「Copy, lieutenant.」
Nina got a few slow claps and a whistle on her way down the hall to the elevator, but ignored them. She activated her CamNano to turn her hair pastel yellow and simulate purple eye makeup laid on with an overindulgent hand. Subtle shading on her face and the backs of her hands accented veins and contours, making her look thinner. A bit of tweaking around the eyes added a strung out ‘I’ve been awake for six days’ look. By the time she reached the roof parking deck, other Division 9 personnel walking in from their cars gave her glares like some random doser had managed to get inside the building.
She hurried to her patrol craft and lifted off before the gull wing door finished sinking closed. After wrenching the nose end around to point southeast, she rammed the left control stick forward. A blast of ion thrust went off like a cannon shot behind her, slamming the patrol craft from a hovering standstill to 458 mph in seven seconds. Once she leveled off at the fortieth story, ten below civilian traffic, she opened a virtual holo-terminal and added to her inquest log, notating her intent to go undercover at the ‘Universe Gym’ to locate the source of Harmony.
「Ops, Duchenne. Send a feeler over to Div 1 and let them know this is going down. I don’t want cowboys showing up and shitting in my oatmeal.」 Nina blurted out a laugh. If her parents ever heard her talking like that, they’d drop dead. I’ve been around cops too long.
A twenty-something woman with light brown skin and blonde hair appeared in another small floating window. Under the video box, a tab bore the text: OPS-SPC4-Santos. 「Copy that, lieutenant.」
「Also, mobilize a strike unit. This is supposed to be observation, but I want them on standby in case of something unexpected.」
「Copy, lieutenant. Whisper 11 is on site,」 said Santos. 「Setting up a MTOF for you now.」
「Great.」
A small window scrolled open at the top left of her vision, labeled: Mission Tactical Overlay Feed. In a band along the side, a green gem glowed by the designation Whisper 11.
「Duchenne, this is Whisper 11, radio check. Copy?」
「Got you loud and clear, Eleven.」
「Good to hear. We’ll be in position over Sector 71 in four seconds. Van?」
「Correct.」 Nina gritted her teeth while pulling a ninety-degree right turn at 440 mph that wobbled the windows of the century tower she came within ten feet of touching. An advert-bot got caught in her wake, lost control, and crashed through the windows of a building half a block behind her. Dammit. Stupid things ignore exclusion zones. She checked her car’s transponder to ensure she’d turned it on. Bots should stay far away from her route path, but sometimes they ‘conveniently’ malfunctioned. Wouldn’t want to miss the chance of a sale. She scowled at the thought the crashed bot had likely picked itself up off the floor inside the building and spammed the shocked employees around it with ads for window repair and/or medical treatment.
「More than likely a van or some sort of cargo truck. Contents should be a street chem known as Harmony. Assuming this doesn’t spiral out of control, your mission parameters will evolve into tracking it back to its source.」
「Copy, lieutenant. Whisper 11 going silent.」
Six more green gems appeared as the field operations team patched into the feed. The overlay map, blue squares representing buildings and streets over black, zoomed way out to show a cluster of green dots at the Police Administrative Center, arranged in a row like they sat in the rear of an A3HV transport.
「Lieutenant, this is Operative Benitez. My team’s en route to your target. ETA six minutes eight seconds.」
「Takin’ your sweet old time there, Benitez,」 said Nina with a whimsical tone.
「All due respect.」 Benitez grinned. 「Neither I nor this lunch box I’m flying can keep up with your reflexes.」
Beeping from the console attempted to warn Nina of what she already knew; her destination approached too fast. She triggered airbrake flaps along the sides, undercarriage, and top rear of the patrol craft while pulling the left stick back to apply reverse thrust. While her avatar on the MTOF remained stoic, she lurched forward into the restraining harness holding her to the seat. 「All good, Operative. I’m early. Expected arrival of objective to the site is forty-one minutes.」
「Copy, lieutenant. Where do you want us?」
Nina brought the car down to a walking pace, and after a bit of looking around, eased it through a blasted-out window at the sixth floor of an abandoned century tower a block away from the gym. 「We’ve got a whisper overhead, so no need to set up snipers. Use pattern C, standoff rapid.」
「You got it, lieutenant. Holler if you need us.」
Nina got out and spent a few minutes rearranging smashed office furniture and slabs of drywall over the patrol craft to conceal it from casual observation before jogging to the nearest stairwell. She emerged at ground level among a crowd of fringers and off-gridders. Most of their attention went toward two guys carrying sacks of Cyberburger fast food and a case of synthbeer. A girl in her late teens grilled rat meat on a small electric hot plate. She gave Nina a look of confused curiosity, likely wondering about the ‘newcomer.’
