Read Online The Courier (San Angeles) by Gerald Brandt - Free Book Online
Authors: Gerald Brandt
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driven by a young girl leaving the area at high speed.”
“Do you have an ID on the vehicle?”
The van line item was plain black text, indicating the computer had no information on it. “No, sir, I’m unable to track it.”
“What about the girl?”
“The system’s getting that information now, sir. Some of the government databases have been resecured, and it’s taking time to get the information we need.”
“Then how did we get her other information so fast?”
“Vehicle Registrations, sir. A low priority system that hasn’t been converted yet.”
“Get on it. I don’t think we have the time, Mr. McBride.”
“Yes, sir.”
The line shut down. Devon hung up the phone and allocated more of the computer’s resources to tracking and finding out about Kris Ballard.
LEVEL 3—TUESDAY, AUGUST 9, 2140 11:35 P.M.
I sped down the street to the Level 3 ramp, squealing the tires on the way up, and stopped just at the top. A small group of boarders lounged near the exit, either waiting for more of their friends to arrive before they rode the ramp down, or the last group to leave before the end of the day. I opened the van’s door and jumped out, leaving the keys, and moved to stand in the glow of the headlights.
“Hey, guys, who wants a van?” I shouted. I figured if the van was traced, the boarders could have it. If they were caught, they wouldn’t know anything, except for where they got the damn thing, and Quincy would let them go.
The boarders stopped talking, looked up at me, and started walking closer. I moved, placing the body of the van between me and the oncoming boarders. Once I couldn’t see them anymore, I darted toward the nearest building and ducked into a shadowed doorway. I heard the van’s side door open and rattle shut again in its tracks, and the tires squealed on the concrete as it sped away. My knees buckledunderneath me, and I slid to ground, my back pressed into the darkness. I waited, the steel bars of the door pushing through my jacket into my back, struggling to breathe. I’d been holding my breath, waiting for the boarders to take the bait. Now that they were gone, it was time for me to move again. I pushed against the bars, rising to my feet, and left the meager protection of the doorway to head back to Level 2.
Lights flashed up the ramp wall, followed by the sound of a racing motor. I sprinted back to the doorway I’d just abandoned, wishing it was deeper in the shadows. The vehicle stopped on the ramp just shy of the Level 3 exit before moving closer. A plain white van. It was quickly followed by another. The two vans sped off, following the route taken by the one I had handed off to the boarders.
Why the hell had the vans stopped midramp? Did they let someone off, someone to watch for any returning traffic? Did they somehow know I’d ditched the van and was planning on heading back down? Shit, what the hell was going on? All I knew was if there was someone on the ramp, I had to move. Now. My hand went into my pocket, fishing for Oscar, before I remembered. He’d been with me a long time . . . the only thing I had to remind me of what I’d lost. Now even that was gone.
I put my helmet on. Habit had kept it on my arm during the wild drive here. I dropped the visor and began to scan the area. The real-time traffic data was useless, so I turned that off, but kept the comm tuned into the police bands and used the lid’s visual enhancers to look into the dark places. If the guys following me had one of these, I was fucked. Hell, they probably had infrared scanners. My stomach churned as the fear, temporarily pushed away by adrenaline, twisted its tentacles into my gut. I felt more exposed than ever. The best my helmet could do was to use the available light to look for potential road hazards; it wasn’t designed to be used as a night vision system.
Keeping my helmet on, I moved farther away from the ramp. There was no way I was going to use that one again. Walking
“Do you have an ID on the vehicle?”
The van line item was plain black text, indicating the computer had no information on it. “No, sir, I’m unable to track it.”
“What about the girl?”
“The system’s getting that information now, sir. Some of the government databases have been resecured, and it’s taking time to get the information we need.”
“Then how did we get her other information so fast?”
“Vehicle Registrations, sir. A low priority system that hasn’t been converted yet.”
“Get on it. I don’t think we have the time, Mr. McBride.”
“Yes, sir.”
The line shut down. Devon hung up the phone and allocated more of the computer’s resources to tracking and finding out about Kris Ballard.
LEVEL 3—TUESDAY, AUGUST 9, 2140 11:35 P.M.
I sped down the street to the Level 3 ramp, squealing the tires on the way up, and stopped just at the top. A small group of boarders lounged near the exit, either waiting for more of their friends to arrive before they rode the ramp down, or the last group to leave before the end of the day. I opened the van’s door and jumped out, leaving the keys, and moved to stand in the glow of the headlights.
“Hey, guys, who wants a van?” I shouted. I figured if the van was traced, the boarders could have it. If they were caught, they wouldn’t know anything, except for where they got the damn thing, and Quincy would let them go.
The boarders stopped talking, looked up at me, and started walking closer. I moved, placing the body of the van between me and the oncoming boarders. Once I couldn’t see them anymore, I darted toward the nearest building and ducked into a shadowed doorway. I heard the van’s side door open and rattle shut again in its tracks, and the tires squealed on the concrete as it sped away. My knees buckledunderneath me, and I slid to ground, my back pressed into the darkness. I waited, the steel bars of the door pushing through my jacket into my back, struggling to breathe. I’d been holding my breath, waiting for the boarders to take the bait. Now that they were gone, it was time for me to move again. I pushed against the bars, rising to my feet, and left the meager protection of the doorway to head back to Level 2.
Lights flashed up the ramp wall, followed by the sound of a racing motor. I sprinted back to the doorway I’d just abandoned, wishing it was deeper in the shadows. The vehicle stopped on the ramp just shy of the Level 3 exit before moving closer. A plain white van. It was quickly followed by another. The two vans sped off, following the route taken by the one I had handed off to the boarders.
Why the hell had the vans stopped midramp? Did they let someone off, someone to watch for any returning traffic? Did they somehow know I’d ditched the van and was planning on heading back down? Shit, what the hell was going on? All I knew was if there was someone on the ramp, I had to move. Now. My hand went into my pocket, fishing for Oscar, before I remembered. He’d been with me a long time . . . the only thing I had to remind me of what I’d lost. Now even that was gone.
I put my helmet on. Habit had kept it on my arm during the wild drive here. I dropped the visor and began to scan the area. The real-time traffic data was useless, so I turned that off, but kept the comm tuned into the police bands and used the lid’s visual enhancers to look into the dark places. If the guys following me had one of these, I was fucked. Hell, they probably had infrared scanners. My stomach churned as the fear, temporarily pushed away by adrenaline, twisted its tentacles into my gut. I felt more exposed than ever. The best my helmet could do was to use the available light to look for potential road hazards; it wasn’t designed to be used as a night vision system.
Keeping my helmet on, I moved farther away from the ramp. There was no way I was going to use that one again. Walking
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