Since my “creation,” I’d lived a half-life divorced from the normality of human experience. I experienced all the glamour, the glitz, the grit, and the horror of a highly-paid master assassin. I’d even gotten the chance to live as a spy working for the government. That was a shadow of what a real human life was, though.
Memories were what defined a person’s humanity. The little things: your favorite food, where you like to go when you take a walk, and what it was like to have a scraped knee for the first time. They provided a context for decisions, a context of which I only had an echo. I’d seen possibly a dozen movies in my entire life but could remember the plots to a hundred. What would it be like to remember seeing them?
And to be loved? Daniel Gordon’s wife and child weren’t mine, but was it so wrong to want to know what it was like to have been a husband or a father? I would be stealing the life of another person. Even if I never intended to go anywhere near Barbara and Kathy Gordon. God, I’d convinced myself into exploring this option, and it was all probably just a trick. That was when I noticed Marissa wasn’t responding. Fuck.
I put up my pistol before looking over at Persephone. “We need to move.”
“Why?” Persephone said. “Or have your plans already been ruined?”
Persephone’s right hand started to shake. Then the room started to get blurry. I looked at our food, then remembered the long-haired waitress who’d come to check on our order. If you taped back her breasts, looked past her thick bangs, and removed some prosthetics around her cheekbones—shit, it was S. She’d as much taunted me about her presence.
I reached over and grabbed her shaking arm. “Follow me.”
Persephone gave a gallows’ laugh. “Oh, G, you can’t even protect yourself. How can you protect me?”
I looked at her, the room spinning. “I’ve waited a long time to say this: Shut up and move.”
Persephone started to speak. I stood up and forced the room to stop spinning through sheer force of will. I told myself repeatedly my brain was electronic and my organs were mostly bio-synthetic tissue designed to filter out toxins. It helped a little, but even as I reached the door to the cafe, I couldn’t help but think of all those cybernetic guards James poisoned and started to wobble on my feet.
The cashier tried to stop us, mentioning that we hadn’t paid, so I pulled out my wallet and handed her close to a thousand yen. The woman looked confused even as we stumbled into the street. The rain was pouring down heavily around us and there was no sign of my guards.
Instead, standing in front of a plain white van with a florists’ logo on the side was a rain-soaked S. Hundreds of Kobe citizens were moving back and forth between us, unaware that we were a pair of assassins feuding over a target.
S looked at me through her wig’s bangs, shaking her head. “I’m disappointed in you, G. I thought you were better than this.”
“Which part are you calling me to task for?” I asked, staring at her.
“There’s so much to,” S said, staring at me. “Strike Force-22 is not the good guys.”
“I got that when they hired me,” I said.
Persephone had passed out on my shoulder, which wasn’t a good sign.
Her breathing was already shallow. I needed to get her to a doctor immediately, or at least to someone who could stabilize her condition.
“This isn’t a joke,” S said, her voice pleading. “The Society is, right now, the only thing standing in her way.”
“Is that how they got to you? Do you even know we’re not people?”
“Yes,” S said, her voice cold.
I took a deep breath, staring at her. “You have to choose which assholes you serve in this life, S. If I’m the one making the choice, then I prefer to choose the people who are not a bunch of money-grubbing corporate shitbags. This isn’t about morality, though—it’s about ridding the world of the people who enslaved me. I’d ally with Satan himself if that meant getting rid of the Society.”
“I’m sorry to hear that,” S said, shaking her head. “Takeda, shoot him in the leg. We need to take Persephone in for questioning.”
Whatever S was expecting to happen didn’t. Lucita was very good at anticipating likely sniper nests. S’s eyes widened as the door behind her slid open, only for Lucita to jab her in the chest with the same chain she’d used to take E and me. Much to my disgust, I saw Hitoshi’s body lying face down beside her. E was in the back, propped up against the wall, still alive. Marissa had to be the driver, which made sense as she was probably the best I knew.
