Landfall (The Reach, Book 2)

by Mark R. Healy

  “Then they’ll probably use vocal analysis to fingerprint my voice, no matter what dumb callsign I use.”

  “I’ve got one,” Robson went on, ignoring him. He spread his hands wide in a theatrical gesture. “How about ‘Blade’?”

  “No.”

  “‘Dagger’?”

  “What’s with you and knives? Scimitar, blade and dagger? I’m noticing a pattern here.”

  Robson seemed taken aback. “They sound cool.”

  Duran considered. “How about ‘Butterknife’, then?”

  Robson looked at him quizzically. “You can’t use that. That’s stupid. Too non-threatening.”

  “I’m going with it.”

  “No, you’re not.”

  “Try it out,” Duran said, giving him an inviting wave. “Say you’re closing in on the target, Butterknife.”

  Robson stood straight and indignant. “Look, if you’re not going to take this seriously–”

  Zoe padded in, barefoot, a steaming mug of coffee in her hands, and Robson fell silent.

  “Not taking what seriously?” she said, glancing between the two of them.

  “Just a disagreement about callsigns,” Duran said, smirking and leaning back in his chair.

  Zoe sighed. “We’ve got more important things to worry about right now.” She looked pointedly at Duran. “Tunks is on the move again.”

  “Finally came out of hiding, huh?” Robson said. “Little weasel. It was only a matter of time.”

  “He was never going to stay off the streets for long,” Zoe said. “That would raise too many suspicions among the other Enforcers. And besides, he has routines, other poor unfortunates to shake down. He’s too greedy to let that slip.”

  “So where is he?” Duran said.

  “I’ve tracked him using the elevators between the barracks and Lux over the past few hours. He hasn’t returned to Gaslight just yet, but he will. And when he does, we’ll be ready for him.”

  Duran shifted in his chair uneasily. “He’ll take precautions.”

  “We’ll be prepared for that, too,” Zoe said. She gave him a once-over. “Are you ready for this?”

  “I think so.”

  “No,” Zoe said, her voice steely. “We’re not going half way on this. Are you ready or not?”

  Duran had thought a lot about Tunks since the encounter in the apartment a couple of days prior. On the one hand he despised the guy and always had. Tunks had done nothing but needle him and put him down since the day they’d first met. He was a bully, no question about it, and he’d resented that Duran had climbed the ranks more adeptly than he had. Now, in addition to that, it was clear that he was also a cold-blooded murderer and a thief, no better than half the common thugs Duran had sent to the Cellar or the morgue over the years.

  Zoe had shown him footage of Tunks over the past year, visiting many other people in Gaslight and shaking them down for creds and sometimes killing them when he didn’t get his way. That left Duran in no doubt that he was a monster.

  But there was something still nagging at Duran, a fear that he was about to start down a slippery slope from which there would be no return. Today he might be killing a lowlife who deserved to be put down like a dog, but what about tomorrow? Who would he be targeting, and how would he know that they deserved it?

  He didn’t know the answer to that question. All he knew right now was that Sergeant Tunks needed to be stopped before more innocent people died. That much he could be certain about, at least.

  “Yeah,” Duran said firmly. “I’m ready.”

  Zoe nodded. “Good.” She stepped forward and adjusted his shirt to take a look at his wound. “This feeling better?” she said.

  “Starting to, yeah.”

  She undid the top two buttons on his shirt and pulled at the edge of the bandages.

  “These need changing,” she announced. “Robson, I just checked the medical store and there’s none of the gauze left.”

  “There should be a box down in general,” Robson said. “I’ll go take a look.”

  Robson disappeared through the doorway and Zoe began to unbutton the rest of Duran’s shirt.

  “I didn’t know if you’d recover this quick,” she said.

  “Why? Because I’m getting old?”

  “You’re not old,” she said, smiling slightly. “I just didn’t know if you’d have the spirit left in you.” She began to gently peel back the bandages on his shoulder. “But you do, don’t you?” she said, her eyes searching his face. “You’re not beaten yet.”

