Chapter 3
Keith wasn't particularly religious, but five minutes into the McClain heir's driving, he was starting to wonder if praying to whoever might be listening wouldn't be the prudent option. The heir was blathering on incessantly, something about finally being able get ahold of his favorite skincare brand now that he was back in town, all the while weaving in and out of traffic like a maniac, nearly flying off the hover strip three separate times, and following much too closely for comfort.
If Keith was still a Galaxy Bureau officer, he'd be hard pressed not to give McClain a ticket. He wondered how McClain had managed to avoid having his license revoked. As it was, he just hoped he made it to the apartment with his life. Next time, he'd make sure he drove instead.
"I mean, how hard can it be to send a measly package of bottles out to Iara?" McClain was saying. Keith grunted noncommittally in reply, his white-knuckled grip on his armrest tightening as they barely avoided rear-ending a merging hovercar, and that seemed to be all the encouragement McClain needed to go on. "Iara is practically untapped. It has way more potential than my father's giving it credit for. But it's not as if he'd..." The heir trailed off. Perhaps the sound of his own voice wasn't enough to keep him going forever.
Keith decided to take advantage of the small lull in the one-sided conversation. "Sir, you may want to slow down."
McClain turned to give Keith a withering look, the momentary lapse in attention to the hover strip doing more to intimidate Keith than anything else. "Your job is to sit quietly and 'escort' - not to tell me how to drive."
Keith's irritation and anxiety flared. "Your 'driving' is going to get both of us killed."
Keith saw a flash of something he couldn't quite identify flicker across the heir's features before it was quickly replaced with a smirk, "What's the matter? Big bad bodyguard can't handle a little extra speed?" He punctuated the last word with a shift in gears that made the hovercar lurch forward sickeningly.
Keith might've cut back with a retort, but just then the McClain heir swerved right with a cursory signal of his intent. He proceeded to pull into the parking structure of the Aeona building, which Keith recognized from newsclips of the impressive luxury structure from the briefing file. The building, while not as tall as the spaceport, still towered over even their high vantage point on the hover strip.
The McClain heir pulled into a parking space labeled 'McClain' - nearly taking out the taillight of the car parked next to his in the process - and pressed the button to power off the vehicle. He turned to Keith, and his naturally narrow eyes were narrowed further in what he must've thought was an intimidating expression. Keith wasn't impressed.
"Let's get one thing straight, Mr. Gokane," he said, "You don't tell me how to drive. I know what I'm doing."
"You could've fooled me."
"I don't see what you're complaining about." McClain argued, "We got here in one piece, didn't we?"
"Yeah, out of sheer luck."
"Luck had nothing to do with it!"
"Not from where I'm miraculously standing," Keith said.
"You know what? It doesn't matter what you think. I'm your boss, so you can take your opinion and shove it."
Keith froze, belatedly realizing that, even if he didn't care about this job, he needed it if he was going to find anything about the McClain company involvement in his case. He didn't know exactly how much authority the McClain heir had to fire him, considering his hire had been a favor to the actual CEO, but he was coming dangerously close to testing that authority.
He realized he'd need to placate the temperamental heir if he had any hope of seeing this through. He managed to swallow his pride long enough to force out the words, though they were almost physically painful, "You're right, sir. I apologize. I meant no offense."
McClain snorted, making Keith jerk in surprise. "I didn't say you had to lie."
Keith kept his retort quiet as the McClain heir made as if to exit the vehicle. Keith placed a restraining hand out reflexively. "Wait, I need to check the area first."
The McClain heir spluttered in response, and Keith used the momentary distraction to step out of the vehicle into the dimness of the parking structure. He didn't think there was any actual threat, but he'd never let it be said that he didn't at least do his job. He was in the middle of completing his inspection when the McClain heir clambered out of the vehicle, all long limbs and indignance.
"I'm not some defenseless client you can just order around," he complained. He then proceeded to stride to the back of his hovercar and pop the trunk, then turned and stood expectantly.
Keith ignored him, completing his inspection of the area before coming up to McClain's side. McClain's face grew disturbingly smug before he crossed his arms and raised an impatient eyebrow. "Well?"
"Well, what?" Keith asked, suspecting he wasn't going to like the answer.
"Aren't you going to get my luggage for me?" he asked, like it was the most obvious question in the world.
Keith felt like pointing out that he was McClain's bodyguard, not his valet, and that he could carry his own damn luggage, thank you very much, but managed to stifle himself with the reminder that this was only temporary. Just until he got the answers he needed. He could endure this for now. "Yes sir," he said, grinding an extra layer off his teeth.
Keith's arms were burning by the time they made it to the 105th floor where the McClain heir's apartment was located. Keith had no idea what the McClain heir had brought in his giant trunk of a suitcase, but it felt like more than could fit into Keith's entire bedroom.
When McClain keyed in the unlock code and the automatic door slid open with a hiss, the view momentarily surprised even Keith. Beyond the raised entryway, the opposite wall was taken up entirely by a window that overlooked the city whose lights were blazing in full force now that the sun had dipped just below the visible horizon. Keith barely noticed the plush, expensive furniture arranged tastefully around the high-ceilinged living space, his eyes were glued to the view. Keith couldn't help but compare this view to his own narrow window that faced a impressively drab cement wall.
He guessed this was the kind of view you could afford when you inherited millions from your father's interstellar company.
"Not too bad, huh?" McClain asked. Strangely, he seemed more wistful than smug, and Keith suddenly felt uncomfortable at the blatant show of emotion on the young man's face.
