by D. B. Goodin
“What if Treeka doesn’t want to go with you?” Melissa asked.
“It’s not her choice. She belongs with her family. And besides, I need help training the new recruits.”
“New recruits? What are you talking about?” Nigel said.
“We have orders for hundreds of assassins, and Dr. Ash doesn’t need Treeka running amok undoing all the work she’s spent a lifetime cultivating.”
“You might as well let us go, Treeka isn’t here—”
“But I’m willing to bet you know where I can find her, or you have some clue as to where to look.”
“I’m not telling you anything,” Melissa said.
With the reflexes of a viper, Nozomi grabbed Melissa by the hair and raised a knife to her eye.
“If I poke out your eyes,” Nozomi said, “you will never see anything again. Well, perhaps Doc Chop can give you a cornea implant. He runs a rogue cybernetic clinic and asylum. I hear he’s quite good.”
“Get your filthy hands off my mum!” a female voice said from behind them.
Nozomi turned to find another cyborg who was about the same height with cropped white hair. A wicked smile formed on Nozomi’s face.
“Well, if it isn’t the little bot who likes to pretend she’s a real girl.” Nozomi sniffed the air. “I can smell your data core, sister.” Nozomi pushed Melissa to the floor and strode toward the teenage cyborg. “What’s your name, little one?”
“April Mason, but together we are Legion.” April’s voice sounded like several voices talking in unison.
“There’s more than one of you in there? Tell me I’m wrong,” Nozomi taunted.
“No, just one. Delta.”
Nozomi raised an eyebrow. “You’re the one that killed Dr. Ash’s human form?” she asked.
Delta smiled, then charged. Steel rods extruded from her wrists. Nozomi dodged the first blow, and then Delta belted her. The rods cut into Nozomi’s face just below the eye. A pink milky goo oozed from the gaping wound.
“You will pay for that,” Nozomi snarled.
With cat-like reflexes, Nozomi flung two blades in quick succession. Delta dodged the first attack, but the second blade plunged into her arm. A white liquid oozed from the wound.
“The Delta experiments were weak—you shall be a distant memory.” Nozomi unsheathed her sword and got into a fighting stance.
“You can’t beat her! Run, April,” Jet cried.
“Jet?” Delta said in April’s voice.
The teenage cyborg looked uncertain, then ran to Jet and embraced her. Nozomi watched with some fascination.
“Don’t worry about us, you have a bigger part to play in all of this. I need you to be safe,” Jet said.
Delta looked at April; she looked very much like a little girl. Jet kissed the young cyborg on the forehead, then motioned Delta to get behind her.
“Hand her over, Jet, she belongs with her own kind. This is your last warning. Release Delta into my custody, or I will do something drastic.”
Delta walked to Nozomi. “I surrender—just leave my friends alone,” Delta said with April’s voice.
“Alright, now come here,” Nozomi said, fetching a pair of handcuffs from a pouch on her belt.
Delta stopped, just out of Nozomi’s reach. Then she started convulsing and dropped to the floor.
“What’s wrong with her?” Nozomi said.
“I think Delta is coming,” Melissa said.
Nozomi attempted to handcuff Delta. She got one loop around a wrist, but before she could secure Delta’s other hand, Delta struck Nozomi so hard she flew halfway across the room and hit the wall hard enough she nearly went through it; a stud in the wall prevented it.
Nozomi recovered, then leaped on Delta. The cyborgs seemed to be fighting to the death. Nozomi was taking a lot of damage, but Delta was getting the worst of it. Nozomi dodged Delta’s attacks, then punched Delta. Delta fell flat on her back, and Nozomi picked up a desk and flung it at Delta, who tried to dodge it, but was too late. She was pinned against a wall and didn’t move. Nozomi kept kicking the desk. White liquid poured from her mouth.
“No, don’t hurt my baby girl,” Melissa pleaded.
“She’s already dead—she just doesn’t know it yet,” Nozomi said.
