past few weeks. At first he’d attributed Roark’s behavior to election jitters, but Mike had been around long enough to recognize a growing threat, when he sensed one.
He pressed his ear against the office door and listened. Montgomery rarely did anything for himself and he never made calls. He enjoyed ordering underlings around too much.
Mike had played the part of the timid assistant to perfection. His act was so good he’d even convinced himself at times.
So why the need for secrecy now?
He couldn’t hear what the person on the other end of the line was saying, but the stress in Roark’s voice was apparent. Whoever he was talking to scared his boss.
That alone made Mike decidedly uneasy. In a few months, the election would be over. Roark would either win or he’d lose, but either way Mike would receive the final payment for his services and he’d have enough credits to retire.
There would be no more assassinating the competition or bribing local authorities. He could live a quiet life away from Montgomery and all his machinations. The life he’d been after at the end of the war. Mike couldn’t wait.
“Is everything going as planned?” Roark asked.
He glowered. What plan? Mike thought he knew about all of Montgomery’s plans. What was his boss up to? He needed to find out, especially if it involved him.
Mike had given the man twenty years of his life. Twenty years of death and cover-ups that had cost him his soul. His life wasn’t always like that though. There was a time long, long ago, when he’d actually been happy. He’d had a family. He’d had a brother.
He pictured his face and Mike’s heart clenched. All that was left of his family were the memories.
Not a day went by that Mike didn’t mourn his brother’s death. He’d tried—and failed—to save him. No matter how many years had gone by, he could still hear the screams and smell the sharp chemical odors coming from the testing lab right before it exploded.
Those horrific memories were forever seared in his mind. He’d never forgiven himself for leaving his brother’s body behind.
Devastated by the loss, Mike had changed his last name to Travers and walked away from his old life. He didn’t deserve to have the surname Vega. Not anymore.
With no family and no friends to speak of, Mike’s life revolved around his work and Roark Montgomery. He’d given the politician everything. He wasn’t about to lose his position before the election.
Was that what this call was about? Replacing him.
Mike’s jaw clenched, causing his incisors to grind together and slash his gums. A not so gentle reminder of his days spent strapped to a gurney pumped full of drugs that eventually changed his DNA forever. Cold quickly replaced the pain until he felt nothing at all.
He wouldn’t allow Roark Montgomery or anyone else to interfere with his plans. Mike straightened the front of his suit, then curled his hands into tight fists. His nails extended and ripped the skin of his palms.
He ignored the blood as he strode down the hall to his small utilitarian office. Mike entered the room and shut the door. The second it sealed, the walls bowed from the telekinetic energy rolling off him.
He took a couple of deep breaths and tried to calm down, but Mike couldn’t see beyond the red haze clouding his vision. Items in his workspace shook violently and plummeted to the floor.
Others floated into the air, suspended by invisible hands. The air crackled a second before his chair slammed into the wall.
He would not be replaced!
Mike would uncover Roark’s secret plan, then he’d go after his competition and eliminate them. The war had taught him the meaning of betrayal, but Roark had taught him to be ruthless.
13
Red was up and out the door by six the next morning. She wanted to talk to the townspeople before the heat of the day baked the desert and sent everyone scurrying inside until late afternoon.
She wasn’t sure how long it would take to reach the outer limits of the town, but Red wanted to have plenty of time to access the remote areas. She looked at the thumb-sized holomap she’d purchased as she strolled to her vehicle.
The sun was already near blinding and it had barely poked its bald yellow head above the horizon. Red set the holomap on the hood of her car and studied it.
Morgan came out of the building next to her, carrying a thermos. His sable hair was wet from a shower. He looked better than any man had a right to look.
Dressed in taupe khakis, a tight black T-shirt, and combat boots, he signaled for her to get into a retrofitted Jeep parked behind her vehicle.
Red didn’t move. “What are you doing here?” she asked.
“Thought we could use some synth-coffee,” he said. “It’s going to be a long day.” Morgan slipped on his sunshades and handed her the thermos. She took it without thinking.
Red wondered what he was up to. “I thought you didn’t want to help.”
“Changed my mind.” He threw his bag into the backseat of the Jeep. “Now climb in.”
She hit a button and the map disappeared. With him along, Red wouldn’t need it. “Want to tell me why you had a change of heart?”
Morgan glanced at her. “Does it matter?”
Red shrugged. “Guess not.”
They drove out toward the first set of homesteads, leaving behind pavement for gravel and sand-covered roads. Grit covered the windshield. Morgan had to stop several times to clean it off.
