The Hidden Throne

by Charlie Cottrell

  Now, even reconsidering the whole dirty business, I wasn’t so sure. Time had softened the blow, healed the wound, and the scar was mostly faded. I wasn’t necessarily ready to forgive and forget, but I was possibly willing to consider not killing him outright if our current tentative partnership didn’t end with one or both of us dead.

  └●┐└●┐└●┐

  Vera Stewart’s computer expert arrived ten minutes late. She was in her mid-20s, short, and rail thin. She looked more like a twelve-year-old boy than a full-grown woman. The word tomboy sprung to mind. Her clothes and hair didn’t do much to challenge that assessment: loose, gender-neutral clothing of a non-descript style—all black, of course—and a short pixie cut done in a riot of colors. She had a small personal computer strapped to her left wrist, a specialized machine with several input jacks and more buttons than your standard unit. A small messenger bag slung over her shoulder contained various wires, adapters, and other gear necessary to her work. Her name, she told us, was Maya Janovich, and she had a hint of an eastern European accent that I couldn’t quite place. Latvian? Russian? The name seemed Russian, but I was no expert.

  Maya moved in jittery, quick jerks, like she was a machine herself and her limbs didn’t quite respond to instructions properly. Her eyes darted around constantly, she tapped her feet nervously, and she spoke quickly but softly.

  “A bank system?” she mumbled, jogging from one foot to the other while Bodewell and I eyed her warily. “That doesn’t sound like much of a challenge.”

  “It’s Arcadia Savings and Loan. We need into Raymond Calthus’s personal terminal.”

  “Ah,” she said, a slight smile playing across her face, “that’s a different story.”

  We gathered ourselves and headed for the bank. By the time we got there, Arcadia Savings and Loan was closed for the night and all the lights were out. There was no sign of a security guard, but I didn’t expect to see one. Any security Calthus had would be state-of-the-art or invisible right up until it nailed you. I was sure there were guards somewhere, we just couldn’t see them at the moment.

  We strolled up to the front door of the bank, Bodewell keeping an eye out for any possible interest in our actions. This time of evening, Eakin Plaza was empty. All of the lawyers and office drones and financiers were gone for the day, and this wasn’t a place that encouraged a nightlife. A nightlife would have only invited disreputable sorts into the neighborhood, and that simply would not do. “We’re clear for now,” he said, keeping his eyes on our surroundings as he leaned against the building. Ms. Janovich jostled and twitched her way to the front door’s control panel, where she suddenly took on a very different demeanor. She straightened up from her perpetual slouch, stood stock-still, and became very focused. She tapped a few buttons on the panel, pulled up a personal vid window, tapped a few things on it, then attached a wire from the small computer she wore strapped to her wrist to the door panel. Her movements were fluid and self-assured; Maya was in her element with machines. A few more taps on the vid window, and the door slid open with a soft hum.

  “I also disabled the security cameras around the lobby and elevators,” she said, unhooking her line and getting that unfocused look in her eyes again as she stuffed the cable into her bag.

  “Won’t the guards on duty notice that?” I asked, stepping inside cautiously and drawing the popgun.

  “No,” she replied quietly as she and Bodewell followed me in. The door slid shut behind us, and Bodewell palmed the lock button on the interior door panel. “I, uh, programmed the system to ignore us and looped some old video logs on their monitors,” Miss Janovich continued. “As far as they’ll be able to tell, there’s no one in the place, and everything is normal.”

  “Excellent,” Bodewell said, drawing his own gun. Unlike me, he carried a standard-issue semi-automatic handgun with a laser sight and target assist. It wasn’t a powerful handgun, but it was accurate and would do the job.

  We crept quietly through the lobby, heading for the elevator I’d taken up to Calthus’s office just the day before. We encountered no guards on the way, though Maya had an altercation with an unsuspecting potted plant that she claimed, “Came out of nowhere.”

