Ash Ock

by Christopher Hinz

  “I’m covered for six hours,” said Adam. “I programmed a false itinerary. Right now, I’m supposed to be doing hands-on research at a rotopulse facility twenty miles from here.”

  Inez responded with a delicate nod.

  “To business, then,” said the Lion. “Gillian, Nick? It’s your meeting.”

  “The good news,” Nick drawled, “is that we’ve learned something about the Order of the Birch killers. The bad news is that there’s only one of them. We’re dealing with a Paratwa assassin.”

  Inez’s eyes widened. “Are you certain?”

  “Uh-huh. Yesterday, Gillian’s investigation into the auditorium massacre led him to that conclusion. Shooter and Slasher are aspects of one consciousness. The evidence is incontrovertible.”

  Inez frowned at Gillian. “How can you be so sure?”

  She doesn’t know who I really am, thought Gillian. Back in the time of Reemul, the Council of Irrya had been told of his true identity. But they had never divulged that secret. In this era, only Jerem Marth knew that he was the tway of an Ash Ock, a tway capable of extraordinary insights.

  “I’ve studied Paratwa my entire life,” Gillian explained. “I was born into the era when they first arose. I know these creatures. I know their ways.”

  Inez still looked skeptical.

  “Worse yet,” continued Nick, “is the nature of this assassin. We’re not dealing with an ordinary Paratwa. This interlink is composed of three tways, not two.”

  Adam scowled. Inez opened her mouth in astonishment. “I thought that only the binary interlace was possible.”

  Nick squirmed on the cushions. “You’re right, according to our understanding of the Paratwa phenomenon. What we’re faced with here is a creature that is theoretically impossible. Living cells from a singular McQuade Unity—the telepathic organism that was first grown in a Scottish laboratory back in 2052—can only be injected into a pair of human fetuses, enabling the two fetuses to evolve into a singular consciousness, telepathically interlaced for life. But that process only works with two—trying to inject three or more fetuses renders the McQuade Unity dysfunctional.”

  The midget sighed. “I’m not a scientist, and I’ve never totally understood the complexities involved. But I’ve talked to enough genetic engineers to know that the formation of the mental-emotional interlink can only occur in the binary form. Only two can be brought together.”

  “And yet,” mused the Lion, “in this case you say that there are three.” He faced Gillian. “Any chance that you’re mistaken?”

  Gillian knew that Jerem entertained no real doubts; the Lion played devil’s advocate for Inez’s and Adam’s benefit. Jerem Marth seemed to accept most of Gillian’s conclusions with an almost naive sense of trust, an unshakable belief based on the fleeting relationship that had developed between them fifty-six years ago. Gillian found such trust enigmatic. The passage of over half a century should have dulled teenage passions, shorn this man of such absolute faith. But the opposite seemed to have occurred. Just yesterday, he had come to realize that Jerem must have lived out the better part of his life under the spell of an ancient obsession.

  He’ll believe most anything I tell him.

  Gillian did not relish such powers of persuasion; he hoped that eventually his flesh-and-blood presence would begin to restore the Lion’s critical abilities. And he fervently hoped that Nick remained unaware of Jerem’s obsession. All too often, Nick utilized the dynamics of a relationship to achieve his own ends.

  Like you used me all those years.

  He felt no bitterness toward the midget. But he no longer trusted him, either. Fifty-six years ago, the awakening of Gillian’s true self had driven a wedge between them. And yesterday’s encounter with Martha and Buff had widened the gap, however much Gillian respected Nick’s idea of saddling him with a pair of Costeau watchdogs. Manipulation remained manipulation.

  Nick stared at him; cheeks crinkled into the familiar easygoing smile.

  I will do what you want. But only so long as it serves my own needs.

  Gillian permitted himself to again recall yesterday’s gestalt, the clarity of his subconscious comprehensions. “I’m not mistaken about this Paratwa,” he announced. “I don’t know how, or why. But I’m certain we’re dealing with a creature consisting of three tways.”

