The Extinction Files Box Set

by A. G. Riddle

  The light in the living room flicked on and the door opened, revealing Lin Shaw, still in her work clothes.

  “Desmond. What can—”

  “We need to talk. It’s important.”

  She held the door open for him, closed it after him, but didn’t welcome him deeper into the home.

  Desmond decided it was time to roll the dice. “It’s started.”

  “It?”

  “Yuri. The Looking Glass. They’re proceeding.”

  Lin didn’t miss a beat. “How?”

  “I think they’re using some kind of pathogen or retrovirus. I couldn’t find out.”

  Her eyes went wide—confirming that she didn’t know. “Where will it start?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “What do you know, Desmond?”

  “Only that they’ve been testing it on a ship.”

  She looked away, deep in thought.

  “Can you stop him?” Desmond asked.

  “No.”

  The word was like a gavel coming down. A final judgment. He had expected her to say yes—expected her to offer some solution.

  “You have to—”

  “Listen to me.”

  He exhaled.

  “Really listen, okay?”

  He nodded. “Okay.”

  “Yuri has been planning this for a very, very long time.”

  “I know.”

  “Do you want to stop him?”

  “Yes.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Completely.”

  “Then do something he’ll never expect.”

  Desmond shook his head. “Like what?”

  “I don’t know. Only you know that. Don’t tell me. Don’t tell anyone. That’s the only way to ensure it works.”

  “You want me to destroy the Looking Glass.”

  “No. The Looking Glass is inevitable. It has always existed and must always exist.”

  The words shocked Desmond. He felt numb. The world around him stood still.

  Lin stepped closer. “What is happening on this planet has happened on billions of worlds before. And it will happen on billions of worlds after ours.”

  “What are you saying?”

  “The Looking Glass isn’t what you and Yuri think it is. It is a singularity of far more importance.”

  He opened his mouth to respond, but couldn’t find words.

  “All that can change is who controls the Looking Glass. If you want to stop Yuri—the Citium—there’s only one way to do it: from the inside.”

  He closed his eyes. “Lin, I can’t—”

  She opened the door. “Go, Desmond. I have work to do.”

  He headed home, but never made it. Halfway there, a thought occurred to him. A vague notion at first, then a hypothesis, then a theory. It seemed outlandish, but it made sense—in context. Avery’s question to him: If I told you something that… changed everything you believe, would you still trust me?

  There was only one thing she could have been talking about. But if it was true… what was she? What was she to him?

  He dialed her number. She answered on the first ring.

  “You asked me if I was capable of changing what I believed, deep down.”

  “And?”

  “I am.”

  He could hear shouting in the background, like traders on the floor of the stock exchange. No, they were calling out locations. And company names. Citium company names.

  Footsteps, Avery walking away, the voices fading.

  “I already have,” he said.

  “What are we talking about, Des?”

  “People I know. I didn’t—didn’t know what they were capable of.”

  “What are they capable of?”

  “My turn. What are we talking about, Avery?”

  “Meet me.”

  “Where?”

  “San Carlos. At the airport off Bayshore Freeway. Hangar twenty-five.”

  “What’s there?”

  “I am.”

  “Who else?”

  Silence.

  “Who do you work for, Avery?”

  She exhaled. “I work for the people who can’t defend themselves. All seven billion of them.”

  It wasn’t an answer, and he knew he wouldn’t get one.

  He drove through the night, at high speed, past the airport gates, to the hangar, where two dozen black SUVs were parked and a throng of trench coat clad men and women milled about. They stopped him a hundred feet from the hangar and demanded to know who he was and why he was here.

  Avery jogged up to them and said, “He’s with me.”

  They entered the hangar through a side door. And as Desmond stepped inside, his jaw dropped.

  Wooden stands, holding sheets of plywood wrapped with corkboard, sat in a giant horseshoe, and they were covered, inch to inch, with information on the Citium. He saw his own photo. Yuri’s. Conner’s. The name Icarus Capital. Rook Quantum Sciences. Rendition Games. Every company the Citium owned. Their main investment vehicles were listed too: Citium Capital, Invisible Sun Securities. The entire web they had spun was diagrammed here—with red strings and pins showing the connections. And in the middle of the hangar, where an aircraft should have been, at least two dozen agents sat at long tables, bent over laptops or speaking into mobile phones.

  “What is this?” Desmond asked.

  “A mobile command center.”

  “For what?”

  “Stopping a terrorist attack.”

  Desmond’s head spun. His knees felt weak, like he was on a merry-go-round going two hundred miles an hour.

  He was vaguely aware of Avery still standing there.

  “They’re not terrorists,” he whispered.

  “They?” a man’s voice said, loud in the space. “Don’t you mean we?”

  Avery glanced back at him. “Desmond Hughes, this is David Ward, head of the Rubicon Group.”

  Ward was a tall man in a black suit with no tie. He nodded to a man in an FBI flak jacket. “Let’s make it official in case it comes back to bite us.”

  The other man drew out his FBI badge and flashed it. “Mr. Hughes, I’m Special Agent Reyes with the FBI. You’re under arrest.”

