Gone Dark

by P. R. Adams

  Ichi responded almost immediately. “East hallway, door on the left wall. It is crypto again.”

  I jogged down the hallway, pointing to the door on the left. “I hope you’re ready.”

  Chan managed a winded, “Ready.” Excitement seemed to play across tattooed cheeks.

  The room was big, about twice the size of the room in Biloxi, and it was hot. The indicators of the equipment lit everything in a blue, green, and red glow. Sturdy racks were stuffed even more densely here, the equipment a broader mix. Huiyin and Ichi were at the back, almost completely hidden behind a rack with a stainless steel crypto device like the one we’d taken from Biloxi. They had antennae pointing from Abhishek’s device to the crypto device. Ichi waved us over, and Chan’s computing device came out.

  Huiyin said, “We’re ready.”

  Ichi backed to the opposite corner, watching the other two. There was a curious look on her face. Anger? Suspicion?

  I slid next to her and whispered, “Did something happen?”

  Ichi’s eyes widened, as if she hadn’t even realized she was staring. “I am sorry. I worry for Chan.”

  For Chan, not Huiyin? “You two getting along better?”

  “We are finding common interests.” Ichi looked at me, as if that should somehow mean something.

  Then it hit me. “Huiyin’s spending time with Chan?”

  Ichi rolled her eyes, as if I were the dumbest person in the world. “Last night. After you had sex with Huiyin.”

  I couldn’t speak for a second. There was a pain in Ichi’s voice and there was accusation, betrayal. Finally, I cleared my throat. “We’re all adults. That doesn’t mean spying is acceptable, though.”

  “You are spying now, though, Stefan-san. By asking about their relationship.”

  “Yeah, but—” But what? What Huiyin was doing with—to—Chan was Chan’s business. Was I worried that my Gridhound was going to be rattled and rendered ineffective like one of the dozens of targets I’d exploited, or was I worried that a kid who’d been fucked by family and circumstance wasn’t getting protection from a supposed guardian?

  Chan’s computing device display flashed a nova white, then windows popped up—black framed by blue, red, or orange. Black-metallic nails tapped and swiped, and I leaned against the wall, heart pounding. It was the most nerve-wracking part of the mission. There was no way to know how things were progressing without interrupting your Gridhound, and doing that either cost time or attention.

  Neither was acceptable.

  Ichi leaned against the wall, too, and whispered, “Were you gentle with Tae-hee like that?”

  “What?”

  “You made Huiyin cry, yet she seemed satisfied. Your touches and kisses—you seem skilled. My mother—”

  “I never—” I bit back the words as my voice rose.

  Huiyin turned, eyebrows raised.

  I shook my head and turned slightly. “I never slept with your mother, Ichi.”

  She shrugged. The nonchalance seemed meant to hide pain.

  I bowed my head. “What happened to her?”

  “She is gone.”

  “How?”

  “Things became difficult without Norimitsu-san. She sold the…estate. But the money, it was not enough.”

  “I’m sorry. She was a good woman.”

  “She made life terrible for Norimitsu-san and for me.”

  Irritation burned my cheeks a bright red. She’s just a kid. “Your mother loved you.”

  “It is not enough. To be what she was made me what I am. And in Japan…you do not understand.”

  Shit. East Asian racism. “Your father loved your mother, and that’s what mattered.”

  “Love does not stop ridicule.” Ichi’s lips quivered. “It does not remove the pain of being outside all of the time.”

  “You think I don’t know that? Look at me. How do you think I felt growing up?”

  Her brow drew in, wrinkled. “What do you know?”

  “You think only Japanese and Koreans have long histories of hostility? I faced that stuff in my own family.”

  “It is not the same!”

  I closed my eyes, frustrated. Maybe we were all blinded like Ichi, so caught up in our own certainty that we were the only person persecuted, the only person who knew how terrible our life was.

  Or maybe she was just a confused kid, angry at the world. Like I had been.

