Third Transmission

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Third Transmission Page 7

by Jack Heath


  ‘Sir, madam, I’m going to need to see your invitations,’ the wide one said, echoing Six’s words to the limo driver.

  ‘Of course,’ Six said. He drew the plastic slip from the pocket of his tuxedo.

  The tall guard scanned it with a pen-like tube. A green light flashed on the end.

  ‘Enjoy the party, Mr Yu,’ the guard said. He nodded to Ace. ‘Madam.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Ace said. She giggled and put her arm through Six’s.

  The iron doors creaked open, and they walked through into the brightly lit corridor. There was a security checkpoint at the other end.

  ‘You’re overdoing it,’ Six whispered.

  ‘No I’m not,’ Ace replied. ‘Have you ever actually been to a party?’

  ‘That’s beside the point.’

  ‘Trust me, Six,’ she said. ‘You’re the invited guest – the scientist or the official or whoever Yu is supposed to be. But I’m just a plus one. Everyone will expect me to be a babbling airhead.’

  Six had always thought ‘airhead’ was slang for ‘pilot’, but he had no time to question her. They were nearly at the checkpoint, and it was much more intimidating than the two guards outside. There was a metal detector, an X-ray machine, and seven security guards with full body armour and Vulture shotguns.

  So much for my Kevlar vest, Six thought. A blast from one of those would cut me in half.

  ‘May I see your invitation, sir?’ the closest guard said.

  Six held it up. The guard took it away, and fed it into a machine.

  ‘Place your right index finger on this, please,’ another one said. He held out a blue pad.

  Six pressed his finger down on the centre. Jack had put a layer of latex over each of his fingertips, carved to match Yu’s prints. He hoped they were good enough, and that there would be no further identity tests.

  The pad flashed green.

  The guard held up a plastic tray. ‘Place any metal items in here,’ he said. ‘Keys, mobile phone, loose change.’

  Six took out his wallet, the keys to the limo, and the mobile phone Jack had given him. He hesitated. He hadn’t known there would be an X-ray machine. Would the Geiger counter inside be obvious?

  ‘In the tray, please, sir,’ the guard said, with growing impatience.

  Six tried to work out a way to avoid handing over the phone. ‘This won’t wreck my triple C or my phone or my credit cards, will it?’

  The guard shook his head.

  ‘Are you sure?’ Six asked. ‘Is there a cloakroom, or somewhere I could put them so I can collect them on my way out?’

  ‘The cloakroom is inside, sir,’ the guard said. ‘All items must pass through the scanner.’

  ‘Okay,’ Six said. There was no other way – he put his wallet, keys and phone in the tray.

  ‘Thank you.’ The guard put the tray on the conveyor belt.

  ‘Will my necklace be a problem?’ Ace was innocently asking the security guard standing on the other side of the metal detector.

  ‘No,’ he said. ‘Do the heels of your shoes have a metal brace inside?’

  ‘Oh, I have no idea,’ Ace said. ‘The tailor didn’t say. Should I take them off?’

  The guard shook his head. ‘No, it’s fine. Come through.’

  Ace strolled through the grey archway. No alarms sounded.

  The guard beckoned to Six. ‘You too.’

  Six walked through the metal detector, heart racing. Would the flashbang set it off? His tray was disappearing into the X-ray machine. In only seconds, his mobile phone would be on the screen, its secrets revealed.

  The metal detector didn’t beep. Six joined Ace on the other side. The guard by the metal detector picked up an explosive-residue sniffer from a table, and swept it over them. It made a small puffing sound and then a green light blinked.

  Six’s tray trundled out the other side of the X-ray machine. Six pocketed his phone, wallet and keys, and turned to leave –

  ‘Just a second,’ the X-ray guard said. He was staring at the screen, and Six could see that he’d paused as the tray went through.

  ‘Can I see your phone, please, sir?’ he asked.

  Six wished he’d thought to take a decoy, a plastic duplicate phone that could have gone through the metal detector unnoticed. He could have handed it over for examination now, the Geiger counter nestled safely in his pocket.

  He passed the phone to the guard.

  ‘How long have you had this?’ the guard asked.

