Fixer (Darkside Seattle) Read online

  DARKSIDE SEATTLE: FIXER

  by L.E. FRENCH

  Acknowledgments

  For Josh, Chimi, and Ruben. None of you play cyberpunk games with me, but you’re awesome anyway.

  Table of Contents

  CHAPTER 1

  CHAPTER 2

  CHAPTER 3

  CHAPTER 4

  CHAPTER 5

  CHAPTER 6

  CHAPTER 7

  CHAPTER 8

  CHAPTER 9

  CHAPTER 10

  CHAPTER 11

  CHAPTER 12

  CHAPTER 13

  CHAPTER 1

  At thirteen minutes past three in the afternoon, I activated the illegal jammer on the dashboard of my hovercar. The black box, too big to fit in my suit pocket, prevented the WAINet from noticing when I took the steering wheel and left approved flight lanes, as well as blocking the GPS signal from my government-mandated cranial implant. Once freed from surveillance, I drove the car down, into Darkside Seattle.

  I skimmed streets for several blocks in light drizzle, in case any cops had seen me dive in. Rubble lined side streets, telephone poles had long ago been downed and salvaged, and every store window had been boarded up or bricked over. Weeds grew in cracks. Ridges in the asphalt and concrete showed the location of roots belonging to large, leafy trees allowed to grow unchecked. Mold clung to the old plaster facades of rundown buildings.

  Like most good Seattleites, I spent as little time in DeeSeat as possible. Like an entirely different kind of Seattleite, I kept a gun in the storage pod near my feet for such visits.

  By the time I reached the old, ruined football stadium parking lot, my contact leaned against a jagged chunk of concrete the size of a boulder. His sharp, dark trench coat, the collar turned up against the early March chill, fit into DeeSeat as well as my luxury sports car and silver silk suit did. He looked up with a wary smile as my car neared him.

  The moment I stopped, he dashed for the passenger side door and slid inside. I curled my lip as his damp ass hit the real leather seat. If he sat for long, he’d damage the material.

  “It’s colder than fuck today.” After digging in his pocket for a moment, he produced a box wrapped in blank paper, about eight inches long, two inches deep, and four inches wide.

  I took the box and tapped the dash readout to turn up the heat for him. Warm, dry air blasted his face. He sighed with pleasure. Though I’d already drank half of it, I offered him my coffee in its artificially heated plastic mug.

  “You’re a fucking angel, Godhand.” He gripped the cup with both hands and slurped.

  Smirking, I glanced into the rearview mirror, watching for cops. We could’ve used someplace with more cover, but I liked the escape options of open space. Besides, deeper into DeeSeat meant more chances to be murdered for my car. “Nice to see you too, Jay.”

  He leaned against the seat. “My jammer’s busted. I had to fucking walk here from Occidental.”

  “When did that happen?” His job required a jammer. Without one, I considered him useless. My people needed full functionality on a moment’s notice.

  “A few days ago. Conked out in the middle of a run to Puyallup. Had to detour, took five times as long to get anything done.” He held up a hand. “New one is on order already. Twiddle doesn’t have any on hand.”

  “Sounds like Twiddle needs some competition. Did you check with Pigwig?”

  Frowning at the coffee mug, he shook his head. “Didn’t think to. I guess that’s why you make the big bucks, Boss Lady. I’ll check with him tonight.”

  “Good. While you’re doing that, I need a functional scale model of an 1802 Trevithick locomotive engine made by hand from die-cast metal. With it, I want a bar of Swiss chocolate shaped like an old-fashioned train. Any kind of steam engine is fine.”

  Jay raised an eyebrow. “That shit’s legal. Marie could’ve handled that. I mean, I know that box isn’t legal, but it’s wrapped in paper. We could’ve met downtown. I could’ve waited for you in my car. My warm, dry car.”

  “Marie couldn’t find either without a two-month minimum wait. I need them faster than that. And meeting downtown leads to me being connected with you, and you know it.” I watched an old-fashioned motorcycle rumble past on two wheels. “Besides, there’s one more thing. A cute little engineering firm called BowerTech is developing a prototype for the next generation in solar cells.”

