SIMS 09

SUSSEX COUNTY, NJ

Luca Portero waved as he cruised past the guard in the gate kiosk and pointed his Jeep toward the SimGen main campus. He'd wanted to avoid any small talk because he could barely hear his own thoughts, but he'd take ringing in his ear over a hole in his head any day.

When he'd buried an AK-47 and an extra pistol in a waterproof gun case, he'd doubted he'd ever have to use them. It was simply a precautionary measure. But when Lister had told him it was time to "do the right thing," he'd known exactly where he wanted to do it.

Do the right thing...was Lister crazy? Like there was some sort of honor in executing yourself instead of making somebody else do it? What century was he living in?

Correction:used to live in.

Luca had raised the pistol to his head but pointed at the very rear of his skull. At the last second he'd angled it even further rearward to send the slug past the back of his head. But the report had damn near deafened him. He might never hear out of his right ear again.

He'd dropped right onto the spot where he'd buried the gun case. The two inches of covering dirt scraped off quickly. The pistols Lister's butt boys were carrying were nothing against the Kalashnikov. After they were down, Portero ran back and caught Lister trying to get away in his car. The bastard had squealed for mercy, screaming about friendship - friendship!After handing me a pistol so I could off myself!

Luca blew his head off.

Now he had to sky out of the country. No need for panic. No one here knew about Lister. He figured he had hours yet, and wanted to use some of that to deal with his office computer. He'd been scrupulous about avoiding any links to his numbered account in Bermuda, but you couldn't be too careful where SIRG was involved. They had people who could drag all sorts of information from a supposedly destroyed memory chip. So the chip was going with him. The ocean floor dropped to a couple of miles deep off Bermuda; he'd bury the chip at sea.

As expected, the campus was all but deserted. Only a few security personnel about. Perfect.

He'd just sat down before his computer and was preparing to open the box and tear out the memory chip, when he heard his office door open behind him. His fingers closed around the grip of his .45.

"Oh, it's you, Mr. Portero," said a voice he couldn't place. "I didn't expect you in today."

He turned and recognized one of the newer men on the security force - knew the face but not the name. He'd been hired last summer; low on the ladder, which was no doubt how he'd pulled Christmas duty.

"Yeah," Luca said. "Just checking on something before I go home."

"Lots of brass in today."

Luca's ears were singing and the last thing he needed was chitchat with this kid, but his curiosity got the better of him.

"Really? Who?"

"Both Sinclairs. First the big guy copters in. Then Ellis Sinclair arrives in this beat-up van, driving it himself."

"Is that a fact?"

Luca wasn't surprised. If there was any time for a crisis meeting it was now.

"And you'll never believe who was with him: that fox from OPRR - you know, the one who led the inspection a few - "

"Romy Cadman," Luca said, and felt his blood jump a few degrees.

The bitch was back. And with Sinclair-2. So they were no longer hiding their connection. Lister had put the blame on Luca, but that was wrong. This wastheir fault. Especially hers. Things had started downhill the moment she arrived. If not for Romy Cadman he'd still be sitting pretty here, building his retirement account, planning ways to move up the SIRG ladder. Instead he was on the run and would have to keep on running the rest of his life.

Maybe it was fate that had brought him back at this moment. He had scores to settle, scales to balance.

What was the expression - in for a dime, in for a dollar? He'd left a pile of bodies back at his house; no reason why he couldn't leave a few more in Sinclair-1's office.