SWITCHBLADE (Choi Ziyi Book 1)

by Mike Morris

  Ziyi kept the rifle aimed on the target while she waited for the smoke to clear. She gradually became aware of other sounds returning. The screams of the wounded, the crackle of flames and distant sirens. When the smoke cleared, what was left of the attacker's window showed no threat remained.

  Ziyi checked up and down the street once more, searching for more danger, another threat but only the dead and dying remained. Satisfied, she checked on Xiao and got a thumb's up from him. Happy he was safe for the moment, she clicked on the telephone embedded in her left ear. "Wing?"

  Wing Sha answered immediately. His voice was clear, sharp and stressed. "Control. Status?"

  "Roadside bomb plus sniper. Xiao is safe. Mun Ping and Huizong are down. Multiple civilian casualties."

  "Already on it. Police and ambulances are on their way. ETA two minutes. Sit tight and keep your head down till then," said Wing. "Confirm pick up once it arrives. Stay safe."

  "Will do." Ziyi cut the connection. She leaned back against the car with Chen beside her. She kept the assault rifle in the ready position, her finger resting beside the trigger, eyes still searching for any other threat. "Everything looks clear. But that doesn't necessarily make it so. Keep your eyes nice and bright."

  "Goes without saying," replied Chen.

  The police flyer arrived ninety seconds later. The slick, one-man ship zipped down the narrow street, milli-gun ready. It stopped above them and rotated three hundred and sixty degrees, scanning all the windows in every building across all spectrums, machine-gun poised to vaporise the slightest hint of a threat. The down force of the rotor blades in its wings cleared the smoke and the smell of burnt almonds that came from charred flesh. It fired drones from its side to widen the protection area and provide more eyes and ears on the scene.

  The police cars and ambulances followed on. Troops fanned out up and down the street and went into buildings. An ambulance crew rushed over to check on Xiao.

  Ziyi blocked their way. "He doesn't leave the car until we are back at the Imperial Residence."

  The ambulance crew recognised her from the news vids and Ziyi could see the shock on their faces at seeing her armed. One still tried to push past. "You can't make that call. What if His Imperial Highness is injured? I won't let his girlfriend get in the way," he said.

  "Step away. There's plenty of others for you to treat," replied Ziyi, raising the rifle.

  They looked to Chen who merely shrugged. "You heard her."

  A police lieutenant strode over and snapped to attention in front of them. "We have secured the immediate vicinity. Our Crime Scene Investigators will be here shortly to try to discover the origins of the assassin."

  Ziyi nodded. "Good. We'll return to the Imperial Residence. I want the flyer to maintain its position above us at all times. We also need four cars to travel with us, front, back, and both sides, protecting His Highness' vehicle. We leave in one minute."

  "As you wish," agreed the lieutenant.

  "Sit in the front," she told Chen. "Keep your weapon out in case."

  "Sure, but Ziyi?" said Chen.

  "What?"

  "You've got a bullet hole in your back." Chen indicated the wound with a slight nod of his head.

  Ziyi looked over her shoulder, and felt along her back with her hand. A small hole sat just above her right shoulder blade. Her hand came away soaked in her blood. "Shit."

  "Thank god for mek, eh?" said Chen and climbed into the front seat of the car.

  There was a tremble in her legs at the thought of how close she'd come to dying. It would've been a honourable death, but even so she was glad to still be alive.

  After one last look around the carnage in the street, Ziyi tapped in the code to open the car's rear door. She climbed into the back seat, quickly shutting the door behind and re-locking it. She held the assault rifle across her lap, ignoring the shakes spreading throughout her body.

  "You're bleeding," said Xiao, eyes raised in concern.

  "It doesn't matter," said Ziyi. The Heavens only knew how many innocent people she'd killed along with the assassin, but at least Xiao was alive.

  The car pulled away surrounded by its police escort. Safe inside the car, one could almost believe nothing had happened.

