by Colin Harvey
"What's the matter?"
"Lightning strike. It's obviously hit a mast somewhere and taken out the network, 'cause my piece is offline."
"Mine too," Shah said. "Like an EM pulse."
"A what?"
"Electromagnetic pulse, like – oh, never mind! Get back in the car."
"Don't be stupid!" Bailey yelled. "You can barely stand!" She staggered around the car. "Lean on me!"
When Shah did, she almost buckled beneath his weight. "You sure?" He yelled. His back was soaked through to the skin, as if someone had turned a high pressure hose on him.
What am I doing here, he thought. There are people you could leave this to, Shah. The answer of course, was simple. He loved Aurora, even if he could never be with her again. Shah had lost his little faith with his memories and hadn't regained it when he got them back. But now, however hypocritical it was, he would use any advantage to keep her alive, however improbable. In the name of Allah the Merciful and the Compassionate, he prayed, in Your wisdom keep her safe.
Bailey straightened. "Better you lean on me than really wreck your leg." She added, "Reckon he'll take the boat out, even in this?"
"Maybe," Shah said, straightening to relieve her of a little of his weight.
"Is he crazy?"
"Or desperate."
"How's he going to convince them to open the locks?"
"Dunno," Shah said. "Maybe he's got a man in the Harbormaster's office. Or he's got a way to activate the locks remotely. Nothing surprises me about this bastard."
As they neared the three meter-high chain-link fence around the marina, Shah's eyes gradually grew accustomed to the gloom. A few lamps still cast a patchwork of lights among the darkness, and Shah heard the chugging of a diesel. He guessed that that was how they had stayed on when newer, more vulnerable systems had been knocked offline.
A uniform loomed out of the shadows. "Sorry, sir, ma'am," he said. "No entry to–"
"We're the team pursuing them," Shah interrupted. He had a hunch; if both his and Bailey's pieces were offline, so might be the rest of the network. He squeezed Bailey's shoulder to tell her to keep quiet and waved his badge. "My eyepiece was smashed back at the Caspian Street Hotel."
The uniformed tapped his piece. "Hello? HQ? Nikolides calling."
"Are you picking up the transponder in my piece?" Bailey said.
"Yes, Ma'am," Nikolides said.
"Then you'll have the archived data saying where we called in from," Shah said. "I'm Shah," he added, in case his guess was correct. The instructions would have had his name attached as the wounded officer.
Nikolides nodded, and Shah breathed again. "We can probably rustle you up a change of clothes, if you want. We got enough spare pairs in the wagon," Nikolides said, signaling his colleague to let them through the gate.
"Thanks," Bailey said.
The marina was quiet, with the few lights coming from the boats bobbing on the water. Two ten meter-long trucks were parked just inside the empty perimeter. Shah and Bailey ducked into the nearest one, which had seats all down one side, and was filled with equipment but empty of people. Probably still on their way here, Shah thought. Among the dozens of pairs of clothes, they found some that fitted, along with heavy-duty waterproof jackets. Shah took his into a cubicle to change alone.
His leg could take his weight without giving way now he was out of the wind, though he dared not think what he was doing to the injury. Some blood had started to ooze and stain the dressing, which was soaked – whether from blood or rain was hard to tell.
Bailey had coffee waiting for him. "It'll probably be too sweet for you." She handed him a player. "Here," she said. "I archived the rips, plural – he got to Rex as well. I'm sorry."
Shah didn't answer, but sipped the coffee and gagged. "How many calories in this?"
"About eight spoonfuls," she said with a grin. "You need the energy. I bet you normally take it unsweetened." At his nod, she urged, "Drink."
Shah shrugged and did as he was told. He watched the first rip:
It's been a quiet evening, like every evening is lately. Johns are an endangered species this far from Manhattan. Maybe you'll have to admit defeat–
When it was done, Shah stared into space. "Are the others on record?"
"Some are," Bailey said. "We'll get them."
Shah didn't answer, instead watched the second:
Beside you, Angelica lies on her back, mouth open, snoring gently.
As was the case with Perveza, he only abstractly felt Rex's terror. Perhaps if I had been able to reach them, I might have felt more. He wondered when Old Shah had lost his son so completely that Rex hadn't wanted anything to do with new Shah.
Shah swallowed, undocked the player. "What happened to them?"
Bailey licked her lips.
"Don't piss around!"
"Kotian had them ripped," Bailey said. "They're not quite as bad as Marietetski was. Not quite. They can still walk and have basic functions. But the people you knew are gone, Pete. I'm sorry."
Shah bowed his head for a moment in silent respect and emitted a juddering sigh. Five lives wasted. How many more, Kotian? Then he lifted his head. "Which one's The Lion of Bangalore?" He took a pair of binocs from a shelf that ran almost the length of the cluttered truck and surveyed the ranks of boats.
