by TW Iain
Ector snorted. “Bloody hell! The great Rodin, scared of stories. These warriors might be big, but we can take them down, right?” He whipped a gun from his hip, raised it into the air. “Like to see the bastard can keep coming at me with half their head missing.”
The only reason Rodin saw Vanya move was because he expected it, and even then he only pieced together what happened in hindsight.
She flew at Ector, pulled the gun from his hand as she threw him against the wall. Before he even made a sound she had her hand round his throat, pushing up until his legs dangling in the air.
But Ector was a fighter. As he jerked about, as he gurgled and his eyes bulged, his hands shot down to his hip.
Not fast enough, though. Every time he touched the hilt of a blade, Vanya snatched it from his hand, tossed it aside. And when there were no more blades left she whipped her hand back, letting him drop, wheezing, to the ground.
His four blades lay in the beam at the back of his chair, equally spaced, perfectly aligned.
Vanya bent down, offered a hand. Ector glared at her, rubbing his neck, and she shrugged, took a step back.
Ector returned to his seat. He pulled the blades free, making a great show of examining each one before sheathing it. Rodin waited, as did everyone else, all watching in silence.
“Vanya,” Rodin said. “How are you feeling?”
“Like some people should really listen instead of shooting their mouths off.”
A few of the mercenaries flinched away from her as she returned to her spot by the door.
Rodin coughed, pulling the attention of the mercenaries away from the distraction. “As I said, these warriors are strong and fast. They also have a very high pain threshold. Thankfully, we have a handful on our side, one with us right now. Getting back to our situation, we need to stop Authority taking this district. So, any suggestions?”
The room fell to uneasy silence, and then someone laughed.
“You expect us to come up with a solution? Thought we were here to help, not run this show.”
There were murmurs, shuffling of chairs. Jornas shot Rodin a panicked look.
And that forced him to take in a breath. This was the home of the Paternas Brothers. This was their district. So why wasn’t Jornas stepping in? All he’d done so far, besides complaining, was lay on some drinks and open his home, like he was abdicating responsibility.
Which shouldn’t have surprised him. The Brothers might have built up some semblance of a position, but it wasn’t really through any work on their part, was it? Even their standing in this district was via a deal with Authority.
“I’m not asking for anything,” Rodin said, keeping his voice level, casting his gaze over everyone rather than singling out the speaker. “Tricky situation, and I won’t pretend to have any answers. But there’s a hell of a lot of experience in this room. We work together, we might have a chance to stop these bastards.”
That at least dispelled the agnosticism from the room, but the mood was still dark.
“Seems to me,” said Philock, still wearing the mask across his face, “that meeting here is creating a clear target.”
There were murmurs of agreement, and Rodin nodded too. “True. But you all know we can’t use screens for communication. We have to cope.”
“Sure.” Philock sneered. “But our first task should be self-preservation.”
“That’s why Kirran and the rest of those buggers high-tailed it out of here,” said a voice from Rodin’s left, and laughter trickled around the room.
“Nothing stopping you doing the same,” Rodin said. “But we do need to protect ourselves. This meeting’s a one-off. After this, we pass messages through other means.”
“And I have access to other properties,” Jornas said—finally taking part in proceedings. “Close, so we can run messages around. As Rodin said, we have to cope. And we have to plan, between us. Right, Rodin?”
“Right.” Rodin nodded, pushed his frustrations down—why was this all on him? Why couldn’t others pull their weight? “Jornas—you know the area, so you’re point man for local security. Paskia’s good at organising, so she’ll be our lead on arranging patrols, whatever else we need. But we need everyone to do whatever they can. Any ideas, don’t hold back. Anything you can offer, please do. We need to stop the warriors before they spread even further.”
Rodin let out a long sigh and sat, his eyes glazing over, the rising sound of conversation in the room nothing but a wash of white noise.
He’d be the first to admit his words weren’t the best, but they were all he could give. It was up to the others now.
- 49 -
They sat in the meeting room close to her office, the one with the large round table. Genna took the seat at the rear of the room, Aleph sat to her left, Leopold to her right. Miolar was next to Leopold, and Rannall, once more in his walking clothes, sat in the remaining seat, between Miolar and Aleph.
“Aleph,” Genna said. “Give us an explanation.”
“Simple one, right? Not too many technical words.” There was the hint of a smile on her lips.
“More important that it’s fast. We need to get moving.”
“Sure.” She tapped her screen, figures and graphs appearing on the wall screen behind her, meaningless to anyone but Aleph herself.
“Definitely someone listening in to communication,” she said. “Mutated worm. Didn’t notice it because it mimics the code around it.” She pulled a face. “Kind of. Anyway, it’s intermittent, sometimes allows access, sometimes blocks. All to do with this mimicking thing.” She shook her head, turned to Genna. “You know how ridiculous this sounds?”
“Think we’re all following, so you’ve got the right level.”
“Right. Anyway, when this new worm’s not working, it’s hidden, can’t be detected. Must be some way of seeing it, but I haven’t figured it yet.”
