Down and Out in Regrets by Rebecca M. Senese

Author:Rebecca M. Senese
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: RFAR Publishing

“Are you sure this is the trail we should be following?”

Slan’s voice was a low whisper, just behind my left ear. I was distinctly aware of how close he was standing behind me as I huddled against the wall, trying to press myself into an alcove. Even without the heightened feedback from my triggered implants, I would have felt the delicious heat radiating from his chiselled form.

I gave myself a mental shake. Focus. I had a client to save.

Lust had to wait.

Too bad my hormones weren’t listening.

“Mac?” he said.

“It’s the only one that makes sense,” I said. “Just follow my lead.”

Like a good team member, Slan went silent, waiting for direction. I peered around the corner of the alcove and down the hall, toward the looming set of double doors. Some time in the recent months, the regular grey steel look had been covered with a layer of plasti-wood, making them look like great, carved oak doors. Huge, brass handles jutted out. On the left side, were hastily erected security entrance devices, including a card reader, retinal scanner, visual scanner, and palm reader. I was sure there were probably also a DNA sniffer mounted above the door, ready to suck up any stray skin cells.

Just beyond those doors were the current offices of the Tornado Casino, with construction ballooning outward behind them. I just had to figure out a way by all of those security devices.

From the slapdash erection of the security console, I figured I would probably be able to bypass or fool most of them. The visual scanner might be tricky, if Sidney Tremount had bothered to register hiring me in his database. Considering what I suspected, I thought he might have, if only for further back up. Sadly, I didn’t have any facial blockers, those tiny patches that pasted onto your temples, and then on your chin and top of your forehead. Once fixed, they could broadcast whatever facial image you wished to convey. A lot of high end detective agencies had them. Some of the more sophisticated versions even included DNA masking, but I thought that was a gimmick. It would take more than purposely shedding false DNA to fool a sniffer like the one above the door. You would have to be encased in something that stopped any of your own DNA from shedding at the same time, allowing only the false markers to be picked up.

I was sure someone was working on it, but it wasn’t there yet.

Although I was pretty sure Tremount probably had a visual of me, I was confident he hadn’t bothered with a DNA scan.

I hoped.

“Tornado is in there, right?” Slan asked.

I nodded.

“I can get us through the door,” he said. He pulled a rolled up hat from his back pocket and unfolded it, snapping a short brim on the front.

“Put this on,” he said. “That head of yours is a little conspicuous and the brim will cover your face.”

“They’ll have you listed from the delivery from Jenkins Machinery,” I said.

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