by C M Dancha
Rollie digested Slice's explanation, trying to find the truth or dishonesty. The description of being killed by Raul flowed so easily out of Slice's mouth that it was bathed in sincerity. The grandfatherly tone and gestures added believability to his accusations.
"What did you mean, he was jealous of me?"
"He was jealous of your position and popularity at Phoenvartis. He knew that when cloning was announced to the world you would be famous and treated like a dignitary. Your name and face would be known around the world as the man who pioneered the ReLife project. He also had a huge crush on your girlfriend, Gretchen, and figured if you were out of the picture, he could get close to her."
Slice's explanation sounded entirely reasonable, even though his best friend was being accused of murder. Rollie was torn between believing Slice and telling him to go screw himself. He searched his mind for a way to determine if Slice was telling the truth.
"How is Gretchen?"
Slice couldn't help being overjoyed with his interrogation skills. Rollie had admitted again to remembering someone from his past, thereby undoing his amnesia alibi.
"She's fine, Rollie. I had to bring her in for questioning after you were killed to make sure she wasn't a suspect. Otherwise, she's doing great."
"I'm glad to hear that. Can I see her?"
"Actually, I sent her on vacation for a couple of weeks. She was so upset by your death I thought it would be good for her to get away and rest. I sent her to a ski resort in the Alps, paid for by me."
"Can I talk to her?"
Slice scrambled fast to squash Rollie's request. "Rollie, it wouldn't be advisable for you to talk to her. She thinks you’re dead. I fear what would happen if you reappear while she’s in the grieving period. She might suffer an emotional breakdown." Slice waited for a few seconds and then acted as though he had remembered something important. "Rollie, I have a halo image recording of her. Would you like to see it?"
"Yes, that would be great."
Slice took out a pocket halo recorder and spoke the name of the recording he wished to display. For the next five minutes, an edited recording of Gretchen's interview with Slice appeared on a far wall. The entire recording portrayed a friendly chat between a young, distraught woman and a grandfatherly Slice. They laughed, cried and hugged each other and acted more like long-lost relatives than two participants in a murder interrogation.
At the end, Slice asked Rollie, "Isn't it good to see her again?"
Rollie nodded in agreement.
"Rollie, there's one part of the recording which I haven't shown you yet. It's very important that you see this, so please pay particular attention to what Gretchen says in this excerpt."
The recording started with Slice asking Gretchen if she knew what had happened to the World Council samples. Gretchen responded, "Rollie told me that he was given the samples but never said where he put them."
That was all it took for Rollie to know that everything Slice said was an unadulterated lie. Raul wasn't his killer, in debt or planning to move in on Gretchen. There was no possibility that Gretchen made that comment about the samples because she didn't know anything. This was a giant hoax pieced together by Slice to trap Rollie into divulging where the samples were hidden. The recording of Gretchen's interview had been fictitious from start to finish. And Rollie was sure that Slice hadn’t sent her on an all-expenses-paid holiday. If anything, he might have sent her to a holding cell like the one Rollie now found himself in. About the closest thing to the truth might have been Raul was arrested for Rollie's murder or some other trumped-up charges.
A sparkle returned to Rollie's eyes when he said, "Mr. Slice, who did you say that woman in the recording was?"
Blood raced to Slice's face and made him look like a giant tomato sitting on top of a nicely tailored and fashionable suit. He became livid, rose from his chair and started screaming and threatening to kill Rollie. As he raged on, Rollie noticed a pure white pigeon fly from one side of the holding cell to the other. He followed the bird's flight, ignoring the hatred Slice was spewing. For some reason, Slice didn't acknowledge the bird and kept ranting threat after threat.
The bird vanished into thin air and Rollie's mind was flooded with the words from his Grandmother LeeLee. "Watch the heavens for a sign. When you see the sign, it will almost be over."
