The Silent Army r-2

by James Knapp

  “He’s already done his worst.”

  “No, he hasn’t.”

  “He has to me.”

  His body grew very still; then his eyelids drooped and the muscles in his trigger finger twitched. I almost didn’t get my hand up in time. The muzzle flash lit the inside of the car, and I felt the heat of it against my face. Burned powder peppered my skin as the bullet punched through the seat behind me. Smoke drifted from the barrel as I swung my other hand and slapped him across the face.

  I hadn’t meant to do it, but it stopped him. He just stared, the gun forgotten in his hand.

  “How could you?” I heard myself whisper to him. The words, like the slap, came from some unknown place, some old remnant of myself.

  He didn’t try to fire a second shot. He was still staring when I opened the door and slipped out into the dark.

  7 Tokkotai

  Nico Wachalowski—Heinlein Industries, Industrial Park

  I cruised across the tarmac, and tried to push the encounter with Faye out of my head. For the second time I’d had her in my sights, and for the second time I’d let her go.

  It wasn’t the slap that stopped me, or what she said. It was the look in her eye, that look a revivor wasn’t supposed to have. That same look that I saw, just for a second, in that girl revivor’s eyes during the Goicoechea raid, when this all started. As if somehow what I’d done had wounded her.

  “How could you?”

  I shook my head and tried to focus. That look was imagined. It was only there because I put it there, because I wanted it to be there. Maybe she did carry around memories of our time together, but unlike the girl in Goicoechea, Faye was someone I’d known, and something didn’t carry over. Faye could never have gone along with this. She would never have asked me to either. The thing that waited for me in the backseat of my car knew there would be a nuclear detonation inside the city, and didn’t care at all. If its ghrelin inhibitor was switched off, it would …

  A sheet of rain misted the windshield. Rather than go down that road, I sifted through the information she’d given me again. Fawkes had heavily redacted it, but even so, it was extensive. To prove any of it would take years of independent investigation, and since the FBI had been compromised, that would never happen. Still, if there was any truth to it, then the situation was even worse than I’d thought.

  The names that appeared on his list were high-profile, powerful people, and not all of them were as secretive as Motoko Ai. Robin Raphael was a media mogul with an empire based out of the Central Media Communications Tower, one of the largest buildings in the city. He ran video and print news on at least fifty different fronts. Charles Osterhagen was a retired general whose name was known to anyone who’d served in the grind. He was the founder of Stillwell Corps. Two of the other names on the list were investors on the list of superwealthy.

  They weren’t people you just called out and accused, not even with proof. They weren’t people you just approached on the street, or who quietly disappeared. They had teams of lawyers and professional security. If he thought I could get to any of these people, Fawkes was out of his mind.

  A Chimera helicopter crossed the gray sky up ahead, and I picked up its scan as I approached. It had been two years since I’d been to Voodoo Proper, as the Heinlein facility was known. It hadn’t gotten any friendlier. The half mile of open tarmac that circled the main facility was dotted with guard stations, and electronic eyes followed my vehicle as I made my way across it. A second helicopter appeared and moved across the sky in the distance, and off to the northwest, a jeep was patrolling the main campus.

  Wachalowski, this is Noakes. Any word back from the Indonesians?

  It’s a dead end. The shipyard already collected the insurance on the lost ship. They don’t want any talk that it might still be intact.

  I don’t know how long the DoD will let us sit on that satellite.

  That ship is out there.

  I’ll do what I can, but right now the majority of our resources are tied up tracking the nukes. We can’t afford to waste time.

  The weapons are on that ship.

  I’d like to believe that, Wachalowski, but we can’t say for certain they’re not still in the city, and that has to be our priority. Find something concrete.

  Understood. I’m entering Heinlein’s main facility. I’ll have to switch off soon.

  This would be easier if we just brought him in.

  If we try that, Heinlein’s lawyers will crush us.

  There’s no delicate way to do this, Wachalowski.

