by Brandt Legg
“We haven’t authorized any kind of intervention,” Runit said.
“Who are you to question it?” the plumber asked. “You’re not in charge.”
“Those are my books,” Runit said.
The plumber looked at Nelson.
“Runit, what happens if they open those doors?” Nelson asked.
“Protecting the books is different from starting a revolution,” he said, turning from Nelson to the plumber. “You, let me talk to Deuce!”
The plumber moved more screens and talked again into his wrist.
“The revolution started a long time ago,” Nelson said.
“Maybe, but it’s been a silent revolution until now,” Runit replied, glaring at Nelson. “If his men engage the AOI at that truck, it’ll be like we started it.”
Grandyn, who hadn’t missed a word as he put the pieces together, caught his father’s eyes. The two had always communicated in a shorthand based on expressions and body language. Grandyn saw the strain in his father and knew, even if they survived the night, their lives would never be the same again. A few TreeRunners went by, and he wondered how many of his closest friends would die for this cause he didn’t yet understand.
The VM showing the stopped truck got buried behind other images for a moment as the plumber shuffled and danced through the data and images. When it surfaced again, an AOI agent could be seen conducting a FRIDG scan on the driver.
“What do you think?” Nelson asked Runit. “Do you really think we can do this without bloodshed? Are you dreaming that this can somehow be won without violence?”
“It’s been done before . . . a new world can be achieved.”
“It’s never been done on this scale,” Nelson said. “We don’t have that kind of time.”
“Why not?” Runit asked.
Nelson wasn’t ready to answer that, and certainly not without Chelle’s approval. “Look,” he said pointing to the VM. An AOI agent climbed into the front cab of the truck and began searching it. “They’re going to open the load!”
“Runit,” a voice said from the plumber’s INU. “This is not a good time to lose your nerve. But let me be clear. In no way do we need your permission.”
The plumber looked at Runit and mouthed, “Deuce Lipton.”
“They’re my books,” Runit said, surprised to be talking to the world’s richest man.
“Do you want to keep them?” Deuce asked.
“We’re in place,” the plumber interrupted. “Engagement ready.”
“What happens if you ‘engage’?” Runit asked, borrowing the plumber’s word.
“We might just get those books to safety and finish the job you started.”
“If you don’t need my permission, why are you talking to me?”
“Because you’re right. This could escalate things to a tragic new level, and you deserve to be part of the decision.”
“Are you seeing this?” the plumber asked Deuce.
The AOI agent had left the truck’s cab and was now walking to one of the load-doors while another agent continued to detain the driver.
“I do,” Deuce answered. “What’s it going to be Runit?”
Just then Chelle came up, looked at the three of them gathered, and saw the scene on the VM. She made eye contact first with Nelson, and then settled on Runit.
“It looks like they might be asking the driver for the locking-code,” the plumber said, pointing to the agent by the load-door. “Do we have audio yet?”
Runit couldn’t believe they were capable of getting audio. Chelle held his gaze, but surprisingly said nothing.
Would Deuce really leave this decision to me? he wondered.
“He’s punching the code. He’s about to open the load-door,” the plumber said, raising his voice only slightly.
“Either way,” Nelson said to Runit, “the war will go on. The difference is, will we still have the books?”
“He’s opening,” the plumber said.
“Runit?” Deuce asked.
Chelle remained silent.
“Do it!” Runit said, looking directly into Chelle’s eyes.
“Go!” the plumber said into his wrist, and almost instantly they all saw the four AOI agents around the truck fall simultaneously. Another man ran up to the stunned driver and convinced him to get back into his truck. The man, one of Deuce’s people, also got into the truck and they drove away. A LEV showed up a minute later and the four bodies were hurriedly loaded and taken away. One of Deuce’s people was left behind. She got into the AOI vehicle and, once it was gone, the VM showed the roadway as it would otherwise appear on a typical deserted late night.
Adjustments to the KEL in the area would be necessary, but that would be done in minutes. “Thank you,” Deuce said. “I hope we can meet some day in person.” He was off before Runit could respond.
“I just killed those agents,” Runit said, mostly to himself.
“You just saved my life,” Chelle said, hugging him. “And everyone in this building, including Grandyn.”
He nodded slightly.
“And the books,” Nelson added. “You saved the last genuine books.”
“Brave and true,” Runit whispered inaudibly.
Chapter 44
Drast got word of four missing agents thirty-two minutes after the incident. Hourly check-ins were automatic with all AOI on-duty personnel, but in heightened security zones, they were required every ten minutes. The vehicle turned up outside a bar several kilometers from where the agents had been posted. No one inside had seen them. Normally, this never would have reached Drast so early, but he’d asked for any and all abnormal issues to be sent to him immediately.
He looked at the report, let his INU run a couple million scenarios, and settled on the most obvious. The agents had stopped a vehicle carrying either some form of contraband, fugitives, or simply people acting outside the law. The stop went bad, and the agents were either abducted, or killed. The facts that their LEV had been taken from the scene and that the KEL showed no incident at all pointed to a high level of sophistication, possibly even a planned event. There was nothing in the agents’ bios that made him doubt their loyalty, or to suggest that the hit was personal. Then there was the timing, with the firebombing and the stepped-up security level. He noted the location was not far from the burned-out AOI headquarters and zoomed Lance Miner.
