Free Resurrection Express by Stephen Romano Page A

virtually sterilizedhimself. There’s one database at a certain TDC facility we haven’t been able to crack. It’s on a private circuit, completely separated from the network inside the building. A vault. Protected by the most advanced multi-layered security profile any of my people have ever seen.”
    “You think he’s keeping his women in there?”
    “Your attempts at humor are wearing thin, Mister Coffin.”
    “We know he’s keeping something in there,” the Sarge barks. “The objective of this operation is to get inside that vault and remove everything in it.”
    I rub my chin. “That’s a long shot you’re talking about. Hartman was into all sorts of nasty business before I went in the can. I had his whole network circled. A lot of that was above-the-radar government contracting. Things like dirty bombs and smart missiles.”
    “I know all about that,” Jenison says. “But missiles do not concern me.”
    “Well, maybe they should.”
    “That’s not what I’m focused on right now. We do know for sure that Hartman is using the Texas Data Concepts facility as his own private fortress. That’s how much leverage he has over these people. If he’s keeping something sensitive— anything sensitive—inside that vault, then we gain leverage over him and that puts me one step closer to getting my daughter back. If she’s gone underground with the others, we may be able to obtain her location from any encrypted data we recover. You’ll help us with that, also.”
    “The photo you showed me back in the joint wasn’t taken that long ago,” I say. “Your girl could be in his bed right now.”
    “And my grandma could be doing his dishes and your wife could be washing his car,” the Sarge hisses in my ear. “You startin’ to get the picture, boy?”
    “Please calm down,” Jenison says softly. “Hartman hasn’t exactly been quiet about his own private harem. He supplies himselfand his friends with a revolving inventory of fresh stock. But Hartman mostly sticks to his own stomping grounds. Nightclubs he owns, things like that. He had a rash of bad publicity about a year ago over a Senate hearing he helped to buy, and that’s made him gun-shy of public places. The word was that Toni Coffin was looking out for my daughter, making sure she didn’t get hurt too badly. Hartman likes to hurt his women.”
    “I know.”
    “My daughter is very young, Mister Coffin. Just twelve this month.”
    Jesus.
    She looked twenty in the picture.
    I level a serious gaze at Jenison. “Can I ask a favor?”
    She scowls back, as if to say my favors are all used up. But then nods slightly, as if to say, Within reason, kid .
    I look at the giant screen.
    The girl smiles back at me.
    “The photo when we first met. Could I see it again?”
    She curls her lip, reaching for the stack next to her laptop. Pulls out the picture. Slides it across the table. I pick it up and see what could be the face of my one true love, her arm hooked around the blonde’s, Hartman leading them through the crowded nightclub. That’s what the picture tells me, anyway. I can’t be sure at all if it’s really her. It’s full of fuzz and grain, out of focus, like a notion hardly remembered. And my eyes tell lies now, my heart stonewalled and my head transregressed.
    I look at the picture. Look hard for the truth there.
    I can’t see it.
    “Can I hang on to this?”
    Jenison nods. “Of course. I can give you a digital file, also, if you like.”
    “I’d like.”
    I stare at the photo, trying to picture the scene.
    Trying to imagine what was on Toni’s mind when the shutter snapped.
    “Why was she protecting your daughter? What was in it for her?”
    “I don’t know, Elroy. Isn’t it possible that she saw a child in need of help and decided to provide it?”
    The same way she helped me when we were kids, reaching out to educate someone weaker than her. To make us both immortal.
    What did you get yourself into, baby?
    If that’s really