  Maybe not, but Michael Heinser was one of their major players. The check I ran flagged him as a high-level revivor R & D man, but the specifics of his position were classified. There was no way to bring him in for questioning without some level of public exposure. No matter how else you looked at it, the one place no media would be able to follow was onto the grounds of Heinlein Industries.

  You are entering a restricted area. No unauthorized communications are permitted in or out from this point forward. No unauthorized scans, visual, audio or data recordings are permitted beyond this point….

  A red flag popped up in my visual display and warning data began streaming by as the JZI detected an orbital beam painting my vehicle. I’d just been targeted by a satellite capable of incinerating me right there on the tarmac. A second later, a pulse caused the information to warp in front of me, and my JZI powered down.

  They were jumpy. I couldn’t blame them.

  I checked my cell phone, and it had powered down too. Not knowing exactly where we were supposed to meet, I continued straight toward the main compound. A full minute passed before I saw another vehicle come into view up ahead. It moved to intercept me.

  The vehicle was a black military jeep. Without the JZI I couldn’t make out who was in it, but he flashed his lights and I cruised to a stop. The jeep pulled up a few car lengths away, and a middle-aged man with dark skin got out. He was wearing a suit, and a badge fluttered in the wind from a clip on his belt.

  Whoever he was, he wasn’t alone. Two revivors in body armor climbed out of the back. I began to doubt I would be coming face-to-face with Michael Heinser, but whatever they had set up for me, it was going to have to do. I cut the engine and got out of my car, walking toward the man.

  The revivors stepped in front of him and met me halfway. One of them looked me up and down until its scanner found the badge inside my jacket. It turned to the man.

  “It’s him,” it said.

  The man removed an electronic device from his jacket and held it up in front of me. After a few seconds, it emitted a sharp beep.

  “You’re bugged,” he said.

  “I know better than to try that. Anyway, you shut down the JZI.”

  “This is independent of the JZI,” he said, moving closer. He held the device close to my left eye, and it beeped again.

  He turned the device around so I could see the screen. A snapshot from a tissue scan was displayed there. I could make out the corner of my eye at the edge of the screen. There was a tiny speck there that stood out as a bright white dot.

  “What is it?” I asked. He looked at me skeptically.

  “You don’t know?”

  “No.”

  He looked at the screen again, then switched off the device.

  “I believe you,” he said. “The device is nearly microscopic. It could have been delivered through casual contact without your feeling it or knowing it. It piggybacks onto your JZI’s systems, so as long as that’s offline, the bug is cut off from its source.”

  The bar.

  “What’s the matter? Are you not used to a woman touching you?”

  The blue-eyed woman with the wool hat who showed up at the restaurant; she planted it when she stopped me in the bar. It was a setup.

  “Someone is spying on you, Agent Wachalowski.”

  Ai was hedging her bets, then. She’d been watching since that night. She knew what I found at the Rescue Mission clinic. She
knew Heinser’s name, and that I’d traced him to Heinlein Industries. She knew about the Buckster interview too.

  “I used a magnetic pulse on it; it’s destroyed,” he said. “When you leave the campus and your JZI reinitializes, it will not come back online. You should be more careful.”

  The man waved at the revivors, and they retreated. They moved back toward the jeep but didn’t get in. They stood in front of the grill and waited.

  “Sorry about all this,” he said. He held out his hand, and I shook it. “As you can see, we must be careful. I’m Anan Bhadra. I represent Heinlein Industries.”

  “I thought I was meeting with Michael Heinser,” I said. “Where is he?”

  “Unfortunately, Mr. Heinser is out of the country on business at the moment.”

  “When is he due back?”

  “It’s hard to say, but in the meantime, I’ve been sent to make a statement and to answer any questions you might have.”

  “Out here?”