  The other guards were moving closer. Six didn’t want to make them suspicious by turning around to look at them, but he thought he might have heard a holster buckle click.

  ‘A month, maybe two,’ he said.

  The guard was staring at the screen on the phone. He turned it over and examined the back.

  ‘Ten-year warranty,’ Six told him. ‘Supposed to last a lifetime; it’s got some new type of battery in it. Is there a problem?’

  Ace’s hand squeezed his arm tightly. I’m going to get her killed, he realised. I’ve put us both in danger.

  ‘Could you bring that over here, please?’ the X-ray guard said to the one holding the explosive-residue sniffer. He handed it over.

  The X-ray guard swept the sniffer over the phone. It blinked green.

  ‘Switch it to viral,’ the other guard said.

  The anomaly that would have showed up on the X-ray screen, Six knew, was the GM tube – a container which bounced electrons up and down its length. It held only those electrons and a vacuum, so the explosive-residue sniffer would find nothing. But if the guards actually opened up the phone, they would wonder why a completely empty tube was sandwiched in among the phone’s innards – and if any of them had any expertise in physics, chemistry or mechanics, they would recognise it for what it was.

  The sniffer blinked green again.

  The guard stared at the X-ray screen, then back at the phone for a long moment. Six could feel the blood stuttering urgently through his arteries.

  The guard handed the phone back to him. ‘Thanks for your patience.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Six replied, pocketing the phone.

  ‘This “new type of battery” they sold you?’ the guard said. ‘It looks like it’s just a hollow tube. Doesn’t do anything as far as I can tell – you might want to get your money back.’

  Six nodded. He took Ace’s arm, and led her down the corridor towards the party.

  ‘That was close,’ she said.

  ‘You can forget about your article,’ Six replied. ‘Turns out I do feel fear.’

  ‘Me too. That was the scariest minute of my life.’

  ‘You hid it well, for a non-field agent.’

  ‘I’m a medic,’ she said. ‘My poker face is pretty good.’

  They stepped across the threshold into the ballroom, and the noise hit them instantly – the burbling of excited conversation, the clinking of glasses, and the music of a jazz band in the corner.

  Six stared into the crowd of strolling tuxedos and flowing gowns. They had reached the party.

  MISSION

  TWO

  Day 1

  DADDY’S LITTLE GIRL

  Ace picked up two glasses of sparkling wine from the tray of a passing waiter. She handed one to Six.

  He grimaced. Alcohol would slow down his brain, impair his motor skills, compromise his judgement – all bad things on a mission.

  ‘I don’t drink,’ he said.

  Ace stared at him. ‘I’m not suggesting you should,’ she whispered. ‘Just hold it. So waiters don’t approach you and the other guests don’t offer to go get you more.’

  ‘Got it,’ Six said. He stared up at the constellations of chandeliers dangling from the ceiling. When he looked back down, Ace was moving away into the crowd.

  ‘Where are you going?’ he asked.

  Ace walked back, and leaned in close to his ear. ‘I’m going to mingle – it’s what people do at parties. We don’t know anybody here, and that’ll be more obvious
if we stay together.’

  ‘We have a job to do,’ Six said.

  ‘Which doesn’t start until the reception is over and they let us into the rest of the building,’ Ace said. ‘So find a stranger, strike up a conversation, and try to be boring so they won’t remember you.’

  She vanished into the crowd.

  Mingle, Six thought. Fine. He started walking through the crowd, trying to look as though he was heading towards someone.

  Ace was worryingly good at this. For an agent with no field experience, she seemed to have a surprising knack for deception. In fact, Six realised, she was making him look bad.

  The reception hall was cavernous – walls twice as wide and high as cinema screens. Six could see a podium in the corner. Maybe there’d be speeches later.

  He scanned around for doors, and found three, including the way he had come in. One of them was just a fire door, presumably leading to a stairwell, so he figured the other one was the one he wanted. He had to search the facility to find the WMTD and plant the tracker in it, but it would be too obvious to try to slip out now. He’d have to wait until the crowd was ushered through to wherever this new technology was, and disappear during the commotion.

