The Robots of Gotham

by Todd McAulty

  “That’s crazy. The American Provisional Government knows they don’t have any forces left in Chicago. They’ll issue a denial in a day or two.”

  “They have already. American public does not believe denial. They believe fighter group has been disavowed by government. This narrative is especially popular in Union territories.”

  “And you’re telling me this news story has led to—what did you say? Rearming of Union rebels in Missouri? And closer military ties between America and the Union?”

  “Several American politicians have exploited opportunity to stoke anti-AGRT sentiment. Most damaging, this incident has lessened ongoing political rift between Provisional Government and Union Syndicate. Shift is significant enough for Venezuelan Military Intelligence to reassess its short-term eco-political forecast.”

  “That sounds serious.”

  “Military dispositions across Midwest are driven by eco-political forecast of danger zones and likely geographies for local resistance. Newest models required shift in manpower.”

  “Bringing another two thousand soldiers to Chicago.”

  “It is expected this cell of resistance fighters will spawn copycats and possibly destabilize metro Chicago zone.”

  “Destabilize Chicago . . . Sweet baby Jesus.”

  “Da. Baby Jesus.”

  We walked for several minutes without speaking. I was the first to break the silence. “We really screwed up, Sergei.”

  “Nyet.”

  “Nyet? How do you figure nyet?”

  “Regimental deployments do not matter. Troops in Chicago, troops in Mexico—it makes no difference. What matters is pathogen and creating antiviral agent in time. What redeployment has done is distract our opposition.”

  “You mean Hayduk.”

  “Da. Hayduk. Redeployment will keep Hayduk occupied—and Armitage. It will decrease chance they will discover how close we are to producing antivirus.”

  “Occupied? What’s he going to be doing?”

  “Hayduk has been given responsibility for locating secret cell of elite soldiers.”

  “You mean he’s looking for me.”

  “Da.”

  “Fabulous. Does Hayduk believe this nonsense about a whole cell of soldiers?”

  “Unlikely. But remember: Perez and other officers are not aware combat suit was stolen from Hayduk. They believe attacker had suit.”

  “So they believe it? That there’s a secret cell of American resistance fighters somewhere in Chicago?”

  “Perhaps. Certainly they are proceeding as if they do.”

  “Morons. Does Hayduk have any leads? Did he talk about his plan to find me?”

  “Only in general terms. The man is . . . very determined.”

  “I’m certain he is. What if all this news footage gives Hayduk the clues he needs to start looking for the American terrorist in civilian locations again? What if he starts looking at hotel footage?”

  “It has been six days since hotel footage captured you in clothes you wore at Field Museum. That footage has now been erased, and clothing is destroyed.”

  “Thank God. At least that’s one thing we did right.”

  Our slow circle had almost brought us back to the hotel. “I need to check on software for reactor,” said Sergei.

  “Everything going okay?”

  “Yes, but by necessity we are working very quickly—too quickly. A mistake now could be catastrophic. We will have first sample of antivirus tomorrow.”

  “Tomorrow? That’s great!”

  “Yes. Thibault has arranged to test sample personally, on critical patients in Indiana. She must go AWOL from new post to do it.”

  “That’s a big risk. Why not test on one of the sick soldiers here?”

  “Everything is big risk. Thibault can more quickly assess effectiveness of antiviral agent—and speed is essential now. It is much too early to test sample on humans, but we have no choice. There is much that can go wrong.”

  “And if it works?”

  “We are already starting mass production. We could have forty-eight hundred doses in four days. We have covert support of medical teams across Sector Eleven now, as well as senior members of medical staff here. But wider support grows, more danger we are in of being discovered by Hayduk.”

  “What if the antivirus doesn’t work?”

  “If it does not work . . . then we are likely all dead.”

  “Things are that bad?”

  “Da. There are now too many outbreak sites to count. Two hospitals in northern Indiana have become overwhelmed. Military intelligence has begun campaign to silence local media. There have been mass arrests.”

