by Ian Williams
“I swear we had nothing to do with that.”
“Lies!” Petra snapped. She then took aim at her next target, Ruth.
“No, please,” Graham pleaded as he tried to shuffle in front of the gun. He did not get far. With a swift kick from another of the guards he was sent onto his back, into a bag of partly decomposed food that squelched under his body.
“I do not believe you. Why do you seek The Sentient Collector? Do you think you can take my deal with him away? I will not let you.”
A tear made his vision blurry as he fought the urge to burst forward. He could not watch them kill his sister. Neither could he bear to think of both of them disappearing without a trace. Elliot and Jane would never know what happened. Elliot would die too. If Graham could not come up with a plan quickly then their story would be a short one. One told only between gangsters as a warning of the terrible temper Petra Vukovic had. The rest of the world would disregard their deaths as just one criminal killing another.
“I don’t give a shit about your fucking deal with him,” Graham began, with an unexpected amount of anger to his voice and words. “All I care about is keeping my friend alive. Someone’s going to kill him if I don’t find The Sentient Collector. I have no interest in you or your business. I just need his location.”
“Then you make big mistake,” Petra said, moving the gun back to him. “I will not help you. You come to me and then power is gone, this a coincidence? No, I think you are threat to me.”
This is it then, Graham thought. He had done all he could to try and silence Petra’s gun for the day. But the way she raised it toward him suggested he had failed miserably in that endeavour. He could feel his entire body clench. There was no time to even get back to his knees. He was to be shot like vermin in the muck, caught eating from the bins. At no point did he close his eyes.
“Please. I’m begging you, don’t shoot him,” Ruth cried, her lips shaking and red.
With Petra’s arm now straightened and ready to fire, Graham was certain he would see nothing but blackness again. Then he heard something that instantly made his heart sing with joyful relief. The rioting drinkers had stopped their shouting. It brought a moment of silence that he was unsure anyone else had noticed. He soon realised, by the lack of a gunshot that they all had too. Even Ruth stopped her tears in surprise.
“Go see,” Petra ordered to one of her minions. Seconds later he returned, curiously with a small screen in hand. He approached Petra – who kept her gun on Graham – and leaned in to whisper something to her. She dipped her head to the side to hear. As the words entered her ear she reacted with shock. Her eyes snapped wide open and then to Graham as her gun automatically lowered. “Really?” she said to the man, who nodded.
“I’m telling you the truth, we had nothing to do with the power going out.” Graham had no idea what she had been told. He took the opportunity to put this to her anyway. If he said nothing he was sure he would only regret it if she took aim again.
“I do not understand how you have done this,” Petra began. She quickly waved her men off. “Power has returned and we have received message. The Sentient Collector has asked to meet with you. He has given address and told me to release you both.”
“What?” Graham said in disbelief. Was it a cruel joke of some kind?
“I will let you go. Do not return to me, ever again. You understand, yes?”
With Ruth by his side, he got to his feet and pulled her behind him. If they changed their minds suddenly at least she would be able to run. “Thank you.” They walked backward in a display of caution and mistrust, edging toward a gate to the side. None of the men left, they chose to remain to protect their boss.
“Stop,” Petra quickly ordered.
Graham froze and was about to push his sister through the gate when he saw Petra reach for the small tablet her guard held.
“You take this with you.” She handed the device to him and then stepped back again. “This will show you where to go. Please tell The Sentient Collector, I am sorry for threats. I will wait to work with him again soon.”
“I’ll tell him,” Graham said with a new gadget to his name. He glanced at the screen while creeping ever closer to the gate. It had an address on it, just as she said it would, though it showed an odd route, straight out of the city. There was no time to dwell on this for now. Dino’s blood drenched body rested by his feet as he shuffled along; the perfect reminder of how dangerous this place still was.
Ruth fumbled to lift the latch of the gate behind him, leading to an uncomfortable few seconds of near silence. With the lock then released, the gate freely swung open. Freedom resided only a few steps back. They were out and with a new enemy staring at them with absolute contempt.
“Let’s go,” Ruth said, tugging his jacket.
He found the courage to turn, and when no sudden shots rang out, he picked up the pace until he found himself running. All of the adrenaline remained. It became the only source of strength he had left to force his tired body forward, tiring him out even more. Once again he saw that his sister was dealing with the physicality of their predicament much better than he could. When his breathing turned to a loud wheeze he decided they were far enough away to be safe.
“Where are we going?” Ruth asked.
Graham again looked over the confusing directions on the screen in his hand. He gripped the plastic surface, leaving behind an unsightly smear of sweat. It had to be wrong. “It’s outside the city,” he said, not sure what that meant for them. Nothing was at the location, the map showed an empty region. All there was in the area was a farming tower, and no-one lived in those. They were totally automated sights with robotic pickers and no need for any human intervention at all.
“Give me that.” Ruth snatched the device and soon returned a look of defeat. “We’ve been had, haven’t we?”
