Salvation

by Peter F. Hamilton

  Yuri looked up. Kohei’s smile faded.

  “Too easy,” Yuri declared.

  “Which part, the bit where we nearly got blown up? Come on, chief. We won.”

  “Savi didn’t.”

  “Chief, Poi Li will fire your arse.”

  “Why would Akkar walk into one of our hubs? He knew our facial recognition systems would send up red rockets.”

  “He was disguised.”

  “Yes. Superficially. And this is a man who is so paranoid about our digital security systems he doesn’t allow any internet-connected technology within a hundred meters of himself. So what does he do? Sends his lieutenant—in his customary suit—to scout the hub out. It was a shout. He wanted us to know he was coming.”

  “That’s ridiculous. If he knew there was a chance we’d grab him, he wouldn’t be carrying a satchel full of explosives.”

  “Right, and not forgetting a map with a big red cross on it, because what does that make him?”

  “I don’t get it.”

  Yuri grinned without humor. “Guilty. Without question, without the slightest ambiguity. He was going to blow up Connexion’s headquarters. Us! He was coming for us. Guilty.”

  “I’m not arguing.”

  “And what do we do with guilty psycho eco-terrorists?”

  “Rendition, by the looks of it.”

  “Yeah. He’s gone to join his friends. That’s what this was all about. He was never going to blow anything up.”

  “Okay, so he’s joined them. Or he’s dead, if it turns out we really are on the side of the fascist psychos.”

  “But how did he know they’re all missing?”

  “There’s been nothing about his people raiding the Kintore maintenance depot in the news streams, no Connexion managers bragging about arrests, no prosecutors grandstanding that charges are pending. He had to know we’ve disappeared them.”

  “True. But you’d have to know, really fucking know, if you’re going to pull a stunt like this. Akkar isn’t stupid. He’s not going to gamble his life on some piece of hyped-up underground propaganda. He must have been completely certain.”

  “How? Nobody knows.”

  “We know—because of her.” Yuri stared at the picture of Savi. And in his mind the puzzle silently resolved itself, every factor slipping neatly together.

  Boris obediently changed the picture of Savi at his command.

  “And so does he,” Yuri said, pointing at Callum Hepburn. “He knows his fiancée is missing. What happens when you put those two facts together? A member of Connexion’s undercover security team and the company’s fanatical opponents both vanishing in the same incident. You’d know there is a huge dark operation in play.”

  “But how would Akkar ever know Savi is one of ours?”

  “Boris,” Yuri said calmly. “Access Callum Hepburn’s Connexion travel account.”

  “Online,” Boris replied.

  “How many times has Hepburn visited Kintore?”

  “Five times in the last three days.”

  “Oh, shit,” Kohei whispered.

  “And when was the last time he arrived in Kintore?” Yuri asked.

  “Seven hours ago.”

  “Has he left yet?”

  “No.”

  * * *

  —

  “Why here?” Kohei asked as they approached the Warbi Crude Metal Corp warehouse.

  “The other piece of this that makes absolutely no sense,” Yuri said. “Dimon knew we’d identified him. Why run here?”

  “It’s where they’ve been hiding out.”

  “Most likely, but he led the drones here. And he’d got it screened with electronic warfare protection. Nobody could see what was going on inside. All communications were down.”

  “That didn’t stop the Arizona S and E team.”

  “Didn’t it?” Yuri had been reviewing the copied drone files as they walked through Kintore. The video images showed him sixteen armored figures entering the warehouse. Then the minutes ticked away, with the drones carefully holding station above the warehouse, until the electronic jamming was switched off. The drones’ secondary data table reported all sixteen of the team linking to Connexion Security with secure encryption, sending in personal video feeds and basic telemetry.

  “Confirm target detention,” the Arizona S & E team reported. “No casualties.”

  They emerged triumphant. Two of them were escorting Dimon. Three more were carrying the modules of electronic countermeasure systems. The remaining eleven completed a sweep of the warehouse, confirming there were no further hostiles.

