Ixeos: Book One of the Ixeos Trilogy

by Jennings Wright

  “So the pattern last time was this: we got the message from Lockwell via Verestyuk to the LRTD. It said, ‘Unit Zed moved to NAP, HOU, ORL, COL. Usual prep confirm.’ The response back was ‘Schedule confirmed. Pr under way.’ We assume ‘Pr’ is prep. So, what I’m hoping is that this email,” Marty waved the paper, “Will give us the next four prison stops. Abacus and Vasco want to wait until it’s at a stable location where we’ve got plenty of rebels on the ground.”

  Marissa drew her eyebrows together, thinking. “That makes sense. We’ve waited this long, there’s no reason to go in half-cocked. We’re only going to get one shot at it, so we need to make sure we’re ready.”

  “One shot?” Marty asked. “But we’ll know every four weeks…”

  Marissa shook her head. “Lockwell might not be creative, but he’s not stupid. Once we try to break Darian out, he’ll know that either the code was cracked or there’s a slave somewhere leaking information. He’ll change things up—stop using the Enigma machine and Verestyuk, maybe even change the prison drops. They don’t have to go to the twenty-six places they’ve been using. He could pick a whole new set or put it in the middle of nowhere for a month until he figures it out.”

  “You’re right. I didn’t think of that.” He sat back, discouraged. Marissa laughed.

  “Don’t worry, just decipher the message and get all the information you can. We’re closer than we’ve ever been by a long shot. It’s up to Abacus and Vasco to figure out the raid. You won’t go, will you? We’ll need you here to help monitor the traffic.” She looked distressed at the possibility that Marty would go to fight. He smiled. This was a girl he could really get used to.

  “Not unless they need me. What I’d like to do is get our communications situation figured out. If we had real time communications with the raid team and we could intercept the Firsts’ calls, texts and emails while it was happening, we could mean the difference between getting Darian out and getting everyone killed.”

  “Can we do that?” Marissa asked.

  “I think so. We’ve got to get a better handle on Lockwell’s direct communications and try to figure out an exact chain of command. We could also time the comm center explosion with the prison raid, which would cripple their communications. They would still have La Defense, but a lot of their routine traffic is routed through the center and it would take awhile before they could reroute everything. Plus it would keep them distracted. And I’ve been thinking about the GPS system…” He trailed off, staring at an invisible point on the ceiling.

  Marissa waited for the rest with raised eyebrows. When he didn’t say any more, she smacked him on the arm. “Hey! What about the GPS?”

  “What if we can disable the satellites? Or at least the satellite tracking over Europe and the one wherever the prison is when they do the raid? If we can screw up the satellite somehow, send it into a different orbit or get it to shut down, then the slaves would become invisible to the Firsts.” He smiled at her. “That could help, right?”

  Chapter Forty-Three

  Monkey and Hannah left the vault at 4:00 with a message for Abacus:

  New message from V. at 10:27pm last night. Translated—“Unit Zed moves to BEJ, OSA, SEA, ROM. Usual pr confirm.” Our friend sent back affirmative.

  Send intel on locations.

  In addition, Hannah had two cell phones in her backpack, both charged and encoded with the same phone number. Marty had tested them out with a quick call from one of his own units and found that they worked. He and Monkey worked out a communications schedule; that was attached to the note.

  “Don’t get caught with all this,” Marty said, watching Monkey put the damaging email into his bag.

  Monkey laughed. “I’m not saying I’ll never get caught, but it hasn’t happened yet and I don’t plan for it to this morning. We’re so close to Darian I can taste it—I can’t wait to get out there and storm that godforsaken prison. I’m not letting anybody near us.”

  “Okay, well eat it or burn it or something if they do catch you.” Marty was pacing in the kitchen, watching them get ready.

  Hannah laughed. “Marty, it’s fine. I promise we’ll be as careful as we’ve ever been, we won’t take unnecessary risks and we’ll try to self-destruct if we’re caught.”