Delta collapsed on the desk. She seemed to lose energy. Nozomi reached for a compartment on her belt. Moments later she kicked the desk aside, then took out some thin wiring and garroted Delta. White milky liquid streamed from Delta’s neck like a fountain.
“Stop it, you’re killing her,” Jet said.
Nozomi ignored Jet as she pulled the wire tighter; it looked like she was trying to decapitate Delta. Nigel grabbed Nozomi from behind, and she backhanded him.
Nigel tumbled to the floor.
“Nige!” Jet screamed.
“Sorry, lover, it’s a shame I had to mark up that pretty face,” Nozomi said.
She just tossed Nigel around like he was a doll, Jet thought with panic. He’s not moving.
Delta was trying to get up, but Nozomi resumed her grip on Delta’s neck, which was streaming with white liquid. Nozomi pulled out a small glass tube and filled it with the white liquid pouring from Delta, then put it back in a pouch on her belt.
“I only need the memory core. We will transfer you into another body,” Nozomi said.
Nozomi continued to pull on the wire, and more liquid sprayed from Delta’s throat. She grinned as the white goo spattered her face.
I’m not letting this crazy bitch kill April.
Jet looked around for anything she could use to attack Nozomi. Then she saw it: a small knife that Delta had dodged during the fight. Jet palmed it, then got into position. Nozomi positioned her foot on Delta’s back to gain a firmer grip while she continued pulling the wire; Delta screamed, then made an awful gurgling sound. Jet plunged the small knife into Nozomi’s back. Her leather outfit provided some resistance, but she penetrated it. Jet’s hands were covered in a pinkish, sticky goo.
That should slow her down . . . I hope!
Nozomi screamed in aggravation. She turned and twisted, trying to reach the knife. Jet kicked her. Nozomi fell to her knees, desperate to reach the blade. Jet grabbed one of the giant LCD screens and slammed it over Nozomi’s head, and an awful audible cracking noise emitted. She went down. Jet hurried to Delta and, after some effort, removed the piano wire from her neck. The wound was grievous. April was back now, and she was sobbing.
She’s switching between Delta and April so rapidly it’s hard to tell them apart.
“Get something to stop the bleeding,” Jet yelled to Melissa.
Melissa slowly emerged from behind a desk. During the fight, she threw everything she had readily available at her daughter’s attacker. Nothing seemed to phase Nozomi, she was like an unstoppable force.
“Why does she want to hurt us?” April said as tears rolled down her face.
Jet’s heart ached at the sight of the Delta-51 body. She did not see a mindless killer—only a little girl. Jet wished the Delta consciousness would have kicked in before. This was not a fair fight.
Moments later, Melissa returned with some duct tape. Jet wrapped her neck with the sticky substance.
At least she’s no longer hemorrhaging.
Jet gave April a hug.
“Thanks, Jet. I was so worried she was going to hurt you guys,” April said.
“We took care of her—”
“Watch out!” Melissa screamed.
Before Jet could react, Nozomi plunged a knife deep within Jet’s back. Nozomi covered Jet’s mouth as she twisted the blade. She removed it then plunged it again, trying to rupture a kidney. Nozomi’s grip muffled Jet’s screams.
“Let’s see if Nigel still wants you after I cut your face off,” Nozomi hissed.
“No, I will not let you hurt my family!” April yelled.
Using the strength of the cyborg’s body, April hit Nozomi in the face, and a crunching sound emitted. Nozomi fell lifeless to the floor. A
pril picked up Jet and ran out of the room. A trail of blood followed.
“April, wait, I need to call an ambulance,” Melissa yelled.
Melissa rummaged through the pile of ruined office equipment looking for an undamaged phone. She started to dial when Nozomi sat up. Her head was twisted around at an awkward angle. She screamed as she pulled her head back into place.
“Where did she go?” Nozomi asked Melissa.
Melissa stared back. “Your face!”
Nozomi picked up a monitor and surveyed the damage in the reflection. “Time to visit the surgeon, I suppose.” She flung the remains of the monitor at Melissa, who ducked just in time.
Nozomi followed the trail of blood out of the office.
