“Where have you gone, where have you been?” Aria asks when I enter our apartment. She continues unfazed to cook dinner, dinner for two, as if she has been expecting me. Strange. She doesn’t dare make eye contact, but she must’ve at least taken a glance at my sorry state to make sure I wasn’t some stranger. “I want to understand, I do, but from the looks of it, I don’t think you quite understand either.”
“You’re right. And I wish I could tell you,” I say, as I lean against the fridge, struggling to stand. “I’ve been somewhere very dark, very cold. And it felt like I was there forever.”
“How did you get out?”
“I don’t know. It’s like someone dove in and fished me out of a frozen lake, and maybe that’s all that they owed me. Because I was alone, naked, somewhere deep underground in an empty pool when I came to. There were bodies, too. Looked like they were torn open and their mods stripped away. They left me clothes, water, and some food. They left a note, too, but it didn’t explain anything.”
I try to take another step, but I can’t. She must have noticed, because she sets down the knife and comes over to me. She helps me to sit on the couch. I sink into it, the first comfort I’ve felt like I’ve had in months. I don’t really want to know, but I ask anyway, “How long have I been gone?”
“It’s been a few months.”
“Why didn’t you leave, then?”
“How could I?”
“What do you mean?”
She shakes her head ever so slightly. “I’ll tell you later, promise. But for now, you need rest. You need dinner. You need a long, warm shower.”
She kisses me, and then she goes to finish dinner. I look at the coffee table, and there’s the old-school remote. I say, “Thought we were gonna upgrade.”
“We did.”
I look at it closer and it looks older than the last one, but when I pick it up, it feels brand new. “I meant -”
“I know. It’s one less thing they have to track. But turn it on to see the real upgrade.”
And so I do. When I do, a black screen comes up. It’s not very modern from the looks of it, with a low resolution text saying ‘no input available’. The screen looks like it belonged in gramma’s basement with her couch from the 1990s. It was a very comfy couch to be sure, but it was old with pizza stains and buttery-grease stains on the arms. Kinda tattered, too. But this television looks like it could be a little newer, from the early 2000s. Obviously, it wouldn’t be.
“I see,” I say. “How’d you get ahold of this?”
“I’ve got my ways,” she says.
“The granny that bakes you bread?”
“Who else?”
And then we become quiet. She continues to chop vegetables while a stock simmers on the stove, emanating wonderful smells. Something in the oven, too. Beef, or something red. I ask, “But did you get bread from her today?”
“Of course,” she says, cheerily. But then, her demeanor darkens a little, and she says, “Turn on the news. There’s something you need to see.”
And so I do. The anchors talk about missing persons. They’re not ordinary people. The entire Board of Directors for Salus vanished over the course of summer. But a couple days ago, the first one to go missing, John Leo, was found dead by fisherman near an inland Maine lake. They found him crucified and his eyes picked out by crows.
“What are you suggesting, Aria?” I ask. “Do you think I had something to do with this?”
“Maybe.” she says. “He went missing a couple days after you did, and it looks like he died a couple days ago. It’s strange, really strange. And with your past, I don’t know what could’ve happened.”
“I know,” I say. “Maybe, you’re right. I’ll ask around, or maybe I’ll just see what, or who, will be at the end of this note.”
“What did the note say anyway?”
“Well, it said that I will find more answers on the top of that abandoned bank tower that overlooks the bay. And that I should be there at sunset.”
“Go,” she says. “If they saved you, they must’ve had a very good reason. Maybe they’ll tell you that reason. Or they’ll explain your involvement. I don’t know what will happen, but I do know you have to go. I want answers just as much as you.”
“I’ll do that, I promise,” I say. I go back to watching the news. John Leo… he wasn’t a terrible man. Come to think of it, many stories indicate he was a good man. Just in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Whoever is behind all of this, maybe they think he should be held responsible for Salus’ incompetency that lead directly to the deaths of hundreds of healthy men in their 30s and 40s. But, if they’re targeting all 5 of them, then there might be something else at play.
“Hey,” I say. “What do you know about Salus’ CEO?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you know if she would have-”
“She? Hmmm,” she says. “I suppose you wouldn’t have known. The last one stepped down in late May or early June. Official story was that she was getting old and wanted to spend time with her grandchildren.”
“And the unofficial true story?”
“That, that was kept sealed. Not even Clyde Sinclair was able to release an official story. But rumors are that she was blackmailed-”
“What?”
“She was blackmailed.”
