The Tomorrow Heist

by Jack Soren

  “Now!” Jonathan shouted, rushing Mikawa. Jonathan leaped into the air toward Mikawa. He doubted that he’d reach his target, but that wasn’t the point of the attack. His fingertips had just grazed the robot’s shiny torso when Mikawa reacted. Jonathan yelped as Mikawa grabbed his forearm in one of his powerful hands and flung him aside like an annoying insect. The pain in Jonathan’s wrist was soon surpassed by the pain of crashing into the wall and crumpling to the floor in a heap. But Jonathan had just been a distraction. He tried to cover up as Maggie opened fire on the robot, bullets ricocheting everywhere off Mikawa’s skin. After a long burst, Maggie stopped firing. When the smoke cleared, Mikawa was still standing, barely dented, and now he moved toward Maggie.

  Not only had the attack failed, it had managed to turn Mikawa’s attention away from Jonathan. Anxiety clawed at his guts as Jonathan tried desperately to think of a way to get Mikawa’s attention, or at the least to keep that thing away from Maggie. But there was nothing in the room. Not even a chair to throw. Abandoning his search inside the room, Jonathan looked out the window and—­

  That’s it!

  “Shoot the window!” Jonathan shouted from the ground, holding his wrist to his chest. He was pretty sure it was broken.

  Maggie fired again, glass exploded, and air from outside wafted into the room. Jonathan winced and struggled to get to his feet. His wrist might have been the only real damage he had so far, but the rest of his body screamed from the collision with the wall. The second he got to his feet, Jonathan took a few steps and launched himself into the air before Mikawa could swivel to face him. This time he reached his goal unimpeded, drop-­kicking the robot. Jonathan howled as he dropped back to the floor, right on top of his busted wrist. Squeezing tears from his eyes, he looked up in time to see Mikawa topple backward and out the broken window.

  “You’re insane,” Maggie said, as she helped Jonathan to his feet.

  “No argument there,” Jonathan managed, every movement of his body feeling like a new injury being inflicted. He leaned on Maggie and they shuffled over to the window. Nineteen floors down, Mikawa lay on the grass below. They smiled and laughed slightly, but stopped suddenly.

  “Look!” Maggie shouted. Mikawa was moving.

  “That’s . . . that’s impossible,” Jonathan said as he watched Mikawa get up off the ground. The robot looked up at them and headed out of sight.

  “Jesus, Lew’s down there!” Jonathan said, realizing that they had no way to warn him. “Come on!”

  4:30 P.M.

  “REESE! STOP!” LEW called, trying to catch his breath. Even with his nap in the crate, Lew hadn’t had time to recover from his swim to the Jirojin Maru, yet. His body ached, and his head was still splitting from that crack with the pipe.

  When he’d told Reese what had happened to the sub—­and his hidden database—­the scientist had lost his shit. Lew could understand why. After everything the guy had been through on this mission and down here in Ashita, to find out the main reason you’d done it all was simply gone was more than he could take. Reese had shouted that he didn’t believe it and run out of the office.

  Lew had run after him, only pausing by the stairs for a minute to leave a radio for Jonathan if he came down looking for him, but that minute had given Reese a crazy head start. Lew knew where he was headed: to the dock to see for himself. Though it didn’t make much sense, Lew knew the guy wasn’t running on sense right now. And if he kept exerting himself like this, he was going to crash any minute.

  “Reese!” Lew shouted when he saw him dart around a grove of maple trees. Lew dug deep and ran on. As he rounded the trees, he saw Reese standing against the transparent wall of the dock, both his hands and nose pressed against the glass.

  When Lew arrived, he came to a stop and put his hands on his knees to catch his breath. If they were going to stop the virus from launching, they didn’t have time for this nonsense.

  “Y . . . you’re killing me, buddy,” Lew said, but when he looked up, Reese wasn’t standing against the glass anymore. For a terrible second, Lew thought he’d run off to check the upper dock, but as Lew stood up, he saw that Reese was lying on the ground. He walked over to him and saw that Reese wasn’t just on the ground, he was out. Lew knelt and pressed his fingers against Reese’s carotid artery. There was a pulse, but it was thready. Even if he’d been able to, this guy couldn’t take another shock. And he sure as hell wasn’t walking anywhere. He was going to have to carry him.

