Chapter 2: Enter Danger

Mars: South East Quarter: New Rome

The large ventilation system of New Rome blew an austere and spartan wind into Isaaco Marino’s face as he walked down the steps of an alleyway, his GRDOG drones circling above the buildings keeping watch for sharpshooters. There weren’t going to be any today, of course, or the next day, or any day after that. 4 anneas had passed at that point (8 years) since explosions of TRAXI bombs and the pops of distant gunfire detailed the soundscape of New Rome. All of Isaaco’s old enemies, and his older friends were dead. He walked into a hardware store that pained him with nostalgia for his youth, and then he walked through a door at the back. Aleksander Neschadymenko sat on the side of the bed of his sick daughter Sofiyko, and did not notice Isaaco come into the room, so deep in thought he was. 

Isaaco put his hand on Aleksander’s shoulder and gripped it tightly. Prion disease, Aleksander told him. Isaaco said he knew. Always fatal, Aleksander continued. Isaaco simply nodded. Prion disease, Aleksander scoffed, tightening his fist until his knuckles were white and fingers purple. This was the 8th time Isaaco visited Aleksander and his sick daughter, and the 8th time he’d heard Aleksander say the same exact thing. Her mind shone so much brighter than any in her classes, the kind of daughter parents dream of, dutiful, intelligent, independent but not rebellious. All taken away, all certain to be a waste. Isaaco shook his head, left a rucksack of medication, food and drink by her fathers leg, and vowed to her father that those responsible would suffer, soon. Aleksander said nothing. He could not bring himself to thank Isaaco for that promise. He wanted no more suffering. But that moment he was too weak to protest, and even then, he had once witnessed the potentness of the dark rage of Isaaco Marino. Precisely then, somewhere on Mars, a travel weary Socrates touched down from a 4 month journey and a Detective went to work.

Mars: South East Quarter: New Rome

‘Think she’ll wanna talk to you?’

‘I dunno - she’s been brushing me off lately.’

‘You’ve got a warrant now.’

‘I don’t understand though Donnie, things were going great with her, I talked to her loads, and now all of a sudden I need to get a warrant for an excuse for her to talk to me?’ Said McCoy, a bit exhausted, scratching his knuckles and sipping his coffee.

‘Who cares, and besides, you’ve never had trouble talking with women, why would this be the start, eh? Just need you to ask her a few questions for me.’ Said Donovan, ‘Now the men, that’s my specialty, so you should be happy she’s a hive mind that’s female too.’ taking a swig from his flask.

‘That was during interrogations.’ McCoy laughed pulling up his shoulders under his massive martian lungs, ‘Whenever I talk to her, I just freeze, especially when I look in her eyes, my chest hurts.’

‘Well, you’ve talked to lots of people, you've seen the best and worst of what New Rome has to offer. For a start.’ Mused Donovan, raising his inky hand to rub his dark cheeks. ‘In any case, do the job, then you can flirt with her.’

McCoy smiled sarcastically at Donovan, who was 3.5 anneas his elder. ‘Alright then, you stay here, she doesn’t like you.’

Donovan grunted ‘Her loss.’

Life Management Enterprise did not have a headquarters per say, rather she was equally located in walk-in clinics around Mars. That being said, some clinics were larger than others, and this was the largest on the globe. Everyday, around 100 people would trickle into this clinic and beg to be put into ‘the system’, to have Lamy control of them, she was an omnipresent mother Teresa. She lived and ate amongst the poor, but more than that, she became the poor, and the poor became one with her. They lived and ate and worked under her command for 5 years. After they had finished they were ‘Reborn’ and transplanted into a new job, equipped with the new life skills Lamy had endowed them with, paying 5% of their wage directly to her. That was her motto printed on all her advertisements: New Job, New Skills, New Life. Not many people have a clear memory of their time during the system, to graduates, it was as if they had stopped existing when they signed the contract, and blossomed into reality when they had graduated. This was not true though. They did not ‘stop existing’ when Lamy assimilated them. The best way to describe the process of going through ‘the system’ was: a siren - the type from Greek mythology - sitting on the associate's shoulder and telling them exactly what to do and where to go. She told them what to say, when to breathe, when to blink. The connection between their mind and her’s became so deep and entrenched by the end of their time in ‘the system’ that the associate’s inner voice was indistinguishable from Lamy’s, and the process was done, she had fixed them. Theoretically someone could disagree with what Lamy was asking them to do, in which case Lamy, under the terms of the contract, would disconnect from their minds - a supposedly ugly process involving crying, convulsions and snot - and ensure their return to their previous lives, all free of charge. It was possible for Lamy to do this principally for two reasons: 1: The disconnected person would, due to Lamy’s rapid disconnection, not have learnt anything from her; 2: Noone had ever wanted to voluntarily disconnect before. It was as she said to all of her clients: ‘the system’ just works.

