AllFreeNovel
Share Us
And he felt just as trapped as the high-paid scientists. The sooner this assignment was over, the better. All he had to do was inject the lead scientist with a nano virus that would piggyback on his connection to the research facility mainframe and copy the information they needed. That was it. One little injection, and then he was out of there. He looked down at his datapad and frowned. The injector had been built into it, but he couldn’t remember how to access the damn thing.
“How do I get the injector off this thing again?” Hell, he couldn’t even see it. All he saw was the slim silver lens of a state-of-the-art handheld device.
Hunter let out a heavy sigh. “Friday, can you show him? I’m busy monitoring Keiko.”
“I’m taking remote control of your datapad,” Friday said as her image appeared in the top right-hand corner of the screen. The blonde was frowning at him. No surprise there. “See this box?” A dialogue box appeared on the screen. “You type in the release command, and the injector will pop out of the datapad. From the time it emerges, you only have about fifteen seconds to inject it into our target, otherwise it will be useless. So don’t release it until you know you’re going to use it.” She let out a long-suffering sigh. “When you get back to base, I’m making you take a Technology for Beginners course. Your ignorance makes you a danger to the team. And it’s embarrassing.”
“I know enough for what I need to do.” Generally. It wasn’t his fault he was a century out of date with the latest tech.
“Obviously not, or you’d be doing it.” She turned to her husband, who appeared behind her on the screen. “Is it too late to swap him out and put someone more capable in there? I’m worried he’s going to screw everything up and we won’t get the information we need. This is too important to let Mace loose on it. Millions of people could die if that chip is implanted in their heads.”
“Yeah, it’s too late to swap him out,” Striker said. “But don’t worry about it none. Mace’ll get the job done—he ain’t screwed up a mission yet. Take a deep breath and leave him be. You can fight it out with him once this is over.”
“Fine,” she huffed, “but if we ever have to infiltrate a research facility again, we send in someone who understands how to use a datapad. There are days I’m not even sure Mace can walk and talk at the same time.”
“Hey,” Mace said. “Still here.”
“I know,” Friday said. “I’m finished with your datapad. You can have control back. Do you think you can manage to wipe its memory once I log out, or do I need to talk you through that, too?”
“Why did we rescue her again?” Mace said.
“She’s great in bed,” Striker joked, earning a slap on the back of his head from his wife before the screen went blank.
“Are you sure Keiko is okay?” Mace said into his comm unit. “Security isn’t suspicious of her, are they?”
His stomach clenched. He didn’t like having her out of his sight and unprotected. If CommTECH’s security team got wind of what she was doing, she would be arrested and interrogated. Basically, his team had hung her out to dry. Another part of this mission that grated.
“She’s fine.” Hunter sounded bored. “She’s where she’s supposed to be, and she hasn’t sent out any calls for help.”
No, she wouldn’t. She was far too worried about what they’d do to her parents. Just thinking about that play made him want to punch his best friend all over again. “When this is done, Striker, you and I have a few things to settle.”
“Bring it on, mon ami,” his team leader drawled.
“Look lively.” Hunter was monitoring the feed from Mace’s cameras. They were props to help him fit in with the other reporters, but instead of broadcasting to a news station, his feed only went as far as his team’s van. “It’s showtime.”
There was a stirring at the front of the crowd, and hushed chatter quieted to murmurs, then silence. As one, the reporters surged toward the platform, where a wooden podium with the CommTECH logo dancing in 3-D animation on the front of it had been erected. Holographic projections appeared around the platform as shimmering figures told their stories about how CommTECH’s implants had changed their lives for the better.
Mace wasn’t interested in the presentations—all he cared about was when Keiko would step onto the stage—but the next hologram did manage to snag his attention. Mainly because it was a live feed showing CommTECH’s CEO, Miriam Shepherd. Her white-blond hair was fashioned into a sleek bob that stopped at her jaw. She wore a white pantsuit, but not the boxy kind that used to be Hillary Clinton’s trademark. This one fit like a glove, with the jacket wrapping around her body to fasten at the shoulder, and even though the crowd was seeing her as a holographic projection, it was still easy to tell the material was silk—a sign of status, power, and wealth. She was larger than life, a beacon of glowing white light in the middle of the stage. She was their leader. Their messiah. Their hope.
“Welcome to the product launch of our most advanced lens ever.” Miriam Shepherd’s holograph lifted her hands, and the applause grew louder. The roar only subsided once she lowered her arms again.
“Well-trained dogs,” Mace murmured. “What happened to an unbiased press?”
“That idea died decades ago,” Friday said helpfully.
“Thank you for coming.” Miriam’s voice surrounded them, resonating from well-hidden speakers positioned throughout the terrace. “I apologize for being unable to attend this launch in person, but when you run the most successful company in the world, there are many demands on your time.”
“Her humility is making me tear up,” Mace muttered into his throat mic. “Am I the only one getting cult-leader vibes from this performance?”
“Nope,” Striker said in his ear. “Any minute now, she’s gonna ask you to bow before her.”
“Good luck with that.” Mace had his share of bowing down to people when he was a kid. Now if people wanted his respect, they had to earn it.
“Today’s launch is the first of several this season,” Miriam continued. “Over the next few weeks, we’ll be rolling out a series of new products that will set market standards for years to come. One of which is the new neural datachip that’s being designed in this very facility, under the guidance of our head of research, Rueben Granger. Our team of scientists, the best in the world, has pushed the boundaries on every aspect of integrated living that the modern person needs. We’re talking faster processing, smoother connectivity, enhanced neural integration, and longer product life—across the board.”
“Notice she said longer product life, not longer customer life,” Striker said in Mace’s ear.
There was more applause, although this time she hadn’t signaled for it. The sheep were eager to eat the feed she was shoveling.