“And I’m sure you’re going to keep trying.”
“Can’t let them get the better of me. So, invisible when hidden, to both host system and worm operator. But when it emerges—haven’t quite figured why this happens—it can be seen. Still in the shadows—simple version—but once I knew what to look for I was…able to use a light.” She sighed, muttered something about a bloody stupid analogy. “Worked on some code. Tested, all in place here. Constantly scans for signs of this worm, and when it spots anything—the nano-second the worm emerges—it cuts communication.”
“So when there’s a risk of being monitored, it shuts down the communication protocols,” Miolar said, nodding slowly. “I don’t wish to doubt your skills, but how reliable is it?”
Genna tensed, but Aleph didn’t bristle. She shot a quick glare in Miolar’s direction, but then shook her head.
“You want guarantees at a time like this? Only one of them you’ll get from me is that things change. You know how little sleep I’ve had, working on this bloody thing?”
“We know you’re doing all you can, Aleph,” Genna said, reminding herself to do something nice for Aleph when she had time. Maybe play one of those games she used to go on about. “And I’m sure this code is the best it can be. Miolar, I’d say we trust it until we have a clear reason not to. That good enough?”
The old man shrugged. “I’d prefer a more solid assurance, but I’m willing to accept that it’s the best we can hope for at the moment. Another question, though—how fast does it sever any connection? I’m foreseeing a situation where someone is in mid-message when your code detects the worm.”
“As near instant as it can be. Might lose a few messages, but I reckoned that was better than risking detection.” She tilted her head. “That satisfactory? Of course, if any of your people think they can do better…”
Miolar held up a hand, an attempt to mollify Aleph that would only wind her up. “Believe me,” he said as she glared at him, “I’ve had some of my best techs investigating the matter. Their reports so far hav
e indicated the possibility of a worm. Compared to your work, it’s like they’re scrambling around in the dark trying to sew on a button using a hammer.” He turned to Leopold. “And I realise that was an absolutely atrocious analogy. I do apologise.”
“But the alliteration was acceptable.”
A smile passed between Miolar and Leopold, and Genna frowned, wondered what was going on between them. But that was a problem for later. One more for the never-ending list.
Apart from Aleph, she didn’t think she knew anyone in this room anymore.
“And so this code of yours can be inserted into any system?” Miolar asked.
Aleph twisted her mouth. “Bit more involved. Has to be inserted manually on each device. But the code’s easy to replicate. Physical, though.”
“Physical?” asked Leopold.
Genna jumped in before Aleph bit someone’s head off. “Can’t risk sending it over any unprotected systems. Authority latches onto it, they’ll code a work-around. If we bypass systems for installation, we buy ourselves more time. Means Aleph and others can work on a more permanent solution—after a rest, of course.”
Aleph snorted, but her smile was almost friendly.
“And I take it that’s where I come in,” Rannall said. “Correct?”
Genna nodded. “Aleph has the routine on a chip. I’d suggest heading to the east via Dephloren’s district. Of course, Miolar can take a chip or two.”
“Only one,” Aleph said, shaking her head.
“You don’t trust me with more?”
“You can guarantee you won’t be attacked or robbed?”
Miolar tipped his head to her. “Point taken. One it is, then. But the code can be replicated? What’s to stop a copy getting into the wrong hands?”
“There’s a risk,” Genna said. “But any replication adds a timer. Copies only last…how long was it?”
“Three hours.” Aleph shrugged. “Reckon that might be too long. Can change it easily enough.”
Genna shook her head. “We’ll take the chance.”
“So only the versions on these chips last,” Miolar said. “Adequate security, at such short notice. But what if our wandering friend here is waylaid?”
Rannall grinned. “Don’t worry about me. I’ll stick it somewhere nobody’s going to go looking for it.”
Aleph muttered a curse under her breath, and Miolar groaned.
“Oh, not up there! What do you take me for? Have you tried walking any distance after something like that?”
Nobody answered. Leopold looked confused, and then must have caught up with the implications, because his face grew pale and he swallowed.
“Some folks like that kind of thing,” Aleph said.
“Let ‘em have all the fun they can. But I’ve got another way to sneak stuff around. Don’t worry about me.”
“Fine,” Genna said. “Any more questions? No? Aleph—you’ve got the chips?”
They appeared on the table, or maybe they’d been there all along, hidden by Aleph’s screen. The tech pushed one across to Miolar, the other to Rannall. He lifted it, held it carefully between his fingers, and turned it in the air, a hand-width from his eye.
“So small, yet so powerful.”
“Just like your tech expert here,” Miolar said. His chip had already disappeared into a pocket.
Aleph rolled her eyes.
“I was going to comment on the chip’s unassuming appearance, but that might break the allusion.”
Again, Aleph rolled her eyes. But there was a smile.
And, for a moment, Genna believed it might all work out.
- 50 -
It took ten minutes for Shae to compose a suitable message, and even then she wasn’t happy with it. But it was the best she could manage, so she sent it anyway.
