by Doug Felton
“They’ll know it was us,” she said. “There were at least two people who saw us in the hallway, and our fingerprints are all over the apartment.”
Josh didn’t answer, and she could see the anger burning in his eyes. He gripped the steering wheel and clenched his jaw.
“This is not on you,” she said. “It’s on both of us.”
“I’m the one who shot him,” Josh said.
“And, I’m the one who brought us to Pittsburgh.”
Josh hit the steering wheel, his anger bubbling over. Raisa looked out the window at the urban landscape of downtown passing by, trying to think of what to say. She hadn’t pulled the trigger so she couldn’t put herself in his skin, but she needed Josh to hold it together. He’d killed the man who shot Alexander and never flinched. He had been a pillar of strength for Raisa, but this wasn’t that, was it? This was killing a man who was defending his home and his life against intruders. No matter how noble the cause, nothing could make that right. But Raisa had to try.
“We can’t undo what we’ve done,” she said, “but we can make sure that man’s death wasn’t for nothing. And the only way to do that is to stop Zeke Wellington.” Raisa put her hand on Josh’s as he gripped the steering wheel. “Hey, we were there, we did that, but Zeke forced this whole mess, and we need to make him pay. He’s the one we need to blame.”
Josh’s breathing slowed, and his grip loosened on the wheel. He’d been driving through downtown without direction, putting distance between them and the apartment building where they had been. He spotted a self-pay parking lot and pulled in.
“Where are we going?” he asked. “It won’t take long for them to discover his car is missing, so wherever we’re going, we need to get there fast.”
Raisa could see he had buried his anger and self-doubt for the moment, reverting to his military training, and she appreciated the effort. “I need to talk to Micah Wellington.”
“WellPharm, then?”
“No. We’re too high-profile to get past their security now that everyone is looking for us. I think we should go to Wellington's home.”
“He may not be there in the middle of the morning,” Josh said.
“Then we’ll have to improvise.”
Micah Wellington lived in the upscale Squirrel Hill neighborhood in the East End of Pittsburgh. The upper echelons of Pittsburgh society fared better than most after the virus; money had provided a layer of protection, even if it was a thin layer. Colton Reeves took care of the people who could rebuild the city, so their neighborhoods were the first to receive support when the crisis hit. As a result, they bore the fewest scars in the city.
It was a fifteen-minute drive on I-376 along the Monongahela River to Squirrel Hill. The ride was quiet. Raisa’s adrenaline had faded, leaving a sick feeling in her stomach and a void from which any healing words might have come. She imagined Josh felt the same. Raisa had talked him into carrying on with the plan, but the truth was she wasn’t sure how much more she could take. Every step came at a price, each new tragedy tearing a piece of her soul away. Raisa wasn’t sure how much of her would be left in the end.
It had been an hour since they’d left the apartment. They grabbed food at a mom-and-pop shop just beyond downtown and ate in the car. Josh disengaged the digital transmitter that would identify the car and allow law enforcement to track them. This was risky because it was illegal to drive without a transmitter. If a cop tried to tag them and found no transmission, they’d automatically stop them. Game over. They’d have to hope that wouldn’t happen.
Raisa activated the dash monitor to see what the news feeds were saying. With any luck, they hadn’t picked up on the killing yet. Raisa breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that the story running was about Russia’s rocky relationship with the CRA. The two countries hadn’t figured out how to relate to one another yet, and it was creating a minor international stir.
The relief didn’t last long, however. Coming out of the Russian story, the lead anchor said, “We have more information on the top story of the hour we brought you a few minutes ago. A murder downtown this morning now appears to be the work of two suspects linked to Queen Raisa’s disappearance.” The images of Raisa and Josh from the Baltimore station filled the screen. Raisa regretted having changed her look.
The anchor continued, “The victim has not been identified, but initial reports tell us he was a resident at The River Tower, a high-rise apartment building downtown. There is no indication of what his connection to the two suspects is if any. Authorities are telling us that the two suspects are extremely dangerous, and citizens should immediately activate their emergency comm signal if they are spotted.”
Raisa and Josh uttered the same curse at the same time.
Chapter Thirty
Micah Wellington’s home was as large and impressive, as one might imagine. Raisa and Josh had driven past the front gate, to get a closer view of it, and then ditched the car. At the moment, they sat on a bench a block and a half away, watching. The house was set back on the property and surrounded by a classic black wrought-iron fence. The gate, like the house, was impressive, and it made clear to anyone who might wonder that only those who are granted access will enter.
Sitting on the bench in public was a risk, but they had no place to go, and they needed to see what kind of security Wellington had. So far, they’d seen one guard make his way along the perimeter. Another stood just inside the gate.
“That can’t be all of them,” Josh said.
Raisa shook her head. She knew that if they could see two guards, there had to be more. With Zeke in town and the Ten Thousand coming, certainly, Micah was taking precautions.
Other properties bordered the Wellington estate on two sides, each with extensive mansions of their own, but the back of the property abutted a small road. Raisa and Josh decided they would split up, going opposite directions, and meet on the back side. If nothing else, this would keep them from being seen together while they walked. It also gave them the chance to get a look at the opposite ends of the street. Knowing the neighborhood might come in handy if they had to make a hasty exit.