  “Which leads us,” said Nick, “into an entire realm of mostly unpleasant speculations. First of all, where did this assassin come from?”

  “A sleeper, found on Earth?” suggested Adam.

  “Like Reemul?” Nick frowned. “I don’t think so. If someone had successfully engineered such a Paratwa prior to the Apocalypse, we would have seen evidence of it. Such a unique creature would have surely turned up on the world armaments market. A tripartite assassin would have been considered invaluable.”

  Gillian agreed. His teachers, Aristotle and Meridian, would certainly have told him if such a thing had existed.

  “So where does that leave us?” asked Inez quietly. And the Lion knew that her thoughts had turned to her missing grandniece.

  “Second generation,” proclaimed Nick. “The Colonies have been introduced to the latest advance in genetic engineering: a phase-two Paratwa assassin.”

  “It’s the only possibility that makes any sense,” added Gillian. “A tripartite Paratwa has to be based on concepts that were not understood by the original pre-Apocalyptic creators. This creature represents a spectacular design advancement over the original assassins of twenty-first-century Earth. And that means that Paratwa research never ended; it was only interrupted.”

  “I see only two conceivable scenarios,” offered the midget. “One, this assassin is the culmination of a long-term clandestine research project operating somewhere within the Colonies.”

  No one replied. The Lion knew that none of them could envision such a long-term research project remaining secret.

  Nick went on. “The second and more likely possibility is that we’re dealing with a creature who was created and trained beyond our solar system, a creature probably bred by the Ash Ock.”

  “Trust preserve us,” whispered Inez.

  The Lion, even after a night’s sleep, still had trouble coming to terms with Gillian’s conclusions. Just days ago they had learned about the returning starship. Yet, if Nick and Gillian were correct, at least one Paratwa was already in the cylinders. The ramifications of that were terrifying.

  “So Susan witnessed a Paratwa attack,” Inez murmured. The councilor’s fingers were now locked together so tightly that Gillian could see the muscles pulsing beneath the backs of her hands. “And this Paratwa sent those E-Tech Security men to murder her. And when Donnelly and Tace failed, the Paratwa lured them to a parking garage and murdered them.”

  Nick nodded. “After failing to kill Susan, Donnelly and Tace became a liability. Susan had disappeared. Susan could connect the Honshu massacre with the two officers, provide a direct link to the assassin.”

  “Would Donnelly and Tace have known they were working for a Paratwa?” asked Adam.

  “I doubt it,” answered Gillian, “even though they were probably dealing directly with one of the tways. However, in all likelihood, Donnelly and Tace never realized that there was a direct connection between their employer and the Order of the Birch attacks . . . at least not until they were ordered to kill Susan Quint. And I have a feeling that Donnelly and Tace were doomed the instant they agreed to that assassination. Even if they had succeeded in killing Susan, I suspect that their lives would have ended the same way, in that parking garage.”

  “No loose ends,” muttered Inez.

  “In the Honshu terminal,” said Nick, “Susan accidentally witnessed more than she should have.” He turned to Inez. “Your grandniece told you that she felt she recognized one of the killers. That tway—the Paratwa—must also have recognized her. And the assassin considered it imperative that Susan not live to talk about what she had seen.”

  Inez’s fingers tighten
ed another notch. The Lion leaned across the table and laid his palm on her wrist. He spoke gently. “We still don’t know what’s happened to Susan. My people are searching everywhere and they’ve still found no trace. But for the time being, Inez, you must consider no news to be good news.”

  The councilor shook her head. “She’s been missing for a week. No one’s heard from her.” Inez swallowed and forced her fingers apart, pressed her palms against the table. “Seven days . . . by now, we should have heard something.”

  “You’re right,” said Gillian.

  Inez locked eyes with him. “You think Susan’s dead, don’t you.”

  “It’s possible,” he admitted. “The Paratwa could have found her, killed her, and disposed of her body.”

  Inez flinched.

  “But it’s just as likely that she’s gone underground,” Nick said hastily. “She could turn up anywhere.”

