Nimrod Squad

by Bard Constantine

  It didn't work.

  Kilgore evaded the blasts, streaked in and seized Maximilian by the armored collar. Slamming him into the ground, he held a flickering hand up. A circular device appeared in his palm that he planted against Maximillian's chest. It whirred, green lights flickering as it transmuted the armor back into its molten state, literally dripping from Maximillian's body.

  Maximillian sat up, staring. "How are you doing this? What's the source of your—"

  Kilgore punched him in the face, knocking him unconscious.

  Hessler forced himself to stand, teeth gritted in pain from the injury to his chest. I had a gun earlier. Where is my gun?

  "Agent Hessler."

  Hessler looked up. Kilgore had Maximillian's unconscious body slung over his shoulder. A gun was in his hand, pointed at Hessler.

  "Stand down, Agent. I'll only tell you once."

  Hessler stood down. Or fell, he couldn't tell. Either way, he watched as Kilgore loaded Maximillian into the RGA and slipped into the cockpit. The previously dead vehicle hummed to life and shot upward in a cloud of whirling dust before streaking toward the Haven.

  Groaning, Hessler stood back up. His datcom exploded in his ear, Director Lynch's voice ranting as if he'd been talking all along.

  "—I said can you hear me, Agent Hessler? What happened? My surveillance was taken out like someone set off an electromagnetic—"

  Hessler removed the com, wincing as it unclicked from his inner ear. Tossing it to the ground, he made his way slowly toward the Haven, which shimmered in the distance like a desert illusion.

  Probably die of thirst before I get there.

  A rumbling sound made him turn around. An old cargo transport skimmed on gyro thrusters, bearing down his direction. Hessler stepped to the side and stuck his thumb out. Ten to one odds I get passed by, but what the hell. Worth a shot.

  To his surprise, the transport slowed down to a halt. On second glance it didn't appear to be hauling cargo after all. The hull was retrofitted armor, and an insignia of a tiger in a pilot helmet was emblazoned on the side.

  The driver's side window slid open, revealing a dark-haired man with a goatee and a thin cigar clenched between his teeth. "Need a ride, bud?"

  "Yeah."

  "Name's Cash. I'm headed for Los Nuevos if you wanna hop in."

  "Los Nuevos is completely locked out. A rogue military unit has taken over. It's a disaster."

  Cash exhaled a cloud of smoke. "Yeah, that's why we're here. Plan on doing something about all that."

  Chapter 11

  Happy folded her arms and glared. "He's a spook."

  Mateo's eyes widened. "What's a spook? He doesn't look that scary to me."

  Cash grinned. "He'd a suit, kid. That's what she's trying to say."

  "How can he be a suit? He's wearing one."

  Jinx sighed, rubbing her temples. "He's an Agent for the Haven Secret Service Corp. Get a clue, carajito."

  "Oh. Why didn't you just say so?"

  They crowded around Agent Hessler, who was stripped bare to the waist while Jinx used a medimech to examine his injury. The machine hummed, applying a quick-healing salve to the damaged flesh.

  "Your chest is badly bruised, and you have a hairline fracture on your sternum. Lucky you had your armored vest on, or it would be broken. I didn't see any bullet punctures. What hit you?"

  Hessler pulled his undershirt on, wincing. "A fist."

  Her eyebrows rose. "A fist? Like someone punched you?"

  "Yeah. General Hamilton's attack dog. Kilgore."

  "Kilgore?" Happy looked shaken at the news. "He did that with one punch?"

  Hessler eyed her gleaming bionic arm. "Yeah. And he didn't have one of those, either. This guy…has abilities. Either that or some kind of superior technology. He's far more than an enhanced soldier. You might as well turn back and save yourselves the trouble. Kilgore is on another level. He'll kill you all."

  Jinx looked at the others. "Maybe he's right. We don't know what we're up against here."

  Cash gave her a sidelong glance. "You do know if that happens, we're back to cashing in on your bounty, right?"

  "Oh, yeah. Never mind, then."

  Happy glared at Hessler as if insulted by his presence. "We need to dump this guy ASAP."

  Cash frowned. "Why? We just brought him on board. This guy has info I'm sure he doesn't mind sharing. Right, Agent?"

