by Gini Koch
“Do we have to remove Katherine Katt Martini?”
“Yes. Identified as single point of disruption for all active plans and organizations. Has single-handedly destroyed at least ten major offensives. Considered Enemy Number One. Should be destroyed with extreme prejudice.”
“I feel the love.”
“Our side loves you,” White said.
“Doctor Gaultier, Katherine Katt Martini identified within medical lab.”
“Thanks, VARIS. She’s my prisoner.”
“Recommend immediate termination. Subject has exhibited random abilities.”
“Random abilities?” What the heck did that mean? I had the skills.
Chuckie looked over his shoulder and grinned at me. “Means luck.”
“Oh.” Well, couldn’t argue that one.
“Shall I activate One through Three, Doctor Gaultier?”
“No, VARIS, not just yet. I’ll let you know.”
“Very good. Can I assist with anything else?”
“Not at the moment. Thank you, VARIS.” Chuckie stood and the console went quiet. The video feeds were still active. Happily, most of the people who were being spied on were in my room at the Embassy, and, thankfully, the others seemed to still be at the party in the library.
“Now what?”
Chuckie sighed. “Now we go into that freezer and see just what One through Three really are.”
CHAPTER 80
“CAN’T WAIT. OH, WAIT. Can wait. Would love to wait.” I sighed. “Of course, they’re after my baby, so, back to can’t wait.”
Chuckie nodded. “Ditto. So, where’s the hidden freezer?” He took the list of operatives from me, folded up the printouts, and shoved them into his inner jacket pocket.
I led them over, and he pulled the handle. It opened, but nothing fell out. Because there was a big room back there. We all peered in. There were bags of various sizes hung up on meat hooks. I found myself wishing I’d listened to Jeff and changed clothes.
“Wow, it’s going to keep on sucking until it just can’t suck any more, isn’t it?”
“Looks that way.” Chuckie took my hand and indicated White should take the other, then we all stepped inside. It was freezing, but I was revved up on fear and horror, and it didn’t bother me as much as it could have. Chuckie looked down and jerked his head away. “I wish you’d put on some clothes.”
I looked down. Yep, the torpedoes were doing a good imitation of getting ready to be ravaged by Jeff. “I didn’t know we’d be in a freaking meat locker.”
All of us froze. “Oh, I wish you hadn’t said that. Because, as I look around at oddly shaped bags hanging on meat hooks, I’m hearing horror movie music in my head.”
“Dude, you too? Thank God it’s not just me expecting to see severed limbs and such in the bags. But, you know, you’re the top man, so I’m not going to steal your thunder. You get to open them. I’ll wait by the door so I can run screaming back down the hall.” I pulled my phone out. “How the hell do they get reception down here?”
Chuckie cleared his throat. “The phone system is twenty years old, Kitty. It’s run on landlines. Like all the rest of their computer equipment.” I was getting a look that said my time with Jeff had caused brain damage.
“I can still beat you at chess.”
He and I stared at each other. “Queen.” We said it in unison. Too creeped out to care.
“Pardon?” White asked, sounding confused.
“Operation Invasion was one big chess game, Mister White, remember? Realistically, every elaborate ruse is, in its own way. We haven’t won yet, because the White Queen is still free, and the King is not dead, merely locked up.”
“Why are we black?” White still sounded confused.
“Because white goes first. Our enemies always make the first moves. How you start the game matters, but how you end it is what counts.”
Chuckie laughed. “And to think I had to beg you to join the Chess Club.”
I shrugged. “Until I realized I was going to be the only girl, and the rest of the guys were all fun and cool like you.”
He gave me a very fond look, and I wondered if I’d just put us right back to Jeff having to have the jealousy chat. Oh, well, more important things to worry about. Like what was in the icky bags and what One through Three would turn out to be.
“Okay, Richard and I will look in the bags. Kitty, you look around for whatever else they have hidden here. Stay in sight of us, though, and, seriously, feel free to scream if you need us.”
“You got it.” I was working to not scream. Screaming would be easy.