Chapter 19
Meanwhile, back in Newport
Mr. Chen sat at the head of the conference room table in the parlor of the Bromwick. He prized punctuality as much as loyalty. Just before important meetings, he always remembered what his father told him: “Our family has controlled most of Hong Kong’s drug trade for twenty generations. We would not have accomplished this without the loyalty of the people we serve.”
Mr. Chen never forgot these words, and he intended to pay tribute to his father’s memory with strength and conviction. It was his duty to punish a world that had forgotten the true meaning of honor.
All the Cabal leaders arrived early for the meeting and appeared ready.
“Thank you for your punctuality. The first order of business shall be one of alignment. For this I request only the principal members of the Cabal attend the first meetings. Scheduled breaks will be provided to coordinate with your lieutenants. Mr. Chen watched as the room cleared.
“I know we have regular online conference meetings, but I wanted to go over the plan in person. Some of you had reservations about Jeremiah’s plan and its execution. He led the group known as the Timeslicers, which is under Cabal control.”
Mr. Chen paused for emphasis then continued.
“Mr. Tage, care to give us an update on the island? I understand you’ve had a bit of a breakthrough?”
“I felt it was best to share the news with only the principal members of our organization. My scientists have figured out a way to get enough of the meteorite transported to Jeremiah’s island. We have achieved a stable catalyst, and the alternative energy source is powering the entire chain of islands in the area, including Príncipe and São Tomé. In exchange for supplying energy, we get military support and certain assurances, including full control of the eight hundred and eleven square miles of the island housing Jeremiah’s former compound.”
“I did not know you were that far ahead of plan, but it’s all for nothing if we can’t get Melissa Mason to sell her interest,” Dahlia said.
“She will soon enough,” Mr. Chen said.
“What do you mean?”
“Some of our associates are convincing her to sell as we speak.”
“What are the terms?” Mr. Tage asked.
“The shell company for the Cabal will purchase it for 14.3 billion in cash and real estate. We are prepared to give her a state-of-the-art research facility in Upstate New York as a bonus. The Mason foundation can do a lot with seven billion.”
“What if she refuses?” the Sultan asked.
“Let’s just say she will be motivated once she receives the offer.”
“If the catalyst has started, then why do we need the nuclear material?” Dahlia asked.
“We still need it for our cyborg production,” Mr. Chen replied.
“Do we have enough volunteers?” Mr. Tage asked.
Mr. Chen laughed. “We now have more volunteers than we have cybernetics to fill. A lot of workers are keen for the endurance upgrades. We are funding all expenses.”
“When will we be ready for Project Reckoning?” the Sultan asked.
“Most of the pieces for Jeremiah’s massive doxing operation are already in place. Once the scapegoat provides the delivery mechanism, we will be ready,” Chen said.
“Who’s the scapegoat?” Tage asked.
“Just a mediocre hacker that Dahlia hired. He thinks he’s one of the elites, but I have it on good authority he is akin to a cyber thug who bullies others for personal gain. He’s under the illusion he is controlling the code, but all evidence will lead back to him.”
“What will happen once all the pieces are in place?” Dr. Ash asked.
“The code Jeremiah designed with the aid of a now-deceased hacked named Gregor acts like a worm and parasite. It feeds on internet infrastructure while making as many copies of itself as possible. Anything connected to a host computer is susceptible to attack. Jeremiah’s worm adapts to any operating system. Once the worm spreads, it will affect much of the world’s internet infrastructure in minutes,” Mr. Chen explained.
“Does this virus follow some route, or does it just attack things at random?” Dr. Ash asked.
“The code has some advanced adversarial techniques, but it’s almost impossible to predict how it will react in the wild. It is expected certain services like ATMs will be offline. If it runs on the High Tower OS, then the disruptions will even be greater, but it’s impossible to tell what the actual impact will be until it launches.”
“My people are ready. General Kurtzen has at least two years supplies in each Cabal bunker location just in case the anarchy disrupts travel,” the Sultan said.
