"Hell and tarnation!" Davin
Hexler cried out as he sat at his terminal connecting him to
InterZone.
"If you think for one parsec I'm
allowing root access on this term' to some would-be chrystal jockey
from the bowels of East Asia then you've got another thing comin'
boyo!"
He flipped around in his grav-cushion
while the other patrons of the New Little Tokyo district's premier
InterCafe shot uncertain glances in his direction.
Davin flipped open his mobile phone.
"Packard Renard!" He shouted
into the mouthpiece.
A few clicks and a moment's delay later
and another voice came through on the other end of the line.
"Renard here." It said.
"Packie! Davin here, I need a
secure line for subvocals. I'm at a Cafe in NLT and I'm getting
swamped by some script kid's bot swarm. What can you give me right
this second?"
"Let's see, Mr. Hexler,"
Packard started. "It is incredibly short notice..."
"You know I'm good for it."
Davin cut in.
"Okay, I can secure you a line at
the Manhatter branch of the New York Metropolitan Library. How far
away are you?" Packard asked.
"I'm in Newark," Davin
explained. "But I can be there in ten minutes."
Davin Hexler walked outside of the
InterCafe onto the streets of Newark's New Little Tokyo district and
was met with a chilly wind carrying little moisture. The sky above
was overcast, like usual, with only a few rays of sunlight creeping
through.
He made his way through the bustling
street crowd and into one of Newark's newly installed public transfer
booths. After punching in the coordinates for his destination he took
a moment to ready himself and then hit the launch key.
Several moments later Davin Hexler
lurched out of a transfer booth in Manhattan and made a beeline
towards the nearest trash can. He stood hunched over the can for a
few minutes, retching, before finally regaining his composure.
Manhattan was even more overcast than
Newark and with a constant drizzle of rain. Davin stood in the open
by the trash can and let the water soak his head a little.
Walking by, a man stopped and asked
him, "Your first teleportation?" with a grin.
Davin shook his head no, "I've
just not adjusted to it yet." he said as he dialed up a cab on
his phone. The man nodded knowingly and continued on his way.
Half a minute later a cab pulled up
alongside him from out of the swarm of traffic.
"Public Library." Davin
instucted as he climbed in. The vehicle took off immediately and
merged seamlessly back into traffic.
Once at the library Davin plugged into
a terminal and brought up his subvocalizer. From there he dialed in
the number he wanted to reach and sat back in his seat while waiting
for the person on the other end to respond.
"Yes?" came a familiar voice
into Davin's inner ear.
"Miles?" He said. "I'm
glad I got a hold of you. It's Davin. I'm at the public library in
Manhattan and I've got the dirt on the story of the decade!"
"Davin, how nice to hear from you.
I was sure you had been captured by pirates or terrorists. What was
your last assignment, again, Beruit?" Miles asked.
"No time for that now, Miles,"
Davin explained. "I don't have much time before my credit with
Packie's security runs out and this line gets traced. We need to meet
face to face. Tonight."
"Oh Davin, you always had a
penchant for the dramatic. Is it really that serious?" Miles
asked.
"When is it not, with me?"
Davin replied. "Look, I know it's been a while, too long, and
I'll fill you in when I know I'm safe and not being actively
monitored by every intelligence agency and hacker group from here to
Timbuktu, but if you want to get in on this story before it becomes
front page news you need to meet with me, and soon."
There was silence for a moment. Davin
noticed he was holding his breath.
"Okay," Miles said. "I'll
be at the usual spot, say 9:00. I assume you'll be coming alone?"
"You know I always work alone,
Miles." Davin said and then cut off the connection.
Unplugging from the terminal Davin
Hexler felt something he had not felt for the first time in weeks
since he began covering this story: Relief. He was close to blowing
the whole thing wide open, he just needed to make it to his meeting
with Miles.
He got up from his terminal and was
halfway to the door when he noticed something else. He was being
followed.
Two goons in non-descript cheap
business suits. Their features were placid and largely hidden behind
obsolete virtua-goggles. Davin knew the type and knew it could only
mean one thing: Someone from the Underworld was keeping tabs on him.
He kept walking and pretended not to notice them.
Heading out into the Manhattan drizzle
he thought drearily to himself, "Great, I've got four and a half
hours to lose these guys before meeting up with Miles."
How long had they been following him?
Davin tried to retrace his steps mentally, then it dawned on him.
They must have picked up his DNA signature from the transfer booth.
"That's how they honed in on me. They must have shown up right
after I arrived in Manhattan. Damn it! Rookie mistake, Davin."
He scolded himself.
He hailed another cab and instructed it
to go to the Asian district. He got out just on the edges of the
district and waited. Further down the street he saw another cab pull
up and the two men in the cheap suits get out. Then he headed for the
bustling open air markets.
"Maybe I can lose them and grab a
cup of noodles while I'm at it." Davin thought hopefully. He
made his way through the crowds and towards the sounds of booming
music coming from the basement nightclubs that operated night and day
in the Asian district.
