Daemon d-1

by Daniel Suarez

  *

  A Bell Jet Ranger chopper hovered inches above the cluttered roof of Building Twenty-Nine. The helicopter was electric blue with a bold yellow logo for Golden Gate Heli-Tours.The Major rose from his kneeling position and scurried toward it at a crouch. A crewmember wearing a Korr flak vest pulled him inside. The Major leaned toward the helmeted pilot, who nodded in his direction. The crewman handed The Major a closed-circuit headset, and The Major slipped it on.

  The pilot’s voice came over the headphones, “What’s the situation here, Major?”

  “I need to get topside. We’ve got a Daemon operative escaping into the city and a federal officer in pursuit. Where’s my kit?”

  “Case on the floor, sir.”

  The Major pointed at the crewmember and copilot in turn, but spoke to the pilot. “These people, off.”

  Both men looked to the pilot, who simply said, “You heard the man. Take the next chopper out.”

  They unbuckled themselves and with a hesitant look jumped down onto the roof.

  The Major shouted. “Go!”

  The pilot yanked on the stick, and the chopper ascended rapidly, making corkscrews of the columns of black smoke.

  Chapter 44:// Revelation

  Merritt accelerated down an Oakland retail strip. Damaged vehicles littered the way. On the motorcycle, he was able to slip past the bottlenecks of wreckage and whipped past several damaged patrol cars to take the lead in the pursuit. Up ahead he could see Loki’s pack of cars, and he could see the silver BMW itself, protected by its personal guard detail. A minivan suddenly bucked up and tumbled out of the way as a horrendous crash came to Merritt’s ears.

  This guy was a psycho.

  A city motorcycle cop raced up on Merritt’s right. Merritt shouted over to him and held his badge up on a chain. “FBI!” He used military hand signals to indicate the target.

  The motorcycle cop nodded and brought his big bike racing ahead past Merritt.

  “Hey!”

  Suddenly twin sedans streaked in from side streets, crushing the motorcycle cop between them with a horrific crash.

  Merritt averted his head as he powered through the flying debris and smoke. He emerged on the other side to see nothing but flames behind him.

  *

  Gragg looked into his HUD glasses to see multiple police cars screeching onto the street several blocks back, rack lights flashing. He crashed another one of his AutoM8s into a civilian’s subcompact, smashing it out of the way and sending it spinning up onto the sidewalk. He left a trail of destruction behind him as the police lights zigzagged between wrecked vehicles, falling behind fast. But more sirens could be heard ahead and to either side of him. They were starting to cordon him off. Choppers were no doubt en route.

  He smiled to himself. More AutoM8s were streaming in to aid him. He felt the presence of over a hundred now-some more valuable than others.

  Another BMW 740 screeching in from a side street suddenly joined Gragg’s car. This BMW was scarlet red. The pack expanded automatically to encompass it.

  Gragg motioned with one black-gloved hand, and the electro-polymer paint of his own BMW shifted from silver to red in a matter of seconds-even as the newly arrived red BMW transformed from red to silver. Gragg’s digital ink license plates flicked from California to Oregon vanity tags that read GECCO.In a flash, his BMW went into a power slide down a side street and left the main pack behind.

  *

  Merritt was still trying to comprehend what he just saw. A decoy BMW had joined the pack, but then Loki’s BMW transformed right in front of Merritt’s eyes. Merritt leaned hard into the turn and gave chase. Loki’s car was now bright red-but he could still see the pockmarks from his earlier shots in the rear window. He cast a glance behind him to see several squad cars race past the intersection, still in pursuit of the original pack.

  Merritt turned back to face Loki, then he tapped his radio button. “Major! Major, this is Merritt. Do you copy?”

  *

  The Major looked up from assembling a scoped SCAR-H sniper rifle in the passenger bay of the chopper. Merritt’s voice came over their encrypted radio frequency again, dissolving occasionally into static. “Major, this…Merritt…copy?”

  The Major keyed his mic. “Go ahead, Agent Merritt.”

  “Listen…police are pursuing a decoy BMW…car has…color, and is heading…“Static filled the channel.

  “You’re breaking up.”

  “Repeat…color. I’m giving chase.”

