by Andria Stone
Kamryn held her tablet up to the device and sighted in on the window to record a vid of the unmistakable albino pacing back and forth, flapping his arms like a disjointed marionette. “He’s hot about something.”
Mark broadcast news of the Savant spotted in Valerie’s condo. Kamryn wasted no time in sending the vid. Within minutes, pedestrians, as well as traffic, dwindled to nothing. Returning to the same dark alcove, they waited, but not for long.
Black armored troops approached from the shadows to cordon off the condo’s front. One team entered the lobby, posting guards at the elevators, while the majority disappeared into the stairwell. Moments later, two rappelling teams slid over the roof, dropping down to flank the window.
All movement suddenly stopped.
“Why isn’t anything happening?” Mark whispered.
“The residents are being evacuated,” Kamryn replied. “No activity on this side. They’re using the service entrance out back.”
Mark shook his head. “If she’s wearing a disguise, she might get away.”
“Everyone’s interrogated. No one’s released.” Kamryn faded back into the shadows while they watched and waited.
***
Valerie was annoyed by the incessant ringing of her doorbell. She checked the image in her home security viewer: Dreghor, his red eyes crazy with rage. Only a dire emergency would have brought him out of his dungeon. She pressed her thumb to the digipad. The door responded by opening.
Dreghor burst in, almost frothing at the mouth. Valerie put a finger to her lips, guided him to a chair, then poured a drink for him.
“I’ve been hacked,” he shrieked, spittle flying from between his pointed teeth.
Valerie spun around, slapping him hard enough to leave a handprint on his right cheek. “Lower your voice, Dreghor, before someone calls the authorities.”
Dreghor recoiled, his inflamed eyes growing to the size of moon rocks. Holding a palm to his cheek, he wailed, “Me, the Savant. How could this happen? None of my people are capable of this, it’s beyond them. It has to be someone in the military. Find whoever it is and kill them.” He gulped down the contents of the glass in one swallow. Unable to contain his nervous energy, he stood and paced. “I don’t make mistakes, but little anomalies have been cropping up in odd places. You have to stop this. The deadline is only hours away.”
Valerie had heard enough. “How did you get here?”
“What? Aren’t you listening to me?”
“How. Did. You. Get. Here?” she repeated firmly, as though speaking to a child. Her mind moved at light speed on Plan B, trying to assess if it could still be salvaged. If not, Plan C, her ride off the planet, was a viable backup, should the need arise.
“One of my guards brought me. Don’t worry, he drove around for half an hour, down back streets, and dropped me off in the alley. No one knows where I am. How would they follow me?”
“Well, they identified your coding, dumbass, what makes you think they can’t find your physical location? And you had the audacity to lead them straight to me!”
His stupidity reminded her of Victor’s; her anger growing until it rivaled Dreghor’s. Valerie threw herself at him, ready to push him down and choke him to death.
Dreghor sidestepped her attack and maneuvered behind a chair, using it as a barrier between them. Enraged, he trembled while flailing his arms. “No one’s ever been able to track me before, not until I started working with you! This dream of yours to take over the planet and cripple the military is a fantasy!”
Valerie moved closer to silence him, permanently.
“I never should’ve gotten involved with you people,” he countered, still ranting. “I knew better. I work alone. That’s the only way I’ve stayed safe all these years.” The handprint on his face had deepened in color against his albino skin, but his hellish red eyes were still a few shades darker.
She stopped in her tracks. As if a switch had been flipped, Valerie became quiet, composed. “Truce?” she said, her voice laced in syrupy sweetness. “We’re both emotional personalities, Dreghor. It serves no good purpose to undermine each other. We have a goal. Together, it will be accomplished.”
Dreghor looked at her, wary of the complete behavior reversal he’d witnessed.
“Sit here at my desk.” Valerie motioned him over to the giant vid screen, putting a gentle hand on his shoulder until he sat. “We’ll move up the deadline and take care of the loose ends later. Please send the communication blocking codes, activate the cyborgs, then send the ‘GO’ signal to our operatives. I’ll take care of the rest.” She patted his shoulder, urging him to action. “Be right back after I change into some working clothes. We’ll celebrate afterward.”
