The Lab (Agent Six of Hearts)

by Jack Heath

  Shuji said nothing.

  “But,” Six continued, “that would not bring your victims back from the dead. That would not do anyone any good, in fact, except for bloodthirsty ‘justice’ addicts, who are only slightly higher on the moral spectrum than you.”

  “What’s your point?” Shuji asked coldly.

  “My point is that the Deck has decided to put you in this reasonably comfortable cell, with plenty of food, water, and safety. You are imprisoned so you cannot repeat your immoral actions, and your money has been taken so that we can save more lives in the City. Beyond that, we are not interested in you.” He leaned forward. “This is not justice, this is reason.

  “If I were to release you into the City, with enough money to set you up until you can find employment, then that would not do anyone any harm. Your victims cannot die again. And I know you will not break the Code anymore, because that would draw our attention, and while today you have something that I want, next time you might not be so lucky. Am I making myself clear?”

  Shuji nodded.

  “So, is it worth one criminal going free if lives could be saved because of it? I have decided yes—but the deal is not negotiable. You of all people should know that there are other ways of getting information from someone…” He paused, trying to read her expression. “…and that I will do things much worse than freeing a murderer in the interest of the greater good.”

  Shuji gave him the coordinates without any further hesitation. Six got up to leave, but paused in the doorway.

  “The bots you designed—were they programmed with the ability to fly a helicopter?”

  Six slipped on his weapon belt and began loading up. He stuffed his backpack full of ammunition, including spark bullets—rounds that would explode brightly on impact. These were perfect for stunning enemies, or distracting them.

  Six also slid a few sleeping-gas canisters into the bag, as well as a water bottle, a blowpipe with tranquilizer darts, and a Soni-Cell laptop computer. He had loaded his two silver pistols with 12-millimeter bullets, and clipped them to his sides. He had attached a holster to his lower back, and slid an Eagle automatic rifle into it. And finally, he had strapped magnetic clasps to his right calf and used them to hold a twenty-sevencentimeter combat blade, ready to be drawn at short notice.

  You never know, he reflected.

  As well as photographs, Kyntak had provided diagrams of the interior of Project Falcon’s lab, and Six studied them now. Clever, he thought, tracing the lines with his finger. Hidden, yet unsuspicious if found. And the shape…

  The building was three floors high, but only the top one was above ground. There was another similar one below that, labeled as the basement. But below that, there was a secret floor—one that officially did not exist.

  The whole building was like a maze, full of loops, oneway doors, dead ends, and corridors that led into one another in circles. There were three elevators in the building. Two only went to the top and middle floors, and they were easy to find, at the northeast and southwest corners of the building. The third only went to the middle and bottom floors, and it was tucked away in an obscure corner of the maze. The maze only covered the top two floors—the bottom floor was straightforward and functional. It also contained the doorway to a tunnel that led to a nearby tower, which Six was certain belonged to the Lab as well. The bottom floor and the tower, Six guessed, were where the testing and experimentation were done. That way, only employees with good knowledge of the building could get to the secret areas. They would have to find one of the top two elevators and take it to the middle floor, then find their way through the maze to the third elevator, where, presumably, there would be some sort of security.

  So, how was Six supposed to get in?

  Easily. This was not the first time he’d done something like this. Six rolled up the blueprint, having committed it to memory. He put the roll in his backpack. The tougher question was, how was he supposed to find the other Deck personnel?

  Slightly less simple, but still straightforward. Follow the soldiers. Wherever there were armed guards, there was bound to be something worth hiding.

  They’d be in a room that was large enough to hold them all, but with only one exit, so they could be guarded easily. It would almost certainly be on the middle floor, too. If they were in the bottom level, there would be a risk of them seeing too much, or doing something dangerous near the equipment. And if they were on the top floor, they could theoretically escape or be found more easily.

  All this was assuming they were still alive, Six reminded himself. But if the Lab was planning to kill them, why the soldiers and chloroform? Why not just blow up the Deck?