I have a situation and require assistance, for which you will be suitably recompensed.
It failed to match the tone she envisaged, but she had to trust they’d understand.
She stood, walked to her food prep and poured a drink. It sat beneath the machine, steam rising, and Shae realised she wasn’t thirsty. Nor was she hungry, even though she couldn’t recall when she’d last eaten.
Her screen buzzed. Shae almost tripped as she raced back to her table.
What kind of situation? the message ran.
Shae bit her lip. She called up a separate text-field and tried variations of her response. How could she put into words the deed she wished performed, when even thinking such a thing turned her stomach? And how could she express her gratitude without coming across as weak. After all, these people were from the districts. They only respected strength.
How would Cat put things? No, not Cat—Terrell. Rodin. Yes. Shae needed to think like that…that assassin.
The words came, and she sent them. They weren’t perfect, but, once again, they were the best she could conjure up.
To clarify, came the reply, almost instantly, you want a couple of assassins, but you also want them to find the targets themselves.
Why couldn’t she have composed something so succinct?
That’s correct, she typed. And I apologise for not having precise details on the targets. She had some ideas, contacts of Parren’s who had been cold when she’d reached out to them, but she didn’t want those she hired to go after the wrong people.
It’ll be expensive.
I can pay.
We haven’t settled on a price yet. How do you know?
Because she needed to do this. She’d find the funds from somewhere. There were always more reports to write, and more interviews to take. And there were still favours owed.
That’s not an issue. Can you supply what I need?
There was no response for a long time, and Shae rose, paced her room, and then poured a glass of water. Half of it disappeared down her throat before she realised how cold it was, and she coughed, almost dropping the glass. She staggered, gripping the glass with too-moist fingers while her other hand slammed onto the back of her sofa, providing some kind of support.
She needed sleep, or maybe food. The way her stomach churned, she wondered if she was coming down with something.
Her screen beeped with the incoming message. She carefully placed the glass on her low table and sat down before reading.
Can. Doesn’t mean I will. Not too happy about last time.
Shae had expected this, and she bit her lip, pondered her response.
I underestimated the target last time, and for that I apologise. But, if you recall, I still paid for the service you provided. She didn’t add her next thought, that the removal of the two assassins would have meant all the pay going to the contact. He’d done well from that transaction.
It’s not only payment. Your location requires certain skills. Some work is more trouble than its worth.
A string of curse-words rose in Shae’s mind. They would no doubt have been mild to this contact, but they were words Shae could only utter aloud in very restricted circumstances.
The targets will not be of the same calibre as last time, she eventually typed. This proposition won’t lead to such unforeseen difficulties.
No reply appeared as Shae stared at the blinking cursor, and a part of her could understand her contact’s reluctance—she’d given similar assurances before. She’d underestimated Rodin. But this time, the targets were from the Dome, not the districts.
Her head spun, and she put a hand to her brow. It came away moist.
The communication window sprung to life with a reply.
I can provide operatives to remove your problem (or problems), but they won’t do the legwork. You must provide them with any information they require.
She pulled up another window and raced through records, extracting anything relevant. The act of scanning through her own system, with all its personal annotations, threw up more possibilities, more avenues those she was hiring could follow.
That sounds amenable, she typed.
Give me twenty-four hours, came the response. I’ll offer a price then, too. But it’ll be high. I don’t want to lose people, so you’re getting some of the best, and that doesn’t come cheap.
Of course it didn’t. This go-between, or whatever his official role was, would no doubt attempt to push the price up as high as he could. And Shae sighed with resignation—she’d pay, whatever he asked.
Okay, she typed, the single word screaming like a belligerent insult, and when the window closed—when it suddenly disappeared from her screen—her first thought was that her contact had severed the deal, that he was too upset with her amateur attitude.
But she knew that wasn’t the case. He’d made an offer, and she’d accepted. There was no paperwork, no official trail, and this was how things worked in the districts.
Her work wasn’t over, though. She turned her attention to her records, and started to list more names.
Some would die, of course. She swallowed hard, and the data on her screen blurred for a moment. But she shook her head, ignoring the throbbing behind her eyes. Yes, some would die. But if she didn’t do this thing, if Authority’s plans proceeded unimpeded, then the numbers who suffered and died would surely be unimaginable.
- 51 -
Vanya ran, covering the whole circuit, the outer ring of their surveillance. Just a check, Paskia had said—a way of ensuring the plan was on track.
The woman had worked hard, and Vanya was impressed with how she’d got so many of the mercenaries on-board. There had been arguments, but Paskia remained calm, never raised her voice. And she never made promises, Vanya noticed. When some of those thugs pushed to have things their own way, she simply said she’d see what she could do, offered them a sweet smile, and continued working on the plan.
Two rings of surveillance, outer and inner, with watchers at regular intervals. The net wasn’t as tight as Vanya would have liked—and, from their private conversation, she knew Paskia had the same concerns—but it was the best they could do. They should be able to spot anyone approaching the base.
