“Who is they, sir?”
Renton sat back against the leather seats and smiled.
“Who do you think, Nero?”
“I think the Thule Cartel, sir.”
“You’d think so, and I did. We all did, until the telepaths finished lifting impressions. They came up with Anathema signatures, Nero. Scary ones.”
Nero blanched.
“Anathema, sir? What do they want with us?”
“Who knows? Maybe nothing. Maybe this was just a convenient place to pick up a new backup solution.”
“Are we sure the Anathema weren’t after the data stored here, sir?”
Renton shook his head.
“There was no data here, Nero. They were working on hardware, encryption, archiving, that sort of thing. This wasn’t a database; it was a test lab.”
“No data.” Nero nodded. “What does it mean, then, sir? What did the Anathema want with a lab?”
“Like I said, I don’t know. Doesn’t make any difference, probably. That isn’t why we are here.”
“Why are we here, then?”
“Not long after the attack, we started scanning for Thule signatures.” Renton said, expression clouding. “One of the assassins is in that building, Nero. Maybe more than one. They’ve just been sitting there for hours, now. Waiting for us, I have to assume.”
Renton glanced at Nero in the rear-view mirror, bolstering the lie with modest telepathic reinforcement, relieved to see that Nero’s attention was elsewhere, staring at the quiet building with an intense and worried expression on his face.
“Do you think it could be a trap, sir?”
“Of course!” Renton smirked. “Anything could be a trap, Nero. What sort of dumb question is that?”
They watched another few minutes. Dead trees rattled with the hot evening wind from the hills. Clouds of insects swirled about the few working exterior lights.
“The Auditors have to be scanning for the same people, trying to beat us to Thule,” Nero said. “The whole Etheric Network must be looking for the same thing! So, why aren’t we up to our necks in Auditors right now, sir?”
Renton nodded, impressed.
“Only two possibilities, as far as I can see it. Either Central doesn’t know, or they want us to kick down the door and take the worst of it, and then they’ll show up just in time to roll us and the Thule Cartel all at once.”
“I see, sir.”
“Do you? Here’s a question for you, Nero. You ready to walk directly into a Thule trap, and maybe even deal with Alice Gallow, if that’s what Lady Martynova requires?”
The handful of lights in the parking lot had a ghostly aura, an extra bit of sparkle when Renton moved his eyes too fast. His brain sizzled in a hot stew of excess norepinephrine and dopamine, but his thoughts were focused and lucid, and his hands were eager. Nero’s eyes were clear and resolute when they met his own.
“I’m ready, sir.”
“Then you’ve got no worries, Nero. There’s joy in service.”
Nero nodded gravely at his wisdom.
That was it. Renton felt ready for the work.
***
“I suppose that you gave me warning, after your own oblique fashion. I suppose I can credit you with that much. For the rest, however…you have started a damned war, Gaul, and made the Thule Cartel infamous in the process! I wouldn’t be surprised if the Assembly opens a special session to declare your whole lot Anathema.”
“I wouldn’t be surprised, either.”
“You have further thoughts that you wish to share, Lord Thule?”
“It is far too late to consider the opinion of a council of impotent old men and young pretenders. There is us, Henry, and there is Josef’s daughter. What we decide will be.”
“What of Central, then, and the Auditors? What of Director Levy?”
“The bureaucracy of Central craves stability above all things, and my hand is familiar. Their resistance will not be protracted. The Auditors are weakened and lead by an unreliable psychopath, their numbers and resources decimated. The Director is distracted and less than ideal for the job. They may resist at first, but Central will recognize a foregone conclusion. They will deal with the winning side, regardless.”
“You have something then?”
“What do you mean?”
“To deal with the Director. For God’s sake, Gaul – the woman was a terror as an Auditor. Are you really so certain that Rebecca Levy will be quick to acquiesce?”
“I am certain, Lord North. I have calculated this precisely, and I have confidence in my calculations.”
