Cyber Dreams 1.36 - The Plan

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-Plum

Juliet stepped out of Honey’s passenger seat and looked around the parking lot. Thicker than Water was busy, much more so at midnight than when she’d met Vikker’s team in what seemed like another lifetime. Before heading to the club, she and Honey had spent the day in an AutoMotel room, calling their contacts, building a floorplan model of Vikker’s compound, and watching the data Angel collected minute by minute with the drones she’d hijacked.

They’d learned a lot—Vikker’s cousin, Reynold, wasn’t exactly a fixer or even directly tied to any corps, but he was a gang leader of sorts. He ran an extensive network of operators and an even larger group of former corpo-sec agents that had lost their jobs and didn’t qualify for operator licenses for various reasons.

That was the conclusion Honey and Juliet had come to after picking up chatter between Reynold and the people who stopped by the compound to talk business. It helped that Angel could take photos of everyone’s faces and do limited background checks through the sat-net. In one revealing conversation, Angel had recorded Reynold complaining to Wendy, who turned out to be his wife, about Ghoul and her refusal to cooperate, about how she’d cost him a major contract with Benson LTD, a corpo out of Nogales.

After a bit of digging, Juliet and Angel found that Benson LTD had recently acquired a contract for public transport in Nogales, and she assumed the contract had something to do with the lithium-air batts that she’d absconded with. More than that, though, the snippet of conversation had confirmed that Ghoul was alive and being kept for some sort of payback.

The drone footage was also valuable when it came to convincing their friends to take part in the “heist,” as they were calling it. They had photos of some valuable tools, vehicle parts, weapons, and easily removable infrastructure from Vikker’s compound—everything from batteries to solar cells to the drones themselves. If they had time to strip the place properly, they were looking at a couple of hundred k in equipment and materials.

With everyone suitably motivated, Honey had suggested a meet-up at an operator-friendly club, and Juliet had mentioned Thicker than Water, which is why Juliet stood there, nervously looking around the parking lot and the people milling about outside the building. “Here we are,” she said to Honey, gesturing at the bright neon lights hanging over the crowded door.

“Think we’ll get in okay?”

“Yeah, Angel got a reservation for one of the meeting rooms—just had to give them my operator ID and a five-hundred-bit payment.”

“Angel, please make sure you’re watching the crowd—I doubt WBD is still hanging around here looking for me, but you never know.”

“I will keep you clear of any video surveillance, and your attire should thwart human observers.”

“Here’s hoping.” Juliet knew Angel was probably right—she wore her rebreather and a black hoodie under her vest and pulled the hood up. At Honey’s suggestion, she’d changed her irises to bright, backlit violet. With most of her face obscured and her eyes so . . . eye-catching, few people would connect her to any old net images of Juliet Bianchi the scrap cutter.

“My sword okay in here?”

“Yeah, they only have a policy against ‘heavy weapons,’ whatever that means.”

“Probably anything with a long barrel or a caliber that might penetrate walls. I doubt people follow the rule, to be honest. You could have armor-piercing needler rounds in that little cannon of yours, for instance.”

“Well, I’m packing shredders, so . . .” Juliet trailed off, and Honey smiled.

“Yeah, I know, but they don’t know that.” Honey started walking, straightening her black tactical vest and carrying her sheathed sword in her left hand. “C’mon, Hot Mustard’s almost here—let’s get the room set up.”

Juliet nodded and strode toward the doorway as confidently as she could. She wore a black, tight-fitting Tevlo long-sleeved pullover under her olive-green armored vest and black Tevlo cargo pants over her heavy work boots. With her rebreather hiding most of her face and her eyes gleaming like violet LEDs, it was easy to pretend she was someone else, someone who belonged at a place like Thicker than Water.

When she walked up to the door, this time, she didn’t hesitate to brush past the club-goers waiting to get in. More than that, she felt a little thrill in her gut as people glanced at her then quickly looked away—sure, it might have something to do with Honey’s effortless grace and the way she held her scabbarded sword out to keep people at arm’s length, but that didn’t bother Juliet; Honey was here with her. They were a team.