  “Please, Inez,” urged the Lion, patting her hand, “don’t jump to any conclusions. There’s no reason to abandon hope.”

  An echo of immeasurable sadness lurked beneath Inez’s words. “I should have believed her. She came to me for help and I turned her away.”

  No one spoke.

  The councilor’s despondent tone turned bitter. “I should have helped her. I should have had the good sense to realize that she needed my support. Instead, I turned my back on her.”

  “You couldn’t have known,” soothed the Lion.

  “I should have known. I should have realized that I was helping to seal her fate.”

  Gillian sighed. “Yes, your poor judgment probably led to her death.”

  Inez stared across the table at him.

  “You probably killed her,” he continued calmly. “Ultimately, your lack of foresight was responsible.”

  The councilor scowled.

  “And before the assassin murdered your grandniece,” Gillian said softly, “it probably tortured her as well—to learn for certain whether she’d talked to anyone . . . or maybe it just tortured her for the fun of it. Some Paratwa enjoyed things like that. And now you’re going to have to add another burden to your pyre of guilt, that Susan died a slow and agonizing death.”

  Inez gritted her teeth. Cheeks swelled with anger.

  “Good,” said Gillian. “You’re angry. That’s fine. Stay a bit mad. If you want to grieve, then at least wait until you have something to grieve about. Right now, the only thing we know for certain is that your grandniece is missing. Correct?”

  “Correct,” she snapped, glaring at Gillian with barely repressed fury.

  He ignored her anger. “Jerem says that you checked Susan’s apartment?”

  “You’re a real bastard.”

  Gillian did not respond. The Lion noted that Nick was gazing at his partner with an expression of intense curiosity.

  Inez drew a deep breath, brought her emotions under control. “Yes, I checked Susan’s apartment the day after she disappeared. I found nothing. Her desk calendar memory was wiped clean. I also talked casually with her supervisor and several of her coworkers in the progress inspection department. She never showed up for work, never called.”

  “And no one has inquired about her since she disappeared?” asked Nick.

  “No. To allay suspicions, I told Susan’s coworkers that she’d been transferred. And as far as I know, she had no close friends.” The councilor paused. “For the most part, Susan shied away from relationships that made any sort of emotional demands.”

  “Any sexual partners that you’re aware of?” asked Nick.

  Inez spoke slowly. “Susan was quite active in that respect. She once told me that she often had as many as a dozen different partners per week.”

  “That’s active,” quipped Nick, keeping a straight face.

  The councilor stared down at the table. “Susan suffered from many problems. She was overloaded with hurt . . . things from her past, things that wouldn’t go away. In many respects, life was extremely difficult for her.”

  The Lion sensed the deep control in Inez’s tone. And he could not help noticing that Inez kept referring to Susan in the past tense.

  “Susan dealt with these hurts as best she could. But she required a lot of . . . attention. Sex was a catharsis for her; she often went to clubs, picked up a string of men over the space of one evening.”

  “Pain relievers,” suggested Gillian with complete understanding.

  “At any rate,” continued Nick, “no one knows about her disappearance except us, the Paratwa, and the investigators from the Edward Huromonus action/probe, whom you leaked the information to.”

  Inez nodded.

  “What could Susan have witnessed in that terminal?” asked the Lion. “Even though we’re now certain it was a Paratwa, even though Susan made eye contact with one of the tways, I still can’t fathom why this creature would want her dead.” He turned to Inez. “Susan’s job took her all over the Colonies. She must have known thousands of people. How would she be able to connect this tway with someone she knew? Why did this creature take the added risk of having Donnelly and Tace attempt to assassinate her?”

  “Maybe the Paratwa overreacted,” mused Adam.

  “No,” said Gillian. “Jerem’s right, there must be more to this than merely a fleeting eye contact. Susan must have seen more than she realized. That’s the only explanation I can think of that would account for this Paratwa wanting her dead. If Shooter and Slasher have real-world identities, then they would have been well disguised during the actual massacre. I don’t see them being so careless as to allow Susan—or anyone else—to see through those disguises.”

