Die Back

by Richard Hacker

  At the shuttle port he exchanged insurance information with the hover rental agent, explaining how a drunken partier had thrown himself across the now smashed windshield and passenger side panel while he was on Sixth Street. Addison signed the paperwork, but the agent made it clear he'd have a very difficult time renting anything from HoversToGo ever again. He couldn't disagree with the agent. This trip had been a disaster. He had underestimated Cameron, and as a result, Magnus' life had been obliterated and another League pen stolen.

  I will not underestimate Cameron Grimes again.

  Adieu

  The Tonkaweya ShuttlePort buzzed with suits heading to Houston or Dallas or beyond; students leaving for Thanksgiving break; a singer-songwriter on a small stage playing a tune about 'how you just don't love me the way I loved you when we were in love'; NHAAF Guardsmen in combat gear, armed with automatic weapons sweeping the crowded terminal for potential enemy activity; vendors hawking smoked barbecue, roasted Tonkawa cactus blossom tacos and venison chili; and a continuous stream of announcements by a deep male voice with a soft Tejas drawl.

  Please report to your assigned shuttle port thirty minutes before boarding.

  Only licensed concealed weapons permitted beyond the security checkpoint.

  Do not attempt to disarm a potential threat with your weapon before notifying military security.

  Addison and Jules walked with the tide of travelers, through security and into the main terminal corridor, a steel and glass expanse with shuttles from Southwest, TransTexas, Alaska, Braniff, and PanAm visible through floor-to-ceiling windows. Finding their port, they checked in, and settled down in leather lounge chairs facing the glass wall to await their boarding call for a flight back to Seattle. Addison activated his comm.

  "Call, Maya Sepulveda."

  On the second tone, she picked up. "Addison?"

  "You sound surprised to hear me."

  "No, well, just not so soon. I figured it would take a while to hunt down Koehler. Did you find him?"

  "Yeah. I met him and took him to his place to pick up a few things, but Cameron was waiting for us."

  "You saw him?"

  "Magnus went in alone. I waited in the car. I thought we were safe. The building…it blew up. Destroyed everything."

  Maya exhaled, a quaver in her voice. Is she frustrated because Cameron's always one step ahead or just pissed I screwed the pooch? Probably both. "I know, Maya. He had a hit man at the meet up and another on the road, but I thought we had gotten away. I let my guard down. I should have known better."

  "You couldn't know what a persistent son of a bitch he is." She paused, her voice now sounding calm, business-like. "Did he get Magnus' pen, Animus?"

  "Probably. But honestly, with the explosion and the fire and police drones closing in, I couldn't stay to search for it. I imagine Cameron got him as soon as he walked into the shop, took the pen, maybe even killed Magnus, and used the explosion to cover his tracks." A sleek supersonic shuttle, looking something like a rocket with wings, descended to the meticulously clean port deck, the rumble of the craft's engines vibrating the glass and his seat. "I'm sorry, Maya. It's my fault."

  "We're not done yet. I've got news."

  "So you found Takahashi? Where is he?"

  "Tokyo. He has a little antique shop there."

  "So we go to Tokyo." He glanced over to Jules listening to his side of the conversation.

  "I've got a plan. Get back to Seattle and I'll fill you in. If we're lucky, we'll get to Yuji before Cameron."

  "Who's your source, by the way?"

  The call went silent for a moment. "Still don't trust me?"

  "I trust you, Maya. Just wondering where you're getting your information."

  "Thomas asked me to help you and he also asked me to protect you. There are some things it's healthier not to know. Believe me, if it was important for you to know my source, I'd tell you. See you in Seattle." She logged off.

  Jules sat beside Addison, drinking a latte. He ended the call, looking straight ahead.

  Jules asked, "So, we're going to Japan?"

  He voiced his comm. "Revise ticket, Jules McCullough. Next LTA to Seattle. Best available seat."

  "Addison?" She put a hand on his arm as if she could keep him in check.

  He placed his hand over hers. "This is getting way too dangerous, Jules. You need to go back home where people won't be trying to blow you up."

