Catch and Kill

by J D Lasica

  By the time they reached the outskirts of Samana Village, their clothes were stiff and crinkly but nearly dry. They stayed off the main streets and found a merchant that accepted U.S. dollars, using the small wad of wet bills in Nico’s pocket. They bought and changed into T-shirts and shorts that blended in with the crowds on the street. Kaden knew the security team on the Swift boat didn’t spot their escape, and Savić’ probably thought she was dead, so they had a small time window before anyone would be looking for them.

  They stopped at a cafe with Wi-Fi, then ordered coffees and sat at a table in an uncrowded corner. She retrieved her smart contacts and earpiece from her fanny pack. Because they didn’t have phones, she’d bring up Amelia first and then try to contact Annika or Sayeed at B Collective.

  “Hi, Amelia,” Kaden began.

  “Hi, sugar plum.” Amelia materialized in the chair between Kaden and Nico wearing her trademark aviator’s outfit, with her cap off and a loose tangle of brown hair. Her personality mode was back on.

  “Make sure you’re on a secure connection,” Nico suggested.

  “Hear that, Amelia?” Kaden asked.

  “Already on it,” Amelia replied. “I'm using high-end encryption and a Virtual Private Network for our connection. Just to be safe, I’ll create a firewall with cryptographic keys for any third parties we need to bring in. By the way, I like your outfit.”

  Kaden liked hearing that, even if she did program the compliment.

  “Thanks. Can you pinpoint our location on this island?”

  “My GPS is on by default.”

  The irony was not lost on Kaden that no one was able to pinpoint Amelia Earhart’s last location on a remote island.

  “Amelia, please contact Annika or Sayeed at B Collective.”

  “Sure thing.” Amelia had access to her contacts even if Kaden didn’t have her phone.

  Annika picked up on the first ring. “Oh my God, Kaden, is that you?”

  “It’s me and Nico, yeah. Sorry we haven’t checked in since Zug.”

  “That’s okay. Are you all right? Where are you?”

  “Long story. We’re on Samana Cay. Bo and the others have been taken into custody.”

  “Oh, no! I’m switching to speaker so Sayeed can hear us.”

  “What’s up, Sayeed,” Kaden said.

  “Sorry to hear about the others,” Sayeed said. “What’s the plan? How can we help?”

  Kaden had several ideas swirling around during the walk to town. “First, we need to know if the local authorities will admit they have Bo and the others in custody. Call over and pose as Bo’s attorney. Find out the pending charges. If they profess ignorance, that’s a danger sign.”

  “On it,” Sayeed said.

  “Second, we need anything you can find out about Samana Cay’s military infrastructure. Is there a main jail? Where are prisoners held before being brought up on espionage charges?”

  “I’ll start looking while we’re talking,” Annika said. She started typing search commands. “You think they’ll be charged with spying?”

  “Have no idea how things work in this place.” Kaden lowered her voice. “There may be a bigger conspiracy in play. The Disappearance. The girls. They may be here somewhere.”

  “Oh my God, Kaden. And there are only two of you? Be careful. Hold on, working on an idea.”

  Sayeed broke in. “I’ve found contact info for the Ministry of Justice. Will call them as soon as we hang up. But one thing you should know. Samana Cay was rated the world’s No. 1 surveillance state in the world last year, ahead of Singapore and even China. They’ve got sensors everywhere.”

  “I read about that,” Kaden said. She knew China used facial-recognition technology for its “sharp eyes” program, which collects surveillance footage and renders a score for each of its 1.4 billion citizens based on their observed behavior, right down to how carefully they cross the street.

  How could Samana Cay be worse with only 18,000 residents?

  “Might be helpful to send you satellite footage of the island,” Sayeed suggested.

  “That, and more.” Annika’s voice brimmed with excitement. “I was able to access a restricted database. We’re on a secure line, right?”

  “As always.” Kaden switched her earpiece to speaker mode but kept the volume low. Nico leaned forward into Amelia’s personal space without realizing it.

