Thus, it was Segev who brought the large envelope from Leo Songtain to Ching Shih at the Triad compound, this time using the front gate. Now that Roxanne had escaped, the ransom deal would be off, but Ching Shih and her Triad got Max’s car and track stocks from his vault, along with Leo’s shares of Nutria-blend, Inc., thrown in as thanks for the info on Max’s misdeeds. The nutria-blend stocks were small change for Leo. And if information on its possible toxicity ever got out, the stock would be worthless anyway.
The nutria-blend stocks and Pauillac came with a sincere (for Leo) note thanking Ching Shih for not killing his beloved Roxanne Smoot. This made Shih laugh, because she was really thinking of inviting Roxanne to join the Triad. She opened the entire case of wine and shared it with her lieutenants that night, while playing another bingo card. She won the DIY appendectomy kit.
Before Michael Segev left the Triad compound, he asked Shih for three of the diamonds, big ones. He whispered the reason into Shih’s ear, and she smiled and gave her consent. Both Michael and Shih agreed that the Triad had to keep the entire thing under wraps. No one could know they now owned stocks, so Segev suggested one of his bogus companies in the New Zealand free zone. It was fronted with an amusement park, Mafioso Adventure Land. Ching Shih liked it.
“Of course Leo has to think this was all Max’s doing, the stolen formula, the attempt on Roxanne’s life, and the diamonds,” Segev told Shih. “This plan makes me happy, because I never wanted to take a hit on her. The deal with Max tasted bad from the beginning. I like Roxanne. Anyone who can get something by the Triad has balls,” Shih laughed, showing that mouth of metal that did not ruffle Michael Segev. He’d seen worse in #5, many times. But, he was happy Shih was laughing, because when the Dragon Master was happy, the Triad was happy.
Through that bogus Inc., the Triad used the stocks to gain secret entry into the official WME markets, and was on its way to going legit as an official Inc., even if they had a fake name. Later, after Rose revived, and after a vote by the Triad lieutenants, the funds from the sale of the rest of the diamonds, minus those three very large stones given to Segev, went into a special trust for care and rehab of guard dogs.
The day after Rose’s surgery, when everyone knew Rose would make it, Chad, Gimlet, and Stephen sat in the tiny cottage on the level 1 zone of bubble-stop #5; the one you enter right after going through that slime security ooze. They’d just gotten off the com with Michael Segev, who had just confirmed the plan with Dorian, using the music code. Because the rebels were still in no-com mode from the security hack, all communications were now via music, and through Segev, until further notice.
“You’ll be meeting Max at tunnel 3. Pass though this tunnel, and then take the exit on the left, to level 4.” Stephen was sitting at his kitchen table, drinking sea brine tea with Chad and Gimlet, while pouring over the topo map of bubble-stop #5. The kitchen was dimly lit by a candle, but it didn’t matter because they all had those glow in the dark eyes. Stephen ran a perfect hand through his dark brown curly hair. Gimlet was still amazed at how much he looked like Michael Segev. He had the same build, and dark curly hair, but in Stephen’s case, the eyes were glowing pale blue, not amber like Michael’s. She guessed Sebastian, the third original clone soldier in New Zealand, must look fairly similar.
“Why such a round-about route, Stephen?” Gimlet asked this question. She and Chad had just moved out of Stephen’s guest room and into a small cottage of their own down the alley. She had trouble getting used to the place at first. It was cramped, and the food was bland compared to Tokyo. But she was with Chad, and her dad, Dorian told her it was only temporary; that she and Chad would most likely be heading off to the Israel Free Zone once everything blew over. She already had a job ready for her, at one of the Ben Gurion organo-robotics labs. Chad would work in security. He’d be training with Segev.
“I don’t want Max becoming alarmed until he reaches the lower levels. The lower level citizens need calm; they get upset quite easily. You haven’t been there yet, but Chad has. He knows what I mean. He’ll show you before you leave here,” Stephen made a vid of the map and drew a line, detailing the route Chad should take.
“You keep the map. I can memorize it. Do you have other copies?” Chad asked, as he got up to get some food balls from the refrigerator. It took Gimlet a while to get used to eating food balls for dinner. In Tokyo she’d had her pick of just about anything; at night she still had sashimi dreams.
