Rat Runners

by Oisin McGann

  FX turned to vomit as far from the bare metal as he could, then came back to help Nimmo get the claw of the hammer under the edge of the steel plate. They worked the edge up and got their fingers underneath. It was hot, but not yet hot enough to burn them. Pulling it up and over, they exposed the steel girders beneath. The undersides were covered by plywood, and Nimmo covered his face with his sleeve, gagging on smoke as he slammed the heel of his foot down between two of the girders, smashing the plywood away. Four, then five kicks knocked the plastered board onto the floor below, creating a ragged rectangular hole between the girders.

  Scope was suffocating. Her asthmatic lungs could not draw in air as her windpipe closed down; her chest felt as if someone was tightening a belt around it. The smoke was close to knocking Nimmo and FX out, but Scope was on the edge of death. Nimmo dropped down through the hole, and FX lowered her down to him. He was in the kitchen of Mrs. Caper’s flat, and she was staring in horror as he dragged this gasping, wheezing girl across the floor, out of the way of the new hole in Caper’s kitchen ceiling. FX dropped down, his legs crumpling under him as he landed. Nimmo was searching through Scope’s pockets. He found a brown inhaler, and was about to give that to her, but FX scrambled forward and stopped him.

  “Don’t!” he rasped through a painful throat. “It’s a weapon, it’s bloody sneezing gas. She needs her other one. She dropped it up in the lab, under Brundle’s PC!”

  Nimmo coughed and choked, swiveling to stare in dull determination at the hole in the ceiling. Then he staggered dizzily to the kitchen table, hauled it over until it was under the hole. He climbed on top, swaying slightly, reached up, and pulled himself back up into Brundle’s burning lab.

  FX watched the hole for what seemed like an age, listening to Scope’s helpless gasps growing weaker and weaker, turning to see her face turning blue, her eyes bulging, half conscious. He could hear sirens, but they weren’t going to be in time. Scope was going to die, and Nimmo had been up there too long. He was gone.

  Then he tumbled down through the hole, landing with a crash on the table. Two of its legs broke and he was sent sprawling across the floor. FX took the inhaler from his clawed hands and held it to Scope’s mouth and pressed the plunger. He took it away, shaking it, waiting for an improvement that didn’t come. He gave her another blast. Still her lungs sucked hopelessly against her blocked windpipes. FX had heard enough about these things to know that if an inhaler didn’t work within the first few tries, it wasn’t going to work. But he tried again. And again …

  CHAPTER 28

  A MATTER OF CONTROL

  SCOPE SAT WITH her back to the wall of a garage in an alleyway a few blocks from Brundle’s building. She had her head resting on her forearms, hiding the tears that streamed down her face. The inhaler’s effects had kicked in after a few suffocating minutes. Her breathing had recovered in time for her two friends to drag her out of Caper’s flat and away from the emergency services. She had enough experience of managing her asthma to know that the worst was over, though she was still at risk of suffering a new attack if she wasn’t careful. Her windpipe had been damaged by the smoke, and she would have to take care for the next while that she didn’t do anything to bring on another attack, like getting caught in any more stressful situations.

  Yeah, right.

  She had demanded that FX and Nimmo get her out of the building before the emergency services found them. The paramedics would have put her on a trolley, fed her oxygen and carted her off to a hospital. She had experienced that before, and hated the feel of the oxygen mask on her face, the chaos of the A&E ward filled with fearful, angry, impatient people. Everyone desperate for medical attention, but there never seemed to be enough nurses and doctors. Scope preferred to just get through this on her own.

  So when they had taken to the rat-runs and put a safe distance between them and the burning building, she had flopped down on the ground, leaned back against the wall with her head in her arms and cried, because it was the closest she’d ever come to dying, and it had terrified her.

  Nimmo and FX left her alone, seeing that she needed to get this turbulent emotion out of her system. The spot they had chosen was quiet; the rear of a garage in a row of garages and storage lockups built into the stone arches beneath a railway line. Empty steel barrels, crates and other junk provided plenty of cover. When Scope finally lifted her head, she wiped her eyes and gave them a half-hearted smile.