  "This spook's job is recovering information, not sharing it," Happy said, still trying to murder Hessler with her glare. "His very presence is compromising our mission."

  "You're a little paranoid right now, Happy. Why don't you cool off and let me talk to Agent Hessler here?"

  "Oh, like you can trust him over me? You don't know how they work, Cash. I do. This guy's been tracking me for years. He's the epitome of a company man. Why don't you tell him, Hessler?"

  "Tell him what?"

  "That they're listening in right now? That your holoband is always relaying info? That your superiors are seeing everything you see? Who's on the other end? Is it that bastard Lynch? It's always Lynch. Where is he?"

  She lurched forward, seizing Hessler by the collar. "Where the hell is Lynch? Tell me, Hessler. Tell me right now!"

  Cash grabbed her arm. "What the hell? You're out of line, Happy. Let the man go."

  She shook him off; teeth clenched so tightly that her jaw trembled. "Not until he tells me what I want to know." Her other hand snatched a tactical knife from its sheath and held the blade a hair's breadth from his eye. "I'm not playing, Agent. Tell me where to find Lynch."

  He met her gaze without flinching. "No one knows Director Lynch's location."

  "Liar!"

  "You seem to know him better than I do. If that's true, then you know how he operates. We're kept in the dark. He gives us our orders remotely. I've never met him in person. That's the honest truth, Maxine."

  Her eyes quivered; the bionic one whirring, the real one glistening. "What did you call me?"

  "Maxine. As in Maxine Winters, former Agent in the HSSC. Master marksman and sniper. Veteran of the Brat Pack, the nickname for the Youth Recruitment Program, the now-disbanded operation that enlisted promising juveniles into black ops missions and eventually Agent status. AKA Mad Maxine, a nickname used by your closest friends. AKA Trigger Happy, a codename you adopted upon taking on your new occupation of gun for hire. Or Happy, for short. You're right about me tracking you for years. In that time, I learned everything I could about you."

  It didn't seem possible, but Happy appeared even more furious. "You read some words on a screen, Agent. You don't know me. You don't know the first thing about who I am."

  His face remained neutral, his voice without expression. "I know what your former associates did to you. How you got that arm, the scars on your face. Why you have their names on a personal hit list. I know the names you haven't scratched off yet. Beowulf Kilgore. Franklin Newman. Blake Jackson. Natalie Whitman. Michael Trudo."

  Happy's face flinched with every name, but she kept her death grip on his collar. "You forgot the last name on the list. Deacon Lynch."

  "I can't help you with that, Maxine. And even if I could, I wouldn't. You know the protocol. You've been there. You know how much it takes to break a trained Agent. I don't think you have the time."

  "I'll make the time."

  "And it will be for nothing. I can't give you Lynch. Like I said, he makes sure no one can give him up. Deep inside I think you know that."

  She stood frozen for a few moments, studying his face. Muscles tensed, jaw set, knife hovering over his eye. Finally, she lowered the blade and released him, whirling away and placing both hands over her face.

  "Goddamnit. Son of a bitch!"

  Mateo offered her a paper towel. "You gonna be okay?"

  "Yeah, just peachy. Just…give me second, okay?"

  Jinx lifted Hessler's wrist, examining his holoband. She snapped a small, circular device into one of the ports. "That should do it."
/>   He pulled his arm back, glancing at the device suspiciously. "What did you just do?"

  "Ensured our privacy. That prevents your band from transmitting info. Don't worry; you can remove it when we're done here. Comprende?"

  "Yeah, I got it."

  Cash uttered a sigh of relief. "Okay, now that we all know each other, why don't you tell us why you're hanging in Slum Alley hitchhiking instead of engaged with negotiating with the rebel soldiers currently holding Los Nuevos hostage?"

  "I was meeting with Jude Maximillian about possible entry points into the Haven."

  "Maximillian? As in the de facto overlord of Los Nuevos, richer than the world Maximillian?"

  "Yeah. Our meeting was interrupted by Kilgore appearing literally from thin air and conjuring weapons from the same place."

  Mateo leaned forward. "You mean like teleporting?"

