Chapter 3

Bobby

7:30 PM

Bobby pounded on the door to Dr. Slazney's office. It said Stanley on the sign. When Bobby had asked about it, the doctor laughed and said he'd bought the building from another doctor and didn't want to change the name. It was close enough, and he wanted to keep the same clients.

That should have been the first red flag.

It was well outside office hours, and the small office was locked. According to Kat, Dr. Stanley mostly catered to the oddball and cosplay crowds, but he was discreet and located on the way home. He would take any commission, no questions asked. Bobby came here last week to get the chew. Several people had been waiting in the small office located just behind the strip mall. Whenever he stopped at McDonald's, even late at night, people went in and out. "I should've known better."

"Ya looking for the doctor?" A woman in a blue smock said, walking by with a take-out bag, puffing on a smoke. "He left here this morning. Pushed everyone out and locked the door. I was fricken pissed. I needed to get my prescription filled so I could go back on comp," she hacked her way through the smoke.

Bobby narrowed his eyes and took a step back from her.

"Don't mind me. Just ate some bad chilli. No plague or nothing, sheesh!" She took another drag and pointed her fingers at him. "If you see him, tell him Jillian's looking for him."

He nodded and went back to his truck. Getting behind the wheel, Bobby punched the steering wheel and let out a sigh.

"Dammit. What's going on here? I just picked up the chew this morning. I knew the Shujing would call soon and wanted to be ready." Picking up his phone, he dialled Ryan. It was time to get out of here.

He held the phone to his ear and listened to the dial tone. No answer. He hung up and tried again. Still nothing, not even a voicemail. "Fuck, Ryan. You told me to call if anything happened. This qualifies." He threw his phone on the seat next to him and put his hands over the steering wheel.

His mind raced back to where he first saw that code. It was a year before his brother died. Gregory sent him to break that sketchy business and take care of the owner. That was the easy part. Then he'd found that crazy bootleg Crue single and the code hidden underneath, which he swore was written in his own style. It had been eye-opening, magic even, able to pull things through time and space, but it ruined his life. It had forced him to come to America, costing him everything.

"Fucking-hell. What do I do now, Vlad?" Bobby lay his head on his hands and looked at his missing pinky. When he first got to America, he wanted to get revenge on Ivan and Gregory, but as the memory blocks settled in, he'd forgotten about that. Now all he had to do was make it through the day. Not make waves. Maybe hit the odd Crue concert.

Bobby jerked up. "I remembered blocking my memory, fuck me. If that code is back, maybe I could use it? Last time it stole my life as payment, but now, I've got nothing." He could still feel it tickling around his memory blocks, but when he tried to focus on it directly, it was like grabbing onto what was left of Vince Niel's talent. You know it's in there and can feel nuggets of gold, but when you focus on it, only the dross comes pouring out. "If I work on it, maybe..."

"No, that code is what killed Vlad." Bobby started his truck. "It can't be controlled. The cost is too high."

His computer had a better net connection. Maybe he could reach Ryan that way, and he could listen to some Crue videos while looking into Slazney.

Ming Na Liu

8:30 PM

Ming doodled on the napkin. She wrote Slazney's name in cursive and underlined it. Flipping the pencil across her knuckles, she brought it back around and started drawing circles under his name. "Fricken bastard! Where the hell are you?" she murmured.

She was back in her hoodie and jeans. Dean's eyes were ready to pop out when she turned up in the glitzy dress, but that wasn't her. Maybe she could find time to wear it again. It was fun to tease him, but she wasn't sure where their relationship was headed. He was still trust-shy after the thing with his wife, but warming up to her, though. No matter what, she was willing to take her time. She'd been waiting ever since they were kids.

She'd arrived at Dhara's Diner a few minutes ago. The hefty owner brought her a coffee and scoffed when Ming Na waved her away without ordering anything more. This place was an exposé away from getting shut down, the way Dhara ran it. She'd do it too if the Red Dragon wasn't such a juicer target. When Yichen bought it from the triad and changed the name to The Shujing, it didn't fool anybody. It was still the same thing, laundering money for its secret backer. Every lead she'd found on the man had led nowhere. He was a ghost.

