An old maroon sedan rolled up to the curb in front of the Superstore. Behind the wheel was the person Richard should have gone to as soon as he escaped the Foundation.
"Good God you look worse than ever!" Jack howled as Richard eased himself into the passenger seat.
"Spare me the comments."
Jack shook his head, dropped the car into gear and hit the throttle, sending them back into traffic. "Remind me again why you put yourself through this shit? Oh... wait... never mind. It all has to do with money!"
Richard looked out the window and watched the City fly past. "Seriously, that's enough," he muttered.
"Why did you take so long to contact me? You're lucky you're not in the Trench."
"I was scared and confused. I had no idea what to do."
"For the love of..." Jack's thick eyebrows twitched in frustration. He wound the car around a corner. "This is ridiculous."
"Have you spoken to Sam?"
"Not yet, but I know Security has."
"Meaning?"
"You can't be that dumb."
"Did they tell her I'm dead?"
Jack shrugged, flicked on a blinker, changed lanes and slowed. "Who knows? Those idiots haven't had to deal with something like this in decades."
"Did she believe them?" Richard asked.
They rolled up to a parking spot in front of Jack's office – a squat, two-story concrete building. "Christ you're persistent. I said I don't know."
"But you know something. Have you talked to her?"
"No. I just said that!"
"Why not?"
"Won't take my calls." Jack heaved himself from the car. After a moment he leaned back in the door. "Now before you go and get upset, I imagine the silence has to do with rules from Security."
Richard frowned and got out. "Have they interviewed you yet?"
"Of course!"
"What did you tell them?" Richard asked as they walked toward the entrance.
"That my nephew is a greedy idiot and he deserves what he got. AND you're incapable of killing anyone, otherwise you couldn't be a Locum. Wasn't much else to say. Handed over your last physical and they were on their way."
"What if they're still watching you? Waiting for me to get in touch? There are cameras everywhere that use recognition software."
"Not around here."
"What do you mean?"
Jack rolled his eyes. "How can you not know this stuff? Client/doctor privilege makes it illegal to monitor a medical office in any way – on land, in the air, by camera – you name it. Wasn't always like that but changed as soon as the Privacy Act was passed." He paused and looked around. The street was quiet. "So I'll go out on a limb and say we're okay."
"You can lay off the sarcasm."
"Nothing wrong with a bit of levity." Jack pushed open a big oak door and ushered Richard inside. The stark white office was empty but the Vid screens were on. The News was playing. Its subject stopped Richard in his tracks. Bernie had been found dead at the Superstore.
"Oh no," he whispered.
"What's wrong?"
Richard pointed at the screen in front of him. "That's the guy who helped."
"Helped what?"
"Helped me out, made me call you. We just left him and now he's dead. How is that possible?"
"Bad luck?"
"No. This is the second time I've met someone and they died soon after. I don't..."
Before Richard could finish, Nickle's face appeared on the screen. The two men stared as a grim news anchor spoke. "..... It's believed this man - Charlie Nickle - is connected to the death. City Security requires you contact them immediately if you see him. Most of the..."
"What are those bastards thinking?" Jack yelped. "They're going to cause a riot!"
Richard continued to stare at the screen. Jackie's face appeared alongside the other victims. His body trembled. She had been a friend and colleague, tolerant despite his ego. It made him sick to know he was being blamed for her death.
"I've got to turn myself in," he muttered. "Before anyone else gets hurt."
Jack threw his arms in the air. "Are you kidding? I always knew you were dumb, but never thought you were an idiot! What the hell will that accomplish?"
"Prove it's not me?"
"You're a PRIME suspect in a multiple murder case! They're going to throw you in the Trench and maybe ask questions later. Even if it continues when you're locked up you won't walk. This is a shit show – plain and simple. And you're a huge variable. Until someone figures out who the target was – you or the former owner of your current body – Security will make your life miserable."
"So what do I do? I'm a danger to anyone I know or meet."
"Stop pretending to be a hero and start acting like one. Being a big shot with money doesn't make you somebody, being brave and selfless does."
"But I..."
"But nothing!" Jack interrupted. "What have you got to lose? Your life? What's that worth if you're a coward and locked away?"
"What about my family?"
"Prove to them you're alive, a real man and not the rich smart-ass you used to be. Get ahead of this mess and clear your name."
Richard sighed and slumped forward. The image he cut was not heroic.
"Any crooked Security Officers owe you a favor? There must be someone. Wouldn't even have to give up much - you just need somewhere to start."
"Those guys don't help anyone but themselves."
Jack pulled a pencil from his pocket protector and began to nibble on the end. "What about that asshole agent who helped get you into this mess?"
"Already talked to him. Nothing."
"Any of the other Locums?"
Richard shrugged. "It's possible."
"That's pessimistic."
"Some of the guys I've done recoveries with in Eden might. We get along well enough to look out for one another. But this is probably an exception."
"You don't trust any of them?"
Richard smirked. "Not in a situation like this. I'm sure there's big money on the line for info about me. They won't be able to resist that."
"Is there no honour among these people?"
"Most would sell me out in a second."
Jack shook his head and sat on one of the waiting room chairs. "Such corruption. It's hard to believe you're all doctors."
Richard stood and paced the room. Something had to happen. And there were clearly options – just no good ones.
"What about going to the Press?" Jack asked. "Tell them your story so they can flush it over the News Network."
"Would probably get squashed before it went to air. No way either group will let me throw them under the bus."
"What about a Hotshot?'
"A Hotshot?"
Jack raised an eyebrow. "You've never heard of them?"
"Nope."
"I'm surprised. A Hotshot is someone with connections on both sides of the fence. You hire them to do what's impossible for most people. Sometimes they can do it, sometimes they can't. In your case you enlist one to get your story out by all means necessary – Vid feed, Internet, print, graffiti."
"How do I hire someone when I have no money?"
"Barter."
"With what?"
"Your experience – everything that's happened. An interview. Information is priceless."
"And where would I track one down?"
"Go to the Neubar and ask for Esther Thomas."