  Voices bounced around him; fragments of introductions, stories, questions and answers. Six came across a circle of seven people listening to the anecdote of an eighth. He joined them, reasoning that he would draw less attention in a larger group.

  The woman talking was old, and wore a thick gold necklace studded with opals. ‘Chemal looks at me,’ she was saying, ‘and she says, “By the time we’re done here, why would there be such a thing as a stock market?”’

  The other guests chuckled appropriately. Six contented himself with an amused smile.

  ‘She’s mad, isn’t she?’ said a man leaning on a white cane.

  ‘Perhaps. But brilliant,’ the old woman with the necklace said. ‘Absolutely brilliant. Why, hello!’ She was staring at Six. ‘I don’t believe we’ve ...’

  ‘Oh, you don’t need to acknowledge me,’ Six said. ‘I’m happy to absorb your conversation passively.’

  To his dismay, the other guests seemed to find this very witty.

  ‘I insist,’ the woman said, lips parting to show glaring white teeth. She extended her hand. ‘Cear Master Panchir.’

  In Six’s experience, you could tell how pretentious someone was by how many names they introduced themselves with. Six shook her hand. ‘Ali Fińon Thaln. Call me Ali.’ That was the name he and Ace had agreed upon – she was supposed to be his wife, Sera Camef Thaln (‘call me Sera’).

  ‘So, Ali,’ the man with the cane said, ‘Do you know Chemal?’

  ‘Not as well as I’d like to,’ Six said smoothly. ‘Frankly, I was a little surprised at the invitation. But one doesn’t turn down an opportunity like this, of course.’

  ‘So what do you actually do?’ the man pressed.

  ‘I head up the Beta team at supply and distribution,’ Six said. ‘But I was only appointed eight weeks ago. The last guy, Semdas Pejar – have you met Semdas? Well, anyway, he left me with big shoes to fill, but so far I’m enjoying the work.’

  This was all nonsense, but some of the guests were nodding as though they understood. The man, however, didn’t seem entirely convinced. ‘And where were you before you were ... appointed?’

  ‘Infrastructure analysis,’ Six said. ‘An entirely different job in terms of required skills, but a similar work environment. In fact, I first met Chemal – this is a funny story – when she came into the office, completely unannounced, looking for a copy of the reshuffle plan. We’d just made a –’

  He paused, as if he had spotted someone on the other side of the room. ‘I’m sorry, I’ve just seen a very old friend. I’ll be right back.’

  He escaped into the crowd.

  A waitress approached him, saw the drink in his hand, and changed course. Nice work, Ace, Six thought.

  She’d been right; he’d never actually attended a party before. And it seemed he wasn’t very good at ‘mingling’. He’d done undercover work lots of times before, but he’d always spent hours poring over dossiers about the people he was meant to be fooling. He knew their dislikes, their living arrangements, their allergies. He knew more about them than they knew about themselves. He knew exactly what to say to charm them and manipulate them.

  This was different. He was in a room full of strangers, and he was overwhelmed by the sensation of being stared at – like everyone could somehow tell that he didn’t belong.

  He glanced around, reassuring himself that this was just paranoia. But there was a girl staring at him, making no effort to disguise her attention. She locked onto his gaze aggressively and, with a sudden jolt, he recognised her.

  It was his sister.

  Six felt his stomach lurch. What was Nai doing here?

  He momentarily considered pretending he hadn’t seen her, so he could wait for her to turn away and then observe what she was doing and who she was with. But she was superhuman, like him. There was no way she would have missed his split-second expression of shock. So instead he pushed through the crowd towards her.

  Nai’s hair was pinned back into an elaborate bun, and she was wearing a black dress with a loose neckline and a pearl clasp. She was holding a glass of wine, just as untouched as Six’s. Her dark red lips glistened in a warm smile that Six knew to be forced.

  ‘I warned you not to come looking for me,’ she said. She stepped in close to him, so they could talk privately – from a distance, Six thought, it would look romantic.

  Her eyes were as cold and hard as icebergs. ‘Was my threat not explicit enough?’

  ‘Why are you here?’ Six demanded.

