The train began to move again, slowly at first, then gathering speed. Jack felt a rush of air as he was pulled forward. Soon it would descend beneath the harbor. If he was still on the roof, he would drown. Ignoring his throbbing knee, he pulled himself forward. With the train reaching top speed, the wind now began to pry him off his perch.
Carefully he inched his way toward the gap between cars and dropped down between them. A whir sounded as the waterproof sheathing surrounded the train. A moment later, the Maglev veered sharply downward. It vibrated slightly as it entered the water and the white froth of the disturbed East River slid past the clear shield.
Jack pulled open the door to the car and stepped inside.
Inside, the train was crowded. With his head down, Jack continued toward the rear. The wound in his side ached and he pressed one hand against it. To bleed now would draw attention. He made for the train’s last car reserved for his kind. Finding an empty seat next to a Synthate in a Sanitation Department uniform, he sat down and waited for Arden. He lifted his shirt slightly. A ten-inch slash mark ran across the line of his ribs. The wound had begun to clot, the blood caked in dried rivulets that ran down his skin. Later he could be stitched up, but now there was nothing to be done.
He lowered his shirt and looked through the window. The blue darkness of the harbor was visible outside and a stream of bubbles slid along the length of the glass. Seconds later, the train broke the harbor’s surface, emerging into the night air. Rapidly approaching was the Genico tower, the elevated Maglev rail cutting through the center of the building.
Ahead, Jack saw Arden, bag in hand, walking the length of the car toward him. The detective passed by Jack without a word. Jack stood and followed him. Arden stopped at the rear of the train, and as the Maglev entered the Genico building, elevated five stories up, he pulled the emergency stop lever. Red lights flickered as brakes screeched, throwing everyone forward. An alarm sounded. Arden pushed open the rear door of the car and together he and Jack jumped down onto the rail.
The track was surrounded by a clear tube that cut through the interior of Genico’s sky turbine tower. The train had halted in the open space high above the atrium. The two men crouched on the rail, the floor a dizzying fifty feet below. The alarm went off, and the train began to power forward until the two were left alone in the tube.
Arden moved to a maintenance access door on the side of the tube. He pulled an acetylene torch from his bag. Around them, the Genico building was still except for a giant hologram strand of DNA that twisted around itself in slow, constant motion over the atrium. The floors were open to the atrium, so anyone walking along the hallway would have a clear view of them inside the Maglev tube. They were completely exposed.
“Watch for guards,” Arden whispered.
Torch flames sparked against metal as Arden went to work cutting open the maintenance door. The lock was thick and the torch cut slowly through it. Jack crouched down next to him, surveying the atrium. The white glow of a flashlight appeared from one of the hallways.
Jack rapped Arden on the shoulder. “Guard!”
Arden cut off the torch, pitching them back into darkness. They crouched in the tube, keeping still and watching as a single guard appeared, making a slow walking tour of one of the hallways. The guard was two or three stories above them, his flashlight beam cutting over their location.
They held their breath and waited. In the distance, Jack heard a faint shriek of metal from further down the tracks, back toward the island. He felt a breeze against his cheek. Next to him, Arden’s body went rigid. He reached for the torch and ignited the blue fame.
“What about the guard?” Jack said.
“Do you hear that?” Arden glanced back toward the distant sound. “That’s another train coming.”
Sparks fell fifty feet to the ground, easily visible in the darkness. The guard continued to walk along the hall. Somehow he hadn’t seen them yet. The rumble of the train grew louder and the tube filled with wind. Beneath them the track began to vibrate.
“C’mon, cut, cut!” Arden whispered.
Lights bore down on them as the train rocketed out of the river.
“How we doing?” Jack said.
“Almost there . . .”
There was a clang as the metal access door fell away and struck the ladder below. “I’m through, let’s go!” Arden said.
The train rushed toward them, the tube filled with the high shriek of metal. Arden was already through the access panel and Jack pitched himself toward the opening as the Maglev rushed by with an explosion of wind and sound.
