Elias was fidgeting.

He had met Trask as requested, and the man had done nothing but drink tea for the better part of an hour. Two full pots of tea had been drained. Two pots; and an uncountable number of sweetener sachets. Still battling a phantom headache that came and went seemingly at random, Elias sipped from a glass of water.

Trask had been examining the report from Elias’ raid. The contents of the hideaway had been logged, along with the identity of the old man.

‘Did you know who he was?’ asked Trask suddenly. The question gave Elias a brief respite from the throbbing behind his eyes.

Elias shrugged. ‘He was a Trojan. Graham Stoker. Age seventy-two-

Trask held up a hand to stop him.

‘That’s what he was. A criminal, an insurgent. A Trojan.’ He said the word as though it was unfamiliar to him.

‘That is the what. And you do specialize in the what, Captain. But that’s not who Graham Stoker was.’

Elias was growing impatient. If there was one thing that grated on him even more than tedious silence, it was tedious questions.

‘Who was he then?’ he asked, as insincerely as possible.

Trask either didn’t detect Elias’ tone or chose to ignore it entirely.

‘He was one of us.’ He said simply. ‘Chief Inspector Graham Stoker was with the Vice Department of Metro4 Police department for twenty-eight years. Wife, two children. One night, fifteen years ago, he just vanished. It was officially ruled as a suicide, until now.’

Elias was stunned. He had never heard of anyone from any of the enforcement services defecting to a life of crime. In the past twenty-four hours, he had now been informed of two. Were there others? He thought to himself. Did people become corrupted that easily?  ‘Why would he give his whole life up like that?’ Elias asked. Trask didn’t look up from his notes. ‘Any number of reasons. You’ve seen their propaganda. Personal freedoms impinged, unwarranted search and seizure. Blaming unavoidable global calamities on the decisions of our elected officials. It’s entirely likely he was swayed by such.’

Anger surged in Elias. He thought of his injured team-mate, and dozens of others who had been killed in the line of duty.

‘So, what, the world isn’t perfect. Our society overcomes problems as best we can. How could anyone join, them? They’re…’ He searched for the word ‘killers.’

Trask surfaced from his notes and stared hard at Elias. Something like amusement stirred in his cold, mud-coloured eyes for a moment.

‘And you are, what exactly, Captain?’

Elias grunted and took a sip of water. He was in no mood to argue with this man, who seemed to disagree with anything Elais said just for the sake of it. The sooner they found this Naomi person; the sooner Elias could be free of Trasks’ contrarianism. ‘Why are we talking about Stoker, anyway? And why are we here?’ He indicated the semi-derelict diner they were in ‘I’m here to find the data smuggler.’ ‘Because of this’, Said Trask, pointing to an image on one of his devices.

Elias squinted at it. It was footage from an Enforcer-Unit, he recognized the lens pattern and camera angle. It was a still image taken, Elias realised quickly, of the street corner outside. Except the street was far less busy, so probably taken from the small hours of the morning. He also spotted the head and shoulder of someone emerging from a storm drain.  Unlike the other few people in the shot, there was no visible data readings above their head. Based on the narrow shoulders, they were almost certainly a woman. His heart began to pound and his headache melted away.

Elias frowned. Somehow, he instantly knew that it was Naomi. But he asked anyway.

‘Who is that? And why can’t the Unit see their bio-readings, or their Halo?’

‘No ID yet.’ Replied Trask. ‘But the lack of Bio-Readings is due to the helmet and coat. Repurposed military gear made to refract the laser detectors. The lack of a Halo suggests a fairly high-degree of digital tampering.

Elias was shocked. He hadn’t realised how sophisticated Trojan tech was becoming. ‘So, someone wearing one of these suits, could do whatever they liked in front of a dozen police cameras, and not trigger any sort of alarm?’

‘Exactly. Our robotic enforcers, they look everywhere, but see very little, sadly.’ Said Trask, casually.

