The Rimes Trilogy Boxed Set

by P. R. Adams

  “They’ve come to rely on us a great deal to manage some of the radicals they deal with.” Kleigshoen.

  Radicals. Terrorism—low-scale or not—probably won’t go away in our lifetime. Hate dies hard.

  “If we can get Kwon to talk, we’re all in a very, very good place.” Metcalfe leaned back and offered his most charming smile. “Go ahead and admit it, Jack: you’re starting to like this sort of work, aren’t you?”

  Rimes finished off the last of his breakfast and emptied his teacup. “Maybe I can visit Major Uber while we’re there?”

  Metcalfe winked at Kleigshoen. “We should be able to arrange that. I knew you were onboard, Jack. Wheels up at 1245.”

  24

  7 March 2164. Darwin, Australia.

  * * *

  Rimes yawned as he reached their rental car from the airport. The sun was blinding; it burned away whatever coolness remained from the night before. Everything had a filmy, dreamy quality to it. Singapore, Los Angeles, Washington, Mumbai, Seoul, and now Darwin—the jet lag was catching up to him.

  In the distance, a HuCorp orbital shuttle rocket roared. He turned and watched it rise into the sky, trailing misty fire. It quickly disappeared in the haze above. Obsolete or not, the insatiable demands of orbital platforms kept the older shuttles hopping.

  Some things never truly become obsolete. They just go out of style.

  To the west, skyscrapers vanished in the hovering smog.

  Kwon was there, somewhere. Rimes felt a faint tingle of excitement.

  “And I thought Seoul was muggy.” Kleigshoen tossed her handbag into the rental car’s back seat. Her blouse and skirt clung damply to her. “Can we get to the hotel quickly, please? I need a shower.”

  Metcalfe chuckled. “Don’t worry, we’ll have time to clean up and grab a bite. I’m going to squeeze in a nap. We won’t head over to Nightcliff until later this afternoon. That’s where the police have our Mr. Kwon secured.”

  The car was an odd little HuCorp contraption Rimes had never seen before. He climbed into the passenger seat. Cabbies and limousines rolled by.

  “You know your way around?” Rimes buckled in.

  Metcalfe shook his head. “Sydney. Melbourne. I’ve never driven here. Ought to be an adventure, right?”

  They exited the airport and drove west, into the newer streets of Darwin City. Most of the buildings were less than ten years old, rebuilt after yet another devastating disaster nearly wiped the area off the map.

  Darwin had a history of bad luck. Cyclones, bombing raids, and more—just over four decades back, an Indonesian radical had detonated a dirty bomb, killing twenty thousand people, because he’d been furious the city had hosted a bisexual Colombian entertainer. However, most recently the city had been rebuilding from Cyclone Jonathan’s gentle touch.

  Metcalfe pulled into the parking lot of the Queen Victoria Hotel. It was a modest, ten-story tower that looked over the rebuilt Bicentennial Park and, beyond that, Port Darwin.

  After relieving himself and kicking off his shoes, Rimes set his room’s thermostat as low as it would go. He set his suitcase on the bed and laid out his last pair of fresh underwear.

  They’ll need to be replaced soon. Not what I’d normally buy, but it’s not like I had much choice when we lost everything in Mumbai.

  He stripped and walked to the closet, pulling the laundry bag from its hanger. It would be cheaper to buy new undergarments, but he had no idea what sort he could find in the area, and he wasn’t keen on lugging a suitcase full of dirty clothes around with him. He stuffed the dirty undergarments, two shirts, and a pair of pants into the bag.

  The Bureau’s paying, so why not?

  He marked the bag for a full wash and softener, then set the bag by the door.

  The jet lag hit him again as he headed for the bathroom. He shook himself and took a few energizing breaths.

  The shower stall was narrow and had a frosted glass door and stainless steel controls. He cranked the water temperature as high as it would go and leaned into the spray. It heated quickly, and he was forced to turn it down slightly before lathering up.

  As he rinsed, he stretched, working his stiff muscles until he felt some of the travel-induced tension and soreness leave them. His wounds were largely healed, but nothing could erase the fatigue but sleep.

