03. The Maze in the Mirror (37 page)

I had one hell of a pop gun with me and he wasn't nearly quick enough on the uptake. I fired right into the glass, which shattered, throwing him back against the wall which he hit, hard, and then slumped to the floor of the switch control room. I ran up to the window, saw that blood was coming from the sides of his toothy mouth and that his eyes were glassy and open and decided to take the chance that it meant the same for his race as for most others and that I'd killed him. Knocking out the remaining glass-actually some kind of tough plastic but the stuff still has sharp edges-I vaulted into the control room and reset the switch. I knew this one like I knew the back of my own hand. No sweat.

Even reset, though, there was no way the security system would admit anyone not on the internal coded security list. I should know-I installed the system myself. Moran and Blaise and the others couldn't follow, not without setting off alarms and maybe filling the other side with opposition security boys, but I could just walk right on through. They would remain here and cover my rear for a while, until it got too hot-I knew alarms were sounding within the Company net, or would when I passed that barrier. Then they'd head for the hills.

I went in fast, not expecting any real opposition but certainly expecting to encounter some work crews or maintenance people. You didn't bother to put guards on a door that was already locked and bolted and jammed a hundred which ways.

As soon as I was inside, the case I was lugging along sensed the proper conditions had been met, buzzed, and unlocked itself. I checked for trouble, then stopped and opened it. Inside were a lot of the bricks, each about eight inches by four inches, sort of like modeling clay, and, in a pocket, a thick folder. I took out the folder and looked through it, and saw immediately that it was at least what I had been promised. If it wasn't phony, I had a map to Carlos' lair, staffing, security system bypasses, the works. His world and fortress would be as wide open to me as if they didn't exist.

I walked forward, and didn't have to go far to see the massive batteries or whatever they were. They were enormous translucent cubes, filling most of each Labyrinth cubicle, and they hummed and throbbed with yellow-white energy. Along the top and sides, various thick connectors went right to and in some cases into the side walls of the Labyrinth itself. They were pretty damned impressive, but so bulky I worried that I might not be thin enough to squeeze through. Before I tried, I began sticking the explosive bricks to the connectors and nearest energy cube. Then, inhaling as best I could, and with a real effort, I managed to get by the first one, then almost trip on the connectors linking the first one to the next one. I went on, placing more and more of the bricks, and at one time damn near got stuck and at another got in but couldn't angle the damned case to come with me
for a while. I was aware that a clock was really ticking here.

I was four in when I saw my first person. He was wearing Company maintenance green, and he spotted me before I spotted him. The idea that anybody could enter from the switch didn't occur to him, though.

"Hey! Who're you and how'd you get down here?" he shouted, sounding angry.

"I live here!" I responded, and shot him.

I had absolutely no compunctions about blowing away anybody down here in the siding, and wouldn't take many chances if I got up and out, either. These guys had done worse than burglarize my home; they'd moved in. I felt angry and somewhat violated by mat.

The siding went on a bit past my stop, and so did the energy cubes, but I was running out of bricks and I didn't feel great going any further. I took out the remaining ones and tossed them back. Hell, they'd probably do some harm no matter where they landed, and they were all hooked together anyway. I wasn't going to stay in here any longer than I had to. I was well aware that if they could remotely detonate the damned things they might not care if I was in here or not if they had enough opposition back at the switch.

The substation activated, and I walked into the familiar concrete well structure. At least they hadn't done anything to show here, so I was able to get up the ladder fast and head for the fence gate. It was locked, of course, but I blew it off, the sound echoing off in the distance. It didn't matter. My entry should have tripped an alarm up there if they were anywhere on the ball anyway.

It was cold, and there was as much or more snow than ever around. I had on a heavy jacket over the security outfit Maria had provided me, but as soon as I got to the edge of the grove of trees the wind really started biting into me, and I couldn't protect my gloveless hands without letting go either of the case or my gun.

