Revolution: Book Three of the Secret World Chronicle - eARC

by Mercedes Lackey

  * * *

  Tears spilled down Vickie’s face; her vision blurred and she dashed the back of her hand across her burning eyes to clear them, and kept on typing. Her fault. Bruno was dead, and it was all her fault. Bull was right, she had sent him to die, and she had known he was right at the time, and she had done it anyway. Because the stakes were too high, and she had known that too. But that didn’t keep it from being her fault.

  Bulwark thought like a soldier and a cop. He assumed that once you had the evidence, everything would be fine. But Vickie thought like the sort of FBI agent her parents were; and she knew that evidence was never enough when it came to someone as slippery as Dominic Verdigris. There was no substitute for the credible witness in the stand, and no one would be more credible than Harmony—because given the right deal, she’d employ her acting ability to the utmost and no defense attorney would be able to shake her. That was why she had sent Bruno after the rogue assassin. And that was why she would never forgive herself for doing so.

  She ignored the tears, because it was the mission that was important, not her, and her part of the mission wasn’t over yet. There was still something more she could do. Verd was smart, experienced, savvy, but if she could manage to rattle him…“Grey, grow some hands,” she said hoarsely. “You’re a better video editor than I am and I’m going to need both of us on the boards.”

  The familiar sprang up beside her without a word; his paws elongated into raccoon-like hands, and he went to work on the video from the feeds and Harmony’s files. Meanwhile Vickie pulled up the hack-file to everything that called itself “the media” that she had kept in reserve for just this sort of occasion; when she was done with her data-dump, there would not be a single legitimate place for Dominic Verdigris to hide. And maybe, just maybe, he’d rabbit. Then it would be all over for him; running would be a tacit admission of guilt. She was under no illusions that more than a tenth of his operation would be shut down, of course. He operated inside so many shell companies that he wouldn’t lose more than a fraction of his net worth.

  But governments would drop their open associations with him like red-hot rocks, his legitimate businesses would be sanctioned or shut down, accounts would be frozen, assets seized, he’d have no one that would openly aid him, and from now on he’d have to operate from the shadows, within his criminal organizations only.

  And ECHO would be safe.

  It wasn’t enough, it wasn’t nearly enough, but at least it was something.

  You bought us that much, Bruno. Your friends will be safe again.

  * * *

  Dominic Verdigris had the jarring experience of hearing his own voice coming from the ranks of speakers around the plaza—speaking words entirely different from those he was mouthing into the microphone.

  Shocked, he whirled to stare at the Jumbotron, at video of himself, in his office; a bit fuzzy, taken from what must have been a button-cam, but unmistakably him.

  “So, Ms…Krait?” The Dom up there raised an eyebrow. “Helena Krait. A serpent name for a Blacksnake agent…why do I get the impression this isn’t your real name?”

  An off-camera voice replied with indifference. “I hardly think it matters what nom de guerre I use, as long as I get the job done.”

  “You have most assuredly, Ms Krait,” he heard himself saying, and watched himself leaning forward. “Very nice intel from the heart of ECHO itself. But I am the new boss, and I want more than that. You were Blacksnake’s prime assassin for quite some time as Agent Talisman. I’m reactivating you.”

  “And I presume you have a target?”

  “Indeed I do,” said the Dom in the video, leaning back in his chair. “I want you to take out Alex Tesla.”

  Dominic felt his mind freeze for a moment. Then he whirled and turned on Khanjar. “Get that off of there! Cancel that feed! Stop it!”

  Khanjar had one hand to her ear. “Can’t. Whoever is doing this is better than anyone you have, Dom—”

  The female voice from the feed was saying something else now. “This is Special Operative Talisman of Blacksnake, formerly known as ECHO Op Trainee Harmony. On this, the first year anniversary of the global invasion, Dominic Verdigris III attempted to assassinate a MARTA train full of ECHO veterans and their ECHO Op escorts by way of a bombing…”

  She was spilling it. She was spilling it all. And she was supposed to be dead! Why wasn’t she dead?

