Emperor-for-Life: DeadShop Redux (Unreal Universe Book 6)

by Lee Bond

  Anywhere.

  They were still live, though, which would've been bothersome, up until the moment Garth Nickels, out there on stage and bracing the recalcitrant General Habercome with all the subtlety of a rocket powered sledgehammer, had announced in equally unsubtle tones that he'd hacked everything in range.

  Because of course he had.

  "What in the hell is going on here?" Devlin demanded of her very own tech specialist, Agent Rilt. Rilt was hunched down over his combat systems, trying vainly to reconnect to the Federally-encrypted server feeds he'd gone out of his way to route directly into the building to smooth out some of the rough edges of this operation.

  Rilt smacked the top of his system rudely. "We're getting data from somewhere. But you knew that already."

  "Yes." Devlin nodded curtly. "I love hearing things I already know. Where is the information coming from, though. That's what I need to know. Can you get anything from Nickels' laptop?"

  Rilt shook his head. "No, I … I mean, the laptop is identifiable on this invisible network we're running on, but … it's got the same encryption as the Specter servers. The data flowing through … I … every law on the books is being broken right now."

  "Is this Nickels' doing?" Devlin demanded, peeking her head through the curtains a second time.

  Garth was still doing his level best to piss Habercome off, and from the steam nearly pouring from the General's snow-topped ears, a blow-up was en route. Making matters worse -oh, how Devlin wished the General hadn't brought armed troops into this little meeting, no matter how sagacious it might've seemed beforehand- many of the gun toting soldiers were now loosely pointing their guns at Nickels.

  Who was -as last time- rather blatantly ignoring the threats against his life.

  If Devlin didn't know better, from the sounds of things, Nickels was enjoying himself.

  "If a pizza delivery man shows up," Devlin snapped as she turned her attention back to Rilt, who was allegedly attempting to determine the extent of Garth's involvement in what was happening, "I will go out there and I will shoot him myself. Rilt!"

  Rilt twitched so hard he knocked his hardened laptop over. "There's … there's an unusual amount of information streaming from the device on the dais there, and if I'm seeing things properly here, there's … I don't know how to put this … there's another Wi-Fi feed coming from his contact lenses. As to where the information is coming from, or how he's hacked into everyone's devices, there's just no telling. I'm amazed I was even able to map the signal frequencies. It's like it's all coming from thin air."

  Devlin poked her head out the curtain again, mulling Rilt's assessment. The man was top notch, and he was running one of the best rigs in the game, and some of the most impressive software the Federal Government had on offer. In his time, Rilt had located weak signals hidden inside carrier feeds, pinpointing the location of Unfair Advantage manipulators in underground bunkers. If the man was saying that he couldn't find a thing, he wasn't lying.

  Outside, Garth was now on the receiving end of all the rifles in the room. The journalists were still recording, vainly hoping that whatever control Nickels was presently exerting on their devices would either be stolen from him or would eventually diminish to the point where they could get their story out.

  Cool as the veritable cucumber, the operator of Changetech was fielding a scathing demand by General Habercome that all assets, including the machinery currently keeping everyone on lockdown, be handed over to the US Military.

  Devlin remained convinced with utter assuredness that there was more to Nickels than met the eye. No normal person should be so obviously comfortable when being hollered at by a 4 star General and being under the direct scrutiny of nervous men with semi-automatic rifles.

  Not to mention, the strange phone call this morning, forcing her against her will to deploy her entire team to the Convention Center. The number of powerful feathers ruffled to get everything up and running … a sinking feeling deep in Angela's gut warned her that this might well be the very last op she ran. It had to go well. It had to go perfectly.

  If Nickels wasn't lying.

  If Rommen deShure -who, after a lengthy background check, showed absolutely no signs of being anything other than upfront, forthright and well-commended soldier- turned out to be the sort of lunatic that was willing to open fire on his employer in the middle of a crowded room, then it would all be worth it.