19
TRIPLETT
In a quaint coffee house, less than six miles from Phoenvartis, Raul Hakala sat sipping some type of drink derived from gene-spliced coffee and cocoa beans. He marveled at the number of foods which had been genetically altered in the last fifty years to be better tasting and more nutritious. When he examined the container his drink came in, he wasn't surprised to see it labeled with the Phoenvartis corporate logo. If Slice had his way, it would have the World Council logo on it.
"Mr. Hakala?"
Raul put the container down and looked up to meet his guest. Standing next to the table was a tall man of about forty years old with blonde hair and blue-green eyes. The look in his eyes and posture told Raul that this guy had lived a difficult life with few luxuries. He wouldn't be surprised to learn that Mr. Sun had spent many nights in the bush waiting to ambush enemy patrols and convoys.
"Mr. Sun, please have a seat."
Sun sat down and cautiously surveyed the inside of the coffee shop to make sure he wasn't being set-up by Hakala.
"Can I offer you something to drink?"
"No thanks. I grabbed something before I came."
Raul couldn't help noticing Sun's nervousness. "Don't worry, Sun, it's only you and me. By the way, do you have a real name? You're obviously of German or Austrian heritage."
Sun hadn't expected to be asked for his real name. He debated whether it was a smart idea to identify himself to Hakala. Then again, how would Hakala know that Krieger was his real name?
"You can call me Krieger."
"Good. Let's get down to business; I'm sure both of us have other things to do. You've made your fifty percent deposit and were supposed to pay the remaining fifty percent before your clone was made."
Krieger started to reach for the energy burst gun concealed beneath his shirt. He’d anticipated needing the gun as an extra enticement to get the clone done, even though he didn't have all the remaining money.
"I know you don't have the balance. Am I right?"
Krieger hesitated to pull out the gun. "You are right, Mr. Hakala."
"That's okay, Krieger. I think we can make a trade to cover some of the remaining payment. How much were you able to raise?"
Krieger backed off pulling the gun. "I have about another twenty thousand World Credits."
Raul pretended to be thinking whether he would accept this lesser amount. In all honesty, he would have accepted any amount Krieger came up with. "I'll take that if you agree to help me."
"Do what?"
"You and I and some of my men are going to pull a rescue mission. We will be going up against seasoned, combat-hardened soldiers so it won't be easy. In fact, some of us might get killed or wounded. Are you interested?"
"What happens if I get killed; what happens to my clone?"
"You better make sure you don't get killed. I'm not going to drag your clone around with me."
Krieger wasn't pleased with Hakala's response, but he couldn't help thinking about the adventure and excitement of pulling a raid with a man who had the reputation of being a first-rate military leader.
"I'm in. You know the drill. Tell me everything I need to know."
"Great. Welcome aboard. First, deposit ten thousand World Credits into the same account you used for the first twenty-five thousand credits. Keep the other ten thousand for yourself. Meet me here tomorrow night at…"
For the next forty-five minutes, Raul explained the rescue mission and answered Krieger's questions. Each man was impressed with the other's knowledge of military tactics. The only question was, if they could trust each other. It would be certain disaster for the rescue mission if either of them faltered duri
ng the upcoming firefight.
Before each man left the table, Raul said, "Krieger, be careful when you leave here. I've been followed for the past several days. Today, it's a woman who’s tailing me. She’s the one wearing a black business suit sitting in the bistro’s outside seating area across the street."
Being experienced in sabotage and spying, Krieger made no attempt to look across the street to spot the tail.
"Do you know who she works for?"
"Yes. She likely works for Sedgewick Slice from the World Council."
Krieger gave a halfhearted laugh. "You live a dangerous life, Mr. Hakala."
Now it was Raul's turn to smile and return a weak laugh. "Yeah, I guess so. But rest assured that I have a plan for Mr. Slice. Make sure you lose her when you leave here. I'm sure she'll follow you instead of me."
