They descended some thirty meters to a muddy floor. A narrow rectangular tunnel of reinforced concrete ran westward. It was high enough to walk upright. The vile sulfurous odor was stronger but didn’t seem to bother her as much. Maybe she was getting accustomed to it.
“This isn’t so bad,” she said hopefully.
“Wait until we reach the water.”
“The water?”
He grinned and scurried into the tunnel. Bel sighed and trailed after him.
“Why didn’t you bring Sosoome along?” She wasn’t crazy about Nick’s caustic housemate but it did possess some defensive capabilities. “He might be helpful if we run into any smugglers who didn’t share in your generosity.”
“Trust me, this tunnel is ours tonight.”
“Was that part of the bribe?”
“Actually, a separate trespass fee. Another million.”
Not for the first time, she wondered just how wealthy Nick was. Bribes to smugglers, massive payments to EPF, that warehouse for the team to train – his resources seemed unlimited. Two days ago he’d given her a necklace of authentic Neptunian crystals. She didn’t even want to guess what it cost.
“As for Sosoome,” Nick continued, “Ektor Fang has strict rules about mechstalking. Air-breathers only at these meetings.”
They walked in silence. The tunnel made a few sharp turns to avoid large chunks of bedrock that protruded into the concrete. Inevitably, the passage reverted back to a westerly course. The sulfurous odor grew stronger and the air felt increasingly damp.
They’d trekked for about ten minutes when Nick abruptly halted. He motioned her to move up beside him.
“Here comes the fun part,” he said.
The tunnel ended. They stood on a narrow ledge a meter above a submerged canal, its flanks cradled in ancient bricks. The canal flowed parallel to the tunnel. She estimated it was ten meters across. Another opening on the far side marked the tunnel’s continuation.
The water was clearly the source of the foul odor. Standing this close it was nearly unbearable. Her visor lamp played across chunks of unidentifiable debris floating past, bobbing in the gentle current.
She grimaced. “Is that fresh sewage?”
“Not sure how fresh it is. But yeah, this is part of one of the city’s oldest disposal systems. It doesn’t even show up on current maps. You ready?”
“You mean we have to swim across?”
“Of course not.”
“Thank goodness.”
“It’s not that deep. We can wade.”
With an impish grin, Nick hopped off the ledge and landed with a soft splash. The water was nearly up to his chest. Several brownish clumps stuck to his clothes. He batted them away. They circumnavigated his body and continued their journey downstream toward some unknown and foul destination.
“They couldn’t have built a bridge or left a boat?”
“The stench is part of the smugglers’ system to avoid detection. The wall is almost directly above us. Transit stations send down sniffer worms to search for the deeper tunnels. The smell plays havoc with their sensors.”
“Wonder why,” she muttered, taking a tentative step into the water. It was clammy and cold, and every bit as loathsome as she’d anticipated.
She pinched her nostrils shut and pushed through the muck as swiftly as possible, twisting from side to side in a futile effort to dodge the larger clumps of refuse. Had Ektor Fang been willing to meet virtually, this entire trek would have been unnecessary. They could have had the encounter in almost any secured area of the city, even at her condo, short-circuiting her desperate urge to take a lengthy perfumed shower. But as Nick had explained, the Du Pal was ultra-cautious and wary of holo transmissions being intercepted. He would only do face to face meetings in unsec territory.
They reached the far side and climbed over the lip into the second tunnel. It was identical except that it ran uphill on a slight gradient.
Ten minutes later they arrived at a wall with an ancient wooden door. Nick opened it to reveal an upward staircase. A two-story climb took them to another door. Reaching for the knob, he hesitated.
“Remember, try not to lie to him. He’s got a pretty good bullshit detector. If he asks a question you don’t want to answer, just be straight and tell him so.”
She nodded. Nick had already given her a host of warnings about to how to behave at the meeting. He’d also sprayed their faces with a neuro relaxant to deter body language giveaways.