  Duran felt his body stiffen in response to her closeness. Loose strands of her hair brushed against his face as she drew the bandage away.

  “Depends on how much of that shit Robson forces me to eat,” he joked. “I can already feel it crushing my will to live.”

  Zoe laughed again. “The stuff is pretty dire. Don’t tell him that, though. He’s easily offended.”

  “Too late.”

  Zoe finished removing the bandages and dropped them on the floor. She pulled his shirt back from his shoulders, leaving his torso bare, then began to trace her fingers lightly across the wound, then down over his chest. Duran felt his breath quicken.

  “Uh, Zoe–”

  “I spent so long watching you,” she said with a tenderness that was unlike anything Duran had heard from her before. “I feel like I…” She looked into his eyes. “I feel like I’ve been there with you through the hard times. I was there when you hit the bottom.”

  Duran shifted uncomfortably. “I don’t–”

  “And now you’re climbing back again, aren’t you? You’re taking control of your destiny. You’re ready.” The way she was looking at him made his breath quicken even more. “That’s intoxicating for me, to see you believe again.”

  She straightened, her eyes never leaving his, and then she fiddled at her waist, allowing her pants to fall around her ankles. Duran watched, wide-eyed, as she unzipped her jacket. There was nothing underneath.

  “Hey, what–”

  “Shh,” she crooned, moving forward and tracing her fingers down his chest and belly again. She unbuckled his belt and her hand slipped lower. She smiled at what she found there.

  “Zoe, what the fuck–”

  “Yes, Alec,” she breathed. “You are ready, aren’t you?”

  She pulled his trousers down and straddled him, breathing hard. Duran glanced past her at the open doorway, panicked.

  “What are you doing? Robson could come back any–”

  “Shut up, Alec,” she said, pulling his chin back to face her and pressing her mouth against his. Her tongue was hot and moist as it darted into his mouth. “Shut up and do what I know you can do.”

  A groan of pleasure escaped his lips as she slipped down on top of him, and as they were joined he felt her belief flow into him like a drug, a rejuvenating force that imbued him with potency and solidified his resolve for what was to come.

  28

  Knile, he’s dying.

  Emil stared at Knile with a deep kind of sorrow in his eyes, the look of a man who had experienced tragedy in his life and who understood how this revelation must have felt.

  “That’s impossible,” Knile scoffed, but at the same moment a chill of dread ran down his back. “No way.”

  Emil shook his head sadly. “I’m sorry to be the one to tell you.”

  Knile glanced out through the perspex, where Roman was still talking to Talia, seemingly untainted by any kind of affliction.

  “Roman’s been fine,” Knile said. “He’s had a tough few days, but he’s sure as hell not dying. Something must be wrong with your analyser.”

  “No. The machine is accurate. I can assure you of that.”

  Knile could only shake his head, bewildered and feeling sick to his stomach.

  “What poison? I don’t understand.”

  “It’s a black market toxin called ‘Brimstone’. It’s relatively rare, although not unheard of, and quite expensive.”

  �
�Well, how could it have ended up in his system?”

  “There’s no way for me to determine that, Knile.”

  “Could it have been in something he ate?”

  “That’s not how it’s usually delivered, but it’s possible. What has he eaten today?”

  Knile thought back over the last twenty-four hours.

  “He’s eaten the same things I have. Bug bars and a soup we bought from a vendor. But if it was in the soup, I’d be poisoned as well.”

  “What have you been drinking?”

  “Water. We’ve shared the same supply, so it’s not that either.”

  “Hmm. Your tests came up clean. It’s something else.” Emil clasped Knile on the shoulder. “Think. There must be something.”

  Knile shrugged helplessly. “He’s been with me for the last few days, I…” He stopped. “Could it have been given to him more than a few days ago?”

  Emil considered. “That would be unusual, but not impossible. If the one who gave it to him used an inhibitor or a slow-release mechanism, say a small subcutaneous capsule to delay the distribution of the poison, then it’s possible.”

