The Face of a Rogue Page 6

  “I do,” Krystal agreed. “Which brings me to some questions I have.” She looked at Dion.

  Dion nodded. “Ask away.”

  “First of all, where’s Curtis?”

  The room fell silent. Everyone deferred to Dion to respond. “Basically, Krys, he’s AWOL. The last we heard from him, he was in Tremayne the night of the Chybrid attack on Checkpoint One. He was on a roll, Krys. He exposed Stringer as a Changer and took him out.”

  Krystal raised an eyebrow. “Sounds like he was doing what he does best.”

  Dion looked down at his feet. “There’s a lot more to it.”

  “Okay?” Krystal said, looking around at the somber faces in the Hangar.

  “His team also took down two pretty big-name Changers. They were both spies. One was masquerading as a Bystander—the mayor’s liaison. I’m ashamed to say the other one was yet another spy in our organization.”

  “Van Buren and Logan,” Krystal said.

  Dion looked up. “You knew?”

  “Yeah, I knew. But I’m not answering to anything I knew or did before today. So where are they now?”

  Ryker sat back down on his dirt bike. “Scotty Van Buren is dead. Curtis’s crew took him out.”

  For the first time, Krystal showed a hint of emotion. She suppressed a smile. “Good. And Johnny Logan?”

  “That’s the bitch about it,” Ryker said. “Far as we know, he’s alive. So is Curtis. We just don’t know where they are.”

  “Whadda you mean, you don’t know? I can’t imagine Curtis would have it in him to go AWOL.”

  Lace pulled herself up onto the workbench, her feet dangling. “No one thought that. Till I talked to his crew after everyone came back from Tremayne.”

  Krystal glanced quickly back and forth between Lace, Ryker and Dion. “All right, already. Spit it out, somebody!”

  Ryker got up and walked to Krystal. He put a hand on her shoulder. “We all heard about how you broke up with Curtis. Pretty much nuked his world. I gave him orders to take Logan into custody and bring him back here. Last thing he said was ‘Will do.’”

  The only sound in the Hangar came from the increasing wind outside.

  Krystal remained stone-faced as a tear rolled down her cheek. “Where’s Garrison and Dennis?”

  Dion lit a cigarette and clinked his Zippo shut. “My quarters.”

  “I need to see them.” Krystal locked eyes with Dion. “Now.”

  Chapter 9

  Location Unknown

  Silver walked swiftly through the crowded pedestrian expressway on level seven. Citizens of the Underground immersed themselves in the many shops, eateries and other businesses lining the thoroughfare. Several people, obviously unaware of her demotion, greeted Silver with the same respect she was accustomed to receiving as security chief. Government employees were a different story. Guards walking in pairs looked past her with no apparent recognition, if they looked at all.

  Two electronic alert tones sounded throughout the City’s global intercom system. Silver recognized the pattern and pitch as a security alert. “Security Team One, the subject has been located on level nine, sector three. Coordinates have been dispatched to your mobiles. Please respond immediately.”

  Silver smiled to herself. Another Yaz decoy, she thought as she stopped to browse the display in a jewelry store window. She had decided to go inside the store when her cell vibrated. She glanced at the screen. Hmm. Text from a private number. She tapped the screen to check the message.

  Level three.

  Executive parking.

  Receiving room.

  Your locker.

  Yaz. What the hell? I don’t even know if I’m allowed there anymore. And how’d you get into my locker? Silver deleted the message and slipped her phone back into her pants pocket. She stood at the entrance to the jewelry store, panned the expressway and made a quick decision to head east to the nearest elevator.

  A group of four people hustled out as the elevator door opened. One man nodded to Silver and smiled. “Greetings, ma’am.”

  “Hello.”

  The man was obviously oblivious to Silver’s new status. She looked at the uniformed elevator attendant. “Level three.”

  The short man nodded and pressed a button on the keypad.

  When Silver stepped out of the elevator on level three, no one was in the hallway. She turned right and headed away from the main city area toward the executive parking reception room. The guard at the door spread both legs to shoulder-width and blocked the doorway as Silver approached.