  “Goddamn it, Reese,” Lew said. Reese didn’t weigh four hundred pounds, but Lew was out of gas. Over at the side of the dock, Lew saw his answer: another exo suit.

  Lew put on the suit, a breeze now that he’d done it a few times, and stood up. Most of his body pain disappeared. He felt such relief, he would have worn the suit even if he didn’t have someone to carry.

  Lew picked Reese up and put him over his shoulders in a fireman’s carry. He caught his reflection in the glass.

  “I wonder what the rest of the Avengers are doing tonight.”

  Lew turned and started back toward the tower. He took out his radio and tried to raise Jonathan on it, but no one answered. He was wondering what Jonathan was doing when he saw someone fall out a window at the top of the tower and slam into the ground.

  “Oh, shit,” Lew said, starting into a trot. When he was halfway there, he saw the figure get up and realized it was no person. The artificial light gleamed off the robot body, making it obvious even from this distance what it was. Mikawa had gotten the robot body somehow, and he was out of the computer. Out and apparently impervious since he’d just walked away from a four-­hundred-­foot fall.

  “L . . . Lew . . .” Reese managed from Lew’s shoulders. Lew stopped and put him down on the grass.

  As he knelt beside Reese, the scientist’s eyes flickered open.

  “Lew . . . the . . . database,” Reese managed. Lew could tell by the way his pupils kept sliding up under his eyelids the consciousness wasn’t going to last. Even if Lew had something there to shock him again, he didn’t think the guy could handle it.

  “Don’t worry about that now,” Lew said. “We’ve got bigger problems.” Lew told Reese about Mikawa’s being in the robot body, hoping that there was still enough scientist left in Reese to offer some kind of advice on how to deal with it.

  “The head,” Reese said weakly.

  “What about it?”

  “The . . . the head will contain the same information as my database backup. Get . . . the head.”

  “Oh, is that all? Take the killer robot’s head off? Gee, thanks, Reese,” Lew said. “Any idea on how I kill it without destroying the head?”

  “Con . . . control unit in chest . . .” Reese’s eyes rolled up and closed.

  “Reese,” Lew said, shaking him. “Reese!” His eyes fluttered open, and his pupils darted around like he didn’t recognize where he was. Lew was out of time with this guy.

  “Sorry . . . the head is just mass storage. Like . . . a hard drive. Not like the human . . . brain. The system controls are in his ch . . . chest,” Reese said before closing his eyes again.

  “Reese!” Lew shook him, but he wasn’t coming around again. He’d gotten all he could.

  If what Jonathan had told him about Umi’s database were even half-­true, whether he liked it or not, he had to try.

  4:35 P.M.

  JONATHAN AND MAGGIE reached the main floor and almost ran right by the radio Lew had taped to the wall for him. He ripped the masking tape with “Jonny” written on it off the radio and immediately hit the talk button.

  “Lew! Lew!”

  “Jesus, you’re alive,” Lew said.

  “Barely,” Jonathan said. “Where are you?”

  “Heading back. Reese freaked when he found out the database copy was destroyed, and I had to chase him down. I’m about two minutes out.”

 
“Destroyed? Shit. Never mind that right now. Mikawa got the robot body somehow, and he’s out of the computer.”

  “I know. I saw him do a swan dive off the tower and walk away without so much as a dent,” Lew said. He then told Jonathan what Reese had said about the robot’s head. “Let’s make that Plan B, right after getting the hell out of here,” Jonathan said.

  “Works for me. Where are you?” Lew asked.

  “Right where you left the radio.”

  “Good. Get that exo suit on and get out here. It’s our only chance.”

  “Roger. On it,” Jonathan said. They ran around the corner to where the exo suit still lay on the ground.

  “You’re not really going to fight that thing, are you?” Maggie said. “Even with those suits and the two of you, odds are—­”

  “Not me. You,” Jonathan said, painfully raising his broken wrist to send his point home.

  “Me? Whoa, there’s no bloody way.”

  “It’s our only chance, Maggie,” Jonathan said.

