“That’s interesting Trudy – can you tell us anything more about the boy, like where he’s from, what’s his name, his last known whereabouts?”
“Jim, all I’ve been able to determine is that the boy’s name is Justen Peters, he’s only six years old and that his Mother, Sylvan, is also missing.
She disappeared from the George Washington General Hospital after talking to Ms James. I have been led to believe that there is an amber alert in force and that an FBI team are investigating this as we speak.
Back to you Jim.”
“Thanks Trudy. That was Trudy Davis our investigative journalist live from Quantico.
Now in other news the Washington Police are currently investigating the brutal murder of an elderly married couple…”
Stringer powered off the television and took another swig of the bottle. He downed the last of the whisky and threw the bottle at the wall. The bottle exploded on impact, sending a shower of glass shards and whiskey droplets across the room.
He slowly pulled the hunting knife out of its sheaf and stared at the blade that gleamed under the harsh light of the living room.
As he stared, he thought back to his surprise visit on his doppelganger parents.
He thought of their reaction to having seen their long dead son return from the grave.
He smiled when he remembered their look of joy turning to one of terror when he finally exacted his revenge. He revelled in the sheer thrill of finally making them pay.
However, he did harbor a slight feeling of remorse. He was angry that he had been sloppy. In his haste to exact revenge, he had not been properly prepared.
He had not taken his briefcase which contained the necessary equipment to clean up. He had left behind too much evidence.
I should have vaporised the whole fucking neighbourhood, he thought as he thrust the knife back into its sheaf.
He knew that he could no longer make the same mistake again. He needed his TDI to be restored so that he could leave this fucked up world and get back to his own life.
He knew his time was limited before his molecular structure completely synchronised to this Universe. If that happened there would be no going back.
Stuck forever in this shithole!
He slowly shook his head. He had been enjoying his drunken stupor, unfortunately he realised he had work to do. Now he had to find the boy and clean up the loose ends and then shut down the FBI snoopers.
He stood and pulled a bottle of blue pills from his pocket and placed one of the pills under his tongue.
As the pill dissolved he could feel the fuzziness and warmth of the booze begin to retract from his synapses.
After ten minutes he was completely sober.
The only side effect of the pill was that it caused an instant throbbing headache that meant that he was reluctant to call up his neural search protocols, so he decided to go ‘old school’.
He picked up the well worn voluminous telephone book from the coffee table and started flicking through the pages.
Having found the section starting with P, he started methodically scanning through each name. He frowned when he saw that there were literally hundreds of S Peters.
He picked up the book and threw it across the room, scattering several torn pages that hung in the air and fluttered to the floor to join the cheese encrusted pizza boxes and other extraneous items of filth that formed a pile in the centre of the room.
Stringer clenched and unclenched his fists; he paused as he thought of an alternate solution.
He realised he had to get smarter.
He picked the book back up and looked up the address of the George Washington General Hospital. He found the page, tore it out of the book and stuffed it into his pocket.
Rubbing his throbbing temple, he strode into his bedroom and opened a black leather briefcase. He placed the sheaved knife in the case and pushed aside the fake passports, the wads of cash, assorted rounds of ammunition and microelectronic devices.
He pulled out a sleek silver pistol and ammunition clip. He swiftly clicked the clip into place and shoved the pistol inside the back of his pants and pulled his shirt tail over it to conceal its presence. He then picked up a small black device that looked like a standard USB computer memory stick and another slim silver stick which he kept in his hand. He put the USB stick in his pocket and then closed the briefcase.
“Oh yeah I’ve got Just one last thing to take care of”, he mumbled to himself as he turned to leave the room.
He flicked a small cap off the top of the slim silver stick that contained a micro antimatter explosive and tossed it onto the pile of rubbish.
He slammed the door behind him and hurried down the stairs of the apartment and leapt into his Camaro which he had parked on the street.
As he drove away he glanced in his rear view mirror.
He smiled when he saw the massive explosion erupt and engulf the entire apartment block. Seconds later the explosion reversed and the entire complex disappeared, leaving only a smouldering vacant block.
Someone has to start cleaning up this dump of a world; he thought as he slammed the car in gear and drove towards the hospital leaving a trail of blue smoke from his squealing tyres.
He smiled to himself as he felt the anticipation of another kill and the prospect of tying up this loose end.
He was a professional; he did not like loose ends.
Fourteen
Susan Smythe struggled to contain her revulsion as she watched the human pig engulf his burger. She struggled to ignore the fat greasy fingers, the rivulets of spittle cascading across the grease slickened jowls.
The man’s a fat disgusting piece of shit, she thought as she slowly sipped her cafe latte. Squatting opposite to her was her temporary business partner, Albert Dacquiri.
She eagerly waited for the day that she could dispense with this piece of human trash. However, at the moment she needed him. The idea filled her with revulsion.
Dacquiri may have been the scum of the Earth, but he had all of the necessary connections. He was part property developer, part drug trafficker, money launderer and knew his way around loop holes. She had no allusions that the man was anything but a complete arsehole.
