Page 91 of Exit Party

“What does that mean?” Kareem asked.

“Let me do the talking,” I said. I stopped the car. There was a small guardhouse nearby, from which a tall man in a brown uniform emerged. He moved slowly in the heat, his face shaded by a wide-brim hat. I lowered my window, and he peered in at the two of us.

“Don’t be alarmed,” he said. “It’s a random check.”

“We have a train to catch,” I said, in the most bored voice I could muster. “Myself and my colleague.”

He looked at me for a moment, then held out a palm scanner. I placed my hand on the screen. “I need your voice confirmation,” he said.

“My voice is my passcode.”

“No,” he said, slowly, “that Service shit. Fucking poetry or whatever.”

“Fine.” What was the correct passphrase for the day? My heart was racing. “As night fell the last light remaining was on the highest floor of the tower,” I said. A single green check mark—one of three—appeared on the screen, hard to see in the glare of the afternoon. “Below in the darkness we travelled onward.” Second check mark. The third passphrase was a rewording from a previous month. “Wind on your face, darkness, scattered lights. Lights in the darkness. Always coming home.”

“We took the liberty of examining the contents of yours and Detective Grissom’s phones,” Alberto said. “Why didn’t you tell me what your informant said about him?”

“I’ve prepared a report on it,” I said. “I’d just wanted to look it over again this morning before I submitted it to you.”

“I don’t care about typos,” Alberto said irritably, “when there’s a corrupt agent in play.”

“Enjoy your drive,” the guard said, and stepped back from the car. I kept my window lowered too, because I didn’t trust this car.

“Where are we going?” Kareem asked softly, once we’d cleared the edge of the camp.

“I’m keeping a promise I made to a friend,” I said. The train platform was a small shape on the horizon, shimmering in the heat. Something was wrong with the car. It wasn’t just that the transponder was out, I realized, it was that something had gone wrong with the entire electrical system. The windshield screens were flickering, the control panel too. The car shuddered to a halt and went dark. We sat still for a moment, Kareem and I. It was the end of the afternoon, the sun low in the sky.

“Now what?” Kareem asked.

“We walk,” I said. “It’s five kilometres, we’ll be fine.”

“My door’s locked.”

“Good thing your window’s open,” I said, and climbed out of mine. I liked this version of myself, that was what I was thinking as I dropped awkwardly to the ground. When I rose, the car looked hollow and inert in the half-light, a discarded exoskeleton.

“Of course,” I said to Alberto. “Forgive me. I’ll forward you the report when I’m back at my desk.”

“Thank you,” he said. “A replacement will stop by your office sometime this afternoon.”

“A replacement?”

“For David Grissom,” Alberto said. “He was arrested this morning.”

Kareem was standing up on the other side of the car, brushing sand off his clothes. “Do I still need to wear these?” he asked. He was holding the glasses.

“Put those on,” I said. “Your name is David Grissom. You’ll keep that name until I tell you to drop it, and that’s a real person, so after you drop that name you’ll never use it again. You’re a Service agent. Don’t talk if we’re questioned.” I set out walking, and after a moment I heard his footsteps behind and then beside me. I’d gone further beyond the rules than I’d ever imagined. I wouldn’t have expected the exhilaration in this. We walked in silence for a while, until I sensed that Kareem was calm.

“With the glasses,” I said, “your face looks like a blur of light on facial recognition systems. The faulty vehicle is helpful too.”

“But they’ll know I’m gone from the camp.”

“They’ll assume you’ve decided to leave society and become a ghost,” I said. “It’s uncommon, but not unheard-of. You weren’t a prisoner there.”

Walking regulates the central nervous system, and is occasionally useful in interrogations.

“I don’t know what will happen,” I said, “or if I’ll have another chance to speak with you.”

“Okay,” he said.