  At the elevator, Maya again plugged into a panel, tapped a few buttons, and convinced machines to do what we wanted. The elevator doors opened with a small ding, and the three of us stepped inside. I punched the button for Calthus’s office. There was a beep, and Maya again plugged into a panel. “I have to override the elevator’s security,” she said, tapping buttons. “There’s a block that prevents the elevator from going up to the office without a key or a summons from upstairs.”

  “Are we going to be able to use the elevator?” I asked, frowning.

  “I don’t know,” she said, her eyes still focused on the task at hand. “I think I can trick it into thinking it’s been summoned.” She fiddled with computery things for another two minutes, then started to frown at herself.

  “I can’t convince it that it’s been summoned,” she said, slumping in defeat.

  “Sometimes, you have to do things the old-fashioned way,” Bodewell said. Stepping forward, he pulled a small device from his pocket and jammed it into the lock mechanism in the elevator panel. He touched a button on the end of the device, which whirred and clicked. After a few seconds, he was able to turn the device like a key. The elevators doors shut and the elevator began ascending.

  “Lock pick,” he said simply, pocketing the device, “never go on a B&E without it.”

  Maya smiled in sheepish embarrassment. “Sorry I couldn’t get past that. You must think I’m pretty, um, worthless.”

  I patted her companionably on the shoulder. “Don’t worry about it,” I reassured her, “no one expects you to be able to crack a closed electronic system that requires a physical key to access. We can handle junk like the elevator, but Lord knows I won’t be able to crack Calthus’s personal system once we get up there.”

  Her smile widened a bit at that, and I felt a million years old. This young woman—no, this girl, this kid—had no idea what she was in for as a member of the Organization. No idea what sort of life she had before her. While she might be a whiz when it came to computers and hacking, she was a bit of an innocent, rather naïve, and this life was going to eat her alive.

  Holy crap, I was cynical.

  The elevator dinged quietly at us, announcing our arrival at our destination. Bodewell stepped out first, gun at the ready, with Maya next and me bringing up the rear. The place was empty and dark, foreboding even when you couldn’t see the marble and gothic windows.

  We passed through the anteroom quickly, encountering no resistance. The door to Calthus’s inner office wasn’t even locked, so we walked right in without a problem. I guess they figured the security system downstairs and the keycard-locked elevator were too difficult for most folks to get passed, and didn’t bother with extra basic security measures like locking doors.

  Calthus’s desk sat stark and vacant at the end of the room, as massive and monolithic as ever. We approached slowly, cautiously, expecting any second to see guards step out from behind marble pillars and mow us down. But no guards were forthcoming, and we reached the desk without incident.

  Maya sat down in Calthus’s chair, plugging her personal computer into Calthus’s desk terminal and pulling up a couple of vid windows. A small screen flashed up in the space above the desktop, and numbers started flashing across it in rapid succession. “It’s going to take me a few minutes,” Maya said, concentrating. “His password isn’t anything obvious, apparently.”

  Bodewell paced back and forth in front of the desk, his eyes darting around the room in search of any possible danger. “This doesn’t feel right,” he said, scowling. “Even if she managed to deactivate all the security cameras and motion sensors on the way up, they’ve gotta know you’d try coming back. They wouldn’t leave this place unguarded.”

  “I know,” I said, eyeing the shadows carefully. “Hop
efully we can find out something about Calthus and his connection to this weapon before his guards show up.”

  “I’m in,” Maya announced from the desk. “What am I looking for?”

  I walked over to the desk, leaning down over her and placing a hand on the desk as I looked at the screen. “We need any records of a secret weapon or any transactions that come from military accounts. Stuff like that.” I thought for a moment. “And see if there’s anything in there about Pithman Construction.” Hey, it was worth a shot.

  “Most of that’s pretty vague,” she mumbled. “It’s going to take time to dig anything up.”

  “It’d be easier if we had more information, like a project name or something, I know,” I said apologetically. “Check his email while you’re at it.”

  “Try a search for ‘Project Sabre,’” a voice called out from across the room. Bodewell and I both whipped around, weapons at the ready.

  “Calthus?” I called out, searching the shadows for any sign of the billionaire.

