The jungle was dark, and alive with noise — the whirring of insects, the rustle of small animals moving through the bush, the occasional growl of a predator and the death-squeal of prey. Nikki moved through the undergrowth as quietly as she could. Her pistol was in her hand, cocked, and safety off. Her finger was on the trigger, but not pressing hard enough to activate the sighting laser. Her eyes, well-adapted to the night by this time, scanned all around her.
This is nerve-wracking, she thought. Every time she’d been alone in the jungle — or not even alone — something terrible had happened. This time, though, she was ready — or as ready as she could be. This time she had a real goal, a mission. This time she felt like the hunter, not the hunted.
Part of her mind jabbered, This is stupid. This is suicidal. But the more rational part of her was calm, knowing that this was the most logical thing she could do — the only way she could ever strike back at Eichiro.’
When Hollingforth and the others had called it a night, she’d gone to her tent too, but she hadn’t slept. Constantly checking her watch, she’d waited an hour and a half, until some time after one in the morning. That should give Peter and Black time to fall into a deep sleep. Certainly, she knew that MacHeath and the other soldiers were keeping watch. But she’d observed their movements from behind the flap of the tent. She knew their routine, had been able to see when they were facing away from her. When the time was right, she’d pulled the tent flap back and raced across the open space into the jungle. Nobody had spotted her.
And now she was heading for the outpost.
How do I hurt Eichiro? she asked herself again, this time with a grim smile. The answer was simple as soon as she posed the question in the right way. How do you hurt a merchant?
She had to find out what it was that Eichiro was up to, the real purpose of the outpost. Obviously, that purpose was important — important enough to kill to protect — and one that Eichiro wanted to keep secret. Once she knew that secret, she could spread it across the newspapers of the world, pass it on to all the corporations in competition with Nagara. That would destroy the market advantage that Nagara had to be looking for. It would cost Nagara money, and it would cost Eichiro his job. And that’s how you hurt a merchant, she told herself.
When the idea had first come to her, she’d desperately wanted to bounce it off someone, work through the ramifications, and pick out any weaknesses that she might have missed. She would have liked to talk it over with Peter …
But that wouldn’t have been a wise choice, she’d recognized at once. Peter, with his ethical code — which she thought of as Victorian — would have refused to allow her to do what she had to. Even if she’d persuaded him that it was necessary, he’d have insisted that he go along — how could he let a woman go alone into danger? She smiled. His protectiveness was charming, in its way, although it was totally misplaced. Peter wasn’t scientist enough to understand what he’d see inside the outpost. He didn’t know how things worked, how the security guards operated and thought. If he’d accompanied her, he’d have made some mistake — “blown” the mission, to use a phrase from the spy novels she’d read as a child — and got them both killed. Or — almost worse — he’d have got himselfkilled, and then Nikki would have to face losing another friend. And this time it would be worse than before: she’d know that she’d directly caused his death. No, that just wasn’t acceptable.
It took her over twenty-five minutes to reach the outpost clearing. Now she crouched at the margin of the jungle, examining the stockade in the moonlight. The gate was closed. That was unfortunate, and she could have hoped otherwise, but she hadn’t really expected a stroke of luck. And she hadn’t depended on it in her planning. She moved back into the jungle, out of sight of any security guards near the fence.
Moving like a wraith in the night, she made her way clockwise around the roughly circular clearing. Throughout the journey she stayed near the fringe of the jungle — close enough that she could see if anyone left the stockade, but enough under cover that she was confident nobody could see her. Even though most of her focus was on the outpost, she didn’t forget to keep a close eye on the jungle around her. She remembered the attempted ambush by the zombies. She wouldn’t let that happen again.
At one point she was sure she heard stealthy movement through the undergrowth —- the rustling of leaves, the occasional crack of a breaking branch. But it sounded like it was some distance away. She crouched motionless, silent, listening. The sounds were still there. Yes, certainly something was moving through the jungle. But it wasn’t near her, and if anything seemed to be getting further away. She shrugged, and moved on.
