Whispers of the Diamond: A Romance of Memory and Desire

Chapter 3 - Alex

I'd spent weeks tracking them. As a Hunter, my instinct was to follow the money, and unfortunately for the resistance, resistance was an expensive business. I'd managed to track them to London, a city I genuinely hated. I was born in England, but in the north, in the city that used to be Leeds. In truth, the country was just districts now, and officially I was born in the Yorkshire district. London was probably the only place that kept its name. If nothing else, the English could be stubborn about the strangest of things.

The streets were small, claustrophobic, and smelled of urine and mold. It was gross to be honest, but this was the world now. I pulled my gun from my belt and checked it, the clip sliding free to reveal a full load of ammunition before sliding it back into place. I racked the slide to load it, then pressing my shoulder against the heavy door slowly easing it open, slowly sliding through to enter the building.

My eyes took a minute to adjust to the dim light. There was barely any illumination, just the odd ray here and there. The power, it seemed, had long since gone out. I reached into my vest pocket and pulled out a small penlight. I was effectively advertising my position, but what choice did I have? The light clicked on and cast a dull beam into the hallway.

I took my time, peering slowly into rooms. The building had been empty for years. I crouched to check the ground; footprints left in the dust were scuffed and scratched, so not really of any use. It was hard to tell who'd been through, and I suspected the several drunk or high-strung folk I'd come across used the building to stay off the bitterly cold streets. They grumbled at being disturbed but simply went back to sleep.

I crossed a hall, and of course, it would be downstairs—a basement. Great. I put my foot down, testing the old step. Thankfully, it was concrete. One thing I was always grateful for is that we knew how to build for longevity. I eased down the stairs. There was a dull light, multi-colored, so most likely a screen of some description. I flicked off my penlight and continued down, staying as flat to the wall as possible.

I continued down, hitting the bottom as I took a moment to look around. The place was still active, yet it seemed empty. I moved forward toward the light: a chair, a cranial reader. Crude, but it would do the job. There were displays with an older generation of the mapping tech. They had long suspected that the resistance had managed to rip off a version of the transference tech at some point. It'd be a waste to tell them; I didn't really care, and they were an annoyance rather than an actual threat.

I pulled up the scans to see the last three had been female, members of their team, I guessed. As I skimmed through the notes, all were successful, all on diamond disks. At around three thousand pounds a go, they were, as I suspected, well-financed. Diamond, realistically the best for mind storage, was not easy to access. Of course, there had been break-ins at government facilities, so it wasn't hard to know where they'd get them. Several trucks had been looted over the years. They were efficient and effective. I had to wonder how often Terra had been involved in these things. It was strange to think of her as a rebel; she'd always been so smart.

I sighed and pulled the plug, hearing the whine of the systems die before I glanced around and then made my way to the back wall. A bay of server racks held an incredible amount of data, the transference system's entire operating database. I shrugged and moved on. Between two of the bays, there was a cold draft. I peered through a crack in the wall, big enough for a person. Well, a skinny one. I was sure my six-foot, two hundred pound frame would be able to follow.

I rolled my eyes and placed my transmitter to the side of the rack. It would transmit the data to my laptop and its storage device in my car. I then tried to squeeze into the gap with a growl of frustration. I could feel the pressure as I pushed through; it wasn't made for someone my size. I hated small spaces, and having the walls of this passage brushing against me was definitely making me uncomfortable. It was a fair way through the damn passage as I finally made it to the end. The second I did, I felt the thunderous pain in the side of my head.

It staggered me as I groaned and stumbled before my world went dark, and I dropped to the ground, my hands breaking the fall painfully as the gravel bit into them. I went for my gun, only to have it kicked away hard enough to slam into the wall with a thud. Fuck, that was gonna bruise. I dropped onto the ground before rolling to my back, my eyes adjusting to the light as I stared up. Whoever had attacked was already on the run. I stirred and sat, checking my hand, then grabbing my gun as I pushed myself back to my feet, my hand throbbing from its unceremonious contact with the concrete wall.

"Fuck," I growled as I pushed my gun back into the back of my jeans and set off down the alley in thought. The one who'd hit me had to be a guy; there was a lot of power in the shot to my head, but the kick to my hand wasn't as forceful. My hand was bruised, it hurt, but if the same guy had kicked my hand, it should have shattered. So, female? I was doing mental math in my head as I followed the street and then crossed.

At a distance, I caught sight of a redhead as she made her way into a side street. I doubled my step and quickly caught up. As I closed in, I yanked out my gun, closing the remaining gap. I put the barrel of my gun to the back of her head.

"Turn around," I snapped. My heart raced; this was the part I loved, though I'd have to stay aware. Her friend had to be nearby. It didn't matter if he was—I was already thrown as my eyes met those beautiful hazel ones.

"Hi Alex," she said softly.