CHAPTER 18
Locke dove out of the path, visions of Ames’ body flitting through his mind. The front bumper almost nicked his right ankle, and he felt his bones crunch as he hit the ground. He’d been just a step faster than the unfortunate spy.
He heard the truck crash through the gate, the popping of the hinges and the clanging of the links. The sounds ceased with the locking up of the truck’s tires on the old pavement. Raising his head from the dirt, a brown cloud, the size of his living quarters, drifted away from the headlights in his direction. He turned his head but it was too late. The particles lodged in his lungs, starting a coughing fit he fought for several seconds.
There was no time to waste. Climbing to his feet, Locke sprinted inside the fence line, searching for the broken remains. He came upon the damaged gates off to the right side of the truck and out of headlight range. Several feet separated them, a sure sign the chain had broken.
He knelt in the dark feeling for the padlock, hopefully in the vicinity. The old road was warm from the afternoon sun and coarse, marking his palms with gray soot. Locke heard the shuffling footsteps of Hiss approaching.
“What were you doing? I almost ran you over,” Hiss huffed.
“Yeah, if it wasn’t for my quick steps you would’ve,” Locke answered, too engaged in his activity to look up. He would have loved to give Hiss another piece of his mind but he had a bigger concern.
“Were you trying to stop me?”
“Uh, no. I was signaling you were clear.” Now was not yet the time to tell Hiss about the U. Too risky, given how Locke discovered it.
“Next time do it out of the path of the vehicle,” the old Agent suggested, once again with the tone Locke was growing to dislike.
“Yeah, stupid of me.” Enough of that topic. “Can you point your flashlight down here?”
The beam lit a circle fifteen feet around Locke. He picked up the chain but the lock was gone.
“What are you looking for?” Hiss let out a grunt and crouched.
Locke reiterated his doubts to himself. He couldn’t tell Hiss about the U on the lock. Not yet. “Never mind,” he answered and stood up, his joints reminding him of his recent dive.
He would have to let it go. It was enough knowing the U linked Hamilton to the letter for now. He made a mental note to investigate the U further when he got back to Gambling City.
Locke surveyed the rest of the area, noticing a large block several yards out in front of the truck’s headlights. “What’s over there?” Locke pointed.
“Looks like a slab of concrete,” Hiss wheezed, standing up.
“You mean like the foundation of a building?” Locke dropped the chain at his feet. Without the padlock it meant nothing.
“Could be.”
The two Agents walked toward the block. It wasn’t what Locke expected. From far away, it appeared to touch the ground. Instead, upon nearing, Locke noticed just the slimmest of space between it and the pavement. The slab was about the same width and length of a floor of OWG living quarters, except it stuck out of the ground up to Locke’s mid-section.
Hiss and Locke circled to the right. Maybe a crane dropped it there.
Locke stepped close and ran his hand over the cement. Strange. Locke slipped his hand into the gap. He felt a space of no more than a few inches.
“This slab doesn’t touch the ground.” Locke showed Hiss.
Hiss squeezed his stubby fingers into the space. “What is this?”
They continued around the slab, feeling two long steel strips, like train rails, embedded in the sandy terrain. The rusted strips extended about fifty feet, parallel to each other. Locke guessed each weighed several tons.
Hiss circled the slab again, leaving Locke to stand in the dark. He felt like he was in the dark, figuratively, as well. Where would someone spend cash out here? The anti-OWG cash had no use among the dirt and weeds. There were no subjects. No Goods and Services. No place to store the cash. If anything, the cash should have stayed in the warehouse. It should have stayed in Dale City.
A minute later, Hiss returned. “Getting too windy and cold out here.”
Locke followed him back to the truck. Before Hiss shut his door, he turned the heater on full blast.
Locke spoke first. “What do you think?”
“I get the feeling we are being led on a wild Offender chase. That is what I think.” Hiss put the truck in reverse and backed out past the fence.
“A wild Offender chase? What do you mean?”
“It means if I had not run over Ames before, I would do it now.” Hiss stopped the truck and changed gears.
“What about the cash flying around? What about the new chain and padlock on the fence? What about the--” He bit back his words. He’d almost said, what about the U on the padlock?
“What about what?” Hiss leered at Locke before pulling out onto the rough terrain.
“Nothing. Never mind.” He gnawed his cheek.
“What I mean is this. Ames took us out here to get us off the trail. A big waste of time. They got some bills from wherever and put them up against the fence to make us think something was going on. No Offenders would be here. Nothing but a fence and a bunch of concrete.”
“You sure?” The truck hit the bumps a little too hard. Locke grabbed the armrest to hold on, like he did in the SST.
“Sure? Govicide Agent Locke, when you amass the years I have, you can see a scam a mile away. These Offenders were just trying to get us off their trail. Nothing more.”
In twenty minutes, they were on the highway. They rode in silence. Locke wondered about the etching on the padlock and plodded through his logical progression from earlier.
If the U and the cash were connected, and Hamilton and the cash were connected, then . . . Hamilton and the U were connected.
Whoever pushed the envelope under Locke’s door belonged to Hamilton’s crew. Locke and Govicide took two years to catch Hamilton, and somehow Hamilton’s comrades discovered Jade’s pregnancy in a matter of days.