When the bouncer’s max-augmented metallic eyes scanned over her, Juliet knew Angel sent her operator ID his way. He nodded and stepped aside, motioning to the doorway.

“What the fuck? What about us, cutie?” a woman wearing a very short, neon-pink skirt and bustier asked, gesturing toward her similarly-clad friend. Juliet only spared her a glance as she walked past the bouncer and grinned at his response.

“Got enough dancers in there. These are operators. Mind your business, Cate.”

The music and noises of the club drowned out Cate’s response. Juliet had a mild flashback from when she’d come to meet Vikker’s team, but things were different, if not with the club, then with her. The atmosphere wasn’t as mysterious, wasn’t as dark—no doubt her improved optics were to thank for that—and she picked out stains in the carpet and some of the ragged clientele near the bars that she’d overlooked before; the whole experience felt less glamorous than her last visit.

“Up here,” she said to Honey, leading her up the pink strip-lighted stairs to the meeting rooms. This time the room she’d reserved, according to Angel, was the third door on the right, and she thanked the universe for not making her set up this heist in the same room where she’d sat with Vikker, Don and Ghoul. When she stood before the correct door, she stared into the little lens, and the lock clicked. She slid it open and stepped inside.

A smooth, black oval table surrounded by a faux-leather cushioned booth took up most of the space, but a small drink cart stood against the wall to the left. Just as they’d requested, the cart held a stack of five shot glasses and a bottle of tequila—Honey’s choice. “Right,” Honey said. “You sit there, opposite the door, and I’ll sit here next to it. Let me open it and confirm each person—we want this to look legit, okay?”

“You think it really matters? They all know us . . .” Juliet trailed off, letting Honey make the implied connections.

“It matters! I know Mags and Pit, but only from doing a couple of jobs with them. You know Hot Mustard, but how well? We don’t want anyone to look at us and decide this is amateur hour and not worth the risk. We’re not doing a simple job here—this is big league shit.”

Juliet was holding up a hand and ticking off her fingers while Honey spoke and when she finished, she grinned at her, “Come on! One more!”

“One more what?”

“Cliches or whatever they’re called, you said ‘amateur hour’ and ‘big league,’ gimme one more!”

“Laugh it up, sweetheart!” Honey said, her face taking on an uncharacteristic scowl, “I’m trying to help you, you know!”

Juliet’s cheeks reddened, and she said, “I know, I know. I’m trying to keep from freaking out, and being a smartass might be a little defense mechanism. Sorry, okay?” She moved to sit where Honey had indicated and fished her deck out of her vest, setting it on the table.

“Good,” Honey nodded, sitting across from her, close to the door. “Don’t sweat it. I know this is nerve-wracking, and I only understand half the plan. I hope you’re ready to answer questions.”

“Yep,” Juliet nodded, pulling her big, external battery off her belt and connecting it to the deck. “Getting the jammer ready.”

“Hot Mustard is here—just messaged me. Mags and Pit are five clicks out.”

At Honey’s words, Juliet’s palms started to grow clammy, and she felt her heart rate begin to accelerate. This was it. This was when she met with people, at least one of which was becoming a good friend, and convinced them to risk their lives on a plan she only partially understood. She hated that she had to rely so much on Angel and resolved to try to learn more about what Angel did when she broke through net security, but for now, she just had to accept that without her, this plan was a no-go.

Honey stood up to let Hot Mustard in, and Juliet subvocalized, “Angel, do you think my idea will work?”

“Of course, Juliet. We’ve gone over the risks, but I think there’s a good chance of success. More than that, I believe the chance of catastrophic failure is low. The most likely, negative scenario has you fleeing without completely burning Reynold.”

The door slid open, and Hot Mustard stood in the opening. His pink hair was pulled up in a top knot, and he wore a big grin as he took in the private room. “Hey, Juliet!” he said over Honey’s shoulder, then he looked down at Juliet’s “muscle” and held out a hand, “Hot Mustard. Honey?”

