Chapter 6

Ming Na Liu

2:00 PM

WHERE IS MY SHUJING STORY? I WANT IT BY 5 OR YOU'RE OUT OF A JOB.

"Useless piece of shit!" Ming leaned forward and yelled at her computer screen. Her editor had just sent another all-caps message. She didn't have time for arrogant power trippers. Whatever happened to her at the hotel was still digging around in her mind, and she needed to take care of that first.

After taking the window-washing truck back to Squeegees R Us and thanking Kat, Ming drove to Bobby's trailer park. Sitting in her car, she ran some time-travel, code-jumping scenarios through the AI programs. She needed to understand what she saw. Computer code doesn't just invade a person's mind. It stays on the screen and does ... computer stuff.

"Can you write a computer code that could cause bodies to disappear?"

- Sorry, this function is unknown. ---

Ming hit the side of her car seat. She didn't want to punch the computer. After the last time, her editor refused to supply a new laptop.

"Waste of space!"

"Mother Fucker!" she yelled at her phone and shoved it in her purse. "What's up with you useless new AI programs?" she asked the computer. "Did somebody design you to screw up people's lives?" She grumbled. "I wouldn't put it past the FBI to piggyback on these things just to track down undesirables."

Ming stared out the window. The Vegas sun was pounding down, and her AC was blasting her face. She tried again. "Can you write a time travel program?"

- Sorry, that is the realm of science fiction. Any program we write will be unable

to perform such an act. If you have any other programming-related questions,

please don't hesitate to ask. We are here to help. ---

Ming pushed her computer away and closed her eyes. Numbers and letters were still flowing behind her eyes, but most of the understanding she had gained had faded. The destruction she saw was also gone. She couldn't grasp what any of it meant beyond the need to travel through time. Even then, she couldn't say why.

She got out of her car and let the afternoon heat take her breath away. Coughing, she picked her way through the rubble of Bobby's home. Most of the big pieces had been hauled away, but there were still bits and pieces left to show her his life. A cracked Motley Crue commemorative plate, some CDs, mostly heavy metal, and one Best of Disney. She found a couple of computer programming books as well, but they had been badly burned and only covered the basics.

She still had some numbers left, rattling around in her head, but she needed someone to connect the dots, and a basic programming language wasn't going to cut it. CSI had already bagged everything they could find, but that didn't mean they were perfect. They usually stick with the big stuff. She needed to dig into the small details.

She waved her hand in front of her face to drive off the flies and get rid of a faint musk stinging her eyes. "Damn bugs. Wish I'd brought some spray. Bobby must've had some kinky cologne," she mumbled, bending down to shift some of the dirt.

After twenty minutes of shifting rocks, Ming stood up and stretched. "Nothing. There's no way I'm too old for this yet. I'm not even breaking a sweat." Just shy of thirty-five, she was hitting her stride as a journalist, even if her private life wasn't going how she wanted it to. Her mother had been calling her 'over the hill' for the last ten years when she wasn't guilting her for being unmarried. When Ming reminded her that this was America and people didn't say they were useless after twenty-five, her mother just nodded and didn't stop. Her father continued to spend most of his time on business trips. She needed this win, even if only to show them she could do it.

"Hey! What are you doing in my house?" a male voice said from her right.

A man stood under the window of the next trailer. The ones around the destruction area had been emptied, and the residents were placed in a hotel until the exact cause of the destruction could be determined. However, he was glancing back and forth at the windows as if he was expecting someone to be there.

He looked about forty, but his mullet made him seem older. He was still quite fit and handsome, in a cute, grungy kind of way. His Motley Crue T-shirt needed to be laundered, and he'd spilled coffee on his pants.

"Your house?" The thought clicked instantly. "That would make you Bobby Miladev then?" Ming reached for her notebook in her back pocket.

"That's right," Bobby crossed his arms and glared at her. "Now, what are the two of you doing in my house? Do you know how difficult it was to come back here? I had to make sure nobody was following me." He stopped and pointed to the right of Ming. "Why are you acting like a superfan at a Crue signing?"

Ming raised an eyebrow and wrote a note in her book. "Two? What are you talking about? I'm the only one here."

Bobby pursed his lips and pointed to her right. "I'm talking to the blonde in the pink clothes. I thought she died last night in the hotel room. Why are you even here? Do you know the trouble you caused me?"

"There's nobody there," Ming said, pointing to her right. She waved her arm through the space he was pointing at, and his face turned white. "The heat getting to you?" It was about a hundred and four degrees (forty degrees Celsius) today, but still cool.