“Who could have-” stop myself. “Whoever blackmailed her must be behind this.”
“Because whoever could manage to remove that old crone due to blackmail… they must have the equivalent of nukes.”
“Exactly,” and I try to stand, but that fails, horribly. “It will have to wait.”
She tries to stifle laughter, and when I look at her, she seems very guilty for laughing. “I’m sorry, I am. But your legs… they’re jello.”
“Yeahhh, I felt that,” I say. “The drugs must be wearing off. Because it feels like I’m missing something. My body, my mind, is missing something. And I don’t even know what it is.”
“Anyone you could talk to, to find out?”
“Nah, not about this,” I say. “Maybe just one of those emergency clinics.”
And there’s not much left to say. So she starts to hum a song. It’s strangely familiar, so I ask. She tells me and still I don’t have the faintest idea where I heard it. She picks up the pace of her chopping now that we stopped talking. I sit in comfortable silence, watching the news, and trying to piece together what happened.
When the stew is done, we don’t talk much. Mostly because I’m enjoying every single bite of the stew. And gramma’s wonderful bread. She changes the channel, of course. She changes it to an old cartoon, a very old cartoon. Something about fire, honor and destiny, war and balance. It’s a great story, and it’s one of her favorite things to watch.
“Listen,” she starts to say, as she lays her head on my shoulder. She takes my right hand into both of hers. “I need you to finish this. I know whatever happened, it’s still happening. And we won’t be safe until it’s finished. Promise me, promise, that you’ll finish this quickly. And whoever did this to you-”
She looks at the scar running up my arm and traces it her with her hand. As she does that, she looks at me to see if I wince, and I don’t. She continues, by saying, “Whoever did this… I want to cause them as much pain as they’ve inflicted upon me.”
***
“Whoever did this… I want to cause them as much pain as they’ve inflicted upon me.”
What she said, it’s been on my mind since she said it. I’ve never known her to be a vengeful spirit. Sure, she can be petty, but cold-blooded revenge? The pain she endured, it must’ve been torture. Something significant happened, and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there to help, to comfort her, to just be there, and I have no idea if, deep down, she thinks it’s my fault.
In a long-winded way, maybe it’s my fault, but I’ve come to a scary realization in the past few days. My memories are very, very fragmented. I knew where I lived, I knew who she was, I know my family, my friends. I know where I grew up. But with some things, it’s as if a brain surgeon used a scalpel to remove certain stretches of my past. If this was all because I did something five years ago, I would not know. I have no idea where I was, or what I was doing five years ago. It’s been replaced with fuzz.
Six years ago, think I must’ve been delivering pizza by the oceanside without a care in the world. Had no idea what I would do next. I was just a drifter. But I remember being recruited to do… something. Had to have been something fun, though. Fun was the only thing that interested me. But then it’s all fuzz for the following two, maybe three, years. And two years ago, I met Aria in some northeastern village garden. I don’t remember why I was there, but I remember seeing her and thinking I had to talk to her. Crystal clear memory since I met her, though.
“Hey!” She says, knocking at the bathroom door knowing full well the door is not locked, snapping me back to reality. “Are you ok? You’ve been in there for an half hour. Water must be getting cold.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Thinking,” I say.
“That’s a little dangerous.” That’s followed by a little snicker. For that, she will pay. But I exit the shower and greet her. Then, she hands me a couple tabs and a cup of water. “They came in just now. Hopefully, they help.”
“Yeah, me too,” I say and I down the withdrawal suppressors. “I’m just glad I can walk, properly.”
“Me too,” she says. “So, what do you plan on doing today?”
“Let’s… go for a walk. Or a run,” I say. She looks puzzled, so I clarify. “If things go south at the tower, I think I need to be able to run. And I haven’t tried that yet.”
***
“That’s it,” I say, pointing to the marble-cladded, Gothic tower. A long-defunct multi-national bank had once occupied it. A pseudo corpo-state. But then, a massacre ended it all. The founders, the executives, and key employees were all slaughtered. Maybe the perp was paid off by a rival bank, but no one knows for certain. Though, it had to have been an inside job, because whoever it was, they knew every key personnel would be there on the same day at the same time.
The locals wouldn’t have done it. Before they thought it was Godless, wouldn’t have dared to step foot in it. But now, even the devil had abandoned it, and the locals wouldn’t dare look at the wretched corporate cathedral. They say the bodies were never removed.
“Isn’t that where-”
“Yes, it is.”
