Running up three flights is not a terribly hard thing to do, but the shooter was probably trying to make his escape by now. He was most likely going to run down a stairwell, meaning that I had to move up the staircase with a degree of caution. If he took a different way down to escape the building, then I could at least consider the path I’d taken to be clear. If not, then it would come down to speed and accuracy.
My prosthetics carried me over each flight of stairs as if gravity were a suggestion. I reached the third floor and listened at the doorway. The sounds of Edward’s footsteps echoed behind me, and the chaos outside continued unabated, but I heard nothing in the hallway. I stood and gently eased the door open.
Through the cracked doorway, I saw only an empty hallway. Edward came up behind me and tapped my shoulder once. My training made me react before I was aware of it, and I entered the hallway to clear in one direction, knowing that Edward would cover in the other.
The apartment where the shooter had fired from would be on the right, but as we moved down the hall I noticed a door to my left that had clearly been kicked open.
I raised a fist and whispered to Edward. “Forced entry.” He nodded and sidled up to the adjacent wall, while I stepped cautiously out to get a better line into the room beyond.
The first thing I saw was a man lying on his back. His head was split nearly in half from multiple gunshots. Bright red blood covered the floor, and I could see a partial footprint in the growing pool. I motioned for Edward to stay where he was, and I strained to listen. Beneath the sounds of the building’s environment control. Beneath the chaos on the street below. Something faint, almost inaudible.
A quiet sobbing.
I crouched low, raised my weapon, and quickly leaned into the doorway. A few meters past the dead man was a boy, inexplicably just standing in the middle of a living room with tears streaming down his face. He looked around fourteen, old enough to understand the situation he was in but too young to control his response to it. The crotch of his trousers was wet, and his arms hung limply at his sides.
The boy’s eyes went wide when he saw me, and he took a breath as if to speak. I held a finger to my lips and shook my head. He remained quiet, but someone out of sight in the room spoke. “If I see you, you know what happens.”
It had to be our shooter. He was using the confined space to negate our advantage in numbers. Clearly not an amateur, but he’d run himself into a corner that a professional would have avoided.
“Your attempt failed,” I said. “You can see that, right?”
I motioned for Edward to come up. I tried to make my voice as calm and relaxed as I could. The deaths so far today had been unavoidable, but this boy still had a chance. It all hinged on what I said and did in the next few minutes.
There was a long silence, then the assassin spoke. “It’ll get done, one way or another. Did you really think this ends with me?”
“It doesn’t have to go down the way you think,” I said. “If you let the kid go, I’ll back off and let you leave. Nice and easy.”
“You think I’m that stupid? I should shoot him on principle.”
“You’re outnumbered.”
“Is that supposed to scare me?”
“It should give you pause,” I replied. “The fact that you took a hostage at all means you want to live, but things have gotten out of hand, right? Your target was supposed to die in his car, but you didn’t anticipate someone like me interfering. You had to improvise, but you couldn’t get a good line of fire. Now here we are. Don’t make another bad decision.”
“I don’t want your deal.”
“Then what do you want?”
“From you? Nothing.”
I couldn’t understand it. Presumably he had taken the boy hostage because he knew we had him and it was the only way to force us to negotiate. So why wasn’t he? As it was, it seemed like he really intended to stay like this forever if he had to.
I heard sirens in the distance. “Do you hear that,” I asked him. “MetSec is on the way, and when they get here, there’s going to be nothing I can do. Take my offer before it’s too late.”
Edward came up from behind me and whispered in my ear. “He’s stalling for something. I think we should accept the hostage as a loss and move in before he gets whatever he’s waiting for.”
I shook my head. “I don’t trade lives.”
“MetSec will see us before they see him,” Edward explained. “We’re in a worse position than he is the longer this goes. We need to take the loss so we can get a win.”
In that moment, he reminded me of Andrea. That same cold, extremist logic that allowed her to rationalize away countless deaths. “We’re not doing that. Full stop.”
I needed to keep the shooter talking until he gave up some hint of his motive. “The dataspike network, that was you, wasn’t it? A communications blackout like that takes resources. Do you have a diffraction jammer in there?” The answer was almost certainly yes, but the point was to at least get him talking.
I waited a beat, but the shooter said nothing. Edward took up a position on the opposite side of the doorway and looked at me expectantly.
I tried switching subjects. “Why do you want to kill Edward Yeun?”
Still nothing.
If he wasn’t willing to talk, then he’d already made up his mind. I’d have to take the risk and move in after all. I turned to Edward and motioned my intent. He nodded and focused on the apartment, squaring up and ready to provide cover fire. I crept through the doorway, quiet as snowfall.
The boy winced and turned his head slightly to the right as I did. That told me where to expect the shooter would be standing, but I still didn’t have eyes on him. I vacillated between keeping up my measured approach and trusting the speed of my prosthetics to overwhelm him before the boy could get hurt. The choice became harder the closer I got.
