Conway: Part 1

By Jordan Wilkerson

Laura Garnier: daughter to one of the most powerful men in the country, loved friend, community advocate, the latest to go missing within the labyrinthine streets of 2305 Baltimore.

Detective Michael Conway has a knack for finding people. After getting dishonorably discharged from the BCPD he's built up a reputation as a human bloodhound, selling his services to new clients and old enemies. So naturally, when the biggest case of his career lands in his inbox, he cancels his plans. But what seems like a routine track down case evolves into something he never bargained for -- something much more sinister.

Now, Conway must journey into the dark and gritty underworld of the city to get the girl back.

Join Conway in part 1 of this series as he faces off against cybernetically enhanced criminals, hackers, hitmen and more in this compulsively fast-read tech-noir story.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Jordan Wilkerson
• Release date: May 8, 2017
• ISBN: 9781370451517

Book preview

Laura Garnier was running for her life in front of my eyes.

She was the 26 year old daughter to Baltimore’s own power couple, Peter and Olivia Garnier. She was the girl I’d been hired to find. The girl I couldn’t find a trace of for over a week. I thought she was gone for good, just another one swallowed up by the city; and yet, there she was, in full pristine high def.

I paused the video, and placed a transparent heads up display on the bottom of the footage that had been captured directly from Laura’s cybernetic eye modifications. I selected the option for medical display.

On my command, the video started again. The vital signals captured from advanced medical implants throughout the girl streamed in real-time on the digital overlay. Her heart rate was elevated, adrenaline levels surged, and her blood pressure rose to dangerous levels as she ducked down an alley. A quick glance over her shoulder revealed a shadowy figure in pursuit.

I’d done my research into Laura when her parents hired me. She was an all around good kid. She was a graduate of Harvard, and by all accounts had been well-liked, often described as a generous advocate for those in need. Being a journalism major made it hard for her to come by a job. You’d think that the net would offer plenty of opportunities, which it did, but apparently none Laura was willing to throw her morality to the side for. So, as any rich kid does, she ended up working at her father’s company — Kortanox Biomedical. Even there, in a job she probably despised, she had excelled. She was a successful, well-rounded, upstanding citizen with no known enemies. And yet, there she was, a rabbit running from a wolf.

Please! Someone help me! She screamed aimlessly as she sprinted past fire escapes and boarded up windows. The end of the alley split in two directions. She ran left into a dead end.

No, no, no! She gasped as she slipped on the icy asphalt. She fell to the ground hard, hitting her head against the pavement, knocking the wind from her lungs. Her vision blurred and tinted red with blood. But adrenaline was now controlling her body. She pushed past the pain and scrambled to her feet. She knocked a trashcan down in her pursuer’s path before launching herself towards the other end of the alley. Her breathing was sparse and rapid, the medical readout suggested a broken rib. Between the pain, her exhaustion, a high alcohol content, the cracked bone in her abdomen, and the ice, she had started to make mistakes. She began tripping over her own feet, losing speed while sobbing through rattled breathes. Terror was taking her over. She got closer to the end of the alley where drunken groups of people stumbled past the beneath neon lights. It was just a few hundred feet away to the main street. The muffled thumps of house music resonated on both sides of her and drowned out her unintelligible pleas for help. She was a car out of gas and out of time.

She looked back to see the shadow standing, silent, aiming something in her direction. Please! Leave me alone! she shouted as her legs and arms pumped harder trying to gain momentum. My heart started to race. It was beating like a goddamn drum as she closed the gap to the street beyond the alley’s walls. I found myself pacing, rooting for her to make it. When not twenty feet from the sidewalk filled with club goers, something hit her with a high voltage shock that coursed through her body.

Her vital signals terminated. The video feed went dark. I watched as teal bits of code scattered like ants across my screens as her COIN forced itself to reboot. When the feed came back on she was on the ground. Laura’s head sloshed this way and that as she looked down the alley through pixelated vision. As she looked out at the street getting further and further away. As she was being dragged back into the darkness before the feed shut off for good.

Chapter 1

Baltimore – June 28, 2305

Twenty-five sixty. Max Albright, the behemoth of a man behind the bar slapped the receipt down in front of me. He glowered down at me, the lenses in his eyes shifting into focus. I don't want to have to throw you outta here again, Mike.

You won't have to tonight, big guy, I pulled out my credit card and slid it on top of the slip of paper under Max's giant paw of a hand. I’ll pay up front for this one, Max grunted, uninterested, took the card to the register and swiped it through.

The bartender returned, sat a small glass down in front of me and filled it with whiskey.

And it's Michael, you of all people should know that by now. I drank the double shot down. The fumes made my eyes water.

"What are you doin’ back here, Mikey-boy?"

What a prick.

I need some information for the case I'm working.

The big man snorted, You're kiddin' me, right? He jammed a fat finger hard into my chest, You screwed me over last time I gave you somethin' or did you forget about that already?

Max, it was only a matter of time before you got caught with that crew of idiots you got running out of here. I leaned back to remove the sword of a finger from my sternum. Just so happens you got caught after I closed my case.

The servos in his joints whirred as he crossed his muscle wrapped arms.

Is that right? So, it was all just a big coincidence then? He stood in silence, the neon lights of beer signs dancing off his bald bowling ball of a head.

Yeah, something like that. I lied, staring up at the intimidating hulk.