  If it was all lies, lies as black and as dark as the untruths and deceit spilling from Garth's mouth into Habercome's ears, then she'd still come out on top.

  Garth Nickels would finally and forever be outed as a detriment to the American people and he'd be bounced into the deepest darkest hole they could find, and that brain of his would be turned into a data mining treasure trove.

  Success in either direction, with her only goal weathering the storm of outraged, self-entitled powerful people.

  Fuming but focused, Devlin snapped her fingers, drawing in those of her crew that weren't already out front, disguised as bloggers, to her side. "Fine. Whatever. All we need to do is not trust the info we're getting from our systems completely. Wherever possible, eyes only confirmation, standard codecomm use only. Can't hack that. Do we have eyes on Rommen deShure? Nickels' timetable for the event is drawing to a close. That assclown General might be keeping things on the cooler side, but only for so long. And for God's sake, someone find out why he's here in the first place, all right? This situation is already pear-shaped. Let's keep it from exploding in all our faces. Get to it."

  Devlin fired off a quick and dirty salute then resumed trying to call her superiors.

  Habercome and deShure were likely to turn the Convention Center into a shooting range before too much longer, and from the looks of things, Garth Nickels couldn't be happier about it …

  ***

  A short time ago, relatively speaking…

  Garth's words about green room food reminded Rommen that he hadn't eaten anything since the night before, before this whole ludicrous day had gotten underway, and so the first thing he did when the two of them entered the room, Special Agent Angela Devlin hot on their heels, was aim himself directly for the complimentary snack plate.

  As he worked his way through a handful of cheeses and meats that he supposed were meant to be tasty, Rommen listened half-heartedly to Devlin grill Garth concerning what he intended to do today at the Convention Center, but mostly, he just stood there, eating and wondering what in the fuck he was doing with his life.

  Doing what was best for Uncle Sam seemed like the best idea. It just … resonated inside. Everything about Garth Nickels, everything he turned his hands to, everything that came out of his brain … was wrong. It was hard for Rommen to explain precisely how he knew that Garth wasn't the best choice, even to himself, but the feeling just would not leave him alone.

  At the same time, though, loyalty to his job, the integrity with which he dispatched his duties, was a continual nuisance, a scream in his ear, an unsubtle reminder that regardless of whether what he was doing for Uncle Sam was the right thing or not, Securicorps would lose their minds. He'd be out of a job, he'd be blacklisted across the globe. Friends he'd served with and friends he'd made at work, no one would work with him, look at him, talk to him. Depending on their mood, his employers might decide that they'd need to press charges.

  And that would be a court case he'd lose. Rommen didn't even need to think about it. His plans for the day already included a massive breach of conduct; arranging for General Habercome and his team to be on the property alone was a dead certain guarantee of criminal prosecution and there was absolutely no chance in hell that the Four Star military man would use his own cachet to prevent anyone from going to prison.

  Or he could run. Running wasn't a course of action Rommen was particularly fond of, but he had the skillset. He could disappear in the matter of a few hours, going so far under the radar that they'd need to use ground-penetrating equipment to find even a trace of his exist
ence. From there, once invisible, Rommen knew he could reappear elsewhere in the world. For preference -and from listening to Birchcreek- Australia was currently figuring very highly in any flight plans.

  Of course, everything boiled down to the distraction Habercome would provide. The General had no idea what else was going to happen today. The General was under the misapprehension that when everything drew to a close, he would be leaving San Francisco with Garth Nickels in tow.

  "Hungry much?"

  Garth’s teasing words reached Rommen from across the room, and so he slowed. For all of three seconds. Treason was hungry work. Around a mouthful of little pieces of cheese and even tinier pieces of pepperoni, Rommen had a suggestion for Garth. “You should get some of this action, boss. It’s quite a spread.”

  “Nah, I’m good. Special Agent Angela Devlin of the Amazing Eyes, are we about done here?”

