Element Zero (15 page)

“Calliope Flax?” Mr. Raphael offered.

I smiled again, feeling giddy. The night I first met Ai, Calliope went to my best friend’s apartment, looking for me. For some reason, she’d beaten the hell out of her piece-of-shit boyfriend, Ted. And for payback, or just because he was pissed, he beat up Karen when she came home. He beat her so bad that time that she died, right in front of me.

I killed him for that. He was the second person I ever killed, and the first one I killed on purpose. I killed Ted, but the bitch who started it never got what was coming to her.

“Calliope Flax,” I said, with a firm nod. “That’s her. She’s a Huma carrier.”

“They checked her,” Osterhagen said.

“Nico lied,” I said. “He covered it up, kept it quiet. He called in a favor, faked it somehow, so we wouldn’t find out.”

Ai had turned to look at me and I saw her smile, just a tiny bit, as her big, spacey eyes looked into my mind. Osterhagen was saying something offscreen to someone, and I saw people move suddenly behind him.

“If she was infected with the same version and she’s not dead yet,” Mr. Raphael said, “then that might just be our in.”

“Find her,” Ai said in her airy voice. It sounded like it came from far away.

Something warm ran down my cheek, and when I wiped it away, I saw blood on my hand. Ai was staring at me, and I felt sweat trickle down my back as she seemed to move away, down a long, dark tunnel.

“Get that doctor down here now,” I heard Penny snap at someone.

Good work, Zoe,
Ai said, but her mouth hadn’t moved. Everyone was talking at once, but I could barely hear them, like they were underwater.

I tried to thank her, but my throat had dried up and nothing came out. At the end of the tunnel, everything began to fall away. I was passing out.

Don’t worry,
Ai said in my mind, just before everything faded.
We’ll find her. . . .

. . . you’re going to get your wish, after all.

Nico Wachalowski—Downtown

The attack had thrown the streets into complete panic. Not long after the first hit, another Chimera appeared and joined the first. They didn’t stage another assault, but they prowled above the streets, waiting for something. Reports flooded in from all over as I crept down a narrow lane the guardsmen had set up for emergency traffic. The Chimeras could easily take out the scattered forces on the ground, but so far they hadn’t done it. When the rescue choppers approached, they let them pass.

“Metro PD got hit too,” Van Offo said from the back. I cut the wheel and felt a jolt go up my dead arm all the way to the shoulder. Some scrambled output trickled by on my HUD off in the corner of my eye.

Van Offo watched me in the rearview mirror.

“Did you hear me?” he asked.

“I heard—”

Pain stabbed into my head, and the gray hand clamped down on the wheel. My foot stomped on the brake, and Calliope jerked in her seat as the car slid to a stop on the wet pavement.

“What the hell?” she snapped.

My head throbbed and light flashed in my eyes. The scene through the windshield flickered, and for a few seconds I was somewhere else; it was a memory, but it was extremely vivid, almost like a hallucination. I was inside the Pleasantview apartment complex for the first time, to visit Zoe. I’d made my way to the seventh floor and had just knocked on her door.

The door opened, and a woman that wasn’t Zoe answered. She was stocky and curvy, with a pretty, round face marred by a bad bruise. I didn’t know who she was at the time, but I recognized her now as Karen Goncalves, Zoe’s friend from downstairs. Behind her, the room was dark except for the flickering light of candles. I flashed my badge and told her who I was.

I remember this.
That was the day I dropped off the case photos for Zoe to look at.

Before Karen could answer, another woman appeared. I thought it was Zoe at first, but it wasn’t. She was small and skinny like Zoe, but her hair was black and her eyes were blue. Like Karen, I didn’t recognize her back then, but I did now.

That’s Penny Blount, one of Ai’s operatives. Penny wasn’t there that day. Karen had gone back inside, and a minute later she left when Zoe came to the door. . . .

“Go back in and tell her he’s here,”
Penny said to Karen.
“Then get lost.”

Karen nodded, eyes dull, and went back inside. Penny looked up at me.

“You’re a big one,”
she said. The pupils of her eyes widened, and I got dizzy.
“Why are you here?”

I held up the envelope of evidence I’d brought for Zoe to look at. Without thinking, the words came out of my mouth.

“I believe Zoe may have extrasensory abilities. I want her to look at these.”
Penny smiled, genuinely amused.

“That’s rich,”
she said.
“Okay, sure. Why not?”

She walked away, down the hall. On the way past Zoe’s neighbor’s door, she pounded it twice with her fist.

