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

threesome.”

Dan burst into a fit of laughter, tears of genuine mirth tinting his eyes.

“I thanked him for the offer, it was sweet. Then I said I was going to make myself a cup of coffee, watch my favourite television show, and if he was still there when it finished I said I’d put a nine-millimetre round in his head. I heard them leave before the first set of commercials.” His mammoth smile resurfaced. “I have a new girlfriend now, Tanya.”

“Oh, man, you have them lining up, don’t you?”

“Hell, I have a queue a mile long. But Tanya’s really something. You should meet her. She has it all. She’s so hot she melts my cheese sandwiches without a griller and she’s worth talking to. Who would’ve thought you could have both?”

Katherine had both. It was the first thought to enter Dan’s mind. And Jen has both. That was his second thought, chasing the first. Both thoughts were unwelcome, but thinking about Jen brought a sting of urgency.

Simon was sensitive enough to notice the change in Dan’s demeanour. “So what brings you here mate? I mean, what really brings you here?”

Dan looked cautiously around the room, searching for cameras. “You got somewhere we can talk in private?”

“Nope,” Simon replied with a hint of irritation. “They’ve wired everything. You get used to it after a while, living without privacy. But then I never break the rules so I just do things the way I always have.” He raised his voice for the benefit of whoever might be listening. “D’ya hear me? I’m straight!” Simon winked.

“I need to talk to you, alone. It’s very important,” Dan pressed.

Simon shook his head, remaining firm. “Anything you want to say to me as Chief Inspector West must be said in front of cameras.” He paused briefly. “But if you’d just like to chat with an old friend we can grab a cup of coffee. I’m off in five minutes.”

Dan nodded. “That’d be great.”

Parramatta’s top detective spent those final five minutes busily clearing his desk and closing two departmental files. “Okay, I’m ready.”

The sun glowered angry yellow as it sunk toward the horizon. It was a warm spring day that would turn bitterly cold minutes after the sun vanished. Dan sweated inside his heavy coat, annoyed that worldwide travel necessitated preparing for several seasons in one outing. It was worse in summer and winter, trying to balance the two extremes from the northern and southern hemispheres. He knew he’d be in for a rude shock when he portaled to America’s East Coast International Terminal. America was having a chilly autumn.

The Parramatta precinct was nestled in one of the few thriving centres remaining in the sprawling metropolitan tumour of Sydney. It was a hub of activity. Yuppies parading crisp business suits and expensive silk ties scuttled importantly around. Office towers huddled toward an imaginary centre, as if seeking safety in numbers. And a throng of small stores clustered beneath the monstrous towers, catering to the demands of uptight office workers. The majority were grab-n-run fast food outlets, which didn’t provide seating. Others were more stylish and offered non-artery-clogging food and a few stools, but they were sparse. So coffee houses had filled the void created by the food industry when it shunned restaurant-style settings.

“I like Stan’s,” Simon was saying. “It’s less, uh, hippie than Ron’s.”

“Can we go to The Snowfield?” One corporate giant owned all three cafés but each establishment catered for different tastes. They played different music, greeted patrons differently, and offered a choice of plastic, wood and metal for interior décor.

Simon shrugged. “I suppose.” None of his friends ever went to The Snowfield, which was precisely why Dan had chosen it. It mostly attracted adolescents.

They wove through the five o’clock crowd of homeward bound drones and reached The Snowfield’s automatic doors. They were glass and had cute animal figurines grafted onto them. To make things even more garish, the glass was an angry fruit salad of colours and it made Simon dizzy just watching them open.

Then the atmosphere struck.

“God, Dan. Here?”

Dan looked apologetic. “Yeah, sorry mate.”

There was a jiggy tune blaring across the room and a chilly draft pumped from floor and ceiling suspended synthetic snowflakes in the air. It was like stepping into a freezer with the added irritation of airborne floaters that one had to carefully avoid inhaling. The ‘snowflakes’ reminded Simon of rough Styrofoam balls. Of course, they weren’t harmful. Management had made sure of that by thoroughly testing them on a barnyard of test animals.

“You want some coffee?” Dan offered. “It might take your mind off the cold.” That was precisely how The Snowfield sold their products: chill the customers until their teeth are chattering for another cup coffee. After they’re finished the first, they’ll want a second, just to keep their fingers warm. Hypothermia was a powerful motivator. It was therefore hardly surprising that people who frequented The Snowfield were twenty-cup-a-day coffee addicts. Some had since supplemented their caffeine dependence with Xantex uppers, jerking their nerves so taut they could sneeze with their eyes open.

A chill shivered down Simon’s back. “Yeah, tall dark and fucking hot.” He was glad to be out of the precinct, he hated having to watch his language. Some days he went home and swore just to make up for so much restraint.

Dan paid for two cups and selected a cute table, shaped like a snowflake and as white as virgin snow.

“So what’s so special you couldn’t tell me in the office?” Simon asked, swatting at a hovering ‘snowflake’ before it landed in his coffee. Flakes had already drifted into his hair and were wriggling their way inside his collar. But perhaps the worst part of The Snowfield was the teenagers who buzzed around with far too much unnatural excitement. He distantly wondered how many crimes he could attribute to overindulgence in caffeine.

“I found out who killed Katherine.” Dan got straight to the crux.

