Freedom Incorporated by Peter Tylee (me reader .txt) 📖

at all, or know of what he was capable. She shivered as she recalled her invitation for him to accompany her in her new life, beyond the grasp of corporate bulldozers.

She wondered whether she’d be able to look Dan in the eyes again. If I ever get the chance. She tried to imagine looking at him without the chest-carving memory floating like unwelcome refuse to the surface of her mind. What pained her most was that she believed Adrian had intended to help. He’d carried her hopes. And now that he was dead, she was back to square one.

She wasn’t convinced Dan would be her knight in shining armour. He was too busy inflicting his pent-up rage on the people who’d murdered his wife and wasn’t taking enough notice of what was happening now. If he were, he wouldn’t have killed Adrian. Still, she reluctantly had to admit Adrian had done heinous things. So maybe that justifies…

Jen’s body convulsed and she retreated from her physical misery, preferring the despair in her mind. In a way, it was Dan’s trial. The outcome would determine her reaction to him if they ever again met.

*

Esteban was aiming his pistol at mock targets when the knock came. Again? He doubted Dan would forecast his entry but didn’t want to take unnecessary risks. He quietly eased out of his chair and stood next to the door, ready to ambush anybody that came through.

“Esteban?” It was Junior’s voice.

Esteban’s shoulders slumped. “What?” He carefully pulled the door open, ready to shoot whoever was on the other side if it proved to be a trick. Junior rushed into the room, wide-eyed and spooked. He looked like a wild horse before a thunderstorm.

“It’s Adrian, he’s-” was all he could squeeze out before Michele interrupted them.

“Esteban?” Her voice was nasal and irritating, made infinitely worse because Esteban knew she’d never say anything intelligent.

“God, this place is a fucking zoo. What the hell do you want?”

She didn’t often come to his office; he usually went down to hers. That way he didn’t have to clean the milky sex-mess from his desk, but his ulterior motive hadn’t dawned on her yet. “I wanted-”

“Close the fucking door, would you?” Esteban snapped, cutting her off. He didn’t want Dan to surprise him when he had unwelcome guests.

She pulled the door shut. “Jackie’s been trying to find you, how come you’re not answering your phone?”

That’s a good question, Junior thought. It would’ve saved me the trouble of coming out here.

Esteban rolled his eyes. “Because I’m busy doing my job you brainless bimbo. I expect Sutherland will turn up any minute.”

“He already has,” Junior said with a sour expression.

“What?” Esteban turned to face him, wearing a harrowed mask of disbelief.

“That’s what I came to tell you - he fucked Adrian up real good.” Junior wasn’t one to sugarcoat words.

“Adrian? That’s impossible… he was only just here.”

“Well he left the Guild hours ago and turned up dead.” Junior was trying unsuccessfully to gouge a grain of dirt from under his fingernail, unwilling to meet anyone’s gaze.

“The dumb fuck said he’d go straight back,” Esteban said, frowning deep in disbelief. “So Sutherland must’ve snatched him from this building.” It was a perturbing thought.

“Well he was naked from the waist up and had a message carved into his-”

“Carved?” Michele’s horrified expression betrayed precisely what she thought of that.

Junior nodded. “Yeah, it was pretty fucking grisly. He carved the words ‘you’re next’ into his chest.”

“Post mortem?” Esteban hoped. He wasn’t that sadistic.

“I think so. He had three holes in his head so Sutherland probably blew his brains out first.” Junior spread his grimy hands. “I was told to take care of the mess so I shoved him in cold storage.”

That’s disgusting. Michele felt a panic swelling within. “We’re next. He’s going to kill us all.”

Esteban shook his head. “No he’s not. He has another thing coming if he thinks he can take me.”

“Don’t you understand?” Michele gasped. “Haven’t you read his file?”

“What file?” Junior asked, having no idea what she was talking about.

“Dan has a very colourful history,” Michele shrieked in a higher pitch than usual. “It reads just like a Craig Murphy novel.”

In 2048, a few months after his eighteenth birthday, Dan joined the Australian Defence Force. He spent six months in the army’s gruelling training program before accepting his first assignment in the Sixth Border Defence Division. But he didn’t stay there long. Due largely to his high intelligence and physical aptitude, his commanding officer sought to reassign him somewhere that wouldn’t waste his talents. In 2049 he went back into training, this time to refine his skills to work with FIRE, the highly specialist division responsible for 89 Australian-led black-ops between 2049 and 2053. Dan had personally been involved in 61 of those operations, and had commanded 12 of them himself. The year 2053 also saw Dan receive his final promotion and he went to work for the Australian Republic’s blossoming shadow-intelligence division. But, three years later, the funding dried up. The Australian government, led by Xantex at the time, hadn’t deemed anyone fit for reassignment and the cabinet had retrenched all shadow-intelligence officers. But Dan had departed with a glowing recommendation that the New South Wales Police Department simply couldn’t ignore and he’d commenced his service in law enforcement.

Esteban nodded. “I’ve read it. So what? I’m not worried. Now go back to your room.” Then he turned from Michele to stab Junior with an impatient look. “And you go back to the Guild, and for Christ’s sake stay there!”

“Whatever you say.” Junior just hoped it would all be over before work on Monday. The last thing he needed was another sick day on his record.