‘How likely is that to be Stirling? Is she even capable of sourcing such a piece of technology?’

‘Naomi Stirling has the education and a resume that would look impressive for someone twice her age. If I had to guess, she didn’t merely purchase this suit, she constructed it herself.’

Elias was beginning to understand that danger that a woman of this skillset presented to the government. It also explained Trask’s assignment to the case and seemingly limitless access to resources.

‘And what connects her, and this place, to Stoker in any way?’ Asked Elias.

‘Because after we searched Naomi Stirling’s office at the department of collections, we found one message in a deleted email account that had been accessed by remote computer, asking one question.

Elias raised his eyebrows, begging the question.

‘Where do I find the Trojans.’ Trask read aloud.

Elias wasn’t impressed. ‘It’s not much of a connection.’ He sneered. ‘If one of my sergeants came to me with that, I’d send them back to the academy.’

‘And you’d be right to do so. However, I am not one of your sergeants and as such, I have access to information you do not. Suffice to say, if a government employee with Stirling’s level of access has made contact with the Trojans before, Stoker would know about it.’

Elias was beginning to understand. ‘He was a commander’  

Trask shook his head, fractionally. ‘He was more like a hiring panel. He personally vetted over fifty new recruits over the years. And those are just the ones we know about.’

Trask tapped the still image and the recording began to play. The figure moved out of the storm drain with the patience of an ambush predator. The Enforcer-Unit’s targeting system locked on to a device in Naomi Stirling’s hand, but then something strange happened. A series of alarms and priority messages filled the screen and the Unit spun away and made for the diner that Elias and Trask were now sitting in.

‘What did she do? What happened?’ Asked Elias. His headache had returned as soon as Naomi vanished from the tablet screen.

‘Somehow, she managed to give the Enforcer Unit a more pressing, immediate situation to deal with than the illegal transmitter she was using only twenty feet in front of its face. We’re looking into it, but it seems she has a fairly intimate knowledge of the departments Standard Operating Procedures.’

He fast forwarded the video. ‘From here, the unit calls for backup and they detain nearly a dozen passers-by who have, by our accounts, done nothing wrong whatsoever.’

Elais frowned, and then comprehension dawned. ‘Black market dead halos.’ he said. They were rare, but Elias was aware of their existence. He had never encountered them himself.

Trask nodded. ‘Extremely expensive and difficult to store digitally. She had at least ten that she was able to connect to the accounts of total strangers at a moment’s notice.’

Elias wasn’t in the tech department, but this was further confirmation that they were dealing with a highly skilled individual.

‘Which is concerning in itself.’ Continued Trask, ‘But what we are interested in, Captain, is what happens here.’

He tapped the screen a few more times and the street was revealed from a different angle, shown from a camera set back in an adjoining alleyway. Elias assumed it was footage from a local vendor’s security camera. It showed the commotion caused by Stirling’s diversion in the distance. The figure in the stealth suit ran past the camera, out of the frame. He felt like he could feel her fear as she ran. His breathing quickened, as though it was him sprinting through an alleyway.

Stirling tapped again and another angle was revealed, this one covering the other side of the alley way. Although the timestamp indicated the footage was from the same moment as the previous shot, the figure was nowhere to be seen.

Elias understood. Hunting fugitives was a knack, and Elias had it.

‘The alley.’ He said flatly.

Trask said nothing, merely draining his teacup.

