by RJ Plant
“Kait,” I said.
“Yeah,” she said, barely audibly.
“We made it.”
“Yeah,” she repeated.
“Could you stop choking me, then? Maybe?”
She loosened her stranglehold, mumbling an apology at me. I stood, wiping debris from my jeans. There wasn’t much material on the left knee anymore. There were, however, long if not terribly deep, scratches dotting where the blood had started to seep through.
“That was impressive,” Brinly said. “I didn’t think you’d make it.”
“Allow your enemies to underestimate you and you’ll win every time,” I said.
“Am I your enemy?” she asked.
I gave her a smile, then looked around. Toward the front of the building was a half-dome structure covering stairs that led down to a door.
Thank God.
I jogged down the stairs. The door was locked. From the inside. If I could just get enough room to pry it open …
I took my jacket off and wrapped it around my right hand, counting on the leather to protect my delicate bones from the metal of the door.
“What are you—” Kaitlyn started.
With my left arm braced against the wall just to the side of the doorframe, I slammed my right fist into the door, close to the latch mechanism. The metal whined under the blow. I hit it again.
Satisfied, I folded my jacket over both hands and jammed my leather-protected fingers into the gap between the door and the frame just above and beneath where the door latched.
I pulled.
I pulled until I thought I might get a hemorrhoid. Or a hernia—I forget which. But it worked. The door groaned. It was the latch itself that finally gave way, and the door swung open. I put my jacket back on.
“How the bloody hell did you do that?” Brinly asked.
“Magic,” I answered.
“Science,” Kaitlyn said.
“That’s what I said, isn’t it?”
I smiled at Kaitlyn then turned toward the door.
And got a nice kiss in the face with the butt of a gun.
27
5 November 2042, Dublin, United Irish Republic
The blow stunned me a bit, and I could feel warmth spreading downward from my nose. I wiped my hand just over my top lip and it came away with blood. I frowned, then looked at the GDI agent in front of me, decked out in the full storm trooperesque glory I’d seen in Birmingham.
“Should have shot me,” I said. I grabbed the barrel of his gun and used it to pull him toward me, swinging him around and away from the door.
“Brinly,” I said.
She didn’t wait for me to ask, just went ahead to see if any other agents were stationed between us and Felix’s flat.
Still holding the gun barrel, I pushed down and twisted, breaking the agent’s grip. I used his helmet against him, rotating his head hard, fast, and much more than was usually necessary.
He dropped. I kept the gun.
I walked down to the door and peered through. Brinly’s face popped up and she threw a smile at me before disappearing.
“Conor,” Kaitlyn said, pointing to my left leg. I looked down. No more scratches, the pink of the wounds having turned my normal shade of sun-starved pale.
I put a hand to my nose, which stung—a lot—but no longer felt broken.
“Maybe your accelerated healing isn’t triggered by viral damage after all.”
“Something to think about later,” I said. “For now, stay close. Stay quiet.”
The phrase must have been like a trigger, because she grabbed the bottom of my jacket. This stairwell was more industrial than the building’s residential one—an emergency stairwell instead of a fire escape.
What arsehole came up with that idea?
We took the concrete stairs, moving slowly down to the landing between the fifth and fourth floors. Brinly came through the fourth-floor door at the bottom of the stairs and looked up at me. I held up three fingers and she was off again.
Kaitlyn’s hand hit the small of my back as we moved down the stairs. We had to step over a body at the fourth-floor landing, where Brinly must have pulled him to keep him out of sight. Down again, we stopped at the landing between the fourth and third floors. I crouched, waiting for the all clear from Brinly.
She peered up from around the third-floor door a moment later, jerking her head for us to follow.
The hall was empty. Felix’s flat was unlocked. I motioned for the girls to wait in the hall while I cleared the flat, then waved them in and shut the door.
Seth’s tablets lay sprawled on the floor where they’d fallen during our fight. There were stains on the floor, some of them my blood and some his.
“How do you know it’ll be Bernard instead of his agents?” Kaitlyn asked, staring at a screen in her lap that showed her flat.
She sat on the couch, leaning forward, and idly picked at an unraveling thread.
Brinly was by the front door, listening more to what was going on outside than in. She caught me looking at her and blew me a kiss before returning her concentration to the door and beyond.
“Brinly’s virus upload opened a back door to GDI’s server, so we have their travel logs,” I said, setting the agent’s stolen gun on the couch beside Kaitlyn. “Besides, I think for him this is personal. He wants to make sure the job gets done. I may have convinced him that Rian is a bigger threat than he initially thought.”
Kaitlyn looked at the gun, then at me. She raised the back of her shirt to show the pistol I’d given her tucked into the back of her waistband. I was surprised she still had it. Her mouth turned into a little half-grin that she couldn’t hide before she turned away.
Brinly took out her mobile and tapped the screen.
“We’re in position,” she said. Then to us: “They’ll be here in thirty.”
I looked out the window at the GDI roller in front of the building. It looked empty. We’d taken down two agents already. I’d have preferred to know for sure whether there were any other agents here. The fewer we had to deal with, the happier I’d be and the easier this would go.