"Third from the end. See it?" Bailey too had grabbed a pair of binocs. She stared at him, unasked questions in her eyes.
"The thing that's the size of an ocean liner?"
Bailey said, "Never seen an ocean liner, but I suspect you're exaggerating."
Nikolides came into the truck. "Coffee?" he said hopefully.
Bailey poured some for him.
"What we waiting for?" Shah said, tapping his foot.
Nikolides gazed at him. "It's a little wet out there," he said in a too-patient voice. "We're waiting for the Command Team. Before comms went down, things got pretty busy out there. They might be delayed."
Shah and Bailey exchanged glances. "Back at the hotel, Kotian talked about tying up loose ends," Shah said. "Sounds like this might be a few of them."
"Might just be coincidence," Bailey said.
"No," Shah said. "This is all prearranged. He knew we'd be watching ports. He had the boat registered under a shell company. He's known what he was doing all along."
"Where are you going?" Bailey said.
Shah turned to the uniformed officer. "Nikolides, isn't it?"
"Yessir. We met before, but I guess you've forgotten."
"I've forgotten a lot of things, my friend."
"Yeah, I heard that, sir."
"What time's high tide?"
Nikolides checked. "Three am, sir."
"Call me Pete." Shah looked at the wall clock. "Just under two hours. He's going to make a move soon, I reckon, sail on high tide."
"How's he going to get out? Those locks are controlled from the Port Authority's office."
"You spoken to them lately?"
Nikolides shook his head.
"Are the observation teams in place?"
Nikolides looked offended, as if Shah had questioned his professionalism. "The area's sealed off, but comms are down, so we have to use runners. It stretches us still thinner."
Shah nodded. "So you've no real idea what's happening on the boat right now?"
Nikolides said, "My orders were to secure the area and observe the boat. We'll only know if something changes. But as far as I can tell, no one's been on or off in the ninety minutes I been here."
"But there are people on board?"
"Oh, yeah," Nikolides said. "Thermal imaging's a struggle, 'cause they got countermeasures on board, but we counted at least four different heat-signatures."
"Then let's update the situation." Shah pulled up his collar as far as it would go.
"Where you going?" Bailey said.
"To take a look." Shah patted the pocket to which he'd transferred the gun. "Come with me." Nikolides followed them outside. "I need y
ou to vouch for me to any trigger-happy guys you got on duty," Shah told him, "while Bailey keeps trying to raise HQ."
Bailey looked mutinous, then shrugged. "I'll walk with you part of the way."
"Sure."
They battled through the howling wind toward the moored boat, past the club house from which the police watched the boats. A couple of watchers hugged the shadows, but their challenge melted away at Nikolides' authority. They had reached the water's edge when Nikolides paused. "Here's the observation team," Nikolides said. "Any change, guys?" he shouted into the wind.
"Nothing," one of the others called back.
Nikolides said to Shah and Bailey, "I'm going to see if they
have a landline up in the club house. Find out what's holding up reinforcements."
When Nikolides had gone, Shah told Bailey, "Wait here." Bailey looked ready to argue so Shah said, "Just do as I ask for once, dammit!"
Shah left her and walked past the boats to the very end, and the last boat. He hoped fervently that anyone watching from the boat would think that he was just a passing nightwatchman, though he doubted it.
Staggering with the effort, he climbed onto the end boat. Each boat was separated only by a padded bolster, to stop them knocking against one another. By taking things very, very slowly, Shah was able to step across, though he still nearly ended up in the water.
It took Shah nearly five minutes before he was able to climb over again, onto The Lion of Bangalore. As he was getting his breath back, an explosion at the other end of the marina split the night sky. At the same moment, the boat's engines rumbled into life.
LXXII
Shah felt a thud behind him and wheeled, gun in hand. "Sara?"
Bailey's teeth chattered, but she managed to stammer, "Think I'm going to miss all the fun?" She stiffened as a patch of light appeared, and they dropped to the deck.
The light came from an opened cabin door. Kotian's bellow pierced even the gale, "Shut that door, fool!"
"I thought you had ropes–"
"You thought, crap-head! I turned off the power to the vacuum pads to float free. No need to untie ropes!" The door slammed shut.
"Not a regular deck hand, I'm guessing, or he'd have known that." Shah added, as the boat inched away from the quay. "Notice anything?"
Bailey looked mystified for a moment, then: "We're pointed the opposite way from all the other boats?"
"Yep. He planned for the getaway. Pointing out, he don't need to turn it round, which is hard with a monster like this; it's got to be two hundred feet long at least."
Bailey said. "What's the plan?"
"First thing's find out who's aboard."
"They've tried. Nikolides said they fired tunneling spy-eyes and audio pickups onto the boat, but nothing's getting through. They must be jamming the signals."
