John Shirley - Watch Dogs - Dark Clouds

“I just thought… I’m going to have a lot of enemies now.”

“That’s why you need me to watch your back, dummy.”

“You really want to do that?”

“Did I or did I not pick you up on the freeway when you were trying to get away with Bullock?”

“Yeah. But…”

“Never mind, yeah but. Let’s get some lunch. I’m starved. Come on, I’ve got the rental. We won’t have to steal one.”

They started off down the street together. Wolfe felt something strange, as he walked along. After a moment he realized it was something close to happiness. He’d forgotten what that felt like.

After a couple minutes, though, the worries came back. The first one had to do with Pearce. “Where’s the PearcePhone, Seline? I was wondering if someone could use it to trace Pearce.”

“Pearce made sure one of his EMT contacts was there when you were loaded into the ambulance. He had to pull it out of your pants. I guess it was kind of a little too intimate for the guy. But he did it. Pearce has it now.”

“I don’t want the damned thing anymore. It’s a magnet for trouble.”

“It saved your life more than once. But I know what you mean.”

They got to the car, she unlocked it, and they climbed in. She started the car, then turned to him. “Wolfe… I want you to know, you were a perfect gentleman when we were sharing quarters together. I appreciated that.”

“Okay.”

“But Wolfe… that was then. This is now.”

He blinked at her. What was he supposed to do now?

She made a sound of exasperation, and reached out, pulled him to her, and kissed him hard on the mouth.

After a moment he relaxed, and put his arms around her. And kissed her back.

There was that strange feeling again…

“Mr Quinn?”

Niall Quinn put out his hand. “Mr Winters?”

“Call me Marlon.” They shook hands.

“Okay. Call me Niall. Glad to see you made bail. A man like you shouldn’t have to sit in stir.”

“The bastards will never convict me.”

“Sit down, take a load off, Marlon. Have a drink.”

Winters looked around at the interior of the train car. “This is something. Old fashioned. Like something one of the old time tycoons would have—like Vanderbilt.”

“Sure, that’s what I had in mind,” Quinn said. “My dad always wanted one. It’s in his honor. It’s armored. It’s got every kinda electronic contraption you can imagine. I own the train it’s hooked up to. The whole thing is the latest—even though this here looks so old fashioned. Doors are electronic, so they can’t be jimmied or lock picked. It’s a fortress… one that moves!”

“I do admire that.”

They sat in two push red velvet chairs; between them a little round mahogany table held a brass cigar humidor, a cut-crystal brandy decanter and two small snifters. The table and chairs were bolted to the floor, against sudden motions of the train car. The luxurious private car was done in reds and golds, with carpeting, a bar, a breakfast table, a fold-way double bed, fine fringed curtains over the bullet proof windows. Quinn’s old man had indeed admired the private rail cars he’d seen in movies, and Niall Quinn had copied one from an old film about a railroad magnate.

“How about we go the whole hog and have brandy and cigars?” Quinn suggested.

“Fine, fine…”

They drank brandy, smoked cigars. Quinn switched on the fan overhead that drew the smoke from the car.

“I’ve never been a train car guy,” Winters said. “Private jets, that’s me. Mine’s sweet.”

“I’ll bet it is. But see, I don’t trust jets right now. Too vulnerable to hacking.” He winked. “So I heard.”

Winters grunted. “We’re both still vulnerable, Niall.” He blew a cloud of blue smoke toward the ceiling. “Pearce. Wolfe. DedSec. Long as all that’s in place…”

“I’ve heard of that DedSec. Hard to kill what you can’t find.”

“We can find Pearce. You almost got him yourself.”

Quinn looked at Winters narrowly. “There a chance you made a plea deal? You’re not wearing a wire are you?”

“Your man checked me outside. Besides—you asked me here. Wasn’t the other way around.”

“True. Okay.” He put his cigar out in the ashtray. Cigars looked good but he’d never learned to like the taste much. “I asked you here because I had a deal with your friend Verrick. He was supposed to get rid of Pearce. Well, he got close but he failed. Now, Pearce and Wolfe—those guys are common enemies to both of us, Winters. Right?”

Winters nodded. “No doubt about it.”

“I figure we throw in together, we can take them out. Share resources. You guys at Purity got more technical knowhow. I got firepower on the street. You find ’em—I kill ’em. And maybe when that works out—we can find some other deals to work on together. You know?”

Winters nodded thoughtfully. “Wolfe’s laying low but… we can probably find him eventually. Pearce seems to be constantly moving around, constantly monitoring everyone. Difficult man to find…”

“I’m not hard to find,” came Aiden Pearce’s voice, over the train car’s intercom system.

Quinn started up out of his seat. “What the fuck.”

Winters was staring around the room, scowling. “Where did that voice come from?”

“I’m talking to you over the intercom system ,” Pearce answered. “I’ve hacked into your little choo-choo train here, Quinn. You made it a little too high tech. You should have stuck with the steam train model. Or maybe buy a Lionel set and just sit next to that in your basement, run it in circles.”

As if to confirm this, the car jolted, and he could feel it moving. It only went about fifty feet, as the train backed up… and then rolled to a stop. Quinn heard a chunk-clunk sound from his left.

He hurried over to the door leading to the next car, swept back the curtain, and looked open mouthed at the receding train cars. The train had moved backward, unlocked from his private car—and now it was moving away.

“Yeah, they think you ordered them to back up a little, uncouple and roll off,” Pearce said. “I bet the order sorta puzzled them.”

Quinn tried the door. It was locked. He remembered his remote keys, got them out, pressed the button. Nothing happened. The door stayed locked.

“Colin!” Quinn shouted. “Where the Hell are you!”

“ Oh, I had to shoot your man Colin,” Pearce said . “Not a really nice guy. You know he was a partner in a child prostitute ring? I’m gonna take that down next, after I finish with you.”

Quinn spun around—saw that Winters was already trying the door at the other end of the train car. “Quinn! This damn door is locked!” Winters hammered on it. “Someone open this door!”

Quinn got out his cell phone, tried to call the train’s engineers.

But the cell wasn’t operating. No Signal.

He threw it aside, and got out his gun, fired it at the window over the door.

But he’d made the glass bullet proof again. And so was the lock.

“Quinn!” Came Pearce’s mocking voice. “Oh, Niall Quinn! Come to the side window, facing onto the street!”

Quinn went to the window facing the street, and pushed back the curtains.

He couldn’t see Pearce out there. There was nothing but an enormous semi truck, with a big full load of scrap metal on its trailer. The hulking semi truck was just sitting there, about sixty feet away, engine idling. There was no driver at the wheel.

“Pearce—I don’t know what you’re up to, but it’s pointless. You got the upper hand here. Let’s me and you make a deal! I’ll turn this guy Winters over to you…”