The associate once called Sierra sat at her desk, feet up, chewing a pen. When she saw McCoy enter the building her eyes lit up, more so than usual. She really loved McCoy, not in the way a bride loves a groom, but in the way that a cat loves a ball of yarn, at least that’s what she told herself. She put her legs down and patted down her shirt. ‘Cahls! Donovan’s not with you right? I don’t like him.’ Donovan was one of few people who were totally unimpressed with her glances and stares. 

Callaghan McCoy jumped back in surprise a little at her warmth and then slowly said, ‘Just me. Hey, Lamy. You’re be well.’ He stammered ‘Sorry, I mean you’re doing better than earlier… it seems.’

‘Sorry about that, I was having a bad day, and I just needed a little space, I hope I didn’t  get in the way of your plans?’ She raised an eyebrow and smiled.

A twang of heartache hurt McCoy, he was going to have asked her on a date, but obviously then was not the time. ‘No not at all, not at all.’

‘So, Detective, what can I help you with today? Is someone on the run and you need my associates connections to help you track them down? Is there a big conspiracy in the government and you need me to be witness to your trial Mr McCoy?’ She joked, then she gasped ‘A-ha, there are assassins coming to round me up, and I need to come with you if I want to live.’ She clapped her hands. He let those attacks on the mythological heroism of civil service glance off him. 

‘It's just a warrant, Lamy’ Lamy frowned at him and groaned, ‘Two guys, attempted murder and battery, got the witness today.’ He continued. She looked at him deadpan.

‘You know, I really wish the government would just hire The Detective already. Them AI detectives are a thousand times quicker than you. Then I wouldn’t-’

‘Thousand times more soulless too.’ He blurted in anger.

‘Is THAT what you think of us.’

‘God no, shit, I’m sorry, I just hear it every day is all. You’ve got a soul, god knows, more so than most people Lamy, I’m sorry.’

‘Apology… accepted,’ She replied slowly ‘so who are the guys you need? I got quite a few under those specifications.’

‘Uuh, Lan’kee’newah’ He attempted, his tongue not used to the rhythm of any foreign words.

‘Adamu Lankenua,’ She said fluently ‘Ok, you can have him.’

‘His partner? Chitunda Naypan-oi?’

‘Damn it, I liked that guy: nice gentle big guy, him. Guess, he’s guilty by association. Chitundu Naipanoi.’

‘Yep that’s him, sorry.’

‘Eh, don’t fuss about it.’

‘Wait, you have loads of people who’ve done the same crimes as them?’

‘Huh, why would you say that?’

‘You just told me.’

‘Did I?’

‘Yes… you did. Why didn’t you tell us, when you, yaknow, found out.’

‘Oh Callaghan, you naive man.’ She relented, ‘I’m the most successful rehabilitation program to ever exist, if I can fix people better than prison ever would. Why shouldn’t I take them in.’

‘It's illegal Lamy’ McCoy warned.

‘The law is expressly moral, not necessarily so.’ She warned in return.

‘Just… have those two guys walk to a police station then disconnect them.’ He said breaking eye contact, looking down and away.

 Two men entered from the large clinic lobby, the shorter of the two had blonde hair and an impressive and distinctive persian nose, curving angularly like a beak. The other had eyes so dark they cast a shadow on his face, and a grin that flashed white canines and danger. Lamy gulped when they walked in the building.

‘They come here often, Lamy?’ McCoy said out of the corner of his mouth, whilst they were still too far away to hear, back-facing the desk Lamy sat in.

‘Hey, don’t agitate them by staring. Hey! Cut that out!’

‘They look dangerous Lamy.’

‘Most of my associates-to-be were dangerous once.’

‘They look like they’re still dangerous.’

‘They’re… good people.’ She said tactfully

‘I’m sure they have been.’

