by Dan Moren
PRAISE FOR DAN MOREN
“The perfect blend of humor, empathy, and gritty action, Dan Moren is one of the most exciting voices to enter the literary world in a long time.”
Myke Cole, author of ‘The Sacred Throne’ trilogy
“Moren’s latest entry in the Galactic Cold War series, The Aleph Extraction, ratchets up the action, tension, and wit... the interstellar heist caper you didn’t know you needed, but not to be missed.”
Eric Scott Fischl, author of Dr. Potter’s Medicine Show
“Moren ably plays with trope and archetype to bring new life and new dimensions to the tried-and-true Heist Plot, but the best action is found around the kitchen table and other quiet places where the characters come together. Major Simon Kovalic and his covert-ops team of misfits come together at their broken places, and their bond is stronger and more realistic for it.”
RWW Greene, author of The Light Years
“Immersive, intergalactic spy-fi. Moren gives us a Cold War thriller with wormholes and anti-grav fields.”
John August, screenwriter of Titan AE and Big Fish
“A wisecracking caper that nevertheless doesn’t skimp on the details and human cost of interstellar war, like John Le Carré meets The Stainless Steel Rat. Moren is one to watch.”
Antony Johnston, creator of Atomic Blonde and The Coldest Winter
“A brilliant heist with a dynamic cast. Everything I was looking for in a spy novel!”
Reese Hogan, author of Shrouded Loyalties
“Fresh and engaging. No one blends fun and thrill quite like Dan Moren.”
Jay Posey, author of Outriders
“Hypercool. It’s like the Golden Age of sci-fi got an upgrade, with all the big honking space cannons and some desert planet dry humour thrown in for the bargain.”
John Birmingham, author of the ‘Axis of Time’ series
“Swap out the old Soviet Union for the Illyrican Empire, the Bayern Corporation for Spectre, and Simon Kovalic’s KO gun for Bond’s trusty Walther PPK and you’ve got yourself one of the most entertaining genre mashups within an astronomical unit.”
Publishers Weekly
“A great spy story, with tidbits of science explaining the intergalactic travel and even a hint of romance to come.”
Booklist
BY THE SAME AUTHOR
THE GALACTIC COLD WAR
The Bayern Agenda
The Caledonian Gambit
ANGRY ROBOT
An imprint of Watkins Media Ltd
Unit 11, Shepperton House
89 Shepperton Road
London N1 3DF
UK
angryrobotbooks.com
twitter.com/angryrobotbooks
Iced Heist
An Angry Robot paperback original 2020
Copyright © Dan Moren 2020
Cover by Georgina Hewitt
Edited by Simon Spanton-Walker and Paul Simpson
Set in Meridien
Distributed in the United States by Penguin Random House, Inc., New York.
All rights reserved. Dan Moren asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work. A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are the products of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events, locales, organizations or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
Sales of this book without a front cover may be unauthorized. If this book is coverless, it may have been reported to the publisher as “unsold and destroyed” and neither the author nor the publisher may have received payment for it.
Angry Robot and the Angry Robot icon are registered trademarks of Watkins Media Ltd.
ISBN 978 0 85766 841 7
Ebook ISBN 978 0 85766 848 6
Printed in the United Kingdom by TJ International Ltd.
9 8 7 6 5 4 3 2 1
In memory of Dick Yasi: legendary teacher, font of wisdom and encouragement, and patron saint to a pack of nerdy kids.
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Epilogue
Acknowledgments
Chapter 1
CHAPTER 1
Simon Kovalic slid the disc-shaped microdrone beneath the door and into the apartment, then watched through its eyes.
“Room looks clear,” he murmured. “Check in.”
“Overwatch in position – no sign of movement, Paladin,” said Nat.
The gravelly tones of Sergeant Tapper came next. “Shotgun here. Everything quiet outside, boss.”
“Well, the car is just peachy.” Eli Brody, around the corner in the vehicle they’d acquired. And none too happy about it. Kovalic rubbed his temples. The kid had been moodier than usual since the job on Bayern three months ago, and it was starting to eat at Kovalic’s usually even-keeled demeanor. He’d have to sit down and have a talk with him. Maybe after this mission. For now…
“Give it a rest, Flyboy,” said Nat.
“Also, that is a terrible codename. Can I pick my own next time?”
“No,” said Tapper and Nat in unison. Oh well, good: something both of them could agree on for once. Kovalic would take the common ground where he could get it.
He shook his head: he had more pressing things to worry about. There had been a meet scheduled with Takashi on Kolyana Bridge yesterday, but the man had been a no-show. Nor had the signal site at the bakery on Laviero Street been used. Had the Illyricans found him? They hadn’t had much of a presence on Haran after the Commonwealth Intelligence Directorate had cleaned up its local intelligence network a couple years back, but they wouldn’t stay gone forever.
More likely, Tak had finally run afoul of one of the many gangs that he owed money. Which was the whole reason Kovalic had hired him – and paid him generously from the Special Projects Team’s slush fund: the man knew people in low places, and keeping plugged into the criminal element had its advantages.