The men went to the nearest bag and started to gingerly open it. I busied myself elsewhere. This room was bigger than the lab and seemed to be L-shaped. I examined the part of the room we were in first. Lots and lots of bags. Lots. Moved through them carefully. It was like the Hanging Forest of Horror in here.
Got to the walls—a stainless steel counter ran along three quarters of the room—only the wall that held the door didn’t have any counter. On the metal counters were things that looked like very large, weird metal Crock-Pots. All of them had wiring and other oddities coming out and trailing along the counter, one hooked into the other, to create one long daisy chain of weird. It headed toward the end of the room I hadn’t examined yet.
Heard gagging and spun around. Chuckie and White were closer to me. Both of them looked the way I felt after every gate transfer combined. “Okay,” Chuckie gagged out as they closed up the bag they were looking in. “We’ve seen enough.”
“More than enough,” White agreed.
“I know I’m going to regret asking, but what’s in the bags?”
“Exactly what you think is in the bags.” Chuckie really looked like he was going to throw up.
“Erm . . . severed body parts from all the two hundred or so male hybrids who died mysteriously as well as a variety of our agents, probably the ones with empathic and imageering talents, including the four who were murdered earlier in Operation Confusion?”
White nodded. “And this is why you’re my partner, Missis Martini. You continue to think like the megalomaniacs and psychos above all others.”
“Damn. I was so hoping I’d be wrong, and the bags would be filled with candy or fluffy bunnies.”
“Might not be all two hundred, but, there’s plenty of parts.” Chuckie shuddered. “Replicants. Oh, my God.”
I pointed to the containers on the metal counter. “Master, Igor has found some lovely brains for you.”
CHAPTER 81
WE ALL STARED AT FRANKENSTEIN’S Crock-Pots. “You think it’s just their brains in there?” Chuckie asked hopefully.
“No idea. I hope Jeff and Christopher can figure out how to lock this memory away so Jamie never, ever sees it.” Found myself wishing we had a Dazzler along. This all looked extremely scientific. Camilla might have had the stomach for it, but since I had no phone reception, I couldn’t call her down here to find out. “Any clue what’ll happen if we open things up?”
“None.” Chuckie was studying the wires, and he began to follow the trail of vats. As before, each one was hooked into the next all the way down the line, to the far wall, where we turned the corner and moved farther into the Freezer from Hell. I started humming “Whatever Happened to Saturday Night” from Rocky Horror.
“I still think you made the best Columbia ever,” Chuckie said as we moved along. More stainless steel counter on both sides, more creepy vats, all connected one to the next.
“You’re so sweet. You did Brad really well, too.”
“Nerd was natural, yeah.”
“What are you two talking about, Missus Martini?”
“Shared experiences at the midnight movies, Mister White. Long in the past now. Similarities to our current situation, however.” Wondered if a saxophone would be involved, figured it couldn’t possibly end up that enjoyable an experience. I didn’t luck into Tim Curry in a leather teddy and fishnet stockings. My luck ran to creepy fuglies and insa
ne politicos. I consoled myself that I’d married the hottest alien in the galaxy. Just hoped I’d see him again soon.
“I counted well over a hundred of the containers.” White said quietly. “And that was in the other room alone.”
We turned again. Counters and vats continued on, but then stopped at another freezer door. “What are the odds?” Chuckie asked.
“Oh, pretty freaking good. Clone army or Gaultier’s Monster?”
“No bet. Could be either one, could be both.”
“I’m getting a horrible feeling about what the two of you are talking about, Missus Martini. Should we be prepared for attack or merely for unmitigated horror?”
“See, this is why you’re my new partner, Mister White.’Cause you continue to rock above all others. Cover all the bases, assume both.”
Chuckie opened the door. Inside was a room lit up like the proverbial Christmas tree. And inside it was something that, even though I was prepared, made me scream.
White hugged me to him and I buried my face in his chest. “Mister Reynolds, your thoughts? About what to do, I mean. I assume we’re all sharing the horror.”
“The room’s rigged. I don’t think we can enter it safely.” I felt Chuckie’s hand on my back. “Kitty, you have to pull it together, right now.”
