Page 49 of Factory Thief

“Ha ha, short jokes. Real cute. Who are you and what do you want?”

“Who I am is not important. You should be more concerned with what I want.”

I glance over at Livingston fearfully. At any moment this whole thing could be turning into a real disaster. I feel it—Livingston’s on the verge of panic, but he’s a determined bastard. If he has his way, he’ll make sure that if shooting starts, I’ll be one of the first to go down.

I look to Victoria, wanting to see her one last time before I die. When I look into her green eyes, however, I don’t see despair. I see frenetic hope, and the build up of crazy energy which probably means she’s about to do something really stupid.

Quicker than a hiccup, her hand dives into the Factory man’s coat and comes out bearing a black pistol. She fires one shot, the bang robbing me of my hearing and giving Livingston’s scream of agony an eerie silence. He falls down, the gun slipping from his nerveless fingers as a crimson stain blossoms on his shoulder.

My hearing asserts itself over the constant ringing in time for gunfire to crackle on both sides. The suit-clad bodyguards Livingston brought with him jerk and spasm as geysers of blood spurt to life all over their bodies. Most of them are dead before they even hit the pavement.

The Factory side isn’t without casualties. One of the Factory man’s three soldiers clings to life by a thread, his hand trying to staunch the river of blood flowing from his neck. Victoria, where is Victoria?

I almost faint with relief when I see her crouching behind a guardrail, using it as a shield from the gunfire. A movement to my left catches my attention, and I reluctantly pull my gaze from her.

Livingston flees, his right arm dangling at the shoulder. He casts a frantic look behind him, stumbling feet moving so swiftly it seems he surely must fall at any moment.

Anger burns hot in my belly. That greedy little shit is not going to get away. I run after him, intent upon pummeling his ass into the pavement.

“Get down!”

Victoria’s scream pierces the night. I don’t hesitate, I just trust that she has my best interests at heart. I throw myself to the ground, and several shots ring out.

I lift my head from the pavement and see Livingston stagger and fall to his knees. The blue blazer turns black with his blood. Livingston opens his mouth as if to deny his fate, but any epitaph he may have uttered is lost in a foaming fountain of blood.

There’s no need to check his pulse; he’s gone.

Suddenly Victoria is there, enveloping me in her warm embrace. I pull her into my arms and kiss her, little desperate sounds escaping both our throats like we’re puppies happy to see their owner after a long vacation.

It’s such a profound moment I don’t even notice the dead man near me, or the not-so-dead man who moves over to check his pockets.

“What are you doing, Andrew?” Victoria snaps.

So that’s the Factory man she’s told me about. He glances over at her as he ransacks Livingston’s corpse. “What we came here for.”

Andrew stands up and tosses something toward me. I catch it out of air, the familiar metal contours bringing a smile to my face.

“The flash drive,” I say in awe. I never thought I’d see it again. I thought for sure Livingston had smashed it.

“There’s a reporter named Jolene Pierce at the San Francisco Chronicle. She’s waiting to break the story about Xtera’s deadly clinical fraud. All she needs is the info on that drive.”

“Wait, you already know about the fraud?” I shake my head. “Have you been onto Xtera the entire time?”

Andrew shrugs. “We learned of their misdeeds only through your own efforts, I assure you. We wanted to get the data from you, but then you were railroaded into prison for a crime you didn’t commit.”

“I rotted in the penal system for almost two years! A year solid of that in solitary. Why didn’t you help me before now?”

Andrew sneers and lights up a cigarette. “Look at Mr. Fancy Pants. Believe it or not, there’s worse tragedies happening in the world than an innocent man losing his freedom. Tragedies that can wipe out thousands of kids, if not millions. The Foundation is focused on those, but we got around to you, didn’t we?”

“Why did you need me at all? Why not have one of your hackers get the files?”

Andrew takes a long drag off his cigarette and regards me coldly. “Because the files are meaningless without a face to put with them. We didn’t just need the files, we needed you, the good Samaritan who risked everything to expose this deadly cover up. Obviously, your murder conviction complicated things. We had to find a way to exonerate you of those charges before we could proceed with exposing Xtera.”

Andrew flicks his cigarette over the side of the bridge. “You’re welcome.”

I want to throttle him, but Victoria holds me back with a glance. “It’s over. I know you don’t like how they handled it, but they handled it. Let’s get the story out. Let’s get our story out. Please.”

She’s right, and I know it.

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