The Petrovitch Trilogy

by Simon Morden

  She wasn’t that smart. She was going to want to humiliate him first, make him feel fear. She’d lost sight of her objective, whereas Petrovitch was so focused he believed he could almost storyboard out the next few minutes.

  He let the door swing back toward him, then he pushed it open to its fullest extent, peering through the wire-strung glass. No, she definitely wasn’t that smart.

  “Okay,” he said to Valentina. “The lab where they are has two rows of benches, four each. Heavy wood, good cover. A couple of desks on the right-hand side, also good. Loads of govno against the walls, windows down the left. Far end is a blackboard, facing the door. I’m guessing that’s where they’ll be. You go left, I’ll go right. Keep low, and listen carefully.”

  “Da,” said Valentina. She checked her magazine, counting the shiny bullets with her thumbnail, then slammed it home.

  The lab had double doors, and they took up positions either side. Sonja hovered. “Sam?”

  “You have your work,” he said. “I have mine.”

  He dipped his chin, and both he and Valentina rolled around the door frame, heading for the furniture they knew would be there. Again, if Sorenson had been smart, she would have used her time profitably in moving everything to her end of the room, giving her the cover and denying him.

  Petrovitch caught the briefest of glimpses of her as he spun and rolled for the desk. She was standing, pistol against Lucy’s head, who sat taped to a wheelie chair in front of her.

  He put his back against the column of desk drawers and glanced across at Valentina. She sat poised like he was, spine to the woodwork, knees slightly bent and feet planted on the floor. Her rifle, like his gun, pointed up at the ceiling lights that burned with unforgiving fluorescence.

  To work: he rewound the last clip of video and examined it frame by frame. Lucy was still alive, because her eyes went from screwed tight shut to wide open as he crashed in. Sorenson looked even more crazy than she had been when she’d half-destroyed Wong’s.

  Maybe she thought she was genuinely going to get revenge this time.

  “Lucy?”

  She had a thick strip of silver tape over her mouth, but she made a noise.

  “Sit really still.” Petrovitch slipped his camera out of its cradle and checked he had a long enough lead. He pushed the front end very slightly around the edge of the desk so that he had a clear view. “We’ll get you out of this.”

  Sorenson ground the barrel of her gun into Lucy’s scalp. “Come out where I can see you, Petrovitch. Your friend, too.”

  “Why would we want to do something so stupid?”

  “Because I’ll kill the girl if you don’t.”

  “You see, Sorenson, you haven’t thought this through at all.” As he spoke, cross hairs formed on the center of Sorenson’s forehead. He could take her pretty much from any angle now, but he’d only get the one chance. “It’s not Lucy you want. It’s me.”

  “And I’m using her to get to you. It’s working pretty swell so far.”

  “Swell? Swell? Should have stayed in Nebraska, Charlie.”

  “You don’t get to call me Charlie.”

  “I can call you what I like, considering you’ve got a gun to a fourteen-year-old kid’s head. Suka, blad, bliatz: there’s three to start with. So, Charlie, let me tell you what’s going to happen next.”

  “I get to say what goes down here.”

  “Yebat moi lisiy cherep. You’re going to start counting, probably from ten, because you haven’t the wit to think of another number. You’re going to get to about five before you realize that if you kill Lucy, you’ll die yourself in the next nanosecond because there’s two of us, one of you, and you can’t point your gun at both of us at the same time. By the time you reach three, you’ll have figured out that because you’re so desperate to kill me, you’re going to have to ignore Valentina and try and shoot me before she shoots you. Somewhere between two and one, you’ll work out that even if Valentina stands up first, you can’t fire either at her or at Lucy, because the moment you do, I’ll put a round through the govno you use for brains. At zero, you’ll know with the conviction of a true believer that you’ve fucked up so badly, you may as well have died in the car crash that took your legs.” Petrovitch readied himself and held up three fingers where only Valentina could see them. “So start counting, Sorenson.”

