Yuna’s face turns pale while her hands run cold. She knows she has made a horrible mistake by ignoring Kaew's warnings earlier.
Back in the Hive, Ada is already running a comprehensive check on Kaew's background as they argued. All data linked to her facial recognition is retrieved. With her find now solid and complete, Ada hits the cursed red button on screen again.
"Re-request permission for lurker activation," Ada says into her microphone, a panicky feeling playing in her chest.
"Do you have complete, solid data to support your request?" Goda's voice replies into her earphone.
"Yes, I have identified and located the informant but she knows it. She might be on the move right now," Ada replies firmly.
"You do know that this is your last chance?" Goda reminds her.
"Yes. Please let me see the Architins," Ada pushes.
"Alright. Come up now," Goda instructs.
Ada takes off her earphone and puts her leech around her wrist before rushing to the pods.
TEN MINUTES LATER
Ada stands in the same room, quietly and nervously waiting for the Architins and Goda to arrive. The last time they met, the Architins have definitely managed to remind her where she stands in the Hive - as a lowly subordinate.
The door behind the four leather chairs slides open and the Architins enter, unimpressed by Ada's second time request. Goda enters after them. Ada bows to the Architins and they take their seats.
The woman Architin, nods at Goda and he takes his seat.
"Do bear in mind that this is your final chance," the woman Architin starts off with a warning to Ada.
"Yes, I am aware of that," Ada replies.
"You can begin now," the African Architin instructs.
Ada instructs her leech to commence the virtual screening and immediately the room is once again converted into a dark theater for her.
"This is the informant," Ada announces as she pulls a life size picture of Kaew onto the virtual screen and turns to face the Architins.
"A picture is not a solid proof to your claim," the Caucasian man sneers, unimpressed.
Ada inhales a deep breath to calm her nerves, as she secretly wishes that she didn't have to face these bigots.
"Her name is Kaew Saowaluk -" Ada starts to tell.
"Saowaluk?" the African Architin interrupts abruptly.
"Uh... yes. Saowaluk," Ada replies.
"She has a brother?" Goda asks.
"Yes, Chaisai Saowaluk. How did you know?" Ada asks.
The Architins’ faces immediately drain of color and they hunch towards one another from their chairs. From the dim illumination of the virtual screen, Ada can see them engaging in a serious discussion of whispers, their faces becoming deeply concerned.
After a few seconds of whispering, they sit upright in their chairs again. The Architins have come to a conclusion.
"You have done well. From now on, this case will be directly under us. Return to your daily responsibilities and ensure that the lifegrid is executed smoothly in line with its time line. You can leave now," the woman Architin finally announces.
"But what about -" Ada starts to question, feeling confused with everything that's happening.
"You have done well. You can leave now," Goda stands up and says firmly, his face fearless as always.
"Yes," Ada bows and leaves through the door behind her. As she leaves, her heart is filled with dissatisfaction. When there is a threat, she is the first one to be blamed and when she starts to find solutions, the Architins take all the credit.
Instead of going back to her work station, Ada takes the pod back to her crib, where she can have some time alone. The moment the door closes behind her, Ada kicks her boots off recklessly. She unzips her dress, sweeps the sleeves off her shoulders and the dress falls onto the carpeted floor. She continues to remove her undergarments and let them fall onto the floor in a pile. Ada then steps onto the cold marble tiles of the bathroom with a tiny shiver and she skips her way to the shower.
Sliding her fingers on a ruler shaped sensor embedded into the tiles of the shower, Ada adjusts the water temperature to her liking - which is slightly warm. Ada stands under the shower, letting the warm water rain over her face to wash off her stress and run down her leech and well-toned body.
Just as she is enjoying her warm shower, the center of her right palm gives out a gentle buzz. Someone has sent a vocal message to her microchip. Hoping that it isn't Goda or the Architins, she raises her palm to her ear. The microchip lets out a series of vibrations to the bones in her ear and is converted into an audio message.
"Let's grab breakfast together. Gunner's at eight," Zero's voice said.
Under the raining shower, Ada slides her palm down to the side of her throat and thinks of her reply, “Okay.”
The microchip in her palm detects the vibrations of her vocal chords even when it is just a thought and sends the pattern of the vibration to Zero's microchip. With this technology, discussion and transferring of spoken confidential information is at the lowest risk of getting exposed, as no talking is actually done.
After a long shower and all her fingers having turned wrinkly, she finally shuts the water. Ada pulls the soft and thick bathrobe from its hanger and slips into it. She ties a knot with the waist band and pulls one of the world's softest towels from the rack and wraps it around her hair like a turban. Ada walks out into her room. Without caring to change into any clothes, she lets herself fall onto the center of her king size bed.