  "Exactly like teleporting." Hessler fastened the buttons on his dusty shirt, looking slightly dazed. "I'd call it impossible if I hadn’t seen it myself. The man is unstoppable."

  Mateo folded his arms with a confident grin. "No one is unstoppable."

  "That's the spirit, kid." Cash fiddled with his lighter, snapping the lid back and forth. "Look, Hessler. You boys put this bounty out, right? Happy says it's a setup and all, but I think we all want the same thing: for this to be over. Clean and quiet. I know you've studied the place. There's gotta be a weak spot somewhere."

  "I've got to get back to my men. I have orders."

  Happy stepped forward. Her face was composed, showing no signs of her earlier breakdown. "You just lost the most important man in the country outside of the President. I'd think your orders allow for some improvisation. That's what you do, isn't it? Why you achieved Agent status. Your superiors trust you to make decisions in a state of flux. Make hard choices when no one is there to give orders. So, make a decision, Agent Hessler. If you're capable."

  His head snapped up, staring her in the eye. Finally, he nodded.

  "Fine. I'll work with you Nimrods. I'll even share my intel. But get one thing clear: if it's you or the mission I'm choosing the mission. I'll gladly leave any one of you to die if that's what it takes to put an end to this."

  Happy nodded, a bitter smile on her lips. "I'd expect no less from an Agent."

  Mateo raised a hand. "I would."

  $$

  Jinx guided her Cayenne toward the old, dusty charging station just a mile outside of the Haven, which glimmered in her rearview like a half-submerged sun. Parking her ride, she plugged into the rusty, battered charging station and walked toward the convenience store. When she entered, she noticed the cashier eyeing her up and down. But unlike most times, it wasn't the leering gaze of someone with kinky thoughts on his mind. The young man assessed clinically, checking her demeanor, the possibility of her being armed or otherwise a problem.

  Bingo.

  "Can I help you?"

  "No, I'm good, gracias. Just looking for a limón soda. And the entrance to your top-secret tech center, of course."

  The fake cashier was good. She didn't even see him hit the silent alarm. But within seconds the rear door banged open, admitting three crimson-clad soldiers, all of them pointing rifles at her.

  "On your knees!"

  "Get down, now. Do it!"

  "We will shoot you if you don't comply!"

  She raised her hands, lips curved in a smug smile. "Did I say something wrong?"

  "Down, now!"

  "I have a better idea," she said from behind them, firing her stun blaster in quick succession. The soldiers slumped to the floor, followed by the man behind the counter. Jinx pulled the hooded mask from her head, materializing from her place in the corner as her cloaking suit shut down. Fluffing out her fro, she glanced at her hologram, still holding her hands up in front of the unconscious bodies. Winking at herself, she shut the program down.

  "Don't mind if I do," she said, helping herself to a bag of Platanitos and a Red Fool energy drink before traipsing to the door the soldiers exited from. Inside was a small warehouse packed with supplies. Jinx slid her goggles over her eyes and tracked for heat signatures. The thermal mode revealed a hidden door in the floor that had to be the hidden tech room. Stepping to the side of the hatch, she cautiously opened it.

  "Better speak up if you don't wanna be shot, muchachos. Last warning."

  A frantic voice drifted up. "Don't shoot! I'm just a tech, man. I don't wanna get killed for this."

  "You sure you're alone?"

  "Yeah. Look—you're scaring me, man. Just…don't shoot me in the face, okay?'

  Jinx dropped a mapping sensor down just in case, verifying the guy's testimony as it scanned the interior and sent the results to her holoband.

  She dropped inside, pointing her blaster at a teen with dyed blond spiky hair and a terrified expression on his face. She almost felt sorry for him.

  "Sorry about this."

  "About what?"

  She shot him with a stun blast. Dropping into a wheeled office chair, she rolled over to the command center where an array of consoles and monitors were set up. Popping a plantain chip in her mouth, she tapped the datcom in her ear.

  "Looks like Hessler's intel was right on the money. The place has a hidden tech center. I'm in."

  Deejay's voice buzzed in her ear. "Okay. Patch me through."

  Jinx plugged a wireless adapter into the main console, linking it to Deejay. The screens immediately scrolled with data as Deejay began active reconnaissance, sending packets to the security system and evaluating responses.