It took her another ten minutes to reach the river. She was at the furthest western extension of the compound. From her position in the periphery of the jungle, she could see the stockade fence where it extended out from the river bank, out into the water. Maybe fifty feet out, the fence ended. How deep is the water at that point? Nikki wondered. Almost certainly over her head.
So she’d have to swim for it. Well, that’s what she’d expected. That was why she’d come to this side of the clearing when her objective — the secured science lab — was on the other side of the outpost. If she’d come in from the other side, she’d have had to swim against the current. This way she could let it carry her, saving a lot of energy.
The swim was expected. But that didn’t mean she relished the idea. In the moonlight the water of the Inderagiri River looked black and oily, roiled slightly by the current. What lurked beneath that opaque, concealing surface? Aquatic analogues of the monsters prowling the jungle? No, there couldn’t be anything totally out-of-hand like that, otherwise the builders would never have left the outpost open to the riverbank.
At least, the river wouldn’t contain anything that would threaten people on shore, then. But what about swimmers? Even something totally mundane — like pirhanas, for example, or their Sumatran cousins — would ruin her night.
She let the second thoughts flow through her mind for a few moments, then ruthlessly crushed them. She hadn’t come this far to turn back now. She’d known the risks, and they were ones she could accept—when she compared them with the potential gains, at least. Quietly, she crept to the river’s edge and stepped in.
The warmth of the water came as a surprise. Intellectually she knew that water retained its heat longer than the land, absorbing it and giving it up more slowly. That was why areas near large bodies of water had more moderate climates than inland areas. That was intellectually. Emotionally, though, a river at night should be cold.
The ground sloped off gently as she walked slowly into the river. When she was waist-deep, she squatted down so that only her head was above water — that and the hand holding her pistol. She could feel the current tugging at her—nowhere near strongly enough to pull her from her feet or put her at any risk. But it certainly was there. Making sure that she didn’t splash or leave too much of a wake, she waded deeper.
By the time she was thirty feet out from shore, the water would have only come up to her chest if she’d stood up. A few feet later, so suddenly that her head almost went under, the river bottom just dropped away from under her feet. She kicked her legs, treading water to stay afloat. It was difficult when she had to concentrate on keeping her gun hand clear of the river. Maybe she should clench the gun in her teeth, like a movie pirate? She chuckled at the image —Nikki Carlson, scourge of the Barbary Coast. If she had to, she’d do it. At the moment it didn’t seem necessary.
As soon as her feet left the bottom, it looked to her that the river bank, and the stockade fence, had started to move slowly upstream, to the west. The opposite was actually the case, of course: with nothing to hold herself in place, the current had a hold of her and was carrying her to the east, downstream. She couldn’t feel herself move, but that was because the water that surrounded her was moving downstream at exactly the same speed. By watching the bank drifting by, she tried to judge that speed — a couple
of miles an hours, she guessed, a little less than a walking pace. Kicking, and paddling with her free arm, she increased her distance from the bank.
The extended end of the stockade fence passed her by — or she passed by it — almost close enough to reach out and touch it. As soon as she was past, she began kicking and paddling again — much more cautiously now, since noise was a major risk—to bring herself back to shore. After a few feet, the bank seemed to slow its stately glide by as the current slackened. I have to be in the shelter of the fence, she realized. Without the current to worry about, she could be even more careful about keeping totally silent.
From this angle, she could see quite a bit of the compound. There were no lights, and to her relief the whole region seemed empty.