  Ichi wiped at her eyes and slouched to the other side of the room. There was nothing more to say, so I scanned the crypto gear, amazed at how boring it looked. Except for an isolated rack. Small, with only a few devices on it, it seemed out of place. The devices seemed familiar.

  Agency! They were Agency crypto gear! The Agency was using the data—

  The door to the room opened. A uniformed guard flicked a flashlight on an instant after I slipped behind the nearest rack.

  He was slender, shorter than me, not even wearing armor beneath a uniform that was crisp and ridiculously tight. He even wore a hat. Indoors. The flashlight beam ran along the equipment, shooting past me to the back wall, then toward Ichi and the others.

  And then the beam froze in place.

  Shit! He’d seen something!

  He moved with the sort of swagger only managed by someone who imagined himself always in control. Too cocksure to even call for backup.

  His hand slipped down toward his holster, and a smile slipped across his face.

  A too-familiar smile. A dangerous smile.

  I launched at him from cover, but he had the gun out before I could get to him. I put my left hand up in front of the barrel just as he fired. My arm rocked back, and I lost sensation.

  My right hand came down on his wrist with everything I could manage; it was enough to knock the gun free.

  He twisted, torquing his body, and swatted me with the back of his left hand, launching me into the rack I’d been hiding behind.

  Sparks shot up my spine when I slammed into the metal frame; I slid to the floor.

  I tried to shout a warning, but the air had been knocked from my lungs.

  Ichi stepped around the rack, saw me, and hesitated. That probably saved her life.

  The guard pulled something from his belt, something clear and reflective. Knife!

  “Funes,” I gasped, barely audible. “Jose Funes.”

  Ichi shifted closer to me and assumed a defensive stance. She recognized him now. The cyborg assassin I’d killed.

  Reborn.

  The blade vibrated, shimmering with a rainbow of reflected colors. He swung at her gut, and she backed away, bracing against a rack, then bringing a leg up in a sweep that took his legs out from under him.

  She twisted, crouched, and leapt, launching over him and landing at the other end of the room.

  His cap came off, and a horrible peroxide-blond toupee spilled out. He jumped back to his feet, turned toward me, knife raised, and seemed ready to say something.

  Then Huiyin flashed from hiding and kicked him in the back.

  He stumbled into the rack, head banging off one of the devices.

  I couldn’t breathe, but I could move my legs and my right arm. I twisted away, barely avoiding a wild strike as he recovered, then I got to my feet. But I was stuck in the corner.

  He turned on Huiyin, slashing at her face—a feint—then punching her in the chest. She did a pretty good job of rolling with the blow, but it was ugly. She ended up halfway under one of the other racks, her head resting on a forearm.

  But alive, I told myself. He hadn’t cut her open.

  I shot forward again, feeling sluggish. This time I caught him before he could completely turn around. I locked my good hand around the wrist of his knife arm, then swept his legs and took him to the floor. On the floor, I had at least a slim chance of canceling out some of his advantage of strength and functionality.

  He tested my strength, and I caught a hint of surprise in his eyes. Then he wrapped his free hand around my throat and squeezed. He would crush my la
rynx in no time.

  Ichi was there, wakizashi in hand, hacking at his eyes, knee driving into his ear.

  He released me and reached for her, and she dropped her blade. She grabbed him by the wrist and wrapped her legs around his shoulder. It was an arm bar, the sort that could compensate for significant strength differences.

  And it seemed to be working.

  I sucked in a lungful and shouted, “Hold him!”

  Ichi groaned. “That is what I am doing!”

  I tested my left hand, felt a hint of control returning. Enough to bring it up. I grabbed Funes’s knife hand and tested my own strength against his. The human parts of my upper body felt like they were being torn apart.

  But I moved his hand.

  I sucked in another lungful of air. “Chan, how are we doing?”

  Chan’s voice trembled, but I caught, “Nearly done. It’s complicated a big—”

  Klaxons boomed, deafening.

  “What?” Chan staggered back from the crypto device. “Jacinto’s here?”

  Shit! Again! “Don’t…give…up!” I pushed the knife into the cyborg assassin’s gut, cutting into the bulletproof flesh.

