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10

THE TECH

I thought we’d be heading straight for a lab, possibly to wherever they stored Rucker’s body, so I was startled to find us walking into someone’s office, a sumptuously-decorated, windowless space that had virtual screens covering two of the four walls.

I flinched at what looked like a unicorn galloping away along one of those walls, through a field of waving, thigh-high, dark green grasses.

I knew it wasn’t real. I knew that instantly, of course; but the sight of it, the sound of birds and bees and the unicorn’s high neigh, thundering hooves, wind rustling the stalks, the actual smell of grass and leaves and earth and sweat, all heated in summer sun, briefly overwhelmed my senses.

I saw movement to my left then, and turned.

A small, balding man with mousy brown hair sat there, dwarfed by an enormous desk made of what looked like burnished steel.

Behind him stretched one of the blank walls, painted a dark green.

He wore a stained lab coat over a rumpled, gray T-shirt with a green Space Invaders monster on it, and a cheap-looking digital watch. Half of his desk was taken up by another monitor, horizontal in orientation and probably touch-screen, but stacks of paper covered the other side, so high they looked precarious. He, and his desk, didn’t at all match the richly-colored Persian rugs, the expensive-looking leather couches, the throw pillows, pristine bookshelves, metal sculptures, and wall paintings that decorated the the rest of the room.

A chess set stood on a small table between two leather armchairs. From the way the pieces were set, it appeared to be mid-game.

The man peered at us over rim-less glasses, and I could already feel the nerves vibrating off him, even before he cleared his throat and coughed, using a pale knuckle to shove his glasses higher up the bridge of his nose.

“I-I have the b-b-best equipment in here for viewing all of the s-s-surveillance footage,” he said, his voice stammering and apologetic. “Ms. Gorren wanted me to b-b-be here, to… ah… s-supervise, I suppose. Mr. Morgan, our H-H-Head of Security, was supposed to be here by now… he can show you all the r-r-relevant footage.”

He checked his cheap digital watch, and cleared his throat.

I made myself smile at him reassuringly, even though everything about him put me on edge. “I’m Dr. Miriam Black,” I said, smiling wider through my voice. “This is my husband, Quentin Black, and our associate, Mr. Nick Tanaka.”

“I… ah, y-y-yes… I know who you are.”

“And you are?” I queried politely.

The man blinked like an owl. “E-E-Excuse me?”

Black grunted. “Your name. You told us everyone’s name but yours.”

He jumped a little. “Oh. Oh… y-yes! A-Apologies. Of course. I’m Leon Wicker, V.P. of R-R-Research and Development here at Prometharis.” He looked around the room like he didn’t recognize much in it, his Adam’s apple bobbing. “This is t-t-technically my office, but I don’t come up here very often, to b-b-be honest. I watch surgeries in here… you know, s-s-sometimes… but only ones I’m not involved in d-directly. The cameras are b-b-better, and I’m out of the way… but I’m usually in the l-l-laboratory cubicles d-d-downstairs, since I’m also the lead scientist.”

Surgeries? my mind muttered. Downstairs?

I felt a wry flicker of agreement off Black.

This guy was so bizarre he might end up being a fount of information.

Are you reading him? I asked Black. Or is he blocked by another of those implants?

I’m reading him, Black sent at once. No implant so far.

I nodded, mostly to myself. Black hadn’t looked at me or Nick at all, not once since we entered the room. His attention remained solely on Leon Wicker.

I got a fleeting impression that Black wasn’t thrilled I’d introduced myself to Wicker directly, and especially that I’d introduced myself as Black’s wife. Black wanted everyone at the company focused on him. He wanted them thinking he was the important player, that he was the boss. He would have preferred it if everyone here saw me and Nick as nameless flunkies.

Yes, Black confirmed briefly, still obviously distracted by Wicker’s mind. I would prefer that, doc. Please don’t introduce yourself to anyone else.

I snorted, but mostly under my breath.

