Ciphers by Matt Rogers (ereader with dictionary .txt) 📕

of explanations,’ Violetta said. ‘Most of them aren’t good for us. The obvious reason is—’

‘That it’s a fake address,’ King finished. ‘A dummy lead. A dead end.’

‘Right.’

‘But if it’s not.’

‘On the off chance that it’s not, I need elite level-headed operatives who can get in there and think on the fly. It’s an old bank building in the Bowery. Probably fortified. Any guess what might happen if I amass half the NYPD and park them out front?’

‘A standoff, probably.’

‘Does it look like we have time for a standoff?’

‘No,’ King said. ‘It sure doesn’t.’

‘Besides,’ she said, ‘every cop in the city has a hundred things on their plate right now. Hospitals, elevators, street presence — you name it.’

‘Yeah,’ Slater said. ‘We figured that.’

‘So we need you. I need you.’

‘You, and who you represent, I’m sure,’ Slater said.

‘All the way to the very top,’ she said. ‘The order’s been passed down. The pair of you have total flexibility and freedom. Any further questions?’

King said, ‘No.’

Slater said, ‘No.’

‘Any flaws you can find in my reasoning as to why you’re needed?’

Together, they said, ‘No.’

‘Then congratulations,’ she said. ‘You’re on the clock.’

30

Rico and Samuel stood on 5th Avenue’s sidewalk, at the precipice of Central Park.

The space was like the belly of the whale, dark and quiet and all-encompassing. Rico kept his ears tuned for the sounds of distress, but he heard nothing. There was the incessant hum of commotion behind them, and off to the sides.

But ahead … nothing at all.

The void.

People were avoiding the park, he knew. At least there was safety in numbers on the streets of Manhattan. In Central Park, fear of the unknown reigned supreme. It made sense to want to be surrounded by fellow city-dwellers in the same predicament. You could bounce worries and excitement and nervous energy off one another.

If you venture into the park, all goes quiet.

Rico might not have liked the quiet twenty minutes ago. It may have unnerved him.

Now, though…

Now he didn’t care.

He was drunk.

He stumbled in a half-circle and saw Samuel locked in a staring contest with the void. The man’s eyes were drab and soulless, but those features washed past Rico. Nothing affected him. He’d run away from the sicarios to look for something different, and Samuel was something entirely different.

Rico said, ‘You want to go in there?’

He knew he was slurring.

Samuel looked over. ‘Not really. I just like the quiet.’

‘Do you?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Did you get much quiet? You know ... before all this?’

Samuel didn’t blink. Stared daggers into Rico’s soul. Said, ‘Naw, man. No quiet at all.’

‘Who are you?’ Rico said, still slurring, still franker than usual. Alcohol helps you cut to the chase, after all. ‘Before this. What did you do?’

Samuel said, ‘For the last six weeks I’ve just been killin’ people, man.’

‘Who?’

‘All types of people. Landlords, witnesses, people sniffin’ around.’

‘Why?’

‘Got told to.’

‘Who told you to?’

Samuel narrowed his gaze. ‘You a cop?’

Rico laughed. Put his hands on his hips and shook his head in amazement. ‘You serious?’

‘I don’t know, man. You might be.’

‘I just watched you kill a guy. Don’t you think I would have arrested you?’

‘Maybe you believe me,’ Samuel said. ‘About playing a part in this blackout. Maybe you’re trying to get more out of me, man. Maybe you want me to keep talking, and then you’re gonna swoop.’

Rico’s head swam. He said, ‘Want me to prove I’m not a cop? Is that what this is?’

The darkness seemed to pulsate around Samuel.

Too much to drink, Rico thought. Too, too much.

But he’d said it.

He’d pushed the metaphorical snowball down the hill.

And now it was picking up momentum.

An object in motion stays in motion.

Newton’s first law.

Samuel’s eyes lit up. He leered. Handed over the Glock. ‘Yeah. I want you to prove it.’

‘What do you want me to do?’

But they both knew. Under the surface of their conversation was the darkness. It was raw and untamed, and it hovered there, waiting for Rico to step down into it. All he needed to do was widen his gaze, begin looking for a victim…

Reluctantly, he looked away from Samuel. He didn’t want to. But he was in too deep. He felt the cold grip of the pistol in his hand and slipped a finger inside the trigger guard. He spent a moment surveying the street, but the lack of light provided enough anonymity to commit any sort of crime he wanted. All he had to do was aim, fire, and run.

Into the park.

Samuel knew it too. He hadn’t instructed Rico to do anything, but there was an unspoken agreement. An unbreakable allegiance, if they each killed someone.

Why are you doing this? Rico thought as he looked around.

His pulse rose again, putting more stress on his heart. By now he could barely feel it beneath the veil of alcohol. He was numb to sensation and thought. Immediate consequences didn’t exist.

He spotted a guy walking in their direction, head down, hands in coat pockets, headphones in. He was in his late thirties and seemed like he was doing well for himself. The coat was expensive and the shine of his shoes reflected in the dull moonlight. Rico understood his demeanour. He saw a guy trying his hardest to pretend the blackout wasn’t happening. If he couldn’t see the lack of light, then it wasn’t there. He was probably the anxious type, unnerved by the change in routine, intent on making it home to the safety of his apartment where he could wait it out in the dark, alone but reassured.

Shame, Rico thought.

He raised the gun and pulled the trigger three times.

Hands came out of pockets, and the coat fell open, and the shoes caught on the sidewalk, and the man fell forward.

Hit the ground with the sort of thunk that can only come from a lifeless body.

Rico didn’t see anything else.

He just ran.

High-tailed it into Central Park, letting the shadows swallow him up, breath rasping in his throat, heart pounding in his ears. He could hear Samuel’s boots scuffing on the pavement behind him, hot on his heels.