Tin Men

by Christopher Golden

  President Matheson glanced back, his eyes hard.

  “Come on, Felix. Don’t fall behind,” he said.

  So Felix kept up. If he had any chance of living until tomorrow it was by staying as close as possible to a man the world wanted to kill. He recognized the irony.

  Abruptly, he saw daylight.

  They streamed out a door at the back of the hotel—some kind of service entrance—into a short alley lined with dumpsters and half a dozen corpses. Garbage debris littered the pavement, some of it stained with blood, and Felix saw a rat on top of a dead man, nose inside a bullet hole. The rat ignored them as they ran by and Felix felt his capacity for horror reach a kind of threshold. Not the limit—he was sure there would be more horrors to come—but for the moment he went numb, seeing it all as if he were a passenger inside his own body. In a way, he was. The President was the driver, now, and the Secret Service the vehicle to get out of immediate danger.

  Only immediate danger, though. There might not be such a thing as entirely out of danger anymore. If there ever had been.

  Gunshots cracked overhead, echoing off the alley walls. The Secret Service agent who’d saved him on the stairs staggered back and fell, legs going out from under him, blood jetting from the new hole in his neck.

  Two snipers on the roof of the building adjacent to the hotel. The President’s Tin Men killed them before the rest of the Secret Service agents even had time to aim.

  Then they were at the end of the alley. Bingham held up a hand to halt them as she looked out into what had been a fairly busy back street before the G20 security barricades had been put up. Bingham didn’t beckon them forward, though, and Felix had gotten close enough to the President and his security to see why.

  The police and military guarding the barricades had broken into clusters, not holding any firm line. Gunfire came from either direction, shattering the windows of official vehicles and pinging off concrete slabs that had been used to block the streets for the duration of the G20. United Nations troops sheltered behind several of those blocks, returning fire. Athenian cops had taken cover inside a restaurant across the street, all of its windows shattered. As Felix stared, two of them stepped out, back to back, and fired off several rounds at enemies that those in the alley could not see. One of the cops took a round through his skull and went down but the other somehow made it back inside.

  There were two men in the street who seemed out of place.

  Directly across from the mouth of the alley was a white armored car with U.N. markings—a troop carrier. The men who sat inside the open back of the carrier were not soldiers, though both had guns. They had discarded their jackets but both had been wearing suits and still had their ties on.

  All around the rear of the troop carrier were other men in suits. Dead men in tailored gray and black, lying in the sun.

  Chapel pushed past Felix and even the President, past Maggie and Jun as if they weren’t there, and joined Bingham.

  “Ambush, Mr. President,” Chapel said, that deep voice so clear amidst the sounds of combat.

  Felix frowned. Who the hell had been ambushed?

  “Go get them,” President Matheson said.

  Chapel did as he was told, taking the third bot with him and leaving Bingham to guard the President. The two robots—Marquez, Felix thought, that was the other one’s name—raced across the street. They took fire, a handful of shots that did nothing but leave scuff marks, and then Chapel and Marquez were at the troop carrier and the two men who had been pinned down suddenly had an escort. Now or never, Felix thought, and they must have realized it as well, for they leaped from the carrier and raced back toward the mouth of the alley.

  Felix stared at the two men.

  “Holy shit,” he said.

  One of the ambush survivors was thirty, blue-eyed and square-jawed. He wore a red tie.

  The other one was the Russian President, Kazimir Rostov.

  “Go to Route B,” Chapel ordered, and the Secret Service men began to hurry them all back through the alley toward the hotel.

  They had more than one exit strategy, of course, and Felix hoped this one would lead to a clearer path. He found himself next to Rostov and his lone surviving bodyguard, but then Rostov—fifty-one, face like a tombstone, strong and hard-edged—dropped back to run beside Matheson. The two men had always put on their most courteous faces for the public, but they hated each other, it was well known. Now Rostov had put his life in the hands of the American president because he had no choice.

  “I blame you,” Rostov said in his gravel voice, not trying to keep his voice down as they reached the doorway and pushed back inside the hotel. “For all of this.”

