by J D Lasica
Lee’s bio-agent progressed with ruthless efficiency. The pathogen was turning the harmless and ubiquitous E. coli in Petrov’s upper intestine into flesh-eating bacteria.
“I don’t know!” Waterhouse yelled. “Are you all right?”
Petrov dropped to his knees. “What have you done?” A small trickle of blood began to emerge from his mouth.
All of Petrov’s guards drew their weapons and aimed at him. Waterhouse didn’t reach for his gun. Instead he protested, “I didn’t do anything. You saw me the whole time.”
Petrov collapsed onto his back, eyes spinning, nostrils flaring. He ripped open his white shirt and jabbed at his abdomen, but it only seemed to intensify the pain.
His eyes focused on Waterhouse, and he screamed, “You!” as blood sputtered from his mouth.
Waterhouse interlocked his fingers, threw his hands behind his head, and yelled, “I’m innocent!”
That was the signal he and Conrad had devised for the scenario that was about to go down just as they drew it up.
Conrad’s security team opened fire.
69
Dallas, August 31
K aden heard the fusillade of gunfire and shifted her scope from Building 32 to the plaza in front of Birthrights Tower. She saw gunmen in gray suits being mowed down by members of Conrad’s security force who were laying down semi-automatic fire from the surrounding rooftops and secure fortifications. She recognized one figure in a blue suit as he dove for cover behind a water statue.
This would be a good time to advance on Building 32.
“Friendlies on the way?” she said to Nico. “We only have minutes to spare.”
He checked the geolocation of the others on his smartphone. “They’re here.”
On the right flank of the ridge where she lay in a shooter’s position, she saw two figures move up the hillside. Sunshine was dressed in fatigues and a black top, which accentuated his bald black head, while Phantom wore camo along with his collection of gold chains dangling around his neck. She, Nico, Sunshine, and Phantom had formed a fearsome foursome at Lost Camp .
“We got your distress alert right at the end of an op in France,” Sunshine said, go bag in hand. “Caught the next flight out.”
“Thanks for being our backup plan,” Nico said as he flashed a big smile, shook their hands, and gave the boys a quick hug.
“We managed to escape,” Kaden said, rising to greet her former training partners. “But we still have some work to do.”
“Happy to help.” Phantom balanced a toothpick beneath his tongue. “It’s what we do.”
“What we don’t do,” Sunshine added, “is issue the order Conrad gave to the unit commander during our op. To leave one of us behind.”
She would have to hear more about that later. But for now they were all in agreement about Conrad being a treacherous son of a bitch.
“How many guards?” Sunshine asked.
“I counted around twenty,” Nico said.
“I’ll take those odds,” Phantom said. “These are bad dudes, I take it?”
“Oh, yeah,” Kaden assured them.
She perched down and squinted through her scope. “Some of the guards are moving away from Building 32 toward the firefight. Let’s roll.”
Waterhouse stayed low until the echoes of the final gunshots faded. Then he peered up from behind the fountain at the center of Birthrights Plaza.
Gregor Conrad stepped out from the ornamental stone pillbox they had long ago designed for just such an occasion, doubting it would ever be used as they conceived it. It was a small enclosed space jutting out of the Birthing Center with a 270-degree view of Birthrights Plaza and the walkways that led to the Fertility Clinic and Birthrights Tower. Most people thought it was some kind of modern artwork—perhaps a submerged giant with two large slits for eyes, dark eyelids, and a wild droop of star jasmine.
Conrad was clutching his Ruger SR-556 Takedown semi-automatic, which was less a rifle than an ultra-efficient killing machine. Between the Ruger and the three men Conrad placed atop the surrounding buildings, Petrov’s men were finished before they knew what hit them.
“Clean up this mess.” Waterhouse surveyed the dozen contorted bodies and river of blood snaking across the walkway. No doubt dozens of employees had heard the gunfire. Some were probably staring out an office window right now. As he removed his jacket and shirt, he began fashioning a cover story for the police and for any witnesses. This would stretch the limits of even his considerable storytelling skills.
