Bull had seen their value, as he did with most of his trainees. Bulwark was a towering figure, immensely strong in mind and body, and channeled a protective field that could withstand insane amounts of punishment. Yet Bruno suspected Bull’s true power was his ability to size up an individual, to see through whatever mask a person chose to hide behind, and to nurture their true potential. Bull had done that for him, for Scope, and for countless others.
Which was what made this hunt so unbelievable. When they had received word of what had happened in Alex Tesla’s quarters, of how their boss had been murdered, how Bull had been left in a comatose state, and by Harmony of all people, Bruno and Scope began a long chase beset with wrong turns and dead ends. They chased down any lead they could find on their former teammate, hoping to catch up with her, and to bring her down. With luck, they could even take her alive and bring her back to pay for her crimes. With each failed attempt, with every passing day, this seemed less and less likely. Forget bringing her in alive when they couldn’t even find her.
After an hour, Bruno gave up. As expected, there was nothing. The cabin was unbearably normal. Nothing seemed out of place, with just enough mess to appear as if the mark had been there for a few days before meeting his untimely demise. A few dirty dishes in the washbasin, some opened and rinsed food cans in the trash, an opened bottle of Hennessy on the kitchen counter and a dirty tumbler, and nothing else. He returned to the office, where Scope was meticulously going through the dead man’s laptop.
“Nothing,” he reported.
“And nothing here,” Scope snarled. “At least, nothing that isn’t encrypted to hell. No idea what this guy was working on, no idea why they wanted him dead . . .”
In a burst of rage, Scope slammed a fist down on the corpse’s back, and was rewarded with a dull thud. Bruno stiffled a chuckle, caught in the shame of such dark comedy. It took a moment, but he composed himself, and before he realized what he was saying, “If it’s encrypted, then maybe we could ask—”
Scope silenced him with a sudden, rather unladylike gesture.
“No, Bruno, do not suggest that again!”
“But you know she can help, she can get past . . .”
“Forget it, we are not contacting Victrix on this. We decided already, or do we really have to go over this again?”
Bruno sighed and nodded. They were on their own. That was the price of going AWOL. They couldn’t risk contacting any of their former crew. Victrix could have worked her magic, literally, over any coordination efforts or computer hacking they needed. Djinni’s expertise on guile, infiltration and disguise might have placed them within the very bowels of Blacksnake itself, placing them within the heart of Harmony’s base of operations.
And Bull . . .
God knew if Bull was even awake, or alive. It was the one thought that kept them on task. They had to do this, for Bull.
So all their Echo contacts were off limits. It was too risky, too great a chance they would simply be hauled back and thrown in solitary for the duration. And there was no way Echo would approve of what they were doing. If they ever did manage to catch up with Harmony, they had decided that one way or another, she would answer for what she’d done. If she could be taken alive, great, but if not . . .
And there it was again. If they had to, they were going to . . .
Can I do that? Can I really?
It was a question that had plagued him since the day they had abandoned their posts in the Echo compound, the day they had begun this not-so-merry chase for their former teammate. Harmony, who had once seemed like a sister to him. The girl who had always offered solace in the face of overwhelming self-doubt and despair. The girl who was quick to encourage, and never judge, who by the end Bruno had felt safe enough with to bare his soul to. That was the girl he remembered. As far as he knew, Harmony was the only one in the world who knew his true feelings about Scope, that he was hopelessly, desperately, in love with her.
Could he do it? If he had to, could he kill Harmony?
He didn’t know.
Scope, on the other hand, didn’t seem to have any doubts on the matter. She grudgingly admitted that, yes, if possible they would take Harmony alive, but she made no effort to mask her desire to plug many bullets into Harmony’s screaming body. For Bull, of course. Scope’s love for Bull had always been palpable to anyone with even a passing acquaintance with them.
God, we’re such a mess, Bruno thought. Weird-ass love triangle, and oh look, some nifty revenge motifs, a coma victim and pacifist tendencies thrown in for good measure. New daytime series, coming this fall. These are the “Echoes of our Lives” . . .
Bruno grunted, shook his head, and rubbed tiredly at his face. “Well, we’re going to have to mix something up, ’cause this just isn’t getting results.”
“I’m open to suggestions,” Scope said.
“There’s just one option left to us, y’know.”
“God!” Scope exploded. “Not that again! Blacksnake itself is off limits!”
“We’ve got nothing else!” Bruno protested. “You said it yourself, we’re on our own, so forget getting backup. We need to get closer to the one place that we know Harmony checks in with. We have to get into Blacksnake!”
“And here we go again,” Scope groaned. “How many times do I have to explain to you that infiltrating Blacksnake is even riskier than calling in Victrix, the Djinni or Bella? You think they won’t have files on us? You think they won’t make us within the hour that we show up at their door? There’s still a recruiting war going on, both Echo and Blacksnake have files on everybody. Let’s say we go with your idea, show up and apply as non-meta personnel, as simple mercs with some experience with firearms and combat, they’ll still recognize us by our faces! Dammit, Bruno, we’ve got nothing. Nothing!”
Bruno stared at her. It pained him to see her so distraught. And she was right. They were out of options. There was really nothing left to do . . .
