Synth, p.36
Synth, page 36
I scoffed, shoving the phone back into my pocket and finally leaving the stall. I had no idea how I was going to get out of this one, given that I had already agreed to it. I doubted the place served synth. It was located on Fourth, and that was prime fine dining territory. I would probably have to go, then just find some way to not eat the food, or piss Grace off beyond repair and completely back out. I rinsed my mouth out at the sink, then used a few paper towels to remove the excess water from my hair.
I frowned at my reflection. I did look remarkably like a drowned rat.
A drowned rat who would smell like vomit, which was yet another problem to deal with. Suppressing a groan, I made my way toward the boardroom, hoping I could get to my makeshift desk and grab a mint before Hakim asked me any questions.
“Did you return Dolan’s equipment to Jonathan?” Hakim asked the second I stepped into the room. He glanced up at me, his eyes lingering a fraction longer than they normally would as he took in my ragged appearance. “Did it go okay?”
“Yes,” I said, trying not to breathe out too much as I rapidly walked by him to my desk. I pulled open the top drawer, trying to make it look like I was putting things away as I pulled out my mints and popped two into my mouth before continuing. “But I lost another sensor from our set.”
I held up the yellow form.
“After I fill this out, you and Captain Vogle will need to sign it,” I said. “I’m sorry, sir. I looked everywhere for it but—”
“It’s fine,” he cut me off. “I don’t care about a missing sensor. Just fill out the form and make sure that Vogle initials the right spot when you’re done. I need you to finish going through the footage from 44 and check with Corban to see what he got back from the labs.”
“Yes, sir.”
I placed the slightly damp yellow form on the corner of my desk so I wouldn’t forget to bring it home, knowing that if I started to fill it out now, Hakim would not be pleased. Instead, I got to work on what he had asked. I started the download on the next batch of footage from the network, then called Corban, who reluctantly agreed to give me a copy of his preliminary findings at the end of his shift so long as I promised to get my ass down there to grab it at precisely 9 am before he went home.
I crawled through the footage that had downloaded as I waited for Corban to finish his report, ignoring the prickle I felt along the back of my neck each time Hakim glanced in my direction. He was looking at me more frequently than normal, but if it was because he thought I was behaving strangely or knew that I had thrown up, he didn’t say anything. So I ignored it, ate two more mints and a gelatin cube, then promptly left my desk at 8:50 am to go get the preliminary report from Corban.
By the time 11 am rolled around, I had completely forgotten about the impending reservation with Grace. That was, at least, until my desk phone rang, and I answered it to find her on the other end of the line.
“Grace?” I questioned, glancing over at Hakim’s empty desk and wondering how long it would be before he came back from Vogle’s office. “Why are you calling my office phone?”
‘Because you didn’t read my text,’ Grace said, her irritation clear. ‘You never do – so obviously the only way to get a hold of you is by making you think it’s work-related. I made the reservation for tomorrow.’
“Yes, I saw.” I pinched the bridge of my nose as I lowered my voice. “Look, now really isn’t a good time to discuss this. Can I call you back from my cell phone later? I’m still working and—”
‘You’re always still working,’ Grace countered, but the inflection on “working” made me bristle.
“Yes, because I’m trying to help solve murders, and it isn’t an easy task.”
‘Whatever,’ Grace said. ‘Look, the reservation is at 4 am. I know it’s late for lunch, but it was the best I could do, and it will totally be worth it. Mark’s coworker went the other night, and they said it was amazing! The dress code is—’
“Grace—” I cut her off, my voice much harsher than I meant it to be. “Look, I don’t think I can go.”
Silence rang heavy from the other end of the phone.
‘What do you mean you can’t go?’
“I can’t go,” I said, lowering my voice again and wishing the cord was long enough that I could get up and kick the door to the boardroom the rest of the way closed. “I’m sorry, I can’t. I just—”
My cell phone buzzed, and my eyes dropped down to the screen to see the incoming message from Hawthorne. I quickly unlocked the device and scanned his text.
H: Thinking of going for a swim.
Want in?
Hawthorne was heading out to the docks. I groaned, quickly typing out a reply and attempting to manage both conversations at once.
“I can’t go, Grace. I’m so sorry—”
V: Still working.
Go without me.
“I know how much it means to you, and I’m sorry I said I would go, but—”
H: Np.
I’ll bring you back a snack.
“But I just can’t afford it,” I blurted.
The words sounded as desperate and torn as I felt. It was a bit of a weak excuse, but the sad thing was, it wasn’t even a lie. I didn’t have the money to afford a fancy lunch when I was spending most of my cash on gas and supplies.
“I don’t have any money right now,” I said, leaning into the lie as I let my voice waver. “I didn’t want to say anything about it. I’m not trying to be difficult. I just – I don’t have the cash to eat out or go to movies.”
Silence stretched, then I heard her let out a tight breath.
‘You could have just told me.’ She didn’t sound mad, but I struggled to place the underlying tone in her voice. ‘Instead of making plans and backing out. Getting that reservation wasn’t easy, you know?’