I was two meters away from the boy when a loud noise made us both flinch. I immediately threw myself into him at the sound, then I twisted to the right, hoping to put myself between him and the shooter. I snapped my head up and swung my weapon around the instant we landed on the floor but saw only an empty room and an open balcony window. I rolled onto my feet and went to it, already knowing exactly what I’d find but hoping I was wrong.
On the street below, I saw a black sedan pull away. There was a man with a battle rifle slung across his back crouched on the roof of the vehicle. Our shooter had just made a three-story leap onto his escape vehicle, and he seemed to have no trouble keeping his balance as the vehicle turned and sped into traffic.
It would be a simple thing for an Augman, even Andrea or I could do it, but the person I was looking at was just a man. At least, he had been when I knew him. Dark skin and a serious facial expression, with a well-groomed goatee. He looked just as I’d remembered him from when he was my Senior Arbiter.
The assassin was Byron Harewood.
5
The dataspike blackout ended minutes after Byron was gone. I was leading Edward out of the block on foot when I began receiving notifications of missed messages, all from Raven. From the context, it seemed like she’d left the blackout area and thought I’d done the same. She would have been right if Edward hadn’t run out like he did.
I sent her a message. Evading on foot with the target. No injuries.
She replied immediately. Where are you?
That was a good question. I checked my map. Northeast Rainham, I replied.
On my way to you for safehouse transport. Update A, she’s asking about you.
We were passing a busy convenience store, which seemed like a reasonable place to stop. Edward must have been thinking the same thing.
“I think we’re in the clear for now,” he said. “Section 5 will make arrangements for my safety. No offense, but I feel lucky to have made it this far with a civilian.”
I could already see where this conversation would have to go. There was a row of large plasticrete planters with ficus trees in f
ront of the store. Taking a cue from some of the crowd, I sat on the edge of a planter and explained to Edward why none of that was going to happen.
“Here’s the thing,” I began. “I am not a citizen of the North Atlantic States.”
He half-shrugged and frowned quizzically, as if to ask what that point had to do with anything, then he indulged me. “What do you mean? Don’t you have to be an NAS citizen to serve as an Inspector General?”
“You do. But I’m not actually an Inspector General either.”
He straightened and moved closer. “What are you trying to say? If you aren’t really an Inspector General, then what are you, Jean-Paul?”
“I’m an agent of the Sol Federation Intelligence Service, just like you. There are several of us right now in the NAS working under deep cover.”
He stood there staring at me, visibly unsure how to respond. He might have thought I was lying—if the roles were reversed, that’d be my first instinct—but it wasn’t any less fantastic than what had happened just this morning. Let alone the last day, for that matter. When he finally spoke, all he said was an incredulous “really?”
I nodded. “When you decided to approach an Inspector General, you happened to pick a fellow agent by pure chance. To tell you the truth, when you contacted me in that restaurant, I thought my cover was blown. The whole time we were talking, I assumed you knew.”
“This is the strangest coincidence…” He kept shaking his head, like he wasn’t sure how this had even happened. “Do you have a vetting code? It’s not that I don’t believe you, but I need something to give my commanding officer.”
Espionage is a complicated business, moreso when the need for compartmentalization means one hand can’t even know the other hand exists. For the rare moments when two independent assets meet, the codes would prove to both that the other person was a part of Federation Intel. It would say nothing of what section, or even give a name, but it would be enough to instill some level of confidence. He was being polite about it, but Edward was doing exactly what we were expected to.
“My code is V-5632-A9-7.”
He took a seat next to me on the planter and gestured in the air, running my code through Intel registration. He nodded after a few seconds and then turned to me.
“Amazing. What section are you?”
I waved my hand dismissively. “That’s not important right now. What I want to know is how you’re doing.”
“I’m fine,” he said.
“That’s what people say instead of the truth. You’ve survived a car bombing and a shooting. It’s not a stretch to imagine something like that would rattle a person.”
He raised an eyebrow and nodded. “Yeah, I’m an intelligence analyst. The point is to not be where the trouble is.”
“So what’s with the hardware?”
“What do you mean?” He must have known what I meant, but he was giving me an out. I pressed my point.
“This is a state where most people are not legally authorized to own a gun, yet you have that Keres-8 under your jacket.”
“Keres-6 actually. I like the older trigger action.”
“You’re stalling. You’ve shown a skillset well beyond what’s expected of an intelligence analyst. Urban tracking, field tactics, close quarters. What’s your story, Edward?”
He grinned. “It’s that obvious? I don’t like to talk about it, but it isn’t really a secret. I used to be a PK.”
“You were in the Federation Peacekeeper Corps?”
“From ‘32 to ‘44.”
“So you were—”
“Yeah, but I was lucky. Only one tour in Antarctica.”
Working backward from that, everything about Edward made sense. The war in the Antarctic was horrific for all sides. “So today was nothing new for you, was it?” I asked.
“Not really,” he answered. “But I was born in Yanbian. Bombings and shootings were a normal thing as a kid.”
“The Federation accepted refugees early on into the insurgency. Did your family ever emigrate?”
