Fiddleback Trilogy 2 - Evil Ascending

by Michael A. Stackpole

  The throbbing began at the base of the chair, but quickly started up through the middle finger. Inch by inch it vibrated its way up his spine, and he found himself shivering as it reached the middle of his shoulders. His scalp began to itch as the vibration rattled his teeth. At that point he clamped his jaw shut tight and concentrated on breathing in and out of his nose. Like a horse snorting after a gallop, Arrigo El-Leichter braced himself.

  Greenish sludge dripped languidly down over him from above. A thick, choking mask poured over his face and the fetid scent of decay filled his nose. He wanted to scream, but he managed to keep his mouth shut. Tasting that stuff, he knew, was the only thing worse than smelling it. It filled his ears, then drenched his shoulders and clung like honey to his chest. It coursed down his body to his loins, then cascaded down over his legs.

  Once it had coated him completely, it became even more turgid. His wife, having once discovered him in communion with his master, had told her doctors he looked trapped within a diseased placenta. The image had not much pleased him, nor had the complication of having to deal with her because of her discovery, but he did acknowledge the accuracy of it. Through this I have been born again into power.

  The membrane surrounding him palpated his body. Two tubular tendrils shot up his nose and snaked their way down his windpipe to his lungs. He swallowed reflexively against the sensation, but he much preferred it to the burning in his lungs that they alleviated. The membrane tightened slightly around his chest, and his lungs no longer pumped.

  «What have you for me, my pet?» The telepathically communicated question came not in words as much as colors and scents and feelings blasted straight into his brain. «Have you the godling you promized?»

  Arrigo tried to nod, but he did not possess the strength needed to make the elastic membrane move. «I have him, master, as I told you I would. I have him in an Alpha group, and he believes himself superior. He is impatient, and his frustration will make him leap at what you offer.»

  «Exzellent, my pet.» It felt as if something wonderful had exploded in his brain. Intellectually, Arrigo knew his master had just caused his pleasure centers to fire, but the rest of him craved more and more. «What elze have you, pet? I senze zomething elze.»

  Arrigo felt barely able to contain himself. «That Alpha group has another who is as strong as Ryuhito. He comes from America and has many corporate ties. He is a security expert.»

  «Thiz one checkz complete? He iz not the one we lozt?»

  The human frowned. «No, this one is not Jaeger. He is too short, if nothing else. I knew Jaeger well; this is not him.»

  «You did not know Jaeger well enough. Who iz thiz new toy?»

  «He is Sinclair MacNeal. His father owns Build-more in Phoenix. He is here working for your Lorica Industries. He left after a bad divorce and is vulnerable.»

  The distant laughter started gently and communicated itself to Arrigo as a gentle vibration running through the membrane. As it shifted in intensity and tenor, it grew to an uncomfortable tingle, as if he had grabbed an electrical cord. Then the membrane began to twitch and writhe, jabbing him with sharp edges and drumming directly against his skull.

  «Have mercy, master!»

  «My merzy you have, cretin. Lorica waz mine until the Witch lost it. Jaeger is using it! Clearly, this MacNeal is Jaeger'z agent. Jaeger haz hidden himzelf from me and, thereby, thinkz himzelf immune to my influenze. He will learn the folly of that azzumption, and the man he has plazed into my cuztody will zerve az the bait that will lure him out of hiding.»

  «Master, I will devise a program of torture to wrack the most out of him, and that will attract Jaeger.» Arrigo smiled at his own cleverness. «Ms. Markgraf will be most appreciative of a chance to avenge herself upon him.»

  The membrane at the top of his head rose up, then twacked sharply down on his skull. «Have you learned nothing? If Jaeger choze him, he will be dangerouz. Kill him and dizpoze of the body. Jaeger will know where he waz, and he will come to zettle the zcore.»

  Arrigo shuddered as he remembered Jaeger and the man's skill and area of expertise. «Master, Jaeger was very good at killing. I do not relish being the focus of his anger.»