  Video of fighting on the Marta train, in the station, was being played as her damning words thundered across the plaza. Khanjar’s hand was at the small of his back, and she was shoving him towards the emergency exit, gesturing to the rest of his special security to follow. “Dom, I don’t know who this is, but he’s a genius. All of this is going direct feed to every possible news organization, political blog, and interested party across the planet and there is nothing we can do about it!” she hissed urgently as they sprinted for the innocuous vehicles they had held in reserve in case they needed them.

  His mind steadied. There had always been the possibility that one day he’d be outed. He hadn’t planned on it being of the sheer disastrous scope of this, but he’d set up for it. After all, he’d been a criminal before he went legit, and he wouldn’t lose more than a fraction of his assets now if he had to shed the legitimate side of his businesses. Hell with it. Being the billionaire playboy was a waste of time anyway. “Activate the poison-pill plan,” he snarled to Khanjar as she shoved him into the back seat of the getaway car. She nodded, and began issuing radio orders. “All Blacksnake. Pull back, pull out, retreat to safehouses. Operation Cyanide is now activated. Repeat…”

  * * *

  “Overwatch to all. Blacksnake is retreating. Verd is rabbiting. Repeat, Blacksnake retreating, Verd is escaping.”

  “Well, that is beink explain why offense changes to defense,” Red Saviour muttered to herself, as she watched the Blacksnake ops that had been pinning her down with a hail of fire suddenly begin withdrawing. “All CCCP! At them, my wolves! Capture is secondary!”

  From somewhere down the wrecked shopping complex she heard Untermensch scream his signature battle-cry. “Ura, ura, ura!”

  And from elsewhere, she heard over the link, the plaintive cry of Soviet Bear. “Retreating? What am I to be doing with all this C4?”

  * * *

  Bella glanced at Soviette, who nodded abruptly. “There will not be any prisoners, comrade, unless you take them,” the Russian said. “We can handle healings from here on.”

  Bella did not hesitate. “Overwatch, is there any chance I can get Verd?”

  “Not from where you are. I’ve already lost him. Bastard had a fleet of identical vehicles in an underground garage, killed all the cams in there and ditched his ECHO gear, so I couldn’t tell which one he got into. I’m tracking them, but I bet they all get to something I can’t track in the next five to fifteen. By the time I get a magical lock on him—if I can—he’ll be some place where I can’t get at him. Nearest team to you is Corbie, down one level and on the tracks.”

  “Roger that. I’m going to try and nail some alive.”

  “Either that, or you might catch up with the security team; I’d feel better if you locked down Harmony. I don’t think she has psi-defense.”

  Bella hesitated. Of the two…Harmony was the more important. “Roger that. Give me the rendezvous point.”

  If she had anything to say about it, Harmony was never again going to be able to move without throwing up her toenails. Messing up someone’s inner ear was trivial for Bella now. We may need you alive, bitch, but I don’t have to make it pleasant for you.

  * * *

  John Murdoch leaned back against a wall, and stared, exhausted, at his comrades. Red Saviour was grinning like a sated tiger. Soviet Bear was whooping it up. Mamona was jumping up and down, and where she’d found the energy, JM had no idea. Overwatch had just passed the word. Those of Blacksnake that were left were neutralized, Harmony was a prisoner, Verdigris had disappeared, and already the FBI and Inter
pol had him on the “most wanted” list, with the Federal and States Attorneys General cascading a series of warrants into the system as fast as they could be written up. Yankee Pride had declared himself “Operational CEO of ECHO,” with not a single dissenting voice.

  They had won. They had won.

  * * *

  Vickie felt the tide of guilt roll over her. Bruno was dead, and it was her fault. And yes, so were Rider, and Frank, and far too many others, but Rider and Frank had both known what they were doing, and what the cost was going to be. Bruno—Bruno she had sent to his death.

  Sobs fought themselves up out of her throat, and she grabbed a wad of Kleenex. There was no expiation for this. Bulwark had been right, and he, and Scope, would probably hate her until the day they died. Nor could she blame them. She hated herself. She hadn’t thought it possible to loathe herself more than she had, but it seemed there were no limits to how much she could hate herself.

  She heard a knock at her door.

  Whoever it was…damn it, it couldn’t be Bella, she knew where Bella was. Which meant whoever it was, it was someone she didn’t want to see. She thumbed the intercom, and brought up the camera.