Truth was, Max hadn't respected me back then. Thought I was a two-bit wannabe, just another bored ex-cop with a conscience. He gave me falsified information for a larceny case I'd been working. That intel put me onto several bad leads, which meant it took me longer to finally close the case, which meant I got paid less. I might be on the right side of the tracks, but for good or evil, you never get in the way of a man's living. So I thought I'd teach him a lesson.

I called up some old friends down at the station; had them stop into Max's Place for a drink and casual cuisine at 4 AM, just about the same time that Max and his goons regularly moved their stash of black market weapons from the basement to their vans for shipping and handling. Luckily for Max, he was outside at the time of the bust. He got a year with probation, but his two sidekicks got 5 big ones each. It was a slap on the wrist for him, but a punch to the gut for his side gig. Most importantly, he got my message.

I’ll tell you what Max, you help me with this case and I'll make a deal with you. I showed him my not so pearly whites. He stood there, silent, looking vaguely like a refrigerator in a white t-shirt.

Just as he was about to speak, a wave of smell washed over me. It reeked of sweat, body odor and filth. I turned to see a swamp rat of a man who’d plopped into the seat to my right. He held a fist full of small bills and ancient looking coins, relics of the past. Ironically, only the poorest of society used cash anymore. This guy fit into that category. His hair was greasy and plastered to his head. Visible dirt covered his tan skin. His mismatching patchwork of clothes hung off him in various levels of disarray.

Bartender! Get me a beer! he yelled. Max flashed a glance over at the man for a moment, then back at me. His eye implants constantly refocusing in the low light.

What kind of deal could you possibly offer me Conway? He said in a droll tone with a side of contempt.

That, my friend, depends on you..

The homeless man grew agitated by being ignored.

Hey Dickhead! he shouted, I said I want a goddamn beer! His rotten breath caught my senses off guard. It smelled like a trashcan fire and what I assumed to be pure carcinogens. Or shit. Probably shit. For a second there I thought I could taste my whiskey coming back up. Max, meanwhile, didn't take his gaze off me.

Ask whatever questions you want, but you're not getting anything unless you agree to my terms.

Well, that just doesn't seem fair Max. I said.

Fair? Motherfucker, you're lucky I don't kill you for showin' your face in here again. He said as a matter of fact.

Honestly, I just don't trust you Conway. Never have, never will. So, you agree to my terms or-- Before Max could finish laying the groundwork for a productive conversation, a glass mug came hurtling through the air towards him. The dirtbag next to me must've been really parched and really short on time.

Without so much as flinching Max snatched the mug out of midair, crossed the bar with unnatural speed and grabbed the man by the hair with his free hand. He smashed the mug into the homeless guy's temple causing a spray of glass shards and blood. He tossed the handle that remained behind him and brought the man's face down hard into the quartz bar top. The homeless man's noggin hit so hard that the glasses hidden away behind the bar clinked together. A grouping of small hairline fractures stretched out like a spider web where his skull collided with the polished stone. Max released his hold on the guy's hair letting his limp body crumple over and off the stool onto the hardwoods with an unpleasant thud.

The other few patrons at the bar looked over at what was happening with solemn faces. Clearly un-phased by the brief skirmish, they went back to slowly nursing their drinks. Must've been regulars.

Max wiped blood and grease off his hands on a dirty bar towel and tossed it aside and casually went back to his original position in front of me.

Like I was sayin', you agree to my terms or you can go fuck yourself.

I looked down at the pile of bloody laundry that was the homeless man. He was lying in an awkward position on the floor. Face down in blood that started to pool outwards, ass limply propped up by the stool. I reached into the inner pocket of my suit jacket and pulled out a cigarette. Turning back to Max I lit it and pulled a big drag. I made sure not to blow smoke in his direction, he hated that.

Alright then, I said as I crossed my arms, mirroring his stance from my stool, let's hear it.

You tell your friends down at the precinct to get the hell away from my place. Can't run a respectable business with them hangin’ around, he said spreading his hands, Cops scare my customers.

I looked down at the bleeding man again and then over to the customers down at the other end of the dingy bar. I found that statement a little hard to believe.

I also want you to get Jake Mansfield out of the clink. It's hard runnin’ this place without my bar-back.

You mean your gunrunner?

Screw you, Conway! He shouted as his face flared red as a Christmas tree bulb. Max stood fuming for a moment before his normal color returned after a few deep breaths. "This conversation is over, detective. Get the hell outta here." He turned his back away from me and started inspecting liquor bottles, tossing the empty ones into the trash.

Shit. I didn't have the pull to get anyone out of jail anymore. I didn't even know if I could get the boys to skip the bar on their routine patrols. But hell, a few little lies never hurt anyone, right?

Alright, alright man, chill out. I snuffed the small stub of the cig out in an ashtray. I'll get the cops to lay off and I'll get Jake out of central. You have my word.

Max sighed and stopped what he was doing, still not facing me. All offense intended Conway, but your word means less than shit to me.

Aww, Maxwell, thank you! He didn't seem to like that. I could hear tensioners in his arms kicking on, pulling his muscles tight. Listen, that's the deal. The information I need for your runner and room to get your business, I paused and looked around at the rest of the dive, "your real business, back up and running." Max still didn't turn.

Last time I'm ever gonna offer. Take it now or leave it now, up to you.

Finally, Max turned to face me again, his cybernetic eyes fixed in on me. They shifted slowly, looked a lot like those little security cameras you see on the ceilings of retail stores. Eye implants still freak me out, even after all these years on the streets. You can never know what people with eye mods are really thinking, and in my line of work that makes things... more unpredictable.

A disingenuous smile cut its way across