  “We are. I’d like a few words with your man, if you please.”

  Rommen stopped shoveling food into his mouth long enough to squeak out an agreeable-sounding assent and got about the business of appearing marginally ready to talk with a Federal Agent. It wouldn’t be his first time, but it would be the only time where he was actually going to have to pay strict attention to the words coming out of his mouth.

  Secrets. When you had them, they wanted to crawl out of your mouth so they could land in the middle of the room for everyone to see.

  Devlin eyeballed Rommen as she moved across the green room floor, unconvinced as ever about the legitimacy behind Garth’s claims that the security professional was going to get up to no good in just under forty-five minutes. She’d read the man’s dossier, and while most of it was redacted, once you learned how to read around those big, obscuring black blocks, a decent enough picture of an honest man was revealed.

  Still. Garth had landed in the US like one of those ridiculous science fiction monsters, ready, willing and able to destroy entire cities with a swipe of the hand, and while nothing had been done to diminish the man’s irritating attitude and insufferably smug aura, a great number of inroads had been done since that initial attack on American businesses to … smooth things over, so if the man believed something, it was best to check it out.

  Rommen wiped his fingers clean of cheese goop and processed meat grease and held a warm hand out for the visiting Federal Agent. “Thank you for coming down to smooth everything out, Special Agent Devlin. We were having a heck of a time getting around those Federal firewalls on our own.”

  “Mister Nickels’ insistence on remaining virtually anonymous makes things very difficult.” Devlin replied with a smile. Now she was up close to the man, there was a … vibration coming from him, a kind of … subsonic scream. She didn’t know what it was, but she did know that it was putting her teeth on edge.

  Maybe there was something to Nickels’ claims after all.

  “Whenabouts he make the call to your offices?” Rommen tried asking the question as innocently as possible while inwardly, he screamed and screamed and screamed that he was being as subtle as Wile E. Coyote trying to catch the Roadrunner.

  “Earlier today.” Devlin decided not to nail down a specific time. There was no point in letting the man have even an inkling of how long they’d been in the Convention Center, preparing things. “How is working security for Nickels treating you and yours? I can’t imagine it’s too exciting?

  Rommen’s eyes lingered on the pickles. Dammit. He hadn’t had a chance to get some of the pickles before this conversation and he was afraid that if he reached out and grabbed a handful right there, he’d blow it. Unfairly, he also felt that if he didn’t have something in his hands, he’d say something ridiculous. “Well, you know how it is, I’m sure. The man does attract his fair share of detractors. He’s very glib. And of course, there was that stuff in the beginning. How about on your end?”

  “Ohhhhh.” Devlin smiled charmingly, a kind of defense against the hum coming from Rommen, a psychic shriek that was growing in intensity the longer she stood there, making pointless chatter. Behind her, Garth’s interest in their conversation was a physical force drilling into the back of her skull. “Without going into details for obvious reasons, many people looking to vacation in San Francisco this year suddenly found it very difficult to complete their travel plans.”

  Rommen nodded knowingly but kept his mouth shut. The dual encounters with the vicious Ziggheads wanted to crawl past his lips, but he didn’t say a goddamn thing. As a Special Agent, there was an absolutely one hundred percent positive chance that she knew all about both and had either shunted that info off to another lead agent for investigation or that she was keeping the murders on the down-low for when Garth got caught up in one of his ridiculous plans.

  If all went according to his plans, it wouldn’t matter.

  “May I ask you something in confidence, Mister deShure?” Devlin stepped a little closer, every instinct in her body now yowling at her stupidity. Up close and personal like this, she’d have next to no chance to defend herself from virtually every attack the clearly psychotic Rommen deShure might launch; he had more than a foot on her and was built like a brick wall.

  She just had to trust that the man’s madness lay in a single direction only.

