"You did what we discussed?"
Kim nodded. "I stashed the whole thing in Network 56's central computer. They'll never think to look for it there."
"Let her rip, then," Corvan replied. "They can rebuild, but this'll slow them down."
Kim touched the screen, which caused El Supremo to dump the VMG's program and data files. "Done."
Corvan nodded and triggered the two-way radio in his ear. "Sergeant Fong?"
"Sir?"
"Waste the equipment room."
"Yes, sir." Farther down the hall Fong threw an incendiary grenade into the main equipment room. The resulting fire would destroy the VMG's electronic components and slow the WPO's tech types when they tried to build a new unit.
As they jogged toward the building's main entrance, Corvan was amazed that they'd managed to pull it off. On more than one occasion the entire charade had come close to collapsing around them. The worst moment had come when the president's press secretary, Stan Lester, called up and demanded to see what they'd accomplished so far.
First they stalled him with the segment of the Hawkins video which Nolly had already prepared. After that it became increasingly difficult. Time passed, deadlines came and went, and each time Lester called, they had nothing new to show him. Nothing they wanted to show him anyway. As a result the press secretary became increasingly upset and began to threaten all sorts of dire penalties.
Then Kim got on the phone, claimed Nollins was seriously ill, and said she was taking over. Then she stalled him with a phony equipment failure, a programming glitch, and a bad circuit board.
Finally, with only three minutes to air, Kim told Lester she was ready and asked if he'd like to preview the president's speech. By that time sixty-three different networks were conferenced on the line, clamoring for video, and calling the press secretary every name in the book.
Promising Kim an ugly death if anything went wrong, Lester had little choice but to give the go-ahead, and soon lived to regret it. It was safe to assume that by the end of Carla Subido's speech, Lester had either died of a massive coronary or called for a WPO assault on the E-FEX-1 studios. If they didn't leave—and quickly—chances were they never would. Back behind them an alarm went off as the blaze in the equipment room found something really flammable and took off.
Suddenly Corporal Ellis came running around the corner up ahead. "Colonel! Thank God! We've got company and they mean business. At the moment they're using Sokolov as a punching bag, but as soon as they finish with him, they'll be coming our way."
Corvan swore and ran even faster around the corner and into the lobby. He reached the one-way glass just in time to see Sokolov fall to the ground and a WPO captain bring a loud hailer to his lips. Corvan looked, then looked again. The captain was none other than Hans Dietrich! The German's voice was loud and slightly distorted.
"You in the building there. This is Captain Hans Dietrich. You are in violation of United States law. You have ten seconds to surrender or suffer the consequences."
"Sir?" The voice in Corvan's ear was Sergeant Fong. She wanted orders. Corvan sighed. If anything sucked, this did. Chances were that none of Dietrich's troops knew the real score. Like thousands of other people, they were being used. It would be wrong to kill them. On the other hand, Fong and her people were risking their lives to help him, were depending on him, and were just as innocent. On top of that there was the fact that the job was only half done. By making Subido look like a traitor, they'd messed around with Numalo's chain of command, and that would slow him down, but it wouldn't stop him. And unless they accomplished that, then the whole thing would raise its ugly head again. The words tasted bitter in his mouth as he said:
"We'll get their attention while you take the rest of the team out the back door and flank 'em. Minimum force to get the job done. We'll meet at the personnel carrier."
"Copy that, sir," Fong replied, her voice grim. "I'll see you there."
"This is your last chance," Dietrich said, his voice booming around the building. "Come out with your hands on top of your heads."
"Sir?" It was Corporal Ellis. He held out a H&K G-40 assault rifle. Corvan reluctandy accepted the weapon, knowing that as he did so, he was taking another step away from the role of observer and any claim to objectivity. The problem was that either you were in or out. You couldn't have it both ways.
"Captain?"
Kim shook her head to the proffered weapon. "No thanks, I'd just shoot myself in the foot."
"Time's up," Dietrich said. "We're coming in."
Corvan activated his radio while motioning the other two toward the rear of the room. As he dropped, they did likewise. "Sergeant Fong, if you read me, we could use some smoke in front of the building."
