Ch. 64 – Amidst Waves

Derrick shut the door behind him and headed toward the garage where they kept the shop’s car.

He was going to Maxine again, but this time there wasn’t anything to offer her. This wasn’t a job she could take a cut of, and Hack Alley couldn’t afford to pay her fairly either. But she was the obvious choice: keeping secrets was part of her job, and she had the skill to tap into surveillance systems around the greater New Shore City area. She even specialized in infiltration and surveillance, so there wasn’t a more qualified expert whom Hack Alley could afford.

Derrick needed that sort of wide-sweeping awareness if he wanted to find the Drifter, especially if the man had left Chinatown.

But was his own memory of the Drifter’s face even any good? How would he describe the guy to Maxine? All he had were two times and places that the Drifter had been: the alleyway where Raymond had died, and the other alley near the convenience store where Mr. Kim had dropped the Drifter off.

If worse came to worst, he’d have to gather video footage or images of the different suspects that Maxine identified, and then bring them to Mr. Kim to identify.

Derrick shivered and rubbed his hands together. Maybe Maxine would be able to think of a better approach once he’d explained to her . . . just what was at stake . . .

It was funny. He wouldn’t be sharing all the details of that day with Maxine, but she would know about the Drifter before Tony did. Tony: the man who’d taken Derrick in and practically raised him ever since his parents died—

Derrick grit his teeth. That same old thought crept back into his mind. Derrick had never told Tony who had burned all those Leopards that day. And Tony had never asked him. But if Tony had known who’d sparked the inferno that steeped Chinatown in the odor of burnt flesh for weeks, would he have let Derrick stay at Hack Alley?

Tony, who chose to be a mod-doc—who chose to save lives and make them better, who would be fine with giving Leopards a beat down, but patch them up afterwards: would he still want Derrick under his roof?

Derrick didn’t have to ask himself those questions if he talked to Maxine. She was a business partner. Trustworthy. A friend, maybe. And that was what he needed.

Derrick jumped into the car and shut the door, checking his wallet. It wasn’t much, but he had brought a few hundred dollars in cash. There was still the question of what they’d be able to compensate her with. If he couldn’t offer enough money, Maxine might accept some new juicy piece of information in its place; they’d done this sort of deal before. But what piece of info would be worthwhile for her?

Derrick started the car, and drove out onto the highway. There weren’t any cars behind him, and he waited for an oncoming one to pass, before looping around and taking the dirt road down to the seawall. He climbed over it and into his canoe, and then pushed off past the Chunk into the flooded Old City. He was the only soul in sight on the water.

#

The smell of mold had gotten even worse over time, and the cardboard ramp leading up the makeshift entrance had practically dissolved in the water. Derrick climbed out of his moored boat, and made his way up the staircase again, until he arrived at the locked door with the scanning camera.

The camera stayed still as he approached, and didn’t move to scan Derrick’s face like it would have usually. “Hello?” Derrick called out. “Anyone there?”

Still, the camera made no move to scan him. It had always attempted to scan him every time he had visited, but then again, Maxine had been there every time, too. Was she ‘out of office’?

Would she have left a sign or a note or something to indicate that she was? Think, Derrick. What sort of sign would Maxine leave if she wanted to hint to her business partners that she was not at her hideout?

There was nothing on the dusty railings, and nothing wedged underneath the locked door, either. Was there anything taped up near the camera? Nope. Maybe it was a hidden sign?

How about something that he could scan with his phone? Derrick flicked on the flashlight in his phone and shone it around the dark landing. No QR codes or other symbols that he could see.

Shit. Had he just come all the way out here for nothing? Derrick flicked the flashlight off and knocked on the door. Maybe she had just been in the bathroom, and would fling the door open and welcome him in if only he kept knocking.

‘Hi Maxine, I need your help.’

‘Maxine, I’m so glad you’re here. There’s a problem.’

He mouthed the greetings to himself, but they felt strange on his lips.

What had he even expected her to say when she saw him, brow furrowed and hunched over, like he was hiding from a ghost? It wasn’t just her skills he needed; it had felt so good to be ready to tell someone about it all. About how his hands had shook as he’d rushed home from the alleyway that day. How he’d stuffed them in his pockets to keep it from showing. How he’d scrubbed and scrubbed himself in the shower, trying to get the blood off.

He needed some more friends. It wasn’t like he could tell Marcus, since the man was a fucking White Leopard, and Derrick was still hiding behind . . . the name Derrick.

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Maybe it was time to go home.

His steps echoed through the stairwell as he went down, feeling along the railing with his natural hand in case he had missed something in the darkness. As he hit the flight below the door, he looked back up at the camera. It was still inert, and Maxine’s absence was almost palpable. She was gone and there was only this little—

Wait. There was a little piece of paper stuck underneath the landing where the camera was mounted. The echoes of his footsteps blended together as Derrick rushed up the staircase and stooped to the ground, sticking his arm out the railing and under the landing. He tugged, and felt the paper rip a little. It was stuck on there real good. Pulling on the tape was the better option, and the paper soon came free.

It had been neatly creased in half twice, and blue ink peeked out as he unfolded it. Her handwriting was surprisingly tidy for a keyboard jockey’s. It wasn’t in cursive, but neatly drawn print.

Hey there. If you’ve found this, it means that I’m out and about. Don’t bother breaking in through the door, since you won’t be able to pawn off my gear anyway. Don’t expect me back for at least a week.

So Maxine really was gone. She would be back, if the last time she went missing was any indication. She had never told Derrick what she was out and about doing, but for a hacker living in the Old City, that was normal.

Now was this message meant for him, or someone else? The tape on the note was already bunched up and stuck to the paper. Sticking the note back under the landing would be hard, and leaving it somewhere else in plain sight might mean giving away Maxine’s secrets. Derrick folded it twice, as Maxine had, and stuffed it in his pocket, bunched up tape and all. It wouldn’t hurt to keep it, and she’d hopefully be back soon . . .

But Maxine had given only a vague time frame in the note she’d left behind, which said she’d be gone for at least a week! And Derrick needed answers NOW.

She hadn’t been responding to his messages via their usual anonymous contact method, but it was still worth a shot contacting her now. Maybe he’d be able to convince her to remote access the computers in her hideout, and do some searching for him. Or maybe, she’d even give out some sort of access code to present to the security camera, which would open the door for him. Somewhere in her gear, there was bound to be a device or database that would help locate the Drifter. And even if there wasn’t . . . he’d never been able to poke around her shop unsupervised before; the thought was tempting. But enough of that.

Derrick sent another message to Maxine, asking for help, and waited.

He didn’t have access to the illicit network that Maxine and other Old City dwellers used to connect to the internet, so the little message was traveling to the cell tower all the way in New Shore City.

The sound of waves breaking upon the tower flowed around the dark stairwell as if it were a lone ship at sea, and it was soon joined by the sound of Derrick’s breathing as he watched the little sending icon on his phone spin around.

He waited.