Page 47 of Factory Thief

If I make the jump, then it’s pretty much suicide if the net proves not to be there yet. If there is a net, then Livingston could just send his men down to get me.

I can’t take the risk.

I don’t know what to do.

There has to be a way out of this.

There just has to.

Livingstone glances at his watch and sighs. “Tick tock, Jack. I’m giving your reporter friend five more minutes. Then I’m turning you over to a guy you don’t want to meet, not ever. I’ve seen him keep guys alive a long time, even when half their body was missing. The man’s an artist!”

His words have the desired effect. I’m terrified, but all I can think of is Victoria. At least she’s safe…

What if she’s not thinking of me at all, though? Maybe when I left her yesterday morning, she decided it was good riddance?

Maybe she’s halfway around the world, stealing an overpriced trinket for some rich asshole.

All I know is I feel lost without Victoria. If I could only see her lovely face one more time, I might be able to face my death with more dignity.

As it is, I’m totally alone. I have no options, no hope of rescue. I’m facing doom, and the worst thing is I think the pain of losing Victoria is worse than my fear of death.

Much worse.

VICTORIA

The San Francisco headquarters for the Foundation for an Active, Optimized and Rich Youth offers a spectacular view of the bay, the Golden Gate Bridge a hazy smudge of orange in the distance. I stand there in the warmth of a heat register blowing air over me and still shiver.

Somewhere out in this city, Jack is in the clutches of the Xtera corporation. His life is worthless without the data he initially stored on the backup flash drive. I hope he was able to get it again and hide it before they captured him at the tech campus.

Andrew sits behind me in one of the leather-backed chairs of the top-floor meeting room. His feet rest on the long, highly polished wooden table as he idly shuffles through his phone.

Not far from Andrew sits a man I know only by his title. The Buyer. He’s a thin-boned, unassuming man, yet his eyes carry the confidence of the almighty and the coldness of outer space. You get the feeling he’s always telling you the truth, but that truth is guaranteed to be unpleasant.

There are some other higher ups in the Factory here. Don Simmons, formerly a lawyer fighting for social justice, now involved in keeping the Foundation out of legal trouble by any means necessary. His sky-blue suit clashes utterly with his dark heart.

Beside him, Sally Blackmore strokes her ‘therapy pet,’ a snarling little chihuahua named Felix. The venerable woman looks more akin to forty than her actual sixty-six years. Her main task is running the Factory schools as a general overseer. Kind of like what you might get if you crossed a school superintendent with a great white shark.

We’re waiting for a phone call. A potential lead. Jack possibly made contact with a local news reporter, who will help him act as a whistleblower. We hope. Unlike Andrew, the other members of this high council don’t stare at their phones. Instead, their gazes bore into me.

I can’t repress a shudder, especially when the Buyer’s gaze sizzles the air between us. This is the man who came to see me in juvie hall. He offered me a choice then, and I can’t honestly say I’m not better off for having said yes.

Still, I can’t say I’m not worse off, either. I guess there’s no way to know.

The phone in the center of the table rings, startling me. No one else even blinks. I bet had one been monitoring their pulses, none could have detected even a twitch in their heart rates.

Andrew calmly lifts his feet off the desk and places them on the floor, folding his body until he can reach the waiting phone. He lifts it from the cradle and lays it to his face.

I watch with bated breath as he speaks. “Hello. Yes, you’ve reached the correct office. What’s the scoop?”

Andrew nods while the voice on the other end drones on for a bit. I can’t make out what they’re saying, but it sounds negative.

“I see. And I take it that you checked with the other newspapers as well?” Andrew nods again. “That’s most unfortunate. No, no. You’ve done all you can. If there were so much as a peep about someone meeting with a whistleblower, we’d have heard it by now.”

Andrew hangs up the phone and sighs. “I suppose it was too much to ask. The whistleblower thing didn’t pan out.”

“What’s that mean?” I come over to his side, a bundle of nervous energy. Have I stood around waiting for help only to get nothing for my troubles?

“It means we have potentially inaccurate information from our snitch. Or our snitch has been discovered. Possibly even both.”

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