  “Steal it or blow it up?”

  “Steal everything.” The company had already rebuffed my father’s efforts to buy it. Twice.

  “Got it, Boss. Anything else?”

  I started to shake my head, then stopped. The next step in the train plan needed a timetable. “How long do you think the train things will take?”

  Jay sipped his coffee. “I don’t even know what a trevifuck is.”

  “Trevithick.”

  “Yeah, that. Could be a day, could be I have to commission some asshole to make it. Does it have to be authentic or anything? If I have to get a forgery—”

  “No, it can be new. The chocolate had better be Swiss, though.”

  Jay grumbled under his breath. “I’ll check around and pass Marie a note about timeframe as soon as I’ve got one.”

  “Good enough.” I gave the door a meaningful look.

  “Aw, c’mon. It’s fucking freezing out there. At least give me a ride halfway.”

  I liked Jay. He did good work. But we had rules for a reason. “Sorry. Can’t risk it.”

  “Yeah, yeah. I’ll see you soon.” He opened the door.

  “Bill me for the new jammer.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” Grinning, he slammed the door shut and flipped me a salute.

  I backed away from him, turned the car around, and skimmed through the streets again before lurching into the air. As soon as I neared a hovering buoy-marked flight lane, I shut off the jammer and activated the autopilot. The car merged into the shiny ribbon of hovercars streaming over the south end of Seattle at two hundred feet.

  Less than two miles from the shittiest part of the city, towers of plassteel loomed over a glitzy downtown that would sparkle if the sun ever shined. Traffic skimmed around the cluster of skyscrapers at four different levels with thin streams diving into and out of each stream. My car followed an exit path until it reached my father’s building.

  As it touched down on a lighted perch at the twenty-third floor, I scanned the messages collected by my cranial implant. Fifteen highway ads in my inbox went straight to the trash. Another thirty had been automatically filtered there.

  The car slid toward the building on a conveyor belt. In front of me, a wide door slid upward and lights flickered on. My car slipped into a sleek, white frame. As soon as it stopped, the garage door closed and I stepped out of the car. I followed the short walkway to an interior door that opened for me. Behind me, the frame whirred to lift my car into the ceiling and prepare for the next vehicle.

  As Godhand International Incorporated’s Executive Vice President of Risk Management and Chief Nepotism Officer, I could use the limo anytime I wanted, of course. But the limo lacked a self-drive option. Besides, the big, black car also stood out much more than a silver sports car.

  Two department head messages scrolled across the bottom of my vision in green letters. Neither needed immediate attention. I rode the express elevator to the lobby. The ride from the twenty-third floor took less than a minute. When the elevator doors opened into the huge, airy space, I stepped out and checked for the person I needed to see.

  My heels clacked on the green-veined faux marble floor. We could’ve put in genuine marble, but Dad didn’t see a reason to waste that much money when he could blow it on a granite waterfall and fountain instead. Tropical plants grew from the fount
ain and spotlights augmented the perpetually weak, gray sunlight balking at the huge wall of glass facing the street outside. Screens on the rest of the walls provided directory and map assistance for visitors who chose to walk in the front doors.

  I smiled as I spotted my target. GIInc. employed hundreds of thousands of people around the world, and about ten thousand in this building. Of those on the premises, about one thousand worked for me, either directly or through department heads. When it came to recognizing employees personally, I kept my appearances to major milestones and let Marie send everyone cards or flowers for routine observances like birthdays or anniversaries.

  The security guard I aimed for straightened as I approached. He stood at attention beside the front door. Though his uniform could have been crisper, I didn’t care. Under the circumstances, the man looked good. Nervous, but good.

  “Dave,” I said, handing him Jay’s box, “I’d like to congratulate you on the recent birth of your first child.”

