by P. G. Burns
Curator Alan Mackie awaits the arrival of Procurator Jones with anticipation. He is not a supporter of this man who may be his superior on the Grand Council, but not in this district – his district. Alan relishes any opportunity to undermine this liberal jerk. Freya Mortensson herself has told him to be vigilant as she suspects the Procurator may be compromised due to his daughter’s suspected involvement. However, Alan Mackie is always professional and greets his superior with the courtesy expected.
“Procurator Jones, it is an honour to receive you into our zone, circumstances aside of course.” He hides his pleasure at Conrad’s unfortunate situation. “My men are searching the whole sector. They will soon find the traitors.” He glances at Conrad and decides not to apologise for his reference.
Conrad takes control, maintaining steady eye contact. “The Host wants them alive. Make sure no harm comes to them.”
“Of course, Lord Procurator. My men have been instructed to treat your daughter as a victim until we discover any evidence to the contrary. Now, if you follow me I will take you to our operations room.”
Conrad and Red are led to an elevator, which takes them directly to a busy control centre full of officers monitoring screens. “You can observe the whole district from here if you wish. My brother Colin and his men will apprehend the trio.” Conrad’s furrowed brow betrays his obvious distrust of this man. “I wish to be involved at ground level. Where is the most likely place for them to hide out?”
Mackie projects a map. “Raphael and his supporters have often been spotted here in the Chinese quarter and my spies say he frequents a couple of places, mostly in these roads here.” Conrad rubs his chin as he studies the map. “Right then, I will go there with a small team. Once more, thank you.”
Alan nods. “My brother Colin is already at the Chino gate. He will meet you there and act as your guide. No one knows those streets better than him.”
In the noodle bar Raphael and Baal sit drinking tea.
“We must assume Reuben has been watching you for a while,” says Baal. “If the sow woman was so near when you took Ember to your den then it makes sense that you were also spied on during your visits to China Town.”
Raphael acknowledges Baal’s wisdom and throws back the rest of his tea, preparing to leave. “They will soon be searching around here. I will let the two youngsters rest while I throw them off track.”
Baal laughs, “I hope you are not thinking of driving around in that old nail again?”
A smile catches the edges of Raphael’s lips, “Actually, that’s exactly what I’m thinking of doing.”
Conrad arrives at the gates that act as the entrance to the Chinese quarter. Colin Mackie is waiting for him as expected and after they exchange pleasantries Colin begins to inform Conrad about this sector.
“China Town is over fifty per cent of the Oriental District. We keep strict control over the inhabitants’ movements using the locators on their chips. Like most of Midtown, all of them must be back in their zone by seven o’clock each evening, unless special permission has been granted, of course, which is rare. These electronic gates record who comes and who goes so it’s easy to see if any persons are missing and also if any non-Chinese are in the area. We should be able to pick up a reading from your daughter’s chip but for some reason the tech guys can’t locate it, nor the Costello boy’s. We suspect the third one, this captain or Raphael character, has somehow deactivated them but he would need some pretty advanced equipment to do that.”
“He has a car that disappears into thin air and he has morphed into someone else so I guess he may have access to such things.”
“Maybe, which is why I suggest we use this…”
Colin pulls out a handheld device which fizzes with blue sparks as he presses the button.
“A Banshee gun? That won’t be necessary yet,” Conrad explains, aware that his motives of protecting his daughter are obvious.
“No, of course not, Procurator. I was only thinking as a last resort as it is the only non-lethal option we’ve got that works on the non-chipped,” explains Colin, unconvincingly. Conrad dislikes this brother more than the other. He has heard of the savage beatings he dishes out regularly to the locals for petty crimes; stories of public floggings, gang rape and hangings without trial have too often been attributed to him. Conrad had once advocated that a judge be sent to investigate the Mackies, in particular Colin, but his suggestion had been ignored – the methods being too effective at controlling the rebellious masses. He was also aware that this had made him very unpopular with these mercenary Mackies and now he was almost regretting his earlier move. Today he would need every ounce of the diplomacy he was famous for.
“Shall we begin?” says Colin. “This colony is home to millions of Chinks, half of whom don’t even speak English. I don’t think you always appreciate the difficulties we have here, Procurator, but they can be less than cooperative and sometimes need persuading when it comes to doing as we tell them. It will not be easy to locate the traitors in the catacombs these locals call streets. I fear we may not beat the deadline set by Commander Mortensson before she brings in her PS officers.” Normally Colin would see any interference by PS on his patch as an insult but he perversely enjoys adding to the stuck-up Procurator’s fears.
“Well, we don’t want anyone claiming you are not capable, do we?” retorts Conrad as he jumps in the driving seat of an aerocar. “So we’d best hurry.”
Red jumps in behind him, followed by ten more Civil Guards. Begrudgingly, Colin gets in with Conrad and points to a golden owl statue sticking out into the skyline a mile ahead.
“Head for that big bird, it will take us to the middle of China Town.”