“Hey,” Honey said, and Juliet could imagine her smile, though she couldn’t see it. They shook hands then Honey gestured for Hot Mustard to sit. “Our other two team members are almost here.”

“Cool,” Hot Mustard said, sliding into the booth. He wore the same tactical gear he’d had when Juliet first met him. She didn’t see any weapons but knew he probably had something concealed and hoped his rifle was outside in his vehicle. “Things okay, Juliet? Any word on Ghoul’s status?”

“She’s alive. We’ve got a drone watching her heat signature.”

“Oh, nice! Already have eyes in the sky?”

“Yep, but let’s wait for everyone, so I don’t have to explain everything twice, ‘kay?”

“Yeah, no problemo.” He sat back and drummed his fingers on the counter. “One quick question: how long ‘til we head out?”

“Two hours,” Juliet replied with a smile. “Trying to decide if you want a drink?”

“Well, I see you’re planning a shot to get us going, so I better just stick to that. Wanna be one hundred, you know?”

“Angel, will you ask for a water pitcher and some glasses?” Juliet subvocalized.

“Yes.”

“Got water coming. Sorry, should have had it here from the get-go.”

“Nah, it’s cool. I like this club, by the way—they didn’t give me any grief at the door, and it’s got a kinda cool vibe. Never spent much time around Tucson. Weird how it has such a different feel than Phoenix, even with the megacorps dominating the downtown.”

“Yeah, Tucson’s got its own thing going, that’s for sure. I’ll probably miss it someday, but right now, I’m eager to get the hell out of here,” Juliet said, surprising herself with her candor.

“They’re coming into the club,” Honey said, standing up and moving to the door again.

“So, she really uses that sword, huh?” Hot Mustard asked, and to his credit, he spoke plainly enough for Honey to hear easily.

“Yeah, and she’s damn good.”

“Thanks, Jules,” Honey said, then added, “also, my scabbard doubles as a stun baton, so, yeah—perfect for tonight’s job.”

“Oh? Non-lethals all the way?”

“Relax!” Juliet laughed, “They’re almost here, and we’ll go over it all.”

Before Hot Mustard could respond, the door opened, and Honey nodded to Mags and Pit, motioning them into the room. Mags lumbered right over to the table and scooted in next to Hot Mustard, urging him to make room. She wore a black tank top, bright red lipstick, and her permanent cybernetic visor. Her short, dirty-blond hair looked freshly curled, and she smiled broadly at Juliet, exposing too-small teeth with lots of wide gaps; it was endearing.

Before Juliet could greet Mags, Pit strode up and stuck out a hand, “Yo, Juliet. Thanks for thinking of me on this job.”

“Of course, Pit,” Juliet said, reaching out to clasp his hand. “Thank you for coming on such short notice.”

Pit nodded, then turned to slide into the booth next to Mags, further pushing Hot Mustard around the horseshoe-shaped seat toward Juliet. He wore a frayed denim vest, exposing his well-muscled arms and myriad tattoos, and Juliet could see he’d freshly shaved his face—he looked tough but clean, and she appreciated his bright, alert eyes; it was going to be a long night.

Honey sat down across from her and raised an eyebrow, indicating it was her turn to speak, so Juliet cleared her throat and said, “Thank all of you. Thank you for coming to help with this job. My friend, whom half of you have never met, is in danger, and I appreciate you all dropping your plans for tonight and heading down here. I’m fairly sure it will be worth your while,” she chuckled, “but I know you all have other, probably less risky ways to make some bits.”

“You know me,” Mags said, smashing a heavy, meaty fist into her palm, the pale flesh of her arms jiggling with the impact, “always happy to smash some heads for the right cause.” Her visor scrolled a cartoon explosion and the word POW while she spoke, and Juliet chuckled.

“There might be some head smashing, but the goal tonight is non-lethal. I’m not trying to create more vendettas; I’m trying to eliminate one.”

“So, how’s that going to work, exactly?” Honey asked, surprising Juliet. It was a fair question, though—she’d been a bit more cryptic with Honey than she deserved, but it was mostly because her plan had been slowly developing over the last couple of days.

