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  Anais shook her head again, despair beginning to wash over her. The sirens they'd heard in the shop wailed louder.

  “Come on,” Xander held out his arm for Anais to take. “We should get out of here.”

  They hurried as best as they could down the street, though Anais' leg was aching more with each step she took. Once they were out of the market, they cut through a few of the smaller side streets. She leant on Xander the further they walked, but Xander insisted they kept going to put as much distance between them and Denzel's shop as possible. They emerged from another alley, and Anais blinked in the sudden light.

  The sunlight was reflecting off the meandering river in front of them, dazzling her eyes. A cool breeze came off the water, bringing with it the faint tang of silt and fish from further upstream. They crossed the road and Anais sank down onto the pavement by a white HelixPod, unable to walk any further. Xander joined her, sitting down with a groan and clutching his left side.

  Advertising screens lined the top of the buildings around them, showing off the iridescent tattoos that were currently all the rage, advertising Civitas' parade and the SLPs that were going to be launched, and this month's must have shade of hair colour. A little further down the opposite bank, the gleaming Civitas building with it's giant silver 'C' nestled between the hi-rise buildings of the financial district.

  Anais tore her eyes away from the building and concentrated on the river instead. Different sized boats were drifting past, carrying crates full of fruit and vegetables, containers of silk and cotton and other goods that the city frequently imported. She watched as they drifted around the river bend towards the harbour on the city's edge. Smaller boats stamped with the city's crest fought against the current, sailing away from the harbour, exporting the technological goods the Imperial City was famous for to other parts of the country. All along the river's edge, council workers were hanging up Civitas decorations between the lampposts, shouting at each other as they tried to agree on how high the flags should go. If it wasn't for the inner turmoil Anais was feeling, the day would've been quite peaceful.

  Anais stared at the flags for a moment without really seeing them. Instead, she was seeing the man fleeing from the shop and she wondered, rather belatedly, why he would want Denzel dead. Denzel hadn't been that friendly when she'd met him, but that was no reason to kill him. But this thought was quickly overwhelmed by another.

  “That's it,” she said thickly. “Denzel was the only lead we had. How are we supposed to find out where those SLPs came from and who made them?”

  It occurred to her, too late, that they should've tried to search the shop for Denzel's stock of SLPs. But it was far too risky to go back now.

  “There must be some other way,” Xander said, though he didn't sound too hopeful. “We just need to think through our options.”

  But as hard as she tried, Anais couldn't think of a single thing that could help them. Denzel had told her that he didn't make the SLPs himself. With Denzel now dead, and everyone else who had bought one off him dead too, who could they turn to now? Not the police – they'd arrest her for sure. Her parents still didn't have a clue she was involved in all this, not that they'd help her anyway. They'd be terrified she'd die next and place her under house arrest.

  “Well Civitas is going to be pissed when they find out someone's stolen their SLP designs,” Xander said, as though they were carrying on a previous conversation. He watched as two council workers unfurled a large blue flag with the Civitas logo imprinted on it. “Especially since they're supposed to be launching them tomorrow.”

  “Do you think they even know?” Anais asked, more to keep her mind off the despair that was creeping over her, than actually caring about the answer.

  “I doubt it – I haven't heard anything at work, anyway. If they did, surely they'd delay the launch?” Xander said. Anais looked at him, a memory from the previous day rising to the surface of her mind.

  “What if they do know?” she said suddenly. “What if they're just trying to hush it up?”

  Xander looked at her sceptically.

  “No, listen,” Anais leant forward towards him. “We already know the SLPs Denzel sold caused Marcus and those other men to murder employees from WireX and MediTech. It's a Civitas product. What if Civitas is behind all this?”

  Xander didn't seem impressed.

  “That seems pretty far-fetched, Anais,” he said. “What would be the point?”

  “Because they want to take over WireX Industries. And MediTech. They're the only two companies capable of creating the kinds of products Civitas can. They don't want the competition. And,” she remembered with painful clarity the conversation she'd had on the train with Dalla. It seemed like a lifetime ago. “The first victim in all these murders was planning on leaving MediTech and setting up a new medical company. What if Civitas heard about this new medical tech and decided to take him out?”

  She didn't like the way Xander was looking at her. There was a mixture of pity and sadness in his eyes.

  “What?” she asked.

  “Anais...” he said as gently as he could. “You've been through an awful shock. I know you're hurting right now, but I don't think you're thinking straight. Why would Civitas risk everything, just to take out a few rivals?”

  “They must be involved somehow,” Anais insisted. “It's their product that's being sold illegally. How else could it have been designed?”

  Her thought was cut off by a ping and a line of text popped up in her vision: Inside the world's most genius minds: Dora Larkin, Magnus King and Clay Winterbourne - The voices of a generation.

  “Oh for goodness sake -” Anais went to delete the news alert, but stopped. She stared at the text in her vision, excitement beginning to mount as she reread the name. Clay Winterbourne.

  “I've got it,” she said suddenly. “I know who we can go and see.”

  “Who's that then?” Xander's attention was preoccupied with his left arm where a nasty bruise was beginning to blossom.

  “We have to go and see Clay Winterbourne.”

