Whispers of the Dead (Miraibanashi, #1) Read online

  Now came the hard part. Halfway up this first flight of stairs was the first motion detector, and he would have to be extremely precise from this point on if he was going to avoid setting them off. Standing there on the other side of the door, he took time to get his breathing under control. As important as finishing this job and getting out fast was, this part of the plan couldn’t be rushed.

  Roshike used his breathing to help him reach a state of perfect peace in his spirit, then let that calm fill his mind and pervade every nerve and muscle in his body, every single cell. Only when he was completely in the moment, in the detached space where no stray thought could distract him, did he start to move. And he moved with a glacial grace which always amazed him, as he knew it was something he shouldn’t be able to do. Yet here he was.

  His right foot glided forward, the leg lifting up, the heel sinking onto the first step and the pressure slowly shifting across onto the ball of his foot. The rest of his body remaining perfectly still as he gradually pushed his weight upward. Then left foot lifting and gliding. Climbing in slow motion.

  His thoughts completely focused on the way his body was moving, he was unaware of time passing. He made it up to the first landing and the hundred-eighty degree turn which took him past the door to the second floor. Then he started climbing another flight of stairs, again with agonizing slowness in one protracted moment. It lasted until he’d reached the third floor landing. Beyond the range of the last of the motion detectors.

  Releasing a pent-up sigh, Roshike returned his senses to a more normal perception of his environment and once again took the shadow screen out of its pouch on his belt. Checking the time, he saw that though it had seemed only a brief span to him, over half an hour had passed since he’d left Teresa in the lobby. But now he could move faster.

  There was a security reader next to the door to the third floor, so he set his screen to briefly assume the registration of the nearby one with a high clearance before he slid it into the waiting slot. The light turned green, and he heard the lock click open. This shadow screen was turning out to be every bit as capable as advertised. And he’d never have been able to afford one for himself.

  Slowly pushing down the handle, Roshike only opened the door a crack, just enough to peer out into the corridor and see it was completely empty. It should be at this hour, according to what the inside information Teresa had acquired said. Supposedly the more exalted functionaries occupying offices on this third floor never worked at night. But Roshike didn’t like to take anything for granted.

  That same intelligence described the routine of the guards—it had been accurate so far, but it failed to show any patrol at all of the third floor. Perhaps that was true. The Batsu tended to be a bit overconfident and might think it was unnecessary, or maybe the guards weren’t welcome up here. Regardless, it felt as eerily quiet as a ghost town.

  It continued to prove just as empty as one too, as Roshike slipped through the door and made his way swiftly down one hallway after another according to the mental map he’d made when he’d examined the blueprints Teresa had bought. Only a few minutes passed before he reached the door marked as the server room on those plans.

  The heavy steel door certainly appeared intimidating, but that wasn’t the reason Roshike stopped there to consider what he was about to do. The level of clearance that would be needed to enter such a secure place as this was would have to be quite high. Supposedly there was always someone in the building with the necessary access—the registration that the shadow screen had already copied should have been that. He hoped it was, anyway. But if the access code he used wasn’t sufficient to the task, that might send a signal of some sort to the guards. Or even set off an alarm. And he had to be prepared for the eventuality. Still, he hadn’t come this far just to turn back because of what might happen.

  So he made sure his mind and body were ready to respond if things went wrong, then slid the shadow screen into the security reader set into the door. But again the light turned from red to green and the lock clicked open without any alarms sounding. So he slowly pushed the door inward and checked that the room was empty before entering.

  Pausing with his hand on the door, Roshike reconsidered his original plan. He doubted a magnetic strip would be sufficient to block the sort of lock this thing sported, and since this floor seemed just as deserted as it was supposed to be, he decided he was less worried about an open door attracting the attention of anyone who came along than being able to hear someone coming. So he took a small spike from one of the pouches on his belt and used it as a wedge to prop the door wide open. That also meant he could exit easily when he had to.

  That taken care of, Roshike walked farther into the room and up to a small desk with a large screen sitting atop its otherwise pristine surface. That had to be the server running the Batsu’s network for the Kansai area. Ignoring the chair, he stood in front of the thing and slid his shadow screen into the slot in its side and hit the button to activate the advanced hacking program he’d installed. Another of the useful tools Teresa’s money had purchased.

  Roshike had made a promise, long ago, never to steal again, and even in the years since he’d left the Kyoushi, he’d kept their code. After all, theft meant taking something from its rightful owner. And he’d used the skills he possessed to retrieve stolen property and return it. Tonight’s job was comparable in his judgment, and his conscience was clear. The information he was after belonged to everybody, and the Batsu had no right to keep it to themselves. Teresa wanted to share it with the world, and Roshike meant to make sure she did.

  The large screen came alive as the borrowed access codes started the server’s interface, then small lights on the side of the shadow screen flashed rapidly as the hacking tool tried to trick the server into granting Roshike admin authority. It soon succeeded. Then he was able to open the node for the local network and see the details of every connection, including information on every screen in New Osaka and the old city and beyond. And he could confirm something he’d long suspected.