  He folded his fingers down one by one as Sorenson froze inside the spell he’d woven. He clenched his fist, and Valentina sprang up, her AK aiming straight and true.

  Sorenson’s gun snapped around toward her, then inevitably started to drag back. Petrovitch slapped the butt of his automatic on the desktop to steady his shot. He found he had all the time in the world, more than enough time to see that the expression on the American’s face was one of complete and utter despair.

  The front of Sorenson’s skull shattered like a dropped snow globe. Her gun hand wavered, directionless, then she fell, sprawling, knocking Lucy’s chair aside until it rolled to a halt. The blood kept pumping for a few seconds, then simply welled out across the floor.

  Petrovitch’s finger was still hovering over the trigger.

  “Did you…?” he asked.

  “No.”

  “Neither did I.”

  They both dropped behind their respective cover. Petrovitch pulled on the lead to his camera to reel it in.

  “Lucy. Just stay there. There’s someone else in here with us.”

  Something moved toward the back of the laboratory: a scrape of metal, the rattle of wires. Petrovitch held up the pencil-thin camera and pointed it behind him, over the desk. A figure, all in black, unfolded itself from the wall and walked slowly across the floor. It was advancing toward Lucy, pistol in hand.

  “Valentina? One target, coming from the right.” He clipped the camera back onto his head. “Now.”

  He rose and aimed. Valentina did the same.

  She wore a stealth suit; tight-fitting black fabric, lots of built-in smarts, and covered in little pockets. No mistaking that a woman wore this one, but her face was covered by the suit’s hood and the eyes by a mirrored band.

  Her gloved hand came up and tugged the hem of the hood where it fitted across the browline. As it was eased back, blonde hair caught in a ponytail bobbed free.

  Just as slowly, she bent down and laid the pistol on the floor.

  “Hello, Doctor Petrovitch.” She scooped off her info shades and held them lightly, swinging them between thumb and forefinger as she straightened.

  He kept her in his sights. “Aren’t you supposed to be on your way back to the Glasgow-Edinburgh Axis?”

  “I don’t really have any family there,” she said. Taking exaggerated care, she leaned to one side and unsheathed the dagger strapped to her thigh. “A cover story. But if you’d checked, there would have been real people at the end of the phone.”

  She dropped the knife point-first into the floor covering. It stuck and quivered.

  “Petrovitch. Who is this woman?” Valentina stepped around the table, rifle to her shoulder. When she got to Lucy, she used her foot to draw her back toward the doors. The chair left wheel marks in blood on the vinyl.

  “I’m guessing she’s not called Fiona McNeil, she’s not from the Axis, and she’s not one of my grad students. She’s a CIA agent, codename Argent?”

  “Not Argent. You killed him. Tabletop.”

  “What about Daniels? Which one is he?”

  “Maccabee.” She smiled sadly. “It seems none of us have been very careful.”

  “Yeah. If it hadn’t been for the Outies, I would have cleaned up every last one of you.”

  “There are,” she said, “no coincidences.” She looked across at Petrovitch, then at Valentina, perhaps wondering which of them would shoot her first. She certainly sighed when she felt the moment had passed.

  “You realize there will be hell to pay for this outrage?” Petrovitch surprised himself at just how calm he was. “Setting an army of fanatics on a defenseless
civilian population?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I know. Except they’re not quite as defenseless as we thought. Are they, Sam?”

  He said nothing, but he did want to put some distance between her and her weapons. Since her whole body was a weapon, he considered doing to her what she’d done to Sorenson. Which then begged a whole different series of questions.

  “Are you trying to defect?”

  “I can’t help myself. I want to live in a world like the one you made me imagine. I want to be with… with people like you. I don’t know if that’s possible, but I know I don’t want to be who I am anymore. She’s not a good person. She watches as one of her fellow citizens ties up and beats a girl, and she does nothing because she feels nothing.” She looked at her feet. “Whereas you—you’re good. You came when she needed you, despite everything else that was going on.”

  Petrovitch kept on expecting her accent to slip. It remained a flawless soft Scottish brogue.

