MECHANIC

by E. R. Torre

Presented below is a sample from the Mechanic novel, available now.

Catherine watched with great interest as the elderly business man entered the bar.  He couldn’t have looked more out of place had he arrived dressed in a clown outfit and scuba gear.

“Can I help you?” Catherine said.  The rest of the bar’s patrons looked on.  Roger and his friend had wide grins on their faces.

“The man looks lost,” Roger said.  His friend let out a soft chuckle. “Or maybe he was also expecting the live bands.”

Donovan frowned.  He turned to the bartender and said:

“I’m looking for—”

“I thought this was a private club,” the woman with the dark hair and vertical blue tattoos interrupted from the rear of the bar. “You lost?”

Donovan closed his mouth.  He shuffled along the bar’s counter and approached the back of the bar.

“Nox?”

“Maybe you should ask a little louder,” the woman replied.  “I don’t think the hooker spewing her guts out in the back alley heard you.”

“That’s quite an attitude you’ve got,” Donovan sniffed.  Regardless, his voice lowered to a whisper.  He pulled a chair out from the table, wiped it down thoroughly with a handkerchief, and sat down. “If you wanted privacy, you should have agreed to meet where I—”

“You pick the meet?  Sorry, Mister Donovan, a Mechanic’s life is short enough as it is.”

“Mechanic?  I thought you people were billing yourselves as Independents nowadays.”

“Call me hopelessly old fashioned.  Now, what do you want?”

“Two data diskettes,” Donovan said. “Company property.  Stolen from my office yesterday afternoon.  Fortunately, I make it a habit to monitor my employees’ activities both inside and outside the work facilities.”

“Not well enough, apparently.”

Donovan frowned.

“The one who took the disks kept a very regular routine after work.  Yesterday, shortly before we discovered the disks’ theft, he made a detour in that regular routine and stopped by a warehouse on the west side of town.”  Donovan reached into his suit and pulled out a piece of paper. “That’s the address.”

“They’ve had the diskettes since at least yesterday?”

“I know what you’re thinking,” Donovan said. “It’s within the realm of possible the data has already been compromised.  But, our technical staff assures me they use five layers of encryption on any information they make hard copies of.  They say that level of encryption requires at least a week to fully decode.”

“What if they’ve made copies of the disks and sent them around to other outfits?”

“Without the proper log in passkeys, you can’t even copy the material.  Therefore, encrypted duplicates are impossible.”

“If I get my hands on the disks, how do I know they’re the right ones?”

“They have holographic labels identifying them as Octi Corp. property.  The disks have a special non-stick surface.  If the thieves painted or tried to tape something over the holographic label, it would peel off very easily.”

Donovan closed his mouth and looked away.  He took a couple of deep breaths and, for a few moments, appeared overcome with emotions.

“What else?” Nox asked.

Donovan’s eyes returned to the woman before him.

“I'll be honest with you…” he began.

Nox leaned back in her chair.  Though she tried, she couldn’t hold back the tightness in her jaw.

“…you're not the first person we've hired since yesterday.  There were two others before you, one last night and one early this morning.”

“You haven’t heard from them since.”

“They’ll know you’re coming.  You must take precautions.”

“Sure,” Nox said. “What do you have for me?”

Donovan again reached into his suit.  He pulled out an envelope and handed it to Nox.

“Thirty five thousand,” Donovan said. “Small bills, just like you asked.  The rest when I get the disks back.  In a usable state.”

Nox opened the envelope and counted the money.

“It’s all there,” Donovan said, a little testily.

After finishing her slow count of the money, Nox nodded.

“It sure is.  Imagine that.”

The Mechanic rose.

“I’ll let you take care of the bar bill, too.  If you ask politely, the bartender might even give you a receipt.”

****** 

The warehouse lay in the city’s business district, some twenty blocks of low rent, heavily armed, and near identical metal buildings.  At night time the hustlers, hookers, and addicts roamed the streets around the area like zombies from some low budget movie.  They cruised around, linked up, and did their business, whatever it might be, all under cover of the deep shadows.  They were kings of the night, at least most of the time.

The roar of the motorcycle was barely audible, buried by the sounds of traffic and other distant machines.  Nox kept to the side streets, attracting as little attention as possible.  Despite its condition, her chopper was a meaty target for the streets roamers.  This was why Nox found and parked her vehicle in a twenty four hour convenience store, right in front of the plate glass entrance.  Should a thief pass by, he would either be dissuaded from stealing the chopper from in front of witnesses or would, conversely, find the store itself a far more tempting target.