The crowd panicked at that point, only for me to speak in Japanese,
“Watch the new Golgo 13 movie coming out this fall! This has been a paid-for stunt by United Rainbow Studios!”
Amazingly, it worked, and no one was surprised when we drove off with our prisoners. I was just glad we got away before a hundred cellphone pictures were taken.
Chapter Eighteen
With Persephone in our custody, Marissa pulled out all stops to make sure she lived, and got the full authority of the President behind us as well as Strike Force-22, covert operation or not. It was ten hours later when we were inside a temporary headquarters with its own private hospital in a Tokyo skyscraper’s penthouse.
Persephone suffered total organ failure within an hour and would have died with normal technology, but they’d managed to replace the entirety of her organs with Karma Corp manufactured substitutes. Me? I shrugged the poison off in about two hours. No permanent damage. It was evidence of just how far from human I really was. I was presently on the balcony of the penthouse, looking onto the city below as the sun started to rise. The city was beautiful from this location. I had to wonder who they’d had to bribe, intimidate, or kill to get this facility.
The penthouse was luxurious, with pristine leather couches, an indoor fountain sculpture, and modern art on the walls. It also had its own koi pond, its contents swimming behind me. The room beyond the balcony doors was full of Strike Force-22 and ex-Society personnel—not the most trustworthy of individuals—ambulating about alongside hundreds of computers processing information taken from Persephone’s IRD implant.
One thing I was pleased to see was that James had been released from custody and was already back to moving around the computers in his wheelchair. They’d replaced his destroyed cybernetic legs with better ones, and he looked pleased with his situation. I noticed he kept looking over at me as if he wasn’t quite sure how to feel about me now. Gerard had also been flown in and was taking care of the still-living Persephone, thankfully keeping him out of my way so I didn’t garrote him.
I took a drink of sake from a clay cup, the clay bottle resting on a potted plant’s vase next to me. I wasn’t really a sake man but after today, I was willing to drink whatever was in the penthouse’s bar. Given the way my liver had dealt with the poison, I could probably drink battery acid without significant risk.
Marissa came up behind me in military uniform, a cup of coffee in hand. “Well, Persephone is going to make it. We also have complete access to everything she knows about the Society. Everything we failed to get from Peru and then some. Well, at least the important stuff. Money, names, and blackmail.”
“Oh joy,” I said. “How did you get in her cyberbrain?”
“It turns out the Silver Dragon drug makes you delirious.”
“Is that what almost killed me?”
“Barely scratched the surface of your insides.”
I didn’t look at her. “So, how did they get so many organs for her so fast? I thought these things had to be custom made.”
“The President has signed an executive order to release the lowest tier of Black Technology advances to the public. Among these will be artificial organs that function identically to organic ones without the possibility of rejection. Millions of lives will be saved every year. It’s one of the reasons why the Society turned against her.”
“And that’s worth it to you?” I asked.
“Yes,” Mar
issa said, taking a deep breath. “Is it to you?”
“I’ll leave that between me and God.”
Marissa took position beside me and looked out onto the city below.
“My mother was deep into Catholicism and Santeria. Mexican folk magic. She believed saints, spirits, gods, and angels all were watching out for her. Everything was a sign from God, and she was always right with Jesus no matter what she did. Sometimes, she’d pray to Santa Muerte, Saint Death, to hurt her enemies, but that wasn’t something that affected her standing. My mother considered herself one of the righteous whether she was stealing credit cards or pimping herself or her daughters to the Barrio Mayans.”
“Religion is the last refuge of the scoundrel,” I said.
“Samuel Johnson?” Marissa asked.
“Andy Rooney,” I said. “I’ve seen very few people genuinely affected by their faith enough to actually change for it.”
“Then why have it?” Marissa asked. “I wish I could be forgiven for some of the things I’ve done, but… I know that’s not possible.”
