When he severed the link, Sandy held the woman’s hand, and the boy was in his father’s arms.
“What just happened?” the man said over his son’s sobs.
“Overload,” Jacob said, still adjusting.
“What?”
“She had an overload,” Sandy said.
“Where did she get that code?” Jacob asked. He needed to know.
The man stared blankly.
“Where did she get the code?”
“I don’t...I don’t know what you’re talking about. What code? What did you do to her?”
“I saved her life. She got bad code from some code flicker and had an overload. Do you know where she got it?”
“I didn’t know. I don’t know,” the man said, shaking his head, looking at the woman as she slowly came to her senses.
Jacob could see the man had no idea his wife was using. “We better go,” he said to Sandy.
Back in the van, Jacob sat in the driver's seat, staring out the front window. He could feel Sandy next to him, trying to not look at him.
“Return to Retro Media,” Jacob instructed the van. He didn’t feel like driving.
The van started and backed out of the parking space.
“That code is from the same writer as the overload by the food court,” Jacob said finally.
“Are you sure.”
“Yes. I need to find out who.”
“Don’t you think…?”
“That’s two people in less than a week. Both of them could have died. How many are dying because of this bastard who can’t write decent code? I need to find out who it is.”
“You’ve already got something pretty big on your plate,” Sandy said.
He looked at her as the van made its way through traffic.
“I guess I need a bigger plate.”
Chapter 17
Working with the SRS was always a mixed bag. Because they wanted to increase their influence, they were willing to work with just about anyone. As an extension of both the Russian mob and Chinese Triad, they also had access to a vast amount of resources they were willing to share for a price. However, because they wanted to dominate crime in the city, they were willing to turn on anyone they worked with. It was a fine line to tread, and it was easy to get swept up in the SRS’s current and get washed away. It was a risk, and like most risks, when it paid off, it was worth it. When it didn’t, well that was a different story.
Jacob, Gomez, and Sandy rode in the back of an SRS armored SUV. The driver blasted music, a drum-driven track layered with chopped and screwed samples of Gregorian chants. Jacob couldn’t help but move his head to the rhythm.
“You like it?” The driver asked, looking in the rearview mirror.
“I do.”
“This is what they are playing in the London underground club scene. I just got back from London,” the driver said.
“Nice.”
The SRS guy in the front passenger seat said, “Can you just focus on where we are going? Keep your place in line, and turn that music down so we can talk.” He turned to the backseat. “My name is Chen, and this is Yuri. We should know names before we get to the place.”
Everyone took turns introducing themselves.
“Have you ever been to London?” Yuri asked no one in particular.
No one had.
“It is my new favorite city…”
“Jesus,” Chen said, “just pay attention.” He turned to Jacob. “They won’t let us use autopilot, so he has to drive. Too easy to hack the system, they say. You think it’s really that easy to hack the navigation system on these things?”
“That’s why we’re here,” Jacob said.
“I can do it real quick if you want me to show you,” Sandy said.
“I told you,” Yuri said.
“Well, if we can’t use the system, they could at least give me a driver who pays attention to the damn road.”
“Driver? I thought we were partners. You hurt me, Chen.”
“You’ll get over it,” Chen said.
They drove on, the London house music taking the place of conversation. Jacob watched the city pass by. They were one of ten SUVs heading to the large complex of county-owned and corporate-run warehouses between Houston and Galveston. Anything coming into Harris County had to be processed through the complex. It was the county government’s way to get another round of taxes from corporations, except the one running the warehouses for the county, of course.
A voice came over the SUV’s communication panel, “Yuri, two miles until your wait spot. Activate your drone feed to track the target.”
“Drone feed on,” Yuri said. A screen in the instrument panel showed an aerial shot of a convoy of two eighteen-wheelers and four armored SUVs, a bold NW painted on the roof of each. “Zoom out with map overlay. Mark target. Mark home,” Yuri said. The image adjusted.
“Our turn is right here,” Chen said.
Yuri steered the SUV into the empty parking lot of what used to be a gas station, and the other SUVs continued down the road.
“There’s not much cover here. Park on that side of the building,” Chen said, pointing.
“Got it.”
Yuri parked and Chen got out and went to the back and opened the hatch. He returned with a black carrying case and opened the door next to Jacob. He took three items out of the case, each not much larger than a code deck. He quickly opened the first, unfolding it as he said, “This is made from a high impact, heat resistant polymer. The 9mm caseless cartridges are made from the same material. Ladies first.” He handed the gun to Sandy and started on the second. “Folded, they will fit in your pocket and are not detected by metal detectors.” He handed the second gun to Jacob. “The magazines we have now hold 25 rounds, but we’ll give you smaller ones also. On full auto it