As he walked away from the desk and past those two men he snuck a glance at the man. There was the mark of a faint tattoo: the head of a falcon, on the side of his face, with feathers reaching into his eye socket and down his neck, he took mental note of that and of the features of the tall man walking next to him and left the clinic.

‘Did you do it?’ Donovan asked, putting out something lit and rolled.

‘Yeah, they’ll walk to the station and disconnect.’

‘Not the two Nigerian men, did you ask about Marino?’

‘No need. There should be two people walking out of the clinic soon. We’ll follow them.’

‘What makes you think they weren’t there to assimilate?’

‘They don’t look desperate.’

Mars: South East Quarter: New Rome Spaceport

‘Brace in: 3, 2, 1. BRACE!’ The speakers instructed the passengers as the shuttle connected to the Mars skyhook and rapidly decelerated. Dropping the shuttle off at the top of the Martian atmosphere, before it powered down to the large illuminated landing pad below. Socrates stepped onto the Martian surface uneasily, stepping into the Martian field of gravity was like stepping onto firm ground after jumping on a trampoline - unerringly strange. The sun in the sky was coming to rest after a 25 hour day, and sat on the horizon, cooling off in an eerie blue sunset. New Rome Spaceport smelt like a toilet, a clean toilet smell, air freshener and detergent, still it smelt like it had to be cleaned constantly. The surge of passengers every Annea would do that, passengers that hadn’t properly showered in 3 weeks. After customs and border control Socrates walked out of the Spaceport into a TRAXI depot,with what minimal luggage he had. He saw a man holding a sign with his name on it and walked up to him.

‘Are you Mah’s associate?’

‘Ha, you could say I guess. How ya doin, I’m Luca, or Luke, or Falc, you choose.’

‘Well met, Luca.’ Socrates Smile said, smiling.

‘You had your jabs?’

‘The normal ones.’

‘SOMA, MMF, EDV?’

‘You’re saying words and I don’t know what they mean.’

‘Alright, we’ve gotta get you disinfected.’

The two of them waited for Luca's TRAXI to roll up and headed off to a medical centre.

‘What’s gonna happen for me to be disinfected?’

‘They’ll… wait a second’ He pulled open the airtight window and banged on the door of his TRAXI to get attention from a group of young boys walking together on a freeway. ‘Hey boys, you seen Mario recently, 'cause I haven’t?’ They all replied nah, and he thanked them for their time anyway, a bit agitatedly.

‘Sorry what were you asking?’ he continued

‘What will the disinfection process consist of?’

‘Oh, it's nothing, they’ll give you some phages to kill off some of the germs inside you and a few vaccines, no biggie, unless you're afraid of needles, are you scared of needles? My sister was terrified, whenever we went to the doctors she’d dig her claws and cling to my Daddy’s coat like mad and begged him not to make her take the jab.’ He said, finishing at last.

‘What is the reason for them doing this?’

‘You’ll notice something about Mars that you wouldn’t notice about other countries. There are basically no animals on Mars. Sure there are some dogs, some cats, some hamsters. But no cows, no sheep, no pigs. No frogs, no rats, no manatees. And 'cause o’this our immune systems of us here are pretty weak. We don’t have viruses criss crossing between us and animals. So when someone comes from Earth, we gotta clean them, so they don’t bring some new bug that will kill us all. So we don’t end up like the people of the old new world. Like the Incas, and the Aztecs. We vaccinate our population of course, but it's still a good precaution.’

‘Yes I can see how it would be.’

‘Some advice to help you get around without a fight Soc-ray-tease. Don’t call people associates, ‘cause that has a different meaning to us here on Mars. If you're an associate, that means that you're a member of LME, you heard of it?’

‘Barely. Continue.’

‘So LME is this kind of… work ethic hive mind clinic kind of thing. They say I’m supposed to call it a she now, 'cause it chose to be a woman, but if you ask me it just chose to be a woman because it makes PR sense for the algorithm at the heart of it. Don’t think there was any humanity in that machine's choice, no sir. Still, nice personality. Anyway, most o’the people who’ll sign away their free will are gonna be pretty desperate right. So if you call someone an associate, ‘means you call them a criminal, a bum, a whore or a junkie or whatever. Just means you're calling them a mindless bad person. Got it?’