  Knile placed a shaky hand over his eyes. “Rojas,” he whispered, his voice thick with dread. “That motherfucker.”

  “Who?”

  “Roman was kidnapped a few days ago in the Reach,” Knile said. “He was drugged. Sedated by his captor. I helped him escape, and afterwards he seemed fine, but…”

  “Yes, that could be it,” Emil said. “If the drug was administered along with the sedative, or even while he was out to it, that might explain its origin.”

  “But why?” Knile said, clenching his fist with a helpless kind of rage. He realised he already knew the answer. Rojas wasn’t stupid. Using the Brimstone on Roman would act as a kind of insurance policy. Even if the boy escaped or was somehow rescued by the Enforcers, he wouldn’t live long enough to do much about it. He’d be dead within a few days, effectively cleaning up the loose ends.

  Rojas would have the creds and the means to come by the expensive drug. It all made sense.

  “What if we look for this subcutaneous capsule and take it out?” Knile said, glancing out into the corridor again.

  “It’s too late. There’s already a lethal concentration in his bloodstream.”

  Knile reached out for the scarred man’s arm.

  “Emil, please.” Knile was struggling to contain his emotions. “Tell me what I can do. There has to be something.”

  Emil sighed, disconsolate. “Roman will become weaker over the next few hours. There might be vomiting, convulsions, bleeding from ears, nose and eyes. Eventually coma, and then death.” He reluctantly met Knile’s eyes. “Now that the toxin is in his system, this will all happen in a matter of hours. There’s nothing that can be done.”

  “No!” Knile roared, reeling away. He covered his face in his hands.

  Think, Knile. There has to be something you can do.

  Talia and Roman appeared in the room at the sound of Knile’s cry.

  “What’s wrong?” Talia said, her eyes darting from Knile to Emil and back again. “What was in your test, Knile?”

  Emil opened his mouth to respond, but Knile held up his hand to forestall him.

  “I’m fine,” he said, fighting to bring himself under control. “I’m okay.” He went to the boy. “Roman, Emil found a drug in your blood. A type of toxin.”

  “What?” Roman said. “But–”

  “It must have been Rojas,” Knile said. “The bastard must have given it to you when he sedated you.”

  Roman shifted uncomfortably, his concern evident.

  “What is it? What did he give me?”

  “It’s just something to make you feel sick, Roman. We’re going to treat you for it to make sure you’re all right.” Knile turned to Emil. “Aren’t we, Emil?”

  Emil dropped his eyes to the floor, then turned to the technician.

  “Go get Silvestri. Now.”

  “You’re in good hands here, buddy,” Knile said forcing a smile, even though it was the last thing he felt like doing.

  “But I feel fine,” Roman said, glancing around at each of them in turn.

  “Emil assures me that the toxin is there. I believe him. We have to take this seriously.”

  “Roman,” Emil said, starting forward. “I need you to rest. Lie here on the table, please. I’ll have my technician stay with you while we discuss this outside.”

  Roman walked slowly to the table, a numb expression of disbelief on his face, as the others left the room. Moments later, Silvestri and the technician appeared in the corridor.

  “Go inside and shut the door,” Emil told the technician.

  “What’s going on?” Silvestri said.

  Emil waited until the door to the room had been sealed before speaking.

  “The boy’s been poisoned with Brimstone,” he said. Silvestri paled at the mention of the toxin, and Talia looked about, confused.

  “What does that mean?” she said.

  “It means he’s going to die before the day is out,” Silvestri said soberly.

  “What?” Talia gasped. She looked to Knile for confirmation. “That can’t be!”

  “Emil, you have some of the best minds on the planet assembled here,” Knile said. “You said so yourself. There has to be a way we can solve this.”

  Emil scowled. “It’s not a matter of thinking our way out of the situation, Knile. We just don’t have the medical equipment here to treat it.”

  “But I know who does,” Silvestri said suddenly. His eyes lit up. “I know how to save him.”

  Knile’s heart leapt. “What is it?” he said.

  “It’s a long shot, but–”

  “That doesn’t matter, just tell me!”