“Status report?”
“One of our men is down,” Conrad said, checking his Eyewear for a field assessment. “Hold on, I’m getting an alert.”
“Anything I need to worry about?” Waterhouse unstrapped the covert body armor he was wearing beneath his suit and shirt. Finally, I can breathe again.
Conrad moved among the bodies, kicking them one by one to make sure they were dead. “This morning I gave Harrison the okay to activate Number Six’s surveillance mode, even though we still need to test it. Well, Number Six just flagged some suspicious movements.”
Waterhouse eyed the sprawl of bloody corpses before him. “More of Petrov’s men?”
“Negative.” He checked the IDs of the intruders on his Eyewear. He winced. “Chief, it’s four of my operatives.”
Waterhouse felt the wind go out of him. This day wasn’t getting any better. He would deal with Conrad later.
“Where are they?”
“Heading to Building 32.”
“Activate emergency lockdown.”
70
Dallas, August 31
K aden had come to Birthrights Unlimited looking for answers. But she’d seen enough to know she wanted something else. To shut this place down.
This was her mission now. As she led her former comrades closer to Building 32, grasping her Twilight with one hand and pressing her USB locket against her chest with the other, she vowed to start following her mom’s advice. To be more connected and not shut off from others.
To be fearless and free!
Kaden, Nico, Sunshine, and Phantom gathered beneath a footbridge spanning a small creek a hundred yards from the left side of Building 32. Sunshine took out a thermal imaging detector from his go bag and moved in to get a read on the heat signatures inside the building.
Five minutes later Sunshine returned. “Lots of activity. Bodies inside but can’t tell how many are hostiles.”
They heard distant voices drawing close—two guards nearing the footbridge. Phantom opened his go bag and pulled out his taser. He held it up to show her. “Amped up the voltage a little.”
Kaden nodded.
Phantom pivoted to the far side beneath the footbridge and positioned himself for a clear shot between the metal rails. Two darts found their target on the chest of the first guard and brought him down hard. Kaden spun herself up from below and managed to jump over the top rail while the second guard had his back turned as he tried to spot Phantom below. One solid strike with the butt of her Twilight brought him down.
All four of them dragged the guards below the footbridge, gagged them, and bound their hands and legs.
As he and Conrad headed down the sidewalk toward Building 32, Waterhouse took a call from Harrison.
“What is it?”
“I just found out one of Conrad’s former operatives gained Level One access to the network,” Harrison said. “Don’t ask me how, still looking into it. But I instructed Number Six to lock her out and forward me all the dialogue between the interlopers. You’ll want to hear this.”
Waterhouse listened to the recording that Number Six had made of the conversation just minutes ago between Valerie Ramirez, her boyfriend Alex Wyatt, and these two wild cards, Kaden and Nico. Ramirez sounded hysterical because her surrogate was missing, thanks to Sharon Sullivan faking the surrogate data. And Wyatt went public on Axom with the highly sensitive documents hacked by Conrad’s rogue operatives.
He hung up and considered his
options. Should he get Tornquist to ask a judge to issue a ruling ordering Axom to remove the article based on trade secret violations? That was a longshot and could take at least a day—and the damage would be done. He’d have to find another way.
“Chief, you’re not going to like this.” Conrad double-checked the latest status reports on his Eyewear. “Number Six detected a live video feed from Ramirez and Wyatt. They’re live-streaming from the Data Zone.”
“This stops now!” Blood throbbed against Waterhouse’s skull as the fiery afternoon filled his lungs. A new plan began to bubble up in his brain. “Cut them off and bring them to Building 32. I’ll handle this myself.”
Conrad directed Number Six to disconnect Alex Wyatt’s Wi-Fi and jam his signal to prevent a cellular connection. Then he ordered his men to escort Ramirez and Wyatt to the SCIF inside Building 32. Waterhouse had just set up a Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility so Conrad could communicate with his Minxx operatives from an ultra-secure private room. It was also an ideal setting for dealing with his wayward spokesmom and her boyfriend.
