Agent G: Saboteur

by Phipps, C. T.

  She’d opened up to me only a little during our collaboration in destroying the Carnevale, but what she’d alluded to was a betrayal of everything I wanted from a family. Her father had ordered the Zombie, his greatest assassin, to do unmentionable things to her during training to punish her for changing her body. Her tried to flay her alive and had almost left the Carnevale to her deranged half-brother.

  A man I’d arranged for her to murder.

  I wondered if she was thinking of that right now.

  “Ever read Neal Stephenson’s Snow Crash? Richard K. Morgan’s Altered Carbon? Neuromancer?” Lucita surprised me by asking. Apparently, she’d been thinking of eighties and nineties science fiction.

  I looked over at her. “Those are cyberpunk novels, right?”

  “I’ll take that as a no.”

  “Not much time for reading in the past five years.” I knew the plots, since Daniel Gordon had been a fan of the genre. I had most of his knowledge downloaded into my head like any other data. All his skills but only a handful of his memories, making me the Coke Zero of the man he’d used to be.

  Lucita gave a half-smile. “You should correct that. Yes, they’re cyberpunk novels. They’re also something which I believe holds the key to the future.”

  “I never would have taken you for a geek.” It was better conversation than about assassination, murder, and terrorism. I’d had enough of those for a lifetime.

  “What, a girl can’t like speculative fiction while possessing a banging body?” Lucita asked, chuckling as she sat up in the bed.

  “I suppose exceptions can be made.”

  “Especially when one’s body is cybernetic,” Lucita said. “But what I’m saying is I actually believe the futures depicted in those books are coming to pass.”

  “You’ll forgive me if I’m skeptical.”

  “Says the clone.”

  She had a point there. “Do go on.”

  Lucita leaned back and took a puff off her cigarette. “We’re in what I call the pre-cyberpunk stage of social evolution. Black Technology is only now starting to break down all the traditional social and economic models the old world depended on. Corporations with access to it are changing laws as well as absorbing all the smaller corporations without it. Black Technology governments are becoming invisible empires, controlling networks of countries which can’t compete. Wealth distribution is becoming technological distribution, with the haves and the have-nots becoming divided by insurmountable barriers created through lack of net access.”

  “You’ve put a lot of thought into this.”

  “I have to. Wars will cease to be solved by individual fighters but become determined by corporate mercenaries like ourselves or the use of drones. With no risk to the soldiers of Black Technology nations, disadvantaged nations will be forced to work solely through assassins, criminal syndicates, and terrorists to achieve social change. Governments will exist purely for themselves.”

  “I think you’ve overstating matters.”

  “Am I? Or is that not already happening outside?”

  I thought about the fact that I was a clone with an electronic brain—a bioroid, if you will—hunting down a criminal conspiracy running its own assassination network for the purposes of making money via political change. It was fucking Blade Runner meets S.P.E.C.T.R.E with a side order of murder hobo-ery.

  “So, we’re a pre-cyberpunk spy story?” I asked, smiling.

  Lucita snuggled close. “Yes.”

  I chuckled. “What brought this on?”

  “I was thinking about when I went from being the person who was the hero in stories to being the villain,” Lucita said. “The Italian government and PSIA thinks I’m a psychopath. Do you?”

  “I think you were raised in a way that wasn’t conducive to moral behavior. I don’t think psychopaths spend much time thinking about what other people think, though.”

  “I suppose they don’t.” Lucita looked over at the clock. “Un momento.”

  Lucita picked up the television remote to turn it on. Flipping through the channels, she settled on a dubbed science fiction program. It was The Rules of Supervillainy with Wentworth Miller as Merciless and Lucita Biondi as the grossly miscast Cindy.

  It was a medium-budget SyFy channel production they’d hoped to turn into a series before it had been derailed by…well, Lucita’s being an assassin. The Carnevale had been swept under the rug, but I imagined she was on quite a few no-fly lists, B-list celebrity or not.

