29 – Leave No Trace

  As the air-conditioning clicked on and cold, artificial air blew out, ruffling Addie’s hair and tickling the nape of her neck, she stared at the empty chair behind the desk. What had she done? Just because she couldn’t see the corpse or hear the screams, did that make it any less real? She’d killed that woman, and she hadn’t done it nicely. Janet Dawkins—she repeated the name like a mantra, refusing to let her mind gloss over what she’d done.

  “I had to,” she whispered. Was she right? She was. She couldn’t risk anyone finding the body. She couldn’t risk Janet’s PAI getting a warning out. She couldn’t risk leaving any trace for Boxer to examine…but what about the goons? What about Glitch? What about her dad? Addie stood, saw her hands were shaking, and sat back down, gathering her thoughts.

  She couldn’t be reckless. Dawkins had said something that made up Addie’s mind—the whole reason she’d decided there was a chance she could pull off making her disappear; she’d said that Addie wouldn’t be working for Boxer. In fact, she’d said that all of her operators were “off the books.” Did that include the goons outside? Presumably, Dawkins wouldn’t have wanted to have Boxer corpo-sec involved—not if she was going to be nabbing another off-the-books operator.

  “So, I can get a little messy.” Random security contractors found in an empty office suite wouldn’t trigger a Boxer investigation—not like a high-level exec’s corpse. “But I took care of that,” Addie muttered, looking at the empty seat again.

  This time when she stood, her hands weren’t shaking. She walked over to the door and opened it, stepping into the carpeted hallway. Looking toward the lobby area, she called out, “Um, excuse me?”

  Heavy footsteps on carpeting sounded, and the security goon rounded the corner. “The hell are you doing?” he asked, opening his trench coat to reveal a sleek SMG hanging from a shoulder strap. Addie wasn’t a gun expert, but she noted the noise suppressor attached to the stubby little barrel when he leveled it at her.

  She held her hands up, taking a step back. “I’m just wondering if you can tell me when she’s coming back.”

  He lowered his barrel ever so slightly. “What?”

  “That lady. She said she was going to arrange things for my, um, implant.”

  “What? She didn’t go past me.” He started forward, still covering Addie with his gun, but looking toward the office where Dawkins was supposed to be sitting.

  Addie looked over her shoulder down the hallway. “Is there another elevator or something?”

  After examining the little office, staring for several seconds at the empty, glass-topped desk, he looked at her and frowned almost comically beneath his matte-black visor. “She told you to wait here?”

  “Yes, but she said she’d just be a minute.” Addie shrugged. “Should I just keep waiting? Maybe we should go down to the, um, clinic?”

  “It’s not a clinic,” he said with a dismissive snort. “It’s just another office down there”—he nodded toward the lobby and, presumably, the hallway leading in the other direction—“with an autosurgeon.”

  Addie nodded and pointed to the office behind him. “Oh, what about that gun on the desk?”

  He spun, looking into the office, and Addie flicked her fingers, using her hands-up Dust technique—almost a reflex by now, after all her practice. He grunted in surprise as she lifted his arms so high that he rose to his tip-toes. Gut churning with nerves, guilt, and adrenaline, Addie darted forward, grasped his high coat-collar and pulled it down a few inches.

  “Hey, what the fuck—”

  He fell silent as Addie saw what she wanted and tugged it out—his PAI chip. She was so wound up with adrenaline that she lost her hold on the Dust, and he fell to the ground with a thud and a soft wheeze as the impact knocked the wind out of him. Addie glanced up and down the hallway, ensuring nobody was coming, and then she grabbed his wrist and tugged him into the empty office. He was heavy, and the rough office carpeting added a lot of friction, so she was panting by the time she had him stretched out beside the desk.

  With shaking hands, Addie searched his pockets, found a handful of shrink-cords, and bound his wrists and ankles. She doubted he’d come around anytime soon—not after having his PAI yanked so suddenly—but she wasn’t taking any chances. If she were honest with herself, she’d see that part of her reasoning might have been hopeful; the act of binding him was an almost subconscious effort to make herself believe that he’d be okay.