Krieger stared at Raul and wondered what he was getting himself into. Should he back out, or take a chance that Hakala had enough contingency plans in place to take care of any unforeseen problems? He was usually over-cautious and got involved only in dangerous missions when the odds were stacked in his favor. He estimated the odds of success on this mission to be around fifty-fifty. If it wasn't for the money and time he’d already invested in getting the Black Cross clone created, he would bail out immediately. But the chance to run and not look back was no longer an option. He was in for the long haul and Raul Hakala was his partner, like it or not.
Krieger laughed to himself when he remembered his father's favorite saying, ‘The Devil Hates a Coward.’ For the first time in a long time, Krieger cast caution to the wind. The devil would be proud of putting himself at the forefront of a risky and deadly military venture. There was little doubt that in less than thirty-six hours the man below would reap the rewards from another act of hatred between God's children.
As expected, Raul watched the tail follow Krieger from the coffee house. Now it was up to Krieger to use those skills he’d honed as a member of an anti-government group to elude the woman following him.
Raul returned to Phoenvartis and spent the rest of the day reviewing his plans. He would wait until tomorrow to brief his own men about the rescue mission. He wasn't taking any chances that there might be an intentional, or unintentional, leak from within his group.
There was one last thing to do before leaving for the day. Raul went to his UCN workstation panel and entered a series of twelve numbers and letters. This code activated an algorithm Raul had implanted into the Phoenvartis computer system years earlier.
"Hello, Mr. Hakala. Nice to hear from you again. How have you been?"
Raul looked at his screen and saw an old, yet familiar face. It was Triplett, a special effects character which represented and spoke for the algorithm embedded in the computer system.
"I've been fine, Triplett. How about you?"
"Things have been slow here, but you already knew that." Triplett displayed a sad face, but it changed instantly to a happy face when he said, "I'm glad you contacted me today. What would you like me to do?"
"Triplett, is the algorithm I implanted years ago still in place and ready to be initialized?"
"Hang on, Mr. Hakala, let me check." Raul had to laugh. Triplett already knew the answer to the question but wanted to show-off for the only human he ever communicated with. Raul couldn't get over how a small amount of artificial intelligence could create a cartoon character who was such a precocious showoff.
"Everything looks ready to go, Mr. Hakala. Would you like to initialize now, and do you want to keep the same parameters?"
"Triplett, I want you to initialize the algorithm in exactly forty-eight hours from now. Take out your timepiece and set the alarm for two days from now."
"Mr. Hakala, you are such a wit. You know I don't have a timepiece." Triplett waved a finger at Raul on the screen as though he was scolding him for a pathetic attempt at humor.
"I know, Triplett. Thought you would like a little joke to brighten up your day."
"Thank you, sir, I appreciate that. Anyhow, do you want to keep the same parameters?"
"It's been quite some time since I set them, so tell me again what they are."
"Let's see. Your previous parameters were five hundred and sixty-four World Credits sent to randomly selected accounts every two weeks. I see that you have a total of one hundred and ninety-eight undetectable accounts."
"Triplett, please increase the amount of World Credits to two thousand one hundred and thirteen. Keep the random accounts and time parameter of every two weeks. Understood?"
"I understand perfectly."
"One last question, Triplett. Is the self-destruct parameter still in place?"
"Yes, sir. If anyone, other than you, accesses my residence in the system, I will destroy all information pertaining to the algorithm. This would include all history, present information and future requests and actions. Oh, I get to kill myself too."
"Okay. Let's hope that doesn't happen. I'd hate to lose contact with you, Triplett."
"Same here, sir. I’ve always enjoyed our communications. Is there anything else I can do for you, Mr. Hakala?"
"That's all for today. Make sure you initialize in forty-eight hours and I promise I'll contact you more often in the future."
"Thank you, sir. It gets boring sometimes in here. Goodbye, sir."
Raul's screen went blank. For being a computer-generated character, Triplett seemed human at times. He was smart, funny and emotional. It was more than Raul could say for a lot of humans he knew.