Conrad has to admit to never visiting this part of the Oriental District before. He feels guilty, remembering when he was first honoured with the post of Procurator of all Jinn City, how he’d told himself he would reach out to all the people and visit all the city states. That was a long time ago and he’d soon found out that his role was more honorary. He had very little real influence on anything and was merely a ceremonial figure. He rarely finished one pompous occasion before he was whisked off to another. His role seemed to be to act as entertainment manager for Jinn City.
Still, he is Procurator and in essence he is in control of the best armed forces and the largest budget on the planet. He also has the ear of the Host and is the only courtier with the guts to question Reuben at Council meetings.
As he looks around the Chinese quarter he is amazed at the sheer number of people who must live in such a small area. Every building is at least twenty storeys high and some easily over sixty; not bright, cleverly designed skyscrapers like in Upper Jinn but dull, sad-looking buildings. To combat congestion there are conveyor bridges that join the tops of many buildings, spread like a spider’s web, available only to the higher caste, local dignitaries and others who are rewarded for loyalty to the Host. This also means any high-ranking visitors never need touch the ground of the lower cast area.
As a member of the High Council Conrad is also aware of the tunnels of Subterrainia that run directly under this part of town and are home to Jinn City’s most undesirable inhabitants. Even here in the poorest areas there is a hierarchy, the better-off living up in the sky, the lower caste on the ground and the untouchables below.
As the aerocar hovers above the town Conrad can see the cramped, narrow streets packed with street vendors and stalls of the night market. Even this high up he can smell the spices from the many food hawkers. He spots many of the makeshift clinics that pepper the side streets that sell cures for every ailment. It all seems very busy he thinks to himself. From his view it resembles a beehive with these specks darting in and out.
A message comes across the shared coms interrupting his observations. “Sir, we have spotted the captain. He is driving an old Chevrolet and he has just bumped a squad car then sped off! All cars! The vehicle is he
ading south down Hong Kong Drive towards Shanghai Avenue.”
Conrad looks at Colin. “Is that far?”
“Nope,” says Colin. “He is coming right this way. We need to get down there. We’ll need to block his exit, he must be trying to get out of the section,” he says as they descend and glide back down to the street. Both Mackie’s men and Conrad’s Civil Guard take position.
Conrad addresses the men, reiterating, “No one is to be killed. We want all three alive.”
The streets are busy with mostly hoverpeds and small old-style electric cars. Soon he hears what, in this day and age, is the unique sound of an eight cylinder combustion engine approaching. People can be heard screaming as they dive for cover. The Chevy crashes through the labyrinth of packed streets as the Mackie police cars chase after it either blatantly ignoring the “no kill” order or otherwise not privy to the instruction as they can be heard firing their tube guns at the car.
“Tell your men to stop firing!” orders Conrad as the alarming noise gets closer.
Colin radios his men to cease fire and just guide the ancient Chevrolet towards Peking Square where they are ready and waiting. Soon the old car can be seen in the distance. A cluster of smoke and debris is left in its wake, women pull their small children off the roads seconds before it roars past. Conrad witnesses a stallholder leap up a stairwell as his makeshift small pitch is smashed into a million splinters.
“Here they come,” shouts Red. “Hold your ground, men, and do not shoot. I repeat, do not shoot! We need these suspects and the hostage alive!”
Conrad is grateful to his captain. He studies the unfamiliar-looking car approaching. It hurtles down the long narrow street, barely missing any other vehicles on the road, almost as if on purpose. Soon there is just a few hundred metres between the Chevy and the new blockade.
Raphael ponders his next move. The authorities had moved much faster than he anticipated. He had hoped to get to the Black District before he was spotted and so the search would be concentrated there, giving Baal an opportunity to sneak the youngsters out. Now he’s in a predicament. The car cannot pass through another vortex wormhole again so soon, as the juice was all used up. If he hands himself in the cops will still look for Ember and Adam in China Town. If he stops to fight… well, he is heavily outnumbered.
He decides he must cause as much havoc and confusion as possible, he must go for plan B. The screech of the breaks is immense as the car grinds to a halt a hundred or so metres from the road block. He looks across at all the roads running off this main square but, as he guessed, the steel auto barriers are being raised. The trap is well set and he is forced to face his opponents. The Mackie jeep pulls up behind him around fifty yards away. He hears a voice come over the street PA system.
“Turn off your engine and step out of the vehicle – everybody.”
Raphael is thankful for his tinted windows, recently mocked by Baal. He winds his window down a tiny bit and shouts out.
“I have the Aryan girl, Ember Jones. If anyone comes near I will shoot her!”
Conrad is aware of the clench of his heart as he continues on the PA. “No one needs to die. We will listen to grievances. Let the two children go, then come out with your hands up.”
Raphael sets the high explosive under his seat. He holds the detonator switch in his hand and then plays his card. “I will only negotiate with the commander of the Mackies. Is Alan Mackie out there?”
Colin takes the hand com off Conrad. “This is Colin Mackie. I am heading up this operation. You negotiate with me.”
Perfect, thinks Raphael, as he shouts out, “I will hand the hostages over to you. Come down the street and I will release them when I am certain it is you.”
Colin looks worried. He wonders why the traitor wants to identify him. He knows it won’t be through any hope of fair treatment. Still, he cannot show fear in front of his troops and the bastard Procurator.