  Six paused as he climbed into the helicopter. He could run, if he wanted. No one knew where he was. He could leave now and get as far away from the Lab’s reach as possible.

  Six had faced a lot of tough life-or-death decisions in his life. In some cases, he’d felt he’d made the wrong one. But this was the easiest choice he’d ever had to make.

  No, he decided. I’m going into the lion’s den. I’m going to find the other agents. He stepped into the chopper.

  The Twin-900 silently ascended towards the sky, vanishing into the night. The Deck was completely empty.

  SHADOW MAN

  The guard rubbed his goggles, trying to erase the fog. His vision cleared for a moment; he looked around and saw nothing suspicious—just concrete pillars, an inky black sky, and the parking lot below. The rooftop was completely still. He sighed, tapping his loaded Eagle idly with one finger.

  As far as he could tell, no one had ever tried to break in. He was always on his toes, but there didn’t seem to be any point…nobody ever saw anything suspicious.

  He wobbled slightly as a gust of wind hit him. Regaining his balance, he straightened up and glanced around. Crazy weather around here, he thought.

  A tiny scuffling noise.

  The guard whirled around, leveling his rifle in the same motion. His body became perfectly still, except for his eyes darting around behind the goggles. Something or nothing? he wondered. He held still, waiting.

  Another noise. Tiny, almost inaudible, but the guard heard it. He grinned wryly. Now here’s the fun part of my job. Rat hunting.

  Was an unauthorized rat trying to sneak onto the company’s premises? If so, he would terminate it with extreme prejudice.

  He stepped forward silently. The padded soles of his boots gripped the concrete. He eased around the corner of a cement slab, searching. Where’d the critter go? he wondered.

  He looked around him and saw only more concrete slabs, a few skylights, and the low wall that surrounded the roof.

  A thud from his left.

  He spun around to face it. That sounded bigger than a rat. But there was still nothing in sight. He walked forward, and glanced down at the thick steel trapdoor below his feet.

  Could it be…no. No way.

  He turned around and walked back to his post. It took three men to open that huge trapdoor. No one could possibly have opened it by themselves.

  He almost laughed out loud. I need more sleep, he thought. What exactly am I worried about? Unless some unbelievably strong, super-fast intruder dropped out of the sky, landed safely with no more than a scuffle, then sneaked silently into the building through a hole no one could open on his own, his job was still secure.

  The guard grinned to himself, relaxing gradually. It’s been a long night, he thought.

  But then he glimpsed something on the ground in the concrete parking lot. Walking to the low parapet, he squinted into the darkness, peering over the side.

  Was that helicopter there before?

  Six lowered his ear from the cold underside of the steel trapdoor, satisfied. He seemed to have remained undetected—for the moment. But as always, a moment had been all he needed.

  He crept swiftly down the ladder and landed on the polished tiles. He was on the top floor, ready for the maze.

  I’m inside, he thought. I’
m inside the Lab. And I’ve got no way out. He shivered slightly as he scanned his surroundings for danger.

  The lighting was good—fluorescent tubes glowed on the ceiling, reflecting off the floor. This was bad for Six. He could see in the dark while others were blind. In this cold neon, he would be visible and therefore vulnerable.

  When subtlety is no longer an issue, he thought, perhaps I can short out the power somehow.

  The ceiling and walls were made of thin softwood paneling, held in place by a metal grid. Six presumed that the walls were hollow, and that there’d be a shallow gap between the floors.

  According to the blueprints, he knew he should take the next three lefts.

  Six was suspicious of the blueprints. Kyntak had supplied them, after all. But so far they had been accurate, and he had no choice but to trust them.