  Felix cringed as they ran through the service corridor of the hotel, footfalls echoing off the walls. Didn’t Rostov know this wasn’t the time or the place? Didn’t he realize they were all just trying to get out alive?

  But Matheson did not deny the accusation. As Felix glanced back, the American President shot the Russian a withering glance.

  “Not my fault alone,” he said.

  They turned corners, two Tin Men in front and one in back like before, and in moments Felix wrinkled his nose at the smell of grease and burnt meat, and then they were pounding through the hotel’s kitchen.

  Five men waited there for them—men who had spent their whole lives dreaming of murdering presidents.

  Kate and Danny hustled through the embassy corridors, heading back to the conference room, their heavy footfalls making the walls tremble. Kate had adjusted to spending eight hours a day five days a week in a robot body, adjusted to the size and weight of it and rejoiced in the ability to walk—to run—again. She had become so familiar with her bot that sometimes she forgot about the grave air of consequence that followed in their wake. They were intimidating as hell, and right now she felt the power of that. Yet in the aftermath of the morning—and in anticipation of the dark unknown future—she also felt fragile and alone. When anything might happen, all things seemed fragile.

  They heard the voices before they rounded the corner and Kate recognized two of them right off—Ted Hawkins and Lieutenant Trang. That didn’t bode well, but when they actually turned the corner the reality was worse. Half of the remaining members of Platoon A were strung along the corridor while Hawkins and Trang faced off, with Captain Finch and Lieutenant Winslow looking on.

  “You!” Trang boomed when he saw Kate and Danny approaching. He thrust out a shaking finger. Light coming into the hall from the conference room slashed a bright stripe across his chassis. “This is your doing, Corporal Wade.”

  “Sergeant, remember?” Kate said. “We need to talk, Lieutenant.”

  “Damn right we—“

  Kate shot a look at Finch. “We all need to talk.”

  As she and Danny came to a halt, Trang poked her chest, the sound echoing along the hall.

  “Not another word, Corporal. When I say we need to talk, I mean that I need to talk and you need to listen. Privates Hawkins and Mavrides tell me that you’ve given the order that Platoon A is to return on foot to Germany—“

  “That’s not the plan anymore,” Kate replied.

  Thump went that finger against her chest.

  “I never gave such an order and you have no authority to do so!” Trang barked.

  “Maybe she should,” Danny said.

  Trang’s head swiveled. “Don’t start, Kelso. You’re a private. You’re not even in this conversation.”

  Hartschorn rapped on the wall to get their attention, startling them all. Everyone turned to look at him, even Captain Finch.

  “All due respect, Lieutenant, I think we’re all in this conversation.”

  “You stormed out of a meeting with your platoon leader and this base’s commanding officer,” Trang said, focusing on her again. “Then I hear this. Let me make this perfectly clear, Corporal. Platoon A will be sitting tight, making camp, and protecting the American civilians right here until help arrives.”

&nb
sp; “Are you fucking kidding me?” Hawkins roared. “Help is not coming!”

  “Private Hawkins!” Captain Finch barked. “That will be enough.”

  Torres and Birnbaum had stood together—the two women seemingly in accord—but now Torres took a step toward Trang.

  “Sir, yes sir,” she said.

  “Alaina…” Birnbaum said softly, but Torres didn’t look at her.

  Kate stared at her. Torres had wanted action, but now because Trang had given the order she was going to toe the line. Kate supposed she shouldn’t be surprised—Torres had made it clear that her country came first, and to her that meant following orders.

  “Don’t do this,” Birnbaum said to Torres. Their friendship was volatile, and Kate had the idea that once they’d been more than friends. Now Birnbaum had a husband and a kid back in Germany and she was having a problem with Torres’s idea of patriotism.

  Hawkins turned to Kate. “Do something, Wade.”

  “There’s nothing she can do,” Lieutenant Winslow said.

  No one paid any attention to that—Winslow wasn’t one of them, so to hell with what he thought.

  Kate glanced at Danny, who gave a single nod. He was with her.

