Hero Engine (8 page)

“Yes, it’s an Internet code word for ‘Never been laid,’” I say.

This prompts a tired smile from Vince. Ann manages a laugh.

“Do you have a real name for Mr. H8er?” Vince is already typing away at a keyboard.

“We couldn’t get one out of Kevin, but I don’t imagine you will have a particularly hard time tracking that one down.”

“I suppose you are right. I assume you two are off to Vegas to check up on River?”

“Precisely,” Ann says.

There’s something about hearing the word ‘precisely’ with an English accent that makes it sound much more precise. I expect it to be in a sentence like, ‘The tea will be served at precisely three P.M.’

“Be careful with River. He’s smart and tricky and will take advantage of his psychic powers if you give him the chance. Ann, I want you by Jim’s side, understood?”

“Yes, Sir.” Ann nods.

“Jim, find out what you can about Gravitess. Meanwhile, I’ll see what I can dig up about our possible terrorist friend in cyberspace.”

“Yes, Sir.” I press a button on the screen, ending the call and folding the monitor back into the tabletop.

I stretch my arms over my head. The movement does little to ease the tension in my muscles, and I don’t even want to think about the ball of unpleasantness forming in the side of my hip. Chasing DeLaCruz back at SHI headquarters was not friendly for my body. At least I got to clothesline his ass, though.

Ann reaches down the side of her chair. A footrest springs up and the seat reclines. “We’ve got about forty minutes until we hit Vegas. I’m going to try to catch some sleep, all right? You should do the same.”

I nod and reach for a handle on the side of my seat. The chair adjusts and I am wrapped in a warm leather half-womb. My eyelids droop, but after ten minutes of counting non-existent flowers on the wall, I decide that sleep is not happening tonight. Of course, it’s not.

Three minutes of fumbling with the chair sets me upright. I open the computer on the desk and click around the screen, hoping to find Solitaire or something good. Instead of something useful, like a game, all I can find is a handful of programs I’ve never heard of. Out of boredom, I click on one called ‘Directory.’

The program opens up to a login screen. Instructions tell me to hold my thumb in the bottom left corner. I do so and the screen says, “Hello Mr. Quig, nice to see you today,” with a feeling that is exactly three percent more genuine than computer telemarketers. In the corner next to my name it says, ‘Access level 2.’

I have no idea how many levels there are, but at least I’m not the lowest guy on the totem pole. That’s always a bonus. Inside the program, the first folder that pops out is labeled ‘Heroes.’ I click and am given two options, ‘Active’ and ‘Inactive.’ Active, please. A list of all the current superheroes populates. I scroll down until I find a file on River.

Hero Alias: River

Real Name: Jesper Gustaffson

Birthplace: Stockholm, Sweden

Recruited From: Local police force

Date of Birth: September 14, 1978

Date of Engineering: June 1, 2004

Powers Given: Ability to control minds of humans and other heroes. Ability to move small objects telekinetically, but greatest power lies in subliminal suggestion.

Notes: May 7, 2005: River has started to display an affinity for gambling. Keep close watch.

October 22, 2006: River’s propensity for gambling is becoming a problem. After a three-day leave, agents physically removed River from The Grand Hotel and Casino.

January 17, 2008: After many run-ins over gambling, River appears under control. He still visits the Grand Hotel with some regularity, but no more drunken outbursts as have been his trademark up to this point. Will continue to monitor closely.

November 1, 2011: River is on probation for six months after using excessive force to apprehend a serial killer. Suspect kept swatches of skin trophies from his victims. Once in custody, River controlled the suspect’s mind, forcing the killer to flay himself to death.

October 12, 2013: River disciplined for drinking at Headquarters. He was discovered on the flight deck of building, naked and urinating into the ocean. He threw a bottle of whiskey at one of the men who tried to detain him, resulting in ten stitches for agent’s facial laceration.

Well, this River character sounds like quite an interesting fellow. A drunk gambler who apparently doesn’t think much of authority. This should be peachy.

As if the world can sense my apprehension and laughs in the face of my fear, the plane banks left. Out the window, I spot the neon shithole that is Las Vegas.

ANN WAKES UP
as the plane touches down. “Did you get any sleep?” She pushes her palms against her eyelids to clear the fog of waking.