“I know.” I glanced back to the door as I heard voices in the hall. It was Vogle. I couldn’t make out what he was saying, but I knew the tone, and it meant Hakim would be coming back any second—possibly with our captain in tow. “I’m sorry – I just didn’t want you to worry.”
‘Well, it’s hard not to!’ Grace let out an exasperated sigh. ‘You’ve been acting bizarre these last few weeks, and you look ragged. It’s not like you to have money problems. What the hell happened? Did you get yourself caught up in some gang trouble or something because of your work on the south side? Did Hakim put you up to something? Is he still pushing you like crazy?’
The door to the boardroom opened fully, and I looked up to see Hakim enter the room. His eyes darted to the phone in my hand, and I fought to suppress a grimace as I quickly tucked my cell phone away.
“I’d really rather not talk about it.” I dropped my eyes to my desk while silently hoping Hakim wouldn’t remark about how I wasn’t to be making personal calls during working hours even though it was my personal time. “I need to get back to work.”
‘Fine,’ Grace said, but I knew the conversation wasn’t over. ‘I’ll cancel the reservation. I’ll just come over to visit instead, and we can grab some takeout. Does 4 am still work for you?’
“Yes,” I agreed, hoping to wrap this up as quickly as possible. “I’ll see you at 4 am.”
‘Good,’ Grace said, though she still didn’t sound happy. ‘See you then.’
“Personal calls should be made on your own time, Gorski.”
I hadn’t even put the receiver back on the hook. There was a pretty decent chance that Grace had heard that, which would surely only make things worse.
“Yes, sir,” I said as I hung up the phone. “I apologize, sir. The number didn’t come up. I didn’t realize it was a personal call until I answered. I’ll do my best to ensure it doesn’t happen again.”
He didn’t say anything else, so neither did I. I just got back to work, wading through endless haystacks of footage, looking for a needle as I wondered how the hell I was going to manage all these problems.
twenty-one
Pressure
Saturday, October 24
4:39 am
I glanced down at my watch, wishing that Grace would just get up and leave. She had only been here for twenty-five minutes, and things were already headed toward disaster. Part of me wanted to outright ask her to go, while the other half just hoped that she would finally snap at me and storm out on her own. Honestly, I didn’t really care what caused it at this point. Every minute that dragged on since she’d arrived felt like an eternity, and it was laced with nothing but tension and unspoken hostility.
I didn’t see how this was going to end well, so I just wanted it to be over.
By the time I’d left work on Friday and collected stuff for the next round of supplies, it was past 3 pm. The weather was still horrendous, and Hawthorne was busy at the docks scoping out the next set of warehouses. I didn’t go out to join him. We’d agreed it would be suspicious to park both of our cars by the trail in a rainstorm on the off chance anyone saw them, so I set up shop at my small table and started crawling through more security camera footage. He showed up at my apartment a few hours later, dragging along what must have been half the mud from the ditch with him, as well as a few leaves and broken twigs.
Thankfully I was able to buzz him in without anyone seeing his dishevelled state, but I didn’t want to risk it happening again when I knew there would be other days like this, so I gave him my spare set of keys, telling him to use the building side door and eastern stairwell—threatening that if he ever came over unannounced or used the keys for indecent purposes, I would break his neck. He promised he wouldn’t. Then, after a moment of silent debate as I stared at his horrid state, I caved, let out a heavy sigh, and got a rag to wipe off his muddy gear bag before shoving him down the hall to go take a shower.
I tried not to think about him using my towels, or being in my shower and touching my stuff, but I couldn’t exactly leave him covered in mud, and we needed to get back to work and discuss his findings. So while he showered and did whatever it was that Hawthorne did in the bathroom for twenty-five minutes, I cleaned the floors, put his boots on the shoe rack, and got back to work. I was already downloading the sensor data he had retrieved when he came into the room wearing a fresh set of clothes from his bag, hair still damp.
I agreed that he could leave his small surveillance gear bag here since he was planning to come back tomorrow anyway so we could go back out to the docks together. Then we both sat down at the table, and my discomfort with him being so at home in my apartment was forgotten as he debriefed me on his surveillance efforts. He noted that the warehouses he’d observed today had working cameras, new locks, and motion sensor security lights that were going crazy in the storm. The buildings were far enough back from the road that they weren’t easy to see, and one actually had a rear loading zone and upper office unit that faced the water. He’d seen a truck from Jensen’s Janitorial service show up just before he’d left, so it was safe to assume the office was in use.
Both buildings were good potential options for temporarily storing humans prior to shipping them out through the docks, but until we reviewed the sensor data or saw something to confirm it was our target, we agreed that our ditch-creeping efforts would have to continue.
There were still eight more warehouses to examine, and we couldn’t afford to get this wrong. Warren and his people were depending on us. They didn’t have the time or resources to cover more than one warehouse the night the humans arrived. We couldn’t wait for the truck to show up and then surround the building. Coordinating that would be impossible—the area was simply too large, and we had no idea how long the window between arrival and departure would be or what sort of security Scott Beckette would be using.
Would they unload their cargo in one of the buildings or simply pull the trucks inside and then load the entire vehicle on the boats a few hours later?