  “Don’t joke about that…” Marty said, grimacing. He hadn’t been to sleep yet; he’d wanted to get the phones cloned and tested and their GPS units disabled before the pair returned to the tunnels. He was feeling a bit jittery.

  Monkey clapped him on the shoulder. “No worries, bro. We’re good. See you in a few days.”

  They left and Marty sat down heavily in the hard wooden chair. After a few minutes of silence, fatigue overtook him and he made his way to his room and his wonderfully soft mattress.

  Vasco and Abacus were in the library with Riley and Clay looking at a world map. Red marker had been used to designate all the known portals.

  “Beijing isn’t bad, but the portal isn’t very stable. The Underground City, as it was called, was built in the seventies as a bomb shelter. The Chinese thought the Soviet Union was going to nuke them. It’s big—it really is an underground city. It was mostly dug by hand, if you can believe that.” Vasco looked at the map again. “The Firsts have a big presence in Beijing and if the portal disappears and we’re stranded, we Caucasians would stick out like a sore thumb. They moved a lot of people around after the war, but still, most of the slaves in China are Asian.” He shook his head.

  Abacus pointed to Japan. “Osaka has that one tunnel that goes through a skyscraper… Our portal is in one of the oldest in the city, the Yotsubashi line, opened in 1942, so it’s stable. But again, most of the humans there are Asian, so I’d say both Osaka and Beijing are out. We’ve got nothing in Seattle. But Rome… That’s interesting.” He tapped his finger over Italy.

  “Rome’s got all those catacombs, right? Those are ancient, so the portal should be good there,” Clay said.

  “Yes, we have great access and a pretty good rebel network. And I think it’s possible that we could get our cells up from Naples in time, too. It’s only, what? A hundred and twenty-five miles or something like that. There aren’t very many places we could combine the rebels of two cities,” Abacus mused. “This might really be a golden opportunity to have not only most of us, but a large rebel contingent as well.”

  “I like it,” Vasco said. “We can visit the Roman rebels, ask them to set something up for the influx of people from Naples. There’s plenty of time to establish new safe houses and get in a store of food and weapons. We can send Samson and Clay to make sure that the motorcycles at the Depot there are all in tip-top shape.” He looked at Clay, who nodded.

  “I can go to Naples and talk to the cell leaders, tell them what’s going on,” Riley said.

  Vasco looked at his cast. “I’d rather you let that heal up so you’re ready for the prison job. If something happens…”

  Riley started to argue, then thought better of it. “Who’ve we got for Naples, then?” he asked.

  “Me,” Vasco said. “I can take Monkey for the initial meetings. Clay and Samson will have to spend a couple of weeks in Rome, most likely. We’ll start feeding our people into the cell system there a little at a time so we don’t overwhelm them. Rome’s going to have to absorb about two hundred and seventy-five of us plus most of the rebels from Naples. We’ll have to do it quietly.”

  “Okay, but who does that leave to stay on the ground in Naples?” Riley asked again.

  “We’ve got somebody on the ground now and I’ll take a bunch of people with me to jumpstart things. I know one of the cell leaders well, so I’ll get the arrangements going. We’ll have some of our people travel with them up to Rome. But I can’t spare Monkey to stay there and head it up. We need him here in Paris until we get closer to the raid.”

  �
��Who’s in Naples now?” Riley asked, confused. “Nobody’s been gone from the tunnels.”

  Vasco looked at Abacus who shrugged. “Rod.”

  Neahle went with the group of a dozen to Naples. She had wanted to go topside to visit Gilles before she left Paris, but things were moving along too quickly now and personal jaunts weren’t allowed. Hannah said that she’d tell the young Frenchman where Neahle had gone and receive any message he may have to give. It would have to be enough.

  For her part, Hannah wanted to go to Naples to see Rod. However, she was needed in Paris to keep the comm center op on track, to relay messages to the rebel cells about the upcoming raid on the prison, and to communicate with Marty in the vault.