“I’m going to check the building,” I said, walking to the door. “Stay put,” I said to Kaitlyn.
I nodded to Brinly. She closed the door behind me. I headed for the residential staircase and crept down the stairs, focusing, listening for movement. I didn’t hear anything, didn’t see anything, so I walked the second-floor hallway from end to end. I cracked open the door to the emergency stairwell and looked around.
Nothing.
I walked into the stairwell, headed down to the ground floor, and cracked the door open.
And then quickly shut it when I saw two more agents.
GDI rollers could seat five, so there could be a third agent on the loose. And I didn’t have the time to clean up a mess.
I could hear them talking. I waited until they’d had enough time to get pretty deep into their happy little philosophical debate and then slammed the door open as hard as I could, which was actually a lot harder than I’d thought I could.
The door sent the closest agent sprawling, so I gave my attention to the one pulling his gun up to aim at me. I took two steps, then bent forward, bracing my left hand on the floor and putting all my weight on it as I kicked up and out with both feet, catching the agent in the chest and sending him sailing into the wall.
The agent by the door was struggling to his feet under the weight of his armor. I grabbed him by the front of his Kevlar and threw him face first to the ground in front of me. With one foot high up on his back, I grabbed at the front of his helmet with both hands, searching for leverage. My hands found his chin under the base of the helmet and I pushed down on his spine with my foot, then leaned back with his head still in my hands until his neck snapped.
I turned to face the other agent, diving diagonally as he fired off a round. The sound was deafening. Since I was on the floor, I decided to level the playing field. I grabbed the agent’s ankle a
nd lifted up and out as hard as I could, which from my current position was not as big a movement as I’d hoped for. It did the trick though. The agent hopped several times, then fell backward.
I was on top of him in an instant. I yanked his helmet off, and with all my weight behind it, slammed fists into his forehead. The blow left an unhealthy crevice from between his eyes up to his hairline. He looked eerily familiar.
“Probably not a clone,” I whispered to myself.
I dragged the agents, one at a time, through the door into the emergency stairwell. I looked at the helmetless agent. Second time I’d gotten one of them with one hit. I balled my fists and flexed my arms. Nothing felt out of the ordinary. I shrugged and headed back out.
The obvious thing here seemed to be that if no agent showed up after that kind of noise, there either was no fifth agent or he was outside.
*****
5 November 2042, Dublin, United Irish Republic
The roller was empty.
I checked around the building but didn’t find anyone. Maybe I’d lucked out and there had only been four agents in that roller. I headed back inside and swept the ground floor again, then the second, then the third, before going into the flat.
“Welcome back,” Brinly said when I slipped past her. “Just in time too.”
She nodded toward the window. I looked outside and saw Rian and Shaina walking toward the building.
“They’re in,” Kaitlyn said a few moments later, tracking their movement through the building on the tablet.
Just as she’d finished speaking, three additional rollers pulled up.
“Shite,” I said.
Brinly joined me at the window and let out a low whistle. “At least we didn’t have to wait long,” she said.
“Bernard is here already?” Kaitlyn asked, pushing at her hair again.
“Bernard and a hell of a lot more than two or three agents,” I said. This just got better every fecking minute.
How they hell had they known to get here so fast? Agents poured from the rollers, a wave of black.
I spotted Bernard. He turned around to look at the top of the building across the street. I followed his gaze.
Thoughts poured through my mind, but what came out was a lonely little noise of frustration.
“They have a fecking sniper on the building across the street,” I said. “He must have spotted me and called in.”
“Then Bernard probably knows it’s a trap,” Brinly reasoned.
“He’s still coming in, so,” I said.
“Then he probably suspects he has the upper hand,” she said. “Should we withdraw?”
“No. We can still get him. Get ready to pick agents off from the back once they pass, quietly, and don’t let anyone double back past you. I’m going up to Kaitlyn’s flat.”
As she made a sound of affirmation, I was already walking out the door.
I took the stairs two at a time, hurrying to stay ahead of Bernard and his boys.
I walked into Kaitlyn’s flat, mildly surprised it wasn’t locked. Rian and Shaina were in the main room, sitting across from each other, waiting with guns across their laps. They looked up when I walked in.
“Problem?” Rian asked.
I nodded toward the window.
“New plan,” I said as Rian got up to look outside.
*****
5 November 2042, Dublin, United Irish Republic
I hope Bernard is still enough of a peace offering, Conor said. Just remember, get the information before you kill him.
Kaitlyn’s front door opened under a wave of black body armor. Everyone covered head to toe. Except one.
I remembered him.
Once I was sure no one else was coming in, I told Bernard to sit. He walked the perimeter of the main room, careful not to touch anything. Didn’t seem to want to get his hands dirty.
“This is … unexpected,” he said, finally. “I was informed you were here, but I was expecting more—” he stopped mid-statement. Struggled for the word he was looking for.
He gave up, just said, “More.”