The road bordering the backside of the property was smaller and less trafficked than the one on the front. Across the road was a tree-lined field. It looked like a park, only less manicured. They could see houses bordering the field, but they were far enough away, and trees blocked Josh and Raisa from a clear view.
The same wrought-iron fence ran along the back of the property. A grove of trees populated the grounds between the house and the fence. They could see the house, but foliage obscured it from view, which meant it would hide them too. A quick scan in either direction revealed there were no guards nearby.
Raisa looked at Josh and nodded. He took two steps back and launched himself over the fence, landing on the other side. Raisa followed. The feat took virtually no effort, like jumping off a curb.
They concealed themselves behind trees near the fence and watched for movement. Nothing. Not even the perimeter guard. That doesn’t make any sense. Running through the trees to the back of the house, Josh found a door unlocked. Raisa followed him in. They found themselves in an informal dining room, which opened to a large kitchen. Standing before them was Micah Wellington. He had a drink in his hand, and if his watery eyes were any indicator, it wasn’t his first.
“About time,” he said. “I’ve been expecting you.”
“You’ve been expecting me?” Raisa asked.
“Well, someone like you. You are one of the Ten Thousand, aren’t you?”
“Uh, yeah.”
“And you took Zeke’s drug?”
Raisa nodded.
“Then I’ve been expecting you. I figured someone would figure out where it came from and would have a few questions.” He looked out toward the back fence. “You didn’t have to jump the fence. I would have let you in the front gate.”
“My mistake,” Raisa said, recovering her senses. “You’re not threatened by us?�
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He sipped at his drink. “Not particularly. Should I be?”
Raisa didn’t answer.
“Why don’t you come to my study?”
The house screamed old money, with dark wood, elaborate wall coverings, ornate table settings, and furniture that looked as if it had come from the Gilded Age of the nineteenth century. Raisa read that the house had been in the family for three generations. Whoever inherited WellPharm got the house as a bonus.
Micah opened the door to a private study, and they stepped inside. Raisa spotted a curved sword displayed in a glass case above the fireplace. It was Japanese if she was not mistaken, a Katana. The sword was one of a few conversation pieces placed around the room, but it was the only one Raisa noticed. Killing with a sword would differ from using a gun. So much more personal. The thought disturbed Raisa, but she couldn’t push it away.
As the door clicked shut, Raisa turned her attention back to Micah. “Why is Zeke doing this?”
Micah made his way to a large desk and sat before answering the question. “Really? That’s your question? Not, how does the drug work? Not, can the effects be reversed? Not, how did you create something that could change the course of human history? You want to know why?”
“Yes,” Raisa said, ignoring his bluster.
“Because he hates me.”
Raisa scoffed. “He’s staged a coup because he has daddy issues?”
“More like step-daddy issues from what I hear,” Josh said.
Micah shot him a glance but ignored his comment. “He staged a coup, as you put it, because he has the brain of a creative genius and the heart of an angry little boy, looking for approval he’ll never find.”
“So it’s not about the Ten Thousand,” Raisa said.
“Was Frankenstein about the value of human life or the glory of achievement?” Micah asked.
Raisa had heard of Frankenstein but never read the book. Based on the point he was making, though, she assumed the latter. “How long have you known he was like this?” she asked.
“Zeke’s always been different,” Micah said, “but it wasn’t until he found out I wasn’t his biological father that he became angry. He said I never treated him like my own, and now he knew why. He was thirteen.”
“So why give an angry young man, who will live forever, superhuman abilities?”
“He didn’t tell you? That was a complete accident. The medication we developed was for pain. Turns out that, for people with conditional immortality, it has a unique side effect. Apparently, when the hormone receptors in your cells were changed by the virus, allowing the Foxo protein to activate certain genes, it also opened the door for—”
“I don’t care how it works,” Raisa cut him off. “Can you reverse it?”
“No. And it’s permanent.”
“Okay, so I get that it was an accident the first time, but why did you keep producing it and allow him to use it?”
Micah laughed as if remembering a joke. “That, my dear, was not my decision.”
“Whose decision was it?”
Micah swallowed the last trace of liquor from his glass. As if reciting a well-worn and unpleasant mantra, he said, “About a decade ago, I was having financial difficulties, and I was forced to sell my shares. Tonya’s family was kind enough to finance her purchase of them. She’s gone now, but she left her controlling interest in the company to Zeke. If I didn’t make the drug he’d have me replaced by the boards. So, as they say, I am up a creek without a paddle.”
“You know what he wants to do with that drug,” Raisa said. “He wants to create a race of superhuman immortals to take over the continent.”
“Of course he does,” said Micah.
“How could you let him do that? There must have been something you could’ve done to stop production.”
“And how about you, Your Majesty? I could ask the same of you.”
Raisa felt her face drain of color. So, he knew who she was.
“How did you manage to lose control of the Ten Thousand and your throne to an entertainer? And so quickly.”
Raisa didn’t answer.
