The Robots of Gotham

by Todd McAulty

  “Nasir has been imprisoned,” he said after finishing the taco.

  “Oh, no. That poor bastard.” I wondered what had happened to him after I’d bullied him into showing me the data drive. Hayduk couldn’t have been pleased with him for that. “The colonel assumes he was the inside man?”

  “I have no additional information.”

  “Damn. He’s not my favorite guy, but he doesn’t deserve to be interrogated in the bowels of the Sturgeon Building. What about Hazel-rah? Hayduk ever catch him?”

  “No. And Hayduk abruptly called off search. Very odd.”

  “Odd that he got away?”

  “It is not like colonel to give up. It is as if he was afraid of something in streets at night.”

  “I’ve been on the streets of Chicago at night. I don’t blame him.”

  Sergei started in on the third taco.

  “What’s going on in Indiana and the other sites you mentioned?” I asked.

  “Venezuelan Military Intelligence has announced outbreak is completely contained. They report that danger is over.”

  “What?” I said, startled.

  “Is misinformation,” Sergei said matter-of-factly. “Thibault and others continue to provide reports through unofficial channels. There are now six confirmed outbreak sites. Plague is spreading rapidly. Seven more deaths overnight.”

  “Then why are Hayduk and his team saying otherwise?”

  Sergei shrugged. “I do not have time to make conjectures about his motives.”

  “This is bullshit,” I said angrily. “Do people believe what Hayduk is saying? Are you getting support for your work on the reactor? What do your superiors think?”

  “There is still widespread concern among ranks in AGRT and Venezuelan high command. There are too many contradictory reports, and not everyone trusts military intelligence.”

  “Damn straight. Anyone who trusts those bastards is an idiot.”

  Sergei finished eating. “I have used data regarding F5-117 on drive to convince my superiors that there are earlier records of this pathogen and a possible counteragent.”

  “That sounds risky. What if Hayduk gets wind of it?”

  “I believe I have been careful not to use data too closely tied to drive. And it has been worth risk—Colonel Perez has made construction of bioreactor a high priority. Two similar reactors are also being constructed, in Indiana and Michigan.”

  “I don’t just mean that using the data could incriminate you in the theft of Hayduk’s drive. I mean it’s very possible that Hayduk had something to do with setting this plague in motion, and now he seems to be using the forces at his disposal to cover it up. The man has a dark agenda here. And now you’re publicly developing a cure. If he’s the one behind the plague, then sooner or later you’re going to be a target.”

  “I have thought of that. In my report to Colonel Perez, I have provided misinformation of my own.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “I have made several . . . gross generalizations that imply we are taking a different approach than instructions on drive. I have also indicated we could begin vaccine trials in three weeks, perhaps four. In reality, if we are successful, we could have first samples in less than one week.”

  “You sneaky bastard. So if Hayduk or his goons read your report, they’ll assume we’re going to fail. And they’ll also assume we won’t know we’ve failed until it’s much too late.”

  “Da.”

  “Isn’t spreading that kind of misinformation risky? What about those other reactors in Indiana and Michigan? What if they follow the instructions in your report and end up wasting precious time?”

  “They will not. Thibault is overseeing construction. I have shared antiviral formula with her. She will make sure they proceed correctly.”

  “Glad to hear it. So publicly, we buy the line of bullshit military intelligence is feeding us about the outbreak being contained and work to deliver an ineffective counteragent in four weeks. In reality, we use the instructions on Hayduk’s drive to prepare an effective counteragent in under a week.”

  “Da.”

  “Meanwhile, Thibault and Jacaranda both estimated that the virus could reach critical exposure levels as soon as eight days from now. If everything goes perfectly, we could deliver the first samples of an effective antivirus in maybe six days. That’s cutting it damn close.”

  “Correct.”

  “And that’s assuming Hayduk doesn’t come sniffing around the reactor and discover what we’re actually up to. Can we disguise it in some way? Or move it?”

  Sergei shook his head. “There is no time. It is a risk we must take.”

  “There’s a lot riding on this. We better get the antivirus right the first time.”

  “Da. If we do not, there will be no time for second attempt.”

  “Do you think you can get the reactor functioning in time?”

  “I believe so. Medical teams in Indiana and Kentucky are sending additional assistance. It will arrive tonight. Major problem remains purification and isolation after extraction from reactor. We need centrifuges.”

  “Those shouldn’t be too hard to get. How long will it take?”

  “We have located already equipment at Columbia College. However, not enough for multiple sites. And Indiana section chief has decided his team has medical priority. All functioning centrifuges we have located will be transported tomorrow morning to Danville, Illinois.”

  “What? Has Thibault got that reactor built already? How is that possible?”

  “Nyet. Thibault has started work on second reactor, but they do not yet have all components. They are days behind us. Perhaps a week.”

  “Screw those guys. We need those centrifuges.”

  “Yes. But we are part of dysfunctional military and medical organization. We must work with dysfunction, as well as function. I have already begun search for additional equipment.”

  “Christ, listen to you. We have a two-day margin of error—we can’t afford to take that kind of risk. A helluva lot of people are going to die if we miss that window by even a day or two. We need those centrifuges. Let’s go get them. You know where they are?”

