Thrill switch, p.26
Thrill Switch, page 26
I couldn’t talk though. My windpipe was being crushed. It didn’t matter how quickly they’d get here. It would be too late for me. The stars in my vision turned to black holes. The darkness grew bigger until all I could see was defeat. It was over.
There was no getting up again from this.
53
JOON HAMMERED AT the locked door of the jack-in room. He could hear struggling in his headset but nothing from behind the sealed steel barrier. He looked back at Corpus. She wasn’t going anywhere. He? Fuck. What was going on? Joon tried the handle. No luck.
‘Byron!’ he yelled, both at the door and through the headset. ‘What’s the code? I can’t open it.’
No response.
‘What’s happening there?!’ It was Gibson.
‘Send back up now!’ Joon repeated. ‘Stephenson’s here! Raimes is dead. No response from Wells or Orson.’ He slapped the door again. ‘Byron?’
Still nothing.
‘He’s got Byron!’ Joon repeated.
‘I’ll be there as soon as I can,’ Gibson yelled, then… ‘Any units close to Enclave Court in West Vegas get there now! Number 13.’
Joon tried the door once more. He searched for the code in his memory. Had Ada said what it was, or just punched it in? He should have been paying more attention. Gibson said it was the date Switch was reborn. What date was that? Ada was the Slaughter expert, not him. He blinked through files, searching for the date of her first killings. He entered the date in the door. The light flashed red. Shit. His hand scrambled for his Taser. Maybe he could fry the circuits, but that would lock him in for good. He remembered the Colt pistol Ada had given him. The weapon hung in its holster under his hoodie at his side. He wasn’t supposed to carry it, but the thought of having it there while backing up Ada felt right. It was useless too though. Useless like him. He couldn’t shoot through a 2-foot thick steel door.
‘Byron!’ Joon slapped the door impotently.
Total silence on the other end. He turned back to look at Corpus. Switch’s sister, not her brother. They must have been identical twins. Joon didn’t know what to believe right now. He just hoped Corpus had some answers. She’d be able to crack the file if it really was Corpus. But would Ada be dead already?
Joon looked at his feet. Blood pooled through the bottom of the door. Too much for anyone to be alive on the other side.
54
JOON WAITED IN Corpus’s vault for back up to arrive. He checked her again and saw she was fully synced. He thought about trying to shut down the equipment and powering off to jack her out, but he didn’t know any of the passcodes and there might be complications. He’d have to wait for a crew to perform an anesthetic jack-out when they arrived to unplug her safely. Had she really masked herself as a man in virtual? It certainly wasn’t uncommon for people to choose a different gender for their digital self. It rocked Joon to think the greatest hacker of all time was in front of him and still helpless. It looked like she was still being tortured. Grimaces and groans escaped her lips at regular intervals. A nightmare he couldn’t wake her from. That torture had been all the input Joon had seen on the screen, not the deep-brain stimulation of digital confinement. How could they have been so stupid? Ada had warned them not to trust Switch. But then, she had led them to Corpus. Not a complete monster then.
After what felt like an eternity, Joon heard faint sirens. Mere minutes after that, there were rushing footsteps.
‘Gibson,’ he said into his comms. ‘You’re here?’
‘Yes,’ his voice came on the other end. ‘Orson is on the doorstep dead. One of his eyes is popped like the other murders. Wells had his throat cut at the back door.’
‘That was Stephenson, our killer’ Joon confirmed. ‘And Raimes? Ada?’ he asked.
‘Raimes is at the bottom of the stairwell,’ Gibson said stoically. ‘That’s the blood you reported. No sign of Ada.’
Maybe she was still alive. But if Stephenson had her, maybe she was better off dead.
‘Can you open the door?’ Joon asked.
After a moment, the door handle rattled on the other side. It stayed closed though.
‘What’s the code?’ Gibson asked.
‘If I knew, I’d be out already,’ Joon snapped.
‘I’ll pull Cline in to see if he can hack it,’ Gibson said. ‘It’ll be quicker and safer than trying to cut through this thing.’
Another hour and Joon felt the rush of cool air as the door swung open. Raimes’s body had been taken, the pool of blood outside cleaned up. Cline’s shaggy face looked triumphant at unlocking the door, but settled into a frown befitting the situation.