"I copy," Sergeant Fong replied tersely. "Smoke's on the way."
Moments later smoke billowed in front of the building. Corvan wasn't sure how Fong had accomplished it, but good noncoms moved in mysterious ways.
Outside, two or three troopers opened up with automatic weapons. They were coming in.
Kim tried to will herself down through the cold, hard floor as the picture windows exploded into an avalanche of glass and the two men began to fire back. They fired in short three- or four-round bursts, not expecting to hit anything, stalling while Fong went out the back.
Kim undid her holster and dragged out her sidearm. She didn't want to deal with a submachine gun, but a pistol couldn't be all that complicated. Slugs whipped over her head as she pulled the slide back and worked a bullet into the chamber. Holding the weapon with both hands, Kim aimed toward the door and pulled the trigger. Nothing. Swearing to herself, she looked for the safety.
Something flew through a picture window and landed with a thump in the middle of the floor. ''Grenade!" Ellis yelled and threw himself on it.
There was a loud, cracking sound and the corporal's body was tossed into the air like a rag doll. It was still falling when three troopers charged through the door.
Corvan fired and rolled right. The first one staggered but didn't fall. Body armor! He gritted his teeth and fired again. The top of the trooper's head flew off as the slugs sliced through her skull.
Then the second trooper landed on top of him, driving down with the butt of his grenade launcher, trying to smash Corvan's face.
Kim found the safety and flicked it off just as the third trooper stood over Corvan and looked for an opening. The second trooper, the one with the short shotgun-looking thing, was in the way.
Corvan did something with his knee and the second trooper rolled away. He swore as a piece of broken glass stabbed him in the back. The third trooper grinned and swung his submachine gun over until the stubby barrel was lined up on the reop's real eye.
Without being aware of it, Corvan zoomed in and discovered that the third trooper was Hans Dietrich. At first his face was full of hate, then it came apart as Kim's slugs hit it from behind and turned it into a mass of red mush. Corvan rolled out of the way as the body fell. Glass crunched but left him untouched. Dietrich hit with a heavy thud and sent glass tinkling in every direction.
Careful of the broken glass, Corvan stood and hurried over to where Kim lay staring at the body. "He's dead, Kim. Come on. Let's get out of here."
Kim's eyes grew large. Her lips moved but nothing came out. Corvan turned, firing from the hip. Trooper number two staggered, dropped his commando knife, and toppled over backward. Blood spurted out of the bullet holes in his neck and stopped when his heart did.
Kim shuddered, tried to throw up, and failed. Corvan grabbed her arm and dragged her toward the front door. "We're coming out!" Corvan yelled into the radio. "Cover us if you can!"
Corvan heard automatic weapons rattle in response as he stumbled toward the front door. The room was thick with smoke. Some of it came from the grenade and the rest from the burning equipment room.
Coughing and choking, they stumbled through the shattered door and dodged right. Seconds later someone fired a shoulder-launched mis
sile into the building's lobby and it exploded with a loud boom. The back blast blew Corvan and Kim off their feet. The reop was just struggling to his feet when he heard the chatter of automatic fire, followed by a scream. With the exception of distant sirens, things were suddenly quiet.
Then Corvan heard the rumble of a heavy-duty engine and a personnel carrier nosed its way through the smoke. Corvan swung his weapon in that direction, but stopped when he saw Fong's grimy face in the open window. She smiled. "Going my way, Colonel?"
Corvan grinned. "Best offer I've had all day. Casualties?"
Fong motioned toward the rear of the vehicle. "Cerkin caught one in the thigh, and Van Kleek took one through her right bicep. Where's Ellis?"
Corvan shook his head. "Dead. He threw himself on a grenade."
Fong nodded matter-of-factly. "Then we're all present or accounted for. Time to haul ass."
"Roger that," Corvan agreed fervently. "We'll ride in back."
Fong put the big truck in gear and stepped on the gas. As it growled forward, strong arms pulled Corvan and Kim over the tailgate. Voices welcomed them aboard and Corvan saw a blur of friendly faces as he scrambled toward the front.