  With his mind on the verge of shutting down, he turned the water off and stepped out, toweling down briskly before wrapping the towel around his waist. He stepped out of the bathroom, swearing he’d make time for a call to Molly before they went to Nightcliff.

  His vow drifted into the ether as his tired eyes spotted Kleigshoen sitting on the edge of his bed, bathrobe draped over her left arm.

  “Dana?”

  She smiled. “I’m all out of soap. I can’t believe how often that happens, can you? You don’t mind?”

  She tossed her bathrobe onto the bed and walked past him, kicking her shoes off next to the bathroom door. She peeled off her clothes and turned, lingering a moment, silhouetted. She disappeared around the corner. A moment later, the shower kicked on.

  Rimes sat on the bed, blinking.

  He loved Molly more than anything. He thought of his child growing inside her. He thought of his career, of the integrity he embraced as a soldier.

  When the shower shut off, he tensed.

  She stood in the bathroom doorway, toned arms bracing her supple form in the frame. She could have been drawn from his deepest fantasies.

  She crossed to the bed, trailing steam, and pulled back the covers. He started to ask her to leave, but she reached for him and pulled him to her. She kissed him, and he knew he was deceiving himself. She pulled his towel away, and her heat melted the last of his resistance.

  Sunset cast long shadows as they turned off Casuarina Drive onto a dirt trail. Just outside the driver-side window, waves rolled onto the beach, then dragged themselves back into the deeps. The current tore detritus from the shore, then abandoned it to float aimlessly on the surface.

  The HuCorp rental car bounced and shook, creaking in protest as the dirt trail turned onto a long-abandoned gravel path. Rimes wasn’t sure the little car would make it.

  He stared out his window.

  A security camera was partially hidden inside some scrub brush by the road. It was the first operational piece of equipment he’d seen for kilometers.

  Rimes watched it through the rear window, risking a momentary glance at Kleigshoen. She looked at him triumphantly. Rimes looked away. Metcalfe remained focused on the narrow path ahead.

  “I haven’t seen anyone for a good five minutes,” Rimes said.

  “This section took the brunt of Cyclone Jonathan, and they never rebuilt it.” Metcalfe's voice was cold. “It’s a shame. It used to be so pretty.” He glanced into the rear-view mirror.

  Kleigshoen looked away.

  Rimes said, “There were some people in those shacks as we came into Nightcliff.”

  “Immigrants. Squatters,” Metcalfe replied. “People move into your territory. If you don’t do something about it, they ruin everything. We did everything we could to help them, but … there’s not much use trying anymore. They made their choice, right, Jack?”

  Metcalfe swerved around a corner, and a cratered parking lot came into view, empty except for an older, rust-red EEC sedan in the center.

  Three buildings, one of them surprisingly intact, stood beyond the broken stretch of asphalt. The crumpled remains of an Olympic-sized pool lay in shadows across a ruined lawn.

  Their HuCorp sputtered and came to a halt next to the sedan.

  “Is this a secure facility?” Kleigshoen leaned forward. “Brent, are you sure about this?”

  Metcalfe’s jaw muscles clenched. He exited the car without uttering a word.

  Rimes got out of the car. His memories were a mess now, a tangle of the last few hours, the last few days, the moment. He wanted so badly to be with Molly in their modest little apartment. He wanted so badly never to have bee
n with Kleigshoen, never to have been pulled into the whirlpool of passion, physicality, and political games he thought he’d escaped years ago.

  “Brent, is this—are we using aggressive interrogation techniques? Is that why we're out in the middle of nowhere, away from legal authorities?”

  Metcalfe thrust his hands into his pants pockets. “Careful now, Jack. We’re all sacrificing a small part of our souls here, aren’t we? What’s a little torture in the grand scheme of things?”

  Kleigshoen closed her car door. “Brent—”

  Metcalfe turned on her. “What, you think his hands are clean? He’s no better than me. Take a knife to someone, put a bullet in them, poke an eye out—we do what we have to do. Don’t we? Am I right, Jack? Whatever it takes for the mission?”

  “That’s enough,” Kleigshoen said. Pain and anger played across her face.

  Rimes rubbed the heel of a palm against his forehead. “Dana's right. This stinks. We need better security.”

