Two doors braced the end of the hallway. He tried one and found it locked. The other was also locked but was all about Anki – her energy seeped from the door. Down the hall, the woman peeked from her office and retreated once more.
Things were about to fall apart. The mission was to keep Sakuma alive but something else was in play now. Something big.
• • •
“Sir, anomaly reported. Sakuma’s guard on the radio talking about a wizard on the fifth floor.”
Wizard... “Keep the panels at a distance but ready to move in. No early warnings. What’s Lilly’s status?”
“Last poll indicated no changes. Quiet and pulsing the target.”
“Give her a call, make sure she’s ready for anything.”
The control room display showed video from a heli night flying over forested countryside. The occasional light of a home passed by. A sudden banking accompanied radio traffic.
“Signus 8, Black Jack Five at apex. Map mark is Epping Forest. Be advised, signaler now being dampened or blocked. The reader estimates we’re less than a click from target. Maybe three dozen buildings in the zone. Recommend deploying all available to cordon and have the pulse pattern varied to throw off their blocking. We need another thirty to sixty seconds of strong signal.”
“Damn!” Director Tomov glanced at the incident map still focused over Tokyo. “Tell Lilly to vary the pulse using deceptive cadence ending in V. Signus 8, join with 6 and 11, they’ll be there any second. Track it fast! I want the druid location now.”
“Sir, Lilly isn’t answering her phone,” the Comms officer said. He turned in his chair. “The guard is saying his gun flew out of its holster and landed in the wizard’s hand, like magic. They’ve got a bender in there.”
• • •
The metal strike plate sheered away from the doorjamb with a wrenching report. Austin bumped the door open to a secretary’s anteroom. He checked his breathing. Perception grew sharper. Anki’s energy wafted like heat waves. The door ahead shimmered with immense potential. It felt like he could bust the building wide open with enough intention.
Another doorjamb crumbled and he slammed the door open.
Time compressed to the smallest units imaginable, so granular it seemed to stand still. In that space, information flowed. A man stood near the door with a long-barreled pistol trained on two women standing behind a desk. One was Anki, a gun held to her head by the other, an Asian woman. The woman had begun to pull the trigger at his entry. In the small gap of the moment, intention flickered and the grid responded: her pistol broke her index finger as it snapped from her grip. The weapon discharged silently at an angle, the round missing Anki’s skull before it slammed through the ceiling tile and lodged in the ductwork. In the next moment, he wrenched the gun free from the man’s grip and received it midair. It was the man from the elevator, dressed all in blue.
Anki struck the woman with her elbow and broke free from her grip. “Shoot her, now! Shoot! She’s helping track Johan!”
“What?” A cell phone rang on the floor in the far corner of the room.
The woman stared blankly at him.
“Now!” Anki moved towards him, ready to take the gun. “Shoot her now, damn it!”
Despite the woman’s impassive expression, fear coursed from her like thick syrup.
The man spoke. “Do it or I will. Save the mission.”
The woman stared back. He couldn’t do it, couldn’t put a bullet into a woman. Where? In the head? What if it hit her eye? She’d scream in agony. He’d have to shoot her over and over again, a bloody mess. He imagined her crying as he pumped bullets into her. It had to happen, she had to die, for whatever reason. Suddenly doubt arose; he wanted to know why. The first time to kill someone – he needed to know why!
“Damn it, she’s fucking with your head! Kill her!” Anki took a step towards him. “She’s signaling back through the dream! They’re tracking him right now! Do it!”
He trusted Anki, felt the truth in her words. He would kill the woman but not with the gun. Instead, he gathered a wad of potential at the base of her throat and punched it against her spine, severing it. Her head snapped forward and her torso fell to the desk. He cringed at the spine protruding from a gash in the nape of her neck. Too hard.
“She’s still doing it!” Anki took a step towards her. “Okay, okay, she’s leaving. Leaving, leaving... gone. Otani, what now?”