  “I’m OK,” she croaked through an aching throat. “Actually, I’m feeling pretty good, considering.”

  “There’s no buzz like surviving,” Nimmo told her. “You had us pretty scared there, Scope. No amount of notes is worth that.”

  “These were,” she said, looking up at him. “I think I’ve cracked the whole thing. Brundle was a bloody genius. He was trying to create a nano-tech implant that could regenerate human flesh, particularly the epidermis—your skin. He didn’t want to just grow new skin—that’s been possible for decades—he wanted to be able to program it to adopt a specific form, so it could cover a wound, or a scar … or a birthmark, on any part of the body and seal it without any visible mark or flaw. But while trying to come up with something that could do that, he created a molecular assembler.”

  “A what?” Nimmo asked.

  “It’s a kind of nano-technology seed. It can build things at an atomic level. In this case, he’s created a seed that can be programmed to grow things like microchips or electrical components inside the human body. And they develop as part of your nervous system. He reckoned you could control them with your mind.”

  “That’s impossible,” Nimmo said. “How could you grow something as complicated as a microchip?”

  “How does an acorn create something as complicated as an oak tree?” Scope countered. “The ribosomes in your own body’s cells are molecular assemblers of a sort—they manufacture proteins according to a kind of ‘chemical program’ called RNA. The theory of a molecular assembler like this has been around for a long time.”

  “Yeah, it’s just that nobody’s ever managed to do it for real,” FX scoffed. “And he was trying to cure birthmarks? That’s like trying to design the first hot-air balloon and creating a jet engine instead.”

  “Well, from what he’s written here, I think he managed it,” Scope said, shrugging. “He called it the brundleseed, and he really wanted to do the right thing with his work. Even at the level he’d intended it, this thing could bring relief to thousands, millions of people living with disfiguring scars, birthmarks or deformities. But the science applications of a real molecular assembler are … are … I don’t know, it’s a game-changer—a revolution. It could be the biggest thing since the microchip. And he wanted everyone to have it.”

  “But that wasn’t going to happen if Move-Easy got his hands on it,” FX sniffed.

  “Or Vapor,” Nimmo added. “You don’t pay the kind of money he did and then heal the world for free.”

  Scope pulled one of the notebooks from her backpack and opened it up.

  “Yeah, except Vapor didn’t give a damn about people’s skin,” she said. “Or at least, it wasn’t the main thing he was after. Brundle realized that he’d accidentally created something else with his implant. You see, the brundleseed can grow devices that can be controlled by a person’s nervous system. But it could also be made to work the other way around. It could be used to create devices that tap into a person’s nervous system. And if it was made to receive radio signals, somebody else could trigger it. It could be used against the person who’s carrying it. That’s what Vapor was after.”

  “Technology embedded in your body that someone else would control?” FX screwed up his face. “That’s mental.”

  “What could it do?” Nimmo asked.

  “Depends what it’s programmed to do,” Scope said in a shaky voice. “They could grow miniature cameras inside anyone who worked for them. Imagine Safe-Guards who looked like normal people, but had their technology built into their bodies. And i
t’d be organic material … really difficult to detect, even with instruments.

  “But it’s what they could do to innocent people that bothers me. They could grow microphones or radio receivers under your skin, so you’re permanently bugged. You could be tagged like a criminal, giving off all the information you’d find on a biometric passport, but you might not even know it. Diagnostic sensors could reveal what’s happening inside your body. Maybe you could even end up with embedded weapons that could hurt you, or paralyze you if those in control decided you were misbehaving. And this control can be targeted. Give ten people brundleseeds, you can choose which one you’re going to paralyze with the press of a button. You could control the population of a city, even a country, with this stuff.”

  “But you’d have to implant this seed into a person’s body first,” Nimmo pointed out. “Sounds like a bit of a roundabout way of going about things. And as for ruling a country … that just sounds like some half-arsed science fiction story.”

  “It’s nano-technology,” FX said thoughtfully. “It could be programmed to find its way through your body. You could put it in somebody’s food or drink and it could get to where it needed to go.”