Raul suspected that Triplett had enough artificial intelligence to know the algorithm was a method of stealing from Phoenvartis. Fortunately, he never questioned the morality of stealing Credits. If he did, Raul wasn't sure he could make Triplett understand why theft was necessary. It would be near impossible trying to explain that he was leaving Phoenvartis and setting off to do battle with the same people he was stealing from. Triplett would blow a fuse trying to understand the concept of espionage and using the assets of your adversary to kill him.
It was good that Triplett would oversee the algorithm and keep it producing a steady supply of Credits to Raul and his companions. The amount of two thousand one hundred and thirteen World Credits was a paltry amount when compared to the annual sales and income of Phoenvartis. The fake invoices and sales orders which the algorithm generated were audit-proof and would keep the scheme going for at least five years.
The stolen funds from Phoenvartis, plus Claude's blackmail Credits, plus the deposits from Krieger was a decent fund to prepare for the coming world conflict.
20
THE LAST ROUND-UP
"Where did the guy go?"
"I… I lost him, Mr. Slice. Somehow, he… he disappeared."
"Disappeared as in become invisible, or disappeared as in you lost him?" Slice regretted asking his smarmy question as soon as it left his mouth. He knew the answer. There was no reason to waste more time with this woman, who was supposed to be a first-rate investigator. He made a mental note to tell Mr. Todd what he thought of his contract investigators.
"I'm very sorry, Mr. Slice. Is there anything I can do to make this right?"
Slice turned around from staring out of his executive suite window to face the investigator who had a look of humiliation on her face.
"Yes, my dear. You can get your ass out of my office." Slice watched as she hustled to the doorway. At least she had a nice posterior to watch from behind. Other than that, the entire operation of finding out what Raul Hakala was up to had been a dismal failure. Making matters worse, the Rollie Sweats clone was still denying that he knew anything about the World Council host samples. Slice was beginning to wonder if he had to do everything himself to get it done right.
The practical, yet devious part of his personality was lobbying for killing Sweats and Hakala. He could then forget the World Council host samples and disappear. He’d accumulated enough assets to live quite comfortably for the rest of his life. He certainly didn't need this aggravation a
nd humiliation. But the competitive and power-hungry side of his personality was pushing to complete this mission as instructed by the World Council. Then, he could do away with the cocky Hakala and sub-human replicant known as Sweats.
Slice activated his micromic by saying, "Claude Ekstrom".
"Ekstrom, here. Oh, Mr. Slice, I didn't realize it was you. How may I help you?"
"Claude, I have only one question for you. Where the hell is Raul Hakala? Is he still employed here or not? If you’re his boss, shouldn't you know where he is?"
Claude wanted to remind Slice that he’d asked more than one question but thought a sarcastic comment might not go over too well.
"Mr. Slice, I've been looking for him for over a day. I'm as pissed about not finding him as you are. All I can do is keep up the search and hope one of our bloodhounds’ stumbles into him."
This was the first time Claude had spoken to Slice as though they were equals. He was taking a calculated risk that this approach would convince Slice of his sincerity. It was either that or be caught in a giant lie and collusion with Hakala.
"Claude, you contact me immediately after you find that asshole."
Claude didn't have a chance to answer before he was cut off. He knew it was just a matter of time before Slice identified Hakala's accomplices. Hopefully, Raul would keep his promises before Slice destroyed everyone in his quest to find the World Council host samples.
Ten miles away, Raul Hakala was mopping the subterranean floor at a commercial office building. He was disguised as a maintenance worker wearing dark blue overhauls. This was the customary dress for laborers on the lowest rung of the economic work chain. He sang and whistled as loudly as he could, imitating a worker engrossed in his work.
With the help of Jason Milkweed and the city's video system, the building used by Slice and his military henchmen to hide Rollie Sweats had been found. Now, it was just a matter of rescuing Rollie without getting killed or being severely wounded.