  “Do you understand me, Corporal Wade?” Trang demanded, awaiting a salute, some sign of obedience.

  She jammed a finger into his chest, metal ringing loudly.

  “It’s time for you to listen, Khoa—“

  Trang reared back. She wondered if it was the poke or his first name that had shocked him more.

  “You have been falling apart since this began,” she said. “Your leadership is unreliable, Lieutenant. You are not thinking clearly and should relinquish your duties.”

  “How dare you?”

  Kate spun, took a step, and stood face to face with Captain Finch. Him, she saluted. “Captain, there are things you don’t know, sir.”

  “You’re way, way out of line, soldier,” Finch drawled, but he could not hide his interest.

  “During our meeting, I had a terrible thought,” she went on.

  “Look at me, Corporal,” Trang said. “Look at me right now or I swear to God when this is over—“

  “Lieutenant Trang,” Finch said curtly. “I want to hear what Wade has to say. When your platoon is on the embassy grounds, I have operational control. I will decide what happens next.”

  Mavrides laughed. “Burn.”

  “Private Kelso and I went back to the brig to confirm my suspicion with Hanif Khan,” Kate said. “The timing of this attack was not coincidental. Right now, the G20 summit in Athens is under attack. The President is there, sir.”

  “Not just our president, either,” Danny added.

  Of course it wasn’t just presidents she was worried about, but she didn’t want them to think saving her father’s life was her only agenda. That would stay between her and Danny.

  Finch blanched and his face fell. “You want to take your platoon to Athens, is that it?”

  “No,” Trang said, voice quavering. “No, damn it, we stay here. We wait for orders. Help will come.”

  His voice had turned shrill, an edge of madness to it. His metal alloy hands moved as if he had no idea what to do with them. The lieutenant had been unraveling all day, but now his fear seemed about to break him.

  “Wait a minute,” Mavrides said. “You want to march back to Germany, okay, but—“

  “The President is under attack, Mavrides,” Danny said.

  “Which means he’ll be dead by the time we get there,” Mavrides replied. “And what is he President of now, anyway? He gonna hold the U.S. together by Pony Express? There’s no authority anymore, Kelso. Nobody’s in charge.”

  Hawkins bashed Mavrides with the heel of his hand. “Shut it, kid. You sound like a fuckin’ anarchist.” He turned to Kate. “I don’t agree with Zack, but the President has Tin Men as part of his Secret Service detail. He doesn’t need us.”

  “Sergeant Wade,” Finch began.

  Kate shot him a dark look. “Pardon me a second, Captain.”

  Ignoring Trang, who had taken to staring at his feet, she turned to Mavrides and Hawkins and the rest of them gathered there in the corridor.

  “Protecting the President is the same thing as protecting the homeland. I’ve got people I love back in the States. I can’t do anything to help them from so far away, but we can do this. At home, right now, hell is breaking loose. But in that hell there will be people fighting to keep it all together, to keep the nation intact.”

  She stared at Hawkins. “Our part of that fight is in Athens, at least for now.”

  Kate saw movement in the conference room behind Finch and only then did she see that Ambassador Day had been there all along, overhearing the conversation. He noticed that she’d seen him and gave a small nod, though whether in greeting or approval she could not tell.

  “Permission to speak, Captain?” Danny said.

  Winslow shook his head. “Oh, look, someone’s asking permission. Isn’t that cute?”

  “Go ahead, Kelso,” Finch replied.

  “There are elements here we haven’t dealt with,” Danny said. “The civilians at the embassy are in danger, as are your troops. Ideally, we’d get the hell out of Damascus and take every American with us, but we can’t travel to Athens with all of these people. Lieutenant Trang believes he should stay and some of the platoon may agree with him. Maybe that’s the solution, sir. We’d need Hanif Khan with us for whatever we can learn from him about the G20 attack and for potential trade value down the line, but I suggest that we break into two squads, one to stay and one to go to Athens.”

  All eyes turned to Trang. His head still hung and it wasn’t clear whether he was even still listening.

