Scorpion: A Novel by Christian Cantrell

Author:Christian Cantrell [Cantrell, Christian]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781984801975
Amazon: 198480197X
Publisher: Random House
Published: 2021-05-24T23:00:00+00:00

24

DEAD DROP

THE GRID HAS its own administrative buildings among Doha Port, the main one being the Bariq Pavilion. Inside, it is predictably modern-opulent—a little hologram-heavy for Quinn’s personal taste—and right on the edge of being a parody of futurism. Quinn has set up base in yet another luxurious lobby oasis, where she anxiously awaits two things: word on whether her man was apprehended at the airport, and a brand-new handset.

Instead, she is approached by the port master, who, with a triumphant grin, delivers her old handset inside a sealed plastic evidence bag. Apparently, items of value are lost to the Persian Gulf all the time, and his crew has become quite adept at using a tethered submersible to retrieve everything from golf clubs to diamond earrings as small as a mere two carats.

Once it detected separation from its primary guardian—probably when the Bluetooth connection with her metaspecs became sufficiently frayed—the handset shut itself down. Sadly, Quinn has enough experience with how complex electronics interact with water that she knows not to boot it back up until as much of the moisture has been wicked away as possible. Like any modern device, Quinn’s handset is water-resistant to an extent, but she’s pretty sure that ninety minutes at the bottom of the Persian Gulf exceeds even the most optimistic ingress protection designations.

The first step is to get an idea of what she’s dealing with here. After unzipping the plastic pouch, Quinn can see that the port master went to the trouble of rinsing the OtterBox off with fresh water and conducting a cursory toweling. That’s a good start. There’s a decent ding in the side of the OtterBox from its high-velocity interaction with the railing, so Quinn decides that it has done its duty and has earned an honorable discharge.

But something stops her from tossing it. Quinn is reminded of the laptop Vanessa Townes now displays on a shelf in her office—the shattered Dell clamshell that might have saved her life. The OtterBox, it occurs to Quinn, is no less a symbol of serendipity. When her handset collided with the rail, it could have gone either way. And what she initially interpreted as fate working against her was, in fact, random acts aligning and, for once, finding in her favor.

Quinn knows how close she came to having her throat neatly slit. To grasping her neck as though she were choking in a hopeless effort to hold on to all that blood. Sitting down on the floor of the twins’ basement, quietly watching in horror as the thick red pool spread out around her. Mourning herself with silent tears from wide, terrified eyes. She knows that swallowing the trauma of narrow escape and letting it grow inside her is probably a mistake. But for now she decides to plant it like a toxic seed and to see if she can grow it into something from which she might later be able to draw strength.

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