The REM Machine: A Time Travel Thriller: The REM Machine Series, #1

By Lena Raye Scott

She wants out of the criminal underworld. But first she has to remember her sins…

New York, 2061  

Kara Danilenko wakes in hospital with no memory of her past criminal life as a gang leader selling drugs and guns. She is stunned to learn she's the latest victim of New York's brutal crime lord, the Supplier. 

Max Field, ATF, has been chasing the Supplier since his last partner was butchered by him thirteen years ago, and Kara's memory could be the key to unlocking the shadowy crime lord's identity.

Sentenced to prison for her crimes, Kara is given one chance at exoneration—but first she has to agree to relive her gangland deeds in a terrifying memory machine.

Soon it becomes apparent that the machine is being used against her. And as she immerses herself deeper, Kara's dangerous journey into her past becomes a fight for survival.

Can Kara bring a crime lord to justice before he silences her forever?

 

The REM Machine is a fast-paced sci-fi thriller. If you like mind-twisting realities, gritty futures, and street-smart heroes, then you'll love Lena Raye Scott's adrenaline-fueled novel.

 

 

• Language: English
• Publisher: Lena Raye Scott
• Release date: Mar 27, 2020
• ISBN: 9781393270713

Book preview

Prologue

Kara Danilenko shivered. The east wind off the New York harbor tousled her hair, whipping the black strands around her face like they had a life of their own.

Wonder what the Supplier’s got for us today. Roman, her twin brother, sounded as excited as a kid on Christmas morning. The boat carrying their shipment of weapons eased up to the dock, cleverly disguised as an innocent fishing trawler. A crew member jumped onto the dock and tied the boat to a post.

Kara dug her hands into her pockets. The buzz she used to feel at an impending shipment from the Supplier—code name for the man who ran New York’s criminal underworld—had been missing for some time. It was as if anticipating the contents of the crates and marveling at the advanced specifications had dissipated all at once, leaving her with a feeling so hollow it scared her. Because running Sovereign with her twin brother was all she’d known for the last five years, since she was seventeen. And if she’d lost enthusiasm for the job…

Kara shook the thought away. No, she was probably just overtired or something. Running their organization that manufactured the popular opioid jump and sold illegal firearms was a full-time job in itself. Add to that being a mother to a high-energy five-year-old, and it was an achievement she could keep her eyes open most days. The feeling would pass. It had to.

Kara, you okay?

Kara glanced at a dark-skinned giant of a man with a heart of warm gold. If ever someone could be the complete opposite of how they looked, it was Moses Ejzifo. His six-foot-five frame, dark tattooed skin and facial scars implied a mean, angry, pulverizing-machine but in fact, Moses was gentle, kind and caring as well as a soon-to-be-dad. Being a core member of Sovereign meant he shared their farmhouse in the Catskills but also spent time at his girlfriend’s apartment in the city.

I’m fine. Just tired. She smiled to throw him off scent. Moses was perceptive and, although loyal to her and her brother, she didn’t want him aware of this gradual change that had crept up on her, at least not until she had a chance to work through it on her own.

The crew stacked the crates on the dock and she, Roman and Moses loaded them into the back of their van. These weapons were from South America; more specifically, South American law enforcement agencies. It was common knowledge that obsolete military-grade weapons were handed down to law enforcement agencies because, although being outdated for the military, they were still useful for federal agencies. It was the same in New York, but tighter U.S. security made it difficult to get locally-sourced weapons. The Supplier had many contacts in South America, and what contacts he didn’t have he had enough money and power to bribe whoever needed bribing. No doubt he already had tonight’s Coast Guard personnel on his payroll to allow the fishing trawler to pass through with ease.

With the crates in the van, Kara, Roman and Moses were ready to leave.

Hey, where are you going? one of the crew shouted after them. You gotta take these people, too.

What people? Roman asked.

The crew member disappeared inside the boat, and Kara tried to squint through the boat’s dirty windows. They were here to collect their crates of weapons just like always. The Supplier hadn’t mentioned anything about taxiing people around in his text message to her yesterday.

The man reappeared with three women and a child. All were covered in grime, their hair and clothes unkempt, and they wore no shoes. They looked like the advertisements for South America’s needy and poor.

Who the hell are they? Roman looked them up and down with distaste.

They’re for him.

An older man had emerged from below deck, and the way he spoke with undeniable authority led Kara to conclude he was the captain. He asked us to bring him more people.