  “I knew you’d be back, Detective,” Calthus continued casually from somewhere out of sight. “Of course, I thought you might take a little more time to get prepared, do your research, maybe formulate a plan. Coming back the very next day? It seems very…sloppy.” He spoke the word as though the very syllables tasted disgusting to him.

  “Yeah, well, I figured you wouldn’t expect me back so soon. Element of surprise and all,” I countered, still scanning the shadows.

  “Coincidentally, Detective, you will not find me in the room. I’m up in my penthouse; we have these things called ‘speakers’ that allow us to project sound into a different location.”

  I bristled. “I could really do without the condescension,” I growled.

  Calthus laughed. “I’m afraid it comes as part of a package deal, Mr. Hazzard. The rest of the package…” A large vid window popped up on the far wall. It displayed a realtime image of the anteroom. As we watched, we could see the elevator doors slide open, and a handful of guards step out. Each was carrying a small box in their left hands and a simple-looking handgun in their right. “…should be arriving just about now.”

  Bodewell stepped to the door that connected the two rooms. He leveled his gun at the guards and squeezed the trigger. As the gun barked, we could almost see the wad of lead fly across the room and catch the lead guard square in the chest. An aura around his body flashed as the bullet hit, and the guard continued forward as though someone hadn’t just launched a piece of lead and copper at him at several thousand feet per second.

  “They’re carrying force fields,” Bodewell said grimly.

  “Really?” I said. I moved to the door, leveling the popgun at the group. I pulled the trigger, and the gun fired with its customary “pop!” An expanding bubble flew across the room, catching the same guard Bodewell had shot just a moment earlier. Caught inside the bubble, he was no longer a threat.

  At least, that’s what I figured.

  The guard leveled his gun at the wall of the bubble. “You know you can’t shoot through that thing, right?” I called out to the guard. “I hope you’re paid up on your insurance premium.”

  The guard didn’t reply. Instead, he pulled the trigger. There was a brief pause, a high-pitched whine, and a sudden shot that didn’t so much ring out as it simply flashed through your vision. The bubble popped, and a thin whiff of vapor trail carried across the room and through the wall into the inner office. I ducked back through to see a matching hole across the room in the outer wall. Maya stood stock-still at the desk, her eyes frozen on the hole six inches from her head. “Get down!” I yelled at her. I turned back to the anteroom to find the guards continuing their advance across the room, slowly and with all the inevitability of an IRS audit.

  “Detective, I’m sorry to see you die,” Calthus said over the sound system. “Well, okay, that’s a lie. You’ve been a minor irritant the past two days, and I’m glad to be rid of you.”

  “Got a plan, Eddie?” Bodewell asked nervously.

  “John, in all the time you’ve known me, have I ever seemed like the sort of guy who makes plans?” I asked, my mind racing frantically.

  “Marsden,” Calthus said, speaking apparently to the lead guard, “please do be quick about this whole business. And try not to spill too much blood on anything that can’t be wiped clean.”

  Bodewell and I slipped back into the inner office; Bodewell shut and locked the door behind us. “Should save us for a minute or two, at least,” he lied. With that gun, Marsden would be able to punch a hole right through the door like it was paper. Bodewell started to search the room, finding the three hidden cameras that were situated in different corners, keeping tabs of what we were doing. With practiced precision, he shot out each camera, leaving Calthus at least temporarily blind to our actions. Meanwhile, I grabbed a heavy-looking bookcase and heaved it over in front of the door, obstructing it. Bodewell took up a position behind the desk, arms resting on the flat surface for stability, and aimed his gun at the door. I prowled the room like a tiger, searching for something, anything, that could get us out of this mess. Nothing was forthcoming.

  “Found it!” Maya said behind me, causing me to turn so that I could catch her out of the corner of my eye.

  “Something useful?” I asked.

  “Useful for what?” she mumbled.

  “Well, either a way to counter that gun, or how to get the hell out of here,” I replied.

  “Oh,” she said, glancing back at the screen. “Um, no.”

