Free Book of Secrets by Chris Roberson

a "what-can-you-do" look, and then started dialing. I called collect. I figured someone on a government salary could afford it.
      "Collect call from your mother," I heard the operator say. "Do you accept the charges?"
      "I guess," I heard my friend answer, and then the operator clicked off the line.
      "What's up, Lover?" I yelled into the receiver.
      "Finch? I should have known. How the hell are you?"
      "Not too bad, not too bad. I'm in Louisiana, visiting the old man."
      "Tan! No way! How is the old fucker?"
      "Same as always," I answered. "Only meaner."
      "He's still pissed at me, isn't he?"
      "Nah, nah," I lied, glancing over to see Tan giving him the bird in absentia . "He's over all that shit."
      "Sure he is," Amador said. "So, what's up?"
      "I need to you to track somebody down for me, find out what he's been up to."
      "Sure," he sighed. "Not a single Christmas card in years, and you call when you need help. What's the story?"
      Amador Ysquierdo, the Crooked Lover. My pal. We'd met years ago, in Louisiana, both runaways. We'd got into some rough spots together and managed to muddle through alright. A couple of kids out looking for trouble; it was amazing what we had found. Still, time has a way of cooling those angry fires, if they don't burn you up first. Even as close to the edge as we'd gotten, it was still possible to come back. Amador was a case in point.
      After a childhood spent monkeying around with computers and phones, causing several business and more than one government agency their fair share of grief, Amador had decided to use his powers for good. Or for his own good, at least. Had himself legally emancipated from his family back in the Rio Grande Valley, finished up school out in Louisiana, and then had gone on to get a degree in computer engineering. Now, years and miles later, he was working for the FBI doing data retrieval. I doubted his employer knew that, under his old alias, Amador was still on the active warrant lists of the Bureau, the Treasury Department, and several more clandestine national security agencies.
      I gave him Marconi's name and asked if he could hunt down his last known whereabouts, possible charges, last address, things like that. Amador said he'd find out what he could, which knowing him meant everything.
      "One other thing," I added. "What can you tell me about an outfit called Lucetech?"
      "Are you kidding me?" he asked. "Have you even seen a computer before?"
      "Humor me."
      "Well, outside of Microsoft, Adobe and Apple they're only one of the biggest software companies on the market. They handle mostly telecommunications, network architecture for large corporations, banks and such like… lately they've been making the move into consumer apps." He paused, then added, "Why do you ask?"
      "You hear of them getting involved in any kind of real estate or manufacturing gigs?"
      "Huh?" Amador breathed. "Not unless you count all the tech support and R&D facilities that're opening up all over the damned place. Nah, nothing I've heard of. Why?"
      "Just curious."
      "Well, where can I reach you?" he asked. "You gonna be sticking around with grumpy for a while?"
      "Not this trip. I've got some more digging to do back in Texas, a couple of social calls to make, so I guess I'll just have to get in touch with you."
      "Solid," Amador said. "Give me a day or two, and I'll see what I can do."
      "Thanks, brother. I owe you."
      "Shit, yeah, you do. Don't worry, I'm keeping score."
      I heard the line go dead, and then dropped the phone back on its cradle. I turned to see Tan still at the table, shaking his head sadly.
      "A fucking fed."

    Tan agreed to let me stay at his place for the night, so I dragged some bedding out of the closet and dropped it down onto the floor. The box of my grandfather's things was still sitting near the table, so I picked up the book I'd bought and walked over to add it to the pile.