The drive from the Financial District to my apartment passed in a blur. ‘Music to Make Love to Your Old Lady By’ flowed out of the car’s speaker system like an extension of my thoughts. Erica had her head turned away from me, watching the world race by through the passenger window. Her left hand rested on my thigh a little higher than Mrs Grundy would’ve approved of. Anticipation hung as sweetly in the air as her perfume.
A dozen jack moves, a few close calls with speed cameras later, we had arrived outside my building. I didn’t bother with parking the Griffon in its space in a nearby structure. Getting inside my apartment was far too compelling to worry about where to leave a car.
‘Nice place you have here, Danny.’ Erica made a quick survey of my pad as I took her wrap and hung it in the closet.
‘Thanks. Feel free to make yourself at home.’
She settled herself on the couch in a way that could only be called beguiling. I checked the time on my MAX smartwatch. Still time before the caper and no clue as to what I was doing. I pulled up my apartment’s hi-fi system on the wrist device and chose Monk’s 1953 self-titled album in the belief it would inform my next moves.
The arrhythmic piano strokes of ‘April in Paris’ filled the room, and I dimmed the lights to add to the ambience.
‘This is nice,’ she announced when the music began.
‘I’m happy to hear that. Can I get you something to drink?’
‘Sure, Danny. Wha’cha got?’
‘Well, I’m no mixologist but I know the classics.’
‘Surprise me.’
I grabbed some simple syrup, and a couple of basil leaves, limes and cucumber slices from the refrigerated compartment of my mini bar and muddled them all together in a shaker. Some ice, a shot of gin, shake for 10 seconds, into a cocktail glass with a basil leaf for the finishing touch.
I went for a basic gin and tonic that was mostly tonic.
She reached for her drink and I plopped down next to her. We turned to face each other.
‘Cheers.’
Erica clinked her glass against mine and we drank.
‘That’s pretty good! What is it?’
‘A cucumber basil gimlet.’
‘Gimlet? When you said you knew the classics, I didn’t expect this. I feel like I’m in a Bogart movie. It’s good though.’
‘I’m glad to hear you like it.’ Our conversation picked up but I couldn’t shake the distraction of what was still to come.
‘You live here alone?’
‘I do.’
‘It must cost a fortune.’
‘The rent isn’t too bad. I actually own the place.’
‘You own this apartment?’
I nodded again.
‘Are you loaded or something?’
I don’t think that she would normally ask me a direct question like that. She didn’t seem like the type, but hooch has a great way of lowering inhibitions.
‘Remember when I said that I practised law once upon a time? I had a small nest-egg from that gig and some inheritance money.’
She finished her drink and sat the empty glass on the coffee table. We locked gazes. Her brown eyes stared into my soul. She knew my mind wasn’t fully on the moment. And said as much.
‘What’s up, Danny? You seem…’ She furrowed her brow. My God was she beautiful. ‘…distracted. You’re definitely somewhere else right now and here I went through all this trouble to ensure your attentions stayed fully on me.’
I chuckled to buy a little time. The booze. The music. The girl. It was a perfect night. Better than most I’d ever had. Her hand dropped back to her lap.
In that moment, I took a leap of faith. I laid it all on the line and prayed that Erica liked me as much as I thought she did. As much as I liked her. If she didn’t have the same level of feelings, sneaking into MARA Corporation would be a no go because I wouldn’t risk it.
‘Sorry. You’re right. I have been distracted. It’s just that I have something I need to do tonight—’
‘And our date is getting in the way of that? Should I go?’
I put my hands on her knees. ‘It’s nothing like that…’ And I drifted off in thought.
‘What else?’ Her tone was not accusatory; only curious.
After a deep breath, I continued. ‘It isn’t exactly legal. And, it isn’t something I’ve ever attempted before – at least not on this scale.’
I could see the question coming, so I cut it off at the pass. ‘I can’t go into it. I can never discuss a case with anyone else.’
What came next was completely unexpected. ‘Would an alibi help you with tonight?’ A sly grin pulled at the corner of her lips.
