The Radical (Unity Vol.1) Read Free

ears.
    S he would have wanted you here .
    Memories slipped into my periphery and I shook with remorse. My last living relative was dead. It hit me like nothing else. I convulsed with tears and buried my head under my pillow for the next hour, ignoring my xGen ringing and the crashing against my door outside. I’d no doubt missed Francesca’s cursory morning call and she was worried I was dead or something and had sent some lackeys over to check. It was a worry for her that I would one day get caught, hauled in with not a thing to back me up (the way I worked put me in danger). Yet I continually put myself up against the proverbial firing squad, every day.
    A fter I got my shit together I sent her a quick message: ‘ Eve dead. Need time off. ’ My uncharacteristic use of few words would engage her otherwise hidden sensitivities.
    I could almost hear her Aussie voice as she sent a reply: ‘ Phew, I can call off the search party! And, sorry, I really am. Take some time. Call me later ?’
    I dragged myself out of bed and into the en suite to shower. It seemed clear to me what I had to do. There was no other option but to get over to England as quickly as possible. The tight knot of angst and remorse that had formed in my gut made me realize I owed it to Eve. For the first time in years, work didn’t seem to matter so much.
    After washing , I pulled on whatever my hand touched in the closet and tied back my hair. I could smell coffee wafting in from the kitchen ‒ and was comforted by that in some small amount. For the first time in years I’d have to switch off the timer so the machine didn’t produce while I was gone.
    I filled my mug and went to the window. Every morning I stood staring down on Central Park, that yellowish eyesore gradually reducing in size. I saw office workers purchasing various breakfast items from automated food carts on their way to work and for once, I envied those regimented souls. My burdens were suddenly so heavy that the view my Dakota pad offered was an unwelcome perspectiv e ‒ I had no community to call on for solace, living the way I did made me an outcast.
    I checked the latest flight schedules on my xGen and saw there was one jet leaving for the UK within the hour – and nothing else for hours after that. I ran round snatching stuff from the bathroom, along with a few items of clothing, before getting ridiculously burnt by the drink sliding down my throat at light speed.
    I felt nauseous as I stood by my apartment door preparing to go, checking my jacket pockets and bag to ensure I had everything I would need. I cursed my itinerary for that day, which I would have to cancel. I had a hotel room booked at the Four Seasons, right next door to that of an NYPD commissioner who would be there to close some very shady foreign business deal. He would keep , I supposed.
    I scanned the living area , one last check for nothing left lying around. I had already incinerated my trash in the custom-built, self-extinguishing furnace I’d had erected in the middle of my lounge. I never left a trace, never left anything important where it might be found. It was not beyond them to use a tampon to get my DNA on file for use at a later date. DNA tampering, or rather replicating , had become a big thing but was never acknowledged. The enemy were good at planting “evidence” at the scene of a crime to get someone jailed. I had dozens of cases stacked up on my desk ‒ people who had contacted me from the pen claiming they were innocent. They passed the SAFs (Speech Analysis & Filtration Systems) , but their DNA had been their undoing. Most of course were ex-employees of Officium who were a threat of some sort. Why these people hadn’t been blown away on a street corner, I didn’t know. That was Officium’s usual style.
    That is why I ensured e verything I needed was right upstairs or on the xGen my hacker friend had given me. 
    I set the apartment security system on high alert and slammed the huge,