Video Noir

CHAPTER 1

RICK BLAZER: PRIVATE EYE

Rick Blazer took off his tie and white dress shirt and tossed them into the coat closet at the entrance to his office.

He was now clad in his standard attire, his real uniform—a black tank top that draped over the sinewy mounds of his perspiring, muscular torso and a pair of loose fitting, stretchy black jeans that allowed his body room to move and breathe. To add the final touch, Rick kicked off his pain-inducing dress shoes and slipped into a pair of black-and-gold Nike running shoes.

Experience had taught Rick that in his job, especially when combined with his testosterone-stoked demeanor and his tendency to attract trouble, he had to be ready for anything. Strength, speed, flexibility, and on occasion, the ability to run fast were all of vital necessity.

He had certainly felt like running this morning, right out of the conference room from where he had just come.

Corporate clients, they’re the worst, Rick thought.

Rick Blazer was old school—cheating spouses, swindling business partners, missing persons. He would rather take any of those assignments from a person he could look in the eye than work for a corporation. But circumstances had forced him to accept work from a militant, right-wing corporation interested in digging up dirt via secretive background checks on their applicants before accepting them into their ultra-conservative florescent lit prisons.

But still, corporations were clients, and a well-paying clients. These were tight times for Rick Blazer and the Dark Skies Detective Agency. And right now, he needed any business he could get his hands on.

Rick walked over to adjust the venetian blinds hanging from the corner window of his office. There was a harsh glare pouring in from the city street outside, and Rick preferred to keep his lair shrouded in darkness. It was very much in keeping with his mysterious persona of being the brooding loner, the dark no-name anti-hero.

He took a handkerchief out of his jeans pocket and wiped the sweat from his forehead.

Rick would have preferred to have had a cool office, but that wasn’t likely to happen anytime soon. At least it wasn’t going to happen while he was stuck as a tenant in this dusty, old, roach-infested rat trap. It was the last of the rundown old buildings standing on Pittsburgh’s New South Side.

Rick began to quote out loud to himself the old mantra of starving private detectives everywhere.

Hey, I’m just one case away from warm water, a blue sky, and a sandy beach.

Rick’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of fast-approaching footsteps in the outer hallway.

His instincts kicked in, and Rick reached for his .38. He never knew what sinister characters might be lurking outside in the darkness.

But these footsteps did not sound like those of a past enemy seeking revenge. They were soft, clicking, methodical footsteps made by someone who was light on his or her feet. The steps sounded graceful, almost musical.

There was an almost a swaying, magical cadence to the sweet rhythm.

No doubt, these were the footsteps of some elegant creature.

These were the footsteps of a woman.

A shapely silhouette of a shadow suddenly appeared at the stained glass door of the office.

Then came a soft knock.

Come in, Rick said. It’s open.

The door opened and a flood of warm, yellow light poured into the room, cutting across the harsh patterns of shadow and darkness.

And then—a few seconds later—there she was—standing in front of his desk with a delicate hand extended toward him.

She was a brunette. She was dressed in a purple blouse and a black skirt that was fitted perfectly to her willowy form. She had full red lips, creamy skin, and hazel eyes that were warm and all knowing.

Mr. Blazer, the woman said. My name is angela, and i really need your help.

CHAPTER 2

ANGELA

It all started when they came looking for him because of this, Angela said as she pulled two trade-size paperback books out of her purse and tossed them onto the desk in front of Rick.

The first one was black with a swirling photo of a galaxy on the front cover, the type of photo taken by the Hubble Space Telescope. Across the top of the cover was the title Light Wave.

The second book had a similar design and was titled The Slipstream of Light… and of Life.

Okay then, Angela, Rick began. He noticed that she nodded and gave him a quick smile to acknowledge that he had said her name, and he’d gotten it right. What exactly are these? I’m a little short on leisure reading time right now, so give me the TV Guide capsule summary version. And, just who in the hell are they?

Angela looked at him for a second. It was a look that said, Are you kidding me?

It does say ‘detective’ on the door outside, right? Angela asked.

Rick watched as her angelic features became animated with a hint of sharp and mocking sarcasm.

He looked up and raised an eyebrow at her.

Indeed, this was an interesting woman.

Sorry, detective, but you’re going to have to do your own homework on this one, she said. And since I’m the one paying you; there won’t be any CliffsNotes either.

With that, Angela reached into her purse and pulled out a wad of tightly wrapped one hundred dollar bills.

There’s twenty-five hundred there. You’ll get another twenty-five hundred if you find out where Harlan is being held, she said. Once you do that, I’ll take it from there.

Yes, this Angela was just full of interesting surprises.

This girl meant business. And she sure was afraid of something … them, no doubt.

Rumor has it you like deal in cash, she said. You know, on account of the gambling thing.

This time, he gave her a look.

Rick didn’t like the fact that someone was checking on him. But then again, if he were in her shoes, he’d have done the same. Sexy, strong willed, shrewd, and smart; he was really starting to like this girl.