I took a deep breath, pulled away from White, and turned around. Nope, I hadn’t imagined it. Sent a memo to the cosmos to clarify that when I’d thought about wanting to see Jeff again soon, I hadn’t meant like this.
“Jeff” was standing there. There were tubes and wires going into “him.” “Christopher” and “Chuckie” were on either side of “Jeff” just as they’d been in the Paris dungeon. Tubes and wires in them, too. They were naked, and I could confirm that “Jeff” and “Chuckie” were anatomically correct.
There were replicas of every one of the men from Alpha and Airborne in there. I did my best not to check them out. Failed. If the attention to detail on “Jeff” and “Chuckie” was accurately spread across all the others, we had the best-hung guys in the galaxy working for us. “Brian” was the most average, if you could call it that. “He” was in the back, so I’d missed him earlier. Yep, anatomically correct if faded memory served. I was impressed with my taste and selectivity. Oh, sure, I’d married the pick of the litter, but I’d known that already.
“You done checking everyone out?” Chuckie asked, sarcasm knob up to eleven.
“No need to be snide. I’m just trying not to scream again, okay?”
“Out of horror or excitement? I’m not sure from your expression.”
“Hilarious.” I looked at all of them. “Why isn’t there one of Richard in here?”
“I’d make the others seem inadequate.”
“Dude, I so love being your partner I can’t even find the words. But, I’d also guess the plan was for one of the Ron-nies to take your place, either Yates or Al Dejahl. But they would have to get rid of Jeff and Christopher, and Chuckie, in a way that wouldn’t cause suspicion.”
“Makes sense.” Chuckie heaved a sigh. “I’d like to be on record that, as a straight male, this isn’t remotely enjoyable for me, on any level.”
“Noted, and I never had a doubt.” Went back to examining the replicants. “I figure One through Three would be our three main men here.” The ones that resembled Jeff, Christopher, and Chuckie all seemed alive. Their eyes were open, at any rate, and it felt as if they were watching us. “Bet we can’t shoot them and expect to kill them.”
“Doubt it.” Chuckie was examining them, too, though none of us had crossed the threshold. “They’re not all that accurate. I mean, decent for the shock value, but not for too much longer.”
I managed not to mention that they were damned good for fakes. Put them into Armani suits so you couldn’t see the very careful stitching, and they’d pass pretty well. “Um, Chuckie? Remember how all of you were hanging like meat in the prison in Paris? I think you all were supposed to, well, be the basis for the more accurate final models. The next level in robotic replacements—replace them with something that feels alive, presumably.”
He was quiet for a couple of moments. “Oh.”
I went to the doorway. “Chuckie, you said this room is rigged. So, where’re the bombs and such?” The one who looked like Jeff raised its hand and pointed. “Oh. Uh. Huh. Erm. Hi. Yeah, guys? Number One is ready for sure. Can you dismantle the bombs?” It shook its head slowly. I couldn’t think of it as Jeff, or even real. It was too beyond gross. And even more horrifying, because if they could think and were put together this well, the odds were they could feel.
“Don’t go in there,” Chuckie said.
“Dude, neither that moronic nor that foolhardy.” I looked around at the others. It did seem only the three were alive. But never hurt to check. “Are the others . . . ready to go?” The Christopher one shook its head slowly. “Number Two is ready also, guys. Do you have more than one brain inside you?” The Chuckie one nodded this time. “And, happy day, Number Three’s up and running as well.”
I didn’t want to ask, but I had to. But I sort of crept up on it. “Does one of you have a brother named Walter?” All three nodded. “And another brother named William?” More nods. Dammit.
I swallowed hard. “Um, Wayne, is that you?” All three heads bobbed. “Only you?” I asked almost hopefully. The heads shook. That was a negatory. So much for optimism.
“Wayne, the other three agents who were just killed, they in there, too?” Three heads bobbed. “How about the brains or consciousnesses or whatever from the other hybrids? Are they in there, too?” More head bobbing.
“Okay. Um. Great. Give us a moment to freak out. Be right back.”