I glanced around the room, taking in more screens, an expensive-looking rug, and a sofa shaped like a woman lying on her side. Everything about the room screamed of masculinity and money with very little taste, like an high-end man-cave.

It made me like Leon Wicker a little more, that he clearly had nothing to do with how it looked, and felt obviously uncomfortable in here.

“Can you call him?” Black finally asked Wicker. “This Evan Morgan? Your security guy, you said? The one with the surveillance footage?” Black’s eyes clicked back to focus, and I figured he was done reading Wicker for now.

Black made a show of checking his obviously more expensive watch. “We don’t have all day. And I have other clients. I’d like to get going on this.”

His gold eyes slid between me and Nick, then returned to Wicker.

“Or, perhaps, we could start without him? Maybe you could show us some of the relevant footage while we wait?” Black quirked an eyebrow. “I understand I’m here to see something you have in one of the medical examination rooms at some point, too,” he added meaningfully.

Leon Wicker’s eyes widened slightly at Black’s words.

“Oh.” The man shoved his glasses up a second time. “You mean the b-b-body, don’t you? I was told you might ask a-about––”

“I don’t know what you mean,” Black cut in coldly. “I don’t know anything about a body. I was simply told there was some evidence related to Mr. Rucker’s disappearance that your employers wanted me to see.”

Wicker blinked at him, flushed, and visibly flustered.

His stutter grew more pronounced. “Um, w-well. Y-yes. Of course. I m-m-misspoke.” His face grew redder. “And I was told n-no about that. The… th-th-the… thing you were going to see in an exam room, Mr. Black. Th-th-that it’s just not possible. And really, there is no reason for… w-well, th-that … I-I mean, we’re a r-r-research f-facility. W-we have p-people for those types of. well, evidence, as you s-say…”

Black’s expression darkened. “Your team wants me to investigate a disappearance but not see the relevant evidence? Does that seem smart to you, friend?”

“W-well, I-I mean… w-we know the how. They hired you to f-find the wh-who. R-right?” He grew more flustered under Black’s stare. “I-it’s a bit above my p-pay-grade in any c-case, Mr. Black. Th-those types of d-decisions… I a-am simply p-passing along what I-I was told…”

Black’s eyebrow rose higher.

His gold eyes, if anything, grew more predatory.

“W-we will supply you with o-our findings, of course,” the man continued in the same flustered, nervous, stuttering voice. “A-and a-a-any n-new information gleaned from the a-autopsy… evidence examination…”

I fought not to roll my eyes. Was this guy for real?

“A-as well as any, well… w-weapons… other p-p-physiological evidence we might r-r-recover in the next few d-days.” He flushed, unable to directly meet Black’s eyes. “B-b-but I-I was t-told this was f-f-firm. N-no a-a-access t-to the… the e-e-evidence. This is primarily an e-e-extraction process for us. We have no reason to believe i-i-it’s anything other than a h-highly-skilled professional. Who, er, t-t-took Mr. Lucian, that is.”

Black glanced at me, seemingly unable to help himself.

I could see that he was, like me, battling with a kind of dark humor.

This was their super-secret research head?

The guy was spilling out everything, with barely a nudge from any of us.

Black made a show of glaring at Leon Wicker.

“Why wouldn’t you want our eyes on it?” he snapped. “I have experience in these cases.” Black’s eyes flickered towards Nick. “So does my team. He was a police officer.”

The man shook his head, firm. “I-I-I’m sorry, Mr. B-B-Black. I was told n-no p-p-possible way was I to let y-y-you in there. N-not for any r-r-reason.”

Nick scowled.

Black continued to look caught between humor and disbelief.

I could tell the man managed to genuinely surprise him, though.

Black’s living light flared out tangibly, intensely enough to make him seem to gain a few inches in height. He folded his arms, and his gold eyes flashed with charge.

“Extraction process?” he asked coldly. “Explain.”

Wicker blanched.