  Jinx collaborated, downloading an encrypted payload directly into the system. "Careful, Deejay. Maximillian's security is nasty. It will send automated attacks to brute-force credentials in your system. I'm doing what I can to slow it down. Wouldn't be possible if I didn't have direct access."

  Deejay's face appeared on one of the monitors. "Good job, Jinx. I'm familiar with the system. I had high-level administrative privileges when I worked with MI. Left behind a backdoor via a rootkit to get me back in undetected. The trick is reversing the XORing so your payload can operate nominally."

  "Security has an autodetect on proxy chains."

  "Saw that. I created a covert channel to bypass."

  "Qué nítido, Deejay! I would have had problems doing all of this on my own."

  Deejay smiled. "I told you we could help each other."

  $$

  Cash stood on a dusty roadside just outside the Haven's force shield with Agent Hessler, listening to the chatter between Jinx and Deejay. He shook his head. "Hacker talk. Like another language. I don't even know what they're saying."

  Hessler stared at the Haven. Just inside the shielding, drones were visible. Patrolling for intrusions, ready to unleash digitally-precise barrages of gunfire at anything perceived as a threat. That was only one degree of security. There were more. Much more.

  "You know how may Nimrod crews showed up before you guys?"

  "Nope."

  "Fifteen. Fifteen crews showed up, and that's not counting the lone wolves who tried to get in on their own."

  "Any of them make it?"

  "Not one of them. Most lost their lives, and the rest limped off licking their wounds. Not many showed up after that. I think the word's gotten out."

  "Well, none of them were us. Figured we'd be late to the party, though. We were in New Mexico when we got the word. Almost in Texas."

  "It's not called New Mexico anymore. But it will be. As soon as we get it back."

  "From who? The UH planning on going to war with Mexico?"

  "We plan to negotiate with Mexico."

  "Yeah, I bet. Probably the same way they negotiated with Mexico before. Or the Natives. Or whatever race or nationality got in their way. The government loves some good negotiation tactics, don't they? Manifest Destiny reborn, isn't that what the senators are screaming about in Haven DC?"

  "It's…not like that anymore."

  Cash snorted a laugh. "Who are you trying to ki
d? I was part of the program, bud. I know what it's like on the inside."

  Hessler gave him a surprised look. "You were HSSC?"

  "Hell no. I was a cop. A Detective in Amazon Haven, Washington. Busting bad guys, cleaning up the streets. But I know all about you HSSC suits. Infiltrating neutral Territories. Causing chaos, then taking over when everything goes to hell. Like the op you guys pulled in Chicago twenty-some years ago. Assassinating a civil rights leader to incite mass riots. Disgusting."

  "That's just a conspiracy theory."

  "Keep telling yourself that, Hessler. Either you're blind, or your superiors don't trust you enough to tell you the truth. You might be one of the good ones. If that's the case, you should get out when you have a chance. While you still have a soul."

  "Like you did?"

  Cash paused to light a cigarillo. "No. I didn't. My mistake. One I'm still paying for. Will be paying for it for the rest of my life."

  "So, you went from detective to Nimrod? There's a lot of other occupations you could have went with. Why bounty hunting?"

  "The work is more honest, for one. I'm my own boss, operate by my own rules."

  Hessler glanced over. "And take on strays when you feel like it."

  Cash followed his gaze. Happy leaned against the Battle-Cat on the other side of the road, frowning at Hessler and toying with her razor-edged knife as if more than happy to use it on him. Beside her, Mateo sat cross-legged on the ground, expertly juggling small rocks in complicated, interlocking circles.

  Cash exhaled a stream of smoke through his nostrils. "Yeah, I guess so."

  "You know you can't trust her, right? She's a seasoned killer. One of the best. And she doesn't have a good track record with the crews she's worked with. Maybe because she's assassinated most of them."

  "Yeah, I'm sure they had it coming. You gonna take her in after this is over? Gonna retire her, or whatever euphemisms you suits use for killing your own?"

  Hessler looked at him. "No, Cash. I'm not. Because I never met her. Or you. In fact, we're not having this conversation."

  Cash chuckled. "You damned suits. You never change."