The stranger replied, “We go back to our loved ones on the fourth floor and pray Johan gets what he needs soon. My weapon, please?”
“Who the hell are you?” He pointed at the corpse. “And how’d you know where to find her?” He turned to Anki. “Why didn’t you warn me?”
Otani answered, “Later. The mission is still primed.” He took his gun back and headed for the door. “I’ll smooth the guards. Resume your roles. Go to the elevator. If asked, you got off on the wrong floor. Move quickly!”
• • •
The newly formed Signus 16, comprised of four panels, approached the fifth floor at the director’s command. They halted as a flock of druids fled the scene.
“Priests, a dozen or more.”
Their patterns dissolved, escaping the grid. The lead entered the office to find the body.
“Agent down.”
Control responded. “Confirmed. We just lost the pulse. There’s a bender operating in the building. Spread out, locate, and track. Mind the exits. We have units going in now.”
“Control, we have no visual reference.”
The director cut in. “Get in there and look around. He’s probably near Sakuma. Use your damn instinct! I want to keep him on or near the fourth floor.”
• • •
Toda and Honda finished the last of pre-flight checks as their Japan Airlines 747 cargo freighter turned on to runway 34R. It was Honda’s first flight with a fully digitized flight deck, which meant no flight engineer. There was more information to look after despite the automation and myriad of displays. Training had been very thorough yet he still felt a bit edgy.
Honda keyed the radio. “Tower, JAL923 requesting clearance for takeoff, runway 34R.”
“JAL923, cleared for takeoff. Contact Departure on frequency 120.8. Enjoy your flight.”
“Copy that Tower. JAL923, rolling for takeoff.”
Honda tried to enjoy the surge and thunder as the craft accelerated down the runway. A clear blue sky awaited them, a good sign. He squeezed the rubber Totoro figurine in his pocket. A gift from his daughter for luck.
Transitioning to flight, all systems were green, as expected. Three kilometers out Toda banked to a northerly bearing and climbed to six thousand meters. The city stretched out beneath. Honda imagined his wife taking lunch in the break room at her work, sitting by the window, watching the planes take off.
“JAL923, change course to zero four five degrees, maintain ascent to altitude.”
“Copy change course to zero four five, maintaining ascent to altitude.” Honda relaxed a bit.
“Not so bad, eh?” Toda said, banking gently to meet the new bearing. “Everything’s right there where you can see it. The system will tell you when something’s wrong. No need to worry.”
“Yes, I see. Still takes getting used to. I feel like I’m missing something.”
As the pilot began to level the plane out, he suddenly grimaced and grunted, holding his chest.
“Toda! What’s wrong?”
“Take... take controls.” He struggled to release his harness. Honda took hold of the flight yoke and set about leveling the plane on bearing. With a pained expression, Toda climbed out of his seat.
Honda keyed the radio. “JAL923 declaring flight emergency. Pilot is having a heart attack. Requesting clearance to land. Please advise!”
The pilot leaned against the bulkhead and held his chest, muttering with tears forming in his eyes.
“Toda! What is happening! Please, tell me!” The tower squawked with new bearings. He radioed confirmatio
n then glanced back, only to receive a vicious blow to the face, the first of many as Toda went berserk.
Sixty-five seconds later, flight JAL923 banked hard and fell into a dive.
• • •
Johan shook his head. “You would sacrifice thousands in the hopes he is spared. What kind of people do you think you’re dealing with? Do you imagine them honorable? They took Ryota as a way to make you cooperate. You refused them, Sakuma. Nothing you do now will change their mind about Ryota. They tried to kill you and they won’t rest until you are dead, especially after this time with me. Ryota may be alive, but it won’t matter if you don’t tell me what they asked you to do.” He paused, letting it settle in. “You know now what we can do. You don’t help me, I can’t help you. If he’s alive, we are his best hope to stay alive. And you know this is your very last chance to make a fair deal, to invest in something greater than yourself. In something greater than even Ryota.”