  “You’re catching interference from the AutoM8s. Fall back, Merritt.”

  “…police they’re…“At that the signal trailed off into static.

  The Major dropped the handset and spoke into his chopper headset. “We still receiving Merritt’s GPS coordinates?”

  The pilot nodded. “10-4, Major. Clear as a bell.”

  “Then the Daemon is using GPS, too. Get me over Merritt’s twenty.”

  *

  Now out of the chase and heading through wide industrial streets, Gragg monitored a distant AutoM8’s video feed as the pack of cars he just left accelerated onto an elevated portion of the 880 Freeway, smashing cars out of their way. California Highway Patrol units took up the chase on the freeway. Gragg couldn’t help but smile. They were closing in.

  He accelerated the distant AutoM8 pack toward the elevated junction with Highway 260-and the retaining wall at the steep curve. “This ought to be interesting…”

  He selected the lead AutoM8 in the HUD and urged it on ahead of the others. Then he switched to video feed from a car farther back in the pack. The lead car screamed ahead like a missile, then crashed through the concrete retaining wall at a hundred miles an hour, spraying a vacant lot fifty feet below with pieces of concrete and twisted metal. The remaining pack, including the silver BMW, roared through the new gap in the wall and tumbled end over end through the air, smashing down on top of one another in a fiery wreck. The video feed turned to snow.

  Done.Gragg took a deep breath and felt himself coming down off the adrenaline surge. He could imagine the police stopping to look out over a tangled pile of burning wreckage, scratching their heads, as police are wont to do. It would take them days to figure out. The nearest police car’s GPS signal was a mile away.

  He did a quick postmortem: the Daemon Task Force had been neutralized. It might mean another level for him.

  A motorcycle streaked up alongside his car. The rider reached out with one hand, extending a submachine gun, and fired a short burst at Gragg’s tires.

  “What the hell?”

  Gragg raised his gloved hands to fire the nova light, but then realized his blacked-out windows would ruin the effect. His armored windows didn’t roll down either. “Son of a bitch.”

  Gragg motioned with his gloved hand and swerved the car toward the racing bike, but the bike was far more maneuverable. It ducked around to the right side of the car. Again, automatic gunfire cracked at his tires.

  Gragg shook his head. “Solid rubber, asshole.”

  He reached out into D-Space and started drawing from the surrounding horde-pulling dozens of remaining AutoM8s toward him. “You want to play? Then let’s play.”

  *

  Ross and a Korr lieutenant peered through the recessed postern gate. Dozens of AutoM8s crisscrossed the tarmac, circling Building Twenty-Nine. Ross looked across the barren tarmac leading to the ship channel a hundred yards away. It was the longest hundred yards he’d ever seen.

  Philips sat in the corridor with several more Korr guards. A medic wound a bandage around her head to cover her injured eyes, while the others trained weapons on the short corridor behind them.

  Philips looked up blindly. “What’s the situation?”

  Ross and the lieutenant slammed the door with a clang and turned to face her. A roaring motorcycle engine, gunshots, and screams echoed through the interior halls.

  A guard stared down the corridor. “We can’t stay here, sirs.
”

  “We need to run for it, Nat. Those Razorbacks appear to know the floor plan. They’re methodically clearing rooms.”

  The lieutenant piped in, “They’re armored, Doctor. Light weapons don’t stop them. At least not from the front.”

  She nodded gravely.

  “There’s a ship channel about a hundred yards away. If we can reach that, we should be safe.”

  Ross turned to the lieutenant and pointed toward what appeared to be dynamite sticks snugged into his web harness. “What are those?”

  The man glanced down. “Magnesium flares. To signal the medevac chopper. The radio was down for-”

  “Break ‘em out. These AutoM8s probably target with infrared. Flares could distract them.”

  The lieutenant pulled out six flares. He handed three to Ross. “Just twist the top off and strike them. Like this…” He pantomimed the action.

  “Let’s test this.” Ross struck the flare several times before it ignited. He held it, hissing and popping in the corridor. It burned a brilliant red. “Open the door.”

  One guard heaved the heavy steel door open, and Ross hurled the flare as far as he could off to the right. He and several guards watched closely as an AutoM8 swerved to avoid it. Another swung wide around it.