  She unclipped his SMG, slid it out of his jacket and then reattached the sling. “JJ, can I activate this?”

  “If you touch that pairing button with his finger, it should bypass the biometric lock.”

  A minute later, Addie had a new crosshair on her AUI and an ammo count that read 61/61. She had no idea what kind of ammunition it held, but the bullets had to be small. She looked at the man again, and another thought occurred to her. Grimacing, she slid the strap of the visor off the back of his head and pulled it away from his face. Holding it up, she asked, “Can this thing record?”

  “I’m not sure, but it’s likely. You should be able to use his print again to pair me with it if you want to wear it or check the memory.”

  After another glance up and down the hallway, Addie used the goon’s thumbprint to reset the visor’s security, and then she adjusted it to fit her head. She grimaced as she pulled on the visor; the silicone seal around the matte-black display was moist with her victim’s sweat and facial oils.

  “Anything stored?” she asked.

  “Yes, quite a lot of footage.”

  “Okay, scan recent stuff. Try to confirm that this guy wasn’t a Boxer employee, and also see if you can locate the room where Glitch is being held.”

  Addie stood in the office doorway, watching the hallway. She had no idea what sort of protocols these guys had. Maybe the guard she’d taken out was supposed to check in with his partner downstairs. Maybe there was another guard patrolling.

  Part of her wanted to close the door and quietly break down—sit in the corner and sob. But that voice, that urge, was small compared to her need to help Glitch and her father—her need to keep her cool and get out of that situation. So, while JJ analyzed the information on the visor, she hid behind the anonymity of its matte-black lens, pretending she was someone else—someone stronger, meaner, cooler.

  “I’ve constructed a map based on the footage on the visor. Nineteen minutes ago, this man, whom his partner refers to as Billy, checked on a synth who was working to set up a portable autosurgeon. I’ve marked the location on your mini-map. Glitch was in the room, bound to a chair with shrink-cords. Dialogue between Billy and his partner, Coco, seems to confirm that they work independently for Janet Dawkins; they aren’t Boxer employees.”

  Addie let out a slow, relieved sigh. “Any info on the ones holding my dad?”

  “I’m still going through the footage, but yes. Billy was present for two calls between Janet Dawkins and that crew. He only heard her side of the conversation, but as of the last call, the kidnappers were awaiting further instructions.”

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  “Okay.” Addie left the office, walking toward the lobby. When she reached the corner, she slowed, peering around it, ensuring “Coco” hadn’t come to check on Billy. It was dark and silent. Addie darted across the lobby to the other hallway and continued toward the little blue dot on her mini-map. The hallway was dark, but ahead, light shone from an office window. A quick glance at her map said it was her destination. She padded up to the door and inched her visor up to the glass, peering through.

  A gray plasteel synth was kneeling before what had to be the portable autosurgeon. It had wheels, looked like it folded, and most of its arms were still detached, lying on the folding stainless table. The synth was attaching liter-sized canisters to dangling hoses. Shifting her head to the side, Addie looked at the other side of the empty office and, sure enough, saw Glitch. The netjacker was slumped over, her hands bound behind her back to her plastic chair.

  She stared at the synth for another few seconds. It seemed like an industrial model—one with limited intellect and certainly limited sapience. She hoped she wasn’t just rationalizing, but she couldn’t risk leaving the synth alone. For all she knew, Dawkins had given it instructions to prevent Glitch from escaping or, worse, to call for help in such an event.

  Addie looked at the SMG in her hands and shook her head. Bullets might not do the trick. She pulled a large flow of Dust out of her reactor, gathered it in the pathway near her right hand, and then severed the flow to her reactor. Pyroshi had taught her that—the reason she’d fried her pathways in the past and burned up all her Dust in a single blast was that she didn’t sever the flow, and once Dust converted to electricity, it got hungry. It would pull and pull if she let it.