“And they’re asking you to meet you at the top?” Aria says, looking up and down. “No one would follow them in, and they wouldn’t follow you in. It’d be difficult to escape, wouldn’t it? No elevators and such.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I say. “It’d be difficult for them to get away quickly, too. That’s the way the bank wanted it. No aerial assaults, or escapes. Everyone would have to enter and exit from the ground floor.”
“Listen,” she says. “I don’t think you’re in any position to run, much less fight. I think they might know that. I don’t feel good about you meeting them, but I don’t feel the worst will happen.”
“Meaning I’d get kidnapped or die?” I ask and she nods. “You’re saying that because I was slow?”
She nods again. “Very slow. Very heavy feet.”
“I thought I was running fine.”
“No. You weren’t. I wonder if that’s a result of the drug mix they had you on.”
“Maybe.”
“Race you to get ice cream?” I say. I look over to an ice cream shop a couple hundred yards away.
“You’re paying if you lose,” she says. “And you will lose.”
“Ready, set, go,” I say, cheating.
I get out to an early lead. And then, I die about halfway through. Sprawled out on the sand and everything. She trots pasts me a couple seconds later, and I assume she didn’t sprint at all.
“Are you alright?” She says. I nod. She then gives me a massive grin, but she doesn’t gloat. She extends her hand, when I go to grab it, she smacks mine. “Your cash, you donkey. And please tell me your order.”
“You know what I want,” I say, with a groan and wince. I roll over a bit to grab my wallet and then I give her the cash.
***
I look at the sunset, having hobbled my way to the nearest bench.
Someone sits next to me, but I don’t bother to look. “Pitiful.”
“You sound like a man,” I say. He breathes heavily. It’s not Aria, but I like amusing myself so I say, “An old man. What happened, Aria?”
“Ahh,” he says. “This and that. I was beautiful once. Still love me now that I’m old and grey? Wrinkly and smelly.”
“Of course,” I say. “Why wouldn’t I?”
He grunts, in a tone that’s slightly amused.
“I could’ve heard you a mile away with that ragged breath of yours, Henry, how could you have made it up all those stairs?” I say.
“I could say the same about you,” Henry says. “But no, I wasn’t the one that rescued you or wrote that note. They’re… none of your concern now.”
“So it was a trap,” I say.
“No, not a trap,” he says. “They’ve done their job, leave it at that. They couldn’t have known you couldn’t have made it up there, and they couldn’t have known that I was going to meet you in person. But this is a delicate matter. Delicate matters-”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I say. “So, what do you think of all this? I want to find out who did this to me. Think they had me kidnap John Leo and the board?”
“That,” he says, sighing. “That I’m sure of. They’ve covered up your involvement, to be sure. Not to protect you, of course.”
“But to protect themselves,” I say, with a tone of resignation and a hint of irritation. “Can I walk away from all of this? Just… get on a boat and sail away.”
“You know you can’t. She knows you can’t. They’ll find you, kill you,” he says, so matter-of-factly. “The reason they haven’t is because they have one last job for you.”
“And then they’ll kill me.”
He nods. He says, “But they’ll leave Aria alone. They wouldn’t erase you.”
“And you’re here to tell me what the job is.”
He nods again. He rummages through his old, beaten down leather briefcase. He finds what he’s looking for and hands me two folders. Nothing beats paper for secrecy and security. Anything else is liable to be uploaded to the cloud and therefore, accessed by unwanted eyes. With the first folder, he says, “You’ve got to find George Gaz. He’s the other operative they had running. He went rogue. Killed John Leo. That’s your first job. The second is from Julius Cannon.”
The ‘new’ CEO of Salus. He hands me the second folder, and says, “You’re to find out who’s behind John Leo’s death. Obviously not George. But the mastermind, the ‘they’ we’ve been talking about. Cannon wants to be seen as legitimate, and he is. He is a good man. You’ve got to save him.”
“I’ve got to find George to save Cannon, it seems. And… George Gaz. That name. Is he -”
“He’s the one you grew up with, yes. Walnut Ravine, and your class specifically, it was something special. Shame what happened. And just between the two of us, save George, too. If not for you, then for me.”
I see Aria leaving the ice cream shop. Henry follows my eyes and sees her, too. He takes that as a sign to stand up and leave. “If you’ve got any questions, you know where to find me. And listen, I’m sorry. For everything. For dragging you into this mess.”