I didn’t move, seated on the puke-green couch facing the door, watching Bernard. He gave in and finally sat down in the uncomfortable chair to face me.
The moment he was clear, shots rang out in the confined space. Rian and Shaina taking aim at the armored guards from where they hid—Rian in the kitchen, Shaina in the bedroom. The bullets weren’t armor piercing, but at such close range the gunfire was stunning. Disorienting. I was glad of the cotton stuck in my ears. I watched as a tall, sleek woman—
Brinly
—came in behind the stunned guards, yanking helmets off. Stabbing at the flesh underneath. Wide, gaping grins appeared across necks, the gashes vomiting shades of red. Gunfire rained down just steadily enough to keep the guards confused.
I sat still through it all. Watching Bernard who was smiling calmly at me. Brinly, a dark streak darting among the men and blood, looked for all the world like she was having the time of her life.
All around us was chaos. Neither Bernard nor I moved. Waiting out the storm. Watching each other.
Brinly was light on her feet, flitting about the room. A homicidal ballerina, every down stroke of her arm producing new founts of blood.
And then…
Quiet.
Almost as quickly as it had started, silence rushed into the room beneath the slight ringing in my ears.
Brinly retreated to the doorway, leaning against the frame, right foot propped on one of the dead agents.
Reminded me of those old Captain Morgan commercials.
Rian and Shaina came into the main room. Shaina stood where she was, arms folded under her breasts. Rian sat down beside me, close enough to provide a sense of solidarity without being in danger of accidentally touching me.
“Glad you could join us,” I said to Bernard.
I took the pieces of cotton from my ears, tossed them aside. Leaned forward. This man had taken my life. Everything I was—had been—destroyed. For what?
“Even before I got the call, I knew you’d be here,” Bernard said to me. He shook his head, still smiling. His eyes were cold, calculating. “It seems all of GDI’s data has been wiped.”
He turned. Looked at Brinly.
“Your work, I presume,” he said.
She just smiled.
Ask him what he’s planning to do with the bioweapon.
“Bernard, I feel compelled to ask … What will you do if you can make this virus airborne?”
Bernard leaned back, not a care in the world.
“Is that what I’m planning?” Bernard asked. He looked almost excited. He looked at Rian. A curious expression passed over his features.
“You had no idea, did you?” he said.
I waited for Rian to answer. He made no move to speak. Just watched Bernard.
“No idea about what?” I asked.
“That Marco Esposito worked for us. What an opportunity you presented.” He laughed. “Oh, and hiring Kaitlyn was the best happy accident, don’t you agree? All I had to do was spread the word that she was in danger and—” he looked at Rian “—you just giftwrapped him for me. It was so easy. It only required patience, which was easy enough when Kaitlyn proved adept enough at her job to be actually useful.” He looked back to me. “The virus trials killed most of your kind, you know.”
“The government did,” I said.
“Well, obviously. The benevolent U.S. government funded your very existence when your creators made their case.”
“What case,” I said, my frustration audible.
“That you—” Bernard waved his hand— “not you specifically, but someone like you—could be made into an extremely efficient biological weapon, undetectable and untraceable, capable of getting rid of high-profile enemies of the state without starting an all-out war. It was an intriguing prospect at the time.”
The admission was startling.
I tried not to look to Rian, to see his re
action. I’d been made for this. Made to be an assassin.
How is that different from killing for Rian? Conor asked.
I ignored him.
“The world’s different now,” Rian said. “The rules aren’t the same as they were. So what does Felix matter?”
“Yes, the War was an unfortunate event,” Bernard said. “While it may have derailed the chimera’s intended purpose, there arose … other opportunities.”
“Opportunities for what?” I asked.
“Opportunities for you to do what you were made for. Now that things are finally settling down from the War, we need to encourage unity—”
“Obedience,” I said.
Bernard bared his teeth. The hair on the nape of my neck rose. “Every people, every government, needs that Big Brother figure who can hold them accountable.”
“And you’re going to … what?” I asked. “Convince everyone to just fall in line with you?”
“We’re going to persuade them, yes. There is always opposition to these types of offerings.” He turned to Rian, expression pleasantly blank. “You understand.”
Truepenny?
I repeated Conor’s question. Hearing the name didn’t seem to make Bernard happy.
I bet Truepenny is funding opposition to GDI. Bernard’s trying to take out their resources.
“You’re going to use the weapon to hit Truepenny’s resources,” I said. “Take down the organization.”
“A weapon, yes,” Bernard said. “But you’re thinking on much too small a scale, Mr. Quinn. The War desensitized people to the more mundane types of violence, so a little intimidation won’t go as far is it needs to. What we need now are extremes.
“Would it be preferable to induce obedience—as you say—using sugar? Of course. However, we’re fully prepared to eradicate the population of entire territories to prove a point. Which is where mass distribution efforts come into play.”
Like he wasn’t talking about thousands, potentially hundreds of thousands of lives. Shouldn’t have surprised me.
Easy, Felix. Don’t let your anger get the best of you. We still need information from him. I thought you’d be better than me at this.
