Killswitch (2 page)

“Exactly,” Switchblade said from the back of the room. His black eyes seemed to laugh, but his thick arms crossed to deny any humor in the situation. “In fact, I think they've already tracked him. We got federal deputies in town and I don't think they're here for the local cuisine. Didn't see nobody with a plate of
poutine
.”

People rushed from the room. Frantic voices faded into the hallway. Mel wrapped her hands around Chase's arm. The laughter in Switchblade's eyes found his lips, which formed into a judgmental smirk before he dashed away.

“They tracked me. I thought I could hide.” Chase pulled free from Mel's grip. “I should never have come here.”

2

Chase and Mel followed the crowd to the command center. Already pulling data from computers in the town's police station, the exoself found nothing to indicate a problem. Of course, WR Feds would use their own systems. Chase searched for a connection.

His mother worked in front of a large transparent monitor. Her fingers glided across the screen, moving data from one position to another, much as Dr. Fiender had done when he first showed Chase the exoself. No need for such a display now—Chase could read the data flowing inside him without the visual aids. He located four VirtuPads registered to the WR. Communication passed between them and Chase processed the voice transcripts:

No reason to believe he's still in this hole of a town. The old woman said she gave him clean clothes and sent him on his way—said he was looking for a farm or something.

Chase didn't need to hear anything else. They'd questioned Molly, the sweet elderly lady who'd helped him when he first arrived in town. No telling what they did to her. His strength sensor activated and he threw back his shoulders.

“I have to go.” He headed for the door that opened to stairs leading upward.

Mel reached for him but he pulled away. She hurried after him. “What do you mean you have to go? You can't go up top.”

He faced her. “They've been to see Molly.”

“How do you know that?”

“I just know.” He swiped his hand through his hair. “Look, Mel, I can read their communication. I know what they're doing.”

“So, what are they doing?”

“Looking for
me
, of course. I've got to see if Molly is all right.”

“I'll go.”

“Don't be ridiculous,” a man said from behind them. Amos, a short, balding man in his fifties—the leader of this group.

As Bear had been the head of the underground in Atlanta, Amos was the overseer of Blue Sky Field. But
this
was the location that managed all the branches in the world. The man in charge had an awesome responsibility. Chase had only seen him once before the meeting today. He seemed to spend a lot of time in his private quarters. They hadn't even been introduced. Now it appeared they'd skip the handshake and get right to work.

Amos sat at a computer station. “They know who you are, Melody. If they catch you, they've got Chase. They know he'll come after you.”

“Of course I would come after her, and I'm going to check on Molly,” Chase said. “They could have killed her.”

“That's entirely possible.” Amos's words held little emotion.

Chase spun around and rushed for the door.

Switchblade blocked the exit, his feet spread apart, his arms crossed. “Can't let you go up there. I'll go to Molly's. She likes me. Brings me those muffins of hers every time she comes to a meeting.”

Chase stiffened. “I feel responsible.”

“You
are
responsible.” Switchblade lunged forward and pointed a finger close to Chase's face. “But I'm going. Check your brain, Charlie. See if those deputies up there know anything about me.” He pulled the hood of his jacket over his close-shaved head and put on a pair of mirrored glasses. “They don't know me from Adam. As far as they can tell, I'm just an out of place punk who never did nothin' for the WR, ‘cause the WR never did nothin' for me. I'm good to go.”

Chase folded his arms and lifted his chin. “What's your real name?”

Switchblade stepped close, lowered the glasses, and glared down into Chase's eyes. “Don't care to divulge that information, Charlie. You got anything in that exoself to read my iris? Not much of a computer man if you don't.”

“Yeah, I've got it. Stop calling me Charlie.” He did a quick sweep of WR job assignments, schools, housing, prisons—this guy had to have a record. But no, as far as the government knew, he was just another lost cause out of the system. No name—just a vague record of him being born in Cleveland, and his age—thirty-two.

Wait, there
was
a former job assignment. He spent two years as a bodyguard for Synvue.

“You worked for Synvue? When?” Chase asked. “And why don't you have a name?”

The man shoulder's tightened and his upper lip twitched. “I'm going up now.”

He faced the door and flipped open the locks.

“I got all the way here from the Southwest Territory without getting caught,” Chase said. “I'm going with you.”

“No,” Amos said. “Switchblade will contact us as soon as he knows anything. You're here to help us. What would it profit for you to get caught?”

The man was right. Chase watched the hooded wannabe hero take the stairs three at time.

“Come on, boss. Let's go check the data. Maybe we can find something.” Mel took his hand and led him back into the command center.

His mom had the same consoling smile she'd given him twenty-five years ago when he struck out in a Little League game. He started toward to her, but then focused instead on the monitors near the other side of the room. It wouldn't do anything for these people's confidence to see him running to his mommy.

He'd gathered extensive data from the four WR VPads. A group assembled as he sat at a keypad to categorize the information. His mother joined them. Had she caught the way he'd avoided her? Her wink and half-smile said that she had and she wasn't offended.

“They can't track me using traditional methods because of the exoself.” Chase leaned back and dropped his hands from the keys. “But I may have made a mistake.”

“What mistake?” Amos asked.

“I met up with my show's producer in NYC. She found me there and I told her what I was doing—that I wanted to help the Underground Church. Not the smartest thing to say.”

“You saw Kerstin?” Mel's tone darkened. “Why would you tell her that? Why would you tell her anything?”

“She was sick and I…” He hadn't told these people, not even his mother, everything he could do. Of course, Mel knew. She was there when the scientists installed the device enabling him to detect illness simply by touching a person.

“She needed a kidney, and I told her to go to Robert. Then I asked her to let me go. And she did.”

Mel drew back from the crowd as she lowered her gaze to the floor. Was she angry with him for trying to save a life?

