Techno Crazed by Sarah Mäkelä

Hannah Franklin rested her forehead on her desk. Cheating spouse cases currently flooded her office. She anxiously awaited the moment when she could dive into bed and close her eyes. Just a few more minutes, then she’d be able to call it. The memory of the soft warmth of her blankets and the comfort of her pillow relaxed her tense nerves. She lowered her eyelids and exhaled.

Ringing jarred her from the peace of daydreaming. She jerked upright and rubbed her eyes. Clearing her throat, she reached for the office telephone. She used a landline since they were more secure than the wireless communication devices on the market, which ranged from implants to high-tech cell phones.

“Franklin Investigations, how may I help you?” she asked.

“Is this Hannah Franklin? I need to speak to Hannah.” The male voice sounded urgent, with panic underlying his tone.

“This is she. Who’s calling?” Her spine stiffened. She grabbed a pen and poised it over her e-ink notepad. The electronic leaflet awoke within seconds, filled with comments from her previous assignment. Tapping a small icon on the top right corner, she brought up a clean page.

“Rich Granger. Listen, I can’t talk for long.” He paused. “Shit! Hold on.” Rummaging sounded over the phone, and then she heard his frantic breathing. “Okay. This is the deal. I used to work for MAX Home Security. Everything was fine until a few months ago. Turnover happened with the corporate big guys. You’ve heard the news recently, right?”

How could she not? Everyone was talking about the scandals involving the home security giant. It was a bit too sci-fi weird for her. Yet, it also made her think of… Grrr… No, she wouldn’t do that to herself.

“Yes, I have. What’s this about?” She kept her voice professional and scribbled down notes about the conversation.

“You know how the senators that spoke against them are dead? Well, that’s not a coincidence. I can prove that MAX Home Security killed the officials. Meet me at the donut shop on the corner of Fifth and Main Street. You need to see this. Shit!” Sneakers smacking pavement sounded over the phone, and then screeching tires. “It’s too late,” Rich said. “They’re here. I know a freelance hacker that can help you finish this. Malloc. Get in touch with him. This needs to stop.”

The hackers she’d met tended to be untrustworthy, but if he could help… And wait, she’d be finishing this? Reluctance built within her. Her caseload was already full, and how would she receive compensation for her time? Although none of her current assignments held this level of excitement.

“All right, I will.” She scribbled down the hacker’s name and notes about the donut shop.

Men yelling and the distant sound of thundering footsteps came over the line.

“Mr. Granger? Rich? Hello?” She glanced at the caller ID to write down Rich’s number and turned to her computer, keying in the digits to a reverse lookup search engine. She needed to know for sure if this guy was who he said he was.

A gunshot blast rang through her ear, and she jumped out of her chair, dropping the phone. Once she’d gained her bearings, she grabbed it and listened again.

The footsteps closed in, and plastic clattered against a hard surface, presumably Rich’s cell phone hitting the pavement. Two more shots fired, and she ground her teeth, feeling helpless.

She slammed the handset onto the receiver and took a deep breath. Rubbing the bridge of her nose, she stared at the name on her pad. Malloc. Geez. Hackers could be impossible to track down. This wasn’t the first time she’d looked one up. Then again, the last hacker had taken several days to locate. Time wasn’t on her side now.

Her telephone rang again, causing her heart to leap into her throat. She stared at the caller ID to see Rich’s number come up. But what if he was dead? What if that was the person who killed him? She picked up the phone but stayed quiet. Silence came from the other end. Probably waiting for her to say something.

She wouldn’t give in to their tricks. She’d been taught by the best how to handle herself. If only her former boss hadn’t tried to get into her pants and see if she’d earn her promotion. Shaking her head, she forced those thoughts away and hung up the phone.

She looked at the computer, seeing the results of the reverse lookup. The phone belonged to a Rich Granger. Maybe there was something here. No doubt existed in her mind that Rich had probably told the truth. If he hadn’t been on to something, he wouldn’t be dead right now.