  “Of course, Special Agent.” Rommen held his breath. Quietly, but he held it. The smallish woman had on her person a sidearm, a pair of unhinged handcuffs, and a collapsible baton. That was what he could see. Odds were high that an agent of Devlin’s caliber also had at least one throwaway piece and one of the new-style pepper spray combinations that could drop someone with excited delirium burning through their blood.

  Rommen plastered a smile on his face. “Ask away.”

  “Technically, it’s two.” Devlin whispered softly. “The first is, is it worth it working for the man? Does he pay well? I can’t imagine being responsible for his well-being is worth the hassle. He strikes me as … well. Unhinged sounds unkind, but a genius of his caliber has got to be a little on the wonky side.”

  An unexpected bark of laughter shot past Rommen’s lips, followed quickly by a high-pitched, incredibly awful sounding blip of noise as the ex-soldier fought to get a grip on the mirth that suddenly wanted loose. Over on the couch, Garth –face buried in his laptop- did nothing more than quirk an eyebrow.

  “Ah … apologies.” Rommen sketched a repentant nod. “He’s … colorful. Eats a lot of terrible food, watches even worse television. Spends most of his time working, but during his downtime, he can be a nuisance. Combined with his desire to, as you said, ‘remain anonymous’ that typically left one or more of my team ‘hanging out’ with the man. Bad influence. Pays very well, but his on-property security measures border on the invasive. Expects people to handle heavy concepts without hesitation. Doesn’t understand the concept of safety first. Willingly puts himself into dangerous situations without being aware of the risks to other people. Has an odd sense of humor.”

  “I … see.” Devlin avoided making eye contact with Rommen. As she cherry picked her next question, she wondered at all if the man was aware of himself any longer, or if he was solely locked into the decision he’d made, if that all that was really left inside that blonde skull of his was the mission. She could tell Rommen was on point, and the Federal employee held little doubt that if she knew it, so did Nickels.

  The question of ‘who is Garth Nickels’ grew deeper. Being at ease when confronted by agents pointing guns was one thing. Your average sociopath could handle that without being overly bothered, but spending the day with a highly-trained ex-soldier who was also clearly insane and more than ready to end your life, all without worrying for your own safety?

  Devlin didn’t think there was a word to describe that level of crazy.

  “You said you had two questions, Special Agent?” Rommen grabbed a pickle while Devlin brought herself back to the conversation. It was good she’d paid such close attention to what he’d been saying about Garth. When it was all over, when he was victorious and th
e world was safe and the tech was brought to Uncle Sam, maybe she’d be the one to speak up for him after all.

  “Mm. Yes.” Devlin pretended not to notice Rommen shoving little pickles into his pocket because sometimes, things got so weird that even paying them the smallest amount of attention was to jump right into the rabbit hole. Instead, she tapped a spot under her eye. “What’s going on with Nickels and those contact lenses of his? They … don’t look comfortable.”

  “ODD.”

  “Well, yes, they certainly are odd.” You couldn’t deny that. Black as midnight with peculiar coloration across the surface, they were very intimidating … “Oh. Wait. You mean ODD. Really?”

  Rommen nodded absentmindedly, eyes locked on the food. Mission specs always said to get enough food in you, specifically protein, to last for a few days. There was never any telling when you’d have time for chow, or if it’d even be available. Missions like this one, it might seem like there’d be no issue laying hands on consumables, but being on the run afterwards, sometimes it was just best to run until you couldn’t run any longer. Water was everywhere. You could grab that on the run, but a proper meal? Something to keep you going?

  Almost impossible. With Special Agent Devlin and her team –oh, Rommen wasn’t stupid, he knew there was a team with the woman with the off-colored eyes lurking in the background somewhere, and knew why they were there, but he was smart as well- on property, getting away clean just got a bit more difficult.

  “True story.” Rommen nodded again. “Started developing almost immediately. He was wearing these stupid glasses for quite a while, but … they just didn’t work. He claims he considered getting the other kind of lenses, only … you know.”