by Jak Koke
Burnout quickly moved out into the light again, dashed across the short space to the building's entrance, and scanned the card through the maglock scanner. The door popped and they were in a small room filled with machines and cameras and . . .
An alert guard.
Burnout and Lethe found themselves staring down the yawning barrel of an Ares Predator II.
The guard gave an involuntary start when he saw the ruin of Burnout's face, but the gun never wavered from its mark. "On your belly, freakshow. Now!" The guard's voice didn't even quiver.
Lethe knew what was going to happen, and even as Burnout moved, he screamed in the cyberzombie's mind. "No!"
Then the night lit up with a muzzle flash and the thunder of gunfire.
7
Ryan and Matthews made the ride to the mansion in relative quiet. Phelps had stayed with the destroyed vehicle, to wait for a Secret Service tow-truck, and Matthews didn't seem too interested in talking. That suited Ryan just fine. He wasn't at all happy being the target of any investigation, let alone one in which he might be accused of murdering Dunkelzahn.
The next thirty minutes would be very telling. He thought of Nadja, and his apprehension grew. They hadn't spoken directly since the incident at Hells Canyon, and the messages he'd received had been too short. Too businesslike.
Ryan's smile was grim. Well, he thought, I guess having the man you love hold you hostage and nearly get you killed just might put a damper on the warm fuzzies.
Matthews, sitting opposite him, caught the smile. "Don't worry, Mercury. Strapp's had a chip on his shoulder ever since he got off the booze, but for the most part, he's a good man. They pulled him out of retirement for this. His last major investigation was over ten years ago, and he's been a bit tense since this whole thing started. But he's no match for you when you turn on the charm."
Ryan rubbed his fingers in slow circles around his temples. "I'm not feeling too fragging charming right this minute."
Matthews grinned. "You? Not charming? Just look at the way you charmed me out of my car and right into your big old limo. You're not even my type."
Ryan laughed. "Thanks for the vote of confidence, Matthews. Believe me, it's appreciated."
"Null sheen, old friend. Just cooperate with Strapp, and everything will work out. Besides, you're not the most politically correct suspect."
Ryan leaned forward. "What does that mean?"
Matthews sighed. "Much as it bugs me, not to mention how much it bothers Strapp, politics are playing a big part in this investigation." People like you aren't even supposed to exist. Independent. . . trouble shooters like yourself are the megacorps' worst nightmare. The corp boys like to think they've got a lock on all the muscle; that all others are just puppets they can push around when they need a pacifier for the populace."
"That's supposed to make me feel better?" Ryan said. "That would make me the perfect fall guy. I can just see the trid talk shows screaming about a deranged operative, working solo."
Matthews nodded. "On the surface, you're correct. But the corps would much rather have it be some terrorist group, preferably someone big. If they could pin it on the Azzies, that would be a wet dream come true. But to have to admit that one man, no matter how well-trained, could slot things up like this, and leave an entire planet baffled, scares them even more than the possibility that it might be true. Even if you had done it, that story would never go to press. They'd still publicly blame it on some fringe group, like Alamos 20K, then kill you in your sleep."
Ryan sat back. "You can't imagine how much better I feel."
He looked out the window and saw that they were finally pulling up to the mansion's front gate. A Draco Foundation security team, undoubtedly trained by Carla Brooks, combined with a small Secret Service unit stopped them for a moment to double-check their identities before allowing them through the old-fashioned wrought iron gate.
Security here was heavier than it had ever been, and Ryan knew it was tighter even than it looked. There was an invisible monowire mesh interwoven with the iron bars while hidden cameras and drone weapons continually scanned the perimeter.
The gate pivoted, and Dhin rolled up the circular drive, past the long grove of cherry trees that were still in full bloom. Ryan had never figured out how the mansion's gardener did that, keeping everything blooming well into the late summer and fall. The only thing Ryan could come up with was that the man must have some latent druidic ability because the things he did with plants were nothing short of miraculous.
Ryan's gut clenched up into a tight ball as the limousine approached the entrance to the main building. She'll never be able to forgive me.
