by Neal Asher
‘Gone, probably at the road by now.’
‘Not another athlete?’
‘Athletes don’t move that fast.’
Before the induced flight reaction began to lapse Jack found himself on the old road across what used to be a flood plain before the new sea defences were built, with the town a mile behind him. He slowed to a walk, his every muscle a marble of pain as he gasped mechanically. As soon as he regained enough control, he turned to peer back towards the lights. From the shopping complexes he could see reflective objects spiralling up into the sky like fire flies. Security drones. He did not stand a chance. In minutes he would be found, and those drones carried stun cannons. The parasite did not know this though. It keyed into his fear reaction and boosted it. Before he knew what he was doing he was running again.
‘Fugitive! Halt!’ came a machine voice.
He ran harder, something crackling in his chest.
‘Halt or ionic stun will be used!’
He felt the impetus to run faster but his body could no longer respond. His muscles were like stone and his breathing an accelerated panting. Suddenly a strobe flash cut through the air to him and knocked him sideways, pain convulsing his body, yet he stumbled on, a hot electrical smell in his nostrils. A panicked glance round showed him the drone like a hovering full-face crash helmet ten feet up from his right shoulder.
Enemy.
He glanced down, but there was nothing to hand he could use. He reached into his pocket just as the second shock hit him and sent him sprawling.
Enough enough enough!
Yet no matter his mental screaming he still took a fifty Ecu coin from his pocket, jerked upright, turned and threw.
The third shock threw him backwards with minor lightnings webbing his body. As blackness filled him he had the satisfaction of a subliminal glimpse of the drone limping through the air trailing sparks and smoke.
‘You are aware, I should think, of the pointlessness of trying to lie? Your reactions are being monitored by a partial AI lie-detector, and not very much gets past that,’ said Saphron smoothly.
Halson nodded and dipped his head, a bitter twist to his mouth.
‘You are also aware of your rights, I should think, and are also aware, due to the seriousness of the crimes you have been involved in, that you do not have the right to remain silent. You may wait for your lawyer before we begin, though.’
Halson looked up, the bitter twist to his mouth becoming a strange grin. ‘I’ll tell you now. I’ve got nothing to lose any more. That bitch Sune used a genetic venom on me. I’m dead.’
Saphron blinked and accessed his augmentation for a confirmation of the pertinent information: genetic venoms were gene-specific, undetectable and required specific antivenins to neutralize them.
‘What was your relationship with Jack Smith?’ he asked, eventually.
Halson peered down at his knotted hands then across at the government sealed holocorder crouching up in the corner of the room like some weird insectile sculpture. ‘He came to me for an unlogged medical scan. We get them quite often – people who fear they’ve picked up the latest strain of AIDS and don’t want it reported, people on endorphins, people having trouble with illegal augmentations...’ He trailed off with a glance at the aug on the side of Saphron’s head.
‘How is the medscan unit disconnected from World Health oversight?’
‘It isn’t. The scan is recorded into a sealed memory crystal provided by the client whilst simultaneously being sent to WH under a military security seal. Difficult to access.’
‘I see. Tell me, what was the procedure once you had acquired this illegal scan?’
‘The normal procedure would be to just hand over the crystal to the client and take the money.’
‘Why didn’t you follow this procedure?’
‘Sune Jean.’ Halson said the name as if he had a bad taste in his mouth.
‘Tell me more.’
‘I thought no one knew, but somehow she found out about it. A year ago I was dragged into an aircar and taken to her. She offered a set payment if I would provide her with information about any unusual scans: unusual eye colour, gland size, heavy nerve tissue, and other ... physical attributes. I refused. I knew what her game was and I didn’t want to play. It was then that one of her thugs injected me with the venom. I had no choice.’
‘What did you think her game was?’
‘It was obvious. She was breaking people for parts – an organ thief.’
‘We prefer the term murderer.’
‘Yeah.’
‘So tell me, what was the procedure in these cases?’
‘Anything unusual and I got in contact with her. She named a place and I told the client that I could not pass the scan over at the facility and arranged to do so at the named place.’
‘In Jack Smith’s case this place was The Comet Miner?’
‘Yeah.’
‘Very well. What was unusual about Jack Smith?’
Halson suddenly looked nervous. ‘He logged his tape in his personal unit. It was the only copy.’
‘That does not answer my question.’
Halson looked up. ‘Did you get him? Did you get Jack Smith?’
‘That is not relevant.’
‘Look at his unit. You find out. I’ve nothing more to say.’
‘Interview closes 15:20.’
His first awareness was of confinement. He was lying down and straps held him. Immediately he began to struggle and something snapped with a sound like a gun shot. He had time then only to open his eyes and take in a room like a white prison cell before something bright and agonising flung him into blackness again.
His next awareness was of confinement too. He was in a chair. He struggled violently but to no result. It was as if he had been set in concrete up to his neck, yet his struggles did not cease until every muscle in his body became rigid with pain. Only then did he hear a voice and take note of his surroundings. The chair he sat in was in a cell. Ahead of him stood a door with an inset armour-glass portal at head height.
The voice droned on, ‘Be calm. You are in a holding cell at Police Central Chelmsford pending interview. You will not be harmed. Be calm...’
