A waiter handed Rebecca her flat white. Another café, still in New York. She sat in a corner booth and watched people eat their lunch and drink their coffee. It wasn’t too late – just get up and leave. Don’t get her involved.
No, she told herself, she had to stay.
Her phone buzzed. A text from Kelly. Here.
A moment later a bell chimed as Kelly entered the diner, the sun catching on her red hair in a way Bec hadn’t noticed in a long while. Kelly looked around, smiled when she spotted Rebecca, then joined her at the table.
‘Under different circumstances I’d say that I’m glad you’re here in New York but… You do know the GCSD are looking for you. They know you’re here.’
‘I know. I’ve been monitoring their coms.’ Bec sipped at her coffee and closed her eyes, humming softly.
‘Nice coffee?’
She shrugged, then said, ‘Listen, I’m sorry I didn’t contact you sooner, I had… something to finish.’
‘Your only concern should be staying out of jail.’
‘Right,’ said Bec, ‘but we need a plan.’
‘What we need,’ said Kelly, leaning forwards, ‘is Mikah. Were you able to contact him?’
‘Nothing,’ said Bec. She was a little concerned about that. ‘He’s gone off the grid.’
‘Then we find him,’ Kelly said matter-of-factly. ‘We get Mikah, we get the evidence we need to absolve you.’
It occurred to Bec in that moment that Kelly was going far out of her way, to the point where she was risking her job, just to help her – a no-good hacker picked up from a jail cell after a bombing incident. Bec wanted to tell Kelly to just leave, that she would resolve this herself, but she couldn’t.
‘You don’t have to do this.’ It was all Bec managed to say.
Then before Bec could react Kelly leaned over the table and kissed her. She nudged Bec’s cheek with her knuckle and smiled.
‘I know,’ Kelly said. ‘But I want to.’
Rebecca and Kelly eventually reached an impasse. Bec had come to the limit of her ability to locate Mikah digitally, the police were expecting her to return to Perth and Kelly thought it was too dangerous to leave Bec alone in America while she went off to look for him. In the end they decided to separate. Kelly returned to doing her job and Bec travelled west, alone, drifting from place to place, hiding.
That was about a week ago.
Voices seemed louder when you were being hunted. Rebecca checked over her shoulder for the fiftieth time that day as she fished the motel keys from her pocket, opened the door and slipped inside. A familiar sense of relief flushed over her in the dark of the small room. She had to remind herself that Sato was gone, but Hiroshi Inue was yet to be captured by the GCSD, and he remained a terrible threat.
Bec caught the bus from county to county, motel to motel, bar to bar. She could barely sit still anymore, constantly biting her nails or twirling a pen. Was the man in the motorcycle helmet one of Hiroshi’s killers? Was the police car simply patrolling the street, or was it searching for her?
After five nights she caught her own face on TV, in a news report—a wanted cybercriminal.
Bec sat on the bed in her hotel room, the silence now absolute save for the buzzing refrigerator and the whoosh and streaking lights of cars passing outside. She sat in a position of deep thought, just twirling that pen, weighing up the odds.
‘Fuck it,’ she sighed.
She picked up the keys.
She knew about a bar just around the corner, a quiet roadhouse for a small town.
The bar housed only a few patrons, a group at the pool table – Bec heard the click of the balls followed by a cheer – as well as an elderly man fiddling with the digital jukebox, others at the bar collecting their drinks.
Bec greeted the human bartender, sat down and ordered a beer. As she sipped at her drink she felt the man next to her staring, then realised that her scarf had come loose, and that he was looking at her scars. Bec shifted her elbow to feel the pistol tucked away in her jacket pocket, for comfort.
‘Looks like you’ve seen some action, for someone so young and pretty,’ said the man.
He didn’t appear threatening. Older, late forties, maybe, but handsome. A gentleman, she hoped.
‘You could say that,’ Bec replied.
‘You’re Australian?’
Bec nodded. ‘Yeah’
‘What brings you to the States?’
‘Travel.’
‘You alone?’
‘No,’ Bec answered quickly. ‘My friends are back at the hotel.’
The sound of the door creaking open was audible to Bec even over the music from the jukebox, and when Bec glimpsed the police officers stroll into the bar her heart threatened to pound to a stop.
Stay calm, she told herself. Look at them, they’re not after you.
‘Evening Tori. Milton.’ The barman nodded to each officer.
The three of them began an idle conversation and Bec planned her escape. One of the officers looked at her for what seemed like longer than usual, his stare causing her hands to sweat. She stood up, her beer half-finished, and left.
The air in the car park outside was refreshing compared to the sudden inferno that filled the building inside. The police car was parked right near the road. Rebecca moved at a speed-walk, back towards the motel, until she thought she was safe.
‘Hey! Young lady!’
Bec kept going. She made it as far as the police car.
‘Stop!’ yelled the officer.
Dammit. Bec had no choice. She turned towards the officer, tried to look innocent.
‘In a hurry?’
‘I was just…’ Bec stammered.
The other officer fell in behind his partner.
‘What’s your name?’ he asked.
But the other cop didn’t wait for a response. He pulled a police tablet from his pocket, the screen lit up his face.
‘It’s her,’ he said.
The other cop paced over to her, she knew his right hand was resting on his gun as he said, ‘Up against the car, hands on the hood, nice and easy now.’
Bec froze. Her body heavy. Stay? Or run?
It wasn’t a conscious decision. As the cop stepped behind her and grabbed her wrist she threw an elbow into his chest, grabbed him behind the neck and slammed his head against the car. She almost went for the gun. Almost. She swung a wild haymaker at the other cop but he was quick, he grappled her and pushed her onto the bonnet twice as hard as she had done to the cop. A painful fuzziness and a ringing in her ears as her head collided with the bonnet of the car. They patted her down, quickly, took her gun. The other cop was yelling and wiping blood from his brow.
The handcuffs tightened around Bec’s wrists. She struggled against them but quickly lost her energy. She felt sick, like she was about to throw up, and tears fell down her cheek.
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