Max Collins - Skin Game

Logan held up a hand. “Whoa — I don’t know what a... thermal imager?”

Thompson nodded.

“I don’t know what a thermal imager is.”

The agent explained the devices and how they worked; the new devices were under White’s personal lock and key. “Anyway, that night last March, in that warehouse — the imager would have shown Cal something if it was working right. Mine too — only it showed nothing.”

“Nothing?”

“That’s how I got my arm broken! The thing at first gave me a hot reading, then farted out on me. It should have read hot for that homeless guy in that office — he just wouldn’t have come up as hot as a transgenic. But it didn’t show shit ! The imagers don’t lie, and yet this one told me that room was empty. And Hankins wasn’t up against some homeless mook — he was facing a transgenic.”

“I’m sorry about your partner,” Logan said.

Thompson shrugged. “Thanks. Funny thing is, I never even liked the guy. He really was an asshole... but nobody should have to die that way...”

Logan watched the man’s face tighten in remembered horror as he relived the moment of discovering his mutilated dead partner.

“Nobody,” Thompson repeated, “...’cept maybe Ames White...”

“Do you still have the imager?”

Thompson shook his head. “Company property. Like my gun and my badge. Your buddy Agent Gottlieb took it all when he hauled me to the hospital. Having my partner killed, being injured — plus I shot a civilian — I was put on immediate administrative leave. Last I saw my imager, it was in Otto’s hands.”

Logan made a mental note to ask Gottlieb about that. “What happened after that?”

“Agent White was livid that one of the imagers had been stolen by the transgenic. He said if the transgenics — and some of them are very smart — figured out the technology, they could also figure out a way to beat it. He expected us to guard those things with our lives. Anyway, after Agent Gottlieb took my gun, my badge, and the imager, I could see the writing on the wall. My career was over.”

“How did they manage that? You don’t go on full disability for a broken arm.”

“They had me talk to an NSA shrink — that was the excuse. I shot that homeless guy, remember. Isn’t any of that in the file? That my disability is mental?”

“Not what I saw. But it sounds like you had a free pass — why are you in hiding?”

“That first night, at the hospital — while I was waiting for them to cast my arm — I started thinking about those imagers, and how they couldn’t possibly have been working right. Agent Gottlieb had already left — there was no reason for him to babysit me, so he was gone.” Thompson sat forward, his eyes haunted. “But the more I thought about it, the more I thought these two imagers were defective and, so, were dangerous... and someone else could run into the same fatal snag we did.”

“So you called Agent White.”

“A few days later, finally I called him. He told me he’d meet me at my house later, to talk about the problem. Then he asked me if I’d talked to anyone else about the defective equipment. When I said no, he said, ‘Good,’ and then told me not to mention it to anyone until after I talked to him. Man, my hackles rose — him wanting me to meet him, alone. At my house!”

“And you ran instead.”

“I ran instead.” Thompson shivered. “There was something cold in his voice, almost... inhuman. My gut told me that if my family and I didn’t bolt, we’d all end up dead.”

“You took this extreme action, based on a gut reaction?”

“That, and, well — I believed... and I believe right now... that the only way those imagers could be defective, both of them, was if White arranged it himself. He sent me, and my partner, into that warehouse, to die.”

“Why?”

“I don’t know. But I worked with White long enough to know that people around him had a bad habit of dying when they got in his way. And I wasn’t about to take any chances with my family.”

“When do you plan to join them?”

“When I... finish what I have to do.”

Suddenly Logan understood. “You’re lying low... waiting until you think you’ve dropped off White’s personal radar, and then...”

“And then I’m going to kill his evil ass.”

Logan could well understand the impulse. “Agent Thompson, there’s only one problem with your plan...”

“Yeah — ‘Thomas Wisdom.’ If you could track me, he’ll be able to.”

Logan shook his head. “No — a bigger problem than that. White’s not just with the government. I can’t explain it all now, there really isn’t time. But he’s involved with a... subversive group that is bigger and more dangerous than the government.”

“Cale, I don’t share your sympathies with the transgenics, nor do I go for Eyes Only’s wild-eyed conspiracy theories. I’m a cop — or I used to be. I stick with the facts. And the fact is — Ames White sent me into that building to die. I believe that — but that doesn’t make my partner’s killer any less a monster.”

“White is the monster. Surely you see that.”

“I’m not helping you, Cale. We share a common goal where White is concerned, but your transgenics can go to—”

“Forget that,” Logan said. “Think about your family’s safety. White’s operation is not just in this country — his group has operatives everywhere. They’ll find your family... just like I found you.”

“You don’t scare me, Cale. I know my family is safe.”

Looking into the man’s eyes, locking onto them, Logan said, “For now, probably. But White will find them... and Kleena Kleene, British Columbia, is so small, he shouldn’t have any trouble.”

Thompson leaned back on the bed, aghast, springs squeaking. “How...?”

“One of the anagrams my computer spit out — an anagram for your wife’s maiden name. She left the night Hankins died and flew to Bella Coola, then rented a car and drove to Firvale. From there she and your kids went through Anahim Lake and took Highway 20 to Kleena Kleene.”

All the blood had drained from Thompson’s face, making his beard look so dark it seemed black.

“The truth is, Sage — you said it yourself — if I can find that information, so can White.”

Thompson brought a hand up to his face; he was trembling, seemed about to weep. “Oh... oh Christ...”

“I can have your family out of there within twelve hours and have them safely relocated. Eyes Only has a network White has never been able to penetrate — and never will.”

“You’re saying...?”

“I can get your wife and children new identities, and you too... and eventually you’ll even be able to rejoin them.”

“But White—”

“A gun is only one way to stop White. A better way is through Eyes Only — and all you have to do is tell the truth... tell what you know about White.”

Tears had streaked down to glisten in his beard; there was something strangely beautiful about the effect of it, the teardrops catching the dim light of the lamp. “What do you want me to do?”

“To start with, get your stuff. We’re getting out of here right now.”

And five minutes later they were in Logan’s car; traffic had eased and he was able to speed toward Terminal City, unhindered.

As he drove, Logan phoned Asha. She picked up on the second ring.

“Everything all right?” he asked.

“A-okay.”

“Good. I’ve got the other package.”

“Cooperative?”

“Very. Meet me. You know where.”

“Half an hour,” she said, and the line went dead.

Bobby parked the stolen car near the abandoned building that served as an entrance to the exit tunnel. Once inside, Original Cindy led him down the passage toward where it interesected with the main shaft. Blackness surrounded them, only the thin beam of Bobby’s pocket flash piercing the dark.