“We are discussing futures?”
“I have your interest, then? A positive sign.”
“Interest, yes, Gaul. Commitment, no. You have yet to account for the Anathema, Lord Thule. They wait for just such an opportunity. This reality has forestalled war between ourselves and the Black Sun for years. What solution do you propose?”
“The simplest and most likely to work. I have an ally, Lord North, within the Anathema.”
“Have you gone mad, Gaul? You cannot place any trust…”
“I do not, but I believe we can rely upon them to act in their own best interests, which diverge significantly from the remainder of the Anathema. I do not consider my agent loyal, Henry, but I trust in them to do right by themselves. Loyalties are not an object of worry.”
“Speak plainly, if you would have my assistance.”
“The Anathema will not interfere in our conflict, because they will shortly find themselves deeply involved with their own internal difficulties. One civil war deserves another, Lord North.”
***
The doors were automated. The main floor of the factory was deserted. The odors of new paint and plastics lingered about the place like particularly determined loiterers. Scrape marks on the floors and sheered mounting points were scattered about, evidence of a recent forced removal of equipment. A discrete telepathic tag on the far side of the room helpfully indicated a dingy stairwell that presumably descended to a basement.
“Looks like they’re going to make us walk.” Renton strode boldly across the empty factory floor, Nero at his side. “Assholes.”
Renton ran a finger across the top of one of the power junctions as they passed, and then rubbed the char off his finger.
“They cleaned up, after, but this place saw some action,” Renton said, eyeing the bullet holes that punctured the walls and ceiling of the factory at irregular intervals. “The Anathema must’ve hit this place pretty hard.”
“Looks like they took a lot of equipment out of here, sir.”
The telepathic tag dissipated as they approached, an afterimage of a shimmering arrow lingering for a last moment before disintegrating into stardust, leaving them staring at a greasy, darkened stairwell. Nero glanced at Renton for permission, and then took the lead, descending the stairs with a bold nonchalance that Renton suspected was practiced, but effective. The door at the bottom was reinforced, with armored hinges and a triple bolt, but it was also ajar. There was a hallway behind it, poorly lit and recently painted. Nero bent and studied the ground briefly, then called Renton’s attention to the thin film of dust that had collected on the floor, and the riot of recent footprints which had disturbed it.
Renton nodded, mildly impressed.
The hallway extended longer than was necessary, to fit in another two security doors, the second complete with a well-appointed alcove for a guard to lurk, though presently deserted. Both doors were as heavily reinforced as the first had been, and both were also helpfully open. Renton fought down a mad urge to giggle at the setup.
There was light coming out from beneath the third door at the end of the hall. Nero glanced back at Renton, and Renton motioned for him to step aside. Nero did so reluctantly. Renton straightened his jacket, adjusted the knot in his tie and the Ruger in his holster, and then shoved the door open and walked in like the room belonged to him, sunglasses preventing him from being dazzled by the brillia
nce of the work lights arrayed inside.
“Welcome, Renton Hall. Welcome, Naciento Rivera. My uncle sends his gratitude – and his apologies for not being here personally. Things are – how should I say it? – rather tense at the moment.”
The words were a jumble, pushing into each other and tripping over each other’s heels. The voice was high-pitched and familiar, raising Renton’s hackles. Renton muscled his features into the leer typically reserved for harassing his underlings.
“Lóa Thule. I should have expected you.”
“Lord Thule fully intended to meet you, Mr. Hall; however, something came up.”
“I’m sure the precognitive was very surprised,” he sneered. “At least we get some more alone time, Lóa – goons aside. You still in the mood?”
Lóa Thule smiled from atop a folding table, while two guards watched Renton and Nero closely from nearby, another standing near the make-shift kitchenette with a steaming cup of tea in his hands. The basement was furnished as a meeting room and cafeteria, with dozens of tables and plastic chairs scattered about, and an adjoining kitchen. The concrete floor had been carefully stained and sealed, and glass-topped counters and display tables lined one of the walls near the kitchen, faux-marble surfaces strewn with utensils and plates.