  He relaxed and smiled as he took the box containing two genuine Cuban cigars. They’d become challenging to acquire after West America outlawed tobacco. “Oh. Thank you, ma’am. We got the flowers you sent. They were really nice.”

  “I’m glad you and your wife liked them.” I leaned in and murmured, “Don’t open the box in public.”

  “Oh. Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” He tucked the box into his back pocket.

  We shook hands.

  “Truth be told, ma’am, I’m kind of happy to be back to work.”

  I grinned, partially because his fate awaited me in the not too distant future. “We’re happy to have you back.” With that, I patted him on the shoulder and returned to the elevator. Next stop, the executive floor where both my Dad and I kept our offices.

  CHAPTER 2

  The elevator doors opened to a reception area with plush, beige carpet, white walls, and glittering golden fixtures. My father’s hand-picked, thirty-something protégé blocked most of my view and all of my path with his broad shoulders and broader ego. Ross’s steel gray suit mimicked my preference for silver, something he did on purpose.

  I watched his dark eyes flick down my body, then up to meet my gaze as if he hadn’t ogled me. “Vickie,” he said as a greeting. “I’m off to visit the Gray’s Harbor facility. Meet me for dinner?”

  “Busy tonight.” I took a step toward him, hoping he’d move.

  Instead of getting out of my way, he slipped an arm around me and slid his hand to my ass. His cologne, applied a touch too heavily, assaulted my nose. “You’re always busy.”

  “That’s true. It’s because I work here.” As much as I enjoyed verbal sparring with Ross, I shuffled to turn us around. At least he didn’t resist me. Maybe the knowledge that my father’s secretary, Viola, watched us had something to do with that.

  Ross squeezed my ass before letting go. He should’ve admired my restraint, because I didn’t knee him in the balls. Someday, when I controlled the company, I’d fire Ross. He’d get a severance package and go find another job where he could bang his secretary without bothering me. He needed a woman who cooed over his pretty face instead of someone who only wanted to smash it.

  “All work and no play makes for an empty life,” Ross said.

  I ignored him and smiled at Viola. She nodded, probably handling five messages at once. With her acknowledgment, I breezed into my father’s office. Gold and real wood decorated the spacious office. If he wanted to, Dad could live here. Between the wet bar, giant bathroom, and squashy couch along one wall, he had everything he needed. Some nights, he did stay here.

  This afternoon, he sat behind his imposing cherry desk, tapping on a tablet. He glanced at me, smiled, and set his tablet aside. Reaching under his desk, he flicked a switch. It clicked. Green letters scrolled across the bottom of my vision without my consent.

  [VictoriaGodhandSystem: WAINet signal lost. Attempting to re-establish network connection.]

  Dad had activated the office’s wide-band jammer. Neither of our implants could overcome that. While waiting for them to give up, I sat in the leather wingback chair opposite Dad.

  [VictoriaGodhandSystem: Unable to re-establish WAINet connection. Entering offline mode. Recommend changing location by at least 100 feet or exiting the current structure.]

  Dad gestured to his tablet. “I just got a report about BezOhben. You wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would you?”

  “The CFO has a thing for blondes.” I tapped my platinum hair, taking care not to disturb the bun I’d wrapped it into.

  He raised an eyebrow. “You didn’t screw him, did you?”

  “No.” Not that it was any of his business. “He’s eighty years old. That’s gross. I reminded him of his granddaughter, so I rolled with it. With his access, I was able to get one of my people hired there, and now we have an espionage funnel.”

  “Excellent.” He leaned back in his chair, broadcasting paternal pride. “Ready or not, we’re playing with the big boys now. Any luck with the extraterritoriality yet?”

  “I finally got someone to tell me what Figueroa would like as a gift. As soon as I have those things in hand, I’ll schedule a meeting. Him, I’ll probably have to screw.” His wife, Lucia, I had a feeling, would want to watch or participate. She’d told me far too much about her husband, and stared far too long at my breasts for casual interest.

  Dad snorted like he thought I was joking. I let him think that. “Make sure you get me anything you need signed by Friday.”