Kara exchanged baffled looks with her brother and Moses. More people? What the hell was going on?

Bull. Roman was quick to call the captain out. There was little difference between herself and Roman—same black hair, same translucent skin and striking green eyes—except she kept a tighter handle on her emotions. Roman ran hot, whereas she was ice-cold.

I don’t believe that, Roman railed. This is probably your way of smuggling in people that paid for passage on your boat. No way I’m getting caught up in any of that.

They didn’t pay. He did. He always pays, the captain insisted.

He’s done this before? Kara asked.

She found it hard to believe the Supplier was trafficking people from South America. Since she’d known him, he had always dealt with people like her—people who knew what was on the other side of the door before opening it. Not innocents.

Many times.

The captain was convincing, and she was inclined to believe him. Kara studied the women standing barefoot on the dock, shivering in barely enough clothes to be considered decent. Her heart especially went out to the little girl. She wasn’t much older than her own daughter and had only a thin shawl wrapped around her shoulders. Their downcast and forlorn faces told Kara none of them wanted to be here.

It was Moses who came up with a logical solution.

Why don’t you guys call him and find out the deal? You don’t want to make any rash decisions.

I’m calling him. Roman whipped out his phone and punched in the number. Kara hovered behind him, her insides tightening as Roman spoke to the Supplier, trying to separate fact from fiction.

What did he say? she asked when he hung up.

Roman brushed his hair out of his eyes and fixed his gaze on her.

They’re his. We take them with us to the warehouse. Tie them up. He’ll be sending his man over to collect them in a couple days.

What? Kara couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Since when did the Supplier do human trafficking? What does he want with them?

Roman looked away and shrugged. I didn’t ask any questions, he muttered.

The tight line of his jaw spoke volumes about how not okay he was with this.

Roman, we can’t do this, Kara said in Serbian so nobody else, including Moses, would understand. It’s not right.

No kidding! Roman rarely got angry with her, and Kara took a step back from the venom in his voice. She told herself he was more angry at being helpless in this situation than with her. But what the hell are we supposed to do?

It was a rhetorical question, but she answered it anyway. We can say no.

He scoffed and turned to the water, training his gaze across the calm surface. Just say no, huh?

He shook his head like she’d made a bad joke. When he looked back at her, his eyes were sad but there was a hardness there too.

If we don’t do it, he’ll just get someone else to bring them in. And he’ll most likely kill us for not carrying out orders. Besides, you don’t think he’s seen all this already? We don’t have a choice.

Roman turned to Moses and switched back to English. Put them in the van. Let’s get this over with.

Kara swallowed her protest. Roman was right about the Supplier. In addition to not being a man one said no to, he had the ability to predict events and even conversations before they happened. He’d already seen the decision they would make regarding these people and the fact she and her brother weren’t dead right now meant he’d seen them obey his orders.

Moses stepped forward to grab the arm of one of the women but when she shrank away from him, he backed off and gently herded them all toward the van. The little girl started to cry, and Kara felt sick. She wished she could stop this. Sovereign trafficked jump and guns. Never people.

The women clambered into the back of the van, squeezing in among the stacked crates. Kara wondered if one of the women was the child’s mother because none of them displayed any maternal affection toward her at all.

She wanted to ask them where they’d all come from, why they were here. Had they been promised an amazing and prosperous life in America or had they just been snatched from the streets, leaving their families sick with worry? But even if they understood English, she knew she couldn’t ease the fear in their eyes with lies that everything was going to be okay.

Her stomach twisted in a sickening knot of bile and anger. What the hell did the Supplier want with them?

She sat between Roman and Moses at the front of the van, an uncomfortable silence settling in with them like a fourth entity. This was not okay by any of their standards.

You guys think this is a test? Moses muttered. His hands were on the wheel, but he hadn’t started the engine yet.

Can’t think what the hell for. Roman raked his hand through his hair. We should go.

The hour drive to their warehouse was rough, especially when they reached woodland and had to drive off-road. It wasn’t so bad up front, but there had been occasions in the past when crates had toppled over in the back. If they fell, they might seriously injure one of the women, so Kara insisted they keep stopping to check the crates remained upright.

Their warehouse was a simple metal structure under constant surveillance by four armed members of Sovereign. It was rare for rival gangs to try to steal their merchandise—the Supplier kept things orderly in the underworld—but Kara liked to be on the safe side.

Moses backed the van up as close to the entrance as possible.