“Nah. I did some reading on our interogatee while you were out.”

Ann purses her lips. “Find out anything interesting?”

“He seems like a drunk who likes to gamble away his days.”

Ann drops her smile. “Everyone knows that. Do you not remember back in,” she tilts her head and looks up at the ceiling, “oh-five, oh-six maybe, he got kicked out of the Luxor?”

I shake my head.

“Yeah. He caught a guy cheating at a craps table.”

“What’d he do?”

“He made the man slam his own head against the table. Repeatedly. No one stops River. Eventually, the guy passed out and broke the hold. The man needed facial reconstructive surgery and, from what I’ve seen, he still didn’t come out quite the same.”

“Great. River sounds like a real charmer.” I get out of the plane and walk down the runway where another black SUV awaits us. We hop in the back and a friendly old driver reaches back to shake my hand. He’s apparently FBI, but his gray hair and mustache make him resemble a butler more than anything.

“Charmed to meet you,” the driver says. “Where can I take you this evening?”

“The Grand, if you would be so kind.” I lean back wishing I’d gotten some sleep. My muscles are heavy and lifeless. Hopefully, I don’t get into any more fist fights.

The hotel-casino is only a short drive from the airport. Our friendly old driver drops us off at the front and says he’ll keep an eye out.

The sluttiness of Vegas is in full, tail-feathered display. Hundred-thousand dollar sports cars wait for valets. Barely-dressed women hand out pamphlets for brothels. Big-time gamblers strut around like losing at thousand-dollar-a-hand blackjack tables is no big thing. I want to go back to Georgia.

“So what’s the plan?” Ann leans close to my ear to be heard over the din of the city around us.

I take the tie off my neck and hand it to her. The basics of a plan are rolling around in my head. I unbutton the top two buttons of my shirt, take my gun out of the holster and tuck it in the back of my waistband.

“What are you doing?” Ann takes the gun holster I hand her and holds it in the same hand as the tie.

“I’m going to try to have a peaceable chat with River. From what I read in his file, he’s not big on authority-type figures, so it’s going to do me absolutely zero good to go in there with my cop-face on. Maybe if I approach him with a ‘mutual interests’ kind of vibe, this won’t end in a fistfight.”

A man in a torn-up Army Surplus jacket runs up to us with a fast food cup extended. One of the valets rushes him, shouldering the guy out of our path. A handful of pennies scatter across the neon-lit, check that, the LCD-lit parking lot. A man in a nice suit with a Grand nametag offers his apologies. He hands us each a ten-dollar playing chip.

As the manager struts off, Ann scowls at him. “All that poor homeless guy wanted was some change and they tackled him like he just tried to assassinate the President.”

I shrug, not sure what to say. The whole altercation is just some shit that doesn’t quite happen where I come from. Even the old crazies are treated with a kind of light-hearted reverence in the south.

Ann takes her gaze off the casino worker and turns back to me. “So what’s my role in this whole deal?”

She’s not going to like this one bit. “I need you to hang back and keep an eye on me from a distance.”

Her mouth flattens into a straight line. “Have you lost your marbles? I know you’re exhausted, but you’re not stupid.”

I think that may have hurt my ego, but I’m too tired to figure out how heavily I’ve just been insulted. “Yes, I heard what you said, but I need to convince River to talk to me. He needs to think I’m an open book. If he tries his psychic ability on me and nothing happens, my plan will never work.”

Ann’s expression stays the same. “I don’t like this.”

“You don’t have to like it, but I know you understand. You’re rested and you’re not stupid.”

The comment cracks Ann’s face as her concern crumbles. “Fine, but I’m keeping close. If anything goes wrong, I’m stepping in.”

“Everything’s going to be fine. Just a couple guys chatting over a game of cards. What’s the worst that could happen?”

The look on Ann’s face tells me she’s going through each and every one of the terrible things that could happen.

“Cheer up, Sourpuss.” I give her my chip. “Give the slot machines a ‘go’ on the casino’s dime.”

She takes the money. I head for the casino before I lose my nerve.