  “My only major acting job,” Lucita said. “I often wonder what it would have been like to live the cover I cultivated for most of my life. I still choose to live some of it. I could have changed my face a hundred times since then, but I can’t because I’ve grown attached to this identity. It’s, after all, better than the one I was born with. Do you ever think of the aliases you’ve sported?”

  “No,” I said, disappointing her. “Instead, I think of Daniel Gordon.”

  “The man you were cloned from?”

  “Yeah.” It was like admitting the porn stash under your bed was yours. It was obvious, but you didn’t want to admit it.

  “What was he like?” Lucita asked.

  “Son of two Karma Corp scientists. Child prodigy. Mathematics and linguistics genius. Chose to become a soldier instead of a scientist. Became an Army Ranger before doing numerous black ops for the CIA. Founded Strike Force-22 for first-term President Douglas. Married a fashion model. One child.”

  “A lifetime of facts. Very little detail on the actual man.”

  “I actually went to meet a few of his former comrades with a false face. All of them painted a picture of a charismatic man no one ever really knew. The kind of person destined for something amazing if he could avoid getting himself killed first.”

  “How did he die?” Lucita asked. “I like your current face.”

  “Thank you and no idea,” I said. “They’re keeping that detail close to their chests, which means they’re hiding something.”

  “Perhaps he’s still alive.”

  “I hope not.”

  “Why?”

  “Then he’s being a real asshole to his family.”

  Lucita laughed that time, like she thought it was truly funny, and I suppose from her perspective it was. It was already two hours since we’d reunited so we needed to focus on business now.

  “When is Persephone meeting with Nechayev?” I asked.

  “A few more hours,” Lucita said. “Nechayev and she are going to meet to discuss moving all of their finances into one single slush fund.”

  “Why would they do that?”

  “When people usually do that, they’re scared,” Lucita said. “I think it’s Colonel Matthews who convinced them to go against the President, and he’s the one who is insisting they stay the course.”

  That was another interesting piece of the puzzle. It also indicated the situation was more desperate than it appeared, given how much Nechayev was reputed to hate women.

  “How did you learn this?”

  Lucita smirked. “I was hired to kill Nechayev and his bodyguard by Persephone. She wanted an outside contractor to do it since the reason the Letters are so trustworthy to do their job is the very reason they’re fragmenting now.”

  “The loyalty of Letters is overstated,” I said. “Look at me.”

  “You’re guaranteeing the Society will continue to function into the next decade. Institutional loyalty is always easier to cultivate than personal.”

  I didn’t have a chance to respond because the door to the hotel room flung itself open. Saito Histoshi was trying to use his chain against Marissa. She was dressed in a raincoat over a plaid dress with a white button-down shirt. Hitoshi swung again at her before she kicked him in the chest, grabbing his wrist, hurling him over her shoulder, and stamping her foot over his neck. Marissa then lifted his arm and held it fast.

  “Where the hell is—” Marissa looked up to see us in bed. “Oh, for the love of Christ. Really, G?”
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  “Oh, she’s still alive?” Lucita said. “I’m surprised.”

  “Please don’t kill her associate,” I said, sliding out of bed. “I’ve made a deal.”

  Marissa didn’t let him go. “With the psychopath?”

  Lucita moved faster than a human woman. She was at Marissa’s side in a literal eyeblink and had her neck in her grip. With a simple flick of her wrist, the Shell could kill her.

  “I am not a psychopath,” Lucita said.

  Lucita blinked when she heard the chambering of a round behind her head.

  “Are you faster than a speeding bullet?” I asked. I was already behind her, my gun in hand, and if a second slower, then a lot faster than she’d ever expected. Then again, I’d never really pushed my cybernetics to the limit. Shells would always be faster, stronger, and tougher than humans augmented with cybernetics (even clones like myself), but I came close.

  “You’re a love ’em and leave ’em sort of guy, aren’t you?” Lucita said.

  “No, I just… don’t hurt Marissa and we’re cool.” I was angry at her, but it surprised me to discover I still cared.

