Powder Burn

by Blake Banner

  Why did it sound like a nightmare? Because it was different? Or because with every stride in technology over the last hundred years, we had lost a little more of our liberty, a little more of our personal, individual freedom? Or because I was wondering how many of the nine billion people who would soon inhabit our planet would get to benefit from this technology?

  I took a deep breath and blew noisily. Inside, I knew I was seeking a way to justify the assassination of two men, on the grounds that they had created a technology which could lead in the future to an unfair, dystopian society. But wasn’t that as bad, or worse? To kill people for being original, innovative, creative thinkers?

  I burst out laughing. A couple of joggers turned to stare, then laughed too. I, a committed atheist, and probably an anarchist at heart, had been asked by a Catholic to murder two scientists and destroy their research, for the good of humanity. Overhead, a seagull laughed back at me. I watched it glide over the river and realized that for the first time in my life, I was paralyzed with indecision. For just a moment, I thought about turning around and walking away. Let the cops do their job, let me focus on my family. For a moment, I envied O’Brien the clarity of his religious conviction.

  And then I thought of Charlie, and I knew there was one thing I could do, one thing that was unambiguous and clear. Charlie must not be allowed to throw away his life by murdering Troyes and Fokker. That much I could do and be clear about.

  I turned away from the river and made my way up to my apartment.

  I had a long, hot shower and threw myself on the bed, with the drapes pulled closed over the window, and tried to get a few hours sleep. All the while, I kept thinking about Charlie. There was something about him that troubled me and I couldn’t nail what it was.

  He had seen the experiment start to go south, he’d seen his friends start to get killed off, and he’d had the street smarts to disappear. That was when he’d messaged me to come and help him, but in that short time, he had changed his mind. Why? What had made him decide to go after Lucia and Troyes and Fokker? What had happened in those couple of days to make him move from seeking help to wanting me out of the picture?

  Like everything else about that whole affair, it didn’t make sense. In the end, I got up and called Lucia. She sounded surprised and uncertain.

  “Lacklan…? What is it?”

  “I need to see the lecture hall where you’re having the conference tomorrow.”

  She was quiet for a moment. “OK, come on over. Francoise and Wolfgang are here setting things up…” I didn’t answer for a moment and she said, “Lacklan…?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I’ll be over in about half an hour.”

  “Lacklan?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Are we OK?”

  Were we? I had no idea, but I said, “Yeah, sure. Sure we are.”

  I pulled on my jeans, my boots, and a sweatshirt. Then something made me slip my Fairbairn & Sykes knife in my boot, and my Sig p226 in my waistband, behind my back. The Zombie was still badly dented on the front left wing, but I figured I’d take it anyway. Some sixth sense, some deep gut feeling, was telling me things were about to change, and I was going to need every advantage I could get.

  I pulled out of the parking garage and headed north on Amsterdam Avenue. Some clarity was beginning to seep in among all the confusion. It was about Charlie, I told myself. It had always been about Charlie, because the others had already been killed when he messaged me. Charlie had asked me for help, and I had come to help him. That was why I was here.

  I had told Marni and Gibbons—and Cyndi McFarlane—a long time ago, I was out. I had my own things to focus on, like Abi and my step-kids. Secretary O’Brien could throw his weight around as much as he liked—he could tell me I wasn’t done till he was blue in the face—but I was not here to fight his wars for him. I was here to help Charlie.

  End of story.

  That was what I told myself.

  I found a parking space, called Lucia and made my way to the Fairchild Center. She met me at the door. She looked subdued and unhappy. She took my arm and started to walk me through the campus.

  “The conference hall is at the New John Jay Science Building. Francoise wanted to include other disciplines from other departments. We don’t think there will be a lot of people, but two or three hundred could show up. Some of them will be press, but mainly scientists and professors, from Columbia and other universities.”

  “What is the purpose of this conference, Lucia?”

  “To start discussing Alpha-G. To make people aware of it and start a debate.”

  I studied her face a moment as we walked, then said, “And an auction?”