They clung to the access ladder, the metal vibrating violently as the train sped by overhead. Then it was gone. Jack exhaled. Underneath them, the ladder ran the length of a support column to the lobby floor. Together they began their slow descent. The guard was gone, having walked off around a corner, and the building had returned to darkness. Everything was silent except for the gurgle of water from the fountain below.
They reached the end of the ladder and stood near a food court, stacks of trays piled at the edge of long metal runners leading past cafeteria-style serving areas. Tables and neatly stacked chairs were spaced across a tile floor.
“Where to?” Arden asked.
“Top floor. My father’s office. He had access to everything. If the Samp you’re looking for exists, that’s where we’ll find it.”
They moved quietly across the food court toward the large glass elevator in the center of the atrium. Parts of the building would still be unlocked. Genico employees often worked late. The danger was bumping into someone who recognized Jack.
The elevator took them to the small foyer outside his father’s office. The entrance was blocked by security doors, a touch reader set on the wall nearby. Arden pulled a flat polymer screen from the package Valentino had given Jack. He placed the unit over the surface of the security panel. There was a flash of green and the door to the office clicked open.
Ambient lights flickered on as they entered. His father’s office had changed. The room was filled with new furniture, his brother’s, most likely. Even the falcon’s old perch was gone, replaced by a liquor bar near the balcony where Jack and his dad had last stood. Only his father’s desk and the wall of weaponry remained.
Jack pointed down the long corridor. “You’ll find what you need down there.”
Arden moved off quickly down the corridor. Jack waited until he was alone and then brought the Genico mainframe to life on the desktop. Jack inserted the flash of the Reynolds DNA data that Arden had given him.
“Analyze code.”
The monitor flickered and then displayed lines of genetic code. The data moved across the screen, forming up pairs and bonds, as a slowly revolving DNA helix appeared. While the computer worked to decode the information, Jack opened and flipped through the 3Deed contents of an eyeScreen virtual filing cabinet. A folder labeled “Ituri” attracted his attention. He opened the folder and scanned the contents.
“Who’s there?”
The sudden voice startled Jack. His heart dropped and he turned, ready to run. The room was empty.
“Who is it?” the voice called out again.
Jack said nothing, standing fixed in place behind the desk. Slowly in the corner of the room, an image began to materialize. Vaporous at first, then growing stronger. A face appeared, hovering near the weapon’s case. The image was an eyeScreen 3Dee, but with a bad connection. The 3Dee flickered, threatening to fade away, and then finally grew sharp enough until Jack realized he was looking at his father’s face.
“Jack?” the 3Dee asked, the eyes squinting as if trying to find someone in darkness.
“Dad? Is that you?” Jack replied. “My God, they told me you were dead.”
The image flickered again, then held strong. “Come closer so I can see you.”
Jack felt strangely cautious. He wanted desperately to believe that his father was real, but this felt like a Genico trick. The apparition could be so
me kind of artificial intelligence modeled after his father. A trap designed to slow him down. He listened carefully, trying to hear the approach of crushers or the ring of an alarm. The building was silent.
Jack approached the 3Dee of his father. “Where are you?”
“I don’t know where I am, exactly. I remember a little. I had a stroke. It’s dark where I am now. But my mind is clear. Your brother went after Reynolds, was responsible for his murder.”
“Why?”
“Reynolds’s work was dangerous to Genico. He was going to liberate the Synthates. Make them totally free and the equals of the naturals.”
“How?”
“There was something Reynolds called the 6th Day Samp. It would make the genetic code of Synthates indistinguishable from the naturals. It was going to make all Synthate tests obsolete. All means to differentiate between Synthates and naturals would be removed.”
“Why would he do that?”
“Because he had fallen in love with his own creation. He wanted to save Synthates.”
“What about the bioprints?”
“He’d developed a new skin spray. It would cover the bioprints completely. Perfectly blending with their own skin. Think of it, Synthates could live as naturals. They wouldn’t be slaves anymore.”