  Ignoring the guard’s attitude, Silver attempted to enter the room. “Excuse me, please.” She swiped her hand over the palm reader on the wall. The panel emitted a low buzzing sound indicating her identification was not recognized.

  “Ma’am,” the guard said. “This room is for authorized personnel only.”

  Silver glanced up and down the corridor before looking at the guard’s face. “Okay, I’m no longer authorized for entrance here, but I have some personal effects I left in my locker. I need to get them now. Surely I’m authorized to remove my personal belongings.”

  The guard stared straight ahead. “One moment, ma’am.” He spoke into a communications device on his wrist. “Base, this is Station Three-A.”

  “Go ahead, Three-A.”

  “A citizen is requesting entrance. States she has personal effects to retrieve.”

  Silence.

  “Stand by, Three-A. We’re processing the citizen’s data via GPS.”

  The guard remained still, hands behind his back, eyes staring straight ahead above Silver.

  “Three-A. We’re obtaining third level approval. Stand by.”

  Third level approval, Silver thought. A week ago I’d have had your job with a wave of my hand, Mister Third Level. Whatever. Just get me in.

  “Base to Three-A.”

  “Three-A.”

  “Entry is approved, with escort. Be advised, approval has a five-minute time limit.”

  “10-4, Base.”

  For the first time, the guard made eye contact with Silver. “Right this way, ma’am.” He turned around and waved his hand over the palm reader, and the door clicked open.

  Silver pushed past the guard and hurried across the room to the wall of lockers. She quickly found hers and used the fingerprint panel to unlock the door. She swung the blue titanium door open and peered inside. An electronic device about the length of a touchscreen stylus—and three times the diameter—sat on the top shelf.

  Silver glanced up at the guard. Thankful he was standing with his back to the locker, she snatched the device and dropped it into her pocket. She slapped the door shut and turned to leave. “Thanks, I’m done,” she said as she walked briskly to the door.

  Two sharply dressed security guards approached Silver as she exited the Executive Receiving Room. One guard held her hand in the air.

  Great, she thought. Now what?

  “Ma’am,” the guard greeted.

  Ah. Silver recognized the guard as a member of her personal staff when she was head of security. “Hello, Steph.”

  Steph and the other guard stopped in front of Silver. “So, what brings you out this way? Still have executive parking privileges?”

  Silver smiled. “No, not anymore. I just had to collect some personal items from my locker.”

  “Oh. Well, I know things aren’t the same as they used to be. But if you ever need anything, don’t hesitate to give me a ring.”

  “Hey, I might just do that,” Silver said. “Well, I gotta go. It’s been good to see you, really.”

  “Same here, ma’am. See you around.”

  Silver continued down the corridor toward the City. Nice to know I may still have some friends in higher places, she thought. After all, what good are friends if you can’t use them for your own purposes? As long as no one gets hurt. She smiled to herself.

  She rounded a curve in the hallway and
spotted a door with a tiny vertical wire-mesh window to her left. There was a sign on the door.

  FACILITY 301 – AUTHORIZED PERSONNEL ONLY.

  Hmm. This is as good a place as any if I can get in. She swiped her hand across the reader. The door clicked. Yes. Level four security accessible!

  She stepped through the doorway and allowed the door to close behind her. She found herself in a small ten-foot by ten-foot room. The walls were painted a hideous pale green. There was a small desk on one side of the dimly lit room. On the other side was a wall with only a bulletin board containing various safety fliers and a clipboard with a sign-in page attached. The far wall, if you could call it a wall, was mostly a portal into a larger area with no lights. The only actual surface on the wall was just wide enough to hang a small fire extinguisher on one side, with a light switch on the other.

  Silver stepped across the room to the portal and flipped the light switch. Ceiling lights in the darkened area illuminated the spacious room, revealing row after row of pipes and valves of varying sizes. She gazed around the room. Perfect place to disable a GPS chip.