  Even when Roshike had been a boy, an orphan living on the streets and stealing to survive, he had known better than to take someone’s screen. Mostly because he hadn’t needed one to survive and selling them was problematic. That alone kept it from being worth the risk. But he’d been sure swiping a screen would somehow help the enforcers find him, and now he knew why that would’ve been.

  Memories of that day they’d finally caught him suddenly started to flood his thoughts, but Roshike turned his mind away from them, focusing instead on the task at hand. As interesting as it was to find out for sure that the Batsu really could monitor the location and activity of every screen on the network—even the cheap, supposedly anonymous ones that non-citizens had to use to conduct business—it was not what he had come for. But though he searched thoroughly through the entries, he couldn’t find any screen logged on outside the Kansai region. He dug into the root program running the local network. It was clear the server was completely independent of the Batsu’s Gaku-net in Tokyo. There was no connection, and this had all been for nothing.

  The intelligence Teresa had gotten ahold of had been correct except for the most crucial bit. They’d built this whole operation around the idea that this would be the weak point where he’d be able to hack into the Gaku-net, by breaking into this less secure facility and going through the regional server. But that would be impossible.

  All the money and time spent preparing for this job, the risks they’d taken, and it was a waste. Then Roshike heard the soft ping of an arriving elevator, and with a flash of foreboding, he knew it was something far worse than that. It was a trap.

  Ripping his screen out of the server’s port, Roshike whirled and ran for the door. He heard boots pounding down another corridor to his right, so he sprinted down the hall to his left, glad he’d memorized the general layout of the building, rather than just the specific route he knew he’d need to take. It wasn’t possible to prepare too much ahead of
time, because you never knew what would go wrong. The problem was you could never plan enough to cover every eventuality. But plenty of prep helped you react fast. When the unexpected inevitably occurred, you couldn’t take the time to think through all your options.

  He never even considered heading for the stairwell, despite having made sure he could return that way and setting off the motion detectors having become a moot point. Instinctively he took a big risk and rounded a corner to head back in the direction the guards had come from. Because he understood their tactics and had the floor plan in his head. And because he knew their blind spots.

  As an unseen net spread out to try to trap him, Roshike ran toward the elevator the enemy must’ve arrived on, coming at it from the other side, the one facing away from the server room, hoping the blueprint had been right where it had shown the elevator shaft not only with main doors opening onto the central corridor but also rear doors facing a service hallway. His shadow screen should still be capable of unlocking those and activating the elevator controls. Since they weren’t locked down anymore.

  Roshike rounded a corner and ran right at one of the guards who was a knot in the net they meant to close around him, a man who expected an intruder to be intimidated by the mere sight of him in his uniform. Increasing speed, Roshike darted straight at the guard. Startled, the man hesitated between grabbing the screen in his pocket or the baton at his belt. That moment of indecision cost him.

  Flinging his arm forward as if he were throwing the screen in his hand at the man’s face, causing the guard to flinch, Roshike dived low and clipped him across the knees, slamming the man backward onto the carpeted floor of the corridor. Then rolling right over him, Roshike sprang back to his feet and kept running down the hall. Turning another corner, he barreled along the service corridor he’d been looking for and quickly came to the back door of the elevator that had brought the guards to the third floor. It should also take him down to the lobby in a manner they wouldn’t be expecting.

  Roshike slid the screen in his hand into the security reader and breathed a sigh of relief as it was able to trigger the doors to open. Ducking into the car, he hit the button for the ground floor and started to pray. If this was a trap, what had happened to Teresa?

  The elevator descended the two stories in only a moment, faster even than Roshike could have flown down two flights of stairs, but by the time the doors were opening onto the lobby, he was prepared. He dived low through the gap as they parted and rolled across the carpet, trying to process all the revolving glimpses he got as he traveled the span between the elevator and the back of a chair in the middle of the lobby. He’d seen brief images of three guards and a man in his underclothes by the time he came up to a crouch behind some cover.

  Peering around the edge of the chair, he altered his assessment. The one man was the guard they’d stripped of his uniform, and one of the ‘guards’ was Teresa. And another was actually an enforcer. Roshike knew the type, even if the man’s suit was blue like a guard’s instead of the typical black. And then there was the gun in the man’s hand. Guards were not allowed firearms. Worse, the enforcer was aiming at Teresa.

  The two were standing over by the security station, some distance apart and staring at each other, apparently oblivious of his arrival. The enforcer in the unusual blue suit had a thick mop of curly dark hair and a smirk on his face. Teresa looked furious but under control, and kept at bay by the gun pointed at her.

  Roshike saw all that in a flash, but he never had the time to think about it—the two guards had seen him spiraling out of the elevator and turned to advance toward him, snapping open their batons and coming at him from two different angles. He waited until they split up even more to move around the chairs sitting in the middle of the lobby, then leapt onto the one he’d been crouching behind and catapulted himself through the air toward the enforcer. And Teresa.

