CHAPTER 25
Locke dragged his luggage to the Govicide Gate. This journey was getting familiar. The pilots and attendants were already preparing the SST for the flight. Locke didn’t see Hiss. Boarding the plane, the flight attendants informed him Hiss hadn’t arrived yet.
Hmmm. Putting his luggage behind the seat, Locke found his seat at the rear. An attendant came over to take his order. He asked for OWG Orange Juice.
Just moments from takeoff, Locke thought about calling Hiss to see if everything was okay. However, when he pulled out his phone, Hiss appeared at the entrance to the plane.
He nodded at Locke. “Received some new information. It delayed me.”
Hiss wedged his luggage behind a seat near Locke’s. Locke cocked his head an inch to the side. On the other flights, Hiss made it a point to sit in the front. This time, Hiss couldn’t be closer.
“Oh. Something I should know?”
“Just something that happened in the last couple hours. I will tell you about it in the air,” Hiss answered, buckling the seatbelt around his girth.
The answer stopped Locke in mid-sip. What happened within the last two hours? His visit to Hamilton.
The SST backed away from the gate and started its slow crawl to the end of the runway.
Locke tried to tell himself he was being paranoid. There were a hundred different pieces of news Hiss could’ve gotten in the last couple hours. He could’ve been informed of another cash location. Or, maybe another warehouse full of cash.
But, why did Hiss want to wait until they were in the air?
The SST arched upward and separated itself from the ground. Out of the corner of his eye Locke watched Hiss nurse his OWG Non-Alcohol Liquid. Hiss, unlike the other times, didn’t bring something to read. Instead, he stared at Gambling City vanishing into the haze.
Locke tapped his fingers on the armrest, fear increasing the rhythm with every beat. Not a fear of flying this time. A fear of Hiss’ knowledge. Locke balled his hands into fists for control. The fingernails dug into his palms like shovels. The tapping transferred to his knees and feet. One way or another, the fear wanted out. Now.
The plane leveled off, reaching cruising altitude.
Locke couldn’t take the suspense anymore. It was either ask, or allow his fear to cause him a heart attack. “So, what did you want to tell me?”
“Govicide Headquarters called me an hour ago,” Hiss answered, then shot Locke a glance. Locke corrected himself. It wasn’t a glance. The look was a penetrating accusation.
The statement hung in the air between them. A pause. Then a moment. Then a few seconds. This is bad. Grabbing his drink, he turned his head to avoid Hiss’ eyes.
“What did they want?” Locke fought to keep his voice neutral. But if the glass of orange juice had been made of paper, he would’ve crushed it. Degree by degree, his head turned to Hiss.
Hiss opened his mouth and seemed to think for a second. “A red flag popped up on the System.” One eyebrow rose like a hangman’s noose. “And it had to do with you.”
“Me?” Locke squeaked. In milliseconds, he journeyed through the process of his visit to Hamilton. He couldn’t imagine how he might have tipped off the System. His plan had been foolproof.
Did Govicide have a bug in his living quarters? Had they heard the conversations between him and Jade? Probably not. He wouldn’t be on this SST if that were so. He’d be behind bars, like Hamilton. The pregnancy, talking about the Symbol, not telling Hiss about the letter slipped under the door. Those points alone would be trouble.
Did the Security Guard report his visit with Hamilton? This didn’t seem possible either. A security guard knew better than to implicate a Govicide Agent in anything.
Maybe Locke had been wrong about his Hamilton insights. Had the killer told Govicide about their un-mandated meeting? Had he compromised?
Or, was somebody following Locke? He discarded this idea, too. All the stopping and starting he’d done would have revealed someone keeping tabs.
“The System popped a red flag because of me? Why?” Locke’s voice fluttered like a butterfly. “I’m trying to think. I didn’t do anything to set it off.”
“All Govicide vehicles have tracking devices on them. And the System registered a red flag because your automobile came too close to Hamilton multiple times. You remember the Director mandated Hamilton is off-limits, correct?”
“Yes,” Locke eeked like a mouse. His mind swirled. Forget foolproof. He was the fool. How could he have been so stupid not to realize Govicide would track their vehicles? Stupid. Stupid. Stupid. All buses were tracked. All SST’s were tracked. All limousines were tracked. Every mode of transportation, including bikes.
His orange juice made an effort to climb his throat. Locke tried to hold it down.
How would he explain this?