“How did we miss this? How could Jeffrey and Christopher have missed it?” White asked quietly as I moved away from the doorway.
I was shivering, but it wasn’t really from cold. Horror made you shiver, too. “We’re four stories underground, in a chamber built with the same stuff your other strongholds are, and undoubtedly reinforced by whatever horrible things the C.I.A. reinforces with. This was why they tried to get Jeff and Christopher and everyone during Operation Fugly.”
“Why isn’t there a replica of you in here?” I could hear Chuckie’s wheels turning.
“Because I showed up less than two years ago, out of the blue, and they have no female hybrids to use for parts. They have plenty of leftovers or extras to make the guys who increased in importance in the last couple of years. A-Cs come in all the skin tones and body types humans do, after all. I mean, we went through the Parts Department on our way in, remember? If you’re cutting and pasting from almost two hundred options, it would make creating new male bodies reasonably simple. Maybe cutting them up while alive provides some horrible helpful oomph for this sort of mad scientist scheme. I really liked Amy’s dad better when I thought this whole thing was about money.”
“And they want your child to power them.” Chuckie sounded furious. I was too horrified to feel all the fear and rage that knowledge gave me, but I felt plenty anyway.
The one that looked like Jeff opened its mouth. “Please.” It got a lot of pain, suffering, and horror into that one syllable. I went back to the doorway. “Please.”
I knew what they wanted me to do. But I couldn’t. They were made out of Wayne, and other guys just like him. They weren’t evil. They were our people, cut up and reattached and tortured. But they weren’t willingly trying to hurt anyone. “I can’t.”
It reached both hands to me, in supplication. “Please. Make it stop.”
I heard a voice in my mind. Where’s the fight in you when we need it?
Christopher?
Not really. In a way.
Wayne?
Yes. All. We’re all here. Kill us.
I can’t. You can’t ask me to kill you, kill all of you in cold blood.
You must. We won’t be able to fight the programming. Took too much from my, his, our memories.
How?
&n
bsp; Drugged, helpless, memory probes. They know what he knows, so all weaknesses, strengths. The torture meant we couldn’t hide anything from the probes. Stop it before they condemn us to living hell.
What’s above us, do you know or can you tell?
Nothing that will be damaged. Help, please. Getting stronger every minute. Once started, can’t be stopped. Will be worse monsters than any superbeing. Don’t let them do this to us, don’t let them win.
Wayne, I—
Please! Don’t let me, us die in vain, or worse, live like this. Please . . . Commander.
I looked around. “Oh, um, Chuckie? There’s a feed of Surcenthumain going into them.”
“Wonderful. What are we doing to do?”
I took a deep breath. When it came down to it, I had no choice. “Mister White? Please make sure Chuckie’s okay.” I leaped into the Room of the Hot Zombies before Chuckie could grab me.
CHAPTER 82
I COULD SEE LIGHTS START flashing. Risked a look over my shoulder—White was dragging Chuckie away. Good. Turned back. Apparently all the zombies were ready to go, just not as ready as the main three, because all the eyes opened and they all started to move toward me.
Wanted out of the horror movie immediately. I ran to where the Jeff zombie had pointed. Yes, big bomb, ticking. I had about one minute from what the timer said. “What needs to be destroyed besides this room?”
Whole thing. Bombs will not do it alone.
“Mister White! You and Chuckie need to destroy the rest of the lab, all of it, and get out! And in less than thirty seconds. I’ll meet you elsewhere!”
I looked around. Moved at the really fast hyperspeed and hoped that ACE was recovered, willing, and able to help me, though I couldn’t spare the focus to ask. My fast hyperspeed wasn’t graceful, but I was able to aim and hit, so to speak. Pulled all the tubes and wires out of the walls. All but the Jeff, Chuckie, and Christopher zombies stopped moving. A couple fell over. It had the potential to be comical, in about fifty years.
Saw a small red lever tagged “Final Solution” in white letters. Figured this was what I was probably going for under the circumstances and hoped I wasn’t defusing the bomb somehow.
