Pulling The Dragon's Tail (21 page)

A moment later, he turned frantically over. Air!
He had broken the surface, sputtering, coughing. He turned to his
rescuer, and looked right into the face of… Kalpana!

“Don’t fight me or we’ll both drown! Let me pull
you along. I’ll take care of you. Get on your back and just
concentrate on breathing. Hold onto this piece of driftwood with
me.”

Dumbfounded and amazed, he had no time to
contemplate Kalpana’s courage and strength. A moment later, she
inexplicably left the piece of driftwood and swam furiously toward
another person desperately holding onto life. Through the wind and
rain he witnessed her attempt to save the exhausted woman with air
from a tiny nanochip powered air-breather, just like Kalpana had
done with Herschel.

Several hours later, an exhausted Herschel lie
beside Kalpana, listening to her as she breathed slowly and
shallowly.

A piece of flotsam had saved them. They had
clung to it and then helplessly watched as the angry water carried
them on a whim. It had deposited the two of them on the edge of a
hill and its receding water left them dry. He then dragged Kalpana
higher to their present location, near a rocky bluff overlooking
the now gentle Arabian Sea.

A half moon filled the sky. Even as his body
fought for sleep, his mind raced.
I’ve blown several chances.
Then this damn woman saves … my life. Swimming champion! Go figure!
Does that make me afraid to do it? No! Kalpana must suffer the same
fate; then Skip, then Kasai, then all the others
. Repeating the
now familiar mantra cum war cry brought him some measure of
comfort.

Now fully awake, Herschel stared at the sky, now
so peaceful and serene. Had it all been a nightmare? But his sore
ribs, matted hair, and tattered clothing attested otherwise.

Back to his plan:
Plan A was gone, Plan B a
missed opportunity, Plan C—do I have a Plan C?

He sat up, taking stock. Twenty meters below lay
the ocean, crashing against the jagged rocks. He arose and scoured
the ocean down below, memorizing the pattern of rocks and inlets.
Patting his clothes, he found the knife. Remembering the security
wallet strapped around his waist, he emptied all its contents. A
small vial spilled out. Examining it, he happily found it intact.
Suddenly three options to kill her confronted him.

He leaned over the sleeping woman. Then he
stopped, cursing his sloppiness.
No witnesses!
He scanned
the environment, from the bluffs behind him, down the hill, all
around.
Fool
!
Nobody’s here, at least nobody alive! Do it
and be done with it!

Once again Herschel leaned over her. He poured
the poison into her mouth.

He paused. Did he hear footsteps?
Impossible.

Murk, a transhuman soldier, slammed into
Herschel, sending them both sprawling across the rain-soaked bluff.
The stealth coat fell off the transhuman, exposing him for the
first time. He was white-skinned and bald, tall and muscular.

Across five thousand miles, Es barked into his
dataport, “Herschel still has his knife. I have detected no other
weapons! Dugan, can you confirm?”

“No other weapons detected,” reported the
computer canine robot, standing erect on its hindquarters next to
his dumbfounded owner.

Es continued. “Are you all right, Murk? Since
you lost your weapons in the storm, you must rely on your strength
and fighting ability.”

Slowly Murk arose, but was immediately pounced
upon by an infuriated Herschel, finally getting a glance at his
adversary. Grabbing Murk in a choke hold, they both rolled over,
coming dangerously close to the edge of the cliff.

Murk pushed up Herschel’s elbow and bit into his
arm.

“Damn you!” Herschel yelped in pain. The sting
of titanium teeth was exquisitely unforgettable. He pulled out his
knife and lunged for Murk.

The soldier rolled agilely over, narrowly
avoiding the blade.

Kalpana began to moan audibly in the
background.

“Quickly!” barked Es. “Subdue him! Kalpana needs
your assistance now!”

Grappling with the powerful killer, Murk forced
Herschel to drop the knife. Then he threw Herschel to the ground
and began raining down blows on him.

Herschel got up and avoided another savage kick.
He charged the transhuman, knocking him down just inches from the
bluff’s edge. With a glance over at the moaning Kalpana, he turned
back to his foe. How did he disappear? A footstep sounded nearby
but he couldn’t see anyone. He whirled around to face a
mysteriously invisible enemy.