  “Any ideas, John?” I asked, turning to Bodewell.

  “My ideas began and ended with the gun,” Bodewell said, his piece still leveled at the door.

  “We could go out a window,” Maya suggested.

  “We’re several stories up, and I left my wings at home,” I countered. “I’m pretty sure it wouldn’t work out any better than trying to get past our friends by the elevator,” I replied.

  “Can’t we do something with the computer to get out?” Bodewell asked.

  “It’s a computer, not a magical panacea for our every issue,” I told him. “You can’t just push a couple of buttons and fix the problem.”

  “Actually…” said Maya. Bodewell and I turned to her and stared. “What?” she said, confused by our sudden intense focus.

  “Well, what can you do?” I asked impatiently.

  “Um,” she said nervously, eyeing the still-approaching guards through the vid window, “I could activate some of the security measures, maybe trap or knock out the guards.”

  “Do it!” Bodewell and I said at the same time.

  Maya tapped several buttons on a vid window, and an alarm started to go off in the building. On the large vid window, we could see two walls slide in from the sides of the anteroom, closing between the guards and us.

  “That should slow them down, at least,” I said, “They’ll override the system eventually, but we might have a couple of minutes to sit here and think about where we went wrong with our lives.”

  “Maybe not,” Maya said. She tapped another button. And the rooms were filled with a faint hum. As we noticed the hum and a sudden sensation of static electricity, one of the guards let loose with a scream that echoed around in both rooms in harmony with a crackle of electricity, then cut off. “Electrified wall,” Maya explained.

  “Okay, great,” I said. “But the others will find another terminal and switch that thing off pretty quick. And they’ve still got the guns.”

  Bodewell eyed the wall. “I think I’ve got an idea,” he said, checking his gun. “Open the partition again.”

  “That seems pretty stupid,” I said, cocking an eyebrow at him. “I mean, what’re you going to do once you get over there?”

  “Making it up as I go along,” Bodewell said. “You get Maya and the information out of here.”

  “I…I think there’s a secret escape tunnel back behind us,” Maya said. She opened a vid window and fiddled with it; across the room, a panel in the wall tha
t we hadn’t known was there swung open silently.

  I stared at the gaping hole in the wall in derision. “Seriously?” I asked incredulously. “We’re just going to step into a dark secret hallway that goes God-knows where and just trust that it’ll get us out and not lead us into an ambush?”

  “I’ve downloaded a map to my personal machine,” Maya said. “This will lead us right back to the lobby downstairs.”

  “Secret passageways never bring anything but misery,” I predicted prosaically.

  “Okay, get out of here,” Bodewell said, checking the vid window to see what the guards were up to. They had backed away from the security wall and were consulting someone on tactical headsets. “I’ll meet back up with you at the office later.”

  “John, this still seems like a terrible idea,” I said, looking him in the eye.

  “Shut up and let me act noble for once, alright?” Bodewell said.

  Maya tapped another button, and the partition in the anteroom started to slide apart again. The startled guards kept a wary distance, but they held their guns ready.

  “Fine,” I said, reluctantly, “But I’m doing this under protest.”

  “Everything you do is under protest,” Bodewell responded wryly. “You haven’t stopped complaining since the day I met you.”

  “Good luck,” I said. For all the pain and suffering the old guy had caused me, he’d been a friend and mentor to me. He’d taught me how to be a private detective. I owed the man my life, in a weird sort of way, even if he had stabbed me and left me to bleed out in a warehouse once. I helped Bodewell shove the bookcase out of the way of the door, which he unlocked. Peeking out the door, he cocked his gun and swung the door open wide, sprinting for the opening partition. As the walls split, the guards stood ready. One of them was laid out on the floor, still smoking. Bodewell raised his gun and started firing.

  “Go!” he shouted back at us I pulled the door closed once more.

  Maya unplugged the cable from Calthus’s terminal as I came around the desk and grabbed her by the wrist. “Come on,” I said, taking off at a run for the back wall. Behind us, more shots rang out as Bodewell charged the guards.