Synth, p.44
Synth, page 44
I shuffled through the pages, noting that the owner was identified as M. Longwurst, but the details were minimal. I frowned. It was yet another name I would need to chase down in this mess to determine if there was a connection to Natasha Lionetti, and thus the Beckettes. I let out a sigh, leaning back in my chair and pulling out my small black flip phone.
It wasn’t too late yet. Warren was probably still awake, and I hadn’t checked to see if he had messaged me yet. I opened the phone, punched in the pin code and smiled when I saw the unread messages from earlier in the day.
A: Vela dropped everything off.
Just an FYI, he’s terrible at navigating.
I saw him drive by twice before he found the spot that you usually park in.
Finalizing things tonight, but O said your end should be sorted.
I’ll let you know as soon as things are set.
How was your shift?
The last message had been sent two hours ago, the rest spanned across the afternoon, and I wondered if they had since managed to sort out the plan.
C: Long.
I answered, wishing I could just drive out there and see him instead of sending fragmented messages. We still hadn’t talked about what had happened, and it was starting to look like that wouldn’t be in the plans any time soon.
C: Glad it’s over.
I know V is. I’ll work on it.
Any update on the plan?
I set the phone back to vibrate and nearly jumped when it instantly buzzed.
A: Yes.
My pulse quickened.
A: Time your surveillance route so you and V are by Capel Street at 9:50 am.
Take the maintenance road V identified down to the ditch.
Cross the bridge there. The cameras will already be disabled.
There will be an unmarked maintenance van between 234 and 235. Park beside it, and make your way to the fire escape.
We’ll be waiting there.
“Okay,” I breathed, knowing I was unlikely to get any additional details like how the cameras would be disabled via text.
C: Alright. We can do that.
That’s our alibi? We saw the van go in?
A: Exactly.
Tell V to pop out tomorrow, and I’ll give him a final copy of the plan.
C: Alright.
A: Any other news on JJ?
C: No. Details are still coming in. I’ll have a better picture by Monday.
Did you find something on them?
Do you need something?
A: No. E didn’t have anything.
But it’s on their radar now.
C: Good.
There was a moment of silence as I sat there holding my phone, wondering what else to say. I had a thousand thoughts in my mind, and yet not a single one could be captured by text.
A: Did you get some sleep?
I stilled, staring at the message. It was a complete change of pace, and I found myself wondering if he’d sent it because he cared about me and was worried or if he was simply concerned about my health for Saturday. I supposed it didn’t really matter. Both would be valid. It just all felt so confusing because I didn’t have a clue where his head was after what had happened.
C: Yes, I did.
I answered, knowing it was the only thing I could say. Then I quickly added,
C: Make sure you get some too.
A: I will.
I stared at my phone in silence, then smiled when the next words came only seconds later.
A: Goodnight.
I’ll text you tomorrow morning.
Friday, October 30
8:02 am
The precinct was alive with chatter. A dull but vibrant buzz hummed throughout the building and infected every corner. It was impossible not to hear. Impossible not to linger in the hall on the way to the print room or stand a little longer in the bathroom washing my hands as everyone gossiped about the upcoming forty-eight hours.
Hawthorne’s plan had worked, and Orion’s desire for the atrocious misdeeds of the Beckettes becoming evening news would be the easiest part of the mission at this rate.
The impending rally of protestors this Halloween weekend was all anyone could talk about. The news outlets were speculating massive turnout numbers, likely causing more harm than good as they stirred people into a panic and warned the public to stay indoors. Many in the precinct were pissed because they had booked the weekend off to participate in the festivities and were now being asked to work OT. Others were excited about the opportunity to make some extra cash, while a good number were just adding fuel to the fire by outright debating the ag-gag bill and the legitimacy of the human rights advocacy groups instead of filing their reports.
Meanwhile, I was doing everything that I could to stay sane as I eavesdropped on the conversations, bit my tongue any time I heard someone say humans weren’t people, and turned away from anyone who was looking to debate their opinions. For the first time since joining on as his partner, I was thankful that Hakim didn’t have any interest in speaking to me. I was happy that he shut our boardroom door so we could work, and I was positively thrilled that I would get to spend the next twelve hours in a car with him, away from all this chaos.
I closed my eyes, letting out a quiet sigh and reminding myself to breathe.
In twenty-four hours, Hawthorne and I would be patrolling the streets that neighboured the docks. Eridanus’s contact had come through. When the email had been issued to the Patrol and Street Department last night outlining the shift schedule for the weekend, I’d found my name paired with Hawthorne’s, assigned to his current route, and slotted in for day shift. The second 9:50 am hit, we would cross the small maintenance road, drive to warehouse 235, park near the unmarked van just as Warren had outlined, and weave our way between the warehouses toward the fire escape.
Then everything would change.
It was incredible how many critical moments my life had encountered recently, and I wondered how many more would be crammed into the next few days. Then I shook my head, blinking my eyes open to stare at the Jane Doe map one more time.