  Bulwark.

  “Go away,” she said hoarsely. “Busy.”

  “Let me in, Victrix,” Bull said, quietly. “We should talk.”

  “We both know what you’re gonna say. Save time and file the after-action report stating that the loss of Operative Acrobat was my fault.” The words came out, harsh, stark, and ringing with truth. “I already have, so that will just confirm it. Now go away. You’re no good at blowing smoke up anyone’s ass anyway.”

  “You’re right,” he answered. “I tend to be straight with people, don’t I? So let me in, we should talk.”

  She thought about it, and blew her nose. “If I don’t let you in, you’re just gonna stand there all night, aren’t you?”

  “Stranger things have happened.”

  Nasrat. Wearily she dragged herself out of her chair, slumped to the door, and threw the locks. Might as well get this over with. This was going to be one of the nights she either sat awake until she passed out, or took pills until she passed out. Because, of course, she had Djinni’s geas on her and until this was over, or she was dead, there was no other alternative but to keep on with the job.

  She opened the door and stepped back. It had been a while since she had seen Bull in person. Intimidated by his sheer size, she shrank into herself, hunching over.

  “So, talk, then go away,” she said, turning away from him. She dabbed at her eyes. She must have looked a mess. Something else occurred to her. “Yes, I can take the Overwatch stuff out of you, and anyone else you want me to take it out of. Is that why you’re here?”

  If there’s no more Overwatch, does that mean…I’m off the hook to Djinni? No, CCCP is never gonna give it up. Saviour would eviscerate me if I took it away.

  Bull stared at her for a moment, stepped inside, and closed the door behind him. He scanned her apartment. It was surprisingly neat, but had the curiously neglected air of a room that hadn’t been lived in much for a while. The flat-screen TV, inset into the wall-to-wall bookshelves, had dust on it. So did the coffee table. There were no impressions in the chairs or the couch. It didn’t look as if anyone had touched the DVDs or books on the shelves in a long time. The only things that didn’t have a thin film of dust on them were the CDs, the controls of the audio system, and a couple of books in a shelf full of romance novels. The Overwatch tech in his eye obligingly zoomed in on them. The author was Victoria Nagy.

  “So what would you do then, if you gave up Overwatch?” he asked. “Leave ECHO? Go back to romance writing?”

  She snorted. “What makes you think I’d give up Overwatch? Bella will still want it, so will ECHO Med, and probably Pride and definitely all of CCCP. I’m on the hook until I die in the chair,” she added bitterly. “And I’ll probably get lots more people killed. And it won’t matter even if I am a hundred percent right in what I tell them, because it will still have been my words and my decision that got them killed. Happy now? You don’t have to punish me. I’m doing a fine job by myself.”

  “Happy?” he said. “Is that what you think of me, really? That I’m here to twist the knife? No, Victrix. You asked me if I wanted you to shut down Overwatch, so I’m asking what the point of that would be? I’m asking if that’s what you want?”

  “What I want is irrelevant. I made a…commitment.” She sat down abruptly on the nearest chair. “It’s not the sort of commitment I can just ditch.”

  “I learned an important lesson, not too long ago. What you want is the most relevant thing in your life. And for some, it would seem, in the entire universe.” Bull held up a hand. “Don’t ask. The reason I’m here is to see how you are, that’s all. So before you continue with your tirade on how I’m supposed to report you, to blame you, to demand you shut down Overwatch on my teams, can we start again? Victrix, how are you?”

  She felt her eyes burning. “I’m…so damn sorry. And sorrier that even if I’d known what was going to happen…I wouldn’t change the decision. Just some details.” Because she could actually think of some things she could have done, maybe. Magic stuff. Maybe pen Harm in with earthworks, or shield Bruno? “No matter what…it’s on me. Cause I’m the one that’s got all the info at my fingertips.”

  Bull considered that, and continued to stroll about her living room, pausing to look at the various pictures she had displayed on her wall. He stopped at one in particular.

  “You and your parents?” he asked, pointing to one faded, black and white portrait. “The Feds?”