He opened the door. Bel was pleasantly surprised to discover a small modern locker room outfitted with premium air showers. If there was another way in or out of the room, it was well hidden.
She couldn’t believe the stink emanating from her body and scurried into the nearest cubicle fully clothed. Setting the controls to maximum fragrance, she closed her eyes, spread her legs and raised her arms, allowing the demoisturizing suckers head-to-toe access. Twenty seconds later she exited, her skin, pants, blouse and shoes dry and reasonably fumigated.
“I never expected smugglers to have such a place,” she said to Nick as he stepped out of the adjacent cubicle.
“Cleanliness is not just the province of the law-abiding.”
The voice wasn’t Nick’s. It came from overhead. Bel whipped her gaze upward.
One of Ektor Fang’s tways hung upside down from the ceiling, his legs wrapped around an exposed pipe. Bel recognized the buzz-cut blond from Nick’s description.
The tway released from the pipe, back-flipped and landed on his feet in front of her. Startled, she jerked away from him. Her back slammed hard against a locker. She winced, rubbed a bruised shoulder. She had a hunch the tway had startled her on purpose, that it was some sort of test of her reactions.
Nick scowled at him. “Was that necessary?”
“Perhaps not. My apologies, Ms Bakana. I’m Ektor Fang. I’m pleased to make your acquaintance.”
He extended his palm. Bel shook his hand. It felt weird, like such intimate contact with an assassin was some forbidden act. She was thankful when he released her.
Prior to the meeting, she’d decided she would treat her conversation with a Paratwa assassin with the same diplomatic sensitivity she might employ upon meeting a foreign dignitary for the first time. But the boldness of his entrance prompted her to reevaluate. There was a directness to him that suggested he would expect the same in return.
“Where’s your better half?” Nick asked.
“Security duties. Without the smugglers using and guarding this building tonight, a breach is possible. The streets above are densely populated and rampant with starvation.”
“People would break in here looking for food?” Bel asked.
“No. They would break in to hide from the necro packs. Several large ones are roaming the area.”
“Necro packs?”
“Gangs of cannibals.”
She repressed a shudder. At the tway’s invitation, they sat down on opposite-facing benches, Nick and Bel on one side, Ektor Fang on the other. The tway gazed back and forth between them.
“Your meeting,” Nick said. “Your agenda.”
“I have two items. First, Aristotle’s death.”
Bel and Nick exchanged surprised looks.
“I gather you were not aware of it.”
“We weren’t,” Bel said.
Ektor Fang fixed his gaze on her. His stare was so intense that it was making her uncomfortable. Presumably satisfied that she was being truthful, he provided what little was known about the Ash Ock’s demise in Cape Town. Bel thought she detected sadness in his voice, but it was subtle and she couldn’t be certain.
“Any idea who was responsible for the nuking?” Nick asked.
“No. I would ask you the same question.”
The tway again locked his eyes on Bel, expecting her to answer. She’d discussed the South African tragedy earlier with Pablo Dominguez.
“We have no solid intel and very few leads,” she admitted. It was an honest resp
onse.
She guarded against revealing a surge of excitement at the idea that one of the Ash Ock had been killed. Her thoughts reverted to her former role in Media Relations, and she speculated about how such information might be used against the assassins. She’d have to schedule an exploratory discussion with Rory Connors first thing tomorrow. Although she couldn’t openly reveal to Rory what they’d just learned and would have to wait for Nick to employ his usual surreptitious methods for spreading the information about Aristotle’s death, she could subtly prep Rory for the uproar bound to be generated when word of the Ash Ock’s demise went public.
Rumors of the Royal Caste’s existence had been spreading since the attack on headquarters, helped along by a series of clandestine E-Tech disclosures. Now that the public was aware that many of the assassins had united under a breed of Super Paratwa – the media phrase being used for the Ash Ock – revealing the death of a Royal was a great opportunity for launching a coordinated PR slam against the Paratwa’s presumed invincibility.