  “Ironic, huh?” Neahle said as she stuffed a second sweatshirt into her back pack.

  “Yep,” Hannah said. She handed Neahle a pair of jeans and a bag of toiletries.

  “You want me to tell Rod anything?” Looking at her friend, Neahle could feel the internal conflict.

  “No. I guess I’ll see him in Rome, unless Landon comes sooner and calls him back here. But if Landon comes while y’all are trekking from Naples to Rome, I guess Rodd will have to wait for the verdict.” Hannah smiled. “I don’t really know what I want. Seeing him broken… Well, some of it was the mother hen in me, wanting to take care of him. Some of it was seeing signs of the old Rod, the one from home a long time ago. So I guess just tell him hi.”

  “Hi? Tell him hi?” Neahle laughed. “Okay, hopefully I can remember that. Maybe I should write it down.”

  “Whatever. Just be careful. Things are moving fast now, and, while a hundred and twenty-five miles wasn’t so far back home, walking or riding motorcycles on back roads or whatever y’all will be doing… Well, it’s far.”

  “Surely we won’t walk?” Neahle said, aghast. “A hundred and twenty-five miles?”

  “We don’t have that many motorcycles in Naples, from what I hear. There’s got to be at least two hundred people heading north to Rome. At best that would take over a hundred bikes, and we don’t have a hundred bikes very many places.” Hannah stood and hugged her friend. “You wouldn’t walk it in a day. You’ve got weeks. Think of all the fresh air and sunshine you’ll get. It’s gotta be better than being down here all the time, right?”

  “Um, right,” Neahle said. What she was thinking was, “No way! I can’t walk a hundred and twenty-five miles!” “Maybe I should pack some extra socks…”

  Chapter Forty-Four

  The Il Tunnel Borbonico, or the Bourbon Tunnel, in Naples was a historical gem. As Neahle, Vasco and the advance team walked to an exit through a former veterinary clinic they passed rusted out husks of fascist era cars, broken bicycles that dated from the 1940s, and the shattered remains of a large statue. Graffiti covered the walls, some modern, but much of it from the days of World War II.

  Emerging on Via Gennaro Serra, they stood blinking in the morning sun. To their left, they could see the massive dome of the Basilica San Francesco da Paola Napoli, its formerly white dome stained brown and green from time and lack of care. Vasco hurried them the other way, running west along the narrow road then turning north onto Via Nicotera Giovanni. After several blocks, he cut through an alley and emerged next to an overgrown park. Two large buildings were situated in the middle; they were dark and the windows on the upper stories were broken out.

  Vasco stopped under the large trees and listened. There were no sounds but the chirping of birds. He ran quickly across the Rampe Brancaccio, turned north onto Viale Nicola Fornelli, and came to a stop underneath an overgrown grove of mixed hardwood trees. An apartment building was on the west side of the strange little park, its windows and doors all but covered over by the unkempt trees. He motioned for the group to stay, then went up to a faded orange door and knocked.

  No one appeared. Vasco knocked again, looking at his watch. Cells always left at least one member behind in a safe house unless there was a large and coordinated op. Naples was small, with few Firsts or slaves living in it. There was a canning plant, processing mostly tomatoes, and the Alpha Romeo automobile plant, which had been converted to produce larger, more practical vehicles. Those were the only industries run by the Firsts in the city.

  Still no one appeared, and Vasco began to be afraid that they had walked into a trap or that the cell which had occupied this building had been captured or forced to move. It would be a grievous loss—the cell leader here, Rigoberto, was the senior cell leader in Naples and the only one who knew where all the others were located. Vasco looked over his shoulder at Monkey, raising his eyebrows in question. Monkey shrugged.

  Turning to rejoin the group, Vasco heard the door creak behind him. Looking over his shoulder, he saw a slim young woman, a scarf tied around her head and her dark eyes wide and scared. He had never seen her before.

  “Posso esserle d’aiuto?” she whispered. Can I help you?

  “English?” Vasco asked, turning back to face her and trying to look harmless.