Shah nodded. "There's still the old-fashioned way." As the boat emerged from the shelter provided by the other boats, spray from the sloshing water added to the constant driving rain. Shah crawled to a porthole – that way he didn't have to put all his weight on the wound – across a deck that pitched and rolled more by the second.
Shah peered around the edge. "Where's Kotian? He's not there."
"He's on the bridge!" Bailey yelled back. Seeing his eyes widen she added, "Don't worry. It's enclosed, so there's no chance he can hear us from there!"
The engines deepened from an idling purr to a growl, and the boat accelerated. In any other circumstances Shah would have admired The Lion of Bangalore – she was big and lean and muscular, entirely fitting her name.
Shah braced himself against the wall and peered through the porthole again. "One goon covering Aurora – Holy Shit!"
"What?"
"Oh, does he just have a mole!" Shah lurched back to where Bailey had nested in a large alcove. From the hooks and ropes Shah guessed it was a berth for a small inflatable, but at the moment it was empty. He fell into it, almost landing on Bailey.
"You OK?" Bailey said.
"Leg's starting to hurt." Shah told Bailey what he'd seen.
"Hampson?" She said. The desk officer?"
"Took me a moment to place him," Shah said. "Never seen him out of uniform before." Hampson was notoriously reclusive. Now Shah knew why. "Too busy mixing with ganglords to bother with us."
"I thought they'd checked everyone's bank accounts when the mole allegations first surfaced," Bailey said. "How come no big money ever showed in his?"
"Dunno." Shah felt exhausted, and as the boat picked up speed he held onto Bailey – or she held him, it was hard to tell which – and fell into an uneasy doze, made fitful by the pounding and crashing of the deck.
Kotian heard footsteps clomping up the ladder to the bridge. "Take the wheel," He told da Silva.
Hampson's face was white and pinched. "I'm still having problems raising the Port Authority. Without access to their system, I can't override the protocols to open the locks remotely, and we're sitting ducks."
"Then we go to Plan B." Kotian was careful to keep his emotions in check. Don't let the hired help know how twitchy you are. "And we'll blow the wall."
Hampson's stare showed the man had only just realized just how determined Kotian was. "But that'll sweep through the city! You'll kill millions–"
"Then it'll be millions less to suck the planet dry," Kotian said. "And your wife won't be among them. Danielle is safe on high ground."
Hampson nodded, relaxing slightly.
Kotian wanted to laugh aloud. Hampson had learned the hard way that having a wife with expensive tastes wasn't good. Bribery could so easily lead to blackmail.
Da Silva took the boat up from the harbor limit of ten knots, past twenty. The Lion was good for sixty knots, but not into a gale-force headwind. It took another ten minutes for them to reach the point at which – if they didn't get the signal from the Port Authority to enter the lock – Hampson would blow the wall. Kotian frowned. If they did get the signal, how would he know that it wasn't a trap?
The question became moot when Hampson clambered up again. "The gates are locked down," he said. "Safety protocols, the Authority says."
"Blow the wall then!" Kotian snarled. "Where's the detonator?"
Hampson showed him the box in his hand. He shook his head. "No–"
Kotian shot him.
"So much for no cop-killing." Da Silva hadn't moved from the wheel.
"Circumstances change," Kotian said. "And his wife's dead anyway, so maybe it was for the best." He pressed the detonator.
Nothing happened.
He cursed, pressed again.
Nothing.
"Shit!" He hurled the detonator against the wall.
"Boats coming from the Joisey side," Da Silva said. "I'm gedding hailed."
"Bollocks!" Kotian roared.
"We're turning!" Shah shouted.
The engines thundered, and no longer fighting a headwind, the boat sprang forward. Only lying in the alcove saved Shah and Bailey from being flipped overboard. If Shah had thought the ride wild before, this was a whole new level of insanity: the boat surged across the harbor, driven on by the storm behind. It bounced and skipped from wave to churning wave. With each impact the deck slammed into their backs, driving the air from their lungs. Shah guessed their speed must be almost sixty miles an hour.
The next landing almost catapulted Shah over the edge – only his grabbing the ship's rail and hanging on for dear life saved him. He edged back into the alcove. He yelled, "How long since we turned, d'you reckon?"
"Four minutes," Bailey yelled back. "Network coverage is back on!"
"Can you get a signal?"
"Nothing clear! Calls to emergency services are coming up with 'all lines are busy!' But I've got time and auto-location – he's headed back to Manhattan!"
Shah levered himself upright. "He's not only headed for it, he's headed at it! Jeez, he's going to ram the ground!"
"Brace!" Bailey screamed, grabbing one of the clamps on the wall.
&
nbsp; A hideous roaring screech like the death-cries of a dinosaur filled the air as The Lion grounded, almost deafening them and tearing the keel clean off the boat. The shaking was so violent Shah nearly let go. Their momentum kept them hurtling across the low-lying ground, mud and an occasional spark from metal on a rock fountaining into an arc behind.