  She rose from her seat, her faced flushed. "On a dirigible? The slowest transport possible? Like hell! Some whack job is out to kill you and you're making sure I'm a thousand miles away and a thousand feet in the air?"

  "I just don't want you to get hurt because of me. You're safe as long as you're not with me." He stood up, enclosing his hands around hers. "I need to go." He kissed her on the cheek, and turned toward the gate for his flight to SeaTac.

  She grabbed his arm. "Don't you dare try to walk out on me. We may not be together wherever the hell you're from, but here, we've got something."

  Addison didn't want to have this conversation. He needed to get to Seattle and he didn't want any distractions. "I need to leave and you need to get on that dirigible."

  She looked stricken, as if she had just witnessed an AutoPod running over her dog. Jules set her jaw, a ferocity filling her eyes. "Addison Shaw, if you think I won't fight for you, then you don't know me."

  "Jules."

  "Shut up. I've got your back. Period. I don't care how dangerous this Cameron guy is or how crazy this pen is your father left you."

  "You saw what happened to Magnus. What if that had been you?"

  "Well, it wasn't me. And seeing that explosion, well, it scared the hell out of me. But Addison, I thought this was bigger than you and me. Right? Say what you want, but I will not walk away."

  Addison didn't know if his feelings for her were from this reality or the faint memory of another continuum, but he did know he increasingly cared about her. A woman willing to stand with him and even die for him, if that's what it took to fix the world. He couldn't, he wouldn't let her walk into this nightmare.

  "Jules, you act like we've got some kind of relationship." She opened her mouth to speak, but Addison kept going, speaking loud enough for passers-by to hear. "We don't. Sure, you're good in bed and fun to be around, but come on. You and me? Seriously? You think I'm going to spend the rest of my life with some pseudo hip antique digi dealer from Ballard? All I care about is my partner. Remember my partner, the real Jules? You're just, well, convenient. Think about it. The only reason we're together is because I accidentally entered a different time zone. Take the ticket and go home. Find yourself a fisherman or something. Just leave me the hell alone."

  Blood drained from her face with each plunge of his dagger of words. Addison turned, walking quickly away before she could say or do anything. He pounded the button by the elevator door. Stepping inside the small empty space, the door closed behind him. He had just broken the heart of the only person who loved him, who would stand by his side no matter what Cameron threw at him. When the door opened again, he took his first step toward whatever fate held for him.

  Alone.

  Erekutoronikku Antīku

  The SeaTac International Shuttle Port had been built on a reclaimed lahar sediment field created during the devastating earthquake and eruption of Mt. Rainier in 1989. Designed to handle everything from dirigible liners, space transports, and supersonic shuttles, the facility covered fifty square miles south of the city. Thousands of travelers moved through this central hub every day. Addison met Maya outside the shuttle security checkpoint.

  She studied him, as if she were a neurologist gazing at a digitally enhanced MRI, his flaws and failures visible to the trained eye. "Where's your girlfriend, Addison?"

  "None of your business."

  "Oh." She inflected the word with as much meaning as possible.

  "What do you mean, 'oh'?"

  "Nothing. Just sounds like there's more of a story there than you're letti
ng on."

  A hovercab pulled to the curb, its door sliding open. They entered the automated vehicle, their seats turning to face each other as the door closed. "Can we get to the reason we're here, Maya?"

  They rode north, the rush of wind and a muffled whine of the hover engine the only sounds. A misting overcast hung low on Seattle's skyline, obscuring condos and the mile-high Astro Spire that had replaced the original 1960 World's Fair Space Needle after the earthquake. The city had risen from the rubble with towering office buildings and condos of glass and steel, all built to withstand anything nature might throw its way.

  Addison said, "You mentioned a location for Yuji Takahashi."

  Maya glanced up at Addison. "Yeah. Kabukicho in Shinjuko, Tokyo."

  He looked back at their path away from the port, then to Maya. "Why did we leave SeaTac? We need to get a high speed flight over there right now."

  "We tried it your way present-side. How'd that work out for you?"

  "Look, I just didn't expect…"

  Maya offered a coy smile. "The persistence of the son of a bitch?"

  "Yeah. I suppose. So what's your plan?"