  Quietly, she depressed the door handle and pulled the door open. Then, gritting her teeth against the guilt, she held out her hand and finished the conversion, sending the Dust she’d gathered arcing out of her palm—a bolt of purple-hued lightning that poleaxed the poor synth. Its arms and legs splayed out as it convulsed and shook. When the lightning stopped flowing, it collapsed with wisps of plastic-scented smoke drifting out of its ears and eyes.

  “Holy shit,” Glitch said, her voice raspy. Addie wondered if she’d made herself hoarse screaming.

  Addie hurried over to her. “Are you okay?”

  “I am now. Holy shit. It’s too easy to forget how badass you are!”

  Addie smiled, looking around the room. “Knife?”

  Glitch nodded to the smoking synth. “Check that thing’s toolbox. On the table.”

  Addie stepped over the smoking, twitching synth’s body and looked into the plastic toolkit. “Better,” she said, producing a pair of wire cutters. A few seconds later, Glitch was rubbing her wrists and wiping the tears from her bruised, swollen face.

  “I’m sorry, Ember. That bitch told me it was my fault. Somehow, that guy saw me. Maybe it was when we were gathering PAIs. I mean, after you needled ’em.”

  “Doesn’t matter. It’s over now, but we need to get my dad free. They’re holding him at my place.”

  Glitch looked toward the door. “And that lady? The corpo-sec?”

  “She’s gone.”

  “Gone, gone?” Glitch asked.

  Addie nodded. “Without a trace.”

  “So I can’t get her PAI?” She sighed. “Doesn’t matter. I don’t have my gear.” She looked at the autosurgeon. “They were gonna put watchdogs in us.”

  Addie nodded. “I know, but it’s not gonna—”

  “No, it’s not that.” She stood up, walking past the autosurgeon to a gray, wheeled, suitcase-like container. Glitch tipped it onto its side and popped the latches open. “Jackpot.”

  Addie looked over her shoulder and saw a deck with a crystal-glass display and several little clear-plastic clamshell containers filled with chips. “Will those help?”

  “Maybe not in this situation, but this is some expensive tech.” She picked up the crystal-glass and started tapping on it. “It’s not even secured. I mean, it’s just meant to be used to run that autosurgeon, but…” She trailed off, tapping away.

  “I only took out one of the goons. Can you lure the other one up here with that thing? He was down by the elevators.”

  Glitch shook her head, frowning, and Addie noticed her bottom lip was split. The injury made her think of Beef, and she debated telling Glitch about his attack, but then the netjacker spoke, distracting her. “I wish we had that lady’s PAI. She’s like, totally—”

  “Gone.” Addie reached into her pocket and drew out the chip she’d taken from the security guard, its long, synth nerve fibers dangling. “I got this off her guard, though.”

  “Oh, perfect!” She snatched the little chip and put it into a little cradle built into the suitcase housing. It clicked, and the crystal-glass flashed, displaying something onto Glitch’s AUI. “This is set up for encoding chips and cracking the AI routines on PAIs. I mean, they were gonna use this on us. Anyway, I’m in his chip—got his contacts. You don’t happen to know the other guy’s—”

  “Coco.”

  “Seriously?” Glitch raised an eyebrow. “Whatever… Okay, what do you want me to say to Coco?”

  Addie drummed her fingers on the SMG. The guy knew her name. He had her face—on his visor and probably his PAI, too. She had to reduce that risk. “Tell him Dawkins wants to see him.”

  “That’s it?”

  Addie nodded. “It’ll work.”

  “Okay, I sent it.”

  Addie moved to the door. “You gather what you want and be ready to move. I’m going to deal with him.”

  “Wait! Don’t you need me—”

  “I need you to stay safe. I got this, Glitch.” Addie smiled, but she knew the visor and her stress probably made it look creepy. Glitch smiled back, but her swollen lips and bruised face made it look more like a grimace. They both laughed.

  “What a pair we are, huh?”

