I stood outside the glittering pyramid made of shimmering metals and translucent plastics, and wondered if the universe had a sense of humor at my expense. First, a death threat via messenger, and then this…
Smartly dressed people milled up and down the entrance steps. Beside the grand entrance, the name of the corporation that owned the building was carved into a shiny slab of stone, proclaiming its permanence.
Arcon.
Istvan had sent the death threat from Arcon headquarters.
Arcon—the same company that had hunted me and, after failing to catch me, deemed I didn’t exist. The same company whose state-of-the-art surveillance and security washed off me daily.
Wonderful.
I set myself up in an eatery across the street and browsed the datanet for any Arcon staff members called Istvan. Sure enough, Istvan was on the payroll. But it was worse than I imagined. He wasn’t some grunt holed up in the basement. He signed the company’s checks. Istvan Larsen was Arcon’s CEO.
I fell back in my seat and squinted at the ostentatious pyramid through the window. Why was Arcon’s CEO sending illegal death threats via the underground messenger network? And why did he want a mineworker, on the other end of the Calicto demographic spectrum, dead? Men like Istvan Larsen and Crater didn’t mix. But something had caused them to cross paths. Did Crater have something on Istvan? Or something on Arcon? If that was the case, surely there had to be a tidier way of assassinating a mineworker than sending a fae after him. How could Arcon’s CEO contact a fae, let alone convince him to kill for him?
All the questions set my thoughts spinning. I was missing something. I was missing a lot of things. None of this made any logical sense.
Doesn’t matter, I reminded myself. I’m not here for the whys and what-fors.
Istvan was my connection to the fae who had Sota. A fae I was going to put down. He wouldn’t be smiling when I caught up with him. He’d surprised me. That wouldn’t happen again. When we next met, I’d be ready.
Opening my palm, I tapped the contact link for Arcon.
“Good day, this is Arcon Systems. How may I direct your call?” a polite female voice asked.
“Hello.” I polished my accent into something more like the marshal’s fancy talk. “I’m Lucy Walker with the Calicto News agency. We’re running a story on Arcon’s failure to detain the criminal behind the Crater assassination. Would Mister Larsen be available to comment?”
Much call holding and transferring ensued, but I eventually secured a meeting with the top man himself. I was to meet him in twenty minutes, leaving little time to smarten my appearance. It was a good thing I’d come prepared. After checking I was alone in the restroom, I shrugged off my coat, turned it inside out and tugged it back on. The rows of mirrors above the sinks reflected my image back at me. Time for a change. Marching into Arcon in my messenger garb would likely get me arrested.
A tap of my palm and my ocular display sent an array of possible appearances across my vision. I selected one and watched the coat go to work. Its length reeled in, pulling up to just above my knee, while wrapping me in the illusion of little shoes, office pants, and a slim-fitting jacket. The illusion wouldn’t stand up to physical scrutiny, but I didn’t plan on getting too close to Larsen.
I smiled. The girl in the mirror smiled back as her short hair grew out and turned white. I twirled the ponytail around my fingers, plucked a chrome stiletto from a hidden pocket inside my coat and used it to pin my hair up. There, perfectly respectable. Whaddyah know, I was a lady.
A gaggle of school children was being led around Arcon’s foyer when I arrived at the front desk. They giggled, shoes squeaking against Arcon’s shiny floors, while their teacher pointed out the sculptural facets of the building’s cathedral proportions.
“Mr. Larsen will be right down, Miss Walker.” The receptionist beamed. Her nameplate read Caroline Ludo. “While you’re waiting, would you please apply your thumbprint to the scanner?”
“Sure.” I pressed my thumb to the little scanner on the desk. The light blinked red. I tried again. Another blink. “It doesn’t appear to be working.”
“Oh, let’s take a look.” She swiped a few fingers across the scanner. “Try now.”
I obliged, with no luck.
“Huh, now isn’t that strange,” Miss Ludo remarked.
Not really.
“I’ll have to… I guess I’ll just…” She rifled below her desk and pulled out a tek-pad. “My apologies. I don’t know why it’s not working. Please place your hand here?”
I pressed my hand to the pad, and predictably, it blipped a negative reading. I wasn’t worried. Tek failure was extremely rare, so when it did fail, people often made mistakes, like not logging me in.
“Well, that is really unusual. I’ve never had two failed readings…”
I shrugged. “I guess Arcon doesn’t make ’em like they used to, huh?”
She frowned. “Erm, no.” Removing the pad, she squinted at her tactile screens for a few moments and muttered, “I guess I’ll just enter you manually.”
While she swiped and tapped at her screens, I admired the glittering foyer. Cameras monitored the entrance from all angles. They looked like silver baubles hanging in the corners. Later, when someone high up Arcon’s ranks reviewed this footage, they’d be alarmed to find Miss Ludo apparently talking to air. It was almost a shame I wouldn’t be around to see them lose their little minds over me.
“Miss Walker?”
The man who thrust his hand out seemed younger in person than in the flat image on the corporation’s datanet. His storm-gray suit would have been unremarkable if not for the scarlet tie. Short sandy blond hair held hints of curls. Something the datanet hadn’t captured was the intelligent sparkle in his eyes. Ocular implants. Biotek.
I internally scolded myself. Of course the CEO of Arcon would be sporting its latest tek. Depending on his upgrade, he might see right through my illusion. I didn’t think he had, or else his security would have been getting up close and personal. Perhaps his implants were for another reason?
I avoided the handshake and replied coolly, “Mister Larsen, you’re doing the right thing by speaking with me. For our piece to go live without a comment would be… quite damaging.”
He withdrew his hand, only briefly thrown off balance by my cold shoulder. “Indeed. A terrible business…” He buttoned his jacket and nodded to Miss Ludo. “Is the meeting suite available?”
“Yes, Mister Larsen. We had trouble with the sign in process—”
“See to it,” he interrupted, and this time his tone held a dangerous edge that belied his charming smile. He turned to me. “I appreciate you meeting with me. Would you like a tour?” All traces of that razor’s edge had vanished.
“A tour?”
“Of the building. Most everyone wants the tour. Arcon isn’t generally open to the public.”
My smile was cutting. “I’m not most everyone, Mister Larsen. Let’s find somewhere to talk privately, shall we?”
He hesitated, just a few seconds, but it was enough to dislodge some of his good-natured ambience. “Of course, this way.”
I followed his swift pace, wondering if Arcon’s staff had underestimated Larsen and later paid the price. From my brief scan of his public persona, I knew he had built Arcon from the ground up. At just twenty-six, that was quite an achievement. His personal records weren’t public knowledge, but the gossip on the net said he was of old Earthen blood, which might account for his elevated status in society.