  I’d forgotten about his annual trip to the site of his and Mom’s honeymoon next week. Whenever possible, I forgot about Mom and all the special dates associated with her. Her funeral had closed a book in my life, and I preferred for it to stay that way.

  “Beyond that, I want you to make some time for Ross.”

  “What?” The new subject blindsided me. “Ross? He doesn’t have anything to do with this.”

  “No, but he’s our COO.”

  “And? My job doesn’t involve him.”

  “Victoria,” he chided, using a tone I hated. With a simple inflection of my name, he made me feel like a fifteen-year-old caught sneaking out to see a sleazy boyfriend.

  “What?”

  Dad pursed his lips and steepled his fingers. Combined with his silver hair and impeccable suit, he reminded me of a corporate villain from the vids. “We’ve known him and his family for decades. He’s talented, he doesn’t need the money, and you’d be a good fit with him.”

  I forced my face blank. The other option? Throwing up. “I’ll take that under advisement.”

  “I know you’ve been dodging him, and I don’t see why. You’re both smart, attractive professionals. You have similar interests and goals.”

  Nothing else mattered, of course. “I’m not really interested in him.”

  “You know, you were already four when your mother was thirty-one. Don’t you have that biological clock urge?”

  We stared at each other. I considered the best way to shut down this conversation.

  “Do you want me to fuck him on your desk?”

  He grimaced. “Please don’t.”

  “Then stop talking about this.”

  “I’m only asking you to give him a chance.”

  I stood. “I’m going to ask Viola to schedule a harassment seminar for you. This isn’t an appropriate conversation for business hours.”

  “Fine, fine.” He held up his hands in surrender. “I’m dropping it.” Picking up his tablet, he pointed at me. “For now.”

  “I don’t want to hear about this at work again.” My words came out more distant and harsh than I intended. Rather than let myself apologize, I turned my back on him and walked away.

  “I’m only interested in what’s best for you.”

  The men in my life always seemed to need to get the last word in.

  CHAPTER 3

  [MarieSclavo: ETA on the trains is Sunday. The other matter has a tentative timeline of one week, but it’s expected to slip. I a
lso have an invoice for a piece of vehicle equipment?]

  [VictoriaGodhand: Good. Pay the invoice.] I breezed down the hall to my office. Jay worked fast, a trait I appreciated and rewarded.

  As soon as I reached my office, Marie jumped to her feet and followed me inside with a tablet in hand. She wore my favorite red suit. The skirt clung to her hips and hit her an inch above her knees, making her legs seem a mile long. My favorite part? Her tailored jacket had a false shell instead of a blouse. When she slipped out of it, only her bra remained. Marie had excellent taste in lingerie.

  Marie shut the door. Where my father could live in his office, I actually did live in mine. After four months of late-night meetings and calls had brought me into work at odd hours, I’d given up my apartment. As a side benefit, the door locked. One simple system command to the building gave me complete privacy.

  The spacious corner office had been divided into two rooms. Unlike my father, I preferred smaller spaces. My workspace consisted of a small standing desk and touchscreen access point for the central computing system, along with four armchairs and a couch around a coffee table. Most of the work I did on the premises involved chatting and coffee. Sometimes, it involved the bed in the next room.

  “Senator Gates messaged to accept your invitation tonight. He’ll be here at six.”

  Though Marie stifled most of it, I caught the ghost of a pout around her mouth as she tapped on her tablet. She used it to handle matters through company accounts, which provided a degree of anonymity not possible through implants. Everything with Jay went through one of those accounts.

  Pausing with my hand on the knob for my bedroom suite, I beckoned her closer. She shuffled to my side. I slipped an arm around her waist and kissed her.

  We kept our relationship secret to protect Marie. Corporate espionage and sabotage happened, as my job attested, and people knowing about my affair with my secretary put her at risk. I couldn’t give her up, so I protected her with every tool in my arsenal.

  When I broke off the kiss, Marie sighed and leaned against me. “I hate it when you take meetings with him.”