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

to his feet like he’d been electrocuted. He let out a primitive roar. The deep bellow echoed through the park, reverberating through the quiet. Rico knew it might have been his imagination, but he thought he heard birds scatter, disturbed from their slumber.

‘Let’s go,’ Rico said. ‘Walk and talk.’

They set off south, aiming generally for the south-east corner of Central Park. From there he figured they could cut across the Upper East Side again, maybe prey on a few wealthy stragglers who hadn’t made it back home to their cushy apartments yet. There was still opportunity rife for the taking. And then…

Where are you going? a voice in Rico’s head whispered. What’s the final destination?

How does this impulsive rampage end?

He didn’t know. He didn’t care.

There were no bodyguards to his left or right. No one responsible for his safety and wellbeing, besides himself. And that was all he really wanted.

He thought he heard Samuel skipping alongside.

‘What are you doing?’ Rico said.

‘Having fun. You ain’t never had fun before?’

‘Not real fun. Not like before.’

‘You like that feeling?’ Samuel said. ‘You like shooting a man dead?’

Rico thought he’d recoil at the reminder, but he didn’t. In fact, he found himself strangely calm. ‘Yeah. I like it a lot.’

‘Then what are you doing as a slave to your father, boy?’ Samuel said. ‘Why you listening to him? Why don’t you run out there into the big wide world? Build something on your own.’

‘Is that what you’re thinking of doing?’

‘Nah,’ Samuel said. ‘My time’s up.’

‘Let’s pretend you actually had something to do with this blackout,’ Rico said. ‘Humour me. Why’d you do it?’

‘I didn’t.’

‘You just said—’

‘Said I contributed,’ Samuel sneered. ‘You gotta listen better, Guzmán. I ain’t the mastermind.’

‘Who’s the mastermind?’

‘If I told you,’ Samuel said with a psychotic glint in his eye, ‘I’d have to kill you.’

Rico believed him.

His head still swimming, he clammed up and kept staggering toward the edge of the park.

Samuel skipped merrily beside him the whole way.

33

Slater followed King and Violetta into a drab hallway with paint peeling off the walls and cold leeching through gaps in the window frames.

He heard footsteps behind him, and spun to see Alonzo following in stride.

Violetta looked over her shoulder, too.

Slater said, ‘Is he supposed to be here?’

She said, ‘There’s nothing we know that he doesn’t.’

Slater nodded.

That was all he needed to hear.

Alonzo gave a knowing smirk.

Violetta brought them to a door at the end of the hallway and said, ‘This is the armoury.’

Slater looked at her. ‘After you.’

‘You and Alonzo go ahead.’

Slater folded his arms over his chest and turned from Violetta to King. ‘Thought you two were keeping your personal lives out of this.’

‘We are.’

King said nothing.

Slater shrugged. ‘Doesn’t affect me either way.’

He opened the door and stepped through into another abandoned apartment. The interior had been entirely stripped away, leaving a notably sanded patch of floor where the kitchen island had previously resided, and a whole lot of threadbare carpet around it. The space smelled simultaneously of tenement housing and metal. The metal was thanks to a collection of gleaming racks that had been carted in when the black-ops crew had moved in. The racks were home to an assortment of firepower, ranging from assault rifles to shotguns to handguns, all sleek and matte black and state-of-the-art.

The government had spared no expense.

Slater recognised a collection of the same thin bulletproof vests he and King had used in San Francisco to help prevent a massacre of epic proportions. They were U.S. Armour Enforcer 6000s, and could be disguised underneath casual clothing to allow the wearer to blend into ordinary civilian surroundings. That way, you didn’t need to pad up like an armoured mercenary and draw the attention of everyone in sight as soon as you stepped out into bustling Manhattan. Not even the lowlight would mask the presence of body armour, so he gave thanks for her hindsight.

Wordlessly, he shed his leather jacket and peeled the compression shirt over his head. The lighting was weak in the room, but there was still a lamp glowing in the corner, and every scar on his exposed torso was visible. He’d almost forgotten Alonzo was in the room.

The man said, ‘How long have you been doing this?’

Slater immediately knew what had led to the question. He glanced down at his hard-packed abdominals and noted the faint remnants of hundreds of nicks, cuts, scratches, wounds, and broken bones. All healed now, but they’d left behind a body sporting considerable wear and tear, despite his astonishing physical condition.

He said, ‘Too long.’

‘So you work directly for Violetta?’

Slater finally turned to face the man. Alonzo’s face, surprisingly, was creased with a mixture of concern and genuine interest. Slater didn’t quite know how to categorise the guy. Obviously intensely knowledgeable, probably a literal genius with technology, no doubt the best in his field. You had to be at this level of the game, to be allowed in the door.

Slater said, ‘Sort of. I don’t know how to describe it.’

‘She’s explained,’ Alonzo said. ‘But I didn’t know whether she was feeding me bullshit or not.’

‘What’d she tell you?’

‘That you and King were the best solo operatives in government history, and that you both “retired” around the same time. She didn’t elaborate, but I got the sense you stirred up some serious shit when you went out. Am I far off the mark?’

‘Not very.’

‘And now you’re back doing this because you don’t know what else to do.’

‘Is that what she thinks?’

‘It’s what she said. But I don’t know how truthful she is with me.’

‘I know a million things I’d rather be doing than this.’

‘Then why do it?’

Slater didn’t answer directly. He said, ‘Could ask you the same question.’

To make a point, Alonzo lifted his cashmere sweater up, exposing a pale hairy midriff complete with love handles and an absence of abrasions. ‘You see many battle scars?’

‘Not all scars are external.’

Alonzo dropped his shirt and stared at Slater in pensive silence.

The seconds ticked by.

But Slater didn’t take the bait. Someone less