I sat up in bed, drenched in a cold sweat. The Icarus dream. Again. I sighed, getting up and walking into the bathroom. Looked like I wouldn't be getting any more sleep tonight. I splashed some water on my face, grabbing a towel to dry it. I stopped, catching my eyes in the mirror. I slowly put the towel down, and forced myself to stare.
Yellow-green eyes. Augmented eyes. The pieces of carbon polymer that held my shades. The more dramatic changes start at my shoulders, where the bolts that hold the other augments in place litter my collarbone and my augmented arms begin. I clutch the edge of the sink. This is what I am now. Not Icarus, but Frankenstein. A patchwork abomination. All because of my DNA.
The counter bent under my hands. I looked down, and let go. I sighed, scratching the back of my head. How was I going to explain that to my landlady? She barely even replaced the mirror…
I left the bathroom, and went to the kitchen. I poured myself a bowl of Crunchy Pirate, and took it over to my computer. With nothing better to do, I searched the internet for Tobias Pritchard.
A lot of news articles popped up, and I clicked the first one.
The King is Dead!Amy Undervulle, January 2010 For years the notorious leader of the English Mafia in Detroit, Tobias Pritchard, lorded over the citizenry with malicious threats and harsh "enforcement", but no more! Yesterday morning, Pritchard was found shot in his own study by his adopted son, Francis Adams. The boy was unhurt, but seemed shaken. The Detroit PD have labeled it a suicide, but sources seemed convinced it was a hit by one of the other crime families. In either case, no one seems eager to get involved. Pritchard was a smooth operator. Never formally charged or arrested, he's been suspected of everything from fraud to murder. He was also allegedly working with the Chinese Mafia, but claims could not be confirmed. He had a large fortune, which he claimed to be an inheritance, which has passed on to his adopted son. When we attempted to interview Francis about his father, his response was a resounding "no comment". Now the question on everyone's minds is what the King's heir intends to do next. Will he take up his father's throne, or break away from the criminal life? Only time will tell.
A Mafia boss? That didn't bode well. I skimmed through some of the other articles, but most were just about Tobias Pritchard's elusiveness. There was another that made me pause.
A Prince, or a Slave?Charlie Hethers, February 2007 It seems the King has gotten sentimental in his old age. Sources say he has adopted a teenage boy named Francis Adams, from Texas. But no one seems quite sure as to why. Some think it might be that the King needs an heir. It;s no secrete that his estranged wife, Gabriella Estelle, gave him two daughters, but Tobias Pritchard is an old fashioned man. It would make sense that he'd want his heir to be male, but why choose someone so far from his own kingdom? Others think the King might have gotten a taste for something else. But we all know he's no saint, or even a priest, for that matter, and sixteen is a little old for an altar boy. There have been a few unconfirmed reports that the boy is an accomplished hacker. Perhaps the King is just acquiring a new tool for his arsenal. But the question remains; is this new addition a prince, or another slave?
I skimmed a couple more articles. Similar speculations at the times of Pritchard's adoption and Tobias's death, but after that, the hacker seems to drop off the map. I sat back. What exactly happened in your past, Francis?
"Jensen?"
"Pritchard?" I asked, mildly surprised by the timing.
"Listen, I don't have a lot of time," the man said. He was talking softly, and sounded… irritated. "They have hacker that's hovering over my shoulder nearly all the time, and she just stepped out."
"Pritchard, where are you?" I asked, sitting up. "We can't track your GPL."
"That's because they have a signal jammer, but I sincerely hope you already figured that out on your own," he replied. "I'm in San Antonio, Texas. I-"
"Is this related to the British Mafia?" I asked. Pritchard went silent. Then he sighed.
"I suppose it was bound to come up… no, I cut ties with them after Tobias died," he said. "This is all-"
"Abandoned," I said.
"Exactly," Pritchard said, sounding surprised.
"I had a talk with Dick Carmichael," I said. "And got shot by a woman with a grenade launcher."
