Technomancer 14: Intrigue

The drone sat on the table before Leron, lifeless and unmoving despite the repairs he had made. He picked it up, running his hands over the cold metal, and noticed a broken wire.

“That’s why it won’t work,” he muttered, leaving the drone on the table and wandering along the aisle between the never-ending rows of light tables. Smoke from melted solder permeated the air, the white wisps hanging above the other tables and the people hunched over them. A few of his coworkers glanced in his direction, giving him a nod of approval. He was the one who had invented the lightweight projectiles that were being attached to the repaired drones.

The storeroom at the back was filled with boxes and boxes of different parts brought down from upstairs. Beside the boxes, enormous spools of wire hung in long rows. Leron cut a new wire and returned to his workstation. After stripping the ends, he attached the wire and accessed the drone controls on the old cell phone they gave him. The device lit up when he turned it on, and the fans whirred as it rose above the table.

Leron smiled, turning it off again, and attached the non-lethal projectiles. They were perfect for injuring the enemy soldiers. He hoped that injuring them would force them to retreat. Even though they were enemies, he would not kill them.

The alarm sounded, indicating the end of shift, and Leron left, following the other workers in a long line up the staircase and through the factory.

Major Andrew stood beside the door. “Leron, we need to talk,” the Major called out while the crowd passed him.

“I’m late! I have to get home,” Leron responded, pushing through the line for the exit. He had to get out. If only he could get past the Major, he could avoid the long-drawn-out debate he knew was coming. The man wanted him to produce lethal weaponry, and he had done everything in his power to prevent it, even sabotaging an experiment with .22 rounds. His stalling had caused this. And if he were to arrive late at Ms. Brent's apartment, she would begin to think something was up, too.

Major Andrew took hold of his sleeve, pulled him aside, and said, “No, I don’t think so. You’ve been avoiding me for days, but not this time. We are running out of time. We need something more lethal than those projectiles. You must have some idea.”

“No, sir. I have to go,” Leron repeated, trying to think of ways he could escape. “The woman I live with would not want me to be late.” Ms. Brents would want any information he had on the basement, but he was running out of ways to stall her.

“Where do you live? I’ll message her.”

"I can't."

“Consider this, then. If you don’t come up with an answer soon, I will have you removed. I expect results, and that means I want those commie bastards dead. Not injured. Not staggering back to their ship. Dead.”

“Give me a moment,” Leron said, sitting on a crate beside the door and rubbing his brows. He was torn between the urgency to get back and the exhaustion one can only feel when caught between two opposing forces. What would Manuel do in this position? The old man and his mentor had taught him many things about politically maneuvering in tight positions, but never anything like this. His current position was one of weakness and not strength. The words of the padre in Monterrey echoed through his mind: When I am weak, I am strong. Perhaps he could turn this weak position into one of strength, but he would need to find a way. At this moment, there was only one thing to be done. He had to pick a side.

Leron looked up, meeting Major Andrew’s questioning gaze. “What if I told you…” he began, before hesitating. He needed to be careful not to incriminate himself. “The woman I am staying with sent me here to dig up dirt on the Governor. I haven’t told her anything about what goes on here,” he said. He reached for the projectiles on his wrist, prepared to fire at the Major if he became a threat.

“I should have you shot for this,” Major Andrew growled. He began pacing in front of Leron, scowling at the floor and scratching the curved shadow of bristles beneath his chin. It felt like an eternity passed before the Major continued, “However, your loyalty is admirable, and I appreciate your honesty. Bring me proof of this woman's treachery, and I will turn it into the governor, but you need to help find a solution to this problem.”

Leron frowned. He knew multiple solutions to the problem, but he didn't want to be responsible for the deaths of hundreds of people, even if it were under someone else's orders. He needed to escape, but first, he needed to get Major Andrew and Ms. Brents off his back. The real problem would be getting the information from Ms. Brents. She never said anything or spoke of her deep inner thoughts. She was a woman of plans and ambition. The only time she would mention such plans was when she intended to include him in her schemes. However, she had a laptop and a cell phone. There had to be something hidden deep within one of those devices - a file with all her plans, emails, or even a date planner with secret meetings.

“Can I have a cell phone?” Leron asked.

Raising a fuzzy grey eyebrow, Major Andrew disappeared and returned with a small box, tossing it to him. It was a brand-new cell phone. Leron opened the packaging and turned it on. He began tapping away, filling the notepad screen with lines and lines of code. “What are you doing?” Major Andrew asked, staring down at the screen from above him.

“Writing a virus that will crack open just about any security software.”

“You can do that?”

“I just did,” Leron said, standing and meeting the major’s gaze. He offered the man his hand. “I’ll get you the information you want. Just make sure she is gone.”

