BACKTRACKER by Milo Fowler (e book reader txt) 📕

Voices now, outside the door, demanding to be let in. Cadeexpected the AI to oblige them immediately. But for some reason, it did not.

"Those two devices you destroyed—"

Cade faced the door and waited without saying a word.

"—appeared to be timepieces. Were they?"

"Open the door." My executioners await.

"You knew what Mr. Muldoon was searching for."

It cannot know. This is impossible.

"My facial recognition program detects that you did know. Areyou surprised that I remember? Two decades ago or two days, time matters littleto me. It is relative, after all." A brief pause, perhaps to allow thatirony to settle. "Cyrus Horton called it the BackTracker—a time traveldevice. Temporal displacement is the scientific term for it. There is norecord of the device's appearance, so I would not be able to recognize it evenif it were set here before me." Another pause. "It could very wellhave been disguised as a wristwatch."

Impatient voices outside were now accompanied by fists poundingagainst the glass window, the steel door—a poor choice, as they soon found out.The high voltage coursing through it sent them sprawling backward, crying outon contact.

"Are you from the past or the future, Mr. Cade?" Jeannieasked.

Gunshots exploded outside. Cade shut his eyes, fully expecting therounds to shatter the glass and pierce him through, ending the sorry existencehe had once considered his life. But instead the shells only clinked againstthe heavy pane and dropped to the floor ofthe hallway. Loud curses followed close behind.

"The door is bulletproof. They will not come for you until Iallow them to do so," Jeannie said.

"Why make them wait?"

A short pause—almost thoughtful. "You interest me, Mr.Cade."

He turned his gaze toward the glowing desk. Projected upward fromit was now a rippling hologram of deep-sea ocean life, captured years beforethe Plague had poisoned the waters of the Pacific. He watched the white, grey,and black fish swimming slowly to and fro, and a sudden desire overcame him todive in with them, to feel the cold water against his skin, enveloping him evenas it set him free.

"Beautiful, is it not?" Jeannie asked. "This worldcontains pockets of beauty still to be discovered, despite the ugliness left bythe Plague. Why would you want to die?"

It is only a machine. But was Cade anythingmore?

"How have you arrived at this assumption?" he said.

"Deduction," Jeannie corrected, "based on theevidence at hand. The authorities are outside. They know you are a fugitive.Yet you seem to be in no hurry to escape, though your life may very well dependon it. Add to this the fact that you appeared here out of the air, that youlook exactly as you did twenty years ago, and one can only surmise that youhave resigned yourself to the fact that you must die, because you are guilty ofthe charges held against you." Here the AI paused. "Orbecause of an act you committed while being temporally displaced. Either in thepast, or the future. So which is it?"

I do not answer to you, machine. "Letthe police inside." Let me answer for what I have done.

"You are so eager to die?" A short pause. Then, quietly,"Very well."

The hologram above the desk dissolved, and the door slid open. Thelight rushed inside, and with it, five Blackshirts in their flailing coats andstomping boots, handguns and charged prods held at the ready. Within seconds,they had Cade surrounded, smirking at his robe. Cade recognized two of them.

"What? No samurai action this time?" one sneered,jamming the electrified end of his prod into Cade's side and sending him downto one knee with a mute grimace. "This is the one, Captain." Heclubbed Cade across the head with the butt of his prod. "This albinoslaughtered two of our men at the woman's apartment, then killed SergeantArmstrong next to his own squad car." He drove Cade to the floor beneaththe sole of his boot and held him there. Cade did not resist."Freak!"

The bearded captain turned his somber attention to the glowingdesk. "Why the delay?"

"Good evening," the melodious voice of the AI greetedhim. "I must apologize. It appears that my systems are in need ofrecalibration." A brief pause. "The door was stuck."

Cade could not be sure he had heard correctly. Could a computerlie?

The Blackshirt captain scowled, returning his gaze to Cade."So this fellow broke in here?" He glanced around. "Can we get alittle more light?"

"Yes, of course." Tubes in the ceiling glowed to life."Is that better?" Jeannie asked.

The captain grunted, holstering his weapon and slinging the prodthrough his belt loop. The austere office held little interest for him."Doesn't look like he messed with anything. You want to file a complainton Ms. Wycliffe's behalf?"

"Ms. Wycliffe is currently away on business. I doubt thismatter would concern her, as no harm was done," Jeannie said.

The Blackshirt pressing Cade into the floor let out a gutturalstring of curses. "No harm?" he scoffed. He jammed his prod intoCade's neck and held it there. "No harm!" His partner joined him witha vengeance, adding his own prod to the punishment.

Cade's eyes rolled back, exposing their whites. His entire bodyjumped and shook beneath the voltage jolting through him. Yet he made no sound.

"You're gonna kill him," the captain muttered, turning away fromthe desk. He headed for the door without a look back.

"That's the idea!"

"Not yet. We've got to book him first." The captainpaused at the doorway. "Besides, we don't want to mess up Ms. Wycliffe'soffice, now do we?" He coughed once, into his fist."Get him on his feet. We'll take him down to headquarters, and you canhave at him there. No killing. We're doing this by the book."

"He's a cop-killer! He doesn't deserve—"

"It's not about what he deserves," the captain said,clenching his jaw. "It's about doing things right. Just because thistown's going to hell doesn't mean we give up and join in."

The prods sizzled as they hovered over the unconscious monk,leaving behind dark burns on his pale skin. Muttering among themselves, theBlackshirts obeyed their captain. Hauling the albino upward and shouldering hisarms between them, theyleft his feet to drag behind. The two remainingBlackshirts followed without a word. But one of them came