“Because I have seen a few people change,” I said. “I’m just not one of them. Yet.”
Marissa gave a half-smile. “You’re different from the other Letters, G. I don’t know why, but you are.”
“I’m surprised no one’s killed me for it yet.” I paused. “Why did you kill Hitoshi?”
Marissa paused. “I found him trying to contact his superiors. I had to make a judgment call.”
“Uh-huh,” I said. “You shouldn’t have killed him.”
“That’s not your decision to make.”
“You’re right. Calling you out for murder is like passing speeding tickets out at the Indy 500.”
“Now we’re quoting Apocalypse Now?”
I shrugged. “If the shoe fits.”
“Do you want out?” Marissa asked.
“Out isn’t an option,” I said.
Marissa paused. “It wouldn’t be the only betrayal I’d be willing to do for you.”
Marissa’s suggestion surprised me, and I wondered what the fuck was going on. First there was the lies on the airplane, then there was killing Hitoshi, and now she was saying I should betray Strike Force-22. This from a woman who pissed red, white, and blue. Her behavior was also distinctly hot and cold regarding our relationship. Sometimes she seemed like she was in love with me, and the other times she acted like she was trying to push me away. Something was seriously wrong here.
“Believe me, if I wanted to be gone, I’d be gone and you’d never find me.” I debated asking her what was wrong, but I decided to just let her know I was there for her. “But I’m not, and I have my reasons.”
“Like?” Marissa asked.
“You, among others,” I said.
Marissa looked frustrated. “I don’t know whether or not that makes me feel awful or wonderful.”
“How about both?” I asked.
Marissa took a deep breath. “We have everything we need to wrap up the rest of the Society. Functionally, as an organization, they’re finished. We have their sympathizers, allies, and pawns, plus a full list of all their remaining assets. Colonel Matthews and Nechayev may have their personal assets, but the organization is now under the control of the United States government.”
“And Persephone?” I asked.
“When she wakes up, we’ll inform her of the bomb attached to her heart. We don’t need her now, but she’s a convenience.”
“Charming.”
Marissa shrugged. “It’s no more than she deserves.”
“Of course.” I didn’t change my expression. “Do we have a lead on Nechayev and Colonel Matthews?”
“Nechayev was in Japan until about an hour ago, but we think he managed to slip the Japanese government and our operatives here. S must have warned him before he arrived at the Wilder West. Given his circumstances, though, it’s very likely he’s going to seek refuge with Colonel Matthews.”
I shook my head. “Despite the fact that he and Persephone were going to have him killed.”
Marissa nodded. “Presumably, Matthews doesn’t know that. Which is a pity, as I’d love to inform him. Maybe he’d take care of Nechayev for us.”
“Matthews is the one who started this whole war on Douglas, isn’t he? I thought you’d think of him as the bigger target.”
“You haven’t seen the photos of Nechayev’s wives and mistresses,”
Marissa curled her lip in disgust. “Models, actresses, and professionals left ruined husks before being disposed of. Disappearing as if they were never people to begin with. Matthews, at least, is fighting for something he believes in.”
“Is he?” I asked.
“I think so.” Marissa’s expression was unreadable.
“I’ll take your word for it.” I was still confused as to what motivation Colonel Matthews had in trying to involve the Society in affecting the upcoming presidential race. The leader of Universiti had been bound to make billions in government contracts either way, as President Douglas wasn’t the kind of person to quibble over spilled blood. Hell, she was generally a supporter of the bill to legalize the use of mercenaries in United States combat operations. For the leader of both a PMC and a secret society that accepted any job for anyone if it didn’t interfere with profit margins, their sudden principled stand against Douglas made no sense. Senator Viola Jackson was an African American woman. I couldn’t bring myself to believe it was over Black Technology either. I was missing something. “So, S is the most likely lead we have on Nechayev and Matthews?”
“We’ve got to debrief E, but yeah, most likely,” Marissa said.
