John Shirley - Watch Dogs - Dark Clouds

“Yes. Couldn’t keep control of it though. And now the car I was in is stopped too. And that’s not part of my plan.” Police cars were arriving, beyond the crashed semitruck. The truck driver was getting out, unhurt, shouting to the police. “They’ll be here in a second. Do you think you can make it over that fence, Bullock?”

Bullock turned—and saw a hurricane fence about twenty five feet high.

“I… don’t know. Doubt it. I don’t want to go over it. Want the police. They’ll be here in a minute…”

“Look, you can’t trust the cops, Purity has friends in the department. Verrick wants you dead! You’ve got to…”

Then another car weaved past the ones pulled up behind the wreckage, and drove up to them. It pulled up sharply. It was a Toyota Camry. A young woman was behind the wheel.

“Wolfe! Get in!”

“Seline! What are you doing here?”

“I came to get your ass out of this mess! Get the hell in the car, Wolfe! Him too if you want!”

Wolfe opened the back door of the Camry, and Bullock felt himself shoved headfirst partway into the vehicle. “Get in, Bullock!” Wolfe said. “Or I’ll kick your head in! Get in the car!”

Bullock climbed the rest of the way in, Wolfe got in with him, and hadn’t quite closed the door before the Camry raced off down the road.

More sirens were warbling up from behind.

“With any luck, they’ll be too busy with this mess to follow us,” the woman said.

Wolfe looked at her. “What the Hell? Where’d you get this car? You hot wire it?”

“No! I’m not like you, Wolfe! I rented it! Hello, it’s called a credit card!”

“Oh. But… Seline… How’d you find me?”

“Never mind.”

“You followed me!”

She was silent for a moment. Then she shrugged. “So what? How’d we first meet? You were following me!”

“Yeah but… this is more like stalking.”

“You better be kidding or you can get out right here.”

Wolfe laughed. “I was. Sort of.”

The woman took the exit, and drove off, fast as she could, taking turns frequently…

“The cameras,” Seline said. “They going to track us…?”

“Got my phone set to blur them as we get close. Where we going?”

“The safehouse.”

“Can I get out here?” Bullock asked.

“No,” Seline said.

“Could you turn me over to the police?”

“No,” she said.

“I’m going with you two?”

“Yes,” she said.

Bullock leaned back on the seat. He felt like he was going to faint.

He buckled his seat belt, and closed his eyes.

“Sir?”

“Yes, Starling, just report.”

“Is this line secure, sir?”

“Yes, yes,” Verrick said impatiently. He was in his penthouse apartment, now, in his bathrobe, smoking a cigar and looking out at the lights coming on as dusk sank into night. He was trying to focus on the cigar and not think about Oxycontin. Needed to keep his head clear. “Wait—why are you asking me that? This is your goddamn system! You tell me if it’s secure!”

“Sir yes sir, I just meant—”

“Never mind what you meant! Did the cars get them or not?”

“We’re sure of three of them, sir. The cars are wrecked, and O’Mara, Monteleone, and Morrison are dead.”

“And Bullock?”

“Sir, we haven’t got a definite report on him, sir. His body has not turned up, sir. But there’s a lot of chaos out there, sir.”

Starling’s sir tic was getting on his nerves but he let it go. “Don’t make excuses about chaos, Starling—find Bullock!”

“Sir, yes sir. I have discovered that there was a car stolen in the area. I suspect its remote ignition was hacked…”

“Wolfe?”

“I think so. It was found wrecked on the same highway. No sign of the driver…”

“Dammit! He could have Bullock! Wait—what about ctOS surveillance in the area where Bullock disappeared?”

“Checked it sir. Cameras were blotted out in the area, remotely. Sir I believe that could be the work of Aiden Pearce.”

“Pearce! Another man who has to go down! Starling… find Bullock! Pull out the stops! Do whatever’s necessary! We’re close to go time for Iceberg!” Verrick turned from the window, walked to his desk, stubbed out the cigar in a glass ashtray. “And about go-time—how many drones do we have operational? They destroyed four at the last encounter…”

“We have six drones, sir. More than enough. If anything—you might, sir, consider moving the timetable ahead…”

That was a possibility Verrick had been considering. “I might. Especially if we don’t locate Bullock…”

“Sir, we’ll find him, sir!”

“We’d better—before they find the Iceberg Project.”

“There is something we can do, sir, if we can even get close to Bullock. I’ve been researching him, since he went missing. Sir, did you know he has diabetes?”

“Yeah, he developed it in the last year. Adult onset, some kind of genetic deal, what about it?”

“You know he has an implant device for delivering insulin, sir? That presents possibilities…”

“Fine, but we’ve got to find him first.”

“Sir—is there anyone else in Blume who knows what’s planned? Anyone else we need to…”

“No. No, the Board of Directors at Blume is made up of a bunch of moderates or the wrong kind of conservative—the old school kind that doesn’t have the balls to face the real enemy. Low-down compromisers! And Blume developed ctOS! Think of the power in ctOS—and they’ve barely scratched the surface of it. There are plans to get ctOS going in a lot of cities around the globe, Starling. If the right people controlled that system they could shape the world if they wanted to! Well, they won’t go in that direction. I’ve tested the water with them. They can’t deal with that hot water, Starling. But if they won’t use it to change the world, I will!”

“Sir yes sir! We’ll do it together, sir!”

“Just take care of—” He broke off, listening. The doorman was ringing from downstairs. “I’ve got to go.”

Verrick went to the door and touched the intercom button. “Yeah?”

A nasal voice on the intercom said, “Mr.Verrick, I have a Mr. Quinn here to see you? A Mr. Niall Quinn?”

Quinn? The son of Lucky Quinn. The guy hadn’t made an appointment. He might be the new head of the Club, replacing his old man, but he wasn’t some kind of boss over Verrick and he couldn’t just bust in here anytime he wanted. Still, Verrick was curious about the visit—and he doubted Quinn was here to do him harm. He would never come in person to do that. “Okay, send him up.”

“There is actually another man with him, Mr. Verrick…”

That’d be his bodyguard. “Sure, fine, whatever.”

He opened his door and stuck his head out. His Graywater bodyguards were gawping at some video on a cell phone. “You two!” Verrick called, making them jump. “Stop pulling your puds and get in here! I’ve got a couple of plug uglies from the Irish mob coming up here! Call Three in here—he can watch the door.”

“Sure, boss, we were just—”

Verrick left the door and went to make himself a drink at the little glass bar across from his desk. The Graywaters came in, a young, blond, tanned mercenary and an Arab who used to work for a Saudi prince. They had their Mack 10s on straps over their shoulders.

“You two, leave the door ajar, get over here, stand on either side of the bar. Keep your weapons in your hands, safeties off, but keep them pointed at the floor. Unless you see someone jerk a gun on us.”

The mercs exchanged glances then went into position.