Digital Venous (18 page)

Suspicion

THE NIGHT AFTER the meeting, Wez met with Mark at a small bar. He wanted to apologize for excluding him from the group. Mark said he understood.

“Actually,” said Mark nonchalantly, “I bumped into one of the team leaders from Blackwood gate. He offered me a place on the team last night—just a couple of days’ work.”

Mark explained to Wez that he needed the money to excavate his own place. “I want to settle in this area,” said Mark. “Start a new life.”

“Private excavation? Expensive,” said Wez. “Where I am there are spare rooms—apply to the co-op and you can take one, even two.”

“Okay, yeah, thanks. But I still need the money and I’ve booked two days’ work.”

“What, you got SCID?”

“Yeah, yeah…” Mark lifted his sleeve showing the scar where the ID tag had been inserted. A faint outline of the metal could be seen under the skin. Mark continued, “I’ve done total of probably three months’ work up there in building. They only ever give you two days at a time. They don’t like anyone to become too familiar with the scenery.”

“Is that thing, like, permanently inserted or…?”

“Oh yeah, has to be,” he lied.

“We’ll catch up with you when you get back.”

Wez was sure Mark was genuine. But Madi had planted that seed of suspicion. Wez had a friend of his own in that Blackwood gate group.

I’ll ask Tong to keep an eye on him up there
, he thought.

Once in through Blackwood gate, into Napea, Mark pretended to march to the work site with all the others but managed to stay at the rear and slip away unseen—at least by the other workers. Two of the guards were in Shane’s pocket.

It was not difficult for Mark to pass through Napea. There was a fifteen-minute walk before he met Shane in his office.

“So what’s the news?” asked Shane, straight to the point.

“I fluked it. Literally bumped into them. I very nearly got punched out by the… head honcho Amazon herself! Her name is Alia Borovski. Bokovski? I’ll have to check that. I saw her deck this guy I’d been talking to in the bar. Wow. She was something else. The guy was drunk, was being abusive, and she just slapped him into submission.”

“Don’t get too fond of her. Keep going.”

“They very nearly let me walk straight in. I’m not sure how many of them there are but you were right—they are mainly females. I’ve become close to the one guy in the group, Wez Carter. They call him
fruitbat
—wears little round eyeglasses, has these two front teeth… you know him anyway, right?”

“Mhm,” Shane acknowledged, sitting back in his large chair.

Mark continued, “There seems to be a crescendo of energy in the group—I could sense it in the way Wez was talking. He so wanted to involve me but the others wouldn’t buy it.”

“You did all right.”

“I get the feeling they’re planning something. There was a serious meeting and…”

“Where was the meeting?” asked Shane.

“Again, you were right. Blackwood.”

“Where in Blackwood.”

“I don’t know. The other females apparently got spooked and wouldn’t let me come. The meeting was to decide their next move,” said Mark.

“So you have no idea what that’s going to be?”

“No. They have been getting information from somewhere; that’s the driving force behind it all. We know roughly where they meet, and that it’s predominantly a female group.” Shane was thinking. Mark popped the question: “So when can I start my treatment?”

“Let’s hold off for a few weeks—you don’t want to just disappear now and create a big drama. You’re so close. It sounds like they’re about to let you enter the inner sanctum. If you pull this off, you’ll be set up for life.”

That night Wez met his friend, Tong, another real worker on the Blackwood crew who informed him that Mark had been rostered to work on buildings in a central sector of Napea called Australiana. A very wealthy group of Napeans was responsible for building ginormous apartments in the shapes of long-extinct native animals. Updates and upgrades, both inside and out, seemed to be forever underway—Mark had been due to work there for the day, had arrived, but then had disappeared for a few hours. Wez’s informant pointed out that this was not completely unheard of—workers did do it, (Some guards seemed to turn a blind eye to it) and when Mark slipped back into the working group later that day apparently no-one seemed to notice, not even the guards.

“Any idea where he went?” asked Wez

‘Nah, too busy working on this giant crocodile. Bloody Napeans,” said Tong. Wez said. “Did he seem to know anyone else on the team?”

“Nope, didn’t speak to anyone.”

“Who’s the team leader of the Blackwood group?”

“There isn’t one,” answered Tong.