  “Make enough of them, you could put it in the bloody water supply,” Scope rasped. “It’s about control. Making people do what you want them to do. Brundle realized what he’d created, and tried to hide it from Vapor. But by then, Move-Easy had found out about it too, and Easy went straight for the throat—Brundle had to hand the seed over when it was finished, or Easy would kill his daughter.”

  “And Vapor had Brundle killed before he could give it to Move-Easy,” Nimmo sighed. “Here … Brundle was experimenting on himself, right? He must have had an implant in his own body. D’you think they somehow used his own invention against him?”

  Scope shrugged. There was no way of telling for sure.

  “So the cards we’ve been sent after, they were just Brundle’s payment,” Nimmo said. “It’s the brundleseed they’re all really after. Say Brundle had one inside him …”

  “If Vapor’s as powerful as he seems, he could have that one already,” Scope said. “But it’s no good to him. It would have grown into whatever it was programmed to become. And it would have been bonded to Brundle’s system; even if it could be salvaged from his corpse, it would never work again.”

  “Probably for the best,” FX murmured. “Christ knows what somebody like Move-Easy could do with tech like that. But if there’s another one, could be nobody would ever find it. Something that size, you could hide it anywhere. Let’s hope whatever was left went up with the lab.”

  Scope bit her lip, unconsciously clicking the fingernails of her thumb and forefinger together.

  “Actually, it didn’t,” she said, coughing and looking suddenly uncomfortable. “Brundle made at least one other prototype, one he hadn’t given to anybody. He had drawings of it in his notes. We’ve had the bloody thing all along.” She gave the thumbs- up to Nimmo. “He had it hidden under his thumbnail.”

  The four rat-runners sat around FX’s computer, listening as he played back the phone call that his system had recorded from the landline in Nica’s apartment. He had tapped the phone as a matter of course. This was the most recent call.

  “Hello?” A voice that had to be Nica’s mother answered the phone.

  “Is this Mrs. Brundle?” a man asked.

  “Ms. Davis,” she corrected him. “Watson and I are … had been divorced for a number of years.”

  “Apologies, Ms. Davis,” the man said. “This is Detective Constable Dibble. I’m not sure if you’re aware of the fire that occurred at your husband’s building this afternoon?”

  “Yes, yes, I’d heard,” Davis replied in a tremulous voice. “God, could things get any worse? Was anybody hurt?”

  “No, ma’am, at least not that we know of,” Dibble told her. “The blaze was pretty serious, but the lab had reinforced floor and walls, and that helped to contain the fire to the top floor until the fire service arrived. The building’s been declared safe. However, your daughter had requested permission to go into the lab and apartment a couple of days ago, to collect some of her father’s belongings. Obviously there’s not much left now … but … well, it’s become a crime scene again. We believe the fire was the result of arson. An investigation will have to be carried out. There will be Safe-Guard surveillance on the scene for the next few days to secure the site. Your daughter can still have access to her father’s living quarters if she wants, but the damaged sections will be off limits.”

  FX stopped the recording there.

  “A bleedin’ Safe-Guard,” he said. “Considering how quickly they lost interest in Brundle’s death, they seem to be taking this arson pretty seriously. This whole cluster-funk is starting to attract official attention. Could be that they’ve cottoned on to what’s happening. Like we didn’t have enough problems. How the hell are we going to get at that box if there’s peepers watching the place?”

  “Maybe we should just forget about it?” Scope suggested. “It’s the brundleseed everybody really wants anyway.”

  “And you think we should let them have it?” Manikin asked. “Vapor wants us dead, and I’m betting Move-Easy does too. Who do you even give the bloody thing to? I don’t want to think about what could happen if either of them got their hands on it. And if you give it to one of them, the other one will come looking for our heads.”

  The others nodded in agreement. None of them wanted to hand over the implant, but they couldn’t see any way out of this.

  “We may just have to get out of London—out of the UK altogether,” Nimmo muttered.