He turns to his aid. “Get me a double HP high velocity.” Conrad objects. “We want them alive remember, all of them!”
Colin, in fear of his life, gives up on any false respect. “You want your daughter home, Sir, and with all due respect I want to go home to my son, so I will decide if there is reason to kill or not, okay?”
He tools up and makes his way down the now deserted street. Like a scene from a twentieth century western he strides towards the car. When he gets around fifty feet from the car he hears Raphael say, “That’s far enough.” Colin stops. “Where’s the girl?” he asks, trying to see inside the car through the tiny gap of the open window.
“She is here,” replies Raphael as he finalises his plan. He knows this will hurt more than the shot in the face. Why did he have to plant the bomb right next to his balls? Oh well, too late now. Still, he needed to goad this scumbag outside some more. Technically he was not allowed to kill himself, according to Arc Hon law, so he still needed Colin to take the shot, but he was fairly sure how trigger happy both the Mackies were. Once he’d angered him he was sure Colin would take the shot thus hopefully killing Captain Cameron’s body and allowing his Geist to leave at the same time as he releases the detonator and then bang! The explosives were enough to kill him but would hopefully be contained in the car; it was important that Colin Mackie’s body was not damaged as Raphael was planning to inhabit him so needed to keep him intact.
By the time they discover only one body is in the car, Baal would have got the kids out. His Geist will link to Colin Mackie’s body, giving him the added benefit of insight into any plans. He congratulates himself on his ability to adapt, it was a near perfect plan.
Before his plan can play out, however, a speeding poison-tipped dart enters the small opening in the window and hits him straight between the eyes. The poison leaves him completely paralysed but he knows the precision and accuracy of this laced projectile can only be the result of one person’s skill. Powerless to even release his finger from the dead man’s switch attached to the explosive he watches the shooter approach the car. You bitch, he thinks.
Solfrid stands in full assassin regalia: a loose cape secured with a cloth belt, dark leggings and her head covered by a silk scarf that also covers the bottom half of her face but permits her intense blue eyes to be exposed. Raphael has not seen them for almost two centuries, yet still he recognises her piercingly stunning gaze. Solfrid removes her scarf, a smile revealed as she does, and instructs the guards to follow her as she opens the door and carefully takes the detonator from Raphael’s paralysed hand, making sure the switch stays depressed. Raphael’s petrified body is dragged across the road and into a detention van. Conrad is as perplexed at the scene as everyone else. He runs to see if Ember is in the car.
“Ember!” he shouts, the panic obvious in his voice.
As he gets nearer his panic rises. He sees Solfrid is walking away from the car and telling everyone else to clear away. She holds up the detonator and turns to look at the desperate Conrad who can see what she is about to do. He shouts again, this time a long drawn-out cry of anguish. Solfrid merely smiles and releases the switch. The car explodes. Conrad stumbles and runs towards the wreckage, panic stricken and rambling. He only falters when the heat from the explosion becomes unbearable. He turns to Solfrid aggressively. “What have you done? If my daughter was inside…”
Solfrid speaks matter-of-factly. “Relax. The car was empty.”
Conrad is not convinced. “How do you know? What about the boot?”
Colin reminds him who he is talking to. “Solfrid, the High Priestess, does not answer to any of us. Have the actions of your daughter messed up your brain? Now we have the ringleader it should be a simple task to find your daughter and the Caucasian.”
In the back room of the noodle bar Baal sits back in shock after witnessing the whole event on the monitor that hacks into the Mackies’ security footage. He realises that he must move Ember and her friend immediately.
“Come quick! We must go,” he sho
uts down, waking the two friends.
Ember stirs slowly; Adam leaps to his feet.
“What’s happened?” he says.
“Raphael attempted to lead the search to another section but he has been captured. Solfrid is with them so they will be all over us soon. We must go under.”
Adam looks at Ember, quickly guessing she does not understand what “going under” means as she does not look too concerned. He decides not to tell her, lest she panic and runs. He has never been under himself but he’s heard stories. His father had been a food distributor when he was younger and had spooked Adam with tales of how dark and deep the underworld was, how millions of unfortunate souls were punished and cast underground where they were out of sight. No food, no housing, no sanitation or medicine. They were never able to come above ground again as their implants were adjusted to react to sunlight, causing a fatal shock to the nervous system the instant it detects solar rays, even those reflected by the moon. He also heard that over the last few years the underworld inhabitants had had to resort to cannibalism to survive. He assumes Ember is oblivious to this horror-filled place but she knows more than he imagines.
Her father had always schooled her on the history and creation of the New World, especially that of Jinn City. She is familiar with the architecture, the people, and its past, both the one the media portrayed and the less savoury truth.
Jinn City is the New World’s capital, biggest of the six megatropolises, running along the coast of old Australia. Ember has learned that it was on these lands that the final battles were fought and it was here that the Host first appeared to the masses before saving mankind from the revolutionaries. It is because of these momentous events that Jinn City was built here and became the hub of all that happens in the New World, even to the point of the Host himself setting up residence there.
