Influx

by Daniel Suarez

  Given that it had probably saved their lives, she couldn’t bring herself to scold him.

  Eventually they clambered over a dusty HVAC duct to emerge from the tunnels onto the basement floor of another university building. Here there were long cellars lined with stacks of building materials.

  “This is Pupin—the physics building. We’re far enough away that we should be able to leave unseen.”

  “But to where?”

  Grady shouldered his rucksack but seemed unsure of the answer.

  Davis paced. “I need to figure out how to explain this to my superiors.” She held up a hand. “I know something has happened. I believe that much. I just—”

  “Cotton. Cotton is the key.”

  She looked at him quizzically.

  “Get me a private conversation with Richard Cotton—on camera. He’s BTC. He knows who I am.”

  “Cotton is BTC?”

  “Trust me. He is.”

  “He’s facing life in prison without possibility of parole. What could you offer?”

  “I don’t believe he’ll really stay in prison. But if the BTC thinks he’s become an informer, he’d be in serious danger—and he knows that. If I can use that threat to turn Cotton—if he thinks they’re after him already—then he might help us.”

  “Assuming what you say is true, we’d need powerful political allies.” She pondered it. “I’ll try to arrange the Cotton interview. Although I’m going to have trouble from something I left behind us.”

  Grady squinted suspiciously. “What do you mean?”

  “I lied earlier. Someone did contact me after I ran your prints. FBI senior brass. They sent me here to meet you—with a pair of blond twins from the D.C. office and a whole team I never saw. They were supposed to grab you when you appeared.”

  He studied her. “But you didn’t turn me in. Why?”

  “I don’t know. Something didn’t add up.”

  “So what’s our next move?”

  “We separate. For safety—I can’t protect you right now, anyway. And I can’t stay here in New York.”

  “But you will help me?”

  “Yes. Let’s meet back in Chicago—where Cotton is. Can you get back there all right? Do you need money?”

  “I’ve got money.”

  “Can you move safely?”

  “The Resistors taught me how to evade BTC surveillance. I can be a crazy homeless man. Tinfoil hat—the whole nine yards.”

  “Okay. I have a partner—Thomas Falwell. You can trust him. There’s a skid row district just a few blocks from the federal courthouse in Chicago—Harrison and State Streets. My partner will find you.”

  Grady tugged at her sleeve. “Don’t trust any electronic communications. Don’t even speak about this inside any federal building.”

  “I’ll take extra precautions.”

  Grady extended his hand. “I appreciate you taking a chance on me, Agent Davis.”

  She shook his hand. “I don’t know if I believe my own eyes, but if all this is true, I will defend you with my life, Mr. Grady.”

  A female voice from the darkness startled them. “You’ll never turn Richard Cotton into an informant, Jon.”

  Davis and Grady both turned to see a beautiful woman with black hair and piercing blue eyes emerge into the cone of a basement light nearby. Davis had never seen a woman so beautiful before. And the woman appeared to have good taste in clothing, too, because her jacket and slacks draped perfectly on her statuesque frame. She exuded style. Charisma.

  Grady stepped back in obvious fear. “Alexa. How did you find me?”

  “Reasoned deduction—something Morrisons aren’t very good at. A young Jon Grady was arrested for trespassing in the Columbia University steam tunnels. This is where they found his makeshift tent.”

  Seeing the terrified look on Grady’s face, Davis drew her Glock 17 and aimed it with both hands as the woman calmly approached. “Hands! FBI!”

  The beautiful woman cocked an eyebrow at Davis.

  Grady was still speechless.

  “Mr. Grady. Leave. I’ll take her into custody.”

  He hesitated.

  “Leave, damnit!”

  Grady nodded. “Be careful. She’s been genetically enhanced.”

  Davis frowned after him as he ran off into the darkness. “What do you mean ‘genetically enhanced’?”

  The beautiful woman watched him go and started to move after him.