Wez put his head in his hands as he started to feel heat tingling through his temples. The informant asked: “Who is he?”

“That’s just the problem—I’ve got no idea.”

Mark had to swallow his pride and admit to the girls that afternoon that he had been mistaken; there was something wrong with Mark Luhrman. He told them the little he knew.

“He’s definitely up to something,” said Bes.

“Sounds dodgy,” said Madi, trying so hard not to say: ‘I told you so.’

“Hang on,” said Claire, “did you bring him here on Thursday night—to the front door?”

“No he waited at the pub.”

They all breathed a collective “whew.”

Alia produced the definitive idea: “Right well that’s it; we have no alternative—but before we do that we find out who he’s connected to.”

Wez was feeling shattered with exhaustion from worrying about the whole thing. He could hardly compose a sentence. “What if he’s connected to someone extremely… extreme,” said Wez.

“It’s up to you now,” said Alia. “Make it right. Play along—bring him here tonight. We’ll do the rest.”

Caught Out

CATCHING MARK WAS easy—he was not a violent man and had no idea he was under surveillance. They led him on with a “screening” with Alia and Madi, then later an invitation to the next meeting. On the day of the meeting, they arranged for him to meet Wez at a small bar and made him wait. Bes sat near-by observing him making sure he was not communicating with anyone else. When it was clear he was alone, Wez turned up, greeted him cheerfully and led him across to the women’s house.

They knocked on the door and as Alia opened it Madi said “Hi” with a big smile and hand extended, pulling him down to the ground where he was pinned to the floor with his arms behind his back.

It was strange for Wez to see this person who he had believed to be a friend, suddenly lying on the floor. He felt the need for an explanation. “Sorry mate. You haven’t been honest with me. You’ve been involved with the Napeans. Time to talk.”

“Who were you reporting to up there?” demanded Alia.

“I wasn’t, not reporting, I’m a smuggler. I bring stuff in and out of Napea, medical stuff mainly.”

“What do you take in?” said Alia “Porn mainly,” said Mark.

“Oh that’s very medical! Porn!” said Bes. Claire exhaled loudly in disgust.

“You dirty barstard,” said Madi, leaving a perfectly timed pause before asking “What type of porn?”

Alia was furious. “Nice try. But Napeans don’t watch porn—they don’t need to! Their whole lives are a series of pornographic fantasies!”

“Okay… call me a liar,” said Mark stubbornly.

“I am!” said Alia, close to him now. “Now tell me”—she slapped him across the face—“who”—she slapped him on the other side—“you work for!” Her third slap coincided with the word “work.” Mark puffed and blinked. Alia hadn’t lost any air, speaking in a level voice. “Tell us what you were really doing or we will be forced to kill. You’re too great a risk—not just for us, but for all real people.” He wasn’t being non-cooperative—he was just stunned. Alia didn’t see this as being a factor.

“Madi, grab the eyes out of the fridge.” Madi brought in exhibit A and B frozen in a bowl. “This is what happened to the last Napeans who weren’t willing to support our cause.

Recognize those eyes?”

“All right!” he finally blurted out. “I’ve been bribed by a guard, a captain. He knows  about you guys. If you let me go I’ll feed him some false information and you can relocate…” Mark rested his head hopelessly on the floor. “For some reason everyone wants to kill me.” Mark was trying to evoke some sympathy. It backfired.

“That’s because you’re a fucking traitor!” said Madi. “To your own people,” confirmed Alia.

“It’s very sad.” Bes feigned emotion.

“Well, he’s not going to tell us… and he’s a huge liability,” said Claire.

“He’s also got a SCID on his arm—at least, that’s what he said it was. They can also be used as a tracking device.”

“Cut it out of his arm now,” said Alia. Mark lost his cool. His eyes darted from one person to the next, searching for some sign of humanity. There wasn’t any.

“Scalpel,” said Madi, with her hand extended towards Bes in anticipation. “Oh, not this again,” said Bes. “It’s messy.”

“Wait! Please!” Mark hissed. “It just slides out.” Mark looked at Wez, who just shook his head. “Please. Untie my hands and you can have it.”

“Don’t untie his hands,” said Claire. “It’s too risky. I don’t trust him.”

“Are you serious?” said Madi. “I mean, look at him…” Face down on the floor, disheveled; Luhrman was more worm-like than usual.