Eventually the parasite relaxed its hold on him and sank back into wary somnolence. In time the door before him opened and in walked a man dressed in a tweed suit – a man with a cerebral augmentation unit on the side of his head. A woman in uniform came in behind and stood by the door.
‘I must apologise for such undignified confinement Mr Smith, but when you first woke you broke your medical restraints then the arm of the nurse who was tending to you.’
‘Free me,’ said Jack in a hoarse voice he felt was his own, yet not. He could feel the parasite lurking around the edges of his mind ready to press the right button; to initiate or emphasise behaviour it considered would increase its survivability. Yet, that was wrong, he felt as if he was personifying something without sentience and reason, something that acted on a feral unconscious level, like instinct.
‘Unfortunately, as a point of law, we cannot do that until whatever cybernetic implants you are carrying have been deactivated. This, as you may know, will probably take some time, so before I hand you over to the medtechs there are a few questions I would like you to answer.’
The man held Jack’s own wallet in his hand, open to expose the personal unit, so it would not be long before he found out there were no implants. Jack nodded, not trusting himself to speak just yet. The parasite’s imperative for freedom still influenced his actions just as the fear of pain prevented people from putting their hands in fire, yet it was more. Jack Smith wondered just who Jack Smith was.
‘Before I go on,’ said Saphron, ‘is there anything you require?’
‘Food, drink,’ two more imperatives with possibilities inherent in having his hands free to eat and drink.
‘Food and drink will be brought to you, but for obvious reasons you will have to be fed.’
Jack bowed his head.
Saphron nodded to himself. ‘Firstly, I understand that you recently arrived from Brazil. Is that correct?’
Jack nodded.
‘Upon your arrival you deposited a large sum of money with Ecubank and claimed the key card to the bank seals on your house on the sea wall?’
Again Jack nodded.
‘Shortly after this your house was destroyed by an APW and an unidentified woman was found shot dead nearby.’
Jack’s head jerked up. ‘I ... knew nothing of this.’
‘We have a statement from the driver of an air taxi telling us that she was taking you out to your house when the event occurred, and that you directed her to take you back to Maldon.’
Jack remained silent.
‘Whatever, we will get to the bottom of this. I do not like bodies or illegal weaponry, and both of these seem to proliferate around you Jack Smith. Now tell me. What was the reason for this medscan?’ He held up the wallet in his left hand and tapped the personal unit with his right forefinger. ‘Is it drug-related or to do with your implants?’
Jack thought quickly. ‘My implants. I’ve been having rejection problems.’ It was a lie that would have a short life, he knew. He had to escape. The parasite seemed to writhe within him. He felt sick with adrenaline and the agonising urge to urinate.
Saphron continued, ‘The recording in this unit will either prove or disprove that, but be assured you will not be leaving this place until I have some satisfactory answers.’
‘Lawyer. I want a lawyer.’
‘Yes,’ said Saphron, ‘it would seem you already have one. Your record shows that you are still a de facto employee of TCC and as such entitled to one of their lawyers. They have been informed.’
As Saphron left, Jack bowed his head again, trying to understand the sudden panic he felt. Later, a nurse came and fed him soup as if he were a baby. The parasite remained quiescent and he was able to talk to her relatively coherently. He asked to be freed to go to the toilet. She told him of the vacuum toilet in the chair. The chair was his prison.
They were closer than twins, cloned from the most successful CIA killer of the previous century, speed grown in the same tank, base programmed by the same synaptic computer, and finish-trained by a genius in the arts of death. One of them had undergone a sex-change operation in infancy, because as a pair it was considered they would be more closely bonded this way. The Toad had paid a small fortune for them and considered it well spent, until now.
‘He escaped you and he is now in the hands of the police. How do I know this? I know this because of a memo from our legal branch. And what do you know? He is somewhere in Essex!’ The hologram gesticulated violently and rose an embarrassing distance out of its chair. The Toad was obviously in his quarters near the centre of the TCC satellite, quarters he always seemed to move to when he felt threatened. It was the blank-faced woman who replied to him.
‘Another satellite strike would negate the threat.’
‘I see. I have had twelve of my best technicians killed and a satellite destroyed all to make a cover story of terrorists and incompetence and you suggest that I let another eighty million dollar satellite go the same way. You suggest that I permit a strike on Police Central in Chelmsford. Idiot! If I want suggestions I’ll ask an AI not a moronic killer!’
‘What do you require of us?’
The Toad sat forwards. ‘I require that you kill Jack Smith and destroy the evidence that his body contains. You will await instructions. Somehow you will get into Police Central. It is not important whether or not you get out again.’
‘We understand.’
‘Oh good... You will be contacted.’
The hologram flickered out.
The screen showed the image of a man of glass; glass arms and legs, torso and head, glass organs veins and bones.
‘Augment intrusions,’ said the ginger-haired girl.
The picture flickered a couple of times and a shimmering bar code appeared at the bottom of the screen. A scan line ran up and down the image of the man a number of times.
‘What’s happening?’ asked Saphron, leaning on the desk beside her.