‘That is valuable information that has been noted.’ Socrates replied with another steely smile. He then turned to Luca and said, ‘The tattoo looked good, why would you get rid of it? I can see it's been lasered, looks like two years ago, which would be the last Martian solar cycle.’

‘Annea, but yeah, how’d you figure that one?’

‘I had to get familiar with burn marks to help a client in a case a few years ago.’

‘They were burned?’

‘No.’

‘Yeah,’ Luca said, moving the conversation on from that dark implication, ‘I got this when I was nine.’

‘Nine?’

‘Anneas.’

‘Oh, of course.’ Socrates said with a quick smile. ‘Why’d you get it if you were going to get rid of it?’

‘I wasn’t planning to get rid of it.’ Luca shrugged, hands on the steering wheel, the car drove itself, but he liked to feel in control  ‘So the kids in my school used to make fun of me for my nose, see?’ He continued ‘This was long before the name Isaaco Marino was feared and respected. So they used to say, among other things, that my nose looked like a birds beak. So when I was old enough to act by myself I thought, you know what, it kinda does, ‘nd I was proud o’that 'cause how many people can say that. Not many I tell you. So I went to a tattoo parlor and had this done. I looked real good I thought. When Isaaco found out, though, he went into a rage. Anyway, he saw red. He was so angry at me for wasting my hard earned money for a bit of personal prestige and ink that he had me pinned down and had one of his guys lazer it right off my face. Problem was that the guy that did my tattoo put it pretty far down under my skin, so the marks are still there for now.’

‘Are you still friends with Isaaco?’

‘Are you kidding me, I’d take a bullet for that man. I owe him more than I can count on two hands. Besides, he was right about it. What good would’ve come from that tattoo. Just disfigured my face is all.’

‘I’d like to meet this man you respect so much, so I can pay him mine.’ Socrates’ said after a while

‘I think I can find a time he can meet you. His guilty pleasure is spending time talking to people from further in the Solar system. He finds them... Exotic, and warm.’

‘You Mah’s brother then?’

‘Did she call me that, guess she’s warmed up to my side of the family.’

‘No, she just called you someone she knows.’

‘Ah, how’d you work it out then?’

‘She’s Iranian, but looks Italian, you’re obviously Italian, but look Iranian. She never told me where her father is. You have the same eyes, green with blue outer edges.’

‘That’s it?’

‘Pretty much.’

‘Ok Sherlock. You ever consider being a detective back on Earth’ Luca Laughed.

‘No.’

  ‘Yeah, we’re siblings. My dad and her Mom split apart, Dad took me to Mars where he had other Italian friends, and she stayed in New York with Mom.’

‘What was the reason for the divorce?’

‘Oh, my parents were still married until my Dad’s death.’ Luca said, and then after a while, ‘My Mom had an affair with another man, my Dad could never forgive her for that, though me and Mah did. He wanted a divorce but my Mom didn’t give it to him. He left out of anger and took me with him. He was a devout Catholic, even if he didn’t force his belief on the rest of us, he still wouldn’t have wanted a divorce. So he must have been seriously angry to ask for that. My Mom regretted it immensely, that’s why she didn’t divorce. She was always hoping he’d come back, but he didn’t. When we were boarding the shuttle to New Rome, he took me up on his shoulders and told me to look at the sea, and breathe in its air, because that’s the last time I’d see it. I respected my Old Man, he stuck to his principles, but he was hard to love.’ He said, gulping, with an ache in his throat. ‘You’re good at that.’

‘I do not understand what in particular I am good at.’

‘You’re good at making people talk, not just small talk, I mean real talk. Heck, I don’t even know you and I just told you something I’ve only told one other person - Isaaco.’

‘I suppose I am good at that.’

‘You sure you never thought about bein’ a detective? You’re a hell lot better than the ones we got here.’ Luca suggested in what sounded like a business proposal, as the TRAXI pulled into a clinic.

‘No, never.’ Socrates said, terminating that thread of conversation.

They arrived at the clinic, it was a building that sent a message of sterility and safety in its dulled pastel floors. They walked into the large lobby toward the reception where there was a short and badly dressed man looking at them, leaning on the desk of the receptionist. Striding toward the desk, the man said something to the receptionist who looked quite flustered, and departed, heading to the exit. He walked by Luca and grabbed a glance at his face before on his way out.

‘Hello, LME.’ Luca said.