“Well, that’s a good question, Honey. Let me start with a broad outline for everyone.” She looked around the table and met everyone’s eyes, or visor, and continued, “My friend has been taken hostage, held helpless by some leverage . . .” the door buzzed, interrupting her, and Honey jumped up to see who it was.

“Thanks,” Honey said, opening the door for a club employee with a pitcher of iced water and five tall, narrow glasses. As soon as he set them down on the metal cart next to the shot glasses and left, Juliet leaned forward and tapped her deck, touching the icon Angel had set up for her to activate the wireless jammer.

“Now that we’re alone and I’m about to start talking business, I guess I should turn this on,” she said, pointing to the deck. “Jammer and noise screen. Everyone good with that?”

“Good,” Pit said, nodding. No one else commented, so Juliet cleared her throat and continued speaking.

“So my friend is being held at a compound out past the ABZ near Tucson. We have eyes and ears on the site. Honey and I did some reconnaissance last night, and while we were there, I managed to take control of their own drones. At this, Pit and Mags shared a chuckle and bumped knuckles. Hot Mustard exhaled noisily through his nose, and Juliet smiled around the table. “What? You guys expected less?”

After the chuckles subsided, she continued, “The guy who’s holding our target, Ghoul, has access to a large network of operators and former corpo-sec agents. He’s very connected, has deep pockets, and has a real grudge against Ghoul. That said, he hates her because she’s taking the fall for something I did.” She held up a hand as she saw questions forming on the faces of the people around the table, “Enough said about that—just know that Ghoul doesn’t deserve the shit she’s going through right now.”

Juliet touched another icon on her deck, and a three-dimensional map of Vikker’s compound appeared. It wasn’t in full color, but it wasn’t monochromatic, either—the structures were gray, the ground and fauna were a light brown, and as everyone watched, it began to populate with red, humanoid figures, moving around in real-time—Angel had connected the feed from the drones to the map, showing where Reynold and his people were.

One of the figures was green, a stationary dot in a large square space beneath the ground floor of the ranch house—Vikker’s secret basement. “This is Ghoul,” Juliet said. “Right now, there are seven hostiles to deal with, and based on chatter we heard throughout the day, we think that number will remain constant.”

“Part one of the plan is to get Ghoul out of there. We want to incapacitate all of the hostiles, so I have time to work on part two of the plan, the part of the plan that makes sure these assholes don’t come back around looking for Ghoul or the person they’re leveraging against her. Ever.”

“Which is?” Hot Mustard prompted helpfully.

“Once they’re all out of it, I’m going to hack Reynold’s PAI. I’m going to get ahold of his contact list, and I’m going to send out some incriminating personal messages with high-value corporate secrets belonging to Vykertech. They’re going to descend on him like flies on shit, and there won’t be much he can say to get them off his back.

“If I’m right about this data I have, they’ll make him disappear. They’ll probably do the same to anyone he’s been working with lately unless they violently distance themselves from him. He won’t have time or freedom to worry about his vendetta with Ghoul.”

Hot Mustard blew a low, slow whistle and said, “Remind me not to get on your bad side, Juliet.”

“No shit!” Mags said, but she wore a savage grin. “Glad to have a real netjacker as a friend!”

“I . . .” Juliet began to protest, but then she shrugged and said, “I don’t like it when connected assholes pick on my friends, especially when they’re wrong. That should be me sitting in that cellar.” Subvocally, she added, “Angel, thank you so much. I hate taking credit for you.”

“I don’t mind, Juliet. We’re a team, and this was entirely your idea. I find it diabolical and am very impressed!”

“So, you really think the Vykertech data you have will be that bad for this guy?”

“Yes—it's the kind of shit that would get a corp sanctioned or split up.” Angel had finished analyzing the databases that had been stored with the dreamer program. They contained everything from participant identifiers, to hormone call requests from the program, to bio-readings taken by the hijacked PAIs.

“Okay, cool,” Honey said, leaning forward, “so tell us what we each need to do.”