  She frowned at me. “No…” Then, “No, I am sure that’s not it.”

  “Is O’Brien the only political figure there?”

  “Yes.” She looked up into my face, appealing to me to ease up. “You heard what they said, Lacklan. He’s there to highlight the flaws, to say why he is against it. They made mistakes—we made mistakes—but they are on the level, I promise you.”

  I sighed. “Four deaths and five destroyed lives is more than just a mistake, Lucia. You want to come down out of your ivory tower for a bit? These are people we’re talking about, not ‘subjects’. You can’t dismiss their deaths, the suffering of the people they left behind, or the enormity of what was done to Charlie as ‘mistakes’. Nobody has the right to dispose of other people’s lives like that.”

  She nodded, then gave my arm a small hug. “OK, you made your point, and you’re right. I know you are.” The large, dome-shaped building, in black and white and silver, had come into view, surrounded by a network of gardens, ponds and small canals. She stopped and pulled me to a halt. “Lacklan. Did you ever make a really, really bad mistake?”

  I studied her face a moment, then said, “Yes.”

  “Then please, I know you’re right in what you just said, but please, stop throwing stones till you know a little bit more about what’s going on, and who these guys are. You going to be at the conference tomorrow?”

  I nodded.

  “Good. Come on, I’ll take you inside.”

  And we went in.

  NINETEEN

  The lecture theater was at the back of the building, beyond a spacious, airy lobby. The design was a strange kind of throwback to what might have been considered space-age in the late sixties and early seventies. As I came in, an information desk with curving sides and an overhead sign gave the impression of the pupil of an eye, while two sweeping, white staircases on either side and an arched frame holding spotlights overhead, gave the illusion of the eye itself.

  We crossed the lobby among racks of leaflets, small exhibits and announcements for upcoming events, and came to two sets of doors in a large, highly polished wooden wall. A brass plaque announced that this was the John Jay Science Lecture Theater.

  Two men stood in front of the doors, looking like seven-foot, sulking sumo wrestlers. As we approached the door on our right, that guy shook his head. “You can’t come in.”

  I looked at Lucia. “Welcome to the new age of liberal education.”

  She ignored me and said, “I’m Dr. Salcedo of the Nano-Tek department…”

  “You can’t come in.”

  Lucia sighed. It was a sigh that was slightly ragged around the edges. “You don’t understand, I am Dr. Salcedo… I…”

  “You can’t come in.”

  I stepped up close and looked up into his face. “Go inside and tell your boss that Lacklan Walker is here with Dr. Salcedo. Do it now or you’ll spend the next twenty-four hours having your head surgically extracted from your anus, only to find you lost your damn job. Go.”

  He frowned, like he thought I had been unnecessarily harsh, and went inside. Lucia was looking at me, gently shaking her head.

  I looked at her and said, “He is very tall. What do you think, seven foot? Four hundred pounds? More?”

  She sighed and looked away as the door opened again and th
e Hulk stepped out with another guy. This one was smaller. He was forty or forty-five, scrawny and hard, with a face like boiled leather. He had a gray crew cut and a scar from the corner of his right eye to the corner of his mouth, and I just knew that scar had cost somebody his life.

  He looked at us each in turn and as he was about to speak, I interrupted him. “Martin Sykes?”

  His back stiffened and his eyes narrowed.

  He drew breath to answer but I interrupted him again. “Tell Mr. Troyes and Mr. Fokker that Lacklan Walker and Dr. Salcedo are here. They are expecting us.”

  He really wanted to give me trouble, but he couldn’t, and he had to suck it up. He turned and went back inside.

  Lucia said to the floor, “You are really determined to antagonize everybody today, aren’t you?”

  “Not everybody, and not just today.”

  After a moment, the door opened again and Sykes jerked his head at us to come inside.

  The theater was not vast, but big enough for maybe four hundred people. It was beige and blond wood and had that same early Star Trek feel to it as the foyer. Troyes and Fokker were on the stage with a couple techs. When they saw us, Troyes skipped down the steps and came toward us with his arms open.

