Trojan

by Brandon Clark

  As he got closer, the metal roof dissolved, and he was able to see over the rim of the walls, which came up to his chest.

  He had to duck around the spider arms, but he managed to stand next to the building and peer down into the factory floor.

  Instead of a mirror image of the floor, he saw around him, the interior of this building looked like an actual factory. There was a gray conveyor belt that snaked through the length of the building, and tiny machines with robotic arms swiveled around along the edges. Sparks flashed as they wielded parts to the metal chassis, which slowly transformed from a bare metal frame to a full car as it progressed down the line. Closest to the exit, humans the size of Lego men bent over the vehicle. These were hazy, like he was seeing them through a foot of water, but the shapes were distinct enough for him to make out what they were.

  He bent over the wall and reached down toward one of the machines. Tapping it with his finger, he saw a hologram pop up above it. He grinned as he saw that the robot was connected to the network but was running an older operating system.

  Reaching into his lab coat pocket, he pulled out his tuning fork and thumped it across his palm. It rang sweetly, and he shifted to put the bottom of the fork against the robot.

  It exploded in a cloud of colored dust.

  Stryker coughed and waved a hand in front of his face to try to clear the dust. It hung in the air, clouding the rest of the factory floor. He reached in and tried to feel for the robot, but it was gone.

  He frowned and pressed the tuning fork to another robot, but this time he leaned back quickly enough to avoid the explosion of dust.

  The interior of the factory was utterly choked with dust, and no matter how much he tried to wave through the air to clear it, he couldn’t see anything.

  Someone grabbed his shoulder and yanked. He flew through the air and crashed into one of the metal posts for the smaller conveyor belts. His vision went black for a moment, but the world snapped back into focus a moment later.

  Bonnie stood next to the wall. She was on her tiptoes, and her arms were hidden over the side. From the way her body was swaying back and forth, he could only assume that she was swinging her arms back and forth inside the cement walls.

  “What the hell did you do?” she growled.

  “Nothing!”

  She paused long enough to glare over her shoulder at him before resuming her furious arm twirling. Her brown hair practically spun in circles as she moved.

  “I just scanned it to see what we could find,” he said.

  “What else did you do?”

  “That’s it,” he shot back. He pushed himself to his feet. “Seriously, I didn’t even hit them.”

  She ignored him and continued to work. As he rejoined her, he could see that the whole square was filled with a rainbow of colored dust. It wafted through the air, mostly frozen in place like it was in zero gravity.

  Sweat beaded on Bonnie’s forehead, and Stryker bit the inside of his cheek. The last thing he wanted to do was to disrupt her concentration.

  Finally, she let herself drop back to flat feet. With a sigh, she hoisted her arms over the wall and shook them.

  “We maybe —”

  Suddenly, the lights in the factory went out, and for a moment, everything was pitch black. Then red emergency lights flicked on, giving the whole building a horror movie feel.

  There was enough light for Stryker to see Bonnie’s eyes go wide. He started to turn to see what she was looking at, but she tackled him.

  They flew backward with more velocity than he’d expected, but seconds later he heard booming thumps echoing across the floor. He shook his vision clear for the second time in five minutes and saw that the machines were now encased in giant wrought iron cubes. The spider arms were now sending spears of white light between the cubes, slowly etching inch deep lines through the cement.

  Bonnie grabbed Stryker’s shirt and dragged him to his feet and sprinted off. He followed as fast as he could, making up the distance from her head start in a few strides thanks to his longer legs.

  He got to the door first, and with a grunting effort, he twisted the crank. Bonnie joined him, huffing from the sprint across the factory. Together, with brute force, they were able to open the door wide enough to slip through.

  The lights that had lined the pipe had been extinguished. Only the sliver of red light that came through the crack in the door illuminated the flowing murky sludge.