What is his connection to my family?

Sipping her black gold, she watched the door open, and Dean walked in.

Colin Farrell came to mind when she imagined who'd play him in a movie if the man were a shade darker. They shared the same aura before the penguin thing. Ming imagined him sweeping her off her feet, just like when they first met. She wished he'd wear a better brand name than K-Mart, but a cop's salary, even a detective's, didn't leave much to spend on anything. Besides, after the scandal with his wife, he refused to put on airs. Said it wasn't necessary.

"Gotta break through his ice shell," she mumbled.

"What was that?" he said, sitting across from her. He pulled out a menu. "You say something?"

"Just wondering what the specials are?" She covered her mouth with a cup of coffee. "You're late, Lifante. I've been here for ten minutes."

"Sorry. I had to deal with your angry uncle, and some interesting things came up when we checked the security feeds." He waved the server over and ordered a plate of hash browns and a coffee.

Ming placed her coffee down and got out her notebook. This was not the time for fantasies. "What did you find?" she asked, her pencil twitching. "The body?"

"I wish," he said, putting his elbows on the table and steepling his fingers in front of his face. "If it weren't for the blood and the security camera, we wouldn't even have a lead. So far, nothing has come back on the name. I don't believe it's her real one, but we'll go through the motions. We're looking into her connections to the Shujing. I know your investigation is in the works on your uncle, but I don't think the victim's connected."

Ming Na wrote in her notebook. All her colleagues recorded their notes on their phones, but she liked the tactile feel. Besides, nothing could hack into paper. "I see," she clicked her tongue in frustration. One day, she'd find something on Yichen. "Do you have a name for me?"

"Barbie," Dean said, through a mouthful of hash browns. "Based on the pink clothes we found in the room, she embraced the name." He washed everything down with a gulp of coffee, spilling some on his tie.

She sighed and held her hand to her eyes.

"What?"

"I like you, Lifante. You're the best detective I've ever met, even if you rely on your instinct too much, but I know exactly why women hate you." She lowered her hand, and he'd already inhaled the potatoes. "You eat like a pig."

He wrinkled his nose at her. "Hardy, Har, Har. Just for that, I won't tell you the other thing we found."

Ming put on an innocent face and put her fingers into her cheeks. "Please, Mr. Lifante. I didn't mean to insult your manliness." She couldn't stop her eyes from rolling when she said that and watched him chuckle. She knew exactly what buttons to push with this man, and as long as she always told him the truth, they'd be okay.

"Fine. The security cameras corroborated what the witnesses said. There was someone outside the room cleaning the windows when they blew. We don't know who it was yet, but we recorded him trying to break into the room. There's no way to tell if he saw the murder or if he was trying to give himself an alibi. Records from the hotel say their contracted window cleaning company is outside the strip. A place called Squeegee R' Us."

"Where do they come up with these names?" Ming snorted and took a sip of her coffee. "That's not the important news, is it?"

Dean told her.

"Say that name again," she said, grabbing her pencil and leaning forward. "It can't be."

Dean pursed his lips and repeated himself. "When we ran the cleaning business, we found it was tied to a shell company. It took some favours, but I discovered the owner is someone named Slazney. Weren't you looking for him?"

Ming snapped the pencil in her hand. Finally, after all these years. This was the backer. He was now tied to two businesses. She was getting close. "You've given me the perfect present. I'm going to kiss you for this, Lifante. I need to talk to the Squeegee Place owner. Now!"

"I thought you might." Dean handed her a note with the information on it. "Be quiet about this. If word got out that I was handing information in an active investigation to a reporter, Zacoski would have me back on traffic duty."