  “She’s my responsibility. What else could I do?”

  “Abandon her. Got someone else to do the dirty work for you. Except neither of those crossed your mind for a moment, did they? You really need to cut her free, though.”

  “That would mean one of us putting down our guns. I think we need to wait while I call for backup.” He cleared his throat. “Sonja?”

  She opened the door a crack. “What took you so long? I heard the shot, then…”

  “There are complications, some of which are still not fully resolved. There is a knife on the floor over there. Get that, and the gun, and take Lucy outside.”

  Sonja edged further in. “Who is that?”

  “CIA. Have you talked to Mackensie again?”

  “No. Not yet.”

  “Don’t. I want to bring that sooksin down and I’m not going to give him any advance warning. Go on, get the knife.”

  Sonja skirted Sorenson’s ruined body and the lake of blood, and scooped up the weapons. She took the opportunity to size up the opposition. “I know you. You’re a student. One of Sam’s.”

  “Yes. And you’re Sonja Oshicora.” She chewed at her lip. “One of your secretaries is Miyuki Yoshihara. Be very careful.”

  Sonja acknowledged the information with a barely perceptible nod. Then she retraced her steps and wheeled Lucy out of the door. It flapped closed behind them.

  “So what do I do with you?” asked Petrovitch. He lowered his gun, even though Valentina declined to follow his lead. “What do I even call you?”

  “Tabletop. I can’t remember what my real name is.”

  Petrovitch had his own reasons for forgetting his name, but it wasn’t because he didn’t know it. “Can’t?”

  “They take it from you, along with your friends, your family, all your memories, your past and your future. I let them. For the sake of the nation.” The woman called Tabletop pressed her palms together and clenched her jaw. “If she wasn’t already dead, I’d kill the stupid bitch.”

  When she lowered her hands, she apologetically showed them the insides of her wrists. Two small blades had emerged from the cloth.

  “I say we shoot her,” said Valentina. “She is dangerous.”

  “Yeah. She is.” Petrovitch scratched at his chin. “But it’s not us she’s dangerous to. Isn’t that right?”

  “Yes,” she said. “I will betray them all and tell you everything.”

  He took a moment to consider his next move. “Do you,” he started, and then deliberately put down his automatic on the desk. He took a step back so it was out of reach. “Do you know what happened to my wife?”

  “I can do better than that,” said Tabletop. “I can take you to her.”

  32

  So where are we going?” Petrovitch was in the driver’s seat, Tabletop next to him. Behind were Sonja, Lucy and Valentina—who kept her AK pointing vaguely in the direction of the front passenger seat.

  “They’re hiding at Chain’s house, waiting for extraction.”

  “Couldn’t make it to Epping Forest?”

  “No. Not now. We didn’t expect you to win against the Outies.”

  “Ha.” He thought of the location, the town house on the Seven Sisters Road, and the car rumbled into life. He noticed Tabletop watching him intently, trying to work out what he was doing and how. “So who’s got her?”

  “Maccabee.” She hesitated. “And Rhythm.”

  Petrovitch held up his hand. “No, don’t tell me. Let me guess.” A moment later it was like he’d swallowed something sour. “That pidaras Andersson. Should have hit him harder when I had the chance.”

  “He said you only beat him because you took him by surprise.”

  “That’s nothing compared to what I’m about to do to him.” Petrovitch peered at himself in the rear-view mirror, trying to find something that would give him a clue as to his current predicament. He pulled a face, and caught sight of Lucy over his shoulder. He twisted around and inspected her. “Tell me again why you’re here?”

  Her lips were still bleeding, and her face a map of short scratches and discolored bruises. She held up a carrier bag heavy with promise.

  “You told me to get this for you.”

  “So I did. Did you find everything?”

  She passed the bag forward, and Petrovitch peered inside. It was all in order: wires, batteries, conducting glue, tape, a plastic envelope of tiny cylinders, and the black sphere chased with silver lines.

  “You’re getting good at this.”