“I think we have a problem,” he said as soon as Miner’s image came through.
“More trouble?”
After Drast finished his update, Miner zoomed Blaise Cortez.
“I thought you might be in touch, what with the growing mess in the Pacyfik and the government shake-up,” Blaise said, smiling and releasing his hair out of a ponytail.
Miner smiled back. “I know you think this is a game Blaise, but there is too much at stake.”
“Yes, there is, your control being the main matter teetering on the edge.”
“I’m not talking about my power, damn it! I’m referring to the peace. We cannot be allowed to slide back into the brutal days of war.”
“Pretend we haven’t been at war since before the Banoff if it makes you sleep better at night. But a silent war, as the AOI has proven, can be far more brutal than a conventional one.” Blaise moved several fingers and instantly images of the AOI arresting and executing people played behind him.
“You sound as if you care about something Blaise, but you and I both know that isn’t true,” Miner said, ignoring the unauthorized footage but quietly fuming. “The AOI has done what is necessary to keep peace. I know you to be a student of history, so surely you understand, even if you aren’t happy about it, that peace is synonymous with prosperity.”
“Your prosperity, maybe.” Blaise slid his hand in a quick motion and the AOI images changed to PharmaForce factories cranking out bottles filled with pills, vaccines, and all types of medical formulations.
“Very amusing.” Miner had known Blaise a long time, and had grown used to his eccentric and often antagonist
ic manners. “Tell me something. Why not just give me the woman’s location? Do you think she can lead PAWN to some sort of victory? Against the AOI? It isn’t possible, so why do you protect her?”
“Why can’t you find her yourself?” he asked, stroking his goatee slowly, like a pet.
“She’s good at hiding.”
“Ah, she may have other talents too. Like being able to bring a fraudulent empire to its knees.”
“Impossible,” Miner repeated.
“Then why are you scared?”
“Name your price.”
Blaise flicked the virtual controls before him and the air filled with charts and scans of Lance Miner’s brain, accompanied by other health-related vitals. “Perhaps you’re unaware of the fear in your eyes when you look in the mirror, but the data before you is irrefutable . . . you’re hours away from outright panic.”
“I don’t believe you actually know her location.”
“It should be enough that I confirmed her existence and told you she is in the Pacyfik, but I also narrowed it to the southwestern portion of the Oregon Area. If you can’t find her in an area of 42,504 square kilometers with the vast resources at your disposal, then your near panic is rightly warranted, because the woman can bring it all down.” He switched the images to the burning AOI headquarters in Portland. “And when she does, the war that so terrifies you will be your worst nightmare. It will cost you everything.”
Miner’s INU went black and Blaise was gone.
Miner stared at the black INU for a long time. Somehow, Blaise had fried it, and it was in that moment that Miner realized that revolution was imminent. Blaise had always been difficult and might lack allegiance, but he was surely a profiteer, and his refusal to deal such a critical piece of information, which had value only until the AOI found her, made sense only if he had seen the future and it held a fractured world. Miner called Sarlo into his office.
“You look awful,” she said, genuinely concerned, ignoring the nightscape skyline which looked like vertical columns of stars sparkling against the sudden blackness where the Rocky Mountains took control of the terrain.
“We have only one chance left to avert rebellion and war,” he said. “We have to locate Deuce Lipton’s uncle and find out what he’s been doing all these years.”
“Why? What’s he got to do with PAWN? What about the woman?”
“Drast has to find her, if she is findable.” He flipped his silver dollar, caught it, and slapped it on his wrist. He looked at the results as if he were reading tea leaves, looking for more than an answer. Miner hoped for guidance from a source in which he didn’t believe. “We’re the only ones who know about Booker Lipton’s other son. The AOI, the Council, and even the evil torgon Blaise Cortez don’t have this information.”
“How do you know?”
“Because if they did, I would never have been allowed to find out.”
“And you think it’s no accident that he’s surfacing now? That the Liptons have kept PAWN going all this time and that the missing uncle is the link?”
“Yes.”
“The LEV is waiting,” she said. “And I’ll be very interested to see how you plan to get one of these implant people to help us find Deuce Lipton’s uncle without revealing that information.”
“So will I.”
Chapter 45
The transfer of books from the beverage trucks to the fruit carriers had long been a source of concern for the planners because of the openness of the insecure transport center, but all the other possible locations were rejected for one reason or another. PAWN had managed to arrange for the service bay to be available, which provided privacy for the teams to unload the beverage trucks, as each arrived, into the larger carrier. Later, the entire cargo section of the fruit carrier would need to be craned onto a fifty-five-year-old Mack flatbed. Its converted engine ran on bio-fuel, and it had actual tires to navigate the tiny farm roads, which, although they had LEV lanes, had never been fitted with magna-lanes.