“Nothing left,” he whispered. “Nothing left, but go home.”
“Not necessarily,” a new voice grunted.
With a shout, they were up and armed, pointing their guns at a shadowy figure crouched in the corner. Slowly, the figure stood up, stepped into the light and lit a cigar, his face masked beneath the brim of a weathered duster hat. He took a slow drag and raised his head, reaching up to address them with a brief touch of his hat brim.
It was Jack.
“You have got to be kidding me,” Scope said. “And here I was, thinking I had no one to shoot today.”
“Might want to let an old man say his piece,” Jack said, “before you go firing that thing off.”
“Where did you come from?” Bruno exclaimed.
“Been following you both for a while now,” Jack answered. “Seems like we might have similar interests.”
“Oh, this should be good,” Scope spat. “Go on then, tell us what we would have in common with the man who helped put Bull in a coma and Tesla in the grave.”
“Harmony,” Jack said calmly. “From what I can tell, you both have the same itch that I do. See, that desire for revenge? It’s awfully recognizable to those who share it.”
“And what would you want revenge for?” Scope asked, her eyes narrowing.
“Well, for starters, for setting me up,” Jack said with a shrug. “See, I came that day to your little corner of Atlanta with a genuine offer to make peace between Blacksnake and Echo. Pool our resources, maybe get some good done for once. And I have to say, the negotiations were going just fine until Harmony had to up and knock me out and take out everybody in that damn room.”
“You really expect us to buy that?” Scope snorted. “Why would she turn on you, her boss?”
“I wasn’t really her boss now, was I?” Jack chuckled. “Oh, they played me good, I gotta admit, her and Verdigris, they set me up and I just took the fall.”
“Wait. Verdigris?” Bruno asked. “The billionaire?”
Jack shrugged. “He’s more
a trillionaire, I think, but yeah. You two really have been out of the loop, haven’t you? Who do you think took control of Echo after Tesla got his neck snapped by Harmony? Who had the shares, and the motive, to have Tesla taken out of the picture? He did it old school, too. Big messy murder, a patsy to take the fall, and some market manipulation, leaving him the major shareholder in the company.”
“How would we prove that . . . ?” Bruno started.
“Don’t know, don’t care,” Jack interrupted. “I’ll worry about Verd later, and it sure won’t involve a simple case of exposing his crimes. It’ll need to be a bit more . . . lingering, to satisfy my tastes. No, right now, I want Harmony. And you two seem like the best way to manage that.”
“What do you need us for?” Scope asked. “You’re still Blacksnake, right? I’m sure you can just . . .”
Jack shook his head in disgust. “Christ, I thought you two were smarter than this. Piece it together. After I came to, can you imagine that I might have taken some issue with the way I was played? Let’s just say Harmony, Verdigris and I didn’t end things too cordially. I get anywhere near them or the Blacksnake compounds, I’ll be taken out, guaranteed. What I’m offering is knowledge and supplies, how to disguise yourselves, how to get in and stay undetected, to blend right in with the lower caste of merc forces. Get in close. Whether you snoop around for info and track her down, or can somehow manage to corner her in there, you’ll be able to get close to that bitch and put her down. Or at least have a shot at it. If you mess it up, I suppose I’ll have to find another way. But for now, this seems like the best way for me to deal with this pesky little itch of mine. And you two, you finally seem out of options, and desperate enough, to even consider trusting me enough to help you out.”
Jack took another drag on his cigar and chuckled.
“Took you long enough too,” he said.
CHAPTER TWO
Stone Cold
MERCEDES LACKEY AND CODY MARTIN
Dominic Verdigris III, the man in charge of Echo. I have called him the vilest man on the face of the earth. I’m not sure that’s strong enough. A classic sociopath, and one with a level of genius so far off the scale I am not sure the scale could measure it. A man with more money than I have ever been able to ferret out. And as a classic sociopath, no one mattered to him but him. The rest of the world was just tools—something to place between him and the fate that the Seraphym had revealed to him at the hands of the Thulians. He would do anything to keep that fate from coming true. The Seraphym had set him in motion, unable to tell for sure whether what he would do would help or hinder. In a way, we were her tools, too, but the difference was that she cared about us, about the world, and she would ruthlessly use whatever she had to save as many as she could. Verdigris would ruthlessly use whatever he had to save only one.
Himself.
Ruthless enough to try to use someone else who would use whatever he had to save the world—save the world for himself. And that was the spirit of what arguably might have been the greatest general in history, Shen Xue, who now lived inside the body of what had been Commissar Red Saviour’s right hand—People’s Blade. Shen Xue had arrived there via the sword Fei Li used with such skill, Jade Emperor’s Whisper. For quite some time, he had been content to remain dormant.
Not anymore.
So Dominic Verdigris III, the most evil man in the world, was about to meet General Shen Xue, who might be the most despotic . . .
◊ ◊ ◊
One would have thought, mused General Shen Xue, that a street urchin would have been more resilient in the face of catastrophe.