Unfortunately, leaving the chopper here meant Nox was a good distance from her own target.  Twelve blocks, to be exact.  It there was trouble and she needed to make a quick exit, it would have to be on foot.  As always, stealth was the key to a successful operation, so Nox dressed entirely in a dull black body suit.  It made her invisible in the thicker shadows of the night.

Nox removed the thin black backpack from her shoulders and checked the items within.  Satisfied all was in order, she replaced the backpack and entered the convenience store.  She did this to allay any suspicions on the part of the store’s owner.  They had a bad habit of keeping track of the vehicles parked in their lot.  Anyone who parked and walked away without entering the store risked having their vehicle towed.  By entering the store, the people behind the counter would connect Nox with her chopper and, given how busy the place was even at this hour, they’d think she was still around, shopping somewhere, even if she was gone.  By simply entering the store, Nox bought herself between forty minutes and an hour of free parking time.

The Mechanic figured to be back by then, or not at all.

Nox served herself a cup of fancy coffee and glanced at the magazines.  She kept her head down, purposely avoiding the surveillance cameras the stores mounted in all the usual places.  Nox put her money on the counter and headed for the exit.  Once outside, she dumped the virgin drink in the nearest trash can and set off for the business district.

 ******

It took her only a few minutes to reach the chain link fence that roped off the business district and the warehouses that lay within.  Nox climbed the fence and headed to the warehouse Donovan thought held the stolen disk.  It was identical to all the other warehouses but, curiously, there were no visible guards outside.  Indeed, the only outdoor security feature Nox could find was a camera positioned over the rear entry door.

Nox hid within a bush and its deep shadows.  She watched the camera oscillate back and forth, memorizing its pattern of movement.  Nox then reached into her backpack and removed a pair of red hued glasses.  She placed them over her eyes and hit a switch.  The darkness that surrounded her was lit up in a frosty infrared.  Nox again reached into the backpack and this time pulled out a compact gun belt.  She strapped it to her waist and, when she again looked up at the warehouse camera, it was in the exact position she expected it to be.

“Good,” she muttered.  She had memorized the security camera’s movements perfectly.  Her next step was to disable it.  Nox adjusted her glasses until she had a magnified view of the camera.

Equinox 5300, she thought.  That’s some shoddy shit.

For a third time Nox reached into her backpack.  She pulled out a thin rectangular machine.  Nox then searched the bush and found a sturdy but small wooden box.  It was good enough for her purposes.  She picked it up and silently ran to the side of the warehouse and just out of the camera’s view.  Nox flattened her body against the warehouse wall and timed her movements.  When the camera was pointed away, she ran under it, laid down the wooden box, and climbed up onto it.  She was now close enough to the camera to begin her work.

Nox unscrewed the panel on the camera’s side and stripped a pair of wires from its internal mechanism.  With well practiced efficiency, she connected these wires to the slim rectangular machine she carried and screwed the entire apparatus into the camera’s side.  She waited a few seconds while the camera completed a couple of oscillations.  When she was satisfied her rectangular machine had recorded enough footage, she pressed a button on its side.  The smell of burnt wires and fused machinery filled the air and the camera abruptly stopped.  Its internal mechanism was fried and Nox’s rectangular machine now fed its previously recorded images to the security guards, wherever they might be.

Nox stepped off the wooden box and hurriedly returned to her hiding place in the bushes.  Although her work on the camera appeared perfect, there was always the possibility she screwed up somehow and someone was on their way to check the camera.  The next few minutes passed very slowly and Nox rocked impatiently in place.  After some ten minutes passed without any sign of guards, she was once again on the move.

Nox sprinted back to the door.  In her hand was a thin set of lock picks.  She had the warehouse door unlocked in seconds, but didn’t open it.  Instead, she put away the picks and removed another rectangular device from her backpack.  She ran it along the edge of the door.  The digital readout on the sensor did not change.

Nox replaced the device into the backpack.  There were no other security devices and it was safe to open the door.

Nox, however, remained in place.  Her jaw tightened and loosened.  She was deep in thought.

So little security.