  The lieutenant frowned. “So much for the infrared theory.”

  Philips looked toward his voice. “What’s happening?”

  Ross shook his head. “They’re not attracted to the flares, Nat. They’re avoiding them.”

  “Then they areusing infrared. They’re looking for human heat signatures. The flares must look like a raging fire.”

  Ross and the lieutenant exchanged looks. Ross nodded and knelt next to her. “You’re right. We’re in business, Nat.” He removed his jacket and placed one empty sleeve in her hand, then grabbed the other one. “Don’t let go of this. I’ll guide you. We’ll use the flares to conceal our human heat signature. The tarmac is flat. Just follow me and move as fast as you can.”

  “How many AutoM8s are there?”

  “You don’t want to know.”

  “Jon, I…” Her head darted to follow a roaring engine as it passed.

  “I know it sucks you can’t see. We’ll get you to a hospital, but we need to do this to have any chance at all. Just run with me. You ready?”

  She reluctantly nodded.

  Ross turned to the Korr lieutenant. “You and your men ready, Lieutenant?”

  A motorcycle engine revved and screams echoed behind them, punctuating his words. “Klausky, distribute these.” He passed the magnesium flares. “We travel in a group. Place these on our perimeter.”

  The guards struck flares. Ross lit one for himself. Finally the six of them stood there with five lit flares. Ross pulled in front of the lieutenant with Philips in tow and looked out at the stream of AutoM8s racing past, waiting for a gap. “Okay…now!”

  They bolted from the recessed doorway as a group and moved quickly across the tarmac-like deer running across a freeway.

  The lieutenant barked, “Close it up!”

  The nearest AutoM8s immediately screeched around and vectored toward them.

  The lieutenant threw out his arm. “Stop moving! Stop!”

  They all stopped, and the AutoM8 turned slightly aside, then roared past sixty feet to their left.

  The group stood back-to-back on the tarmac, flares hissing and AutoM8s racing past them.

  Ross shook his head. “Bad news, Nat; they’re apparently attracted to lateral movement as well.”

  She nodded behind her blindfold. “Fires don’t generally run around. I should have guessed Sobol would have more than one criterion.”

  The lieutenant pounded his helmeted forehead with his hand. “Hell of a time to realize that! Just fucking beautiful!” He looked back at the postern gate, already seventy feet behind them.

  Ross’s gaze followed a sedan racing past twenty feet away. “Okay. Let’s try this: let’s move slowlytoward the water.”

  The lieutenant shook his head. “Back toward the postern gate.”

  Philips turned to him. “Jon’s right. We can’t head back toward the Razorbacks. These AutoM8s must have a threshold of movement detection. We move slowly.”

  The lieutenant gave Ross a venomous look, since he was serving as Philips’s eyes. He then finally nodded. “All right, Doctor.”

  They all slid their feet across the tarmac as AutoM8s raced past doing loops around the building. They seemed to be coming closer with each pass, but the group of evacuees managed to traverse another hundred and fifty feet. The water’s edge was tantalizingly close.

  A guard tapped Ross on the shoulder. “Hey! Hey, this side! Look out!”

  Ross turned to see a Dodge easing to a stop fifty feet away. Facing them. Other AutoM8s still raced past.

  Philips turned toward it. “What is it?”

  “That Dodge is getting suspicious.”

  She nodded. “Jon, you think it’s referencing our location on a grid?”

  He considered this. “You mean tracking targets over time instead of-”

  “Enough!” The lieutenant pointed. “We’ve got incoming!”

  Another sedan vectored toward them while the Dodge seemed to observe. The second car was accelerating fast.

  The lieutenant shook his head. “Fuck this! Run for the waterline!”

  Ross grabbed his arm. “It could be testing us! Stand still!”

  The lieutenant pulled free. He and his men sprinted in a ragged line toward the jetty, opening fire on the cars as they ran.

  The moment they did so, the incoming car targeted them, and the nearby Dodge accelerated past Ross and Philips, also giving chase. She cringed as it streaked past just feet to her left.

  “Jon, what’s happening?”

  He pulled her close. “Wait, Nat!” He saw three more cars racing in-one headed toward him and Philips. Ross hurled the flare in its direction and then tugged on the jacket sleeve. “Run! Now!”