No, that wasn’t quite true. There was movement, over toward the building that contained Funakoshi’s lab. Two security guards — she could see them better as they moved out of the building’s shadow into the moonlight. They carried rifles of some kind — much smaller than those carried by MacHeath and his men, but even more lethal-seeming for that. Their faces looked bulbous, bloated … Night-vision goggles, Nikki realized with a sudden chill. I knew they had them; I spotted them zvhen I saw Funakoshi’s first expedition coming back. But I just plain forgot about them. That was a serious risk. She’d been depending on the night to shield her from view. But with night-vision goggles — if they worked as well as they did in the movies — these guards could see as well as if it had been full daylight.
As she watched, one of the guards glanced out over the river. She could almost feel his gaze, scanning like a spotlight beam, across the water. She wanted to duck underwater, but feared any movement would make her even more noticeable to the security men. The guard’s gaze passed over her — stopped and scanned back. He stopped walking.
He sees me. No, she corrected at once, he sees something; he isn’t sure what it is.
She saw the guard speak to his colleague, but the distance was too great for her to hear the words. They started walking slowly toward the riverbank. One had his rifle at the ready, its barrel pointing in Nikki’s direction. They’re coming for me, she realized with a spasm of fear, they’re coming to kill me.
What the hell was she to do? Turn and swim off, hope they wouldn’t fire after her? She felt her gun as a reassuring weight in her hand. Kill them before they can kill me? No, she couldn’t even think about that.
None of this was the security guards’ fault; they were just following Eichiro’s orders. She couldn’t make them suffer — make them die — for his crimes.
No, if they came close to her, or looked like they were about to shoot, she’d identify herself, give herself up. Concoct some story about how she came to be drifting down the Inderagiri River at two in the morning. She’d tell everyone she could about the ninja attack, tell them that Eichiro was trying to kill her.
But that wouldn’t work, would it? Eichiro would just have her declared insane — her claims would certainly sound unbalanced to any loyal Nagara employee — and then have her quietly eliminated later. There had to be another answer. But what? The guards drew closer.
What was that? A sudden rip of sound, a brutal, flat drumming from the direction of the gate. The guards heard it at the same moment, spinning around, instantly forgetting about whatever it was they’d seen in the river. Nikki saw them exchange quick looks, then jog of in the direction of the commotion.
Lucky escape, Nikki told herself. The adrenalin of fear was still coursing through her body, making her shudder. They’re gone, but they’ll probably be back. Luck had given her this opportunity, but she had to take advantage of it. More quickly, now that there was no-one around to see her, she swam into the shallows, then waded out onto the bank.
Her sodden clothes clung to her, dripping. I must look like an escapee from a wet T-shirt contest, she thought wryly. Even though the night was warm, she knew her wet clothing would make her chill down really fast. If she didn’t want to get numbed by cold, and maybe pick up a good case of pneumonia, she had to hurry. In squelching shoes, she jogged toward Funakoshi’s lab building.
The sound came again, the same harsh drumming.
This time she recognized it: it had to be a machine-gun or submachine-gun firing on full automatic. (She’d never seen or heard one fire, of course — except for on TV or in the movies, and that didn’t count — but what else could it be?) Other weapons joined it, and now she could hear cries of fear of pain, merged with screams that couldn’t have come from human throats. What the hell’s going on? It sounds like a war. Her curiosity was almost overpowering — she wanted to find out what was happening — but she forced herself to stay in control. No! she told herself sharply. I’m here for a reason, not as a spectator.
She reached the secure lab building, flattened herself against a wall around the corner from the main door. Cautiously, she peeked around the corner …
And was heartily glad she’d done so. A security guard — a nervous security guard, his weapon at the ready, and looking entirely too edgy for safety — was standing in front of the door. Nikki pulled her head back before he could spot her. Her heart pounded in her chest, and it was all she could do to keep herself from panting with tension. When she was sure she had herself under better control, she peered around the corner again.
She needn’t have worried, she saw immediately. The guard wasn’t looking her way. She’d approached from the river side; he was looking in diametrically the opposite direction, toward where the sounds of battle rang out. He doesn’t want to be here, Nikki realized. He wants to be in it, whatever it is.
