Glitch in the God Complex (AmpCore #1)

10 - Never Asked for a Safe House

His bulk rumbled unhappily. "That's just what we need – the pope of the docks sticking his knives into everything."

"I don't care about Barson," Kirk snarled. "Far as I'm concerned that prick got what was coming to him."

"Aye, maybe," Doser glared at him. "But you're not the one who'll have to sort the fall out."

"Trouble for another day, Doser," Delgado muttered. "Kirk, keep going. What happened next?"

So he told them – walked them through the mad chase; his close encounter with the wraith, how he'd trailed the death and destruction all the way from the docks to Piper's neighbourhood.

"I don't know why," he said. "But that thing was chasing her. Me, Barson – everybody else – I think they just got in the way."

"Why in the bloody hell would a codewraith be out to kill your lady friend?" Doser asked, apparently roused from his apathy to take interest. "Those tin-freaks don't think. They ain't exactly assassin material."

"I'm just telling you what happened. That thing looked right at Piper and chased her all the way home." Kirk threw his hands up helplessly. "Maybe it didn't kill her. Nobody seems to know where she is."

"There was no blood at the scene," Delgado pointed out. Doser gave a fatalistic grunt.

"So... so what do we do now?" Kirk asked.

"Kid, 'we' don't do anything. We've got your statement and we'll follow up on any leads we can."

"That's it?"

"That's it."

"But-,"

"Kirk, there's nothing else you can do right now," Delgado told him firmly, stubbing out her cigar to emphasise her point. "I'll be in touch if we need to speak to you again, but for now the best thing you can do is go home and get some sleep."

*

For two days, Kirk obeyed.

Then the next night he was walking, shoulders hunched, heading back to the crime scene like a moth to a flame. He didn't know what else to do. Two days with no word from Delgado, no sign of Piper and no trace of her family. He couldn't sit in his house for a second longer.

When he got there the incident had been airbrushed over: streets cleaned up, wreckage removed. There was still a massive hole in the side of Piper's house though, shielded by a temporary holo-display with bright text that read: CARTWRIGHT REPAIRWORKS – JOB ID 98654379.

Kirk suspected it would be quite some time before that job was fulfilled.

He edged his way around the perimeter, where the police cordon had been, looking for any clues, anything at all. He found the unmistakable divot marks where the wraith had arrived, but beyond that he couldn't see much. There was a weird kind of scorch mark in the street, not far from the hole in the wall, but he had no idea what might have caused it.

Frowning, and just hoping against hope he could stumble over some trace of Piper, he edged his way around the narrow streets and alleys immediately around the house. More codewraith footsteps, though these looked different – bigger and more numerous than the ones he'd followed from the docks. He hunkered down, cocking his head to one side as he examined one of them.

Then a hand grabbed him by the shoulder and yanked him to his feet. Kirk let out a yelp of surprise as he found himself wrenched around and shoved against the building wall. An instant later the barrel of a gun was shoved into his face.

"KIRK?!"

A jolt of shock burst through him when he saw Arden Russell's bobbing pixie cut, and her stunned face staring back at him, those wide blue eyes just like Piper's. She wore a sleeveless hoodie, ripped jeans and battered old trainers, looking frantic, like a fox on the run. The pistol she had was a small calibre thing, snub barrelled and with a rotating drum magazine – old school and cheap, but still very lethal. The hand holding it trembled.