In my rush to find out what Kane was up to, I’ve apparently made an error, and materialize two feet above the actual roof. Fortunately when I hit the white grainy surface, I’m able to keep from falling flat on my face by catching myself with a knee and a hand. And while my landing is loud, I’m above a unit rented by one of our neighbors who works during the day. So, in theory, my arrival and walking around should go unnoticed.
Still, I place my steps with care as I head over to the section of the roof above Ellie’s and my place. It takes me only a moment to spot that there’s something that shouldn’t be there. A palm-size silver box sits at the base of the retaining wall that runs around the roof, on the side where the driveway is. A wire runs out from it and over the top of the lip, out of view.
I kneel down next to the box and pick it up. Though I haven’t held this type of device before, it’s easy enough to figure out from the control buttons that it is a digital recorder. I follow the wire, and find, as it starts down the outside of the building, that it’s been painted a color very similar to the wall, making it all but invisible to anyone more than a few feet away. With this knowledge, I can see that it goes all the way down to my bedroom window.
What in God’s name is going on here?
I coil up the wire and shove it and the recorder into my satchel. What I want to know is, did Kane put this device here just now, or has it been in place for a while?
I set my chaser to take me back thirty minutes before Kane showed up, and use a more accurate location number so that I forgo falling from the sky.
A recorder sits in almost, but not quite, the same spot as the first one I found. I pull out the confiscated device and compare the two. From a scratch along the left side, I can see that I am holding two versions of the exact same recorder. The only difference is what’s displayed on the small digital screen. On the device I took, the main readout sits at 00:00:04, while on the one I just found — the earlier version — the number is 01:47:32.
I hit PLAY on this second device but hear nothing, so I rewind a little bit and try again. My voice and Iffy’s from earlier that morning come out of the speaker, and I listen for a few seconds as we talk about our plans for the day. I rewind some more and hear another conversation, this one not nearly so easy to pick out because it took place in my hallway.
Anger boiling under my skin, I check the other device. The only thing recorded on it is four seconds of a man saying today’s date and the time that coincides with Kane’s upcoming visit to the roof.
Though it’s true I still have much to learn about this world, I haven’t just been sitting around in ignorance. I check the devices and find a cover that, when open, reveals a memory card. When I remove the one that has the recordings of Iffy and me on it, the number on the display screen switches to 00:00:00. I hadn’t anticipated that. Kane will be expecting to find a full recording, but since I don’t want to leave the card with our conversations on it, there’s little I can do except hope he thinks the recorder malfunctioned. To complete the illusion, I slide the card that has yet to record any of our voices into the slot.
Time now to check his car.
I take a carefully planned jump that puts me in the driveway of the apartment building across from me moments before Kane parks in front of it. From there, I watch him ease to the curb and then head across the street. As soon as he disappears from sight, I head over to his car and then kneel next to it, pretending to tie my shoe. I know from previous observations that there is a woman walking a dog somewhere behind me, but she’s going in the other direction. None of the apartment buildings in my neighborhood contain more than twenty units, and there are only a handful of windows from which I can be seen. I check them all to confirm there is no one watching and then take a thirty-second micro hop inside the car.
I arrive on the driver’s seat in a crouch, the wheel a half inch from my ribs. Once I stretch out, I hunt through the central console and find a few receipts, a plastic container holding mints, some pens, and a screwdriver, but that’s it.
I turn my attention to the dash box in front of me — the glove compartment, as Iffy calls it. There’s a soft fabric case containing a manual for the vehicle and a copy of the registration. The information on the latter matches what I already know. The only other things inside are a few more pens and some auto service records.
This, so far, has gotten me nowhere.
I lean between the seats and lift the lid of one of the white boxes sitting in the back. Similar to the box at Kane’s house, it’s full of files that seem to pertain to his job. The same is true of the other two boxes. I open a few of the loose files sitting on the front seat and see that they are also work related.
I grunt in frustration. There is nothing here that sheds any more light on my follower. The only place I haven’t checked is the trunk, but I can’t risk opening it as he might see me from the roof. Nor can I jump inside. It could be full, in which case my chaser’s emergency function would kick me fifteen feet to the side and likely land me in the middle of the street.
As much as I would prefer to avoid it, I see no other choice. I’m going to have to confront Kane directly. While I am just over six feet tall, I am thin and not particularly intimidating, so it will be important for me to set the where and when of the encounter.
And if there is anything I could be considered an expert at, it would be controlling time and place.
My plan is to visit Kane in his bedroom after he has gone to sleep and catch him off guard.
I could go back to a previous evening, but that would cause a time ripple I would rather avoid. If I did that and succeeded in scaring him off, then everything he does after our discussion will be different than what it has been. Even just that one night would mean he wouldn’t follow us to the restaurant, which in turn would mean that while the events as I know them will always be part of my memory, Iffy’s and Ellie’s memories will change, and in their minds Kane wouldn’t be sitting at the patio table and I wouldn’t go to his house. In fact, they won’t even know Kane’s name. Perhaps in the grand scheme this isn’t a big deal, but I’ll know the break between our memories exists, and as I’ve said before, that’s the kind of thing I’d like to prevent from happening.
I return to my home time — a time that corresponds with the actual days and minutes and seconds I’ve been alive, in other words, as far forward as the chaser will ever allow me to go. This puts me in the apartment about forty-five minutes after I promised Iffy I wouldn’t confront Kane.
She and I talk through my plan. She’s naturally concerned, but feels as I do that we need to get to the bottom of this.
My intention has been to wait until 11:00 p.m. before jumping to Los Angeles, but by ten o’clock I’m too anxious to hang around any longer and decide to go.
Unlike when I visited Kane’s street in the early morning hours, there are lights on in many of the houses. Unfortunately, one of these is Kane’s. To eat up time and burn off some of my nervous energy, I take a walk around the neighborhood.
When I return twenty minutes later, Kane’s house is dark. Still, I force myself to wait until 10:45 p.m. to make sure he’s had enough time to fall asleep, and then from my list of previous jumps, I select the locator that will put me just inside his front door.
The living room looks no different than it did on my last visit. I glance down the hall to the back of the house. It’s dark and quiet in that direction, and I see no reason to check it out again. I am here for a single purpose, and he is upstairs.