  He walked down the corridor to its end, turned left, and was faced with another identical corridor. So far, so good. He continued walking, seeing his next left turnoff up ahead. Fluorescent tubes buzzed above his head. He rounded the next corridor, then jumped back immediately and flattened his back against the wall. Surveillance digi-cam. Tuning his ears slightly, he could hear it humming—he had been careless and had missed the sound as he’d approached. He cursed inwardly. He doubted that anyone had seen him—he had only been in the camera’s line of sight for a moment before he’d spotted it and turned back. But still, he had been clumsy.

  It was weird that this was the first camera he’d come across. It wasn’t like the Lab (or any part of ChaoSonic, for that matter) to be under-cautious.

  Something isn’t right here, he thought, but I have no choice except to go on. So how do I get around the camera? There’s no other way, no separate corridors that lead to where I want to go. The camera is at the other end of the corridor, so it covers the whole length; I can’t just duck past it.

  Six crouched down to the floor, still thinking. It probably filmed at about twelve frames per second. Could he run down the whole corridor in less than one-twelfth of a second? He calculated quickly. Possibly, but he’d have to get a run-up of at least fifty meters. That was impossible—he had to get around the corner, so he couldn’t have any run-up at all. If he tried to round a ninety-degree corner at that speed, he’d end up on the ceiling…

  Six glanced up, and his eyes widened. The ceiling! Of course! He took another swift glance at the camera around the corner. It was angled downward, so it covered the whole floor of the corridor and most of the walls, but it couldn’t see upward! He smiled slightly.

  He put his hands on the wall and lifted himself up, using the metal grid for handholds. It seemed to be able to support his weight. Delicately he climbed up to the ceiling.

  The metal was soft and began to bend towards him, but each beam could hold him for about a second. He dropped to the floor. He could climb it, but he’d have to be quick so it wouldn’t collapse.

  Scrambling back up, Six started to crawl across the ceiling. His arms and legs moved simultaneously, constantly finding new handholds and footholds. The metal grid sagged under his weight, but held. Every hand or foot movement took him a bit closer to the end of the corridor.

  He crawled upside down like a spider, hanging on to the metal with strong hands and soft shoes. He could see the camera humming away, but it remained oblivious to his presence. He clambered forward eagerly, gripping the grid and pressing his body to the ceiling.

  Then he froze. Footsteps.

  He could feel the metal in his hands twisting, buckling under his weight.

  The ceiling moaned. The camera hummed. Six sweated.

  He couldn’t tell from the sound how far away the guard was. He could be two corridors away, leaving Six safe to round the corner without being seen. Or the guard could be in the next corridor, getting closer and closer to where Six hid.

  Every second I wait makes him nearer, Six realized. It’s much too late to turn back.

  Suddenly, the ceiling framework collapsed. The metal snapped, and his hands slipped off. He started to fall. He reached out and grabbed the support struts for the video camera, and swung backward on them, rounding the corner and thumping into the wall. He dropped to the floor and scrambled to his feet immediately.

  He could still hear the footsteps, but no one was in sight. Brushing himself down, he started walking down yet another identical corridor. Within a second, the guard had rounded the corner in front of him, holding an Eagle.

  Six’s heart raced. The soldier looked up and saw him.

  Take it easy, Six cautioned himself. Just bluff it out.

  Six kept walking. Out of the corner of his eye, he watched the guard come closer. Then, when they were about to pass, he looked up and nodded to the guard, who nodded back and passed in silence.

  How good is the security in this place? he wondered. What systems will they use to check who’s authorized to enter? Keycard passes, finger ID, retina scans, what? Obviously not simple facial recognition, or the guard would have stopped me by now. And, more important, what weapons will they have? I know that the last few guards I’ve seen have been armed with…

  A gun butt hit him in the back.

  He sprawled across the linoleum, but as soon as his hands touched the ground, he pushed up desperately and flipped himself backward onto the guard.