Where
is he?
Quickly, the answer
came.

A blow to the head knocked Herschel to the
ground. Uneasily, he rose up on his hands and knees. His job here
was done; Kalpana was surely dying. But how was he to survive
against a superior adversary?

“You should be dead already!” screamed Murk,
just off to his right.

Herschel saw the outline below of the jagged
shoreline against the brilliant night sky. “Demon! Get thee behind
me, Satan!” He edged toward the cliff and surveyed the rocks below.
A quick mental calculation gave him hope.
If I hit the water at
just the right spot
.

Murk grabbed him by the foot and began pulling
him back.

“Let him go!” yelled Es. “He’ll be dead when he
hits the rocks!”

Murk released his grip.

Herschel staggered to his feet, unsteady. With
all the strength his legs could muster, he planted his right foot
on the edge of the rocky soil. Then he pushed off.

Murk scrambled over to Kalpana, who was laboring
to breathe. He shone a flashlight around her body, smelled her
breath. He scooped up the discarded vial of poison and examined
it.

“Cerbera odollam,” he muttered.

“Are you sure?” asked Es.

“Yes, the suicide tree.”

“Do you have the antidote?”

To answer Es’ query, Murk reached over to his
left arm and touched a concealed key pad. A small portal opened up,
revealing a robotic arm implant melded into a surgically amputated
limb. With a surprising deftness, he pulled out several items. He
quickly drew a solution into a syringe and administered it to the
dying woman.

* * * * * *

“Why’d you do this to me?” Nate sputtered in
anger, watching Murk and Herschel fight.

“I believed it was necessary for you to witness
this.”

“How did—”

“Dugan gave me your neural override codes.”

“Impossible! Dugan?”

“Yes, I authorized it because Es convinced me it
was important.”

“Important to see senseless violence and
death?”

“No. Because Ms. Kashmir is your friend.”

* * * * * *

Kalpana stirred. The first rays of sunlight
peeked across the horizon. “Have you seen his body?” She shuddered
in horror, knowing how Herschel had repaid her kindness in saving
his life by trying to end her own.

“No. I have scanned numerous times for blood and
DNA fragments. He would have had to jump out three meters to avoid
the rocks.”

Kalpana was thoughtful for a moment. “Seems
unlikely he could have missed them. But several hours ago the tide
could have been in and the storm surge was higher. So
theoretically—”

“Ms. Kashmir, you need to rest and not speculate
on such things. You will soon get a massive headache, which the
antidote cannot touch. Monitoring the airwaves indicates that
Cyclone Frederick was much larger than anticipated. Three million
have been left homeless.”

She sighed. “My job is never done.”

Nate, Dugan, Es and Campbell spent the night at
a seedy motel in Santarem, Portugal. Their plans to head to England
were interrupted when Dugan received credible threats from Gideon’s
Army.

Two double beds sagged severely in the middle,
and the stench of crushed roaches filled Nate’s nostrils. Even with
Es posted as sentry outside, he couldn’t sleep. He wondered if Es
ever slept. In the other bed, Campbell snored lightly as Dugan sat
between the beds, his LED array blinking on and off.

Nate, unable to sleep, called up the latest
Global Diversity & Sustainability Project report once more:

…
But
the
most
troubling sign is the change to the oceanic thermohaline
circulation system. Monitoring stations in the western Pacific and
northern Atlantic show large fluctuations in the salt water content
of these massive conveyer belts that carry warm water to northern
latitudes and cold water back to the tropics. If this conveyor
system shuts down—even temporarily—peril awaits in the form of a
global ice age which would begin within a decade of the conveyer
system shutdown.

The quality of life on this planet is
directly tied to our oceans’ health. Humanity’s stubbornness to
change the economic, political, psychological and environmental
parameters—as laid out in our previous reports—has led to the
current fluctuations in the oceanic system, and has put us closer
to the brink of the End-Date.

This is not an attempt to cause public panic,
but the sobering reality which was arrived at by years of research
and comprehensive computer modeling. These startling but solid
scientific predictions
will
come to pass
unless we quickly make the needed changes.

