This is Episode 4-4 of a serial urban fantasy & paranormal story.

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Part 4-4: Security

The mission began before my hair was dry or my pizza rolls were scarfed. Deluxe’s plan was pretty much the same as mine (with a cooler technological component, obviously): we had to get to the clock in the room on the fifth floor, see if it was up to anything, and then go in after Dack, should that option be available.

To avoid rousing the possible suspicions of those who may or may not be keeping tabs on our recently freed butts, Fergus and Persi were headed to the office in the flesh. I was attacking from the comfort of my couch, preparing to do the ghostwarp thing whenever they were close. Deluxe had spent some time configuring the headsets she’d intended for us to use on the misadventure from last night, so that I’d be able to talk almost directly to Fergus and Persi without needing someone to relay.

“They will stop for a quick lunch instead of directly moving to Bannerman Drive,” explained Deluxe, as I chewed down my food and she set up a portable computer desk beside me on the couch. The resident ball python watched from a coil one seat over.

“To throw off any spies?” I asked. “Or does Fergo need a pint before he can operate?”

“Both, ostensibly,” she said, smirking and fiddling with some wires. “It may seem overcautious but to an outside observer Fergus and Persi are not readily connected to the case, apart from being our supportive friends in a stressful moment. It’s in our best interest to maintain that illusion.”

“You really think we’re that hot right now? A full-time squad watching all ours and our friends’ moves?”

“I hope I’m mistaken,” she said. “But the strength of the intuition is sharper and stonier in my gut than any other in recent memory. Your run-in in the station redoubles my concern. Here, take this.”

She handed me one of the thin little headsets. I held my pizza roll in my teeth and figured out how to put it on.

“Monitor audio coming through loudspeaker, now,” said Deluxe. I heard a fizz and a light pop as the living room’s surround sound system kicked on.

A question danced on my tongue, but I made it wait for a moment as we listened for the thocking pulse of the metronome. Quiet for a three count… five count… six, seven, e—

Thup!

I held my breath and waited again, wanting to be sure of the timing between the beats. Faster meant the monster’s power was stronger. Even the population of Lobsters seem to wait: no chirps, yowls or thuds issued from the halls.

Thup!—about eight seconds later.

“Eight point four six seconds,” confirmed Deluxe. “Below average. Do you want to wait for them to contact us or do you want to scope the premises first?”

“Can I ask you something first, actually?” The question wanted out.

“This is going to be a personal question, I presume,” she said, quirking an eyebrow at me.

I shrugged. “I don’t ask much about what you did before we met. But seeing as shit could go sideways at any moment these days… I’m a little curious about this intuition of yours. These feds or spooks or whatever, were you in a, um, related field or…?”

She stopped her typing and tilted her head, seeming to consider. “It’s a long tale, Alena,” she said, keeping her gaze on her screen. “But as for a synopsis… how much do you know about hedge funds?”

“Uhh, that they have to do with a lot of money?”

She met my eyes. “Indeed. There exist funds and networks of funds that support sensitive and important international organizations. Naturally, the technological security of these assets are of top concern. I was very good at consulting on the nuances of that topic.”

“IT security,” I said, winking.

“Yes,” she said, sweetly returning the wink. “Often, I dealt directly and indirectly with the kind of character phenotype we both saw this morning.”

“Is it bad that your name’s on record now?” I said.

“I wasn’t Deluxe Prime in that life,” she said, looking back to her computer.

A moment later our phones both vibrated, sparing me the choice between an awkward silence and continuing to prod at my roommate’s clandestine past. It was Fergus, group texting us, asking us to call him if we needed anything else.

“That’s the signal, they’re on their way to Bannerman,” said Deluxe. “They’ll mic up after entering. Clear to phase in whenever ready.”

Remembering the punks that hung out there, I figured I might as well make sure the way was safe. I gobbled the rest of the roll, wiped my face of crumbs and fidgeted until I was as comfortable as possible, then said, “Ready.”

“Disabling wifi for ten, in five. Four, three…”

I closed my eyes. I no longer needed to touch the Queen’s Band with my other hand: by now its presence had carved out a nice little spot in my overall consciousness. The idea of it making a butt-imprint on the couch of my brain sent me snickering into Clockworld.

I stood up, found and tried to memorize my physical anchors—the somewhat ambiguous feeling of the couch on my back, and the slight pressure of the headset around my skull—then visualized the alleyway. And, like magic, I was there.

“This teleportation jazz is growing on me,” I reported to no one in particular. “Also, alley’s clear. Goon-free this afternoon.”

“Copy that,” I heard Deluxe say from beside me.

The others showed up a few minutes later, a blue haloed Fergus and the gold ringed Persi. He stopped before entering the side door, and said, “Persi, I feel like someone… or something is watching us.” He glanced around wildly, miming fright.

“Hilarious,” I murmured to myself, wishing I had the ability to shout Boo! in his ear. Persi looked at him quizzically, then smiled, either in understanding or polite response—always hard to tell with that girl.

“Right then, time to storm the fort,” said Fergus, and hauled the door open. I followed them into the stairwell and checked on the book as they arranged their headsets and flashlights. It was still there. I gave it the finger.

“Okay,” said Deluxe. “Comms system is online. Alena, you have send channels only to avoid echo, just tell me if you need receive function as well. Give me a test?”

“Fergus needs a haircut,” I said, with my real mouth, noting the uneven hairline on the back of his neck. He had also strapped a crowbar along his spine.

“Hey,” he said, grabbing at his head. “I hear her… where are you Sue Storm?” He moved in a slow circle.

“Warmer, warmer, bingo!” I said, as he faced me. I waved as he slowly did the same.

“Fucking weird,” he said, poking at the air.

“Persi, you good?” asked Deluxe.

“Yes.”

“Shall we?” I gestured upward, and wondered if I’d eventually stop acting like they could actually see me.

“Let’s,” said Fergus.

Even though I could flash up there, I walked with them. There was comfort in company, even if it was somewhat virtual. Also, since I had permanent Clockworld nightvision, I could keep an eye out for danger, though nothing had ever harmed us inside the building, only inside the room.

Before we went to the fifth, Deluxe had us go to the sixth floor and to the room directly above Eden’s. We replaced the battery in the small, flat device she’d installed along the top of the door jamb; it was the other half of the monitor: the piece that picked up the rogue signals and relayed it to the app that we listened to. Presently, it was still thumping every eight point whatever seconds.

Then we went down, and stood before the plain grey portal, disguised to seem like every other tired old entrance in this tired, old place. Fergus unslung his crowbar. Persi produced a kitchen knife from a deep pocket. I clenched my fist, spawning the shining blue rapier.

“Do it,” I said, and pointed my weapon at the door. Baby sparkles and tiny lines of electricity snapped around my wrist, eager to grow and blast out.

“Signal’s increasing,” warned Deluxe.

“Party time,” said Fergus, and grabbed the handle.

I thought it might still be locked, but the door opened as usual.

What was unusual was the floor to ceiling bookcase that blocked our way.

 

 

Continued in Part 4-5

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