  “Good. You’ve heard of SLAM, as in SLAM maps?”

  She hadn’t, but Nico nodded. “It’s part of the tech that lets you move around a hologram from all sides while it’s sitting or standing there,” he said.

  “Right, but think much bigger,” Annika said. “SLAM stands for Simultaneous Localization and Mapping. During the Mars Rover mission, they created a three-dimensional map of the Mars surface because it takes about fourteen minutes for a radio signal from Earth to reach the Rover. NASA couldn’t send navigational commands to the little robot vehicle in real time. So Rover tooled around with the help of a virtual map on top of its unfamiliar environment.”

  “Makes sense,” Kaden said.

  “Here’s what isn’t public knowledge,” Annika said. “The government and U.S. tech giants have teamed up on a massive SLAM project to map the surface of Earth.” She paused to let the import of this sink in. “The newest Earth Station satellites can identify buildings and objects almost down to the centimeter. By using photogrammetry and long-range volumetric capture, the result is a continually updated 3D geospatial rendering of the physical world. Now, mind you, not everything on the planet is 3D mapped yet, but every island within five hundred miles of the U.S. coastline certainly is.”

  “Including Samana Cay.”

  “Right. But here’s the most interesting detail about your little island. On the eastern side, there’s something that’s just … weird.”

  “What do you mean, weird?”

  “I mean, somebody’s gone through a lot of trouble to camouflage it. But 3D models don’t lie. There is no natural topography that looks like this.”

  “Looks like what?”

  “Kaden, there’s a giant dome in the jungle.”

  41

  Samana Cay

  Volkov watched with satisfaction in his executive suite as the video feeds came in with the first results of the Paranoia Strain. The limited clinical trial offered a proof of concept for a wider release, but it had a secondary benefit. It targeted the mother of one of the Opt-Ins who had not yet come to heel.

  He hoped it would send the desired message to all the Opt-Ins. Every one of them had signed the pledge, taken the oath, committed to the cause. They would obey or face the consequences.

  “Chairman.” He recognized the mellifluous voice of Liv, his remote virtual assistant. “Lucid is on line one. He says it’s urgent.”

  It had better be. Messages were piling up from different stakeholders. But he had to focus on salvaging the Compact and carrying out Project Ezekiel.

  “Patch him through.” He spoke without having to pick up a phone, courtesy of the thousands of audio sensors built into the surround-sound walls.

  “Chairman, are you there?” Lucid’s voice on the call sounded tense, as he did when he had bad news to deliver.

  “What is it?”

  “I’m calling from my SUV to alert you. I just received word we’ve successfully intercepted an intelligence operation off our southern coast. Seven prisoners taken into custody and their yacht captured and brought into Samana Harbor.”

  “Did you say ‘successful’?”

  “Yes, Chairman.”

  “What’s successful about our sovereignty being breached by enemy intruders?”

  “Sir, we downed their drones in mid-flight. They didn’t even make landfall.”

  “Drones! Like the drone that put an end to our Summit?”

  “Different model. We’ll run diagnostics to see if there’s a connection.”

  This was unacceptable. First, the Summit was cut short by the most disconcerting security bre
ach imaginable. They were still assessing the fallout. A day later, intruders had violated Samana Cay’s sovereign territory. Someone would pay.

  “Lucid, these latest security lapses are mind-boggling. We may need to rethink your role as security chief.” What was a threadbare string of trust was now frayed beyond repair.

  “Chairman, as I stated, the intruders are in custody. We have no evidence our security has been compromised.”

  “These seven intruders. Who are they?”

  “We’re still identifying the captives. Five men, two women.”

  I’ll deal with Lucid later. But this latest breach was beyond the pale. The enemy is right at my doorstep. How did they track down my whereabouts? Is there a mole in my organization? My circle of trust is small—perhaps it needs to be smaller. This calls for drastic action. I need to move up the time frame!

  “Action item. Tell Bashir I want him to green-light the clinical trials for Phase Two of Project Ezekiel.”