  Davis raised the gun with focus. “Ah! Don’t move! I will shoot you.”

  The woman was perhaps ten feet away now. She gave Davis a sideways look. “I’m a federal officer, too. That man is a fugitive.”

  “Show me your credentials.” Davis fumbled for her cell phone, but a glance showed there was no signal.

  The woman raised her hands. “Unfortunately, my credentials are classified.”

  “Then you’re under arrest. Turn around. Hands on your head.”

  The woman complied, turning her back to Davis. “Mr. Grady isn’t what he says he is.”

  “Quiet!” Davis produced handcuffs from her belt and approached the woman. But was also surprised by how incredibly aroused she suddenly became—a hot flash spreading over her skin. Davis tried to follow procedure for a solo arrest, to clap a handcuff over the woman’s right wrist while keeping the gun aimed. But she couldn’t concentrate. What she really wanted to do was kiss this Alexa on the back of the neck.

  Then, in a blindingly fast move, the woman somehow twisted around and pulled the gun straight out of Davis’s hand—and then cast it off into the blackness, where it clattered amid stored equipment.

  “Like I said: We’re not enemies.” The woman glanced over at the exit door. “Now if you’ll excuse me.”

  Davis moved to block her way. “We’re not finished. Alexa, is it?”

  “You don’t want to fight me, Agent Davis.”

  “You’re under arrest. We can do this the easy way or the hard way.”

  “But we’re on the same side.”

  “I don’t think so.” Davis tried to keep her thoughts straight. She felt guilty for her lustful thoughts as her own girlfriend’s face came to mind. She loved Tracy. She wanted to start a life with her.

  But just then Alexa lunged toward Davis and muscle memory kicked in. Davis had a second-rank black belt in Krav Maga, and she’d used it in real life-and-death situations before. As Alexa struck toward Davis’s solar plexus, Davis dodged past and attempted to pull Alexa’s arm forward.

  But instead, Davis felt several crushing blows to the side of her head. She found herself getting up from the ground, covered in dust, with a bleeding lip and ringing ears. She interposed herself again to block Alexa from giving chase to Grady. “Hey!” She kept a distance between them but with hands ready.

  Alexa frowned. “I don’t want to hurt you, Agent Davis. You seem very dedicated.”

  “Good. Don’t move.” Davis knelt quickly to claw a snub-nosed .38 from her ankle holster.

  By the time Davis pulled the gun, Alexa was already on her with one hand around Davis’s neck, the other crushing the wrist of her gun hand. It was an insane moment to feel thrilled to be grappling with this woman—thrilling at her touch. It had to be some form of temporary insanity.

  Alexa almost broke Davis’s wrist and then batted away the second gun, which flew off into the darkness.

  The woman seemed so slim, but her arms felt like they were woven from steel cabling. Their power was terrifying. She then threw Davis ten feet back, where Davis rolled upon the dirty floor—coming back onto her feet again.

  Alexa strode forward. “Can we please be done now?”

  Davis screamed, rushing in again, and feinted a blow to Alexa’s jaw—but at the last moment tried a vicious punch to her gut. En route Alexa effortlessly countered, then caught Da
vis’s fist with her open hand, twisting it and sending Davis to the dirt again.

  “It pains me to harm you.”

  “Fuck you.” Davis rolled free and came up swinging.

  Alexa batted aside Davis’s well-aimed blows and shot her hand forward around Davis’s throat—lifting her one-handed completely off the ground. As Davis felt herself being choked out, struggling to pull the rock-hard fingers from around her throat, Alexa’s gorgeous blue eyes stared without anger into hers.

  Davis had been a champion female boxer in the army. This baby-doll woman had just defeated her as if she were a five-year-old.

  “I really don’t want to harm you, Agent Davis. What we do is for the best. Trust us.”

  At that point Davis blacked out.