“This is the only map of bubble-stop #5. We keep the lower levels secret. You’ve been down there now, so you know why. Of course, the other three original clones also know about it. Dorian seems to think they will be useful someday, that the #5ers will rise. I’m not so sure, but we continue to train them. What with the flash freeze and cloning misfits, and now the Uns, as the WME calls them, we have quite a population down there. We keep building out all the time. It’s getting harder to mask the expansion.” Stephen rolled the map up after Chad memorized it, and slid it back into the wall safe.
“How far do you want me to go with Max? I can lead him in all the way, or let him wander in, whichever you prefer,” Chad said. Chad had not been concerned with the lower levels; they brought no surprises for him. He had experienced so much worse when they’d cloned and conditioned him back at that facility, before he escaped. But, he had not been able to explain the lower levels to Gimlet yet. She did not have his experiences with the weird; she had only lived for two weeks in the resident-only cottage level of zone 1.
There were 5 levels to bubble-stop #5. Most visitors, both the culling patrols and philanthropists, only got as far as level 1, and rarely into the residents-only regions. Visitors usually only went to the main meeting hall, right after the security gate. Some didn’t even go that far, preferring to leave their rig load hauls or charitable gifts in front of the first security gate.
Stephen had taken Chad all over the levels, so he could help assess security, and assign his clone family to guard duty tasks, something they as clone soldiers, would be very good at. Stephen wanted Chad to stay as chief of security, but Dorian had interceded. Gimlet’s mom, Dina did not want her daughter to live in bubble-stop #5. So Jason would be head of security, and each of the newly arrived clones would have some job as a guard. Everyone was happy with the arrangement. It gave them jobs, and everyone in #5 had to work, except those in the lowest level; those in training.
Gimlet remembered the look on Chad’s face after his full tour. “How was it, Chad? Did you tour all 5 levels? Tell me about them,” Gimlet had said when he returned.
“I will take you to levels 2 and 3 next week, after this thing with Max. Two is just the industrial level, for the factories and shops. Oh, and for food production. I would never have thought they are so self-sufficient here. But I guess they have to be,” Chad said.
“So level 2 just looks like outer industrial Tokyo, only smaller,” Gimlet replied. “Yes, much smaller, although they do have quite a pet clone production facility. I guess they cornered the market on that. I’m not sure anyone else knows about it. They launder it through the Pet Clone Inc. in Denver.”
Chad then told Gimlet about level 3, the tech and research level, where they captured and re-programmed millions of nano-drones. It was quite a little espionage operation.
“So when are you going to tell me about levels 4 and 5? You haven’t said a word about them yet,” Gimlet teased Chad. Finally, several days ago, Chad told her about level 4. Level 4 held all those who were failed WME experiments, those washed out from the flash freeze units, and any escaped clones or mutants who could not make it in the outside world, because those scientists messed up too many of their initial cloning trials. The mentally ill who had been lucky enough to survive the culling squads were also safely hidden within level 4. It was not a money-maker; but the citizens of bubble-stop #5 felt like it saved their souls.
After Chad described level 4 to Gimlet, she asked, “So then who is in level 5, Chad?”
“I think yo
u should see those people for yourself, Gimlet. But remember, there has to be a place like that. And Dorian feels they will be our best hope for a future rebellion. He says the Uns…the #5ers will rise. We train a group each month, and their numbers are decreasing. When we’ve trained them all, I agree…the #5ers will rise.” It was all he would say for several days, until he finally told her who lived within the lowest level of bubble-stop #5.
The lowest level was, of course, the final destination for Max Peabody.
Max naturally had no idea any of this had been planned for him. He left the chopper dressed in what would be remembered as his charcoal grey wool #42 suit, the one suggested to him by Bitbuns as appropriate for his business trip into bubble-stop #5. It was an unfortunate wardrobe malfunction, or maybe it was planned by Bitbuns and Ching Shih. He would not remember when suit #42 was appropriate for wear, until it was far too late.
