MINDFRACK Read online

  “And only Grist has the means to get to that information … Catch-22. Hang on a second …” Dorsey was calling him. “I need to deal with this …” He turned away. “Luna, tell Detective Dorsey that I can’t take his call right now – but don’t tell him where I am. I’ll get back to him in about half an hour.” He returned his attention to Dexy. “Go on – tell me more about your brother.”

  “We don’t even know whether my brother will cooperate – or even if he’s still alive …” Her voice trailed off as hopelessness and fatigue weighed heavily upon her.

  “Did you just come out and tell him, George Grist, you’re his daughter?”

  “No, he must have had my DNA tested. I don’t know why. Intrum hadn’t planned for that. He must have had one hell of a shock. Probably still crapping himself.” She laughed bitterly and briefly.

  Logan nodded. “So all of that was why you’ve been avoiding telling me about getting Carrie’s key.”

  “Yes, I’m … sorry. But I thought you’d walk away if you knew up front that I didn’t have it – and there was no way for you to get it. I need you to get a message to Shala, tell her that we failed and Carrie is … gone … though I suppose she already knows that.”

  “Shala…? “

  “She’s part of Intrum. You don’t want to get involved with her.”

  “Look, forget that for a moment. Listen to me, I haven’t been entirely truthful with you either. Carrie may have survived. She’s awake although injured. We might be able to mend her – especially if we had the key – and get her account of what happened.”

  Dexy’s eyes widened. Hope replaced pain, before being pushed aside by doubt. “If this is a trick or something …”

  “No trick. I’m not lying – go ahead, do your thing.” Logan held his hands out.

  She dismissed his offer. Urgently, she said, “There’s someone who might be able to repair her – even without the key.”

  “Who? This Shala?”

  “No, a friend. I can –”

  Policewoman Beaumont burst through the door, and she was fuming. She held out her police tablet as though it were a tray of food, except the offering was bitter and indigestible. It was projecting Dorsey’s face, his intractable expression amply expressed in life-size 3V.

  He said two words. “Outside. Now.”

  Logan hesitated, cursing under his breath. He stood up, positioning his back to Beaumont and Dorsey as he did so. Dexy shook her head, sending him a clear message.

  He slow-blinked: Don’t worry, your secret’s safe with me.

  “Do I need to repeat myself?” said Dorsey.

  Logan fished into a pocket and surreptitiously placed his business card on the bedside table. Silently, he mouthed, Your friend …?

  He stepped out of the room and glanced back before policewoman Beaumont closed the door. Dexy watched him leave with some measure of curiosity and a pained smile.

  By contrast, NYPD’s most aspiring recruit gave Logan a sour look. She continued to hold her tablet out at him, effectively putting Dorsey in his face.

  “You have some explaining to do, Mac. You can try me now but keep it brief.” He looked at Logan expectantly.

  Logan decided the simplest defence was to tell Dorsey the truth, or at least selective pickings of it. “I came here in the hope of getting the maintenance key for the playmate. Diaz said she’s got a chance of accessing her memory. That’s it, really. Dexy Please is pretty torn up about her bot, so I stuck around just to try and console her.”

  Dorsey pulled on his chin, weighing up his explanation. “Mac, you should know better by now. The Department does things by the book, you understand? Next time get authority. Did you get the key?”

  “No, she doesn’t have it. Her iSense is offline, which is strange.”

  This caught Dorsey for a moment. Then he said, “Might not matter anyway. All right, as you’re keen to start work early, get your butt to the office.”

  “Detective.”

  “What?”

  “How did you know I was here?”

  “Your PD tracker, dumbnuts.” He dropped the call.

  Logan checked and found that his iTatt had autonomously turned on his NYPD tracker app, since he was officially on call.

  He made off down the corridor, irritable with himself.