  The city's towers reached into the night sky, their lights giving the mist a soft glow. "We'll ink into Yuji's world three months in the past, contact him, and make sure he hides his pen in a secure location. Somewhere Cameron won't be able to reach."

  "I don't know about inking Yuji—"

  "Not Yuji. He’s still alive. I've got a line on a couple of low-level Yakuza types."

  In the 1940s and 50s, with the Third Reich rising in the deserts of Northern Africa and the Japanese Empire threatening the heartland of Peru, the Inca were sufficiently distracted for the North American Alliance to push south of the Great River to the vanquished Aztec city of Teotihuacan. In the intervening years, the Alliance had lost ground to the Inca Empire, but a stable front had been established along the 30th Parallel North for the last ten years. In this chaos, the Yakuza thrived, building a far-ranging criminal enterprise—drugs, slaves, sex-workers, genetically augmented grain, clean water. "And why do we want to ink mobsters?"

  "Well, my dear, if things get nasty we want hosts who know how to take care of business. Kabukicho's nothing like the violent gang neighborhoods in Portland or Minneapolis, but I'd rather have a weapon. Maybe if you had been inked into an armed bodyguard in Tonkaweya the outcome might have been different. Our two criminals, Daichi and Kichiro, represent very small cogs in the Yakuza's global machinery."

  Shaking his head in protest, "Maya, I'm not—"

  "Calm down. They'll kill each other over a cabaret girl before sunrise. It's all legit as far as League inking goes."

  Once at the Tempos Refúgium they prepared Addison's pen.

  "Addison, why don't you ink first. I'll be right behind you." She placed a translucent paper over another document with several Chinese characters.

  He met her eye. "With everything that's gone down, I'd rather be last in, first out, if you don't mind."

  "You have nothing—"

  "Humor me. Okay?"

  "Of course. I suppose Renascentia is your responsibility, after all." She smiled, taking the pen in hand, their hands touching. "You know you can trust me."

  "Sure. Sorry. I guess the last few days have made me a bit of a control freak."

  "Okay. I'll go first. Our hosts should be together on a street corner in Kabukicho. If we get separated, go to the Seibushinjuku Station."

  Maya put pen to paper, then sat rigid, fully in the inking. Addison watched her slip present-side to her host Kichiro. Taking a seat on the other side of the desk, he picked up the pen and inked to his host in Tokyo, Daichi.

  ***

  My first sensation is the savory odor of fried octopus balls, which my host calls takoyaki, mixed with a faint scent of exhaust wafting through a narrow street, followed by wheels gliding on steel tracks and brakes screeching as a train pulls into Seibushinjuku Station. I'm in my host, Daichi, waiting on a corner for Maya, in the form of her host, Kichiro, to approach me. A young man in his early twenties, blue jeans and a black leather jacket buys a drink from a vending machine on the street. He takes a long pull from an energy drink, then our eyes meet. He smiles, walking over with the gait of someone who either has serious attitude or who's been watching too many American gangster films. He nods in my direction.

  "Daichi?"

  "Yeah. Maya?"

  "Yes, Kichiro." His eyes follow a young woman into the crowd, a girl bar hostess, in spike heels and a very short silver sequined dress. "We should find Yuji's shop a little ways up this street."

  A throng of nighttime partiers jostle with each other in the narrow street, wide enough for only the smallest of autopods to pass. Oblong paper lantern signs hang from open shops with hawkers inciting passersby with food or drink or companionship. Red, white, and yellow banners hang above, fluttering lazily in the muggy night air. Music—rock, R & B, techno, Asian fusion—pulses in the background. The earthiness of charcoal and roasting yakitori hovers near a vendor selling skewers of chicken. An assortment of bars, hostess clubs, and discreet love hotels intermingle with restaurants, food markets and shops selling everything from flowers to electronics to antiques.

  After walking a couple of blocks, we arrive at a doorway opening to a darkened stairwell leading to an upper floor. Above the door is a sign, black letters on a red background.

  高橋 雄司

  エレクトロニック アンティーク

  Takahashi Yuji

  Erekutoronikku Antīku.

  Kichiro steps toward the entrance. "We're here."