  Dimon was put into one of the big four-by-fours, and the team departed.

  “I bet those vehicles are fitted out with a portal door in the back,” Kohei said. “That way, you can send prisoners directly to North Korea, or wherever they’re being stashed. Be useful if there’s more trouble than you’re expecting, too. Just bump the S and E team numbers up directly from their barracks.”

  “I think you’re right,” Yuri said.

  They reached the warehouse door. The Arizona team had broken it down when they went in after Dimon, then resecured it with a padlock and chain when they left. Yuri produced a power knife from his pocket and sliced through a link in the chain. He and Kohei took out their pistols and slipped inside.

  There were no windows. Apart from maintenance crew inspections, people didn’t work in the warehouse. It was all automated by an old G2Turing. Floor-to-ceiling shelving racks ran the length of the building, holding big drums of liquid metal crude of every type. They were held ready for the large-scale printers out at the airfield maintenance depot, which could fabricate any of the moving components in the civil engineering machines that were abraded by the desert’s infernal dust. A meter-diameter portal door was installed at one end of the building, with a conveyor belt leading through it back to Warbi Crude Metal Corp’s main refinery in Japan. A couple of forklift truckez slid silently along the long aisles, placing newly arrived drums on the shelves, their bright amber safety strobes the only light in the warehouse.

  Yuri glanced around the eerie building where strobes sent sharp-edged shadows leaping across every surface. His screen contact lenses were trying to compensate for the darkness with an amplified image, but the strobes were disrupting the program. “Boris, can you interface with the warehouse Turing, get some lights on in here?”

  “The warehouse light circuits have been physically disabled,” his mInet reported. “The fault has been logged with the company maintenance office, and a repair crew is scheduled to arrive in ten hours’ time.”

  “Damn,” Yuri grunted—though it did confirm his suspicions.

  They started edging forward, pistols held ready. Illumination lights mounted on the barrels sent out powerful but slim beams of white light.

  “Why this place?” Kohei asked. “These racks channel you. There’s nowhere to hide.”

  “Yeah, but Dimon rigged it with a jammer. He knew this was going to be his last stand.”

  “What are you thinking, chief?”

  “I’m thinking he deliberately lured our people here.”

  “But we got him.”

  Yuri glanced around at the drums towering over him. “The Arizona S and E team were out of contact with each other. All they had were helmet-mounted infrared beams and light amplification goggles.”

  “He could see them coming?”

  “Not just him.” Yuri looked up and down the aisle, then lowered his pistol. “Hey!” he shouted. “Anyone here? We’re from Connexion Security. Can you hear us?”

  Kohei was giving him a puzzled look. “Who are you expecting, some more of Akkar’s group?”

  “No.” Yuri shook his head. “Hey, are you in here? If you can’t shout, make some kind of noise.”

  “What—�
��

  Yuri put a finger to his lips. “Shush. Listen.”

  It was faint, but definite—a soft thudding sound.

  “What is that?” Kohei murmured.

  “Okay,” Yuri called. “We hear you. Keep making the noise. We’ll find you.”

  They carried on down the aisle, then went back up the next one. The noise was originating somewhere just along the third aisle. Both of them knelt down, shining their pistol beams through the slim gaps between the drums of crude.

  “There’s space behind here,” Kohei exclaimed. “Something’s moving in there. I can’t see what.”

  They had to shift three barrels aside before there was a space wide enough for Yuri to crawl through. The back of the rack was covered in a thin metal mesh that had been fixed to the struts with gaffer tape. Faraday cage, Yuri realized with reluctant admiration. It’ll block any grain signals, but passively; doesn’t show up on a sensor scan. His power knife sliced through it, and he peered into the narrow gulf between the racks. A man in a t-shirt and shorts was lying on the concrete, looking like he’d been cocooned in gaffer tape. As well as tape binding his limbs, a big strip was across his mouth. More tape secured his shoulders to the rack’s struts. The only part of his body he could move were his legs; he’d been pounding his ankles on the concrete.