The AOI crackdown complicated matters further. Halfway through the deliveries, the transport center, with its convenient location near the Interstate and other major roads, became a temporary hub for the AOI teams. They floated in and out with increasing frequency. Deuce monitored the situation and searched for another staging area, but too many books were already loaded onto the transport. As it turned out, although nerve-racking, the AOI presence actually worked in their favor. As any good fugitive knows, the best place to hide is in plain sight.
The busy transport center concealed their activities perfectly. The AOI agents coming in and out were busy coordinating and heading to their respective assignments. They weren’t looking for people illegally moving books, a crime they didn’t even know was taking place.
However, by law, self-driving trucks still required drivers, in much the same way planes flying on auto-pilot still required an actual human pilot in the cockpit. The beverage truck drivers, who originally agreed to some moonlighting for a few extra digis, balked at the risk of arrest, but the plumber managed to allay their concerns and they agreed to continue. He coached each driver on all actionable precautions and what to do in case of trouble: “Shut up and wait for assistance to arrive.” But those vague orders didn’t help sway the underpaid drivers nearly as much as the large amount of digis moved into their accounts by one of Deuce’s untraceable enterprises.
It would be the driver of the fruit carrier who would be the most at risk. His load would contain all the books, and he needed to take them from the openness of the Portland service center to their first hiding place in the rural growing district of the southern-most part of Oregon Area, between the Cascades and the Siskiyou Mountains. In his truck would be one of Deuce’s BLAXERs, in case anything were to go wrong. Deuce would be monitoring the movements of the vehicle from satellites and drones. Additional BLAXERs would be on the road. Deuce had everything in place.
“This will not be another Belgium.”
Miner and Sarlo enjoyed the gourmet food that the tech center provided, mostly seafood and vegetable dishes. Beef hadn’t been available since the Banoff. Early on, it had been blamed for the plague, but even after that was disproved, the environmental impact of mass cattle operations had been made illegal by the reforms. Fortunately, the oceans had recovered quickly from the pre-Banoff years of overfishing and polluting. All kinds of genetically modified veggies made meals fresh and exciting, and fish had also been crossbred to yield large healthy varieties.
Imps, a socially awkward group even before their DesTIn computer brain interface implants, always insisted on the best food. They were strange in a number of ways, including their passion for chewing gum. Imps were sometimes affectionately referred to as vampires because the majority of them preferred working all-night and sleeping during the day. Scientists were still unable to explain the phenomena.
By the time they completed seventeen interviews and decided on their candidate to find Deuce’s uncle, it was nearly midnight. Miner zoomed Drast and requested an immediate profile on the Imp. Drast, up late with the growing militarization of large areas of his region, had no patience left for the background searching of an Imp.
“Anything that vampire can tell you, our people will be able to do quicker and more accurately.”
“Your Imps haven’t been able to come up with the woman’s location. I want someone else working on this,” Miner lied, but he couldn’t risk Drast knowing about Deuce’s uncle. “It’s my ace,” he told Sarlo. “It may be the one card that saves my hand.”
“I’m not giving him clearance!” Drast barked.
“He said he doesn’t need it.”
“Of course he did.” Drast rolled his eyes. “These Imps are all so arrogant, as if they were born with super intelligence. Buying a brain isn’t the same as earning one.”
“They have their place,” Miner responded.
“The soonest I can get you anything on him is noon.”
“Make it first thing in the m
orning.”
“I’ll do my best. We’re stretched at the moment.”
“I’ll zoom you at 08:00 hours, so get some sleep. Peace prevails, always.”
Drast flashed a fake smile at the motto that felt like a harassment. Those three little words constantly mocked him.
With the last books safely out of Portland and the library quiet, Chelle found Runit sitting on the marble steps near the top floor.
“Everyone’s gone,” she said. “We have to go.”
“What time is it?” he asked, staring glassy-eyed a moment too long, but she looked ravishing in the dim light. Soft and approachable, almost comforting. His eyelids strained, as if holding up the words he didn’t trust to speak. The weight of moving the books was not nearly as heavy as falling in love . . . again. And that love felt like a high school crush – important to him, yet seemingly flippant to her.
“Just after 0100,” she said. “We can take my LEV. It will have us at the rendezvous point by 07:00.”
“I’m not going.”
“What? You have to.” She sat next to him, their arms and legs touching. “Grandyn will be there.”
“The AOI will be here first thing in the morning.”
“I know, that’s why we have to go. And with the crackdown, they may even show up earlier.”
“But they won’t miss the books we took. We’ve filled all the blank spaces. It looks as full as ever. Even Nelson said they would just send in some muscle to do the burn. How will they know if there are a million books, or nine hundred thousand?”
“Because, you keep forgetting that it’s not just about the books.”
“So?”
“You have to come.”
“Don’t you see Chelle? If I flee now, I’ll be running for the rest of my life. Maybe I’ll join you after the AOI burns all this . . . maybe. But Grandyn should come back. He’s too young to spend a life in hiding. They won’t know he was involved. He can still get into college, or even get that job he’s been talking about. Maybe‒‒”