"That would be Serene. She's- I have to go," Pritchard said, and cut the connection. I waited, to see if he would call again, but eventually leaned back in my chair. I would have expected… fear. Nerves. Anyone else in Pritchard's situation would be feeling those emotions. But the tech was only… irritated. I glanced at the articles again. If he really had been adopted by a Mafia boss, it wouldn't be such a surprise if he'd been kidnapped before. And apparently having run with a gang even before that…
These would have been good things to include in his employee record… I sighed. It wouldn't help to think of that now. It wasn't like my own adoption record… I paused.
Sarif knew I was adopted. He said he had a private investigator look into all his employee records. And I had been a risk. Pritchard, with his history? There was no way he hadn't had him investigated as well. I ground my teeth. If Sarif had known all of this before, and didn't tell me, again…
It wouldn't matter. I kept working for Sarif industries. I could have left and found something else, but I didn't. I sighed. Sooner or later, I was going to have to accept that Sarif wasn't going to stop lying to me. Instead, I sent an email to Brent Radford, asking what, if anything, he'd dug up on Francis Adams. I knew I wouldn't get a response right away, if any, but it would be easier than confronting Sarif.
I logged off, then went back into the bathroom. I looked down at my handiwork with the counter, then up at the mirror. With a brief frown, I moved on to take a shower.
Sarif Industries 08:57:40"Alright, Spy Boy, I've finished all my checks," Malik said, coming around the VTOL. "You can stop looming over my shoulder."
"Spy Boy?" Sullivan asked. I could practically hear the arched brow.
"Sorry," I said to Malik. Faridah smile wryly.
"To be honest, I'm surprised you're so anxious," she said. "I thought you didn't like Frank."
"I don't," I said. Malik put a hand on her hip and raised a brow.
"Oh really?" she asked. "Then why are you so eager to get going?"
"I…" I started, but stopped. Talking to Malik was one thing; we'd been through a lot. But with Sullivan listening in…
"What? Is something wrong?" Malik asked. I considered.
"There's a woman monitoring my Infolink in place of Frank," I said. Malik looked confused a minute, then smiled and nodded.
"Shauna," she said. "Give us a minute, would you?"
"Rodger dodger," Sullivan said, and I heard the connection end. I raised a brow at Malik.
"You know each other?" I asked. Malik laughed.
"Yeah, she's a character," she said. "Did she cut the connection?"
"She did," I said. "You'll have to teach me how to do that some time."
"Did you try asking?" Malik asked. "She talks when she's nervous, Jensen. And I imagine trying to step into Frank's shoes has her all kinds of jittery."
"Why?" I asked. Malik raised both brows this time.
"Um, because she's heard Frank's stories about you?" she said. "And mine. And probably that Haas guy, too. And just about anyone else that's worked with you. You're kind of intimidating, Spy Boy."
"Intimidating?" I asked. Malik rolled her eyes.
"Ok, it's not like she's afraid of you," she said. "She just doesn't want to mess up. And, let's be honest, with what you do, there's not a lot of room for error."
"I see your point," I said.
"Good. Now, are you going to tell me what has you so jittery?" Malik asked. I crossed my arms.
"It's good to be back in the field," I said.
"That's it?" Malik asked. "That's what you couldn't say in front of Sullivan."
"I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't really talk about my feelings," I said, maybe a little too harshly.
"I know," Malik said, surprising me. Her tone was softer. She tentatively put a hand on my forearm. "And thanks, for trusting me."
"You have my back, Fly Girl," I said. "So I have yours."
"I know, Spy Boy," Malik said again, this time teasing. "Just don't forget I'm not the only one that has your back, alright?"
The pilot turned away, getting into the cockpit. I stared after her a moment, then climbed in the back. I called Sullivan via Infolink.
"Sullivan."
"Yeah, security guy?" she asked. I could hear her typing, and I thought a moment before speaking.
"You're doing a good job," I said. I didn't think it would do much good, but then there was a pause.
"Thanks, Adam," Sullivan said. Then she went on. "Sorry, do you prefer Jensen? Mr. Jensen?"
"'Security guy' works fine," I said. Sullivan chuckled.
"Maybe you just like nicknames, 'Spy Boy'," she said. "But, personally, I think security guy is better. And you can tell Faridah I said that."
"I'll think about it," I said.