Miles separated the settlers. Out here near the boundary fence, they were exposed, unprotected, and yet somehow survived.
Despite the intense heat, Red shivered at the desert’s vastness. Could she live in a place so remote? Face every day with not knowing whether she’d survive to see the next? She waited to feel fear, dread, trepidation.
Instead, a strange peace settled in her bones as Red realized she could. She’d put her life on the line every time she went to work. At some point over the years that had become normal. Life out here near the boundary fence would be no different.
Morgan pulled in front of the first home, a cloud of dust trailed in the Jeep’s wake. A woman in her mid-twenties exited the clay house as he pulled to a stop.
She wore a stained green cover-all over tanned fatigues with tattered brown leather shoes. Her dirty blonde hair was short, mannish in style. If it hadn’t been for the pink apron cinching her waist, Red would’ve thought she was a man.
“What can I do for you, sheriff?” she asked.
“Nancy, this woman has a few questions for you,” he said. “I’d be grateful if you’d answer them the best you can.”
The woman glanced at Red’s black combat boots and military styled outfit, then instantly stiffened. “What does the tactical team want with my family? We’re law-abiding registered folk. We don’t need no trouble.”
“You’re not in trouble, ma’am. And neither is your family,” Red replied, but didn’t correct her assumption that she was here as an IPTT representative, since it might work in her favor. “I just have a few questions about the area and I’d appreciate your help.”
Her wary gaze flicked to Morgan. “I suppose you should come inside for a while to get out of the sun.”
They followed Nancy into her flat-roofed home, which consisted of four rooms that Red could see. Modest gray republic-issued furniture filled the main living area. The couch and chairs weren’t built for comfort, but they would last for years. The space was clean and well kept.
Nancy had done what she could to add color by sewing pieces of red fabric to the under-stuffed squares that passed for pillows. It brightened the room and made it feel more like a home than a clay hovel clinging to the fringe.
If Red didn’t look out the window, she could almost forget that they were out in the middle of nowhere.
Living this far away from society left most families struggling to provide the bare necessities—food and water. Nancy had done a good job with what she had. Red couldn’t fault her.
“Please take a seat,” Nancy said. “I’ll get you something to drink.”
Red and Morgan sat. Nancy slipped into a side room, then came out a minute later, carrying water. Her hands trembled as she handed the glasses to Red and Morgan. Red frowned as she took the glass.
Were all civilians afraid of the IPTT or was it just Nancy?
She knew IPTT was intimidating. It was supposed to be. But it bothered Red that her presence incited fear in the citizens she’d sworn to protect. She wanted to reassure Nancy, but she didn’t know how.
“Let’s start with introductions,” Morgan said. “Gina, this is Nancy Dupray. She and her husband, Henry, own this plot. They domesticate wild hogs and breed them. They’re constantly dealing with marauding packs of animals.” Morgan’s gaze shot to Nancy. The woman worried the edges of her apron.
Red leaned forward. “It’s nice to meet you.” Nancy reluctantly shook her hand. “I imagine domesticating animals the size of old Earth ponies is difficult.”
“It is,” Nancy said. “Takes a lot of patience, but we manage.”
She nodded. Wild hogs had grown bigger and more aggressive in the Twenty-First Century. They were now larger than prehistoric wolves and just as fierce, not that there were many wolves left these days. “I only have a few questions to ask and then we’ll leave you to get back to work.”
Nancy nodded jerkily.
“Have any of your stock come up missing?”
Nancy’s face flushed and she looked to Morgan again.
“It’s okay, Nancy,” he said. “She’s not going to report you for undocumented missing stock.”
Nancy’s boots clunked on the floor and she shifted nervously. Without warning she dropped onto the chair. The cushion wheezed beneath her, deflating under her considerable weight.
“A few piglets have gone missing and some water rations, but that’s nothing new in this area. Henry and I suspect the Unknowns that come across the boundary in search of a better life account for some of the gaps in the supplies. Can’t say as I blame them. They need something to eat and drink after that long journey.”
Red kept her opinion of the Unknowns to herself. They weren’t all harmless people looking to better their lives, contrary to what Nancy and her husband believed. Her string of dead partners proved it.
“You haven’t noticed anything else unusual,” Red prompted.
“Nope, that’s about it.” Nancy shrugged. “What exactly are you looking for?”
“Animals,” she said.
Nancy’s brow furrowed in confusion. “I don’t understand. Do you mean hogs?” She glanced between them.