Looking up at the clouds above as they slowly marched across his view, Graham quickly became jealous. Their serene existence was a nudge in his back that reminded him of the world of pain he found himself in. If they swam through the heavens, then he trudged through hell. “For Elliot’s sake, I hope not,” he said.
* * *
Kristof arrived to a scene of absolute chaos, with people racing around like uniformed, headless-chickens. The police had set up a line of tables outside the shopping centre and were desperately trying to keep a tally on proceedings by tapping away at a mass of screens. He could see that the whole operation had gone to pieces the instant the power had gone and then come back on. No-one knew where to be.
The only ones in control of themselves were standing at the front of the gathering with their eyes and guns focused on the shopping complex’s entrance. Looking beyond the glass he could see a red laser security field inside and a group huddled together on the floor.
The Mag-Lev car he had been in moments earlier had stopped, trapping him inside and fuming with a red-hot steaming anger. When the power had returned and he was let out of the tiny metal cage, his mind had burst to life with a combination of different objectives. All he originally wanted to do was make sure the right decisions were being made by those in charge. After the outage, however, it had shifted to nothing less than a coup. No-one would be allowed to screw things up any more than they already were. He needed to cover his own back.
He saw the metal spike of the relay as he walked toward the building. It looked far from healthy, with sparks jumping out like party poppers, and a blue glow surrounding its tip. The nearer he got to the police’s temporary operating centre the less he could see of it, until the relay was entirely out of sight – although far from out of mind.
“You,” he said to a passing police officer, who stopped immediately to size him up. “Get me the man in charge. I’m from Simova. Tell him to see me as soon as he can.”
“Sure,” the officer said, before trotting away in search of his commanding officer. Things inevitably got done much quicker the second Simova was mentioned.
Kristof d
id not have to wait in silence for long. But it was not the man running this particular operation that had rudely interrupted him. He was surprised, and disturbed, to see his wrist screen flashing due to an incoming call. Headquarters were in need of answers that he just did not have. “Yes, sir?” he said with a deliberately calm tone to his voice.
“What is going on over there? We’ve just seen the entire city’s power relay network go down. We sent you in to fix this Kristof. What have you been doing there?” The face of his boss was red and swollen – of course some of the swelling had already been there. A white froth of spit had taken up residence in the corners of his mouth too, ready to be projected at the screen at any moment.
“Sir, I’m getting the problem under control. I’ve just arrived at the scene and I am about to speak to the officer in charge here. I will be able to update you soon.”
“Not good enough. Dammit Kristof, I thought you were the smart choice for this job. You’ve been there for hours already, why haven’t you done something about it?”
It was useless trying to argue. His superiors only cared about results and he had not gotten them any since arriving. He had found two suspects within less than an hour of getting stuck in. Now he had an entire building full of them. Yet he had little in the way of an explanation or a battle plan.
“Yes, sir. I’m sorry about that. I had been following up on the suspects we already had. Until this group took the shopping complex and began tampering with our relays, I had no evidence of their plans.”
“What about the men the police caught at the warehouse? Have you spoken to them yet?”
“No, sir. I will request they be taken to the Simova depot here so I can interrogate them personally.”
“Good, good.” Kristof’s boss dabbed his forehead with a white cloth that appeared creased and darkened from many uses. His face was still a shade of red, although it was slowly becoming lighter.
“Sir, rest assured I will get it done. It will be difficult to keep this from the press though. After all, the power was out for nearly ten minutes. People will be panicking.”
“Yes, well you let us worry about that. You need to concentrate on stopping whatever it is these people are trying to achieve. We cannot – will not – stand for such interference. You have our full authority to use whatever means is necessary to bring this to a swift end. If anyone gets in your way, call us and we’ll have them removed.”
“Even the police officer in charge here? Just in case he refuses to deal with me.”
“Even the police, Kristof. We own them. Nothing the police do is without our prior approval when it comes to Simova’s technology. Just get things in order quickly and let us know when you have something.”
An officer with a much smarter uniform, bejewelled with silver buttons adorning the epaulettes on his shoulders, arrived with the young officer who had been sent to find him. He waited while Kristof tried his best to lessen his own superiors’ worries. Whether the officer had heard the conversation or not was unclear, he looked unimpressed either way.
“Of course, sir. I’ll be in contact shortly.” Kristof swiped the call away, and the sudden stress along with it. The boss was happier now than at the start of the call, so he could at least take comfort in that. They had no interested in hanging him just yet. He still had time to save his career.
“You’re from Simova?” the officer asked. He shooed the younger officer away like a nuisance cat at the backdoor. Now the two alphas could butt-heads over dominance without the others seeing.
“Yes, I’ve been given authority to take command here.”
“Not happening,” the officer barked.
But Kristof could bark louder and did not hold back at all. “One call to your superior and I can have you demoted to walking a beat again. The quicker you accept it, the quicker I can bring this all to an end. Got it?”