“Sappho is understandably upset about the loss,” Ektor Fang continued. “She has dispatched the liege-killer to find and terminate the perpetrators. But, like many such calamities in our world, those responsible may never be found.”
“Will Aristotle’s passing change any Ash Ock plans?” Nick asked.
“Doubtful. It certainly won’t hinder their desire to bring about an apocalypse.”
“How are they planning to survive the end of the world?” Bel wondered. “Secret stasis facilities deep underground?”
“Such facilities exist or are being constructed. I suspect they are indeed part of the Royals’ survival plan. However, I cannot absolutely confirm that.”
“What do you know about the attack on E-Tech headquarters?” Nick asked.
“Sappho and Theophrastus planned the assault. Codrus gave it his blessing but wasn’t involved in the preparations. Aristotle was against it, preferring a pinpoint assassination solely against Director Witherstone. But he submitted to the majority will.”
This time Ektor Fang’s sadness was readily apparent. Bel took a shot in the dark.
“You liked Aristotle.”
“Yes. Liked and admired. He was always the most reasonable of the Ash Ock, a deep thinker capable of the most extraordinary insights and subtle reflections. Theophrastus is brilliant as well. But he possesses a cold intellect, riveted to the hard sciences, and with an open disdain for the weaknesses he perceives in humankind. He’s the one most responsible for the Paratwa’s advanced technologies.
“Codrus is a financial genius, yet too much the loyal foot soldier, rarely willing to challenge the status quo. I’ve gotten the impression that Sappho and Theophrastus often keep him in the dark about their more sophisticated schemes. I’m not even certain Codrus knows they’re guiding the planet toward Armageddon. As for Sappho…” The tway hesitated. “There is a strangeness about her that defies comparison. She is truly a unique creature.”
“What about the fifth one, Empedocles?” Bel asked.
“Youngest of the breed and still in training. We’ve never met.”
She was fascinated by the revelations. In this one meeting, she felt she’d been given more insights into the personalities of the Royals than E-Tech Intelligence had uncovered in years.
Ektor Fang went on. “The Ash Ock’s perception of E-Tech is complicated. On one hand, they see your organization as being aligned with their own purposes. By limiting human technology, binary technology can advance unrestricted. Yet they also perceive E-Tech as an entity capable of disrupting their long-range plans. This dichotomy, and how it impacts their decisions, is not something I fully grasp. Their methodologies, as always, can be elusive.”
Bel was reminded of Doctor Emanuel’s words at dinner the other evening about the Ash Ock’s manipulations. Look for their rationales not in the broad brush strokes but in the subtlety of the colors.
“That said, it had been apparent to the Royals for some time that Director Witherstone was not the ideal E-Tech person to be in charge because of his relentless anti-Paratwa stance. They’d discussed impacting a change. But that wasn’t the real reason Yiska was sent.”
“Yiska?”
“The Shonto Prong the Royals ordered to attack your headquarters. Yiska is more than just a typical representative of his breed. He’s as dangerous as many a Jeek Elemental or Voshkof Rabbit I could name. His skills are matched only by his ruthlessness.”
Bel thought back to that endless string of funerals she’d attended after the headquarters attack, to the dozens of innocent staffers who’d been so callously murdered on that terrible day.
“Yiska’s primary mission was killing Director Witherstone. Of secondary importance was elevating your status within the organization so that your Board of Regents would see you as the logical candidate to replace him.” Again, the tway’s gaze seemed to drill into her. “In his place, they wanted someone who not only lacked Witherstone’s strong and well-publicized convictions, but who possessed far less political savvy and experience.”
“Someone easier to manipulate,” Bel concluded.
“Yes. Essentially, a weak director who could be counted on to follow the board’s dictates and not upset the status quo.”
I was chosen because the Royals saw me as the perfect patsy.
It was a sobering thought, one that Bel should have found demeaning. But she’d questioned her promotion from the beginning, suspecting it wasn’t based solely on native talent or abilities.