Jack checked his watch. He wondered how much time they had left. “So what happened?”
His father shook his head. “Reynolds was killed and the 6th Day Samp vanished. I think Reynolds knew what was coming. He hid the Samp somewhere to keep it safe.”
“Where?”
“I don’t know. But your brother has been looking for it. Genico’s survival is based upon the current . . .”
The 3Dee flickered then went out.
“Hello?”
The room was empty and dark. The elevator rumbled to life, rattled in the silence for a few seconds, then cut off again. Jack wondered if security made their rounds into the office.
His father’s image reappeared in a new corner of the room. “It’s hard to keep a connection,” George said. “Genico’s survival is based on Samps and Synthates. Your brother is polluting the Samp market, too.”
“What do you mean?”
“Look at this,” his father said. A folder 3Deed suddenly and opened, documents floating across the space of the room. “These are all Samps developed by Genico Pharmaceuticals and shipped to Ituri, delivery taken by the Italian government.”
“Phillip did this?”
Jack studied the Iturian Samps closer. They’d been sent out in two batches of one thousand each. Both were delivered to one of two Iturian villages, followed a month later by a separate batch. The first one to be dispatched had been a cure for mesothelioma.
That was very strange.
“Mesothelioma is caused by exposure to asbestos. Why would Iturian villages need a thousand of these?” Jack asked.
“Keep looking.”
Confused, Jack pushed aside more 3Dee documents and skipped down to a separate batch of Samps that had been delivered to the same villages. These had been developed for the treatment of acinic cell carcinoma.
Acinic cell carcinoma was an even rarer form of cancer, occurring in the salivary glands. It was so uncommon, in fact, that Jack found it hard to imagine why Genico had developed a related Samp.
And then Jack noticed something unusual.
These cancers actually were occurring there. Or had been. The data was confusing. All at once, he knew the answer. There was only one logical conclusion. He suddenly felt sickened.
“Genico has been using Ituri to test new Samps,” Jack said.
“Very good.”
“Ones that cure a disorder, but at the same time infect the host with another,” Jack said. “A Samp meant to treat mesothelioma, but that would also modify the genetic structure to produce acinic cell carcinoma.”
If a Samp could modify genes to affect cures, they could also do the same to trigger disorders. Jack had never considered such a hideous possibility, because why would Genico want to create disease?
But the answer was suddenly obvious.
“Genico is becoming too successful.”
“Exactly,” his father said.
“If all genetic disorders are eradicated, there’s no need for a Genetic Samp Exchange. The whole system falls apart. Phillip was creating Samps that guarantee future illness. Repeat customers. And he was experimenting first on Ituri villagers.”
“You have to find the 6th Day Samp.”
“Where would I even look?”
“Reynolds hid it. Try Beach’s Road, there’s . . .” His father paused, cocked his head. “Someone’s coming.” His voice cut out as his 3Dee flickered and faded away.
“Wait, not yet!” Jack called out.
Where was Beach’s Road? Jack reached toward the vanished image. There was still so much more he needed to know about everything. His watch chimed.
As if summoned, Arden appeared from the back hallway. “Time’s up. We have to go. Did you find what you needed?”
The flash of the DNA data from the Reynolds murder beeped. The mainframe hadn’t found a match.
“The Synthate that killed Reynolds isn’t in the system,” Arden said.
“What does that mean?”
“Means Genico didn’t build it. Or someone went in and deleted the record.” The two made their way to the elevators. Arden pushed the elevator call button, but the car held at the ground floor.
“What about your daughter?” Jack asked.
“She’ll live.”
With a slight hum, the elevator finally began to move, the numbered display rapidly ticking upward. Arden glanced at Jack. The detective gave a tight-lipped smile. His forehead crinkled. He seemed uneasy.
“I’ve been thinking about Dr. Reynolds’s last words,” Arden said.
