by Jaxon Reed
Nguyen nodded, and Clark’s hologram winked out. At that moment the four Ghost Corp soldiers became visible and dropped in on the rooftop with their human cargo.
The two women opened the bag and pulled it off Jacques. A medic from the army transport rushed over, followed by two soldiers carrying a stretcher. The medic reached down and felt for a pulse. Satisfied, she administered a hypodermic to Jacques.
Her curiosity piqued, Parker said, “What was that for?”
None of the soldiers responded. Instead they moved Jacques to the stretcher, then marched off carrying him to the van.
Bryce said, “If I had to guess, I’d bet they gave him an additional sedative to prevent him from waking up anytime soon, especially while in transit.”
Parker said, “That makes sense.”
As Andrews followed her people, Nguyen stopped her. He held his hand in a giving motion, and a virtual screen floated out in the air between them.
Nguyen said, “Here’s the coordinates to the facility, Sergeant.”
Andrews caught the screen midair and it disappeared, entering her neural phone system.
She said, “Thank you, sir.”
She turned and entered the back of the transport carrier. Its door closed and the vehicle floated up, then headed west.
Friedman approached Nguyen. He said, “This subject needs to be eliminated, not kept in a facility!”
Nguyen raised a hand and said, “I understand your concerns, Agent Friedman. But higher-ups in Washington have reached a decision. The subject is to be kept on ice and monitored until further notice.”
“That’s a bad idea, Director. Studying him is what resulted in the problems in France. Eliminate him and you will have no more problems.”
“It’s out of my hands, Agent Friedman. I couldn’t eliminate the subject now if I wanted to. Best I can do is keep him sedated so that he doesn’t use his powers.”
Friedman said, “I think you’re making a big mistake. The United States Military won’t be learning anything from this boy. In the worst case, this decision will result in a lot more people dying.”
Friedman took a long breath, as if thinking something over. Then he said, “I may still be able to offer you some assistance, however. With your permission I would like to stay and continue in my advisory role.”
Nguyen said, “Certainly, Agent Friedman. And we thank you for your help so far.”
Friedman nodded and made his exit.
Nguyen approached Parker and Bryce. He shook hands with both in turn.
He said, “I’d like to keep the two of you in the loop on this as well. My boss is fighting the Pentagon right now for control of the situation. I suspect the Army is interested in studying our suspect with an eye toward weaponization. They’ll probably send some scientists over to take a look at him. For what it’s worth, as far as I can tell this is a natural phenomenon, not something that can be grown in a lab.”
Bryce did not say anything, but he immediately thought of Rajeesh Edward Patel and his homunculi, the psychic little people grown in bottles, and how Patel had harnessed their powers.
Nguyen continued, saying, “I’ll invite you over to the facility once things have calmed down and maybe we can get an update from Washington on our next move.”
The two detectives nodded, made their farewells, and headed back toward the car. They walked by Captain Kim’s hologram. She busily directed snipers off rooftops and rattled orders to uniformed officers on the streets below.
She waved at them as they walked past and said, “Don’t forget your report. I still need it, even though you didn’t do anything.”
-+-
Charvet ignored the hustle and bustle of the virtual airport, walking past the “Welcome to Texas!” sign without a second look. She stepped outside and immediately hailed an autocab.
The vehicle sailed into the city and she looked around without taking in the sights. She felt irritated more than anything.
She needed an updated from Simon Cybershot so she could report back to the Vehm Gericht, but Simon maintained his cryptic ways. She would need to kill another player in order to talk to him. The childishness of the requirement, the pointlessness, the stupidity of it all grated on her nerves. She let her mind travel down dark roads until the autocab landed near 6th Street, in one of the historic entertainment districts.
Killing a player’s character would be more difficult at the moment, a fact which added to her irritation. What with news from Central Texas such as the odd events surrounding the South by Southwest concert, rumors of a terrorist with immense powers, and several other tidbits stirring up in real life, there were fewer people online at the moment. The ones who were seemed less casual than before, perhaps abuzz with knowledge and conversations from the outside world.
And to make matters worse it was daylight here, just as in the real Texas. Finding someone random to kill would not be hard, necessarily. But getting away with it might prove more difficult in the daylight hours.
Fortunately, the dilemma was made much easier with her willingness to spend money. Not that it was her money to begin with, she thought. And spending other people’s money, as the saying goes, is easy.
Somebody in the Courts noticed that expenditures were relatively anonymous within Metro-X and the other neuro games out there. VIR-1 tracked deposits and withdrawals by individuals, but once the funds traded through different hands in-game, it became close to impossible to track where the credits came from. Or where they went.
Charvet had successfully argued that a considerable sum might be needed to carry out assignments in the gaming world. The Courts gave her 20,000 credits to play with. That kind of money could buy serious weaponry in the game, making it easier to keep her appointment with Cybershot despite the stupidity surrounding his rules.
She walked into a bar on 6th Street and sat down in a corner booth. An NPC cocktail waitress took her order, then returned with a drink. Sophie opened an exchange window in the air and transferred over the required amount to the waitress.