"Fuck!" Bobby fell to his knees and pounded on the ground. "I knew there was something fucked up going on in my head. I hate seeing ghosts! God damn you, Slazney! I was perfectly happy with the headaches!"

Slazney! That name. Ming perked up. He knows his name. "You know a Mr. Slazney?" she asked. She had to keep her voice steady, but there was a slight waver. Ming coughed and asked again, this time in a lower voice, her pencil twitching. "Do you know Slazney?"

Bobby scoffed. "Yeah. He gave me some chew that relaxed my brain a bit too much. The joke's on me, though. It's cost a lot more than the hundred bucks. When I went to his clinic last night to complain about the crap, it was closed. This morning as well."

Ming clicked her tongue. "A dead end," she hit her palm. But he'd met the man. Seen his face. She made a fist and did a fist pump. "Yes!"

"What?"

"Nothing," she turned back to Bobby. "You said you can see the woman who was killed at the Shujing, here?"

"Yes. She's next to you, floating...." Bobby closed his eyes and covered his face with his hands. Ming heard another' Fuck' come through his fingers. She wrote all of this down. He was drunk, maybe on something, hallucinating even, but this was still better than what she had before. There were no such things as ghosts.

Rumours, on the other hand, could be just as powerful. She had a lot of experience with that when she exposed Dean's ex-wife. "Why are you here?"

"This was the last place I wanted to come, but I had no choice. I'm looking for the second tin of chew Slazney sent me. I gave the other stuff to Kat, and I don't want to get them involved."

A cold chill went through Ming. "Does she smoke it?"

Bobby nodded. "They. I'm desperate and can't sleep. I'm hoping it could help me make sense of the code running through my brain."

"How so?" Ming swallowed. Was he talking about the same code running through her brain as well?

Bobby just ignored her and continued to search the ruins of his trailer.

"Why do you want it?" This was Ming's chance. She had spent years trying to find out what Slazney wanted in Vegas. So far, she'd found only rumours and ghosts. Bobby was the first true lead she'd had.

"That's none of your business. The ghost agrees with me," he said, pointing to the space. "What's her name anyway?"

"Barbie," Ming answered, making some more notes. A loud "Haw" pierced the afternoon. He was holding his stomach, laughing. "What's so funny?"

It took Bobby a few minutes to stop his hysterics. "Nothing really," he said, wiping his eyes. "I just thought she looked like one when I saw her outside the diner yesterday afternoon."

"You saw her before her death? Do you know what happened to her body?"

"I don't know anything about a body," he said, waving his hands in the air. "Have you seen the tin? Did it survive Ivan..." Bobby trailed off

Ming raised an eyebrow. "The police have it." She pulled out her phone and showed him a picture.

He took her phone and nodded. "Dammit! I need it back. I can't focus. Every time I try, the block shuts me down, and I'm not going to sleep." He returned her phone and jerked back. "Why are you angry?"

"Who?" Ming asked.

"Barbie." Bobby groaned. "Who are you?"

She gave him her card, "Ming Na Liu, Las Vegas Sun."

"A reporter," he grimaced and crushed her card. "We're done here."

"Yes. But I can get you in touch with the detective in charge of the investigation." She let that news hang and watched as his face went from surprise to despair and back to indifference in the span of an eye-twitch.

Ivan

2:00

Ivan watched the woman drive Petor away and pulled out his phone. He ran a search of her face and came up with a list of articles written by an up-and-coming Asian reporter. Scrolling through the list, he stopped on the oldest about a pharmacist and went back to a recent story about the detective seen on the news.

Something about him being exonerated of spousal rape and murder. It had made the front page of the Tribune, and her name was on the byline. She wouldn't be after Petor for a small story. Ivan ran his finger across his flat nose and texted his boss. He started the car. He needed to wait another five hours or so before he could use his power again, but he could follow them.

A newspaper with Petor's picture on it sat on the car seat of his rental. Ivan shook his head. A professional would have changed his face. It was getting harder to let him escape. The phone slid across it as a text blazed on the screen in Russian.

"Bring him to me!!"

Dean Lifante

4:00 PM

Dean popped another piece of candy in his mouth and worked it between his teeth. He was trying to quit smoking and wasn't having much luck. Ming hated cigarettes. He was a little jittery without the nicotine, but the Japanese Hi-Chews helped. They tasted like real fruit, too. At first, he missed the chemical burn of Hubba Bubba, but now, who knew real sugar was better for you than that corn stuff?

"There's some Asian woman for you at reception," Starfield said. "She's hot too. Are you moving on from us, Deanie-boy?" The older officer joked. The two other officers with her joined in on the joke.

"Definitely, yes. There are so many more people politer than the trash in this room."