“You told this woman you were coming here?” Amos didn't overreact. The leader seemed like he could handle anything.

“No. Just that I was going to try to find your group. She must have notified the Feds to look for anybody transporting believers. Your communication about moving goods and people is lacking security measures. But I can take care that.” Chase searched beyond the twenty or so people standing around him. Mel sat alone at a station, typing on a keypad. “If it's not too late.”

“How did they find Molly?” Mom asked.

“A few questions in town led the deputies to a lady living in the outskirts who takes in strangers and frequents unregulated meetings. That made her a suspect to harboring believers.”

Amos circled the group and poked a screen at another station. “She was one of only five believers in town who hadn't joined us here. The ones up top are essential. The WR may have gotten all five. What a loss.” The man blinked his droopy blue eyes. “But…to die is gain.”

“What's that supposed to mean?” Chase looked at Mel. “The incoming data doesn't indicate anyone's been killed.”

But something was there in the communication between the agents and superiors. It wasn't good. Chase kept his eyes on Mel until she looked at him.

“What is it?” she asked.

“They're on their way to a detention camp. All five of them. Somebody get in touch with Switchblade. You can do that, can't you?”

Amos pulled a VPad from the pocket of his brown vest.

“Tell him not to go near Molly's,” Chase said. “It's a trap.”

The leader prompted the call. “Might be too late.”

3

The hiders in Blue Sky Field had VPads. The church in Underground Atlanta had avoided them like snakes. Thanks to Mel, a techno-revolution was taking place in the underground. Authorities seeking to shut down the activities of the church could no longer track their use of electronics.

Chase could process both sides of the conversation on any nearby VPad, and he listened in on the private call.

Amos spoke first. “The upside believers are gone. Don't go near Molly's—they're waiting for somebody to show up there.”

“How do you know that?” Switchblade asked.

“Chase says so. Get back here. That's an order.”

“That robot don't know everything. I'll just take a look. Nobody will know.”

Chase grimaced.
Robot
? Let the thug get caught.

Mel grabbed the VPad from Amos. She eyed Chase as if she knew what he was thinking. Maybe she did. Maybe she hadn't told him she could read his mind.

“Switch, he picked up on communication from above. If he says they're gone, they're gone. Get out of there.”

Switch? How long had Mel been using a pet name for this guy? Chase crossed his arms and took three steps back. But the conversation continued. He could've stopped the transmission if he'd wanted to, but he didn't.

“OK, Melody. I'm coming.” Switchblade ended the call.

This guy didn't follow the orders of his leader, but Mel could turn him?

Mel handed the VPad back to Amos. “Where are they?” she asked Chase. “Can we get them back?”

“I'm working on it. There are three detention centers within seventy miles of here. One is for dissenters. One is for common criminals. The other one is a mix.” Chase dropped into a chair. The people, once again, gathered around him. His mother put her hands on his shoulders. “I've got it, or at least I know what's on the report. I don't know why they would try to trip us up—they don't even know I can access their systems.”

“What if Kerstin told them?” Mel's voice carried a chill.

“She doesn't know everything.” Chase crooked his head toward Mel but didn't make eye contact.

“Maybe Fiender filled her in when she showed up for a transplant.”

“He wouldn't do that. Anyway, I don't know that she even went to him. She could get a kidney elsewhere.”

“Not like yours. That's what you wanted for her. Right?” She moved closer, her arms folded tight.

His eyes met hers. “There's really no need for—”

“For organic replacement. I know that.” Mel sat next to him and touched a large-screen VPad. “Show me where they are.” She pushed her curls behind her ears.

Chase instructed the exoself to display a real-time view of the surrounding area. “Here.” He pointed to an intersection fourteen miles north.

Mel touched the screen to zoom close to ground level. “I don't see anything.”

“WR satellite block. Trust me, it's there.” Chase prompted a code—one of the codes Mel had hidden in the exoself. The image of the wooded area changed and a structure at the end of a dirt road filled the screen.

“How did you do that?” Mel asked.

“I used your code. You know, the four
S'
s.”

“Sympathizers, supplies, secret houses, safe travel,” she said. “But Chase, the code connects the underground, and the underground is not connected to the WR, or to whatever satellite you just hacked. So how did you do it?”

“The fourth
S
—code thirty-one, eight. To know if a location is safe, the exoself looks at it without a WR block. The code removes the block.” Chase's gaze met Mel's. “You know that. You wrote the code.”

Mel touched a letter on the keypad and then rose to check one of the screen-free displays. The image of the detention center appeared. With one finger, she pulled it upward. A 3D image of the building hovered before her.

Chase joined her at the display. Wire fence surrounded the complex. A transport vehicle headed out, and the large metal gate slid shut. After that, nothing moved. No sign of anyone on the ground.

Mel seemed to study Chase. “I didn't program you to remove a WR block. Thirty-one, eight should help us find safe passage. It will tell us who's on the move, so to speak, within our own organization.”

Chase shrugged. “You know more about this stuff than I do. After Robert put me in control of the exoself and shut down everything in me that allowed WR monitoring, he said I wouldn't have access to government systems. But I do. I don't know how or why. All I know is I used that code and the block lifted.”

She focused on the display.

A smaller building stood to the right and rear of the main structure. “What do you know about the first code, Mel? Thirty-two, seven. What was your intent when you programmed me?”

“To hide you. It's the reason you can't be tracked.”

“Yeah, and so far it's worked. I hope.” He lowered his voice. “But did you know it's a weapon? It not only hides me, it protects me. To the death of anyone who threatens me. I don't even have to the pull the processor. The exoself does it without any instruction from me.”

“Chase, that crazy.” Mel's eyes narrowed. “The exoself is a computer. You're the one who tells it what to do.”