Nox carefully pushed the door open and stepped into the darkness within.  Thanks to her infrared glasses, she was able to see a series of crates stacked one on top of the other in rows that seemed to extend for miles.  At the end of the crates and on the other side of the warehouse came a dim light.

Nox approached that light.  As she did, she heard voices.  She froze in place and listened for a while.  There were at least four men out there, engaged in casual conversation.  Nox eased forward, until she stood besides the last of the distant crates.  She peered around the corner.

Before her was the warehouse’s large front door.  In front of it was a small table and sitting around the table were five security guards.  They were dressed in white shirts and black pants and carried automatic handguns in their waist holsters.  They laughed, drank, and smoked while playing a round of poker.  From the sloppy way they carried on it was obvious their game was well into its third or fourth hour.

Nox frowned.

What the hell is this?

Her body tensed and she reached for her gun.  Despite Donovan’s warnings, the break-in proved far, far too easy.  If these poker playing security guards and a cheap security camera were the sum total of what the two other less fortunate Independents faced…

No.  Something wasn’t right.

Nox stepped back and looked around.  Apart from the card players, everything was quiet.  A sense of dull anger spread through the Mechanic.  Donovan hadn’t told her everything.  There had to be something here, something else…

Either that or Donovan hired the Big City’s two worst Independents.

Nox spotted wooden stairs on the east end of the warehouse.  They led up to a glass encased office that overlooked the entire place.  It was as good a location as any, Nox thought, to hide stolen disks.

 ******

The second floor office was small and square in shape.  A plain wooden desk lay against the far wall and a door in the back of the office probably led to a private bathroom.  Nox would check on that later, if needed.  The desk was positioned to allow its occupant a clear view of the warehouse below.

Nox eased into the room and kept away from the glass walls.  When she first opened the office door, she scanned for motion detectors or laser lights, but found none.  The tension within her grew even more, but Nox moved on.  She kept to the thick shadows and searched the desk.  There were plenty of papers within, but no diskettes or false bottoms.

Nox turned her attention to the back wall.  She searched for any sign of a wall safe, but again came up empty.  She then entered the back door and searched what indeed turned out to be a bathroom.  There was nothing there but filth.  The topless woman in a wall calendar pinned to the bathroom door winked at her, as if laughing at this so far futile search.

At least someone’s enjoying themselves.

Nox exited the bathroom and, from the opposite side of the room, gave the place a long look.  All seemed in order.  All seemed so perfectly ordinary.

Nox smiled.

From this angle Nox spotted scuff marks on the floor directly beneath the desk.  It was as if someone had moved this very heavy piece of furniture back and forth, over and over again.  Nox approached the desk and crouched down.  She slowly, and very carefully, pushed it away, revealing the wood panel floor below.  Nox pressed down on the paneling.   One piece was loose.  Nox lifted it, revealing a small floor safe.

The Mechanic spent no time celebrating her discovery.  She reached into her backpack and removed yet another thin black box from within.  It was magnetized and clamped itself upon the safe door.  A digital display lit up and a series of numbers circulated on the screen.  One by one the numbers locked into place until a faint clicking sound was heard.

Nox removed the electronic decoder and stored it.  She then opened the safe door.  Tucked within were several documents, some cash, and, most importantly, two computer disks.

Nox grabbed the disks and ignored the rest.  She opened the jewel case box of each and verified they had the Octi Corp. logo and proper serial numbers etched on their surface.

Nox placed them in her backpack and closed the safe door.  She then pulled the desk back into place and made sure the office looked just like she had found it.  Satisfied all was in order, Nox headed for the office exit.

****** 

Nox quietly walked down the stairs leading to the ground floor of the warehouse.  Once there, she listened for the sound of the guards.  They were still engrossed in their card game and oblivious to anything else.  Nox shook her head and turned to her right.  She kept to the shadows while making a beeline to the rear exit door.

As she moved on, she felt more and more tense.  By all rights, Nox knew, she should be feeling elation.  She broke in, picked up the merchandise, and was only a few feet away from the exit.  But Donovan’s warnings and the fate of the two other Independents weighed on her.

Were the other private contractors really that careless?

Anyone could have made their way into this place and gotten these diskettes.  Anyone.

Theories and conjecture revolved around Nox’s mind.  She tried to rationalize the situation but couldn’t.  Then, like a bolt of lightning, it hit her.