‘Good evening Mr. Marino.’ Lamy replied, her face twinging a bit at Luca’s greeting, ‘I hope there has been no trouble with my work?’

‘No, no. Isaaco’s pleased fine with your work. I’m here with my new friend, Socrates… sorry, I don’t suppose you’ve told me your surname yet.’

‘Smile.’

‘Pardon?’

‘I am Socrates Smile.’ he replied with a grin.

‘No shit.’ Luca chuckled, ‘well Mr. Smile over here hasn’t got his jabs yet, so we’ll need to do that.’

‘That is certainly possible Sir, who’s paying?’

‘I will pay.’ Socrates said, butting in. Luca looked questioningly over at him, a dark blond eyebrow raised. Socrates explained, ‘I do not want Mr. Isaaco Marino to think that I am a waste of money, so I will pay for my own jabs.’

‘Ok.’ said Luca, this time he was smiling. After the payment was complete, Lamy said, ‘Mr. Marino, please wait out here, Mr. Smile please follow me and we will be done in around three minutes.’ She led Socrates through a series of splitting off corridors until they reached the room. She opened the door but did not come through, closing it behind him and walking off. He looked around questioningly.

‘Right this way Sir.’ A male voice behind him said, in a Nurse’s uniform.

‘Of course, hive mind, I forgot.’ He muttered mentally.

‘If you don’t mind me asking, just sit right here Sir, where are you from?’

‘Earth, in the normal sense of the word, nominally, nowhere, I don’t feel tied down to any location.’

‘Ah, an adventurer are you?’ Lamy said, getting a series of small boxes from the medicine fridge.

‘I wouldn’t say that, an adventurer implies glory, wouldn’t you say so?’ he said, taking off his jacket and revealing his shoulder.

‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that Sir, I know plenty of…’ The needle went in, ‘bad adventurers. Crusading types, they aren’t bad people per say, just not good adventurers.’ The needle went out, without much pain at all.

‘Still, they hunt for glory.’

‘Glory is subjective, and almost always selfish.’ Lamy said, putting a small round plaster on his shoulder.

‘Then maybe I am an adventurer after all, I just seek something more abstract than a chest of gold.’ He said flashing his teeth in an ear to ear smile that he often wore like a scar.

Lamy led him out of the room in Sierra’s body once again and brought him into the lobby. ‘I advise that you wait ten more minutes, in the lobby, just so if there are complications you can come back immediately. If not, after ten minutes you can leave.’ Lamy said before returning to her desk and talking to another person. Socrates walked over to Luca, who was watching a news recap on the presidential debates. When he saw Socrates come over he shut off his feed and looked up.

‘Nothing wrong?’

‘Not in any way.’

‘Good.’

‘I heard that your surname is Marino.’

‘Sure is.’

‘That would make you related to Isaaco Marino.’

‘It does.’ Luca said with a proud look in his eye.

‘Could you please explain your familial relationship to me. I would be most appreciative.’

‘Sure I can. My dad was the godson of his grandfather, which made his dad, my daddy’s god cousin, and him my god cousin twice removed.’

‘That is a fairly distant relation for the amount of respect you garner for him.’

‘Here in New Rome,’ Luca explained, turning to face Socrates, ‘you’re either a stranger or family. You gotta cling onto whatever drop of familial blood you have if you wanna survive, that’s especially true if it's Marino blood.’

‘I suppose it is a case of the founder effect; a substantial percentage of a population is descended from a few select individuals during the founding of a colony. Making a large amount of the new population related.’

Luca shrugged, ‘It’s a case of blood.’

 Mars: South East Quarter: New Rome: Outside Lamy’s Clinic

When Socrates and Luca came out of the clinic. Donovan and McCoy had finished their coffee and alcohol respectively and were sitting in the car with one way windows in silence, waiting.

‘Alright, I’ll get the field mic.’ Donovan said. A stranger from the past may wonder, why modern detectives would have to lug around such cumbersome equipment rather than hack into their target's electronic equipment through a government backdoor. The answer lies in the people, and the power that the people wielded. More specifically the power that Isaaco Marino’s predecessors wielded. By putting in place stringent privacy laws, no civil servant could hack into a suspect's electronics, without special warrant from the Supreme Council - a sort of lottocratic jury on Mars. This was a masterstroke of lawmaking that is seen everywhere throughout history. In addition to winning support from the people - Isaaco Marino’s predecessors had also burdened law enforcement with traditional investigative techniques: a blessing to those who guarded privacy, but a curse to detectives and data collectors.

