Watch Dogs: Dark Clouds

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

He heard voices, just penetrating the thick pearly gray fog that enveloped the world.

“He came close…” Some strange male voice. Maybe a touch of Asian accent to it. “…but he is a strong, resilient man, and the wounds themselves weren’t so bad. It was all that blood…”

“He still need transfusions?” It was Seline’s voice.

“No. We were basically out of his blood type but a rather odd man came in. He, ah, was, strikingly deformed. Said he’d just had his first bath in a year and could he give blood for Mr. Wolfe and…”

“That would be Blank.”

“I beg your pardon?”

“Never mind. Go on.”

“Well, we tested the man’s blood, it was safe to use, it was the right type, and… he didn’t have any identification but… it was an emergency and we took a chance… I really think he saved Mr. Wolfe’s life…”

“Who says I’m not dead,” Wolfe said. His voice came out a rasp. He was looking around but not seeing much. Just blurry silhouettes. One of the silhouettes was definitely shaped like Seline.

“I say so, Mick,” Seline said, sitting down beside Wolfe. He felt her hand on one of his. Her touch was cool, but there was a sweet warmth in it too. “You’re alive. I’m taking your pulse right now. Yep, there it is. Pretty strong.”

“Am I…” He swallowed. His throat seemed gummed up.

“Here—you want some water?”

He felt her left his head a little; felt a paper cup of water at his lips. He drank. It was a beautiful taste. Just cool water.

“Thanks.” He lay back and asked. “Am I under arrest? I mean—is there… did they…”

“It’s complicated, Wolfe. There were bodies on the plane. But… seeing as you saved a city… of course that’s still under discussion. There are people wondering if you might be the guy who…” She bent near his ear and whispered, so closely, he could feel her breath tickle. “…who stole a helicopter and crashed it. I told them no way was that you.”

“Thanks. You’re a great… character witness.”

She chuckled, and sat up. “They aren’t sure. Then there was that Federal Building mess… But Starling is talking. He says you gave him orders to talk—so he’s talking. You really psyched him out, Wolfe. And our mutual friend, Aiden, is using all his contacts on your behalf. And so is DedSec. And the SystemsLeak thing has really gone viral. That vindicates you and makes Verrick look like the creep he was. So with a little luck…”

“I…” He looked around. His eyes almost cleared, for a moment. Then the darkness closed in again. “…gave up on luck… Till I…”

He squeezed her hand. Then he lost consciousness again.

“The testimony of Mr. Starling, and the information from the drone recovered from the lake seems to confirm the story provided by Mr. Wolfe’s lawyers regarding the planned attack on Chicago. The District Attorney declines to prosecute Mick Wolfe, citing…”

Wolfe turned off the radio. “Hey nurse!” he shouted.

He found the button to call her. A minute later a fairly large cocoa-colored nurse with dyed-blond cornrows came into the room. “Who’s hollering in here? That you again, Mick? Did I not tell you to get some rest?”

“Done resting, Martha. I need you to take this IV out of my arm. I’m free to go, no more cops watching my room. I feel better. I can leave.”

“And you got a medical degree when?”

“It’s just common sense, Martha. I know why you’re keeping me here, really. And I don’t blame you. Women cannot resist me. But you have a wedding ring. It wasn’t meant to be.”

She laughed. “Oh listen to him! Now you got to go! I’ll ask the doctor…”

But it was almost two hours before he was out of the hospital, standing on the corner, on a sunny but cold winter afternoon, wondering what had become of his PearcePhone. He could get a standard phone. He knew Seline’s number. He wondered if it was the right thing to call her. Purity, in some form, was still out there. It was being investigated. Iceberg Investments had been shut down. Starling’s testimony had led to Marlon Winters being arrested. But there were still a lot of Purity members out there, most of them under cover. They had reason to hate Mick Wolfe. If they were after him—Seline would be in the crossfire. If, that is, she even wanted to be around him.