  Ichi squealed. Funes was pulling free, curling her up.

  Huiyin staggered over and grabbed my hands. Together, we pressed the knife in deeper, then guided it up, through the sternum.

  “What is it?” she grunted.

  “Us. Without the humanity.” I pushed the knife through the artificial skeletal structure. Funes seemed weaker. Only the hardened flesh was holding us back from doing more damage.

  And then something sparked, and he convulsed and seemed to lose power.

  “Move away,” I shouted, then I drove the knife through the cyborg’s eye and into its head.

  Pink, organic goo bubbled out of the wound and splashed onto my hand.

  Real brain? Taken from where? No, it had to be something like a brain. Grown. Cooked up in a lab.

  Huiyin kicked Funes’s head. “They know we’re here.”

  I retraced our escape route mentally. It would be close, even if we ran right then. “Chan? How close?”

  “They—Jacinto—” Chan seemed ready to collapse again.

  I shook Chan’s shoulder. “Don’t let that asshole into your head.”

  “The defenses. Changing. Chimera. What Jacinto called it.”

  Chimera? “You’re better than him! You hear me? You’re better!”

  Chan stared down at the goo I’d gotten on the hoodie, eyes wide, then nodded.

  I flicked the goo away. “We need this data now. Can you do it?”

  Chan’s magenta eyes blinked. “Yeah.”

  A flurry of fingers tapping and swiping. Black-painted lips worked soundlessly.

  Ichi shook out her arms and glared down at Funes’s body.

  I wanted to hug her, to apologize. “Ichi?” When she turned, I tapped Huiyin on the shoulder. “We need the way clear, okay? Don’t let them block us off.”

  Huiyin zipped her pant legs open, drew her pistol components out, and assembled them. “Don’t be long.”

  Ichi retrieved her wakizashi and padded to the door. She opened it, searched around, then they dashed into the hallway and out of sight.

  I pulled the cyborg’s knife from its skull and turned the vibration off. His pistol looked an awful lot like mine. Agency. CaMil. Cytek? Whoever was behind everything. Who the hell wasn’t involved?

  Chan laughed. “In. I’m in.”

  “Good. Get everything you can. Stovall. Weaver. This Lilly Duvreau. We’ve got names. Find out what the hell connects them, what they want, and who they’re working for, then let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “Another minute.”

  The klaxon blared.

  A minute. We didn’t even have ten seconds. They knew where we were. Maybe that had been the intent all along? We would know soon enough.

  Chapter 20

  The klaxons shredded my will. They blasted my ability to think. We were slowly being cooked by all the crypto gear. It was as if the pulsing LEDs were flashing messages at me: Get out! They have you! No hope! Something rotten had gotten into my sinuses—the cyborg’s brain goo. I shook my head and exhaled hard through my nose, hoping that might clear whatever was in me.

  Chan said, “Almost there. Downloading.”

  Downloading. The world was rushing around us, heading toward us. Outside the door to the crypto room, there could be ten guards waiting. There could be another cyborg. Two cyborgs.

  Calm down. I needed to get out of there. “I know you’re doing what you can.”

  That seemed to comfort Chan, who once again seemed close to smiling.

  But the truth was, we were split apart. I hadn’t heard from Danny in too long. Huiyin and Ichi were keeping our path to the escape clear, if that was even possible.

  And the Agency knew I was here. They had lured me here. The cyborg, the crypto…

  I ran a hand over the crypto—warm, hard. It connected the data center to the labyrinth of betrayal and deception where Stovall hid. It spat out lies and commanded the cyborgs.

  My hand bunched over one of the crypto devices.

  The cyborgs weren’t fully autonomous. They were more like robots, with limited memories of the people they’d once been. All the deadly skills were still there, but the human mind held a diminished copy of who they’d been. When Maribel had been cut off from the Grid, she had frozen for a few seconds.

  Whatever commands were sent to the cyborgs wouldn’t be open to hacking. It would be encrypted. Their systems would have to have decryption capabilities!