Elemental Rust
Elemental Rust
Elemental Rust
“Where have you gone, where have you been?” Aria asks when I enter our apartment. She continues unfazed to cook dinner, dinner for two, as if she has been expecting me. Strange. She doesn’t dare make eye contact, but she must’ve at least taken a glance at my sorry state to make sure I wasn’t some stranger. “I want to understand, I do, but from the looks of it, I don’t think you quite understand either.”
“You’re right. And I wish I could tell you,” I say, as I lean against the fridge, struggling to stand. “I’ve been somewhere very dark, very cold. And it felt like I was there forever.”
“How did you get out?”
“I don’t know. It’s like someone dove in and fished me out of a frozen lake, and maybe that’s all that they owed me. Because I was alone, naked, somewhere deep underground in an empty pool when I came to. There were bodies, too. Looked like they were torn open and their mods stripped away. They left me clothes, water, and some food. They left a note, too, but it didn’t explain anything.”
I try to take another step, but I can’t. She must have noticed, because she sets down the knife and comes over to me. She helps me to sit on the couch. I sink into it, the first comfort I’ve felt like I’ve had in months. I don’t really want to know, but I ask anyway, “How long have I been gone?”
“It’s been a few months.”
“Why didn’t you leave, then?”
“How could I?”
“What do you mean?”
She shakes her head ever so slightly. “I’ll tell you later, promise. But for now, you need rest. You need dinner. You need a long, warm shower.”
She kisses me, and then she goes to finish dinner. I look at the coffee table, and there’s the old-school remote. I say, “Thought we were gonna upgrade.”
“We did.”
I look at it closer and it looks older than the last one, but when I pick it up, it feels brand new. “I meant -”
“I know. It’s one less thing they have to track. But turn it on to see the real upgrade.”
And so I do. When I do, a black screen comes up. It’s not very modern from the looks of it, with a low resolution text saying ‘no input available’. The screen looks like it belonged in gramma’s basement with her couch from the 1990s. It was a very comfy couch to be sure, but it was old with pizza stains and buttery-grease stains on the arms. Kinda tattered, too. But this television looks like it could be a little newer, from the early 2000s. Obviously, it wouldn’t be.
“I see,” I say. “How’d you get ahold of this?”
“I’ve got my ways,” she says.
“The granny that bakes you bread?”
“Who else?”
And then we become quiet. She continues to chop vegetables while a stock simmers on the stove, emanating wonderful smells. Something in the oven, too. Beef, or something red. I ask, “But did you get bread from her today?”
“Of course,” she says, cheerily. But then, her demeanor darkens a little, and she says, “Turn on the news. There’s something you need to see.”
And so I do. The anchors talk about missing persons. They’re not ordinary people. The entire Board of Directors for Salus vanished over the course of summer. But a couple days ago, the first one to go missing, John Leo, was found dead by fisherman near an inland Maine lake. They found him crucified and his eyes picked out by crows.
“What are you suggesting, Aria?” I ask. “Do you think I had something to do with this?”
“Maybe.” she says. “He went missing a couple days after you did, and it looks like he died a couple days ago. It’s strange, really strange. And with your past, I don’t know what could’ve happened.”
“I know,” I say. “Maybe, you’re right. I’ll ask around, or maybe I’ll just see what, or who, will be at the end of this note.”
“What did the note say anyway?”
“Well, it said that I will find more answers on the top of that abandoned bank tower that overlooks the bay. And that I should be there at sunset.”
“Go,” she says. “If they saved you, they must’ve had a very good reason. Maybe they’ll tell you that reason. Or they’ll explain your involvement. I don’t know what will happen, but I do know you have to go. I want answers just as much as you.”
“I’ll do that, I promise,” I say. I go back to watching the news. John Leo… he wasn’t a terrible man. Come to think of it, many stories indicate he was a good man. Just in the wrong place, at the wrong time. Whoever is behind all of this, maybe they think he should be held responsible for Salus’ incompetency that lead directly to the deaths of hundreds of healthy men in their 30s and 40s. But, if they’re targeting all 5 of them, then there might be something else at play.
“Hey,” I say. “What do you know about Salus’ CEO?”
“What do you mean?”
“Do you know if she would have-”
“She? Hmmm,” she says. “I suppose you wouldn’t have known. The last one stepped down in late May or early June. Official story was that she was getting old and wanted to spend time with her grandchildren.”
“And the unofficial true story?”
“That, that was kept sealed. Not even Clyde Sinclair was able to release an official story. But rumors are that she was blackmailed-”
“What?”
“She was blackmailed.”