  Metcalfe stormed across the parking lot, nearly going head over heels as a patch of asphalt collapsed beneath his feet.

  Kleigshoen started to run after him, but Rimes hooked her around the waist.

  “Dana, wait.”

  She glared at Rimes. “He’s not thinking straight. He could kill Kwon, and we’d lose everything.”

  “That’s not going to happen,” Rimes said calmly. “I think he may be thinking straighter than any of us right now. I need you to talk to me.”

  Kleigshoen pushed his hand away. “Talk to you about what?”

  “This thing you’ve got going on with him. Do you even care that he’s in love with you?”

  Kleigshoen recoiled. “Brent?”

  “That’s why he’s been such a jerk.”

  “He’s like a father to me, Jack. What you’re saying is … sick.”

  Rimes sighed and lowered his head until his chin rested on his chest. “Dana, he doesn’t see you that way. He feels betrayed.”

  Kleigshoen looked away, scanning the shoreline, the twisted, stunted palm trees covering the lawn. “I … it was never … supposed to be like that.”

  Metcalfe had disappeared into the one standing building.

  “When this is all over, you need to talk with him.” Rimes kicked up a piece of asphalt with his shoe and flipped it over. Beetles crawled away. “What happened can’t happen again. I’m married, Dana. Happily married, if Molly will forgive me. You and I had our chance a long time ago, and it didn’t work out. We need to move on.”

  Kleigshoen stormed off toward the building.

  Rimes almost laughed at the insanity of what he’d allowed himself to fall into, but the fear of losing the thing that mattered most to him in the world silenced that impulse.

  What's a little torture in the scheme of things?

  He scanned the shoreline and the road they'd taken in, then walked around the sedan and headed toward the building.

  A plainclothes cop of apparent Indian descent met them at the door. “G’day.” He waved them through to a large common room, then closed the door behind them and casually leaned against it.

  The room was empty except for an ancient but functional sofa and matching chair. Water bottles rested on an end table between the two pieces of furniture. Their hollow shadows stretched across a heavily scored wooden floor. The room opened onto a kitchen area partitioned by a long island.

  A Chinese man with a pockmarked face and a burly Indonesian woman with spiked, gray-streaked hair stood in the common room across from a large bay window. The woman limped slightly as she stepped forward to shake their hands. Rimes noticed she had a thicker sole on her right shoe than her left.

  “Sergeant Unu,” the woman said. She nodded toward the Chinese and Indian men as she spoke. “This is my partner, Constable Chang. Constable Desai brought you in. Your friend’s down there with Inspector Djerrkura,” Unu said, nodding down a dark hallway. “First room on the right.”

  Constable Chang coughed into his hand, and Sergeant Unu gave him a look.

  “He’s right, I should tell you. This guy—”

  Gunfire drowned out her words.

  25

  7 March 2164. Darwin, Australia.

  * * *

  Automatic gunfire shattered the bay window; shards of glass sprayed across the floor. Rimes knocked Kleigshoen to the ground. Unu dropped into a squat, then Chang. They drew their weapons.

  Desai spun. Another burst, and several rounds punched through the front door, taking him full in the chest. He staggered for a moment, then collapsed.

  Rimes crawled forward to check on Desai. Unu and Chang crawled toward the far wall, Chang trying to avoid the glass shards covering the floor, but Unu staying low.

  A loud crack sounded. Chang quietly gasped, fell, and stopped moving.

  “Sniper,” Rimes called.

  Desai was in shock, twitching and bleeding. Rimes pulled Desai’s pistol from its holster and searched for any spare magazines, then skidded it across the floor to Kleigshoen.

  Then Rimes crawled to Chang, blood pooling beneath the back of his ruined head. Rimes pulled Chang close enough to grab his gun and spare magazines.

  “I’ve heard four shooters,” Unu called from the corner. She glanced out the shattered window then over at Rimes. “Chang?”

  “Dead,” Rimes said. “And Desai’s not going to make it. Can you raise someone?”

  Unu nervously dug her earpiece out of her shirt pocket and placed it on her ear. She tried a few messages then shook her head. “They must be jamming somehow.”

