Head On: A Novel of the Near Future (Lock In #2)(9)

But they did it anyway. They had to be doing it for a reason.

I glanced over to where Dad was, surrounded by his throng, and saw a couple of the people there being grabbed by apparatchiks and pulled out of Dad’s adoring circles. I did a face recognition on a few. They were NAHL bigwigs.

One of them, leaning in to hear the apparatchik whispering in his ear, noticed me looking at him. He turned his back to me. A minute later he walked out the door, followed by several others.

“Uh-oh,” I said, out loud.

“What is it?” Mom asked, looking up at me.

“I think something really bad just happened on the field.”

“With the player who had his head torn off?”

“Yes,” I said. “His information was wiped off the Haden view feed and a bunch of NAHL executives just left the skybox.”

“That’s not good,” Mom said.

“I don’t know if it’s entirely legal,” I said.

“Leaving the skybox?”

“No.” I glanced at Mom to see if she was making a joke. She wasn’t, she was just trying to process what I was saying to her. “Removing data from the feed. If it was an official data stream for the league, they could be tampering with information they’re legally obliged to keep.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I might have to go to work,” I said, and then opened a line to my partner.

She took her time to answer. “It’s Sunday, you asshole,” Leslie Vann said to me, when she finally picked up.

“Sorry,” I said. “I think we’re about to get some overtime.”

“What happened?”

“I think something bad just happened to a player at the Hilketa match,” I said.

“Jesus, Chris,” Vann mumbled. “That’s the whole point of the frigging game.”

“Not this time,” I said. “I think this one may be a special case.”

Vann grunted and hung up. She was on her way. I went back into the skybox to see the PR people begin to deploy on the would-be investors.





Chapter Two


“Well, this is fun,” Vann said, as she walked up to me. Around us, the corridors of the stadium were in chaos as league apparatchiks hustled would-be investors into private areas for discussion, Metro cops and stadium security managed crowds shocked to learn about the death of Duane Chapman, and press members flitted everywhere, looking for stories to file.

“Are you caught up on the news?” I asked.

“I heard about the player death on the way here. They did a live broadcast of the press conference. Did you listen?”

I nodded. “Well, I did that between trying to get someone to talk to me.”

“They shutting you out?”

“Not exactly shutting me out. Just not paying attention to me as they run by.”

“You need to be more forceful.”

“I think I need to not be in an android body.”

“There’s an irony for you, considering where we are.”

“The whole day has been like this so far, to be honest.”

“I bet.” Vann stepped back to avoid being collided into by a hurtling apparatchik. “Why didn’t you stick with your parents? I’m sure they’re somewhere in this maze being fluffed by a Hilketa league executive. You could have listened in.”

“One, that’s an image I never needed in my brain and I will make you pay for it,” I said. Vann did not seem impressed by the threat. “Two, I foolishly thought that someone might actually be willing to help out an FBI agent.”

“Yeah,” Vann said. “So, why don’t you try to locate your parents and find out what the league has been saying to them about this little event, and meanwhile I’ll grab one of these flunkies passing by and make them give me someone to talk to.”

“I don’t think I’ll be able to find them in this place.”

Vann stared for a minute. “It’s called a phone, Chris.” She strode off in search of someone to threaten.

I have no idea where we are, my mother texted back when I sent to her. I felt a moment of real, if futile, vindication at this. But not too far from the skybox, I think.

I’ll come find you, I sent, and then looked down the endless corridors. I remembered I was a trusted contact for my mother and pulled up her location on an internal screen.

It told me she was at the stadium. Thanks, that was helpful.

“Hey.”

I looked up to see a young woman in a suit jacket staring at me. “Yes?”

“You were in the skybox earlier, right?”

“I was.”

The young woman sighed in relief. “I was told to gather everyone. Come with me, please.” She beckoned me with a wave. I was curious enough to follow.

She led me to a small conference room that was jammed with the German, Japanese, and other potential investors, none of whom looked particularly pleased to be there at the moment. “We’re going to begin the investor conference in just a moment,” the young woman said, and then slipped out.

I looked around at the crowd. Middle-level rich people looked the same wherever in the world they were from. These ones were mostly male, mostly middle-aged, and mostly looking like they shouldn’t have to be here wasting their time.