Bombarded with more flashing light than I ever thought possible, this place is like I’ve walked into an epileptic nightmare. Seriously, does the city have seizure warning signs on the outskirts of the town? Two long rows of slot machines and video poker line the aisles. To the left is a long bar and to the right is the entrance to some form of auditorium. I wonder if Richard Cheese is playing tonight. That’s one lounge act I would love to catch.

I walk down the rows of video machines. Old women with fanny packs and Big Gulps sit and perform a ‘Coin, pull, lose,’ routine times infinity. Once I’m through the slots, the table games come into view. Roulette and craps and blackjack go round at a frantic pace. Shouts of victory and defeat pollute the air to toxic levels of drunken douchebaggery.

No one at the tables looks like River, so I shoulder my way back to the darker corners of the room. Up ahead is a semi-circle table with only two people present: A dealer and a very blond gentleman. I glance over my shoulder and find Ann taking a place at the farthest craps table with a view of River. She’s got a good eye – I’m impressed. Hopefully, she’s not affecting his powers.

River stretches in his chair, an empty bottle of Irish whiskey sitting on the felt next to him. He taps the table for a card and then sweeps a lock of hair behind his ear. I dig out my wallet and scrounge up a couple twenties. The chances of that buying me into this game are slim, but I’ll see how it plays out.

“This seat taken?” I motion to the chair next to River.

Pale blue eyes take me in. He smiles wide and slaps the seat in question. “Yeah sure,” he says. His accent sounds like a doped-up leprechaun without all that Irish purry bullshit. “It does get so lonely while drinking all by one’s self.”

“Don’t tell that to George Thorogood.” I take a seat and hold my twenties out to the dealer.

“I’m sorry, Sir, but you’ll have to exchange for tokens at the money counter.” He points toward the opposite corner of the room. “Nearest one is that way.” His lip curls. He adjusts his vest before dropping his arms to his side.

“Oh, shit, sorry.” I start to get up, but River stops me.

“It’s okay, I’ll spot you a few to get started.” He slides a hundred bucks worth of chips my way. “Tony, let’s call this next couple hands at a twenty dollar buy-in. That should give my cop friend here at least five hands to get some information out of me. More if he bets wisely.” River winks at me.

Tony shrugs and deals out cards to the three of us. River has a queen showing and the dealer has got a nine. I check my hand, king and a six. I tap the table and Tony throws me another six. Fuck.

“Did you read my mind to know I’m a cop?”

River takes one card and the dealer stays. River flips his over to reveal a total of twenty. Dealer has a jack to go with his nine. Tony pays out to River and takes twenty from me.

“I don’t need to read your mind,” River says as Tony passes out another hand. “It’s written all over your body. The way you hold yourself, the way you move. The mannerisms are there for anyone to see if they open their eyes.”

We play through another hand. Nineteen for dealer, twenty for River, and twenty-one for me. I’m back to even now. A waitress comes by and offers me a drink from a platter. I grab a beer without so much as a glance at the label and take a swig.

“So how can I help you, Mr…”

“Quig. Jim Quig. The Mister thing isn’t really necessary.”

The Swede smiles and brushes the same strand of hair behind his ear. “And how can I help you, Mr. Quig?”

“Is there somewhere more private we can talk?”

The dealer passes out another hand, but doesn’t look at me.

River laughs. “It’s okay, my friend. You can speak openly here. Once I leave this casino, no one will remember my being here.”

“You can control the minds of that many people at once?”

He nods, taps the table for another card, cusses in another language when he busts. “I can control as many minds as need be, yes.”

I hold at eighteen and beat out Tony when he busts. Up one.

“Do you ever cheat?” I nod toward the dealer.

River narrows his eyes and nostrils flare, like he’s smelled something bad coming from my general direction. “I hate cheaters. I only use my abilities to keep myself out of the minds of those who see me. It keeps the Initiative from thinking that I have an uncontrollable gambling problem.”

Three more cards face down, three up.

“Do you?” I stay at eighteen again.

River smiles. “Yes, yes I do.” He takes two more cards and swears louder at another bust.

Dealer shows twenty. Back to even.

“You still haven’t told me what you’re here for.” As River speaks, another woman in a sequined dress comes over with drinks. She leans over River. He whispers in her ear as he takes the drink. The woman’s cheeks tinge red and she giggles as she walks away.