Therefore, it is with the utmost concern that
we ask human civilization—and our friends in artificial
intelligence— to consider the consequences of our collective
actions and the folly of our collective inactions. The body of this
report has laid out our irrefutable conclusion that civilization is
careening toward a precipice.
But it still can be
averted
. However, it will require unprecedented sacrifice
and will from the international level down to the local; from the
corporate to the individual…

At 2:38 AM local time, Es and Nate received a
visual from Kalpana. He saw in her face something new: fear.

“There’s more bad news,” she said relating her
escape from the storm and Herschel. He also got my password and
broke through my cyber-security protocols. He left a message…for
Skip.”

Nate winced while listening to Herschel’s
diatribe filled with epithets about the Church of Abraham. It ended
with the chilling warning, “I will hunt you down, Skip. You can run
but you can’t hide. Three down, you to go.”

“So he thinks you’re dead Kalpana,” deduced
Es.

“Let’s keep it that way,” replied a grateful
Kalpana.

Campbell stirred awake, rolled over, and, in a
sleepy voice, chimed in, “Alright, he’s a pretty scary dude, but we
have to view this like a detective would.”

Pulling the covers back, she sat up on the edge
of the bed, yawned, and continued, “Killers have patterns, and it’s
time we brainstorm for those clues. The murders have occurred in
Israel, Germany, and supposedly India. What time of day, his
methods, weapons, you know, that stuff.”

Kalpana was the first to respond. “Well he must
love knives. Wakely was killed with one, but I think he shot
William. And then he tried to work his charm on me before poisoning
me.”

“He came on to you?” asked Nate.

“No, not sexually. But he was definitely working
his macho tough guy image on me.”

“I’ll bet he did that to Wakely too,” observed
Nate angrily. He turned to Campbell. “So what else are you getting
at?” asked Nate.

“We gotta get more data on Herschel: personal,
professional, family, religious faith, and so forth. He’s a
slippery character, but sooner or later certain themes will
emerge.”

“I’ll see what other information I can get for
you,” offered Kalpana.

“Dugan can pull up on him from any old Alpha
Group files,” offered Nate.

Campbell continued. “Good. I also used the
Register of Violent Thoughts on him in the cave”

“Like any good scientist would,” observed Es.
Her input while rare was always invaluable.

“Data so far confirms his homicidal intents just
like it did for Keagan. But Herschel’s brain wave patterns are
unlike any I’ve seen before. I have a theory but it’s too
speculative to share.

“What’s your data set?” asked Es.

“About eighty-five brains so far.”

“My God!” observed an amazed Kalpana. “Do you
realize that if you can accurately predict violence then—”

“You can stop it.” Nate’s mind now was the one
to spin the implications. “Assault, murder, war…stopped.”

“Those might be possibilities,” agreed Campbell,
“but it has to be more reliable; it still has too many false
positives.”

Nate speculated, “So…if maybe someday it gets
more accurate, why not go one step further and eliminate the
precursors—thoughts, emotions, and beliefs that fuel violence?”
Is this what Father Abraham wants? Is this part of how he’s
directing humans to save ourselves from destroying
ourselves?

“You’re getting way ahead of yourself with what
this technology could do,” cautioned Campbell.

“The implications are profound. But…” Nate
frowned.

“But what?” Campbell inquired.

Nate stared at the RVT that Campbell held
gingerly. “Who’s gonna be in charge of that?”

“Naturally, the good guys,” teased Campbell.
“But let’s not lose our focus on Herschel.”

“It just doesn’t make sense that Browning/
Herschel is killing us. If I could just stop his madness for one
moment—talk to him,” reasoned Nate.

“You can’t reason with a killer,” said
Campbell.

“But back in the cave, I caught something in his
eyes—a look, the old Browning.”

“You must mean his look of utter depravity,”
snorted Campbell.

“I know him—you don’t. He’s troubled, he’s—“

“You knew him, Nate, but that was a long time
ago. He’s changed, we don’t know exactly why or how, but that’s
something that I believe can’t just be reasoned with.”