  ‘My father has taken an interest in Chemal Allich’s work,’ Nai said. ‘I persuaded a ChaoSonic official to invite me as his date, and now I’m here as father’s observer.’ Her dark eyes fixed on Six’s. ‘How did you know I would be here?’

  ‘I didn’t,’ Six said. ‘This is a coincidence.’

  ‘You expect me to believe you?’

  ‘No. I expect you’ll follow the orders of your mad-scientist master and be suspicious of everyone but him.’

  Anger flared in her eyes for a fraction of a second and her lips drew back to bare her canines. Then the fake smile bleached the fury away.

  ‘How dare you talk about him that way,’ she whispered. ‘Show some respect.’

  ‘Why won’t you even consider the possibility that you’ve been brainwashed?’ Six said.

  ‘Why won’t you?’ she retorted. ‘I’ve seen all my father’s information on you. I’ve read the entire story of your life. You were raised by an anti-ChaoSonic terrorist vigilante, the leader of a dangerous organisation. By coincidence, you grew up to become an anti-ChaoSonic terrorist vigilante in that same organisation. By the way, who ordered you to be here tonight?’

  ‘That’s different,’ Six hissed. ‘King lets me gather my own information and reach my own conclusions.’

  ‘So would your real father, if you’d give him a chance,’ Nai said. ‘And he’d protect you better, instead of thrusting you into harm’s way against impossible odds every day.’

  ‘Someone has to do my job. You want ChaoSonic to have absolute control? You know what they would do to you if they ever found you?’

  ‘They won’t. My father protects me.’ Her smile now seemed serene and genuine. ‘He loves me.’

  ‘Yes,’ Six said. ‘Like an artist loves his paintings. His only interest in you is that you’re supposed to be lasting proof of his genius.’

  ‘The only reason you’re still alive is that my father wouldn’t want me to kill you,’ Nai said. ‘Nonetheless, I’m going to start listing all the ways I could do it until you walk away. One: grab the syringe filled with batrachotoxin A taped to my thigh, stick it into your jugular. Two ...’

  ‘Your problem is that you think you know everything,’ Six said.

  ‘Funny,’ she replied. ‘I was just about
to say the same thing about you.’

  Six ran a hand through his hair, ruining Jack’s comb-over. ‘I know it must be hard,’ he said. ‘I know it must feel like you can’t trust me. But I swear to you –’

  ‘Two,’ Nai repeated icily. ‘Jab to the sternum, rupturing your lung and stopping your heart. Three: palm heel to the face, driving your nose into your brain. Four ...’

  ‘Goodbye,’ Six said. ‘Anytime you’re ready, I’m here for you.’

  He walked away.

  Six had been very lucky. If he had led a different life, he could have been just as misguided. It wasn’t easy, being what he was, but at least he saw the world clearly.

  Am I really the lucky one? he thought suddenly. She’s probably happy, in her own, cold way. And what she said about being ‘protected’ is at least partly true – being on the side of good hasn’t done me many favours.

  He watched as a red-faced old man approached Nai, kissed her on the cheek, and put his arm around her waist. She smiled up at him.

  Six shook his head. He could see things from her perspective, but he couldn’t envy her. He couldn’t wish ignorance upon himself. At least King never set him up on dates with elderly ChaoSonic officials.

  Ace was chatting to a group of people to his right. He weaved through the throng towards her.

  ‘Ali, there you are,’ she said. ‘I was just talking about you! This is –’

  ‘Charmed, I’m sure,’ Six told the group of expectant faces. ‘May I steal Sera for a moment?’

  Ace waved as he ushered her away.

  ‘Have I ever told you that you sometimes talk like Edgar Allan Poe?’ she whispered.

  ‘Who?’

  She sighed. ‘Don’t worry about it. It only happens when you’re trying to act casual. What’s up? Who was the girl snuggling up to you before?’

  ‘My sister,’ Six said.

  Ace raised an eyebrow. ‘You never mentioned having a sister. In fact, given your lack of parents or any kind of family tree, I had kind of ruled it out.’

  ‘I have a brother,’ Six pointed out.

  ‘You have a laboratory-grown clone. It’s not quite the same thing.’

 

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