  “Da.”

  “Can you get them?”

  “Da.”

  “Now we’re talking. You’ve already thought this through, haven’t you? What’s the plan?”

  “There is no plan. There is only idea.”

  “Dazzle me.”

  “It involves some risk on your part.”

  “What the hell else is new? I’m in. Stop beating around the bush and tell me what you need.”

  “We need scapegoat. For theft of centrifuges.”

  “Already I like this idea. You want me to steal them?”

  “No. They are heavy and difficult to transport. I have worked out details for transport, using medical team. We require someone else to be blamed for crime, to distract attention from medical team.”

  “Okay. So far this doesn’t sound so hard. What aren’t you telling me?”

  “You will need to wear American combat suit.”

  “You just told me I can’t get out of the hotel wearing the suit. I’ll get caught by the metal detectors.”

  “Also, I require drone jammer.”

  “Like hell you do.”

  “Jammer will allow medical team to travel freely to college and retrieve equipment. It will go badly for them if they are blamed for theft.”

  “Yeah, but they probably won’t be executed if they get caught. If Hayduk gets his hands on me, I’ll never be seen again.”

  “You will not be caught. You can access college without passing through metal detectors and with no exposure to drones.”

  “How?”

  “Tunnels. Under the hotel. I have already mapped route.”

  “Huh. You know, this is beginning to sound suspiciously like a plan.”

  “I have given idea a great deal of thought.”

  “Apparently. Tell me about these tunnels.
”

  Sergei brushed his hands on his pants and stood. I cleaned up the remnants of our lunch and followed him back to the reactor room.

  They were testing the seals when we got there. Sergei became distracted watching the pressure gauge on the reactor rise to eight hundred psi and stay there. There was a round of cheers and people slapping each other on the back.

  “Reactor holds pressure,” Sergei said when he made his way back to me. He was actually grinning.

  “See what happens when I get you out of here for twenty minutes? Your team gets more done without you hounding them. Show me these tunnels.”

  Sergei brought me over to a table in the corner. I waited patiently while several of the workers approached him with questions on the reactor. When they finally left us alone, he discreetly pulled out a huge roll of maps.

  “You don’t have this digitized?” I said. I’d been expecting him to show me one of his ubiquitous data slates.

  “Digital versions incomplete,” he said. “These are better.”

  I watched as he unfurled three of the maps. They took up most of the table. The biggest was a little too wide and hung off the edges. “These are massive. Where did you get them?”

  “Captured from Americans,” he said flatly.

  I tried to make sense of what I was seeing, but it was difficult. “What are these maps of?”

  “Subterranean Chicago.”

  “Like subway routes?”

  “Chicago does not have subway.”

  “Hell of a lot of tunnels for a city that doesn’t have a subway.”

  It was true. The maps showed a bewildering array of interconnecting and overlapping tunnel systems, stretching for what looked like hundreds of miles. If I was reading them correctly, some of the tunnels were huge—subway sized or greater. The map also showed many downtown streets, presumably for scale, and the biggest tunnels seemed to connect directly to them.

  “Tunnel system below Chicago, extensive and highly navigable,” said Sergei. “I got idea while trying to find route out of Sturgeon Building for you.”

  “I remember. You think you could have gotten me out?”

  “Perhaps. Likely most tunnel exits from Sturgeon sealed, for security purposes. But perhaps not all.”

  “I’m glad we didn’t have to find out.”

  “Tunnel network under Chicago, very extensive,” Sergei said, indicating all three maps with a wave of his hand. “Movement, very easy. And totally shielded from drones.”

  I leaned over the table. I couldn’t argue that the tunnels weren’t extensive. It was access I was worried about. I pointed to one of the tunnels that appeared to connect directly to a street near our hotel. “Is this right? This looks like you can walk down Michigan Avenue and right into a tunnel.”

  “That is not Michigan Avenue.”

  “Sure it is. Look, see?” I pointed out the surface streets shown on the map. “Here’s Wacker, Lake, Randolph . . .” I traced the familiar geography with my finger. I’d walked the streets well enough now to know my way around.

  Sergei tapped the spot on the map that I’d identified as Michigan Avenue. “This is forty feet underground.”

  “What?” I stared at the map, confused. “You’re telling me there’s a network of tunnels that follows the same grid as the streets above?”

  “Correct.”

  “What the hell for?”

  “Tunnels dug by private company, starting in 1899. They delivered coal from ships to biggest buildings and department stores in city—Marshall Field’s, city hall, Tribune Tower, many others. Tunnel system follows street grid above.”

  “That’s impossible—look at this. They go on for miles.”

  “Correct. Sixty miles, end to end.” With a sweep of his hand, he indicated a span that stretched as far north as 16th Street to River North, and as far south as the Field Museum.

  “My God. And these tunnels are accessible?”

  “Many, yes. They connect to hotel . . . here.” He showed me on the map where I could gain access to the tunnels from our hotel.

  “I can get into these tunnels without stepping outside the hotel?”

  “Yes. They are accessible through sub-basement. However, there is complication. Colonel Perez has positioned mobile combat robot to secure sub-basement. It is stationed near tunnel access. It will be difficult to avoid.”