“You, of all people, should appreciate how hard it is to stop Zeke when he’s made up his mind.”
“So, you think we’re on a fool’s errand?” Josh asked. “We should just let him do what he’s going to do?”
Micah looked at the glass still in his hand as if he wished it weren’t empty. “You don’t understand what you are up against, do you?”
Raisa and Josh shared a look. They knew about the drug to turn immortals into superhuman beings. They knew Zeke was a psychopath and a genius. What else was there to know? Raisa waited for an explanation.
“You only took the drug from the amber vial, am I right?”
Raisa nodded, a sick feeling in her stomach.
“That’s the one that interacts with your DNA and changes you. The other has nothing to do with it. That vial has a saline solution filled with nanobots. And each nanobot contains a drug that, when injected into the brain, impairs a person’s cognitive functions, particularly decision-making.”
“He’ll drug them to control them.”
“Manipulate might be a better word,” Micah said. “More like herding cattle than driving a car.”
Josh said, “I don’t understand.”
Micah leaned forward, putting his elbows on the desk and making eye contact as he spoke. “It is very difficult to control a person’s thoughts, but it is relatively easy to affect how they make decisions. The frontal lobe is the area of the brain where we make choices. For some time now, we’ve known which regions of the frontal lobe control reasoning, self-control, and decision making. So if you can alter those parts of the brain, you can manipulate how people think and influence the decisions they make.”
“And Zeke has figured out how to do that,” Raisa said.
“No. He’s smart, but he’s not a neuroscientist. It’s something WellPharm has been working on to help people who’ve suffered brain injuries. He saw it as an opportunity to better the odds that the Ten Thousand would follow his lead.”
“Tell me how it works.” Raisa sat in a chair across from Micah.
“We create nanobots using DNA and tether drugs to them. These nanobots have a gate with a locking mechanism made from iron oxide nanoparticles.”
Raisa raised a hand to stop him. “Layman’s terms.”
He grunted, apparently displeased that he couldn’t get into the technical details. “The nanobots carry drugs to a specific spot in the brain where they’re applied. Different drugs produce different results.”
“Like impairing a person’s ability to reason,” Josh said.
“Or to have self-control,” Micah added. “He can also make people angrier or more agitated with the right combination.”
“I still don’t see how this helps him in the long run,” Josh said.
Raisa agreed. Being able to make the Ten Thousand less reasonable or angrier didn’t seem to have any value. How would he use that to his benefit?
Micah swiveled his chair and looked out the window of his study. “He wants the Ten Thousand to conquer Pittsburgh. Literally. As in, take the city for their own. It helps if they’re angry and unreasonable.”
“Why would he do that?” Josh asked. “People will hate them even more.”
“But they’ll be unified, won’t they?” Micah said, still looking out the window. “Zeke will make sure they’re protected, as long as they stay in Pittsburgh, and in a hundred years no one will care how they got here. This will be the first city populated by superhumans, and over time they will take over other cities.”
“Invading Pittsburgh? That’s ridiculous,” Raisa said, although a part of her wondered if it could be true. “How would you even know something like that?”
“Because I have a man on the inside.”
Raisa’s face reddened with anger. “A man on the inside? You’ve known all along what he was doing, and you did nothing?”
Micah swiveled his chair back around, facing Raisa. “You can play high and mighty if you want, Your Majesty, but I am a survivor, and I will do what’s necessary to survive. I suggest you do the same.”
Anger turned to white-hot rage as Raisa stood and moved to the sword over the fireplace. She smashed the glass with her fist and grabbed the sword, pulling it from its scabbard. From the fireplace, she leaped, landing on Micah’s desk, the sword brought to within an inch of his neck.
“Raisa!” Josh said, but she ignored him.
“My husband died, and you could have stopped it.” She drew the sword across the skin of his neck, leaving a thin red line. “Tell me why I shouldn’t kill you now.” Tears stung Raisa’s eyes, but she refused to release them.
Micah’s face had gone white, but he kept his voice even as he spoke. “Because I can still help you.”
“How?”
“How about you get off my desk and put that sword away so we can talk about it.”
Raisa didn’t move. She assumed Micah was a man used to getting his way, and she wasn’t about to let him take control of this situation.
He sighed and then continued. “My informant is someone on Zeke’s security detail. Zeke pays them a lot. I paid him more. A lot more. In return, he gives me regular reports on whatever information he can gather. Recently, he told me about one of Zeke’s key people who was having second thoughts. He told my guy he didn’t think it would go this far, and this wasn’t what he signed on for, that kind of thing.”
“Who?” Raisa asked, still holding the sword to Micah’s neck.
“Scott something, his main tech guy. He did all the Tom Cruise videos for him, and he’s the guy managing the nanobots.”
Raisa lowered the sword. She remembered meeting Scott at Zeke’s house. He had offered his help to her, but she had been so angry at Alexander, she didn’t consider he might have been trying to convey a more subtle message. Raisa jumped from the desk, and Micah went to his bar and got another drink. His hands trembled as he poured it.
“We need to talk to him,” Josh said, “and you’ll set it up.”