That was all very well, but how was she going to get past him? She thought about it for a few moments.
The problem was solved for her. The guard raised his had to his ear, to the radio headsets all security personnel wore on duty. “Uramatsu desu,” he snapped into the microphone, identifying himself (“This is Uramatsu”). He listened for a moment, then nodded sharply as if the person on the radio could see him. “Hai, Hongo-sfl«. Immediately.”
The guard turned, pounded on the door behind him. When it opened, he gabbled something so fast that Nikki couldn’t catch it. Then, weapon at the ready, he ran toward the distant gate. Two more security guards, these two carrying only pistols, burst from the door and followed.
Nikki watched until they’d disappeared. She smiled grimly. Whatever was going on, it had drawn away the security guards. Or some of them, at least, she amended quickly. There still could be some on duty inside.
Looking around to make sure she wasn’t being observed, she ran to the door. The guards had left it open a crack. She paused, listening for a moment. But there was no way she could hear anything over the sound of gunfire. Only one way to find out if there’s anyone there, she told herself. Gently she opened the door.
There was no-one there; the hallway before her was empty. She stepped in, blinking her eyes rapidly. As with her building, at night only half of the overhead lights were on. But even that level of illumination was painful after more than an hour of nothing but moonlight. She wiped tears from her eyes as she pulled the door closed behind her.
This building seemed to have much the same layout as the one containing her lab and her quarters — which made sense. Why use more than one floorplan for buildings that served essentially the same function? That meant the lab itself would be … that way.
Nikki turned right, followed the hallway to its end. Yes, the door was familiar: the same heavy steel thing that closed off Group Five’s lab. (Steel? she wondered for the hundredth time. Why steel? She shrugged. It didn’t really matter.) She paused, listening again. But, as before, she didn’t hear anything. Cautiously she pulled the door open.
Fluorescent light washed out, painting an oblique parallelogram of dead white on the floor at her feet. Out of sight behind the door, Nikki waited for a reaction. Nothing happened — no gasp of surprise or alarm, no “Who’s that?” no approaching footsteps. There were sounds from inside t
he lab — faint rustling noises and others harder to place or describe—but she had no idea what might be causing them. She waited another couple of seconds, then opened the door the rest of the way. She stepped through …
And thought she’d walked into a nightmare.
The floorplan of this building wasn’t exactly the same as Group Five’s building. Instead of one large lab, this are of the building was divided up into several rooms. The space Nikki was facing was relatively small, obviously used as a specimen room, a storage area for experimental animals. In the far wall was another door, presumably leading to other labs. Small cages lined the walls, larger ones rested on tabletops, while the largest of all — a cubic metal lattice eight feet on a side — held pride of place in the center of the floor.
Nikki had seen specimen rooms before. Some — particularly those at primate labs, where the labs contained all-too-human rhesus and spider monkeys — could look like chambers of horrors, particularly late at night. She was used to that, prepared for the ambience of a specimen room.
For a normal specimen room. Not for something like this.
At first glance, the cages around the walls appeared to contain small rats or large mice. But they weren’t rats or mice, Nikki knew that at once. The shape of the bodies, the color of the fur, the size and configuration of the skull… All were dead wrong, as was the silent, steady — intelligent — way the ugly creatures were watching her. She could feel the small creatures’ hatred, their hunger.
In another cage, something that could have been a rabid spider monkey — except from the wings which sprouted impossibly from its shoulders—hissed evilly through overlarge teeth and reached for her with a claw-tipped hand. In yet another an ovoid container of stainless steel — like a metal egg — lay open, while a disembodied hand crawled, spider-like, around the cage floor. From everywhere in the room, eyes — cold, malevolent, and all too aware — were fixed on her.
But, even despite the other horrors that surrounded her, it was the central cage that caught and held her attention. It was occupied, like all the others. A single creature crouched on its straw-covered floor, watching Nikki calmly from bright green eyes.
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