It was crunch time. As Valerie fetched another escape bag, she lamented the absence of good help. Most people fell far short of what they were paid to do. It went without saying that an operation of this magnitude always encountered problems with the hired help.
Valerie wasn’t scheduled to arrive at her command center for another couple of hours, but she’d just instructed Dreghor to execute the orders, moving up the timetable. She’d leave, right after taking care of one last problem.
In her bedside table, she found two injectors. One with a premium-grade synthetic opioid, the other an illegal combination of chemicals which produced death within minutes, mimicking the symptoms of an aneurysm, the exact cause of Victor’s first attorney’s death. She tiptoed up behind Dreghor, peering over his shoulder until he finished the last task with a flourish, then she jabbed the injector twice into his carotid, treating him to a lethal dose of a very expensive drug.
Dreghor’s arms fell, his glassy red eyes rolled as his head lolled over toward his shoulder and hung there. He looked like a scary rag doll propped in a chair, except for the drool seeping from between his parted lips.
Valerie tapped the screen, brought up a file, entered a code, and left her condo to the smell of burning circuitry.
Her escape route was rather low-key: a large trash chute across from the service elevator. Chuckling with memories of a long-ago amusement park ride, she slid down at a forty-five degree angle into a trash module. Among the refuse, a small bottle of liquor holding little more than a sip caught her attention. Valerie grabbed it, climbed out, and changed into an old man’s mismatched clothing, complete with beard and hat. Before exiting through the service door, she used her tablet to send both cyborgs to a new location. With a small pulse weapon, she fried the old tablet and tossed it into the compactor, sprinkling liquor over her clothes on the way out.
***
The Terrans never took their eyes off the rappelling teams as they breached the window with the agility of acrobats. Each soldier swung inside as a haze of smoke billowed out through the broken glass. In the aftermath, ground troops swarmed into the building. Moments passed as medics whisked in a hover gurney and returned with a black body bag strapped to the top.
Axel had to know whose body had been taken away. He commed their ship, switching it to broadcast. “Petra, are you monitoring the MMC’s communications?”
“That would be illegal, sir.”
“I’ll pay for your tattoo.”
“Well, in that case, I might’ve overheard only one person was inside, a body matching the description of Chesnokov Dreghorovich, a.k.a. the Savant. Also, the house electronics were fried. All the condo’s residents have been verified. Valerie Parker was not among them. The military search perimeter has been expanded. If you don’t want to be interrogated, I suggest you relocate ASAP.”
In silence, they moved farther away, keeping to the shadows. Axel didn’t understand it. Valerie must have a sixth sense about impending capture because she’d once more eluded the authorities right in front of them. Circumstances forced him to broaden his opinion of her. Not only could she kill without compunction, engage in human trafficking, blackmail, and had planned a quasi-military coup to reign over an entire planet, but done it all as a wolf in sheep’s clothing, able to hide in pla
in sight disguised as somebody’s grandma. She was insane.
“Petra,” Mark spoke, one notch above a whisper, “I don’t see Valerie killing Dreghor unless he’d finished and she was tying up loose ends. Has Ohashi cracked his code yet, or should we prepare for a planetwide Martian apocalypse in the next few minutes?”
“Ohashi looks pretty frazzled. Been glued to her screen for hours, but she just asked for—”
A shriek in their auditory canals caused the Terrans to wince, followed by the words, “Geronimo, Hallelujah, hot damn I got’cha now, you dirt bag.”
Petra’s voice returned. “Oh, jeepers, I think there’s been a breakthrough. Our resident Asian wizard’s done it again.”
“Please confirm,” Mark said. “Ohashi’s unequivocally blocked Dreghor’s attempts to circumvent military communications?”
“Yes,” Petra said. “She’s notifying Essex as we speak.”
The stress between Mark’s shoulders lifted. Knowing the MMC would not be hampered in coordinating their response to Parker’s attacks left him feeling rejuvenated. “Does she know he’s dead?”