  "Explosions, gun fights, and in the middle of it all that was my beautiful girlfriend protecting me. I can't remember the last time I had so much fun." The colour fled from his face and Xiao vomited into the foot well of the car. It was a moment before he looked up again. "Not what I hoped our evening to be."

  "You could've been killed. It wasn’t fun." Ziyi looked out the window, searching for any sign of danger. "And I'm not your girlfriend, your Highness. I'm your bodyguard."

  "And a damn good one too. The twelve billion yuan we spent on your mek was worth every penny."

  "It is my honour to serve," replied Ziyi as she watched the neon-lit streets fly by and tried not to think of all the people she'd killed.

  2

  Wing

  Wing's brain itched. He wished he could pull the plugs out of his neural implants, and just switch off the data stream. Even if it was just for a minute or two. He needed a break, and that was the understatement of the year.

  He sank back into his chair for a moment and tried to ignore all the data flashing through his brain. Even as one of the Empire's Special Operators he'd not experienced a day so intense. He wasn't the only one. Bao Yu, four years older than Wing at thirty-two and a mother of a four year-old boy, and Song, nineteen, single, and beautiful in an awkward way that Wing found so appealing, sat with the backs of their chairs almost touching at the centre of the spherical room, known to all with various degrees of affection as The Pod. Monitors surrounded them, keeping them informed of everything happening in Hong Kong and across the Empire. The three operators were cocooned together for twelve hours at a time, ensuring the safety of the second most important man in the world and the Empire's best interests were maintained at all times.

  The Pod sat deep in the heart of Control, the secret Government facility that oversaw Hong Kong and the surrounding regions. Fittingly, Control was located within the mountain known as the Peak. Once, long ago, Hong Kong's wealthiest lived on top of it, lording over the city and harbour. But, as the buildings rose around it and then outgrew it, the Peak lost its status. The government took over, hollowing it out and filling it with the machinery and seven thousand people necessary to govern one of the Empire's premier mega-cities. It felt fitting to Wing that the monument that once drew so many people to Hong Kong now hid its real power.

  The attack on Lan Kwai Fung was all over his monitors. Speculation on who was responsible. The numbers of dead and injured. Discussions on what the Government's response would be. Two days after it happened and there was no sign of it abating. After all, it wasn't every day someone tried to kill the next in line to the Empire, thank the Heavens. Security for all government official and members of the Imperial family had been increased, and the whole Empire was still in a state of high alert. All police leave had been cancelled, flooding the streets troops and the number of drones in the skies had been tripled. No one knew if it was the work of a lone assassin or part of a greater plot against the Empire. The Heavens knew it had enough enemies.

  CCTV footage from every part of the city was analysed for clues. Sensors scanned voice transmissions looking for key words relating to the attack. As it was, it all anyone was talking about. Wing subconsciously sifted through a mammoth amount of data for what was useful and what was not. At a guess, he'd say ninety-nine point nine-nine percent was absolute garbage, but that didn't mean he could ignore any of it. His life would've been a lot easier if someone had claimed credit for the attack but no one had stepped forward. Hopefully the silence meant Ziyi had killed who ever had been responsible.

  Footage of the attack was also on a constant loop on the public channels — censored to hide Ziyi's part in foiling it. All the public knew was she had helped get Xiao into the vehicle. The dutiful girlfrien
d's act of courage. Her popularity was at an all time high. 'Beautiful and brave' proclaimed the South China Morning Post. 'The Warrior Princess' headlined the New China Daily. Channel News Asia called for her to be awarded the Hero of the Chinese Empire, the highest honour for a civilian. Wing didn't need to try too hard to imagine Ziyi hating every minute of it.

  He rubbed his eyes and tapped another shot of caffeine into his IV. It had been a long bloody shift so far and even longer to go. The press and the public might be finding it all exciting but Wing was much happier when nothing happened. No one died when things were boring.