  I dropped to a knee beside the cyborg, cursing the damage I’d done. It hadn’t been necessary. A strike through the eye would have done it. But even that might have destroyed the crypto pieces.

  The knife vibrated in my hands.

  Chan gasped. “What are you doing?”

  “Just an idea.”

  I cut away the bulletproof skin that I had in common with the cyborgs, exposing the interior: a realistic skeleton, even more realistic musculature. There was no blood, no circulatory system. But there were circuits. There were whole modules. Most were connected to the system that ran the limbs—servos, pulleys, cabling. The work was unimaginably delicate yet capable of so much and so hard to destroy.

  What I wanted, though…

  Where a heart should have been, several system modules were glued to a heavy, plastic plate. They varied in size and appearance.

  Abhishek’s decryption device. What had that looked like?

  Chan slipped the computing device off the rack. “Done.”

  “Just a second.” Some of the modules were too big to be what Abhishek had given me; some were too small. The guts had to be—

  One of the modules caught my eye. It was different: long and sleek and mounted unlike the rest.

  “Here.” The knife cut through the plastic with ease.

  “What?” Chan, barely audible, leaned closer.

  I tossed the module up, ready to catch it if it fell through those slender fingers. “Our very own Agency decryption device.”

  Maribel’s car had detonated. Could they have hidden explosives in this cyborg?

  I hurried Chan to the door and said, “Stay back.” Then I pulled the door open.

  Gunfire. Bullets cracked off the wall, scraped across the door.

  I pushed Chan back and drew the cyborg’s pistol. The gunfire let up. There were only a few reasonable places for the shooters to be hiding. There was risk doing what I was about to do, but staying in the crypto room seemed a lot more risky. They could get reinforcements. They could lob in tear gas.

  My left hand seemed to be fully functional again. I pulled my pistol out, felt its weight, then flipped the safety off.

  I hissed to Chan, “Listen to me. When I go, you wait for the gunfire to stop. If I’m dead, you stay hidden in there. If I’m still up, don’t even wait for me. Run. Got it?”

  Chan’s lips twisted. “Together.
We go together.”

  “Not this time. Don’t worry. I don’t intend to die.”

  That didn’t seem to help. Chan seemed ready to cry. The run back out to the generator room probably seemed impossible without my assistance.

  Once again, I pulled the door open. Gunfire immediately followed. Bullets rattled around in the hallway. I crouched, kept my head behind my raised arm, then rolled into the hallway, guns raised.

  There were three—two at the first hallway that ran off to the north, another in a doorway. I barely had time to register what they looked like—an older, bald, black man; a younger white one with curly red hair; and a chunky, middle-aged woman. Rent-a-cop security types, with uniforms stretched over armored vests. Average people trying to make a living, not cold-blooded bodyguards or hardened soldiers.

  Bullets came at me, cracking off a knee, a bicep, a thigh that covered my crotch.

  I returned fire, making it count: a leg shot for the black man who had stepped out into the hallway, head shots for the other two who still had good cover.

  The gunfire went silent, leaving only the black man’s groans to compete with the klaxons.

  Chan pulled at my jacket. “Get up! Bleeding! You’re bleeding!”

  My neck stung. It wasn’t too bad. I got to my feet, spotted the blood I’d left behind. Worse than it felt. Not the carotid, or it would be a bigger pool.

  No one was waiting for us at the exit, but I could hear gunfire through the door, even over the klaxons. I pulled the sleeve back on my jacket to check the display sliver glued to my arm. Blood trickled onto the sleek surface; I wiped it clean. The drone video feed was back.

  The image was…ugly.

  Huiyin crouched at the corner of the generator building. Ichi was on the roof, crouching between air-conditioning units, not far from the opening for the helicopter landing pad.

  And the facility security team was everywhere. Their muzzle flashes were white on the monochrome image. There were three on the roof, two closing on Ichi’s position, a third sprawled on his back not far from the rungs Ichi had probably used to get up to the roof. There were at least another ten security personnel around the building, including two on the loading dock, just outside the door.