“Agreed,” the Major said, shaking it.

Leron returned to Ms. Brent’s apartment, entering the elevator and heading to the top floor. He felt exhausted. In a perfect world, he would be sitting beside Masa on a cliff or building somewhere, staring out at the horizon. He wasn’t sure why she did that, but she could always be found in such places, and he enjoyed sitting with her more than anything.

The door opened, and he saw Ms. Brents dressed in a revealing robe, lounging beside the window while she spoke on her cell phone. Her tone of voice was respectful. She was speaking to someone who held power over her. “Yes, I believe I can help you,” she said. “We have several options that would be ideal.” She licked her lips like she was about to sink her teeth into something she hungered for. Killing the call, she gazed at Leron beneath raised eyebrows, “Well?”

“Still nothing.”

She sighed and stood up, gliding towards him. He swallowed, longing to escape. A sense of guilt overcame him as he realized he could have done just that, but he had chosen to stay. Why? His need for a sense of purpose and his pride. He should have known better, but he had spent months standing by and watching as Masa achieved her dreams while his own lay dashed upon the broken world around him.

Ms. Brents slapped him.

Leron stared at her, his eyes wide as pain ran alongside his cheek. Her sharp fingers had drawn blood from just below his eye, and it trickled down his cheek. Staying had been a mistake.

“I told you to get into that basement. I know the governor has visited; why haven’t you inserted yourself into his entourage as I told you to?” she screeched, the pitch of her voice rising. “You…you…”

Steeling himself, Leron ignored the pain and breathed deeply. “I would prefer not to end up dead,” he replied flatly.

“Don’t you dare put this off. Your morals will not save you this time. You will find out what’s down there, or your usefulness to me will be at an end.” She took his hand and dragged him to her bed once more. He hated her, and part of him longed to destroy everything she held dear. When she had completed her goal, Ms. Brents fell asleep, and Leron climbed out of bed, reached for the phone hidden in his pants, and took himself to the bathroom. His hands shook with anticipation, and he was almost afraid to breathe as he sat on the edge of the tub and began the long process of setting the virus in motion.

The virus was a thing of beauty. It was similar to the one he had created, allowing him to break down the international call wall and reach his friends back home in Baltimore. He was older, and he’d had years to perfect it in the back of his mind. He finished the code, making the final adjustments, and set it to break into Ms. Brents’ laptop and cell phone in the next room. The second program, hidden deep within its parameters, would copy everything from her devices onto his phone. Returning to the bedroom, he placed the phone back in his pants pocket and laid down, doing his best to stay well out of her reach.

When he woke, he left her still asleep and took a shower. Ms. Brents always slept late. It was the luxury of her position. The rush of steam from the shower hid his search to confirm the copy had succeeded, and it had.

Ms. Brents beat on the door, and he jumped. “Are you about done?” she yelled.

“Not yet,” he responded, quickly climbing into the hot water and bathing himself. He had to be quick, or she would know something was up. He opened the door, and she pushed him out of the way.

“What were you up to?” she demanded.

“Showering. I stunk after you had your way with me.”

She laughed, “Dear boy, do not forget our agreement.”

“What agreement? I don’t need your antibiotics anymore.” Her sudden scowl told him the comment was a mistake. It would leave room for more questions.

“No. And yet, I still provided it to you in good faith. You are a man of honor and integrity, are you not? If you leave here without fulfilling your side of the bargain, it will eat you alive.”

Leron raised his fist, fully ready to beat her down, but stopped himself. She might deserve it, but he was not that person. “I need to get to work,” he said, leaving her behind him, relieved to have escaped her grasp.

 The rain from the night before had left puddles in the streets, and the light above him reflected off them, making it look like lights ran along the pavement. The humidity caused thick beads of sweat to drip from his brow.

Pulling out the phone, he accessed Ms. Brents’ files. The first thing he went through were the emails. Most of the messages were written in code from various contacts in San Antonio. No person had that many hookups in one night. He shook his head and continued browsing through them.

The next series of emails were filled with what appeared to be chemical formulas from a Dr. Dementyev with Alamo Chem. That explained why she had access to antibiotics and contraceptives. She was getting them from the source. If she was receiving chemical formulas, that meant she knew something of chemistry, but if so, why would she be a diplomat? The number of things this woman had her filthy hands in explained why she had not noticed the upcoming war. Or had she, and she still intended to put the governor under her control despite that?

He stumbled upon several emails in Spanish and opened them. These were not in code. Don Eros had survived the night on the bridge, and he was searching for the location of the Monterrey Group.