  Wing instantly felt better as the caffeine leaked into his system. It was a shame he couldn't be fed nicotine too. He'd have killed for a cigarette. He had another six hours to wait before he could ease that craving. Another six hours plugged into his chair in the Pod, with an intravenous drip keeping him hydrated and nourished, a pipe clamped to his groin and backside to deal with waste, and his brain hardwired into a computer system by a cable attached to a jack in the back of his skull with two more feeding into his temple sockets, so three billion terabytes of information could be pumped into his brain every second.

  The operators called it 'data swimming' but sometimes, especially on days like the present one, it felt more like drowning. The information washed over them, brushing past in a rush, and the operators' job was to pull out what was useful from what wasn't. They could split their consciousness to explore new streams of interest. It was their job to know everything that needed knowing.

  Plugged into the system, Wing felt all-powerful. His mind wandered through the lives of everyone in Hong Kong, and further into the Empire if he wished, watching and listening, making decisions that affected people's lives without them even realising it. The Empire had eyes and ears everywhere and Wing could connect to any and all of them in an instant.

  Out of the system, he felt less. That was the only way to describe it. He went from omnipresent awareness to living life in three-dimensions. Totally anonymous. No wonder he spent his off hours out of his brains on whatever shit he could get his hands on, killing time before he could get plugged back in again. Not for the first time, he thought there had to be better ways to earn a living.

  A reminder popped up telling him it was time to check in with the CSI unit investigating the attack.

  Commander Pan Dong answered on the second ring. He looked as tired as Wing. The bags under his eyes threatened to overwhelm his face. He wore the police's summer uniform of green fatigues. A peaked cap was under his arm. "Yes?"

  "Commander, this is Central Control. I need an update on your progress," said Wing.

  The Commander sighed. "We've been working around the clock just trying to separate and identify all the different DNA on the scene. Your agent could've left us with more to work with."

  "Our agent was protecting His Imperial Highness. Are you suggesting she didn't do her duty?" asked Wing.

  He enjoyed watching the discomfort on Pan Dong's face. "No... I mean... One must do everything to protect his Imperial Highness... I... apologies if I have implied something other than that... I..."

  "Enough," said Wing. "Your report."

  "We extracted thirty-seven different traces of DNA. After careful analysis, we now have two prime suspects. Both American." The Commander's image was replaced by headshots of two foreigners. They slowly rotated, allowing Wing to see all sides of their faces as Pan Dong continued to talk. "The man on the left is a Ronald Sanders, born in Ohio, twenty-one eighty-nine, March twenty-seven. African-American. He arrived in Hong Kong a week ago. He's dead. DNA was taken from body parts found at the scene. We believe he was the shooter.

  "The other is more of a mystery. His DNA was found on a fragment of a cup in the apartment. Also American. Caucasian. Greg Anderson, a member of the American Free Army, wanted for four counts of terrorism. His whereabouts are unknown. More than likely he was killed in the blast with Sanders."

  "But there are no remains to confirm that?" asked Wing.

  The Commander's grim face reappeared on screen. "No, unfortunately not."

  "If he is a known terrorist, how did he gain entry in Hong Kong?"

  Pan Dong rubbed his chin. "After checking CCTV, we came across this clip." The screen cut to footage from a security camera at airport immigration. In the top left corner was a date stamp. It had been filmed five days earlier. Anderson walked towards the camera. He leaned forward to have his right eye's retina scanned. Details of a Timothy McElver appeared and entry was automatically approved. Anderson talked briefly to the official and was allowed to proceed.

  Pan Dong returned. "As you can see, he passed a retina scan confirming a false identity."

  "How was that possible?" demanded Wing. "The machines are designed to recognise any sort of mek and reject lens implants, unless registered with the authorities, specifically to stop this from happening."

  The Commander sighed. "The truth is we don't know. We've always believed the retina scans to be one hundred per cent accurate and foolproof."

  "But if our enemies have a way of beating the scans, they've free access to move wherever they wish. We're wide open to attack anywhere in the Empire."

  "We're cross-checking all entries to Hong Kong with facial analysis to see if Anderson was alone or if there were others with him. Hopefully we will have that completed by the end of today. Of course that will only pick up anyone who is known to us already or on a watch list as having suspected terrorist affiliations."