*

Naomi’s leg was beginning to cramp. She was squatting on the fire-escape of an all-night gym, five stories above the hum of the streets below. The night air was thick and sluggish. Despite this, she wore a thick, padded jacket and a hood. She had been on the run for three days. It had been two days since she had slept indoors. She had been observing her apartment on and off for nearly thirty hours now. Climbing onto different roofs and walking down the various alleyways that surrounded her apartment’s complex had given her a good idea of what kind of external observation her home was under. She had also been using the network of service tunnels that the Trojans had shown her. They were well concealed; although Naomi had no way of knowing just how extensive they were, she had begun to map the ones in her immediate vicinity. She pulled out a small, handheld tablet, slightly smaller than her palm. Known as a Widget, they were mostly used by technicians and engineers. Most people preferred AR over actual screens these days. Naomi’s Widget was connected to the vast array of wireless devices in her apartment. Of course, her public internet connection had been disabled within minutes of her being confirmed as a criminal. But public access was only one of the tools available to a woman with her skillset.

She tapped her access code, unlocked the Widget and it showed her a digital map of her apartment.She only had two cameras inside, and both had been removed during the initial search of her residence. She pulled and twisted the image with her fingertips, viewing the apartment from various angles. She zoomed in on certain electrical devices, trying to assess if anyone had used them in recent hours. She assumed that there was at least one officer more or less living in the house, waiting for her to return. She had already marked a patrol car that seemed to be cruising the streets as normal, but actually drove past her building at least five times every hour. She examined the data logs of her home’s devices thoroughly and checked the time. 03:50am. The least likely time of day for someone to be inside, statistically. Her gloved hand gripped the tazer in her coat; and if someone was inside, hopefully she could surprise them.

She exhaled sharply, trilling her lips. Time to move.

She climbed down the fire escape and let herself in through the alarmed fire-door, which she had disabled, but left the lights on. It gave her the ability to come and go from a relatively unused corridor. Once inside, she walked quickly to the changing rooms where she had cracked the digital keypad on a locker and traded out her hood and jacket for a bright yellow vest, a tool satchel and a hideous white Perspex helmet. A lanyard around her neck completed the ensemble.

In her experience, the best way to go unseen, was to be someone nobody wanted to look at. A device compliance inspector was exactly the kind of person nobody wanted to engage with.

It would also give her access to most low-level government buildings, provided nobody scanned her ID tag too closely.

Eight minutes later, she was standing in front of her door. She had made her way around the building, striding as confidently as she could muster. She had been pleased to see most people barely glanced at her before going about their business. Her neighbour had even failed to recognize her as he passed within a metre of Naomi.

She checked her Wiget once more and, seeing no signs of activity, opened the door.

*

Trask was crouched in the corner of the disused maintenance room. Elias was on the other side, trying to find some sort of clue in the grime-covered surfaces. They had found the door in the alleyway quite easily after a rapid but thorough search of the other two doors. This was the only premise that wasn’t a functioning business of some kind.

Trask was Using a short-range scanner to comb the room for DNA. Stokers was the easiest to identify. It was on the table, the door handle and the backs of some chairs.

‘There it is.’ Murmured Trask from the side of the room.

Elias glanced up, ‘What.’

Trask was scanning an area on the low table. Illuminated by the beam of the scanner, was a scattering of what looked like dust.

‘Skin cells, belonging to a Miss Naomi Stirling.’ Said Trask.

Elias was confused. ‘Why only here?’

‘She must’ve removed an item of clothing, maybe her helmet for a breath of air or something, before putting it back on.’

‘That was a bad move.’ Said Elias.

Trask shrugged ‘She did run a fair distance. I can’t imagine that suit is particularly breathable.’

He reached into his coat and withdrew what looked like an old-fashioned computer mouse made of dark steel. He activated it and placed it on Naomi’s DNA. Elias was curious, he had never seen such a device.

‘Just a moment.’ Murmured Trask, more to himself than to Elias.

The small device was sitting on the stain like a hunting dog waiting to pick up a scent. It whirred and small blue lights began to engage along the ridge of its back.

Elias suddenly understood.

Suddenly, the small device made a two-tone beep, launched itself off the table and began to move along the ground at a fast-walking pace. As it nimbly navigated over pieces of debris and litter, Elias noticed that it wasn’t on wheels. It was in fact, hovering an inch or two above the ground.