  “Good enough to keep around?”

  “I…”

  Sonja sniffed. “When I first met you, you were incapable of talking to a woman without insulting her. Now you have a harem.”

  Petrovitch abruptly faced front again, adjusting his camera. “And I suppose you haven’t got anything better to do, either.”

  “Not since you said you wanted to turn Mackensie into sashimi, no.”

  Behind them, the Oshicora security guards were climbing into their own vehicles, slamming doors and turning on lights.

  “Last chance to get out,” said Petrovitch.

  No one volunteered to move, and he finally pointed forward. The car dropped its wheels off the pavement and started down the road. Three other vans pulled out behind him.

  [The last satellite goes below the horizon in seven minutes.]

  “Do your best. I take it you heard what McNeil said about the Outies.”

  [Her explanation is consistent with the known facts. There are other scenarios which would also fit, but if I apply Occam’s Razor, hers is the most probable.]

  “You should be flattered. They tried to destroy a whole city just to get to you.”

  [Their actions were a gross over-reaction. Do you intend to ruin President Mackensie’s reputation with his voters?]

  “I can’t honestly say I care about his reputation with the Reconstructionistas: they’ll probably love him for it, because, hey, we’re godless heathen foreigners. I would be disappointed, though, if there were more than a half a dozen countries which still had diplomatic relations with them by the time I’ve finished. But enough of the fun to be had. Finsbury Park: secure or not?”

  [There are several concentrations of Outies, mainly to the east in the Lea Valley area, but groups are scattered throughout Finsbury Park. They are all moving north, and may decide not to engage with a heavily armed column such as the one you have assembled. However, caution is still advised.]

  “Okay. Now tell me if I can trust her.”

  [There is insufficient time left in the life of this universe to calculate that solution. Or, if you prefer—no, of course not, and you know that yourself. But you will go with her anyway, because you must.]

  “Sucks to be me.”

  [I will render assistance where I can. I should be able to deny the airspace to any planned extraction. Would you prefer them captured or killed?]

  “I need bargaining chips. Keeping some of them alive would be good.”

  [Are you intending to kill the agents who h
ave your wife?]

  “I’m intending to worry about that after she’s safe.”

  Petrovitch reached into the bag Lucy had given him and retrieved the sphere. She’d sealed it in bubblewrap, and he pinched and tore at it until he could get his finger under a seam.

  “Why did you want to bring that along?” asked Sonja.

  “Because I thought I might need it.” He passed it to Tabletop. “Hold it like that.”

  He glued two wires onto the circular terminals and secured them with tape so they wouldn’t rip free.

  “It’s different, isn’t it?” said Lucy. “It’s not the same as the one on the news.”

  “About one in a million people would have spotted that.” He opened the packet of electronic components and shook them out into his hand. His camera wouldn’t focus on the tiny writing on the sides of each piece, and he passed them back. “I need something in the microfarad range, and the biggest resistor you can find.”

  Only Valentina could interpret the color coding. She explained the system to Lucy while sneering at Sonja for not knowing.

  “What is your trigger voltage?”

  “That’s a good question. About nine and a half volts.”

  “About? If you are wrong, will anyone die?”

  Petrovitch grimaced. “Probably.”

  Sonja leaned forward. “Do you actually know what’s going to happen?”

  “Theoretically, yes.”

  She sat back again. “So you have no idea at all.”

  He held his hand out and Valentina passed him the resistor and capacitor. She’d already twisted two of their leads together to form a chain.

  “There’s a sentry gun,” he said. “We have to disable it somehow. We’re out of explosives, and experimental physics is all we have.”

  “Take it over,” snorted Sonja. “Take it over like you do a car.”

  Tabletop peered over the top of the sphere she held while the glue dried. “We already thought of that. It comes with a manual override.”

  “Which means it won’t be as smart, but it’ll be faster.” Petrovitch held the tube of glue up to the side of his head and fashioned a circuit from wire and the components he already had. “If it’d been programmed to fire through walls, this car would be a lot emptier.”