Chapter Nineteen
—LIFE LOST—
Isaac and Susan belly-flopped onto the loading room floor.
“Wow.” Cephalie smiled as she chalked in the twelfth line on her board. “You two are persistent.”
“Did we get farther that time, at least?” Susan asked.
“Only if you count how far your head rolled,” Isaac replied gruffly.
“Yay for head rolls,” Susan groaned, rising from the floor.
“I don’t think this is working.” Isaac stood up and planted his back against the wall.
“What was your first clue?” Cephalie asked with unbearable glee.
“We almost had him four tries ago.” Susan shook her head, upset with their lack of progress. “But then he called in some friends. There must be at least three of them out there now.”
“And I bet they have even more players they could call on if we start making progress,” Isaac said.
“You could be right.”
“Cephalie, go ahead.” Isaac waved for her to give him something. “Let me have it.”
“I told you so.”
“Yep. You told me so,” Isaac echoed wearily. “We’ve wasted enough time and money here. Let’s log out.”
“You’re giving up?” Susan asked.
“We’re not beating those players like this, that’s for sure. I thought I was being clever with this approach, but it turned out to be a dumb idea, and I’m mature enough to admit when I’m wrong. We’ll proceed through the regular channels by issuing Gate Master a search warrant and waiting for his response.”
Susan lowered her head. An idea had been stirring in the back of her mind since the sniper received reinforcements, but she’d been hesitant to speak up, worried about how Isaac might react.
A small frown formed on her face, but she steeled herself.
“Before we go?” she began, turning to him.
“Hmm?” Isaac murmured.
“There’s one last thing we could try.” Susan swallowed and took a quick breath. “We could…play dirty.”
“You mean cheat?”
She nodded to him.
“I don’t know,” Isaac said doubtfully. “As appealing as the notion is, haven’t we burned enough time here as it is?”
“Bear with me,” Susan said. “Cephalie, just for argument’s sake, could you hack our accounts? Give us an unfair advantage?”
“Sure thing.” Cephalie crossed her arms. “I’ve done it before, after all, but it won’t take long for Gate Master to notice you and give you the boot. You’d never get to the coordinates in time on foot.”
“What if we’re not traveling on foot? Could you spawn us with a vehicle?”
“Yes, but that might not be enough,” the AC warned. “You’re still going to get shot at when you spawn in.”
“And one of those new players brought a rocket launcher,” Isaac grumbled and rubbed his shoulder.
“Actually, what if we used assets from a different game? Something to really give us an unfair advantage. Something with qualities above baseline physics. Perhaps with magical or science fiction advantages. Is that possible?”
“RealmBuilder shares the same Universal Abstraction Matrix common to most SysGov virtual environments, so yes, the assets can be imported. Did you have something particular in mind?”
“I do. What if we—”
“Aha!” Isaac snapped his fingers.
The two women looked over to find his eyes gleaming with malicious intent.
“I’ve got it!” he declared.
“You do?” Susan asked.
“Yes!” He pushed off the wall and joined them with a wide grin on his face. “Susan, this is a great idea, but I need to step in here. If we’re going to play dirty, we should go all the way. No holding back. Cephalie, you know my favorite Solar Descent character? The one I leveled all the way to his capstone skill?”
“Oh!” Her face lit up and she gave him a cheerful clap. “That’s perfect!”
“What is?” Susan asked, not following.
“You’ll see.” Isaac chuckled. “I call it ‘Big Stompy.’”
* * *
Geronimo-Sixty-Nine knew he was destined for greatness from the moment the deacon bestowed such a lucky, storied number upon him, and that greatness had continued long after he moved on from the Numbers. His old gang had been a useful, if problematic, stepping-stone in his preadult years, but they’d served their purpose in elevating his name within the RealmBuilder gaming community.
Sixty-nine. Lucky in love. Lucky in life.
He never once believed in the Divine Randomizer or any of the other intellectual refuse spewed by the sect deacons. Sixty-Nine was just a number like any other, but the superstitious crowd he’d kept at the time didn’t think so, and his popularity during the gang orgies only served to elevate him further.
If people thought he was destined for great things, and he acted the part, then greatness would follow. And people naturally wanted to be there when he achieved his destined success. His career as a livecast gamer and entertainer had followed so smoothly, so naturally, it had shocked even him.