  Stryker put his left hand on the side of the pipe and grabbed Bonnie’s with his right. They didn’t say anything as they shuffled down the length of the tube. Occasionally, there was a break, and Stryker confidently took a turn, even though he had no idea where he was going. A few times, he saw red light glowing through the sewage at the end of a hall, and each time decided to go the opposite direction.

  “Do you know where you’re going?” Bonnie whispered at one intersection.

  “Do you?”

  She didn’t respond.

  It felt like hours, but finally, the tunnel grew lighter, and his eyes were able to make out first the shape of the pipe, then slowly the surface of the water and the rivets in the metal.

  His heart beat faster, and he nearly dislocated Bonnie’s shoulder as he pulled her down the passage.

  The red light grew stronger and collided with the orange sunlight bouncing through the grate. Metal scraped against metal, and Stryker looked over his shoulder and saw a giant robot crawling through the tunnel on its hands and knees. The robot’s head swiveled back and forth, the circle of red light playing across the walls as it did.

  Stryker pulled Bonnie along with more urgency, water soaking their pants up to mid-thigh. They finally reached the door, and he jabbed a finger on the emergency release. The aperture-like blades opened smoothly.

  Stryker didn’t have time to feel relief at seeing the boat still tied to the dock. They raced down the metal gangway, and Stryker jumped aboard while Bonnie untied it from the pier. He tried to crank the engine, but the key wouldn’t budge.

  Bonnie threw the ropes in and landed on the fiberglass deck a second later.

  Stryker tried the ignition again, twisting the key hard enough that he could feel the metal edges biting into his fingertips.

  “What’s wrong?” Bonnie yelled.

  “It won’t start,” Stryker said, his voice an octave higher than usual. “They’ve blacklisted the lab’s IP!”

  Bonnie pushed him aside and examined the ignition.

  The sound of grinding metal and whirring gears grew louder, and Stryker could see the red light on the roof of the pipe.

  Bonnie pulled the key out, glared at Stryker, then replaced it with another metal key from her pocket.

  The motor roared to life.

  Stryker nearly fell as Bonnie threw the throttle forward. He steadied himself on the metal bar at the back of the boat, looking back at the dock.

  The robot now had his head and shoulders out of the hatch, the red pool of light slowly scanning across the dock. He breathed a sigh of relief as the dock faded into the distance.

  “What part of ‘find us a backdoor’ did you not understand?” she snapped, bringing his attention back to the boat.

  “I got one,” he replied, his cheeks flushing. “You were still messing with that stupid thing, so I figured I’d poke around.”

  Bonnie shook her head without looking at him.

  “You hit the primary factory control module,” she said. “The machines you scanned are so old Henry Ford probably serviced them at some point. They weren’t built to be scanned. You nearly took the whole network down.”

  “Which is why we’re here,” Stryker said. “Maybe a thank-you is in order?”

  “If the factory goes down, they investigate,” Bonnie said. “And when they investigate, they find out we were here.”

  “But if they can’t get the line rolling again, mission accomplished.”

  “For now,” she snapped. “But how long do you think it’ll take for them
to flash the code on those machines and get it back up and running?”

  “If they’re as old as you say, there’s no way they have backups.”

  “But if they do?”

  Stryker shifted uncomfortably. “They don’t.”

  Bonnie threw her hands up. “You don’t know that,” she snapped. “And even if they don’t, they’ll be able to get up and running much faster than if they had to stop because of a government inspection.”

  “They have too many lobbyists,” he scoffed. “That wouldn’t slow them down for more than a few days.”

  Bonnie visibly bit back a reply. Bowing her head, she pinched the bridge of her nose and took several deep breaths. “What’s done is done,” she said. “I tried to create as much havoc in their network as possible, so hopefully they won’t be able to untangle everything faster than we need.”

  She looked back up at him. “But you screwed up,” she said.

  “I got the job done.”

  “And if they do get back up and running?” she asked. “What happens if they find your back door, and we can’t get back in?”