Sakuma cringed, looking away. Nothing was greater than the boy. Still...
He shrank in resignation. “I am to die. My threads are weak. So much I should have done differently. Much I did not regard properly.” He sighed. “Ryota must have a chance to live. For him, I will listen to you. I will believe you are right but only if you give me your word that you will seek out Ryota and free him.”
“Sakuma, you have my word. I will fight to find Ryota and bring him to safety. And not just for you.”
The crime lord straightened, a last effort at dignity.
“I will share with you their request – no, their command, and what it means to my country. To many countries.”
• • •
The nurse at the HCU desk smiled as Anki and Austin approached hand in hand. “You found her.”
Austin nodded back. “Yes, yes, thank you.”
They entered Mr. Harutaka’s room and took their seats. He quietly explained the big feeling and asked if she could sense anything.
“Besides how it makes you feel, no.”
The cell phone at his side rang. He answered. A rushed Constance said, “Airplane about to hit hospital, ICU side. There’s a stairwell down the hall. Get down and out.”
He pulled her into the hallway. “Go down now, as fast as you can. Get down and out of the hospital, now. Now!”
She tried to protest so he propelled her towards the door with invisible force. She hit the door hard enough to open it. “Go, god damn it! Go!” With a frightened look, she disappeared down the stairs.
The feeling of big pummeled him as he jogged past the Oshitama guard at the elevators. The impression suddenly made sense – it was something big about to happen. He rounded the corner to the ICU ward. Two SAT units pulled their weapons on him and commanded him to stop. Already nervous nurses ducked into patient rooms to hide.
He pointed at the windows and shouted, “Plane! Kamikaze!”
Visible beyond the nearby buildings, the Boeing 747 leveled out from a dive with its tail pitched at an angle. Dark exhaust contrails plumbed from straining engines. It was lined up and headed for the hospital.
He saturated the group mind with the knowledge of impending impact. Shouting erupted and people ran. The SAT units held position until fear won out and they fled as well.
He walked to the window where the big feeling rooted him to the spot. Flashes of peripheral movement threatened to steal focus; what looked like faces, ghoulish forms. The plane. Impact – ten seconds? As in the office, time slowed, the grid sprawling out before him. Memory of the general’s attack in the forest clearing came. Mug’s daring handling of the thrown pole became an inspiration. Outside, seen between buildings, a murky river flowed.
Scale. It’s just fucking scale. He extended into the grid, felt the big feeling there, the sheer potential like a mountain landslide waiting release. He reached the plane and knew it was too huge, moving with too much momentum to affect... directly. There was only one option and he took it, forming intention and tapping the immense potential like a spike into a glass wall.
The grid responded in a flash of change. A roar erupted as the air sucked away from the hospital, accelerating and cooling in a turbulent stream towards the jet. The sudden flow grew stronger, spinning off mini-tornadoes as it mixed with the humid summer air. He fed it until it seemed it might take on a force of its own, as if nature had been awakened and joined in. The massive movement created a howling whine with undertones of rumbling thunder. Patients cried out. The floor swayed. For a staggering moment it seemed the flow was too strong, like it might damage the building itself.
The 747’s nose cone crumpled when it encountered the wall of wind. Its sheet metal body crinkled and folded as rapid deceleration stressed holding bolts. Cargo shifted violently to impact the weakened framework and split open the fuselage. Torrential winds sheared compressor blades to create explosive catastrophic engine failures. The wings deformed and rent open, spilling fuel into the air that ignited with the engine fires. The resulting fireball slewed into a stream taken away in the wind.
Like a fire extinguisher emptying its charge, he felt the extreme drain and dimming of consciousness. A headache bloomed, threatening focus. He pressed both hands against the window and channeled the pain as best he could, leaning into the effort. As he’d seen Mug do to the incoming pole, he used the wind to direct the ravaged remains of the aircraft towards the river below. The twisted fuselage clipped the corner of a building on its downward arc. Impact in the river threw a tremendous wave into the air while debris rained down. A trunk-sized piece of cargo crashed onto a nearby bridge. Cars swerved and collided.