“Eventually,” he said. “Not soon enough. I became a PK and hoped to get back home, maybe make a difference, you know? Didn’t happen. The Separatists gave up, so the Federation sent me to NA twice to fight the Dominion, then they sent me to the Antarctic along with everyone else for that whole mess.”
That was exceptionally ugly luck. “I remember watching news streams from the North American campaign. They said the desert was responsible for more casualties than the Dominion by the end of it.”
Edward frowned and nodded. “Yeah. Eighty degrees during the day, just under five at night, and constant sandstorms. I still don’t know why we were ever there. It’s an endless stretch of nothing as far as you can see in every direction. Nothing grows there, it’s all just UV bleached sand and rocks. The Dominion can have that shithole.”
I could tell he was getting agitated at the memory, and I couldn’t blame him. It’s not an easy thing to accept that you risked your life and watched people die, only to have accomplished little, if anything at all.
“The fighting in Antarctica was horrific, but it saved countless lives,” I offered. “Most of our food comes from territory you secured. All this”—I swept my hand in a wide arc—“is because of that.”
Edward made a sound, somewhere between a half-hearted laugh and a hiss of dismissal. “Yeah,” he said, “that’s something.” He stared at the ground, eyes fixed on something long ago and far away. I let the silence hang and watched the people around us go about their day.
After a few minutes, Edward turned to me and asked, “So what’s the plan?”
“We wait here for one of my people. They’ll take us to a safehouse where you can stay until we neutralize the threat against you.”
“I’m not worried about me,” he said, tapping his sidearm through his jacket. “I’m worried about the Secretary-General. She has layers of security, but foreign leaders can walk right through that.”
“We’re working on it. She’ll be safe.”
“Who is ‘we’?”
“The less you know, the better. All I can say is that there’s no one in the system better equipped to handle this than we are.”
Edward looked dubious but said, “Alright, I’ll take your word for it.”
My dataspike chimed with a message. Eyes up. I see you.
Raven’s black sedan came around the corner then, and stopped in front of us. The doors opened and she leaned out.
“Gentlemen, you look in need of a ride,” she said with a smile. We climbed in, and the car pulled into the busy afternoon flow.
“What safehouse are we cleared for?” I asked Raven.
“Chelsea. Bit of a long trip, but it’s still in the city at least.”
I turned to Edward. “This is my colleague, Rachel Henderson.”
“Edward Yeun, nice to meet you.”
She threw him a smile as she quipped, “Different circumstances would have been nicer, I’m sure.”
Edward didn’t catch it and took her words at face value. “Yeah, this morning was a little rough,” he said.
“I saw the shooter,” I said to Raven.
“Anything we can use to ID?”
“I saw his face. It was Byron Harewood.”
She knitted her brow. “Are you sure?”
“I’m absolutely positive.”
“That can’t be a coincidence,” she said with a meaningful look, and I understood her implication. Did this case have something to do with the Eleven somehow? Our deathless enemies were deeply involved in power politics at every level across the system, manipulating events to serve their own agenda. Had they found us again?
“You know that man?” Edward asked, sitting forward in his seat.
“I did,” I answered. “A long time ago, in a different life.”
He looked thoughtful for a moment, then said, “That isn’t a coincidence. It’s possible that man is involved as a warning to you personally, Jean-Paul. I thought it
was odd that there was only one person involved in the attack this morning, but now I think it makes sense.”
“How’s that,” I asked.
“I think you were meant to see him. I think the people behind this plot are aware of your involvement and are telling you so.”
“That’s a reach,” I said. “I wasn’t involved until less than twenty-four hours ago. It’s hard to believe anyone could orchestrate something like what you’re suggesting in such a short time.” It was a lie, of course, but I couldn’t let Edward know how right I thought he was.
“Maybe,” he said and leaned back in his seat, absently scratching his chin with his thumb. “I’ve seen some unlikely events cross my analysis queue. Things that could accurately be described as miraculous. You may be right, and this man’s involvement is a coincidence, but I think Ms. Henderson is right and there’s more to it than that.”
He looked as if he was going to say more, then his expression changed to a deep contemplation and he went silent. I waited, knowing there was more to come. It was the same kind of chaotic calm that came over Thomas in moments like this. I glanced over at Raven, who returned a shrug with her eyebrows and smiled with faint amusement. Edward drew a deep breath, then continued.
“I think at this point, I’m in far less danger than you. Killing me may have been the original intent, but now that you’ve prevented their first attempt, I don’t think there’s going to be another. I think the target is now you, Jean-Paul.”
I could see why Edward was an analyst. He’d taken a single fragment of information and deduced the contours of the entire story. I had to deflect, but it would be difficult with someone like that.
“Well if it’s all the same to you, I’d feel better with you in our safe house for a few days. If the orchestrators of this conspiracy are after me, then it makes my job that much easier.”
Edward looked surprised. “Oh I wasn’t suggesting I go anywhere else, I’m just saying, in my professional opinion, the data shows you should watch your back.”
Sol Arbiter Box Set: Books 1-5 Page 98