“You seem more agitated than I recall from our last meeting, Mr. Hall.”
“Does that surprise you?”
Renton covertly surveyed the telepathic defenses shielding the Thule agents, and found them formidable, but not unassailable. He attempted to access the Etheric Network, and was not surprised to find it locally absent.
“Not in the slightest,” Lóa said, examining her nails. “You probably don’t appreciate how much work has gone into this affair, Mr. Hall. I wanted to put an end to this earlier, in Scotland, but my uncle insisted that you be given another opportunity to revise your loyalties. He was very particular about it.”
The two at the card table are support, he informed Nero, via secure telepathic channel. The man’s an empath. The woman…a remote telepathic link, I think, judging by the amount of traffic she’s pushing across the Network. Someone is watching us, remotely.
Lord Thule isn’t as busy as they claim, maybe, sir?
Could be. See the guy in the corner? The one with the hat and leather jacket? I can’t get a quick read on him, not without triggering their defenses.
What does that mean, sir?
It means he’s a D-Class Operator or better. I can’t determine more without starting shit.
Understood. Orders, sir?
Wait for my signal.
Renton hooked his thumbs in his pants pockets and gave Lóa an unabashedly appraising look. She wore a simple white blouse, black pants that flared subtly at the calves, and pointy-toed ankle boots, and did not seem discomfited by Renton at all.
“Your uncle couldn’t make it, fine,” Renton said, making it clear with his face and tone that he didn’t believe a word of it. “Why?”
“Why what?” Lóa smirked. “Did something happen?”
“This isn’t what we discussed,” Renton said softly, ignoring the look Nero shot him. “Not at all.”
“You never gave us an answer,” Lóa purred. “Plans changed. You seem upset, Mr. Hall.”
“I’ve heard the rumors about Thule, but I never really believed any of it. You people really are fucking gone.” Renton struggled to keep his jaw loose and his chest relaxed, to keep the anger remote and professional. “You know I have to kill you now, right?”
“That’s up to you,” Lóa said. “My uncle did suggest that you might be amiable to persuasion, but I doubt it. I did get a chance to watch you and your Lady on the dance floor last night, and you can consider me suitably impressed. Did you save one last dance for me, Mr. Hall?”
Renton finally gave up on his attempts to contact the greater Black Sun, suspicious that one of the Thule Operators was a telepathic baffler, blocking communications and Network access in the area. There was no hope of reinforcements, Renton thought, but then again, there was no chance of his involvement with Lóa Thule becoming public knowledge.
Not if he took care of it, here and now.
Renton took off his sunglasses, tossing them aside to break on the basement floor, fingers trembling with eagerness.
“I’m not much of a dancer.” Renton reached for the gun at the small of his back with the casual aplomb of a customer flagging a waiter. “For you, though, Lóa? I’m happy to make all kinds of exceptions.”
Twenty-Two
“This is probably all just a misunderstanding.” Marcus Bay-Davies looked a bit alarmed. “When you are young, you feel things strongly. It is natural to have any number of misunderstandings…”
“Oh, we are having a misunderstanding, all right,” Alex confirmed. “Clear things up for me, guys – what the hell did you do with Katya?”
Emily and Vivik exchanged a look of concern.
“Do?” Emily smiled hesitantly. “We didn’t do anything with Katya…to be honest, I’m kind of scared of her.”
“You should be,” Alex said. “Where is she, Vivik?”
“Why would I…?”
“Because of your protocol, man. Don’t play dumb with me. You must know.”
“Alex, listen…”
“Why don’t you listen?” Frost gathered on the ground about Alex, withering the grass about him. “I’m willing to believe a lot of things; you know? Expecting me to believe that you planned a successful rescue without Katya finding out about it or getting involved, though; that’s a bit much.”