The place was nearly empty this time of day, she noticed. The spacious dance floor lay vacant. She could see one couple talking at a table on the other side. Some sort of serious conversation between lovers, she surmised. Other than that, along with the NPC waitress and bartender, the place was deserted.
Satisfied, she sipped her virtual gin and tonic, savoring the flavor of the top shelf liquor.
Mildly curious, she wondered if alcohol businesses paid to have their wares represented in this world. Or did it work the other way? Did VIR-1 pay the liquor companies a percentage of each virtual drink served with their brand name on it?
While she pondered gaming economics, another person walked through the door. This avatar looked like a non-descript male of medium height. His only distinguishing feature was the navy-blue business suit he wore, along with a tightly gripped tan briefcase.
He quickly spotted Charvet and walked to her booth, waving off the cocktail waitress along the way. He sat down at the table opposite her, placing his briefcase between them.
“Good afternoon, Ms. Poignard.”
Charvet looked up at her nameplate, momentarily forgetting she had set her nom de plume as Fifi Poignard for the game world.
The man spoke English with a Russian accent. Privately, Charvet found herself wondering how tightly the Russian mob was intertwined in the gaming world. The man would provide needed weaponry here in the virtual world at an outlandish cost. His profits could be easily transferred back out into the real world.
Putting aside such thoughts, along with concerns she was about to use Court money to help fund a criminal enterprise, she said, “What do you have for me?”
The man smiled and opened his briefcase, then turned it around on the table so she could see the interior. Eight gray boxes, about the size of a deck of cards only twice as thick, stared back at her. Each had a large rectangular red button on the front.
He said, “Electronically activated hand
grenades. Push the button and they go boom ten seconds later.”
“There is no adjusting the time before the explosion?”
The grenades she was used to looked like small black egg timers, and could be adjusted to go off at a desired time.
He smiled and shook his head. He said, “You wouldn’t believe how difficult electronics are to manufacture in this world, Ms. Poignard, not to mention plastic explosives. This is best we can do. Ten seconds and it goes boom.”
“Okay. How much?”
“Five thousand each.”
Inwardly Charvet grimaced. The price was outrageous. Still, it would make things easier, and she had thousands to spare.
“I’ll take three.”
The mobster nodded and removed three of the square devices, leaving them on the table while he closed his briefcase. They both opened transaction windows in the air above them, and Charvet transferred over 15,000 credits.
The Russian said, “Good doing business with you, Ms. Poignard. Now if you’ll excuse me, I believe the police are about to make an entrance. I saw them outside before I came in.”
He logged off the system, slowly disappearing, leaving only his grin behind momentarily. It reminded Sophie of the cat in Alice in Wonderland.
The door to the bar burst open behind her and NPC uniformed officers along with some players dressed as plain-clothes detectives streamed in, guns drawn. They fanned out on the dance floor and squatted down, all aiming guns at her booth.
“Freeze! Fifi Poignard, you are under arrest!”
The status bar above her name changed to violet, indicating she would be unable to logoff for a while.
Charvet looked down at the grenades on the table and said, “Well, there goes 5,000 credits. Que será, será.”
She picked up one of the grenades, pushed the red button and tossed it over her shoulder. It sailed out toward the police, who watched it arc through the air toward them. It hit the floor and slid forward to the first detective, coming to a stop at his feet.
He looked down at the device, the red light now glowing.
He said, “Heh. Probably nothing. It looks like a deck of—”
KABLOOOM!
Sophie hunched in a ball behind her booth seat, letting it absorb most of the force from the blast. She looked up at her status window. Next to “Recent NPC Kills,” the number blinked to “8.” Next to “Recent Character Kills,” the number turned to “4.”
A new message also appeared below the stats: “Current record holder: Kills today in Metro-X Central Texas.”
In a bored, deadpan tone of voice, Sophie said, “Joy.”
She stood up and glanced over at the bartender and waitress. They stared back at her, dumbstruck. The couple on the other side of the dance floor seemed distraught. The girl was crying. Her beau tried to comfort her.
He said, “Come on, baby, let’s logout. Come on.”
She said, “It’s daytime! This is not supposed to happen during the daytime!”
Charvet dismissed them from her thoughts and stepped over the bodies between her and the door.
-+-
By the time her autocab landed on the roof of Cybershot’s hotel, Charvet had figured out her mistake. She visited Central Texas in this avatar after using it to kill before. Somehow the police had deduced her guilt, and her presence must have set off alarms here. Next time she visited Simon, she decided, she should use a different avatar. Of course, if she had to kill somebody to see him, she’d probably have to work on building up an entirely new character, spending money on looks so that the victims would be less suspicious, spending more money on weaponry. . .
Or maybe I’ll keep Fifi Poignard around for a while, she thought.
Charvet made her way past the guard, and down one level to Cybershot’s penthouse. He greeted her at the door, beaming at her performance stats in the window above her head.
