They breached the bank building and entered the atrium. They took out approaching drones with headshots—one shot, one kill. Kettle checked his multi-tasker. “Beta Squad, this way to the computer center. The rest of you fan out and clear the building.”
They crossed the halls and reached the outside of the computer center. They breached the center housing all of the mainframes. They neutralized several drones that were lying in wait.
“Well, that was easy,” quipped Kettle. He saw the dismantled fountain. “The Captain was right. They escaped into the Bottini.”
“Sir, look.”
Kettle looked at the soldier who called his attention. “What is it, Private?”
“The computers are rigged with C4, sir.”
“Oh, my God,” said Kettle. It looked like about 200 pounds of it. He knew there was a timer somewhere, but there was no time. They had to evacuate. “Everybody—”
Before he could give the order, the computer center was wiped out in a flash of light.
Kafka and his entourage reached the node under Porta Camollia. He removed his helmet, placed it in a backpack, and shot a grappling hook up the vertical ventilation shaft. They climbed up through the shaft and surfaced at the southern gate amongst a crowd of panicking Sienese.
Kafka dragged Peter’s unconscious body up and hoisted him upward, throwing one of Peter’s arms around his shoulders. Yvette threw Peter’s other arm around her shoulder and they dragged him along, the whole group dressed in civilian clothing, with the exodus of terrified hostages.
Kafka looked up and saw the saying carved into the arch above the gate: “Siena opens its heart to you wider than this gate.” They pushed their way out with the crowd and past several overwhelmed Italian military.
“We lost contact with Lieutenant Kettle’s unit,” said Betancourt. “Farrow, is it a technical difficulty?”
Farrow looked pale. “I don’t think so, sir.”
“Son of a bitch,” said Betancourt. “Any word from Captain Birdsall?”
“No,” said Lieutenant Farrow. “We’re tracing the location of his multi-tasker. It seems to be at a standstill in the Bottini within the city, sir.”
“Get some men in there,” commanded Betancourt. “If he’s dead, I want to see the body.”
“Yes, sir.”
“In the meantime, we’re monitoring the northern fork of the Bottini. The Italian military is monitoring the southern fork and the southern gate of the city as well as the other six gates. This Kafka isn’t slipping through our fingers.”
However, both Farrow and he were aware that no one knew what Kafka looked like, so the soldiers didn’t know who to look for. They were canvassing the crowds to the best of their ability. Deep down, Betancourt knew Kafka was good—too good—to allow himself to be snagged.
***
04:23 HRS
The doors to the pirate church swung open and Kafka dragged Peter inside by the scruff of his shirt. Yvette followed with three other operatives, the last of which closed the doors behind them.
Kafka dragged Peter up the aisle and back into the sacristy. Belmont had the RGT apparatus fired up and was waiting for them.
“How did it go?” asked Belmont.
“According to plan,” said Kafka.
“Exactly according to plan,” added Yvette, exchanging a look with Kafka that would melt the polar ice caps.
“Who is our guest?” asked Belmont.
“My brother,” said Kafka, putting Peter down on the tiled floor with his back leaning against the vestment cabinet. “Our first subject of interrogation with the RGT.”
Belmont produced smelling salts and waved them under Peter’s nose. Peter grimaced and began to stir. He looked around the room, uncertain where he was, and then he looked at the clothes he was wearing.
“We had to change you into civilian clothes like the rest of us, and then we walked right on past the Italian military with the crowd,” gloated Kafka. “Your unit is probably still looking for us to pop out somewhere in the countryside.”
Peter took note of the inhuman voice and the motorcycle-looking helmet. “You must be Kafka.”
Kafka looked at Yvette and Belmont. “It appears my reputation precedes me.” They chuckled in response.
“Where’s Carl?”
“Excuse me?”
“Where is Sergeant Carl Birdsall?”
Kafka was amused under his helmet. Peter saw nothing of it. “What makes you think we have him?”