Then the Nightsky limo was rolling to a stop, and Ryan stepped out into the warm sunshine. For the first time since arriving in the Federal District, the air smelled of something besides rot, death, and burned plastic. The smell from the cherry blossoms was a lurid, sweet fragrance that almost overwhelmed the delicate aroma of the lush Mr. Lincoln tea roses lining the marble steps of the mansion.
The mansion itself was a rolling colonial structure, made mostly of red brick, but re-faced in the front with huge marble columns. The steps leading up to the main entrance were shallow and very wide. They sprawled up to the front doors, which had been re-done when Dunkelzahn had bought the place. The doors were massive and made of real oak, inlaid with bands of wrought iron. Each door was nearly ten meters tall, extending to the roof of the high-ceilinged first floor, and three meters wide. Just the right size for a dragon to enter and exit without having to change form.
As Matthews climbed from the limo, Ryan stood transfixed. All worry forgotten.
Nadja, in a simple loose-fitting dress of emerald green, was walking down the steps. Tall and thin. Her elven features more gorgeous than he had remembered. She'd done something different with her hair; its ebony darkness curved around the china doll skin of her heart-shaped face.
Without thinking, Ryan was moving. His whole mind swam at the sight of her, watching for any kind of sign from her. Then, she was in his arms, and his face was buried in the curve of her neck, taking in the subtle scent of her skin.
"I've missed you," he said, as her arms went around his neck. "I'm so sorry."
Nadja's delicate hand stroked his head. "Shush now, my love. All is forgiven."
He pressed her supple body to his, nearly crushing her in an effort to touch all of her at once. She kissed him, a soft, intimate thing that made a mockery of his rugged embrace.
The moment was ruined by a voice from further up the steps—a slow drawl that bespoke a childhood spent in the Confederate American States. "Well, y'all, I hate to break up this touching scene, but time is short."
Ryan pulled back from Nadja. On the top step stood a man of about forty. Thick black hair, marred with a single shock of white sprouting from his sharp widow's peak. His face was broad, with a strong jaw and chin, and very thin lips. Bushy eyebrows grew together in between dark-brown eyes that were constantly moving, looking everywhere.
Not missing a thing.
Suddenly, those eyes focused on Matthews. "Ah, Agent Matthews. I see you're taking your surveillance duties seriously, though I had assumed" you would tail Mr. Mercury in a separate vehicle. And what has happened to your partner?"
Matthews, squinting in the sunlight, shrugged. "Had some trouble with the car. Mister Mercury was kind enough to give me a lift while Phelps stayed with the vehicle."
Quentin Strapp's thick eyebrows narrowed. "We'll talk more about this later."
Matthews smiled. "I'm sure we will, sir. I look forward to it."
Nadja took Ryan's hand and led him up the steps. Up close, Quentin Strapp was a short man, but broad and powerful. Without thinking, Ryan's vision shifted to the astral, where he was surprised to see that Strapp's aura was whole. With the exception of a datajack just behind his right ear, the man was completely unenhanced. Perhaps he's a mage.
"Quentin Strapp," Nadja's voice was pure honey, snapping Ryan bac
k to the conversation, "I'd like you to meet Ryan Mercury. Ryan, this is Quentin Strapp. Mister Strapp has rearranged his busy schedule to meet with you this afternoon."
Ryan took her cue. She was on full political alert, all defenses up, all polish on the surface. He smiled and stuck out his hand. "Glad to meet you. I've heard good things about you. They say if anyone can find out what happened to the President, you're the man."
Strapp took Ryan's hand, shook it precisely once, then dropped it. "Shall we go inside? These damn flowers are giving me a sinus headache."
Nadja smiled, and motioned toward the doorway, giving Ryan's hand a squeeze before letting go.
"Of course. Won't you please come inside." She turned toward the entrance, and for the first time Ryan noticed Nadja's aide, Gordon Wu, standing just inside the door, watching everything with an alert intensity. The demure Asian man gave Ryan a slight nod of recognition. He was no doubt recording everything on his headcamera.