  “Our only chance at what? Getting killed?”

  Chapter Thirty-­six

  4:40 P.M.

  UMI, WEARING THE silk pajamas Mikawa had bought her for their wedding night, complete with robe and slippers, walked to the sound system. She put Adagio for Strings on, the violins echoing off her high-­ceilinged home under the sea. She closed her eyes and listened for a moment, feeling the music more than hearing it.

  She had thought about going back down to the nineteenth floor to try to talk to Mikawa again, but she didn’t want to end this life with frustration. Although Tatsu had made that all but impossible. After everything she had done for that girl. But no, don’t let it upset you. Not now.

  Mikawa hadn’t spoken to her for weeks, now, so getting upset about that was pointless. Umi liked to think that he simply wasn’t able to speak. That had been the case after he was first transferred in, after all. She hoped that things would be different for her. Though communicating outside of the world she was about to enter seemed like it would hold little interest for her.

  She opened her eyes and shuffled over to her bed. She took off her robe and neatly folded it before placing it on a chair. Then she stepped out of her slippers and climbed onto the bed. When she was comfortable, she picked up the EEG brain cap and slipped it over her gray hair, tightening the strap under her chin.

  The readout on the machines behind her showed two minutes and thirty seconds until the transfer would start. She wasn’t going to get to hear the end of Samuel Barber’s masterpiece. Not in this body, anyway.

  She wondered if the virus about to be released on the world would be ascribed to her. But, really, she knew that it would be. The same way the attack on the ship would be. Even though from Morgan’s last report, somehow no one had been killed on the Jirojin Maru. Well, that wasn’t quite true. He said that he had taken care of Tanaka and Corsair. That made her feel better. After all these months of working under the direction of the government, having things done solely for her seemed appropriate at the end of her physical life. Even though, to save face, she’d been acting like it was all her idea from the beginning.

  She wondered why she had told Tatsu the truth. Especially with Per Broden standing right behind her. But she knew, Broden notwithstanding and with Mikawa gone, Tatsu was the only one she considered family. Not that it mattered now.

  Umi lay down and closed her eyes, the strings reaching a crescendo. One hundred two years were about to end. The wail was appropriate.

  4:40 P.M.

  PER OPENED HIS EYES.

  He was lying on the ground, the side of his neck still aching from the Taser shock. Every muscle in his body was sore, and his head was pounding. He forced himself to sit up and saw they were in a large open area, a sign on the wall said “Visitor Center.” Several kiosks were scattered around the welcome area. But what caught his eye was Tatsu, lying beside him, still out.

  He wondered why they had just been left there and not even handcuffed. He checked his watch—­it was already fifteen minutes past when they were supposed to meet Jonathan and Maggie on the walkway by the dock. He didn’t know which was worse: the idea that they’d left without them or the idea that they hadn’t and didn’t know about the torpedo aimed at Ashita.

  “Tatsu. Wake up,” Per said, jostling her. She came to and took a swing at whoever was waking her. Per ducked it easily.

  “What? Where are we? What time is it?” she asked, sitting up. He answered both her questions and forced himself to his feet, staggering slightly. Then he helped Tatsu up.

  “Come on.” Per shook his head to clear it and headed toward the doors. He noticed a ladder and hatch in the ceiling against one wall. “Does that lead up to the escape pods? Where the virus will be launched?”

  “Uh, yes,” Tatsu said, obviously trying to shake the fuzz out of her own brain. “Why didn’t they tie us up?”

  “I am not sure,” Per said. “But I doubt it is a good thing.”

  As they walked by each of the kiosks, their motion activated prerecorded messages.

  “Ashita,” the announcer’s baritone rumbled. “Your home under the sea. Jules Verne created the Nautilus, and the Tenabe Group, in association with the Japanese government, now give you Ashita. The city of Tomorrow. Self-­sufficient, renewing, and capable of housing and employing over five thousand ­people.”

  As they passed a few more kiosks, Per noticed that some were broadcasting in different languages: Japanese, English, Urdu, and more.

  They pushed through the doors leading to the walkway, which swirled around the tower and up to the docking port. Beyond it, Per could see the small submarine—­backing away from the docking ring.