The whole journey, Kara had struggled with the idea of calling in an anonymous tip after they left the females at the warehouse. Doing so would cause all of Sovereign’s weapons to be confiscated—which she would be okay with at this point—but it would also ignite the Supplier’s suspicion. He knew the location of their farmhouse in the Catskills. He would retaliate. And all for what?

She wouldn’t have stopped him; he’d be free to source more people after he’d killed her and her crew. She had to be smarter than that. Smarter than him.

They met with him once a month to give him a percentage of their profits but killing him wasn't an option because of his ability of prediction. He called them glimpses, and he used them for protection. If he saw her kill him in a glimpse … no. Her only course of action was to gather evidence against him.

She stepped out of the van, her plan gaining ground. If she could gather enough damning evidence exposing his true identity and criminal dealings, he’d be convicted on the spot.

Her heart picked up pace, and her fingers tingled. That buzz of excitement she thought had gone for good began again. It seemed it had been lying dormant, awaiting a worthy reason to reignite.

Moses opened the van’s back doors, and the women cowered in the corner. Kara knew her plan would come too late for these victims.

And it broke her heart.

Chapter One

Three Months Later

Well, that went better than expected, Roman said loudly, walking ahead of Kara through the dim foyer of Julio’s New Jersey casino. I thought we’d have to kick his ass.

Two of Julio’s burly bouncers standing by the door glared at them, and Kara tightened her grip on the bag of cash they’d just received from Julio in exchange for fourteen laser-point rifles.

She didn’t doubt her fighting skills, but sometimes her brother’s mouth wasn’t worth the trouble. He’d done that on purpose, speaking English, trying to get a rise out of them, probably because he’d be missing his weekly boxing session tonight, and his knuckles were already tingling.

Kara quickly pasted a sweet smile for the two men, winking at one, which prompted him to slide a hand over her jean-clad ass.

Thankfully, Roman was already pushing open the heavy glass door so he didn’t see, or he would’ve gotten his boxing session after all.

If I’d stayed inside there for five more minutes, I’d have puked. Roman sucked in lungfuls of New Jersey air like a drowning man.

He was back to speaking Serbian, his preferred language of communication with her. That Julio lives like a rat in a sewer.

Kara blinked, her eyes adjusting to the fading light. She had to admit the fresh evening air was a welcome relief after forty minutes in Julio’s muggy, stale office.

What kinda lunatic doesn’t have air conditioning on in the middle of August? Roman continued.

A lunatic we just overcharged by about three percent?

Roman laughed and threw an arm around her as they headed for Morristown’s train station.

Hey, he really wanted those laser rifles. Didn’t wanna break his little heart and tell him that in about three months, lasers will be as obsolete as…

He snapped his fingers the way he did whenever he couldn’t think of a phrase.

As televisions? Kara suggested.

Yes. Roman pointed at her. Good one.

Kara smiled. This was basically their relationship. He’d get an impulse of an idea, and Kara would take the time and effort to fill in the blanks. It worked well. And it had worked well for the past five years. But Kara was coming to realize that raising her daughter against a backdrop of crime was not what she wanted for either of them.

Sovereign was a lucrative business, but she wanted more than just money. Mia was getting older, and Kara wanted to build a stable life for her—one where her daughter could trust that her mother would return home at the end of each day. So in addition to gathering evidence on the Supplier, Kara was also planning to leave Sovereign. She just hadn’t told her brother yet.

The train station terminal was busy, full of commuters rushing home to their families for that tiny burst of quality time before having to do it all again tomorrow.

She’s here, Roman said after checking his phone and flicking through his messages.

Kara nodded as Roman pulled away and disappeared into the crowd. Heading in the opposite direction, toward the lady’s restroom, she kept her head angled away from the security scanners.

She’d done her homework. She knew the layout of this station and where every security scanner was located. Recon was incredibly important in her line of work. It marked that fine line she tight-roped every time she left home: the one that determined whether she would be ending her day in prison or not.

A retina scanner placed high above the restroom door identified people as they entered. Kara ducked her head, pretending to dig in her jacket pocket. That move would probably cause the automated system to flag her as an unidentified civilian. But the flag would be lifted when her next interaction at a security checkpoint would be with a valid HoloPass.

There were about a dozen stalls inside the restroom, half of which were empty. A familiar red coat was draped over the door of one, and Kara took the stall directly next to it.

Sitting on the lidded seat, she unzipped the bag of cash and counted out the agreed amount. She held the bundle of notes under the stall divider until it was taken and replaced with two HoloPasses for today’s date: August 14, 2061.