“Yes, which seems to have sparked a double celebration.” The familiar sound of a beer being opened echoed in their ears. “You’ll need to bring more beer when you return.”
“Petra, what about Valerie’s comms?” Mark asked. “Are you tracking her?”
“The commlink Dreghor used for her terminated a couple minutes preceding the MMC’s arrival. Parker wouldn’t fry her system then not destroy the personal comm as well. If she tries to run, we’ve tied our faceprint program to the spaceport’s. It hasn’t picked up anything yet.”
Mark’s tone returned to its normal level as they rounded a corner, blending in again with pedestrians. “When the military plans an operation, don’t the generals use a command center or war room where they plot movement and synchronize attacks? As far as Valerie knows, she still has warehouses full of weapons, untold numbers of mercenaries, plus corrupt government employees, including blackmailed politicians. If she’s moving forward with her plans, wouldn’t she have the same type of location here where she can coordinate the attacks?”
“A war room, yes,” Axel said. “Petra, did she or Dreghor contact any other locations after she arrived here?”
“Hmmm…” Petra paused. “Numerous. What should I look for?”
“Is there a contact she made that Dreghor didn’t?”
“I see it. Valerie sent four messages to, uh, Jäger Distributors. Looks like they import most of the…oh, this is bad. Very bad.”
“What?” Axel, Kamryn, and Mark asked in unison.
“They distribute freeze-dried, dehydrated foodstuffs to groceries, and some medical supplies to hospitals in all three domes. That’s not good, is it? Jäger’s cornered the market on food. Parker’s got guns, cyborgs, mercs, and now food? What’s next?” Her voice trailed off with a note of desperation.
Axel shook his head as the enormity of Valerie’s plans had grown by a factor of holy times shit. “Where is Jäger, Petra?”
“Large building on the south side of the spaceport.”
“Since Parker doesn’t know about Ohashi, she’s already set her plan in motion. Eva and Rayburn don’t have enough firepower to protect themselves, especially in that neighborhood. Call them back to the ship.” Axel stepped into the street to flag down an oncoming pink cab. “I’m going to go pay Jäger Distributors a visit. You coming?”
Kamryn shot an inquisitive glance at Mark. “It’s next to the spaceport, in case we need a quick getaway.”
Mark massaged his right temple before flipping a lock of hair off his forehead. “Sure, why the hell not? My head’s finally stopped buzzing, so I guess we can make one last stop.”
Axel checked his tablet on the way. Finding something of interest, he instructed the driver to drop them off in front of a bar a block away from their destination. A decrepit neon sign flashed dull orange lights advertising the Esprit de Corpse.
Mark was all smiles. “Well I could sure use a drink.” He swung the door wide, motioning with his arm. “After you, Ms. Tecton.”
In her Marixa character, Kamryn strutted past everyone sitting at the bar, taking a stool next to the end. Mark and Axel flanked her. A green-eyed, dark-skinned bartender sporting a well-built torso under a leather vest sauntered down to take their order.
“You Billie?” Axel asked.
“Who’s askin’?”
“We’re friends of Gaige Rayburn. He said you might be able to help us.”
“What kind of help you lookin’ for?” Billie asked.
“Party favors. Grenades, flashbangs, stunners, anything will do.”
Billie scanned the clientele, a motley group of fifteen or so, until his gaze fell on a table with several multi-tattooed patrons. “I’ll see what kind of party favors are available.”
Mark leaned one arm on the bar. “In the meantime, I’ll have a Namuzko. Make it a double. The lady will have a beer, coldest one you’ve got.” He pushed a Terran hundred at Billie.
Axel tilted his head. “You have any coffee?”
“Sure, it’s fresh, too.” Billie cracked a smile, showing two gold front teeth, magnified by the depth of his skin tone. He scooped up the money. After serving their drinks, he went to chat with the table of peculiar customers.
“Strange place,” Axel muttered, marveling at the collection of voodoo, witchcraft, and sorcery paraphernalia decorating the walls.
Kamryn polished off half her beer, then gestured toward the back bar. “There’s no mirror.”
Each man turned with ‘So what?’ written on their faces.
