Freedom Incorporated - Peter Tylee (best biographies to read TXT) 📗

chemicals had left their mark on Jen too - a rare blood disorder that threatened her life whenever her stress hormones rose too high. Several of her friends had died from the disease during puberty, and she’d lost another two to incurable forms of cancer. Poor health was just one of the underlying problems for the region, economic gloom and a host of social issues ran rife. Jen was glad to be free of the nightmare. True, Coffs Harbour was a lot cleaner these days, but she still wished her father had possessed the wisdom to abandon ship like the rest of the sensible population.

“Well you’re better off that way, trust me,” Jen said around a mouthful of toasted muesli.

“What about your parents?” Dan probed.

“What about them?” Her spine stiffened defensively.

“Well…” Dan prompted. “You met mine. What about yours?”

She flinched behind a smile. “What do you want to know? My father still lives in Coffs Harbour and works for Hydro-Tech, of all companies. He’s part of their Australasian management team, in charge of water quality if I’m not mistaken.”

“Not bad.”

“Oh really?” Jen retorted. “Except his corporation has the gall to hold our lives for ransom. They charge whatever they want for their products and we have no choice but to pay. Did you know they mark up by three thousand percent?” She didn’t wait for a reply, but took delight in Dan’s surprise. “Poor people can’t afford drinking water so they filter tap water until their bodies are so clogged with that pink chemical shit they just roll over and die. And do you think Hydro-Tech gives a damn? Hell no, they hike up the price and poison the next rank of the economically disadvantaged.” A furious gleam twinkled in her eyes, declaring her vehement opposition to her father’s work. “Now my mother…” She sighed, letting go of her anger. “She lives in America. I don’t visit her as often as I should.”

Dan remained silent, surprised by her emotional outburst.

“My parents are ‘amicably separated’; though they may as well call it divorce since that’s what it really is.” Jen shrugged. “One day my Mum just said she was tired of the international security sweeps and wanted to move to America to be closer to her work. Well! Who would’ve thought people would need to move closer to their job at the dawn of the transportation age?”

“I’m sorry, Jen.”

She didn’t hear him. “I was twelve when she left and I didn’t see her again until I was fifteen. Can you imagine what that feels like? To an adolescent? She didn’t even visit on weekends. Jesus, it would’ve only taken fifteen minutes, if that.” Jen chewed another spoonful before continuing, “I heard she found herself a boyfriend.” She shrugged. “I haven’t seen her in, uh, maybe two years now. She came to see me on my birthday with Mr Perfect in tow.” A tinge of sadness had crept into her voice but she banished it and went on, “My grandfather was always there for me though. I miss him.”

What could he say? Nothing. Nothing that came to mind would fit the circumstances. Dan was amazed she hadn’t turned out bitter. Like me. Here was a woman who’d suffered just as much as anyone, but had surmounted her problems with guts and determination. Dan had no idea whether he’d have coped as well as her if their situations had been reversed.

She was finished her muesli and was silently playing with her spoon until curiosity itched her tongue. “Okay, now it’s your turn.”

“For what?” Dan deliberately misunderstood, delaying the inevitable. “You’ve met my parents.”

“Who do the pretty photographs on your mantle belong to?”

“Why, to me of course.” Dan’s acerbic mood was getting progressively worse. He inhaled sharply and lowered his gaze. “She was my wife.”

“Was?” She knew she couldn’t stop, not once she’d begun.

Dan fiddled with the ring on his finger, twirling it around and around. It was rose gold, the traditional yellow had never suited the tone of his skin. Engraved on the inner rim was the symbol for infinity - the sign he and Katherine had shared to encompass their feelings. She had worn a matching ring, now buried in the Andamookan cemetery. “She died last year.”

Jen bit her lip. “Oh, Dan I’m so sorry.”

“Yeah, me too.” He smiled wanly. “Look at us, sitting here sharing sob stories. Shouldn’t we be thinking about the future instead of the past?”

Jen bravely worked a smile onto her face. “I suppose we should.”

“So what do you want now?”

She shrugged and looked into his eyes. “I could ask you the same. Are you going to return to bounty hunting after you’ve finished with us?”

That was the essence of his dilemma, the very question he’d been trying to answer for much of the night. “I don’t honestly know.”

She looked dreamily hopeful. “I guess my plans depend on whether we can still be activists wherever we land.”

“I wouldn’t think so,” Dan shook his head. “Too dangerous.”

“Then I’d like a quiet patch of the world where I can be myself, not have to worry about the grind of capitalism, and spend my time collecting shells on the beach.” She smiled brightly, eliciting a half-laugh from Dan. “Of course I’d prefer to sail around the world in a catamaran, but that’ll have to wait for the day I win the lottery.”

“Ah yes, the lotteries: a tax levied against those poor at mathematics.” Dan took their dirty bowls to the sink and splashed some pink water in them.

“Why don’t you come?” Jen was suddenly serious.

“What?” It stopped Dan in his tracks.

“Well, you don’t seem particularly happy where you are. Why don’t you come with us? We could always use another friend, no matter where we end up.”

The thought hadn’t occurred to him. So much of his miserable life was in Andamooka. Is it, really? He looked around. Is there anything here that would stop me from walking away? He had to admit no, there wasn’t.