  “Jesus.”

  “It has reached point where press blackout may work in our favor.”

  “What? What does that mean?”

  “F5-117 . . . It is terribly lethal and does not respond to existing treatments. If it were to become public now, it could trigger panic. Panic would cause evacuations, mass migrations . . . It would be impossible to contain spread of infection. By controlling press, by limiting travel, Hayduk has also prevented panic. For now, that helps us.”

  “Hayduk will eventually realize the same thing. Perhaps he has something else planned—a leak to the press, maybe. Perhaps he’ll trigger a panic when it best suits him.”

  “Perhaps, perhaps not. Certainly, he is following a plan. We do not know his ultimate objective yet.”

  “Yeah, well, we know he’s a grade-A asshole. That’s good enough for me. In the meantime, what can I do to help?”

  Sergei stopped walking. “You must listen to me.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “We cannot be interrupted. Most especially, that means Colonel Hayduk must focus his investigation elsewhere. Away from me . . . and away from you.”

  “I’m with you a hundred percent so far.”

  “If Colonel Hayduk gets close—”

  “You’ll need another distraction.”

  “Yes. We will need him focused far away from hotel. American in combat suit could do that.”

  I thought about that. “I could do something in the suit on the other side of town. Draw his attention away, keep him preoccupied for a few days.”

  “No. Is too risky to move around city with suit. We do nothing until we have to. Where is combat suit now?”

  “It’s in my room.”

  “This is stupid place for suit.” I didn’t disagree, and Sergei continued. “Bring me suit. I will lock it in medical cabinet in command center until we no longer need it. Once crisis is over, we can dispose of it.”

  “Damn, Sergei. If it’s found there, Hayduk will go apeshit. He’ll have you dissected.”

  “It is temporary. Is much less likely to be found there than in your room.”

  I couldn’t argue with that. “How are you going to get rid of it?”

  “We will need to dispose of it so it cannot be found. I will think of something.”

  “All right. What do I do for the next few days?”

  “For next four days, you must draw no attention. You must be ghost. What is expression? Keep no profile?”

  “A low profile. Keep a low profile.”

  “Yes. Exact. You must keep low profile. You must cease to exist.”

  “I can do that.”

  “Stay away from command center. We will meet in lobby, at noon every day.”

  “Okay.”

  “Keep to yourself. Focus on work. Stay in room.”

  “Yeah, I got it,” I said. “I got it.”

  Sergei held up a finger. “That means no pretty girls.”

  “What if I have a pretty girl in my room?”

  “You?” Sergei shook his head with derision. “You will never have pretty girl in room.”

  “You’re a dick.”

  We split up when we got inside. Sergei headed for the fourth floor, and I took the escalator to the lobby. As I was passing through the lobby, I spotted Mac. I was glad to see her up and about, but figured
she had no interest in running into me, so I took the long way to the elevators, looping around to the right.

  But she saw me and gave me a tentative wave. Then she was making her way over. A little surprised, I waited for her by the elevators.

  She smiled as she approached, although a little awkwardly. She had changed into new clothes and looked a great deal less pale than when I’d left her this morning.

  “Hi,” she said.

  “Hi,” I said cautiously.

  “I was hoping to catch you.”

  “Do you have my room key?”

  “I just dropped it off at the front desk,” she said. “You want me to go get it?”

  “No, not at all. How are you feeling?”

  “Better. Thank you. I was . . . I was a wreck this morning.”

  Talking to her again brought a fresh rush of emotion. I felt awkward after my uncomfortable departure this morning and still regretted that I hadn’t found a way to make her feel safe when she awoke.

  But most of all I felt renewed heartbreak. How could this woman be functioning, dressed and smiling on the harsh stage of morning, when her five-year-old son was missing and possibly dead? No wonder she’d drunk herself into a stupor.

  It was very possible I could help her. But that meant owning up to the fact that I knew she had a son . . . and how I’d found out. I had no idea how to broach that topic, given how fragile the trust already was between us. And until I had a chance to talk to Black Winter, I still thought it was a bad idea to bring it up in any case.

