The Radioactive Redhead with The Peach-Blonde Bomber

by John Zakour

  “Please don’t hurt us.”

  “You don’t get to tell me what to do, Enga,” I barked. “If you want to blow up windmills to get back at your grandfather for whatever you think he’s done to you frankly, I don’t care.”

  “What?”

  “But you lost all sympathy from me the nano you and your boyfriend here brought a live bomb into a crowded hotel!”

  “What?”

  “We don’t have a bomb!”

  Sharif took an angry step toward me. I gave him a shove (a little harder than I intended) and he fell backward, tripping over the hem of Enga’s robe as he backpedaled.

  “Rene!”

  Enga reached down to help him but Sharif was too far gone and he fell to the floor, his hand accidentally grabbing the towel on Enga’s head, pulling it off on his way down. He landed with a thud, hitting his head on an end table.

  “No!”

  Enga threw herself toward him on the floor, wrapping him in her arms.

  “I don’t understand,” she said, her voice cracking just a little. “What’s going on?”

  There was fear in her eyes when she looked up at me. Worse still, there was confusion. The look on her face was the same one that I’d seen in the picture earlier in the day. She looked innocent. And seeing her there, I knew we were in trouble.

  “HARV, her hair.”

  Reflexively, Enga put a hand to her head. I stepped forward and gently pulled it away to get a better look. Her hair was still wet from the shower but I could see the color as plain as day. It was peach. Most of it was anyway…

  …just not the roots.

  The roots were blonde, and almost an inch in length.

  “You have roots.”

  Again, she turned away and put her hand over the top of her head, shyly.

  “I’m growing it out.”

  “How long have you been doing that?”

  “About a month.”

  “So the peach color…”

  “It’s actually tea-rose.”

  “No, it really is peach,” I said. “HARV checked the pantone scale.”

  “The pantone scale? Who’s HARV? What’s going on?”

  “Gates, you didn’t do it, did you?”

  “Boss, I found the bomb!” HARV’s hologram appeared beside me, startling Enga and the still dazed Rene, and pointed to the ceiling by the far wall. “It’s in the armoire.”

  “What?” Enga looked shocked.

  Most high end city hotels these days make the most of their limited room space by using well appointed, anti-grav storage containers instead of standard closets or traditional armoires. Guests fill the units with their luggage at check-in and then float them up to the ceiling until needed, giving themselves extra floor space to do…whatever it is that rich people do in hotel rooms.

  I hit the wall control to lower the closet and the four of us gathered around it on the floor. HARV jimmied the lock electronically and the door popped open revealing four identical orange suitcases.

  “Those aren’t mine,” Enga said. “Not all of them, anyway. I only have three.”

  “It’s the one at the end,” HARV said. “The Q-5 traces are strongest there.”

  I pulled the case free and set it on the floor. It had a relatively complicated lock but, again HARV was able to pick it without much problem. Enga and Sharif both gasped audibly when I opened the lid to reveal the explosive inside. It was a full kilo of Q-5, enough to take out the entire floor of the hotel.

  “Oh my Gates,” Enga said, now close to tears. “Please tell me what’s going on. What’s happening?”

  I gritted my teeth in anger. Not at Enga but at how the pieces of this case were suddenly coming together in a very, very bad way.

  “You’re being framed, Ms. Ayeffuul,” I replied.

  * * *

  Ten minutes later, my car engine rumbled like steroid-enhanced thunder as HARV and I sped through the deserted Frisco streets on our way to the Cabrillo Highway windmill farm. The roar of the engine mirrored my mood perfectly at that nano; revved up, mean, and angry as DOS.

  “We were played, HARV.”

  “I know, Boss.”

  “Inga set us up the whole time. She’s the one behind the bombings. She dyed her hair orange to look like Enga and she put on that ridiculous costume to draw our attention away from any subtle differences.”

  “I know.”