Bench seats were mounted along both sides of the vehicle, and as Corvan took a seat, he saw Nollins was present as well. The technician tried to say something, but the gag got in the way.
Cerkin lay stretched out on the floor while Van Kleek sat up and smoked a fag. She used her good arm to give Corvan a cheerful thumbs-up.
Looking out the back, Corvan saw the building was a mass of flames. The personnel carrier took a sharp turn, and as the building disappeared from sight Corvan saw three fire engines roar by in that direction. He wondered if the fire would make the evening news and if so, what they'd say about it. If they lied, they'd be forced to do it the old-fashioned way, with their butts hanging in the breeze, praying they wouldn't get caught.
A few minutes later the personnel carrier pulled into the same warehouse they'd been in earlier. Mac was there, and so was Sasha, both urging everyone out of the vehicle. Within seconds the personnel carrier was pulling out of the warehouse with a new driver behind the wheel, the troopers had been hustled into an unmarked van, and Kim was being pushed toward a large shipping module. The size of a large trailer, it was made of heavy-gauge steel, and bore a large "General Electric" logo.
Kim looked to Corvan for reassurance. He shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "What can we do?" and allowed Mac to lead him toward the container.
Sasha touched a hidden sensor and a door swung open. "Hurry!" she said, and motioned for them to enter. It was pitch black inside, and Corvan entered with a sense of trepidation. Kim did likewise and Sasha slammed the door behind her.
Corvan heard a whirring sound and blinked when soft white light flooded the room. Saxon sat five feet in front of them, his black box whirring softly as it balanced on its single wheel, a half smile on his face. "Sorry about that, I couldn't resist." He gestured to the rest of the room. "What do you think?"
Corvan looked around. The inside of the shipping module was fitted out like a cross between an apartment and a conference room. At the far end of the room Corvan saw a door to what was most likely a bathroom, and just forward of that, a rather compact kitchen. An open area adjoined the kitchen and boasted a large table, some comfortable-looking chairs, and a complete entertainment center. The holo set came on. It showed a government-produced public service announcement which touted homosexuality as a means of birth control. The spot featured two men holding hands as they walked along a beach, and the words "NONE IS FUN" flashed on and off at the bottom of the screen.
There was a loud clang and the floor began to tilt beneath their feet. Corvan and Kim staggered, caught their balance, and sat down on a long couch lining the wall behind them. Corvan noticed that the couch was equipped with safety belts and put one on.
"Sorry about that," Saxon said. "I should have warned you. They're getting ready to load us on a truck."
Suddenly the floor tilted even more. Kim felt her stomach flip-flop as some invisible force lifted the shipping module off the ground, and detected a slight sideways motion as the unit moved horizontally through the air. Saxon's gyro stabilizers whined a little louder, but he was otherwise unaffected.
"This is quite a rig," Corvan said, looking around. "I get the feeling you've used it before."
Saxon nodded. "Exactly. And, given the fact that your face is still all over the airwaves, this seemed like the best way to go."
There was a heavy thump as the unit was deposited on something hard, the distant clank of chains, and a jerk as they started into motion.
"At the moment we're on a flatbed truck," Saxon said conversationally. He glanced at his wrist term. "In about fifteen or twenty minutes we'll be loaded on the Starlight Express. Twelve hours later and presto, Washington, D.C."
Corvan looked interested. "Washington, D.C? What's up?"
"It worked like a charm," Saxon replied happily. "Numalo sent a guy to ice Subido, she greased him, and Martin reeled her in. The woman is incredible. I thought you'd like to meet her."
"A dubious honor," Kim said sourly. "We should've let Numalo have her.'' Kim lit a fag and looked around for a nonexistent ashtray.
"I don't know," Corvan said thoughtfully. "We need a way to get at Numalo, and Subido might provide the key." The reop glanced toward the holo set. "How are they taking Subido's speech?"
