Forever Until Tomorrow (War Eternal Book 5) (11 page)

Silence consumed the other end of the connection. Katherine knew how much pride Michael took in his abilities. She also knew it was because he didn't feel like he had much else to offer, and she was taking advantage of it.

She was a lousy friend.

"Okay, maybe you aren't. Even so, I have no idea where to start. Do you have anything at all I can work with?"

The moment of truth. "I have a name."

"Really? A member of the AIT?"

"I don't know."

"Well, where did you get it?"

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you."

"I just believed you were discharged because the terrorists wanted it without question."

She couldn't help but smile at that. "True. Okay, here's the thing. Ever since the attack on the party, ever since I got shot, I've been having these nightmares, and hearing people say things they aren't saying."

"You're putting my trust to the test in a hurry, aren't you?"

"I told you."

"What are the nightmares about?"

"I don't know, exactly. I'm in space, I think. Maybe even on the Dove. There are these pyramids and these explosions. I'm not sure. All I know is that when I have them, I get this horrible feeling in my gut."

"I have those, too. I don't go chasing terrorists over it."

"Save the sass, will you? I'm serious."

"Okay. Sorry. What about hearing things? What do you hear?"

"A name. The name I want you to check on."

"A name? That's it?"

"Yes. If it were more than that I might think I'm totally insane, instead of just mildly crazy."

"What's the name?"

"Mitchell."

She felt a chill saying it out loud for the first time, and pressure like a pair of hands gently squeezing her shoulders.

"Mitchell what?"

"That's it. Just Mitchell."

"Is that a first name or a last name?"

"I don't know."

Michael started laughing. "I want to help you, Kathy. How am I supposed to find anything based on one name?"

She sighed. "I don't know. Maybe I shouldn't have asked. I'm trying to make sense of all of this, and it's all I have."

"Okay. Don't get stressed. Let me think about this and I'll get back to you."

She could have left it there. She could have let him start thinking about the problem, which would lead to him trying to solve the problem, which would lead to him searching for any connection she might have to anyone named Mitchell. She was a lousy friend, but she wasn't heartless.

"Michael, wait. You need to know. Whatever you do, if the AIT finds out, they'll kill you."

Silence filled the connection again.

"You don't have to do it," she said. "You can say no. I don't want to put you in danger, but I don't know what else to do."

More silence.

"Just tell me to go to hell or something."

"I've been to the therapist every day for the last four days," Michael said. "Trying to work through what I saw, and more importantly, what I felt. But you know what? It didn't take me that long to realize what I felt, and why I've had to go back home and crash on my mom's couch to get some sleep."

"What do you feel?" Katherine asked.
 

"Powerless, Kathy. I feel powerless. Those people came in and started shooting, and I hid under the table and wet myself while you grabbed a gun and started shooting."

"I'm a soldier, Michael. You're a programmer."

"Maybe, but if you died at least you wouldn't have died afraid."

"Bullshit. I was afraid."

"You weren't paralyzed by it. You took control. Anyway, I'm trying to tell you that I'll help you. Whatever the risk is, I don't care. I'm not going to let them control me. If you're right about something bad happening, we need to try to stop it."

"If I could hug you through the stream, I would," Katherine said.

"You can owe me one. Mitchell. I'll start digging. What are you going to do in the meantime?"

"Go shopping," she replied.

"Shopping?"

"Yes. Let me know if you get anywhere. Thank you isn't enough to tell you how grateful I am to have you as a friend."

"You're welcome. The street runs both ways. You were always there for me. I'm glad I can do something useful to help you for once."

"Me too. Thanks, Michael."

"Any time."

Katherine dropped the connection and pulled the AR glasses from her face. She made her way to the kitchen, where her pay card was sitting. The UEA had given her two years severance for the trouble.
 

She knew exactly what she was going to do with it.

Reggie sat in an interrogation room of the St. Louis police station. He was wearing an orange jumpsuit - the only thing the police had for him that was dry. They had promised they would get him something more suitable as soon as they had the time. He wasn't a prisoner, after all.

The officer sitting across from him was named Detective Carson Lyle. He was a large man, with dark skin and big eyes. He wore his plain gray suit well. It was crisp and neat, everything in its proper place. Reggie was certain the man had been in the military, though he had yet to ask.

"So, you checked out of St. Mary's about six hours ago?" Lyle said.

"Yes."

"You walked about half a mile, and then you were waiting in an alley for someone to rob?"

"No. I was waiting for a car. The other guy jumped in front of me, so I shoved him. We got into a fight inside."

"He said you were trying to rob him."

"That would be stupid. You can't rob people nowadays."

Detective Lyle raised his left eyebrow. Reggie didn't care if the man believed him or not. He would have to prove he was lying.

"You know that the man you got into the... altercation with is an attorney? Paul Blevins. He's got a reputation in this city."

"As an asshole?"

Lyle lowered his head and covered his mouth to hide his grin. "No. As a philanthropist. He said he didn't want to press charges. But then, you didn't try to rob him, right?"

"Right."

"Whatever happened in the car with Mr. Blevins is ancient history," Lyle said. "I don't give a shit what you were trying to do, especially since he doesn't want any complications in the matter. He wasn't hurt, and after what happened with the car you were in, I think he's feeling pretty grateful about that."

"He was lucky he got out when he did."

"And you weren't. I guess you stayed in the car even though the officers were trying to coax you out because you didn't do anything wrong?"

"I thought you just said that was ancient history?"
 