Nadja looked at Wu as she led Strapp into the house. "My study should give us adequate privacy for this conversation."
Ryan got the message. Strapp was dangerous, extremely dangerous. For Nadja to take them into the study was a sign of just how dangerous. She was trying to make him feel as comfortable as possible without giving him any control. It was a ploy she usually reserved for people of Damien Knight's caliber.
Damien Knight was CEO of Ares Macrotechnology, one of the eight transnational megacorporations. He was an extremely important individual, someone whose support was critical and whose anger could have devastating consequences. If Strapp was anywhere near as dangerous, Ryan would need to be in top form.
They entered the long main hall. Thick Persian rugs covered the shiny green and black marble floor, and an eclectic collection of art adorned the hallway. It consisted mostly of mosaics from the late Ottoman Empire period, mixed with modern sculpture from Africa. They passed the broad, curved staircase sweeping up the left-hand wall. Nadja took the lead, followed by Strapp and Ryan. Gordon Wu brought up the rear.
The air grew imperceptibly warm and humid as they passed the ornate double glass doors that led to the arboretum.
The doors were dragon scale and inlaid with pewter in the pattern of huge ferns. Ryan breathed deeply and grew melancholic for a minute as he remembered the times he and Dunkelzahn had trained together inside the arboretum.
He recalled the room's massive proportions, fifteen meters high with a clear ceiling made of sheets of macro-glass held up by eight huge marble pillars. The pillars were ornately carved to look like trees, and they came complete with huge stone branches and roots. Dunkelzahn grew prize orchids and tropical trees in there, but he'd also liked to use the room for training Ryan in the Silent Way.
Ryan remembered one time when the dragon had taken human form, looking exactly like Michelangelo's David.
Youthful face, brown curls, perfectly proportioned body.
In the memory, the dragon's words came into Ryan's mind. We fight now. Then Dunkelzahn had disappeared into the forest of marble trees.
Ryan had drawn a slow breath in his black nightsuit and had taken cover himself. It was dark, and moonlight shone through the stone branches, casting skeleton shadows across the floor. In the hot, humid air Ryan wiped the sweat from his brow and tried to center himself, to gain focus so that he could hear Dunkelzahn. Could pinpoint his location by sound.
One of the keys to the Silent Way is the ability to remain absolutely quiet, and to use that silence against your adversaries. Never reveal your position, Ryanthusar. Until you are ready to strike.
Hearing nothing, Ryan began to edge around the tree. He glanced at the shadows of the tree trunks, hoping to see a bulge or a distortion that would betray Dunkelzahn's position. His own shadow was hidden by the tree at his left.
In this way, the Silent Way is like chess. A game of misdirection and cunning.
There it was, the narrow shadow of a knee and leg, jutting slightly from the silhouette of the branch overhead. Ryan made the quick calculation and rushed to Dunkelzahn's position, ready to strike.
No one was there.
A follower of the Silent Way uses the terrain to his advantage, Ryanthusar. Uses all his assets in a fight, even those that seem to be lost.
Ryan heard nothing, but felt the slight air pressure change as Dunkelzahn moved into position behind him. The shadow had been a lure. A trap.
Even in his human form, the dragon struck quickly and with enough force to send Ryan flying across the room. Pain scissored through Ryan as he landed across a stone bench. Pain was the price for failure.
Come, Ryanthusar, Dunkelzahn said in Ryan's mind, let's try again.
They did it again until Ryan got it right. Until he was able to fight Dunkelzahn to a standstill. He'd never beaten the wyrm, but as time went on he lost less and less often.
The memory faded. And in its place, Ryan felt anger fill him. He was furious at Strapp for interfering with his return home. Ryan quickly stifled his anger as they entered Nadja's study. Now was not the time.
The cluttered atmosphere spoke volumes about just how tight Nadja's schedule had become since Dunkelzahn's death. Sim-recorded depositions lay scattered across her huge desk while several of the room's end tables were piled neatly with hardcopy requests, all sent to the Draco Foundation. Memos from President Kyle Haeffner's office were arranged in stacks by date. No doubt these had to do with her nomination for the vacant vice-presidential spot.