Should she call the police? But if MAX Home Security had been involved in Rich’s death, she had nothing to prove his claims. Besides, she wasn’t absolutely certain he was dead.

What could she do? Aside from checking out the donut shop, the only other option was to check into Malloc’s whereabouts. She opened her email and typed a message to an old client whose name she’d helped clear. Having a contact in the hacker community who owed her a favor had helped on a few occasions.

The television in the corner of her office, which she kept on the 24/7 news station, caught her attention. A pretty reporter stood in front of the entrance to a skyscraper. “Today, MAX Home Security undergoes investigation after being linked to the deaths of two senators within the past month after they spoke out against the company. An anonymous tip alerted this station about the proceedings yesterday.”

An email notification beep from her computer recaptured her attention. The response contained a link to the webpage of a nameless IT Security expert. The contact information listed a phone number and an email address for Malloc through an unknown ISP she’d never seen before.

Oh boy… Could it be the same person? Only one way to find out.

She dialed the number. It rang and rang and rang until it switched over to an automated voicemail system. She hung up and shoved her fingers through her hair. Right now she didn’t have much, other than a potentially dead guy who had told her to find someone named Malloc. Yeah, she didn’t need the security expert to think she was crazy.

Maybe she needed to visit the donut shop before heading home and getting some shut-eye. Things would be clearer then, even if what she gained was insight into the violent phone call with Rich.

Geez. She hadn’t been hired to take this. Why was she spending time on it?

The sound of gunshots reverberated through her memory, and she pressed her hands against her temples. Someone could be dead. That’s why.

She grabbed the remote and clicked off the TV before leaving the office and locking her door. The dark, tight corridor put her on edge. Everyone else in the suite must’ve closed down early.

She left the building and stepped onto the sidewalk. Her car was parked on the other side of the lonely street. People normally milled from the downtown area to get to their nearby apartments. Neon signs flashed overhead. Street vendors usually lined the sidewalk. Now the barren stretch seemed alien to her. Even the corner where shady druggies traded nerve stimulants was void of life.

An uneasy feeling crept over her. Something seemed off.

Inhale. Exhale. Rinse. Repeat.

She put one foot in front of the other until she was in the middle of the road. A fiery explosion threw her backward, and darkness overshadowed her vision. The sensation of flames licking her skin surged her back to consciousness. She rolled on the ground, putting out the small fires before she scrambled to her feet and darted to her office. Not like she’d be completely safe there, but at least it would put a door between her and anyone who might be after her.

She needed help. Did Rich know the mysterious Malloc well enough for him to assist her? If he didn’t, she was screwed.

Hannah shut the office door behind her and locked it, then circled her desk. Snatching the phone, she punched redial and waited. It switched over to voicemail again.

“Listen, I don’t know who this is, but I need help. This guy named Rich –” A click sounded over the line. Had she been hung up on?

“Don’t say anything. Stay where you are. I’ll be there soon.” The husky voice was suspiciously familiar. No, it had been a long time since she’d heard her ex’s voice. The dial tone followed another click.

“How does he know where I am?” She slumped into her chair and leaned against the headrest. Her hard and slightly boring day had become life or death. Not something she’d imagined facing when she’d become a P.I.

* * *

Ian set down the phone, unable to believe he’d heard Hannah’s voice again. He’d wanted that for a long time, but this wasn’t the circumstance he’d hoped for. Not by a long shot.

He’d told Rich to get away from MAX before he got hurt, yet the guy hadn’t listened. What had he dragged them into?

Dishes rattled in the kitchen, and he squeezed his hands into fists. Ducking around the corner, he stared at the cheerful-looking gnome perched on the kitchen counter.

The gnome dug through a box of oatmeal raisin cookies Ian had bought on a recent shopping trip, for himself. Ian tapped his foot on the linoleum floor, and Bernard’s head swiveled in his direction.

“What? These cookies were just lying here. They’re mine NOW!” Bernard’s voice rose with each word until he was yelling. Had to be some kind of personality disorder. The grin on his face would have been perfect on a child during Christmas, if it wasn’t for the maniacal gleam in his bloodshot eyes.