  Yuri wormed his way in. “This is going to hurt,” he warned, and pulled the tape from the man’s mouth in a fast jerk.

  “Motherfucker!”

  “Who are you?” Yuri asked.

  “Phil. Phil Murray.”

  “You’re from the team we sent in after Dimon, aren’t you?”

  “Yeah,” Phil said furiously. “Arizona S and E squad seven. Our comms were out. Bastards must’ve jumped me. I think I got tasered. What’s happened?”

  “Where’s your armor?”

  “I don’t know. I woke up like this. Fuck, I’ve been here for hours, man. It’s…not good. Get me out of here.”

  Yuri checked his screen lens display. There was no signal. “One minute.” He pushed his way back out through the rack.

  “Hey, don’t fucking leave me! Get your ass back in here.”

  The internet icon came back on as soon as Yuri was back in the aisle. He gave his knife to Kohei. “Cut him loose.”

  “You got it, chief.”

  “Boris, call Poi Li, emergency priority.”

  “Confirmed.”

  “What is it?” Poi Li asked straight away.

  “They stung us.”

  “What?”

  “Callum Hepburn and Akkar. We didn’t catch Akkar and Dimon, they caught us. The warehouse was a trap. They snatched Phil Murray when the Arizona team’s comms were down. We’ve just found him, without his armor. I’m guessing Callum is wearing it, escorting Dimon to whatever rendition site you bury our opponents away in.”

  “Holy fuck!”

  It was the only time Yuri had ever heard his ice queen boss swear, which he found strangely satisfying. “You going to tell me what the hell is going on now?”

  * * *

  —

  Wherever the facility was, it looked like it was deep underground. The corridor’s walls, floor, and ceiling were all concrete, with ribs of more concrete reinforcing it every ten meters. Utilitarian ducts ran along the ceiling, carrying thick bundles of cable. Air grilles gusted dry, stale air down constantly.

  Akkar and Dimon had been dressed in quilted black-and-green jumpsuits and calf-high boots, their wrists cuffed in high-security steel restraints. They were marched along past identical metal doors. Six Arizona S & E guards wearing full body armor with helmets and carrying snub-nosed carbines were escorting them.

  The group stopped outside a blank door no different from any of the others. It slid open, and the guards nudged them in.

  The room awaiting them was about twenty meters long and seven wide. There was a broad window in one wall, revealing a small control room with three consoles, all occupied by technicians. A thick conveyor belt ran down the center of the room, leading directly to a portal door set against the wall at the far end. It was dark, with small purple scintillations erupting across the surface, indicating it was active but not open. Four yellow plastic cylinders, one and a half meters high, sat on the conveyor belt.

  In the control room, the lead technician peered through the glass. “Stand by,” he said, his voice booming out of the speakers. “Get the flotation jackets on them.”

  “The what?” Akkar said in alarm.

  Two carbines swung around to point directly at his chest. One of the escorts picked up a pair of orange flotation jackets that were lying on the end of the conveyor belt.

  “Opening the portal,” the technician announced.

  “I can’t swim,” Akkar said.

  “You go through with or without the jacket,” a guard said. “Your choice, but you are going through. We’ve done this a hundred times already.”

  The scintillations in the portal door faded away. The darkness became a misty gray, revealing nothing. Air from the room started to flow through it. The ceiling grilles hissed loudly as more air was pumped in to compensate.

  One of the guards walked over to the portal door and peered through.

  “Careful, Phil,” another said. “Not so close. Ain’t no way back.”

  “Lowering the exit,” the technician said.

  “What is this?” Akkar demanded, his voice rising as his cuffs were unlocked. “Where are you sending us?”

  “Shut up, and put the fucking life jacket on, tough guy.”

  “Watch the belt,” the technician said. “I’m starting it up. The survival pods will go through first.”

