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

class="calibre1">“Miller speaking.” He failed to keep the boredom from his voice.

“It’s me, Esteban.” He was using an internal phone that hooked directly into one of the few exchanges that bypassed Echelon. It was safe to talk. At least, that’s what James had told him. “I need to access your database.”

The boredom changed to nervousness. “Uh, you already have it.”

“Not that one,” Esteban snapped. “The other one. The one nobody knows about.”

“Is this line safe?”

“Do you think I’d be dumb enough to say this if it wasn’t?”

Silence.

“Did Junior call you?” Esteban asked.

Adrian nodded into his receiver but it wasn’t a videophone so the gesture didn’t transmit. “Yeah, he called. I heard you have a problem.”

“I’ll need your help.”

Adrian sighed. “He said that too. When?”

“Soon.” Esteban shrugged, another useless gesture. “I don’t know where they are yet, that’s why I need your database.”

“Okay, okay. I’ll rout a session to your terminal in the Guild.” Adrian sounded annoyed; he didn’t like sticking his neck out so far, not even for his protector.

A wicked smile swelled through Esteban’s lips and edged into his tone. “Thanks man, I owe you.” But he didn’t really believe that.

“Just don’t do anything stupid in there, okay?”

Esteban grunted. “Me?”

The line clicked dead.

*

He tapped an annoyed finger to the screen, fatigue and boredom wearing on his patience. It took two hours before he saw the pattern that should have leapt out immediately. That’s unusual. He did a sweep of past records to confirm his suspicion before smelling victory. Esteban jotted down the portal number and licked his lips, selecting Junior from the speed-dial on his mobile.

“Yeah?”

“I found him.” Esteban’s voice was husky with greed. “Tell Adrian. We’re taking a trip to South Australia.”

*

Saturday, September 18, 2066

13:18 Andamooka, South Australia

A chill tingled in Dan’s spine, though didn’t understand why. It caught him unprepared and he lost his train of thought mid-sentence. He coughed to cover his discomfort. “Uh, what was I saying?” He had the vague impression it was important.

Jen caught the undertones and frowned. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, just… felt a little chill, that’s all.” Dan brushed it aside even though his instincts were warning him… Of what? We’re safe here. He couldn’t think of a rational reason for his sudden uneasiness and chalked it up to lack of sleep.

Jen felt the onset of a headache and wondered whether fresh air would clear her mind. “You wanna go for a walk?”

“You mean outside?”

Jen nodded. “Uh, yeah, that’s what I had in mind.”

“Okay,” he agreed. “You two wanna come?”

Samantha looked tempted but refused to leave Cookie’s side. “Only if he comes too.”

Cookie clucked his tongue, perplexed by the defensive array UniForce administrators were erecting around Echelon. It was starting to fry his brain, he was sure. The sensible part of his mind begged him to take a break but the stubborn part ordered him to think about the problem from a different angle. “No, I’m too close. I’ll take a walk after I’ve cracked the nut.”

They all doubted it.

“Just us then,” Jen said, secretly glad they’d be alone. She surprised herself and marvelled, Wasn’t it just this morning I felt uncomfortable around him? The walk would be their first opportunity to talk privately since breakfast. She hadn’t told the others that she’d invited Dan to vanish with them. But there’s no sense telling them if he doesn’t want to come, she rationalised. I’ll break the news if he accepts. “You can show me your property.”

“All right, not that there’s much to see.” First he went to his bedroom, retrieved a pair of Katherine’s sunglasses from the bedside table, and tossed them to Jen. “Here, you’ll need these.”

She gratefully accepted and followed his lead into the oven-like conditions above.

The heat was blistering. She saw waves of it shimmering from the red earth, baking everything to a crisp. The scanty nearby gumtrees were scorched and brittle, their leaves incapable of withstanding the extreme temperatures despite nature’s fine engineering. In the distance she saw a fleshy plant that looked like a cactus, its thorny spines the only barrier between the heat-exhausted animals and its succulent juices.

“It’s a desert.” Jen felt the heat sear her lungs with every breath, choking her bronchiales dry.

“Welcome to the driest state in Australia.” Dan smiled and swept his arms around the horizon. “This is opal country, you know.”

“Really?” Jen couldn’t say anything else; the heat was sapping her strength.

“My house was originally an opal mine. I widened the shaft and excavated the broader passages to accommodate a house.” He shielded his eyes from the overhead sun despite the protection afforded by his sunglasses. “I boarded up some tunnels. I had an engineer assess their stability and he said he wouldn’t want his children sleeping in them. No sense tempting fate, right? Being trapped in an old mine when the roof caves in isn’t my idea of a nice way to go.”

Jen shivered despite the heat. “No.”

They strolled toward the array of thermo-cells, the only real point of interest on Dan’s otherwise barren land.

“I like the desert,” he admitted. “People think it’s dead, but it’s not.”

She was sure the soles of her shoes were melting and snuck a quick look back at the entrance to Dan’s burrow, half expecting to see black footprints of molten rubber marking her passage.

“It’s especially beautiful at dusk and dawn.” He was squinting behind his plastic frames, sensing her discomfort in the heat. The sweat was evaporating from his skin faster than it could cool him and, five minutes after setting foot outside, he felt a brutal sunburn beginning. And Dan’s skin was several shades darker than Jen’s so she’d fry like a chip if she stayed out longer than fifteen minutes. “Do you want to come back when it’s cooler?”