My god, no wonder this Earth is in such a mess, she thought as she placed her cup down and leant on her elbows, interlocking her fingers together.
She leant her chin on the top of her fingers as she patiently waited for Dacquiri to finish his lunch. Patience was one virtue she had accrued within her two century lifespan.
Realising that it would be awhile before the beast was satisfied, she sat back and reached down to retrieve her handbag.
She pulled her compact from her bag and glanced at her reflection in the mirror as she freshened up her lipstick. She puckered her lips to apply the makeup and at the same time, scrutinised her face for any signs of imperfection. She had a personal geneticist to ensure her physical beauty remained flawless.
She felt comfortable knowing that after only recently having completed her rejuvenation, she had another ten years before she had to worry about the De Leon virus.
Having completed her freshening up, and satisfied that her complexion remained flawless, she put the compact back in the bag and looped the handle of her handbag onto the back of her chair.
She stared at Dacquiri and slowly drummed her immaculately manicured nails on the table. She couldn’t stand it any longer.
“Mr Dacquiri, have you finished stuffing your face? We have business to discuss.”
She watched as he slowly wiped the filth from his jowls and emitted a long, loud burp of satisfaction and smiled lasciviously as he reclined backwards on his chair.
He reached for a toothpick and started pulling the detritus from his yellow teeth. He made slow, disgusting sucking noises as he simultaneously picked his teeth with one hand and slowly scratched his nuts with the other.
When he was finished he leant forward in his chair and rested his folded arms on the table.
He left the toothpick dangling from the corner of his mouth which jiggled when he spoke.
“I’m all ears sweetheart,” he said gruffly. “Are you and your Novus Mundi cohorts ready to make me rich?”
Susan could feel a growing sense of outrage begin to overwhelm her. She could feel the heat rise up through her. She took a deep breath, realising that she would have to exercise every ounce of self control to handle Dacquiri.
“Don’t call me ‘sweetheart’ and if you don’t mind Mr Dacquiri I would appreciate it if you kept your voice down,” she hissed as she nervously looked around the restaurant.
“This is a delicate operation. I would also appreciate it if you referred to my organisation as Mundus Nova. It means new world in Latin, Novus Mundi means something completely different.”
“Yeah, yeah whatever, you want me to buy up a whole heap of slums and kick those poor bastards out onto the street.
If it wasn’t for your generous offer I’d tell you and your Novus Mundi cronies to fuck off and do your own dirty work. You may think I’m a scumbag Ms Smythe, but I do have my principles you know.”
Susan struggled to get a handle on her rage. She took a long pause before answering.
She scanned the restaurant nervously. Her senses were attuned to any suspicious behaviour from the restaurants other patrons.
After the Stringer fiasco she wasn’t taking any chances. She let out a long silent sigh as she returned her attention to her ‘business partner’.”
“First of all Mr Dacquiri, if you don’t want to accommodate our request and honour this business deal I’m sure that there are plenty of other scumbags out there who would jump at the chance to get some quick cash.
Secondly, Mundus Nova is responsible for paving the way for you to acquire the properties that we seek.”
Susan sat forward in her chair and lowered her voice to a menacing whisper and spoke through clenched teeth.
“If you are not careful Mr Dacquiri I’m sure that we could facilitate a similar fate for you that we engineered for Senator Baker.”
She watched as the expression on Dacquiri’s face darkened and he leant forward as he spoke.
“I don’t respond to threats sweetheart. Every sleazy fucker in this city wants me dead so you can get in line. Now just give me the money and I’ll get out of your face.”
Susan reached down and grabbed the handle of a sleek silver briefcase and slid it under the table towards Dacquiri.
She shuddered when she felt the sweaty, greasy paw of Dacquiri touch her hand as he grasped the handle to continue pulling the briefcase towards him.
“I have given you half the amount we agreed upon. You will receive the other half when we receive notification that the deal has succeeded. You have forty eight hours to close the deal. Don’t try any funny business Dacquiri, we will be watching you.”
She watched as Dacquiri scooped up the briefcase and then picked up a grease smeared glass of booze. He stood and slowly downed the contents.
She felt nauseous as he loudly gulped and then smacked his lips together as a thin line of liquid slid down his chin. He winked at her before turning on his heels and swaggered slowly out of the restaurant. She waited for him to exit the restaurant before she too stood and headed towards the washroom.
Once inside the washroom she systematically checked all of the stalls to make sure that she was alone. She then reached into her handbag and pulled out a small communication device that was a tiny metallic lump the size of a pea. She slipped the lump into her ear and stared at her reflection in the bathroom mirror as she spoke.
“Dacquiri has the money. I have given him two days to close the deal.”
“I may not have two days. Are you sure we can trust him?”
The voice was electronically distorted and was accompanied by a hissing sound like a wave crashing onto the shore. Even though the voice was distorted she could hear the suffering.