She sneered and gave him the middle finger. He waved her away and shut his mouth before he said anything further. Why'd he always let his mouth lead? He should know better by now.

His recorder wasn't on, and it needed to charge anyway. The last investigation had nearly destroyed him. Without Ming and Zacoski, he'd have been on the street. Risking his pension on another trumped-up charge, even with Lieutenant Zacoski here to back him up, wasn't worth it. The man's door was open, but he didn't know if he had heard anything. He was tired of having to walk on eggshells around people. His inner snark needed to come out from time to time.

Ming was at the front desk. She looked good, even with a dirt smudge across her nose. It just added to her attraction. Coughing into his hand, he schooled his face to remain serious. He already gave her more than he should have. If she understood her effect on him, could he still trust her? His head was telling him it was already too late for that, but his gut was telling him to let go.

"What can I do for you, Miss Liu?" he asked.

"Miss Liu, is it? I thought we were closer than family names, Lifante?" She crossed her arms and pouted. "Why so professional today?"

Dean bent forward and whispered. "This is my workplace, and they are giving me a hard time. I don't want to provide them with any more ammunition."

Nodding, she continued. "Detective Lifante. I have someone who wants to talk to you."

Leaning back, he pointed inside the precinct. "Let's talk inside."

She turned to the man beside her and nudged him forward. "This is Bobby. The window washer you've been looking for. He's got something to tell you, and you need to listen."

Dean looked at the man for the first time. Sizing him up, a feeling in his gut told him to be careful. Bobby was dangerous, but not deadly, though. Dean's instinct never gave him specifics, but he learned how to tell when someone wanted to point a gun at him.

This Bobby was about thirty, maybe forty, in good shape under his ratty Motley Crue T-shirt. He needed a shave, but he had a rugged look many women fell for. Dean didn't trust him instantly, but he couldn't tell if it was a personal or an instinctual distrust. When Ming placed her hand on Bobby's arm and led him into the precinct, he realized it was jealousy. He forced the feelings down and put on his professional mask. This was not the time.

She probably smelled the story here. Ming would do almost anything to get the scoop. His stomach was acting up. Going to his desk, he popped some antacids and shoved the bottle into his pocket.

Closing the door to the conference room, Dean wished he'd chosen the interrogation room, but it was too late now. Glaring at Bobby, he sat down, pulled out a notebook and clicked a pen.

He needed to calm down. Jealousy wasn't going to win him any points in Ming's eyes. According to the background check he'd done, she'd left her last boyfriend because he couldn't stand her job. Anything that interfered with her choices turned her off.

The background check left a small kernel of guilt in his stomach, but he needed to know why she was willing to help him when she wrote the article about his case. Trust was still hard for him, but she had worked her way in. However, why hadn't she told him they had lived in the same building? He tried to remember if they had crossed paths, but he couldn't recall anything. The little secrets she still had pulled at him, but not as much as they would have a few years ago. She'd proven herself to him several times over. Without her, he'd be locked in prison, facing the next few years as someone's toy. He owed her.

Dean faced Bobby and Ming across the table. He would trust her judgment. It had never steered him wrong.

"You are Bobby Miladev, the one cleaning the Shujing hotel last night?" He put his pen on the paper and waited.

"Yes, but I had nothing to do with her death. She was dead when I got to her room window."

"Take it easy, Mr. Miladev. We don't suspect you of her death. We know you were outside the building the whole time. We have video proof of that. We just want to know what you saw." He paused. "Do you mind if I record this interview?" Dean asked, laying his phone and a charging cord on the table.

"Do you have to?" Bobby fidgeted. He kept playing with his T-shirt. Dean glanced at Ming. She was writing in her notebook.

"It would make things easier."

Bobby sighed and reached into his wallet. He pulled out a business card and put it face down on the table. He grabbed a pen and wrote a number on the back. "Before we talk about anything, please call this number on the other side. He might still be on vacation; if so, try this number on the back. It should confirm some things about me."

Dean picked up the card, raised an eyebrow and called the numbers. Both times, he got a voicemail box. Hanging up the phone, he asked Bobby, "How do I know this is legit? I couldn't reach either of them."

"You don't. But I need you to stop searching for me and get my name off the TV news. The people after me already destroyed my home because of that story, and Ivan's probably tracking me now. Ryan will be able to fill in everything when he gets back. If he can't, I guess this Wilson should."

"Ivan?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow. Bobby was silent.

Ming glared at Dean. She was clenching her jaw.

"How much have you told Miss Liu here?" he asked Bobby.