  Xander stopped examining at his arm and slowly looked up at her.

  “What?” His dark eyes surveyed her, and for a moment, her resolve wavered.

  “We have to go and see Clay Winterbourne,” she repeated. “He's the only one to ever break into Civitas successfully – twice. He used to be their top product designer, he was a genius. If anyone will know how Civitas is doing all this, he will.”

  She didn't like how Xander continued to stare at her.

  “No.”

  His short answer threw her.

  “No? But...why not?”

  “Because the guy's insane, Anais. He murdered his whole family. Also,” he raised his voice slightly as she began to interrupt. “You don't have any evidence that Civitas has done anything wrong. For all we know, maybe someone like Clay Winterbourne hacked into Civitas and took the SLP designs. Just because they're a Civitas product doesn't mean Civitas is behind all this. And there's no way we're going to go and see a convicted psychopath, just to prove that you're right.”

  “All the more reason to go and see him! No, listen,” Anais flapped her hands to quieten Xander. “You just said that someone like Clay Winterbourne might be behind this...but what if it's actually him? You heard what Marcus said – someone tried to break into Civitas again a few days ago. Since then, the whole incident has been hushed up but something that big should've been on the news. What if he stole the SLP design and he's now creating his own version? We could at least go and ask him.”

  She looked at him eagerly but Xander didn't look as impressed as she thought he would.

  “Anais...that's a stretch by any means. If he wanted to get back at Civitas, why wouldn't he either break into the company building and wreak havoc there, or, if he w
as murdering people, why wouldn't he just go after people who actually worked for Civitas? What did Marcus or Denzel or Dalla ever do to him?”

  The mention of Dalla's name brought Anais up short. She drew in a sharp breath. Xander noticed her stricken expression and tenderly placed an arm around her shoulders.

  “I'm sorry, I didn't mean it like that,” he said gently. “I agree with you, there's something suspicious going on, but we can't just keep pulling conclusions out of thin air.”

  Anais stared out over the street, trying to ignore the pain in her chest. She couldn't just give up. She had to keep going. She had no other choice. There was no one left she could turn to. She had to bring Dalla's murderer to justice, and if that meant conspiring with a known madman, so be it.

  She shrugged off Xander's arm and stood up, ignoring the dull thumping in her leg.

  “Where are you going?”

  “I'm going to see Clay and I'm going to find out who's behind all this. And I'm going to do it with or without your help,” she glanced down at him with a fire in her eyes. “I have to do this, Xander, for Dalla.”

  Her voice caught as she mentioned Dalla's name, but she still held her head high. Xander struggled to his feet and faced her. His indigo eyes burned into hers. He reached out and brushed a lock of pink hair away from her face. A shock of electricity went through Anais' skin from his touch.

  “I'm with you,” he said quietly. “Always.”

  And, although she knew she didn't deserve it, knew she wouldn't be truly happy again for a very very long time, Anais couldn't stop the smallest of smiles spreading across her lips.

  “But before we go dashing off, though, there's something we need to do first,” Xander added.

  “What's that?” Anais asked.

  Xander nodded towards the building emblazoned with the giant silver 'C'.

  “We're going to pay a visit to Civitas.”

  That had been far too close.

  Gritting his teeth against the pain, he lowered his arm and attempted to walk normally. He resisted the urge to look back and see where the pink haired girl was, instead concentrating on walking as fast as he could without drawing attention to himself. He pulled his hood up to hide his masked face. He didn't care about the odd looks he was getting, so long as he didn't get caught by that girl and her companion.

  If only Denzel had done what he had promised, the fool might still be alive. But even under threat, Denzel had admitted that he still needed more time to sell the SLPs. Idiot. He had had no further use for him and, despite Denzel's pleas, in the end he was just another loose end to get rid of.

  He rounded a corner and, after a furtive glance around the deserted side street, finally deemed it safe enough to take a look at his arm. His black jacket and the fabric of his long sleeved t-shirt had been slashed where a piece of metal had pierced it. Blood welled up between his fingers as he examined the wound dispassionately. It looked like it might need stitches.

  Hadn't he warned Denzel about the dangers of keeping so much junk? Perhaps in hindsight, he should've killed Denzel and then buried him underneath a pile of scrap parts, to make it look like more of an accident. But that girl had come bursting in before he could do anything else. No matter – after tomorrow, he didn't particularly care if they discovered who, or what, was killing all these people. After tomorrow, every citizen in this city would know his name. And even if the hopeless police did get their act together, the authorities would have an extremely hard time tracking him down. Almost subconsciously, he rubbed the tiny white scar behind his right ear.

  The girl though...he was going to have to keep an eye out for her. She didn't strike him as being particularly clever, but by some strange twist of fate it seemed as though she had become involved in his little plan, if what the purple haired boy said had been true. It would only take one slip up on his part for the whole thing to come crashing down and then he'd be completely exposed.

  So it was a good job he was planning on doing that anyway. Let the little girl sniff around – there was nothing she could discover now that could help her or anyone else in this pathetic city. Tomorrow, every false, pretentious, preening person that this city was full of would be shown just how small and insignificant they really were.