He stared up at Black, eyes blank. I decided to help Black out with a little push, so he could focus on reading and asking questions.

Good little doggy, I sent towards Wicker gently. I pushed a touch harder with my light when I felt him focus on me. Answer the question. That’s a good boy… be good…

I felt Black stiffen.

He gave me a brief stare with so much heat in it, I blinked back at him.

What? I asked, bewildered.

Nothing, his mind muttered back.

He shook his head the barest amount, then focused back on Wicker, who was already flushing darker as his words tumbled out in answer to my prod.

“…Well, y-y-you know, Mr. Rucker was a p-p-pioneer, even with his own inventions,” the man said in a stammered rush. “He w-w-wore one of the p-prototypes, after the initial testing had been c-completed on human s-subjects… so we had to g-g- get it out, before the p-police or coroner found it. That was the main r-r-reason to d-d-delay bringing in the police…”

“So you don’t mean the bullet?” Nick clarified. “You’re not talking about extracting the bullet out of this poor fuck, or finding out more about how he died? You’re talking about getting some kind of experimental computer shit out of his body?”

“His b-b-brain,” Leon Wicker clarified. “B-but… yes. Yes. An i-i-implant. H-h-highly experimental. Very valuable. More than one h-hundred million d-dollars.”

Jesus.

“But what does it do?” Black growled.

He’d clearly decided he didn’t mind talking about dead bodies now. He’d decided to use my push to get what he could out of Wicker while we were alone with him.

“I-I-I can’t tell you that,” Wicker stammered.

Yes you can, I pushed softly. Be a good boy. Tell Mr. Black everything he wants to know…

Jesus fuck, Miriam, Black growled in my mind.

I pulled out of Wicker’s mind, and blinked.

Before I could respond, Black barked at Wicker.

“You have to tell me,” he demanded coldly.

I felt his aleimic shove at the man like an iron hand around the human’s throat. It couldn’t have been more different than mine if he’d punched Wicker in the face.

“If you want me to find whoever murdered your boss,” Black growled. “Then I need to know everything. Particularly anything that might be the reason Luc got killed in the first place.” His eyes slid out of focus enough that I knew Black was reading him now, too. “It’s some kind of brain implant. Something no one else has. Is it the same experimental tech your colleague, Rania Gorren, wore into my office this morning?”

I saw Nick’s eyes shift incredulously to Black.

“Y-y-yes,” Wicker said, sounding defeated.

Truthfully, he’d had more mental strength than I would have credited him. The softer touch honestly struck me as working better on him than what Black was doing.

Yeah, I noticed, Black growled, glaring at me. It gave him a hard-on, too. Not to mention me. And probably Nick.

Not my problem, I sent haughtily. I folded my arms. Pragmatic, remember? I thought that was one of the traits you valued in me?

Sometimes, he grumbled back.

I felt that annoyed part of him relenting, though.

Go on, I urged Wicker with my lighter touch. Keep talking to us. You were being so good before. I sent another pulse of warmth and persuasion, even knowing it would possibly annoy Black. Please, Leon. I’d be so grateful. Please tell us––

Jesus, Miri, Black sent again, annoyed.

I didn’t bother to respond.

I didn’t need to, because again, it worked.

“Y-y-yes,” Wicker stammered to me, eyes glassy. “It’s an implant. Similar to Ms. Gorren’s. Mr. Rucker’s has more f-f-functionality. More memory. It’s slightly more a-a-advanced version than Ms. Gorren’s, but r-r-roughly the same. Same f-family of models, but n-n-next gen. And if we get it out in time, and put it in a new host, Mr. Rucker might not have to be reported dead, so––”

“And why is that?” Nick growled, cutting him off.

I heard a touch of that vampire glamour thing in Nick’s voice, too.

Wicker looked over at him in surprise. His eyes grew even glassier. He stared at Nick with undisguised lust, likely stoned on the multiple pushes.

“Well, because he won’t be d-d-dead, of course,” he said to Nick, as if that were obvious.