  Chapter 51

  Avery threw up her hands. “Whoa, whoa, here. Let’s take a step back, J. Edgar. Desmond is here of his own accord. To assist in this investigation.”

  She stared at Ward, who stared back. A battle of wills.

  Ward broke eye contact first. He took the FBI man by the arm, led him away, and whispered something Desmond couldn’t hear. Then to Avery, he shouted, “He’s all yours, Agent Price.”

  Desmond’s fear and shock morphed into rage. “You lied to me.”

  Avery didn’t respond. She simply walked past him, out the door of the hangar, and into the night. When he caught up to her, she stared at him with those glowing blue eyes, like a creature ready to defend its ground, a predator just outside its den.

  “You lied to me,” he repeated.

  Avery cocked her head. “I did? As in, I didn’t tell you my work was part of a much larger project, a covert one? Is that what you mean?”

  He said nothing.

  “Any idea what that would be like, Des? Not telling the person you’re closest to what you’re really working on?”

  “Avery.” He wanted to press his point, but she was right. He had lied to her too. In a strange way, they were mirrors of each other, fighting on opposites sides, two people serving their cause by day, literally sleeping with the enemy by night. And their cold war was about to go hot.

  She chewed the inside of her lip. “What’s it gonna be? You want to debate water under the bridge, or you want to help us?”

  “I want to know what’s really going on.”

  “I could ask you the same thing.”

  “I asked first.”

  “Okay.” She took a few more steps from the building—and the agents posted around it. “Yuri is moving pieces. Closing down Citium front companies. T
ransferring money. He’s preparing for an operation. A large one. We think it could be his end game.”

  “Those are not crimes.”

  “True. But killing two hundred people is.”

  “What are you talking about?”

  “The Citium conclave. The last one. When the scientists were slaughtered. Yuri did it.”

  “Impossible.” He reeled at the words. It was as if the entire foundation of his knowledge about the Citium had been yanked out from under him. If Yuri had lied about the last conclave, what else had he lied about?

  “It’s true. That’s how Rubicon”—she gestured back toward the hangar—“got started. Some of the scientists were worried that a Citium civil war was brewing. They contacted people like David Ward’s predecessor. Hid evidence. And when they all disappeared, Rubicon was born. We’ve been investigating the Citium for thirty years.”

  “Yuri didn’t kill those people. He … They were his friends. His colleagues.”

  “His competitors, Des. People whose Looking Glass projects would end his own. He’ll do anything to protect his work.”

  He knew her words were true, but he grasped for any flaw in her logic, any way to destroy the hideous revelation.

  “Lin Shaw,” he said. “She was a Citium member back then. She’s still alive. He didn’t kill her.”

  Avery nodded. “Lin Shaw is an anomaly, a piece we don’t understand yet.”

  “She’s doing real work, Avery. Trying to find the genetic basis of disease. You’ve seen it. You’ve helped her. Explain that.”

  “We can’t. We don’t know what Lin’s end game is, but we think it’s separate from Yuri’s.”

  “Then why is she alive? Was she colluding with him back then?”

  “We don’t know. Maybe. But we think he’s controlling her somehow. Leverage of some kind.”

  His mind said a single name: Peyton.

  He stared at the sky. “I need time—”

  “Des. We don’t have time.”

  “Then I need proof. You’re talking about things that happened thirty years ago.”

  A sad expression crossed Avery’s face. “Follow me.”

  Back inside, she stopped in front of a photo of a girl with flowing brown hair and a self-conscious smile. It was a face Desmond hadn’t seen in thirteen years. Below it was a picture taken in the woods, of a hole dug with a shovel, the dirt piled in low mounds on each side, a body wrapped in plastic, the skin pale blue, like rubber. He recognized the hair.

  He looked back at the smiling face. Jennifer. The sweet receptionist who had sat at the raised dais outside the Citium library. The girl who had brought him books and invited him to dinner.

  “We recruited her at Stanford, after she was already working at the Citium.” Avery’s voice grew quiet. “She was doing digital dead drops. Somebody found out.”

  “How? Who?”

  “We don’t know. They were very careful.”

  Rage boiled inside him. His voice was barely louder than a growl. “Okay. I’m in. Now tell me what you know.”

  “Citium Security. It’s Yuri’s sharp end of the stick. The bulk of the contractors have no idea what kind of person they’re working for. They’re simply protecting high-value targets, executives at Citium companies who are traveling abroad, securing facilities in dangerous regions. Some corporate counter-espionage. The higher-ups are true believers—like Yuri, they’ll do anything to see the Looking Glass completed. Same for a few special ops divisions.” She glanced at the photo. “Like the one that did this.”

  Desmond’s mind immediately replayed his interaction with Conner, the military countenance his brother had taken on. I’ve been given command of Citium Security. I’ve been training. What had he made Conner do? What was Conner capable of? After what he’d been through, probably anything.

  “What do you need from me?”

  Avery stepped closer. “Where is Yuri?”

  “I don’t know. I haven’t heard from him in months.”

  “Des.”

  “It’s true.”

  “Your brother?”

  “He’s here. In San Francisco Bay.”

  Avery turned, motioned for the agents at the table.