  His face didn’t change, keeping an even smile as the wind ruffled his suit jacket. I had expected them to hold back, but even so, it was a hostile reception. They had me at a big disadvantage; with no JZI and no line of communication to the outside, there was no way I could verify whether he was telling the truth about Heinser. By the time we were finished and I was back outside their perimeter, he could be in the air, if he wasn’t already.

  “We have become aware of several handheld nuclear devices whose whereabouts are currently unknown,” he said. “Heinlein is a high-profile target.”

  “You’re saying this is a security measure?”

  Bhadra shrugged, without saying one way or the other. It didn’t matter; he had his instructions. I wasn’t getting inside.

  “We were able to verify that someone at the Rescue Mission facility attempted to contact Mr. Heinser several times,” I told him.

  “I don’t believe Mr. Heinser would have received such a call on either his private or business lines.”

  “It was a wireless line, leased by a Second Chance arm called the SCO.”

  “I don’t believe Mr. Heinser is a member of the Second Chance organization.”

  “He’s not, but for whatever reason, he had the phone in his possession and the calls were made to him.”

  “Can you prove that?”

  “I don’t have to prove it. I know it’s true. I also know that the bombs used to destroy the Rescue Mission Clinic, and the others, were almost identical to the one used to destroy the Concrete Falls recruitment center.”

  That ruffled Bhadra’s feathers. His cool demeanor slipped a notch.

  “There were Heinlein employees at the Concrete Falls site, Agent Wachalowski. Do you have any idea—”

  “I’m not suggesting Heinlein was behind the attack. I think that whoever hit the recruitment center was there to hit Heinlein Industries. I think whoever did it then set themselves up at the Rescue Mission Clinic. What I don’t understand is why. That’s what I want you to explain to me.”

  The rain started up again, misting over the tarmac. Bhadra signaled to one of the revivors, who approached and handed him an umbrella before returning to its spot. He opened it as the rain picked up, then moved closer so that it covered both of us.

  “This is off the record, Agent.”

  “Mr. Bhadra, I am conducting an ongoing investigation into—”

  “I’m not asking, Agent Wachalowski. I am telling you. This is off the record. Neither your JZI implant nor any other recording device you may be carrying will work here. If I or anyone from Heinlein Industries is asked about this later, it will be denied.”

  He stood there, waiting for my reaction. It was clear that if I didn’t agree to his terms, the discussion was over.

  “Go ahead,” I told him.

  “I can’t comment on why Mr. Heinser’s name was in the Rescue Mission directory, because I don’t know,” he said. “However, I can say that what you found there is connected to the incident at Concrete Falls.”

  “You knew about what was going on at the Rescue Mission Clinic?”

  “No. We didn’t know about the facility, but there have been concerns that someplace like it might turn up.”

  “Concerns?”

  “A specific piece of technology was at the Concrete Falls center the day it was attacked.”

  “What kind of technology?”

  “I can’t disclose that—”

  He stopped short as I stepped in and grabbed him by the shirt collar. His eyes went wide as I hauled him up onto his toes, and he dropped the umbrella.

  Immediately, the two revivors at the jeep began to close in. I drew my gun, and Bhadra flinched as I fired a single shot. The pop echoed down the tarmac as the revivor on the left spun around, spraying an arc of black blood from the side of its neck.

  “Stop!” Bhadra shouted, holding his hands near his face. The second revivor held its position while the one I’d shot collapsed face-first onto the ground, blood pooling around its head.

  “There are eleven nukes somewhere in the city,” I said, putting my face close to Bhadra’s. “Eleven nukes. Don’t stonewall me, Bhadra. Do you understand?”

  “What are you going to do?” he asked, his hands still near his face. “Shoot me?”

  “I’ll place you in Federal custody, and before I’m done, I promise you, you’ll tell me what I want to know.”

  “You’ll never get me to the perimeter, Agent.”

  “Answer me. What was Heinser involved in?”

  “We don’t know,” he said. “I would tell you if I could. He was involved in something, but we don’t know what. They’ve put him out of reach as a precaution. They don’t have any specifics.”