“Sophie! My, my! Today’s current record holder on kills. Do come in.”
As they walked out onto the balcony he continued, “I don’t think you’ll remain the record holder for long, though. The day is still young. When night falls, the killings go up. But, enjoy your status while it lasts.”
“This is ridiculous, Simon. I should have enough credits to visit in the future without going through this charade again.”
“Mm. An interesting thought. No one said you had to kill more than one, Sophie.”
“I mean it, Simon. I’m not doing it next time. It’s stupid.”
“Well, perhaps you’ve earned one extra visit. Seems most of your recent kills were NPCs, though.”
Charvet let the matter slide, deciding to focus on the purpose of her visit instead.
She said, “The Courts wish to receive an update.”
He nodded and sat down in a recliner facing the Texas State Capitol basking in the sun.
He said, “The Americans have captured Jacques and Phoebe Renard alive. They are being held in a facility in this very city.”
“Who has them?” Sophie said. “The FBI? The police?”
“The United States Army. Although, my source indicates the facility belongs to the FBI. Currently, soldiers are guarding it.”
Sophie sat down in the recliner next to Simon, soaking in the news. She said, “What are they doing with them?”
“My source does not know. If I had to wager, I’d say the military is looking at ways to weaponize the boy’s talent. That’s typically what militaries do, when discovering something new.”
“This is bad news, Simon. How are you going to be able to carry out the Courts’ edict?”
Cybershot reached over and patted her arm.
He said, “Do not worry, Sophie dearest. I have been around long before the world ever heard of America. And I have been spying on them for ages. They are not as smart as they thing they are. I will take care of the matter when an opportunity presents itself.”
-+-
Parker’s car floated down inside a ten acre tract with a lone, non-descript three-story building. In the distance, surrounding countryside featured the dull brown slopes of the Texas Hill Country. The sheer ruggedness of the terrain highlighted the landscape’s raw beauty.
The building sat near the western edge of the outer suburbs, in an area where business parks merged with the wilderness. Several secure facilities in this part of town were either owned or leased by government entities.
Climbing out of the vehicle, Bryce noted fencing along the perimeter shielded them from the street. A large silver security bot trundled slowly alongside the fence line, providing a further disincentive to intruders.
Parker climbed out of the driver’s seat and opened her back door to let Friedman out.
He smiled at her and said, “Thanks. I’d take an autocab but they tell me nothing gets into this parking lot without prior clearance.”
She smiled back and said, “No problem.”
Together the trio wended between two dozen other cars scattered throughout the lot, and made their way to the front entrance. It opened silently as they approached.
Inside, a corporal looked up from his vidscreen with a bored expression.
He said, “IDs, please.”
All three handed over their badges.
Friedman said, “It’s unusual to see a live person manning a reception desk these days.”
The corporal nodded in acknowledgement.
Friedman said, “I guess you drew the short straw.”
The corporal shrugged and said, “It sucks to suck. Stand on the line please, each of you in turn. We need to get your photograph and iris scan.”
Obediently, the three of them took turns standing where he pointed, and a camera nearby made audible clicking noises as they stared into it.
His screen lit up green and the corporal said, “Okay, you’re all free to enter. Most of the activities are down in the basement, that’s probably where you’ll want to go first.”
He waved in the general direction of the elevators and turned
his attention back to the vidscreen.
They filed into an elevator and Parker waved her hand over “B.” As they descended she turned to look at Bryce and said, “So, has Melody . . . detected anything lately?”
All three had received a dose of Hexenhammer back at the station, but Bryce understood her meaning even without his powers. Parker wished to discuss his wife’s precognition without openly going into details in front of Friedman.
He shook his head and said, “No, it’s too soon. Give it a few days, maybe a week, and we might know more.”
The elevator stopped and the door opened.
In front of a set of double doors, another soldier manned a desk. He looked up and nodded as if expecting them. He stood and opened the doors.
They thanked him and went through the doors. They came out on a walkway with a railing that curved around a large room. In a pit below, in the center of the room, medical equipment and other machinery surrounded a hospital bed with Jacques lying on his back. An IV ran from his arm to a drip bag, and a pulse monitor showed his heartbeat along with other vital signs on a virtual screen at the head of the bed.
Above him, on the upper ring surrounding the lower area, a group of men stood engaged in quiet conversation. Bryce recognized Director Nguyen. Another man wore an Army uniform, and two others had white lab coats.
They stopped talking when the trio approached. Nguyen nodded at them and said, “Detectives. Agent. Let’s retire to the office and let Physicians Chang and DeSoto continue their work.”
He made a following motion with his hand. The doctors nodded in greeting as everyone else passed them on their way to the office.
Nguyen stopped and opened a door leading to another corridor. Then he directed everyone to yet another door which opened to a nicely furnished office space. Nguyen closed the door behind them before taking a seat along with everyone else.
Nguyen motioned to the Army officer and said, “This is Major Collin Hamilton. He’s in charge of the facility at the moment. Thanks for letting us use your office, Major.”