  “Could Susan have recognized this third tway?” wondered Adam.

  Inez shook her head vigorously. “She claimed to have made eye contact with only one of the actual assassins.”

  Nick shrugged. “Maybe so. But if this third tway—the backup—was there in the terminal, it’s possible that for some reason he was not in disguise. Maybe Susan saw him and recognized him. Maybe the Paratwa was afraid that Susan would connect this third tway with the tway she made eye contact with.”

  “But only two tways participated in the massacre,” argued Inez. “So even if Susan spotted this third tway—this backup—how would she know to link him with the two killers?”

  “Good question,” admitted Nick.

  “There’s one possibility,” Gillian began slowly. “Let’s suppose that we’re on the right track. Let’s assume that this third tway was in Yamaguchi Terminal undisguised and that Susan would know him on sight.

  “But maybe it doesn’t matter whether or not Susan saw this third tway. Maybe that’s not the point.” He paused. “What if the Paratwa was afraid that Susan would be questioned by the authorities—legitimate E-Tech investigators—and that she would reveal her ‘eye contact.’ An investigator with even a small amount of common sense—and with access to the transit records—would probably have asked Susan to examine those IDs to see if she recognized any other names or faces among those individuals who had prepurchased shuttle tickets.” Gillian paused again, waiting for them to follow where he was leading.

  The Lion and Adam look puzzled. Inez shook her head. “You’re saying that this third tway prepurchased a shuttle ticket, using his own name and identity? But so what? I still don’t understand—”

  “A honeysuck!” cried the midget, rising out of his cushions. “Son-of-a-bitch! The third tway was not in disguise because he was acting as the honeysuck! Goddamn it, that’s gotta be it!”

  The Lion frowned. “What are you talking about?”

  “The honeysuck,” Gillian explained, “is an old assassin’s trick. The basic premise was to manipulate a number of targets into a public location by having one of the tways serve as bait. For example, a tway contacts each intended victim individually and sets up a meeting—in a large restaurant, let’s say. Each target shows up for the meeting at the appointed time and place and when they’re all together, the second tway enters the restaurant, wea
pons firing. Tway two kills all of the honeysucked targets as well as a large number of innocent bystanders; he also allows an equally large number of bystanders to survive so that suspicion won’t fall on his other half—the tway who served as the bait.

  “This is just one possible example. The honeysuck had a thousand variations, some infinitely subtle. But the idea behind it remained the same: One tway tricked the targets into congregating at a specific location at the same time; the other tway disposed of them. And if properly carried out, a honeysuck massacre left very little evidence to indicate that it was a premeditated attack.”

  The Lion turned to the others. Adam looked a bit aghast. Inez was slowly shaking her head. Jerem Marth accepted Gillian’s example calmly, even though he fully understood the sense of revulsion that Inez and Adam were experiencing. They all knew what the final days had been like; they had all studied the history texts. Back then, murder for profit had been a common, everyday occurrence, and Paratwa assassins were often employed as the instruments of death. But Gillian was a man who had lived through that era, and to hear him matter-of-factly describe such brutal acts lent a particular horror to the tale.

  For the Lion, however, hearing of such pre-Apocalyptic monstrosities no longer carried the weight of revulsion and distaste. Not since he was twelve years old had such tales bothered him. Not since Reemul.

  Nick wagged his head eagerly. “In Honshu, this third tway must have been the honeysuck. Maybe some of the targets were accompanying him and maybe he was scheduled to rendezvous with some of the others. But his job was to make sure they were all there so his other two tways could murder them within the larger framework of the massacre. Afterward, the honeysuck tway was probably even questioned by the investigators. But they would have had no reason to be unduly suspicious. Tway three would be perceived as just another lucky survivor.”

  “But if Susan knew him,” offered Inez, “then she probably would have told the investigators.”

  The Lion shook his head. “That still seems a flimsy reason for trying to kill her.”