Forcing herself to meander at an uninspired pace, Nina jostled among the fingers giving her back or butt pats, and casual looks that fell between ‘wanna fuck?’ and ‘what’s up?’ They seemed to be more welcoming than anything, and one guy with hair so deep blue it almost hurt to look at handed her a Double Orbital burger in a plastic clamshell case.
“Thanks, man,” she mumbled.
“Duuuude.” A woman in her early twenties leaned up close enough to kiss her. Her hair had been split into three mohawks, the center fin pink, the two side ones black. “Your hair is like so yellow. Where’d you get it done?”
Her tactical view in the MTOF window zoomed in as the field team came closer, allowing it show more detail while keeping all assets in view. An arrowhead shape glided around in a circle, indicating the position of Whisper 11.
Nina kept going, heading to cross the street. “Found some shit inna bag someone dropped.”
The woman winked, evidently assuming she implied theft. “Nice.”
For being OmniSoy, the Double Orbital didn’t smell all that bad when she opened the case. Two ‘beef’ patties as thick as fingers with the usual pseudo-lettuce, tomato slab, and nuclear cheese. She wondered if the real thing tasted like this, or if some chemist decided the flavor of ‘cheese’ needed to hit a person over the head like a sledgehammer. Another perk of a doll body, she didn’t have to regret eating junk to keep her cover.
She ambled the rest of the block to Ricky’s place, ignored the crowd of ‘couriers’ outside, and hurried across the gym floor. A handful of adolescent boys worked out on the heavy bags or did push-ups and other exercises near the boxing ring, coached by a fiftyish man in a dark blue running suit with more than a little silver in the sides of his afro.
Nina walked with an erratic gait as if her sense of balance didn’t exist. Other than people glancing at motion for a second, no one paid her much attention. Sergeant Webb opened the door for her at the end of the hall, and followed her up to Ricky’s office.
Chatter on the MTOF link accompanied green dots dispersing around the area in the ready-standoff posture she’d ordered. Distant enough to remain out of sight, but it wouldn’t take them too long to engage if necessary.
“How’s this usually work, this meeting?” asked Nina.
Webb’s boots echoed in the narrow stairway. “Guy comes in, talks with Rick for a few. They do the deal, arrange the next buy, and he leaves. He goes outside, gives his boys the nod, and they let the crew unload the van.”
Nina stopped at the door to Rick’s office. “Where’s the best place to sit to get a good look at this guy?”
“In there.” Webb pointed at the door before opening it. “Yo, Rick.”
Ricky Barron got up from behind his desk, a turquoise suit jacket over a bare chest, and a pair of shimmery cyan satin boxer’s
shorts with flip-flops. “Hey there. Lookin’ good, mama.”
Nina walked in, glancing around the office. The couch caught her eye on the left, by the bookshelf full of chems in bins. “I appreciate the call, Ricky. Don’t mind me in the room. I’m only here to get an idea of who and what we’re dealing with.”
“Okay. Sounds good. Anything special you need me to do?” Ricky set his hands on his hips.
“Aside from ending that atrocity of fashion, just act as normal as possible.”
Webb cringed. “Ouch.”
She gestured to the side. “Will that sofa over there work?”
Ricky laughed. “Right, I can do that, and yeah.”
The couch resembled furniture molded out of a giant hairball. Brown, orange, green, and the occasional red in the fabric clashed into an overall rust color. No one will notice if anyone pukes on this thing. She draped herself over it in a heavy slouch, with her ass almost at the front edge of the cushion, and grabbed an inhaler from the end table.