“Fine. Keep them. I don’t want gnome drool on my food.” That was why he bought meat and other things he knew the gnome wouldn’t touch. Gnomes were herbivores, but Bernard had a big sweet tooth for a veggie-eater. Cookies, candy, chocolate? Forget about keeping them safe around him.

Bernard narrowed his eyes and went back to eating the cookies, making obnoxious chewing sounds.

“I have to go out. Keep an eye on the place. We might be in danger.” Ian watched the small guy cram cookies into his mouth.

“And? If you haven’t noticed, I’ve been around for a hundred YEARS! People DIE before I do.” Bernard tottered over to a bowl of vegetables. A fat gnome seemed to be a happy gnome.

But Bernard’s voice never failed to create a headache right behind his eyes, which now was worse than what he’d already felt before walking in here.

“Consider yourself warned.” Ian grabbed his jacket from the back of a kitchen chair and tossed it on before staring at the gnome again. “And get off the counter. I cook there, and I don’t know where you’ve been.”

Bernard chucked a turnip at him. His normally cheery face soured. “Get lost, big guy!”

Ian tossed the turnip back.

Bernard let out a high-pitched squeal before the turnip crashed into him, and he tumbled off the counter.

* * *

Hannah squirmed in the high back office chair and groaned. Weakness made her movements feel much more draining than they should’ve been. Wetness dampened her side, and she placed a hand against it to see blood. Great. Must have been debris from the car exploding.

A knock thumped on the door of her office. She stood and pulled her hand away from her side to show more strength than she possessed right now. Her breath came out in shallow pants.

A single large figure was framed by the frosted glass. She unlocked the door and cracked it open an inch. Her jaw went slack when she saw Ian Bradley in the doorway. Her ex-almost-boyfriend. Then again, the voice she’d heard on the phone had been familiar, and Ian had worked as an IT Security expert for… MAX Home Security. But he’d let his job interfere with their relationship.

“Ian…” she said, not able to find words.

“Hi, Hannah.” His gaze swept down her body. He pushed into her office and shut the door behind him. He bumped into her slightly, causing her to stumble into him. Grabbing her with his warm hands, he steadied her. “Are you okay? We need to go back to my place. Looks like you’re in shock.”

She opened her mouth to reply, but after the car bomb, she didn’t feel like arguing.

“Do you have a first aid kit?” he asked, cradling her chin in his hand.

“Yes. Bottom right drawer.” She leaned against the desk and wrapped her arms around her stomach. Behind her, Ian rummaged through the drawer before walking back around.

Opening the kit, he frowned and raised an eyebrow at her. “This is the first aid kit? All it has are a few Band-Aids. Better than nothing, I guess.”

Her knees weakened, and the wetness on her blouse seemed to increase. She placed her hand on her side and grimaced at the pain.

“What happened?” he asked, pulling her hand from the wound and lifting her shirt.

“An ex-employee of MAX Home Security named Rich called my office and told me about the government officials. He was in trouble and told me to contact a hacker named Malloc. I think they killed him. He wanted to meet me at a donut shop on Fifth and Main Street, but there were gunshots. My car blew up right before I would’ve gotten in.” She sighed and shook her head.

“Damn.” He pulled a sterile wipe from its package and cleansed the wound before pressing a large bandage against her side. His gaze rose to meet hers. “I’ll help you. C’mon, I know someone who can fix you up.”

She grabbed her purse before following Ian out and locking the office door behind her.

He slid his arm around her shoulders and walked her outside. Sirens in the distance proved that firefighters were on their way. People had started to gather around at the sight of her car still in flames, but there wasn’t any other vehicle around.

She grimaced.

“It’s not too bad of a walk. If you start feeling bad, let me know.”

“Okay.” Hannah sighed and focused on putting one foot in front of the other. Ian was the only person she could trust right now. Yet after what they’d been through before and the pain she’d suffered at losing him to his work, she wondered if she’d lose him in the permanent sense this time.