  “I’m heading to the Lab now. But Chairman, that step was redacted in my version of the plan.” He detected a note of derision seeping into Lucid’s voice.

  Volkov had been holding back details of the Phase Two strain from his top lieutenant. The lab coats just came up with a name for it.

  The Fantasy Strain.

  One of Bashir’s neurobiologists pointed out the strain’s symptoms: fantasy-like delusions, hallucinations, and fever states, leading to a quick and painful death. Fantasy Live no doubt figured into the nickname, too.

  Volkov liked the name for a different reason. For centuries, my people harbored the fantasy that the West could be brought to its knees. Now, thanks to a biological agent, I will deliver on those dreams. Is this not the ultimate fantasy?

  Lucid’s uneven performance decided the matter. It was still too risky to bring Lucid into the fold.

  “I want the Fantasy Strain released at Camp Defiance,” Volkov ordered. “At once—this afternoon. Bashir will know.”

  A pause. Lucid knew the precise location of Camp Defiance. Every second that passed made him question Lucid’s loyalty.

  Finally, a stammer. “As you wish, Chairman.”

  Lucid disconnected the call and rubbed his forehead. Incognito’s actions seemed to be getting more erratic and impulsive. He was changing plans on a dime. Altering timelines on a whim. Keeping things from me.

  He had learned long ago to look the other way when it came to the Chairman’s idiosyncrasies. The fixation on biblical allusions. The voyeuristic use of Lucid’s always-on Eyecast to the point he no longer enjoyed a speck of privacy. Project Ezekiel and its bold if overwrought plan to bring the West to its knees through stealth germ warfare.

  He had accepted the position of chief operating officer of Samana Ventures not so much for the financial returns or even for the sense of power that comes with running the day-to-day business affairs of an entire island nation. He’d taken it because he could tap into an almost unlimited source of funds to design a technologically advanced culture that would pave the way for the Singularity.

  Fantasy Live was the perfect sandbox for experimenting with the essence of the human condition. He saw it as a grand social experiment to identify humanity’s primal needs and desires and to tease out all the cultural nonsense.

  Lucid was chosen to help build mankind’s future. He was specially suited to the task.

  Like other members of the small but vibrant transhumanism movement—men and women who allowed their bodies to merge with machines—he considered himself more than human. Some days he thought of himself as more machine than man. He was the prototype of the new humanity that awaited the world in the Reset following the Transition.

  In a way, he was a soft launch himself. The prototype of the new epoch. That was the vision he shared with Incognito. While some fellow transhumans dropped out of society, he was determined to re-engineer society.

  Then there were days like today when he felt more like a grunt than a shaper of worlds.

  He turned off Columbus Highway, took the short side road, and pulled into his executive parking space at the Lab on the southeast end of the island. He strode through the security doors with a wave of his hand and entered the main building.

  Bashir looked up from the microscope on a lab table, surprised to see him. “Do we have an appointment?”

  “We don’t. But I have an urgent message from the Chairman.” He dialed his voice down to co-conspirator level. “But first, I need to know. What is the Fantasy Strain?” He knew some details about the strain being developed for Phase Two, but he couldn’t let on how he knew.

  Bashir took a step back as if Lucid had crossed a forbidden line. “That’s a closely guarded secret. Only the Chairman and I are privy to that information. I’m surprised you even—”

  “Don’t give me that.” Lucid moved closer to within inches of the scientist’s angular face and grabbed the lapel of his lab coat. “I need to know. Now!”

  “You know I’m under orders,” Bashir stammered.

  “I’m responsible for everything that happens on this island. How can I do that when I’m in the dark about the key aspect of Project Ezekiel?”

  The pair noticed the other lab workers peeling away from the vicinity, trying to pretend everything was normal. Lucid loosened his grip.

  “Sorry, Lucid, I cannot tell you.” Bashir held the upper hand. He reported directly to Incognito. Lucid had no leverage here.

  Lucid tried one last twist. He let go of Bashir’s lab coat and retreated a step. “How targeted is the Fantasy Strain?”

