Ryan muttered, “Huh?” He followed it up with, “Shit. Someone broke in and went through the—”
He stopped talking and then I heard a series of electronic clicking noises. He had to be calling someone.
Over the communicator, I told everyone, “They found the broken drawer and Ryan’s calling someone for help. I don’t know who, but we need to get out before they come this way.”
“What do you think we should do,” Vaughn asked, “Run?” Continue reading Who Are The True?: Part 5
Despite my curiosity about the armor, my mind went back to the thing I should really be worried about. “Hey everyone, they’ve already got the True. Also, Art and Zola are coming along with Ronnie, Uncle Russ, and Ryan, so we’d better get out of here.”
Putting the papers back in the folder and handing it to Vaughn, Stephanie said, “Ok. Done. I was going to go over them once to see if I missed anything, but we don’t have time.”
Vaughn put the folder in the drawer and pushed it shut. “How are we doing?” Continue reading Who Are The True?: Part 4
How much of a chance was a question I had the next time the door opened. Ronnie, the security guard we sometimes saw on the helicopter, walked out and with him came Russell Hardwick and Ryan McCall.
It didn’t take long to guess where they might be going next—the office that we stood in. It was possible that they might walk to the helicopter and leave, but anyone who took Murphy’s Law seriously knew better. Continue reading Who Are The True?: Part 3
Whatever emotion showed on my face, he took it as disbelief. “Look, you saw us talking. We’ve been talking a lot since she broke up with Sandy.”
I glanced around. While Emmy and Sandy’s relationship might have been an open secret for some people, it was possible that saying it aloud might force someone to take official notice.
The people in line for the door ahead of us weren’t close and no one stood behind us. On the other hand, there were people coming in our direction—Art and Zola. I hadn’t been wrong in thinking that Art was both a good six inches shorter and 20 years older than I was. It did surprise me that he could get away with wearing a “Rick and Morty” t-shirt in an office environment. On the other hand the shirt’s message, “I’m not arguing. I’m explaining why I’m right,” fit Art well enough. Continue reading Truth and the True: Part 5
Using alien technology to empower people to break into Hardwick Industries and maybe commit other crimes as well had to be in violation of some agreement. Plus, they were talking about me. Didn’t the FBI quit while they were ahead if they had something and a civilian “asset” was in danger?
They hadn’t said, “That kid makes me nervous. Let’s kill him,” in so many words yet, but a risk to life and limb seemed implied in the way they were talking. Continue reading Jekyll Or Hyde: Part 15
Art laughed. “I don’t know how many guys like him you knew in college, but here’s a little secret. Guys that age want women desperately and have no idea what to do about it. You’re good looking. Even if he never says anything, he’ll probably get nervous every time he gets near you.”
Zola shook her head. “I hope not, but I’m not sure it’s nervousness. I’m still figuring out what all these smells mean, but that doesn’t seem quite right. Besides, doesn’t he have a girlfriend? I thought I heard he was with someone or maybe Stephanie?” Continue reading Jekyll Or Hyde: Part 14
I sat down, not wanting them to think I was watching them. Thanks to the bots I’d hidden around the offices and the lab, I didn’t have to watch them with my eyes. Allowing communication between my bots and my implant let me sit at my desk and watch the two of them move with my brain.
No doubt that opened up issues related to both privacy and humanity’s cyborg future, but I wasn’t worried about them. For me, being able to watch the two of them as they walked over to one of the small conference rooms meant that life was good.
I’d bugged that small conference room. Continue reading Jekyll Or Hyde: Part 13
I recognized them. I didn’t know their names, but I’d seen them at the party the company threw at the old hotel by Lake Michigan.
Neither of them went by the company’s informal dress standard—jeans and a t-shirt, but their success in looking a cut above the rest of us worked better on the woman than the man.
Only a few inches shorter than I was, the woman had light skin, blond hair and wore a green suit jacket with a black turtleneck and pants. It struck me as a goth turned business professional look. I guessed she might be in her early thirties.
I pegged the man as being in his early forties. A couple inches shorter than the woman, he had curly black hair, tan skin, and either hadn’t shaved or grew facial hair at an alarming rate. Continue reading Jekyll Or Hyde: Part 12