But Hiss bailed him out. “Did you go down to Homicide to get some more of your things?”
Locke blinked and hesitated. Say something . . . “Uh, yeah. I did. I knew all the automobiles had tracking but I guess it slipped my mind.”
“The red flag registered after a half hour of the vehicle being close to him.”
“I grabbed another box of my Homicide stuff. But while I was there I decided to review Hamilton’s cases. Thought there might be something I missed. Something that could help us out regarding Dale City and Cornville.” A lie disguised with some truth. Would it be enough to not set off Hiss’ senses?
“You are correct. The System Administrators retrieved the records. The System registered the computer was used for an hour and a half, and his files were viewed.”
Why hadn’t Hiss asked him straight out if he used the computer? Hiss had just tested him.
The truth hit him harder than the punch Hiss gave him in Cornville. Hiss wanted to see if Locke would confess the entire story.
Hiss continued. “However, the same file was viewed for the last half hour. Why is that?”
Locke remembered leaving the computer on while he went to see Hamilton. “Well, I perused everything I wanted to see. And I got caught up getting a few items and forgot to turn it off until I left. Just kind of escaped my mind.” Locke shrugged. His stomach pumped the orange juice a little higher into his throat.
Locke felt like an Offender as Hiss examined him. He gripped the armrests. If Hiss noticed, he’d know Locke was lying. He tried to ease his hold but his muscles wouldn’t cooperate.
“So, you did not talk to Hamilton?” Hiss leaned closer.
Locke broke into a laugh, but shut his mouth when he felt juice on his tongue. “What? Talk to him? What could he say to me?”
Hiss replied in a monotone, “That may be true, but should not the first reason be the Director’s mandate?”
Dang it. “Of course, that’s a given.” Locke clung to the armrests harder. He’d have marks on his palms when this was over.
Locke understood why Hiss had waited until the SST took off, because Locke felt like leaving the jet. But it was a long way down now.
Hiss planned it pretty well. He found out about Locke’s movements just an hour before departure and put together an interrogation plan. Locke felt stuck in an interrogation room. No door, nowhere to escape, nowhere to run.
Well played, Hiss.
“The immediate concern, Govicide Agent Locke, should always be what the Director wants. Although we may have our independent ideas and good reasons, the first reason should always be whether the Director mandates something or does not. Whether Hamilton would say anything to you is not relevant.”
“I know what Director Stallings said.” Locke felt his voice getting a bit higher. Calm yourself, Michael. “That’s the first thing on my mind. I just wanted you to know there were other reasons.”
“The other reasons do not matter. In any case, I told them you would never ignore the Director’s mandates. Because you know better.” Locke wasn’t sure the Agent believed what he said. It sounded more like a question. “Oh, and I conveniently forgot to tell the Director I found you outside Hamilton’s cell when we first met.”
“Thank you, Govicide Agent Hiss.” The acid from Locke’s stomach hit his tongue, stinging and chopping Locke’s words short.
“You are so very welcome, Govicide Agent Locke. But I think you may be under some increased scrutiny when we return to Gambling City.” Hiss’ mouth creased into a smile.
Increased scrutiny? Locke didn’t like the sound of that at all. He unbuckled himself from his seat and stood. The orange juice wanted out of his body . . . right now.
“Need to stretch out?” Hiss asked.
“Uh, no. Bathroom.”
Down the aisle, Locke made a beeline for the restroom. The flight attendants were ahead of him, chatting and laughing about something. He didn’t acknowledge them as he passed.
He squeezed past them. He had no sooner shut the door than he threw up in the toilet bowl. The OWG Orange Juice hit the bowl with the kind of force reserved for fire hoses. Locke tried to be quiet so the flight attendants wouldn’t hear. Yet, the top half of his body refused to obey his brain’s commands.
A wave rippled through his upper body, starting in his mid-section and ending at the tip of his tongue. Everything shook. His stomach was empty but the tremors continued. His body alternated between shuddering and stiffening.
All the while mental pictures of the Director, Jade, Hiss, the Security Guards, and Hamilton flashed through his mind. Paranoid images of Agents taking Jade away. The Director reading the letter. Hiss talking to the Security Guards. Hamilton being taken to the guillotine. The imagery alternated back and forth, one after the next.