“Because you took my father and someone is controlling those drones,” said Peter.
“Your father is fine. He’s in a safe location,” said Kafka.
“And Carl?” insisted Peter.
“Carl is dead.”
“Impossible. Who’s controlling the drones? Why is my father still alive?”
Kafka walked up to Peter and pulled him up with one arm under Peter’s armpit. Peter was startled by his strength. “I want you to have a seat, Captain.” Kafka said that last word with bitterness. He took Peter over to the chair in front of the RGT.
Peter looked at the RGT apparatus. “We thought you blew it up with Captain London. There’s no way I’m sitting there. You’re just going to have to kill me.”
Kafka clapped his hand down hard on Peter’s right shoulder. Peter took a swing, but Kafka caught Peter’s fist in his hand and squeezed. “Don’t tempt me, Captain.” He swung Peter around and slammed him into a metal chair. Then he nodded to Yvette, who began to flip switches and turn dials on the apparatus.
“The world will never believe that I was Carl,” said Peter.
“On the contrary,” said Belmont, “you were quite convincing.”
“And who the hell are you?”
“Simon Belmont, terrorist extraordinaire, murderer, thief, and all round scoundrel. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”
“They’ll never believe that I ordered the execution of those people. They saw me protest. They saw me protect the children,” said Peter.
“It doesn’t matter,” said Kafka. “They will begin to ask questions, and the army will have to explain itself. In other news, we destroyed the precious files holding all of the accounts of the Monte dei Paschi.”
“They have backup servers in a remote location,” said Peter. “You had to know that. Every major corporation does now-a-days. You were there for something else,” said Peter, “and you must be American with military training and a lower rank.”
“Why do you say that?” asked Kafka.
“Because you said ‘the army,’ not ‘your army’ or ‘the Americans.’ And you sneered at my rank, which means you must be of a lower rank and resent officers.”
Kafka smiled terribly under his helmet. “Very good, Captain Birdsall. Now I must ask you to keep your head still and look into the retinal interface.” He clamped down on Peter’s shoulder holding him in place and held Peter’s head facing forward with his other hand. His grip was like a vice.
“You work out?” Peter asked. “You’re freaking strong.”
“Hold still and be quiet,” Kafka commanded.
The retinal interface fired up and soon images began to appear on the screen. They saw Peter flying backward after the wall blew in down in the Bottini. Then they saw Peter leading his squad into the Bottini in the Piazza del Campo. They saw him protecting the children as the drones feasted on the two women.
They saw Betancourt and his instructions to Peter outside of the walls of Siena. They went back and back and back. They saw the new training tactics in the airfield at Fort Bliss. Finally, after some time, they saw the exchange between Peter and Betancourt after Peter found out the kill chip in Carl’s brain was activated. Kafka’s grip loosened a little.
Then they saw Peter desperately searching for Carl, and the assault on the farm. Kafka felt Peter’s hope that his brother was inside and his profound disappointment when he was not.
“Enough,” spat Kafka, “turn it off.”
Yvette nodded and switched t
he retinal interface off. The images on the screen vanished.
“This changes nothing,” said Belmont.
Kafka had unknowingly released Peter. He was looking down, deep in consideration of what he just saw.
“Kafka,” pleaded Belmont.
“On the contrary,” answered Kafka, “this changes everything.”
“I don’t see how,” said Belmont. “We need to study those tactics we saw. We need to learn about their weaponry, their formations.”
“In due time,” said Kafka, “but first he needs to be given the same chance I was given. The same chance Yvette was given.”
Peter was watching the exchange with great interest. Something Kafka had seen moved him, but Peter was uncertain of what and why.
“You don’t call the shots around here,” said Belmont indignantly. “I determine who gets chosen for liberation, not you.”
“I’d check your tone if I were you,” answered Kafka menacingly. Yvette was looking at Kafka with great concern. Peter figured there was something going on between them.