"It's okay," Keith said, ignoring the way his offhanded tone made the other man's features cloud with irritation, "Where do you want this?" He indicated his and the McClain heir's luggage still in his arms.
"You can leave it there," McClain said. "I'll take it to my room, which is off-limits to you." He said the last part as though its defiance carried a death sentence. Keith immediately felt an inexplicable and persuasive desire to peak inside the room that he hadn't had just a moment before. It would be entirely for reconnaissance reasons, of course.
Keith shrugged, in no way enjoying the way his continued lack of a response seemed to irritate the heir even more. "Come here, I'll show you the bathroom, and the closet where you'll find blankets and stuff to use. The front room is yours for the duration." He pointed to a door at the end of the hallway closest to the entrance. Despite his annoyance, this seemed to be all very routine for the heir. Keith supposed it wasn't surprising, considering his family's status. And they weren't universally well liked, if the briefing file was anything to go by.
McClain picked up his luggage, obviously struggling to carry them while simultaneously making it look effortless, and failing miserably. Keith only barely managed to keep his eyes from rolling. McClain paused at his bedroom door, sliding a panel above the doorknob to reveal a number pad. He glared pointedly at Keith, who hadn't realized he'd been watching so closely until then. Resisting the urge to roll his eyes, yet again, he turned away and carried his own luggage toward the room the heir had indicated earlier, his eyebrow raising despite himself at the sound of a heaving lock disengaging and the scrape of soft luggage on hardwood flooring as McClain dragged his luggage into his bedroom.
Keith found that his own door had a lock of its own, with a small slip of paper with instructions for setting a code for his own lock tucked into his own panel. Keith followed the relatively straightforward instructions and quickly had his own lock set up, marvelling at the little yet big things that showed how different his life and the McClain heir's were.
He stopped short at the sight of his own bedroom.
He wasn't sure what exactly he'd been expecting. A thin, mouse-eaten mattress thrown on the floor of an otherwise bare room? Of course not. But he also hadn't expected a room with another wall taken up entirely by another reinforced window. On the solid wall to his left sat a large, plush bed piled overzealously with a silk comforter and pillows. Two hardwood nightstands stood sentry on both sides. On the wall to his left was an irresponsibly large dresser made of wood that matched both the bed frame and night stands. Clearly all purchased as a set.
Shaking his head, Keith set his sole suitcase on the dresser. He didn't bother to place his clothes inside - he had no intention of staying long enough for that - but he knew his clothes would easily fit in one drawer. Keith opened an adjoining door next to the dresser, which led to his own private bathroom. He was prepared for lavishness by this point, so he was only slightly overwhelmed by the bathroom that looked straight out of a decor catalogue. Everything looked too big and too much for just one person, shining and clean, replete with all the latest in toilet technology.
Keith spent the next few minutes fiddling with the indecipherable touchscreen options for the sink until he could wash his face, and even then the water pressure was so high it splashed all over the counter and mirror. He shuddered at the thought of using the toilet later.
He decided he'd worry about that when it came to it.
Keith couldn't sleep. He'd managed to figure out the toilet and ready himself for bed after a brief stint in the kitchen. He'd hoped to find something to eat. He'd forgotten to eat all day while he studied his briefing material, but the McClain heir had holed himself up in his bedroom, and he hadn't answered when Keith knocked on his door. That meant Keith could've rifled through the heir's groceries, creating a potentially awkward situation for himself, or he could just do without food till tomorrow.
Food just wasn't worth the risk.
Keith had slept with hunger plenty of times before, no problem. But it had been a long ass time since then, and his thoughts were doing nothing to calm his nerves. After shifting for the hundredth time that night, Keith finally threw the uncomfortably soft blankets off and walked out into the hall. Keith crept carefully out to the living area, watching the McClain heir's door closely until he stepped into the wide space of the living room.
Keith breathed deeply, then slowly bent at the waist, starting to go through his grounding forms. He warmed up in this way until he could feel the beginnings of sweat dampening his shirt and his breath quickening. Then he he set about his practice in earnest, battling an imaginary enemy in unarmed combat as though his life depended on it. He dodged, hooked, kicked, and rolled, long past the point his muscles began to ache and his lungs burned in protest, sweat dripping in rivulets down his back and face.
As he did so, his thoughts seemed to brighten into tightly controlled focus, giving his movements a sharper edge as he again reprocessed the events of the past few weeks. The disappearances in the Lower Block weren't the "usual result of the transient community" as one local officer had tried to persuade him. There was a specific type of person disappearing, people whose only connections would have little means to follow up on their vanishing. Taken singularly they hadn't seemed to be anything more than tragic. But as many as there'd been in the past month alone and who knew how long it'd been going on before Keith had first been approached about the phenomenon - it all added up to something much bigger.
He'd gotten too close to the truth, he realized, and for once, instead of angering him, he felt a thrill of determination at the thought. They'd pushed him away because he'd gotten too close. That meant he'd been on the right track, and no amount of extortionary persuasion was going to sway his resolve in this.
It was only after his muscles were shaking with effort that Keith collapsed, exhausted and panting on the floor. With his body and mind finally slowed by fatigue, he fell onto the living room couch. He'd be able to sleep better here than the overly opulent bed of his temporary bedroom. Besides, he added to himself, he was in a better defensive position between the most likely point of entry and McClain than he'd been in his room down the hall.