  «You dizappoint me, pet. I reward loyalty. Yez, Jaeger will come for you, but I will protect you. I will let you put on a dizplay of power that will bring Jaeger back to me or deztroy him. That demonstration will win me the godling az well, and with him belonging to me, there iz nothing than can ever ztop me.»

  Sin and Ryuhito shared polite laughter over a very poor joke made by another member of their study circle. While all wearing the maroon and gray uniforms provided by Galbro, everyone had seemed to Sin to be on a rough par. Gathered for dinner, on the other hand, and wearing their own clothes, quality and sense made itself readily apparent.

  Sin, dressing more to his role as a corporator than he might otherwise, had chosen a pair of slacks with suspenders and a conservative shirt. At the last minute, he added the wrist recorder that Lilith had given him because he noticed Ryuhito also wore one of the devices. While the imperial prince had been cordial during the study group sessions, Sin had not really had a chance to speak informally with him. He hoped that showing an interest in the latest technological toys would make the prince open up and see him as an ally.

  The two of them stood on the white crushed gravel that paved the walkways and central area of the Khmer Courtyard. Standing behind them, its stony smile unchanging, a copy of the Lokeshvara from Ankor Wat formed the centerpiece of the whole courtyard. Sin saw a circular line worked around the flat base on which he stood, as if the head were placed on an elevator for raising and lowering.

  "I wonder if they move it for volleyball games."

  Ryuhito looked over at him and smiled. "Possibly, though I think it more likely they shipped it in and loaded it here from below." He indicated the thick trees in the courtyard. "Bringing it in, even by helicopter, would have been difficult."

  "Good point." Sin ran his hand over the smooth stone. "Nice copy."

  "It would be, Sinclair, but it is an original. Good evening." Arrigo El-Leichter, wearing a more formal version of his paramilitary uniform from Friday night, executed a slight bow. He turned to the stunningly beautiful brunette beside him and smiled. "May I present my executive secretary, Janet Pigot."

  Sin had to restrain himself from doing a double-take. The tall, obviously self-assured woman with El-Leichter bore no resemblance to the mental image he'd constructed from Kip's description of her. Her smooth cheeks bore no trace of childhood acne scars. As wonderful as Miko might be for old Kip, there's no way he would have seen this woman more valuable as a secretary than as a bedmate.

  Sin took her proffered hand and shook it. "I'm very pleased to meet you. I know Kip Martin, and he asked to be remembered to you if I saw you."

  Janet's smile broadened ever so slightly. "You are most kind in relaying that, Mr. MacNeal. I will have to call Mr. Martin and see how he is doing."

  El-Leichter continued introductions around the circle, and Sin noticed Ryuhito watching the Galbro leader. Sin couldn't read the prince's face, but he suspected Ryuhito was trying to assess how much truth there was behind everything they had been taught in the two days of seminars. If what his grandfather fears is true, Ryuhito cares less about the source of any true power El-Leichter possesses than Arrigo's ability to share it with the prince.

  Before he could move around toward where Ryuhito and El-Leichter were beginning to talk, Mr. Handy tapped him on the shoulder. "Excuse me, Mr. MacNeal, but there is an urgent call for you from a Ms. Acres. It came through on one of our trunk lines, so I had it transferred to one of the classrooms. If you will follow me."

  Sin nodded. What could Lilith want? Has something happened to Coyote? He looked up as Handy turned right when he should have gone left. "I thought all the classrooms were over in the east wing."

  "The basic ones are, sir." Handy paused next to a security door with a keypad beside it. "These are the
advanced classrooms and are closer. It will be faster, sir."

  Sin nodded and tugged at his shirt sleeve, surreptitiously activating the recorder on his wrist. Decode the tones, and can figure out the combination. He smiled and waved Handy on. The man punched the combination in on the keypad, and the little red LCD on Sin's recorder flickered with each note it caught.

  "This way, sir." Handy walked down a narrow corridor and into the first doorway on the right. Sin followed him a half-step behind and entered the room looking expectantly for a phone. What he found instead was Handy pulling what looked a lot like his Beretta M92S from a desk and jamming it into his ribs.