  I slip inside the dimly lit stairwell behind him. At the top of the stairs, he shoulders the door open to the show room. Computers, touch pads, smart phones, gaming consoles and printers litter shelves lining the walls.

  Kichiro leans over a glass counter with vacuum tubes from ancient televisions and audio amplifiers sitting in the middle of the shop. "Nice stuff."

  "Yeah, Jules would love this place. When you said antiques I imagined old furniture."

  Kichiro gestures me to a door behind the counter, probably to an office, and points to himself and a side door leading to what had to be a store room. I nod, moving behind the counter to the door. Turning the knob slowly, I inch into a darkened space. I take a deep breath, feeling for the switch. As I turn on the light, the door clicks shut behind me. Scanning left and right, gray metal shelving lines the walls and an old gunmetal desk sits in the middle of a small office. Hopefully, Maya's having better luck, because Yuji is definitely not here.

  A voice filters into the room. A man's voice.

  "Thank you, Yuji. You've made the right choice."

  Cameron? I reach for the doorknob, knowing if I can get back into the main room I'll be able to make out the voice clearly. But it's locked. How did I—?

  Two blasts resound through the building. Gunfire.

  I step back, firing three rounds into the door knob, and rip open the door, running to the gunfire. Two more blasts thunder in the shop. When I get to the storeroom, Kichiro is firing at the back door, screaming, "Cameron, you won't get away with this!"

  He's crouched by a figure lying in a pool of blood. He glances over to me. "It was Cameron. Don't let him get away."

  I shift my gaze from Kichiro's angry scowl, leaping over a crate, crashing through the back door, down some stairs and into a very narrow air shaft. Whoever it was, somehow they've vanished. Damn it! I've got to get back to the Tempos Refúgium. If Cameron's got Yuji's pen…

  "Addison, you okay?" Maya stands at the door, gun in hand.

  "I've got to get back. My pen's the only one left." I put the muzzle of my gun to my host's head. This is going to hurt.

  "Addison. No. Not yet!" Kichiro put the muzzle of his gun in his mouth.

  What the hell?

  ***

  He closed his eyes, letting the usual nausea wash over him, then lifted his gaze to his temporary inking partner, Maya. He had died back only
seconds before her. As she leaned away, taking in a gulp of air, Addison took hold of his pen, slipping it into his pants pocket.

  Maya opened her eyes, scanning the desk until she met his gaze. "I see you secured your pen, Addison. Good."

  "What happened?"

  "Sounded like Yuji thought he could trust Cameron, and realized his error a bit too late."

  "Yeah. I heard someone say 'you've done the right thing'."

  Addison recalled the image of Takahashi, a man in his seventies wearing a crumpled brown suit, lying in a dark pool of his own blood. No weapon, no gun or knife visible. Things didn't quite add up, but he heard what he heard. Now Takahashi was dead and his pen gone.

  He stood, keeping the chair and desk between them. "I got the impression you wanted to die back before me."

  "What?" She shook her head for emphasis. "No, just the opposite. I thought we might find some clue, something to help us move forward if we stayed around Tokyo for a few more hours."

  "You could have done that yourself."

  "And leave you alone to defend the remaining pen?" She stepped past the desk, placing a hand on his arm, their eyes meeting. "I'm here for you, Addison. Whatever it takes."

  Addison held her gaze. So much had happened and almost all of it had been in the form of defeat. Maybe I'm getting a little paranoid. He let out a deep sigh.

  "We lost them, Maya."

  "The pens? I know."

  "Yeah, but I meant the Inkers. We lost them both."

  She tapped him on the shoulder. "We'll get the pens. Magnus and Yuji knew the risks. The important thing is to stop Cameron and keep your pen out of his hands. Together, we will succeed."

  Best Laid Plans

  After the events in Tonkaweya and Tokyo, Maya staying alone at her condo struck Addison as an invitation for Cameron to kill her. After some debate, she agreed to stay at the house where they could watch each other's back. The evening after inking Yuji, they sat by the fire in the living room, Addison drinking a beer and Maya nursing a martini. To his relief, Maya's people, whoever they were, had cleaned up the mess in the study, including the dead assassin in the study.