  As he rounded a corner, a man in a white coat slammed into him, dropping a black holdall. It burst open and caught Logan’s eye. A plastic container rolled out. The intern scooped it up and said, “The fuck where you’re going …”

  Logan rubbed his arm while checking out the intern’s name tag. “Hey, sorry … Dr Banner ...” He was taken aback by the doctor’s rude attitude and manner. The doctor glanced at him – an ugly, long face – and quickly made off. Logan gave the encounter no more thought, as he had bigger concerns.

  Ten minutes later, he was putting distance between himself and Mt Sinai.

  He angled his head upwards to welcome the first rays of sun as they broke through the concrete canyons that towered around him. Amongst the swarms of drones going about their tasks, a small black bird-like variety matched his progress through the streets. It moved ahead of him to get a better viewing angle. It broke off when Logan ducked into the subway at Lexington on 5th.

  7

  As Logan stepped off the escalator for the Queens platform, a boy in a bright red hoody ran into him.

  Jeez, what was with people today?

  Logan raised his hands. “Hey, watch where you’re going, kid.”

  The boy headed for the up escalator but slid and fell. A black wallet skittered away from him. He glanced up at Logan, his hood falling back.

  Logan stopped in his tracks and stared. Damn, he was weird. Eyes that were way too big, with little or no iris, making them look like large black buttons. And his head appeared too narrow for his body. He glanced down to the wallet. It had flipped open and was showing a pop-up head and profile – his. Shit, it was his NYPD civi badge. The boy grabbed the wallet, scrambled onto his feet and ran off towards the platform. Logan chased after him.

  He considered calling over the platform guardbot but decided against it. He could revisit that option if the kid gave him trouble. It was a dead end and button-eyes had nowhere to go.

  Logan slowed up to a walk, feeling confident that the young pickpocket was going nowhere. He noticed there were plenty of drones buzzing around, even this far up the platform. It was likely one of them was linked up to the guardbot. Logan checked over his shoulder; no action yet, in that respect.

  As the platform ended, so the people thinned out, until it was just him and the strange-looking boy and a single security drone hovering above. The kid looked around nervously with those big black eyes. Logan noticed there were building works going on at this end of the platform, with barriers set up, and a door. The kid reached out and grabbed the handle. It was unlocked. He disappeared inside.

  Logan swore and looked up to the drone before turning to the guardbot. It wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

  Damnit, why today of all days?

  Cautiously, he opened the door and poked his head into the room. iSense invoked his smartlense night-app, allowing him to see, though his view was mostly monochrome and fuzzy. He couldn’t find a light switch.

  The room was full of tools and building materials. He spotted the boy, crouching at the back wall. He probably didn’t need smartlenses, Logan considered warily.

  “Hey kid, Button-eyes, I just want my wallet, okay? Look, I haven’t called over security. So give it to me and I’ll be on my way. All right? You have my word. I’ll leave the door open and you can get out first.”

  The boy held out the wallet but stayed put. Logan sidled up cautiously and reached out to take his ID back.

  The muted view through his smartlenses became fuzzier and he realized why as he checked back and saw the door closing. Off balance and dizzy, he felt his legs buckle beneath him. Something or someone caught him and let him glide gently to the floor.


  ***

  When Logan opened his eyes he felt inexplicably happy.

  He recalled the strange-looking boy lifting his badge. Yet here he was, smiling and feeling good about everything.

  Someone had found the light switch, but there was nothing to look at, just a dull, silvery grey sky all around him and he couldn’t focus on it; like being on the inside of a giant ping-pong ball, he imagined. A head came into view and he thought it must be Halloween since it had no hair and was covered in iridescent scales. He squinted, not trusting his eyes. On second take he saw that it was perfectly formed, elfin-like in its bone structure, with large green eyes that projected a flirtatious feline gaze. He looked past them as he was drawn to the absence of any ears.

  “I recognise you … young lady … you are the most beautiful lizard I’ve ever seen. Who’s under the mask …?” He reached up to touch the blue-green shimmery head but was prevented from doing so as a shovel of a hand came out of nowhere and caught his wrist. “Ow … Christ, don’t break it.”