He saw the opportunity and seized it. He grabbed the metal folding chair he was sitting on and smashed it into the retinal interface.
“Kill him!” Belmont shouted in outrage.
But Kafka held up a hand to Yvette. She froze where she stood. The other three operatives drew down on Peter. “Anyone who fires on this man will answer directly to me,” threatened Kafka.
Just then, Barry Birdsall wandered into the sacristy. “Is-is that Peter? Peter, is that you?”
“Dad?”
Barry walked up to Kafka and put his hand on Kafka’s shoulder. “Don’t kill him. We’ve got our family back. No more killing.”
Peter looked at Kafka and how he softened under his father’s touch. Suddenly it all made sense. Why Kafka took his father, how the drones were being controlled, Kafka’s reaction to what he saw in the RGT…
“Carl? Carl, is that you?”
“He cannot be allowed to live,” demanded Belmont. “Do not forget who you are.”
“I know who I am,” said Kafka. He turned to face Belmont. “I’m someone who doesn’t take shit from the likes of you.”
“Kafka, what are you doing?” Yvette asked.
“I’m reminding Belmont whom he is speaking to.”
“Remember the Cause,” she prompted. “Belmont helped us both.”
“And now he’s going to offer the same courtesy to my brother.”
“Jesus, Carl, it is you. What happened to you?”
“I have to wear this helmet to protect me from having the kill chip activated. This helmet is what’s keeping me alive.”
“I searched for you, Carl,” Peter said, choking up. “I had nothing to do with the order to terminate you. Ramses gave the order. It came straight from the top.”
Kafka looked down again. “I know that now…which is why I am giving you a choice. Join us. We have both been used by our government. They created OIL to justify passage of the Second Patriot Act. They want emergency powers, and now they are going to use the RGT secretly on everyone. It’s not right, Pete.”
“But, Carl, OIL? These are the ones who killed Mom.”
“No, Pete. There was one man operating independently, and I killed him in this church. They gave him to me. They also saved my life when my own government was trying to kill me because I had become…inconvenient.”
“If that’s true, then let’s go to the House Oversight Committee.”
“They’re likely in on it.”
“Okay, then how about the media?”
“Come on, Pete. I hardly think a feature on the Tyler-Sklyer show is going to do it.”
“So what’s the answer then, Carl? You’re going to go around blowing up banks? You killed Fiona. She cared about you.”
“Bullshit,” snapped Kafka, “she was spying on us, and Dad was taken into custody like a terrorist.”
“And what about those women you had murdered, Carl? Did they deserve it, too?”
“I had to make a point.”
“And what point is that? That you’re a cold-blooded killer?”
“You had women executed?” Barry asked in disbelief. “Son—”
“I did what I had to do. The army set me up and tried to kill me. Now I set them up,” snapped Kafka.
“You set yourself up,” said Peter, “because as far as the world knows, the Automaton ordered those executions.”
“I am no longer the Automaton,” said Kafka. “He’s dead anyway, and he took the army with him.”
“Kafka, real cute,” said Peter. “So what, you’ve transformed into something else?”
Kafka reached up and removed the helmet from his head. Peter and Barry gasped when they saw what was underneath.
“Jesus, Carl.”
“I am changing, Pete. I am a killer. The Monte dei Paschi had an incredible historical archive. Did you know that throughout history there were others like me? But their societies killed them before their purpose could come to fruition.”
“Purpose? What purpose?” asked Peter.
“I am the perfect killer, a harbinger for what is to come.”
“You’ve gone mad,” gasped Barry.
“I am the first wave.”
“What the hell are you talking about, Carl? You’ve gone off the map on this one,” said Peter.
Carl saw his doppelgänger lurking outside the window. It flashed jagged teeth in a feral grin, threatening to come in.
“Where do you think THV came from? What do you think its purpose is? To kill or convert every human on this planet. To create an undead army for the second wave.”
