BACKTRACKER by Milo Fowler (books to read in your 30s TXT) 📗

"Only when a couple mandroids lose their heads."

He glanced at her. The car jolted, and he cursed, returning his gazeto the pitted road. "You were caught on the video as well, Mrs. Muldoon.We had to investigate. Protocol and whatnot."

"You saw them?"

"Who?"

"The surveillance feeds—from The Pit."

"Of course. Why else would I be here? Destruction of privateproperty, human endangerment—"

"Lennox shot at us," she was quick to retort.

"Self-defense." He cleared his throat. "We saw itall, Mrs. Muldoon. That SYN manager over there—George, they call 'im—calledus up as soon as he found the damaged robots. Hesent the footage over to us straightaway."

"You watched all of it?" She studied him.

"That's what I said."

"Then you saw him disappear."

"Who?"

"Gavin Lennox."

He made no reply. His overgrown, hairy hands squeezed the steeringgrips. That was his answer.

"How is it even possible? For someone to just...vanish?" She was at a loss.

"I'm sure I don't know anything about that, Mrs.Muldoon." He kept his eyes on the road and cleared his throat again."Wasn't on the footage we were given."

Convenient.

Was he telling the truth? Cade would have known. He always did.

She turned her attention to the vacant road ahead of them, starkwhite in the headlights. Less than a kilometer away, glowing streetlamps linedthe road like beacons, welcoming them back to the land of the living. NewCityin all its midnight glory. Deserted, due to the curfew.

"So you're charging me with destruction of private property,endangerment—"

"Just your friend."

She faced him. "No. It was my idea to go there tonight. Cadeonly did as I asked."

"I'll pretend I didn't hear that."

"You can't charge him. He's—"

"Holy man or not, charged he'll be, most definitely." Adark look, one that mingled frustration with resignation, came overhis face. "Assuming there's any of 'imleft after those bastards are through."

The Blackshirts.

"Don't they work with you?" Her tone soundedeven, but it could have easily been laden with spite.

"Those wolves?" He cursed vehemently, making no apology now."Why do you think I had to get you out of there so quick? They keepup the pretense of being your average lawkeepers, butthey aren't, not by a long shot. They don't answer to the commissioner, I'lltell you that much. They're the governor's own Federal Police."

"Then whydid you bring them?"

"More like I tagged along." He squeezed the steeringgrips again and clenched his jaw. "You're on the video, ma'am. Your...husband—hiscase, being a missin' person and all, is underFederal jurisdiction. They assumed there was a connection of some sort, thatperhaps this white monk—or even you, crazy as that—could be implicatedin his disappearance."

"You brought them in." Her tone was cool, shielding thefury restrained beneath the surface.

"I had to—"

"No, you didn't. You could have kept them out of it."

He blew out a sigh. "A little hard to do these days, ma'am.Everybody's on the Link, and the Feds are monitoring all of it, nosing inwherever they damn well please. You can't keep nothing from 'em."

"I can." She turned her head and jabbed a finger at the scarbehind her ear.

"Maybe so." He looked away. "But it ain't the samefor the rest of us. I forone would never be allowed to stay on the force if I went unplugged."

"You're all connected. Their eyes andears." She watched bright lights whippast the window, the silent storefronts, The Pit. She almost looked back to seeif the headless mandroids remained in that alley.

"Part of the job, ma'am." He sounded apologetic again.He inhaled and exhaled, heaving his massive chest upward, letting it fall,deflated. "Wish I could've done more to help. But it's their show now. TheFeds will do what they do." He looked over at her as the silence ran on."Harry was a good man."

Yes. He is.

"He trusted you." She met his gaze. Should I?

Armstrong chuckled, but it sounded strained. "Can't say hewas the best judge of character, though. Wasn't always on the same side ofthings, him and me, but I could always trust him when it counted. If what you say is true, then it went both ways, I'mguessin'."

"Have you given up?"

"How's that?"

"You use the past tense. When you mention Harry."

He frowned. "I suppose you're right. But I haven't given up,not by a long shot. I ain't a quitter." He reached over and squeezed hershoulder. "We'll find your husband, Mrs. Muldoon, that we will. One way oranother."

It's been years. And with the Blackshirtscontrolling the investigation... The odds are more than against us now.

Only one person could help her: the BackTracker.

The plug pulsed behind the sergeant's ear. He reached up to tapit, muttering, "Receive call—audio only."

She watched him, studied the expression on his face as he heardthe news. Had Cade escaped? Were the Blackshirts demanding that Armstrong handher over to them, that he turn back from police headquarters? If so, she was nolonger under his jurisdiction.

She watched his eyes, noted the way they stared straight aheadwithout shifting toward her. Pretending she wasn't there, creating a wallbetween them. He would do as he was told. He was a family man, just two yearsaway from retirement. He wouldn't do anything to jeopardize that.

He would give her to them.

"I understand," he said. He clenched his jaw again."Yes. Yes, of course, Captain."

He tapped his plug, ending the call. Turned to look at her withsorrow in his eyes.

"Oscar—pull to the curb," she said sharply.

The steering grips rebelled in the sergeant's hands, jerking tothe right as the tires squealed, accelerating across two empty lanes until theyreached the side of the road. Both the driver and passenger doors unlockedautomatically and lifted.

"What the hell?" Armstrong bellowed, flabbergasted,hands in the air as he stared at the grips. "How'd you dothat?"

Irena unbuckled her harness and stepped out. "Something Ilearned from my father."

He grabbed her arm. "You run, you'll be a fugitive." He imploredher, "But if you let me take you in,I'll make sure they go easy on you. The captain, hemay be a Blackshirt, but he's a good man. Knows right from wrong, anyhow. He'swaiting at headquarters for us."

"We both know you're looking out for your own neck."

"That too!" He forced a chuckle without loosening hisgrip. His fingers dug into the firm flesh of her arm. "I've never beencloser to the good life.