Page 192 of The Vigilante's Lover
I recognize the walls. They will project our information.
“Is there any way to fake this?” I ask.
“Heat signatures don’t lie,” he says.
But I have an idea. I take the dart gun out of my jacket. “Are they watching?” I ask.
“If they weren’t, they’re about to be.”
I point the gun at his face. “Then you come with me.”
Jax’s expression shows no change, but I can feel his shoulders relax. He gets it. He knows what I’m about to do.
I walk ahead, jerking on his arm, aiming the dart at him. I see the first scanner device. It’s like the one in the silo. I step into its range.
On the wall appears my screen, just my name, nothing else, same as always.
The dart gun is slightly behind me. As we walk forward, the scanner picks up on it. My screen goes red. “Special is armed” flashes below my name.
“I have a prisoner,” I call out. “I think you want him.”
We take another step forward. Now Jax is in range.
His screen lights up red. “Jax De Luca. Executed 10-16-2020 09:06 a.m.”
“That’s going to confuse it,” I say. Which was my intention. A human could make the leap that the information is wrong, but I’m not sure what a computer algorithm will do.
Heavy bold words flash on the screen. “Data system contaminated. Life signs present.” The line about the execution goes away.
“Keep going,” Jax says. “It won’t dart me if it’s trying to decide if I am dead.”
I move faster now. We’ve gone down three flights. The screens follow us on the acrylic wall as we descend.
Jax’s data alters as we go down. “Born 1984,” it adds, as if trying topuzzle him out. “Entered Phase One training 1996.”
We hurry along the stairs, assuming that we are safe until a human intervenes.
Four flights down.
A grid appears ahead. Jax grabs my hand. He jerks a cufflink from his sleeve and tosses it into the grid. It incinerates, like in the car.
“What now?” I ask.
“We go in,” he says.
We hurry back up to the previous door. Jax presses the pass key to the surface. The screen is now scrolling through Jax’s history, trying to find the moment where its data is corrupted. Phase Two. Phase Six. Vegas syndicate. Promotion. Silo director. Faster and faster it churns.
The door clicks open.
Jax pulls off the pass key and pushes through. We’re in a small receptionist area. Two exits. A woman sits behind a desk. She stands up, startled. “A special,” she says, glancing at the wall behind us.
I glance behind. My status hasn’t changed.
“I have a prisoner,” I say, sticking to my first plan.
“I’ll get someone,” she says and disappears through one of the doors.
“Phase Five and still gets rattled,” Jax murmurs. “That’s why she’s behind a desk.”
