Go parked
the crawler in a long shadow a block north of the exclusive apartment building on the east side of Coastal Highway. It was still early, but the temperature was climbing—another miserably hot day on Newcastle.
At least it wasn’t storming.
As he strolled south, he connected to Jason. “Morning, mate.”
“Did something come up? Rosario said she’d call—”
“We have an offer on the RPC job. I’d imagine she’ll counteroffer.” The door opened to his left, and the smell of sausage billowed out as a young couple exited a dark restaurant. They laughed—two women connected at the hip, both with spiky, bright green hair, one sporting gold and red streaks. Young, pampered, somewhat attractive, decked out in high-cut shorts and halter tops…
Go froze, waiting until they slipped into the back of a rental crawler that pulled up. Before the door closed, they had their hands buried in each other’s shorts.
Jason whistled. “You there?”
“Yeah.” Go swallowed, imagining he could taste blood. The women had been so close to the apartments, and they had been oblivious. “Look, I need your help. I’ve got another job lined up.”
“Ah! And I recognize the address. You want to find this apartment?”
“I want into the apartment.”
“That’s—” The driver sighed. “There’s only so much you can do when it comes to breaching.”
Go jogged toward the apartment building, cutting left when he spotted an entry into the underground parking garage. “I think you can do a lot more than most hackers, mate.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?”
“It means I think you’re special. I think you can do things without an earpiece, yeah?”
“Are you trying to blackmail me?”
“I’m not a criminal. But I do need your help, and I’d appreciate your silence.” Go took the steps down to the garage two at a time.
“There’s still a limit to what I can do, earpiece or not. These places are going to have physical bolt locks along with whatever electronic security systems they have.”
Moving around in the garage was like entering a basement after the brilliant sunlight. There were thirty or forty parking spaces, most of them empty. But there were several crawlers in the occupied spaces. Luxury models, sporty models, and rare models. What mattered most was the dark bronze of Robbie’s vehicle, which caught Go’s eyes just as he was ready to give up on finding the crawler.
He ran fingers over the smooth lines of the vehicle and thought back to how close he’d come to getting Robbie that day.
“I’m sending you a couple images. It’s a unique vehicle, and you should be able to get the full ID off of—”
“I’ve got it.”
“His name is Robbie. Dark hair, bodybuilder, kind of a weasel face.”
“Roberto Arantes. I have his address.”
“What’s the apartment number?”
“He lives in Bosque de Jardim.”
“Bosque de Jardim? Does he have any other properties under his name?”
“Nothing on the books.”
Go pretended to admire the vehicle, circling it and nodding as if impressed. Robbie had to own the apartment. Maybe it was under someone else’s— “What about Berti Lind?”
“What about him?”
“Does he have properties under his name? Maybe a business front.”
“You know he’s a dangerous guy, right?”
“Everyone’s dangerous. Does he own any properties that can be connected to this apartment—”
“402.”
“Thanks, mate.”
Go found the elevator and called the car. “Any activity on the fourth floor?”
“Give me a minute.” Jason’s voice was strained. “I don’t think we want to mess with this Lind guy.”
“Let me be the one to decide on that, yeah?”
“I have a lot of contacts, Go. They warned me away from this guy from day one.”
“I understand. But Robbie—Roberto—isn’t Berti, yeah?”
“But you’re going into his property.”
“I
am. Not you. Now, is there any activity on the fourth floor?”
“I’m just now getting into their security. It’s actually very good, and I don’t want to leave a trail. Unless you want me to sign your name on everything?”
Go chuckled. “Not just yet.” The elevator door opened, and Go stepped in. “Heading up.”
“What? I told you that I’m not—”
“I believe in you.”
Jason hissed something under his breath. “Okay. Cameras on the fourth floor. I see the hallway, an intersection, and numbers. I’m guessing eight units. I can’t see all the doors or number plates.”
“Anyone moving around?”
“Nothing. It’s brightly lit, and I think I can see a cleaning cart.”
“Maid service?”
“Probably. It’s out of the range of the cameras.” The pitch of the genie’s voice grew higher. “Go, this is crazy.”
The elevator door opened, and Go stepped out. “I’m on the third floor. I want to get a feel for the layout. Are there any empty units in this place?”