‘Hey TRAXI’ Donovan said, fidgeting with dials and settings on the disposable field mic, the car’s engine hummed on, ‘follow the car with the number plates…’

‘XTF 64L’ McCoy said.

‘Thanks.’ Donovan said the car started to tail Socrates and Luca’s TRAXI about 5 meters back.

The microphone started to translate the scratchy audio into files.

‘Says they’re going to a house, his nephew's.’

‘Where did you put my laptop, I had it just here.’

‘Uh, it's in the back seats.’ McCoy reached back; unfolded his computer and started to look through the police database.

‘What are you looking for?’

‘The guy had a particular scar on his face, it looks like a lasered tattoo.’

‘Ok good, Donovan said, looking up finally through the windshield, ‘WHOA, TRAXI toggle suspect tailing.’ he shouted, panicked. The TRAXI dinged the affirmative and slowed down until there were two cars between them and their target vehicle. The mic however went haywire and shut down. 

‘Do you have any idea how to get this piece of crap mic working again?’ Donovan asked, ‘You’re good with this stuff.’

‘Have you tried turning it on and off?’ McCoy said without looking over

‘No.’ Donovan paused, there was a silence, ‘Ok, I turned it on and off and it didn’t work.’

‘Wait does it say XRA edition, on the side, what edition does it say, it's etched into the side… yeah there.’

Donovan squinted and then confirmed, ‘What does that mean?’

‘It means it doesn’t work, the department got a batch of bad mics. Don’t you read the bulletins?’

‘No.’

McCoy turned to his senior and breathed heavily out of his nose. Then he drank the last of his coffee, scrunched up the edible cup and ate it.

‘Ok, let me help you search.’ Donovan said, a bit downhearted, ‘describe to me his scar.’

‘It's a bird.’

‘A… bird?’

‘Yes, the beak is his nose and the feathers go all over his face, on the left side. It's like an eagle or a hawk.’ McCoy said, both of them rapidly filtering through pictures, McCoy a bit more efficiently than his counterpart.

‘This here, is this him.’ Donovan asked, McCoy leaned over to see.

‘Yep, that’s him.’

‘That’s a falcon, not a hawk or eagle.’ Donovan scoffed

McCoy waved his hand in dismissal. ‘What’s his name?’

‘Luca Marino.’ Donovan said, and then after a pause, ‘Well done.’

‘You’re not the only one with gut feelings.’

‘Who’s the other person with him? 

‘I'm not sure but he’s wearing an Earth suit.’ McCoy said, before elaborating, ‘suits sold here have electric mesh shields that stop the dust getting on them, so they don’t have to detox after going for an exo-walk. Other suits don’t have that so they get dust stuck on them, even after detox it's a little visible, in the corners of their eyes, corners of their mouth and on their eyebrows etc.’

‘And how do you know that? You don’t strike me as the outdoorsy type.’

‘I read.’

‘Well reading’s not going to find you where they live.’ Donovan said, matter-of-factly, ‘only their known addresses are displayed. So how are we going to find out where they’re going?’

‘Ok, so ‘day-before-yesterday, you told me that everyone who speaks with Isaaco ends up being indebted to him. So odds are, someone actually with a Marino surname would not even pay for their own house.’

‘Good, how does that help us?’

‘I haven’t the slightest idea.’

‘If Isaaco paid for it, it means he chose it, and what does Isaaco hate doing?’

‘Wasting things.’ McCoy answered.

‘Money. Land area is the most expensive factor in Martian real estate.’

‘So whatever building he would have paid for would be the one with the smallest length and width available.’

‘Preciscely, but he still needs to get his money’s worth.’

‘Which would be a house with a small area from a birds-eye view, but a large floor plan.’

‘Now, go and search for the house, put filter 1 on houses at the lowest category of land area’

‘And filter 2 on the highest possible category of floor area.’

They waited for the search to be complete whilst they drove in silence, then, McCoy announced ‘50 houses with those filters turned up.’ Donovan’s smile froze, ‘but,’ McCoy tapped the keyboard a bit more, ‘only one of them is in this direction.’

‘We’ll go there now.’