  The metal door opened. Poi Li stepped into the room, five armed security personnel fanning out around her, pistols held ready. “This operation is canceled,” she snapped. “Close the portal. Do it.”

  All three technicians in the control room stared at her in surprise. The conveyor belt started to move, carrying the four cylinders along.

  “Escort guards, stand down,” she ordered. “Remove your helmets. Now. You, by the portal, step away.”

  The guard who’d been staring into the emptiness beyond the portal door stood perfectly still in front of it.

  “Take your helmet off,” Poi Li ordered.

  His hand went up slowly, gripped the helmet rim, and lifted it off. Callum smiled at Poi Li, then flipped backward through the portal.

  “No!” Poi Li yelled.

  The gray mist on the other side of the portal door swallowed him immediately, leaving no trace.

  * * *

  —

  The call came in to Brixton seventy minutes after Moshi Lyane started his shift. “We need an on-the-ground assessment at the Berat plant,” Fitz said. “The fire’s starting to spread.”

  “Where the hell is Callum?” Dokal asked. “He should have been here an hour ago.”

  The crew exchanged glances across the office. They didn’t say anything.

  “We can handle this,” Moshi said. “It’s just an assessment.”

  Dokal glanced through the glass into the Monitoring and Coordination Center. Fitz was standing up at his console, hands on hips, giving her an impatient stare.

  “Corporate has authorized our presence,” she said. “All right. Moshi, take it.”

  He grinned reassuringly. “We’re on it.”

  “Somebody tell me where Berat is,” Colin complained.

  Raina slapped him on the shoulder as they headed for the door. “Albania.”

  “Want to know where that is?” Henry asked.

  He was shown two vigorous fingers.

  They quickly dressed in their hazmat suits and strode through Connexion’s portal door network. Plans of the old chemical plant were thrown up across Moshi’s screen lenses. They showed him t
he fire approaching a cluster of storage tanks. Lists of the compounds they used to hold appeared.

  “They’ll be trouble to vent,” Alana said. “It’s just residuals, sticking to the casing.”

  “Let’s find out,” Moshi said, and stepped through the last portal. “Going in now, Fitz.”

  He found himself in a long courtyard formed by high, dilapidated buildings that had been abandoned years before. The portal door was surrounded by ten paramilitaries wearing full body armor. Each of them was leveling a carbine on the crew as they stepped out. Moshi’s mInet reported a loss of connection with the Brixton Monitoring and Coordination Center. “Oh, crap.”

  Colin, Alana, Henry, and Raina pressed together around him.

  Behind the ring of paramilitaries, a big gray four-by-four was parked in the shade. Yuri Alster stood beside it. “You can all take your helmets off,” he said. “There is no fire.”

  Moshi pushed his visor up. “What’s going on?”

  Yuri walked right up to him. “Please don’t be insulting. You know why you’re here.”

  “Fuck you,” Raina snarled.

  “Ms. Jacek,” Yuri said. “Fashionable rebel to the end.”

  She spat on the ground.

  “You were all in Kintore six hours ago,” Yuri continued levelly. “You’ll be glad to know your plan worked. Callum is with his fiancée.”

  “Wife,” Moshi said.

  “Excuse me?”

  “Savi is his wife.”

  “Ah, that explains a lot. Well, it doesn’t matter now. I know you all helped him. Your travel logs showed us you were all in Kintore ten hours ago.”

  “Proves nothing,” Alana said.

  “We’re not in court,” Yuri said. “And, sadly, you’re already dead in this terrible fire.” His hand waved expansively at the empty, sun-soaked courtyard.

  “Bastard!” Raina screamed. “I’m not some eco-warrior that you can disappear. I have friends, family.”

  “Yeah, it was all very fucking tragic,” Yuri said. “The fire at the chemical plant reached some chemical drums that exploded. You were all killed. The coffins will be sealed, to spare your families.”