She didn’t need to check the quality; the work Vila did was exemplary.

Vila was the word for fairy in Serbian, so Kara thought it a fitting name to dub her because what this female could do with anything technology-related was magical. She was in high demand in the underworld because she was so damn good.

As far as Kara knew, Vila acted as a mercenary, a free spirit working for whomever she chose to as long as the reward was worth her while.

Kara pocketed the passes and waited until Vila exited her stall, flushing the toilet as cover. She then set the countdown timer on her phone to three minutes to protect both her and Vila’s identity.

When the American Transport Committee changed the travel rules to one-way tickets only, Kara knew exactly why they’d done it: to make traveling under false identities much more difficult. In order to purchase a train ticket, one had to use the newer fingerprint scanners, which posed a problem for criminals. Their fingerprints were forever logged into the legal system from their first offense.

The U.S. government knew exactly who Kara was, and scanning her prints would probably send all of the acronym agencies storming to her location. It was the reason she and her crew stayed off the grid as much as possible and lived over two hours away from New York City in a remote farmhouse in the Catskill Mountains.

Three minutes later, she left the restroom and messaged Roman to meet her by the information kiosk. She handed him his HoloPass, and they walked upstairs to the security checkpoint.

The first time Kara had done this, she’d been a terrified teen. Now, she inserted her pass into the machine with all the confidence of someone who belonged.

Unsurprisingly, the pass was accepted, the machine believing her to be whoever’s prints were on it. Same for Roman.

It was known as clean hands. A law-abiding civilian could make a lot of money working for criminal organizations because they had something no criminal could ever get back. Clean hands. Fingerprints that wouldn’t flag the automated system in places cash couldn’t be used like hospitals, most stores and transport terminals.

Their train arrived a little before 7 p.m. It would take around two and a half hours to reach Manhattan, but Kara didn’t anticipate much rest within that time, since Roman’s favorite pastime was talking.

I’ve been thinking about learning to drive, Roman said, sitting across from her. Or rather, learning to ride.

Kara watched him carefully, hoping to see a hint of humor. Anything that would assure her he’d never do something so stupid, not after what they’d been through.

Are you serious?

I’m serious.

He fiddled with the diamond stud in his left ear, avoiding her gaze like he was more interested in the passing scenery outside.

Cars are safe now, they practically drive themselves.

Not ones that aren’t government licensed, she reminded him. "And you said learning to ride. Even if you could get clean hands to register you for a motorcycle, there’s no self-drive on them."

Ollie and Keith ride motorcycles, and they’ve always been fine, he said, like that was a valid defense.

Oliver Dutton and Keith O’Shea were the remaining core Sovereign members that lived with them in the Catskills. She loved them like brothers, and it scared her every time she heard them roar away on their bikes.

Ollie said he’d teach me when I’m ready.

The quiet defiance in Roman’s eyes was unmistakable. It said I’m sick of having our fear hanging over me.

All it takes is one time, Roman. You know that.

Weeks before their twelfth birthday, their parents had been killed in an automobile accident. From there, everything that followed—from being forced into an orphanage to being smuggled into America—had been hell.

Roman still wouldn’t look at her and kept his face turned toward the window so she couldn’t read his expression.

Promise me. Roman.

He turned back to her almost reluctantly, a hint of that defiance still in his eyes. Fine, I promise.

She had no choice but to take him at his word. The only problem was, his word only counted for as long as she remained in Sovereign. After that, he could operate any vehicle he wanted, with or without the self-drive feature installed. He might even do so in retaliation to her perceived abandonment of him.

She would ask him, but she doubted he would leave Sovereign with her. Gang life had its hooks in him deep. Alex, the previous leader of Sovereign, had spent years grooming Roman as his protégé. When Alex disappeared five years ago, it had been a natural progression for Roman to take his place.

Leaving her brother would be the hardest thing she’d ever have to do. Just as he’d pleaded with her to join him in leading Sovereign, he would plead with her to stay. She didn’t just need courage to tell him her decision, she needed courage to stick to it.

The train pulled into the hub of Grand Central Station a little after nine thirty. Outside, Kara scanned the vehicles waiting in the pick-up bay and spotted Moses’ sleek black Jeep, the engine purring idly like a tamed beast.

She slid into the passenger seat, and Roman jumped in the back.

For the past several days, Moses had been tracking Craig Adams, a former street dealer for Sovereign, who’d disappeared after stealing five hundred and sixty grand and about half that amount in jump from them a week ago.