‘Where did you get this, thing?’ He asked, genuinely curious.

Trask was fixated on the device as he answered.

‘The MITE? These are standard issue in our department.’

Elias was trying to understand the acronym, but Trask beat him to it.

‘Molecular Identification and Tracking Engine. If you come across to my department, Captain, you’ll see we have all the best toys.’

This bothered Elias. Weren’t they all meant to be on the same side? Why were some departments given special treatment over others? He could recall half a dozen operations where having even one of these MITEs would have saved precious man hours.

Even as Trask said this, the MITE had moved into the back room and was, by the sounds of things’ banging repeatedly into a wall. Trask frowned and hurried after it. Curious, Elias followed. Sure enough, the small, metallic orb was bouncing off the wall making tinny beeping sounds. Trask was peering at the wall and muttering to himself. He withdrew a Widget from his pocket and began recalibrating the MITE.

Elias took the time to look examine the room fully. In the still darkness of the night, he felt he could see more clearly. The gloom had dulled his headache somewhat and he felt focused. As he began poking around between the rows of shelves, he thought more about Trask’s comment.

Elias was a specialized police officer. His role was just as important as Trask’s in maintaining peace and stability. He wouldn’t accept this man’s tone of superiority. His hand passed over a piece of plywood, identical to the others, and his hand grew warm. He stopped, and put his hand back. It was definitely warmer here. He lifted the piece of shelf and beneath it, was an analogue operating panel with two buttons. Invisible to modern detection systems, which always searched for Electromagnetic waves of some kind. A wired button would emit only the tiniest blip of radiated energy. Elias pushed the button marked ‘OUT’.

Directly in front of Trask, a small section of wall slid open to reveal a hidden tunnel. The darkness beyond called out to Elias. The pressure from his headache had been replaced with an opposite sensation. A cool, soothing sensation resonated through his skull.  Before Trask could say anything, Elias was already moving through the opening.

‘Toys are for children. Try and keep up.’

In the darkness, Trask smirked and placed the MITE back in his coat before following Elias into the gloom.

*

The apartment was empty.

After a quick search of the place, with her tazer held out in front like a pistol, she was certain there were no enforcers hiding in the cupboards waiting for her. But she didn’t have long before a patrol came by to check on the place again.

Naomi went into her bathroom and opened the shower door. Without hesitating, she reached in and grabbed the shelf that held her soaps and other toiletries. The moulded plastic that was designed to hold a bar of soap also made a very convenient handhold. With a strong yank, she had pulled the entire shelf out, revealing a cavity.

From within, she withdrew a black Nylon bag about the size of large purse. She didn’t need to check the contents, but she was mentally taking inventory as she made her way out of the apartment and towards the elevators.

Besides an assortment of useful tools, SD cards with various cryptocurrencies and a gadget or two of her own design, the bag contained just two more things.

A necklace made of handcrafted silver and a tan and black Stoeger 9mm automatic pistol.

She had never planned to become a fugitive. Naomi had no desire to join the Trojans and become a zealot. But she was no fool. To be captured now would mean her sudden and permanent disappearance.

The pistol would give her at least a chance of preventing that outcome.

The elevator stopped on the third floor to let a young couple in. She cast a wary eye out into the hall and noticed an enforcer in full uniform walking past. Her pulse quickened.

The elevator stopped on the ground floor and she saw another enforcer in the lobby, just besides the main entrance. The woman was tall and intimidating. She was looking sternly at people as they entered the building. She had her back to Naomi, and Naomi seized the opportunity to walk towards the car park, on the enforcer’s blind side.

She exited the car park without incident. It was clear the enforcers were still expecting her to enter the building, not leave it.

After hovering in the doorway, she waited long enough to let a patrol car drive past before she crossed the street and made her way towards the nearest tunnel entrance.