  The lieutenant fired at another incoming car as he sprinted toward the waterline, but the first sedan overtook him, tossing his body up over its hood and smashing him into its windshield, then up over the roof. He flipped three times, then landed on the pavement just in time for the Dodge to gore him. His body jammed in its undercarriage and was dragged away. The other men scattered as AutoM8s ran them down. Sporadic gunfire was quickly replaced by the shrieks of injured men crawling toward safety as the cars circled back for the kill.

  Philips glanced back reflexively. “What’s happening?”

  “Just run!”

  He led Philips on a different, longer tack to the shoreline-away from the feeding frenzy of the AutoM8s. He and Philips were nearly at the water. Another car roared up behind them. Ross pulled hard on the jacket sleeve. They had reached the jetty stones.

  “Jump!”

  He could see her grit her teeth-going on blind faith in him. They arced out into air, splashing into the freezing water as the car hurtled inches over their heads. It landed ten feet beyond them and sent up a splash wall thirty feet high.

  Ross and Philips both came up flapping their arms, Philips coughing up water. Ross grabbed her around the neck from behind and swam back toward the jetty stones again as the tail of the bobbing sedan settled back into the water, nearly coming down on her head. It flopped onto the waves, bubbling and hissing around them.

  She sensed that something large had just missed her. “Jon!”

  “It’s okay! Wait. It’s sinking.”

  “Where are the others?”

  “They’re gone.”

  She panted as they bobbed there for several seconds listening to bubbling water and distant engines on the tarmac above. His arm still around her. Soon there was just hissing.

  “Okay, swim. Follow my voice.”

  *

  Merritt cradled the UMP on the bike’s broad gas tank and swerved from side to side trying to get around Loki’s BMW. Each time he approached, Loki stabbed on the
brakes. Finally the road widened again. The corrugated fences of salvage yards and aging factories now fronted it. Merritt accelerated rapidly, roaring alongside the car.

  He searched for some weakness in the armor and noticed that brushed steel knobs appeared at regular intervals on the roof, hood, and trunk. They looked like high-end cell-phone antennas-a dozen of them, evenly spaced.

  Merritt braked and swerved as Loki tried to smash him into a line of parked cars. Merritt accelerated around the other side and lifted up the UMP. He glanced at the road, then took careful aim at the car. He fired a short burst. The shots ricocheted off the roof.

  Loki swerved toward him again, and instead of dodging away immediately, Merritt let him come in closer. He took more careful aim and fired again-nailing a metal knob.

  And barely denting it.

  “Son of a bitch.”

  Behind Merritt eight sedans screeched in from side streets. He glanced back over his shoulder to see them surging after him. He raised the UMP one-handed and opened up with short, controlled bursts. The front tires of first one, then another blasted out, and they quickly fell behind as the others accelerated. He knocked out the tires on still a third.

  The gun was empty. Merritt turned forward and saw ten more unmanned cars come in from side streets up ahead.

  No way to reload. Time to concentrate. He tossed the UMP onto the hood of a nearby car, then ripped the throttle and drove howling past Loki.

  Merritt dodged a hatchback emerging from a parking lot-which turned out to be a regular car with people in it. An onrushing AutoM8 immediately broadsided it. Half a dozen more AutoM8s streamed in from side streets behind him.

  Merritt turned forward again to see the AutoM8s approaching up ahead, surging his way in interlocking slaloms. It was an impenetrable roving barrier. A demonstration of networked swarming behavior that no human drivers could match. Merritt had a couple of seconds at most. A score of AutoM8s were all around him, closing fast-more coming in every second.

  He looked back at Loki’s BMW, then swerved and stabbed the brakes-bringing himself just feet off Loki’s front bumper. Still going seventy, he eased back on the throttle and, taking a breath, released his hold on the handlebars, falling backward onto Loki’s front hood as the BMW bumped his bike’s rear tire. The bike veered forward and to the side and was immediately crushed by a wall of oncoming AutoM8s, which raced past only inches to either side of the BMW. Several smashed head-on into pursuing AutoM8s, exploding into a whirlwind of plastic parts, glass, and tumbling metal.