It didn’t hurt that Numbers and Divine Randos still thought of him as a true believer. He’d kept his gang alias, after all! Of course, he believed with all his heart! He even started each livecast with a prayer for favorable randomness and ended with a random number roll and a short theological discussion on what it could mean.
What a load of crap! But religious nuts made for a loyal audience, and they tipped generously. He might even move to Ballast Heights someday!
For now, he focused on his latest streak of luck in the form of two idiots who kept trying to break out of central spawn in the most boneheaded ways possible. He settled his fully upgraded Head Ventilator Mark X into position on its barrel-mounted bipod and scanned central spawn through the scope. The highlight reels alone would keep the Esteem rolling in for weeks!
“Think they gave up?” Stalwart-Eight radioed over from his own hiding spot on the opposite end of central spawn.
“No way,” Geronimo said. “These two don’t have the brain power for that. I give them five more attempts at least.”
“Well, I’m using this lull to do some editing. You’re going to love how a few juicy sound effects amp up that lady’s head explosions.”
“Nice!” Geronimo replied, chuckling. He pulled back from the scope and swept his gaze over central spawn, looking for the telltale light of an opening spawn portal.
Nothing yet.
These two knuckleheads must have known they were up against three experienced players, but what they didn’t know was another eighteen were camped out around the plateau, under the bridges, huddled in cave mouths along the plateau’s cliffs, or situated on the far side of the Great Spawn Trench, all waiting in case the situation at central spawn became too hot.
Geronimo and his fellow gamers were all experienced Free Gaters, players used to the harsh kill-or-be-killed environment of the anarchy domain, and they did not tolerate newcomers who tried to break out of central spawn like this was some ordinary abstraction. Free Gate was their turf, and they would defend it. Together with others of the same mindset, they’d transformed central spawn into the blasted, inhospitable hellscape it was today, depriving new players of the basic resources they needed to craft tools or even to survive. They’d dug the Great Spawn Trench and had begun construction on the Great Spawn Wall, further impeding new players.
All of them were veterans from Free Gate’s most harrowing days, the bloody Flavor-Sparkle War. After surviving that harsh, punishing crucible, they could hold their own against any foe!
Markie Flavor-Sparkle—Lunarian actor, singer, and heir to the vast Flavor-Sparkle fortune—had learned about Free Gate during a concert tour of the Shark Fin and had become curious, since he enjoyed playing RealmBuilder in his free time. He’d wanted to experience the anarchy domain for himself.
And experience it he did.
Free Gaters killed him moments after he arrived, as was their way, but Markie didn’t take the insult sitting down. He raged about his experience on a livecast, and his fans mobilized to punish his “killers.”
The result was horror personified. Flavor-Sparkle fans logged into Free Gate in human waves, charging across central spawn in tides of bodies as outnumbered Free Gaters gunned them down frantically. The soil of central spawn ran red with blood and viscera that day, but his suicidal fans didn’t stop, didn’t relent. They kept coming at all hours, and desperate Free Gaters organized their defenses to ensure central spawn was never without its defenders. The war degenerated into a long bloody stalemate, and Geronimo-Sixty-Nine, representing his Free Gate brothers and sisters, challenged Markie Flavor-Sparkle to single combat in order to break the siege.
Ah, good times.
Fans bequeathed the singer with their finest virtual weapons and armor, but he proved no match for a player as experienced as Geronimo. The Lunarian superstar fell, and an armistice was signed between the Flavor-Sparkle hordes and the Free Gaters, declaring Free Gate off-limits to the singer’s fans.
Geronimo pulled the magazine out of his sniper rifle.
“How about we mix it up a little?” he declared. “Everyone, load your incendiary rounds. Let’s light their asses on fire!”
* * *
The room was cramped and dark with only a few green pinpoints casting pale glows across the chair, console, and Isaac’s face. Susan squeezed in and sat on a console to his left, her head pressed against the low ceiling.
“Here we go,” she breathed, not sure what to expect.
A single button pulsed, and Isaac pressed it.
“Initiating startup,” said a monotone feminine voice as readouts flickered to life.
A large, circular gauge appeared, and a needle twitched upward into the green.
“Abyssal reactor online.”
A rectangular display switched on with a red humanoid silhouette divided into blocky sections. The shade of each section turned yellow, then green.
“Reactive armor online.”
Another display lit up, and a text list formed.
“Weapon systems online.”
Pale light shone across Isaac’s rictus grin.
“All systems online,” the female computer said. “Pilot, have a nice day.”