Gibson swept the house and found nothing else. It was confirmed that Orson had been killed the same way as the other murders. At Joon’s request the scan team did an AI reconfiguration of Orson’s ruptured eye. The simulation indicated a strong probability that a syringe had been punched right in the middle. That’s how Stephenson had done all the other murders then for sure. He’d stabbed a needle into his victim’s eye with whatever cocktail was in there to set up a chain reaction of cell rupture. Because the eye exploded, regular scan procedures hadn’t picked up the original entry point. This knowledge didn’t give Joon any sense of satisfaction. It was just a grim footnote to this whole business.
A team came in with anesthetic and put Corpus into a deep sleep before bringing her out again. As her brain stilled, the output display on the wall went dark. Safely untethered from the virtual world, the team brought her awake.
Corpus sobbed when she opened her own eyes and saw the police.
‘It’s over,’ she gasped. ‘Is it over?’
‘Not yet,’ Joon said softly. ‘He’s still loose and has one of ours. We need your help.’
55
CORPUS SHRUGGED OFF extra medical attention when she heard the Spider had Ada. She knew the detective must have been integral in freeing her from torture. Corpus said she’d do anything she could to help. The only thing she said she needed was a long, hot shower. The team waited for her to clean up and dress. Before too long, she was ready, even if she did look pale and weak, dressed in a too-big shirt and pants.
Corpus unfolded her weeklong ordeal at the hands of her captor, confirming her identity as the famous hacker and the fact that she was Switch’s identical twin sister. She also told about how she was snatched from her office by the Spider and taken to some kind of digital dungeon she couldn’t escape from, no matter how hard she tried. Corpus broke down when Joon told her it was Entown Stephenson who’d been her captor—the Troll she and her sister had kept out of the Guardians of the Web. She knew exactly how dangerous he was. How sick and twisted he’d become. All of that fire and fury would now be unleashed on Ada. Corpus said nothing about the file, so Joon kept quiet too.
‘How did you get to me before The Spider did?’ Corpus asked instead.
Joon paused. Gibson cleared his throat but said nothing.
‘We had your sister direct us here,’ Joon finally admitted, ‘but she was using the information as a diversion to get out of digital confinement. She escaped.’
‘You let Jazlin out?!’ Corpus’s face went whiter than it already was. ‘Oh god, why?’
‘To save you,’ Joon said.
‘But so many more will die,’ Corpus put her face in her hands. ‘You should have let Entown have me. What were you thinking?’
‘That she was your sister and wanted to help you,’ Joon said. ‘We thought it was safe. We thought we had it under control.’
‘Nothing to do with Jazlin is safe,’ she sighed. ‘She’s never helped anyone but herself. Digital confinement was the best place for her. This can’t have happened.’
‘Do you know where she was jacked in?’ Gibson grilled Corpus.
‘No,’ she said. ‘If I knew, I would’ve alerted police anonymously years ago. She belongs in a cage. You have to understand why I kept our connection quiet. I would never have heard the end of it. I would’ve had to start all over again. I will have to start all over again.’
‘I understand,’ Joon said, putting a comforting hand on her arm.
He knew more than anyone how an avatar felt like the true you. He’d have to start all over again in the Holos soon himself. The thought was gutting. He’d been putting that reality off, concentrating on the case in this world instead.
‘The courts might not understand though,’ Gibson said from behind her. ‘Unless you help us find Switch.’
‘Anything,’ Corpus said. ‘I’ll do anything.’
‘First things first,’ Joon cut in. ‘We need to find Ada. If she’s alive, she’s in serious trouble. And she knows more about Switch than anyone—she could help lead that manhunt.’ He turned back to Corpus. ‘Do you have any idea where Stephenson might be?’
She shook her head. A single, helpless tear ran down her cheek.
‘Let’s regroup at the station,’ Gibson said. ‘We have to get Corpus checked at a hospital first.’
‘No, I can help now,’ she insisted, wiping her face clear. ‘I will hold up. If Entown has her, every moment we delay will be hell for your detective.’