“Okay. Let him take it out,” said Alia. They cut the plastic tie around his wrist. Mark sat up rubbing his wrists. He gouged his thumb under the back end of the tag on the inside of his left wrist and with his index finger lifted a flap of skin at the front. It popped out.

“Gross,” said Madi, smiling.

“Okay, we need to hide that thing. Get rid of it,” said Alia irritably. “Not here. Stash it out on the street somewhere. We may need it later.”

“Madi?” Ryan’s high-pitched voice came from down the passage. “What are you doing?”

“Everything’s fine, darling, we’re just having a little meeting—you keep on with your game down there.” Although Ryan had experienced the latest in high-tech virtual games in Napea, he got just as much pleasure from the screen—style games he had been playing down in the real world even though they were some fifty years old.

“Okay,” he said. Rather forlornly. Now that Ryan had experienced frequent and diverse human company, he really liked it. Although he found it tiring; the pace of a conversation was hard to keep up with. His new life, though rougher and less comfortable, was more exciting than his long days entertaining himself with his games, the Napean media, and with Robbie.

Claire and Bes volunteered to go and stash the SCID tag. Outside it was twilight as usual. The two women turned right, descending down their street. At a fast pace, it took them just over ten minutes to reach the bottom of the street. The whole Blackwood township was made up of nine huge spiraling streets. The transdomes on the surface, arranged in a triangle formation, had three descending streets each. Horizontal streets connected the vertical ones through the middle and at the bottom. Building was prohibited in the lowest sections of the streets. These areas were kept free in case of ground water flooding or landslide and were full of debris of all kinds.

Light was filtered down during the day through series of mirrors that reflected light through central column windows in each street, but after hours, battery-powered streetlights provided just enough watery brightness to show up the dust particles forever floating in the warm air.

They found a large boulder and behind it enough rocky dirt to bury the tag, sealed in a small plastic bag. As Claire buried the bag, Bes stood keeping a watch over the streets leading off in the three different directions.

The light coming from the street above was brighter than that along the bottom road, and as Bes looked upward to the left the silhouette of a man walking slowly down toward them. Bes whispered, “Hurry, someone’s coming!”

“Hi,” said Bes. The man stopped. She then noticed he was holding a gun. At that moment Claire bobbed up from behind the rock. “Done!” she exclaimed.

The man, shocked by Claire’s sudden appearance, fired at her. Claire was killed instantly. Bes fell to her knees. The man ran up and stifled her sobbing by covering her mouth.

“Get up,” he said. “We’re going back to see Mark Luhrman.”

Bes wished she could think of something brave to do. She struggled, but he now held both her arms from behind. His other hand wrapped around her mouth. She bit him and yelled,

“No!” It was the best she had. Again he firmly gripped her face, covering her mouth. “If you don’t, you’ll end up over there behind that rock with your friend.” Bes wriggled

furiously and tried to talk, but it came out as a series of muffled grunts.

“Sh sh sh sh sh,” said the man. He slowly removed his hand from her mouth. “You’ll never find him without me,” she said, finally getting a good look at his face.

Choking in fear, she realized he was a Napean.

“I know he’s with Alia,” said the man, bluffing. “So you can come with me and maybe try to be part of the solution or you can stay down here—for a very long time.” Bes elbowed him away from her and started walking, but he grabbed her hair and pulled her back. “Take it easy,” he said calmly. “We don’t want any more casualties.”

On their walk back several people went past in buggies. None of them gave a second glance to the couple walking upward along the road.

“When we get there, you’re to walk in and tell everyone to get down on the floor and then you’ll fall on the floor too. Got it?”

“Yes,” she replied.

Bes pushed open the door and walked down the central corridor to the room where the meeting was being held. Just as they got to the door, she opened it, swung her left arm around, pushing his gun up into the air. It went off and a huge amount of dust and rock particles flew down into the passage. Bes ran into the room, attempting to slam the door behind her, yelling, “Napean! Napean! Get down!” The door was then blown off as the man fired a shot into it, which passed straight through the door and into the back of Mark Luhrman’s neck. He had been sitting tied to a chair but the force of the bolt sent him and the chair lurching forward in a mass of wood particles, smoke, and human vapor.