I was a lousy shot-always have been. This gun compensated for that not by automatic marksmanship, which was strictly for small and close range stuff, but by sheer firepower. It was a partial energy weapon firing these weird looking fat pointed cylinders, but if one hit it blew with the force of a grenade launcher, as both the switchman and the maintenance checker found out.

Well, the best defense near dusk in a place like this wasn't to slink around dark against snow but to walk boldly up the main road like you belonged there.

Come to think of it, this was my house and my farm and I
did
belong there.

I stuck the blunderbuss in my pocket, hunched down as much as possible to protect myself from the wind, and walked boldly up the main road.

I was, frankly, amazed to get right to the porch without being challenged or even seeing another person. Well, everybody had enough sense to keep out of this weather if they didn't have to, and clearly work was over for the day.

I took the detonator module out and stuck it in my other pocket, then slid the case under the hole beneath the front steps. I didn't need it any more but I wanted to be able to get at it and the file it still contained if need be.
Then, steeling myself, I walked up to the front door, took out the gun, turned the knob, and opened it.

There were sounds from the kitchen in the back, and the TV was on in the living room, and there was the smell of a home-cooked meal wafting through the place. Suddenly I heard footsteps on the stairs and a small, excited voice screamed,
"Daddy!"

Dash practically fell down the steps getting to me, and fairly leaped at me.

There was the sound of someone coming from the kitchen, and suddenly there was Brandy, although not
my
Brandy, with a puzzled look on her face and carrying a casserole dish. She stopped, saw me and Dash, and dropped the casserole dish on the floor.

"Oh, my God!" she said, and her face was suddenly the closest to white any black woman in history ever got.

"Wow, Dad! Is that a
gun
or something?" Dash asked, oblivious to the scene. I picked him up with my left arm and he clung there, hugging my neck. I'd forgotten how heavy he'd become.

"Yeah, son," I responded, "it's a gun." I looked at the ersatz Brandy, who was still standing there in the midst of a gooey mess that was all that remained of whatever had been in that casserole dish. "Don't I also get a warm welcome from my dear wife?" I asked her, a trace of acid in my voice in spite of the fact that she'd obviously done a pretty good job.

"S-Sam! What? Where have you . . .?" she managed, starting to recover a bit.

"No alarms, huh, Brandy? I wouldn't want to have to do anything to you in front of Dash. You understand."

She nodded mutely, frozen to the spot.

"Anybody else in the house?"

"Uh uh," she responded. "They're all over in the control center gettin' ready for the big test. Well, I think you know. Big fella, looks like some Mafia godfather, is over there, along with some big shot who looks like some sort of monk."

Yugarin and Mancini both here! That was interesting. If I could somehow alert Company security, they'd have a hell of a haul.

I was still trying to figure out what to do when Dash wriggled in my grasp and I felt a tiny hand dive into my left coat pocket and come out with the detonator.

If any bare human skin other than mine touched the detonator. . . .

"Hey, Dad? What's
this?"
Dash asked.

There was a sudden buzzing in the thing and then a rumble like an earthquake started shaking the whole house. The lights flashed on and off and suddenly the TV imploded.

Shit!
I thought angrily, knowing what was happening now.
This whole damned farm takes its power from that grid!

There was suddenly one hell of a big explosion, and I consciously fell on Dash to protect him and then my head got kicked hard by what felt like a mule, and that's the last damned thing I remember.

11.

Storming the Citadel

Bill Markham shifted in his chair. It had been a very long session and they were all tired, but there was no thought of not going to the end. Not now.

"It was a spectacular explosion," Markham said. "I didn't see it, but the monitors alone picked up a tremendous force, almost like a small underground atom bomb blast. I'm told by witnesses that a fiery plume shot up from the well hundreds of feet in the air and lit up the night sky for miles, turning Happy Valley back into day. The feedback into the grid circuits servicing everything from the house to the substation itself was tremendous. Electrical fires everywhere, and the ground shaking brought down half the structures. The horses managed to get out before the barns burned, by the way. And some of the people there got away and may be still running in confusion, although it looks like some were just about sealed into the substation and security bunkers. We dug down and cleared out the first bunker corridor, and the smell was overwhelming. No matter what the cannibals say, human beings don't smell appetizing when they're barbecued."