Corpus’s resemblance to Switch’s avatar was uncanny. Instead of that cold visage though, she was utterly fierce, utterly human, even in this state.
Not even bothering to argue about it, Gibson clicked his wrist comm.
‘Cline, is the ambulance ready to go out there?’ he said.
‘Sure is,’ Cline’s voice came over the link.
‘Good,’ Gibson said, leveling a gaze at Corpus. ‘Cline and I will ride with you to hospital. You can brief us more on the way if you want to help that badly.’
‘I’ll come too,’ Joon said quickly, not wanting to let Corpus out of his sight.
First chance he got alone with her, he had to ask her about the file.
Gibson opened his mouth to protest, but Joon held up a hand. ‘I insist,’ he said. ‘I think you’ll be interested in something else I have to bring to light.’
Gibson cocked an eyebrow but didn’t ask any more questions. Instead, he turned and walked out of the house.
Joon took Corpus gently by the arm to guide her out. She’d been through so much, but would have to go through a lot more before all this was done.
56
I AWOKE WITH a gasp. Tried to sit up. Realized I was pinned. I couldn’t even move my head. It was strapped tight. I flicked my eyes around the room to see where I was. Morning light flickered through vertical blinds. The rest of the room was bare. Memory flooded back in. Switch. Corpus. Raimes. Stephenson. Darkness. I was fucked. Completely and utterly.
There was no sign of Stephenson. Then I saw the knives—the kind a serial killer might buy from an all-night infomercial. ‘But wait! There’s more! You also get this serrated blade to cut through aluminum cans and vertebrae!’ The full set was laid neatly in a row on the table beside me. I struggled again to get free. No use.
Footsteps.
He was here.
I tried to force myself to settle, but my whole body twitched with dread. What did he want? Why wasn’t I dead already? Then a more calming thought: If he wanted something from me, maybe I could use it.
Stephenson’s bald head came into view. Those icy eyes. The monochrome goatee. He leered with perfect white teeth.
‘Hello, Detective Byron,’ he said. ‘Glad you’re awake. Now we can start.’
‘Start dancing?’ I asked. ‘You might have to untie my feet or you’ll be disappointed.’
‘I won’t be disappointed,’ he said, tilting his head.
The sound of metal scraping on metal made me flick my eyes to the side. He’d chosen the smallest knife from his table of torture.
‘Sorry,’ I said, forcing myself to feel brave. ‘I don’t go for anything under nine inches.’
He pursed his lips together. Lifted the knife into the center of my vision. ‘Some foreplay first then,’ he said.
As quick as a whip, he sliced a cut down my forearm. I grunted in pain but didn’t cry out. A small victory. I could feel the warmth of blood running down my arm, along my skin.
Stephenson watched it. Licked his lips. He then pulled a cloth out of his pocket along with a little tube of something. Bending down he wiped my arm and squeezed the contents of the tube on the cut. It stung like hell. I bit my lip, determined not to scream. Stephenson pinched the cut together. It stuck firm.
‘Superglue,’ he said, standing up straight again. ‘First used in the Vietnam War as a way to close wounds on the field. Still just as effective today.’
Without preamble he cut me again on the other arm. Sharp and fast. I sucked in air, panting.
‘We get to do this all day and you won’t bleed out,’ Stephenson grinned. ‘A conscious victim is an entertaining one,’ he said.
‘Go chew on a light bulb,’ I said. ‘We’ll catch you.’
‘Will you?’ he said.
Another slice, this time along my collar bone. The knife tip caught on bone as it ripped. Farrrk! My breath was ragged now. I was hot. Sweating.
‘I find the psychological torment of this is so much sweeter than the physical,’ he said as he carefully patched the wound again with his glue.
Tube spent, he pulled another from his pocket. He held up his knife again, red with my blood. His eyes were wide, pupils dilated, looking like effluent pipes to his soul.
‘Where will I cut next?’ he asked.
‘Cut your cock off,’ I managed between gritted teeth.
‘Too hard to stick it back on,’ he replied quickly. ‘Didn’t work with this either.’
He used his knife to tap his leg. A metal ting showed it was a prosthetic.
‘Good technology,’ he said, ‘but not as good as the real thing. That’s why I prefer the Holos. I feel properly whole. It’s why you’re in this mess. You wanted to take my playground away.’
