CHAPTER 16
Locke didn’t sleep. In fact, he couldn’t remember blinking. He watched the sun move inch-by-inch, rising about the skyline. It flushed Locke’s room with yellow rays, overpowering the light he’d left on.
As if on cue, the street below became active again. Buses, subjects on bikes, pedestrians. Locke heard someone in the next room running the shower. On the other side, someone flushed a toilet.
The clock said 6:03am.
Picking himself off the chair, he lumbered over to the shower, his feet feeling delicate from last night’s run through the halls. He flipped on the hot water while he went to the bathroom. He was going to flush, but it might turn the water cold.
He showered for ten minutes, feeling like he could have bathed the entire day if the water stayed hot. These days, in a fancy hotel like this, the hot water lasted twenty minutes. Maybe longer.
He shaved. No more Homicide Detective stubble allowed. Maybe he should grow a goatee like Hiss. The razor paused on his cheek. No, Jade would hate it.
Brushing of his teeth made him glad he still had all thirty-two. Many subjects his age didn’t.
He remembered Hamilton’s teeth. They were perfect.
Teeth.
The word stuck out to him.
Did it mean something?
He sloughed it off and continued brushing. His attention drifted to the dark rings under his eyes. They made him look fifteen years older. He hoped Hiss wouldn’t notice them.
At 6:25am he finished dressing. At 6:29am he arrived out front.
Hiss was already there. “How did you sleep?”
“Great,” Locke answered with a second-long smile, shifting his feet.
“Good. Because we have a long day ahead.” Hiss frowned, shaking his head. “And, Govicide Agent Locke, your suit is much too wrinkled. We have a dress code and right now you are out of code. You should carry an iron with you always.”
Had Hiss been more attentive he would’ve noticed Locke’s bloodshot eyes. Locke studied his suit, noticing a few wrinkles. Was it really that bad? But if Hiss said it wasn’t in code, who was he to argue?
In minutes, they were off to the train station. Locke hid the letter and its envelope at the bottom of one of the bags. Even if the bag fell over while opened, they wouldn’t fall out.
Before long, the limousine pulled into the train station. Unlike the cavernous and un-populated airport, it was over-populated and roughly the size of the Homicide office. It didn’t seem big enough for everyone who wanted to ride. In fact, had the train station been the size of the airport lobby, it still would’ve been packed.
Locke noticed Hiss. Arms crossed, biting his lip, tapping his left foot. He got the feeling being around the Masses terrified the older Agent. Locke had been one of the Masses. Hiss hadn’t. He’d been a Govicide Agent for forty years. He always flew on SST’s and drove automobiles. He never had to ride a train. Govicide Agents dealt with a few of the Masses at a time. They never experienced a crowd like this.
“Thank the OWG we don’t have to stand in line, right?” Locke nudged Hiss.
No reaction.
Within moments, the Masses noticed there were two Govicide Agents in their midst. The yelling and talking ceased. Each of them bowed toward the Agents, even turning toward them when Hiss and Locke followed the limousine driver through the crowd.
Seconds later, their bows complete, a few of the Masses approached Locke and Hiss. Then a few more. Before long, a crowd gathered around them as they tried to make their way inside the station. The Masses stretched out their arms, trying to touch the Agents.
Hiss swatted at their hands, sidestepping left and right to avoid touching them. Locke, in contrast, smiled and nodded. It was far from the anonymity of Homicide.
The crowd chanted, “Thank you for the Goods and Services.”“Without you we would not be able to live.” “Thank you for allowing the OWG to run our lives.”“Please collect all the credits you can.”
The limousine driver acted like a plow, using the bags to push the Masses aside.
“Maybe we should get an automobile instead?” Hiss shouted over the crowd, even though Locke stood right next to him.
“No. It’ll be fine. They love us,” Locke answered. The adoration almost made the paranoia and fear from last night disappear.
The driver knocked enough subjects out of the way to make it inside. None of the Masses gave them a hard time about going right to the front. They knew better.
Hiss and Locke didn’t need tickets. They zigzagged through the station, out to the platform, and boarded. They picked a berth nearest to the door. The driver left their luggage and exited the train.
They sat, watching the subjects labor to get on the train.
“I cannot stand being around . . . them,” Hiss sneered, his left hand scraping at his pant leg.
Locke stayed quiet. He observed the Masses and thought the exact opposite. He enjoyed being around them. He could identify with them. He had been in crowds like the one outside his window many times. He knew what they were feeling. What they were thinking. He saw their faces and saw his own.
