toothpickmoe

81. Starting To Pull It Together
Pris had spent the early afternoon talking with the owner of Vance's building. Despite the fact that she looked strangely familiar to the man, he bought her story about being a special agent for the city police. Pris had told him the case surrounding Lance's death was being reopened when some incriminating evidence had been brought to light. The small man unconsciously touched a ridge in his head, the scar from the beating he took from Jensal's hired goons on that fateful day.
He took 'Officer Tyler' up to the abandoned apartment. The front door had been fixed, but that was it. Once the man opened the door with his master key, Pris saw the carnage that had occurred that day. Bullet holes everywhere, as well as several large red-brown spots on the floor where Vance had died. She thanked the owner and told him that she would be in touch if anything was needed. The owner cast one last mistrustful glance at the 'officer' and left her to 'investigate the crime scene.'
Pris walked quickly to the small console of computers that Vance had once owned. A bit surprised by the fact that they were still there, she fired up the machines and waited for the start up screen. A few moments later, it greeted her cheerily in a recorded human voice, eerily similar to Vance's.
"Hello, Vance," it said, "what can I do for you today?"
Pris typed in a bypass code that she had seen Vance use several times. The screen went blank for a moment, startling Pris, and then a flashing line appeared on the screen. 'Enter desired task.' was written in clear white block letters above the flashing icon.
Pris typed 'Allan & Co. files' and pressed Enter. Immediately, the screen flashed with names and data, all whizzing by faster than Pris could read. Her eyebrows raised as she saw how much information Vance had accumulated on the employees of Allan & Co. She was looking for specifics; she didnt have time to mess around. The flashing command icon reappeared at the bottom of the list when the names and data stopped rolling by. Pris typed the bypass code in backwards and the cheery voice came back.
"Yes?" it asked.
"I need you to find me all of the Allan & Co. employees who have been absent from work for elongated periods of time," Pris ordered the machine. She hoped it could do that.
"Hold on a moment," the machine said, sounding eerily human, "I'm searching now."
A short stretch later, the screen changed and a list of twenty-six names flashed onto the screen, all corresponding data printed beneath each complete name. Running down the list she came across several names that sounded familiar. Adams, Carmen, Dorman, Fowler (of course), Machavelli, New, Orson, Patterson, her own name, and Zwieter were the ones she recognized right off the bat. All of them were women, all of them low to mid range clerks, and all of them gone for exactly one week. The dates of leave and return all came one right after each other.
"Give me a printout of this list," Pris told the computer.
A whir and a click later, a short stack of papers appeared to Pris' right. All the names of the women, with all of the important data (addresses, phone numbers, etc.) were printed on the pages. Pris grabbed the stack and told the computer to shut itself off. She did a quick once over of the room, searching for anything useful. The mind reading device of Vance's was, of course, gone. Either the police or Allan had a hold of that. Pris remembered that Vance had kept a gun under his mattress and checked for it. It was there, a small black new-tech affair. She grabbed it and shoved it deep in her pocket. She'd take a closer look at it later.
Her final objective in the room was to get rid of the computer. Seeing no other option, she merely pushed the machines to the floor, each one of them snapping and popping with electricity as they smashed against the carpeting. Everything she needed done finished, Pris paid a second's silent respect to her dead friend and left the room post haste. She bypassed the front doors of the tenement and left by the back, not wanting to deal with the owner.
She took a hotel room on the border between the Middle and Lower Quarters and set up camp. She didn't trust her old apartment, she'd probably never see it or anything in it ever again. She took out the list, placed it next to the phone on the night stand, and dialed the first number. It was for one Rhonda Adams, a mid level personnel clerk who was still with the firm. It was midday, Pris hoped she was home, or at least have a machine. The phone rang four times, clicked, and the recorded voice of Rhonda Adams came over the line.
"Hello caller. Since it's a weekday, I'm probably at work. Leave a message, or type in the necessary numbers to reach me in my office." The machine then beeped, denoting the need for some form of information. Pris glanced quickly at the papers, found the necessary numbers for reaching Ms. Adams at work, and dialed them.
The phone rang once more, a different, more hollow ring. The same voice answered the line, this time unrecorded, "Rhonda Adams, Personnel. How may I help you?"
"Rhonda, this is Priscilla Tyler. You and I met at a mixer for Allan & Co. about four weeks ago," Pris said.
"I remember," Rhonda answered after a pause, "What can I do for you?"
"I need to talk to you about something very important that concerns you, me, and several others."
"Oh?" said Rhonda, her bemused tone indicating she thought this was some inter office game, "Whats that?"
"What does a white room and a voice mean to you?" Pris asked pointedly. There was silence on the other end of the line. "Ms. Adams?" Pris asked.
"Missus," Rhonda said with emphasis.
"Do you have any idea what I am talking about?"
There was a poignant pause and then: "Yes."
"Will you meet me and others like us at 8:00 PM tonight at the Red Caf?" Pris asked, deciding on a whim that the well-known eatery was the best place for such a meeting.
"How many others?" Rhonda asked defensively.
"Many, hopefully," Pris answered truthfully.
"What is this about?"
"If what I just mentioned means anything to you, I'm sure you can figure it out."
There was another long pause before Rhonda Adams replied. "I'll be there," she said, her voice small and quiet.
"Thank you," Pris said hastily before she hung up the phone and moved to the next name on the list. She had a long day of calls before her.