“Alex…”
“I don’t mean to run you guys down, but honestly, Katya is probably the person most likely to come after me.”
“Why don’t you calm down a little?” Emily suggested. “You don’t even know who Katya is, or the things she does when she isn’t looking after you. You need to understand that she is a Black Sun assassin before anything else…”
“You’d be surprised how much I understand, these days,” Alex said, eyes narrowed. “Why don’t you tell me what’s really going on?”
***
The Changeling and the dog woke the same way – slowly, with a great deal of drool and eye-gunk, followed by an excessive display of stretching and yawning. Katya tended to the propane stove and vacillated between amusement and pique, limiting her chiding to what felt like a bare minimum.
“Where are we, Katya?”
“I don’t know. Wherever that witch took us. Away from your sister, so that’s something.”
“Yeah, but…”
“Look, I don’t know exactly, okay? It’s a valley, and it seems okay as far as that goes. Better than being exposed to the Outer Dark, anyway.”
Eerie glanced fearfully at the black star that hung in the desolate sky above them.
“What do we do now, Katya?”
“I found a place to take a bath. You wanna start there?”
Half-asleep and humming to herself, the Changeling stumbled off to the shallow end of the flooded quarry Katya had found at the other end of the narrow valley, while Katya heated up water for the very last packet of instant soup.
The sky was empty, save for the raw-nerve anti-radiance of a singular black star, and there was nothing but broken stone above the small valley, no more than a hundred meters from end to end. The valley was choked with fallen slabs of rock
There was an ancient hewn cistern at the low end of the valley, where rainwater might have once collected, the tool marks on the stone broad and primitive. The water was cold and clean, and Katya had managed her first bath in weeks before waking Eerie and Derrida, and consequently felt slightly more human. Putting on her stinking and filthy clothing had been a struggle after emerging clean from the cold water, but having literally no other option, Katya held her nose and made do.
Katya added the packet of powder to the boiling water, and then set it aside to cool. She could hear the Changeling splashing around in the water, the echoes bouncing off the rock w
alls of the valley singing to herself in a language that Katya could not understand, but which was achingly familiar, a song which Katya had never heard, but knew each note by heart, before the Changeling had a chance to sing it.
Katya did her best to ignore that bullshit, focusing on eating the still too hot soup, burning her tongue to cleanse her palette of the perverse atmosphere of the Outer Dark.
Derrida barked urgently. Katya was up and running, the soup spilled to the ground beside their sleeping bags, her sneakers sinking slightly into the sand floor of the valley. The dog’s commotion rose to a clamor, and then halted, and the silence that followed had a ring of its own.
Katya tripped in the gloaming light and fell, rolling over a rock and coming to an abrupt stop when she collided leg-first with a tree, tearing her pants and banging her shins. One leg got it worse than the other, the skin peeled open below the ball of her knee and blood flowing freely. Katya got up gingerly, picking grit from the beneath the skin of the palms of her hands. She was still testing her knee to see if it would hold weight when Eerie screamed.
***
“I thought you would have more faith in me.” Emily’s eyes were moist and brimming. “I came for you when no one else could, or would!”
Alex shifted uneasily in his frost-kissed section of the garden.
“This isn’t about that! I’m not trying to be ungrateful. I’m just worried about my friends! Vivik, you must know something. Your protocol…there’s just no way. You’ve got to be able to help me! Just a quick look. Eerie and Katya. That’s not so much to ask, is it?”
“I wish!” Vivik wiped sweat from beneath his turban and looked pained. “Alex, listen – I couldn’t see you when you were in the Outer Dark. Eerie asked, and I looked for myself…and nothing. Black, that’s all. Now that I’m here, Central is the same way.”
Vivik gestured, and scores of windows appeared around him, each carbon-fiber black.
“…I can’t see anything back at home. If Katya was in the real world, that would be a different thing.”
The Outer Dark (Central Series Book 4) Page 51