“Gorski.”
“Yes.” My head shot up, turning to look at Hakim, who hadn’t bothered to look in my direction.
“Go get the gear,” he said, his eyes focused on his notes, probably seeing a million trends and leads I would never be able to spot. “They’re likely swamped down there, and we can’t be late.”
“Yes, sir.”
I stood from my seat, making my way toward the door and ensuring that I closed it behind me so the blast of chatter that collided with my ears wouldn’t deafen Hakim too.
“I can’t believe you think they should actually be there.”
“It’s a free country, isn’t it? I’m not saying I agree with them; I’m just saying we can’t force them to leave the city core.”
“Well, I just think this whole thing is ridiculous. I mean, could you imagine the prices if they passed that bill? Food is already too expensive.”
I blocked it out the best I could, nodding to the detectives that I recognized as I beelined to the stairwell. I had no interest in getting stuck in the elevator with anyone, so I swiped myself out and made my way down the stairs. Hakim’s theory was proven correct the second I stepped foot onto the second floor. There were way more people here than usual. Some were coming to return the equipment they’d had logged out so it would be available to the weekend OT shifts, and others were on the weekend OT shift trying to sign gear out early.
I made my way over to the cage, waiting patiently behind eight other people as two Reborn behind me drone on about the upcoming hunting trip. My fingers curled into the fabric of my pants as I fought to tune out their words. That was another problem that I had yet to resolve, but it would need to wait.
I shuffled as the line moved up two spaces, then stiffened when I saw who was leaving the cage. Her blonde hair was perfectly slicked back into a high ponytail. Her uniform looked freshly ironed, despite it being the end of shift, and her nails had been done up with festive orange and black paint. I took a tiny step to the right, hoping I might catch a break and she would pass by without noticing me, but I knew I would never be that lucky.
Her eyes caught mine, and they narrowed, a crease forming between her perfectly plucked brows as she slowed. I could see the muscles in her jaw moving, clenching and unclenching as she either fought the urge to say something or tried to decide what words would be the most cutting, but what she settled on surprised me.
“I saw you signed up for OT,” Grace said, slowing to a stop just two feet away. Her eyes were cold and calculating, something burning behind them just out of reach.
“Yes.” My response came out clipped, and her eyes narrowed further. “A lot of people did.”
“And you got paired up with Hawthorne.” She said it sweetly, but the tone just made me feel queasy. “How nice.”
I didn’t say anything back. I wasn’t going to do this at work.
“Well, hopefully your shift goes well.” She smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes, and it made my skin prickle. “I’d hate for you to find yourself in any more trouble.”
If not for the people around me, I might very well have reacted. Instead, I remained silent, my fists clenched tight as I watched her turn and walk away. Then I waited another ten minutes in line before I got the equipment Hakim wanted and hauled it all back upstairs.
He didn’t thank me, and I didn’t care. All I could think about was Grace as we packed up and made our way down toward the parking garage. If Hakim noticed that I looked angry, he didn’t say anything. I loaded our gear into the backseat of the undercover car, then made toward the passenger seat door as the engine roared to life. I yanked it open, intending to slide into the seat, only to pause as a cold shiver ran down my spine and the hair at the base of my neck stood on end. I turned, my eyes rapidly scanning the busy lot and freezing when they met the pale, cold, blue ones watching me from three rows away.
I swallowed, my grip on the door tightening as Grace held my gaze, the disapproval etched across her face as her eyes flicked to the driver’s side, then back to mine.
“Gorski!”
I jolted, turning to look at Hakim, who was putting the car into drive.
“In or out – I’m not waiting.”
“Sorry.” I quickly climbed into the car, barely getting the door shut before he started to drive away. “I thought I might have forgotten something.”
I buckled up my seatbelt, ignoring the irritated expression on Hakim’s face as he weaved his way through the rows of cars toward the exit. I tried to clear my head, tried to focus on the long upcoming day of surveillance where I would need to stay alert instead of worrying about tomorrow. I tried not to think about what Grace had said or the look on her face as she stared at me from across the lot. But more than anything, I tried to ignore the sinking feeling in the pit of my stomach, and the dread that was building in my mind.
twenty-six
Infiltration
Saturday, October 31
7:52 am
“Are you ready?”
I glanced at Hawthorne, watching his face carefully as we made our way across the underground parking garage toward a row of cars. I was so nervous I could barely keep my hands from shaking. I hadn’t slept a wink in the last twelve hours, and I doubted if Hawthorne had either. He’d come by last night to give me a copy of the plan from Warren, and we had reviewed it for hours. After he’d left, I’d done nothing but pour over my notes and run through the plan, trying to commit every little detail to memory in the hopes that it might somehow help.
I could tell that Hawthorne was just as nervous. I could see it clinging to his body, making his movements seem stiff and awkward. Even he couldn’t hide it as he turned and gave me a tight smile.