Max was inside the surface entry to bubble-stop #5, but no one was there to meet him. After passing through an ancient metal gate, and descending three flights of open grate stairs, with no apparent exit, he finally hit the bottom, in front of a small door marked with a hand-written green exit sign. It was unlocked, so Max pressed the opening bar, and pushed the door back, which gave off the sound of fingernails scratching across a board room meeting white board. He peered inside a bit, peeking around the door into the hallway. It was dark, he was still alone, and now he was starting to feel ill again. Max began to sweat, feel dizzy, and his vision blurred momentarily.
“I’ll be billing Leo big time for this stupid little jaunt. I hate this place. Why couldn’t he send my assistant? My bot-com doesn’t even work down here in this backwater hell hole. What if I run into one of them? Oh god, I’m leaving. Forget this shit. I’ll go back to the pharma legal outfit in New York; screw Leo Songtain!”
Max took out his useless bot-com, tried punching in his chopper access code, and when it was obvious it would not send a signal, he turned to start back up the stairs, when he finally heard someone approaching from down the dimly lit, slime covered hallway.
“Ah, Max, Leo’s legal snake. Welcome to bubble-stop #5. I have your copy of the Stem-wads® formula.” Max had never met this guy, but he looked large and dangerous, and his eyes glowed, which meant he was one of those nasty clones.
“I’ll have to report you, you know. They’ll be coming to pick you up, the culling patrols. We round your kind up and sell at auction as security slaves. Clones should never run free. You’ll be put to good use. You wait and see.” Max was a legal to the core; always start a negotiation on the up side. He’d learned that during the last retreat on Fiji, even walked on hot coals to prove he’d learned it; although Max still didn’t see what that had to do with negotiation skills. Chad did not flinch.
“Here’s the copy of Leo’s formula, Max.” Chad Yac was not in the mood for a pissing war with Leo Songtain’s legal. The fact that he’d sent this guy into bubble-stop #5 meant he was on his way out at Stem-worm, Inc. anyway. Leo Songtain would never send his principle legal into #5 alone unless he wanted the guy dealt with. And he was the only individual left alive who was involved in the toxic drink thing. Gimlet had been horrified when she found out her big sis was targeted for a kill by Max. That was reason enough for Chad, who would just as soon reach out one of his very capable hands and snap this guy’s neck like a twig.
“Let’s get this done, Max,” Chad said, showing considerable annoyance. He had been up for the last ten hours watching the coms of Rose in major surgery, fighting for her life. Then he, Gimlet, and Stephen had to cobble this plan together. He was on a short wire at the moment; you don’t really want to piss off a clone soldier. Chad was an inducible clone, but he still got angry just like anyone else, except he was ten times stronger than the average human male.
“I’ll read from it and you recite the rest of the page,” Max replied, and took out his reading glasses from his inner jacket pocket. Several days ago Max had gotten the glasses when he’d noticed his eye sight was getting worse.
“You look at page four, third item down,” Chad instructed. He’d also memorized the formula. Chad recited the entire remainder of the next three pages from memory, to prove he had it in his brain. He never told Max that Stephen and Michael Segev had also memorized it. But of course Stephen would not chance a face to face with anyone because the WME thought he was dead and he wanted to keep it that way. So Chad had to deal with this lying bastard.
Max thought it was too bad he didn’t have a weapon to eliminate one of the walking formulas. Bad idea; Chad Yac can read minds. Remember?
“Don’t even consider it, Max. You don’t want to screw my day any more than it already has been. Follow me.” Chad signaled for Max to follow him down the hallway to a door leading into a lighter and more occupied version of bubble-stop #5. He was following the round-about route he’d memorized back at Stephen’s cottage.
To Max, this looked like the commerce area of the bubble-stop, with regular food stores, a bar, the church, and a whore house. Max relaxed, thinking maybe #5 was not as bad as everyone thought; it was similar to those he’d visited while on philanthropic duty for the WME, back when he had to do that for his charitable work credits in law school.