And that snared Simon’s undivided attention. “What?”

Dan nodded. “I know who it was.”

“Who?”

“Do you remember the man who didn’t go to prison for assassinating the opposition leader, Mike Cameron, back in ‘59?”

Simon raised his guard. Not this again. “How could I forget?” He tasted something bitter in his mouth, and it wasn’t the coffee. “I knew that would come back to bite you.”

You were right, Dan thought, stopping short of blame-fuelled mental self-destruction. He couldn’t afford that luxury, not just now. But it was my fault, he admitted, on the brink of imploding. “Well it’s him.”

“You mean UniForce?” Simon frowned, unsure whether he really wanted to know.

“I don’t know yet. Maybe. Or maybe he’s working alone. But he’s their assassination co-ordinator so they must know about it.”

“That’s some heavy shit.” Simon sipped his coffee and laced his fingers around the mug to keep them warm. “Can you prove it?”

“I don’t need to,” he replied elusively.

Simon didn’t like the tone of Dan’s voice. “What are you saying? Oh God… what’re you going to do?”

“Well, think about it,” Dan said, keeping his voice low and level. “You know how much I loved Katherine. You know how much she meant to me.” He waited for Simon to nod before continuing, “I know who brutally raped and killed her, and he’s well enough protected to evade a very public assassination. What do you think I’m going to do?”

“I’m not hearing this.”

“Well what would you do?” Dan asked defensively.

Simon was quiet for nearly a minute - 60 seconds that left Dan’s future hanging in the balance. “I’d do exactly what you’re thinking of doing.” I can’t believe I’m about to say this. He took a slow, deep breath. “What can I do?”

“No.” Dan shook his head. “You don’t want to get mixed up in this.”

“I’m not stupid Dan, you must’ve come to me for something,” Simon said flatly.

“I did, but it has nothing to do with breaking the law,” Dan replied. “He’s taken someone else.”

A deep scowl clouded Simon’s dark face. “What?”

“Mike Cameron’s granddaughter, her name’s Jennifer Cameron.” Dan lowered his voice, forcing Simon to lean close to hear. “She was staying with me in Andamooka. He kidnapped her, he’s going to kill her, the same way he killed Katherine.”

“Jesus.” Simon was cold to his bones, and it wasn’t from the frigid air.

“It gets worse. UniForce targeted her for apprehension, so technically they had the right to take her.”

“How do you know that?”

“I was her bounty hunter,” Dan said in monotone. “I joined them a few months after the Department tossed me. I needed something to do and that’s where my skills lay.”

“Oh,” he said, clearly surprised and clearly trying to hide it. “Well, if it was sanctioned there’s nothing you can do.”

“Sanctioned apprehension. Not rape and murder.”

“But you have no proof of that. If you try to get her back, you’ll be the one on the wrong side of the law.” Simon knew him well enough to realise there was nothing he could say to make Dan change his mind. Whatever he had planned, he wasn’t going to walk away, not from this.

“Again with the proof,” Dan huffed. “And the law? The law doesn’t help the people who need it; it just protects the people who write it.” I’m starting to sound like her, Dan thought. A week ago I wouldn’t have complained. He wondered whether he was a dormant activist, just waiting for the necessary catalyst to erupt. “Anyway, the point is, she has two friends who need your help.”

“What could I possibly do?” Simon asked. “You know I can’t harbour WEF sanctioned apprehensions.”

“As far as I know they’re not, at least not yet. Look, all I want is for you to protect them.”

“I wish I could man, but you know the rules as well as anyone. The Superintendent has to sign off on that.” Simon shook his head. “I’m sorry.”

“Just for a few days,” Dan implored. “I know you can do that.”

Simon looked at him suspiciously. Anyone else and he would’ve sent them packing, but he owed Dan. He knew Dan would never remind him, he was too honourable for that, but he’d twice saved Simon’s life. “All right, you’re lucky it’s Saturday. Steward hates being disturbed on the weekend so I can give them somewhere safe to sleep tonight and tomorrow. After that, it’s up to Steward, but you already know he won’t agree unless you come up with something spectacular that isn’t 5,000 miles outside our jurisdiction.”

“And I doubt that’ll happen,” Dan admitted sullenly.

“Where are they?”

Dan twisted in his seat and motioned to a couple huddling in the corner, shivering from the cold. They stood on aching joints and shuffled across the room to join them. They both had blue lips and Samantha was mildly chattering. They looked as if they’d gleefully knocked a teenybopper unconscious for a hot mug of coffee.

“Welcome to Snowflake-Hell.” Cookie extended a welcoming hand. “I’m David but you can call me Cookie, and this is Samantha.”

She inclined her head and stilled her chattering jaw for long enough to smile. “Pleasure.”

“Simon West.” He nodded once in greeting. “Let’s get out of here.”

*

Friday, September 17, 2066

23:42 Baltimore, USA

Jen smelled cigar smoke. It was the first thing she noticed when the fog lifted from her brain. She had a nagging feeling that something was wrong, but it was elusive and she couldn’t grasp it for long enough to make sense of it.

She was floating, drifting in and out of awareness and had been for nearly quarter of an hour. It was like a restless sleep that she couldn’t shake, but this time she was determined to poke through the suffocating plastic