  “That’s probably why Big Blow’s surveillance cameras were so good. She wanted to make sure that we saw what she wanted us to see, which was Enga. They’re identical twins after all. She could even leave behind DNA evidence and it would still point to her sister.

  “Is this recap really making you feel better?”

  “It’s making me angrier,” I replied, “Right now that’s a good thing.”

  The bomb in Enga’s hotel was on a timer set to blow in a little more than two hours. HARV disarmed it with a little effort but since we couldn’t leave a kilo of Q-5 explosive in a hotel, we put it in the trunk of my car and took it with us. HARV swore to me that it was safe but I was still a little nervous going over the potholes. Enga and Sharif were a little shaken by the whole thing. I told them that they were still in danger and they should sit tight in the hotel until they heard from me again. I was hoping that they’d follow my instructions. I was going to have enough trouble with one Ayeffuul twin tonight. I didn’t need a second one running around as well.

  “And when Inga gave us the info she had on her sister? She wanted us to find the storage unit. She wanted us to find Bingo. She knew he’d crack when we leaned on him. That’s why she had him build the bomb and bring it to the hotel. She wanted us to find Enga. She was letting us build the case against her.”

  “I know.”

  “The bombings were going to weaken Big Blow and force Gundervson to sell out to one of the larger energy companies. That’s what Inga has wanted all along. You heard her at the meeting.”

  “I know.”

  “She was going to force Gundervson to sell, take her share of the profits, blame the whole thing on her sister and then get rid of her.”

  “I know.”

  Enga had told us that her sister had contacted her the day before to set up a meeting at the room she’d booked for her at the Sprocketwerks. She said she was hoping to bring the family together again, to make peace. That had all been a ruse of course to bring Enga into the open. Inga rented the room for Enga and planted the bomb which was set to explode later that night. Enga would be killed in the explosion and it would look like an accident; the ironic, tragic death of a crazy, orange-haired bomber.

  But if Enga was supposed to die tonight, that meant that this was Inga’s end game. Whatever final stunt she was planning had to be completed by the time Enga was to be killed in the explosion. So tonight was the big night. And since there were three glam-dice unaccounted for, it was clear that tonight’s finale was meant to be a big one.

  “The only mistake Inga made,” I said, “was that she underestimated us.”

  “Absolutely.”

  “We made it through her maze more quickly than she planned and got to Enga before the bomb went off.”

  “You’re correct there, Boss.”

  “Yep. We’re onto her game now.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “What?”

  “I said you’re welcome.”

  “For what?”

  “Well, clearly it was my quick analysis of the information that Ms. Ayeffuul gave us that led to our finding her sister so quickly.”

  “How do you figure it was your analysis?” I said. “Maybe it was the way I quickly dealt with the thugs that put us ahead of schedule.”

  “That’s highly unlikely,” HARV replied. “Really, how much time can a firefight actually take?”

  “Excuse me, I was the one who figured out that it was Bingo who made the glam-dice.”

  “After I validated your theory.”

  “I was the one who got Bingo to talk.”
r />   “Oh please. Mr. Jones would have given that information to an old lady twisting his ear.”

  “That ear-twisting thing really hurts, you know.”

  “If you say so.”

  “I’m sorry, who’s the detective here again?”

  “Let’s just call it a team effort,” HARV said with a sigh.

  “Fine!” I said. “By the way, thanks for disarming the bomb.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  “Not that I couldn’t have disarmed it myself though.”

  “Gates. How much longer until we get to the mad-bomber?”

  * * *

  We reached the windmill farm a few minutes later. Per Gundervson’s orders we had a security hovercraft ready and waiting for us. HARV took the com, fired up the engine and in nanos we were in the air and ready to hunt.

  “Hook into the Big Blow security network,” I said as we began flying through the windmill forest. “Let’s see if we can find her while we still have the element of surprise.”

  HARV’s normal scan for Q-5 was useless outdoors, especially in the wind, so the only way to find the explosives this time would be visual. With any luck these bombs would have the same orange glow of the earlier ones. That would at least make them easier to find in the darkness.

