Binary Storm

by Christopher Hinz

  Fifty-One

  It had been less than three weeks since Bel had hired Olinda Shining and she was already proving her worth. The former DOD major was efficient in the extreme. She’d reorganized the duties of Bel’s staff to improve their productivity and had done so in such a way that no tempers were inflamed.

  Bel had become used to Olinda as an older blond although she’d dropped her facial wipe a few times in private. Ektora seemed accustomed to both of her mother’s faces and unconcerned as long as the same woman was breastfeeding her.

  Part of Olinda’s success in the new job had to do with her baby, which she kept with her throughout most of the workday. The young staffers in the outer office, especially the women, enjoyed the presence of an infant. Bel knew that several of them desired offspring but had decided to put off getting pregnant. Their rationale was that E-Tech’s message needed to spread more deeply throughout the culture, thus creating the conditions for a better tomorrow in which to raise children. Bel found it remarkable that their optimism remained strong in the face of such increasing evidence to the contrary. Then again, it wasn’t too long ago that she’d shared such beliefs.

  Olinda sat in Bel’s office going over some minor scheduling issues. Bel listened half-heartedly, her attention drawn to Ektora. The baby was nestled in her carrier, which was strapped to a wall hook near the main windows. She seemed intrigued by the view, not that there was anything much to see outside. It was another high ToFo day, nearing the record for the end of December. The wind-whipped smog had reduced visibility to a few meters.

  Ektora’s frequent presence had pushed Bel’s desire for a baby even further to the forefront. She vowed to have another talk soon with Nick. She’d planned a new strategy, one that would shower him with compliments and proclaim that he was the most logical choice to become her baby’s genetic father because of his brilliant mind and exceptional abilities. With any luck, the heavy ego-stroking would break down his resistance.

  Bel’s pad chimed. It was one of her staffers.

  “Ma’am, Board President Al-Harthi has arrived.”

  “I’ll be right out,” she said, turning to Olinda. “We can still call this off. If things should backfire–”

  “They won’t.”

  But even now, at the last minute, Bel wanted Olinda afforded the opportunity to veto the plan she and Nick had concocted.

  “No matter what the outcome, you’ll likely be putting yourself and Ektora in even greater danger. Are you absolutely sure about this?”

  “Codrus is one of the Ash Ock bastards ultimately responsible for my husband’s death. This is the best chance we have to bring him down. I wouldn’t have brought the intel to you in the first place if I wasn’t all in on this.”

  There was nothing more to say. Olinda picked up the baby carrier and they headed for the outer office. Bel greeted Suzanna Al-Harthi with a handshake. She introduced her new chief assistant, using the pseudonym Olinda had chosen.

  “Down to business then,” Al-Harthi said, greeting Olinda with a scant nod and paying no attention whatsoever to Ektora’s curious stare.

  Olinda went to busy herself with other tasks. Bel led the regent back into her private office and closed the door.

  “So, Annabel,” Al-Harthi began, taking a seat. “What was so urgent that it required a private face-to-face?”

  Bel laid it all out for her about the Codrus mole, about how she’d known for some time that the board had been infiltrated by a tway of the Royal Caste, about how she’d recently received information that reduced fifteen suspects to three. She admitted only that the intel about the mole originated from a deep source whose identity needed to be safeguarded.

  Al-Harthi reacted as expected. First came astonishment, then disbelief, then a string of interjections to the effect that such a thing wasn’t possible. But Bel had constructed a convincing case.

  “What do Pablo Dominguez and Bull Idwicki think of this?” Al-Harthi asked.

  Bel admitted she hadn’t told the heads of Intelligence and Security. “We’re pretty sure the Royals have other spies planted throughout E-Tech, perhaps even at the associate director’s level. Keeping this knowledge tightly sequestered is the only way to avoid leaks.”

  Al-Harthi remained skeptical. “You can’t seriously believe that those two are also serving our enemies.”

  “I hope not. But we can’t take the chance of alerting Codrus that we’re on to him.”

