by Jacob Whaler
The target of all this activity is an unfortunate young man they have never named, but who has some object, perhaps a rock, of such great value that Ryzaard is taking extraordinary steps to get it. Kent finds it hard to believe that any rock is worth the attention being lavished on this one, but that appears to be the upshot of all the conversations, and he has no idea why. Perhaps the young man has a rare type of crystal or diamond with industrial applications that MX Global can exploit.
But somehow that doesn’t fully make sense.
Whatever the reason, Ryzaard wants the young man captured. A special room has been prepared for the interrogation, which almost certainly includes torture. They have his girlfriend in custody, though she apparently knows nothing about the plot. Based on the transcripts, both of them are likely to be killed in the process. Ryzaard and his helpers don’t seem to care.
Kent closes his eyes and sees the image of his wife’s car, crushed beyond recognition, forever burnt into his mind.
Murder perpetrated in the name of corporate greed. MX Global is going to do it again.
He asks himself a question.
What are you going to do about it?
He could just stay in his rented office, continue the eavesdropping campaign and collect as much incriminating evidence as possible. In time, he could write it all up and publish it anonymously on the Mesh, including the actual voice recordings to make it authentic.
By then, the two young people might already be dead.
And would it be enough to bring Ryzaard and the MX Global corporate murder machine down? Not likely.
Kent could give it to the FBI or the CIA, but if the conversations he’s been listening to are real, it sounds like Ryzaard may already have them in his back pocket. And even if Kent manages to make the information public, MX Global has the resources to make it all appear as nothing more than a clever fabrication, just another conspiracy theory constructed along a worn-out theme, corporate power run amok. Kent has the feeling that anything he posts to the Mesh will be erased as fast as he can upload it, certainly before it attracts much attention. Even if the posted information does manage to survive, it will be banished to the Mesh’s lunatic fringe.
It’s time to take stock of his situation.
What can he really do? Call the police? Walk into the building and confront Dr. Ryzaard directly? Demand that he stop his evil plans? Not a chance. For starters, he’d have to pass through multiple high security barriers to get access to the 175th floor. But even then, what could he do?
He decides to go for a walk outside and think about it.
After a quick elevator ride, he gets to the front doors, puts on his sunglasses and steps out of the shade into the sun.
A young man in a red T-shirt lingers behind him in the lobby, the same lanky figure who tailed him two days ago on a trip to the store for fishing line. As soon as he hits the sidewalk, he makes a hard turn to the right and walks away from the MX Global building.
Three blocks and five minutes later, the aroma of Chinese food triggers irresistible hunger pains, and Kent remembers he hasn’t eaten since lunch the previous day. The smell drags him to a narrow opening on the bottom floor of a building just off the sidewalk. The restaurant has the appearance of a long dark cave with only enough room for one row of bar stools at a narrow counter. The clientele is all old folks, people that have probably been coming here for years.
He takes a step through the entrance and moves into the darkness until he comes to an empty seat at the counter. He turns to look outside just in time to see the young man in the red T-shirt walk by.
The steamed dumplings aren’t the best he’s ever had, but they are better than he expected. He takes his time to savor them and doesn’t mind making the kid in the red T-shirt wait outside.
When Kent returns to the sidewalk, the kid is standing inside the large window of a bookstore across the street. Kent decides that it’s time to get some exercise and take that young man on a wild-goose chase. He shifts into fast walking mode and goes for a hike. After an hour, he’s passed and doubled back through half a dozen high-rise malls.
The young man in the red T-shirt is still there, but this time it’s Kent tailing him, all the way back to the office building across the street from MX Global.
Once the young man disappears into the elevator in the lobby, Kent moves on to his next target, the one across the street.
He needs hard data to come up with a plan of attack.
It wouldn’t be easy to penetrate the MX Global building. The entrance at street level is crawling with private security forces, athletic-looking men and women in crisply pressed dark blue uniforms with the corporate logo prominently displayed. On the outside walls of the first ten stories of the building, there’s a prominent display of chemical and optical sensors, all on active duty. None of this is of much concern to Kent since it’s mostly for show. The intent is simple. Impress investors and project MX Global’s bulletproof image.
After a quick survey, Kent decides there are only three ways to break into the building. First, go in Hollywood style and drop onto the roof using a fixed-wing or heli-glider. He would need an advanced protocol on his slate to remotely subdue motion detectors and avoid detection by an army of surveillance cameras and sensors on top of the building. The entire maneuver is best performed at noon when the sun is straight up. And that’s just to get on the roof.
Getting down into the building is even harder. After the Chilean suicide attacks of 2035, most modern skyscrapers have more security personnel in the top floors than at street level. For a lone wolf like Kent, getting inside from the roof requires an amount of force that makes it not much of an option.
Another approach is to take the most direct and least expected route and simply walk in the front door. With the right security implants, he can get access to any floor in the building. But the codes are randomly updated and shuffled via Mesh downloads, making this a difficult option to execute without inside help.