The Masses boarded and the train lurched forward, beginning the seven-hour trip. Locke rode a train to Cornville during the Hamilton investigation but he’d come from Mile High City to the west. That nine-hour trip started out in the mountains and ended in the plains. This one would be nothing but a flat ride.
The hours of wakefulness took a toll on Locke’s eyelids, pulling him into dreamless sleep.
Locke woke up, checking his phone for the time. He estimated Cornville was still a half hour away. The seat had cut off some circulation to his lower legs over the five-hour nap, so he stood to get the blood flowing again.
“I thought you said you slept last night?” Hiss eyed him over his OWG Monthly Newsletter.
“I did. Sometimes riding in moving vehicles puts me right to sleep.” Locke shook his legs out and sat back down.
“I called a spy who is going to meet us at the station. He discovered a bunch of cash floating around outside Cornville.”
“So, Wolf was right. That cash made its way out here. Not to the South as was originally thought.”
“But I still cannot figure out why the cash went this way. I got this pad out to try to brainstorm some reasons the cash would come here. But I could not come up with any.” Hiss showed the notebook to Locke. Except for the heading, “Reasons,” the page was empty.
Locke’s attention drifted out the window. “Me neither. Even when I visited here the first time I couldn’t figure out why Hamilton chose this location. This place is pretty out-of-the-way.”
“Dale City, Gambling City, Snow City, Red Star City.” Hiss said them like he held Hamilton’s list in front of him. “All major cities. Lots of subjects. Lots of Goods and Services. Of course, lots of buildings. And then there is Cornville.”
“Yeah. Cornville. Can’t see any relation between those places and here.”
The train slowed. A few buildings appeared outside. Before long, it pulled into the station. This one was no different than the last one: crammed.
Locke and Hiss grabbed their bags, having to carry them themselves this time. Once again, their presence caused a hubbub. Subjects bowing, yelling and chanting.
Out front, a male, with the attire of an OWG Coal Miner, held a sign: Govicide. He didn’t say anything but led them to his truck.
He took the Agents’ bags, threw them in the back, and got in the driver’s side. Locke noticed Hiss wait for their contact to open Hiss’ door for him. When he didn’t, Locke watched a scowl appear on Hiss’ face as if he made a mental note.
Hiss opened the front, passenger door himself and got in. Locke would’ve given a few credits to read Hiss’ thoughts right at that moment.
Once they were all inside, the male opened up. “Govicide Agent Hiss, it is nice to finally meet you. I am Ames.”
Ames spoke with an accent Locke forgot was used in this area. His words sounded cut off as if he was in a hurry to get to the next one. And the words came out like they were being squeezed through a funnel.
Hiss and Ames shook hands across the seat. “Yes, I am Govicide Agent Hiss. This is newly recruited Govicide Agent Locke.”
Ames and Locke shook hands but he remained focused on Hiss. “Oh, yes. I remember Govicide Agent Locke. But he was just a Homicide Detective at the time.”
“You remember I came here a year and a half ago?” At least someone remembered him, Locke mused.
“Oh yes, Govicide Agent Locke. I follow such matters. Hamilton was a bad subject. You and Govicide were very good to catch him.”
“Well, I had some help from Govicide.” Always a good idea to credit Govicide. “Lots of help.”
“Ames, this is not our usual transportation. Where is our limousine?” Hiss asked.
“Govicide Agent Hiss, a limousine would have a lot of trouble where we are going. So, I borrowed this from the OWG Land Use Department.”
“But you did not tell them we were here, correct?” The parental tone seemed to slip from Hiss’ mouth with the ease of breathing.
“Oh, no. I told them nothing. And I filled out the proper paperwork as well.”
“Good. Where are we going?”
“To an area that has not been used for a long time. An area far outside town.” Ames’ eyes shifted back and forth between the road and Hiss.
Locke slouched, surprised to hear they would not be staying in Cornville. Hamilton killed Govicide Agent Roberta Hansen downtown in the bathroom of an OWG Drinking Establishment. Neither he nor Govicide figured out why she was there. Hamilton dressed as a female to kill her.
“What are we going to find out here?” Hiss asked.
“You need to see for yourself.” Ames’ shifty eyes glanced at Locke and Hiss then he affixed the bloodshot orbs on the road.
They traveled for forty minutes, the sun dipping with every mile. Without warning, Ames slowed the truck and made a left, but Locke saw no road. The vehicle bucked, left and right, as Ames drove into a field like many they passed since leaving Cornville.
After twenty shaky minutes, their journey ended at a chain link fence. From where Ames stopped, the fence extended out in opposite directions. Locke couldn’t see the end of it.
“We are here.” Ames put the truck into park but left it running.
“Where is here?” Hiss asked, looking out his window.