  “Lacklan! Lucia! What a wonderful surprise to see you ’ere. Forgive the security, we are a little nervous about Charlie, uh?” He kissed Lucia and I gave him my hand to shake. “To what do we owe this pleasure?”

  I gestured toward the stage with my head. “We need to talk in private.”

  He didn’t so much frown as contract his face. He turned and hurried ahead of us down the aisle toward the stage, with his oddly over-large, double-breasted jacket flapping around his legs as he walked.

  “Wolfgang! Wolfgang! Come down, Lacklan ’as something ’e wants to discuss with us. Come! Come!”

  Wolfgang came down with ponderous steps, peering at his feet through his large spectacles. On the stage, a couple of guys were setting up chairs behind a long table. As we approached, I called up to them, “Guys, take ten for coffee.”

  They glanced at Troyes, who waved them away. The three of them sat and I rested my ass against the edge of the stage. Sykes was coming down the aisle toward us. He started to say, “Mr. Troyes…”

  But I cut him short and said, “I want you to be a part of this, Sykes.”

  He stopped dead in his tracks. “Och, you want me to be a part o’ this?” He stared at the back of Troyes’ head. “Am I taking orders from this lad now, Mr. Troyes?”

  Troyes craned around in his seat and said, “Come, Martin, come!”

  He started to walk again and his eyes said he wanted to do bad things to me. As he approached, I said, “Since when does the Boat Service baby-sit scientists, Sykes?”

  “Since it was none of your fuckin’ business, that’s when. Since when do I have to give you fuckin’ explanations about fuck all?”

  I ignored him and turned to Troyes and Fokker. “I have information about Charlie. But here’s the deal. I share the information with you on the understanding that you let me take him in. You don’t agree and I take everything I know, including Charlie’s diary, to the Feds, and believe me, I know enough to put the four of you away for a long time.”

  They went very still and very quiet. After a moment, Fokker said, “What information do you heff?”

  “Do we have an agreement?”

  They all exchanged glances and Francoise nodded.

  I said, “Break this agreement and I will hit you so hard not even your mothers will recognize you.”

  Sykes sneered. “Och, you’re a real tough guy.”

  “Charlie came to see me last night.”

  Sykes stopped sneering and frowned instead. The other three waited.

  “He warned me to stay out of his way. His intention was to kill the four of you, but now he is undecided about you, Lucia. You really got to him. You can be proud of yourself.”

  Fokker swallowed loudly. “How? When? Did he give you details?”

  I looked at him for a moment, but ignored his question. “Make no mistake, he is more than capable of doing it, both emotionally and physically. You can all be proud of yourselves, you took a nice guy and, for the good of humanity, you created a first class assassin.” I jerked my head at Sykes. “I know the training you’ve had. You’re among the best of the best. But don’t kid yourself, this kid can eat you for breakfast. You can thank these assholes for that.”

  I turned back to them. “As far as I am concerned, he can blow you all to kingdom come. There are too many people like you in the world. You’re a plague, and if you get exterminated, that can only be a good thing.”

  Tears had flooded Lucia’s eyes and she was shaking her head. “Lacklan, please, don’t say that…”

  I ignored her. I felt a twist in my gut, but I didn’t let it show. I went on. “But I think Charlie is a nice kid, and I think he can still be saved from what you bastards have done to him. So here’s the deal. He plans to come here tomorrow to make an example of you. You can put your hired guns around the stage as a last line of defense. We close every entrance to the theater except the front. I will wait for him in the lobby, so if he wants to come in, he has to come through me. I take him in. Agreed?”

  They all nodded. I looked at Sykes. “Can you live with that?”

  He shrugged. “I don’t give a fuck. But you’d better understand this, if he comes through that fuckin’ door, I’ll blow his fuckin’ head off.”

  I turned back to Lucia, Francoise and Fokker. “Can the effect of the powder be reversed?”