“Stop in later and make sure nothing this guy drops off goes back to Ai,”
she said through the door.
“And pay more attention next time. She ODs, and you’re dead.”

The scene dissolved as more code trickled by and the arm twitched again. The dead hand released its grip on the wheel. Behind us, a horn blared.

“What the fuck was that?” Cal asked. The car behind us blared its horn again as I spun the tires and took us through the gap in traffic ahead.

“Are you all right?” Van Offo asked.

“I’m fine.” Sweat had beaded on my brow, and blood was pounding in my head. I clenched my jaw shut, resisting an urge to snap at Van Offo. My shoulder ached like hell. Acid burned in the back of my throat, and bitter saliva formed in my mouth. There was bleed-through, for sure, but I wondered if it wasn’t worse than I thought. I needed to get to Heinlein, or at least back to the FBI to have it checked out, but neither one was an option at the moment.

Out of the corner of my eye, I saw Calliope watching me. I sucked my teeth and swallowed as the sudden urge to hit something surged, then faded again.

“You looked like you came off the hook there,” she said in a low voice. “You need a tech.”

Not in front of Van Offo,
I told her.

“I said I’m fine.” She looked back out the window.

You sure?

Shock, maybe,
I said, but I wasn’t convinced. What I’d seen was an old memory that had been wiped, almost like a symptom of Zhang’s Syndrome but only revivors experienced that. Nanoblood contamination could cause a lot of problems, but it was rarely fatal, and even when it was, it didn’t turn people into revivors.

Did it? I watched the black vein bulge across the back of the dead hand as I gripped the wheel.

Van Offo was watching us. Cal looked back out the window.

I got those mods for you,
she sent.
The ones to run the stealth spokes. You still want them?

Yes.
She sent them over. They had military certificates attached, which meant she shouldn’t have them, but I didn’t ask.

“Vesco is dead,” Van Offo said. “I just got confirmation. We lost Pell and Copely too. Noakes is still MIA; he may have been killed in the attack as well.”

A row of connection requests flashed in the bottom of my periphery. Three went out. That left seven unaccounted for. A reporter on the radio continued to rattle off details, his voice loud and stressed.

“ . . . appear to have been a coordinated series of attacks. I repeat, an as-of-yet-unidentified group initiated a coordinated series of air attacks this morning on the six major police precincts, as well as the FBI Federal Building. From what we understand, these attacks were made by at least seven military Chimera assault helicopters. These helicopters are designed for tight maneuvering and urban combat, each one armed with a chain rail gun and a battery of spitfire missiles. . . . ”

Seven simultaneous strikes. Fawkes had broken the lines of communication between the local police hubs and the FBI. It would take hours just to pick up the pieces and figure out who was left.

“Those Chimeras are from Heinlein’s airfield,” I said.

A group of people on foot darted into the street between my vehicle and the one in front of it, trying to cross. The sidewalks on either side were full of people who spilled onto the shoulder. Off to the right, a utility vehicle was stuck while trying to merge onto the main road. The driver honked the horn at a group of people on the crosswalk. The girl, Vika, sat in the back, wedged next to Van Offo. She watched out the window, her eyes sleepy. Her full name was Vika Popik. She turned out to be a refugee of sorts. She served a couple years in the Ukrainian army before her father smuggled her out of the country and paid to have a freighter sneak her into the UAC. That was the last time she’d seen him. She had a surplus communications implant that was at least ten years old, and a rudimentary targeting system. The com system didn’t tap the language center, so she had to select letters from a simulated keypad in her HUD, but she was pretty quick at it.

Wachalowski, who’s with you?
It was Alice.

Van Offo, Flax, and a civilian.

We lost Noakes. We’re trying to regroup now. I’ve got you on the GPS—there should be a roadblock up ahead of you. Can you see it?

I chirped the siren and flashed the blues, nosing out into the breakdown lane, where an officer in a plastic poncho was directing vehicles. I flashed my badge at him as we approached and he waved us through. I could see a roadblock in the distance off to my left.

Calliope snorted from the passenger’s seat. “This is fucked.”

I see it. Who’s left at the FBI building?

A jet whipped by overhead, causing people on the street to jump and look up as it disappeared behind a high-rise.

No one; they’re clearing out. It got chewed up pretty bad. Electricity, data, and water are all out. They managed to cut over all network and database connections to the backups, and we’re running from there. Just get to the roadblock. Flax’s Stillwell unit is there. They’re waiting for you.