  Once more, he was asking himself if he would be better off alone, free of these others. He had plans laid for escaping London in a hurry: alternate identities, places to hide, stashes of money and gear. He could survive better on his own.

  “You’re assuming we can even make it out,” FX pointed out. “Easy’s a London villain, but he’s got a long reach. I say we get him that box—I mean, we need something to bargain with. But that still leaves Vapor’s lot. We’re too tangled up in this. They’re not going to let us go now.”

  “FX is right, that box is the only leverage we’ve got,” Manikin said. “I think we could use it as bait for all of them. The Turk said something … I think Easy knows who Vapor is.”

  “Really?” FX piped up. “D’you think he’d tell us?”

  The others regarded him with incredulous expressions.

  “No,” he murmured. “Maybe not now.”

  “Anyway, Easy knows Vapor’s an enemy,” Manikin went on. “If we could find a way to set those two on each other—maybe we could take their sights off us long enough for us to get clear.”

  “We’re not giving them the brundleseed,” Scope insisted. “Just promise me that, all of you. Neither of these maniacs is getting hold of this thing. Look, I know we’re no choir of angels, but this is just too important. Too many people could be hurt by this. I’m deadly serious. It’s more important than any of us.”

  Looking around the room, she met each person’s eyes, measuring up the conviction of each of these young criminals. Each one met her gaze and nodded back. No matter what, this dangerously powerful thing that they now possessed must not fall into the wrong hands.

  “So … how do we get this bloody case then?” Manikin put the question to them. “How do we get in and out of a place surrounded by villains that’s going to have Safe-Guards and who knows what other kinds of surveillance on it? Anybody any ideas?”

  There was a long pause, as she waited for an answer. Then Nimmo spoke up:

  “Me an’ Scope have been talkin’,” he said. “The way I see it, there’s no way any of us can get in there, and come out safely carrying that case. There’s just too much chance of being caught by somebody. But Scope reckons she’s figured out how to program this brundleseed.”

  “Yeah,” Scope said, glancing over at Manikin. “It could be the key to getting inside
. It’s just that it’d be a little bit…well… experimental.”

  Manikin sat up straighter, not liking the sound of this. “Why are you both looking at me?” she demanded.

  This is a stupid idea, Manikin thought. I can’t believe how stupid this is. Lying back in a chair that was eerily like a dentist’s chair, she let her body fit into its contours and tried to relax. Nimmo had led the other three into Tubby Reach’s Void. Reach owed him a whole bunch of favors, and now Nimmo had called them all in. Though when Reach heard what they wanted, he said he’d do the job just to see the brundleseed at work. The tone in his voice hinted that it would take that level of proof for him to believe in this fairy-tale piece of technology. Manikin had no doubt the King of the Getters was already dreaming up uses for this fairy tale if it turned out to be real. They hadn’t told him there’d only be one shot at getting this stuff to work, and it would be useless for anything else once it had been implanted.

  “This is a really stupid idea,” Manikin said aloud. “You know, this thing is too good a deal to waste on me, don’t you think? Really, I’m not worthy.”

  “We’ve talked this through already,” Scope responded from somewhere behind her. “The case is the only thing we can bargain with. This is the only way we can think of getting the case. Besides, as far as we’re concerned, the brundleseed has just been a theory up until now. Actually seeing this one in operation is the best way to find out how it works.”

  “A theory. Right. So what if I end up dead? Then this thing will be lost to the world, won’t it?”

  “Yeah, so don’t get dead. You don’t want to let the world down, now, do you?” Manikin realized that this conversation was pointless. Scope had discovered from Brundle’s notes that the brundleseed could be made to reproduce itself once it was implanted in someone’s body, but those new ones could then only be used in the same body—and had to be implanted immediately. Scope had put the one they had in Manikin’s forearm and used it to grow three more. Long before they went anywhere near Tubby Reach, Manikin had become a human test subject for this bizarre new technology. It was too late to argue about it. Now these three would be removed. Like organs for transplant, they had to be put back into her body quickly, before the flesh they were made of began to die. Lying back in that creepy chair, Manikin was in an argumentative mood.