  “OK, HARV, let’s go find our explosive needles in this crazy haystack.”

  We maneuvered through the sea of trees like a high-tech Pequod looking for our own personal Moby. Thankfully we had more eyes than mine on the lookout, because a few minutes later HARV found our whale.

  “Thar she blows, Boss! A security camera picked up what appears to be Ms. Ayefuul in a tree three kilometers to the north.”

  I popped my gun into hand and strapped myself into my seat.

  “Let’s go get her,” I said.

  HARV banked the hover to the left and we headed north. As he did so he put the security feed onto the cockpit interface screen and brought up the live images of Inga kneeling atop the trunk of a tree at the locus of three large, rotor-filled branches. She had the Dutch girl costume on again, this time without the cap. Her hair was orange again as well, right down to the roots (clearly she hadn’t actually seen Enga in a while).

  “She’s going to damage her hair by continuously dying it from blonde to peach,” HARV said. “I hope she has a good stylist.”

  “Yes, that’s my main concern at the nano as well, HARV.”

  Inga was kneeling beside a device the size of a suitcase. It was wrapped tightly in dark polymer straps and I had to admit, it looked pretty ominous. Her attention was tightly focused on the device as she calmly and expertly adjusted the controls.

  “Can you tell if she has the other bombs with her?” I asked. “Or has she already set them?”

  “Oh my,” HARV said.

  For the record, HARV’s “oh my’s” should not be confused with his “uh-oh’s.” “Uh-oh” is indicative of immediate danger. I hear uh-oh and I immediately go into duck and cover mode. “Oh my,” on the other hand, has a more foreboding undertone. The danger may not be immediate but it’s unfortunately more menacing and deadlier than previously expected. Honestly, I’m not sure which expletive scares me more but needless to say, neither one is good.

  “What is it?”

  “Well, the good news is that we don’t have to worry about the other two bombs,” HARV said. “Because the bad news is that the bomb she has with her is super-sized.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “You can see for yourself that the package is significantly larger than the previous explosive devices she’s used. Its apparent volume is equivalent to what I would calculate would remain of her Q-5 stores based upon the number of containers we found at the storage unit less the amount of explosives used in the previous bombings.”

  “So she’s going out with one big bang?” I said.

  “It would appear so.”

  “Just how powerful is that bomb?”

  “I calculate that the blast ratio will be roughly half a kilometer in diameter. It will also likely shatter the already unstable cliffside, creating an avalanche that will wipe out this entire stretch of the windmill forest. Honestly, the overall damage to the area could be catastrophic.”

  “Gates, what is she thinking?”

  “It’s hard to tell at this point,” HARV said. “But I fear Ms. Ayeffuul may be somewhat mentally unstable.”

  “It was a rhetorical question, HARV,” I said, rubbing my temples. “But I think you’re right.”

  We covered the distance to Inga quickly. HARV brought the hover through the branches of the windmill trees, rolling and banking at high-speed to avoid the rotors that were spinning wildly in the wind. We came through the branches of one large tree into a tiny clearing of airspace and saw Inga a hundred meters ahead of us. She was still atop the trunk of a tree and still at work on the bomb.

  “There she is,” I said.

  She must have heard the sound of the hover because she turned just then and cast an angry glance our way. She gave the bomb one final adjustment then took off running along a branch of the windmill.

  “We spooked her,” I said. “She’s on the run.”

  “She’s also on the line,” HARV replied.

  “What?”

  “You have an incoming communication from her.”

  “Put it on the com.”

  “Good evening, Zach.” The sound of wind in the background gave her voice an ethereal quality as it came through the com. But her tone was icy, fearless. “Lovely night for a stroll, isn’t it?”

  I could see her running flat out across the tree branch, her shoes hugging the plastic compounds of the windmill tree like magnets on a metal floor.

  “The police are on their way,” I said. “You won’t get away, Inga.”

  “Oh, I disagree,” she replied. “You may have gotten to Enga a little early, but I can still make this work.”