  “We’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

  “No, you’ll cross that bridge,” she said. “You want to be the big shot hacker? Fine.” She took off her lab coat and tossed it at him.

  He watched it drift to the boat’s rubber floor.

  “You’re on your own for the rest of this job,” she said. “Let me know when you’re willing to listen.”

  “You need me,” he said. “I’m your in with the Volkags.”

  “I’ll find another way,” she said. “One that doesn’t involve getting killed because some script kiddie wants to show off.” She faded into nothing before he had a chance to say anything else.

  He stared at the wheel, which continued to guide the small craft through the marsh as if by Bonnie’s ghost.

  Chapter Thirty-Six

  Josef pulled into the parking spot and double checked his GPS. The address was correct, though he didn’t see any indication that the business was open. Nor could he figure out why Vlad wanted to meet at a dry cleaner. The morning sunlight reflected off the front windows, obscuring his view of the interior.

  As he stared at the storefront, he thought he caught a flash of a shadow as it shifted inside. The sign in the front window was still flipped to “Closed,” but then again, Vlad didn’t operate within regular business hours.

  Josef got out of his car and walked to the front. There were definitely people inside, so he pushed the door open, and a digital chime rang through the store.

  Vlad was dressed in a tailored gray suit and brown shoes so well shined Josef could swear he saw the sunlight’s reflection on the floor around them. When the Russian glanced back, his jacket twisted enough for Josef to see he was wearing a matching brown belt with a black holster and a maroon shirt. Vlad raised his chin in acknowledgment before resuming his conversation.

  “You’re not special,” he said. “You barely make your payments as it is. Why would I believe that you can pay the interest?”

  Josef walked to the side of the counter. He was nearly halfway across the lobby area when he finally cleared Vlad’s bulk enough to see he was talking to a diminutive Asian man with glasses.

  “I-I pay soon,” the man stuttered. “Big customer; pick up today. Money tonight.”

  Vlad placed two meaty palms on the counter and leaned forward. The man shrank back. Josef thought he was trying to disappear into the forest of neatly pressed oxford shirts and cocktail dresses.

  “You expect me to believe that you have a customer spending over five hundred dollars on the dry cleaning? Today?”

  The man nodded quickly.

  “Bullshit.”

  “No, no bullshit,” the man shook his head just as fast. “Here, look.”

  He stepped sideways toward the register, keeping one eye on Vlad like he was a dangerous animal. He went to the farther of the two terminals, keeping one workstation and a brass pole with an arm to hang customers’ clothes between him and the Russian.

  The man started tapping on the register’s screen.

  Vlad watched him carefully until the man finally turned the screen around.

  Josef saw Vlad shift so he could lean in closer to the screen. He was silent for several long seconds, then nodded slowly.

  “Tonight,” he finally said. “Leave the money out back like you’re supposed to.”

  “Yes, yes, of course,” the man said. “It will be out tonight.”

  Vlad nodded.

  Then he grabbed the brass pole with both hands and yanked. The pole screeched in protest, but ultimately lost the tug of war. Bits of plywood and metal screws flew through the air as the pole tore free of the counter.

  The Asian man gave a terrified squeak as the pole clattered to the floor, and Josef winced.

  “Sorry,” Vlad said. “I just get so anxious when I have to leave my office and make these on-site visits. Had to work a little nervousness out.”

  The Asian man’s eyes were wide, darting from the pole on the floor to Vlad.

  “I get even more worked up when I have to make multiple visits to the same place,” Vlad said. “Hopefully we won’t have to worry about this in the future. Will we?”

  The man shook his head vigorously.

  “Excellent,” Vlad said, clapping his hands and rubbing them together. “One of my associates will be by tonight to pick up your payment.”

  With that, he spun on his heel and fixed Josef with an icy stare.

  “Our intrepid hero returns,” he said. “Let’s leave Lin to get ready for today’s customers. I’m sure he would appreciate a bit of time to focus.”