“You will see, Govicide Agent Hiss.” Ames flipped on a set of floodlights attached to the truck’s roof.
Pointing, Locke noticed it first. “Look . . . ”
Out in front of the truck, the wind blew pieces of paper, most of it green. The fence acted like a strainer, allowing the wind through but nothing else. The paper became plastered up against the metal, trying to sneak through, but to no avail.
Locke opened his door.
“Where are you going?” Hiss shouted into the backseat.
Jumping out, Locke didn’t answer.
Locke slammed the door of the truck. The wind swirled around, blowing Locke’s tie and the bottom of his suit jacket. Pieces of trash hit him in the face, legs and chest then fluttered away. He couldn’t catch any with his hands.
He stepped out in front of the headlights, scraping a piece of trash off the fence.
Just as he thought: It wasn’t trash at all.
It was cash.
Hundreds of bills, floating around out like a green tornado.
Locke stuffed the first one in his pocket. Then scraped more off the links, stuffing his pockets until they bulged like the excitement within him.
He held the next one he snatched in front of the headlights. Instead of the number one, “100” was printed in each corner. A different male pictured, not the one with the wig. This male on this bill was bald on top but with long hair in the back. Locke couldn’t read the name but it looked like it started with an “F”.
When he turned it over, the bill almost escaped his hands as the wind ripped at it. He tightened his grip. The back had a picture of a building in the middle, somewhat like Govicide Headquarters but not quite. The building spread out with a second floor in the middle section and a clock. There were trees in the background. It was the same size and shade of green as the bills in Dale City. The only differences were the pictures and the numbers. There was no Pyramid on this one.
Ames beeped the horn.
Locke turned and shielded his eyes from the glare of the lights. Hiss waved for him to return to the truck. He jogged back and got in, fighting gusts the whole way.
“Whew, windy out there.” Locke pulled the cash out of his pocket and handed it to Hiss. “It’s all cash.”
Hiss took the bill. “Turn on the interior lights.”
Ames hit a button on the dash. The interior lit up.
“There must be a hundred of these floating around out there,” Locke said between breaths. The wind had taken a little out of him.
“How did you know these were here?” Hiss asked Ames.
“Govicide Agent Hiss, my sources are confidential.”
“And I am a Govicide Agent. Nothing is confidential when I have a need to know. How did you find out these were here?” Hiss reiterated, taking his eyes off the bill.
The spy adjusted his position in the driver’s seat, moving further from Hiss. “Govicide Agent Hiss, I am sorry but when I agreed to-- ”
Hiss punched Ames in the mouth, the spy’s head thudding off the driver’s window. Locke jumped in his seat. The punch had to have dislodged a couple of teeth.
Grabbing Ames by his jean jacket, Hiss pulled him close. “You want to think about your answer again?”
Ames tried to wipe the blood from his mouth but Hiss knocked the informant’s hand away and pushed Ames against the driver’s door. Hiss knelt on the seat, wheezing but not retreating. Locke sat frozen, surprised Hiss resorted to violence so soon.
“Govicide Agent Hiss, it was a male, who knew a male, who--” Ames was almost crying.
“Do not give me that,” Hiss shouted as he grabbed Ames again and slammed him against the driver’s door.
Locke thought about sticking his arm out to stop Hiss but didn’t, thinking the rampaging Agent might rip it off.
“Govicide Agent Hiss, I never see . . . ” The spy struggled to get any words out now. More blood than words came out.
The Agent breathed like a locomotive. Ames was lucky. If Hiss was in better shape he could’ve pinned Ames against the door forever. Instead, Hiss backed off, although Locke believed this might just be the beginning.
“Get out,” Hiss sounded like he was ordering lunch.
“What?” Ames swiped at the blood with his sleeve.
“I said get out. Or do I have to drag you out of this truck?” Hiss took the time to flatten out his suit before sitting straight in his seat.
Taking a peek at Locke, Ames seemed desperate for help. He wiped his mouth again. A few tears gathered by the bridge of his nose.
What could Locke do? When a Govicide Agent asked questions, a subject was mandated to answer, even if the answer was unspeakable. And any answers would’ve been better than the ones Ames had given.
So, Locke could only state the obvious, “You better do what Govicide Agent Hiss says.”
Ames pulled the handle on the door and got out.
“You know it’s too far for him to walk back to Cornville.” Locke stated after the door slammed shut.
“I know that,” Hiss yelled.
“You didn’t have to hit him. He was scared enough as it was.”
Hiss slid over into the driver’s side.
“What are you doing?” Locke pressed himself against the front seat.
“Scaring him some more.” Hiss jammed the gear lever down into drive.