“No,” Red said. “I was referring to other types of animals.”
Her frown deepened. “There are all kinds of animals around here. We have packs of wild dogs, coyotes, and a few wolves. The latter are rare. They don’t tend to come around these parts much. Maybe they’re waiting for an invitation.” She snorted, then stared at Morgan.
He held Nancy’s gaze until she looked away.
She cleared her throat. “I’ve even spotted some big cats. You know the kind they used to keep in zoos before the war. They tend to keep to themselves, but you have to be careful walking to the outbuildings at night. You never know what might be out there hunting for its next meal.” She shrugged. “That’s just how it is in the outback. You either accept it or move to town.”
“Let me be blunt,” Red said. “The animals I’m after may have killed a woman.”
The color drained from Nancy’s face. “D-d-don’t know nothing about that.” She rose, wiping her hands on her apron. “I think you’d better leave. Henry will be home soon. I have to fix his midday meal. He needs to eat before he heads back to work later tonight.” She glanced around anxiously, her gaze straying more than once to the kitchen.
“Midday meal?” Red glanced at Morgan’s watch. “It’s seven in the morning,” she said.
“Most folks around here work from midnight to noon, so that they can avoid the hottest part of the day,” Morgan answered, before she could reply.
Nancy gave him a half smile and her shoulders relaxed.
“Are you sure you can’t help us?” Red asked. “You haven’t even seen her picture yet.” She tossed the photo onto the small table in front of them.
Nancy jumped back as if she’d been struck and her face turned green. “We don’t know anything about that woman.” She shook her head vehemently. “I told you everything I know. We didn’t do anything wrong.” She walked to the front door. “I think you should leave.”
“No one’s accusing you of anything...” Red’s voice trailed off.
“Please leave.” Nancy sniffled, as she opened the front door.
“Thanks for all your help, Nancy.” Morgan squeezed the woman’s shoulder. “Please give Henry my best.”
Nancy shut the door. The sound of locks clicking into place followed. Red glanced back and saw the curtains flutter, then they snapped shut.
Red couldn’t help but replay Nancy’s reaction to the photo. She knew something, but there was little chance she’d get her to talk. The woman had made that perfectly clear when she’d practically tossed them out of her home.
She glanced over at the sheriff. Morgan had been no help at all. Red should’ve pushed her for answers. Refused to leave until she got them.
She pulled Morgan to halt after they stepped off the porch. “Why didn’t you question her? She obviously knew something. Her body language practically screamed liar. Or didn’t you notice?”
“Liar? Are you serious?” he asked. “Maybe I missed something.” Morgan tilted his chin down until they were nearly nose-to-nose, his warm breath brushed across her cheek with each exhalation, causing her body to respond in unwelcome ways.
Red ground her teeth and clenched her fists to keep from reaching for him. A few more inches and their lips would meet. Out of self-preservation, she jerked her head away, breaking the strange tension coiling around them.
“The second I told her about the woman’s death she suddenly remembered she couldn’t talk to us. Her body language closed. She knew something. Even the smallest detail might help.”
“Is that how you read her reaction? Wow!” He threw his arms up in the air. “No wonder the tactical team has so much trouble getting potential witnesses to cooperate.”
Red opened her mouth to blister his ears.
Morgan held up his hand to prevent Red from interrupting. “Your observation of the way things went down in the house is not how I saw it at all. Nancy shared everything she knew about the Unknowns and the wild animal population around her homestead,” he said. “Then you tossed the image of the body down, knowing full well the gruesome sight would shock her.”
Red had the decency to feel embarrassed. She had thrown the picture down to see how Nancy would react. Not her finest moment, but she was desperate for answers.
“Nancy acted like any civilized human being would act—she got upset. She would’ve vomited if you’d brought the image any closer to her face. Nancy may look stout, but she’s as soft as they come on the inside. She’ll probably have nightmares for months thanks to your little stunt. I hope you’re happy.” Morgan glowered at her. “What in the hell were you thinking?”
Had she misinterpreted Nancy Dupray’s reaction? Red cringed. It was entirely possible. She wasn’t exactly known for her tact. And truth be told, she’d never really interrogated anyone before.
Like all members of IPTT, Red had been trained in interrogation tactics. In theory her tactics should work, but to date, no one had lived long enough to answer any questions. Red hated to admit to her lack of practical experience. She didn’t want Morgan to know, but they couldn’t continue like this all day. Maybe if she trusted him with all the information she had, then he’d start to trust her.
