“Which means all our blackmail material might well be worthless now,” Claire said, admitting HOPE wasn’t as omniscient as they liked to claim. “It also could mean that they’re making this announcement with full knowledge it’s a hoax.”
“If they’re insane,” I said, thinking about what a scandal that would be. The people depended on Karma Corp, but the government no longer defended them against lawsuits over medicine. The Corporate Council had, ironically, weakened U.S. power enough to mean it was unable to do the jobs it could do back when it was powerful but corrupt.
“The files contain the actual data on nanotherapy and its progress,” Claire said. “Enough to make or break them.”
I thought about that. “Maybe A is working for Karma Corp’s board and is trying to get your information so he can assassinate Zheng Wei, then torch their facilities. They could pretend the work has been set back for years.”
“You came up with that just off the top of your head?” Claire asked.
I shrugged. “I admit I’ve done similar hoaxes.”
Claire looked disgusted. “You don’t need to tell me those details.”
“With great power comes great responsibility,” I said. “Unfortunately, almost no one believes that but me and Spider-Man.”
“Really?” Claire asked. “Spider-Man is your go-to philosopher?”
“There are worse. Besides, I take it farther than Peter Parker. Because I know power corrupts and absolute power corrupts absolutely. But to change the world you require power and the acquisition of power makes you responsible for the lives of those you can affect. Just having power means you bear responsibility for those you could help but choose not to if you don’t use it.”
“I’m not following you, Chief.”
I paused. “I think in life you can either be good or do good. To do good, you have to be strong and to be strong, you need to do bad. So, life is just a compromise between doing the bad necessary to do good and not becoming so bad you can’t be good or cease to care. Otherwise, you’re just one of the good people who live their entire lives being good but doing nothing because it requires you to be bad.”
“Or are just bad and don’t give a shit,” Claire pointed out. “Which is most people.”
“I think most people are a combination of the two,” I said.
“And what are you?”
“I’m here doing bad things and hoping they’ll somehow turn out good for a bit.”
Claire shook her head. “Right. Well, I’m just going to focus on driving for a bit.”
I nodded. “I’ll go relive some memories to pass the time.”
“You can do that?” Claire asked.
“Benefit of being a cyborg.”
I decided to relive the day we first met. Sadly, it wasn’t because I was having fun. It was because something was off, and I wanted to compare Claire to her past self and look for discrepancies.
Chapter Seven
I had a perfect memory, at least in terms of recapturing moments I wanted to recall. Since I discovered my brain was artificial, I’d learned to control that. I knew how to call up the best moments of my life and suppress the worst.
One moment I was in the car with Claire, and the next, I was wearing a white suit with a Panama hat, briefcase in hand, and looking over a distributary of the Mississippi River. It was about eight years ago, almost nine, and there was still snow on the ground in the middle of summer.
Across the river was a large Southern-style plantation that was falling apart amid a row of almost a dozen other buildings. Much of the area had been evacuated as people had moved to the cities in hopes of getting government aid to survive the disaster’s aftereffects. That was a mistake because many ended up devastated by earthquakes.
The mansion I was looking at, though, was still inhabited. The new owners, squatters certainly, had surrounded the property with seven-foot-tall fencing and had it rigged up with its own generator system. It was early in the afternoon, and there were electric lights going on as an occasional guard in a heavy coat patrolled the grounds with a Doberman that acted unnaturally calm.
Thankfully, my vantage point did have an excuse for my presence, as one of the last functioning gas stations in this area was nearby. I suspected that was the reason they’d set up shop at that mansion, since it allowed them to purchase enough fuel to keep their facility going.
I proceeded to finish pumping my gas, checking the price at ten dollars a gallon before shaking my head. I was driving a ten-year-old 2014 Lincoln town car, which still ran on the increasingly outdated fossil fuel. Flying cars were possible now, though they functioned essentially like helicopters with just as much skill required, but such a vehicle would look even more conspicuous than me down here.
Having completed my casing of the location, I stepped into the driver’s seat and started the car, only to have a woman in a green hoodie and sweatpants step into the passenger side before shutting the door. Her hoodie had a U.S. Army logo on it. I was tempted to put a gun to her head, but I didn’t know if she was an enemy agent or just a girl hoping to bum a ride when a tenth of the population was homeless.
It was also possible, even likely, she was my contact, but I couldn’t be sure. The woman was in her mid-twenties and Marissa hadn’t been that much older when she’d joined the NSA. Still, I didn’t take her for a spook since there was softness in her expression that I didn’t normally see in my associates—especially after the eruption.
I gave her a once-over to make my judgment call. The intruder had smooth angular features, auburn hair tied in a ponytail, pale white skin with a couple of freckles around her nose, thick faded jeans, and a pair of combat boots. Her looks were pleasant and had enough flaws to let me know she was almost certainly all-natural. I also noted she was hiding a gun in her hoodie pocket as well as a knife in her right boot. Even the weapons weren’t a confirmation of her identity, as she might have been a guard for the plantation, a robber, or just one of the many hitchhikers who knew it was better to stay armed.
“Drive,” the woman said.