San Antonio, Texas 13:46:09Malik dropped me at a building near the San Antonio PD, and Sullivan put the address on my HUD. I walked there, getting a feel for the city. Things were surprisingly calm, given a disorganized Mafia was supposedly in the area. People seemed… happy. No, not happy, but… relieved. Interesting. I entered the Police Department, and walked up to the officer at the front desk.
"I'm looking for some records," I said. The woman rolled her eyes.
"Yeah, who for?" she asked.
"Antonio Vasquez," I said, The woman paused. Then she gave a short, incredulous laugh.
"You're kidding, right?" she asked. I didn't say anything. He smile fell. "Oh. Well, You'll have to talk to Sergeant Willis. He's in the office in the far back."
"Thanks," I said, moving past her. The Office was like any other Police Department; over worked officers listening to complaints of all kinds and gathering statements from belligerents and petty criminals. I headed straight for the office in the back. The door was open, so I walked in.
"Can I help you, boy?" The man behind the desk, a big man with a Southern drawl, asked.
"I'm looking for some records on Antonio Vasquez," I said. The Sergeant barked out a laugh.
"Yeah, what for?" he asked. I crossed my arms.
"He's kidnapped one of my colleagues," I said. "I'd like to get as much information on him as possible."
"You wanna go after Tonio and his boys?" Willis asked. He shook his head. "Take my advice, son; don't. I don't know who this 'colleague' of yours is, but he ain't worth getting mixed up with them boys."
"I can handle it, Sergeant," I said. The man suddenly grew serious. My CASIE mod flared up.
"Now listen, boy," he said. "You go into that 'Home' of theirs, you ain't coming back. Now, you seem like a decent sort, but I can tell you ain't from around these parts. Nobody bothers Tonio and his boys, not anymore. Now, you just go on back where you came from, and maybe things'll turn out alright."
The man was an Alpha. Confident, Assertive and Pragmatic. He really does want to do the right thing, but he cuts corners. I needed to make him believe the only way I'd back down was by seeing what I was up against. Or being deterred.
"I appreciate your concern, Sergeant," I said, "But my friend used to be mixed up with Tonio, and I just want to talk him out of going back."
"Shoot, son, if he's already with Tonio, it's too late for that," Willis said.
"But Tonio had to kidnap him to do it. If I could just convince him that it won't work…"
"You want to convince Tonio?" Willis asked, laughing again. "Boy, I don't think you're hearing me. Tonio doesn't play by the rules, if he wants something, he takes it."
"Listen, Sergeant," I said, trying to sound less than demanding. "I just want to see what I'm getting myself into. I don't really know much about Tonio, or his crew, but I'm sure there's some way to reason with them."
"Boy," Willis said, shaking his head, "There ain't no reasoning with them crazy bangers. But I'll show you the records, just so you can see for yourself they're all as crazy as loons."
"Nicely done," Sullivan said as Willis left the room. He brought back a couple of fat files, and dropped them on the desk.
"That's Tonio and his original crew from when he was a teenager. They're all his gang leaders now.I'm gonna take a lunch break, you just leave those when you go," the Sergeant said, leaving the room. I opened the first file, scanning through it.
Name: Antonio "Tonio" Vasquez
DOB: 16 July 1989
Height: 5'10"
Hair: Black
Eyes: Brown
Sex: M
Race: Hispanic
Augments: Both arms, both legs, cranial
Markings: Scar across left eye, tattoo on collar bone reading: "We are all Abandoned" with wings made of barbed wire.
Like Sullivan had said before, there were a lot of assault charges and theft. Then the drug charges began, and the other seemed to stop, for the most part. He did seem like a piece of work. His mug shot had him smirking at the camera. I memorized his face, then moved on to the next file.
Name: Ellie Durmut
DOB: 05 December 1993
Height: 4'11"
Hair: Blonde
Eyes: Grey
Sex: F
Race: Caucasian
Augments: Both legs, cranial
Markings: Broken wings tattoo on back
Ellie's rap sheet was more petty larceny and accessory to more violent crimes. Someone had wrote "eye-candy" in a margin, but it was crossed out.
"Hey, security guy?" Sullivan said.
"What is it?" I asked.
"I've been looking up these names on a hunch, and, well…" she said. "Vasquez, Carmichael and Durmut were both in the foster care system. Frank too."
"What can you tell me about them from there?" I asked.