  • • •

  Grady pulled up his hoodie and slipped on a pair of modified safety goggles. These had near-infrared LEDs punched into their lenses at intervals. He’d cannibalized the LEDs from motion sensors bought at a home improvement store. Grady activated the LEDs from a battery pack, then blended into pedestrian traffic, walking briskly down 120th Street, across Amsterdam. He looked like a paranoid kook to passersby, but in New York that only encouraged people to ignore him—which suited his purposes.

  Grady now had to find a safe way back to Chicago, but compared to how things could have gone down, this was a minor problem. And at least he had something to hope for now. He’d convinced someone in law enforcement that he wasn’t insane. Someone honest.

  Grady casually glanced back behind him to make sure he wasn’t being followed.

  And was amazed to see Alexa about a hundred meters behind, sprinting toward him at an alarming rate.

  “Shit!”

  Grady pelted down the sidewalk. What the hell happened to Davis? As he ran, he glanced back and saw that Alexa was gaining on him with disconcerting ease. He needed to lose her. Grady dodged among pedestrians, looking for an alley to duck down or a door to enter, but every alley he came across had a tall metal gate with spiked rods above it. Every door was locked. Damn this upscale neighborhood. Everything was battened down tight.

  Grady kept running as he stole a glance behind.

  Alexa had already closed half the distance between them, and judging by the looks of those who gazed after her, every stranger in the street would be willing to come to her aid.

  A hundred feet ahead and across the street, Grady saw a broad alley. He raced toward it, dodging through traffic, and managed to reach the alley mouth before she caught up. He hoped there would be somewhere to hide or a gate he could jump, but to his dismay it was the cleanest alley he’d ever seen in New York—a delivery bay for high-end co-ops to either side and a dead end with a two-story brick building in front of him. There was a surveillance camera and a closed loading dock. He could already hear Alexa’s footsteps coming up behind him.

  He turned to face her and held up fists. He’d spent years in Hibernity. He had the video proof that Chattopadhyay had entrusted with him. He wasn’t going quietly. “I won’t let you take me back, Alexa.”

  He could see that half a dozen curious people—mostly men—had gathered ten yards behind them at the mouth of the alley.

  “Miss, you need help?”

  As Alexa came to a stop before him, not even breathing hard, she turned, smiled, and waved. “I’m fine, thanks. Just my brother.” She made a loony gesture with her hand, then turned back to face Grady—the smile disappearing.

  Grady could see that none of the men went away.

  He lowered his fists. It was a cruel mockery to have her come collect him. It wasn’t fair. He could feel how his legs were trembling. The fear was on him now as he remembered the AI torturing him—stealing his memories. “I won’t go back, Alexa. You’ll have to kill me.”

  She stood only a few feet away, arms casually down at her sides. “Why would I kill you, Jon?”

  “Because I can’t go back.” He was visibly shaking.

  “Of course you will. For your own safety.”

  He screamed at her, “How can you be this cruel?”

  “It’s not cruel. It’s necessary.”

  She moved forward, and Grady just collapsed onto the pavement, curling up—screaming, “No! No!”

  “Don’t make me force you.”

  He screamed at her—half out of his mind in terror, “How can you sleep at night? How can you be part of this?”

  Alexa grabbed his sweatshirt as he tried to curl up in a ball. “Jon, you were placed in Hibernity for your own protection—for everyone’s protection.”

  “For my own protection?” He glared at her. “Do you really believe that?” Grady pulled off his sweatshirt and T-shirt to reveal the horrendous scars spread across his back and sides—and then he pulled his LED glasses off to show her the drill marks at intervals at his temples where the AI had held his head in place like a vise.

  “Do you see this? Explain to me how being mentally and physically tortured for years in solitary confinement is for my own protection. Explain to me how destroying memories from my childhood is for the ‘greater good.’ Whose good?”

  Alexa’s eyes widened in apparent shock at the terrifying scars crisscrossing Grady’s body. Scars that had clearly been made with machine precision. Scars that weren’t there when he’d been sent to Hibernity.