“Yeah,” he answered as he pulled the keys from his pocket and unlocked vehicle number 209, then moved to open the trunk. “I’m ready. You?”
I nodded, my gloved fingers curling around the strap of my gear bag. I had packed everything we could possibly need: tape, bolt cutters, cuffs, and even medical supplies for the humans in case things went wrong. I’d also brought water, clean snacks, acetaminophen, and a few wraps and sticks to use for splints since we had no idea what kind of condition the people we were trying to rescue would be in. They could be injured, dehydrated, or suffering from any number of things. For all we knew, they might not be able to walk. They’d been locked in a truck for the last three days travelling through cold rain, and we had no idea if they were ever let out for a break or if they’d been allowed to eat or walk around since they had been captured.
I still didn’t know enough about their biology to feel confident in making any assumptions, but I did know that they didn’t recover the way we did. If they had been cooped up for weeks with little room, food, or water, they would be in bad shape. This entire mission could fall apart based on that alone, but it was just something we would have to deal with when the time came. If we had to, Hawthorne and I would pick them up and carry them out.
I just hoped Orion wasn’t planning on them walking anywhere as part of the evacuation.
I ran a quick mental check over all of my belongings for the hundredth time, making sure that I had absolutely everything. I was wearing my vest. Warren was bringing us rifles. My firearm was strapped to my hip, which I would use as a backup if I had to, but otherwise, it would remain untouched. The visor of my blackout gear helmet was freshly cleaned, and my boots were laced tight. I had everything, and yet I still could not shake the unease that clung to my bones.
But at this point, there was nothing else I could do to prepare.
I just had to be ready.
“Yes,” I answered as I tossed my gear into the trunk. I turned to look up at my friend, then did my best to give him a reassuring smile. “I’m ready.”
We both got into the car. Hawthorne started the engine as my eyes scanned over the busy lot, looking for familiar blonde hair. I had told Hawthorne what had happened with Grace. It made him uneasy, too, but I hadn’t heard a peep from her since. She wasn’t signed up for OT duty, and I’d already checked the garage for her car.
She wasn’t here. By all logical reasoning, she should be at home, setting up the rest of the decorations for her party, then grabbing some sleep before her guests arrived. It was hard to imagine that she would risk the success of her social gathering to follow us around, and it was instead much more likely that she had reported her suspicions to Mallick.
There was a very good chance that I would be under investigation starting Monday, and I knew that would damage things for my role as a detective even further. If Grace did report me, Mallick would be obligated to alert HR and inform Vogle, because he was my acting captain. And even though I knew Vogle and Hakim both drained, I didn’t doubt they would throw me under the bus. Hell, Hakim would probably be happy. He’d probably use it as a way to get rid of me permanently.
I just hoped I was wrong about Grace, and maybe I was.
After all, Mallick hadn’t even spared me a glance during the debrief, but then again, he was up to his neck in problems. The protests had started Friday evening, and they were already having issues. Fights had broken out, a dozen Reborn had been arrested, and nearly twenty people had ended up in the hospital with severe burns after failing to clear the square or put on proper blackout gear. They were expecting tonight to be much worse, so an accusation of employee draining was probably the least of Mallick’s concerns.
I buckled my seatbelt as Hawthorne pulled from the parking spot and made his way toward the exit. It took a bit to get out with all the traffic, but we eventually hit the city streets, driving south through the rain toward the docks. We didn’t speak the entire way. I kept my eyes glued to the mirrors watching for anything suspicious or any sign of someone following us. Twice I thought I saw Grace’s car, but with the weather, it was difficult to know for certain.
I knew I was probably being paranoid, but I couldn’t help it. I just couldn’t shake the feeling of dread that continued to build in my chest.
At 8:10 am, we reported in, noting our location on Hawthorne’s route and alerting dispatch that everything looked fine before heading off down the quiet and all but abandoned street. Hawthorne’s usual route ran on the north side of the forest, through the mostly industrial streets parallel to the docks. Every once in a while, the trees would drop, the road would incline, and we would be able to see the water and the warehouses, but for the most part, the river remained hidden behind the colourful array of trees. Any chance we had to get closer, we took. Hawthorne opted to drive down a few service roads, then circle back just so we could scope things out, though it was challenging to see much through the rain.
The plan was to keep this up until 9:45 am, then we would head toward Capel Street, and take the little maintenance road at the end down toward the ditch. There was a small bridge there, gravel, unmanned and typically unused, but gated and monitored by cameras. We would cross it, make our way over to warehouse 235, and park beside the unmarked van—at which point, the clock would already have started.
Warren’s people were using that service bridge to get in, according to the plans that Hawthorne had brought back, and while the docks were long and the cameras were many, it was still possible that security would notice the camera feed of the service road going blank. Hopefully, they would blame it on the weather and think nothing of it, but that wasn’t a guarantee, so once parked, we would need to move fast and hope that Orion’s plan for evacuating the captured humans was efficient, discrete, and thoroughly well devised.