Jack narrowed his eyes in surprise. “I didn’t know he had any last words.” Jack had assumed the doctor was already dead when they found him. “What were they?”
“The pain passes but the beauty remains,” Arden said. “I didn’t really understand that before. Now I think I do.”
Something about Arden wasn’t right. Jack turned away from his companion, toward the security eyeScreens that 3Deed images on the wall. Night views around the building appeared in random sequences. All except for one. The camera mounted inside an elevator, the car crowded with choppy black forms.
“Screen focus,” Jack said. The 3Dee sharpened and revealed an elevator crowded with armed, uniformed men. The Synthate Fugitive Unit.
Jack spun back toward the elevator, now rapidly approaching the top floor.
“I’m sorry,” Arden said. “This is the only way to save my daughter.”
“Trading me for her,” Jack said.
“I had no choice.”
“There’s always a choice.”
“You’re right,” Arden said. “There is. I give you up, my daughter gets the Black Rain cure.”
Arden’s hand tightened his grip on his service weapon, and then he drew the Smith & Wesson. Jack lunged forward, knocking the gun to the floor. He struck Arden hard in the neck, causing him to gasp as he fell backward. Picking up the Smith, he aimed the barrel back toward its owner.
“How many are coming?” Jack asked. He kept the Smith trained on Arden.
Arden looked confused. Then said simply, “Everyone.”
In a panic, Jack scanned the office looking for some way out. It couldn’t end now. He wouldn’t let it. Jack lowered the Smith. He needed a way out now.
“What are you going to do?” Arden asked.
“I’m going to run,” Jack said as he took a step toward the back stairwell door.
“Jack!” Arden called out.
Jack hesitated.
“Good luck,” Arden said.
Jack looked at him. The cop’s eyes studied him sadly. Jack felt no hatred toward him. They were all part of the same game. “You did what you had to do to save your daughter,” Jack said. “I understand
. I do the same for my revenge.”
And then he ran.
CHAPTER 39
Jack moved quickly down the fire stairs. He would not live if the crushers found him. And if that happened, Dolce would never be avenged. He had to find the 6th Day Samp. His father had mentioned something called Beach’s Road. That was where he could start.
Footsteps clattered far below. The crushers were coming up, trying to trap him. Contain him. But they could not contain where he was going.
The door to his old floor pushed open easily and Jack jogged down the darkened hallway past the familiar offices of coworkers from a lifetime ago. If you ever left, Cindy had said, I’d keep everything of yours and take it out once a week to remember you. Her storage closet, he knew, was carefully concealed behind dark walnut panels.
Inside were cardboard boxes filled with possessions from his old life: framed 2Dees, a University of Miami pennant, several pairs of sneakers.
He didn’t find what he was looking for until the third box.
Inside, carefully packaged, was his base-jumping gear. Thank you, Cindy. Moving quickly, he stepped through the leg straps and adjusted the parachute onto his shoulders and back. Completing this, he took up a box labeled “2Dees” and, on top, as he knew there would be, was a snapshot of him and Dolce. This picture, too, he tucked in his pocket.
Helmet in hand, he took a last look at the familiar space, then exited the office. At the stairwell door, he paused to listen. Nothing. He pushed open the door. Above, he could hear mute voices and the subdued squelch of SFU radios. They were in his father’s office. Silently he made his way up the stairs.
As he reached the next landing, the door leading to his father’s office opened and a crusher stepped out. Jack swung his helmet up and caught the man beneath the chin. There was a loud crack as the soldier collapsed. Through the open door, he glimpsed a team of crushers before he took the stairs to the roof at a gallop.
The roof was two flights up, and he heard his pursuers behind him. When he pushed open the final door, he fell panting onto the roof. The colored spires of buildings rose up all around him. In the distance a vidBoard 3Deed advertisements. Jack ran to the building’s edge, the ground seeming to sway far below him. He had completed base jumps before, but never with so many obstacles. He wasn’t even sure the parachute was packed correctly. If not, this would be a short jump with a painful end.
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