"You don't have to worry. This is just between you and me." She stood up and planted a kiss on his cheek. "Paid in full," she said, leaving so he wouldn't see her red face. She didn't turn back until she was at the door to the diner. When she glanced at him, Dean hadn't moved, but he'd placed a hand on his cheek.

Bobby

8:00 PM

Closing the door to his truck, Bobby tried Ryan again. The number rang and rang, but this time it went to voicemail. "Dammit. If you're out on a date, I'm going to kill you," he grumbled. "You're supposed to be available twenty-four seven." Turning, he walked to his trailer. Located outside Vegas on the edge of the desert. It got too hot during the day, but the land was useless for anything else. The hotels didn't want it, and the tourists stayed away. It usually took him an hour to get to work, but Bobby didn't mind. With the window cleaning business paying in cash and not asking questions, he could hide from Gregory. Other than Chip, it was perfect.

He wouldn't miss leaving Miss Grafinks, his neighbour, though. The curtain twitched in the trailer next door. That old bat was probably waiting for him to show up. He waved at the closed window, and the curtain twitched again. She needed a better hobby.

Getting out his keys, Bobby halted. Today, there was a package on his doorstep. It was about the size of a small pillow, wrapped in plastic. A chill ran through him, and it wasn't from the desert breeze.

He narrowed his eyes. "What the hell is this?" Picking up a stick from the brush next to his trailer, he poked the package. "Someone's idea of a joke?" When it didn't go off, he looked at the address on the top. It was addressed to him from Dr. Slazney.

"Slazney. That quack," he growled and picked it up. Probably his idea of a joke. Picking up the thing, he opened the door to his trailer and went inside. Tossing it on the table, he went to his fridge and pulled out a beer. He popped the top and chugged the whole thing. Today had been the worst day he'd had since coming to this country. He still didn't know who the dead girl was, and after pushing his guilt down, he didn't want to. He had gotten his fill of dead bodies in Russia. The further he stayed away from this, the better.

He turned back to the package; all the tension left his body, and he sagged. "Fuck!" He had to know what was inside it. Grabbing a cutter from his drawer, he slit the plastic and opened it up. There was another tin of the chew, half the size of the first one, with the name Slazney across the top and a note.

"Thank you for coming to my store today, Bobby. Kat always spoke very highly of you. I hope you enjoyed the product. Here is a free sample to pass out to your friends. I forgot to give it to you this morning when you arrived." It was signed 'Slazney'.

Bobby looked at the tin and tensed up again. If this were a free sample, he was a Metallica fan. He blinked and shook his head to relieve his fatigue.

"I can't believe someone could just weave a code into a window." He took another sip of the beer. "Those windows have been there for years. There was no way that was the same code as before," he said out loud. "It just didn't make sense. That code doesn't just exist in a vacuum. Besides, I haven't met anybody here who even knew how to write in proper Cyrillic. They'd screw up any attempt to code properly." Bobby ran his hand through his hair. The code had faded somewhat and was no longer poking at his memory blocks. He yawned. "I'm going to regret this, aren't I?"

"Whatever letters I saw must have just been my mind filling in the blanks at seeing another dead body. A flashback to when Vlad was killed." He smacked his fist into his palm. He'd erased everything about how to use the code and set up strong blocks to prevent any relapse. "There's no way I saw that thing. My blocks were too good," he snorted.

Convinced, he opened up the tin and winced. "What is it about Americans and medicine that makes them want it to taste like the inside of a toilet?" He set the tin on the counter and covered it with a towel. Maybe he'd get Ryan to mail it to Kat after he got out of this place.

His stomach started growling. Grabbing a bowl from the sink, he filled it with some Captain's cereal and milk. He turned on the TV and sat down on his bed. He had maybe a day or two before the police got here if he was lucky. They'd have to contact Chip first, and that yutz hated working off the clock. Reminded me so much of Vlad at times. Maybe tomorrow morning at the earliest. He could get some sleep and deal with this crap then.

"Tonight's Top Story!" the TV blared.