That leaves one other option. Sneak in from the bottom, below street level. Most of the buildings in the City have deep roots, going down twenty or more floors. MX Global is no exception and even has its own subway stop. And security is notoriously lax at the lower levels, especially in the mornings and evenings during rush hour when thousands of office workers are coming and going at the same time. Even then, everyone has to walk single-file through a security portal equipped with scanners and sniffers designed for the military by a subsidiary of MX Global itself. Weapons, explosives or anything else with a suspicious chemical signature will be quickly detected.
Unless you have a burst jammer on your jax and a secret way in.
CHAPTER 85
Little John paces back and forth inside the tent. It’s already dark outside. “I knew it was just a cover. No one drives all the way to New York to set up an office for a temporary collections business.”
The tall man in the sunglasses nods. “Yes, no doubt about it. He’s carrying out surveillance on MX Global and Dr. Ryzaard.”
“How did you finally get into his office?”
“It wasn’t easy. He had a CVAC unit installed on the door with a bio-code that we couldn’t disable from the outside. So we did it from the inside.”
“Really? How?”
“We bored a micro-hole through the wall from the office next door with a hand laser and inserted an infra-red signal booster.” The man smiles. “It’s much easier to trip the lock from the inside. We would have done it sooner, but he wouldn’t leave the office. He finally did today.”
“Any idea where he went?”
“The Children lost him on a walk out in the City, but he was gone long enough to give us time to look around.”
Little John tries to sit down, but stands back up, overcome by nervous tension. “What did you find?”
“Transcripts of conversations. Tons of them. He’s been plugged in for a couple of days.” The tall man tosses a jax in the direction of Little John. “Here’s a d
ownload of everything he’s gotten so far. Interesting reading.”
The short fat man stares into the holo screen floating above the jax as he moves across the floor to the small refrigerator and pulls out a beer. He opens the can with the practiced motion of his left hand.
“Incredible.” With the beer in his hand, Little John is finally able to take a seat. “How did he get all this?”
“You won’t believe it, but he’s got a dozen lines of filament attached to windows on the MX Global building with a listening device in his office.”
“Fishing line?”
“Yep.”
Little John tips his head back and empties the can in one long drink. “Ryzaard has no idea, does he?”
“It doesn’t look like it.”
There’s silence in the tent as the sound of crickets rises to a crescendo outside, and then dies back down. The tall man walks to the front flap and opens it, looking up into the night sky. Points of crystal light stand out in the dark dome above him. He turns and shoots a backward glance at Little John. “Should we tell him?”
Little John looks up. “Who?”
“Ryzaard.” The tall man turns back to the stars. “It’s information he might be willing to pay for. It could buy us a lot of goodwill. He has money and power, enough to take the government and all the corporate hecklers off our backs. Enough to give us a complete image makeover. He might be willing to make a deal. It could help the cause.”
“It would destroy the cause.” Little John reaches for another beer. “Men like him are at the center of the Complex, the center of all we’re fighting against. We’re strong precisely because we don’t need his money or his power.”
“Just wanted to make sure you had thought it through.”
“That’s what I like about you.” Little John takes another drink, and the camp chair creaks as he adjusts his position. “Always thinking about our options. Always coming up with some new hare-brained idea.”
The tall man pushes his aviator sunglasses up on his nose. “Then what do we do about our man in the City who is planning on single-handedly taking down the MX Global machine?”
“Have the Children keep an eye on him. Once he makes his move, I want someone on his tail, right behind him. I have a feeling he’s planning on breaking in.”
“Your sixth sense?”
“Maybe. If he does, he’ll never get out alive without our help. It would be a shame to see a guy with this much moxie get cut down by the Complex. He deserves a fighting chance.” Little John looked down at the jax in his hand, his eyes scanning the holo screen. “And keep this stuff coming. I want to know his every move.”
CHAPTER 86
Why hasn’t Ryzaard killed me already?
That’s the only thought that crosses Matt’s mind before two large shapes rush him from each side and drop him hard on the tatami floor face down. With practiced efficiency, they pull his hands behind his back and slap metal bands around his wrists and ankles, and then set him upright against the wall, sitting on the floor.
Ryzaard stands a few meters off to the left in his tweed jacket and bow tie, silently nodding his head up and down with a black cigarette hanging limp from his lips.
This time, there are no surprise injections of pain-inducing hallucinogens, no physical violence other than the metal bands, not even any attempts to take away his Stone. Ryzaard must know Matt can access it without his hands. It doesn’t make sense, but Matt doesn’t waste time trying to figure it out. If Ryzaard is going to allow him to use the Stone, there’s no time to waste. As soon as he’s sitting upright, he quiets his breathing and goes to the familiar place in his memory where he’s standing on the beach with his mom, and they’re watching the surf flow in and out.
Just a few more seconds, and he’ll be able to stop time, maybe even jump away. He relaxes and closes his eyes, doing what he’s done many times.
But nothing happens. Time flows on.
He tries another approach. In his mind, he sees the mountaintop where the Woman appeared and wills himself there.
No flash of light, no emptying of sound around him. Nothing.