“No,” I said simply. “Who are you?”
“Claire Morris,” the woman said, buckling her seatbelt. “I’m a friend of Marissa’s.”
“If you are, you should know that doesn’t put me at ease,” I said before driving off. “What did she tell you about me?”
“That I couldn’t learn from the infonet?” Claire said, smiling. “You’re a billionaire, Mister Gordon. That’s not exactly discreet.”
“Not a billionaire. Not even close. Millionaire? Yes, but that’s not what it used to be. I’m just the Chief Security Officer of Atlas Security,” I said.
“Which is still a megacorporation’s hatchet man. That’s still famous.”
“The purpose of being a hatchet man is not to be famous. I fix problems by any means necessary. I don’t even have a photo on the infonet. Hell, I have three assistants who answer to a guy who most people think is the CSO. They’re the guys who handle the day to day business of Atlas Security’s … well, security.”
Truth be told, I was more comfortable taking orders than giving them. I enjoyed working behind the scenes and did a lot more field work than my position required. The simple fact was I didn’t know how to be anything other than a killer, and it was a daily struggle for all Letters. It was why Lucita taught at the Atlas Academy and insisted on visiting the various frontlines we operated on every few weeks.
Claire seemed undeterred. “Yeah, well, Marissa told me your whole story. You’re a biological android, your name was G, she gave you the name Case, and you’re an okay guy when you’re not murdering people. There’s a lot of other stuff involving your father and brother being evil plus uploading all the world’s Black Technology. Oh, and you love cats.”
I frowned, debating killing her to keep that secret. I mean, if people knew I loved cats, then there would be no stopping my enemies. If anyone took Snowball and Mittens hostage, I’d be at their mercy. “Either you’re v
ery close to her, or she has become awful at keeping secrets. What’s your connection to my ex?”
It had been a couple of years since our last encounter in the Detroit refugee camp. Things had been going smoothly if you ignored the massive poverty and technology used as a placebo for the ongoing humanitarian crisis that still afflicted the world. She’d called me a couple of days ago and told me she was calling in her marker. I didn’t know what Marissa wanted, but I was glad to know she wouldn’t be involved in the mission on the ground. I’d had enough of her interference.
“She didn’t tell you?” Claire asked.
“You didn’t come up,” I said.
“Huh, that’s strange.” Claire looked embarrassed, which told me it was an intimate connection of some kind. Best friends, lovers, or something else? Claire’s eyes and reaction to me implied an attraction, so I didn’t think she was exclusively attracted to women. I filed that information away for future reference.
“Not an answer,” I said.
“Sorry,” Claire said, moving her hand from where she’d been keeping it pressed against her pistol. “We’re both founding members of HOPE. You know, Humans Offering Peace and Enterprise.”
“Never heard of you.” In fact, I had. They were a widespread grassroots organization that got a lot of airtime while getting very little done. Also, they’d struggled really hard to make their name fit the acronym HOPE. It would be a few more years before they’d change into militant radicals.
“We’re a non-profit organization devoted to trying to get the United National Alliance, Congress, and the megacorporations to make laws protecting people against the misuse of Black Technology.”
I snorted. “Good luck with that.”
“You don’t think it’s a worthy cause?” Claire asked, surprising me with her naiveté.
“I think every single government in the world is looking for an edge, and that goes double for the megacorporations.”
“You’d know, I suppose.” There was more than a little venom in her voice, more than pretending I’d never heard of them warranted.
I raised an eyebrow. “You don’t much like the megacorporations, do you?”
“Does anybody?” Claire asked, brushing a strand of hair out of her face.
I shrugged. “Far be it for me to talk about class warfare, but wealth is generated by the corporations. As bad as they can get, we’re in need of a lot of wealth if we’re going to throw it around.”
I just wished it was generated by anyone but the people it currently was.
“Or maybe you just don’t care because you’re rich as fuck.”
“Maybe,” I said. “Then again, I was made by a corporation to be a slave, so maybe I know the difference between the real evils and those just doing their job.”
Baiting her was probably not the best option, but I wanted to know more about her, and people tended to let their guard down as much when they were angry as they did when they were comfortable.
Claire looked away. “Marissa said you’d be frustrating.”
“So, who do you want killed?” I asked, deciding to cut straight to the point.
Claire did a double take. “What?”
“Unless Marissa wanted to set us up on a blind date, I assume the reason you contact the assassin is you want someone killed.”
“You still identify as an assassin?” Claire asked.
I brought the car to a stop along the side of the road. “You’re asking an awful lot of questions. I’m not exactly the kind of guy who likes sharing his secrets, and you know quite a few of mine already. All I know so far is you know someone whom I used to love but who betrayed me three. Also, that you’re a tree-hugging hippie, except the trees are R2-D2 and C3PO. Neither of which are exactly on the market yet, so you’ll forgive me if I question the need to fight for their rights.”
Claire closed her eyes. “I’m twenty-eight, I’m a former Sergeant in the United States military, and I love motorcycles and gory horror movies. I’m more a dog woman than a cat, but I haven’t had a new one since I adopted my daughter. Marissa and I were involved with the same man before he was killed by one of Karma Corp assassins.”