  “Alexander and Moira Nagy, Division 39, FBI Metahuman, aka ‘Spook Squad.’” She paused. “That was right after I…oh hell, why not, you’ve seen weirder shit. Someone decided to make me ‘daddy’s little hostage.’ I pinned his hand to the table with a silver fork and barricaded myself in the bathroom until they got home. They took me out for steak and ice cream and a picture.”

  He bent over to get a closer look. “They look quite proud of you. That is a fetching dress, after all.”

  Vickie chuckled sadly. “I was six. Precocious little brat. Doing rudimentary magic at four.”

  “I suppose you always knew what it was you wanted to do, what you were good at, what you were meant for.”

  “…there was never a question.” She let out her breath in a long, long sigh. “If you’ve ever talked to any other sort of child prodigy, they’ll tell you the same thing. I can’t not do it.”

  Bull considered that too. “You got to know Bruno a little, before he and Scope went AWOL, didn’t you?”

  Tears came again. “I never knew anyone to want it as badly as I did before. I mean, all of it. The responsibility as well as the fun part. Even if he was a lot like a puppy that kept piddling on things and chewing the shoes, sometimes. You could see the heart of a mastiff in there, and you had to forgive him for the wee and…well, you know.”

  Bull nodded. “His greatest fear was that he wasn’t up to the job, that he wasn’t good enough. He was terrified that, in the end, he didn’t matter.” Bull shook his head. “You made the right call today, Victrix. It’s the mission that’s important. Acrobat was the only one who could have delayed Harmony. If he hadn’t intercepted her, she’d have been long gone.”

  “And it doesn’t help.” She reached blindly for tissues. “And I’m still sorry.”

  “Of course you are,” he said. “That’s who you are. You presume to take full responsibility for things that aren’t yours to take. You did what needed to be done today, and in case you didn’t notice, your efforts also saved hundreds if not thousands of lives. We can all claim some of the blame here, if you think about it. What I need you to remember is the mission. In case you haven’t noticed, you’re a vital part of it. We all have sacrifices to make here, and when the time comes that I make mine, I want you to promise to honor me, to remember me, but after the job is done. And don’t you dare blame yourse
lf or anyone else for it. You did your job today, Victrix, and you did a fine job.”

  She closed her eyes, and stiffened her spine. “You’re right, Operative Bulwark. The mission is what is important. The mission is all that is important.” She opened her eyes again. “I think you might know a lot more than you’re letting on. I do know you’ve seen the ‘Ides of March.’ We both know what the consequences of failure are.” She hoped he had forgiven her, at least a little. She thought he had. Unexpectedly, it helped.

  “We do,” Bull replied. “I think we have an understanding then. I’ll let myself out.”

  He crossed to the door, and as he opened it, Vickie got up. Wordlessly she let him out and closed the door behind him. He walked away at a brisk pace, and as he turned the corner to the stairs, he allowed a brief flash of anger to register on his face.

  “That was your call, Victrix, but it would never have been mine,” he muttered. He took a breath, and swallowed the pain. She could never know.

  It was the mission that mattered.

  Testament

  Mercedes Lackey

  Bella was more tired, and more grief-stricken than she had ever been in her life. And that did not matter. Because now that he was done explaining the background to the revolt, and laying out the original Charter, Yankee Pride was introducing her for the gathering of the ECHO vets here in the CCCP HQ, and all of the ECHO metas all over the world via closed sat-link.

  Why her? She didn’t know. Yank had only said “It has to be you. Spin Doctor said it couldn’t be anyone else.”

  She took a deep breath, drew on all the performance training she’d gotten back when she’d thought she’d get a gig at some big casino show on the Strip as a novelty singer, and walled off all her feelings.

  “Brothers and sisters,” she said, looking out at the solemn faces. “I don’t use those terms lightly. You are all my brothers and sisters in a way that we did not share with Dominic Verdigris—” That we know of…“—or, rest his soul, Alex Tesla. But the founders of ECHO knew this when they wrote the charter, and despite the fact that the CEO of ECHO has always been a normal human, they knew that ECHO was, and had to be, created by metahumans, for metahumans. Now is not the time for political correctness, and it is the time to look that fact in the face and accept it for what it means.”