‘Umm… yeah. It would actually.’
‘Then you have it.’
‘Have what?’
‘An alibi!’
Erica had me thoroughly confused now. ‘What?’
She laughed. ‘With this line of questioning, I can see why you gave up being a lawyer.’
I flushed with embarrassment. ‘It was easier to focus in a courtroom than on this couch with you.’
Erica leaned in and kissed me softly. ‘I’ll be your alibi for tonight.’
I moved from her lips to her neck and whispered into her ear. ‘I can’t ask you to do that. It’s too dangerous. I think you know how much trouble you could get into if you lied to the cops, and they found out.’
‘Danny, I’ve been waiting a long time for this night. I’ve been waiting and waiting for you to pluck up the courage to ask me out. I like you. I like you a lot. If me sticking to a story keeps you out of trouble so that we can do this again, I’m willing to risk it.’ She began to nibble on my ear. ‘Besides, I’m starting to find the idea of helping you on one of your jobs to be exciting.’
‘How exciting?’
‘Very. Just don’t get caught tonight.’ The sound of her voice and the warmth of her breath in my ear sent shivers down my spine.
My hands cradled the base of her head, fingers entwined in her hair, and our lips locked in clumsy passion. Each of her kisses carried with it a hint of basil. ‘Just You and Me’ had started playing. Things started to get hot and heavy.
Erica swung her right leg over mine and straddled me before I could process anything. Our fervour sped right past hot and heavy towards unbridled without so much as a howdeedoo. We stayed like this for an eternity wrapped in minutes. By the time ‘Liza’ came on, I decided a change of venue was in order and stood, cupping her ass to keep her close to me. She hooked her feet around my waist, and I carried her into the bedroom.
When I actually noticed the music again, ‘Ruby, My Dear’ wafted into the room. Monk had ended and another of his albums began to play. Erica lay beside me, asleep, breathing softly. I set my alarm on my MAX for half past midnight. I needed some sleep myself before I reviewed the information on the flash drive and Steve picked me up.
It couldn’t have been more than a couple of seconds before my watch vibrated silently. I woke up and felt like shit. At least Erica looked perfectly content. In the dim glow of the streetlights, I couldn’t get over that stunning beauty next to me; the sheets only partly covered her naked body.
As I crawled out of bed, I could hear the hi-fi system continuing through my collection of Monk. Thelonious in Action played softly in the living room and the track ‘Evidence’ had just come on.
How fitting.
I grabbed some clothes and ducked into the bathroom. A quick shower perked me up a bit. Once dressed, I went to the kitchen for water and aspirin, and slammed a vial of concentrated guarana. I fetched the storage device Rennick had given me earlier that night, closed the bedroom door and returned to the bathroom with my MIX12.
With 15 minutes to spare, I had the workings of a plan but it required some gear from my office: an easy enough detour en route to RD1. I stuffed the tablet into a satchel and stole a peek at Erica one last time.
She looked so peaceful.
Getting back into bed and waking next to her in the morning provided me with a powerful incentive to get in to MARA Corp, get what I need, and get out undetected.
Going out the bathroom window and down the fire escape might seem a little extreme when you’re doing it from a place you own. But I couldn’t risk a person, or a camera, spotting me as I strolled out the front door. Despite the near Big Brother levels of surveillance New London possessed with its cameras, alleyways rarely had any coverage. The city left it to the owners of the buildings to monitor what went on behind their establishments.
I kept to the shadows under a baseball hat and a pair of wayfarers as I watched a black LTI turn down the street. The car pulled up to the kerb slowly and came to a stop.
‘Perfect timing,’ I said as I hopped in.
‘I aim to please, Mr Helmqvist.’
‘Call me Dan.’
‘Sure thing. Where to?’
‘My office over on Tireman. Then, MARA Corp.’
‘You got it, boss,’ he said as we took off.
Not much life in the Commercial District during the small hours of night; a good time to be up to no good. Steve dropped me off at the end of the block and kept the engine running.