"Galaxy," she instructs and the room dims down to nothing before the darkness turns into a space in the universe, with distant stars surrounding her as she rotates very slowly within her own solar system. The sleep simulator is a privilege only available to those higher up the hierarchy, with thousands of simulations to choose from inside its database. The galaxy is among Ada's favorite. The silent calmness of the galaxy makes her feel relaxed and detached from the harsh and cruel world and soon she dozes off into a deep sleep.
Chapter 15
Malaysia: Sunday, 16th November 2:12 a.m.
"Last bet! Last bet!" the gaming dealer, a teenage Chinese punk with green hair and a colorful T-shirt shouts in Cantonese to the gamblers who are literally a bunch of scumbags and drunkards. A pot-bellied bouncer tries to keep the noisy crowd around the dice table in order.
Through the entrance enters a tall and large Chinese man with very short hair. He is wearing a long gray coat still dripping wet from the rain outside and he pushes his way through the crowd. He throws his bet onto the number four on the table just as the punk dealer hits the bell and pulls the black bell shaped dome open revealing the three dices inside another plastic dome. Two - one - one. The man has a winning bet, if only he had placed the bets before the bell was rung.
"Take your money back. No bets after the bell," the punk instructs the large man.
"I placed it when you rang that fucking bell. Plus, it's a winning bet. Give me my money," the clean shaven man demands calmly in Cantonese, closing in to the gaming table as the punk dealer sweeps the rest of the money off the table.
"Trouble maker!" the dealer shouts and from the other nineteen tables in the room, the nineteen bouncers come to gather with the pot bellied one around this dice table.
The rest of the gamblers quickly move away and gather around to watch the much anticipated fight.
"Last chance. Take your money back or I'm going to sweep it down the table," the punk dealer warns, hitting his fists onto the gaming table.
"Give me my winnings," the large man gnarls, putting his hands onto the gaming table, glaring down at the punk. The five inch long scar that marked the man's face from just above his left eyebrow to the center of his right cheek like a long centipede, together with his blunt nose makes him look all the more threatening.
"Teach him a lesson," the punk shouts to the bouncers as he sweeps the man's money off the table into a metal box.
The bouncers close in towards the man and the man simply
lets out a snort. He swiftly removes a handgun from the inside of his coat and aims it at the bouncers who immediately back off. The man aims his gun back at the dealer and signals with his one free hand for him to hand over his winnings.
"I'm not afraid of a fake gun," the dealer smirks.
Without saying a word, the man swiftly turns around and fires a shot at the leg of a bouncer who is trying to sneak up onto him. Everybody scream in terror as the bouncer rolls onto the floor, shouting in agonizing pain, clutching to his leg. The rest of the bouncers immediately disperse away as the gamblers scream and rush out the front exit.
"Last chance," the man growls aiming his gun back at the dealer who is now shaking with fright.
"Don't shoot!" the dealer begs as he throws the metal box onto the table and dropping himself onto the floor for cover.
The man flips the box open, grabs a stack of money and walks calmly out the front exit without the slightest show of fear in his face.
The rain has stopped just in time. He mounts his modified yellow and black super-bike and starts to drive off from the warehouse when the middle of his right palm starts to give out a gentle buzz. He stops his bike by the roadside and pulls his black full face helmet off.
Raising his palm to his ear, he listens to his instructions carefully, "Go to Zambali."
"Right oh right, it's been a long time," he mumbles to himself, a sinister smile forming over his lips as he puts his full face helmet back on and speeds off.
Approximately twenty four minutes later, he reaches his destination with a macho, screeching halt before an Indian owned old barber shop from the fifties, sitting in the middle of a long stretch of old single storey shops. Above the shop is an old signage with the word Zambali in fainted blue paint. The symbolic barber's pole rotating with its twirling red, blue and white stripes beside the signage adds a nostalgic touch to the shop. Inside the shop, an old Malay man is getting his hair trimmed by a young Indian chap.
The Chinese man pushes the old glass door open and enters into the enclosure of the blue walls with a row of five reclining saloon chairs facing five long mirrors.
"Where's Zambali?" he asks the young Indian chap.
"Office," the Indian boy answers as he twists the old man's head to the right, forcing a click out of his neck. The old man raises his thumb to praise the Indian boy.
The Chinese man walks straight to the wooden door at the end of the short barber shop front. Not forgetting his manners, he stops before the door and knocks at it.
"Come in," Zambali's voice echoes from the other side.
The Chinese man opens the door and sees Zambali sitting behind an old black table with a row of metal filing cabinets behind him, next to another old wooden door. Wearing a short sleeves, orange Hawaiian shirt, Zambali is fat, bald, has a thick mustache above his lips and is roughly in his late fifties, about ten years older than the Chinese man.
"Ah, Chin, my old friend," Zambali greets for him to sit opposite him onto the black, ripped, leather swivel chair.
"How long has it been?" Zambali continues to ask, with utmost hospitality.
"Two years," Chin replies.