Leron stopped walking and leaned against one of the limestone walls in shock. He was relieved to hear word that Masa and the others had made it into Texas safely, but it terrified him that someone was searching for them. A more recent email spoke of how the Laredo city council had banished Do. Eros and his men from the city at gunpoint after his men had stirred up trouble on I-35. They had moved east and were now attacking farms. He stood, feeling somewhat relieved, and began walking. Did that mean the Monterrey Group was still in Laredo?

His shaking hands would not be still, regardless of what he did. He wiped the sweat from his brow again. The time he had already spent here had weakened him against the heat he had grown accustomed to in Mexico. He laughed; he was not as thin as he used to be either. The regular meals had caused him to gain back the weight he had lost through starvation. If he were to work out and lift weights, he could easily be a match for Arion.

He moved onto the files once he was calm. There didn’t seem to be much there. He flipped through a few photos of the governor and various politicians taken, some more compromising than others. More chemical formulas, and a program for sequencing genes. Several videos were stored in other files. He was about to shut it down when he recognized a familiar face. It was Masa. Tears filled his eyes as he touched the screen, longing to hold her. He watched her move along the screen through a market. She was laughing, something he had not seen her do very often. She ran towards someone, and his heart stopped. It was Arion.

A rage like he had never felt before consumed him, and he dropped the phone. It wasn’t fair. He was trapped here, and his rival had moved in and taken his place. He punched the wall, feeling pain radiate through his hand and along his arm. The metal bracing surrounding his weak arm broke apart. He would have to fix it before he could repair any drones. Masa was happy. It wasn’t fair. He should have been the one to make her that happy. He wept for a time before a cold realization dawned on him and his anger dissipated. The video had come from Ms. Brents’ computer. How had she known about Masa? Had he said something when she drugged him early on for the pain? He quickly pulled up the email and went through the sent files. He breathed a sigh of relief. Ms. Brents had not sent the file to Don Eros. At least, not yet. Leron realized that if he wanted to protect Masa, he would need to stay longer to ensure that every copy of the file was deleted.

Leron picked up the phone and tried to calm himself after everything he had discovered. He joined the group of men in line outside the factory, trying not to inhale the poisonous fumes pouring down from the stacks. In the locker room, he put his stuff away in the lockers when he overheard a conversation.

“Did you hear?” said one of the men who worked downstairs in a hushed voice.

“What?” asked another man.

“Major Andrew has come up with a plan for the projectiles,” he hissed. “They’re bringing in someone who can help.”

Still shaken by what he had learned, Leron collapsed onto a bench as another mix of emotions flooded him. He buried his head in his lap. Why was everything coming apart? They had found a way to use his invention to kill, and he was responsible. He needed more time.

Racing towards Major Andrew’s office, Leron did his best to ignore the feeling that something was horribly wrong while he passed by the workstations of the people upstairs. He needed to tell his supervisor the little he had discovered before anything else could go wrong. When he burst into the office, the major turned to face him in shock along with the woman he was speaking with, and Leron almost passed out from shock. It was Ms. Brents.

“Ms. Brents, can I introduce you to the young man who developed the projectiles for the drones?” said Major Andrew, moving between them.

“Ah, yes,” Ms. Brents said, a twisted smile resting beneath her rage-filled eyes. “Ah, Leron, I believe we’ve met before.”

“Good to see you again,” Leron lied, trying to hide his fear beneath a mask of friendliness. He would be lucky if he made it through the night. One of these two was likely to kill him before morning.

“Good, this will go more smoothly then,” Major Andrew said. “Leron, after you left last night, I had an idea. We’re going to tip your projectiles with poison. That will increase their deadliness and not cause you to alter the design to account for more weight. Ms. Brents is the CEO of Alamo Chem. She has suggested several options.”

“I must say, Major Andrew, I was deeply curious about what lay beneath this factory and the governor’s interest here.”

“And now you know, and I will expect your discretion on the matter,” said the Major.

“Certainly. Yes, when you first mentioned it last night on the phone, I thought about something more direct. A poison, causing immediate death,” Ms. Brents began, her eyes staring deeply into Leron’s, “But sometimes the enemy has a way of hiding things, and we need to create something that follows them back home. Something that will kill everyone in their base. I was thinking a disease that would spread over time.”

Leron realized she was threatening him while explaining her plan to the Major. The depth of her depravity could rival Mattias’. She was threatening him with the same thing, that she would kill Masa and the others should he escape. Did she know about his hacking?

“That’s an interesting idea,” Leron said, trying to continue looking at Ms. Brents. “What if the enemy dies before returning to their ship? What if they spread the diseases locally?”

Ms. Brents smiled, “Oh, well, we have a vaccine for that.”