"Well, Vasquez was but in the system when he crossed the border from Mexico at age six," Sullivan said. "And the social worker suspected physical abuse. Carmichael's mother OD'ed on crystal meth, and he was put in the system after that at age nine. And Durmut… well, she was sexually abused by her father and neglected by her mother, and was put in the system at ten."
"Could that be where they all met?" I asked, moving to the next file. Carmichael.
"Looks like it," Sullivan said. "I'll keep digging."
Name: Robert "Dick" Carmichael
DOB: 28 August 1992
Height: 5'9"
Hair: Blond
Eyes: Hazel
Sex: M
Race: Caucasian
Augments: Left arm, eyes
Markings: None
Dick had a string of larceny and later possession and intent to sell. I moved to the next file.
Name: Serene Bucali
DOB: 24 May 1995
Height: 5'7"
Hair: Black
Eyes: Brown
Sex: F
Race: Indian
Augments: None
Markings: None
This must be the one Pritchard said shot me with the grenade launcher. Her record included arson, theft and fraud.
"Parents died in a fire when she was four," Sullivan supplied. "Bounced around her relatives until she was six."
"Foster care?" I asked.
"Yes indeed," Sullivan said. I moved to the next record. This one was a little thinner than the rest, and when I opened it, I paused. Looking up at me from the mug shot was a teenage version of Pritchard.
Name: Francis "Frankie" Adams
DOB: 20 September 1991
Height: 5'11"
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Blue
Sex: M
Race: Caucasian
Augments: None
Markings: Bicep tattoo of a snake on left arm, travels down side of back
"Both parents died in a car crash," Sullivan said softly. I'm sure she'd already read the record. "He was seven."
I moved on to the next file, barely glancing at the record. Larceny, fraud, accessory. The next file also gave me pause. It was the girl from the photo.
Name: Mathilde "Hilde" Adams
DOB: 20 September 1991
Height: 5"5'
Hair: Brown
Eyes: Blue
Sex: F
Race: Caucasian
Augments: None
Markings: Ring of flower around right bicep, travels down side of back
I stared. The mug shot showed a young woman with a haunted expression. It was too easy to see the resemblance between her and her brother.
"They're twins," Sullivan said, but I'd already guessed as much. I stared at the picture of Mathilde. This had to be the woman Pritchard was looking for. I closed the file, and stacked the others together. I got up, and walked to the front desk again.
"Where can I find Tonio?" I asked. The woman she sighed.
"The old Dennis Moore building," she said. A marker showed up on my HUD. I left the station mutely, following it to a large, abandoned corporate warehouse. There was a man leaning against a building across the street.
"'Scuse me," the man said, stepping in my path. "Heard you were at the police station asking about Abandoned."
"And?" I asked. The man stuck out his hand.
"Bill Carson," he said. "Private Investigator. Listen, I've been watching these guys-"
"You're the guy Pritchard hired to track down his sister," I said, and Carson flinched. He suddenly seemed nervous.
"Y-yeah, yeah, that's me," he said. Something seemed off. I pulled up my CASIE mod, just in case.
"What is it you wanted to say?" I asked.
"Oh, uh, just that you shouldn't go messing around with Tonio and his crew," Carson said. "They don't like outsiders meddling with things."
"Outsiders like you?" I asked. Carson's heart rate jumped.
"W-well, yeah, like that," he said. He was lying, but it was hard to tell about what. I made a guess.
"You're part of them," I said. Carson jumped, then laughed. But it was all the proof I needed. I picked the man up by his collar and slammed him against the building. "You son of a bitch."
"Listen, listen, it's not what you think!" Carson said. "Yeah, maybe I believe in a lot of what Tonio says, but that's why Frank hired me! He knew no one else would be able to get close enough to the crew to find out what happened to Hilde! I swear!"
"You really expect me to believe that?" I asked. "Or did Tonio pay you to keep tabs on 'Frankie'?"
"What?" Carson said, but too forcefully. "That makes no sense. I mean, come on, man, does Tonio really strike you as that intelligent?"
"I don't know, Carson," I said. "He went from being a foster kid to running his own mafia. You tell me."