Alia had reached for the gun, which was always taped under the table, but it was too late. His voice rang loud and deep: “Everyone on the floor!” In total shock, they obeyed. Except Madi, whose mouth was automatically engaged by stress. She was kneeling and started speaking: “We’re not armed. We’re all just friends here, really—there’s no threat.”

“Quiet!” He knocked her in the forehead with his bottom of his gun knocking her onto her back, “Please!” he said. Madi was out cold.

“Rest of you… palms flat on the floor where I can see them or you’ll lose a hand!”     Their hands were bound behind their backs with their own plastic ties—except for Madi.

As she was lying on her back, the Napean picked up her limp arms and bound her wrists together at the front. He walked out to the passage and quickly down to the other end of the house looking for signs of life.

Ryan had been hiding behind the picture screen in the games room, adjacent to the meeting room. Hearing that it was quiet, he stirred from his hiding place. From the next room Alia heard something fall from a shelf and said, “Ryan! Hide and don’t come out until he’s gone!”

The Napean was standing at the doorway. “Whoever is in that room come out now with your hands in the air where I can see them!’ he yelled. Movement was heard from the next room. “Real slow!” he said with his finger on the trigger. “Relax. It’s only a child,” said Alia.

Ryan appeared slowly, cowering in the doorway. “Ryan? Buddy?”

“Dad? Is that you? Why are you hurting everybody?” Shane Wing put the gun back in his holster and took four big steps over to his son.

“How did you get here?” he asked, putting both hands on Ryan’s face. “I’ve been trying  to reach you every night.”

Ryan embraced his father around the waist and then pulled back and, looking at him said, “I was sent to stay with people over in…” Then his little green eyes wandered off to the left. Shane turned quickly to see what had caught his attention and received a double-fisted uppercut from Madi, who had woken up. He stumbled back into the wall.

“That’s for hitting me…” Then she plunged her hands deep into his diaphragm. “And that’s for stealing my son…” As a finale, she used her elbow across the right side of his face. “… And that’s for...” She couldn’t think of anything. Shane went down like the proverbial sack of potatoes.

Ryan’s mouth was wide open. He found his voice: “Mum! Stop it!”

“I have.”

Madi looked at Ryan’s father in a pile on the rug. She looked at Ryan staring in disbelief at what his mother had just done to his father. The others, still face down on the floor, were straining, arching their backs to see what was going to happen next.

Bes, with her cheek resting on the floor, said out of the side of her mouth: “Dad, meet Mum.”

Neither Ryan nor Madi saw the funny side to the situation.

Ryan knelt down next to his father’s body. “You’ve killed him!” he yelled. “He’s not dead. Now you… go to your room!” yelled Madi.

“You’re not the boss of me anymore—Dad is!”

“Oh, really?” said Madi sarcastically, looking down at Shane. “Dad, please talk to your
son.”

Shane groaned loudly.

“He means go to your room! And bring me some scissors!” Madi sat down on the table, staring at the floor, and sighed deeply. She looked at Bes and asked, “What happened to Claire?”

“He shot her…” said Bes, suddenly remembering. She started blubbering. “She’s dead…for no reason!”

After the ordeal they’d just been through, this information took them beyond emotional limits—and maybe it was for this reason that none of the others shed a tear. Everything seemed futile. A heavy silence weighed them down. No one spoke until Ryan came into the room again. He asked: “Mum? What happened?”

“He killed Claire,” said Madi “Dad did?” the boy frowned.

“He…” Madi motioned with her head towards the prostrate Shane. “He… shot her outside.”

“Dad!” said Ryan reproachfully. “You killed my teacher?”

“No homework tonight,” grunted Shane.

Madi nudged him hard in the stomach with her foot. “Quiet!” she said.

They cut off their wrist ties. Alia moved close to Shane and said, “I know you can hear me, so let me make it clear that if you contact anyone from above, you will lose everything. We’ve left copies of all the information we’ve gathered with friends to be released if anything happens to us—information that will cause widespread destruction in Napea and beyond— so… no ETP.”

She looked at Shane; he was lying on his side eyes shut. Alia slapped his face. “Oi! Did you hear what I said?”

“I heard you,” he said.

Madi said, “Wow, anyone would think he’d been hit by a train or something, the way he’s carrying on.”