  “You were hardly a wreck,” I said. “I thought you were remarkably poised, to be honest. Listen, I want to apologize for the way I handled things last night.”

  She was shaking her head. “Let’s set that aside for now. I have a lot of questions about what happened, but we can talk about that later. Right now, just let me say that I wasn’t exactly at my best this morning and . . . and I treated you like a criminal. I’m sorry.”

  I wasn’t precisely sure what I wanted from Mac, but an apology wasn’t it. “Don’t be ridiculous. You had a perfect right to be angry. I want you to know that nothing happened. I cleaned you up and put you to bed. That’s it.”

  The elevators opened on my right, and a laughing couple exited and walked past us. Mac stopped talking for a moment, running her fingers through her hair self-consciously.

  “Anyway, I meant to ask you something,” she said, when they were finally out of earshot. “Did I hear you right this morning? Did you say you went back to the Continental to find that dog I told you about?”

  “Yeah. Yeah, I did. Black Winter and I, we both did.”

  “You found her? On the eleventh floor? She was okay?”

  “I wouldn’t say she was okay. But yes. She was in an apartment on the eleventh floor.”

  “I never heard her again. I thought she was . . . I thought the dog had . . .”

  “No. She’s alive.”

  Mac reached out for me, but her hand recoiled from my shoulder at the last moment. She crossed her arms instead. But she couldn’t keep the excitement out of her voice. “Then that was the dog? In your room? The one that tried to eat my toes this morning?”

  “That’s her.”

  Mac’s hand covered her mouth. She stared at me, her eyes wet. She didn’t say a word.

  “She was in rough shape at first,” I said, filling the sudden silence. “She had an eye infection and a virus. But Sergei helped us care for her. She’s come a long way.”

  “You saved her.”

  “We all saved her. You, me, Black Winter. And Sergei. And Croaker, too. She’s a fighter; she just won’t give up.”

  “What on earth made you go look for her?”

  The question caught me off guard. “I . . . I don’t know. You, I suppose. I think I wanted to impress you a little bit.”

  “Impress me?”

  “Yeah.” As ridiculous as it seemed after all we’d been through, I felt suddenly embarrassed, like a middle-schooler caught leaving a valentine for his crush. “You sure made an impression on me that night we went to the Hamilton to feed that starving dog. The things you told me, about all those abandoned animals. I had no idea. And just the thought of a dog dying alone, in an abandoned building . . . it was one more death I didn’t want on my conscience.”

  Mac’s expression was hard to read. She reached out again, and this time her hand came to rest lightly on my arm.

  “Corporal Maldonado’s death wasn’t your fault,” she said.

  “I know.”

  “Do you really?” Her hand lingered on my arm, warm and reassuring.

  “I think so.”

  “Because I’ve been watching you. And I think . . . I think that you’ve been taking some crazy risks in the ten days since the attack. The way you rescued Black Winter. The way you rescued the dog. The things you’ve been doing with Sergei . . . The things you’ve shared with the rest of us, and the things you haven’t.”

  “And?” I said.

  “And I think that the death of Corporal Maldonado may be the root of it all. All this crazy risk-taking. You’re acting like someone who blames himself for something terrible. And everything you’re doing, it’s your way to run away from it all. And I think that if you don’t stop, you’re eventually going to get really hurt. And I don’t want that to happen.”

  My mouth felt strangely dry. I took two deep breaths before answering.

  “It’s possible,” I said. “The corporal . . . He’s been on my mind.”

  “Do you want to talk about it?”

  “Maybe. But there’s another explanation for everything I’ve been doing, a more conscious one. I’m trying to be more like you.”

  “Like me?”

  “Yes. After Maldonado’s death I just . . . I needed to make a difference. A positive difference. And when I saw what kind of person you were, what you were capable of, I wanted to prove to myself that I was capable of the same thing. The same kind of selfless courage. I needed to find Croaker . . . and save her. It’s hard to explain.”