"Ok, ok, so Tonio's smart. So what?" the PI asked. "I'm a PI. Frank hired me to track down his sister, and to do that, I needed to gain Tonio's trust. Don't you see? It was the only way I could find Mathilde."
"No, I don't see," I said. I dropped Carson, and he fell to his knees. "Don't contact me again, or Frank Pritchard."
I turned, walking away. I expected a comment from Sullivan, but she was oddly silent. It was only as I was sneaking around the guards in the Dennis Moore building that she spoke up.
"Uh… back there, with Carson…" she started.
"What?" I snapped.
"That um… seemed kind of… personal," Sullivan said. I paused. I was in a vent, so I wasn't worried about anyone seeing me. When I stopped to think about it, I was angry. No, I was furious. For Pritchard? wasn't right. Why would I be angry for Pritchard? Then again…
Michelle Walthers popped into my head unbidden. She was the closest thing to family I had left. Sometimes I would deliver her Rolling Wheels meal, other times I would cook for her. She wasn't really family, but she was my only link to my real parents. If she suddenly disappeared, if I lost that link like that…
"I mean it's cool if you don't want to talk about it," Sullivan went on. "I just thought… I'd, ya know, point it out."
I didn't reply, but kept moving. I'd overheard some guards talking about the second floor being 'the Penthouse', so that was where I was headed. I tried to calm myself down along the way. Sullivan was right; I made it personal. I needed to cool my head before I made a mistake. I found a ladder that took me to a vent on the next floor. Only one more floor until I reached the top. Some of the guards had referred to it as 'the Penthouse', and said someone called Nova was holed up there. I checked the map of the building. It looked like the only way to the Penthouse was by an elevator situated in the middle of the building. An odd choice, but avoiding the guards on the way helped me put thoughts of Carson and Michelle Walthers behind me. It was time to work.
I had to hack two separate security consoles to shut off the two cameras pointed at the elevator, as well as knock out all the guards on the floor (twenty total) in order not to set off any alarms. Who thought open architecture was a good idea, anyways?
Rather than use the elevator, I climbed through the emergency exit on top. I climbed a side ladder to the top floor, but the only way through seemed to be the door. I scanned through the walls. One person on the whole floor. One of the walls was weak enough that I could probably smash my way through it… I ground my teeth. I'd have to risk it.
"Wait, wait!" Sullivan cut in as I set up to punch through the wall. "I might be reading the map wrong, but is there an opening above you?"
I looked up. There was a vent there. I looked around, and climbed up some scaffolding to reach it.
"Good call, Sullivan," I said, shimmying up the vent to wear it turned horizontal.
"Just trying to keep the property damage bills down," the tech replied. I shook my head, then moved slowly closer to the one person in the room. She was talking to someone, either by phone or computer.
"... all went smoothly," she said. I looked down through a grate almost directly above her. She was studying her nails, painted a sparkling yellow. "Yeah, tell Tonio he has nothing to worry about. Ain't nobody sneaking in the Home while he's away. And even if they did, they wouldn't be sneaking out again."
The person on the other end talked at length. Nova, or at least the woman I assumed to be Nova, played with her electric yellow hair. Looking at her, it was hard to tell what was and wasn't augmented. She seemed to have her normal hands, but her arms were augments, and it seemed her torso was, as well. Or perhaps just her chest, because she had fleshy legs under her revealing mini skirt, and augments at the knee. Her furry yellow boots covered her feet, and her black shirt was only held together by a small metal ring in the middle of her chest.
"Yeah, the plasma works fine," Nova went on. I looked around the room. It appeared to be that the only furniture in the place was the desk Nova was sitting at. The woman recrossed her legs.
"The hell is with the hoochie mama?" Sullivan asked, but it seemed more an off comment than an actual question. The hoochie mama that apparently has plasma guns. How did they even afford those?
More importantly, where had Tonio gone? And everyone else in his crew, for that matter. I felt like punching the wall, but refrained. Had I really come all this way for nothing?
"Ugh, I know, what is with Tonio's obsession with that guy, anyways?" Nova said in quite possibly the most annoying voice I had ever heard. "Ithought he was into cute girls, that's why he picked me up with Ellie getting old. I could even deal with that creepy hacker chick he keeps around. But then this old dude shows up and Tonio's like, all over him? What the fuck?"