  She shook her head, still fearful. “No, non proprio…” No, not really.

  In halted Italian, Vasco said, “Rigoberto è qui?” Is Rigoberto here?

  The girl relaxed some at the mention of Rigoberto’s name. “No. Sta lavorando. Chi sei?” No. He’s working. Who are you?

  “Vasco. Io sono un amico.” I’m a friend.

  Visibly relaxing now, she gave him a small, timid smile and gestured for him to come in. He pointed back to Monkey and the others, hidden in the shadows of the trees. She nodded; Vasco waved and the whole group stepped quickly through the door and into the dark interior.

  Vasco had used most of his Italian with the exchange at the door, but he was able to figure out that the young woman’s name was Pia and that she was alone in the apartment house. She walked them through a small open foyer and to a ground floor apartment in the back, offering them tea and showing them where to sit. She passed out cups and glasses and then retreated to a bedroom, her young face tense with anxiety.

  Two hours later, they heard a back door open and close quietly and a tall, stout man in his forties entered with six others. Recovering from his surprise when he saw Vasco, he grinned and held out his arms.

  “My friend! It is long to see you! How are things in your home?” He kissed both of Vasco’s cheeks and gave him a huge hug. Vasco laughed, returning the gesture.

  “There is much to tell—much progress has been made. But we have a lot to do in a short time.”

  Scowling, Rigoberto stared into Vasco’s eyes, then nodded at whatever he found there. He gestured to a young man who bore him a striking resemblance.

  “You introduce everyone, make friends, give them some food.” Looking around, he asked the room in general, “Where is Pia?”

  Vasco pointed down the hall. “I think we scared her.”

  The Italian nodded. “Yes, she has just come from the country. She grew up on a small farm with just her family, thirty kilometers from the city. Bandito, they come at harvest time, they steal the sheep and the food. When her father and brothers fight back, they kill. Her mother, she die two year before.” He gave a huge shrug. “Pia, she very afraid now. We find her and bring her here and take care of her, but she no will go with us anywhere.”

  “I’m thankful she let us in,” Vasco said. “But I’m afraid she might have to come with us—we are all going to have to go.”

  “Eh? We must speak of this! Where is my son? Beppe, you stay here, you get all these peoples food and rest, eh? I must speak with our friend, find out where we are all going.” He clapped Vasco on the back and led the way down the hall, entering a different room than Pia had used as an escape.

  Beppe smiled at the newcomers and began introducing the other rebels. Neahle got up and twisted her long ponytail into a messy bun.

  “I’ll help with the food—just tell me
what to do.”

  Rigoberto stared at Vasco in shock. “You find it? You find Darian? After all these years, we can break him out of that prigione, the prison?”

  Vasco smiled and nodded. “Yes, but we all have to get to Rome. We have five weeks until the prison transfers there. In that time, we have to get all your cells north, work out a battle plan, and do what training we can. I know it’ll be hard. Most people are going to have to walk…”

  Rigoberto rubbed his chin, thinking. “We have one autobus. Is small, maybe twenty peoples together tight, yes? Maybe we make many trip to Rome, take everybody by the autobus.”

  “I assume this is an old bus that you got working, one with no computer chips?” Vasco asked.

  “Si, is old. But we have an old man in the east cell, he fix things. Very good. And he find many parts over the years. Like your Samson do for your motorbikes.”

  “What about petrol? It will take a lot of petrol to transfer… How many people are there?”

  Rigoberto thought again. “We lose five to the Firsts last month.” At Vasco’s start of surprise, he held up a hand. “I would tell you when you come next time, which is now, yes? Remember we were spying the Alpha Romeo plant, to see about exploding it. We had a new cell leader, Siffredo, very young. He have to lead the cell when Tomasso die. Siffredo… He don’t understand the best ways. He get too close, stay too long, too many time.” He shrugged. “The Firsts they waited for them. Only two escape. They are fine, but the others, they were taken. They are dead or slaves now. This we all know.”