  Mac leaned forward, bounced up on her toes, and kissed me on the cheek.

  She retreated immediately. She glanced away, her cheeks reddening slightly. But there was the ghost of a smile on her lips.

  “You explained it just fine,” she said.

  Mac still wasn’t looking directly at me, but the smile seemed to be becoming more fixed. I liked that smile. I liked it a lot.

  “Besides,” she continued, “you don’t seem to have any trouble being courageous, or compassionate, when you need to be.”

  I reached for the hand on my shoulder. I held her hand in mine. It felt warm and strong, and she didn’t pull away.

  “This is the conversation I wish we’d had this morning,” I said.

  “Me too,” she said. She met my gaze at last, her face more serious.

  “Listen, maybe we could meet later,” she said.

  I wanted to be fully lost in this moment with Mac, but there was something happening in the lobby, over by the glass doors. When I’d taken the escalator up from the lower level, there’d been an AGRT guard posted there. While Mac and I had been talking, the guard left. And now the doors opened and the guard returned with Sergeant Van de Velde. He pointed directly at me.

  Damn. I didn’t like this. Van de Velde was talking to the guard; giving him instructions, perhaps. As casually as I could, I did a quick scan of the lobby and the elevator vestibule behind us, looking for other soldiers. There were none.

  Van de Velde was now walking toward me, her expression serious. As she did, I ran through possible scenarios in my head. Was Hayduk making his move? Was I being arrested? If so, should I run?

  If it had been anyone other than her, I would’ve made myself scarce already. As it was, it really boiled down to one question: Do I trust Noa Van de Velde?

  I decided the answer was yes. I’d find out in a moment if I was mistaken.

  Mac was still talking. “This probably isn’t the best place to br
ing this up, but . . . I lied when I told you I didn’t remember saying your name to Boone last night. The truth is, I was trying to work up the courage to come talk to you yesterday. To ask your help with something. But I was so embarrassed and humiliated when I woke up in your room this morning that I couldn’t bring myself to mention it.”

  Van de Velde came to a stop less than twenty feet away and gestured me over. I made eye contact and nodded.

  Two days ago, after Mac had kindly brought me lunch, I’d unceremoniously ditched her so I could run off for an urgent meeting. I hated that I was about to do it to her again, but I didn’t have much choice. “I’m sorry, but I have to go,” I said.

  “What?” Mac said, startled. She glanced to the right, noticing Van de Velde for the first time.

  “I would like to meet later,” I told Mac. “Maybe breakfast?”

  Van de Velde was already looking impatient. I took a few steps toward her, but kept my eyes on Mac, waiting for her reply.

  Mac didn’t respond immediately. Her eyes flicked back and forth between me and Van de Velde, taking in the attractive young sergeant in her crisp uniform.

  The moment I got close enough, Van de Velde grabbed my arm. “We have to talk,” she whispered in my ear.

  “Give me a minute—”

  “Now.”

  She pulled me across the lobby. Before we exited the hotel, I gave one last glance over my shoulder. Mac hadn’t moved. She was still standing by the elevators, looking hurt and confused. Watching us.

  Damn it, I thought. Just once I’d like to finish a conversation with that woman.

  Van de Velde marched me across the pavement in front of the hotel and put me in the driver’s seat of one of the big AGRT mobile wagons. She climbed in and shut the door.

  It was a lot bigger than the car she’d driven yesterday. It looked like it could comfortably fit eight. The leftmost seat in the middle section was fully kitted out as a comm station, and I could see at least five embedded monitors in the dash and the back of seats. It had tinted windows, making the interior nice and private.

  “This better be good,” I said.

  “Oh, don’t worry. It will be.”

  I looked around. “Why are we talking in here?”

  “My team thinks we’re making out,” Van de Velde said. “They’re always gossiping about my personal life, and when they saw us whispering together yesterday, they were only too happy to jump to conclusions.”