“How did your career end with the U.S. military?” I asked, ignoring the last bit. We’d inevitably come back to that, I was sure.
“I was dishonorably discharged for conduct unbecoming,” Claire said, frowning. “I refused to shoot some people who were looting food.”
“Sounds like you made the right decision.”
“They later murdered another family for their provisions.” Claire sighed. “I was scouted by Colonel Gomez because I was full of anger and wanted to make a difference. That’s when I met Captain Stephen Wilcox. Thinking back, I suspect Marissa used him to bring me in.”
Yeah, that was Marissa all right. “Then he was killed?”
“How could you tell?” Claire asked.
“There’s a certain wistfulness you use when speaking his name,” I said. “It has a past-tense quality.”
“You’re good.” Claire frowned. “He was found with a gunshot wound to the head and a printed-up suicide note. I knew Karma Corp did it and wanted to kill as many people as possible to get revenge. Marissa decided it’d be better to try to bring the corporation down completely. Hacktivism, whistle-blowing, protests, and so on.”
“How did you know?” I asked.
“What?” Claire asked.
“How did you know Karma Corp did it?” I asked.
“Marissa helped me find the evidence,” Claire said.
I nodded.
“So now you know my life story,” Claire said.
“Assuming any of that was true,” I said, staring at her. “I still don’t know why you and Marissa wanted me to come out to the middle of bumfuck nowhere to look at a building with slightly better security than you’d think an otherwise abandoned one would have, especially if you don’t want to kill anybody.”
Claire pulled back the seat and turned her head to look at me. “I think it’s a body shop.”
“Nothing wrong with that,” I said, shrugging. “Not everybody can afford proper cybernetics.”
“I think they’re experimenting on the homeless in there for Karma Corp.”
I blinked. “That is a serious accusation.”
“But not an unbelievable one,” Claire said.
“No,” I said.
Since the refugee crisis had “ended,” a whole new slew of problems had emerged as new and deadlier diseases had raged through the cramped and dirty conditions of the world’s cities. The arcologies also required cybernetically enhanced builders to work the newest equipment and interface with the self-guided machinery. The Big 200 had thus devoted a massive amount of research to make them practical for their workers. In the case of cybernetics, that required human trials being rushed through, and there were a lot of people no one would miss nowadays. Karma Corp, especially, was prone to accusations of this. After all, they were the ones who stood to benefit most from cheap, abundant enhancements. That was in addition to entertainment implants, gene-therapy treatments to treat the new diseases, and devices like 100%-effective birth control regulators designed to limit the poor’s breeding. The horror stories from the unregulated market were things that surprised even me.
“I’ll give you the short version of what we know.” Claire looked behind the seat to the back window, facing the plantation’s direction. “One of the researchers at this outpost got cold feet and tried to contact the authorities. His messages never got further than a couple of phone calls, but Marissa has the Federal Bureau of Entertainment, Technology, and Weapons—ETW—bugged. We sent someone down to meet with him, but they’re missing. The researcher washed up on the shore forty miles away with a bullet in the head. I don’t have much hope for our man.”
“And you want to send me in there to find out the truth,” I said. “Why not just call the cops?”
“I want this to be our win,” Claire said. “I’ll be honest, I’m less
concerned about what’s going on in there than about finding a connection to Karma Corp they can’t just make disappear. I want to hurt them.”
“I admire that kind of ruthlessness. Still, I wonder why Marissa thought I would help. Frankly, I came out here as much out of curiosity as anything else.”
Claire shrugged. “Marissa thinks you might be willing to help HOPE if for no other reason than you hate Karma Corp. She thinks you do know the difference between the good and the bad among the corporations.”
“Do you think I do?” I asked, raising an eyebrow.
“I’m reserving judgment.”
I decided to let her know some more of my secrets. A dangerous move, but one I felt worthwhile to play. “I’m not actually a billionaire, and most of my money is tied up in Atlas stock. I give away roughly ninety percent of my cash every year because all I need is my home, suits, food, and whatever else is needed to serve my lifestyle. If you want me to write you guys a check, I’ll happily do so as well, but I’m not sold on any of this.”
“We don’t need your money,” Claire said, surprising me. If she was honest, they were the only NGO in the world who didn’t. “We have plenty of that. What we need is someone to show our people how to—”
“Do illegal shit to take down the 200.” Marissa wasn’t building an activist group, she was building an army. The activist group was just a way to recruit the people necessary to get her paramilitary group running.
I was impressed.
“Yeah,” Claire said. “Does that bother you?”
“No. I’ll do it.”
“All right.” Claire blinked, clearly not expecting that answer. “I want to come with you.”
“You didn’t actually expect me to show up, did you?” I asked. “You were just going to wait until nightfall and go in yourself.”
Claire didn’t answer.
I was really starting to admire her ruthlessness. “Sorry to disappoint you.”
“The contact we sent down here, Ronnie Simons, was my friend.” Claire sighed. “I don’t know how they do it from where you’re from, but in my hometown, if someone takes out one of your buddies, you pay them back.”
Agent G: Assassin Page 8