I perked my ears to listen. Maybe not for nothing, but it would be hard to tell how this could be relevant later. Of course, this wouldn't be the first time I wondered that about information.
"I kno-ow! 'Frankie' this and 'Frankie' that, I swear, it's like, totally insane!" Nova went on. "I think I even heard him call the guy 'babe' once."
Pritchard? Babe? I almost laughed. Instead, it came out as a short choking noise. i froze, and so did Nova. She hung up her phone, and stood. She walked forward, looking around. I held my breath, and she walked past the opening in the vent.
I scrambled back a plasma ate through the grate, then further as Nova kept shooting. She ran out of clips soon enough, and I'd made it back to the elevator shaft. As she was reloading, the alarm went off, and the elevator started rising. Wonderful.
I dropped, using the Icarus landing system to stun the men in the elevator. As they stumbled,some hitting the wall hard enough to fall unconscious, I knocked out the couple still awake. Then, as the elevator reached the Penthouse, I turned on my invisibility.
I tucked and rolled, just in time to avoid Nova's shot into the elevator. The woman crept forward cautiously, then whirled around crazily. It seemed her arms themselves contained the plasma guns.
"Invisibility, huh?" she said, augmented eyes scanning every corner of the room as she turned constantly. "Can't keep that up long, whoever you are!"
She was right. My power usage was draining my batteries. I only had a few more seconds before I'd be visible. I took the opportunity to sneak up behind the woman, risking being seen a moment too soon to run silently. Not enough. I cursed as my running became obvious and my invisibility ended, and Nova turned on me.
"DROP!"
Sullivan's voice through the infolink was just startling enough that I listened without thinking, throwing myself to the ground. I expected a plasma bolt, but instead there was the sound of shattering glass and a machine gun. I looked up in time to see Nova standing, eyes wide, before collapsing forward, full of bullet holes. I looked forward, towards the window, and cautiously rose.
A tall, augmented Hispanic man wearing Dynacore armor casually took out a cigarette and lit it. He held a heavy machine gun in his left arm. He gave me a once over.
"You know," he said, "If you hadn't dropped like that, you'd be dead, too."
I looked at Nova. A pool of blood was forming beneath her. I looked back at the newcomer.
"And you are?" I asked. The man levelled his gun at me.
"You first," he said. I looked at the weapon. No way I'd get close enough to stop him from using it.
"Adam Jensen," I said.
"Damien Hauzer," the man replied, but kept the weapon up. "You don't look like Abandoned."
"I'm not," I replied. Damien considered, then lowered the machine gun.
"Me neither. What brings you here, then?" he asked. I considered.
"I'm looking for a friend," I said.
"Not a colleague?" Sullivan asked. I ignored her.
"Well, looks like we were both late to the party, then," Hauzer said. "Who's your friend?"
"... Francis Adams," I said. Hauzer arched a brow.
"I thought Frankie got out," he said. He threw his cigarette down, crushing it under his heel. "I also thought he got adopted by some British guy in Detroit."
"Maybe he did," I said. "But I still don't know why you're here."
"Fair enough," Hauzer said, closing the distance. "I had some vacation time. Figured it'd be a good time to settle a score with Tonio."
"So you decided to come crashing through the window with a machine gun and just mow down everyone inside?" I asked.
"Don't tell me you were gonna let her live," Hauzer said. I didn't reply. He shook his head. "Not a good policy, my friend. The living ones come back to kill you later."
"Not always," I said, and as I tracked Hauzer walking further into the room, I noticed something. There was a vent, but it seemed like there was something inside of it. Glancing at Hauzer as he made his way to the terminal in the room, I went over to the vent, opening it. There was a pocket secretary inside. I picked it up.
Jensen, Tonio's planning something big. In Detroit. Couldn't send a message.
Short and to the point. They had to be keeping a close eye on Pritchard if this was the best he could do.
"Detroit, huh?" Hauzer said, reading over my shoulder. I stood, and he backed off. "Guess I'll be seeing you then, Jensen."
"Don't count on it," I said, and sent coordinates for the building to Malik.
"You're gonna need help to go up against Tonio and his crew," Hauzer said. "Especially if you plan on going after part of his original crew."
