John Shirley - Watch Dogs - Dark Clouds

“That yours?” Tranter asked.

“That’s what the police report says, Tranter. Stolen truck. And that’s my truck. Perp, Mick Wolfe. So why hasn’t anyone arrested him?”

“You said before you didn’t want an all points bulletin on him. We could put his name up on television news, call him a mad dog, the whole shebang.”

“It’s tempting. But can you count on Wolfe not talking to the wrong people when he’s arrested? Can you count on every cop who picks him up to deal with him our way?”

“Hell no. Who knows what Wolfe’ll do if they pick him up. And you haven’t got the whole department on your payroll. We can’t count on any of that.”

“Then… I’ll just push harder to locate him through ctOS. We find him, we’ll get the right people out there.”

Verrick watched moodily as water started streaming out of the Silverado as they got up on the back of the towtruck.

He sighed. “Not the top best truck out there but I loved that thing. I’m going to put him in what’s left of it and set him on fire.”

“Smarter to just shoot him first chance.”

“Don’t tell me what’s smarter, dammit!”

Tranter’s face went grim. “You don’t own me, Verrick. I am not your little abused dog, like that Starling character. Don’t push it.”

Verrick returned the look. “What have you done for me lately, Tranter? Nothing much. What am I paying for?”

“Tell you something. Things are getting hot around you. You want me to work on this—you double my paycheck.”

“What!”

“You heard me.”

Verrick privately vowed to put Tranter in that burning truck with Wolfe when he got a chance. But he said, “Fine. Just get it done. Get Mick Wolfe.”

The Hawk was ripping down South Canal Street as Wolfe and Seline walked hunched over, against it.

The Union Station with its dignified Beaux Arts face, was just up ahead. “You sure the station’s still open at this hour?” Seline asked. Her voice was somewhat muffled under the wool scarf she had bought. It covered half her face. She now had a blue scarf in place of a wig, and no sunglasses.

“Of course it is.” He glanced at her. “That’s a better disguise. Just cover the whole damn face up.”

“It wouldn’t work inside. It’d call attention to me. Maybe I should get a burka.”

“Maybe you should. But not in a train station.”

“You don’t disguise yourself. You’re not worried about ctOS?”

“Not too much. I’ve got some hardware on me that transmits to their camera. Disguises me.”

“You’re not serious.”

“I am.”

“Where’d you get that? At Radio Shack?”

“Got it from a friend. Tell you about him some other time. If it turns out I can trust you.”

“Wolfe, I’m the one who should be worried about trust around here…”

“Are you? You could be some kind of federal agent looking for my friend. Van Ness could’ve pulled some strings…”

They had gotten to the Union Station entrance, and Wolfe was glad to go in. His face was going numb in the cold wind.

Inside, faces tingling in the renewed warmth, they found their way to the Great Hall. A lot of the ticket booths were closed, but that’s not what they were here for.

A discontented-looking black-clad hipster with a soul patch was slumped on a wooden bench by the door, clutching his luggage to him. On other benches were a number of homeless—one of them, hunched under a broad brimmed hat, looked familiar to Wolfe…

They clopped across the Great Hall, the big room echoing their footsteps in a way that made Wolfe edgy. They were right out in the open here. He remembered that sniper that Seline had mentioned.

“He said someone would recognize us,” Seline whispered.

“I know who it is… I think. Seems like he works for more people than I knew.”

He led the way over to Blank but was careful not to look at Blank directly. He cleared his throat as he walked past, and in his peripheral vision was aware that Blank looked up. He led Seline about thirty steps past Blank they sat down on the facing bench.

“Gotta rest my legs,” he said.

He looked up at the cameras on the columns of the ornate room, then looked at his feet. After a few moments he took the device out of his coat pocket that Pearce had given him—the one that looked like a remote control. “Here,” he said, handing it do her. “I found this. If you ever get a TV you can control it.”

She pulled the woolen scarf down, glanced at him in brief puzzlement, then took the device and put it in a pocket.

He caught a motion in the corner of his eye, saw Blank getting up, walking out. Under the bench, where Blank had been sitting, was a plastic bag. Wolfe kept an indirect watch on the bag, making himself sit there for a couple minutes.

Maybe too long , he thought. Seline has her face exposed.

Wolfe got up, and Seline followed him over to the plastic bag. He acted like he’d just seen it. “Hey, that old guy left this bag… maybe it’s worth something…” He picked it up, looked in it. A laptop taped up in bubble wrap. He shrugged and carried the bag to a side exit from the building.

When they were in a secure hallway just before the exit door, Seline whispered, “It’s in the bag?”

“It’s there.”

“What’s with the TV remote?”

“Not what it looks like. It’ll blot out your face, on a block by block basis, when you go into the range of the ctOS camera.”

“It’ll work for you too?”

“I’ve got a different device. Just remember to press the button on yours every time you cross a street.”

“I won’t need this scarf on my face?”

“Couldn’t hurt to have it.”

She put the scarf back up and they went out into the cold. “Now where?” she asked.

“Should be some kind of instructions when we boot it up. Find a safe place to do that. I’ve got a safehouse. You may as well use it too.”

He could feel her looking at him in a “what are you up to, male?” sort of way.

“I won’t manhandle you there,” he said.

“You mean you won’t handle me at all. No touching.”

“You’ve got a high opinion of yourself.” He flinched inwardly, wishing as soon as he said it that he hadn’t put it that way. She was an attractive woman. He didn’t want to make her feel sneered at.

“I was on a Navy ship for a long time,” she said, unruffled. “I learned to set boundaries.”

He nodded. “Fair enough.” Wolfe was walking briskly south, Seline taking two steps for each of his long strides. He was trying to decide what the best way to get to the safehouse was. Steal another car? He had been doing too much of that. Every time was a risk. Maybe if he got one from a storage lot, where it wouldn’t be reported for a while.

Something made him turn and glance back. A gray van was driving along the street, back there, a little too slowly. “Turn right here,” he told her, as they approached the corner. “Then we cut across the traffic—fast.”

“What’s going down?”

“Not sure. You see action when you were in the corps?”

“You mean, did I ever kill anybody?”

“I mean—anybody ever shoot at you, when you were enlisted?”

“Not to speak of. I was rated a Data Network Specialist. Computer stuff. But somebody shot at me the other day. I handled it.”

“You might have to handle it again,” he said as they turned the corner. “Come on!”

They dodged through the light traffic, making a Safeway truck blare its horn at them, a cab driver cuss at them. Then they were across, stepping into a doorway.

An automatic light came on when they went into the darkened doorway. Wolfe instinctively pushed her behind him.