“We have no choice. I have put a micro bug in the briefcase. It will track him. If he steps out of line I will have him neutralised. Have you moved the Traverser?”
“We pulled it out of the Antarctic after we tested it on some tangibles. We made a few items from a couple of snoopers disappear and then they were dealt with.
We are working on a more efficient method of harvesting and we will be testing that soon. In the meantime we have the Traverser safely secured. It is ready to be installed in its new location.”
“Excellent! I will contact you as soon as you have the go ahead to proceed with the final stage. Don’t worry Father, I won’t let you down.”
“I have faith that you won’t.”
The voice slowly dissipated as the wave washed it into the ether.
She stood and looked at her reflection and noticed the thin line of a tear as it ran from the corner of her eye across her cheek and dripped silently onto the tiled floor.
She pulled a tissue from her handbag and dabbed her cheek as she pulled the communicator from her ear and crushed it between her fingers.
As she rinsed the remnants of the device off her fingers she thought of her Father, the only one of her family left. They were the only two to survive the Great War.
After regaining her composure Susan left the restaurant and hailed a taxi.
She slid into the back of the taxi and shuddered at the revolting stench of sweat and incense. She held a lace handkerchief over her mouth to diffuse the smell.
She saw the darkened eyes of the Middle Eastern descended taxi driver peering at her through the reflection of the rear view mirror. He turned down the volume of the Koran audio book and smiled as he spoke.
“Where you want to go lady?” he asked with a slight trace of derision in his voice.
Susan noticed that he was blatantly staring at her cleavage.
She subconsciously drew her blouse closed across her breasts and scowled at the impudent driver. She secretly wished that he was a homeless itinerant.
My Father would make better use of those organs, she thought as she scowled at the driver.
“Take me to Montrose Road, Rockville.”
“You got it lady,” the driver said as he planted his foot on the accelerator and howled the tyres as the taxi joined in with the usual rush of traffic.
He turned the volume up on the Koran audio book and then picked up the burning incense stick that had been sticking out of the air grill.
He waved it around in front of his face. Susan got the feeling that he took delight in the discomfort of his passenger. This fanned the rage simmering within.
She controlled her urge to kill the driver and wound down the window. The air was laced with the usual traces of carbon dioxide, soot from unburnt fuel and heavy toxic metals. She inhaled and let out a sudden rasping cough. She quickly wound the window back up. She felt the sticky residue from the window winder on her fingers.
As she proceeded to clean the residue off her fingers, she took another glance at the disgusting example of a human being who was picking his nose as he drove. Her feeling of disgust and revulsion was complete. She closed her eyes and relished a single thought.
The people of this Earth are going to pay.
After a sickening forty minute journey, the taxi finally pulled over and the driver grunted as he extended a hairy paw for payment.
She threw a wad of notes at the driver, exited the cab.
She watched as the taxi pulled away before proceeding to her building. She then had to wrestle with the large brass padlock that secured the door. She pulled off the lock and heaved against the weight of the door and slipped inside.
Montrose Road, Rockville was the perfect location to hold the many hundreds of thousands of human organs that would be required to sustain her world.
It was a refrigerated warehouse and its location and nondescript anonymity were the main reasons for the selection. Within this warehouse were precious items housed within many hundreds of rows of identical shelves. At this stage the warehouse was only at thirty pe
rcent capacity.
She could see her breath form in thin wisps in front of her mouth as she breathed. She inspected some of the large sealed containers. She scrutinised the precious fluid that kept the organs properly temperature stabilised and oxygenated.
The containers themselves were produced from extruded nanodiamond filaments. They had exceptional durability and could withstand the rigors of spatial traversing at the same time shielding the precious contents from being atomised. She thought about her Father’s comment about a ‘faster method of harvesting’.
Was he disappointed with my progress?
She spent the best part of an hour walking the many rows of the warehouse and inspecting the goods; she then resecured the building and hailed another taxi.
She provided the driver with the details of her next destination and slumped back into her seat. She closed her eyes and thought about her other world.
She longed for the day that she would have completed her mission and could return to the pristine world she had left behind. She self consciously rubbed the lump on the back of her neck that contained the subcutaneous TDI implant.
Its expiry date was rapidly approaching. She only had thirty days before the TDI would be reabsorbed into her body. The consequences of which would leave her stranded in this hell hole of a world. She promised herself that she would be long gone before then.
She pictured the beautiful world she would return to and smiled when she thought of how happy her Father would be because of her.
Her thoughts were interrupted by a comment from the driver.
“It looks like you have had a good day ma’am.”
Susan looked up into the rear vision mirror of the taxi and saw the smiling face of the driver. She quickly opened her handbag and pulled out a lipstick tube and a compact and began applying the bright red crème to her lips.
She finished applying the lipstick and threw the tube and the compact back into handbag. She smiled back at the driver and said casually.
“I’m sorry driver, I was another world away.”
The Immortal Harvest Page 10