To avoid another set of street cameras and prying eyes, I kept my head down and my face out of view. I strolled past my office building, around the corner and into an alley where a back entrance glowed under a single, overhead lamp. The guy who owned it didn’t bother with a camera; only a basic alarm system. I deactivated it with my MIX12 and crept up a set of service stairs to the second floor.
As soon as the front door of my office opened and I stepped into the reception room Pam emerged from a sidewall panel like a vampire coming out of her mausoleum.
‘Goddammit, Pam! I nearly pissed myself!’
She glanced down at my crotch expecting to see a wet spot. ‘My apologies, sir, but as you know, I am programmed to activate if the front door is opened when I am in my recharging station.’
‘I do know. I’m a bit edgy at the moment and forgot about your protocols, that’s all.’ My heart rate slowed to normal. ‘Anyway, I’m here to pick up a few things and then I’ll be on my way.’
‘Do you require assistance?’
‘No… In fact, it would be good if you could scrub this from your memory banks. I need you to have no knowledge of my coming here.’
‘Very well,’ she said as she stepped back into her compartment. ‘Please remember to lock up before you leave.’ The wall panel door closed with a swoosh and a thunk.
In one corner of a conference room I had no particular use for stood a Mosler T2K nearly my height and twice my width. The safe came with a biometric scanner, keypad and mechanical tumbler that made it one of the tougher nuts to crack. Which was a good thing because it held a prized possession: an expensive and very illegal-to-own crime-fighting costume.
The full-body suit, a variation on the Martian Special Forces Enhanced Mobility Suit, Mark 9 design, consisted of matching headgear, a backpack and a belt with small storage compartments. All of it dyed a shade darker than up-to-no-good black. It had earned the nickname FE9 because we all like a good pun.
The suit’s material allowed me to regulate the temperature signature that my body emitted to read at ambient; to an infrared sensor, I would be invisible. It also provided some protection against the harsh environment outside the domes. Shock-absorbing pads safeguarded the knees and elbows of those prone to falling.
The soles of the boots had an Electromagnetic Levitation system fitted to them; a feature essential for bypassing pressure sensitive pads. However, the EML installed in this model of boot lack a means of stabilisation, which makes keeping your balance difficult and takes practice. Some have compared the sensation of levitating while wearing these boots to a surfer catching a wave and staying up on his, or her, board. Pity we don’t have any oceans on this dusty rock to test that theory.
The gloves could be used to duplicate finger and handprints – perfect for getting around some biometric systems. The thumb of the right glove also possessed a fake ID chip for all manner of bogus transactions.
The headpiece resembled a glorified balaclava made from the same material as the rest of the suit. The visor worked as an optical head-mounted display, providing environmental feedback and recording capabilities with a built-in digital camera. The visor also had the ability to serve as a monitor for the computer tucked away in the backpack, which took first prize in the cool factor in my humble estimation.
Made from a sturdy high-resin polymer, the pack kept all of the FE9’s systems running, and me plugged into the city’s virtual network. And, best of all, a built-in jump jet. That’s right, a freaking jump jet capable of propelling the wearer to a maximum height of 40 metres in a 1g environment; much higher in lower gravity. A combination of hand movements in the gloves and a wireless connection to my watch-controlled thrust and direction.
I doubted that my decision to use it on Saturday night could be construed as smart, or even wise. I had never really done anything more than familiarise myself with the controls and respec the computer for a wide assortment of illicit activities. I had never used it in a live scenario either. In fact, I wouldn’t have dared to use it for a break in to MARA Corporation if I felt like I had a better option. It was the suit, or nothing.
I stripped down to my skivvies and pulled it on. I synced up my MAX smartwatch and ran through a systems check. Everything passed and I had nothing left to do but sneak into one of the most advanced companies in the entire system.
I stuffed the gloves and the headgear into their allotted storage space in the backpack, slid my jeans and button-up shirt over the FE9 and grabbed my jacket on the way out. Looking at me, you would never know that I wore something straight out of the comic books underneath.
I retraced my steps out of the building, reset the alarm and found Steve waiting to go at the other end of the block.