But Michele wasn’t so easily placated. She snarled with fear. “You don’t understand! He’s going to kill us all. We’re all dead! Oh my God, I should’ve run when he told-”

Esteban slapped her across the cheek, hard enough to whiplash her neck and raise a red welt on her skin. She reeled to her knees and Esteban derived cruel pleasure from seeing her there. Maybe if I keep going I’ll eventually slap some sense into her. He could make it into a science experiment, one that was truly worthy of his time and devotion. With a smirk, he vowed to bear it in mind for the next day of knuckle-biting boredom. Something to contribute to the scientific community: can beating the shit out of a retard knock some brains into them?

Michele got silently to her feet, too scared to voice her fears.

“Get out of here, both of you. Sutherland could be here any moment.” I know he’s coming… In truth, Adrian’s demise amused him. It proved Dan was a worthy adversary. But I’m better. And he was looking forward to proving that.

Michele nursed her stinging cheek and scuttled from the room. Junior followed a few paces later, finally leaving Esteban in peace. He sat in his chair and resumed playing with his handgun. Come on Sutherland, show your face… be the next person to knock on my door. He’d already carefully considered the potential access points to his office. There were two and he had them both covered. No matter where Dan showed up, Esteban would have the perfect opportunity to riddle his skull with bullets. And then his colourful, Craig-Murphy-novel past won’t matter a damn.

*

Michele examined her cheek in the mirror and splashed soothing water over her developing bruise. Fuck you Esteban. Nobody slaps me. She stared at her reflection, watching as the red patch turned darker. Damn. It was going to require a thick layer of makeup to conceal properly.

I’ve had it with you. Michele may have possessed below average intelligence, but she had cunning to make up for deficient schooling and lack of mental aptitude. And cunning was all she needed to concoct her plan. She leant closer to the mirror, stared directly into her pupils, and wondered what mysteries lay in the dark pools. She stood mesmerised for several minutes before abruptly tearing her gaze away, her plan fully baked. She strode through the hauntingly empty corridors and slammed her office door, shutting herself off from the rest of the world. Then she logged onto her computer and launched her accounting software.

He underestimates me.

Esteban didn’t think Michele knew how to transfer money from one account to another, but she did. He’ll see. She’d already set an account up to receive the money. It was simple. She just clicked the transfer button, selected the from-account, selected the to-account, and confirmed that - yes - she did want to proceed. She double-checked the numbers before clicking initiate and then carefully read the generated report. The transfer was successful.

That’s my half. She wasn’t going to fall into the greed trap, proving she had some basic intelligence that several intellectuals lacked. Besides, the other half was bait to trap Esteban. What was the point of sinking with the ship? Dan’s going to kill him anyway. She had no doubt about that, she just wanted to land on the winning side of the scuffle. And that means…

She picked up the phone and dialled.

“Yes?”

“Hi Jackie, it’s Michele.”

That’s what the display told me. “What can I do for you Michele?” She appreciated Michele’s body but would have to find someone else if she wanted a platonic relationship.

“I’ve got a problem.”

Yeah, I know… it’s called stupidity. “What’s that?”

“It’s Esteban. And Dan Sutherland. In fact, it’s the whole situation. I think we need to talk.”

“But you told me-”

“Yes I… uh, wasn’t entirely forthcoming.” I lied. Michele regretted that now. “I’m sorry about that. Esteban wanted me to cover for him, but I think he’s out of control.”

Jackie sighed into the phone. “Okay, then we’d better schedule a meeting.”

“How about now?” Michele didn’t want to waste time, especially not with Dan lurking somewhere, ready to snatch her from the shadows and send her into the afterlife.

“No, I’m in the middle of something; it’ll have to wait for an hour.” Her day was shaping into a nightmare of mammoth proportions. She had to remind herself hourly that it would come to and end. Eventually she’d be snug under her bedcovers and could put it all in the past, but even that offered only trivial comfort.

Michele didn’t argue. If Jackie said she was busy, then she was busy. At least she’d done her reporting duty - Jackie now knew the situation was turning sour.

“Stay in your office, I’ll call when I’m ready.” Jackie hung up.

Okay. Michele’s kidneys were tingling and her heart was fluttering at 180 beats per minute. It made her feel faint and she willed herself to relax, taking several deep breaths. Now I wait.

*

Sunday, September 19, 2066

International Portal Terminals

7:56 Sydney, Australia

“Four minutes till I’m off, man.” Chuck was just itching to bolt. He was tired, hungry and in desperate need of a shower. Worst of all, he’d been suppressing a bowel movement for the past 20 minutes and would soil his underwear if he waited much longer. He couldn’t go early though, not even to the men’s room. The supervisor would grumble about dereliction of duties and dock him pay. If it’d been possible, Chuck would’ve bogged earlier in the night. The supervisor didn’t mind that, but leaving his post toward the end of his shift would be a serious mistake.

No emotion seeped from Dan’s stony mask. “That’s good.” It was the most subdued statement he’d uttered all night and Chuck wondered what weighed so heavily on his friend’s mind. But he knew better than to ask, Dan had the soldier-returning-from-a-particularly-bloody-battle look about him. He felt dirty and tired, but