  He took of his jacket and ripped the sleeve off his t-shirt, wrapping it around his bleeding arm. Once satisfied he wasn't going to leave a trail of blood behind him, he strode off. He had no time to waste; there were six more chips out there. Six more chances for him to play his game, before he had to prepare for the big show tomorrow.

  He had a lot of work to do.

  Twelve

  The Civitas building looked exactly the same as it had the last time Anais had visited. People were striding confidently across the atrium, the buzz of conversation filling the air. The only difference was that this time, instead of being in awe of the graceful architecture, Anais felt slightly sick though she couldn't say why.

  Xander was behind the security desk, attempting to access the Central Information Database. The CID wasn't available for individuals to search; only official Imperial City organisations and select businesses were allowed access for marketing purposes. Being the biggest employer in the city meant that Civitas enjoyed full access to the CID, something which Anais was grudgingly grateful for now.

  Anais drummed her fingers on the counter as she waited for Xander, her eyes flicking around the atrium. Most the people she saw were wearing either a variation of black and white stripes, or a deep plum colour. I'll have to tell Dalla she can wear her favourite purple shoes again, Anais thought idly. But as soon as the thought struck, ice ran through her veins. She'd never be able to tell Dalla anything again. She squeezed her eyes shut, counting up to a hundred in her head before the enormity of Dalla's death overwhelmed her.

  “Damn,” came Xander's voice and Anais opened her eyes.

  “What's up?” she said.

  Xander was surrounded by the same holographic screens she'd seen the morning she'd visited with Dalla. On one of the screens a photo of Clay Winterbourne was rotating in the air, staring at Anais with mistrustful eyes.

  “Clay's entry hasn't been updated in years. Since before he worked here, in fact,” Xander called up a different screen and began typing furiously.

  “Will we still be able to get his address?” Anais asked, leaning over the counter to see what he was doing.

  Xander shrugged.

  “Maybe. At the very least I should be able to find his last known address. That'll give us something to work with,” he said.

  “How -”

  “Good morning,” a smooth voice cut Anais off. Anais turned and almost stumbled in shock. Skye was standing right behind her, dressed in an expensive looking plum coloured suit. Her blue hair was twisted into an elegant bun at the back of her neck.

  “H-hello,” Anais managed to choke out.

  Seeing Skye had made Anais remember with painful clarity how excited Dalla had been on their last visit. How she had wanted to work at Civitas more than anything in the world. And now this company could very well be responsible for her death. Out of the corner of her eye, Anais could see Xander watching her warily.

  Oblivious to Anais' inner thoughts, Skye smiled at her, showing every one of her perfect white teeth. Somehow, she made it seem threatening.

  “May I ask what you're doing here, Miss Finch?”

  “I'm – I'm with -”

  “She's with me,” Xander said, standing up straight. Skye gazed at him coolly, her eyes flicking to the rip in his uniform.

  “Mr Silvas, how unexpected. I thought you had the day off, in lieu of the – ah - dreadful tragedy that recently happened,” she adopted a look of sadness that somehow made her look, if possible, even more beautiful. “I'm so sorry about Miss Goddard's deat
h. It was such a tragic accident. The good always seem to be the ones to die before their time.” Skye shook her head sorrowfully. Anais' fingernails bit into her palms as she resisted the urge to retort.

  “But Mr Silvas, surely you shouldn't be in work today? You should be at home, comforting your charming friend here,” Skye's eyes alighted on Anais, who glared at her. She held her gaze defiantly, until Skye's eyes travelled past her to where Xander was working. Too late, Anais realised that if Skye saw what Xander was looking for, it would lead to far more difficult questions.

  Luckily, Xander had had the same thought. He stepped out from behind the desk, the holographic screens wiped clean the instant Skye glanced at them.

  “I forgot something,” he told Skye. “But I've got it now.”

  He reached out and took Anais' hand.

  “We were just leaving,” he said, starting to pull Anais towards the doors.

  “How are you enjoying the picochip factory?” Skye's cool question made Anais stop short. There was a glint in her eye that Anais didn't like.

  “It's great,” Anais matched her tone. “Plenty of work.”

  “I can imagine,” Skye said softly. “You know, I saw that boy on the news last night – Marcus? The murderer? Wasn't he the one who was here with you the other day?”

  “Yes,” Anais said, just as Xander said, “No.”

  Skye's eyes narrowed. Anais cleared her throat.

  “I mean, he was here but he wasn't with us,” she amended. Skye gazed her.

  “I see,” her voice was still soft, but there was an edge to it that made Anais want to run away and hide. “You should be more careful who you choose to be friends with, Miss Finch. It would be...unfortunate if you got mixed up in this whole sorry business the city seems to find itself in at the moment. Good day to you both.”

  Skye gave them both a curt nod. Anais felt Xander tugging on her hand and she reluctantly followed him out of the doors. She could feel Skye's eyes on them as they left and it was only once they were safely outside the building that she turned to look back. Skye was behind the security desk, bringing up different holographic screens. There was no doubt in Anais' mind that she was looking through Xander's search history. There was no way they'd be able to go back in and attempt to get Clay's address again.