He nodded. I raised my eyebrows, but held my tongue. It made sense. The Malachim were renowned hackers and the LINK was what they terrorized. They shared Michael's distaste for Letourneau's bid for messiah, and disbelief in the divinity of the LINK-angels.
"Things didn't work out with them," he said.
"And you think they will with me?"
Michael nodded.
"I don't know about this," I started. "People with past terrorist connections representing hidden interests don't exactly inspire trust, you know ... it's not really my kind of thing; maybe you need the CIA or something."
"Do you trust your government, Deidre?" He gave me a knowing look out of the corner of his eye. "These are the same people who issued a life sentence for an innocent man."
"Daniel was hardly innocent, Michael. There is no doubt in my mind that he killed the Pope." I dropped my eyes and tried to keep my emotions in check. "It was a crazy thing that happened to Daniel, but sometimes people just snap."
"Is that what you really believe?"
"That's what I have to believe. The evidence is empirical."
"Maybe," Michael said quietly. "Maybe not."
"What do you know?" I demanded. "Is there something about Daniel's case that's changed?"
"The LINK-hack case you were working on has never been solved. No one has even touched it."
I hadn't thought about that case in over a year. With everything that had happened with the Pope, I'd forgotten about it. The details came back to me in a rush: "But, it was a smash-and-grab of bioware tech hot stuff. The company, was it Jordan Institute? They hounded us every day to crack that case."
"Exactly my point," Michael said, turning to face me in the cramped car space. "Somebody's hiding something about Daniel's case."
"And, so, what are you saying? Do you think our old case is related to Letourneau and the LINK-angels somehow? That's kind of a strange leap in logic," I said.
"All I'm saying is that I just don't think you should count this case as closed just yet, Deidre."
Over Michael's shoulder, the billboard image of Letourneau caught my eye again, and I watched the angel drift around the board like a ghost. "I'd rather let the dead stay buried. I'm out of the force, and whatever stones they leave unturned are no longer my business."
Michael shook his head. "You might feel at the end, but there is still a lot to lose, Deidre. What if I told you I had proof that the Second Coming was a fraud?"
My eyes sought his. He met my gaze steadily. Could he be telling the truth? Excited, but cautious, I said, "I'd wonder why you hadn't gone to the media."
"The media haven't exactly been open to opponents of Letourneau."
"I see what you mean," I said, remembering the Times. "What do you plan to do then? And
what's my part?"
"You have connections that I don't. I need to break into the LINK to expose the angels' fallacy."
"You'd have better luck hiring some crackerjack surfer, like the Mouse, or getting one of your pals in the Malachim to freelance. I'm not even LINKed anymore."
"If you'd take the job, I'd make the connection. You're a crack surfer in your own right."
My head itched. I ran my hands along the rough plastic of the steering wheel to keep from fondling the implant. He gave me a tight smile; I dismissed his sideways compliment by looking out the window. "It's not possible."
"The hardware is still there, Deidre," he said softly. "They couldn't take that away from you."
"Hmmmmm." I couldn't trust myself to speak. I had a white-knuckle grip on the wheel.
"My offer still stands. I can arrange to have your access reestablished."
His words hung in the air. I was acutely aware of the emptiness of my head and the silence in the car. There was no sound but my harsh, shallow breathing. The dead receiver near my temple felt heavy and cold. The itch had become a dull throb.
"Yeah?" I managed to scratch out of my dry throat. There was no lady in my voice, only junkie.
"Yeah." He sounded confident, and I so desperately wanted to believe in his ability to get me what I needed. "What I want to know is will you help me?"
"You get me the connection," I told his reflection in the window, "and I'll do anything."
New Jersey State Penitentiary Jan. 7, 2076Dear Deidre,
Must have started this letter a hundred times. Had to give up on anything but voice-activated text, because I couldn't bear my pick-pecking on the keyboard.
(Not that they'd let me have access to anything with a motherboard. Shit, they've sure got me figured wrong.) Anyway, I'm finding it easier to talk. Lessens the urge to re-write, you know?
Still don't know quite what to say. "Wish you were here" would get me a quick visit by the Morality Officer for a little attitude readjustment, and I've already been through that wringer once thanks to a friendly round of fisticuffs that the wardens mistook for hostility. By the way, Oscar says "hi." You remember him, Dee. His page was called "Weasel." (What is it with rodents and those damned LINK-hackers anyway?) You know I wouldn't mean "the wish you were here" bit in THAT way, don't you? I know things got ugly there at the end, but we were partners for how long? Five years. You know me better than that. I just mean I wish to hell we could talk face-to-face, like the old days. I miss that. I miss you.
There's some things we need to talk about. Important stuff. Before we can get to that, I figure I got to clear some air. I know you were just doing what you thought was right, okay? I forgive you. All you said was that you didn't know what was happening to me and that I'd left early that night... Ah. [PAUSE] Listen, about that night. I'm sorry. I should never have come on to you like that. Shit, that's part of it. Part of this whole thing. I'm trying to say that I can see now that you were telling the truth on the witness stand. I'm not even sure I know what happened to me ... what changed me. It's all seems different here. The whole thing seems clearer. Before ... those things I said ... I was angry. That wasn't me talking.
I forgive you, but I realize now there's nothing to forgive. It was your duty to tell the truth and you did it. I'm sure the guys on the force are hassling you over it, but don't let them. What do they know about it?
These assholes and their Moral Office know nothing about the complicated mess that real people have to deal with every day. It's easy for them. They've never faced a tough decision their whole life. You came through it, Dee. You're still on the right side. You just got to hang in there. Got to cut this off, but I'm going to write again. I hope you can find it in your heart to write back.
Daniel