Nadja's been very busy.
Ryan looked closely at her as she turned, trying to be objective, and not see her through eyes clouded by emotion.
Yes, he could see the strain there, the pressure she was under. She still looked lovely, but the exhaustion was like some monster lurking just below the surface of a placid, beautiful lake. It could explode out of the water at any moment.
"Mister Strapp, you're welcome to have a seat." Nadja gestured to one of the two high-backed leather chairs facing her desk as she walked around and sat in her own.
Ryan took a seat, but Strapp remained standing. "Thanks just the same, but this won't take long."
He pulled out a small audio recorder and showed it to Nadja and Ryan. "Do you mind if I record our conversation?"
"Not at all."
Gordon Wu closed the door and stood just inside.
Strapp turned to face Ryan. "Mister Mercury, I'm sure you have some idea why I'm here."
Ryan nodded. "Of course, and I'll help in any way I can. Finding the President's assassin is of paramount importance to the country generally, as well as to myself personally." Ryan allowed himself a frown. "Dunkelzahn and I were close, and I feel guilty for not being there when it happened. I keep thinking I could have done something. I'm not sure what, but I still believe that if I'd been here, instead of out of the country, I might have been able to prevent what happened."
Strapp stood silent for a moment, his intense eyes never leaving Ryan's face. "Of course. Still, I'd like to ask you a few questions about where you were at the time of the assassination. Simply routine, you understand, but I must tell you that I'm a mage and skilled in truth detection."
Ryan met his eyes and saw nothing but cold calculation there, despite the warm tone. "Of course."
"All right, then let's get down to it. You say you were out of the country. Is that correct?"
"Yes."
"Where?"
Ryan smiled. "I was looking out for some of Dunkelzahn's business interests in Aztlan."
Strapp smiled. "Really? That's pretty dark country for a simple business trip."
Ryan nodded. "I won't try and fool you. The trip wasn't without its risks."
"Is there someone who can confirm where you were? Someone who was with you perhaps?"
Ryan frowned. "I was alone."
"I see."
"Carla Brooks can vouch for me, Mr. Strapp."
"Yes, perhaps that is so, but Ms. Brooks was in Washington at the time of the assassination."
"I
spoke with her by telecom just before the explosion."
Strapp smiled, showing yellow teeth behind his thin lips. "Is this the same call the President received just prior to the assassination?"'
Again, Ryan nodded. "Yes, Carla patched me through to Dunkelzahn. I had discovered what he'd sent me to find out, and I'd been given strict instructions to call him immediately. I follow orders."
Strapp's stare intensified. "What did you discover?"
Ryan shook his head. "As much as I'd like to tell you, it isn't information I have the authority to pass along."
Strapp turned abruptly, and began a casual inspection of the ancient hardcopy books that lined the study's shelves. "Mister Mercury, you disappeared for a few days following the President's death. Where were you?"
Ryan smiled, letting his exhaustion show through. "Well, my pride would like to say I was in hiding after reporting in, but I guess I'm not quite as good at covert operations as I'd like to be. I was caught just after sending the message.
I was detained for several days before being rescued."
Strapp turned back slowly, open disbelief on his face. "You were caught? Why do I find that just a bit too convenient?"
Ryan let some anger show through. "You wouldn't have found it so convenient if you'd been in my place, Mr. Strapp. It was no party."
"Perhaps not, but is there a record of your incarceration? Is there someone who can corroborate your story?"
Ryan felt the anger well inside him. He remembered waking up in Roxborough's delta clinic. Not knowing who he was, trusting the face on the screen. The boyish face of Thomas Roxborough. Ryan had believed he was Roxborough.
He had wanted to help free Roxborough from his vat; he had felt sorry for the man.
Roxborough had used the drug laes to erase Ryan's memory. And his scientists had implanted gengineered retroviruses to encode Roxborough's memories and personality onto Ryan's mind. All as part of a plan to transfer Roxborough's spirit out of his disintegrating body and into Ryan's.