Locke felt like his insides dropped out of the truck, landing on the roadway to be run over like Ames.
During the two-year investigation, Hamilton was always a step ahead of them, deciding every move they made. Murder in Snow City, Locke was there. Agent dead in Francoville, Locke was there. Wherever Hamilton struck, Locke would be there, always too late until the final time.
Hamilton led him around all over the World, like there was an invisible rope connecting them.
And he was still in control.
The killer—well, his comrades—controlled Locke with knowledge, not action now. But the action would come soon enough. A threat. Blackmail. He could picture it. Agent Locke, either you do what we tell you or we’re telling the Director about Jade.
When would it happen? Tomorrow? The next day?
And how would it be delivered? Another letter? Face-to-face?
The only way to stop it would be to catch them. And catching them might give Locke and Jade some leeway to get an abortion.
A good place to start was to answer why the cash was there. However, he had no idea.
The truck hummed, sounding less like the death machine from an hour ago. Hiss sat at the wheel, seat pushed way back to fit his girth. Locke noticed him lean up every so often, stretching out. Maybe it was a back problem.
Watching his partner, Locke came to a conclusion about the cash: Hiss was wrong. This trip to Cornville was not a scam. He might’ve agreed with Hiss if not for the U on the lock. That sealed it for Locke. The cash was out there for a reason.
Someone, somehow, transported the cash out there. According to Wolf, if he could be believed, contents of the entire warehouse had been moved. But the cash flying around was a fraction of the amount in the Dale City warehouse.
Over a year had gone by since Hamilton killed the Govicide Agent in Cornville. Meaning, the cash had been out there a year. With the wind like the kind they felt tonight, all the cash could have blown away. So, it was at least possible the entire load of cash could have been there at one time before the wind took it away.
And then there was the padlock. Why lock it at all? The site had no purpose.
Locke tried to take each logical avenue, but he always ended up at the same idea.
The U was intricately connected with the cash and the murders, as much as Hamilton.
Hiss parked the truck in a vacant lot, explaining Agents could never be seen pulling into the train station in such an ugly vehicle. Locke thought back to Hiss wondering where their limousine was when they first met Ames.
Hiss called the Local Authorities and gave instructions where the truck could be found. He commanded them to wipe it down erasing all fingerprints, also telling them to fix the front bumper and grill. And to not ask questions. There was no mention of Ames. Or the cash. Or the fence. Hiss hung up and dialed another number. During this phone call, he gave directions to where they could be picked up.
“I think there is a nine o’clock train to Dale City,” Hiss stated, hanging up a second time.
“We’re not staying here?” Locke liked the prospect.
“No. We need to get back to Dale City. We will fly back to Gambling City tomorrow morning.”
“Okay.” Locke suppressed a smile.
Fifteen minutes later, the limousine picked them up and whisked them to the train station. It was nearly empty. The Agents walked to the train without all the fanfare and attention that greeted them before. Hiss was surely relieved, but Locke kind of missed it.
They took separate berths. Hiss selected one toward the front of the train; Locke picked one toward the rear. This was more due to Locke’s choice than Hiss’. He needed distance after the evening’s action.
He did have a question before they said good night.
“What am I supposed to say if anyone asks about Ames?” Locke asked as Hiss stepped into his berth.
“If Stallings asks, tell him the truth. If a subject asks, throw him or her in prison.” Hiss slid his door shut, seemingly closing the topic in his mind.
Once his bags were stowed and the train started moving, Locke pondered Ames’ death while lying on his cot. In terms of the System, Ames would be one more disappearing pixel. Nothing more. His family would wonder what happened to him. Of course, they’d never find out. At some point, they’d receive a few credits to shut them up. Then, they’d go on their way, never to mention Ames again.
Locke couldn’t ignore the irony he’d spent twelve years investigating homicides and, two hours ago, he’d taken part in a homicide that would never be investigated. The family would never get the answers Locke always hoped to provide as a detective.
But, they’d get over it. All bad feelings waned in time.
And Hiss carried on like it was simply procedure. Sure, deaths overall were a bonus for the OWG. But Hiss seemed to get some kind of enjoyment out of scaring and then killing Ames. He claimed he didn’t mean to do it. But Locke wasn’t so sure. He got the impression Hiss did it for fun.
On the other hand, Ames knew the rules. Nothing impeded a Govicide investigation. Not even murder. The OWG Manual was explicit. There was no higher calling than to make sure the OWG got its credits and provided Goods and Services by any means necessary.
Something unexpected popped into his head. A voice. Saying something specific. Saying something he heard before.
People have no rights when the One World Government is never wrong.
Hamilton.
His voice clear as it was the first time.
Locke still had no idea what “rights” were. And he wasn’t sure he would ever know. But, was Hamilton trying to say the OWG mistreated its subjects?
How could the OWG be wrong? The OWG gave everything to everyone. Ames’ murder, although unneeded, happened during the course of investigating Offenders who didn’t have the OWG’s best interests in mind. His death was mandated.
The ends justified the means. Didn’t they?
The train rocked Locke to sleep.
His hand lay on his bag containing the letter and envelope.
His mind focused on how to resolve the growing reservations within him.