In desperation, Matt stares at the tatami floor under him, trying to go deep into its structure, just as he had with the white pebble Naganuma showed him on the seashore.
“Rather frustrating, isn’t it?” Ryzaard stands in the corner and reaches into his jacket to bring out his own Stone for Matt to see. Then he disappears and appears again at the opposite corner of the room. He bounces back and forth between the two locations, a smile on his face. “That’s funny. Seems to work just fine for me.” The other two men in the room stare forward, uninterested in Ryzaard’s antics.
And then a reflection of light catches his eye. Turning his head to squint, he looks for the source. It’s next to the table, a shiny metal surface mirroring the sunlight coming through the open front door. On closer inspection, Matt sees that it’s a large stainless steel cube with protruding cables that snake across the tatami and out the back door of the room. He hears and feels its gentle hum.
He tries his Stone again, but it’s black and dead.
Moving around the edge of the room, Ryzaard keeps a distance of several meters between him and Matt. “You’re very lucky,” he says.
“Really?” Matt stares with cold eyes to hide the fear, not for himself, but for Jessica, that’s starting to gnaw at his stomach.
“Oh yes. Very.” Ryzaard takes the cigarette from his lips and taps the end, releasing a stream of ashes to float to the floor. “Mr. Naganuma made me promise not to kill you. And I always keep my promises. He’s the only reason you’re alive right now.”
“And the only reason you found me.”
“He did help.” Ryzaard takes a deep drag and blows the smoke directly at Matt. “The Stones are a tricky business, my young friend. Better not to trust anyone.”
They both turn to look out the front door at the sound of an approaching motorcycle.
Ryzaard motions with his cigarette at one of the large men standing next to Matt. The man bends down and forces a hand into Matt’s side pocket, bringing out his Stone. He walks it over to Ryzaard and drops it into a small box Ryzaard has taken from inside his jacket. It looks like the same stone box that Naganuma showed to Matt before. Ryzaard immediately snaps the lid shut and puts it back into his suit coat.
The sound of the motorcycle grows louder until it’s just outside the building. Then the engine cuts out, and they hear footsteps crunching across the gravel.
Naganuma comes up the wooden steps and walks through the front door, stopping in the small area below the main floor to take off his shoes.
At the sound of his entrance, Matt looks up with questioning eyes.
Naganuma seems not to notice him and stares straight across the room over Matt’s head into the eyes of Ryzaard. “I see you have kept your side of the bargain, so far.”
“Of course,” Ryzaard says. “What did you expect?”
The priest nods his head. “Is it functional?” His gaze drops past Matt to the cube on the floor.
“It appears to be working quite well. Thank you for allowing us to use the box. With some reverse engineering, we were able to come up with a system that duplicates its neutralizing effects on a Stone, at least within a limited area.” Ryzaard points at Matt. “Our young friend is tangible proof. He has found his Stone to be quite useless.”
They all hear the thump-thump of a helicopter transport descending from above. It drops onto the white pebble sea of the shrine grounds not far away.
Naganuma takes another look at the cube under the table. “I expect you to keep your bargain to the end.” His eyes brush past Matt, hanging on him for a split-second, and move to the transport outside.
“And I trust that you will keep yours.” Ryzaard nods to the two burly men standing at attention. They pick Matt up and hold him a foot off the floor. “Shall we go, my young friend?”
“Do I have a choice?”
“It wo
uld be in your best interest to cooperate.” Ryzaard allows a smile to bend at the corner of his lips.
They all walk out the front door, down the steps, to the waiting helicopter.
Matt settles into his seat between the two broad-shouldered men, his wrists and ankles still shackled and connected by a thin chain of extremely hard metal. The two men hold onto its loose ends and stoically stare forward.
The silver cube is slid into place between Matt’s feet.
In the faint darkness of the transport, there’s a light prick on his neck, and something powerful pulls him into a dreamless sleep.
When he wakes, he’s engulfed in the same thump thump sound that was the last thing he remembers after boarding the transport in Japan. The entire aircraft banks sharply to the right and down while flying over a city that he immediately recognizes.
Ryzaard and Naganuma sit across from him, an empty space separating them.
The helicopter transport levels out and slows into a descent as they settle down on to the roof of a building in the heart of Manhattan. The doors slide open. Twenty big men in black battle armor surround the helicopter and back up a couple of paces with their fingers resting easy on the triggers of pulse rifles.
“Shall we proceed?” Ryzaard stands and walks down the metal steps to the roof level, followed by Naganuma, still avoiding Matt’s eyes. The two men on each side of Matt stand, pulling him up like a puppet on a string. He takes a step to the door and stumbles forward, his head protruding into the open air before strong arms pull him back by his wrists and keep him from tumbling down the steps.
Ryzaard looks back and up at Matt. “Baby steps.” He smiles warmly.
The two men grab Matt’s shoulders and carry him down to the level of the roof. At the bottom, he’s surrounded by soldiers. They come together and form a tight circle with him in the center as they escort him to a silver ring marked on the roof. When Matt is inside the ring, the soldiers pull back two paces, weapons drawn, fingers on triggers.