"Ah yes, the Thai boy," Zambali starts to recall.
"You haven't changed at all," Zambali continues to comment.
"Same for your business," Chin retaliates, smiling.
"Chin, Chin, still so sarcastic. You and I both know very well why I need to maintain this crappy place. Even I don't get my hair cut here. Look at that boy. Pretty good massage but terrible with the scissors. I pity that old man out there," Zambali answers with a hearty laugh.
"Yet I always wonder why does a shop like yours need so many filing cabinets," Chin continues to add.
"Where do you suppose I keep my guns?" Zambali answers and they both laugh.
"Back to business, I heard you've got it?" Chin asks Zambali, this time his face straight and serious.
"Sure do," Zambali answers as he turns to open one of the drawers of the filing cabinets behind him. He retrieves a yellow padded envelope and puts it onto the table, before pushing it over to Chin.
"Chin, ever considered switching to be a messenger? My contract is over in another year," Zambali asks.
Chin only replies with a snort as he opens the envelope to remove a silver phone. The phone does not belong to any particular brand. Its specifications are far more advanced than any phones in the market and only a lurker can own one during a mission. This phone or what they call a Com allows the owner to make untraceable calls and directly contact and obtain information from the Hive, like a mini supercomputer. A normal person will not be able to operate or even turn this phone on as it is set only to operate when a matching microchip is within the vicinity of one meter in radius, in this case, the microchip in Chin's palm.
"One day you will get too old for the action, then what?" Zambali asks watching the com come to life in Chin's hand.
Chin enters his personal code to activate his com and immediately the com displays a message.
Obtain file download code @ PL.
"Then I'll become a messenger," Chin replies to Zambali, getting up from the chair, preparing to leave.
"My place would have been taken by some ass smarter than yours," Zambali shrugs.
Chin smiles and leaves the old barber shop. He speeds off on his bumble bee super-bike to his next destination across town into the city center. He needs to obtain a special file download code from the code keeper before he can download his mission files from the Hive's server. The segregation of power between the messenger, code keeper and lurker above ground allows the Hive to have more control of its above ground operations.
Chin speeds through the wee hour traffic of a Sunday morning in the city center, pass the glamorous and glorious skyscrapers into a crappy street of cheap bars, massage parlors and motels. He parks his bike right in front of a twenty four hours convenient store called PL Mart.
Chin enters the convenient store and walks straight to the shampoo aisle where he looks for a never heard before brand named Sunnet. Seeing it on the highest shelf, he reaches for one and turns to the check its barcode - a piece of new white sticker slapped onto the old, white turned yellowish bottle. God knows how many stickers have been swapped on the bottle for all the missions that he has done. Chin reaches for his com and scans the barcode with it.
The screen immediately switches to display a system message.
File download code accepted.
After accepting the code, the screen turns to indicate the rapid file transfer progress.
File download complete in 3...2...1... File download complete.
Chin slips his com back into his pocket and puts the shampoo back onto the top shelf. He leaves the convenient store and mounts his super-bike again, speeding back to his lair, the top floor of a three stories high shop lot in a quaint little town just outside the city center.
Chin enters his home and beyond that black grill and faded wooden door is a workroom equipped with world class security and surveillance systems and equipment. Hidden behind the windowless sliding metal wall opposing the door is Chin's artillery shelf, loaded with all sorts of weapons and explosives. There are hardly any furniture in there to call it a home, only a simple pantry, an old single sized metal frame bed layered with an out of shape mattress and a flattened pillow, two white plastic chairs and a three feet by six feet stainless steel workbench. The gadgets and artillery that Chin uses are all provided by the Hive.
Locking the door behind him Chin throws his gray jacket onto the back of a plastic chair and walks over to the state of the art computer on his work bench. He plugs a special connector from his computer into the com and the devices sync immediately. No matter how high tech the com can be, he still prefers the large computer screen to the small screen of the com when it comes to mission analysis.
Reporting directly to the Architins unless assigned to a specific ghost, Chin is an ex-special task force officer and the only lurker based in Malaysia as it h
as been a rule since the establishment of the Hives that only one lurker is allowed in each country. Intensively trained with all the skills to kill Chin is the elite of the elite among his kind - a ruthless, cold blooded murderer. It has been two years since Chin had an assignment. His last mission was Chaisai Saowaluk - a default ghost from the Hive in India, escaped to the shores of Malaysia seeking for his sister Kaew Saowaluk.
Chaisai was Chin's least glorious completion of a mission as he died jumping off the Penang bridge with a bullet in his stomach. The Hive of course, received a different story, that Chaisai has been exterminated with his body disposed appropriately, leaving no trace that could ever lead back to the Hive.
Staring at Kaew and Yuna's profile, the right corner of Chin's mouth turns up into a sick smile as he laughs to himself, "Perfect, another Saowaluk".
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