He’d thought she’d whispered something to him, while he was semi comatose… something about wanting—

“Mick! I’ve been looking for you, you idiot!”

Seline was walking up to him. She wore a long blue coat, something retro, like you’d expect to see Barbara Stanwyck wear in a 1940s movie, and a matching hat.

“Seline. Hi. I was just wondering if I should call you.”

“Wondering if! What a…”

“I just thought… I’m going to have a lot of enemies now.”

“That’s why you need me to watch your back, dummy.”

“You really want to do that?”

“Did I or did I not pick you up on the freeway when you were trying to get away with Bullock?”

“Yeah. But…”

“Never mind, yeah but. Let’s get some lunch. I’m starved. Come on, I’ve got the rental. We won’t have to steal one.”

They started off down the street together. Wolfe felt something strange, as he walked along. After a moment he realized it was something close to happiness. He’d forgotten what that felt like.

After a couple minutes, though, the worries came back. The first one had to do with Pearce. “Where’s the PearcePhone, Seline? I was wondering if someone could use it to trace Pearce.”

“Pearce made sure one of his EMT contacts was there when you were loaded into the ambulance. He had to pull it out of your pants. I guess it was kind of a little too intimate for the guy. But he did it. Pearce has it now.”

“I don’t want the damned thing anymore. It’s a magnet for trouble.”

“It saved your life more than once. But I know what you mean.”

They got to the car, she unlocked it, and they climbed in. She started the car, then turned to him. “Wolfe… I want you to know, you were a perfect gentleman when we were sharing quarters together. I appreciated that.”

“Okay.”

“But Wolfe… that was then. This is now.”

He blinked at her. What was he supposed to do now?

She made a sound of exasperation, and reached out, pulled him to her, and kissed him hard on the mouth.

After a moment he relaxed, and put his arms around her. And kissed her back.

There was that strange feeling again…

“Mr Quinn?”

Niall Quinn put out his hand. “Mr Winters?”

“Call me Marlon.” They shook hands.

“Okay. Call me Niall. Glad to see you made bail. A man like you shouldn’t have to sit in stir.”

“The bastards will never convict me.”

“Sit down, take a load off, Marlon. Have a drink.”

Winters looked around at the interior of the train car. “This is something. Old fashioned. Like something one of the old time tycoons would have—like Vanderbilt.”

“Sure, that’s what I had in mind,” Quinn said. “My dad always wanted one. It’s in his honor. It’s armored. It’s got every kinda electronic contraption you can imagine. I own the train it’s hooked up to. The whole thing is the latest—even though this here looks so old fashioned. Doors are electronic, so they can’t be jimmied or lock picked. It’s a fortress… one that moves!”

“I do admire that.”

They sat in two push red velvet chairs; between them a little round mahogany table held a brass cigar humidor, a cut-crystal brandy decanter and two small snifters. The table and chairs were bolted to the floor, against sudden motions of the train car. The luxurious private car was done in reds and golds, with carpeting, a bar, a breakfast table, a fold-way double bed, fine fringed curtains over the bullet proof windows. Quinn’s old man had indeed admired the private rail cars he’d seen in movies, and Niall Quinn had copied one from an old film about a railroad magnate.

“How about we go the whole hog and have brandy and cigars?” Quinn suggested.

“Fine, fine…”

They drank brandy, smoked cigars. Quinn switched on the fan overhead that drew the smoke from the car.

“I’ve never been a train car guy,” Winters said. “Private jets, that’s me. Mine’s sweet.”

“I’ll bet it is. But see, I don’t trust jets right now. Too vulnerable to hacking.” He winked. “So I heard.”

Winters grunted. “We’re both still vulnerable, Niall.” He blew a cloud of blue smoke toward the ceiling. “Pearce. Wolfe. DedSec. Long as all that’s in place…”

“I’ve heard of that DedSec. Hard to kill what you can’t find.”

“We can find Pearce. You almost got him yourself.”

