was like I was wound up tight by a year in ‘Disciplinary’. The spring all of a sudden...uncoiled. And there I was in the Four Clubs, waving a gun around.”
“Maybe it’s not such a bad thing,” Pearce mused. “You’ve got him off balance now. Worried. A man off-balance makes mistakes. It might force him to show his hand. What we need is to prove he’s hooked in with the Club.” After a moment’s silence, he added, “There are rumors about something else. Something called Purity.”
“Which is what?”
“I don’t know. Some secret organization moving in on Chicago. Doing a search on Verrick, I found a sketchy piece by an investigating journalist, trying to find out just what Purity is. The journalist disappeared—and next time I went online to look at the article again, it was gone too. The journalist claimed Purity is a secret political organization using a front company called Iceberg Investments. And Roger Verrick is one of the names from Iceberg’s board of directors. There’s not much information about Iceberg out there, though. We look into that, maybe we can find out what Verrick had against me—and find some evidence that helps you clear your name.”
“Starting where? Seems like the dirt on Purity’s been cleaned up.”
“Starting with the guy who tried to shoot me. Identify him, maybe we’ll work from there back to Verrick and Iceberg. See what you can do with that image I got from the train station. You’re the expert on long range image enhancement. We get a face, we’ll run it through ctOS facial recognition, see if we come up with something.”
Wolfe figured he was committed now. He’d been looking for Pearce anyway. He shouldn’t let his paranoia put him off his only ally. “Okay. You got it, Pearce. I’ll do it.”
“I’m gonna do some more checking on you. Could be I’ll have that special tool I mentioned for you, pretty soon.”
“When do I see you in person?”
“The time will come. I’ve got to keep my head down now. I don’t know if you heard—but someone recently tried to blow it off my shoulders.”
Then Aiden Pearce’s head and shoulders vanished—from the TV screen. It was replaced by a pink cartoon bear in a toilet paper commercial.
Wolfe sighed and turned off the TV.
CHAPTER FIVE
R oger Verrick was playing videogames that killed things for real.
He loved that idea.
He was in a sprawling, well protected rural house, about a hundred miles southwest of Chicago. But it wasn’t an old house—it was the latest in Smart Houses, a home-automation prototype owned by Blume and sometimes used by Blume executives. Verrick was just out there for the weekend, to mix work and play—and to throw his enemies off, if they were setting up an attack on him in town.
The “hunting exercise”, as he called it, was in a comfortable basement, what used to be called a rumpus room, with carpets on the floor, sofas, a refrigerator full of beer—and a wide desk with several monitors set up. Verrick was sitting at the desk, operating the system through a simple mouse, like a PC videogame. Only it wasn’t a videogame really—it was a set up for controlling a hunting drone.
The hunting drone was illegal, of course. That was part of the fun. Since the laws were enforced by an Order that Verrick despised, he enjoyed breaking them when he could get away with it. He needed the recreation right now, too. It took his mind off Wolfe—and that ache in his lower spine. Verrick managed not to think about taking the pills when he was hunting—at least, hunting in this comfy way. He had made up his mind to cut back on the Oxycodone. Had to focus on getting all the pieces in places, all the dominoes that would fall over in a long row, triggering the Iceberg Project...
Standing behind Verrick, humming annoyingly to himself and rocking on his heels, was the project’s chief technician, Geoff Starling, a former Unmanned Aerial Vehicle designer for the USAF. Post Air Force,
“Maybe it’s not such a bad thing,” Pearce mused. “You’ve got him off balance now. Worried. A man off-balance makes mistakes. It might force him to show his hand. What we need is to prove he’s hooked in with the Club.” After a moment’s silence, he added, “There are rumors about something else. Something called Purity.”
“Which is what?”
“I don’t know. Some secret organization moving in on Chicago. Doing a search on Verrick, I found a sketchy piece by an investigating journalist, trying to find out just what Purity is. The journalist disappeared—and next time I went online to look at the article again, it was gone too. The journalist claimed Purity is a secret political organization using a front company called Iceberg Investments. And Roger Verrick is one of the names from Iceberg’s board of directors. There’s not much information about Iceberg out there, though. We look into that, maybe we can find out what Verrick had against me—and find some evidence that helps you clear your name.”
“Starting where? Seems like the dirt on Purity’s been cleaned up.”
“Starting with the guy who tried to shoot me. Identify him, maybe we’ll work from there back to Verrick and Iceberg. See what you can do with that image I got from the train station. You’re the expert on long range image enhancement. We get a face, we’ll run it through ctOS facial recognition, see if we come up with something.”
Wolfe figured he was committed now. He’d been looking for Pearce anyway. He shouldn’t let his paranoia put him off his only ally. “Okay. You got it, Pearce. I’ll do it.”
“I’m gonna do some more checking on you. Could be I’ll have that special tool I mentioned for you, pretty soon.”
“When do I see you in person?”
“The time will come. I’ve got to keep my head down now. I don’t know if you heard—but someone recently tried to blow it off my shoulders.”
Then Aiden Pearce’s head and shoulders vanished—from the TV screen. It was replaced by a pink cartoon bear in a toilet paper commercial.
Wolfe sighed and turned off the TV.
CHAPTER FIVE
R oger Verrick was playing videogames that killed things for real.
He loved that idea.
He was in a sprawling, well protected rural house, about a hundred miles southwest of Chicago. But it wasn’t an old house—it was the latest in Smart Houses, a home-automation prototype owned by Blume and sometimes used by Blume executives. Verrick was just out there for the weekend, to mix work and play—and to throw his enemies off, if they were setting up an attack on him in town.
The “hunting exercise”, as he called it, was in a comfortable basement, what used to be called a rumpus room, with carpets on the floor, sofas, a refrigerator full of beer—and a wide desk with several monitors set up. Verrick was sitting at the desk, operating the system through a simple mouse, like a PC videogame. Only it wasn’t a videogame really—it was a set up for controlling a hunting drone.
The hunting drone was illegal, of course. That was part of the fun. Since the laws were enforced by an Order that Verrick despised, he enjoyed breaking them when he could get away with it. He needed the recreation right now, too. It took his mind off Wolfe—and that ache in his lower spine. Verrick managed not to think about taking the pills when he was hunting—at least, hunting in this comfy way. He had made up his mind to cut back on the Oxycodone. Had to focus on getting all the pieces in places, all the dominoes that would fall over in a long row, triggering the Iceberg Project...
Standing behind Verrick, humming annoyingly to himself and rocking on his heels, was the project’s chief technician, Geoff Starling, a former Unmanned Aerial Vehicle designer for the USAF. Post Air Force,
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