Isaac took hold of a pair of analog control sticks covered in buttons.
“Oh, I intend to.”
* * *
“Portal light!” Stalwart-Eight radioed over.
Geronimo-Sixty-Nine raised his rifle and sighted down the scope. The portal began forming near the center of the plateau. He lined up his shot, but the two idiots didn’t rush through this time. Instead, the portal grew larger and brighter.
“What the hell?” He lowered the scope and sat up for a wider view.
The top of the portal sped upward into the dark sky, and the sides ballooned outward. It grew and grew, like one disconnected side of a many-storied building, and Geronimo craned his neck to see the top.
“What’s going on?” Stalwart asked.
“How the hell should I know?”
The portal stopped growing. Its edges firmed up, surface undulating like water.
A black, mechanical shape appeared a third of the way up the portal and pushed through. It was all flat surfaces and sharp angles that reached down close to the ground, with a wider section at the base. A column of angular purple runes pulsed along the side, each character taller than a human being. Hot, purple gas exhaled from the runic vents, and the base of the tall, mechanical shape crunched to the ground.
The earth trembled and Geronimo steadied himself with a hand against his stone cover.
“Is that…a leg?”
A second, identical form emerged, and then the upper body pushed through. The immense humanoid machine towered over them, covered in angular black armor with runic vents along its legs, forearms, and sides of the torso.
“A giant robot?” Geronimo protested. He rose and pointed at the interloper. “You can’t do that! There’re no mecha in Free Gate! You’re cheating!”
The portal closed off, leaving the giant robot standing atop central spawn.
“Screw this!” Geronimo raised his rifle. “Everyone, open fire!”
He launched a rifle grenade at the robot. The cylinder arched through the air, hit the side of the boot and exploded in a bright flash. A gust of wind blew the smoke away to reveal unscratched armor.
“Shoot it!” Geronimo shouted. Free Gaters opened fire from all sides. Two rockets flew in and boomed against the robot’s back, and automatic fire pattered off its armor.
It didn’t seem to notice or care.
More rockets screamed in, and a Gatling gun blared alive from the far side of the Great Trench.
Geronimo aimed at the head and fired. The shot plinked off the red glow of its singular eye.
The robot gazed down at him.
“Uh oh.”
The massive construct raised a giant boot. A shadow fell across Geronimo as he gazed up and, curiously, noted a strange pattern in the base of the sole. Grooves formed letters that spelled out: IF YOU CAN READ THIS, YOU’RE ALREADY DEAD.
He found little reason to disagree.
* * *
“Aaaaand splat!” Isaac said as the giant robot’s boot turned the sniper into paste. He yanked back on a control stick, and the robot smeared the sniper’s guts over the ground until they formed a damp streak.
“You’re in a better mood,” Susan said.
“And why wouldn’t I be?”
“You do realize giant robots are totally impractical.”
“Not if they’re rocking stats this awesome.” Isaac checked the map screen, found his bearings, and pushed the throttle forward. The robot crossed the chasm around central spawn in a single stride. “Heh. And we were going to rope across.”
“What game is this from, anyway?”
“Solar Descent. The same one Chowder was talking about. I’ve burned more hours in it than I care to admit.”
“Is that so?”
“Big Stompy here is from my pilot character. You don’t see many of those, since pilots are an unpopular class.”
“Why’s that?” She knuckled the side of the cockpit. “Who doesn’t like a big, stompy robot?”
“Because pilots are a pain to level up. Sure, you get access to your giant mecha at level one, but the cooldown for the summoning skill is atrocious. Like, over a week real-time. Which means pilots get their one moment of brief glory, then spend the rest of their time underpowered.
“But I’m one of those contrarian gamers. I like finding ways to make suboptimal builds work. And besides, it’s a giant robot. What’s not to love? Plus, the capstone skill makes up for it.”
“Capstone skill?”
“At max level, pilots finally come into their own. The cooldown for their summoning skill is removed, and since my pilot character is maxed out, I can call upon Big Stompy whenever I want. Honestly, all the class capstones are ridiculously overpowered, but that’s compensated against Solar Descent’s endgame difficulty spike.”
The giant robot jogged across a charred, barren landscape, and the ground thundered with each footfall.
“Personally, I feel the pilot class is highly underrated,” Isaac continued. “In my gaming party, I would save the summon for after we completed a quest.”
“Why?”