  Glancing to her right, she noticed a huge pipe about twenty-four inches in diameter running parallel to the wall. A quick look behind her into the tiny green room proved using the pipe for a seat would put her out of view to any passersby in the corridor. She removed the device she had retrieved from her locker and walked over to the big pipe.

  Silver sat down and examined the gadget, remembering Felix’s instructions. Press it against your neck where your chip was implanted. When the device is firmly in place, press the power button. She shrugged. Simple enough. She ran her fingers under her hair at the base of her skull and probed around for what seemed like sixty seconds or more. Got it, she thought. She pressed the business end of the apparatus hard against the chip and pushed the button.

  “Aaagh!” Silver screamed. The lightning-like pain was excruciating, but she held firm to the device, forcing her head against her hand. When the power stopped, she opened her hand. The apparatus bounced off the pipe and onto the floor as Silver’s head jerked backward. She heard her head smack against the concrete wall behind her before losing consciousness and slumping to the floor.

  Chapter 10

  Changing Curtis

  Curtis sat quietly on a polished titanium bench in a ten-foot by ten-foot cell in the Changers’ Underground. He gazed at the white floor and walls, and the tiny window in the handleless door. Two security guards stood sentry in the hallway outside the cell.

  Curtis was alone with his thoughts. I love you, Krys. Soon, we’ll be the same. He’d always wondered how long it took to effect the Change on a person. So many had gone before him—loners, geeks, rich people, lottery winners. Krystal.

  He ran a hand over his wilted Mohawk. Guess I’ll have to find a new style. He felt out of place in his jeans. He stretched his arms out, palms down. Wonder if my tats will survive? His vision blurred as his eyes locked on Krystal’s name on his left bicep. Dammit! He swiped the tears from his cheeks.

  The lock on the door clicked. Curtis hopped to his feet as the door slid sideways into the wall.

  “Say, what’s up, dude?” Johnny smiled broadly at his new protégé. “You been cryin’?”

  Fucking Logan. “Nah.” Curtis mashed his palms into his eyes. “Just tired. I was kinda drifting off.”

  “Well, wake up, buddy. We gotta make you presentable. There’s some people I want you to meet.”

  “Okay, well, I’m ready.” Curtis snatched his leather jacket from the end of the bench and walked toward Johnny.

  Johnny stood in the doorway and held up a hand. “Oh, sorry, but you gotta be cuffed. Security.” He shrugged. “You know.”

  Curtis held his wrists out to the lead guard. The other guard stepped past Johnny and quickly slapped a metallic strap around Curtis’s neck. Attached to the strap was a shiny lightweight alloy pole about four feet long.

  The guard handed the pole to Johnny. “Thank you, sir.” Johnny looked at Curtis and grinned. “It’s only temporary, dude.”

  Curtis heard the whining of a small motor as the collar tightened around his neck. He reached up in time to jam his thumbs between the collar and his throat. “Gah!” He looked at Johnny.

  “Man, your face is turning red,” Johnny said.

  “I…can’t…breathe…” Curtis managed to choke out three words before he felt the blood pounding in his head.

  “Hang on a sec,” Johnny said. He checked the far end of the pole and spun a small roller switch with one thumb.

  Curtis heard the little motor again and yanked his thumbs out from under the collar. He bent over, hands on his knees, and sucked in a lungful of air. The metallic pole followed his awkward movement, flipping into the air before clinking against the floor.

  “Hold up, hold up,” Johnny said, reaching for the pole. “Dude, I had it just right. You gotta calm down.”

  Curtis stood upright, feeling the slight head rush of relief he expected. “Seriously, Logan? I don’t feel like much more than an animal right now.”

  “It’s just protocol, man.” Johnny motioned to the lead guard. “We’re gonna need an escort. The, uh, citizenry isn’t going to react kindly to the prisoner.” He eyed Curtis. “He’s got Punk written all over him.”

  The guard nodded and spoke into his wrist mic.

  Prisoner? Curtis thought. What the hell?

  “Let’s go, man.” Johnny tugged on the pole and guided Curtis to walk in front of him.

  Curtis’s steps faltered as he attempted to match Johnny’s gait. He moved swiftly down the narrow corridor, feeling the nudge at the back of his neck with each awkward step.