  “For the sake of argument, what if you’re mistaken about a tway of Codrus on our board? What if this is all part of some sophisticated disinformation campaign by the Royals, meant to create rifts and trust issues among the regents?”

  “It’s not.”

  “But Annabel, please realize that if you are wrong, you’ll be finished at E-Tech. The regents would have no choice but to call for your dismissal with prejudice. You’re willing to risk your career?”

  “I am.”

  Al-Harthi again glanced down at the list Bel had handed her, shaking her head as she uttered the three names.

  “Vok Shen. Lois Perlman. R Jobs Headly. I know there’ve been supersedures of such magnitude before. But still, I can’t believe it could be one of these three. Especially not Lois. My God, we’ve known one another since grad school. Our families had dinner together last month.”

  “We can’t rule any of them out.”

  Al-Harthi gave a grudging nod of acceptance. “All right. So what’s our next step?”

  “We’ll expose the mole at Monday’s board meeting. I need you to do two things. First, cancel that security service you normally use to do those last-minute sweeps for bugs.”

  Bel explained why and went on to the second request, handing a paper across the desk.

  “I need you to make this announcement at the start of the meeting.”

  Al-Harthi read the few short paragraphs, frowned. “This is factual?”

  “Parts of it. The stuff about the impending deal with Olinda Shining is a mix of truth and lies.”

  “But you do have this servitor in custody?”

  “We do, in a secure location.” Actually, she’s sitting less than ten meters from you, probably nursing her baby.

  “You want me to read this verbatim?” Al-Harthi asked.

  “Feel free to ad lib as long as the gist of the information comes across. I’ll jump in at some point.”

  “Why not make these revelations yourself?”

  “Codrus’s tway might be more suspicious if the information is coming only from one person. But from the two of us, he’ll be hard pressed to doubt that it’s genuine. And bouncing things back and forth between us will give the revelations a higher degree of urgency. Remember, we have to convince him that what we’re saying is true and force him into an immediate reaction. If he doesn’t buy in right away, the plan will be dead on arrival.”

  They discussed a few more aspects. After Al-Harthi departed, Bel called Olinda back in.

  “Everything’s set. If things go according to plan, in less than forty-eight hours we’ll have the tway of an Ash Ock Paratwa in custody.”

  The second one we’ve captured, Bel mused. She hadn’t told Olinda anything about her connection to Gillian and the team.

  Olinda looked somber. Bel hoped she wasn’t having second thoughts.

  “This is going to work,” Bel insisted. “The plan is solid.”

  “I know. It’s just that when I was with DOD, we had a little saying about the notion of things going according to plan.”

  “Which is?”

  “Expect the unexpected.”

  Fifty-Two

  Tomorrow would be the one year anniversary of that violent day, December thirty-first, 2095, when Nick had killed his first and only human being.

  It wasn’t like he was troubled by guilt or second thoughts. In fact, the opposite was true. When he thought back to pulling the Glock’s trigger and putting a bullet through the skull of the fake Ektor Fang tway in that elevator, he was filled with a weird
pleasure. It was pride in his aggression coupled with the satisfaction of extinguishing an enemy before that enemy did the same to him. The feeling must be similar to what Gillian and the team experienced when they took down an assassin.

  Nick sensed Bel stir beside him and slither from his bed. He thunked the time. 10:37 pm. He guessed she wouldn’t be staying at his apartment overnight. Tomorrow morning was the board meeting and she probably wanted to get a good night’s sleep at home. The meeting was already slated to be a memorable one as it was to include year-end financial reports and the annual review of the status of E-Tech’s major initiatives. For the fifteen regents, particularly one of them, it would be remembered for a far more notable event.

  Nick got up and donned a robe. He found Bel in the kitchen. Wearing only panties, she was leaning against the fridge and nibbling from a bag of Planetary Certitudes. The sweet-sour crackers were her favorite post-coital snack.

  He lowered his gaze to her breasts, bare and inviting.

  “I’m taking off,” she said, killing Nick’s fantasy of one more romp in the sack. “Any last minute details we need to go over?”