“Better rewards. Big Stompy can be an intimidating presence.”
“You deliberately intimidate quest givers?” Susan blinked. “Wait a second. Do you play an evil character?”
“Lawful-evil, thank you very much!” Isaac corrected sharply. “He has a code of ethics. It’s just a twisted one.”
“Oh, like that makes it any better!” Susan rolled her eyes.
“What’s wrong with a little bit of roleplay?”
“Nothing. I just assumed you’d play a champion of order and justice. A space-paladin or something.”
“In my off time?” Isaac gave her a sour look. “Where’s the fun in that?”
“I guess you have a point,” she conceded. “You play this game often?”
“Sure do. We have a consistent gaming group on Kronos. Nina’s in it, of course, and Grace Damphart, too. You haven’t met her yet. She’s a senior detective who works in the same department as us. Raviv used to be a part of our group, but he bowed out after being promoted. He didn’t want it to look like he kept favorites, and I can understand that. There are a few other people who play less consistently, but Nina and Damphart are the regulars.”
“Sounds fun.” Susan scooched closer. “I have a gaming group like that back in the DTI.”
“Really?” Isaac asked, sounding surprised.
“Oh, sure.” Her face lit up. “Worlds Beyond Ours is the diversion of choice. It’s a space exploration, resource gathering grindfest. This one time, I found a derelict ship on this barren, airless world. Some other player must have lost it there, and I know this won’t mean much to you, but it was an Intrepid. An Intrepid Type-Q! Fully loaded, too. Only…”
“Only what?”
“Just about every onboard system was busted from the crash, but it was still the best thing I’d ever found in the game. I towed it back to port and broke the bank fixing it up. Named it the Trash Heap. I was going to suggest we import the ship into RealmBuilder, but you spoke up first.”
“You wanted us to use a ship named the Trash Heap?”
“Why not? It’s got a laser turret, and speed wouldn’t be a problem with an FTL drive. We’d already be at the coordinates.”
“I see your point.”
“But this is better.” She rubbed a hand over her console seat. “I doubt the import would have worked, since an Admin game isn’t going to use that Universal Abstraction Matrix Cephalie mentioned.”
“The Trash Heap.” Isaac chuckled. “Sounds like it would be a lot of effort. Was it worth it?”
“It’s still a work in progress.” She glanced away guiltily. “This is going to sound silly, but I’ll sometimes…spend real world money on upgrades for that ship.”
“What’s wrong with that?” Isaac asked.
She turned back to him and saw a complete lack of condemnation in his eyes.
“Nothing wrong with that in my mind,” he added. “I do the same thing.”
“You do?” Her eyes widened.
“Sure. You think Big Stompy came like this out of the box? I’ve sunk at least three months’ worth of pay into him. Yeah, I could grind it all out in-game, but who has the time for that?”
“We sure don’t,” she agreed.
“Too true. At a certain point, the time becomes worth more to me than the money. Besides, with all the travel this job entails, what else am I going to spend it on? A home in a gated community I hardly visit? Clothes patterns I never wear?” He shook his head. “What would be the point? This way, I’m spending my hard-earned Esteem on something I enjoy.”
“I couldn’t agree more. The Admin takes good care of us STANDs, and I don’t have a family of my own. My parents are well off already, so what’s there to spend it on? Put it into a retirement fund?” She laughed sadly. “That’s nothing but a bad joke in STAND. We retire when we get blown up.”
“Did your parents support you becoming a STAND?” Isaac asked.
“My mom was hesitant, but my dad…” She frowned and let out a slow exhale. “He opposed it. Strongly.”
“That had to be rough,” he said, watching the terrain.
“Yeah. Thing is, both of them thought I’d go pro someday.”
“Go pro?”
“With Legions of Patriots. It’s a competitive team-based strategy game popular in the Admin. I was so good at it, I had offers for sports scholarships and my pick of the best colleges. But my heart wasn’t in it.” She tilted her head. “Are there professional gamers in SysGov?”
“Oh, sure. Tons.” Isaac looked over at her. “So, you almost ended up as a pro gamer?”
“Not really. I quit playing after high school. Dad held out hope I’d pick it up again, but that was before I quit college and joined the Peacekeepers.”
“Sounds like there’s a little friction between you and your father.”
“Just a little.” She held her thumb and forefinger close. “He’s not the biggest fan of the Admin.”
“Ouch.”