  “There’s one place on this planet that might be able to purge his system in time,” Silvestri said. “The Consortium Infirmary.”

  The brief flicker of hope that had been kindled in Knile’s heart suddenly went out.

  “The Consortium Infirmary?” he repeated, disbelieving. “Is that some kind of joke?”

  “No,” Silvestri said. “It’s not a joke.”

  “That Infirmary is located on Level Two-Hundred and Ten of the Reach, Silvestri. How the hell could we ever get him there in time? We might as well be talking about an infirmary on fuckin’ Mars–”

  “It’s the best-equipped medical facility this side of the Wire,” Silvestri said.

  “Yeah, that’s because it’s dedicated exclusively to Consortium personnel. How are we supposed to get Roman there by nightfall?”

  “I know where he’s going with this,” Emil said. “He’s been telling me that he has a way of getting into the Consortium Infirmary for months now.”

  “I do,” Silvestri said, sticking out his chin indignantly.

  “But you won’t tell me how,” Emil said.

  Silvestri nodded. “That’s because I told my contact I’d keep that information confidential, Emil. I keep my word.” He turned to Knile. “If you are willing to take the boy to the Infirmary, Knile, I can help you get there.”

  “How do I know you can do that?”

  Silvestri shrugged. “I would say at this point that you don’t really have a choice. Unless you can think of some other way to remove the toxin from the boy’s bloodstream.”

  Knile began to pace, running a hand through his hair in agitation.

  “How did this happen?” he muttered to himself. “How did we end up here?” He glanced up as Talia came to his side.

  “I’m here for you, Knile,” she said. “I’ll do whatever it takes. We’ll get through it together.”

  “You’ll come with me?”

  “Of course,” she said without hesitation. “I’ll help any way I can.”

  “That’s not possible,” Silvestri interrupted. “I only have room for one of you on this mission. I can’t do both.”

  “Why?” Knile said.

  “Because that’s how it is.”
>
  “Screw you, Silvestri,” Talia spat. “I’m going.”

  “I appreciate your loyalty, Talia,” Silvestri said, “but I don’t have a way to get you all there. I just don’t.”

  Knile looked at Talia, and she shook her head helplessly.

  “Goddammit,” she said under her breath. “Why did this happen?”

  “I don’t like it,” Knile muttered. “Not one bit.”

  “You need to make your decision, Knile,” Silvestri said, stepping closer behind him. “There isn’t much time.”

  “Just wait a minute,” Knile snapped angrily. He drew Talia away from the others and lowered his voice. “What do you think about this, Tal?”

  “It’s a fucking nightmare, that’s what I think,” she said angrily. She sobbed and tears began to slide down her cheeks. “Going to this Infirmary sounds like suicide, Knile. I can’t see how it could possibly work. And this Silvestri guy? I wouldn’t trust him for a moment.”

  “But what’s the alternative? We sit here while Roman dies?”

  “I know,” she said, wiping at the tears on her cheeks. “It’s all fucked up no matter which way we go.”

  Knile took a deep breath, but his heart rate did not slow.

  “I think I have to try it,” he said shakily. “I have to at least hear what Silvestri has to offer. I owe Roman that much. It might turn out to be bullshit, but I can’t just wait here and watch him die.”

  Talia nodded. “Yeah. You’re right.”

  He drew her toward him. “I’m sorry.”

  “I know, Knile. I understand. Don’t worry about me. I’m the least of your concerns.”

  “It just seems so stupid,” Knile said, overwrought. “We came all the way down the Reach to find you, then we came all the way out here to join Skybreach, and now I have to leave you again and head back to the Reach.”

  “There’s nothing you could have done about that.”

  He felt a pang of guilt. “I said I wasn’t going to leave you again, Talia, but–”

  “Hey,” she said suddenly, holding his face in her hands. She composed herself, pushed away the tears. “This isn’t the end for you and me and Roman, right?” she said, her voice full of conviction. “There’s still a future for us as long as you believe it.”

  He forced a smile. “Yeah.”