  “We’re too late,” Per said.

  “No! No! Wait!” Tatsu yelled, running toward the air lock. Then she stopped and took a step back, seeming confused.

  Per saw why. It wasn’t Jonathan or Maggie in the sub, but four of Umi’s guards. Now he understood why they’d just been left on the visitor center’s floor. The guards, after hearing Umi’s revelation to Tatsu, were running for their lives. He could see that Tatsu had worked it out, as well.

  “Coward!” she yelled. As the sub turned and headed away, most of the guards avoided eye contact with them. But one did. He smiled and gave the V symbol with his fingers, palm inward. A final “fuck you.”

  And then the sub, which—­if not for the cowardly guards—­would have held them in a short time, cracked and imploded. In a wink the vessel was nothing more than detritus, a wall of bubbles rising up in its place.

  “Oh my God,” Tatsu said quietly.

  “Mikawa,” Per said. “His maintenance drones, no doubt.” They hadn’t been repairing the sub, they had been sabotaging it.

  And then, as if on cue, a drone fell out of the sky and hit the walkway a few feet from them, before it slid over the edge.

  “What the hell is happening?” Tatsu said. They walked to the edge and looked down. What they saw sent Per running toward the doors. “Hey!”

  Per stopped in the doorway. “Stay up here. You’re the only one who knows how the escape pods work.” He checked his watch. It was 4:45 P.M. They had thirty minutes.

  “The torpedo. They don’t know about the attack sub!” Tatsu yelled after him. “You have to tell them. They have to get up here, NOW!”

  “Of that I am aware,” Per said. “But I believe something else is occupying them at the moment.”

  Bridge of the JS Hakuryū

  20 Kilometers West of Ashita

  4:43 P.M.

  HIROSHI NISHIDA, THE sonar operator, stood behind the row of men seated at the navigation wheels, pressing the cups of his headphones tight to his ears. He was sure he had heard it again, but now there was nothing but the normal background sounds of the ocean.

  The men, dressed in the usual all-­white, short-­sle
eved uniform of the Japan Maritime Self-­Defense Force, were used to the tight confines of the Sōryū-­class submarine. They were even used to their captain’s gruff moods. What they weren’t used to was sitting still in the water for hours with no real orders.

  “Captain on deck!”

  Hiroshi spun and saw that Captain Makoto and his shadow were on the bridge.

  “Situation report, Mr. Nishida!” the captain barked.

  “Hai! I heard it again, Captain,” Nishida said, pulling the headphones down around his neck. “Definitely a pressure wave. Approximately twenty kilometers to the east.” Nishida had heard the first pressure-­wave echo, almost identical in modulation to this new one, just over an hour ago from the exact same spot.

  “And it’s the same as the first?” Captain Makoto said.

  “Hai! Shall we set headings for the area?”

  “Negative! I’ll give the orders, Mr. Makoto!” the captain shouted.

  “Hai! Of course, my apologies, Captain,” Nishida said. His excitement at having something to do making him belligerent.

  The shadow, a man dressed in a dark business suit who had accompanied the captain everywhere since they’d shipped out, leaned forward and whispered something to the captain. Sailors had been instructed not to speak to him or ask his name. In fact, they were not even supposed to look at him. When he was done, the captain nodded.

  “What do the sensors show?” the captain said. They had been monitoring a set of sensors on the surface of the ocean in approximately the same area as the origin of the echoes. The crew hadn’t been told what they were monitoring the sensors for, just that any change at all should be reported.

  “No change, Captain!” another sailor responded.

  The shadow closed his eyes and shook his head. They weren’t going anywhere.

  “Continue your vigilance. Report anything out of the ordinary. We’ll be in my quarters,” the captain said, promptly leaving the bridge, his shadow right behind him.

  Nashida stared after them, wrestling with himself. Nashida’s father had always said he wouldn’t amount to much in the military—­he asked too many questions. Most of his fellow crewman were happy to just follow orders, never wondering why. Nashida, on the other hand, had lost rank twice and been beaten more times than he cared to remember for asking why he was being asked to do something. His mother always defended him, of course, saying he wasn’t a poor follower but a born leader. Nashida didn’t think he was either.