The howling abruptly subsided and he crumpled to the floor, barely able to breathe. Consciousness dipped and returned, accompanied by the pain in his skull. He laid on his back, unsure if he’d taken it too far. Flatline tones sounded from multiple monitors in the ICU. His heart slowed, as if confused. It seemed fitting that he might also die. Sunlight streamed against his face, warming his skin and somehow anchoring him in the moment. The big feeling had gone but death had taken its place nearby.
“How–?”
He looked up at the voice. Mrs. Sakuma stood with a single guard at her side.
• • •
A portable generator rumbled from a municipal utility van parked next to the high school a block from St. Luke’s. Inside, four technicians dressed as workers sat at laptops wired to an improvised and complex piece of electronics. Thick bare wires ran up the walls of the van and snaked across the ceiling, held in place by spot cement and twisty ties. They’d been in the area five hours, already exceeding the safe limits for presence, but were unwilling to give up. They were too close.
“Another fragment! Solid hit with that sequence. Open the parameters for it and shut down the others. Apply resequencing mime on all inherited nodes.”
A technician worked the console furiously. “Done.”
Thousands of tiny bars in red began turning green, one by one. Sequencing matches!
“Oh God...”
The matching turned into a cascade as the new algorithms began exponential returns. In seconds, the sequence was complete, the screen filled with green.
“We’ve got a stream!”
The assembled audio playback kicked in.
“–threat. Probably worse. It’s your call. If you’re going ahead with it, I want time to clear out of the city.”
“Acknowledged. Begin moving your units to regress points. Assume the protocol will be used.”
Soaring high on their success, the four resisted cheering aloud and instead scrambled to save the settings. They’d tapped the Comannda’s communications layer using techniques proposed by the Bootstrap project team. The possibility became greater that similar techniques might work on the net, as well. The breakthrough overshadowed anything else in the moment. One technician patted the device, proudly saying, “Enigma has nothing on you, Booty.”
The team leader climbed into the driver’s seat to get them moving back to the lab. The intercept con
tent sounded ominous and needed immediate relay.
“Keep scanning in the test range. There’s bound to be more.”
• • •
Three cars and an hour later, Austin stepped into the living room of a residence in the Meguroku ward, southwest of central Tokyo for a surprise meeting with Constance. He wore a new face and clothing.
She bowed and offered congratulations, her new regard of him apparent. “I am glad you are okay. You are something special, no?”
He bowed in greeting. “How did it go with Sakuma?”
“A success.” Her answer was subdued. Something suppressed.
“And my traveling companion?”
“She is returning home already.”
“Ah, I see. Maybe you can catch me up?” At her look, he added, “I mean tell me about Sakuma’s interview.”
She didn’t respond immediately. Instead, she led him to a sofa facing windows with a view of the urban park alongside the house. Women walked while children pushed scooters on the paths.
“There’s a problem,” he said.
She nodded. “The mission succeeded but the information gained is not available. I am unable to brief you. You must leave Tokyo immediately.”
Not allowed to brief. “I nearly died today and now I’m supposed to wait half a day to learn what threatens the world?”
Her appeasing look did nothing to soothe disappointment, nor did her offered flow of sensual meta, a combination of formal apology and intense desire. Beneath it all she tried but failed to hide urgency and fear.
He stood. “If it’s that bad, maybe I don’t want to know.”
Chapter 17
Neither the sun nor death can be looked at with a steady eye.
- Francois De La Rochefoucauld, 1613-1680, French classical writer
The surface of the loch caught the last rays of a setting sun and danced them against hills blushed green in the height of spring. In the center of the loch a circular stage floated, detailed with twelve majestic chairs. Each chair sat with its rear legs up against the edge and was separated from its neighbors by twelve feet. In each chair sat an Executive.
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