  Josef looked past the gangster at the Asian man, who was paler than the wedding dress hanging behind him. “I’m sure he would,” Josef replied.

  Vlad strode out the door, flipping the sign to “Open” as he passed.

  Josef followed, letting the door close gently behind him.

  “Such a beautiful day,” Vlad said as he slipped a pair of aviator sunglasses on and started down a side alley.

  “You realize you’re just hurting your own business by destroying his,” Josef said.

  Vlad turned his head, and Josef could see his reflection in the mirrored lenses.

  “No, I’m glad you mentioned that,” he said dryly. “God, what would I ever do without you?”

  “Then, why?”

  “A demonstration of will can sometimes be more valuable than money.”

  Josef didn’t need to see his eyes to know that the lesson hadn’t only been intended for Lin.

  “I saw that the factory’s opening has been delayed,” Vlad said in a more casual tone. “Though only until December.”

  “They’ll hit a few more snags before them,” Josef assured him. “They’ll be closed through Q1.”

  “Hope so,” Vlad said. “I’d like to continue our partnership, but if I have to find another provider . . .”

  “Yeah, yeah,” Josef said. “You’ll bash my storefront windows in and break all my cash registers. Did you get the information I asked for?”

  Vlad arched an eyebrow at him but lifted his phone and tapped the screen several times.

  Josef felt his own phone buzz and quickly accepted the file.

  “There’s not much here,” he said, scrolling through the notes.

  “We don’t really know what happened,” Vlad said.

  “It was your ship,” Josef said.

  “It belongs to TransAt Shipping,” Vlad corrected. “The ship is surprisingly legitimate.”

  “You talked to the captain, though?”

  “Well, I didn’t.”

  “Don’t screw with me.”

  “Someone’s touchy today,” Vlad said. “Lady troubles?”

  “What did he say?”

  “The coast guard boarded them before they crossed into US waters. They had a warrant.”

  “For your shipment?”

  “I told you, this
was legitimate,” Vlad replied. “For once, we didn’t have anything coming in. Apparently, the cops were after a pirate crew. Sounds like they got them.”

  “I saw the drugs,” Josef said. “I know you were shipping something.”

  Vlad stopped, his hand shooting out and clamping down on Josef’s throat. Vlad pushed him against the wall,

  “What the—”

  “You saw the drugs?”

  Vlad leaned in close enough for Josef to smell the man’s breakfast on his breath.

  Josef gasped, clawing at Vlad’s hand.

  “What do you mean, you saw the drugs?”

  “It was a video,” Josef wheezed. “I was in the police archives and saw a body-cam recording.”

  Vlad’s brow wrinkled, but his grip on Josef’s throat eased.

  “God, is this how you treat all your partners?” Josef coughed.

  “Where were the drugs?”

  “Looked like it was at the top of a stack. I think I saw a Q on the side of the container.”

  “QVC?”

  “Maybe?”

  “I need that footage,” Vlad said.

  “Can’t do that,” Josef said.

  Vlad’s grip tightened again, and Josef tried to pry his fingers away. He failed.

  “I don’t care how much it costs,” Vlad growled. “If someone else is using my ships, I will know about it. Is that clear?”

  “I . . . can’t . . .”

  Black spots started appearing in Josef’s vision. “Job . . . was to delete . . .”

  Vlad’s nostrils flared. Then he cussed and threw Josef sideways. He landed in a heap, coughing and clutching his throat.

  “Who was your client?”

  “I don’t know,” Josef said.

  “Bullshit.”

  Josef coughed several more times to buy himself a few more seconds.

  “You realize you’re the first client I’ve ever met, right?” he said. “This isn’t normal. I prefer to keep things anonymous.”

  “I want his handle then,” Vlad said. He loomed over Josef, blocking the sunlight coming down the alley.

  “I don’t give out—”

  “What. Was. His. Name.”

  Josef looked up at the hulking Russian, jacket open and one hand on the gun at his hip like a well-dressed outlaw from a B rated western.