He had them line up against the cold brick wall of an old building. Michael felt the rough edges of the poorly done mortar job poking through his shirt. The cop refused to lift his visor, making him seem even more like a robot to Michael. He remembered the robot in the Sleep, the one who’d programmed out his Core—ripped it out even though as a Tangent he hadn’t really needed one—which made him think of Kaine. What if he was somehow behind this supposed traffic stop?
Please, no, Michael begged the universe. How could Kaine be that powerful? He refused to allow himself to believe it. But even so, he looked at the cop and wondered if he was a Tangent come to life.
“What are your names?” the man asked, just as a section of his visor lit up. Michael could see symbols and pictures running across the inside. “And before you answer, I’m only going to say this once: Do. Not. Lie. Do not. You have one chance to tell me the truth. Now, what are your names?”
Sarah went first, then Bryson, then Michael. They’d all been busted more times than Michael could count within the VirtNet. And they’d always gotten away, just a few lines of code combined with the calm and cool … massaging of the truth. It was a little different in the real world, but the principles were the same. One by one, they gave their fake names as smoothly as if they’d used them their whole lives.
The cop grunted some odd sound that perhaps meant he was listening and recording. But it came across more like he was a monkey with stomach issues.
“We had some reports of a sighting,” the cop said, walking slowly down the line of his captors. He stopped directly in front of Michael and stared at him—it seemed so, anyway—through his dark visor. “Of one Jackson Porter, missing for close to two weeks. You wouldn’t happen to know anything about that, would you? What was your name again? Ah, yes. Michael. What do you have to say, boy? Seen anybody that looks like a cyber-terrorist?”
Every part of Michael wanted to close his eyes and access the code. Hack himself out of the situation. He suddenly wished for his old life as a Tangent, oblivious and happy. Lying to this cop seemed like a terrible idea, especially since the man had probably recognized his face, but he just didn’t know what else to do.
“No, sir,” he said. “I’ve seen the NewsBops, heard about this Jackson guy. But I haven’t seen him. Have you guys seen him?” He looked at his friends for their response, knowing he’d already made a mistake, that he’d come across as a smart aleck to the policeman. Bryson and Sarah shyly shook their heads, but he could see in their eyes that they knew Michael had screwed up. Maybe they should’ve just told the truth and relied on the authorities to keep them safe.
The cop finally lifted his visor, revealing the face of a guy who was born to be a man of the law. Stone-hard angles, eyes that were pools of unreadable darkness. He didn’t seem too happy.
“Get in the hovercar,” he said tightly. “All three of you. One wrong move and I’ll LaserCuff you. I’m not in the greatest of moods today.”
The cabbie yelled over at them from his car. “Hey! Officer! Can I leave? Please?”
“Get lost!” the cop yelled back at him.
Obviously happy to oblige, the cabbie squealed away down the street. Michael watched the cab disappear, along with all his hopes.
Sarah and Bryson got in first. The cop was holding Michael by the arm far more tightly than he needed to. Michael was feeling desperate, and not just for the obvious reasons. Surely the entire police force didn’t work for Kaine already—although he guessed there was a possibility that the one who’d caught them could be a Tangent. There was also the weirdness with Agent Weber, though this could be totally unrelated. Jackson Porter was missing, wanted for serious crimes, and the boy’s face had been plastered all over the NewsBops. It wasn’t strange at all that Michael had been reported.
Either way, too much was at risk if they brought Michael in. What if no one else realized what Kaine was up to and he couldn’t convince them? He wanted to scream at Agent Weber. They needed the VNS.
“Your turn,” the cop said when Sarah slid over to sit in the middle.
Michael’s desperation burst to the surface in that moment. “Listen, sir … can I talk to you? In private?”
The man’s visor was still raised, and his expression did not change in the slightest—if Michael’s request surprised him, he didn’t show it. “You want to talk to me. In private.” He stated it more than asked.
Michael nodded. “Please.”
The cop gripped him by the arm even harder and escorted him several feet away from the hovercar. “Go ahead, boy. Talk.”
“We both know who I am,” Michael said.
“Thank you for acknowledging that I’m not the stupidest cop to ever live. That’s why I’m taking you in.”
Michael pointed at the car. “Those two people had nothing to do with me running. They’re just friends I picked up along the way. And … there’s a reason I did run. You think it’s because I’m a criminal, but this goes up the ladder big-time, way higher than whoever you work for.”
“Son, what in the hell are you talking about?”
“You can’t arrest me. You can’t. We have information on a real cyber-terrorist and … we need … to find out more.”
The cop was shaking his head long before Michael finished the sentence. “I don’t like my time to be wasted, boy.
Stop talking in riddles. You want me to know something, then spit it out.”
Michael’s blood hissed through his veins. He’d painted himself into a corner. “It’s … complicated. Listen, what can I do to make you let us go? Money? I can get you a lot of money. My … parents are rich. I didn’t run away empty-handed.”
The cop held up a hand, and Michael knew it was time to shut up.
“Boy, let me tell you something. I’ve met some brave people in my life. And I’ve met some awfully stupid people. You’re one of the rare ones that are both. Trying to bribe me? Do you realize I’m an eighth-generation cop? My great-great-great-however-many-greats-grandfather rode a horse on his patrols, son. A horse. Do you think I’m going to take a few credits from a teenager and throw all that in the crapper?”
Dang, Michael thought. It was hard to argue with the horse story. He decided to dive into the scary waters of the naked truth.