  "We found this when doing a security sweep just now, Mr. MacNeal. Hiding it in the air-conditioning vent was good, but not good enough." Handy motioned with the gun for him to get his hands up. "Mr. El-Leichter says you're a Gray agent and that you have to die."

  Sin took the extra half-second the Beretta's double-action required on the first trigger-pull to act. He made a grab for the pistol as Handy's finger tightened on the trigger. His right hand clamped down on top of the gun and jammed the slide back toward the hammer. The shell in the chamber ejected up and into Handy's face, startling the Galbro man.

  Pushing the gun down and out of line with his body, Sin kicked up with his left leg and caught Handy solidly in the groin. The man groaned and sagged as Sin ripped the pistol out of his hand. He used it to club the man down to the ground, then held the gun on him and waited for him to get back up.

  Handy lay still, and blood leaked from his scalp where Sin had pistol-whipped him. Looks red. I guess he's human. Sin knelt beside him and flipped him over. A quick search proved fruitless—Handy had no keys, no money and no identification.

  "Okay, let me think for a moment." Sin picked up the live bullet on the floor, slipped the clip and replaced it. He knew his cover had been blown, but he didn't think having entertained the emperor would be a shooting offense. I've been straight up about everything else—the only deceptions have come concerning a wife and my middle initial. No one could know I'm working for Coyote, and that wouldn't concern Galbro anyway.

  Suddenly, as he crossed to the doorway, it hit him. "Holy shit! Galbro is the place Coyote sent me to find. That means this is a finishing school for assassins, among other things, and that means . . ." That means I wish I had more than 14 bullets.

  Sin looked out into the hallway and saw it was all clear. He stepped out into it and casually walked toward the far end. He slapped the clip home, then, holding his arms across his chest, he half-hid the Beretta. Moving down the corridor, he tried to remember the general layout of the Galbro Institute. This direction should get me close to the front. With any luck.

  At the far end of the secured corridor, he entered a secretarial office full of desks with covered typewriters and retro-styled blocky, black phones. Except for a man in overalls spreading tools all over the desk, the room was empty. The man looked up as Sin came through the security door, but Sin just nodded at him and continued on his way.

  "Wait a minute, buddy, what are you doing here?"

  "I'm on an errand for Mr. El-Leichter," Sin gave him a smile. "Bitch, isn't it? Me doing errands and you wrestling with that Migoyan typer while he's out dining with the customers."

  "You got that right. These things never quite work right when they're switched from Cyrillic—least they could have done was buy Estonian, you know?" The man wiped his forehead on his sleeve. "Don't mind El-Leichter chatting up the folks that pay our wages, but spending a bit to get some Smith-Coronas or Sonys in here would make my life easier."

  Getting out of here alive would do the same to my life. Sin just shrugged and kept on straight down the center aisle toward the glass double doors at the room's far end. "That's true, but then they'd just find something else for you to do, eh?"

  "You got that right, dammit." The man smiled. "Have a good day. Don't let the Grays get you."

  Too late! Two uniformed security officers laughed as they pushed their way through the doors. One had a rubberized black body bag slung over his shoulder and held his AKM by the pistol-grip. The other had his automatic rifle dangling from his shoulder by the sling. Both stopped dead in their tracks as they realized the man they'd come to carry off was more ambulatory than he had any right to be.

  Sin brought the Beretta around and clicked the safety down with his thumb. He jerked the trigger through the first double-action around, not caring for finesse because he knew, at the short range, he couldn't miss. The first round hit the man with the body bag in the shoulder and the second punched through his chest right below the ribs.

  Before the shell casing had hit the floor, Sin shifted his gun to cover the second man. The Galbro guard dove behind a secretary's desk, and Sin heard the sound of the AKM's charging lever being pulled back. Having neither the time or inclination for a shoot-out with an automatic weapon at point-blank range, he dropped to one knee and triggered a three-shot volley that punched through the desk's lower edge. The second bullet started a scream that the third one ended, and Sin sprinted from the office.