  “Lieutenant?” Finch prodded.

  Trang raised his head but he would not meet the gaze of anyone but Finch. “As you say, Captain, you have OPCON.”

  “I’m asking for your thoughts, Lieutenant Trang.”

  “Do I have your word that when order is restored you will faithfully recount all that has transpired here?” Trang asked.

  Finch stiffened. “Of course, but order may be a long time coming.”

  Trang turned to Kate. “Go, then. I’ll see you at your court martial.”

  Kate nodded, then scanned the rest of them. “Who’s with me?”

  Birnbaum and Danny were in immediately, followed by Hartschorn and Hawkins. Lahiri, Prosky, and McKelvie took another moment, but raised their hands.

  “I’ll stay with the Lieutenant,” Rawlins said.

  Guzzo and Reilly backed him up. Travaglini refused to commit either way. Kate stared at him, surprised until she remembered: a fourth generation soldier with a bloodline of genuine war heroes. Finch might have OPCON, but Trang was Trav’s C.O.

  “After Athens we go back to the Hump? To our bodies?” Mavrides asked.

  Kate nodded.

  “I’m in,” Mavrides replied.

  Yippee, she nearly said.

  Birnbaum turned to stare at Torres. “Alaina?”

  A robot’s face could only be so expressive, but the storm raging inside Torres was obvious to anyone who cared to look. Torres got on well with Danny but she had never liked Kate much. This would only have made it worse. She had a deep respect for the promises she had made to her country and for the chain of command that went along with it. Now she had to decide between protocol and a suicide mission to save the President, knowing Peter Matheson might be dead before they ever got to Greece. But she had to see that Trang had suffered some kind of breakdown.

  Torres turned to Kate. “I’m in.”

  “So are we,” a girlish voice piped up.

  They all turned to see a teenage girl pushing past the ambassador inside the conference room. Finch and Winslow turned to stare at her, even as Ambassador Day grabbed her shoulder.

  “Alexa—“ the ambassador began.

  The girl’s eyes were red and her face was streaked with drying tears. She might have been crying bef
ore but now she looked bold and determined. Kate figured her for sixteen or so but whatever her age the kid had grit.

  “If you’re getting out of here,” Alexa said, tucking her hair behind her ears, “me and my dad are coming with you.”

  Kate stared at her—this girl who’d been eavesdropping on the goings-on in the conference room for who knew how long—and wished she could say yes.

  “Not a chance.”

  “Alexa,” the ambassador said, studying his daughter with sad eyes before he drew her back from the open doorway. Then it was his turn to stand between Finch and Winslow and stare down the Tin Men in the hall. “Whatever happens to me, I can’t allow my daughter to stay here. By yourselves, you could go on foot, but if you’re going to bring Khan you’ll need some kind of transport. If you’re taking him, you can take Alexa.”

  Kate felt time rushing past her. “Fine, but we’ve gotta move fast.”

  Hawkins raised his hand. “I got you, Sarge.” He smiled. “Thanks to our Bot Killer friend, Ingo, there are a at least couple of working Humvee-TSVs we oughta be able to lay our hands on.”

  Mavrides laughed. “We might have to kill some anarchist fuckheads, though.”

  Kate nodded. At last there was something upon which they could all agree.

  ~13~

  The Bot Killer base was one of a dozen identical warehouses that lined either side of a narrow street branching off from Al Katheeb Lane in the northeastern part of the city. Trang had stayed at the embassy with a complement of Tin Men to help guard the walls while Kate took a dozen with her to see if Ingo’s too-good-to-be-true story about Humvee Troop Support Vehicles with shielded engines checked out.

  They broke into three teams, one each for the front and back entrances, one for the rooftops. In broad daylight, their stealth tech left something to be desired. While in the dark it was effective, in direct sunlight it worked well only if the bot stood completely still. Research to improve the tech had been ongoing, but now it would never be completed. Danny didn’t worry about that, though. Most of the time, the Tin Men wanted to be seen. The intimidation factor was useful in combat…as was the ability to kick the shit out of the enemy.