Jen blinked, a thrilling buzz sizzling in her mind. She liked him and hoped he’d accept, yet at the same time she was terrified by the prospect. She waited impatiently for his response and cursed the ambiguity of his expression.

“I don’t know.” Dan scratched at the stubble on his chin. “I’ll think about it.”

“No pressure,” Jen said, concealing her relief. “Just wanted you to know you’re welcome. To come. If you want, I mean, that is, uh… you know?”

“Thanks.” Dan offered her a calloused hand over the counter. She graciously accepted and he gently embraced her slender palm with both of his. “I’ll think it over, okay?”

She nodded, mesmerised by his touch. “When do we leave?”

Dan checked his watch, then the calendar on his fridge. “That depends on Cookie. How long will it take him to undermine Echelon?”

“You don’t mind that we’re doing that?” Jen looked surprised.

“Sure, why not? I figure you deserve a chance.” He tilted his head to an unusual angle. “It’s not as if I’m an advocate for all that monitoring crap. It has some advantages but not enough to warrant the consequences.”

Jen couldn’t have agreed more. “Its biggest achievement is in lining UniForce’s pockets.”

“How about two days?” Dan wondered how long the Raven would take to find them. He was sure the cyborg was tracking them, but two days felt like a safe margin.

“If Cookie can’t do it in two days then it can’t be done.” She smiled and squeezed his hand in reply. “Where are you taking us anyway?”

“You’ll see,” Dan said vaguely. “You’ll like it, I’m sure.”

“It’s on the coast then?” Jen asked, hopeful.

“You’ll see,” he said again, the only answer he was willing to give. In truth, he had no idea. But he had two days to come up with something.

He yawned and slumped back onto his stool.

“You must be exhausted,” Jen said and began soothingly massaging the knots from his back.

“I’m okay,” Dan lied uncomfortably. “I’m used to it.”

Cookie shuffled languidly into the room, holding Samantha’s impish hand. “Yo, mornin’ guys.” He patted his stomach, which growled on queue. “I’m starving, what’ve you got to eat?”

*

Friday, September 17, 2066

UniForce Headquarters

15:07 San Francisco, USA

James was close to collapse. Seven hours sleep in three days… madness!

“Not there!” Esteban was ready to take his frustration out on Michele with his fists. “You stupid fucking bitch.” He shoved a knuckle into his mouth and bit hard before he slapped her across the cheek. “You’re doing this on purpose, aren’t you?”

She looked at him with big, innocent eyes. “No I’m not.”

“Then why don’t you fucking understand?” Esteban pointed at the screen one last time. “Look, that’s where you click to sort the fields. If you want to sort by date, click on the date. If you want to sort by surname, click on surname. It’s not that fucking hard to understand is it?”

She played with the mouse and clicked seemingly at random. “But when I click on this one I lose the rest of the records.”

A nerve started twitching in the corner of Esteban’s eye and he turned away. Inhale, exhale… inhale, exhale. It was times like these that he had to remember to breathe.

“It’s filtering somehow, isn’t it?” Michele asked innocently.

“For the last time, no! It’s not filtering, it’s sorting. That’s all.”

“Then why does it get rid of some of the records?”

Esteban couldn’t believe she could be so clueless. He felt like punching her in the back of her neck just to hear the sound of snapping bones. Anyone else and he wouldn’t have hesitated. You’re lucky you’re so good at sucking cock. “Forget it.” He couldn’t take it anymore. “Okay! You’re right! It’s filtering.” Believe what you want, bitch.

Michele played some more. She had a record highlighted and each time she clicked a sorting field it shot to the top of her screen. The records she kept ‘losing’ were merely pushed above and she didn’t have the savvy to scroll with her mouse to find them. As far as she could ascertain, the buttons Esteban had indicated were filtering the records with a confusing set of rules.

“Come now children,” James said, interrupting with a poorly chosen set of words that nearly earned him a torn ear.

“What?” Esteban spun to face him. “You’d better have good news, Poindexter.”

“And I do.” James smiled deliriously. “I’ve decoded the Raven’s thoughts.”

“And?” Esteban still wasn’t impressed, though some news was better than no news.

“He’s in Australia,” James continued translating, hoping the Raven wouldn’t detect his parasitic leech-like program. “And he’s following Dan Sutherland’s trail north from Tweed Heads.”

“So?” Esteban shook James by the shoulders. “Where the fuck are they?”

“He doesn’t know.”

Esteban’s lungs exploded with a sigh, which he emphasised by throwing his arms into the air. “All that work and you still know squat.” He smiled sarcastically. “Fuck you. And fuck you too Michele. Fuck you both! You can sit here and rot for all I care.”

“Where’re you going?” James frowned, irritated that someone was leaving. He wanted to leave too. But you don’t see me leaving, do you?

“I’m tired of waiting for you to pull your head out of your arse.” He stabbed them with a look of pure repulsion. “I’m going to find him myself.” He slammed the door on his way out and it vibrated the walls, causing one of James’s carefully hung paintings to fall to the floor.

James snorted. “It’s all fun and games until someone loses an e-mail.”

“What?” Michele didn’t understand.

“Nothing.” He sighed and returned his attention to the Raven’s thoughts. It was fascinating to see the world through another man’s eyes.

*