“Yeah. He thinks we’re a bunch of thugs.”
Isaac blinked, then turned to her slowly and gave her a long, meaningful look, then turned away again.
“What was that about?” she asked pointedly.
“I didn’t say a word.”
“But you were thinking it.”
“But I didn’t say it.” He adjusted their course around a snowcapped mountain.
Susan crossed her arms and decided not to press the topic.
“What about your parents?” she asked. “They approve of your career in SysPol?”
“I would certainly hope so. Both of my parents are in SysPol. My mom’s in Hephaestus—our research and development division—and my Dad’s in the patrol fleet. He didn’t see any action during the Dynasty Crisis, though.”
“Family reunions must be tough to arrange.”
“Yeah, no kidding.”
Susan leaned away from Isaac and pressed her back against the cockpit’s arch. She looked around, taking in the carefully crafted abstraction with all its anachronistic dials, buttons, and levers. It put a smile on her face, but there was something else lurking on the edge of her mind.
And then, as sudden as a shock of electricity, everything clicked together.
“Oh, shit!”
“What?” Isaac stopped the robot. He swiveled the head left, then right. “Did I miss something? Are we in danger? Are those people from spawn chasing us?”
“No.” She put a hand to the side of her head. “Sorry. It just hit me, is all. Holy hell. I never saw that one coming.”
“What hit you? Are you okay?”
“I’m fine, Isaac,” she said, then she started laughing.
“Are you sure?” He twisted in his seat with a worried expression.
“Isaac, don’t you realize what just happened?”
“Umm.” He checked his gauges and displays.
“Not out there. In here.” She leaned toward him. “We’ve discovered something we have in common.”
“We did?” He paused in thought, and his expression transformed, eyes widening. “Oh. Oh.”
“Yeah. Hard to believe, huh?”
“It’s not the common ground between SysGov and the Admin I would have expected.” His brow tightened in thought. “But now that look of yours makes sense.”
“What look?”
“The enthusiasm on your face when you talked about the Trash Heap.” Isaac gave her a sly grin. “I’ve only seen you with that expression once before. It was back on the saucer while you showed off your combat frame.”
“You notice things like that?”
“Well, I am a detective.”
“Point taken.” She glanced out the cockpit. “Hey, what’s that?” She nodded toward a reddish light emanating from a distant hilltop.
“Trouble, I presume.” Isaac took hold of the controls again and pushed the throttle forward.
A massive, scaly silhouette rose from the widening arcane circle. Great wings unfurled, and red light spilled from the creature’s smiling maw. It was at least three times as large as Big Stompy.
“I thought Free Gate was baseline physics.”
“Seems we’re not the only ones cheating.” Isaac clicked buttons on both his control sticks and maxed out the throttle. “Guess the Free Gaters really don’t want us around. Well, bring it on!”
“Arming twin energy swords,” the computer stated.
Big Stompy reached behind its back and grabbed the handles of two giant swords. Mechanisms clanked open, releasing the twin blades, and the giant robot brought them forward as its stride sped up from a jog to a full, thunderous sprint. Purple superheated gas vented from the runes on its forearms, and the swords ignited with purplish energy.
“Can you soften it up with guns or missiles?” Susan suggested.
“Don’t have any.”
“You serious?”
“Who needs guns when I have a pair of swords that can cleave mountains in half?”
“You built a giant robot that only fights hand-to-hand?”
“Don’t judge. This isn’t your character.”
“Yes.” She rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”
The creature unleashed a beam of red energy that slammed into Big Stompy’s chest. The robot staggered to the side, corrected, and continued charging forward.
“Reactive armor compromised,” the computer reported as a section of the armor display flashed red.
“That’s not good.” Isaac flipped open a button guard atop the throttle and held his thumb ready.
The winged monster gathered energy in its smiling maw once more, and Isaac jammed the button down. Thrusters ignited on Big Stompy’s back and the bottom of its boots. The robot launched high into the air, and the energy beam sliced past underneath.
The black, scaly creature raised its snout toward the airborne robot now holding its twin swords high. Thousands of virtual tons of armor and arcane machinery reached the peak of its leap, then began to fall back to earth. The monster gathered energy for another strike, but the robot plummeted faster.
Big Stompy’s big boots smashed into the top of the monster’s head, caving in its skull, and the twin energy swords sank deep into its shoulders. Molten ichor gushed from the wounds, and the force of the impact crushed the monster onto its back, wings draping the surrounding foothills.
