CHAPTER 29
A half-hour after landing, the two Agents entered the hotel lobby, stomping the snow off their shoes on a rubber mat. Locke anticipated getting a massaging--but predictably lukewarm--shower and a scorching cup of OWG coffee, getting some good rest and flying back to Gambling City tomorrow. He couldn’t wait to talk to Jade about her graph idea. Granted, he’d dismissed it, but he wanted to hear why she’d thought of a graph in the first place.
Hiss remained in the lobby, wanting to catch a drink at the OWG Bar. Locke left him there and with weary legs climbed the flights of stairs to his room, the room with the terrible view. Before parting, they agreed to meet at seven the next morning for the ride to the airport.
Reaching his floor, he made the long trek to his room. He unbuttoned his jacket and took off his gloves. Next came his hat, leaving his hair in a matted mess. Unlocking the door, he pushed it open.
The carpet of the room was a dark brown, and a lighter color at his feet caught his eye. Another envelope. Slid under his door, just like the first one.
Locke backed out of the room and checked the hall. He held his breath to hear better. The door was on a spring so he propped it open with his foot and tried to sense anybody else on the floor.
Seeing and hearing nothing, Locke picked up the envelope, an exact copy of the one in Dale City. White. Eight by eleven inches. With the familiar Symbol front and center, glaring at him.
This was it. The first mentioned Jade’s pregnancy. This one would be a request to do something against the mandates of the OWG. He was positive they’d blackmail him with this letter.
But, Hamilton said blackmail wasn’t their style.
He flipped on the light. Ripping the envelope wide, he pulled the sheet out.
Before he even read the message, he noted the handwriting appeared the same.
Hello Govicide Agent Locke, did you know someone with your last name was famous?
The smells, the sounds, and the feelings of the Hamilton interrogation arose in Locke’s mind. He remembered Hamilton spelling his last name: L-O-C-K-E. Each letter had a distinct punch. Locke took it for a lie before. Now, he wasn’t so sure.
He doubted the truth of the message because he knew no other Locke’s except his ancestors going back fifty years. And none of them were famous.
His great grandparents weren’t well known and to Locke’s knowledge, left no definitive impression on anyone. He didn’t even know what they looked like.
His grandparents weren’t subjects of note, either. They were in their twenties when the OWG formed, having survived the anarchy. They died before he was born.
Similarly, Locke’s parents were average subjects and came nowhere near being famous. Only subjects in the highest ranks of the OWG were well known. Like the Exalted Ruler. Or the Govicide Directors. Or the wise males who formed the OWG. It wasn’t possible to be famous or remembered for any other reason.
Maybe Hamilton and this note referred to his cousins.
But Locke didn’t know any of them. They were out there, but the OWG considered trying to contact them a waste of time. All the Masses needed were the OWG and their boycomrade or girlcomrade. Outside of that, the OWG dismissed communication with extended family. Locke saw through his Homicide work, though, when a family member died, somehow the entire family found out. The OWG tried to suppress this kind of communication. If the OWG could do that, Homicide would be shut down for good since it existed for the sole reason to keep the Masses tranquil. No upset family members, no need to investigate anything.
But, a cousin wouldn’t be an ancestor. It must be like an uncle or aunt. But, Locke never met any of them and didn’t even know their names.
Still, as much as he tried to convince himself otherwise, and though he had no proof, Locke believed the message. So far, in his dealings with Hamilton, the murderer had been truthful. Cryptic. But truthful. Paradoxical. But truthful. Evasive. But truthful.
Ways existed to research the note but they were tricky. A Govicide Agent might get away with searching for someone by their last name without being asked questions. But for his own last name? It wouldn’t be as easy as it had been to review Hamilton’s crime scene pictures. That was explainable. Researching his last name wasn’t.
Locke pulled out a chair from the table and sat. The thought of taking a nice hot shower felt distant as Gambling City. His mind focused on how he’d prove or disprove this message.
What would he do if he were in this same situation in Gambling City? If he needed to find something out but couldn’t use a computer, what would he do?
He would go to the OWG Library. It didn’t have as much information but a Govicide Agent would be able to peruse books without being traced--a privilege exclusive to Govicide Agents. What the Masses read at any OWG Library in the World was tracked but the paperwork piled up. For this reason, the OWG Firemen torched libraries every day. Soon, the Masses would only be able to read books online. With the System’s permission, of course.
Did Snow City have a Library? Or had it been burnt down already?
He opened the drawer of the nightstand and pulled out the telephone book. He found the listing for libraries. There was only one. The address was 801 Nero Street.
At the front of the book, he found a map of Snow City. The library was only two and a half miles away.
Two and a half miles? That wasn’t so bad. He’d be back in no time. He sprang from his chair, reaching for his phone. Just as quickly, he fell into it again. He couldn’t call the limousine for this trip. All limousines were tracked, like his automobile. And this wasn’t a mandated trip. This would be for him, and no one else.