  “I think we’re good.”

  “Did you get into the conference room OK?”

  “Snuck in late this afternoon after Security did their last bug sweep.” With only a small staff working on a Sunday, it had been relatively easy for him to fake a pass to the executive floors.

  “You’re sure no one saw you?”

  “Don’t worry, I was careful. Now it’s up to Al-Harthi to do her part.”

  “She’ll come through for us.” But Bel’s words sounded less than confident.

  “Everything’s going to work out,” he assured her.

  She forced a smile. “If it doesn’t, we’re in for a hell of a day.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Nick?”

  “Yeah?”

  “Whatever happens tomorrow, I want you to know that… I love you.”

  “Likewise.”

  She seemed to want say something else but hesitated. He had a strong hunch about what was on her mind and decided to short-circuit it.

  “Listen, can we not talk about the B word tonight?”

  It was the wrong thing to say. Bel’s mood changed in an instant. Hackles went up and her tone became frosty.

  “The B word? Is that what you’re calling it now? You can’t even say the word ‘baby’?”

  He tugged the Planetary Certitudes from her hand, set the bag on the counter and gripped her palms.

  “I apologize. Bad choice of phrasing. All I’m asking is that we not do this now. I swear to you that after the meeting’s out of the way, the two of us will sit down and have a long and rational talk about it.”

  “Tomorrow night, my place?”

  “Deal. I’ll bring the champagne.”

  He wasn’t looking forward to such a talk. It might start rationally but possibly wouldn’t end that way. He knew neither of them was about to yield from their inflexible positions. She wanted a baby by his seed and he didn’t want to give her one. Period. Until recently, they’d kept the dispute on a fairly even keel. But lately, tempers had been starting to fray.

  The truth was, they were arguing about a lot of things these days, matters having nothing to do with “the B word.” They’d come to terms with his son’s pitstopping, the original glue that had brought them together. Both of them had moved on. Still, he sensed that something else was stirring inside Bel besides her urge to be a mother. Some restless and powerful force seemed to have taken hold of her. And whatever that force was, it was serving to slowly pull them apart.

  In all fairness, the changes within Bel weren’t the only threats to their relationship. He knew that he loved her, maybe not as much as he’d loved Marta but close. Yet ever since he’d done his own series of visits to a pharma specialist and had Weldon’s pitstopping reversed, something had changed in him as well. It wasn’t as if he’d lost interest. But certainly the intensity of his earlier passion for her had diminished. Maybe those pheromone induction tranqs primed to Bel’s metabolism had indeed been a key element of his desire. Or maybe he’d just arrived at a point where the thrill of discovery was gone and it was necessary to push their relationship to the next level.

  Or end it.

  He forced a smile. She relaxed and leaned down to kiss him. Sosoome padded into the kitchen, interrupting their moment of intimacy as he was in the habit of doing.

  “We’ve got company,” the mech announced. “It’s Gillian.”

  Bel frowned. “Did you…?”

  “Invite him?” Nick shook his head. “No way. We weren’t supposed to get together until tomorrow.”

  Nick went to the front door. Bel returned to the bedroom to dress or hide, probably both.

  Gillian strolled in. He threw his coat on the coffee table and sniffed the air. “Good. Bel is here.”

  “We were just doing some last minute planning for tomorrow.”

  “You were having sex.”

  Nick didn’t bother denying it, not with that sensitive nose of his.

  “And why are you here?” he demanded.

  Gillian didn’t answer. Instead, he settled into the sofa. Bel reappeared a minute later, garbed and ready to depart.

  “Stay,” Gillian said. “Nick and I are going to have a drink.”

  “I’m not really thirsty. And I’ve got to run.”

  “No, you don’t have to run.”

  The words didn’t sound overtly threatening. Yet Nick sensed menace hovering beneath them. He could tell that Bel had heard it too. She folded her arms across her chest in a defensive posture and backed up against the bookcase.

  “Pretend you’re thirsty,” Gillian suggested, his face breaking into a humorless smile. “Think of it as practice for the lies you’ll be telling tomorrow when you expose your Ash Ock mole.”