Moses found him in four days, reporting that Craig was holed up in an abandoned apartment building in Queens. She and Roman were headed there now to pay him a visit.

Hey, how’d it go with Julio? Moses’ deep voice rumbled throughout the dark interior as he pulled away from the curb.

Fine, she said, closing her eyes and savoring the smooth jazz music playing over the stereo.

She was exhausted and would much rather be on her way home for a relaxing bath instead of having to handle the issue of Craig. But if word got out they’d not dealt with him, Sovereign would lose all the respect they’d built up over the years and when she left, she’d be leaving Roman in charge of a crumbling empire. She couldn’t do that to him.

Not sure he’ll still feel like a satisfied customer in a few months, but we told him no refunds.

She and Moses laughed at Roman’s joke about the fast-growing redundancy of laser rifles.

Julio was an amateur with a failing casino, trying to get rich in the arms dealing business. The way Kara saw it, if he’d done his homework, he wouldn’t have gotten ripped-off.

Is Craig still alone in that apartment? she asked Moses. He was an excellent tracker, but even Kara was impressed he’d found Craig so fast.

Yep, so far not a soul has come or gone since I’ve been watching him.

The building Craig had chosen was in an area awaiting a city grant to start a long-planned regeneration project. The whole area would be abandoned, which would be good for them but bad for Craig.

Twenty minutes later, the Jeep rolled to a stop at the mouth of an alley. Moses pointed out a lone apartment building with an external fire escape further down the street.

There. Apartment 418, top floor. There’s access from the roof.

Thanks. She opened the glove compartment and passed Roman his semi-auto before removing her own Sig Sauer Pro. She strapped her weapon to her thigh and jumped out of the vehicle, followed by Roman.

Together, they strode toward the four-story apartment building and climbed the fire escape to the roof.

The area looked as bad as an abandoned area could look, riddled with graffiti and strewn with rubbish. Several flickering streetlights cast a weak glow on the area, as if ashamed.

The lock on the roof door leading into the apartment building was broken, which wasn’t surprising in a derelict building. Either Craig had broken in or someone else had before him.

Inside was pitch black. Kara removed her Sig Sauer Pro from her holster, and Roman did the same. They navigated the hall, Roman shining his flashlight on each apartment number before moving onto the next.

Here, Roman whispered, stopping outside 418.

This door, just like the others, was covered in graffiti. Kara tried the handle. It was locked. She reached into her back pocket for the lock-picking tools she always carried. It took just fifteen seconds with her tension wrench and short hook for the lock to snap open.

Maybe when they reinvest in this area, they’ll make it a point to have better locking mechanisms, she whispered.

Yeah, but if they do that, then how will they pocket most of the grant for themselves?

Good point, she conceded.

Roman was referring to the rumors circulating about the mayor and other prominent government officials embezzling funds meant for regeneration projects of poorer areas of the city. Several extensive investigations into the claims had turned up nothing, which wasn’t entirely surprising since most of the cops in New York were on the mayor’s private payroll.

She pushed open the door. The studio apartment was smelly and dirty, like squatters had come and gone. It was also empty.

Kara holstered her gun, wrinkling her nose in disgust as Roman shined his flashlight over a filthy mattress under the window. The sheets were disheveled, like someone had recently been asleep under them. Several empty syringes and foil packets were scattered by the bed.

Shooting jump was potentially lethal. It flooded the bloodstream much too quickly, risking cardiac arrest. Kara had known only serious addicts to do it that way but by the time she was through with him, Craig would be wishing he’d overdosed.

The toilet flushed behind a door at the other end of the room. Roman shut off his flashlight and stepped up to the door as it opened. Under the bathroom’s fluorescent lighting, she caught a glimpse of surprised terror on Craig’s face before her brother punched him hard in the stomach.

Craig doubled over and collapsed to his knees. Roman, a foot or so taller, dragged him up by his hair and propelled him toward her, dropping him at her feet like yesterday’s garbage. Which, in effect, Craig was.

Thieves were in a whole morally debased class of their own. A business was nothing without trust, and she’d trusted Craig. She’d handpicked everyone who worked for Sovereign, including their street dealers, so for him to steal from them wounded her more than she cared to admit.

Where’s our money? Kara clenched her fists, her nails digging crescent moons into her palms.

The money Craig stole had been earmarked for the Supplier. Every month, they were required to give him a percentage of