Chapter 22 DRIFT… MEET JUDE
Upper arms took most of Drift’s weight as he eased himself down onto the landing before he slipped behind a white column. He’d taken out one camera with his laser pointer, but there was no way he could risk anymore without getting caught. But he wasn’t exactly here to… steal anything, not tonight, just… answer a call the only way he knew how, but he knew homeowners like this wouldn’t give a damn over the whys.
The staircase below split into two on the way up to him, one route rounding his way into the west, then the other curved off to the east to where voices echoed. That left either downstairs or behind him to rummage through. The voices opposite offered too much light, and the shadows behind waved him back into safety. People mostly relaxed more on security as they moved upstairs as they checked downstairs first, which should, in theory, leave easier access to personal space up here on the west side for a while. And it was personal space he wanted to get a look at. Making a call didn’t mean replying if he didn’t need to. He just wanted to see who was on the other end of the phone.
Keeping a brief watch on the stairs opposite, he backed up and touch-felt his way along the wall. He brushed a lot of wood, then grooves of thick oak before he finally found a doorhandle.
Breathing a sigh of relief, he slipped inside and quickly closed the door, wincing at the click it gave.
Space played around him, and huge arched windows stared his way as he looked over his shoulder. He couldn’t see much beyond the moonlight streaking floor, but from how space played lover with more space, he took a guess at a hall in here.
A red light winked at him from a corner, and… fuck. He aimed the laser pointer at the sensor and held it there for a few moments. His heart started to beat less fast as the sensor’s light quickened, only it flashed far faster than normal, almost as if—
Christ.
Gut instinct had been right. These bastards were really kitted out, where it seemed even the security cameras came with installed laser detection devices. The heart-pounding speed off that one there was warning the watchers they had company.
He frowned.
Double-tap.
If they had detection devices installed, then Drift bet they had image-enhancing tech that would unscramble any damage done by a laser pointer, and that meant—West. She’d taken her mask off back by the fence. They’d have her on file.
Heart pounding harder, Drift tugged off his own mask and tucked it into the back of his compression pants for one reason only. Someone would be along soon enough, and he was locked into this whether he wanted it or not. But rather they work with what image he offered rather than West. They had just better be damn quick under foot to catch him, because most security would pile in on the room where the unwanted guest was, which meant he’d skirt around enough of them and be able to make it to clearer running ground.
But they certainly didn’t seem in a rush to get to him if they knew he was in here.
Drift stayed in the hall, getting a feel for it. Flooring creaked underfoot, and he buried a groan at how it loved crying out assault. He really needed quiet before security decided to stop playing perv.
Keeping to the walls to stop the flooring help out and cry This way, lads, sewer rat’s in here , he kept it slow as he made his way away from the windows. Empty halls in big joints meant music, and one thing he damn well knew was music, the subtle story it told. Most kept access to music systems and instruments away from natural light in halls like this, and he found what he was after a moment later.
Drift crouched and ran a touch over the sleek streaming system.
The Cambridge Audio Evo 150.
He gave a silent whistle. Two-and-a-half grand, way out of even Jackson’s price range unless selling it on, but bloody good with its streaming capability, and that’s what he needed now.
Phones could come with biometrics, homes with security systems, but get into a home and opt for access to something as… innocent as a playlist…?
It was a smart choice because it was controlled mostly by phone, so banking details and purchases were only made from the phone used to set it up. If the stereo got stolen, the phone could disable the system itself. No personal info stolen.
But it did allow easy access to anyone in the home without anyone having to use a pin number to access the playlist via the main unit, here.
And music lists were just that right?
Playlists?
Drift picked up the remote and flicked it on, then a home screen sent a mix soft light a few feet into the hall.
Playlists came up, and he tapped at it.
Five lists in total, each with a name.
Old Mukka.
Jan.
Jack.
Light.
Not Jack Here.
Four… maybe five main players in the home, depending on that last Not Jack Here piss take.
Drift ran with the first.
Old Mukka.
Only sixty songs were listed, and they ranged from “Dust in the Wind” by Kansas, to Fleetwood Mac’s “Need Your Love So Bad”, with the most recently played…
“Reputation” by Post Malone.