‘I didn’t,’ I said.
‘YOU DID!’ he roared in my face, before backing up, calm again. ‘You, Christos, Lilith, Corpus. You can’t chain us. The bill will fail and I’ll be free again—like The Master promised.’
‘The bill will pass no matter what you do,’ I panted. ‘Our country won’t be held to ransom by a terrorist like you.’
He stabbed hard next to my head. The knife tip clanged onto the metal bench. I flinched but I still couldn’t move at all, I was bound so tight. Tears escaped my traitorous eyes.
Stephenson smiled at that.
I searched for a way to stall things. To get out. What had he said? The Master? There it was. This wasn’t his plan. It was someone else’s. Conspiracy.
‘You’re just a puppet,’ I said.
He didn’t take the bait, just sliced another cut on my cheek. I couldn’t turn away even if I wanted to. I looked into his eyes, hard. ‘Fukami doesn’t care about you,’ I said through gritted teeth.
‘Fukami?’ he said, furrowing his brow. ‘Oh no. Not him. He’s the master’s puppet too. I don’t answer to him.’
My mind raced. Another player? A conspiracy to the top levels. I needed to keep this going.
‘We have the file,’ I said. ‘We know Fukami’s behind it. Know who all of you are.’
Stephenson grabbed my face, his fingertips pressing into the wound on my cheek. It was agony. I couldn’t scream this time though. Stephenson held my mouth shut. He dribbled super glue over my lips. The toxic taste and smell made me gag. Still, he held me firm.
‘Sssh,’ he said. ‘Sssh. Speak no lies. So many lies.’
He held my jaw together for a while. Stood straighter once my mouth was stuck.
‘It doesn’t matter if you have the file,’ he said. ‘Do you think now that Corpus is free, he’ll hack it for you?’
I tried to open my mouth but couldn’t. The stench of super glue rushed up my nose with each breath.
‘The thing is,’ Stephenson said, tapping the knife on the table. Ting. Ting. Ting. ‘You have no idea how far The Master’s fangs reach. I’m not the only one that’s been guarding the web. Your friend for example. Agent Min Joon. He’s one of us.’
I screamed against my fixed lips. Tried to strain upward. Impotent rage filled me. He was lying. Lying. Just like Switch lied about my dad. Wasn’t he?
‘Ah, there it is,’ Stephenson said looking into my eyes. ‘Psychological pain. Let’s have some more of that.’
He dripped superglue into one of my nostrils, sealing it. I now had only one hole to breath through.
This was not the way I’d planned on celebrating solving this case.
57
THE AMBULANCE CRUISED through the Vegas streets on autodrive. No rush, no apparent emergency. Joon was a bundle of nervous energy. Ada was out there somewhere, at the mercy of Entown Stephenson—if she wasn’t already dead. Joon needed to be doing, not sitting.
The paramedic on hand monitored Corpus’s vitals. He was tall and lanky, like a stick insect in uniform. Corpus had every kind of cord and pad attached to her. Gibson and Cline sat by, watching her. They weren’t even asking any questions.
‘What happened with Switch?’ Joon asked Gibson, breaking the silence.
‘She got away,’ Gibson said.
‘How?’
Cline shifted in his seat.
‘I went through the data the military had in the firewalls,’ he said. ‘It looked like she stilled her brain patterns somehow, getting them to a level low enough to jack out without damage. We think. For all we know, she could have died.’
‘I don’t think we’re that lucky,’ Corpus said, looking out a small side window at the streets passing by. ‘My sister has a knack for surviving bad situations.’ Her eyes went dark, like she was reliving a traumatic childhood memory.
Joon thought about the first interview between Switch and Ada. He’d read the transcript, committing the footage to memory as well. Switch had said she could almost touch silence if she tried hard enough. That there was screaming deep down. Everyone had thought it referred to the screams of her victims or some old abuse she had suffered. But what if she was talking about the deep-brain stimulation? That stimulation that abated little by little with each firewall you went through. Perhaps she’d used meditation to still her mind enough to escape. When the screams of the digital confinement algorithm were dull enough, she could cut them loose altogether.