Quinn looked at Winters narrowly. “There a chance you made a plea deal? You’re not wearing a wire are you?”

“Your man checked me outside. Besides—you asked me here. Wasn’t the other way around.”

“True. Okay.” He put his cigar out in the ashtray. Cigars looked good but he’d never learned to like the taste much. “I asked you here because I had a deal with your friend Verrick. He was supposed to get rid of Pearce. Well, he got close but he failed. Now, Pearce and Wolfe—those guys are common enemies to both of us, Winters. Right?”

Winters nodded. “No doubt about it.”

“I figure we throw in together, we can take them out. Share resources. You guys at Purity got more technical knowhow. I got firepower on the street. You find ’em—I kill ’em. And maybe when that works out—we can find some other deals to work on together. You know?”

Winters nodded thoughtfully. “Wolfe’s laying low but… we can probably find him eventually. Pearce seems to be constantly moving around, constantly monitoring everyone. Difficult man to find…”

“I’m not hard to find,” came Aiden Pearce’s voice, over the train car’s intercom system.

Quinn started up out of his seat. “What the fuck.”

Winters was staring around the room, scowling. “Where did that voice come from?”

“I’m talking to you over the intercom system,” Pearce answered. “I’ve hacked into your little choo-choo train here, Quinn. You made it a little too high tech. You should have stuck with the steam train model. Or maybe buy a Lionel set and just sit next to that in your basement, run it in circles.”

As if to confirm this, the car jolted, and he could feel it moving. It only went about fifty feet, as the train backed up… and then rolled to a stop. Quinn heard a chunk-clunk sound from his left.

He hurried over to the door leading to the next car, swept back the curtain, and looked open mouthed at the receding train cars. The train had moved backward, unlocked from his private car—and now it was moving away.

“Yeah, they think you ordered them to back up a little, uncouple and roll off,” Pearce said. “I bet the order sorta puzzled them.”

Quinn tried the door. It was locked. He remembered his remote keys, got them out, pressed the button. Nothing happened. The door stayed locked.

“Colin!” Quinn shouted. “Where the Hell are you!”

“Oh, I had to shoot your man Colin,” Pearce said. “Not a really nice guy. You know he was a partner in a child prostitute ring? I’m gonna take that down next, after I finish with you.”

Quinn spun around—saw that Winters was already trying the door at the other end of the train car. “Quinn! This damn door is locked!” Winters hammered on it. “Someone open this door!”

Quinn got out his cell phone, tried to call the train’s engineers.

But the cell wasn’t operating. No Signal.

He threw it aside, and got out his gun, fired it at the window over the door.

But he’d made the glass bullet proof again. And so was the lock.

“Quinn!” Came Pearce’s mocking voice. “Oh, Niall Quinn! Come to the side window, facing onto the street!”

Quinn went to the window facing the street, and pushed back the curtains.

He couldn’t see Pearce out there. There was nothing but an enormous semi truck, with a big full load of scrap metal on its trailer. The hulking semi truck was just sitting there, about sixty feet away, engine idling. There was no driver at the wheel.

“Pearce—I don’t know what you’re up to, but it’s pointless. You got the upper hand here. Let’s me and you make a deal! I’ll turn this guy Winters over to you…”

“What!” Winters yelled. “Why you treacherous Irish son of a bitch!”

“But I’ve got you and Winters both, right there, Quinn! Your old man gave me no choice! He had to go. You could have left it alone, Niall. But what did you do? You tried to have me killed! I do not approve. I officially object to it, when people try to have me killed. I have to make sure you don’t try it again.”

The truck was now backing up—though it had no driver.

Quinn’s mouth was very, very dry. “That truck! Pearce… You got some control over that truck?”

“I do,” Pearce said cheerfully. “Nothing as fancy as a self driving car. I simply planted a remote control unit steering and acceleration unit in it… and I’m operating it from here… I’m just backing it up to get a good run!”

