Repo Virtual by Corey White (read a book .txt) 📗

across Omar’s lap and tucked it under his ass and thighs, if only to stop Khoder from staring.

“Who are you?” Omar asked.

“It’s nothing personal,” Soo-hyun said; “we just need to borrow your van.” They sat on the arm of a leather couch. The corners were covered in cat scratches, white scars in the black.

JD crossed over to the window and sat on the sill, his muscles exhausted from climbing the steps and then hauling Omar’s weight around. He glanced out at the street: it had started to rain again, and a procession of umbrellas—mostly black, but plenty in blue and red—paraded down the footpath.

“JD! Are you ignoring me?” Soo-hyun said.

“What?”

“I said, what next?”

JD inhaled deep and then sighed. “I don’t know, Shades—I don’t normally work with hostages. But you could start by not using my name.”

“I didn’t hear anything,” Omar offered.

Khoder returned clutching Omar’s wallet, a phone so old JD was surprised it still worked, and a mound of keys and swipe cards hanging from a collection of bright plastic key chains. “Found his shit, bro. No one here, but there’s a second bedroom in the back.”

“What time’s your housemate due home?” JD asked.

Omar visibly swallowed, sweat glistening across his brow. “Any minute now. In fact, she’s already late.”

JD shook his head. “No, I don’t think so.”

Omar’s head dropped. “She plans to spend the whole night driving. She won’t be home until morning.”

“Alright, we can work with that.” JD held a hand out to Khoder: “Keys?”

Khoder dumped the mass of metal into JD’s hands. He found the keys to Omar’s van easily—identified by the plastic remote—and separated then pocketed them.

JD held the rest up to Omar. “Rampartment complex on Haedoji-ro—what do we need to get in?”

“I don’t understand.”

Soo-hyun moved too fast for JD to stop: they launched from the arm of the couch and backhanded Omar with a loud crack. “I’ll make you understand, fucker.”

“Shades!” JD yelled.

Soo-hyun took no notice of him. They bent down so their face was level with Omar’s. “Or would you rather talk to Señor Sting again?”

JD put a hand on Soo-hyun’s shoulder and pushed them back so he could stand between them and Omar. He waited for Soo-hyun to look away from the hostage and meet his eyes.

“We don’t need to hurt him.”

Soo-hyun took off their shades, their eyes cold black pits that seemed to stare through JD. “We don’t have time to fuck around. Get out of my way and I’ll make him talk.”

“Let me try,” JD said, holding their gaze. “Just give me one minute.”

Soo-hyun raised both hands and stepped back. “Have five. I’m gonna piss.” They stalked away and JD turned to Omar, the man’s eyes wide with fear, cheek showing slightly pink beneath the dark tone.

“Talk to me, or talk to them,” JD said, pointing a thumb over his shoulder. “Either way we can’t leave here until we know how to get inside that enclave.”

“The—the gray access cards,” he stammered. “It’s all electronic.”

“Good,” JD said. “Were you meant to be working tonight?”

“I wanted to call in sick and go to the match, but I couldn’t afford the tickets.”

“Listen to me closely, Omar. If you play your cards right you’ll be able to watch the game from the comfort of your own home while we go to work for you. But for this to work you need to tell me everything.”

Omar was breathlessly spilling details to JD by the time Soo-hyun got back from the bathroom. JD took down every word in an offline notes app: security guard names, expected movements, Omar’s nightly routine down to the smallest detail.

“See, Shades,” JD said, “no need for violence.”

They rolled their eyes and dropped down onto the arm of the couch.

JD took five hundred euro from his quickly thinning wad of cash and held it up to Omar. “This is for your trouble, alright, Omar?”

Omar nodded.

“You going to sell us out to the police?”

“If you try it,” Soo-hyun said, “we know where you live.”

Omar shook his head. “I’ll tell them you had me blindfolded.”

“That would have been smart, bro,” Khoder said, reaching into a box of Honey-Os for another handful of cereal.

“I already said, I’m not used to working with hostages. It’s lucky I had the zip ties.”

“Lucky, or kinky?” Khoder said.

JD snatched the box of cereal away from Khoder and dropped the money inside, before returning it to the cupboard. “Remember, we’re not the bad guys here—we just need access, and you’re our key.”

Omar nodded, but the slick of fear sweat across his upper lip said that maybe he wasn’t convinced.

“Your housemate will be home in a few hours; you’re going to be fine until then. Kid, put the match on.”

Khoder took three remotes from the coffee table and pressed a series of buttons across each. Soon the World Cup pregame show filled one wall of Omar’s living room, Korean commentators dressed in clean white suits, animatedly reciting useless statistics and awful patter. “Language, bro?” the kid asked Omar.

“The Korean channel is good. I’m still practicing,” Omar said, and he smiled, a bright slash of white teeth.

“Alright,” JD said to Soo-hyun and Khoder; “get your shit, and let’s get out of here.”

“Wait,” Omar pleaded. “You need to hit me, please.”

JD closed his eyes. “What?”

“If there’s a break-in and I’m unscathed, they’ll fire me. But if I am beaten and bruised, maybe I won’t lose this contract.”

JD shook his head. “Alright. Shades?”

Soo-hyun grinned and JD watched his twin reflections shudder in their artificial eyes.

JD and Khoder reached the basement car park, lit dull with energy-saving bulbs. JD held out Omar’s van key and pressed the button—the orange flash of indicator lights shone from a distant corner.

Khoder was grinning, and JD found the kid’s excitement contagious. Just another job, he told himself, but he didn’t believe the lie. Things were already out of hand, and they hadn’t even reached the target. His heart thudded a rolling kick drum thump as he limped across the car park to the unlocked van.

He swung open the rear