Data Runner by Sam A. Patel

Author:Sam A. Patel
Language: eng
Format: epub, mobi
Tags: FICTION/General
Publisher: Diversion Books
Published: 2013-04-03T04:00:00+00:00

19

The front door to my house is ajar.

At first I think it’s just Martin back from his trip, but he would never leave the front door unbolted, let alone ajar. Never Martin, who at any given time has who-knows-what going on down in the basement; that’s how I know something is wrong.

I push the door open. Wide open. Leaving plenty of room for me to make an escape if I have to. The first thing I see is the living room. It’s been ransacked. Every little thing has been turned over, every big thing toppled. Even the sofa cushions have been ripped apart. The high-end trans screen and entertainment stack that came with us from the Free City have all been trashed. Trashed instead of taken, which means this was no robbery. No corner was left untouched.

No corner left untouched. The deductive part of my brain kicks on. Okay, it’s obviously not a robbery, so that means they were looking for something specific. And they wouldn’t keep ransacking the place once they found what they were looking for. So if everything—and I do mean everything—in the room is upturned, that can only mean one of two things. Either A: they found exactly what they were looking for in the very last place they looked for it, which was incredibly unlikely; or B: they didn’t find it at all. I go with B. Whatever they were looking for, they didn’t find it at all.

Oh no, I think as it suddenly dawns upon me. Basement.

I enter the kitchen. The first thing I notice in all the mess is the biometric entry system for Martin’s workshop smashed on the floor. They didn’t get in that way. I suppose that’s a good thing, since it’s already been established that dismembering a thumb is still the easiest way through. At the very least, it means Martin still has his. But that sense of ease disappears the moment I turn the corner and see the giant hole blown through the wall.

Blackburn. Those singe marks. That ashy detritus. This could only have been done by a helio gun. And that means it could only have been done by Blackburn. I am sure of it.

I race down the steps to find Martin’s entire workshop in upheaval, much worse than the living room upstairs. Everything is a mess. Whatever order there once was, whatever lines of separation once divided his various tasks and projects, it has all been put through a blender with the lid off.

Then it hits me. Martin. Where is Martin?

I start up the stairs to look for him, but halfway up I see something that halts me mid-step—something I have never seen before because it was previously covered by an old filing cabinet. But now that the filing cabinet is on its side, the thing hiding behind it can’t be ignored. I guess the soldiers from Blackburn who ransacked the place saw nothing strange about a heavy-duty cable running down the wall in a workshop like this.

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