  The second he hit the hallway he wanted to kick himself for not grabbing at least one of the AKMs. He hesitated for a moment and debated going back, but hearing shouts from both ends of the corridor prompted a different course of action. Turning to his left, he planted a kick above the lock of an office door.

  The door-jamb splintered as his kick drove the deadbolt back through it, and he found himself in a small room with a conference table and four chairs. He instantly knew the Formica-topped table wouldn't offer him any cover, but that mattered not at all. Above the four-foot-high, exterior cinderblock wall, tall windows offered him an easy way out. One of the chairs went sailing through glass, then he leaped up on the table and out through the hole.

  Nuts, this was a mistake! Sin landed in a crouch on the crushed stone paving of a garden patio. Forty feet across at the widest point, it had a 12-foot-tall cinderblock wall between him and freedom. Little jungle oases and gurgling streams combined with patio furniture to make the place seem relaxing, but it did nothing for Sin. Aside from a big brick barbeque to his right, the place offered little by way of cover.

  A commanding shout from the conference room he'd just left sent him into a long, diving roll to the barbeque. AKM bullets nibbled away at the whitewashed and soot-stained construction, singing metallically as they ricocheted off the cast-iron grill. He heard other bullets whiz past and saw them chip bits and pieces off the Galbro wall backstopping him.

  Putting his back against the bricks, he pulled his knees up and licked the sweat off his upper lip. You've done it now. You've got 20 feet to a wall that, if you're lucky, you can grab the top of with a running start. Arrayed against you, you have a handful of men with automatic weapons. They probably have radios and are even now calling in fire support.

  Twisting around to lie flat on his belly, Sin worked his way around to the far edge of the barbeque. The guards continued to concentrate their fire four feet to his left, directing it at the corner around which he had disappeared. A quick glance confirmed the shooters were taking turns keeping their heads down, and they were getting sloppy while doing it.

  Popping up to his knees, he snapped off two shots at the man framed in the window. The first bullet hit the windowsill and sprayed lead fragments into the room. The other hit the standing guard in the neck. It ripped a hole through his carotid artery, allowing blood to geyser out as the man pitched backward and out of sight.

  Sin tossed himself forward onto his stomach and started working backward. As he did so, he glanced back behind himself, then forward again. He brought his gaze up to sweep the edge of the wall just as another of the Galbro guards gained the top of it, crouched and pointed her AKM at him.

  Their fingers tightened on triggers at the same moment. Sin's first shot hit the wall about a foot below her, but the second blew through her right thigh. The third hit the magazine on her AKM and skipped down to punch through her stoma
ch. She toppled back off the wall, her gun's flaming muzzle making an arc through the evening sky.

  Her aim had likewise started low, but the automatic rifle's recoil walked the line of fire right across his legs. Only one bullet hit, and Sin screamed as it shattered his shinbone. Minor wound, you can survive it! he told himself in between the waves of pain rippling up his spine and into his brain. In their trough, he found his whole lower body had gone numb.

  Shit. Oh, shit. He gritted his teeth against the pain and watched the dark stain spreading across his pant leg. Five bullets left, an infinite number of guards, a hole in my leg and a wall that might as well be a mile high. He swallowed hard and tasted fear in his suddenly dry mouth. It can't get worse.

  From the Galbro building he heard Mr. Handy shouting orders. "Get that bunkerbuster over here and use a high-explosive round. He's hunkered down behind that barbeque. That's where he's chosen to die, so roast him."

  The echoes of distant malevolent laughter shook Rajani awake. Instantly, one of Hal's half-jest warnings about earthquakes sprang to mind, and she rolled off her bed and stumbled to a doorway. Bracing herself halfway in and out of the bathroom's door frame, she felt a sharp pain in the palm of her left hand. Slumping to the right, she opened her hand saw blue-black blood welling up around a pair of gold cufflinks.