  Taken by surprise as Six’s boots hit him in the chest, the guard staggered back but did not fall. He swung his Eagle to point at Six, and reached for the trigger. Before he could pull, Six grabbed the gun barrel and twisted it away from him. Then he yanked it. The guard held on determinedly, apparently sensing that his weapon was his only useful defense against Six. Six pulled harder, but the guard was dragged along with the gun, refusing to let go.

  “Okay,” Six said matter-of-factly, and he swung the gun to his right, whipping the guard off his feet and sending him flying into the wall. The wooden paneling shattered and the guard plunged through, splintering the metal framework with his velocity. He hit the wall on the other side of the hole and clung on with one hand, the other still gripping his Eagle.

  They had opened up a whole new fighting arena—the dark hollow between the walls of the maze.

  Six dived in as the guard aimed his Eagle. The gun sliced past Six’s chest as he, too, hit the wall on the other side. He looked down and saw nothing but blackness.

  According to the blueprints, the walls were about eightyfive centimeters thick. In reality, they seemed to be hollow. If the gaps stretched down right through all three floors, Six thought, then there was probably about an eleven-meter drop below him.

  His thoughts were again interrupted by the guard, who had gallantly taken a swing at Six’s hand where it gripped the framework. Six dodged, then smoothly slid out of the ring of light from the hole in the wall, into the darkness behind him.

  He dangled there in the blackness, watching the solider look around blindly. He focused his eyes on the spot where Six had vanished, and lashed out into the shadows with his foot.

  Six grabbed the soldier’s leg and wrapped his arm around it. The guard cried out in surprise as he suddenly found himself dangling from his left leg. Then he yelped as Six swung him up and threw him into the wall again. The guard crashed through it and slid along the floor of a new corridor, leaving a hole for Six to slip through. Six landed safely on the tiles, squinting against the neon glare of the new location. As the guard reached for his gun, Six kicked it out of his hands.

  Click.

  Six sprang up and clung to the ceiling.

  He had heard the sound of a safety catch being switched off behind him.

  He scrambled forward across the ceiling as the corridor was suddenly filled with the sound of a rapidly chattering assault rifle. A hailstorm of bullets filled the air.

  Standard issue for these guards is an Eagle automatic, he thought immediately, which has eighty rounds.

  As Six’s train of thought sped up, time seemed to slow down and he could count each shot of the machine-gun fire as it left
the gun.

  When the soldier readjusted his aim, Six heard the first shot hit the panels behind him.

  Six swung to his left and collided with the wall.

  Forty shots fired, he thought.

  He rebounded off the wall, hit the ground, and slid across the floor to the other side of the corridor. Fifty. He heard scraping sounds as shots tore across the floor underneath him. From behind him there was a sickening thud; a bullet had hit the first guard, who was still lying on the ground.

  Sixty shots now, Six thought. He’s three-quarters of the way through his ammo. Six scrambled up the wall on the other side of the corridor as the panels under his feet were torn to shreds by bullets. Seventy…

  He jumped off the wall and bounced along the floor as bullets whirred through the corridor around him. Then he landed directly in front of the gun barrel just as it clicked empty.

  Eighty, he thought.

  The guard had only a moment to look astonished before Six knocked him unconscious with a flying fist. Holding open the stunned guard’s eyelids, Six took a quick look at the rolledback eyes. He’d be out for at least an hour and a half. More time than Six needed.

  Six returned to the other guard. He was lying on the ground, moaning and writhing, with blood pouring out of his leg. Six knelt over him and examined the wound. He tore the guard’s sleeve into strips and knotted them together, wrapping them tightly around the injury. The blood flow stopped quickly.

  “You’ll be fine,” Six assured him, and touched his neck lightly. The guard lapsed into deep sleep.

  Agent Six pondered his position as he stripped the uniform from the other soldier, including a ChaoSonic buzz-belt that would tell him when the guards were put on alert. This little detour had positioned him in a place he had never intended to go—this corridor was of no use to him. He could always, of course, clamber back through the two holes he had made and resume his journey. He would then be no worse off, but for a few minutes lost.