  “Brother, I cannot share that. But I can tell you not to worry. You are safe.”

  “At least tell me this. What's the incubation period?”

  “Hours.”

  Lucid nodded. He would see how this played out. “The Chairman wants you to deploy the Fantasy Strain on Camp Defiance.”

  “When?”

  “Now.”

  Bashir nodded gravely. “Tell him I will see to it myself.”

  Lucid gave a cursory nod. He turned and headed out of the Lab and back to his vehicle. He needed to be on site when the prisoners were offloaded. He had a plan for them. One the Chairman didn’t need to know about.

  On the drive to War Games Valley, not far from the outcasts at Camp Defiance, he considered the events that led up to this week. He had been puzzled when Incognito decreed at the outset that no one who was married would be hired into any key management positions on the island. At first he thought it was a misguided effort to bring on type A overachieving workaholics with no personal life. Now he wasn’t so sure.

  He was no choirboy. He was on board with Incognito’s vision of rebalancing the world global order. He was on board with the Paranoia Strain crippling the West. Such was the price of the Reset. If the Seven Spheres meant anything, it meant the old order must be reduced to cinders.

  But now, given the way he was being kept in the dark, one thought burned through his brain.

  What will the world look like after the Fantasy Strain is unleashed?

  42

  Samana Cay

  Kaden and Nico spent another twenty minutes at the cafe figuring out a plan and syncing their waterproof devices. Nico flashed his fitness bracelet that let him text, record audio, and send or receive location-enabled alerts.

  Kaden opened the pendant attached to her necklace. Inside was the small photo of her real mom, a constant reminder of her roots and her evolving self-identity. Gabriel said the quartz pendant symbolized the love chakra, but it was practical, too. A digital screen on the back tracked her activity level, heart rate, calories burned, distance traveled—and you could use it to video chat. Double-click the top of its back and the pendant sends an alert.

  With Gabriel, it was, Thinking of you. With Nico, it’s: I’m in trouble.

  She double-clicked her pendant.

  Nico looked down at his bracelet and saw the alert. “Yeah, tell me about it.”

  “Now that we’re synced, we need
to decide whether to split up,” she said.

  “Why would we do that?” Nico discreetly removed the loaded chamber indicator from his P226 Scorpion and checked to see if there was any water damage.

  “We could cover more ground if we split up. It’s a big island. We need to find Bo, Tosh, Carlos, Judy, and the three Axom people. Then we need to find Alex. Then we need to find Bailey and the other girls.”

  “That’s a tall order,” Nico said.

  “If we could free Bo, Tosh, and the others, we could fan out and use the tactical quadrant methodology we learned at boot camp.”

  Nico nodded. “Where do we start?”

  Kaden reached for a napkin, borrowed a pen from the cashier, and sketched a rough outline of Samana Cay. The island was long and thin, about ten miles from west to east and two miles wide. She drew a dotted line to show the trek they’d made from the south shore to Samana Village along the northwest coast. She added a circle to represent the mystery dome Annika spotted on the far northeast corner of the island.

  Sayeed hadn’t been able to locate any jail or holding facility, but they were able to identify the location of several small military police garrisons. She marked those with X’s.

  “We have one ace in the hole,” she said. “This character Lucid.”

  “What about him?” Nico asked. She hadn’t clued him in yet.

  “He’s into biohacking, neuro-hacking, whatever you want to call modifying your body with electronic components. These folks see technology as a way to transcend their physical limitations. Turns out Lucid was the guy the rest of Red Team Zero tracked to the Kasparian estate in Zug while we were hunting down Dražen Savić at Wildspitz.” Her shoulder was still killing her from her plunge into the ravine, but she was careful to mask her pain from Nico.

  “Someone put a tracker on him?” Nico guessed.

  “Better. He’s got a GPS-enabled signal transmitting from a sensor on his body.”

  “Why would he do that?”

  “Maybe he needs to be at the beck and call of his boss. The one who’s really calling the shots.” Find Lucid and he’ll lead us to Incognito. It was only a theory but the one that made the most sense.