  Addie nodded. “We’ll be all right. We just need to deal with this guy, and then we can go and handle the creeps holding my dad.” With that, she slipped out the door and crept toward the lobby, hugging the wall. When she was just a few steps from the opening and could clearly see the opposite hallway leading to Dawkins’s office, she froze and waited.

  Her mind kept trying to run away from her, dredging up worries, fears, and guilt. She kept reminding herself that she had to stay cool. She had to stay ready. She had to remember that these people wanted to hurt her and the people she cared about. “I didn’t pick this fight,” she whispered.

  When she heard the door rattle and open, she held her breath. She heard heavy footsteps, then saw the first goon, the one from downstairs, walk toward the hallway leading to the office. Still holding her breath, Addie gathered some Dust and stepped forward, raising one hand—

  And the goon spun, firing blind. His SMG spat—thwip-thwip-thwip—as it threw its deadly little bullets straight toward her. Something clicked, and Addie’s thinking mind shut off. All the drills she’d done with Tony took over. As the low-caliber rounds hit her square in the chest, pounding a row of painful impacts from one collarbone to the other, she dove in the opposite direction of the goon’s momentum. His bullets continued to spray to her left, but she hit the ground to the right and, with adrenaline-fueled clarity, she completed her hands-up technique.

  The goon grunted as she stretched his arms high and his gun fell to the ground. Addie jumped up and ran to him, hurrying around to his back. She searched his neck but didn’t find his PAI. Growling, she yanked his visor off, throwing it to the floor. He blinked down at her, scowling.

  “Spark, huh?”

  “I didn’t start this,” she said, reaching for the chip she’d revealed in the data port at his temple.

  “W-wait!” he cried, but Addie wasn’t taking chances. She grabbed the PAI chip and pulled. His eyeballs trembled disturbingly as they rolled back in his skull. Holding her prize in one fist, she lowered him to the carpet and then leaned forward, hands on knees, and retched to no avail; her stomach was empty.

  “You okay, sis?”

  “I don’t like hurting people, Glitch.” Even as she said the words, she felt Glitch’s cool fingers on her neck, gently squeezing.

  “You kidding me? You’re sweet as hell; most folks would’ve emptied a mag into that guy’s brainpan for what he did. He hides behind being a merc, but they were gonna make slaves of us, sis. These aren’t nice people. Come on, let’s get out of here.” As she let go of Addie’s neck, she stooped to pick up the visor Addie had thrown down. “Better not leave any images behind.”

  Addie stood, wincing as she gently prodded her chest. “At least he missed my boobs.”

  “He shot you?” Glitch’s eyes widened with alarm.

  Addie smoothed her coat, nodding. “He did, but my coat stopped the bullets. Still hurt like hell.” She sniffed, taking a deep, shuddering breath, then she stuffed the goon’s PAI into her pocket and led the way to the elevator. Glitch followed, dragging the suitcase behind her, and when Addie turned to check her progress, she saw her friend had paused to put on the other visor. “I think he was the last one here.”

  “Just being safe. Who knows who might be watching the building or trying to record people coming and going?”

  Addie nodded. “What should we do about my dad?”

  “You sure the guys who have him aren’t Boxer?” The elevator dinged as she spoke, and the two of them got inside.

  “Yeah, I’m sure. They’re operators.”

  “You’re sure that lady is gone. Like, did you punch her ticket?”

  Addie closed her eyes and inhaled deeply again. As she exhaled, she nodded. “I punched it, all right.”

  Glitch smiled, putting an arm over Addie’s shoulder. “Then this is easy. We’ll offer ‘em some bits to get lost. Not like they’re gonna get anything out of that witch who took me. Not like they’re gonna go running to Boxer; I doubt they even know who hired them.” She tapped her visor. “We’ve got all the evidence, anyway. If they’re pros, they’ll cut their losses.”

  Addie smiled, feeling infinitely better to have a friend sharing the burden of her predicament. She reached an arm around her, squeezing her against her side. “If they’re pros, they’ll realize they don’t wanna mess with us.”