by LC Champlin
“That’s our intent.” Nathan commandeered the mouse to scroll down. Nothing interesting appeared.
“I just hope we don’t end up with some chrome goo situation where these machines multiply—”
“Badal,” Nathan cut him off, “we already have cannibals multiplying. I think that’s good enough for whoever designed this.”
“I wish we could talk to them,” Badal muttered.
++++++++++++
Albin guided the skiff close to shore, watching the depth-finder readings. “Marvin, what do you see?”
Bridges looked up from the drone controller. He wore the glasses common to Kenichi-san’s interactive inventions. They would display the drone’s footage superimposed on the view of the real world. “It’s just gotten over the marina. There doesn’t seem to be—Wait!” He held up his hand, his attention on the camera images. “There are a couple boats pulling up to the dock. A few more are coming behind. They don’t seem to be docking, though.”
“Are they military?”
“Let me zoom in. Oh.”
Albin spared his attention from the controls for a moment. Behind him, the economist had turned sallow, as if he fought the urge to vomit.
“They’re—They’ve got guns and armor. They look like a SWAT team, but I don’t think they are.”
“Are they similar to the SWAT members at the harbor who executed the murderers?”
“They’re . . . Aw, shit.” Bridges froze. Then, thawing, he slouched as he shook his head. “You’re not going to believe this. It’s Red Chief.”
Albin brought the throttle to zero. “Excuse me?” He turned to face Bridges. “Mr. Serebus reported that he killed Red Chief.”
“Look.” Bridges offered the glasses and controller.
Albin held up a hand as he reached for his radio. “Kuznetsov, there’s a disturbance at the marina. Pull off at the city harbor or other place where you can conceal the vehicle. We will inform you when we know more.”
“All right.”
Frowning, Albin accepted the drone controls. The camera view filled the glasses, transparent enough to view his surroundings behind the image. On the docks, which jutted northward into the Bay, armed men disembarked from low-riding watercraft. The invaders wore the Red Devil Goats’ characteristic dark fatigues, plate carriers, and masks. “I do not see Red Chief.”
“At the back, farthest to the east.”
Adjusting the camera bought the area into focus. A tall, wiry man with a grinning red skull on his mask leapt onto the dock. He gestured to his comrades. ‘Yes, it appears Mr. Serebus exaggerated the report of Esau Seir’s death.”
“What do we do?” Bridges asked, cracking his knuckles in a maladaptive effort to relieve his anxiety. “They’ll take that area, and then Nathan will probably work with them—”
“I highly doubt Mr. Serebus and Red Chief will work together again.”
“Why is he here? Wait, the harbor!” He looked eastward, where the Harbor of Redwood City lay. “If he can control it, then he’s got a landing area. Cargo ships come in there, according to the map.” He turned a shade greener at this. “Those shipping containers . . .”
“If Red Chief is using them, they may have human cargo.” Silence dropped over the men like a cloak, suffocating and oppressive. Memories of wearing chains and enduring a beating beside Carolyn and Mr. Serebus while inside one of the containers bombarded Albin’s mental faculties. The experience did not bear repeating.
“We can’t let him do that.” Bridges looked down, the burden of realization bringing with it the dual burden of duty. “But what can we do to stop him?”
“Nothing.”
“But we—”
“Though we are unable to stop him, we may be able to put him to use.”
Chapter 57
On the Line
Guilty – Rag’n’Bone Man
“Eh?” Squinting in confusion, Bridges pressed his thumb into the bridge of his nose. “Red would just as soon shoot us in the face as give us the time of day! Unless . . .” He straightened. “Wait, wait! Do you think you can manipulate him into—”
“Unless I have severely misjudged him,” Albin interrupted, his attention on the water ahead, “he has a score to settle with Mr. Serebus.”
“I still think he’s more interested in killing us than talking about Nathan.”
“We will use the drone to parlay with Red Chief. Recall it.”
“I guess it’s worth a try. It’s not like we have a lot of options.”
As they waited for the drone to return, Albin withdrew a Ziploc bag and a sheet of paper from a compartment in one of the boat’s seats. He wrote: If you wish to settle accounts with Nathan Serebus, contact me now. The radio channel followed.
“Here.” Bridges produced a bag of sinkers from the fishing-tackle box in another seat compartment. He dropped several into the Ziploc with the note.
The drone soon came into view with the beehive buzzing of rotors. After landing the craft, he proceeded to fit the bag into the claw on the underside.
Then they sent the aerial vehicle back into the sky with Bridges at its controls. Meanwhile, Albin guided the skiff to the shore.
“Ready . . .” Bridges turned the controller screen for Albin to watch. Below the drone, Red Chief marched down the dock as his men ranged about the Villas at Bair Island community.
A reticle appeared on the screen. “Aim . . . Bombs away!” With Red Chief in the crosshairs, Bridges opened the claw. The Ziploc bag dropped at its recipient’s feet. The mercenary leapt back, as did his nearest comrade. When he realized that a paper rather than a grenade had fallen from the sky, he stooped to retrieve it. Looking about, he unfolded the note. Then he looked up, but Bridges had relocated the drone. At its current height, the craft turned silent and invisible.