And they didn’t stop when the convulsing ceased. Another vision came into his mind, crippling his legs and bringing him to the floor: Agents waiting for him when they got off the SST. It occurred to him: he wasn’t sure the SST flew toward the Fourth Continent. Maybe their destination was the District where the Director and others awaited.
The three-foot by three-foot lavatory felt half its size, and shrinking. Locke contemplated his next move. He wished he could crawl down through the toilet and into the night sky. This SST was nothing but a holding cell now.
He tried to collect himself. His body still shook, but not due to vomiting. Chills invaded. His nerves were letting him down. He shook as though he’d been stuck at the North Pole with nothing but a t-shirt and shorts.
To stop his shivering, he grabbed the sink top with both hands. But his arms shook so much he couldn’t keep a steady grip. He put his hands into each opposite armpit to try to calm his body. He hugged himself tight.
But, even if the vibrations of terror disappeared, the fear would still be there. The fear of returning to his seat and not knowing what Hiss might say next.
Locke stared at his blue eyes in the mirror, wishing he could take back the past few hours.
No, he didn’t really wish that. He still would’ve gone to see Hamilton, but he would’ve been smarter about it.
With a combination of generating friction by rubbing his arms and buttoning his suit jacket, he got control of his body. Now, the chills lessened, starting at his feet and going right through his shoulders. But they were manageable.
He needed to know where the SST’s destination. To ask the flight attendants or the pilots would be absurd. Moreover, they wouldn’t tell him the truth if Hiss had told them not to.
He’d have to find out for himself. How?
An idea came to him. Sure, it might work. And it would appear innocent enough.
Locke straightened his hair in the mirror and unbuttoned the top and bottom buttons of his jacket. He inhaled and exhaled then opened the lavatory door. Stepping out, he acknowledged the flight attendants, smiling.
Fifty feet away, Hiss still sat in his seat, flipping through a magazine.
With a fake spring in his step, Locke strolled to one of the small, oval windows. If he saw nothing but black below, they were over the Western Ocean. The SST had flown long enough they should be over water by now.
But, if he saw lonely lights, it meant they were over the First Continent, headed to the District.
If he saw lights, Locke wasn’t sure how to handle it. A good subject of the Masses would confess to Hiss and await his punishment, like most subjects did when awaiting the arrival of Govicide at their door.
Could Locke be as obedient?
He suspected his first instinct upon seeing lights below would be to . . . No, he was un-mandated to have that thought. Plus, he shouldn’t get ahead of himself.
Locke peered out into the clear night and saw what he hoped to see--darkness.He waited a few seconds for the glimmer of any lights. Nothing.
His body slumped against the wall. All these poisonous thoughts about Hiss conspiring against him scampered away. He was still an Agent in good standing.
And he’d be landing on the Fourth Continent in hours.
For several seconds, he got lost in the gorgeous blackness below him. After soaking in the view, he returned to his seat.
“You alright?” Hiss asked, focused on his magazine.
“Yeah, fine. Still getting used to flying.” Locke buckled himself in.
“Took me almost six months. Just like riding in a limousine now.”
“I’m sure I’ll get used to it in time.”
“How did your driving practice go?” Hiss kept his concentration on the magazine.
What was he talking about? What was he talking about? What was he talking about? The question scrambled through Locke’s brain and the shivers returned. “Huh?”
“Your practicing. After you went to your Homicide office, you went for a drive. The WPS tracked you driving around the east side of town. You were practicing driving, right?”
The meaning dawned on Locke. He’d have to lie again. How many lies was he up to now? “Yes, I was. It went fine. Didn’t hit anything. I actually drove over to the cash warehouse . . . ” Why hide it? “ . . . to see if I remembered the way. Did it with no problem.” The lies came out like the OWG truths he professed during his first thirty years.
“Good. I knew you would get the hang of it.”
Reclining in his seat, Locke stared into the blackness outside the aircraft. Was this what he could expect from life in Govicide? In one moment being revered by the Masses in a train station. The next wondering if he’d be taken to the District for extensive interrogations.
But, he’d brought this on himself by committing un-mandated actions. On the other hand, he didn’t intend to stay uninformed like Hiss was either.
Locke wished he could tell Hiss what he knew, but any conversation would eventually get back to the pregnancy, and that couldn’t happen. He couldn’t give Hiss half of the information. If half came out, then all of it would.
Across the aisle, Hiss chortled, sounding like he had a sinus infection.
Locke thought of the Symbols infecting Gambling City. Would he see them elsewhere?