“Just a second.”
Go spotted the camera and casually ambled to the intersection, then turned left. He was just a visitor, confidently looking for his friend’s apartment. “Any chance you could clean up the trail I leave?”
“I can’t work miracles, okay?”
“What were you designed for?”
“That’s actually offensive, just in case you didn’t know.”
“Do you think I meant it to be offensive?”
“You’re an awfully odd human, Go. I have no idea what—” Jason gasped. “306.”
Go stopped. “It’s empty?”
“As of two weeks ago. Still furnished. And nothing but electronic locks. Hurry.”
The signs led Go back to the intersection and across to the other side. The empty apartment was down the hall and to the left. As he approached, locks clacked and the door opened.
And then he was inside.
Bright sunlight reflected from polished, luxuriant hardwood floors. Lemon-scented cleaners accented the salt-sea air. An L-shaped hallway ran to his left and straight ahead. There were three doors at the left end of the hallway; the two on the right wall were open.
It was quiet inside, the place empty.
After a heartbeat, he moved to the left, starting with the door at the end of the hallway, which revealed a closet. The farthest one was a large bedroom, the other a large bathroom.
He retreated to the front door and checked everything along the way: another closet, a workstation pulled up into the wall with a display embedded in the desktop, a modest kitchen with a long island separating it from a large living room. On the west side, open doors revealed another bathroom and a utility room.
The furniture looked hand-crafted—stylish, sturdy, a deep brown leather. His steps echoed off the floors. Heavy curtains had been drawn back to reveal the bay off to the east. A modest balcony held a black, wrought-iron table and two chairs.
Whoever had lived here knew a different life.
Go retreated to the elevator and headed up. “Got an idea—”
“We’ve got someone. On the fourth floor. A young woman, heading down the hall to the elevator.”
“Can you see her? Is it Pardis?”
“Barely. I don’t think it’s her.”
The elevator door opened, and Go pressed the button to keep it that way. The young woman hurried into the car. “Which floor?”
She kept her head down, sniffled, and hit the lobby button. Her perfume couldn’t hide the smell of sweat and sex.
Go squatted until he could see her face. Bright red cheeks, puffy red eyes. Not Pardis. “You okay, Miss?”
Her eyes bugged out, and she backed away. “Yes!”
She wrapped her hands around herself, covering her upper arms where her frilly, white blouse didn’t. But the red marks on her pale skin were unmistakable.
Go slipped into the corner as far from her as he could. A fury he couldn’t control boiled in his gut. He shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the floor. When the door opened, he had to fight the urge to escort her out and call her a crawler.
An adult, he reminded himself. Alive and capable of taking care of herself.
Except, all the victims had been capable of taking care of themselves.
The door closed and he headed back to the fourth floor. “Jason?”
“I saw. There’s a cleaning robot in the apartment. It has a crude camera. There are two men sitting in the living room, watching something on a giant display.”
“Do either of them look like Robbie?”
“It’s a crude camera used for maneuvering. They’re blob-ish humans.”
It didn’t seem likely that Robbie would be sitting around with another guy, watching a display. “Can you get me in without me having to destroy that door?”
“I’m moving the robot to the door. I’ll have it pop the bolts while I get the electrical locks.”
When the elevator door opened, Go rushed down the hallway. “Closing in.”
Locks clacked ahead of him, and the door opened slightly.
Go pushed past the robot, got his bearings with the altered floor plan, then darted forward and to the right.
The living room was larger than in the other apartment, and the furniture was situated differently, but he was ready for that. One of the big guys who had been watching the giant display was on his feet, brow furrowed, mouth open as if to ask what was going on. The other guy Go remembered from the stripper club. He even wore the same outfit.
And the guy recognized Go, reaching for the pistol tucked into the same shoulder holster.
Go closed on the gape-mouthed guy, driving a fist into his sternum with a mixture of momentum and torque. That produced a gasp, and the guy almost buckled.
Then Go grabbed the guy’s shirt and threw him at his buddy.
The impact sent the sofa over onto its back with a crash.
Before either could move, Go was on them. He focused on the one who had his gun out, keeping his buddy as a shield while punching the other man’s bandaged face. It took four strikes, then the gun clattered to the floor.