“Debrief or torture?” I asked.
“Debrief,” Marissa said. “President Douglas knows bribes work better than torture. E is already meeting with Peter, and the two are practically falling over one another to give whatever help they can to our cause.”
I wondered what they’d offered Peter to get him to cooperate, or whether they’d just put him through another round of brainwashing. Either way, I suppose it didn’t matter as it prevented me from having to kill E. Probably.
“I’d like to interrogate S myself,” I said. “Not for long, maybe an hour.”
Marissa frowned. “I’m not sure that’s such a good idea.”
“Then you’ll absolutely hate my request to arrange for it to be unobserved.”
Marissa blinked. “What are you planning?”
I gave a half-smile, picking up my bottle of sake and taking a drink from it directly. “Afraid I’m going to free her and go on a transcontinental killing spree?”
“Yes?”
I snorted. “I have no lingering loyalties toward S. She betrayed me and every other Letter by choosing to side with the Society. I’ve spent years covering up for her and enduring her verbal abuse, making me feel guilty for even existing. I intend to get the location of the remaining Tribunal members from her, no matter the cost.”
Marissa stared at me. “Wow, you really are a great liar. That sounded completely sincere.”
“Thank you,” I said, not missing a beat. “The trick is to really believe what you’re saying in the moment you’re saying it. Two plus two equals five. Abraham Lincoln assassinated John Wilkes Booth. President Douglas doesn’t intend to dismantle S in order to figure out how to make her own Letters.”
Marissa grimaced. “It would help if I knew exactly what you had planned.”
“You’ll just have to trust me.” I let the irony of that statement hang in the air. “What’s the worst that could happen?”
“We both end up dead in a ditch somewhere.”
“Now, now, I’m sure they’ve seen Breaking Bad. The government knows to dissolve bodies now.”
“You’ve never watched that show.”
“I know. Daniel Gordon did, though.” I paused. “Did you ever meet him?”
Marissa stiffened and looked distinctly uncomfortable, averting her gaze and for the briefest moment looking terrified. “No, I
didn’t.”
I didn’t need to be a master spy to know she was lying. “Marissa, you can talk to me. I know I’m not usually the most sentimental guy, but I’m on your side. I love you too. You can tell me anything.”
“Not about this, not now,” Marissa said.
“Jesus,” I muttered. “What could be so bad?”
Marissa turned and gave me a half-smile. “I’ll get you ten minutes with S. I’m not going to oversee operations for much longer, though.”
“Being promoted?” I asked.
“No.” Marissa said, her voice sounding like her guts were being twisted. “The NSA isn’t satisfied with my performance here.”
“They wanted you to spy on Strike Force-22, not join it.”
Marissa paused. “You can’t serve God and Mammon or the Executive and Bureaucracy.”
“Which one is God?” I asked.
“Depends on who is doing the analogy.”
“One more thing.” I reached into my jacket pocket and pulled out the black box that Persephone had handed me. “I’d like you to examine the contents of this and see if you can possibly get me a Memorize unit.”
“What is it?” Marissa asked, taking the black box.
“It’s the memories of all the Letters. Including Daniel’s.”
Marissa almost dropped it there. “You guys don’t have memories, though. You’re android-clone thingies.”
I stared at her. “Android clone thingies?”
Marissa looked away. “Well, you’re not robots, and ‘android’ sounds weird.”
“Bioroid?” I suggested.
Marissa blinked. “Maybe?”
I nodded. “Let’s go with that. Either way, it’s something that has a lot of potential as a game changer. I want to know what Daniel Gordon knew.”
“You’re not Daniel Gordon, though,” Marissa said.
“Marissa—” I started to say.
“You’re nothing like him.” The vehemence in her words surprised me.
“What did he do to you?” I asked, realizing they’d had some sort of relationship before. I’d never had that confirmed before now.
Agent G: Saboteur Page 13