Kovalic double-checked the smart fabric display embedded in the sleeve of his coat, but there was still no movement in the room. He touched a control and the disc’s top and bottom expanded into spheres, letting him gently roll the microdrone forward into the apartment’s main – well, only – room.
The floor-level wide-angle view through the microdrone made everything look enormous, as though Kovalic were an ant. He rolled by a towering chair whose metal legs gleamed like skyscrapers, and then around a giant’s shoe.
Empty.
Kovalic rubbed at his mouth. So Takashi wasn’t at home; he hadn’t been at any of the half dozen haunts, dive bars, and underground betting parlors that they’d checked over the last several hours. It was like he’d just… disappeared.
The sphere clunked to a stop. With a frown, Kovalic checked the screen for obstacles, panning through the cameras around the drone’s circumference. The feed was grainy and low-res, but there was no obvious obstruction. He roll
ed the drone back and then forward again.
Clunk.
It was like it was running right into empty air. He cycled through the various cameras: infrared, heat sensitive, low-light. All confirmed there was absolutely nothing in front of the drone and no reason for Kovalic to look any further.
“Eyes up, everybody,” he said quietly. “I’m going in.”
He hated using the autopick – there was no art or elegance to it – but it was undeniably the fastest option. Two seconds later, the door swung open and he stepped into the room.
Takashi clearly hadn’t blown all the Commonwealth’s money on new furniture. The ripe odor of unwashed laundry and sweat suggested the man hadn’t spent it on a cleaning service either.
Closing the door behind him, Kovalic crossed the plasticrete floor to the drone, sitting by its lonesome in the middle of the floor, nothing for a foot in any direction. In fact, in a room that was almost uniformly messy, the area between the drone and the apartment’s row of windows looked surprisingly clean.
Kovalic leaned over to pick up the drone. A soft, pliant surface bumped into his forehead and he felt his skin tingle. He looked up; a moment ago there had been nothing but an empty room, but now there was a shimmer in front of him, like a heat mirage. He put out his hand and watched a ripple of colors bloom in mid-air.
“Son of a bitch,” said a voice.
Kovalic stepped back and lashed out with a kick. A thin film running from floor-to-ceiling collapsed in a heap of fabric, leaving him face-to-face with a young man whose black hair was streaked with deep, dark purple. He froze in the midst of hefting a backpack.
“Really, Tak?” said Kovalic. “An active camo screen? This can’t have been cheap.”
Tak stared at him, then shrugged. Too late, Kovalic’s eyes darted to the open window, but even as he stepped forward, Tak was diving out of it.
“Shit,” he said. “He’s running!” Feet tangled in the heap of the camo screen, Kovalic stumbled toward the window in time to see Tak hop to the next building over, glance over his shoulder, and then take off.
“Why the hell is he running?” Tapper asked over the channel.
“I don’t know!” said Kovalic. “Overwatch, tell me you’ve got eyes on.”
“Got him,” Nat’s voice came back almost immediately, “heading west across the block.”
“On the move,” said Tapper, his breath coming in short puffs.
“I can come around the 300 block,” said Brody.
“No, stay in the car.”
“But I–”
“Stay. In. The. Car,” said Kovalic through gritted teeth as he ducked through the window. There was a thin ledge right outside, hardly wide enough to stand on, but the next building was only a large stride away. Even so, he still didn’t look down – the last time he’d jumped roof-to-roof, it hadn’t gone so well.
The second his feet were firmly on the next building, he was off and sprinting, his shadow stark against the white reflective pigment of the roof.
Up ahead, Tak had changed course, veering south. Launching over a gap to the next building, he hit the red tiles with a clatter and rolled out of view.
“Lost visual,” Nat said, frustration creeping into her voice. “The building’s in the way.”
Some days Kovalic hated this job. “Heading due south, towards Akingbade Plaza.”
“Gah,” said Tapper, and Kovalic could almost hear him sliding to a stop and reversing course. “Wrong way. Gonna be a minute, boss.” Damn it.
Kovalic pushed off the edge, his legs kicking as he sailed across the chasm, catching a brief glimpse of people milling below. Then he hit the tiled roof in a roll, pain rippling up his arm and side. He climbed to his feet.
“Paladin, there’s a gravtrain station on the other side of the plaza,” said Nat. “He makes it there, we’re going to lose him.”
Shit. Shit shit shit. They should have had somebody posted there. Or maybe two people outside the building instead of just Tapper. Maybe if they had more bodies. Or maybe if Kovalic had been a little more cautious on the initial recon. There were a lot of maybes to go around.
Ahead of him, Tak reached the roof’s peak and disappeared down the other side. Kovalic’s blood pumped overtime as he followed, his boots slipping and sliding on the tiles, threatening to send him sprawling at any moment.
Cresting the rise, he was just in time to see Tak sliding down the solar panels that coated the south side of the building’s roof. Kovalic windmilled his arms to keep his balance, then swung over and slid down on his side, gritting his teeth in pain, despite the adrenaline rush.