“That’ll teach you!” Isaac declared, moments before the landscape vanished outside.
“What?” Susan said.
The cockpit disappeared, and then darkness enveloped them.
* * *
Isaac and Susan found themselves in the middle of an endless plain of black sand. Wind blew wisps of sand into the air that twirled around, tighter and tighter, until they formed into a swirling humanoid shape.
“What the hell do you two think you’re doing?” the figure demanded in a coarse, grating basso.
“Gate Master, I presume,” Isaac said.
“Correct, Detective Isaac Cho.”
Isaac raised an eyebrow.
“Don’t look so surprised,” Gate Master said. “I know everyone who logs into my domain, just as I remember Encephalon’s disastrous last visit. People call me a recluse. They imagine I sit back and let the players do whatever they want because that’s what it appears I do. Do they think Free Gate became so popular, so notorious by accident? People flock to it for the challenge, and those less skilled spend exorbitant amounts to overcome its harshness. Do they think I don’t watch this carefully crafted, Esteem-generating engine of mine like a hawk? Only a fool would assume so, and I don’t take either of you for fools.
“Which then begs the question,” Gate Master continued. “Why are the two of you acting like fools in my domain? I have precious few rules, and the ones I have are easy to remember. And yet you hacked your accounts and imported foreign assets into my abstraction. Why? What brings a SysPol detective and whatever you are”—the sand figure indicated Susan—“to my domain?”
“A crime has been committed,” Isaac said simply.
He let the words hang in the air for long seconds, but the only sound was the rasping of airborne sand.
“And it’s our job to bring the criminal to justice,” Isaac added at last, not sure why that last part had been necessary.
“I should have suspected as much.” Gate Master crossed the swirling sand of his arms. “Do you have a warrant?”
“Not at present.”
“Yet its absence doesn’t seem to worry you,” Gate Master noted. “Then I must assume you could acquire one, if necessary. Why haven’t you already?”
“We were concerned with how long you’d take to respond.”
“You seemed to have found a way to bypass that.”
“That was not our intention.”
“Maybe not, but here I am anyway. If this search warrant proves disruptive to my business, I’ll challenge it in court.”
“As is your right,” Isaac acknowledged. “But you’ll lose.”
“You sure about that?”
“I’ve been down this road before. All you’ll cost me is time. It’s a sum I’d rather not pay, but if I have no choice, I will.” Isaac spread his hands. “But perhaps there’s a way for us to both get what we want. Tell me, what concerns you about a potential warrant?”
“Don’t be naive. I run an anarchy domain. As long as a player doesn’t break my rules, they can do anything they want, meet with whomever they want, say whatever they want. As a cop, I’m sure you know what this space can be—and has been—used for.”
Isaac nodded. “It’s one of the reasons I’m here.”
“My clients have an expectation of privacy, even if it is, to a degree, only an illusion. Shatter that illusion, and some of them will find other venues. In short, cops are bad for my business.”
“Then let’s see if we can come to an arrangement.”
“What sort of arrangement?” Gate Master asked.
“You want to avoid an intrusive search of your domain, and what I’m after is very specific information. Information you, as the administrator of Free Gate, will be able to find much faster than we could on our own, I believe. If you’ll hunt down and provide me that information, I’ll have no need for a search warrant.”
“Hmm,” Gate Master murmured, sounding intrigued. “I can work with that. Depends on what you need, though.”
“Here are the coordinates and timestamps I’m interested in.” Isaac held out his hand, and a file appeared. “A murder victim was online here. I’m trying to find out who he met with.”
Gate Master took the file. The sand within his body swirled with more energy, then settled again.
“Joachim Delacroix, recently deceased Gordian Division agent,” Gate Master said. “I switched his account off the other day. Should have guessed this is what drew you. And yes, you’re right. He was with someone. I can provide you with a local domain download that includes Delacroix and his ‘plus one’ for those timestamps.”
“That would be perfect, though I’m surprised you keep domain downloads.”
“The illusion of privacy,” Gate Master reminded him. “Is that all you need?”
“There’s always the possibility I may require more as the investigation unfolds.” Isaac nodded to him. “However, if that happens, I’d prefer to contact you first. Directly and discreetly, of course. Do we have a deal?”
“We do.”
Gate Master offered him both the domain download and his contact string, and Isaac copied them over.
“Thank you for your cooperation.”