"You have no idea what I need," I said, and took the stairs to the roof. Malik was just landing the VTOL, and I walked up to get inside.
"Hey Jensen!"
I turned as I started to step in. Hauzer stood at the door.
"You wanna get to Frankie, I don't care. Just leave Tonio to me!"
I didn't answer, but got into the VTOL. Hauzer watched as it took off.
"Where to, Spy Boy?" Malik asked.
"Home," I said, leaning back in my seat. I switched to infolink. "Good call with Hauzer, Sullivan."
"I just figured with you watching Nova, you didn't notice the guy about to burst through the window," the woman replied, with a yawn. I sighed.
"Sullivan, get some sleep," I said. "I need you awake when I'm in the field."
"You got it, security guy," she said. "And same to you."
I cut the connection, and rested my head on the seat back. I closed my eyes, but I didn't sleep. There was too much to think about.
I had a trigger-happy private security aug gunning for Tonio. Who apparently had a thing for the cyber security expert I was trying to rescue. And they were now somewhere in Detroit, and planning something big. Like what? A lot of them were augs. Maybe they were going to raid a Versalife facility to steal a large supply of Neuropozyne. Or try and steal the formula itself from Sarif Industries. That would be big. It would save them time trying to reverse engineer it, if they were trying that at all. And it would make them a large profit. It would be easier if Pritchard had said what it was Tonio was planning. Of course, if he had known, he would have said, which meant he was as in the dark as I was right now. I put in a call to Sarif.
"Boss, looks like you were right about Texas," I said when Athene put me through. "They've moved shop to Detroit."
"Why did they do that?" Sarif asked.
"I don't know for sure," I said. "Pritchard managed to leave a message, saying it was something big. And I intended to find out what once I get back."
"Keep up the good work, Adam," Sarif said. "And let me know when you find something."
"Will do, Boss," I said, and cut the connection. I looked out the window, and at the scenery passing by. It seemed like the pieces hadn't quite come together yet. Francis, what have you gotten yourself into? I wanted to just about strangle the man by now.
First, the business with Arie van Bruggen. Was he really so keen on hiding his adoption records that he just let van Bruggen blackmail him? Did hereally think Sarif didn't know? Or was it someone else he didn't want to know? And what did it matter, anyways? Sarif had already hired him. After he'd been arrested for fraud. Sarif trusted him. Hell, I trusted him. And, if he had approached me, I wouldn't have told Sarif about it without his consent, anyways. I owed him for Michelle Walthers.
Wait, did he not trust me? After all the shit we'd been through? I clenched a hand, wishing I had a drink. Was he really that paranoid?
Then I thought about the security tape. Pritchard had been relaxed around Carmichael. He hadn't shied away from him when he got close. He'd only started to realize something was wrong when Dick had grabbed his arm. But even then… even then, he hadn't been afraid. That was when his expression at the end of the tape clicked. The face he'd made when he'd faced Tonio. He'd been afraid.
I relaxed, retracting my shades and putting a hand to my eyes. Of course he didn't trust me. Everyone in his life after his parents' death had probably used him in some way. Yeah, Pritchard and I had been through some tough times, but we'd still only know each other a few years. That couldn't undo years of paranoia and abuse. Even his personality, the way he kept everyone at a distance, made more sense now. I looked through my fingers outside.
With all the events leading up to Panchaea… Sarif's lies, finding out I was adopted, Megan's betrayal, Taggert's involvement with the Illuminati… I didn't think I could trust anyone, either. Except… except Pritchard and Malik. The two people that never lied to me, and went outside the line of duty to help me. I never even thought about it before now. I took it for granted. Never questioned them. Malik after helping her with her friend's murderer, and Pritchard after Michelle Walthers. I knew they had my back. And Malik knew I had hers.
Now I needed Pritchard to know I had his.
"Hey, Malik?" I said over the infolink.
"Yeah?" the pilot asked.
"Thanks," I said. "For being a friend."
"Getting sentimental in your old age, Spy Boy?" Malik asked after a brief pause. I felt a smile. Barely, but it was there.
"Thirty-four isn't old," I said.
"Suuure it isn't," Malik said, and cut the connection. I settled in my seat. Maybe getting some sleep wouldn't be such a bad idea, after all.