“Who could have-” stop myself. “Whoever blackmailed her must be behind this.”
“Because whoever could manage to remove that old crone due to blackmail… they must have the equivalent of nukes.”
“Exactly,” and I try to stand, but that fails, horribly. “It will have to wait.”
She tries to stifle laughter, and when I look at her, she seems very guilty for laughing. “I’m sorry, I am. But your legs… they’re jello.”
“Yeahhh, I felt that,” I say. “The drugs must be wearing off. Because it feels like I’m missing something. My body, my mind, is missing something. And I don’t even know what it is.”
“Anyone you could talk to, to find out?”
“Nah, not about this,” I say. “Maybe just one of those emergency clinics.”
And there’s not much left to say. So she starts to hum a song. It’s strangely familiar, so I ask. She tells me and still I don’t have the faintest idea where I heard it. She picks up the pace of her chopping now that we stopped talking. I sit in comfortable silence, watching the news, and trying to piece together what happened.
When the stew is done, we don’t talk much. Mostly because I’m enjoying every single bite of the stew. And gramma’s wonderful bread. She changes the channel, of course. She changes it to an old cartoon, a very old cartoon. Something about fire, honor and destiny, war and balance. It’s a great story, and it’s one of her favorite things to watch.
“Listen,” she starts to say, as she lays her head on my shoulder. She takes my right hand into both of hers. “I need you to finish this. I know whatever happened, it’s still happening. And we won’t be safe until it’s finished. Promise me, promise, that you’ll finish this quickly. And whoever did this to you-”
She looks at the scar running up my arm and traces it her with her hand. As she does that, she looks at me to see if I wince, and I don’t. She continues, by saying, “Whoever did this… I want to cause them as much pain as they’ve inflicted upon me.”
***
“Whoever did this… I want to cause them as much pain as they’ve inflicted upon me.”
What she said, it’s been on my mind since she said it. I’ve never known her to be a vengeful spirit. Sure, she can be petty, but cold-blooded revenge? The pain she endured, it must’ve been torture. Something significant happened, and I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there to help, to comfort her, to just be there, and I have no idea if, deep down, she thinks it’s my fault.
In a long-winded way, maybe it’s my fault, but I’ve come to a scary realization in the past few days. My memories are very, very fragmented. I knew where I lived, I knew who she was, I know my family, my friends. I know where I grew up. But with some things, it’s as if a brain surgeon used a scalpel to remove certain stretches of my past. If this was all because I did something five years ago, I would not know. I have no idea where I was, or what I was doing five years ago. It’s been replaced with fuzz.
Six years ago, think I must’ve been delivering pizza by the oceanside without a care in the world. Had no idea what I would do next. I was just a drifter. But I remember being recruited to do… something. Had to have been something fun, though. Fun was the only thing that interested me. But then it’s all fuzz for the following two, maybe three, years. And two years ago, I met Aria in some northeastern village garden. I don’t remember why I was there, but I remember seeing her and thinking I had to talk to her. Crystal clear memory since I met her, though.
“Hey!” She says, knocking at the bathroom door knowing full well the door is not locked, snapping me back to reality. “Are you ok? You’ve been in there for an half hour. Water must be getting cold.”
“Yeah, yeah, I’m okay. Thinking,” I say.
“That’s a little dangerous.” That’s followed by a little snicker. For that, she will pay. But I exit the shower and greet her. Then, she hands me a couple tabs and a cup of water. “They came in just now. Hopefully, they help.”
“Yeah, me too,” I say and I down the withdrawal suppressors. “I’m just glad I can walk, properly.”
“Me too,” she says. “So, what do you plan on doing today?”
“Let’s… go for a walk. Or a run,” I say. She looks puzzled, so I clarify. “If things go south at the tower, I think I need to be able to run. And I haven’t tried that yet.”
***
“That’s it,” I say, pointing to the marble-cladded, Gothic tower. A long-defunct multi-national bank had once occupied it. A pseudo corpo-state. But then, a massacre ended it all. The founders, the executives, and key employees were all slaughtered. Maybe the perp was paid off by a rival bank, but no one knows for certain. Though, it had to have been an inside job, because whoever it was, they knew every key personnel would be there on the same day at the same time.
The locals wouldn’t have done it. Before they thought it was Godless, wouldn’t have dared to step foot in it. But now, even the devil had abandoned it, and the locals wouldn’t dare look at the wretched corporate cathedral. They say the bodies were never removed.
“Isn’t that where-”
“Yes, it is.”