But rumor also has it, she continued, that you are the best there is, bar none.

Oh yeah? Rick said. Is that a fact?

No, Angela said. It’s a rumor.

Touché, Rick said. «And what else do these rumors say?»

«That you’re cynical. You’re bitter, hungry, angry, pissed off,» Angela said. «And you’re not afraid of anything or anybody.»

«Indeed, this is an interesting woman,» Rick thought. All of the sudden he felt something inside stir to life, something he hadn’t felt in years—enthusiasm for a new case.

It was both enthusiasm for the case and for this enchanting, strong-willed creature who had walked into his office from the city streets beyond. He felt the sudden urge to help her and to come through for her, no matter the cost.

See, I did my homework before I came here. I ran into your brother, Jet, up in Detour, she said. And I know you’re the perfect person, the only person, for this job. These are serious people who took Harlan. I’m worried … I’m worried that once they get what they want from him …

Her voice trailed off into silent emotion.

Angela, Rick said. I’ll do my homework. I’ll read these books. But you have to give me something else. A place to start. How do I find these men?

VideoNoir.net, she said.

You mean a Web site? Rick asked.

Yes, but don’t be fooled. It’s much more than that. It’s some kind of new video-sharing site, she said. They wanted Harlan to use Light Wave technology—the stuff you’ll read about in that book. Stuff that Harlan studied and perfected to the point of… she paused for a moment. Mister Blazer—

Enough of the Mister Blazer crap. Rick will do fine, he interrupted.

Rick, you know what virtual reality is, right? she asked.

Of course, he said.

Well, with Light Wave technology, Harlan was able to set off a controlled reaction by way of this new energy he perfected, she said. And now it’s possible to use this energy, merge it into existing video technology, and create something that goes far beyond any virtual reality you can imagine. It’s something that can merge recorded video with real-time life and create a new reality, a reality that can be controlled and manipulated however they see fit.

Rick took a moment to dwell on her words. There it was again, that ominous word, they. If what she was saying was true, then yes, this was more than technology. It was a brand new weapon of control—a weapon people would kill for.

And if what she was saying was true, then there was a good chance that Harlan was already dead. That was a theory Rick thought would best be kept to himself.

I think I’m beginning to understand why they, would be interested in this Light Wave technology, Rick said.

Oh, they came looking for him all right, with some kind of fancy Silicon Valley sales pitch. It was a real full-court press, Angela said. But Harlan warned them. He said the technology was dangerous, and he tried to pass on the offer. But then, they softened their stance a bit, and they managed to talk him into attending a weekend recruiting seminar, supposedly just to check it out …

Her voice trailed off again as she became lost in her thoughts.

Then what? Rick asked.

He packed a weekend suitcase and left for the trip. They were sending him there by train, which I thought was kind of odd. But now that I think about it, I guess trains are easier to control than the airlines, she said and then stopped.

Rick imagined her mind cooking up all sorts of lurid scenarios about the railroads being under the control of some secret, sinister black book government agency.

But this girl seemed to be real; she seemed to be true. And if this Light Wave stuff really worked, then time was of the essence.

And that’s the last you saw of your friend Harlan? Rick asked. At the train station?

Yes, Angela said sadly.

She leaned in close to the desk and looked at him with a pleading sense of desperate urgency. Then she touched his hand.

And that was over six months ago, she said. You have to find him for me mr. Blazer … Rick. Please. You just have to.

CHAPTER 3

ACTION HERO

Rick Blazer was half Italian, a quarter black, and a quarter—as he liked to joke—from parts unknown. He was 5 feet 11 V inches and two hundred seventeen pounds of tightly wound testosterone. When he wasn’t out tailing a cheating spouse or chasing tail himself, he could be found at the South Side Pittsburgh Barbell Club and Boxing Gym, the Pitt Barbell, as it was known for short.

For Rick Blazer, yes meant yes, and no meant no. There was no such thing as maybe. And when he said he’d do something, unlike the weak-minded fools that comprised the bulk of the mass population, he actually did it.

Because of this, he read both books—Light Wave and The Slipstream of Light . and of Life—over the next two days as he prepared for the case. And what a strange and bizarre case this was shaping up to be. From Angela’s melodramatic entrance into his office, to the strange new age science books she had required him to read.

Both books were written by a so-called pop physicist named Troy Matheson.

Matheson was an eccentric recluse, a brilliant theorist who seemed to have lost points among his peers for not only writing books like these—pop science books designed to make non-scientific types understand complex ideas—but for coming up with the Light Wave theory in the first place. The theory seemed more like something spouted by Mulder on an episode of The X-Files than a legitimate law of physics, and Matheson’s entire book felt more like a lost episode of The Outer Limits than an actual science text.

But still, there was something about it. There was something that rang true no matter how outrageous it seemed at first glance.

Simply put, the Light Wave theory stated that all light is made of photons. Photons are