* * *

Ian shoved open the door to hear his garbage disposal running, and it looked like every light in the apartment was on. Was this payback for knocking the gnome off the counter with his precious turnip? Crap, not what he needed. He didn’t have time to play nice with his house companion. At least the stereos weren’t blaring like when he’d forgotten to get Bernard sweets last month.

Hannah’s knees gave way. He reached for her, but she fell, landing on her back in the hallway. She looked up at him, her unfocused gaze reminding him of the accident.

“Bernard, get your shit together and help me out.” His blood pressure rose with his frustration.

“Who… ?” Hannah asked, but her voice faded.

“After what you did to my turnip, you expect me to help you out, asshole?” Bernard’s voice rose again in typical fashion, even though he trudged toward the door. Yes, of course, he needed the neighbors to think he was weird.

Ian lifted Hannah into his arms and stared down to see Bernard watching him with his cheerful little face and pointed red hat. He brushed past the gnome and walked into the living room, resting Hannah on the white leather couch.

Within seconds, Bernard had perched on the coffee table and stared down at Hannah’s half-closed eyes. “This the one you’ve been talking about forever?” His voice held curiosity, and he reached out a small hand to caress her hair.

“Fix her,” Ian said, sitting in the armchair nearby. He didn’t want to leave the little guy alone with her while she was vulnerable. Ian knew exactly what the gnome was capable of. It was Bernard’s curse. Something Ian’s abilities could bypass.

Bernard ran his fingertips around the bandage-covered wound. “Hey pretty girl, take off those clothes, or you won’t get fixed.” He ducked before Ian could swat him.

“Who is that, Ian?” Hannah tried to sit, but she winced and leaned back.

“Sure, move around. You’ll die faster,” Bernard said and looked at Ian. “Those clothes have to come off, and I need my kit from the back. She’s nice, but if we wait, we’ll get another corpse!”

Ian nodded, not bothering to keep Bernard quiet. He retrieved the small leather bag from the kitchen but kept his eyes on Bernard. He handed the bag to the impatient gnome. Hannah had passed out again.

Sighing, he slid her skirt down her hips, then turned his attention to the dainty, blood-soaked blouse she wore. It couldn’t be saved. He grimaced and grabbed a pair of scissors from Bernard’s bag to cut it off of her. Stepping aside, he let Bernard get to work.

Gnomish magic hummed through the air as Bernard chanted soft words and made small gestures near the wound, which still bled heavily. He was quiet, never a good sign, focused solely on his magic and the cleaning of the wound.

“What’s taking you so long?” Ian asked and nudged Bernard’s hat, which normally drove the gnome mad.

Bernard glared and punched a slightly curved metallic tool into the wound, making Hannah scream in pain. Before Ian could do anything, the gnome muttered something and pulled the instrument back out. A piece of metal and cloth from her tattered shirt rested on it.

Muttering something about infection, the gnome pulled a few talismans from his bag and continued chanting. Finally, the bleeding seemed to lessen, and Bernard stitched the wound closed.

Hannah had passed out again. Her skin was stark pale, and her chest rose and fell in even, peaceful breaths. While the gnome’s methods were crude, his magic more than compensated for it. His healing abilities were great, but he rarely bothered to help anyone.

Bernard’s gaze fixated on Hannah’s breasts. His small hand reached out toward them. “Stop that. Let her rest.” Ian walked over to the couch and draped a blanket over her, much to Bernard’s evident dismay. Not that he blamed the little guy… much. The soft curves of her body invited him to caress her. “And please, go turn everything off. We can’t afford another huge electricity bill.”

The gnome huffed and stomped off, doing as he had been asked.

Ian sat in his favorite armchair again, watching Hannah as she lay unconscious. He wanted to be there when she woke up. Well, he also didn’t want Bernard to molest her. That wouldn’t earn him any points. Not like he felt worthy of her after the neglect he’d put her through.

What had that brought him? Loneliness, no job, and possession of a very annoying gnome.

Sighing, he leaned his head back and stared at the ceiling. He could really go for some whiskey, but he dared not bring alcohol into his home, lest he have a drunken gnome roaming around.