  And as Grady watched her closely, Alexa seemed to shut down. The conflict between what she “knew” and the evidence before her seemed to physically stun her.

  Grady could see the look of amazement in her staring eyes. “Can Hedrick really be keeping you so in the dark?” He moved toward her. “Hibernity isn’t a prison, Alexa. It’s a research facility. They’re trying to build consciousness without free will. What they’re doing could doom all of us. Everyone. Can you really be so blind?”

  Alexa stood frozen—paralyzed. It seemed to Grady that she was suffering some sort of seizure. He waved his hand in front of her face but got no response.

  Grady panted in rage and fear, but the sight of his obvious torture apparently had rocked her perception of the world. He knew what it felt like to have one’s beliefs demolished, and his hatred of her relented.

  With just a moment’s hesitation Grady then grabbed his sweatshirt and donned his LED glasses. He stared warily back toward her as he walked away, slipping through the crowd of concerned men watching nearby.

  He was amazed when Alexa did not follow.

  CHAPTER 19

  Impasse

  Graham Hedrick stood in his cavernous office before a video wall. On it was the aging face of U.S. Director of National Intelligence Kaye Monahan. The image was decidedly less crisp than he was used to, but then, with her aging countenance, that was probably a blessing.

  The DNI shook her head calmly. “Mr. Hedrick, you must understand that from the U.S. government’s point of view the current situation is untenable.”

  Hedrick spread his hands. “But the BTC is part of the U.S. government, Madam Director.”

  “Conceived at a time of crisis—”

  “There’s always a crisis.”

  “—on what I consider a dubious legal foundation. And by any standard you’ve long ago exceeded your mandate.”

  “According to whom?”

  “According to the agency that created you and the Office of the Director of National Intelligence.”

  “Is that it then? You expect us to fall on our sword because you’ve all become so backward that it’s no longer fair?”

  “You refuse to follow U.S. law. You refuse to submit to legitimate civilian authority. You take unilateral actions overseas in direct violation of U.S. treaties and human rights.”

  He waved her off. “Don’t go on about law and human rights. None of us follow the law. Do I need to run through the vast catalog of criminality that is the covert world? It comes with the territory. If the law meant
anything, we’d all be facing criminal charges—you included.”

  She regarded him icily.

  Hedrick tried to conceal his utter contempt. He knew this person would be replaced in a couple of years by someone else—that was how democracy worked. It’s why democracy lacked continuity—resolve. He would outlast them. He always did.

  “The only reason I agreed to this conference call is because I want to avoid unnecessary ill will, Madam Director. You’ve been agitating for our subjugation ever since you learned of our existence—which is, what, four months ago now? Do you realize how long we’ve been here?”

  “Had I known—”

  “We can help each other, you and I.”

  “I’m well aware of the arrangements you’ve made with other intelligence organizations.”

  “Bear in mind: I don’t usually make the arrangements with leadership. Leadership comes and goes. Middle management tends to abide—and they’re much more useful in many ways.”

  “What are you implying?”

  “I’m saying you should back off. Don’t be so quick to rely on the people around you. Some of them resent the fact that there’s no professional route to the top job. No, instead, one has to rely upon the appointment of a fickle executive—who in turn is elected by a fickle public. A public that knows nothing.”

  The DNI glared. “Mr. Hedrick, our intelligence and defense communities are collectively much greater than your small organization—advanced though it may be.”

  “Are you?”

  “You must come back into the fold.”

  “Why would I submit to the leadership of inferior organizations?”

  “To keep your job. If the U.S. government has to force your hand, you can rest assured that you will not be in charge when the dust settles. You will be in federal prison.”

  “That’s amusing, Madam Director.”

  “Those are the facts. We will not tolerate the BTC as a rogue agency any longer. You must submit to legitimate authority. If you do, then you can remain in charge of the BTC. That’s the deal.”