He’d have to walk. Locke shivered at the thought.
But it could wait. He would arrive in warm Gambling City this time tomorrow. He remembered the OWG Fire Department scheduled its library for burning but the ceremony wasn’t for another month. And it was just a five-mile walk from his living quarters.
The decision relaxed his mind, and he kicked his feet up on the table. He decided on a shower and a room service meal, a privilege the Masses never received. He put the telephone book away and grabbed the special menu designed just for Govicide and scanned the selections.
His phone rang. It was Hiss.
Locked answered, “Hello, Govicide Agent Hiss.”
“I have new information.” Hiss sneezed between words. “We are going to be on the road for a while.”
“What?” Locke jerked upright.
“Places are popping up all over the World. Got a call from Headquarters.”
“Where do they want us to go now?” Locke felt like pounding his head against the wall outside his window.
“We are going to head south to some place called, let me see, I think it is another place way out in the middle of nowhere. But, the SST is flying us to . . . ” Hiss sounded like he was reading.“ . . . Jongil City first.Then we are heading west right across the continent. Red Star City. And a few others. We will continue across the continent and our last stop is Francoville.”
Locke did some quick calculations in his head. All those different destinations meant he wouldn’t return to Gambling City for several days.
He needed to find out what this Messenger meant about his name. He needed to get more information from Hamilton. He needed to talk to Jade about her graph idea. He needed to see if she looked pregnant.
“Govicide Agent Locke? Govicide Agent Locke? Are you there?” Hiss yelled into the phone.
“Yes. Yes, I’m here.” Locke pulled the phone away from his ear for a second. “Must be a bad connection.”
“So we are going to be gone at least--”
Locke interrupted, “Several days. Yeah, I know.”
“It is part of the work for the One World Government. Might as well get used to it. But it sounds like these leads will take us somewhere.”
The only subject who got anything out of these trips was Locke. And he wasn’t even supposed to know the information he did. He needed to get to Gambling City.
Locke couldn’t hide his frustration. “Well, I hope so. I feel like we haven’t gotten any closer to catching these criminals. Finding where they are. Finding out what they’re doing with the cash.”
“We will. We will. Trust me.” Hiss sounded like he was short of breaths.
“Are we meeting at the same time tomorrow?”
“Yes, the limousine will pick us up.”
“Okay. I’ll be there.” Locke threw his phone on the bed.
His decision was made. No matter how cold. How windy. How terrible. He needed to get to the library tonight. His curiosity would never allow him to wait a week.
The library might be locked, but he’d break in if he had to. Who knew how many books it held, but he’d find the correct ones. He’d take the risk of getting caught because it was worth it to discover the truth. He wouldn’t wait until he got to Gambling City to figure these puzzles out. The Symbol. His last name. The vehicle on the tundra.
Retrieving the phonebook from the drawer, Locke memorized the route. It would be the toughest walk of his life.
Bundling up tight, he left his room, not bothering to shut off the lights. He left his phone because he didn’t want temptation to use it if he got into a bind. He took the envelope and letter with him.
Locke found a back door to exit so the night clerk wouldn’t see him. The door opened to a narrow alley. The wind blew from left to right and the width of the narrow street caused a funnel effect.
He went with the wind. The moving air plastered his long jacket against his back and his pants became pasted against his thighs and calves. In a few moments, he stood on the main street where the wind let up a bit, but not much.
The next half hour consisted of fighting the elements and fighting his thoughts. Both were predictable but formidable. Both were manageable but unyielding. But the temperature was cold, the coldest he ever felt. His thoughts blazed, the hottest he ever felt.
Making the first left, he swiveled into the wind. He found himself moving half as fast, though his effort doubled. He leaned forward to gain leverage.
He passed two, wrecked OWG busses covered in snow. Their cabs were demolished. Images of his father pulsed through his mind. No one had bothered to clean them off the streets. Probably cost too many credits.
Passing a park, he noticed three frozen bodies in the underbrush. They must have been banished from the OWG for one reason or another. No one ever froze to death in the OWG otherwise. Their deaths would make Goods and Services available for others. This is how he and Jade would die, he suspected, if their pregnancy were discovered. A strident reminder of why he needed to find a way of their jam.
A few times subjects appeared up ahead and he darted into the shadows. Yes, he was an Agent and the subjects would keep their mouths shut if ordered. But, why take the chance? Locke had told enough lies as it was. Staying out of sight would be easier than once again keeping track of another lie.
He anticipated no issues with alarms at the library. Maybe if he were in a bigger city. But not here. The only issue would be finding what he was actually looking for.
Not quite soon enough, the library appeared on his left.