  As Roshike hit the ground running, they turned and saw him coming. Teresa’s expression mingled relief and surprise. The enforcer scowled at him before turning back to Teresa and shooting her. Then the man was already swinging his weapon around, firing again, but this time at Roshike. But Roshike was zagging at an angle and throwing the screen in his hand at the enforcer’s face, and not as a feint. It flew tumbling through the air straight at its target, messing up the man’s aim as he dodged the projectile. While Roshike sprinted along the same trajectory. The screen crashed into the wall behind, and the shot went wide.

  Roshike zigged and zagged as he closed the gap between them, but the enforcer managed to get off a second shot, and Roshike felt the tearing sensation in his left arm that told him he’d been hit—even as his right fist drove into the man’s diaphragm. With all the force of Roshike’s weight and momentum behind the punch, it doubled the fellow over and sent him flying backward. Roshike ran after him, slamming his heel through the enforcer’s jaw and knocking him out cold. Then he turned to Teresa.

  Sprawled across the carpet, there was a pool of blood spreading out under her and soaking into the fibers as she bled out from where she’d been shot in the stomach. He stepped closer, looking down into her face. Her blue eyes were dull as they stared vacantly into space and her life leaked out. He should never have agreed to this job. “I’m sorry.”

  He glanced back and saw only one guard warily approaching him with his baton drawn. The other one, the man in only his underclothes, sat slumped on the ground clutching a bleeding shoulder. That must’ve been from the shot that went wide. One of them would’ve already summoned reinforcements, and those wouldn’t take long to arrive. Until then, the only able guard would be more concerned with keeping Roshike contained. But he wasn’t trying to block the door. Either they had discovered and removed the magnetic strip Roshike had placed there, or the guard didn’t know it wasn’t really locked. It seemed Roshike would find out the hard way.

  He looked again at Teresa and felt guilt, anger, and a host of other emotions welling up and threatening to swamp his senses. There was nothing that he could do for her now though. He had to get out of there. Get away before it was too late.

  The sound of tramping boots came to his ears, and he ran for the exit at top speed. If that door was truly locked and secured, he’d either end up breaking the reinforced glass or himself. But neither happened.

  The door blew open easily as he plowed into it, and he barreled out into the still pouring rain, onto the slick streets streaming with water. He kept going through the driving rain, pushing hard to get as far away as fast as he could. This horrible weather that had helped hide their approach would also aid his escape by hindering his pursuers. But it would not help Teresa.

  Trying not to think about her, Roshike focused on orienting himself and running in the right direction. And being careful how he placed his feet so he wouldn’t slip. If it hadn’t already been done, soon a message would be sent to enforcers all over the city to start searching for him. So he couldn’t afford to make any mistakes. And he had to find a place he’d be able to hide, long enough to get a bit of rest and see to the bullet wound in his arm. But nowhere in the area would be safe for very long.

  Thankfully, Roshike knew the streets well, both from his time as a boy living on the streets as a thief and as an adult working to help others. He knew all the alleyways and backstreets throughout Old Osaka, so that would be where he’d head first. What he would do after that...

  He knew he had to be in shock over Teresa’s demise, but he’d get over it. He always did. He’d lost the parents he’d never known further back than he could remember, and then the woman who’d saved him from the streets and raised him. Even his first crush had disappeared without warning only a few years ago. He’d gotten used to losing people.

  As he ran, the memories came, unbidden to his mind. That day enforcers had finally caught him as a boy, the years after he’d returned from the mountains and worked to help those the Batsu wouldn’t. That had put him at odds with the enforcers again, but he’d been able to avoid them afte
r his time with the Kyoushi. He’d gotten plenty of practice at that, and clearly he’d get more.

  Thinking through what had gone wrong, exactly what he’d do next, would have to wait. So would dealing with his feelings. For the moment he had to focus on fleeing.

  Chapter 2

  The Morning After

  Old Osaka during the day

  ROSHIKE STOOD FROZEN facing the enforcer with the mop of dark curls and wearing the blue suit and with his gun leveled at Roshike’s chest. Between them Teresa’s body lay on the floor bleeding out. Guards stood in a ring around them, laughing and slapping their batons against their thighs. Roshike felt the world tilt as his head seemed to swim in a sea of pain, and he had trouble keeping his balance.

  The man with the gun smirked. “It’s your fault she’s dead, you know. If you’d come on your own, it would be you lying there on the carpet. I should’ve killed you, thief. At least you’ll die now.”

  As bad as he felt, Roshike knew he wasn’t dying and that this man wasn’t going to kill him. Apparently Teresa wasn’t dead, either, because suddenly he was beside her, kneeling in her blood and gazing into her blank blue eyes as they stared back at him unseeing, and she spoke. Though she never moved her mouth. “Why did you abandon me, Ro?”

  That ‘why’ echoed sharply in his brain, like little slivers of glass flying. That had to be from when he had crashed through the door. No, it had not happened that way.

  The next thing he knew, he was leaning over to cup the back of her head in his hand. And the only thing he saw in her eyes was his own reflection, but not his face as he stared into hers—he was watching his back as he ran away, deeper into the dark recesses of her pupils. Run. His own voice whispered urgently. Move. Get away. You can’t stay.