  “Zircon Border,” I said.

  “What?”

  “Is this mobile combat unit the same make as the big robot in the command center?”

  “Da. So?”

  “It’s Zircon Border. He’s a friend. He said he had a torso in the basement, another boring guard detail. No wonder the poor guy spends most of his time talking to porpoises. I can deal with him. Just show me where I need to go.”

  Sergei shrugged. He spun the map around, measuring carefully. He marked a spot on the map about a mile and a half from our hotel, indicating Columbia College.

  I studied it, frowning. “Looks like I can’t get there using the coal tunnels.”

  “Not entirely, no. You will need to descend to cable car tunnels . . . here.”

  “Cable car tunnels?”

  “Built in 1880s for cable car network—expanded from old wagon tunnels made in 1870s. They are sixty feet below city, and extend to . . . here.”

  “My God. If these notes are right, these tunnels are over two hundred years old. Is the air even breathable down there?”

  “You will not be in cable car tunnels for long. You will climb to pedestrian tunnels here. Pedway connects seventy buildings in downtown—including Columbia College.”

  I traced the entire path. “That’s a pretty tortured route.”

  Sergei nodded. “Possibly there are shorter routes. I have not had time to plan in detail.”

  I pulled one of the other maps closer, looked it over. “What about this tunnel?” I asked after a moment. “Look, it’s much more direct.”

  Sergei shook his head almost immediately. “That is Deep Tunnel,” he said.

  “Deep? How deep?”

  “Three hundred and fifty feet.”

  “Damn! Seriously? What does this city need with a tunnel three hundred and fifty feet below ground?”

  “Deep Tunnel originally built as storm reservoir. Phase one is one hundred ten miles and stores over two billion gallons of water. Phase two is much larger—fifteen billion gallons—and was completed in 2034. It connects to Civil Defense infrastructure, used during the war.”

  “Aren’t you the expert on Chicago history. You should give tours.”

  Looking over the confusing grid of hundreds of miles of overlapping and interconnecting storm tunnels, coal tunnels, pedestrian pedways, freight tunnels, deep tunnels, cable car tunnels, and God knows what else, I got a renewed appreciation for Sergei’s planning ability.

  “All right,” I said. “Let’s walk through this. You and your team will be taking the overland route to the college?”

  He nodded. “We will take truck.”

  “Okay. You’ll be invisible to drones if I give you the jammer, as long as you stay together. What about cameras?”

  “Easy to avoid. College has only nine functional cameras in place. They are recording instruments only . . . camera feeds are not monitored.”

  “Good to get at least one lucky break. You avoid the cameras, load up the truck with the centrifuges, and get out of there undetected.”

  “Da.”

  “I show up at the same time—”

  “Twenty minutes later.”

  “Twenty minutes later, fine. I show up and do a dog-and-pony show. Do I wear the combat suit?”

  “Da. You wear combat suit.” Sergei pointed to the college on the map. “You emerge from tunnels in view of cameras, then return same way.”

  “Understood. I get seen by the cameras entering Columbia College. The next day, when the theft is discovered, anyone who reviews the camera footage will assume the American terrorist is responsible.”

 
“Da.”

  “And if I run into guards, I escape back underground.” I ran my finger over the route.

  “Da.”

  Not every aspect of Sergei’s idea seemed all that well thought-out, however. “You want me to crawl through nearly two miles of tunnels in that damn suit?” I said. “That’s not the most pleasant prospect.”

  “You will be glad to have suit in tunnels.”

  “If you say so. I wish we had power cores for the thing, though. What would it take to get some? Or make them?”

  Sergei was shaking his head before I’d even finished the question. “Impossible. Cores, very advanced. All attempts to replicate them during war failed. Only few exist, and Memphis Ceasefire forbids Americans from making more. If Hayduk has cores for suit, he will keep them close.”

  That was glum news, but I took it stoically. I looked over the route, weighing the plan, considering and discarding options.

  “Why don’t I ride there with you?” I said at last. “Once I get there I can put on the suit, and then show up for the cameras.”

  “I have considered this,” Sergei admitted. He pulled another map out of the case and unrolled it on the table. It was a plan of the pedestrian walkway just below the surface, which would be the last leg of the trip. “You will need to access college . . . here. Cameras are here and here.”

  I watched him map out my arrival. I saw the problem immediately. “The cameras will track all my movements in and out of the underground walkway. The AGRT will know I didn’t arrive through the tunnels. They’ll search for the truck.”

  “Da. You must draw attention away from truck and focus search in tunnels. For effective misdirection, you must enter and leave college through tunnels.”

  “All right, fine. Let’s go with the tunnels for now. Let’s talk about our cover story. Why the hell does the American want to steal a bunch of centrifuges? He breaks into a college, and that’s all he takes? Won’t that seem suspicious?”

  “It will not be all he takes. Team will take all medical equipment packaged for transport to Indiana, including centrifuges.”

  “All equipment? How much is there?”

  “Filtration equipment, sampling trays, analyzers, diagnostic tablets, and more.”

  “Nothing that can be traced here, I hope?”