just the unredacted dossier, but the entire job. However distasteful her Three-Letter Agency work had been, the goals were always clear: American superiority over all other factors. Over life, over liberty, over the sovereignty of other nations, even allies. But tracking stolen property for a corporate executive? It was a step above tailing cheating spouses, but also likely to be much messier.
Enda finished cleaning herself and turned the shower off. She left her running clothes where they were and trailed wet footprints into her bedroom, drying herself. She dressed in comfortable black slacks and an airy, navy-colored blouse, long sleeves rolled up to her elbows.
She walked to the kitchen for coffee, pouring the last of her grounds into the machine and making a mental note to buy more. As the coffee dripped into the pot she called Natalya Makhanyok—the Mechanic, her not-quite-personal assistant.
“Good morning, Enda,” Natalya said.
Enda checked the time in the corner of her vision—it was still morning; of course the Mechanic was right.
“Morning, Natalya. I need you to look into David Yeun for me, an executive at Zero. He’s got me backed into a corner, and I don’t like it.”
“I’m afraid I can’t do that, Enda,” Natalya said.
“Why not?”
“Zero Corporation provides much of the software I use, as well as the databases I access,” Natalya said. “If I were to try and access information on one of their executives, they would likely shut me down.” Hers was a distinctive voice—warm, firm, with the hint of an eastern European accent. Enda had never asked what country she was from, their discussions always too concise, too professional, for an opening to present itself.
“Shit,” Enda said. “There’s nothing you can do?”
“Sadly, no.”
“Fine,” Enda said. “I’ll figure something else out.”
“Will that be all?” Natalya asked.
“For now. I should have something more for you soon.”
“I look forward to it.” Natalya hung up without ceremony. She was never on the line longer than necessary. Initially it had annoyed Enda, but she had no way of knowing how many other clients Natalya serviced. For all she knew, the Mechanic had a bank of phone lines vying for her attention. Still, only once had she failed to answer a call.
The percolator finished, and Enda poured coffee into the largest mug she owned—no milk, no sugar. The apartment seemed oddly quiet; it took Enda a moment to realize the record had stopped. She carried her coffee to the living room, flipped the record to its A side, and sat down at her desk. The record started with a fast, quiet drumbeat, joined by the organ, then the brass dipped in, the guitar, every instrument introducing itself as the band ran headlong into the twenty-minute track, “Pharaoh’s Dance.”
Enda slotted Yeun’s datacube into her rig. It required authentication—the cube linked to her new Zero account with layers of corporate safeware. She placed her phone on the rig’s NFC reader, and waited a few seconds while the data on the cube was decrypted. It was a few terabytes all told, witness statements, police reports, and a virtual re-creation of the theft from every available angle throughout the rampartment complex.
According to police reports, entry to the enclave had been gained with the cleaning contractor’s credentials. Diversion in the form of arson and looting at the compound’s grocery store. Police dogs tagged a number of juvenile suspects on-site, but none were held, and none had been arrested. Have to find them first, and that’s harder with minors. Especially with so many kids out of school, so many with no permanent residence.
Enda couldn’t be sure if the bare-minimum policing was due to laziness or a sort of extortion attempt—pay us and we’ll do our jobs properly. Since moving to the city, she’d had enough run-ins with the Songdo Police Department to know it could go either way. Not every local cop was lazy or corrupt?…?some were both.
With her head moving unconsciously to the music, Enda opened the virtual re-creation of the burglary. Her rig hummed as the twin GPUs powered up, and a small circle spun on-screen. Enda blew on her coffee and sipped it. Finally the rig pinged.
The ghost of a hallway was drawn over her apartment. With her sight blurred by overlapping visions, Enda put her coffee down and fumbled across her desk until she found her eyemask and virt controls. She put the mask on and the real world disappeared. Dull, overcast daylight had been replaced by night, her decor removed as if by invisible stagehands, without even the need