“Don’t worry, all of you should have enough time to be safe in your bunkers when the worm attacks,” Chen assured them.
“Black Iris has stockpiles of gold, platinum, and silver. Not to mention several warehouses filled with essential supplies for trading,” Dahlia said.
“You shouldn’t have bothered to hoard supplies—general internet access will still be available, albeit a little slow.”
“Just make sure we are at our safe locations when the virtual bombs go off,” Dahlia chided.
“The main event is a week away. Your junior hacker will help us with testing, but no real damage is expected to happen until next week,” Mr. Chen said.
Ezekiel announced that lunch was served. Moments later, the principal members headed in the direction of the banquet hall.
“A moment, sir?” Ezekiel said as he pulled Chen aside. “We have a situation with the Dark Angels.”
After months of extensive training, Titus and his Dark Angels better deliver the engineers he promised. Time is short, Chen thought.
“What’s wrong?” Chen asked.
“The computer worm they promised isn’t working as expected,” Ezekiel replied.
“What’s wrong with it?”
“It wasn’t very good at hiding. Apparently, it spread like it should have, but had a problem at calling the other parts of itself. The code opened the required network ports, but it sent too many packets with little information. During the field tests, analysts detected it too soon.”
“I don’t understand all of this technical stuff—just give me a recommendation on how we need to fix it,” Mr. Chen said.
“The lead engineer needs help. This problem is beyond his expertise.”
“So much for hiring the best and brightest. We need to solve this soon, or we’ll lose our window of opportunity.”
We might have a real problem, Chen thought. I don’t think Dahlia’s hacker has the skills we require. But what about that other kid Dahlia mentioned?
Two hours later
Mr. Chen stood at the entrance of the parlor watching the principal members of the Cabal return from lunch with their lieutenants following close behind.
“I trust everyone had a pleasant lunch,” Chen said.
“More than good, it was superb,” Mr. Tage said.
“Excellent, because we have an additional problem we have to solve.”
Mr. Chen let his words hang for a moment.
“What sort of problem? How does it affect the plan?” Dahlia asked.
“There is a problem with the code that Jeremiah’s hackers wrote. It’s sus
ceptible to detection.”
“Another to add to Jeremiah’s long list of mistakes,” Mr. Tage said.
“We need someone to fix this worm, so it isn’t detected until it captures every piece of data we require in supporting the doxing operation.”
“Nigel is a capable hacker—we should get him on that job,” Dahlia said.
“Where is the boy? Shouldn’t he be here already?” Chen said.
“Rick Watson, Nigel’s father, is retrieving him as we speak,” Mr. Tage said.
Vedrana arrived at Chauncy’s Bar and Grill close to the Ohio Valley Nuclear Reactor. Based on the research the hacker known as Freeman had provided, she was looking for a man in his late twenties, overweight with glasses. Vedrana was dressed in formal business attire, and she had unbuttoned her blouse, revealing ample cleavage. A man fitting her target’s description was sitting at the end of the bar near the wall. She caught quite a few looks as she removed her thick coat. She squeezed behind her target and took her time hanging her coat on a nearby hook. The man shifted in his seat at the bar. He appeared to be enjoying his sandwich and beer, but he stopped eating when she was close. Vedrana took a seat with a barstool between them. She leaned over the bar to fetch a menu. The man reached it before she could.
“They don’t have enough menus at the bar, allow me,” the man said, handing her the menu.
“Thank you,” Vedrana said as she touched the man’s hand.
He jumped.
He’s attracted to me—I will use that against him, Vedrana thought.
She browsed through the menu. Every menu item seemed to have the word “fried” in it. She saw nothing that appealed to her. A man with many stains on his shirt and a dirty towel in his hand came over.
“Identification, please,” he said.
Vedrana opened her purse and handed him a Romanian passport.
“It says here that your twenty-first birthday is at the end of November, almost a month away. Sorry, you will need to sit at a table instead.”
“Come on, Joe, it’s not like she asked for a beer. She wants to eat lunch without waiting for a table,” her target said.
