BACKTRACKER by Milo Fowler (e book reader txt) 📕

Twenty years ago, the frosted glass onthe door had read HAROLD MULDOON, PRIVATE INVESTIGATOR in black lettering. Even asrecently as a year ago, it had been the same—vacant since his disappearance,but Irena had resolutely paid the rent thefirst of every month, always in the hope thatMuldoon would someday return and find his office intact, just as he'd left it.

Cade glanced at the door. The characters on the glass werebackwards, but he could read them easily enough. The current tenant, Dorothy Wycliffe,was a stranger to him.

Harold Muldoon was deceased. He had been for many years now. Whyhad Cade hoped otherwise?

How do I remember? Is it because I am the onewho...killed him? Did he carry some sort of residual imprint no one else shared? Tothe rest of NewCity, Harold Muldoon was now either an unknown entity or a manwho had been dead for two decades. But to Cade, somehow, it was different. Wouldit have been the same for Irena? Could she have returned as well, retaining her memories?

Her BackTracker suddenly appeared at his feet. She had decided toremain in the past, to undo what he had done. How much longer did he have tolive? Would she kill him to keep him from erasing her husband's life?

"Intruder," came a voice from the ceiling speakers. Thesurface of a desk in the back of the office glowed to life. "The NewCityPolice have been notified, and the door is now charged with five hundredvolts of electricity. You would be wise to stay where you are."

Cade realized it was the voice of the office AI assistant."What is your designation?"

"My name is Jeannie," the voice answered. "Whomight you be?"

He crouched to retrieve Irena's wristwatch from the floor. "I am Cade."

A short pause. "How did you get inside this office, Mr. Cade?By all indications, you and that inexpensive timepiece appeared out of the air. But that cannot be the case."Another pause. "It does not compute."

Did Cade detect an edge of irony in its tone? "Your sensorsmust be in error."

"Doubtful. I am a quite sophisticated AI computer system. Ifany of my sensors were in need of recalibration, I would be the first toknow."

Cade was silent, his eyes roving in search of another means ofescape. If none presented itself, then he would need something heavy to smashto pieces both wristwatches before the Blackshirts arrived.

"You may be correct, however. I am receiving an abnormalreading at the moment." A pause. "My thermal scanners do not detect arise in your body temperature, nor an increase in the rate of your pulse. Thiscannot be accurate. It would indicate that you are at ease right now, even asthe authorities are moments away. Do you not care for your own welfare?"

No. I do not.

He strode toward the desk. A large obsidian ornament sat on thedeskscreen. It would do the job well enough.

"You are a fugitive," Jeannie said. "You are wantedin connection with a disturbance outside of The Pit this evening where twomandroids belonging to Gavin Lennox were destroyed—as well as the murder of a NewCitypolice sergeant, Daniel Armstrong. According to what I gather from the Link,some sort of sword was your weapon of choice on both occasions. Yet you are nowunarmed."

Observant, if nothing else.

Cade took the obsidian in hand and hefted it. He glanced at thedoor, at the light from the hallway. So far, it had not been disturbed byshadows.

He set Irena's wristwatch on the desktop, then snapped off his own andplaced it beside hers. Innocuous, both of them. Ridiculous that either of theseoutmoded timepieces could be anything more than what they appeared to be.

He brought down the obsidian with as much force as it took,repeatedly, to shatter the face of each timepiece and fracture every component.

"What are you doing?" Jeannie said.

Cade could not be certain. Only Cyrus Horton would know if thesedevices were now beyond repair.

"If you are attempting to interfere with any of my systems,you should know that such an undertaking would be futile." The AI's tonesounded amused—if that was possible.

Cade set the obsidian where he had found it. "I have noquarrel with you."

"Yet I am the only one who can release you from thisoffice." Another pause. "Will you not ask me to open the door foryou?"

Does it taunt me? "There is noneed." I must face what is to come.

"Are you guilty of all charges, Mr. Cade?"

"Yes." And more.

"Your judgment should be swift, then. Perhaps the men ontheir way up in the elevator will show mercy and carry out your sentencewithout delay. I imagine that would be the worst aspect of it: the waiting,once you have resigned yourself to the fact that you are deserving of yourpunishment." A pause. "Is that the case, Mr. Cade? Will you gowithout a fight?"

He watched the door. The hallway outside echoed now with poundingboot heels, gathering momentum, headed this way. It would not be long beforethey arrived. Would he fight them?

"This was his office," he said. The words emergedwithout warning, leaving his lips before he could weigh them.

"Whose?"

"Harold Muldoon." Was there any harm in mentioning him?The AI belonged to the current tenant. There was no reason to think it wouldrecognize the name of a dead man.

A short pause. "Harold Muldoon, Private Investigator. Yes,Mr. Muldoon rented this office space for three years prior to his untimelydeath—" The AI's voice halted.

Does it remember me? How I broke into thisoffice and disabled the computer system before it knew what was happening. HowI waited for Harold Muldoon to step inside, into the dark...into my blade.

"He was murdered in this very room twenty years ago. Yet youappear exactly the same, as though you have not aged a day."

"Your sensors are in need of recalibration." Cadewatched the dark shapes outside as they approached the door.

"Even if you were a synthetic, you would have aged." TheAI sounded perplexed. "There is no explanation for it. I do not know why Idid not recognize you sooner. You...disabled my security network. You shut medown. I was offline when you killed him."

"Yes."

"Unfortunately for you, my systems have been upgradedsignificantly since then—a fact you must be aware of, and perhaps the