  She gave a wary nod. Gillian turned to Sosoome.

  “Vodka and tonic for me and your master. And for the lady of the evening?”

  “Pinot noir.”

  Sosoome paused for confirmation from Nick, who gestured toward the kitchen. The mech scampered to the liquor cabinet.

  “Why don’t you have a seat?” Gillian said, motioning to Bel and patting the cushion beside him.

  She sat down opposite him on a chair. Nick hopped onto the sofa’s armrest at the farthest point from Gillian. The three of them gazed at one another from the triangular seating arrangement, no one speaking. Nick’s annoyance grew.

  “So again, why are you here?”

  Gillian didn’t answer. Sosoome returned and distributed the drinks. The mech positioned himself at the edge of the sofa and glared up at Gillian, making it clear what he thought of their uninvited visitor.

  Gillian glared back. “Go away.”

  “I don’t take orders from you,” Sosoome snapped.

  “Maybe not. But did you ever see a Cohe wand declaw a cat?”

  His tone convinced Sosoome not to push the issue. The mech glanced at Nick for a counter order. Grateful to see none, he scampered under the sofa.

  Gillian stared into his drink. Suddenly, a chuckle escaped him, followed by a hearty peal of laughter. Nick had never seen him in such a strange mood.

  “What’s going on?” Nick asked.

  “Just finding a little humor in the situation.”

  “What situation?”

  “You have a mech servant and a human girlfriend and nearly unlimited financial resources. Yet you still don’t feel complete, do you?”

  “I don’t know, I feel pretty complete.”

  “You’re not.”

  “OK, I’m not. I’m only ninety-five percent complete.”

  Gillian raised his highball glass. “To incompleteness.”

  Nick and Bel traded wary looks. They both suspected that the incompleteness Gillian was referring to was his own, a subconscious recognition that a part of his true self was missing.

  They raised their glasses and toasted. Gillian ease
d his drink toward his mouth but hesitated with the glass centimeters from his lips.

  “Did Nick mention my idea to you?” he asked Bel. “About how to draw our nasty little friend Yiska into the open?”

  “He said something about it.”

  “What do you think?”

  “Sounds risky.”

  “It is. But worth the risk to take down the assassin that murdered so many of your coworkers.”

  Bel frowned. “I’m not too sure about that. To be honest, it almost strikes me as a bit…”

  “Suicidal?”

  “I was going to say desperate.”

  “I don’t believe it’s either of those things.” Another weird look came over Gillian, a kind of perplexed amusement. “Then again, can any of us truly know our own minds?”

  Gillian lowered the glass from his mouth without sampling the drink. He seemed to change the subject.

  “Did you hear about the megalion that got loose at that Turkish animal preserve last month?”

  Nick recalled the incident. The engineered beast, six meters long, had eaten some Chilean tourists before being downed by thruster fire from an emergency response team.

  “Do you know why it got loose?”

  “Something about a faulty lock in its compound?” Nick said.

  “That’s the official explanation. The real reason it escaped was a failure of imagination. The preserve didn’t consider the possibility that the lock could be faulty.”

  “Uh huh. And your point?”

  “Same one I made earlier. We need to think outside the box.”

  Nick sighed. He had to dissuade Gillian from his crazy idea once and for all.

  “Has it occurred to you that by issuing a personal challenge to Yiska to confront the team at a specific place and time, you’d be inviting disaster? If Yiska knows your location, why would he even go to the trouble of facing you? Why not just vaporize the site?”

  “Or show up with a small army of assassins?” Bel added. “You’d be outnumbered and wouldn’t stand a chance.”

  Gillian shook his head. “Two reasons why those things wouldn’t happen. First, the Ash Ock want to take me alive, or if not me then at least one of the team. Why do you think the bounty’s ten times higher for that scenario? The Royals and every other assassin out there want to know why we’re so effective against them. They want intel as much as they want vengeance or cash. There won’t be any bombs or biotoxins or anything of that sort. It’ll be a straight-up firefight.”