Understood.

She cut the line.

“ . . . the MX901 50mm magnetic-rail chain gun is capable of firing more than one thousand rounds a minute,” the reporter barked over the radio. “Each round is capable of piercing the armor of most military vehicles, including tanks, which is their primary purpose. As witnessed today, these weapons are also capable of easily penetrating concrete and steel to devastating effect when turned on urban structures. . . . ”

People had crowded onto the sidewalks, moving like shadows through steam from sewer grates and car exhaust. The normal flow of foot traffic had stopped. Some were trying to see what was happening. Others wanted to pass but couldn’t. People were queued up outside stores. I saw a man squeeze through, carrying a case of bottled water, while another argued loudly with a street vendor in Chinese.

“They’re gonna pop,” Calliope said.

Every face looked scared. There was no violence yet, but panic simmered just below the surface out there. The military presence on the street helped, but with every media outlet broadcasting the carnage, they could see for themselves how bad it was. We’d been hit hard and were still reeling, and everyone knew it.

Something flickered in the corner of my eye, and it took me a second to realize it was the call request I’d left open to MacReady. He’d just picked up.

Use the new circuit.
The message flashed in front of me as he cut the link. A new, encrypted connection appeared. I picked up and applied the provided key.

MacReady, where are you?

Inside the Pratsky Building of Heinlein Industries’ campus,
he said.
We need to be careful. Fawkes is monitoring communications.

What does he want?

I haven’t been able to determine that. To access the defense grid, and alter the existing revivors using the transmitter array, but I don’t know what his ultimate goal is.

What do you know about Harold Deatherage, Ang Chen, and Dulari Shaddrah?
There was a brief pause.

I know who they are.

Harold Deatherage called me during a raid of an illegal test facility and he dropped your name.

He paused again, and I was afraid he might break the connection. Several people ran past the front of the car while a police officer shouted after them. One man stopped in front of us, and I honked the horn.

I know them,
he said. The man outside changed direction and ran off.

What is their connection to Fawkes?

I don’t know.

Don’t bullshit me, MacReady. There isn’t time.

I’m not,
he said.
We worked as a team on a classified project—that’s how I know them. But if they’re helping Fawkes, then that happened without my knowledge.

What project?

The study of Zhang’s Syndrome.

It was my turn to pause. Years ago, MacReady had been the one who first told me about Zhang’s Syndrome. It was believed to be some kind of corruption of revivor memory during reanimation, but Fawkes had identified it for what it really was: erased or manipulated memories that returned to their original state after death. Supposedly, MacReady hadn’t believed that.

The four of you worked on Zhang’s Syndrome?

Among others.

For how long?

It doesn’t matter now, Agent. What matters is that at least part of that team has become convinced that Fawkes is right.

Footage of the attacks was playing across a bank of screens in the window of a nearby electronics store. People were queued up around it as the audio blared through a speaker that sat on the sidewalk outside.

“ . . . as of yet, no one has claimed responsibility for these attacks, and no demands have been issued,” the reporter said. “Several witnesses confirmed, however, that the helicopters that initiated the attacks were sporting the logo of the private military employed by Heinlein Industries. . . . ”

So far the FBI had kept Fawkes and the nuclear threat off the radar, but that wouldn’t last. Someone would dig it up. In an hour at the most, the media would be saturated with news of twelve ICBMs aimed down on our heads. Then we’d see real panic.

Fawkes has had men watching us from the inside,
I said.
I could use a similar advantage right now.

I’ll do what I can.

I need access to a revivor on Fawkes’s command network as well. Can you manage that?

What sort of access?

I’ll need a control spoke and the ability to install custom packages.

He might notice that.

Can you do it, MacReady?

He understands revivor technology very well, Agent. He’ll be scanning for intrusions, but I’ll see what I can do. He’s bringing online units that were being stored in the processing plant. That might be our best bet.

Good,
I said.
Actually, that’s perfect. The processing plant is where the Leichenesser stores are kept, right?

Each revivor that came off Heinlein’s line was implanted with a seed of the necrotized, flesh-eating substance in case of emergency. Even trace amounts of it would consume a revivor in seconds.

Yes. It’s kept in liquid form in cold storage within the plant itself.

Where is Fawkes based?

Here inside the Pratsky Building.

I want to move some of it from the processing plant to his location.

You’ll never get it close to him, Agent.

I won’t need to. If it hasn’t been gelatinized, it will turn to gas when it hits the air. If I can get it into the climate-control system, will that be enough?