  Without slowing, she adroitly pulled a small plastic disk from her backpack and expanded it at the touch of a button.

  “She has a hover board,” I shouted.

  Then she pulled a blaster out of a shoulder holster and fired at us.

  “And she’s armed,” HARV added, veering the hover madly to the right to avoid the laser blast.

  “Why am I not surprised?”

  Inga powered up the hover board and jumped onto it like a pro, taking to the air and zipping impossibly quickly and acrobatically through the trees.

  “I can still blame this on Enga,” she said over the com. “All I need is to tie up a loose end or two. One of which, being you.”

  She turned and fired another round of laser blasts at us.

  * * *

  And that just about brings us back to where this story began. So now I hope you understand the kind of day I’m having. The only question left to answer is whether or not I’ll survive the end of it.

  “The explosive has been armed,” HARV said as we neared the tree. “You’ll have to choose between pursuing Ms. Ayeffuul and disarming the bomb. Which do you want to do?”

  I looked at the armed bomb, glowing orange in the night, primed to decimate the area. Then I turned my gaze toward Inga as she fled on her hover board, without a thought to all the destruction she was going to leave in her wake.

  “We’re doing both,” I said between gritted teeth. “Let’s grab the bomb and take it with us.”

  “What?”

  I pushed the dash control to retract the protective roof of the hover. The air hit my face like a sledgehammer as the roof-shell peeled back. My cheeks flapped in the breeze like a flying squirrel with a mouthful of nuts.

  “There is no way we’re letting her get away after all of this,” I shouted. “Take us in close. I’ll grab the bomb.”

  “Oh well,” HARV said with an eye-roll. “Perhaps my next user will lead a more peaceful life. Hang on.”

  HARV banked the hover hard to the right as we zipped between two rotors and then swung hard left skimming along the le
ngth of the branch half a meter above it and heading straight toward the bomb at the apex of the trunk. Its orange glow grew brighter as we neared.

  “You’ll need to break the electro-magnetic field holding it in place,” HARV shouted. “A low power EMP should do the trick.”

  “Got it.”

  I popped my gun into hand as HARV angled the hover just enough so that I could lean over the side and get a good bead on the explosive.

  “Low pulse,” I said, taking aim.

  The gun’s handle light flashed green in agreement. I pulled the trigger and let loose a short blast of electro-magnetic energy that enveloped the bomb for a nano and then dissipated.

  “The field holding the explosive in place is gone,” HARV said. “You should be able to grab it now.”

  I popped my gun back into the wrist holster and grabbed the bomb as we zoomed by. Feeling like the unluckiest pony express rider in history, I dropped the bomb onto the floor of the hover beside HARV’s hologram.

  “You can simultaneously pilot the hover and figure out how to disarm the actual explosive, right?”

  “Multi-tasking is my specialty,” HARV replied. “As a matter of fact, right now I’m playing a game of chess with my esteemed creator, Dr. Pool.”

  “Great. If there’s a remote detonator then disable that first.”

  “I didn’t just roll of the assembly line yesterday, you know. It’s already done.”

  “Good,” I said, popping my gun back into my hand. “Then let’s go get our flying Dutch girl.”

  “Aye, aye, Captain,” HARV said, putting the hover into a nosedive.

  As we broke through the canopy level of branches, we spotted Inga fifty meters ahead of us. She was at thirty meters in altitude and dropping fast, weaving in and around the windmill trees at high speed with ease.

  “She’s pretty good on that board,” I grumbled.

  “Our craft is faster but here amongst the windmills, we can’t match her maneuverability,” HARV replied. “Worse still, we’re running out of time with this explosive device.”

  “I thought you were disarming it?”

  “Oh, I can disarm it,” HARV replied. “I calculate that it would take approximately 55 seconds to do so. Unfortunately the bomb is programmed to detonate in 45 seconds.”

  “Fine,” I said. “Keep it hot then. We’ll switch to plan B.”