she missed a lot of people. One more wasn’t going to make much difference.
Outside, the mist had risen up like a soft wall, and the temperature had taken its usual early-evening plummet. The sensors in Simone’s trench coat felt this, and the thin gel that lined her coat began warming up, but the initial shock of the cold scattered the little traces of inebriation that had muddled her head.
Henry was nowhere in sight, and there were a few directions he could have gone. If he was going straight home, he would be taking the bridge that went past the cruise ship Xanadu , but if he wasn’t . . . Following her gut, she took off down the bridge towards downtown, where he had met The Blonde.
The sun had started to set, and the fog was getting heavier. Rose and gray mixed as darkness overtook the city. The buildings grew harder to see, but you could always hear the water rushing underfoot. She walked quickly, hoping Henry would come into sight through the mist. She should have hit him with a tracker, too, but then she would have needed to actually hide the bug on his jacket and get it back later. Or hit him with two dissolving bugs. She caught sight of a yellow jacket like the one he’d been wearing last night and took off after it. She was only a few steps behind him, but in the fog, no one would notice a tail. To make sure it was him, she coughed loudly. The cough echoed in her ear. She fell back a little, now that she’d found him. He walked down small winding backway bridges, where there were few people around. Some didn’t have banisters, and the waves splashed over them onto her feet. She would be easier to notice now, so she hung back even more, speeding up occasionally to get a look at him, then falling back again.
She couldn’t tell where he was heading. That worried her. They seemed to be moving farther and farther from central downtown, heading west and north. New York was always dangerous, but the more central areas of the city at least played at being civilized. The people who lived out in West Midtown were people who couldn’t pretend anymore: MouthFoamers who would do anything for a fix when they weren’t catatonic on a bridge; people who had given up everything but their own lives, hoping someone else would take them; people who had come to the city looking for an escape but found themselves completely trapped, clawing at anything they thought might offer some form of release. She could handle herself out here, but she didn’t think Henry could, so the ease with which he walked felt wrong. She didn’t think it was a trap—though that was always a possibility—but she sensed something off. She checked the small pistol inside her boot, making sure it was easy to reach.
Henry stopped. She heard his footsteps fall silent on her earpiece. His breathing seemed a little heavier, too. Wherever he was, it was where he was going to stay. She looked ahead. A short building, barely a full story above water, was in front of her. She couldn’t see anywhere else he could be waiting. She quietly walked closer until she got a better read on the building. There was a large hole in the wall leading in and another hole at the other end. The building itself seemed to have been totally cleared out—just bare concrete walls and floor and fluorescent lighting making the place glow. No shadows. Nowhere to hide. A good place to meet someone you didn’t totally trust. A bad place for Simone to eavesdrop.
She looked around for someplace higher, where she could see who came and went. She toyed with the idea of climbing to the top of the building itself, but there was no fire escape, and it would have been a noisy undertaking. She settled for a bridge a little ways away, but higher up. It faced the side of the building. She’d be able to see who came and went but not what happened inside.
She took her camera out again, watched the fog, and listened to Henry’s heavy breathing in her ear. Someone else approached the
Outside, the mist had risen up like a soft wall, and the temperature had taken its usual early-evening plummet. The sensors in Simone’s trench coat felt this, and the thin gel that lined her coat began warming up, but the initial shock of the cold scattered the little traces of inebriation that had muddled her head.
Henry was nowhere in sight, and there were a few directions he could have gone. If he was going straight home, he would be taking the bridge that went past the cruise ship Xanadu , but if he wasn’t . . . Following her gut, she took off down the bridge towards downtown, where he had met The Blonde.
The sun had started to set, and the fog was getting heavier. Rose and gray mixed as darkness overtook the city. The buildings grew harder to see, but you could always hear the water rushing underfoot. She walked quickly, hoping Henry would come into sight through the mist. She should have hit him with a tracker, too, but then she would have needed to actually hide the bug on his jacket and get it back later. Or hit him with two dissolving bugs. She caught sight of a yellow jacket like the one he’d been wearing last night and took off after it. She was only a few steps behind him, but in the fog, no one would notice a tail. To make sure it was him, she coughed loudly. The cough echoed in her ear. She fell back a little, now that she’d found him. He walked down small winding backway bridges, where there were few people around. Some didn’t have banisters, and the waves splashed over them onto her feet. She would be easier to notice now, so she hung back even more, speeding up occasionally to get a look at him, then falling back again.
She couldn’t tell where he was heading. That worried her. They seemed to be moving farther and farther from central downtown, heading west and north. New York was always dangerous, but the more central areas of the city at least played at being civilized. The people who lived out in West Midtown were people who couldn’t pretend anymore: MouthFoamers who would do anything for a fix when they weren’t catatonic on a bridge; people who had given up everything but their own lives, hoping someone else would take them; people who had come to the city looking for an escape but found themselves completely trapped, clawing at anything they thought might offer some form of release. She could handle herself out here, but she didn’t think Henry could, so the ease with which he walked felt wrong. She didn’t think it was a trap—though that was always a possibility—but she sensed something off. She checked the small pistol inside her boot, making sure it was easy to reach.
Henry stopped. She heard his footsteps fall silent on her earpiece. His breathing seemed a little heavier, too. Wherever he was, it was where he was going to stay. She looked ahead. A short building, barely a full story above water, was in front of her. She couldn’t see anywhere else he could be waiting. She quietly walked closer until she got a better read on the building. There was a large hole in the wall leading in and another hole at the other end. The building itself seemed to have been totally cleared out—just bare concrete walls and floor and fluorescent lighting making the place glow. No shadows. Nowhere to hide. A good place to meet someone you didn’t totally trust. A bad place for Simone to eavesdrop.
She looked around for someplace higher, where she could see who came and went. She toyed with the idea of climbing to the top of the building itself, but there was no fire escape, and it would have been a noisy undertaking. She settled for a bridge a little ways away, but higher up. It faced the side of the building. She’d be able to see who came and went but not what happened inside.
She took her camera out again, watched the fog, and listened to Henry’s heavy breathing in her ear. Someone else approached the
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