  That was annoying.

  “As you wish.” Lucita let go of Marissa, then affixed the door back into place before putting the chain on. “Let go of my associate and I won’t be forced to end our newly-formed alliance. I don’t have enough friends in the world to give up even one.”

  “Marissa,” I said. “Let him go.”

  Marissa did so. “I thought you were dead these two hours.”

  “Sorry,” I said. “I needed to resolve things.”

  I looked away.

  “Oh for God sakes,” Lucita said, looking between us and perhaps now realizing our past. “You really are a wannabe James Bond, aren’t you?”

  “Wannabe?” I asked, offended.

  Hitoshi, still on the ground, spoke up. “At the risk of interrupting the two naked super-soldiers arguing over me, I think you should probably focus on the fact that two of the Tribunal are in Kobe. If you can take them down, then this might mean the end of the Society as a serious threat. Also, I’d like to get up off the ground.”

  “Sure,” Marissa said, stepping away and removing her foot from his neck. “Sorry about beating—”

  “Please do not bring it up again,” Hitoshi said, rising from the ground and dusting himself up. “I mean that.”

  Going over to my clothes, I slipped on my underwear and pants before handing Lucita her robe. Lucita took it and slipped it on.

  Marissa sighed. “So, the last living member of the Carnevale is our ally now.”

  “Yes,” I said.

  “And we’re going to offer her… what?”

  “She’s joining us,” I said.

  “I’m not sure I have the authority to do that,” Marissa said.

  “I do,” I said, aware that the President wouldn’t care about her past as long as Lucita was willing to kill for her.

  Marissa shook her head. “And we’re going to take down Persephone and Nechayev? Now?”

  “Yes.”

  “Right,” Marissa said. “Well, then I guess I’m okay with that.”

  It was very clear, of course, by her posture, that she was not. In that moment, a hundred different ways of persuading her over to my position came to mind. It was one of the problems I had with the discovery of my true nature. Not all of the cybernetic enhancements built into me were related to combat.

  They’d also installed into my head machinery and training that was designed to pick up a thousand different clues. I could control the modulation of my voice and posture so that no one, not even the keenest spy, could tell from my body language whether I was lying. I could even manipulate the pheromones and chemicals my skin produced, though I’d never actually had to do that. I had faith in my ability to convince people to my point of view without those kinds of tricks. Right now, though, I’d just take her agreement.

  “You should describe the location,” I said, already imagining what I was going to do there.

  “The Wilder West Eatery,” Lucita explained, pulling out an e-cigarette from her desk. Seriously, were those a thing now? “It’s a American-themed restaurant. I don’t see the point, personally. Why come to Japan if you’re not going to eat like a local? Cheese aside.”

  “We should take Persephone alive,” I said, buttoning my shirt. “Not Nechayev, though.”

  Persephone and I had a previous working relationship. Nechayev, though, would never forget what I’d done to him. While he might never strike against the President, he’d certainly strike against me. It was best to look after my own interests in this situation, and that meant keeping the Tribunal’s survivors down to one.

  “Why the sudden burst of conscience?” Hitoshi said. “I thought they removed your conscience when they made you Letters.”

  I smiled. “I’m just a lovable sweet teddy bear.”

  “I don’t care as long as I get paid.” Lucita chuckled as she started to get dressed. “Do you mind giving me some privacy? A girl has to keep some mystery.”

  Hitoshi turned around and Marissa looked at me.

  I turned to one side, not taking my eye off her.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Approximately a half-hour later, our group was standing on top of a nearby roof overlooking the Wilder West restaurant. It was a garish neon-covered building with a prominent anime girl in a cowboy hat on the top of it. It wasn’t the sort of building where you’d expect supervillain-esque criminal masterminds to be holding a secret meeting, but that was sort of the point, wasn’t it? Most of my exchanges of information had been done in McDonald’s.

  A second glance at the location told me it was better prepared than virtually any other building in Kobe. There was an underground parking lot, windows made of tinted, reinforced bulletproof glass, only two exits that were both difficult to escape from, and lots of undercover security pretending to be staff.