“Moving to intercept,” called Nat and, out of the corner of his eye, Kovalic saw her airborne drone, big brother to the micro model he’d used in Tak’s apartment, blur past, making a beeline for his quarry.
But before the drone could reach him, Takashi disappeared over the edge of the roof – hopefully not in freefall. Kovalic would find out soon enough: the lip was coming up fast and he was only gaining speed. He rolled to his back, dug his heels in and put his hands down, the panels searing his palms.
Ahead, the edge loomed. Beyond it, the open plaza, forty feet below.
This really wasn’t how he’d expected to go out.
He cast about for something, anything to slow his fall – what the hell had Tak done? – when he heard something whir overhead, and looked up in time to see Nat’s drone boomeranging back around towards him.
“Simon!” said Nat sharply over the comm.
The bad ideas just kept on coming.
As he slid off the building’s eave, he somehow got his legs under himself and leapt forward. For a moment he hung suspended over the plaza and time slowed; gaping faces stared up at him.
His hands caught the drone’s landing skids. The machine sagged as it took his weight and Kovalic could hear the repulsors sputter and whine as the whole thing started drifting towards the ground. That was just fine by him, as long as it did so slowly.
There was a pop and a smell of smoke as one of the repulsors overheated and the whole drone listed to the left. The other three repulsors strained to compensate but he was still dipping towards the west side of the plaza, skimming dangerously close to the neighboring building.
“Overwatch, how much weight can this thing take?”
“Not this much!”
“I knew I shouldn’t have had that croissant for breakfast…” As the drone sank, he scanned the plaza and caught sight of somebody pushing their way through the crowds, making for the far side and the stylized “G” logo of the gravtrain station. The drone dipped further to one side and his boots rasped against the building as he strode along its face.
Another pop as a second repulsor went, and the drone wobbled precipitously and sank another few feet with a jolt. Only about twenty feet off the ground now. He might be able to make that, but he’d really prefer to keep his ankles unbroken.
“Shotgun, tell me you’re almost here.”
Tapper’s voice came back in between huffs. “Two blocks out, Paladin.”
Two blocks was too far. They’d lose Takashi in the transit system. He may not have been the smartest guy Kovalic had ever met, but if there was one thing the man was clearly good at, it was laying low when people were looking for him.
Kovalic looked down as the drone sank over one of the green bazaar awnings, then back up at the last two repulsors. The drone was swinging erratically back and forth and tipping further downwards. Time for an exit.
“Thanks for the lift, Overwatch.” And with that, he let go of the skids and fell the ten feet to the awning below. The impact still hurt; the taut plastic sheeting slapped at his face and he half-sank, half-rolled off it, just managing to grab the support struts and swing beneath, to the wide-eyed surprise of the woman selling handmade spice racks below.
Kovalic hit the ground running. Behind him, he dimly registered the sound of the drone limping slowly back into the air.
“Overwatch is out of co
mmission,” said Nat, frustration creeping into her voice. “You’re on your own, Paladin.”
Without the advantage of altitude, finding Tak was more challenging, but he followed the susurrations of the crowd that rippled in the man’s wake.
Approaching the center of the plaza, Kovalic caught sight of the distinctive purple streaks of Tak’s hair reaching the far side. The station lay just across the street, the stairs descending out of sight. Above the entrance a sign flashed a notice: “Southbound gravtrain, now arriving.”
Kovalic poured on the speed, darting in between commuters and shoppers, each yelling at him in a seemingly different language. He stumbled as an uneven paving stone turned his ankle and he limped to the edge of the plaza just in time to see Tak crossing the street. The other man glanced over his shoulder and met Kovalic’s eyes with a grin, tipping a two-fingered salute as he took his last steps to safety.
And then a hovercar ran a red light and hit him head on, sending him sprawling to the pavement in a heap.
Kovalic blinked and looked up at the car’s windshield, through which he could see Eli Brody raising his hands in defense, his voice coming over the comm. “Technically I’m still in the car.”
They brought Tak around about half hour later, having dragged him back to his apartment. Kovalic had sat him down in a chair in the middle of the room, right in front of the crumpled camo screen, and taken up another chair opposite him. Tapper had examined their quarry, proclaiming him bruised and unconscious from the hovercar impact, with possibly a mild concussion, but not in any life-threatening danger. Then Kovalic had had the sergeant take Brody outside and give him a talking-to about procedure and safe driving.
Running a hand through his hair – the temples seemed to gray more by the day – Kovalic gave Nat a nod. She pressed a hypo to Tak’s neck and the man started to come to.
“Jesus,” Tak groaned. “I feel like I’ve been hit by a truck.” He blinked and rubbed at his face with his hands. One, anyway. The other had been strapped to the chair with a plasticuff. Kovalic wasn’t making the same mistake twice.
“Late model sedan, actually.”
Tak looked up. “Oh, hey, Conrad…” He blinked in confusion. “Wait… weren’t you here before?”