Three more strikes, and Gape Mouth was out.
Go searched their pockets, found a handkerchief, and wrapped that around the pistol barrel, then he used that to club them a bit more.
He took the gun to the bathroom and dropped it and the handkerchief into the toilet.
Then he sped back to the entry, listening.
Running water. The shower.
It stopped.
Go let himself into the bedroom: a king-size bed with sheets and luxuriant bedspread bunched to one side, cuffs dangling from the ceiling and wall, the heavy drapes from the image, other equipment he hadn’t seen before but could figure out the use of easily enough.
And recording equipment connected to another large display.
The prostitute from the elevator was still on the display, bound in one of the pieces of equipment.
A door opened: the bathroom.
Someone stepped out: a bodybuilder, drying his face, oblivious.
Go whistled—short and sharp. When the other man looked up from the towel, he revealed his face: Robbie.
Go closed.
Very few men could fight effectively when naked. Robbie wasn’t one of them. He caught the first punch on a raised forearm, but that left him exposed.
Go stomped on the bodybuilder’s toes, then when he hunched forward grabbed a clump of hair and went to work on the man’s face: nose, mouth, eyes. It was one rapid punch after another meant as much for shock as damage.
To his credit, Robbie shook Go off and shoved him away.
Blood drained from the bodybuilder’s mangled nose. He spat more blood between split lips. “You’re a fucking dead man.”
Go smirked. “We all are, mate.”
He closed, once again setting Robbie up with an obvious punch, then driving a knee into his gut.
The big guy got in a punch of his own, but Go didn’t feel it.
So Robbie resorted to a tackle, driving Go into one of the sturdier pieces of equipment.
Then they went to the ground.
Although the bodybuilder was stronger, it was the wrong move. Go had extensive training in jujitsu, and in no time had the other man’s right arm close to hyperextension.
Robbie screamed.
Go pulled on the arm and squeezed with his legs. “Where is she?”
The naked man screamed again.
“Where is she? Talk, or I dislocate your elbow.”
“Who?”
“Pardis. The little lady you like to hit.”
Robbie tried to pull free but howled when the arm was tugged. “I don’t know.”
“You think I’m kidding, mate? I know you got your own little kink mess going on, but that’s none of my business. You let her go—I won’t kill you.”
The other man groaned. “I’m telling you: I don’t know where she is.”
Go tugged, and the pop of the bone dislocating barely preceded the naked man’s shriek. Go uncoiled and got to his feet. “Last chance. I can make it hurt a lot worse than that.”
Robbie curled into a fetal position. “I’m telling you…I don’t know where she is.”
“I saw what you did to her.”
The bodybuilder shook his head. When he talked, it was between grunts and groans. “Not me. The guy hired out for that… Not me.”
“Who? Who is it?”
“I can’t… He’s protected.”
“Where is she?”
The big man’s eyes were full of pain but there was even more hatred in them. “She’s how I make money. Don’t you think I want to know where she is?”
He didn’t know. He really didn’t know.
Go shook his fists out. His knuckles throbbed. The display had a simple remote interface. Go held it up for his earpiece to record and mumbled. “Are there any videos of her in here?”
Jason’s breath was soft and fast. “This is dangerous
.”
“I know. Are there any videos of her?”
Images flashed across the display: women who had talked and offered help. Jason found two videos of Pardis. “I’m downloading them. What are you going to do with him?”
“I don’t know.”
The bodybuilder writhed, but his eyes never turned away. “You going to kill me?”
It was what Ash would do, and it was realistically the most sensible choice. Robbie was going to keep coming. He had protection from powerful people, and the constables weren’t going to do anything to stop him.
But Go wasn’t a killer. “Nah. I’ll give you one last chance, mate. Walk away. Let this be. The next time you cross me’ll be the last.”
Robbie blinked, then spat away more blood. “All right.”
Go tossed the remote control onto the bed.
The goon was lying. There would be no peace between the two of them until one of them was dead. It was exactly the sort of mistake Go made over and over, a regret that might be terminal.
That realization followed him all the way out to his crawler, and a part of him rebelled against his stubborn refusal to change. He had others to think of now: Rosario, the team.
Killing, though. It was too far. Go couldn’t bring himself to do it again, even if failing to do so cost him later.