He didn't hide his smile that time. "Yeah. Bad habit of mine. Anyway, I've been trying to figure out how an autocab winds up going haywire and driving itself, and its passenger, into the Mississippi River."

"I almost died."

"Almost. According to the divers, you put up a pretty good fight first. They've never seen so much damage done from inside a car."

"I didn't want to drown. Anyway, it didn't help much, did it? I couldn't get out."

"I went ahead and pulled your file from St. Mary's," Lyle said, switching topics. "According to your record there, you were found on the same night the XENO-1 crashed, with second and third-degree burns on both arms, and no memory of who you are or where you came from."

"Yes."

"Are you an alien?" Lyle asked.

"That's stupid."

He shrugged. "I figured I'd throw it out there. Not that you'd tell me if you were."

"Are you going somewhere with all of this?"

"I have a problem, Reggie, and I'm hoping you can help me solve it."

"I probably can't."

"I think you're wrong. Detective work is all about putting together puzzles. Finding the pieces and getting them in the right places. Do you know what I mean?"

"Yes."

"So I have these pieces. A guy leaves the mental ward of a hospital. The same guy tries to rob someone a few hours later."

"I didn't try to-"

"Yeah, I know. And then immediately after that, an autocab drives off the road. Do you know the last time that happened, Reggie?"

"I've been committed for twenty years, Detective."

"True. Let me tell you." He paused for effect. "Never. Not once in the seventy-four years they've been cruising the city. There's never even been a single accident. Yet as soon as you step into one, it tries to kill you."

"That is curious, isn't it?" Reggie said.

"I already talked to a rep at Yellow, and they said the link between the car and home base went offline at exactly the same time the vehicle started acting funny."

"Maybe somebody hacked it?"

"Maybe, but that hasn't been done to an autocab in about forty years. Coincidence that it happened today, when you were in the car? Or that it just happened to be the car you were in? When you haven't even been outside in twenty years? What do you think the odds of that are?"

"So you think I'm being targeted?"

"Don't you?"

Reggie stared at the Detective, holding his poker face. He knew he was being targeted. He even had a name. He wasn't about to give it to Lyle. "It does seem that way, doesn't it?"

"Yeah. So the question is, why?"

"Do you think I know why?"

"I think something happened to you, and you went into that hospital to escape from it. I think you figured twenty years was long enough to be forgotten about, and I think that obviously, it wasn't. Whoever you pissed off once upon a time was just waiting for you to surface again." He paused a second time. "And, I don't believe for one second you don't know who you are or who wants to kill you. Hiding, yes? Crazy? No. Puzzle. Pieces. That fits."

"A little too perfectly, don't you think, Detective? I doubt answers are always so easy to come by."

"You'd be surprised."

"What it is you want from me? I haven't done anything wrong. In fact, if anything I'm a victim. So why the questions? Why the disbelief? If I tell you I don't remember, why do you doubt that? You can theorize all day about the shape of the pieces, but you still need evidence to prove they look the way they do before they can be assembled into a whole."

"I didn't just pull your file, Reggie," Lyle said. "I talked to a few of the people at St. Mary's, including a pair of security guards who said you beat them up like you were some kind of damned ninja."

Reggie lowered his head into his hand. He had forgotten about that. "I didn't want to hurt them. They wouldn't let me leave."

"You want to know why I'm grilling you? It's because I think you're dangerous on your own, and the fact that someone wants to kill you makes you even more dangerous. I don't need a bunch of innocent people winding up dead because they get caught in whatever crossfire you've created."

"I haven't created anything. I was never held in St. Mary's by any legal proceeding. I had every right to leave. Just like I have every right to get into a car and be driven somewhere without winding up at the bottom of a river. Whatever you think, I am one of the innocent people, so maybe you should spend your time trying to figure out who hacked the autocab and arrest them for attempted murder, and leave me the hell alone?"

Detective Lyle was silent. He sat back in his chair, staring blankly at Reggie. He remained that way for a minute before getting to his feet and leaving the room without another word.

Reggie stared at the closed door. He wondered if he should have told Lyle what was going on. That someone had targeted him, taken control of the car and tried to kill him. Maybe if he explained about Katherine Asher, the Detective could be useful? Lyle was right that whoever Watson was, he was dangerous, and Reggie didn't get the feeling he cared about collateral damage.

He wanted to be able to tell him. He also knew he couldn't. Detective Lyle was too crisp, too clean. He would do all the right things and take the information through all the right channels. After getting a small taste of what Watson was capable of, Reggie knew that kind of approach would get the Detective, and probably himself, killed.

Lyle returned to the room a few minutes later, carrying a bundle of clothes. He tossed them onto the table.

"Everything should be the right size. If I had any legal means to hold you here, I would. Seeing that I don't, you're free to go."

Reggie started reaching for the pile, pausing halfway. He might have some dry clothes, but he still had no money and no way to get to New York. He looked at Detective Lyle. The man had an honest face, and he was going to have to take a risk somewhere if he was going to get to Major Asher.

"What branch did you serve in?" he asked, resuming his reach.

"What?"

"You're former military."

"It takes one to know one," Lyle said.

"Maybe. I don't know. I can tell you are. Which branch?"

"United States Marine Corp. Ten years. Semper Fi."

Reggie was glad his hunch was right. He had a feeling Lyle was right, too. That he used to be a soldier. How else could he explain his nightly ritual?
 

"Is there a diner nearby?"

"Two blocks north. Why?"

"If you want in, meet me there in an hour."