"Police have closed down the Shujing Hotel, located in the downtown area, while they search for a missing body," the reporter standing in front of the hotel said. "Sources have confirmed that the police have lost the body of a young woman found in the fourth-floor room and are combing the hotel at the moment."

Bobby continued to eat his cereal, drooling milk. After this, he'd do a quick run around the neighbourhood, shower, and exercise before sleep. He never missed the news, though. The reporter was a cute one, and he always liked watching her move.

"Detective Dean Lifante is in charge of the investigation. While no suspect has been named, the police have released a picture of a person of interest. They are looking for him now. We have obtained a copy of the picture from a trusted source and will show it to you here. First." She waved to the man off-screen.

The spoonful of Captain's dropped from Bobby's hand, and he spilled milk and cereal all over his bed. He grabbed his phone and tried Ryan again. There was no way he could stay here now, not with his picture all over the TV. They didn't have his new name yet, but it was only a matter of time before Gregory showed up. What the fuck was Chip doing? "Must have been thinking with his little 'ip'," he mumbled.

"Hello, Ryan speaking."

"Finally! Where have you been? I need..." the message continued, cutting him off.

"I'm sorry, but my machine is down. I will be unavailable for the next few days. If it's urgent, please contact Mr. Wilson at 555-6767. Thank you."

Bobby let go of his phone and put his hands over his head. "Fuck!!!"

Barbie

8:30 PM

Barbie stuck her head through the bathroom wall. The plebs had finally left, taking all the blood evidence with them. She needed that back if she wanted to regain her corporeal form. For the moment being in this ghost form was saving energy, but it was limited to only keeping her together.

She'd expelled most of the remaining nanites to create that counter code. Even if they were offline, the Maker could bring them back. They only have a twenty-four-hour window outside a living host; after that, they start to break down and become completely inert after forty-eight hours.

Squealing in glee, she pumped her fists in the air and rotated around in a circle, drifting towards the open window. It had worked. She'd confirmed it before going ghost. The virus wasn't in the Maker now. Her program had supplanted it and suppressed Bobby's cortisol levels. All he had to do was go to sleep, and then it would activate. When he woke up, he'd complete the code in his sleep, and it would lead him to her and force him to recreate her body.

Then he'd have no choice but to come back with her.

Soul transfer was much easier. She reached up and touched the scar on her neck and grimaced. It was good she found that knife. If only she hadn't had to slice her neck, but blood was always the most powerful, and lifeblood would ensure the connection had been severed.

"Why'd you have to medicate yourself, Maker?" she said, stomping her foot and puffing out her cheeks. "You were fighting the download so well, too. Headaches are just a small price to pay for your safety."

Concentrating on her feet, she forced her remaining nanites to retain cohesion. Being a ghost was draining them quicker than she expected. Floating was fun, but it made it difficult to get anywhere. Stepping on the floor, Barbie walked through the door. Until the Maker finished recreating the code, she had no way to find him before the damage to her body became irreversible. Records of Vegas in this time were spotty, at best, and he lived on a grid.

She'd seen the owner stalking away from the lead detective. "Maybe if I stick around the old man, he'll lead me closer to the Maker," she mused. "I can also haunt you in the meantime. Pay you back for feeling up my tushy."

Ivan

8:00 PM

LA

Gregory wiped the remains of the remote control from his lap and looked up at Ivan, knocking a folder to the floor. A picture of Petor slid out. The scar down Gregory's cheek pulsed with his anger. Two men approached a third man with a smoking hole in his chest, the size of a dinner plate, but shaped like a hand.

"We were in Vegas a few months ago on a business trip. Why didn't we know Petor was there?" Gregory asked.

Ivan didn't move. His shadow swallowed Gregory.

"Who is this Slazney? Why'd he send this information?"

Ivan pointed to the man being dragged out.

Gregory sighed. "Drive to Vegas. All night if you have to. Find Petor. You have my permission to use your talents, but don't kill him. I don't want a repeat of this incident, and I want that code."

Ivan nodded.