Saxon shrugged. "At face value so far. Needless to say, they're clamoring for more information. What did Numalo do? Was anyone else involved? They're like a pack of wild dogs."
"Which raises an interesting point," Corvan said. "We're out of electronic dog food, and with Subido missing, things will start to come apart. By the time we reach D.C. the press should be onto to the fact that the president's dead."
Kim thought she saw a cloud pass in front of Saxon's eyes. He shrugged. "Who knows? Whatever happens will certainly be interesting."
The two men continued to talk, but Kim decided to lie down and take a nap. And as she drifted off to sleep, Saxon's face seemed to hang in front of her. It was different somehow, completely scarred, horrible to look at. Somehow it knew what she was thinking and broke into peals of demented laughter. Laughter which wouldn't stop and followed Kim into her dreams.
18
The trip to Washington, D.C, was refreshingly uneventful. No helicopters chased them, no snipers shot at them, and no WPO troopers tried to attack the shipping module. It was like their own little world—tipsy at times, but otherwise snug and secure.
Corvan used the time to catch up on both his sleep and world events. Thanks to the module's sophisticated electronics, holo reception continued uninterrupted all the way across the United States. Local stations came and went. But thanks to the small fleet of geosynchronous comsats parked over the North American continent, the nets were always there, Matting out a twenty-four-hour-a-day diet of what people wanted most.
And from what Corvan had seen, the network news organizations were slowly stirring. But not quickly enough to accomplish anything useful.
Like children in a toy store, they ran from one thing to another, never stopping long enough to really see anything, always running to the next shiny object. As a result, the Rex Corvan story had been pushed into the background while they rushed hither and yon trying to follow up on the Carla Subido speech.
On every channel, frustrated reporters asked puzzled officials for the details of Numalo's allegedly dirty deeds, demanded that White House officials allow them to speak with the president, and asked where they could find Carla Subido.
And much as they claimed to want the truth, they would never have believed it. "Carla Subido assassinated the president, had his wife killed, and took over the country? AH at Samuel Numalo's request? Come on!"
They simply wouldn't believe it. Not yet anyway. The VMG had done its job too well. But as the carefully woven fabric of lies began to fray and then unravel, they would see and re
port the truth. Or so Corvan hoped.
So far Stanley Lester had managed to hold the press at bay, but as the hours passed, Corvan thought the press secretary looked increasingly worried. It seemed unlikely that he'd be able to hold them off much longer.
Interestingly enough, the E-FEX-1 fire had been treated as a routine two-alarm blaze, although mention was made that "some WPO troopers had been injured while helping fight the fire, and were in critical condition."
Dead is about as critical as you can get, Corvan thought to himself. He wished there'd been some other way.
Corvan made a sandwich, ate it while he watched Saxon work at a computer terminal, and drifted off to sleep. When he awoke, the holo was still on. He caught the tail end of a tabloid TV story about aliens masquerading as common barnyard animals and waited for the hourly news. With people watching that kind of crap all the time, how would they know the truth when they saw it?
The credits came up, followed by a news tease. Corvan shook Kim awake and called for Saxon. The electronic headline read, "Bodyguard Dead and Chief of Staff Missing." As the words slid across the screen, they pulled another scene on behind them. It showed bloody walls and a crumpled body. Then a breathless street reporter stepped into the shot to explain that Ms. Subido's maid had arrived to find Sugar laying dead in the hallway, blood all over the place, and Carla gone.
The reporter went on to speculate on all sorts of possibilities, most of which were utterly fantastic, but not sufficiently bizarre to approach the truth.
Corvan soon lost interest. "Well," he said, turning down the sound, "that should get things moving."
Saxon gave them a lopsided grin. "I would think so." He glanced at his wrist term. "We should be there in another forty-five minutes or so."
While Corvan and Kim discussed this new development, Saxon used the time to make some com calls. There was something urgent in his manner, as though things weren't moving fast enough to please him, but Kim put it down to his duties as an executive in the Exodus Society. Still, the vision of Saxon's laughing face kept coming to mind, and she found it hard to concentrate on what Corvan had to say.
Matrix Man Page 18