"She knows someone is after me, and she saw what I did at the hotel," he said. Dean couldn't detect any Russian accent from him. "According to what she said in the car ride over here, she's involved now. I can speak freely, as long as it's not recorded."

Dean put his recorder back in his pocket, but he didn't turn it off. There should be enough power for a few minutes. He still didn't trust the man. "I won't ask why you're in witness protection, Mr. Miladev, but I need to know what you saw." Dean peeked at Ming. Her eyes softened, and she jerked her head back to Bobby. "I promise to keep your name and picture out of the news."

A pencil snapped.

"Sorry. Was pushing too hard," Ming said as she got another one from her bag. She hated anybody who tried to silence the news.

"Yes. Get my picture out of the paper. I don't want anybody else to see it," Bobby said.

"Your best bet is to ask Ming. She has better connections than I, but I'll do what I can. No promises, though." Dean turned to a fresh page. "Tell me everything."

Bobby told them he went to Slazney's place, though he called it Stanley's, and got a tin of chew. "I had hoped it would stop that. Instead, I've just created a bigger one." He took a sip of water. "When I looked at the Shujin windows under the right sunlight, with an open mind, I saw something that shouldn't have been there. I panicked. Then, I noticed the woman sprawled on the bed, blood everywhere. I tried to break the glass and get to her, but the window was too strong. But that wasn't the biggest problem."

"What was it?" Ming asked, placing her hand on his.

A pen snapped.

"Sorry. Was holding it too tight." Dean grabbed a new pen and continued writing. "Please continue."

"The biggest problem was the computer code embedded in the window. Like I said, when I looked at that pink thing, the sunlight must of triggered the program. I ran into the same code years ago, but I never would have expected to meet it here. I'd been fighting it for years, but it forced its way into my mind, like a songworm."

Dean stopped writing. "A computer code? Floating? What do you mean? How did it get into the window? Can you explain what you mean?"

Bobby wiped his face and started rubbing his eyes. "I'm so tired. I can't tell you much about the code or how it got in there, except that it exists. It was too dangerous with the power to alter reality and make any dream you want real, so I blocked my ability to use it. When used, you have to pay a price, not just in energy. The cost is proportional to the thing you want. If you try and force it to do something unnatural, the rebound could take everything you love, shifting reality in the process. Most of the details are still vague, but it's becoming clearer by the hour. It's the reason Ivan killed my brother and why I'm in hiding in witness protection."

"This is a lot to take in, and your explanation is very confusing, Mr. Miladev."

"He's telling the truth, Dean. I went back to the Shujing and recreated Bobby's day. When I got to Barbie's room, the window was still broken, but something ran through my brain, I saw Vegas destroyed, and I passed out."

"Are you okay?"

"Yes." Ming tucked a loose lock of hair behind her ears. "The code didn't stay in my head, but I still have vague impressions of it. On the way here, Bobby asked me a few questions about it, and I couldn't answer. However, I have no coding experience whatsoever."

Dean stood up, breathing out in relief. He couldn't believe a word this wannabe roadie was telling him, but his instincts were screaming to trust Ming. Dean turned to Bobby. "Is that all, Mr. Miladev?" He tried to keep the frustration out of his voice but could only disguise it with a cough. "How did Ming see this code, if it's so dangerous?"

"Anybody could do it if they met the right conditions. The constant headaches I felt were probably my subconscious working overtime, but it couldn't break through my blocks. I wouldn't be surprised if the code was in more windows, but needed a stacked effect to be activated. Pink also seems to be the key. To fix everything, I need to be able to work with the code already in my head, write it out." Bobby said, taking another sip of water. "There's still a block in there stopping me from fully accessing the knowledge I need, and it's threatening to come out when I fall asleep. That scares the crap outta me."

Bobby was swaying in the seat. He almost fell over twice but caught himself on the edge of the table. "Stop getting angry at me!" He shouted to the air next to Ming.

"It's evidence in the case," said Dean, crossing his arms.

"Please," Bobby begged. "I can't find Slazney, and if I drag Kat into this, Ivan'll kill them just to find me. I need to know what's happening here and who this ghost is floating next to your head."

"Ghost?" Dean mouthed.

Ming shook her head.

"If I can work on the code, I can finish it, and then I can block it out again, get back to hiding and sleep."

"I'm not sure I can do that," Dean said.

Ming narrowed her eyes and looked at Dean, "I'm calling in that favour you owe me, Lifante."

There was steel in her voice. She was serious if she was calling in that mark over this. All of his instincts were telling him to trust her while saying that this man wasn't to be trusted, "All right. Wait here. I'll go get it." He ground his teeth again. If this kept up, he'd need a dentist soon.