  Rimes crawled back to Kleigshoen, who was now at the hallway entry. Djerrkura and Metcalfe were on their stomachs behind her.

  “Four shooters, probably more,” Rimes said. “One sniper, three automatic weapons. The sniper and two others to the south, one to the north. We’ve got two folks down so far.”

  Djerrkura closed his eyes and shook his head, muttering something beneath his breath.

  Metcalfe crawled backwards, out of sight. A few moments later, something crashed to the floor. Rimes trained his pistol on the shadows, relaxing when Metcalfe returned.

  “I knocked our friend’s chair over,” Metcalfe said. “Don’t want him taking a stray round.”

  “We need to find that sniper,” Rimes said. “He’ll pick us off or keep us pinned down until the others are on top of us. Either way, we’re dead.”

  “I’m open to suggestions,” Metcalfe said grimly.

  Rimes nodded, then looked at Djerrkura. “This place have a bathroom?”

  “Down the hall. Take the first right, then the third left.”

  Rimes crawled down the hall, stopping a moment to check on Kwon. Kwon lay on the ground with his eyes closed.

  Bright-colored synthetic rope criss-crossed his chest and legs, and carbon fiber restraints bound his wrists and ankles to the chair. He opened his eyes and glowered at Rimes, baring teeth. It was crude, but probably effective.

  Those eyes. The amber coloring, the shape. Is that part of the alien influence?

  Another round of automatic fire echoed from the hallway, and Rimes continued down the hall and into the bathroom.

  The bathroom had a small window on the south wall. He belly-crawled across the floor until he reached it, then looked back toward the bathroom’s north wall.

  A cracked and grimy mirror stretched over three sinks, reflecting the shadowy stalls, the sinks—and the window. It wasn’t perfect, but it let Rimes see outside.

  Darkness was approaching fast. At least the attack had come at twilight rather than later in the evening; it might mean the attackers lacked experience and sophisticated gear.

  However, the terrain couldn’t have been worse if he’d pulled it from a nightmare. Several twisted palm trees and clumps of weeds cropped up between the building and an embankment. He could make out the very top of the embankment, but not much beyond. The sniper could be anywhere.

  Sudden movement caught his eye. Two men with assault rifles were slid
ing down the embankment, heading for the building’s northeastern side.

  Rimes shouted a warning down the hallway. “Two Tangos coming in from the northeast.”

  Metcalfe shouted back, “Got it.”

  As the gunmen disappeared from sight, Rimes watched for any further flicker of movement, any glint of the dying sunlight off a sniper scope or rifle barrel. He saw nothing.

  He shifted position.

  Still nothing.

  But as he shifted again, he saw it: the sniper was repositioning, moving along the embankment top. Rimes couldn’t believe his luck. He watched until the sniper settled into his new position behind a stunted tree, then returned down the hallway to Djerrkura and Metcalfe. They were pressed against opposite sides of the hallway, Djerrkura watching the main entry door, Metcalfe the hallway.

  “The sniper’s behind the stunted tree to the west. Those gunmen are going to come in through the eastern side. Is there a door or an easy access point along the eastern wall?”

  “Yeah, sure, the service door,” Djerrkura said. “Opens onto the kitchen.”

  “Metcalfe, you and Djerrkura need to set up an ambush there.” Rimes handed Chang’s pistol and magazines to Metcalfe. “When the first one comes in, the other gunman will probably try the door we came through. We’ll deal with him.”

  Metcalfe wiped sweat from his upper lip as Djerrkura jogged away in a half-crouch down the hall. Metcalfe looked at Kleigshoen, then back at Rimes. “Jack—”

  Rimes nodded. “She’ll be okay. I promise.”

  Metcalfe smiled ruefully toward Kleigshoen, who was staring out the shattered window, then squat-jogged after Djerrkura.

  Rimes belly-crawled to Kleigshoen. “You catch that?” he whispered.

  “It’s about to get fun,” Kleigshoen said with a quavering voice. She nervously brushed curls off her forehead.

  Rimes studied her for a moment. “You going to be okay?”

  “Yeah.” Kleigshoen gave a quick nod. “It’s been a while since I've been pinned down like this, that’s all. Any idea who these guys are?”