15. Ansel

Her arm brushed his hip as she sat at the foot of the bed. Ansel stood stock still next to her, waiting for it to happen again.

Touch me.

The holographic projection beamed videos, audio recordings, and doc scans from his visor onto the wall of the cabin. They played in sequential order: an unabated stream of incriminating data.

After an hour, Tisha had slumped against his side, and Ansel was very careful not to move lest it make her leave that position.

After two hours, Ansel had to admit he was stalling. At the speed of human perception, they would be there all day—time they did not have. As much as he craved the electric shivers her contact inspired beneath his armor, there was a better way to do this.

He recalibrated, quickly compiling the rest of the information into a summary of the most relevant and actionable snippets.

* * *

“The AG says we need her for now. Public needs to see she’s on top of crime…”

“Fuck the Attorney General, boss says she’s too big a risk.”

“The AG is the boss.”

“You really believe that, Smith?”

* * *

“Drakov’s not happy with the media she’s gettin’ with that bot.”

“The media attention was the whole goddamn point… If Parena doesn’t get reelected, who does Drakov think is gonna protect him and keep his little clone shop running?”

* * *

“How many you got here?”

“Ten last I checked. These ones are in pre-screening with the doc. The ones over here are earmarked. Over there, we got spares.”

“Spares?”

“Some clients know their child’ll need an organ at a later date. Just in case.”

“Makes me kinda sick looking at it.”

“You get used to it.”

* * *

“Got a job.”

“Oh yeah?”

“He’s had enough of this ‘keep the public happy’ crap the AG is slinging. Sign out a Spectre QR2 from the armory.”

“What about the bot?”

“Bot won’t be a problem. It’ll be called off.”

* * *

Ansel paid close attention to Tisha’s biomarkers during the playback. Cortisol and adrenaline seeped from her pores, fear-tinged sweat their carrier into the humid air. Her pulse was elevated. Ansel was acutely aware of her rising anxiety, keeping a running calculation of her limits lest she descend into panic. They had no time for a breakdown.

Fifteen minutes later it was done, and to his dismay Tisha was straightening, putting air between them where her weight had been. He shifted to the right, closing the distance until her shoulder was once more against his hip, her side against his thigh.

“So they were all in on it. Everyone I spoke to?” Her voice was quiet and cracked, a thread of hopelessness woven through. “The entire time…”

“This data proves the authorities’ collusion with Drakov and his cloning operation. But it additionally reveals a fracture in their own ranks,” Ansel reflected.

“The AG wanted me to testify, run with a high-profile case just to prove to voters she’s tough on crime. But to doctor what I said so it wouldn’t lead anywhere…” Tisha worked it out for herself. “That’s why that fucking lawyer was being so snaky about me telling what I saw.”

“But Drakov is influencing others on the force, petitioning them to dispose of you, considering it less risky. You appear surprised, but you already mistrusted them, yes?”

Tisha shook her head. “I didn’t trust the cops to protect me. They let me get attacked three times, so I’d assumed either they just didn’t give a shit about a little piece of street trash, or were completely incompetent. I never thought… this.”

Tisha rose and faced him, small palms landing on his chest. He couldn’t help but lean into her slightly as she looked up at him, resolve in her eyes.

“I know what we have to do,” she said.