The pair arrived at Building 32. Waterhouse entered and headed to the SCIF. Conrad waited on the stone patio outside the front doorway and began checking in with his guards.
Without anyone saying a word, it became clear to the four Lost Camp alumni that Kaden was running this op. So she mapped out a plan for the unit as they crouched in a circle behind an enclosure of lavender lilacs about a hundred yards from the building.
“Did you notice the soft red light? It was coming through the glass doors and those windows below the roofline just a minute ago. But now all the windows are masked black.”
Sunshine peered through his gunsight. “Looks like they’re locking it down. ”
They watched Waterhouse enter the building and Conrad station himself out front.
“Sunshine, you’re with me,” she said. “We take out the guards and gain access through the rear door. Nico and Phantom, you stake out the front, wait for my signal, and make sure we’re not compromised.”
They moved out. Kaden and Sunshine found a secluded spot behind a small stand of pink bushes in the back of the building. When the two guards were lighting their cigarettes, they surprised them. This time she took out the first guard with a swift push kick to the torso followed by a roundhouse kick to the head. Sunshine used stun mode on his taser to immobilize the second guard. They secured the guards with the zip ties in Sunshine’s go bag.
They entered the rear of the building and Kaden mouthed a silent thank-you that her access credentials still worked. Only a few minutes left on her Level One clearance.
She and Sunshine closed the door behind them. They were in a cramped little security foyer with hardly any light. Kaden tried the latch on the main door but it was locked and it didn’t open automatically for her. Probably too dark in here for facial recognition to work, she figured.
“Number Six.” She trained her voice at the grid of audio ports in the wall. “Open the door. It’s me, Kaden.”
The AI’s response sent a chill through her. “I know who you are, Kaden.”
She reached for the exit door behind them and heard it lock tight. They were trapped.
Waterhouse waited in the secured room for Valerie Ramirez and Alex Wyatt to arrive while he read the exclusive report on the front page of Axom. He would have to use all his powers of persuasion to bring them around.
You can do this , he told himself. You’ve created a tech empire of 1,200 people dedicated to the B.U. Way! Valerie Ramirez would come around. She has a special incentive.
The reinforced metal door to the SCIF clicked open and Conrad escorted Valerie and Alex to the two chairs across the steel table from him.
“I need to see to my team,” Conrad announced as he exited the building. Waterhouse had pocketed his Makarov pistol to keep his prisoners in line, so no need for Conrad to remain.
Waterhouse began with a mild apology. “Sorry, my day has been a little crazy.”
Valerie and Alex frowned and began surveying their surroundings, a small room with slate gray walls. He had a small desk set up, topped with microphones and Eyewear that he pushed off to one side.
“Are we your prisoners?” Alex asked.
“Of course not. You’re my guests. You’re free to leave at any time. But I think you’ll want to hear me out.”
“Why is that?” Valerie said.
“Well, for starters, I see you’ve been disclosing trade secrets to the public. Theft of trade secrets is a federal crime punishable by up to ten years in prison.”
That seemed to make little impression. “First Amendment,” Wyatt said.
“More to the point, Ms. Ramirez, you’ve violated the confidentiality agreement you signed. Are you aware you’ve just voided all parental rights to your own child? The boy will grow up not knowing his biological mother.”
She winced and closed her eyes as he poured fresh water into two glasses for his guests.
“I’m not a man to hold grievances. I think we can work something out. It starts with recanting the false allegations in your live-stream video and publishing a retraction of your libelous article, Mr. Wyatt. We can work out the details of your public apology later.”
“This place is a mountain of lies!” Valerie cried.
“Not true,” Waterhouse countered. “Your son, for instance, is very real.”
She slumped in her chair. “How do I know that?”
Waterhouse raised his eyes to the grid of audio and video ports embedded in the wall. “Number Six, this is Sterling Waterhouse. I authorize you to share the location of Valerie Ramirez’s surrogate.”