Drift winced. He knew the song. “Got a bad one there you don’t give a shit about, Mukka?” But he was male, most definitely. No one used Mukka for a woman. And from his music tastes: late thirties, early forties? Definitely not prone to change when he found what he liked.
“Dad’s pants?” Drift snorted. Gotta be Dad to have tastes this damn old. A worker too with how little time he seemed to have for music, or maybe his recreationals lay elsewhere: audio, movie… podcasts and conspiracy? It was anyone’s guess, and as this system only seemed happy with streaming music, it didn’t give too much to go by any other way. So Dad liked his privacy too even in his home.
“Next.” Drift swiped back to the main menu.
Jan.
A little better. Jan had a small dip into trance music with “Phone Down”, “Sandstorm”, and 100% Clubland , but nothing more contemporary like House Music. Also maybe more a modern romancer with Ultravox, Duran Duran, and Spandau Ballet and such filling the list.
Early-to-midthirties, maybe?
Jan? Janice, Janet…?
“Mom?”
Drift shrugged. Her music list was longer, crossing a few genres, more like a disaster playlist than anything. And her recently played? Drift thumbed at the list.
“Dollhouse” by Melanie Martinez.
He tilted his head a little. “Oh, now just what goes down here when the door to the dollhouse is closed, Janet? What’s got you thinking you need to hide behind place settings and picture-perfect poses?”
He tapped on Jack’s list, the most recently played just a few hours ago.
“Popular Monster” by Falling into Reverse.
Drift stilled. He knew the song, had lost himself to the anger of it many a night, but with Jack wrecking a car just to burn out inner demons… Jesus, was everyone on suicide watch around here?
But Darker, more depressive. Emo son.
Drift cocked a small smile. Jack had to be.
Next: Light.
This was more like it. Some 2021 ambient: good if you played piano and fiddled around with mixing the eighties with the now, also Some nu disco that mixed the 70s with a refined contemp’ style too. Certainly enough to get the body and soul dancing. Along with that was the likes of Alan Walker, the Cello Brothers, and violinist Damien Escabar, but no Vivaldi or Nigel Kennedy…. There wasn’t just youth here, but creative youth who mixed styles and tastes. And recently played?
Drift thumbed through, and Nothing but Thieves ran under his touch, their “Sorry.”
He cocked a brow. “Now who do you need to apologise to, mate? What have you done?”
Drift gave a sniff and flicked back to the list of names. So a depressed, modern romantic Mom, an absent, we-all-return-to-dust Dad, two brothers, one who wants to bulldozer his way through life, the other the apologist… maybe?
He clicked on the last name.
Not Jack Here.
One song listed, one song played roughly over two years ago.
Drift let out a soft snort, a smile. “Now what’s going on with you, eh?”
“Hotel California” by the Eagles ran under his touch.
Drift glanced around the hall and the hidden levels of security, yet how he’d been able to get in… maybe a little too easily. “Maybe you’re not wrong there, mate.” He kissed the tips of his fingers, winked, then touched hand to heart. “I’ll watch out for the daggers when it comes to people trying to slay the wee beasty.” He started thumbing into the search bar for what he needed. “But you really need a bigger playlist and life there, mate.”
Drift glanced around the hall again, more the heavy hand of CCTV. “Well being as I’m fucked either way, shall we get them in here, huh? See if they’re fast on their feet to actually keep me here? See who really crawls out of the cracks?”
The song he wanted came up, but as he stood, his focus rested on the large windows, and…
Nothing. Nothing but darkness looked back at him outside through huge dead glass eyes.
For a moment even the dust particles dancing in the moonlight seemed to… stop.
Family. This was his. A black mass of nothing where playlists and music never had existed…. In this weightless void of nothing….
“Fuck….” Shivering it off, hurt hitting his head a little, he dug fingertips into his head, hating the effect of spliffs, glue-sniffing and anything else weighing his system down. This music-less blackness he really didn’t need…
“Okay. Please,” he mumbled after digging into his compression pants pocket for an Anadin. “Please don’t let there be guard dogs.” Guard dogs could be fucking fast on their feet. Sneezing at the soft layer of night dust, maybe more the taste of the tablet, he turned the system to full blast having found the information he needed—then pressed play….