  Nice.

  “This isn’t going to be easy,” Marissa said, looking with a pair of binoculars to the site below.

  “Where would the fun in that be?” Lucita was wearing a black dress, a heavy coat over it, and a set of sunglasses. She didn’t look remotely Japanese, but anything distinguishable was blurred by the attire.

  “I’m not in this for fun,” Marissa said, with just a tinge of jealousy.

  “I’m in this to serve my country.”

  “Which country is that?” Lucita asked. “The country which serves the interests of business, the one which claims to be for the equality of all, or the one which is desperately trying to hold onto its position of being the most powerful nation on Earth when everyone is coming up rapidly from behind?”

  “The one it might become,” Marissa replied.

  “Ah,” Lucita said. “The easiest one to defend.”

  I didn’t bother to use binoculars but just focused with my enhanced vision. I saw at least fifteen people armed throughout the restaurant.

  Persephone had arrived two minutes ago, and according to Lucita would be there for a half hour before Nechayev’s arrival. It was an unusually long time to wait for someone at a secret meeting, and it set my teeth on edge. Assassination was inherently a lone wolf game, as the more people involved caused more problems to occur. Persephone and the other members of the Tribunal were ghosts even when it was only Marissa and I working together. Here? There were Yakuza, Lucita’s still-nebulous loyalties, the Japanese government, and probably more on what was a mission I’d hoped to keep under even the White House’s radar.

  “When I was with the Carnevale, I’d set a small bomb in the middle of the building and force everyone out before taking Persephone and Nechayev in the chaos. The distraction weakened the guards and made them likely to use the most effective escape routes, making them predictable,” Lucita said. “I don’t think that’s an option now.”

  “Because we’re not psychos,” Marissa said.

  “My dear,” Lucita laughed. “You clearly don’t know how
my brother would have done it.”

  “E is the key,” I said, having tried out several scenarios for removing security from play as well as getting them while they departed. “If he’s following protocol, then he’s undoubtedly coordinating with the Taniguchi soldiers. With him co-opted, I can get him to get them to stand down so I can get to Persephone and talk to her. From there, we’ll take down Nechayev and call it a day.”

  “That’s a lot to do in twenty-eight minutes,” Marissa said. “Assuming Nechayev chooses to show up at all. We’ve had false alarms before.”

  “Because of your leaky ship,” Lucita said, pulling out a lollipop from her purse and putting it in her mouth suggestively.

  Marissa glared at her. “So you say.”

  “The Society outfitted the Taniguchi-yumi with advanced weapons, contacts, and training to get rid of anyone who stood in their way. They also made sure many politicians pressured the police to turn away,” Hitoshi said, wrinkling his nose in disgust. “They were able to do it in Japan, far from their center of operations, and they’ve undoubtedly done it in the United States. I wanted to see them taken down more than anyone, but if you want to make a deal, go ahead. Whatever gets her off my turf.”

  “Right,” Marissa said, looking away guiltily. “I understand. G, could I have a moment?”

  “We’re a bit pressed for time,” I said, grateful for the distraction. I had two options for E, and that involved either killing then impersonating him or convincing him to come over to my side. The problem was, both would be damned hard. E wasn’t like the locals here and I wasn’t sure I could take him.

  He was also stupidly loyal.

  “It’ll only take a moment,” Marissa said.

  Hitoshi and Lucita exchanged a look, clearly not happy about a private conversation being had between their co-conspirators. Honestly, I wasn’t sure why she didn’t contact me through our cyberlink.

  “Okay,” I said, walking over to the other side of the rooftop. There, on the ground, were two bound and gagged Yakuza who were supposed to provide security for this roof with Hitoshi’s people. His cover was going to be blown after tonight, but I’d managed to persuade Lucita not to kill them. The body count for this mission was already uncomfortably high. “Yes?” I asked, sticking my hands in my jacket pockets.