“Jesus!” Quinn said, as he realized what Pearce had in mind. “Okay, fine! How much money do you want?”

“I don’t want money. I want to get rid of people who try to have me killed, Quinn. And that is priceless.”

The truck stopped backing up, a little more than two blocks away. Quinn could see smoke gushing from its steel exhaust chimney as it revved its motor.

“Pearce! I’ll… I’ll tell you what I’ll do! I’ll turn everything I own over to you! I’ll… Pearce, don’t do this!”

But the truck began moving forward. Faster. And faster. Picking up speed and momentum. Coming full bore at the train car.

Niall Quinn turned, looked around desperately, then ran and got behind the chairs bolted to the floor. He found Winters already there, crouching down. They looked into each other’s frightened eyes…

And then the semitruck impacted the train car.

Quinn’s special train car was armored against grenade blasts, and high caliber bullets. But not against a semitruck pulling a load of scrap metal at full speed.

Aiden Pearce sat in his borrowed Porsche and watched, as the semitruck smashed into Quinn’s car, crushing its way into it, shattering everything inside the train car…

And then the semitruck’s gas tank exploded. He sat there, watching it all burn.

He twitched and reached for his gun as someone rapped on the glass of his driver’s side window.

But then he relaxed. It was Blank.

Pearce rolled down the window. “How’d you find me?”

“I was staying with some hobos in the train yards, back there,” Blank said. “Saw you drive up. Didn’t seem to be a driver in that semi. Big nasty crash. Must’ve been your work.”

Pearce shrugged. He had few secrets from Blank. “Niall Quinn was in that train car. Along with Marlon Winters.”

Blank nodded. His burned, disfigured mouth twisted into its rude semblance of a smile. “Very thorough job. No one’s coming out of that alive.”

“No. That’d be my guess. Cops will be here soon. I’m outta here. You want a ride somewhere?”

“Don’t get a chance to ride in a Porsche much. Sure. I’m going over to the foodbank.”

He walked around the Porsche, climbed in beside Pearce.

They drove back toward downtown. Police cars raced past them, on the way to the scene of the wreck. None of the cops glanced at the Porsche.

“You know, Blank, you don’t have to go to the foodbank. I give you money. I’ll give you some more.”

“I don’t go there to eat. I go there to volunteer. I carry boxes.”

Pearce nodded, impressed. “I’ve been thinking about something, Blank. You realize I know who you are, don’t you?”

Blank didn’t answer.

Pearce said. “Well, I do. I had to know. Safer to know. But Blank—don’t you think it’d be good if Wolfe knew?”

Blank shook his head. “No. Not… yet.”

“Blank—the guy thinks his father’s dead. You got out of that fire, you survived, you should have your son take care of you. He’d like to know you were alive, at least.”

“I… don’t want him to know I’m his father. I’d rather he thought of me the way I was…”

Aiden Pearce shook his head. “I think he should know. And I think you’ll change your mind.”

“Maybe. I’m not ready yet.”

“You know he’s getting married?”

“No. That’s good. God bless her. Fine girl.”

“Okay. Here’s the food bank.” Pearce pulled up at the curb. “You need some cash?”

“Not just now. You promise—you won’t tell him?”

“I won’t tell him, till you’re ready.”

“Thanks, Pearce. Keep your head down.”

“Always do.”

Blank got out. Pearce watched him walk up to the food bank’s alley door.

Then Pearce’s phone rang. He answered it.

“Pearce?”

“Yeah.”

“T-Bone.”

“I recognize your voice, filtered through all that beard. What’s up?”

“Trouble. Stuff we might have to deal with together…”

“Okay,” Pearce said. “I’m gonna ditch this car. I’ll call you from my safehouse.”

He ended the call, and drove off.

As he went, a ctOS camera tracked the car.

Stolen car, the system reported.

But by the time the police found it, ditched in the South Side—Aiden Pearce was no longer there. He was nowhere to be found.