It was down a set of rusted and (for some reason) slimy staircase that led below ground. The door had no handle on the outside, but Naomi had tied a rag around the interior handle and poked it back under the door as she had exited earlier that day.After another glance to make sure she wasn’t being followed, she reached into her coat pocket.  Using a length of wire, she retrieved her makeshift handle and was able to open the door and slip back into the maze of the Trojan tunnels.

*

The tunnel led Elias and Trask to an intersection, which became a thoroughfare, which turned into a warren. They followed the MITE for almost an hour, often doubling back as it found new traces of Stoker’s DNA.

‘It’ll take us weeks to search all of these.’ muttered Elias.

Trask nodded ‘And it seems that Mr Stoker used these tunnels frequently. His DNA is down every route.’

Elias stopped walking, causing Trask to nearly collide with him.  

Trask was about to ask what the problem was when he noticed that Elias’ hand was on his holstered pistol. His voice was the faintest of sounds.

‘Footsteps.’ Whispered Elias.

Trask nodded and reached for his own pistol.

*

Naomi paused. Her pistol was in one hand, her Widget in the other. The device was picking up the Halos of two people not far from where she was. They were neither Blue, nor Yellow nor Red. They were the phosphorus White of law enforcement.

She hadn’t even reached an intersection yet. She couldn’t go backwards either, not with all the enforcers on her street.

The pistol felt heavy in her hand as she pointed it ahead of her. There was only two of them; and she had twenty bullets.

*

Trask was still fumbling with his holster when Elias drew his pistol in one smooth movement. Like a ripple spreading across a lake, Elias’ entire body adopted a shooting stance in one movement. The pistol slid noiselessly out of the holster, his knees bent slightly and his arms raised up to aim the enormous pistol.

Without so much as a scuff, Elias glided away into the gloom.

The footsteps had stopped; he was certain of that. Whoever was there had heard them too.

Although it was almost pitch black in the tunnel, he didn’t dare turn on the light beneath his pistol. He was used to moving tactically through darkness. Not lifting your feet as you walked was the key to avoid tripping on unseen objects.

*

Naomi stayed perfectly still.

Elias approached, as silent as a shadow.

Trask, worried about being left behind, began to run.

*

Naomi heard the approaching footsteps. Whoever it was moved quickly. Panic gripped her. She had to do something.

She dropped to a knee, taking her torso out of what she hoped was the firing line and fired five rounds into the blackness. Then her pistol jammed.

Elias saw a flash of light ahead of him. In the same moment, pain exploded in his thigh. He flung himself forward onto the ground to return fire. Except he couldn’t. He tried to squeeze the trigger and a wave of nausea swept through him. It was like being kicked in the groin every time he even aimed his weapon. The pain in his skull was like a constant scream.After trying three more times, he gave up and dropped the pistol. The nausea and pain subsided instantly.

Answering shots came from behind him as Trask fired back. The muzzle flashes illuminated the tunnel for a second at a time. He could see a hooded figure up ahead, on one knee. Seemingly unscathed, they were frantically working the topside on their pistol back and forth. They were either extremely lucky or Trask was a terrible shot.

Trask moved past Elias until he was only metres away from the figure. They raised their head and Elias saw Naomi’s face in the darkness somehow. It was as though her features were burned into his vision, like looking at the sun.

*

Naomi looked up and sensed someone was standing directly in front of her. She began to speak, when a shot rang out. Hot, wet blood splattered her face, causing her to gasp in shock and disgust. She scrambled backwards and a light came on.

In front of her was a huge man in black pointing a pistol-torch at the limp body of a man in a suit. The pistol shook in his hand, and he swayed on his feet but his eyes were fixed on Naomi.

A thousand thoughts swept through her. Who was he? Why had he shot the person he had come with? Were they looking for her, or for somebody else?’

‘Who are you?’ was all she managed. 

The man glanced down at the fresh corpse, smiled grimly and offered her a hand.

“Until right now, I was a cop. Now, I’m just like you.’