Webb hesitated at the door. “Want me in here ’case something goes fucked?”
“Nah,” said Ricky. “It’ll be unusual. ‘Sides, like she said, ain’t all but lookin’ at the guy, right?”
Nina nodded.
“Right on.” Webb walked out. The tromp of his boots down the stairs came seconds later, and faded to silence once more.
She watched the MTOF panel, noting the position of Whisper 11 as well as eight operatives. With as much setup time as they had, the snipers had ordered matching tracksuits and inserted themselves among the crowd out front, acting like some of Ricky’s drivers.
“How many of your people know this is going on?” asked Nina.
“Just Webb.” Ricky sat at his desk once more and got to working at his terminal.
Nina patched into the direct feed from Whisper 11, and stared down at the city in a second virtual holo-panel. “Good.”
A soft snap accompanied Ricky connecting a credstick to his terminal. “Can’t believe this shit is so cheap.”
“It’s on purpose,” muttered Nina. “They want it everywhere.”
Yellow flashed on the MTOF window; a targeting reticle appeared and shrank down over a moving pale grey rectangle.
「Heads up. Whisper 11 here. We got an unmarked cargo van approaching from the north. Reading two heat signatures.」
「Acknowledge, Eleven. I see it.」 Nina stared at the van creeping across her little tactical map until it shifted to the right lane and slowed. 「Looks like our guest of honor is here. Everyone stay awake.」
Quick responses of ‘copy’ or ‘ack’ came from the field team.
The van stopped in front of the gym and two people exited. Whisper 11’s camera zoomed in far enough to offer a view from the elevation of a second story window. Both men wore dark grey suits. One had brown hair, the other black. Neither looked like the sort of individual who would dare show up in a grey zone, yet they headed for the gym entrance without hesitation.
「Target in the building,」 said a voice from Whisper 11.
「Eleven, can you get a tracker on that van?」
「Where you want it?」 Asked a woman who sounded more like a young teen. 「I can hit any quarter-inch square you call.」
Nina shifted her weight to seem more ‘wasted.’ 「Roof is fine.」
The door to Ricky’s office opened, and an athletic woman with medium-brown skin and long dark brown hair strolled in. A tight band of clingy white fabric covered her chest; black shorts that appeared to be silk didn’t go much past her crotch. She tossed a pair of boxer’s gloves and boots on a table to her right, pulled a towel off her shoulders, and started to walk toward Ricky’s desk, but stopped as soon as she noticed Nina.
“Ricky…?” She took a step closer to Nina. “Who’s that? Why you got some bitch on my couch?”
“No one you need worry about, babe. Just another happy customer.” Ricky winked.
The woman set her fists against her hips and gave Nina a once-over with her eyes. “That bitch ain’t your type, Rick.”
The hollow echo of dress shoes on steps in a narrow hallway grew loud enough to notice.
Rick held his hands up in a placating gesture. “Will you relax, Mila? She no one.”
A beep from the MTOF screen accompanied the pale rectangle of the van turning blue.
「Tracker active,」 said the same woman.
The door opened. A dark-haired man walked in first, giving the room a look-around. He had the broad-shouldered thickness of a bodyguard, and a facial expression that belied eagerness to hurt someone.
Nina brought the inhaler to her lips, giggled, and took a hit. She didn’t care what was in it. Nothing she breathed or ate would reach her tiny bloodstream unless she disabled her filter. For added measure, she shut off her sense of taste. Sensing some manner of vapor in her mouth, she made a show of playing with it before exhaling.
Glowing lines appeared in her vision over the bodyguard, identifying a handgun, thin metal reinforcements grafted onto the major long bones, some Myofiber augments in his arms, and the usual array of headware: NIU, wireless interface, and a chip board.
She went wide-eyed and cooed, trying to bite the puff of vapor that rose from her lips. “Ooh, Ricky, this batch is so much better than the last one.”
The bodyguard sent a dismissive frown her way and stepped aside.
“Ricky? You’ve got an obliterated skank on my couch. What is she doing here?” Mila stormed over and got in Nina’s way, blocking her view of the two men.