The General—who at this point was nothing more nor less than the spirit that had inhabited the supernatural blade Jade Emperor’s Whisper—was now, in fact, inhabiting the body of one Fei Li, aka “People’s Blade,” member of the metahuman group CCCP. Fei Li was asleep, deeply asleep, in the sword, as the General himself had been for centuries. She had begun succumbing to despair as conditions with the Thulians worsened, as if the malaise that had infected Alex Tesla had been contagious. And the murder of Tesla had driven her into retreat and catatonia.
Which suited the General just fine; it meant that he had complete and unrestricted control of both body and blade. While they had been of a consensus in most things, there were times when Fei Li’s gentler sensibilities conflicted with his stern judgment; it was something that needn’t concern him any longer, now. In earlier centuries, he would have been disgruntled at being confined to an inferior female form, but he had always been pragmatic, and the body was young, superbly fit, and what these “moderns” called metahuman. All these things outweighed any trivial inconvenience of sex.
He had, he was certain, completely deceived Red Saviour, who had no idea that her old friend Fei Li was, for all intents and purposes, gone. He needed to be in on all the councils, privy to all the . . . what did they call it? Ah yes. Intel. There was no doubt in his mind whatsoever that the Thulians were more ruthless than the Golden Horde, and would not stop until every blade of grass and grain of sand was theirs. They had learned from the fascists; this time there would be no quarter, no mercy, only abject surrender followed by annihilation. They had to be stopped.
Shen Xue was just the man to stop them. Perhaps the only man left in this age with the resolve to do what was necessary, whatever the cost.
But first, he needed to pick his allies.
Initially, he was as repulsed by Dominic Verdigris III as Red Saviour was. After all, he had engineered, brilliantly engineered, Tesla’s assassination. But unlike Red Saviour, he was not prey to emotions. He was as a perfect piece of jade, smooth and opaque. As brutal and merciless as the sword he had wielded and inhabited for centuries. And as he studied the man, he came to realize that the removal of Tesla had been necessary. Tesla had been paralyzed with fear and indecision. No matter what Natalya thought, there had only been one way to move forward, and that was through—or over—Tesla.
This was not to say that he trusted Verdigris, not in the least. Verdigris was utterly self-centered. But Shen Xue could use that; just as different weapons had different uses, so too did men. And when the Thulians were gone, well . . . then Dominic Verdigris III could be dealt with. First, remove the Thulians; one threat positioned to destroy a greater one was an effective use of resources, after all.
And perhaps when he had struck an accord with Verdigris, he could persuade Red Saviour that this was no worse than many another deal that had been forged in the old Soviet Union with monsters. Not unlike the deal her own father and Boryets had forged with Stalin, and those lesser creatures that followed.
Or the deal her father had forged with the Thulians themselves; the removal of Hitler, the escape of Ubermensch. Of course, he had not been aware of the Thulians; he had only facilitated Ubermensch getting to Hitler’s bunker in order to effect the assassination. He had probably assumed he’d be able to ambush Ubermensch himself afterwards, the General mused. Natalya’s reaction when she had learned that little tidbit had been . . . epic. He pitied the girl, sometimes. Fei Li—and even himself, to an extent—had forged a unique friendship with Natalya, based upon mutual respect and dedication. But, for all of her hardness, Natalya was still naive in certain ways; betrayal should never surprise one. It was a lesson the General had learned very young.
But all that was past. While it might have bearing on the future, it was irrelevant in the present. First, forge an alliance with Verdigris. Then persuade Red Saviour. Or not. Every plan needed to be broken down into small steps, with contingencies at each step.
Which was why he was lurking in the shrubbery outside the high-rise Verdigris had taken over for his headquarters. Not for Dominic Verdigris III the confines of a shabby “portable building.” Oh no, the new Echo headquarters was a sleek five-story building that belonged to a bank. Well, supposedly. The General suspected it had actually belonged to one of Verdigris’ holding companies. Not that it mattered, except that the security was superb. Even the planting
s were placed well back from the building and no one who had not the General’s skill and Fei Li’s diminutive size would have been able to hide there. Roving patrols on foot as well as in SUVs, guard house and secure gate, IR surveillance cameras, and more than a few extremely well-armed guards. It all presented quite the formidable appearance. Every castle has drafts of air that steal inside, no matter how tightly the stones are laid together.
Shen Xue simply had to find his way in, like one of those drafts. Not trivial. But for one of his experience, and that shared with a street urchin-thief . . . not that difficult.
* * *
“I need to invent something that will give me more hours in the day to read this tripe.” Dominic Verdigris was talking to himself, a habit he sometimes indulged in partly out of the belief that the only person really worth talking to was himself. He sighed. “It’s so difficult to be me. Maybe I should clone me.” Now that would be interesting, if only because whatever inevitable struggle for power ensued would be challenging. He pushed the glasses he was wearing down to the tip of his nose, leaning back in the chair. The glasses were linked to his smart-desk, enabling a holographic and tactile sensitive display of multiple screens in front of him. Images and short bullet-pointed blurbs of pertinent information on some persons of interest that he had made sure were tracked were displayed on one of the screens, which went inactive or transparent as soon as he was no longer actively looking at it.
Revolution: Book Three of the Secret World Chronicle Page 2