Eridanus and their network hadn’t been able to confirm the plan, so right now, we were grasping at straws and making educated guesses based on the typical boat traffic and dock activity because we knew we had to be ready and waiting for them. Warren and his people needed time to prep their extraction team, develop an exit plan, get down to the docks, surround the building, and have their own trucks ready to go—assuming they even planned to use vehicles. I had no idea if humans could drive or what the hell the plan was. The logistics of this mission were a nightmare, especially since Warren still wasn’t talking to me, and I was seriously starting to get concerned.
While Hawthorne and I had sat at the table working through the rest of the day, Warren had messaged me another small list of supplies, but still, he’d given me no drop time. No good afternoon greeting. No update on his progress or request about mine. No indication that he viewed me as anything other than a pack mule to be used for dropping off goods or that he ever wanted to speak to me or see me again. And as I read the words, I felt something inside me crack. Like a tiny little fissure had formed between my ribs, leaking the buried anger and frustration that had been building in my chest since the whole mess had started.
Texting him was like texting a wall.
It was a problem, and enough was enough.
I had no idea what was going on with him, but I knew we wouldn’t be successful if we didn’t sort this out. Whether I had done something to upset him or there was something else happening behind the scenes, it didn’t matter. We had to talk, and we had to fix this. So I texted him just after Hawthorne left, telling him I would gather the remaining supplies and drop them off early Sunday afternoon before heading into work for my Monday shift, but that we had new information and I needed to see him so we could discuss it.
I had asked him to meet me at the cave, but I still hadn’t heard back.
I was hoping that was only because I’d messaged him at 10:21 pm and not because he was planning to ignore me, and that he would message me when he woke up so I wouldn’t have to stake out the cave all Sunday afternoon and ambush him when I dropped off his requested supplies.
After giving up on waiting for his reply, I had headed out into the night, this time driving to the north end of Carneth to gather the requested items. Everything Warren had listed could be passed off as regular everyday things, so I stopped at three stores, bought everything without my helmet on using the cash from Eridanus, and headed home to pack up my gear bag.
I ended up passing out on my couch for two hours, waking up with barely enough time to cram all my research into my bedroom, hide the overstuffed supply bag in my closet, stuff Hawthorne’s in next to it, and complete a once-over of my apartment to make sure there was nothing obvious sitting out before Grace arrived and I buzzed her into the building.
I had been planning to order us lunch from Albert’s; it was quick, easy, cheap, and of course, synthetic. It went along with my lie—which wasn’t really a lie—that I didn’t have the money to get anything decent to eat. But to my horror, she had shown up with food despite me specifically asking her not to, and that was when this night had begun to completely fall off the rails.
She’d brought takeout from her favourite place in the Westchester Mall near her home. The gesture, while kind in nature and completely unlike Grace, was entirely problematic given that it was made from real blood, and I had zero intentions of ever eating it. I hadn’t eaten in a while, and the smell of it was both intoxicating and revolting, and that only made me feel worse.
I told her it was too much, that she should keep the dish and take it home for Mark, and I would just order something cheap for myself from Albert’s because I couldn’t afford to pay her back.
She told me it was her treat, that she was doing me a favour. I deserved to have something nice every once in a while, and it was a pre-thank you for helping to set up her Halloween party—which I had not agreed to previously. I had smiled at her, the muscles in my face stiff and the expression surely looking more like a grimace of pain than anything else, as I’d reluctantly accepted the container and brought it to the table.
That had been ten minutes ago. Now I was beginning to run out of reasonable excuses not to eat it, and Grace was starting to push.
“I don’t understand why you’re so hung up on this,” Grace said as she took another bite of her food and eyed me from across the table. “It’s no big deal. I’ve bought you lunch before.”
“I know.”
I felt my small flip phone vibrate in my pants pocket, and I had to resist the urge to pull it out.
“It’s your favourite dish from Lotus.”
“I know,” I said again, stirring the stir-fry mix with my fork but refusing to take a bite.
“Then what’s the problem?” I could hear the agitation growing in her voice. “Why the hell are you being so difficult?”
“I’m not being difficult.”
The phone vibrated again, and the constant pressure in my chest started to grow as my mind began listing off all the reasons why Warren might be texting me before five in the morning after days of silence. Had something gone wrong? Had they missed the truck departure? Had we already failed? Or was he simply answering my request to meet? Did he agree? Or was he blowing me off again?
“Yes, you are!”
Her words came out much angrier than I’d expected. I knew Grace was losing the little patience she had, but so was I, and after her confrontation with Hakim in the parking garage two weeks ago, I was seriously starting to question how we had ever become friends. Had I just never noticed how vainglorious and selfish she could be? Or had I been that way, too, and changed over the last few months?
“You’re being ridiculous, Valya,” Grace continued, her contemptuous tone grating on my last nerve. “I came back from vacation, and it’s like you became a completely different person! Stop lying to me! What the hell is going on with you?”
“Nothing’s going on!” I snapped, stuffing the fork deep into the takeout container as I sat back in my seat and latched to the first lame excuse I could muster. “I’m just pissed you brought this over when I specifically asked you not to.”
