Free The Immortality Virus by Christine Amsden

absence. A few more seconds confirmed that the vagrants, despite their hopeful looks during her arrest, had not been the culprits. They wouldn’t have left the steak.
    No, whoever had turned her apartment upside down had been looking for something. The sofa cushions lay on the floor, the contents of the kitchen cabinets, though present, were strewn across the kitchen, and when she entered her bedroom, she saw the bedding all over the floor.
    Immediately, she pried up the loose floorboard and checked the contents of the safe. The diary was still there. Breathing a sigh of relief, she took off her coat and placed the diary in her backpack for safekeeping.
    She went to hang her coat on a peg by the door when she remembered the note from Captain Flint, which she had shoved into a pocket. Fumbling for a second with the button fastening her pocket closed, she reached in, found the slip of paper, and read:
    Your apartment is bugged. You are being followed. And not just by us. Stanton has killed before. How much do you trust him?
    She crumpled the note and shoved it back into her coat pocket. For all the years she worked under the man, she never had understood him. He followed the mandate of The Establishment, yet he had allowed her unauthorized investigations for a short time and saved her life when it all went to hell. She wanted to believe him, but for all she knew the paper and even the secret hand-off were part of an elaborate plan to make sure she cooperated.
    In this crazy and dangerous new world she had entered, she didn’t think she could trust anyone. Not that it mattered. The note didn’t exactly suggest anything she didn’t fear in her heart–that she wouldn’t survive this mission even if she succeeded.
    She also could have guessed that the intruder had bugged the apartment. A half hour of cleaning and searching produced three listening devices and one tiny video recorder. There might be more. She had no way to know for sure.
    “Just great,” Grace muttered under her breath. She glanced at her computer, wondering what to do next. If she started looking for Jordan, The Establishment might find out. If she didn’t start looking for him, Matt might find out.
    “Sam,” Grace said, “run self-diagnostic. Are you secure?”
    “No,” Sam said with a mechanical crackle that had not been there before. “I have identified two hundred twenty-seven spy programs. Shall I disable them?”
    “Yes,” Grace said, a little hopelessly. While he worked, she went to the kitchen to get her plate of cold steak. She sat and ate on her ancient sofa while she watched the news on her broken holoset. Trying to see the distorted images in two dimensions gave her a bit of a headache, but she needed the distraction. At least the sound worked.
    “We have an update on a story we brought to you earlier this afternoon.” It was Lisa Turner, the woman whose life she had saved all those years ago and who had, in return, helped save hers. Her series, “Life on the Streets,” had earned her a spot on the anchor’s desk, and Grace had watched ever since, though they had never again met in real life.
    “William Edgers, better known as William the Bloody, is still securing Chicago. The forces gathering to the north of the city were raiders, and the city militia was sent to dispatch them this evening.
    “Governor Adams still believes the threat from Edgers is real, and he had this to say earlier today...”
    The fuzzy image flickered, and the voice of Warren Adams, Governor of Kansas City, filled her apartment.
    “William Edgers has strong allies in Washington, and the threat from his merciless and bloody campaign remains real. Though Chicago is under a communications blackout, refugees have told us of streets set ablaze and thousands massacred.
    “To protect our lives and our sacred right for self-governance, we ask that any able-bodied man or woman who wishes to join the militia report to a recruiting station. Tomorrow we will have