Wide-eyed, she said, “Vampires don’t have reflections.”
Derisive laughter erupted from both men.
“Space vampires?” Mark said, breaking into a new round of suppressed snickers.
Axel let out a deep sigh, slid his arm over Kamryn’s shoulder, and gave her a squeeze. “This is the last time I’m taking you to Mars.”
Chapter 18
Armed with enough explosives to do some serious damage, the Terrans scouted Jäger’s perimeter adjacent to the spaceport. Axel passed the monocular to Kamryn with one hand while he pointed at two large figures in the distance with the other.
“Uh-huh,” she said. “I see them. Friends of yours?”
Axel shrugged. “Hard to tell. All cyborgs look alike. Big and ugly.”
Mark examined the six-foot-tall fence. “It’s a high-tech electronic detection system. Looks tamper-proof, with high voltage, low current, anti-climb sensors.”
“Does that mean we’re not getting in?” Kamryn sounded hopeful.
“No,” Axel responded, “it means we have to be creative about getting an invitation. People are bound to come and go. Let’s find the employee entrance.”
By a circuitous route, Axel led them around to a spot where he could watch the security gate. They found an excellent surveillance location between cars on the outskirts of the parking lot while Axel sighted in the two-story building.
“It requires a datacard plus a high-res iris scan for ingress/egress,” Kamryn muttered. “Someone might get the idea this place is more than a food distributor.”
“Most of the tech is new; it’s been upgraded recently.” Mark touched Axel’s shoulder. “The cyborg sentries are patrolling inside the fence in opposite directions. Make sure they aren’t both at the gate at the same time.”
Axel studied their movements for several long minutes. “They cross paths at three o’clock and nine o’clock.”
“Excellent. Now, we just need a datacard and an eyeball.”
“Down,” Axel ordered.
Everyone hit the deck.
A pair of incoming vehicle headlights swung into the parking lot. Two more vehicles arrived in quick succession. The drivers got out and met up before entering through the gate. The headlights of a lone vehicle approached, creeping along until the driver found an empty parking spot less than twenty feet from their hidi
ng place.
Kamryn sprinted away, blending in with the shadows behind the new vehicle, then cut through the cars, slowing to a leisurely pace straight for the gate. When she heard the car door slam, she pretended to stumble and fall.
The driver ran over to help her. “What happened? Are you hurt?” he asked, kneeling down beside Kamryn.
“Think I twisted my ankle,” she moaned, trying to reach her outstretched leg.
“Can you stand?”
With the grace of a panther and the stealth of a snake, Axel came at the man from the rear, clapped one hand over his mouth, and pulled him close to deliver a quick jab to the temple with the other hand. Kamryn rolled out of the way as he crumpled to the pavement.
In seconds, Mark had picked the employee’s pockets for his datacard and tablet, Kamryn had taken images of both his eyes for the scanner, and Axel had hauled him back to his vehicle. At the fence, they used the misappropriated card, plus the iris images from her tablet, to gain entrance. The gate opened. Kamryn rushed in, but the gate was quick; it would have closed on Mark, as the last one in, had he not shoved Axel inside.
“Head to the south side of the building,” Axel whispered. “There should be an emergency ladder to the roof.”
They found the ladder easy enough, except it originated from the rooftop and ended eight feet off the ground.
Axel laced his fingers together and bent down to provide a foothold for Kamryn. He lifted her up until she hooked a hand on the last rung. Once she’d climbed halfway up the ladder, Mark was next. He needed an extra push upwards from Axel to reach a higher rung for a better grip. As the last man standing, Axel spread his feet shoulder width apart, sunk into a squat, engaged his core, and jumped up explosively. His augmented strength propelled him half-way up the ladder. He scrambled over the rooftop just in time to escape notice from the cyborg sentries.
To avoid being seen, they crawled commando-style as close to the surface as possible. The dome’s illumination helped them maneuver around an assortment of mounted equipment. Axel found a roof hatch, ripped off the covering, and they eased into the narrow stairwell. Red laser beams on their sidearms provided adequate light as he led them down one step at a time.
