Chapter Sixty-Four - Trying out that Stealth Stuff

“You can’t just lay down and expect someone higher up the chain to notice.

You need to make noise. To make yourself heard. To participate in the political machine.”

--M. Breaker, political activist during a street interview before the 2027 Minimumwage Protest Bombings

***

Burringham’s meet and greet thing was held in a large city square set in the middle of one of those fatter, more squat skyscrapers that had bridges leading to all the other buildings around it. The square was partially open above, with a ring of glass panels over the centre of the square.

An entire squad’s worth of heavy-looking military trucks were hovering around the square, roof-mounted guns tracking any vehicle that came even a little too close.

It looked like Burringham wasn’t cheaping out on his security. Couldn’t blame him there.

I moved down below the building with the square, then found a parking garage a few floors over where I left my hovercycle before taking off.

I had to navigate my way up a few floors, then across a couple of bridges. I wasn’t the only one heading that way. The majority of the foot traffic I encountered were heading the same way.

When I arrived at the square proper, I had to stop and take it in. There were small stores lining the edges, with ads plastered all over them, but for the most part the square acted like something of an open space. There were real trees in large planters with benches around them, and the ground was covered in large flagstones. It felt almost like we were outside instead of within the topmost floor of a stubby building, larger skyscrapers towering out above.

Some fuckery with holographics painted the sky on the windows above as blue and only a little cloudy, instead of the constant grey and drizzly they were in reality.

The square might have been meant as a peaceful place for upper-middles to walk around in and meet up. I could imagine some older folk doing tai-chi or something here, but right then and there the place was packed.

The centre of the square had a spot where a campaign bus was parked, and behind that was a light hover tank, barrel pointing high to remind people not to fuck around.

That’s where Burringham was, in a little island of peace, surrounded by guards and hovering fence-posts. A few armed dog-robots were sitting nearby too.

A line of people stretched out from where Burringham was all the way back to the entrance, snaking around little guiding signs all the way. Just normal-looking folk who passed through some security checkbox then filed into the line.

At the end they shook Burringham’s hand, maybe spoke a word or two to him, then they were encouraged to move on by one of Burringham’s guards. He smiled the entire time.

“Great,” I muttered under my breath. If I got into line now, it might only take an hour for me to reach Burringham. The security around him looked pretty tight too. They might give me a pass, and if I poked at Burringham and asked him for help, he’d certainly let me get closer, but that would mean that I had to ask him for help, for permission basically, just to get close to him.

That left a bit of a sour taste in my mouth.

I flicked on my invisibility while shuffling between two others. A kid nearby gasped and started to look around for me, but as far as I could tell no one had really noticed that I’d gone invisible. That was kind of the point of invisibility though.

Squeezing my way through the crowd, I reached one of the tree planters and jumped up onto the lip of it, then I cut through a row of people on the other side of it. It didn’t take long to get to the edge of the cordon protecting Burringham himself.

That part would be trickier to move past. There were actual hovering bars in the way, and robots scanning the area next to flesh-and-blood guards.

I circled around the area, then found a crack in the perimeter next to the tank. I guessed that no one wanted to try their luck next to a couple of tons of ‘fuck off’ with a gun longer than most people were tall.

After that, it was just a question of walking around the busy official-sorts that Burringham had toiling behind him. I saw his trusty secretary nearby, on an office chair that looked entirely out of place in the square and with a laptop sitting crooked on her lap.

I moved past her, then over to Burringham’s side. It took me a moment to fiddle with the controls on the speakers built into my helmet. I didn’t want to talk loud enough to be overheard. Once I had everything set up the way I wanted, I waited.

Burringham was talking to a twenty-something mom of three, who apparently really wanted him to help with the cost of rent. She was teary-eyed when she explained that rent was increasing faster than her pay, and that she had to start making choices that she didn’t like. Food or bills or a house where the kids didn’t need to share bedrooms.

Burringham gave her some platitudes about trying his best, then he foisted her off on some intern-looking guy who said he'd see if the increases in her rent were legal or not.

Not that them being illegal would help any, I figured.

Burringham took a deep breath when she left, his smile resetting from ‘happy to talk to you but also sad about your situation’ to just plain ‘happy to meet the next schmuck.’

“You’re good at this,” I said.

He jumped, eyes widening as he looked around--and right through me--for whomever had just spoken next to him.

“My specialities are big explosions and stealth,” I said. “Admittedly I’m better at the big explosions.”

“Stray Cat?” he asked. “Where are you?”

I reached out and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Right here,” I said.

“Oh,” he replied. He raised his other hand and made a small gesture to one of his goons. They were quick to step up and slow down the next person in the line. Then he touched his ear, the universal sign of someone on a call. “What, ah, can I help you with? You know, you didn’t need to sneak all the way here.”

“Your guards looked twitchy,” I said.

“They’ll be twitchier when they learn you snuck past them,” he said. “Should I be investing in better guards?”

“I dunno. I’d like to think I’m pretty damned sneaky.”

“I’ll see what I can do about it,” he said with the same tone and friendly smile he’d given to that woman just a minute ago. “Ah, I’ve sent a text to the guards, they’ll stand down if you want to, ah, appear.”

“I think I’ll stay like this,” I said. I didn’t need to give him even more good press. “Look, I had some time on my hands, so I poked at the Hitman Cooperative. One thing led to another, and we know who paid to have you shot. Or at least who greenlit the payment, they might have been tricked, or just approved of a payment set up by someone else.”

“Who are your suspects?” he asked. “I can have my own security look over them, if you want. It would narrow it down, so far we have nothing.”

I nodded. “Myalis, you got that list?”

Sending now!

Burringham blinked as he received the list. His brows drew together, then he started to turn around, towards his secretary. He stopped mid-turn. “Really?” he asked.

“Surprised?” I asked.

“Obviously,” he snapped. “I didn’t expect to have paid for my own assassination. Damnit, I invested a few million into that side company, of my own money. It wasn’t meant to be used to shoot me.”

“Well, it worked, as far as I can tell.” I gestured to the crowd, then realized he couldn’t see it. “You’re looking pretty popular this afternoon.”

“I’m on the news. We both are. It’ll pass in a day, maybe two, but I wanted to capitalize on it while I could. Prove I’m in good health for the constituents.”

“Right,” I said. “Look, I don’t know how much more time I can spend on this investigation thing.”

“No, no, you’ve done a lot already. I have some good security, and you just gave them a great lead. I’ll look into it some more. By the way, you’ll want to see this.” he gestured, and I received a text from his Aug-line.

It had a compressed folder that I opened and eyed up. “What is it?” I asked. A few of the files there had familiar names. I saw my own, and Lucy’s name too.

“That’s from child protective services. Someone’s pressuring them to do something about your... ah, orphanage-like situation.”

I closed my fist. “Oh yeah?” I asked.

“I wouldn’t worry overly much, it’s something we can get rid of without too much trouble. Though, to be perfectly honest, you might want to cut out some of their arguments at the knees, if you can.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’ll see about it,” I said. “On that note, I’m off. Good luck, Burringham. Don’t get shot again.”

“Ah, thank you, Stray Cat,” he said.

By the time I found a spot to sneak out of the cordon from, a lot more guards were moving around, and some were tossing flour on the floor, of all things. Cute.

***