She was tempted; her head reeled from the overheated blood pounding at her temples. Jen had never experienced heatstroke and didn’t recognise the preliminary signs. But she firmly shook her head. “No, I want to see the rest of your property.”

Dan laughed. “This is it, there’s nothing more to see.” They were halfway to the thermo-cells. “There’re some rocks over there, a cluster of trees in that direction, and some saltpans that came to the surface a decade ago when the watertable rose. They’re near the thermo-cells.”

“Saltpans? Are they still there?”

Dan nodded. “Sure.”

“Can I see?”

He motioned with his hand, indicating that she was welcome to keep walking. “You see that shimmer?” He was pointing.

Jen frowned. “I see heatwaves everywhere.”

“Well the densest patch is where it’s radiating off the salt. It’s a couple of centimetres thick in the worst areas.”

They reached the crusted salt and she knelt, running a finger across the rough surface. Dan walked onto it, cracking it as he went. “It was a lot worse a few years ago. It’s slowly seeping back into the ground.”

Jen muttered under her breath, “So much for responsible irrigation.” They were problems that had devastated much of rural Australia: water salinity and the rising watertable. Due to deforestation, irresponsible land management, and utter lack of conservation, the epidemic had taken decades of innovative engineering to overcome.

Dan looked at her and thought about the feelings stirring in his chest. Are they fatal? They made him feel guilty and he wished they’d stop. The sad truth was that life had been easier before he’d apprehended Jen. Or, failed to apprehend her, he reminded himself sullenly. Maybe that was a mistake? He tried to imagine the consequences of his choice but the future was blurry, murky, and in places black. Jen couldn’t be right. According to a poll he’d found on the ‘net, less than 0.1 percent of respondents were dissatisfied with the world and the WEF. So maybe the world really is on track. He doubted it, but the world’s problems weren’t something activism could fix. Besides, what was best for the majority was best for the species wasn’t it? Does that mean Jen doesn’t deserve a social slot? How do you balance individual freedom with majority rule? Is she an outcast? A gaggle of questions bounced inside his mind, none of which he could answer.

Jen snapped a corner off the white slab and touched it to her tongue, as though she couldn’t quite believe it was salt. “There’s so much.”

He nodded, absorbed by his inner thoughts. Rising above the mob of discomforting questions was one thing he knew for certain, and he had to let her know. “Jen…”

She stood to look at him.

Dan brushed his fingers tenderly across her chin. “I can’t come with you.”

“Why?” Jen felt confused and ashamed. But her feelings quickly turned to anger, which she directed at herself. How could I be so stupid? She was furious that she’d made herself vulnerable. A bounty hunter of all people! Oh my God, how did that happen? Still, she needed an answer.

“It’s too soon.” He braved a smile that he didn’t quite feel capable of giving. “After Katherine I mean.”

It stung. Jen felt a pang in her stomach, which quickly moved toward her chest. Most of all she felt lost, like an autumn leaf at the mercy of a chaotic and cruel wind. She would have sooner melted than admit it, but she’d been using Dan as her anchor. And now he’d cast her adrift. It’s too soon. An empty chasm settled where hope had once been. But she defied her feelings, forced a smile, and reached up to touch him on the shoulder. “It’s okay, I understand.”

I doubt it, Dan thought, hoping she never would. Nobody deserves to understand this loneliness and desolation. “Maybe I’ll visit.”

“I’d like that.” Jen felt her skin tingling under the oppressive sun and said, “I’m burning, I’d better go in.”

Dan nodded. “I’ll be along soon. Now that I’m here, I might as well check the calibration on the thermo-cells. I’ve been meaning to do it for weeks.”

“Okay, see you inside.” She realised how straining it had been to keep the dejection from her face when she turned away and allowed the mask to slip. Each pace was like a stride into the unknown. We’re alone. But she’d been comfortable with that for months. So why is it bothering me now? She didn’t need Dan, she didn’t need anybody, or so she was desperate to believe. Three days ago she’d been fiercely independent. And now? It was different. Why? She couldn’t explain. It just was.

Dan watched her leave, hands on his hips. He was so wrapt by his inner turmoil that he didn’t notice the burgundy four-wheel drive tearing down the dirt road, throwing up a cloud of dust and grit. It swerved violently, slicing across his boundary with a bucking action that would’ve whiplashed the passengers. And by the time it was within striking distance, Dan was too late to stop them.

*

Esteban squinted at the barren landscape through the double-glazing. “What a fucking desert.” He snivelled and ran a hand across his face. Junior was driving recklessly, grinding the gearbox. Hardly surprising since he hadn’t driven a car for months and hadn’t driven a manual for years. Their stolen four-wheel drive wasn’t exactly a luxury vehicle either. Its leather seats were badly scarred and slashed, the foam in the cushions squeezing to freedom. And it stinks! It reminded Esteban of the repugnant stench of pig manure. Fucking farmers. He abhorred anything that even remotely resembled farms or farming. To him it was primitive, far removed from the luxury of the Guild.

Adrian sat in the front passenger seat, on the left since Australians drove on the left. Stupid English and their stupid left-of-the-road rules. Esteban’s lack of sleep had deposited