“The second wave of what?” This time it was Belmont who asked the question.
The doppelgänger was now clawing on the glass with saliva dripping from its toothy jowls.
“Invasion,” stated Kafka simply. “You each thought the RGT was to be used for your own purposes, to spy on the enemy. In the meantime, the Outworlders have been watching all of you this whole time. Gathering information. Biding their time.”
“Yvette, kill him,” Belmont ordered. “He’s too dangerous to be left alive.”
Yvette pointed her gun at Kafka, then Peter. “What do you want me to do?” It was unclear who she was asking, but she looked panicked.
One of the three other operatives in the room made a move, but Kafka grabbed the man’s wrist, twisting his hand inward in one quick, deft motion. Before the man knew what happened, he had already pulled the trigger and shot himself in the chest twice. Kafka then grabbed the gun from the man’s hand and turned to shoot the other two before the first hit the floor.
Peter watched all this, hopeful. These guys were doing all the work for him, killing each other rather conveniently. He hung back to see how it was going to resolve.
Belmont pulled a knife and came at Barry. Kafka crossed the space between them with incredible speed and snatched the hand holding the knife. He twisted the hand until there was a pop and a crunch and the knife dropped to the floor. It clanged on the tile, and Kafka grabbed Belmont by the neck and squeezed.
Belmont’s eyes looked like they were going to pop out of his head. He reached up with his one good hand and grabbed at Kafka’s hand in an act of futility. He dropped to the ground, slamming hard on his knees. He reached out to Yvette imploringly.
Yvette had tears in her eyes. She saw her savior Belmont kneeling on the floor, the life slowly being choked out of him. He was looking at her. She saw the knife. She looked at Kafka. Tears streamed down her face.
She walked over to the knife and picked it up. She walked over to Belmont. He understood. He relaxed a little, preparing to receive the knife. They had done this dance before.
Yvette kneeled on one knee, she looked into Belmont’s eyes, his face turning purple, and she drove the knife into him with all her might.
Belmont had a look of confusion as he had realized that this time Yvette had not gone along with the ruse. This time, she had truly driven the
knife through his heart. His eyes went from horrified to sad, and then to nothing. Kafka released his grip and Belmont hugged the tile.
“Jesus,” said Peter in awe of what just played out before him. Carl was freakishly fast and strong. If Peter couldn’t win him over, it was going to be one hell of a fight stacked in Carl’s favor.
“Carl, you did good. We can work the rest of this out.”
“This changes nothing, Pete.”
“Come on, Carl, you don’t really believe that you’re the first wave of some kind of alien invasion.”
The doppelgänger was now pounding on the window. The glass was cracking.
“Pete, I see them in my dreams. They make me look like a choir girl. They’re perfect and horrible all at once, the stuff of nightmares.”
“Carl, you need help.”
“Fiona couldn’t help me, Pete.”
“And you killed her for it.”
“She had it coming.”
“She may have been involved with the RGT, but she had nothing to do with your termination.”
“You don’t know that.”
“Carl, you never gave her the chance to explain.”
“But I’m giving you a chance.”
“A chance for what?” asked Peter. “To go on the run with you and your homicidal girlfriend here?”
“It is humanity who will be running,” said Kafka ominously.
“What do you think I am or Dad is, or even Yvette? We’re all part of humanity. Would you see us all destroyed?”
“I will protect you, all of you.”
“How do you know these perfect beings will let you protect us?”
“It is the price of my work here.”
“Will you listen to yourself,” said Barry in exasperation. “You sound like a megalomaniac with these fantasies of grandeur.”
“They’re not fantasies, Dad,” said Kafka. “They are premonitions.”
“Come back with Peter,” begged Barry. “He’ll take care of you, set this right.”
“He wasn’t there to take care of me when I was almost killed by a bunch of cowboys from a bar or from the army when they activated my kill chip.”
I Am Automaton 2: Kafka Rising Page 26