  Fokker shrugged. “That is why we need the trials! To determine this kind of question! It seems that if he is stopping the powder for a time, the effects wear off. Does he lose what he has learned? Do the changes revert? We do not know.”

  “If you don’t stick to the deal, if you come after him, if you even think about him, I will destroy every single one of you. I will not stop until there is no trace of you left.”

  Sykes screwed up his face at me, like I’d told him he had to replace his whiskey with herbal teas for the rest of his life. “Who the fuck is this guy?”

  I ignored him and spoke to Troyes. “Do you understand what I am telling you?”

  He nodded. “I am sorry you feel so ’ostile towards us, Lacklan. I ’ave tried to make you understand what our motivation ’as been from the start, but alas, you are entrenched in your position. All I can say is that of course we agree, and we will do anything we can to ’elp Charlie, if you can persuade ’im to give up ’is vendetta against us.”

  “Save it, Francoise.” I pointed at Sykes but spoke to Troyes. “The fact that you have this guy as your head of security tells me everything I need to know about you.”

  A spasm of frustration crossed his face.

  I ignored it and asked, “What time does the conference begin tomorrow?”

  He sighed. “Eleven in the morning.”

  “I’ll be here at ten.” I turned to Sykes. “Make damn sure every access door to the hall is locked and secured tonight, and double check them in the morning. This guy is very dangerous.”

  I made my way back up the aisle. As I reached the door, I heard Sykes call to me from behind. I turned and saw Troyes and Fokker deep in conversation. Lucia was with them, but she wasn’t listening to what they were saying. She was staring at me. Her expression was not complex or conflicted. It was just plain sad.

  I sighed and turned to Sykes, who was coming up close to me. “Who the fuck are you, pal? Why should I be taking orders from you? I mean, no offense, but what the fuck do you know if anybody is good, or dangerous?”

  It wasn’t a challenge, it was a genuine inquiry. I studied his face a moment before answering, “I was ten years with your sister regiment, Sykes. I was discharged, honorably, with the rank of captain. I wasn’t kicked out. I know you’re responsible for those kids’ deaths. If you didn’t kill them, you sent the men who did. The clock is ticking for you, pal.”

&nbs
p; He showed no emotion. He nodded. “OK,” he said. “Now I know who y’are. Don’t worry, I’ll be ready for you.”

  I made my way back to my car, climbed in and called Kenny, back home in Weston.

  “Good morning, sir.”

  “Kenny, listen, I may need a kit bag tomorrow morning.”

  He knew exactly what I meant and said, “Indeed, sir. What would you like me to include?”

  I thought about it. “I don’t know, Kenny. It’s a very unpredictable situation.”

  “Perhaps, sir, if I may suggest, a little bit of everything, and perhaps I should bring it down myself, rather than entrust it to a courier.”

  “That is pretty much what I had in mind, Kenny. Listen, are you… free at the moment?”

  I labored the word and he understood me. “Indeed I am, sir.”

  “Good, then go to the armory and talk me through what’s there.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  I heard my study door open and close, and I heard the lock turn. Then I heard the repeated bleep of the armory door being unlocked. Only Kenny and I had the pass code. When he spoke again, his voice was slightly muffled by the small room.

  “Will you remain in New York, sir?”

  “Probably, and Jersey, Englewood, you know the area?”

  “Very well, sir. Then an assault rifle would probably not be appropriate. We are looking perhaps more at stealth?”

  “Correct.”

  “Then may I suggest a Maxim 9? Two seventeen round magazines. 147 grain?”

  “Good.”

  “I believe you have your Sig with you, sir, and the Fairbairn & Sykes. Then, in addition, may I suggest…”

  “Hold on there a minute, Kenny. I’m going to have to get back to you. Pack what you think I’ll need. I’ll call you back in about an hour.”

  “Very good, sir.”

  I had seen Lucia come out of the pedestrian passageway onto Amsterdam Avenue. She stood a moment looking up and down, then she’d seen my car and started a half-run toward me. I hung up, climbed out and pocketed my phone.