‘Difficult to say, sir. I get this every time I ask for the augmentations to be highlighted. It’s as if the computer is having difficulty separating them from the rest of his body. This could be because of the sheer extent of his … augmentations. Ah, here we are.’
Suddenly the man-image filled with red strands, as if stuffed with red hot wire wool. These strands coalesced in a thick red rope enwrapping his glassy vertebrae.
‘What’s this, more glitches, it looks like a view of his nervous system. I want to see the implants.’
‘There are none, and this is not a glitch.’
‘I beg your pardon?’
‘If this recording is correct there are no cybernetic implants, and it would appear that Jack Smith is the host for some kind of organism ... sir.’
‘It’s alive?’
The ginger-haired girl nodded.
Saphron stood upright, pulled another chair from under the table then sat down. ‘I’ve had drug runners, body breakers, illegal weapons, murder and manslaughter this month. This I don’t need. You’re sure?’
‘If you are sure it’s from a genuine medscan facility and has not been altered, sir.’
‘I’m as sure as I can be, given the suspects and witnesses. We’ll have to give Smith another scan to check...’ He trailed off and stared at the screen.
‘Sir, this organism is probably some form of parasite. If such is the case then it has to be reported.’
‘I know,’ Saphron snapped, ‘World Health must be informed immediately.’ Still he sat there, gazing at the image.
‘In fact, sir, I took the liberty, as you were busy...’
Saphron gaped at her as if she had suddenly grown horns. She went on, ‘They are sending a Professor Jane Ulreas and her assistant Chris Golem.’
‘Thank you, Jennifer. Your competence has been noted.’
There was a knock at the door and Jane felt her insides tighten. Could this be..?
‘Chris here.’
The tightness receded, thankfully. She headed over to the door, then paused. Could it be that someone had copied Chris’s voice and just replayed it? No, damn it. Being scared was one thing and sliding into paranoia another. She unlocked the door and jerked it open, stepping back as Chris entered the motel room.
‘Any news?’ she asked.
‘Lots. It would seem that TCC are claiming that one of their weapons was taken over by terrorists. That flare we saw shortly after your laboratory was hit was the weapon and those manning it being destroyed by a missile from the TCC station itself.’
‘Manning it?’
‘Yes. No doubt it will be claimed they were criminals acting without the knowledge of TCC.’
‘Will TCC get away with it?’
‘They would have if that action had been the only one they had taken, but evidence is mounting against them. It is not an action they will be able to take again.’
‘Bastards! What about my lab?’
‘No doubt TCC will pay the bill as a sign of good faith.’
Irony? No, of course not.
‘That, I suppose, is if I am still alive to accept the damages.’
‘I am sure that is something they would like to correct.’ He paused, ‘There is also some other news.’
‘Tell me about it. I’m sure things can’t get any worse.’
‘Jack Smith was apprehended by the police yesterday. He was apparently involved in some criminal activity during which some people were killed. He was confined under suspicion of carrying illegal cybernetic implants. The parasite was subsequently discovered in him and World Health informed.’
‘Why? Why were you informed?’
‘It is standard police procedure in the case of what might be illegal biologicals.’
‘What do we do now?’
‘Now we go and see Jack
Smith. Once you have made an examination of him and that examination is on record you will be safe. TCC will have no reason to get rid of you. Expert testimony can be pre-recorded for the trial.’
‘But I have to make that examination and testimony.’
‘There are few other options open to you.’
Chapter 7
He woke from blackness to razor clarity. Whilst using the catheter and special vacuum toilet in the chair and felt a dull anger at his restraints. They knew now that he had no implants, and they knew about the parasite, but did that merit such undignified treatment? He took a deep breath and closed his eyes, subdued the anger, opened his eyes. Then he considered escape with all of his mind.
The room was four-point-two metres square with a ceiling two metres high. He knew this in a glance. Estimations of measurements flashed through his mind. Side-tracked for a moment, he measured the chair with his eyes and guessed at its structure and of what alloys it must be constructed, then he fixed his eyes on the door. Ceramal plate over aluminium honeycomb, electric bolt locks at the top and bottom. He focused on the plate, his vision close up, as through a magnifying glass. He searched for weaknesses and found them. He estimated it would take him about twenty seconds to get through. Again he fixed his attention on the chair, but here there seemed to be no weaknesses he could work on. It was over-engineered; strong enough to hold someone with four times the strength of a normal man. Just strong enough.
When he had finally gone over the room and all it contained inch by inch, he turned his attention inward and considered what he might say to his captors. As he thought about this, another part of his mind continued to calculate and those calculations slewed off into the bizarre. In a flicker of thought that lasted a picosecond he realized what he was doing and was exhilarated. Then he decided to test this new found ability.
Still with two thinking processes in action Jack began simultaneously to recall events in his near and far past. He had complete recall. He pushed his mind, ran through five separate events and made calculations on those events; the probable force of a blow, the angle of ricochet of a bullet and its probable speed, the likely thoughts passing through a woman’s mind, the temperature and position of the sun, the date, the position of certain comets on that date. He was amazed at what he knew; facts picked up by reading, from a glance at a holovision in a shop window, from the back of a cereal packet.