Sam didn't find that news very pleasant. "But you said Dash was all right."

"He is, I wasn't kidding you. Half the house
collapsed but that's about what saved you. It started to burn from the electrical fire, producing thick smoke. You took the debris and Dash only maybe got a bruise from you falling on him. He was trying to drag you out of there when the first fire engine arrived on the scene. He wouldn't budge from your bedside until it was clear that you'd be all right. That's some kid you got there."

Sam gave a wan smile. "Thanks. I like to think so. And the duplicate Brandy?"

"She's pretty banged up but she'll come out of it okay. The funny thing was, you saying about how she stood there, frozen, in that arch between the entry hall and living room and the kitchen?"

"Yeah?"

"Saved her life. The arch held when a lot of the rest collapsed. She managed to crawl out and helped get debris off you, even though it later turned out she had a number of broken bones. She got Dash out from under you, too, but just wasn't up to pulling you any further. She was half out with pain on the front porch when the first help arrived, but she might have saved Dash and she just might have saved you, Sam."

"Where is she now?"

"Near here. She's told us her side of the story, Sam. She really didn't know much or want to know much, but what little she did know she confirmed. She didn't have to, either. Hell, Sam, we had no reason at the start to think it wasn't the real one. If she hadn't told us she might have gotten away."

"What's her background?" Sam asked. "I know most Brandys didn't have it too good."

Markham nodded. "Her mom died same as ours, but the Colonel got into a street argument
over something minor and stupid and somebody shot him. She was seven. None of the relatives could or would take her, so she wound up in a state orphanage where eventually she saw all the white kids adopted out and most of the black kids grow up there. She ran away when she was thirteen, became a street kid in New York, panhandling and stealing to get by, sleeping in abandoned apartments, selling herself when she had to. She doesn't remember how many times she was raped. Got pregnant once when she was maybe fifteen. The baby was born dead. A boy."

Sam Horowitz sighed. "Yeah. How the hell did these bastards find her?"

"She was in jail. The usual thing. Some petty drug dealing. She had a record of offenses as long as your arm, though, running the route from pickpocket to rolling drunks to prostitution, so they gave her five years. Their people bought a lawyer and a judge, got her sprung on a technicality, made her an offer."

"An addict? You said she was selling drugs."

"No, nothing major. It never appealed to her, or maybe she was so damned hardened she never felt the need. That was one of her attractions to them. No needle tracks, no hard addiction. She was something of a pothead, but not since jail. At first she saw it as a big con, a chance at the big time. You'd be paralyzed and institutionalized, and she'd get a big payoff here and do whatever she wanted. They used every trick they had to make her into our Brandy, I'll tell you, and she was a good learner. She was good enough to fool me and even Dash."

Sam nodded. "If I hadn't found that fragment of glasses before I'd found Dash-in fact, if they
hadn't kidnapped Dash at all-I think I would have bought her, too. I don't know. I get the idea that maybe Dash was the key to her success, too. Maybe he was that stillborn kid she had back when, or maybe it was just the level of life and normalcy. Wish fulfillment, maybe. But the reason why she even fooled Dash was that there was genuine affection for him inside her. I could see it and feel it. That's why I was able to leave him with her. A lot of time you go on that deep down sixth sense with people in this business. I just knew, somehow, that she'd never let him be hurt any more than his real Mom would, that she thought of him as hers, too."

Markham nodded. "Depending on what we can salvage from this mess, we'll see what we can do for her." He paused, getting a bit grim. "Sam- they didn't play a hundred percent fair with you."

He frowned. "What? You mean it shut down the Labyrinth anyway?"