  “Keep your hands to yourself or I might be tempted to do just that,” said a voice so deep that Logan felt it resonate in his chest.

  The lizard head looked up. “It’sss okay, Leo. He’s not going to do anything …” Lizard-lady had a pronounced lisp and when she turned back he understood why. Beyond a perfect row of teeth he could see a thin, split tongue. It was black and glistening with saliva.

  “Hey, you don’t see that every day …” he said, hearing a giggle and realising it was coming from him. He moved to sit up and get a closer look but was prevented by those abnormally large hands pressing on his shoulders.

  “All right, all right – keep your scales on …” he said, with that same childish humour.

  “I need to ask you some quessstions,” she said, moving closer to him. Her eyes were alien and hypnotic.

  “Fire away, sweetheart – you do have one – a heart …?”

  “Do it, Shala, ask him,” said another male voice, this one much higher in tone than the voice of the one called Leo. It was Button-eyes. Seeing him close up, Logan realised that he wasn’t a boy.

  “Hey, Button-eyes … And you’re Shala … Where did you …?” He peered past them, looking for a hidden door, but found nothing other than grey emptiness.

  “Mark Logan, look at me … look at me.” Shala refocused and blinked at him, or rather a transparent membrane nictitated horizontally across her eyes so she didn’t break her stare.

  Logan found himself complying, irresistibly drawn to her gaze. He felt a warmth in the front of his head and thought his headache was coming back or maybe it was something they’d given him; the notion was vague, difficult to grasp.

  “Are you working for George Grissst or the Guild?” Shala said.

  “Wha – really? No, of course not. What is it with you and Dexy and George Grist …?”

  “He’s telling the truth,” said Shala.

  “Good,” said Button-eyes.

  “So you did see Dexy Pleassse?”

  “Duh, yeah … I was right there at the hospital?”

  “Was she okay?”

  “Yeah … We had a lovely talk … all about Mr Grist … Oh, and she said to tell you she can’t contact you. Said they failed? And something’s going to happen. You need to get her out of there ... pronto?”

  As though watching himself from a distant place, Logan was surprised at his own willingness to comply. And he found he couldn’t look away. It was as though an unearthly conduit had been opened between him and Shala.

  “She mentioned me? Good. She trusssted you. Please help us, Mark Logan. We need to get a message back to her.”

  “Sorry, but no way I’m going back. I mean, I’d love to, but the old man caught me. I was a naughty boy …”

  “Who caught you? George Grissst?”

  “Nah. Old Stony.” He laughed. “Caught me red-handed. Said I couldn’t go back. I’d be hung out to dry if I did.”

  “What does he mean by that?” boomed Leo.

  “Doesn’t matter,” said Button-eyes.

  “Lisssten, we can’t contact Dexy via iSense,” Shala explained. “They’ve stopped hers working, but you know that.”

  Logan checked his own iSense. “Hey, why’s mine not working?”

  “We’re blocking it. Different. A Faraday bubble,” said Button-eyes.

  “Okay, I get it, simple physics, this ping-pong ball. Have we been shrunk into little insects …?” he said, holding up a finger and thumb and peering at Button-eyes between the gap they made.

  “Please lisssten. Dexy is in great danger. We need to tell her –”

  “Dexy already knows, She-zilla …” he said, pleased with his play on words.

  “It’s Shala,” said Leo, angrily. He was somewhere on his left now. “This was a bad idea. He’s not going to help us. Don’t even know we can trust him.”

  “Shut up, let Shala go on,” said Button-eyes.

  “We can trussst him,” Shala assured them.

  “Yes, you can,” said Logan. He wagged a finger. “In any case, I know something that you don’t …”

  “Tell us then,” said Button-eyes.

  “Well, I happen to know that … Carrie … isn’t dead.” He nodded and winked.

  Shala nictitated and pulled back.

  “What?” said Button-eyes. “I don’t believe that. We saw the news.”

  “Ah, but Diaz has got Carrie working again.”