Even so, Red Chief waved at the sky as if he could see the drone. He pointed to the paper, then punched his fist into the sky, thumb up. He reached to adjust the radio at his belt.
Albin depressed the transmit button on his own radio. “Red Chief. Esau Seir.”
As Red scanned the area, he replied in his heavy Southern drawl, “That sounds like Blondie the Brit. How you been, boy? What’s the matter, you and your best bud have a squabble?”
“If you want revenge, he is now leading Redwood Shores. However, there is a high probability that he will be in your area shortly. He is searching for a building in which to conduct research on the data that he stole from you.”
“Yeah? And how do I know this ain’t some trick that you fuckers set up? ’Cause that sounds pretty suspicious.” His free hand slid into the backstrap of his pistol grip. “I got me better things to do than fuck around with you idiots.”
“If I meant this as a trap, I would have dropped an improvised explosive device rather than a note, or fired upon you with a sniper. You must also ask yourself how we could have known you plan to strike here. Until this point, we believed you dead.”
Nodding, the mercenary appeared to consider the words. “So, y’all had a lover’s quarrel, and now ya want me to step in an’ settle it. Well, I’ll see if I can fit you into my busy schedule. When do you think Hotshit’s coming over here?”
“Soon, as I have already stripped him of his first choice of research facilities.”
“I’ll b’lieve it when I see it.” Red Chief displayed his middle finger to the drone.
++++++++++++
Albin gazed from the inventor’s office window, silent. The encounter with Red left the attorney numb.
“You don’t play around,” Kenichi-san remarked over the radio. “Are you really sure you want this terrorist mercenary involved?”
Mr. Serebus had claimed the Red Devil Goats knew of his group’s location at the Oshiro because Kenichi-san had alerted the mercenaries. No proof for the accusation existed, however. “At present, Mr. Serebus will not stop until a greater force intervenes to halt him.”
�
�It looks like you’re moving along nicely. You know what I just remembered? I have a satellite phone in the office! I don’t know how I could have forgotten.” The sarcasm in the words came through with clarity.
“How indeed.”
“It’s in the vent behind my desk. Just pull out the front. Use it outside for better reception. Have fun. I wish you luck.
“By the way, watch out for Izanami-no-Mikoto. Bye!”
Izanami? Kenichi-san hadn’t meant the yacht. With the inventor, however, one never knew if he spoke literally or figuratively.
Bridges already moved for the vent, shaking his head. “Aren’t we special? We have a rare item now. My, what will I spend my skill points on at the next level? I’m thinking I’ll put some into speaking with animals. Then I can talk to the cockroaches, and they’ll tell me where Ken hid all the good shit.”
Attention half on the window, Albin moved to the economist’s side. After pulling the grate free, Bridges removed a satellite phone from the duct space. “And what are we supposed to do with this? Call 9-1-1?”
“May I?” Albin held his hand out. “You may have your turn after I finish.”
“Uh, sure. Have fun.”
He made his way downstairs, then out into the dwindling sunlight. Would this attempt finally succeed? His hands shook as he dialed.
It rang once, twice, thrice. His heart rate increased with each ring. “What can be the matter?”
Then—
“Hello?”
Relief as overwhelming as a tsunami struck Albin, forcing him to lean against the building’s wall.
“Janine, this is Albin.”
Chapter 58
Party Line
Human - The Killers
“Albin! Thank goodness!” Janine laughed, but it became indistinguishable from a sob. “I . . . I thought you two might be dead—or worse. I saw some of the news, and I didn’t want to think the worst, but . . . I know Nathan can take care of himself, and you certainly can too, but against terrorists? And cannibals? And of course he has to get right in the middle of it. That’s my Nathan, with his shield or on it. Are you two safe?”
“I . . . We are both safe, yes. Did you not receive any voicemails on the satellite phone or your mobile?”
“No. Phone service has been unreliable, and I haven’t been able to check the sat phone.”
Why could she not access the satellite phone? “Are you not at the upstate residence? Are you and David safe?”
“We’re fine, don’t worry. But what’s the matter? You hesitated when I asked if you were all right.” Her voice snapped taut like a tripwire. “Is there something else?”
“It’s Mr. Serebus. He is . . .” Albin’s mouth went dry.
“He’s what? You said you were safe. Either you are safe or you are not.”
How could he explain the situation so as not to invite a thousand more questions? If he hedged, he would draw her ire, and for good reason. In addition, distracting her with concern for her husband would place her in danger; she required all of her concentration to navigate whatever chaos consumed New York City and its environs. Even if she knew every detail of the past week’s events, she could not assist her husband or Albin.
“We are unable to find transportation to New York for at least another week and a half. Even beyond that, I am uncertain when we shall be able to return.”
“I see. Of course. It’s not like you can book a flight out of SFO or LAX. Albin, please watch over Nathan for me. I know he’s stubborn, but he’ll listen to you—he always does. Keep him from doing anything stupid.”
“I will do so to the best of my ability.”
“Where is he? Why isn’t he calling?”