“And they’re asking you to meet you at the top?” Aria says, looking up and down. “No one would follow them in, and they wouldn’t follow you in. It’d be difficult to escape, wouldn’t it? No elevators and such.”
“Yeah, you’re right,” I say. “It’d be difficult for them to get away quickly, too. That’s the way the bank wanted it. No aerial assaults, or escapes. Everyone would have to enter and exit from the ground floor.”
“Listen,” she says. “I don’t think you’re in any position to run, much less fight. I think they might know that. I don’t feel good about you meeting them, but I don’t feel the worst will happen.”
“Meaning I’d get kidnapped or die?” I ask and she nods. “You’re saying that because I was slow?”
She nods again. “Very slow. Very heavy feet.”
“I thought I was running fine.”
“No. You weren’t. I wonder if that’s a result of the drug mix they had you on.”
“Maybe.”
“Race you to get ice cream?” I say. I look over to an ice cream shop a couple hundred yards away.
“You’re paying if you lose,” she says. “And you will lose.”
“Ready, set, go,” I say, cheating.
I get out to an early lead. And then, I die about halfway through. Sprawled out on the sand and everything. She trots pasts me a couple seconds later, and I assume she didn’t sprint at all.
“Are you alright?” She says. I nod. She then gives me a massive grin, but she doesn’t gloat. She extends her hand, when I go to grab it, she smacks mine. “Your cash, you donkey. And please tell me your order.”
“You know what I want,” I say, with a groan and wince. I roll over a bit to grab my wallet and then I give her the cash.
***
I look at the sunset, having hobbled my way to the nearest bench.
Someone sits next to me, but I don’t bother to look. “Pitiful.”
“You sound like a man,” I say. He breathes heavily. It’s not Aria, but I like amusing myself so I say, “An old man. What happened, Aria?”
“Ahh,” he says. “This and that. I was beautiful once. Still love me now that I’m old and grey? Wrinkly and smelly.”
“Of course,” I say. “Why wouldn’t I?”
He grunts, in a tone that’s slightly amused.
“I could’ve heard you a mile away with that ragged breath of yours, Henry, how could you have made it up all those stairs?” I say.
“I could say the same about you,” Henry says. “But no, I wasn’t the one that rescued you or wrote that note. They’re… none of your concern now.”
“So it was a trap,” I say.
“No, not a trap,” he says. “They’ve done their job, leave it at that. They couldn’t have known you couldn’t have made it up there, and they couldn’t have known that I was going to meet you in person. But this is a delicate matter. Delicate matters-”
“Yeah, yeah, I know,” I say. “So, what do you think of all this? I want to find out who did this to me. Think they had me kidnap John Leo and the board?”
“That,” he says, sighing. “That I’m sure of. They’ve covered up your involvement, to be sure. Not to protect you, of course.”
“But to protect themselves,” I say, with a tone of resignation and a hint of irritation. “Can I walk away from all of this? Just… get on a boat and sail away.”
“You know you can’t. She knows you can’t. They’ll find you, kill you,” he says, so matter-of-factly. “The reason they haven’t is because they have one last job for you.”
“And then they’ll kill me.”
He nods. He says, “But they’ll leave Aria alone. They wouldn’t erase you.”
“And you’re here to tell me what the job is.”
He nods again. He rummages through his old, beaten down leather briefcase. He finds what he’s looking for and hands me two folders. Nothing beats paper for secrecy and security. Anything else is liable to be uploaded to the cloud and therefore, accessed by unwanted eyes. With the first folder, he says, “You’ve got to find George Gaz. He’s the other operative they had running. He went rogue. Killed John Leo. That’s your first job. The second is from Julius Cannon.”
The ‘new’ CEO of Salus. He hands me the second folder, and says, “You’re to find out who’s behind John Leo’s death. Obviously not George. But the mastermind, the ‘they’ we’ve been talking about. Cannon wants to be seen as legitimate, and he is. He is a good man. You’ve got to save him.”
“I’ve got to find George to save Cannon, it seems. And… George Gaz. That name. Is he -”
“He’s the one you grew up with, yes. Walnut Ravine, and your class specifically, it was something special. Shame what happened. And just between the two of us, save George, too. If not for you, then for me.”
I see Aria leaving the ice cream shop. Henry follows my eyes and sees her, too. He takes that as a sign to stand up and leave. “If you’ve got any questions, you know where to find me. And listen, I’m sorry. For everything. For dragging you into this mess.”
To continue the story…
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5