  “He’s not lying,” said Shala. Her tongue flicked out. She seemed excited at his disclosure.

  “Is she functioning properly?” asked Button-eyes.

  “Maybe … Shit, I’m not sure – Diaz’s doing her best.”

  “If she is, you mussst protect her.”

  “Or destroy it, if there’s a chance Grist can get to it,” said Leo.

  “Carrie’s too valuable,” said Button-eyes, “we cannot let that happen.”

  “But what if I don’t want to destroy her?” said Logan. “She’s a very interesting robot …”

  “Still say we should destroy it,” growled Leo, ignoring him.

  “Why don’t you think with your head?” said Button-eyes.

  “Hey, she’s safe,” protested Logan. “She’s locked away in the Forensics lab. She’s not going anywhere.”

  “You don’t know Grist.”

  “All of you, stop it. Lisssten to me, Mark Logan. Carrie’s got information that could help usss find someone who could put an end to the Guild’s ambitions. But if Grissst gets hold of Carrie, he can find that person firssst. Better he doesn’t.”

  “And that person is … ta daa … her brother.”

  The three oddities looked at each other.

  “She told him?” said Button-eyes.

  “He knows too much,” said Leo, his voice thunderous.

  “Then what do you suggessst?” said Shala. There was a note of caution in her voice.

  Button-eyes looked thoughtful though his strange eyes didn’t waver from their blank stare. “We can make this work in our favour ...”

  “How?” asked Leo.

  “For now that doesn’t matter, we have more immediate concerns.”

  “Dexy,” said Shala, “… and then Carrie.”

  “Yes. But we can’t do anything until the police release her. Xiang will have to watch over her.”

  “Xiang – that’s a funny name …”

  Shala nodded at Button-eyes before moving closer to Logan. She nictitated again, refocusing. The warmth and pain in his forehead upped a notch. “Remember thisss,” Shala said, her voice louder now and having the odd effect of echoing around the grey bubble, “whatever happens, you cannot let Grissst have Carrie – not now, not ever. You mussst protect Carrie. Do you understand?”

  Logan nodded slowly.

  Shala’s voice again switched into the echo. “You will protect her … remember … remember …”

  Logan’s perception shifted, becoming rarefied, as though his head were filled with helium. He smile
d weakly at the faces.

  The phantoms receded, and the silvery-grey mist engulfed him.

  8

  Salvatore blinked, bringing things into focus.

  He scrutinized the technology surrounding him, but failed to understand its purpose.

  Recent memories returned, piecemeal at first, before accelerating and crashing in. He knew he wasn’t hallucinating or insane, but he failed to grasp what was happening to him.

  A coolness washed across his scalp and his mounting terror subsided.

  A young man in a white coat approached. Salvatore recognised him despite the addition of wispy, ginger stubble coating his jaw, and bloodshot eyes that were withdrawn into sleep-starved shadows. Ade repeatedly clasped and unclasped his hands as he spoke.

  “Thank God – at last. You’re one lucky man, John Six. I’ve been with you for days.”

  Salvatore tried to swallow and was rewarded with the antiseptic spray into his oral cavities. Fluid dribbled out of his nose.

  “Uh, sorry about that.” Ade brought a wad of gauze up to Salvatore’s face and cleaned him up. “There we go. Have to keep your oral and nasal mucosa moist. Just so you know, this will happen when sensors know you’re dry – or when you try and swallow. Nothing to be alarmed about.”

  Salvatore closed his eyes in equal measures of horror and disgust. He felt something tap on his forehead.

  “It’s really not that bad.”

  He allowed the world back in.

  “Let’s start again. Introductions first. My name is Doctor Adrian Conrad, though everyone calls me Ade. I work within a team called Dry Technology – or Dry Tech to you and me. You are a special guest here and we’re going to achieve wonderous things together John Six.”

  Why was he calling him John Six?

  “Now, blink once for yes and twice for no. I know it’s difficult, but we’ll give you your voice back soon. Do you understand what I am saying?”