  “No.” He took her by the arm. “You want my help, we do it my way.”

  She glared at him. “Right. You’re going to tell us how to stop an international terror organization?”

  “I’m going to tell you the terms of my involvement. And you’re going to sell them to your boss.” He glared right back. “You’re good at that, aren’t you? Getting your boss to do what you want?”

  Her face was a mask of confusion and surprise, and then hurt, like a spear had been stabbed through her heart. He regretted his words instantly.

  “Avery—”

  The cool air coming off the bay was a stark contrast to the heat rising from her, her flushed red cheeks and blazing eyes. “I didn’t mean for it to happen,” she said.

  “Avery, I know—”

  “You pursued me just as much.”

  “Look.” He grasped for words. “It’s been… a weird day. I don’t know who to trust. I need some time.”

  “Des—”

  “I know, we don’t have time.” He tried to organize his thoughts. “Whatever you’re planning—your head-on assault, Keystone Cops style knock-down-the-doors-and-throw-everybody-in-the-paddy-wagon—it won’t work. These people are too smart for that. Yuri is a master manipulator. And strategist. He looks at the board from his perspective, then he turns it around in his mind—and studies it from yours. I know because that’s how he plays chess.”

  “This is not a chess game.”

  “Sure it is. And we’re going to win.”

  “How? What do you know, Des?”

  “I know he used me. And my brother. Because he could. Because we were both broken and desperately wanted to feel whole again. We would do anything for a cure to what ailed us. And most of all, because we were capable of building the pieces he needed. He planned it perfectly. The two of us can be used to control each other. I’m not okay with that.”

  “Then destroy the pieces, Des. You have Rendition.”

  “Won’t work. They’ll rebuild.” Lin’s words echoed in his mind, and almost without thinking, he repeated them. “The Looking Glass is inevitable.”

  She stepped closer. “What is it?”

  “That’s a longer discussion, Avery. And we don’t have time.”

  “Then what’s your plan?”

  In his mind, he began laying out the pieces, arranging them, turning scenarios over. His priorities were in conflict. Save Conner. Stop Yuri. Take control of the Looking Glass—and keep it out of enemy hands. Figure out what he and Avery were. And him and Peyton, if too much time had passed for them. And if not… that complicated things.

  But there was one certainty: Rendition was his greatest bargaining chip, perhaps his only tool to change what was coming. They would get it from him, one way or another. Unless he couldn’t give it.

  “I need to make a call.”

  He opened a web browser, found the number for a scientist at Rapture Therapeutics, and dialed. The man was in Berlin—a lucky break. He could work with him while he got the reporter at Der Spiegel up to speed.

  Desmond made the call. It was noon in Berlin, and it sounded like the scientist was having lunch. After the pleasantries, Desmond cut to the chase.

  “Doctor Jung, I have a Rapture implant. It’s an older model.” He opened his account on the Rapture website and read out the version. “Do you know it?”

  “Quite well.”

  “I’d like to use it along with your memory therapy. Here’s what I’d like to do…”

  By the time he finished explaining, Jung had left the restaurant and was talking excitedly, thrilled at the idea of applying his work in a new way.

  Desmond ended the call and dialed a local number. The programmer was still up, clacking away at a keyboard in the background. Everyone at Labyrinth Reality wor
ked odd hours, and for once, Desmond was glad.

  “Paul, I need you to create a private Labyrinth for me. With some custom features.”

  “What kind of custom features?”

  When Desmond told him, he said, “Seriously? Is that even possible?”

  “We won’t know until we try it. You interested?”

  “Yeah, man.”

  Desmond talked about the details with him for a few minutes, then hung up and walked back to Avery.

  “What was that about?”

  “A backup plan. In case things go south.”

  “And what’s your primary plan?”

  “We expose the Citium. Alert every government and every person who will listen. There will be nowhere on Earth for them to hide. We’ll take control of the Citium—and the Looking Glass.”

  “Des—”

  “There’s a reporter in Berlin. He’s already seen some of the pieces.”

  “I don’t like this. What are you going to do with Rendition?”

  “Hide it.”

  She motioned to the hangar. “They’re never going to go for this. They’re preparing to raid every Citium company on the planet.”

  “You think Yuri hasn’t planned for that? It’ll just get people hurt. We need to take them down from the inside.”

  “How?”

  “I don’t know Yuri’s plan, but I know where Conner is—as I said, on a ship in the harbor. Whatever is going to happen, I think he’ll direct it from there.”

  “So we take the ship—”

  “No. Yuri will simply adjust. I’m going to get you on that ship.”

  “How?”

  “By telling Conner the truth—half of it. That I want to help him and that I want to protect someone I care about. I want her on the ship, out of harm’s way, when his plan unfolds. The only safe place is next to him.”

  She looked away, into the night. He waited for a reaction to his words, the closest he had ever come to professing his feelings for her.

  She was all business. “What’s on the ship?”

  “A floating lab. Hospital. Test subjects.”

  “Testing what?”

  “Rendition, originally. Now, I’m not sure.”

  “Okay. What do I do on the ship?”

  “Wait for me. Help me when I get there.”