Nick seemed to be avoiding her gaze. At that moment, she realized he’d known all along, or at least suspected, why the Ash Ock had manipulated the attack so that she would be elevated into Witherstone’s job. She should be angry with him for holding back the truth from her. But she wasn’t. She knew he’d done it for the right reasons, to spare her feelings.
I think Director Bakana will ultimately prove to be a surprise to the Royal Caste,” Nick said. “She has rare qualities that are only now coming to the forefront.”
The tway shrugged. “Perhaps. In any event, the real reason for the attack was to assassinate Director Witherstone. And it wasn’t because of his public statements, although that story has played well in the media. The actual decision was made abruptly and the attack carried out with great urgency. They needed him dead in a hurry.”
“Witherstone learned something about the Royals?” Nick speculated. “Something the Ash Ock couldn’t afford to have made public?”
“Yes. Which brings us to the second item on my agenda. The Royals’ most clandestine base is called Thi Maloca. It is where the Ash Ock were created and where Empedocles remains in training. No one other than the Royals’ top lieutenants know of its location. But even among that rarified group, only Meridian has knowledge of what really goes on there.”
This wasn’t the first time Bel had heard that name. Meridian had surfaced in a number of Pablo Dominguez’s classified Intelligence reports. A Jeek Elemental, he was believed to be the Ash Ock’s most trusted adviser.
Ektor Fang continued. “Thi Maloca harbors many secrets. The most closely guarded one is an experimental lab designed for a solitary research project. I don’t know the nature of the research. It’s tightly controlled by the Ash Ock and Meridian. But by all estimations, if this project bears fruit, the balance of power between binaries and humans could be forever altered in favor of the Paratwa.”
“Some new kind of weapon?” Nick wondered.
“That is one speculation among many. But whatever the nature of this game-changing research, I believe Director Witherstone learned of it through a source.”
“You have evidence of this?”
“No, but a number of circumstantial trails point to this conclusion. As a security measure, the researchers were not permitted to leave the base. But recently, one of them managed to escape. I believe that this person may have communicated in some fashion with Director Witherstone shortly before the attack and passed on vital intel about Thi
Maloca.”
Bel was skeptical. If true, Witherstone would have told others in E-Tech or, at the very least, recorded the intel. Pablo Dominguez had personally reviewed all of the slain director’s personal documents after the attack and hadn’t found anything suspicious. And according to witnesses to his killing, the assassin hadn’t accessed his pad or other private files with an eye toward erasing such incriminating information.
“If the director had such a source,” she said, “we would have known about it by now. The intel would have been distributed, at least within E-Tech.”
“Not necessarily,” Ektor Fang argued. “The speed with which the attack was greenlit suggests Director Witherstone had just come upon the information, likely having had his encounter with the source that very morning. He may not have had time to engineer dispersal of the intel. And because of the extremely sensitive nature of the information, he would have been more concerned about leaks than usual and likely exercised exceptional caution.” The tway paused. “Be very careful about who you trust within your own headquarters. The Paratwa have spies everywhere. There are rumors that one of them is a deeply embedded sleeper agent operating at your highest levels, perhaps even one of your associate directors.”
Bel had heard such rumors over the years. Still, there were probably far fewer spies than there were rumors about them. Such suspicions had grown so rampant throughout society that psych professionals had even come up with a name for the syndrome: Social Infiltration Paranoia.
Then again, just because people were paranoid didn’t necessarily make them wrong. Considering there was a mole among the regents, it wasn’t that much of a stretch to imagine a highly placed sleeper agent operating within E-Tech headquarters. Just the other day, Pablo Dominguez’s people had outed such a spy in a low-level Intelligence position, a woman secretly in the employ of La Gloria de la Ciencia.
The train of thought reminded Bel to prod Nick about getting intel they could use against the proscience fanatics. Thus far, he hadn’t come up with anything of value. It suddenly occurred to her that Ektor Fang might be helpful in this regard.
Binary Storm Page 18