Number Six replied a moment later. “The surrogate for Valerie Ramirez is located in the Surrogacy Care Salon in this building. Bed 274.”
Valerie and Alex exchanged looks. “So she’s here! I want to see her!” she demanded.
Waterhouse smiled. “I knew we could work something out.”
Nico and Phantom lay in wait, handguns drawn, about fifty yards from the front doorway of Building 32, watching Gregor Conrad on his smartphone. Phantom pulled out a miniature high-powered shotgun mic and they listened as Conrad ordered his team to find the guards who’d gone silent.
Nico felt an alert hit his smartphone. He noticed for one thing that Kaden’s message was sent via satellite uplink instead of through the local area network he’d set up. Then he saw that the message contained a single word: “Trapped.”
He tapped Phantom on the shoulder and they rushed to the back of the building, crouching to keep a low profile. It was all clear—except for the two guards tied up on the ground—but they could hear Kaden and Sunshine inside banging on the other side of the opaque glass doors and then trying to shoot through the reinforced glass doors. Doors must be bulletproof—not even a crack.
Nico searched his go bag and found the canister of concentrated liquid nitrogen—the same one he’d used with Kaden on the St. Peter’s job. He aimed the nozzle and sprayed a rectangle at the base of the door and watched it frost up. He waited several seconds. Then he grabbed one of the guards’ assault weapons and smashed the glass with the full force of the rifle butt. The top portion of the rectangle gave way, creating a jagged hole about a square foot in size.
“Hand me the canister,” Kaden leaned down and spoke through the broken glass. He did. “I’ll take it from here. Secure the front of the building.”
Nico and Phantom deliberated and decided the best way to do that was from above. They moved twenty yards to their left, found a promising overhang up above, then shot Phantom’s folding ninja grappling hook onto the roof. It caught, and Phantom put on his gloves, grabbed the rope, and shimmied up the thirty-foot façade. Nico joined him at the top.
They headed across the empty roof of the building and peered over the other side. Conrad was still there, pacing and issuing orders on his phone.
“I say we take him down,” Nico whispered.
“Allow me to do the honors.�
� Phantom produced the taser he’d just used on one of Conrad’s men.
Phantom took aim and his two electrified darts found their target at the top and bottom of Conrad’s chest. The darts, Nico knew, contained enough thrust to penetrate two inches of clothing and deliver an electric pulse of more than 50,000 volts. A short, violent electrical sound crackled through the air. Conrad’s legs went slack and he dropped to the ground, writhing in uncontrolled muscle spasms. After five seconds his body went limp. Phantom and Nico unfurled the rope ladder, descended to the ground, and retrieved a pair of zip ties .
Phantom went up to Conrad, looking puzzled. “He shouldn’t be unconscious.”
Nico noticed a small medical ID bracelet around Conrad’s left wrist. He scanned it with an app on his smartphone.
He read it aloud to Phantom: “‘Warning: Patient has prosthetic heart valve. Indications of gradually worsening congestive heart failure.’”
Nico checked Conrad’s neck for a pulse. “He’s dead.”
Valerie Ramirez stepped out of the high-security room into a foyer at the front of the building while Alex, at Waterhouse’s insistence, remained behind. She followed Waterhouse as he opened the door to the Surrogacy Care Salon. They stepped into the crimson haze.
The room was larger than she expected, with vaulted ceilings, a rough-hewn wooden floor, and what looked like rows and rows of beds. She nodded to acknowledge a passing orderly and then a nurse, both wearing face masks and medical uniforms. Other staffers moved efficiently through the rows of beds at the outer limit of what she could make out in the fragile light.
“You call this a salon ?” she asked. “It looks more like an Army field hospital.”
“Our surrogates receive the highest quality care and amenities here,” Waterhouse replied. “Just remember. Everything you see here falls under your original nondisclosure agreement. We’re in a trust bubble, you and I.”