The officer adjusted his tie, tightening it slightly around his neck as his veins bulged. It was surely what he felt like doing to Kristof. His lack of a reply suggested he had given in much quicker than expected. His clenched fists were taking his anger and balling it up for later, it appeared. That was a good sign for a peaceful transition of power. If he could store it for when it was useful then he would not be the hindrance Kristof expected after all.
“First,” Kristof continued. He noted the officer’s reaction and was relieved to be getting past the awkward part so soon. “The men you arrested at the warehouse yesterday, what have you gained from speaking with them?”
“Nothing. They won’t talk. The problem is one of them died at the scene. That usually makes people less cooperative,” the officer said sarcastically. He refused to acknowledge Kristof any longer and instead watched as his busy officers raced about.
The answers would be tainted with pent up rage from this point on, Kristof knew.
“I need them all taken to the Simova building for further interrogation. This is now an internal matter. Secondly, I see you’ve moved the press back and grounded their drones. That’s excellent work. But I need you to oversee their transmissions. I don’t want them forming opinions or spreading panic. They should only report what we agree in advance. Lastly, I want a strategy put together to enter the building by force should the need arise.”
“Are you mad?” the officer said, quietening his voice at the last moment. “I’m not sending anyone in there, they’ll be wiped out. Have you any idea what we’ve got here? There are hostages being held at gun point. If we storm in, we’ll get them all killed and most likely ourselves in the process.”
“It’s called planning. I’d rather have a plan and not need it than face the alternative. How many terrorists are there inside? I presume you’ve got eyes on them, a camera feed or two perhaps?” Kristof watched in disbelief as the officer slowly shook his head. It was as much a gesture of derision as disagreement. “So you’ve not seen any of these terrorists? Not even thermal imagery?”
“No, they’ve got something inside that’s blocking us out. All we’ve seen so far is a brief period of power fluctuations. Of course you lot at Simova probably already know about that.”
“We’d seen that, yes.” Kristof focused ahead as he spoke rather than at the officer. Neither had an interest in acknowledging the other’s authority any longer. “What about demands?”
Again the officer shook his head. “We’ve tried talking. There’s been no reply so far. All we’ve heard in the past hour are a couple of small explosions that had us worried. They don’t appear to have done any damage to the building, or harmed any of the hostages. So for the time being we’re stuck outside waiting. That’s fine with me, at least no-one is shooting.”
“I’ll decide what’s acceptable. Now, I’m going to need a place to set up.”
“I’m sure we can spare a table.”
“Good. Inform everyone that I’m now in charge of the operation. After that I want you to talk to the press. They’ll need someone to put their questions to, and I can’t think of anyone better suited for the job than you.”
He felt particularly pleased with this immensely embarrassing snub. It was unnecessary, he just could not resist prodding the wound he had already inflicted. When the officer walked away, his metaphorical tail between his legs, Kristof sniggered to himself. He loved being the omnipotent voice of authority, at least in situations such as this.
The task he faced was going to be the making of his career, he knew it. Nothing could go wrong as long as he had it in mind before it occurred. He considered himself like a mystic when it came to knowing the unknowable. An expert mind, trained to outthink everyone else. He was arrogant. Yet his strength was in knowing this about himself. Of course he did not really have to be when he could back it up with intelligence and a record of wins to his name. He simply chose to be.
Even though his new job had suddenly – and unexpectedly – become much bigger than the others he had faced, he did not see that as a problem. To him it was just a greater opportunity to impress
– even if he started uncharacteristically on the back-foot.
With the area still a frantic flurry of activity, he took a few seconds to compose himself. The world would be watching with apprehension as their way of life was threatened. With the media under his thumb he could at least restrict anything that would add to their concerns from reaching them. The limiting of information was his greatest tool in this respect. It created a bubble-like buffer zone for him to work in. He could then focus on finishing the job efficiently and quietly, without outside interference.
Only once he managed this would he then be revealed as the saviour. He would be the one man responsible for saving the hostages. Surely he would bypass a few steps on the company ladder after such a feat. It would be the least they could do. And as for the idiots inside the building, the ones who believed they were in control, they were about to get a shock. They would be no match for him.
He looked past his new employees – they were now, despite what they thought – and saw the red lines that set the border between his world and that of the terrorists’. Lasers were indeed a problem that would need to be overcome quickly. If he had to talk to the man leading this incursion into the civilised world first, then he would. It would be begrudgingly though, as his gut instinct was to send a force inside without delay. Taking them by surprise was the best option, he decided. Losing a hostage or two would be unfortunate, but he would save the rest.
Thinking on his future success almost caused him to salivate. He could taste it in the air. Just like he could somehow taste the smoke from burning electrical equipment. Realising that it should never smell that way at all, he searched for the source. It was a shock that made him hurry to the same position he had been in earlier, when looking toward the roof. Back there he could once again see the tip of the power relay.
This time the sparks were shooting out in much more regular intervals, and the glow, at his most conservative of estimates, had become twice as bright. Most worrying, however, was the stream of smoke that rose up from the roof. Something was burning and he could only beg to the heavens that it was not his company’s precious power relay again. Otherwise his next conversation with the boss would be even more heated than before.