It was a brick building with pillars in front. He didn’t approach the front door. Instead he slipped around to the side. When he left the main street, the lights faded to the point where he relied on the white snow to show the path.
The windows of the library were low enough that he could peer inside by standing on the tips of his toes. He couldn’t make out a shelf, a book, or a table. Nothing. He regretted not bringing a flashlight.
After thinking for a minute, he took off his hat and clenched it in his fist. Before striking the glass, he rushed out to the street to make sure no one was coming.
Hurrying to the window, he began to feel how cold his head had already become. A few more minutes and his hatless head might become an ice cube. He couldn’t waste another second.
Getting on his tiptoes again, with a hard, short punch, he shattered one of the eight-inch by ten-inch panes. The sound pierced the darkness, but the wind kept the volume to a minimum.
He pulled himself into a chin-up, and found the lock on the inside, managing to unlatch it. Easing himself to the ground, he pushed the window up enough to haul his body over the sill. He landed, sprawling onto the wood floor. His eyes were open, but he could see nothing. Scuffling to get on his feet, he banged his knee against an invisible chair.
With small steps, he prowled to the nearest wall. He hoped to find a light switch. But, an overhead light would be too bright. His haste in leaving the hotel without a small light now came back to bite him.
As his eyes adjusted to the darkness, the fuzzy outline of desks in the middle of the room gave him an idea. He felt his way over to one of the desks. A lamp switch. Flipping it, a small light came on.
The dim light would be enough for him to accomplish his task.
The room he broke into was large, larger than he anticipated. Fifty feet across and over eighty feet long.
Over the next half hour, he went through all the topics in this area of the library, carrying random books back to the desk.OWG Biology, OWG Psychology, OWG Technology, OWG Communications. He pulled out random books, searching the index for the name Locke. He saw the name nowhere.
After those subjects, he crossed the library floor to other sections. OWG History, OWG Reference, OWG Economics, and OWG Music. He found nothing. Not one reference to someone with the last name Locke anywhere.
He found the vast expanses of shelf space odd. Most of them were empty. It seemed the OWG built the library much bigger than needed.
The image of his footprints in the snow popped into his mind. Then, he remembered the Gambling City streets. The airport. The empty buildings.
And now a library with much more shelf space than books.
Locke slammed the cover of the last book shut. He thought about continuing to browse through more pages but he figured it wouldn’t help. He’d chosen a wide range of books in which to search. If he’d kept to one section he could’ve understood why his name didn’t appear.
The line of thinking brought about another good question: what exactly did he want to know about this other subject with the last name, Locke? He didn’t even know if it was a male or female.
That idea brought its own perils, though. If Hamilton and his crew knew such a subject, this other Locke couldn’t have been someone in good standing with the OWG. If it were true, it could seriously affect his Govicide status.
What would get him in more trouble: Jade’s pregnancy or an Offender who shared his last name? Neither was good.
Sweating, he loosened his jacket. He’d dressed for single digit temperatures and the library’s hovered somewhere around sixty degrees. He left the window open for a quick escape but it didn’t change the inside temperature much.
If the books didn’t have anyone named Locke in them, he’d never find the answer. Computer use was risky and would bring up too many questions. Looking for a particular name, especially if the subject had been an Offender, would raise all sorts of red flags.
The thought of the long journey to the hotel made him shake. Returning with no new information made him shake even more.
Locke zipped his jacket. Just before he turned off the light, he stopped. Why not check out what Jade said about the Symbol? Her idea was probably way off base, but he while he was there why not check it out?
Using the same search pattern, he checked the books’ indexes for anything with the word, “graph.”
He found many. And more than he expected appeared similar to the Symbol. Maybe Jade’s idea wasn’t so outlandish.
But something bothered him. The different books were filled with graphs. But, when he covered up the labels to each of them they all looked the same. With no labels to say what the graphs detailed, they could mean anything.
He learned from the books that all of these types of graphs followed something known as a “bell curve,” called that because they resembled the outline of a bell. He took out the envelope from the latest message.
The Symbol was similar to the drawing of a bell. Those Symbols in Gambling City. The Symbol tacked on that telephone pole. The large one made in the snow.
But there was a slight difference between the ones he saw in these books and the drawing on the envelopes. The difference was subtle, but it was enough to cause Locke to have some doubts. The Symbol’s ends stayed straight. On all the ones he saw in these books, the ends came up and curved away from each other. In the graphs, this meant the values went out to infinity. The ends of the Symbols didn’t appear to stretch to infinity. They had a definite end.
The more he compared the drawing to the graphs the more he decided it was not the drawing of a bell. And not a graph either.
Frustrated, Locke slammed the last book shut . . . again.
He returned all of them to their shelves and folded the envelope, putting it back in his jacket. Before shutting off the light, he spotted his wet footprints around the library. Footprints in the snow. Footprints in the library.
Footprints all over the World.