It was a trap!

There was no other logical explanation.  The best traps were the ones that were easy to get into and impossible to leave.

Nox looked around.  She expected to see something, anything, coming after her.  She was not disappointed.

The shadowy figure was at least six feet tall and shaped like a thick utility pole.  It moved smoothly along the floor, directly toward the Mechanic.

Nox turned and ran in the opposite direction as fast as she could, but the robot was already in shooting range.  A pair of guns mounted on its side released a deadly barrage of rounds.  The bullets hit Nox squarely on her back.  The Mechanic yelled as they slammed her forward several feet.  The wooden crates at her sides were simultaneously ripped to pieces.

Nox fell to the floor but immediately sprang back to her feet.  She ran down the hallway as fast as she could.

Gunfire from the Robot dogged her movement and shattered everything in its wake.  Wood splinters shot up and several jagged pieces lodged themselves into the side of Nox’s face.  The Mechanic felt the warm blood flow down her cheek but ignored it.

Nox turned into an aisle and the gunfire momentarily stopped.  She looked back and spotted the robot moving relentlessly toward her.  The Mechanic reached for her handgun but didn’t pull it out.  On this mission she chose to carry a light weight, low caliber weapon.  There was no way it could penetrate the robot’s thick skin.  Nox continued running.

If it wasn’t for the maze of crates, the robot would have been on top of the Mechanic in seconds.  As it was, it remained locked on its target and followed relentlessly.  It gained ground while Nox’s breathing became labored and her movements slowed.

She didn’t have much time.

As she ran, Nox scanned the floor before her.  She spotted a small cardboard box lying in her path.  According to its label, it carried copy paper.  Nox picked it up and tossed half the sheets away.  She then crumpled up several individual papers and placed every single bullet she had along with the crumpled papers inside the box.

Nox stopped behind a corner and waited.  In moments, the robot was just a few feet away.  Its internal machinery clicked and hummed louder and louder.  Behind it came the sounds of the security guards.  Their poker game was finished, and they cautiously approached from the robot’s rear.

They aren’t security guards, Nox thought.  These men are janitors, tasked with cleaning up any warehouse intruder’s remains.

Another burst of shots shattered the crates Nox was hiding behind.

Now or never.

Nox lit the top sheet of paper with her lighter and hurled the box before the robot.  Its internal sensors picked up the object’s motion and weaponry locked in on the new target.  The robot unleashed a furious barrage of bullets which incinerated the box.  That, in turn, set off the bullets Nox hid within.

Sparks flew all around, igniting the papers within the small box.  Flames leaped out and fell along both sides of the corridor.  Flaming sheets landed on packing material which, in turn, set off other fires.  Within seconds heavy smoke and glowing fire filled the corridor.

The robot paused, confused by the conflicting thermal images.  It circled around and fired a series of short bursts.  The motion of the security guards behind the machine further confused it.

More targets.

More bullets fired.

From a safe distance, Nox watched it all.  A grim smile settled on her face.  The fires spread rapidly and were soon out of control.  The robot, meanwhile, spun around in tighter and tighter circles and was shooting at everything around it.

 ******

Nox dashed out of the warehouse’s back door and back to her original hiding place in the bushes.  The sound of the robot’s relentless gunfire echoed throughout the night and thick clouds of smoke rose from the warehouse roof.  The sound of gunfire was joined by the screams of the security guards.

“Technology,” Nox muttered.

She examined her right arm.  Blood flowed from a deep cut near her elbow, the result of one of the Robot’s bullets.  Nox removed her backpack and shirt, revealing a Kevlar-SimTech vest strapped to her upper body.  When she took the Kevlar vest off and turned it, she wasn’t surprised to find at least a dozen bullets plastered in close proximity against the heavy fabric.

Nox shook her head.  She was lucky the damn thing held in place.  As it was, this expensive piece of protective gear was all but worthless now, damaged beyond any possible use.

You served me well, Nox thought.  If not for the vest, the Mechanic would surely have been cut in two.

Nox folded the destroyed material and inserted it into the backpack.  She pulled out gauze and disinfectant.  The wound on her arm was minor and required only a couple of stitches which she could easily administer when she got back home.  Nox let out a laugh.

You just about became the third stupidest private contractor in the Big City.

In the distance, she heard the sounds of approaching sirens.