  “I want to talk to him now.”

  “You can’t, Agent. He’s gone. You won’t be able to reach him, not in time to help you. I’m sorry.”

  A gust of wind blew mist against the side of my face, and made the umbrella roll in a circle.

  “They’re monitoring us,” Bhadra said. “Security will be here soon. Let me go, please. You don’t have to do this.”

  He met my eye when he said that last part. He was trying to tell me something.

  “No?”

  “They wouldn’t send someone out here that they thought knew any specifics about Heinser or Concrete Falls,” he said. “If there was information that would be useful to you, it couldn’t come from me.”

  I put the gun away and let go of him. He straightened his shirt and picked up the umbrella.

  “I found several revivors at Rescue Mission,” I said. “Their signatures were different. The components were different too.”

  “Technology changes, Agent.”

  “It was a new model of revivor, then?”

  “I can’t say for sure.”

  “Was that technology at the Concrete Falls facility for some reason? Was that their interest in it?”

  “If it was,” he said evenly, “it didn’t turn up in the wreckage after the blast.”

  It was the closest to a confirmation I was going to get. Something of Heinlein’s had been stolen, and the blast covered it up. It was taken to the Rescue Mission Clinic, and probably the others that had been raided as well.

  “And Heinser?” I asked.

  “If some new technology had been developed, it would be highly valuable. To obtain it, someone would need an inside contact.”

  “Why not turn him over to us, then?”

  “This is a highly sensitive situation, Agent. In the end, Heinlein Industries is a military contractor. This isn’t just a matter of industrial espionage. It’s a matter of national security, and it goes far over your head.”

  “Then why see me at all?” I asked.

  “To make an official statement. To stonewall you, as you said, and send you away.”

  “Then why not do that?”

  “Honestly? I’m afraid. I’ve heard you are a man to be trusted. You were very helpful in uncovering the breach into our company two years ag
o. Thanks to you, the Zhang’s Syndrome study has been designated classified, and we’ve been appropriately distanced from Samuel Fawkes.”

  “I wouldn’t thank me for that.”

  “You are also known, by us at any rate, to have had a government-issue revivor illegally transported and revived from stasis. Since then, that revivor is also known to have fallen into the hands of established terrorists.”

  “Is that some kind of threat?”

  “I’m just laying out the facts as I see them.” He closed the umbrella and wrapped the tie around it. “A security force will be here very shortly, Agent. I’d advise you to be on your way out when that happens.”

  He held out his hand, and his eyes looked nervous.

  “One last thing: I saw something at Rescue Mission I couldn’t explain,” I said. “You want to take a crack at it?”

  “If I can.”

  “The revivors were being monitored while a machine cycled them between active and inactive. Why would someone do that?”

  “For the same reason we do it here,” he said. “To try to streamline the revival process.”

  “Why?”

  “A time may come when you need them in a hurry.”

  He signaled to the remaining revivor, and it climbed back into the jeep. Behind it, two more vehicles were approaching.

  He held out his hand again, and this time I shook it. When I did, I felt something against my palm. He looked me in the eye and held the handshake a few extra seconds.

  “I’m sorry I’m not permitted to help you more,” he said.

  “Thank you for seeing me,” I told him. “Sorry about the revivor.”

  He let my hand go and I palmed the object, slipping it into my pocket.

  I got back into my car and watched him walk back to the jeep. The look in his eye as he turned away said he wasn’t just worried about security breaches and law-suits. He was worried that the thing he had implied was stolen had ended up in the wrong hands, and that the consequences of that might turn out to be dire.

  Zoe Ott—Alto Do Mundo

  After I left the Federal Building, I kind of lost track of what happened. I stopped at a bar and had a few drinks; then at some point I remembered stopping at a convenience store and getting a bottle. I was wet now, and the bottle was almost empty. The paper bag it was in was almost soaked through, and the sky had gotten dark.