But Chad didn’t stop there; he just kept on at his fast pace, not saying a thing to Max. “I don’t understand. Where am I going? Where are you taking me? I’ve determined you have the formula memorized. Why can’t you just com my chopper, and I’ll leave now? I have no interest in a tour of this ridiculous place.” Max kept talking to Chad as they continued down an alley, then another alley, and another. He did not notice they were going downhill, or that this was just level 1, and had nothing to do with why he’d come there.
They arrived inside the pedestrian portal to mid-level #2, and that stupid com voice repeated that same thing about getting ready for entry, blah, blah, blah, and have a nice fucking day. The slime oozed all over them, while check drones came so close to Max, he thought they’d decided to extract his nasal hairs. Finally after what seemed way too long, the slime pulled back, and Max ran to keep up with Chad as he walked down yet another dimly lit alley to what appeared to be another security wall. Chad had taken Max around level 2, so he would not see their industrial capabilities. They were actually at the back of a main building, near the trash bins. Chad was happy to note that Max thought this was some garbage area for the #5ers.
“Why are you taking me through their dumps? Did I ask you for a tour, clone? Take me back to the chopper area immediately, or I will see that you are culled and not sold at market,” Max threatened, without any apparent effect. He could not understand why this clone was not terrified of him like the others had been; those he’d been collecting and selling to clients for the past three years.
They reached a security wall, which was opened by an old fashioned metal key Chad carried in his right hand. He motioned for Max to follow him into the next room, actually the stairs down to level 3. Taking a side route, Chad guided Max around the nano-drone reprogramming center and past the facility where the freeze-thaw prison rejects worked in their sonic weapons refurbishment factories. Max did not get to see any of the robotics design labs, or the hospitals where individuals could be salvaged from the flash freeze damage, if possible. But, Ching Shih would have been a poster girl on level 3. She’d spent several years there for restoration to her current self.
The hallway continued to drop downwards, narrowing as they went. Chad had never been to this section of #5, but he used his memorized map to guide the way as it gently sloped downward. Max did not seem to notice anything around him anymore. It was either because it was too dark or he was too nervous.
“Why can’t I just leave now? I know you have the formula memorized. I demand that you take me back to the chopper deck immediately. I want to leave. What is this place?” Max whined, as he noticed the ground had gone from plasmon bubble to more like scruffy concrete. He was in one of the older excavation tunnels used by the builde
rs back when they made the low-ways. This meant he was following Chad under the ocean floor.
“Why are we here? Is this the exit? I have to contact Mr. Songtain right away. He’ll want to know the results of my visit; that you do indeed have a memorized version of his formula. He’ll want me to negotiate the terms of the deal.” Max was getting more desperate with each passing minute. He finally noticed they were descending down deeper into #5. But, Chad just kept walking, past level 4, where the results of bad clinical trials lived, in whatever manner made them happy. Chad’s first visit there had made him realize how enlightened the citizens of bubble-stop #5 were. Where else on the planet would a city of individuals with damaged minds and bodies find kindness.
Chad passed level 4, taking a concrete hallway near one of the main buildings. You couldn’t see, but Chad knew that each had a beautiful flower garden in an inner courtyard. The plants had been provided by a kibbutz in the Israel Free Zone, and were brought in by Rachael Geffen, each year.
Finally Chad keyed in a code to a huge hydraulic concrete and titanium door; the door to the last and bottom zone, level 5. Chad quickly entered before the door shut. Max had to follow.
As subsequently reported by the Ben Gurion scientists…it was time. Max started his nonstop rant. The toxic nutria-blend had finally reached home in his nasty little bottom-line limbic system.
“I’ll get even with you, clone. You can’t go around stealing from an official Inc. CEO. You can’t outwit a chief CEO legal counselor like me. You wait, I’ll have this place flooded again, like I ordered that last time, when all of you low life demanded stocks and jobs. I had you all killed back then; I can do it again. You think you deserve to live; to have a decent standard of living? You think you are equal to us; that we should give you some fucking minimum wage? You think we want to help you survive? You’re here to serve us; that’s all. I’ll kill you all, just like the last time!” Max, who had reached critical CEO nutria-blend toxicity point, began to rant more and more as he followed Chad down into the lower levels of #5, to what even the other #5ers called the zone.
Gene Drifters: The Clone Soldier Chronicles-Book III Page 29
