John Shirley - Watch Dogs - Dark Clouds

“Okay. I’m transmitting an account you can wire the money to. One of many. So don’t get cute with it.”

“What am I going to get cute for?”

“Just make the transfer. Then check back with me in the morning. I’ll see if I can set you up.”

“This sounds like an act of faith to me. How doI know you’ll come through after I transfer the money?”

“You don’t. You want the deal or not?”

Wolfe growled to himself. “Yeah, yeah. Send the info.”

“I already did.”

The screen went black.

Wolfe sighed.

Time to go raid some more drug dealers—and their ATM accounts.

There was someone following her.

Seline had changed wigs and coats, gotten a different style of shades, changed her makeup again. She now wore a red wig, with a white plastic scarf over it. But she wasn’t confident of her disguise.

If someone was following her, it must be that someone had seen through it.

She was walking along the Loop, under the elevated train tracks. The sky had clouded up, that evening, and snow came down in fits and starts, slipping between the train tracks. The air vibrated, and then she heard the thrumming of an approaching L Train. The train rumbled over. A truck rumbled past, underneath it, like one great beast calling to another.

She thought, If that guy who’s walking up behind me for three blocks isn’t following me, he probably won’t turn when I do. If I turn and he does, I should confront him. Better that than being shot in the back.

Seline turned at the corner, walking away from the Loop. Here the snow was falling a little more heavily. She got to the next corner, glanced back—and saw the guy turn the corner. He was a white guy with a hoodie. Hard to see much else about him from here.

One more chance, pal, she thought.

On the corner was a flashy-looking restaurant. She entered its noise, went to the ’bar, and sat down. “Menu?” asked the bartender, trying not to stare at her. She saw in the bar mirror her wig was crooked.

“Yeah, sure, menu,” she said. “And a glass of Chardonnay.”

When he turned away, she straightened out her wig. “That wig’s too cheap to make a good disguise,” said the man sitting down beside her. “It’s conspicuous. Crooked or not.”

It was the guy who’d been following her.

Seline put her hand on her purse, where her gun was.

“Garnet sent me,” he said, accepting a menu from the bartender. “I’m buying, by the way. I’m gonna get a steak. I’m hungry. Haven’t had a decent meal in a while. Just canned crap mostly.” He glanced at the menu. “I’ll have the T-Bone steak medium rare, and a whiskey and soda. And a glass of water.”

“Yes sir.” The bartender looked at Seline.

She shrugged. “Uh… the… Caesar salad.”

“You got it, ma’am.”

Wolfe looked at Seline. “ So—about our mutual friend, Garnet.’”

“Oh—I forgot. Um… ‘I’ll take my pain…’”

She stared now. Finally she said, “‘…in the shade.’”

I’ll take my pain in the shade was a lyric from the Screaming Geezers—and it was the code that DedSec had given them so they’d know one another.

“Sorry,” he said. “On your end it’s just DedSec. I had to go through some other people to talk to them.”

She stared at him. Lean, good looking guy. There was a certain iciness in his eyes, despite his warm smile, that made her sure he was capable of killing people. He could be with the wrong side. He could be with the bunch who’d killed GlowWorm.

The waiter brought their drinks. When he reached for his, the movement exposed his forearm. US Army.

“You going to tell me your name?” she asked.

He hesitated. Then he said, “Mick Wolfe.”

She blinked. “Push that hoodie back.”

He did. She got a better look at him. “I guess you are.”

“You’ve seen me before.”

“In her file.”

“Medina’s file?”

“Yeah. Ruth Medina.”

He nodded slowly. “That would be me.”

She swallowed. “Sorry to suspect you—but I was told I was going to meet the person another block from here in about half an hour.”

“That’s where I was going. But…” She had the impression he had started to say someone’s name, and decided not to. “…a friend of mine was watching. Through the cameras. He’s not with ctOS. He just… uses them. He worked out who you were. So I just went for it. I’ve gotten kind of leery about pre-arranged meetings.”

“Me too,” she said, thinking about GlowWorm. Which brought up a memory of the footbridge. His getting shot down in mid-sentence. Falling at her feet…

Seline closed her eyes. She didn’t want to think about it…

“This actually is a pretty good place to meet,” Wolfe said. “Seeing as it’s not where we’d planned. And it’s noisy in here.”

She looked at him. “You think they might be listening to us, even here?”

“I’ve lost all confidence in privacy anywhere in this town,” Wolfe said.

“I know what you mean.” She glanced in the mirror, feeling an adrenalized surge from sheer paranoia. Everyone passing who looked toward her seemed to be watching her.

But maybe it was this wig…

“I gotta get a new wig.”

He smiled and said, “DedSec going to come through for us?”

“They say they are. But… they don’t want to upload it themselves. They’ve got it on some laptop. They’re going to give that to us—and we’re supposed to take it somewhere secure. Then it goes up on SystemsLeak.”

“They’re almost as paranoid as I am.”

“They’ve got reason. One of their people was just shot down. Sniper.”

“That’s bad. I hate snipers. Unless they’re on my side.” He looked her over. “Way you were walking, something about you… You ex-military too?”

She nodded. “Marines. Mostly working on a flattop. Just got out not long ago.”

“And that’s how you knew Medina?”

She nodded.

After a moment he added, “I never thought of her as Ruth. She was base CIA Liaison Medina to me. I figured that was just another way of saying field agent.”

“You know she’s dead?”

“I heard. My friend did some research on my case. Her name came up. He checked her out. They claimed it was accidental drowning.”

“You believe that?”

“No. Where do we get this laptop?”

“Not here. DedSec set up a drop at the train station…”

“Here’s your steak, sir,” said the bartender. “And the lady’s Caesar salad.”

They ate in silence. She mostly picked at hers. The blood oozing when Wolfe cut into his steak made her queasy. She was still trying too hard not to think about the blood on the footbridge…

Verrick stood by the concrete wall above the boat ramp, with his fists balled into his heavy overcoat, a powder-blue felt hat pulled down over his head against the night-time wind-sheer off Lake Michigan. The rattling of the chains pulling the Silverado up the boat ramp was getting on his nerves. He dug in an inside coat pocket, and found a pill. He was trying not to take the Oxycodone but…

Mick Wolfe was getting on his last nerve.

The big crane creaked on the industrial-sized tow truck—designed to pull overturned semi-trucks upright on the freeway—and it froze. The men in blue coveralls went down to look at it. The big four-door pickup that Wolfe had rolled into the lake was halfway out of the water, oozing water and muck. Verrick could see that the leather interior he’d had custom made was immersed in murky water.

“That son of a bitch,” he muttered.

The cops arrived, a patrol car and an unmarked Crown Victoria. The patrolmen got out, and went down to talk to the workmen. Verrick looked over at Tranter who was coming over to stand at his side.