“He would very much like to, but he is indisposed at the moment. I only gained access to the satellite phone in the last few minutes. I will instruct him to call at his earliest availability.” If he had said convenience, she would have responded with exactly how she felt about her husband relegating her to his convenience.
“He’s not with you?”
Blast it. He could argue in court and in the boardroom, but when he debated Janine Crevan Serebus, he found himself swimming against a riptide. Graduate degrees in psychology and marketing provided her with a distinct advantage, not to mention she had known him since she was eight years of age.
“He is gathering supplies for Redwood Shores, a neighborhood in Silicon Valley. They have provided shelter.”
“I thought he was with the government. How does he expect to fly out of if he’s not with the authorities?”
“They are aware of his location.”
“The news mentioned he’d been injured, though not severely—”
“It was minor: he sustained three broken ribs.”
“And I’m sure he’s handling that well.” Sarcasm weighted the words. “Listen to me, Albin, keep an eye on him. He gets surly when he’s in pain.”
He licked his dry lips. “I am aware. You are certain that you and David are safe?”
“Of course.” Her tone suggested she found the thought that either of them would come to harm ridiculous. “Hang on, Davie wants to say hi.”
A pause, then the boy’s voice: “Unc’ Conrad?”
A grin came to Albin’s features, flexing long-neglected muscles. “I’ve missed you, Wolverine.” Mr. Serebus had bestowed the title upon his son, stating the boy embodied the indomitable beast’s best traits.
“Are you ’n’ Dad coming home?”
“We will come as soon as we are able. In the meantime, be good. Listen to your mother.”
“Okay.”
Janine resumed control of the phone from the almost-four year old: “Keep me in the loop. I don’t want to be one of those wives who finds out on social media that her husband is a news item. Or in this case, even more of a news item. Keep him safe, Albin. I’m counting on you. And don’t do anything stupid yourself, trying to prove something. Use that logical English head you have on your shoulders.” Though five years Albin’s junior and eight years her husband’s, Janine held no qualms about dispensing wisdom. Rarely had Albin known her to err.
“I shall.”
“Tell him I love him, and that the wolverine and the stupid dogs send their love. Albin, I love you, too. Do you hear me?”
“I will deliver your message. Mr. Serebus sends his love as well.”
“Say it.”
With a smile, he looked to heaven. “You have my love as well, Janine. Be careful. We will call when we are able.”
“You’d better. I don’t like being kept in the dark.”
The line went silent.
Albin stared at the screen for some time after.
+++++++++++
Nathan and Amanda strolled along the sidewalk beside what the Redwooders called “the desalinization plant.” Late-afternoon sun glowed on the plastic sheeting that covered wading pools and other large containers. Several driveways now hosted the evaporation collection units. The facility provided clean, salt-free water to the neighborhood as a supplement to the tap water they purified with bleach. This eased the burden of the city’s water rationing.
One of Mrs. Wong’s followers—the brunette who had opposed the alliance with the north shore residents—worked on their area, as they’d been assigned. They alone possessed the duty to maintain their tents. They had, however, begun a plant of their own at their end of the neighborhood. Their pseudo island lay at the end of Marlin, spreading parallel to the main shore.
“I just received a message from the people across the channel,” Nathan remarked to Amanda as he stopped to admire the residents’ progress.
“Why didn’t I hear about it?” She folded her arms and eyed him askance.
“It was only a few minutes ago. They’ve decided they want our help now. They’re asking for supplies, since they’ve had a raid recently. But I don’t think that should tax us too heavily. They want to meet tomorrow to discuss arrangements
.” Lying to her rankled, but it would work out for the best.
“I’m glad they’re coming around to our side, but it will be tight getting them anything.”
He nodded. “It’s not something I’m happy about, but I think it will pay off.”
“And we can’t leave them to starve.”
Now for the payoff of the conversation: “I was talking with the researchers today, and they said they’re making headway with the device we found. All they need to do is attach it to a radio transmitter, set the frequency to full, and let the machine do the rest.”
“By do the rest you mean bring the cannibals.” By her tone, she thought this as sensible as chumming the waters for sharks before swimming. “I’m just glad we didn’t find any more around the neighborhood.”
“As am I. The researchers think we’ll be able to use it to draw the cannibals away if we have another attack. They’re looking for suitable locations to install it. In the meantime, I’ve had them work up an instruction pamphlet so we can deploy it at a moment’s notice.” As he spoke, he avoided looking at Wong’s crony. Can you hear me now, you bastard?
“You have a guard, right? We don’t want that getting out.”
“I’m keeping it at the self-storage facility’s office. Nobody knows about it except the researchers, and they already have access to it. Besides, what would they do with it?”
“I suppose. It’s not like they’d want to bring cannibals here.” She snorted.
“Ridiculous, I agree.”
Wong’s toady looked up from working on her tent, eyes narrowed. Yes, she had heard. Good. Even if she didn’t take the bait, she would serve a purpose by proving Wong lacked the will to attack.
Win-win plans felt so satisfying.
Chapter 59
Treaties
Fight Song - Rachel Platten
A wasp-like buzz roused Albin from his reverie. He dashed into the safety of the building. When only silence followed, he edged back to the door.