“Ohhh… Hi!” Nina flashed a vapid grin. She swung her arm around to give a handshake, grasped the woman’s hand, and tossed her over sideways to the floor. Three seconds later, she gasped. “Oops. Sorry. Everything is moving so slow.”
A man of average height stepped forward, his medium-brown hair in an arrangement so neat and perfect he looked like he belonged narrating the NewsNet. A band of light shimmered down his suit as he moved, the iridescent fabric gleaming at the peaks of folds. She scanned him, revealing neural wiring, reflex boosters and possible speedware. Anomalous readings in the head suggested he had intelligence grade parts with some sensor-inhibiting coating. Though Nina’s head contained the latest Division 9 tech, the micronization necessary to put it there did leave it less powerful than external units.
Nina stared at him, pretending to be mesmerized by the existence of air. Her eyes captured video of him up close; she isolated a few still images and sent them off to Ops. A quick mental command tagged him ‘Target 1’ and the bodyguard as ‘Target 2.’ 「Eleven, Target 1 is augged, but it’s shielded. Can you get any kind of read on him?」
“Ricky,” said the source. “Looks like you’ve got a little housekeeping to attend to.”
“Oh, is nothing. Mila’s jealous, you know how it goes. Can’t even have another bitch in the entire building without her getting in a mood.” Ricky stood and reached over his desk to shake hands. “You are the bearer of light and inspiration.”
The source twisted his head to the side, grimacing as if feeling something odd.
「Lieutenant, said a new voice as the Whisper 11 gem lit up brighter green. Target 1 scan confirms CamNano, NIU, Advanced chip board, DTF speedware, targeting stabilizers in the arms, synthetic adrenaline, a succubus… uhh, s’pose I should call it an incubus huh? Shock prods right index finger, and looks like a spitting cobra in his teeth.」
Succubus… my filter should stop pheromone manipulation… I hope. 「Thanks.」
「Oh, and the A/C in their van is broken.」
Nina resisted the urge to look confused in the real world. 「What?」
「Target 1’s got a bad case of swamp ass, and his nuts are stuck to his thigh.」
“Ugh.” Nina looked away and took another hit from the inhaler before using that to mask her need to gag. 「I could’ve gone without that last bit, Whisper 11.」
「You’re right, lieutenant,」 said Whisper 11’s electronics man. 「His headware’s all shielded. I’
ve seen greater signal diffusion before, he’s probably not too high up on their list.」
「I think he felt your scan,」
「It’s possible his internal cybernetics heated up a little. I had to turn the dial up far enough to count the pores on his forehead to get past the shielding.」
“Light and inspiration… I like that. Or at least the key to your continued prosperity.” The source smiled.
A third small holo-panel opened with a Laughlin-Reed Innovation employee record for one Neal Finch, the man in front of her. His job title, ‘sales manager – pharmaceuticals’ seemed appropriate given the situation.
This is going to be a damn mess if LRI is involved. She clung to hope the company had no idea. Finch’s hardware, and the presence of sensor-absorbent shielding on his cybernetics, screamed ACC operator.
“Argh! Bitch!” Since Mila’s overacted shock at being thrown to the ground had failed to elicit any reaction from Ricky, she shoved herself upright and descended on Nina with punches and slaps.
Nina permitted a few to hit her in the face before raising her arms in a futile defense, pretending to be too high to react fast enough. Disabling pain sensors reduced the assault to an irritating bounce in her vision. “Hey… stop. I’m just buyin’ shit. We ain’t like, fuckin’ or nothin’.”
「Vehicle is registered to Laughlin-Reed Innovation,」 said the field operative among the drivers. His name, Operative Emmanuel, R, appeared under the MTOF map panel for as long as he spoke.
「Figured as much,」 said Nina. 「Whisper, don’t suppose you can send a tranq dart through the roof. Ricky’s girlfriend really needs to take a damn nap.」
「No tranqs on this thing,」 replied the too-young sounding woman. 「I could express a railgun slug down if you want.」
「Nah. Too much mess.」
The MTOF channel fluttered with chuckling.
Mila grabbed Nina by the throat and shook her. “Ricky, who is this bitch, huh? You’re cheating on me, I know it!”
The Harmony Paradox Page 46