  "So basically anyone of the two thousand Americans who travel here each day could be a suspect?"

  Pan Dong nodded. "I'm afraid so."

  "And we could be facing a much larger terrorist cell active here in Hong Kong?"

  "Yes." The Commander almost choked on the word.

  Wing really needed that cigarette now. "Thank you, Commander. I look forward to your next report." Wing broke the connection before Pan Dong could reply. He leaned back into the padding of his chair. An American terrorist unit loose in Hong Kong was unthinkable. "Shit."

  He allowed the information to feed through his neural uplink to his colleagues next to him.

  "The fake retina is our biggest problem and our only lead," said Bao Yu. "Was the airport scanner checked for a malfunction or some sort of remote access? Perhaps we are dealing with a hack rather than a new form of mek?"

  Wing could feel his temple pulsing. "That would be even more worrying. You'd need to breach eight levels of firewalls to hack into the government system, and once in, why stop at just changing someone's records? You'd be able to wreck all sorts of havoc."

  "Running checks now," said Song. Her voice was full of life despite six hours stuck in the chair. Had Wing ever been that enthusiastic? Maybe when he was fresh out the academy like Song, but he couldn't remember for sure. He doubted even Song could maintain it much longer. She wouldn't be the new girl forever, and having your mind hard-wired into all the crap in the world had a way of wearing a person down.

  The itch grew in the depths of Wing's mind as the mek filtered the data flow into his brain. Another click fed five milligrams of ibuprofen into his drip. Just enough to numb it before it developed into a migraine. The clock refused to count down to the end of his shift. Some days he fucking hated that clock.

  He checked Xiao's locator. The heir was in his residence, the old Government House that straddled Hong Kong's highest starscraper, an ancient symbol of some forgotten nation's colonial dreams on top of one of the great modern architectural wonders of the Empire. It was fitting that the heir lived in a home that touched the Heavens.

  Rex Rui was the Close Protection Agent on duty. His locator placed him in the same room as Xiao. Like Ziyi, the majority of his body had been replaced with lethal mek. The operations had begun on his eighteenth birthday but he'd been able to kill a grown man with his bare hands from before puberty.

  Wing didn't like Rui much. The arrogance and the disdain of the wealthy had rubbed off on him too much, but that wasn't
surprising. He'd been by Xiao side since he was a boy. To the world he was a good-looking rich kid who'd grown up as Xiao's best friend. The tabloids called them the Brothers, treating the world like their playground, breaking hearts left, right and centre in their younger days — before Xiao had developed a social conscience and grown up.

  Twelve other agents, suited and booted, were also with them in the old mansion. Five hundred more were spread through the other levels of the residence.

  Wing ran through a systems check of the building's exterior weapons. Anti-aircraft and anti-personnel guns were armed and ready. The missile counter-measures were primed and radars working. The windows were locked and airtight. Radiation shields were fully charged. The building could withstand a nuclear, biological or chemical attack and not even sway in the wind. The only place more secure in the world was the Imperial Palace in Beijing. As long as Xiao was at home, Wing needn't worry.

  Ziyi was in her quarters' gymnasium four levels below Xiao. Only yesterday she was in hospital getting the hole in her back fixed and now she was working out. No one could fault her dedication.

  Every room in the residence had cameras except personal sleeping quarters so Wing turned on the feed to the gymnasium. Ziyi flickered to life on a monitor. She was hammering the crap out of some punch-bots, still looking as perfect as ever. Skin like porcelain glowed with exertion.

  Wing could watch Ziyi all day and all night. He was just as in love with her as the rest of the world. And no wonder. Ziyi had been one of six thousand girls selected from across the Empire as potential agents. All of pure Chinese descent, taken from their families at the age of eight and groomed to be the heir's companion. Trained and tested, the girls were discarded at the slightest physical or mental imperfection. Ziyi proved to be the best of the best.