  “That elevator up ahead,” Johnny said.

  Two guards met the pair at the elevator. Curtis was thankful for the break. At least standing in the elevator he wouldn’t have to endure the constant tugging at his neck and throat.

  The guards followed Johnny and Curtis onto the elevator.

  “Ten,” the lead guard said to the attendant.

  Johnny wrangled Curtis around toward the front of the elevator. He reached over the attendant and pressed the number seven button on the control panel. He looked down at the back of Curtis’s head. “Thought you might want to take a little tour of the business sector before meetin’ my boss.”

  “Actually, I’d just like to get the formalities out of the way—”

  “Ah, you’ll like this.” Johnny smiled. His eyes widened. “Hey, you’ll get to see what living the good life really is.”

  The two guards glanced at each other, expressionless.

  Curtis’s muscles tightened as he stared at his distorted reflection in the stainless-steel elevator door. What the hell, Logan. What the fucking hell.

  When the elevator door opened, Curtis felt the less-than-gentle prodding he had come to expect at the back of his neck. He stepped into a wide hallway and glanced both ways.

  “Head on left, buddy,” Johnny urged. “Hear that? That’s the sound of the good life!”

  Johnny’s enthusiasm was lost on Curtis. The sound of people—laughter, shouting, casual conversation—was low on Curtis’s list right now. He wanted to meet the leader of the Changers, be changed, and find Krystal.

  When the pair reached the end of the short corridor, the walkway widened onto what appeared to be a city street. Holy fuck.

  The three-way intersection was filled with people, cars and bicycles. The two streets visible to Curtis consisted of two lanes, each with a center turn lane. Shops and businesses lined the streets as far as he could see. Numerous offices, restaurants, and jewelry, electronics and clothing stores were open for business. Everything seemed to be constructed of ultrasmooth concrete, polished steel and glass. Anything not white glowed some shade of blue.

  People crossed the streets at will. There were no crosswalks and no pedestrian signals. But lighting was plentiful and bright. Curtis looked up at what appeared to be clear
blue sky above the buildings.

  Johnny grinned. “You like?”

  Curtis reached up and grabbed his metal collar to ease the pressure on his throat. “This is as clean and bright as any city I’ve ever seen.”

  “Let’s go across the street,” Johnny prodded. “I wanna show you something.” He pushed the titanium pole against the collar around Curtis’s neck.

  Curtis stumbled off the curb into the street in front of an oncoming car. His mind flashed between pulling hard on the pole to yank Johnny across with him, and shoving backward to avoid being roadkill.

  Johnny held firm, forcing Curtis to remain dead center in the path of the car.

  Curtis’s mind raced as he thought of every place he’d rather be. His nerves were shot as the car approached. He squeezed his eyes shut, braced for impact and lost control of his bladder. The pressure of the collar pulled him down as laughter filled his ears—Johnny Logan’s laughter.

  Johnny was doubled over, hands on his knees. When he caught his breath, he stood and pointed at Curtis. “Dude, you peed your pants!”

  When Curtis looked up, there was a ten-foot cushion of air between the stopped car and his legs. He looked at Johnny. “Fuck you, Logan.”

  “Dude, all the vehicles on this level are self-driving. We got sensors in the road that caused that car to stop in time.” He chuckled. “Oh, and they’re all electric, too. You don’t smell any fumes around here. Betcha didn’t notice that, huh?”

  Several small groups of people stopped to watch the commotion caused by the two. The pedestrian sensors held traffic at a standstill as additional people crowded into the street to check the scene and offer opinions.

  “Sure enough wet his pants.”

  “Poor kid.”

  “What’s he doing shackled up by his neck like that?”

  “That’s Mr. Logan. He knows what he’s doing. Bet the guy’s a criminal.”

  “Look at him. He looks like a Punk.”

  “Probably gettin’ a grand tour on his way to the Arena!”

  Subconsciously, Curtis blocked the banter and the din. He looked at Johnny, his eyes silently pleading.