However she considered these absurd, contradictory, maddening thoughts, they led to just one conclusion. ‘Forget it.’
‘What do you mean?’ said Ava.
‘I have a job to do here and I want to see it through.’
Ava looked at her as though she had just announced that she would be challenging Tau Granier to a fist fight personally. ‘So you want me to tell Kahleed you’re sticking around?’
Alice nodded. ‘I can’t leave now. Too many people need me. I feel like I have something to give and this is what I need to be giving it to.’
A strange look passed over Ava’s face which Alice couldn’t quite figure out, and then it was gone. ‘I’ll let him know.’
She turned and left Alice alone with her thoughts.
Chapter 18
MINUTES, HOURS, DAYS. Maybe weeks, though that was probably stretching it. The men down in the vaults below had said they were going to kill him after a week when he was being tortured, but the organization seemed to have fallen into disarray since then, and neither Ryan nor Ava knew whether that order was still valid.
Ryan had given Ava a list of trustworthy names, where they worked, who they worked under, who to play them off against. The plan for his escape needed to be quick, and it needed to be as clean as possible.
He was going home.
They’d decided that he was not allowed to know the plan. He’d been tortured before. If he could have told them something to make it stop, he would have. So instead he waited, and in doing so he felt as though time was going by more slowly than he had ever known it to before.
The worst part was the absence of anything to occupy himself with. He remembered back to sitting alone at school as a child. His father’s shadow loomed over him, long and pitch dark, and intimidated even the other children. He was something apart from them. So he kept an old coin his grandfather had given him in his pocket and he would practise performing tricks with it. A pointless activity in hindsight, flipping and palming a metal disc that had served no practical purpose for generations. But he gleaned some small measure of satisfaction from the act.
It had been years since he lost the coin. His father had been so angry. It was rare that he hit Ryan – it would be politically damaging were it discovered – but he had hit him then. Only later would Ryan realize that the beating was only partly about his losing the coin. It was an antique and one of the few things belonging to his grandfather that he had left, though he had always suspected that his grandfather wouldn’t have minded him losing it; after all, why else would he have bestowed his coin on a child?
What wouldn’t Ryan have given for a coin at that moment.
To his right, the door leading to the corridor opened and Vik walked through. Close behind him was an older girl, aged maybe eleven or twelve, holding a baby. Instinctively, Ryan tried to look down the corridor before the door closed, trying to flesh out his understanding of the building, but then he realized that it really didn’t matter; he was getting out either way. So instead he waved at Vik.
He recognized the other two children. They had accompanied the unwounded Yu twin the previous day. While he didn’t know who they were for sure, the girl was the spitting image of the Alice woman who seemed to have taken the reins of the organization.
‘Heya, Ryan,’ said Vik, beaming, ‘I have a new friend.’ He turned towards the girl. ‘This is Cancer Ryan Granner. He’s hiding out here, like the rest of us.’
‘It’s Councillor Ryan Granier actually,’ said Ryan, smiling and nodding in acknowledgement of the girl.
Vik blushed. ‘Oh, I’m really sorry! This is Ria Amirmoez, and the baby is Zeno. They’re staying here for a little while and then they’re going away to meet up with their dad.’
‘We’re not really,’ said Ria. Vik spun round and looked at her, confused. ‘We’re leaving the city soon, but we’re not meeting up with our dad. Either they’ve got him captured, or they killed him. If they’d captured him, he’d have been on the news like those others were.’
The girl’s eyes had a weariness to them that disturbed Ryan, but she was clearly sharp. ‘That all seems like rather a leap,’ he said.
She shrugged. ‘My mum spends hours every night crying. She leaves me to take care of my little brother all day while she’s off working with the others. When she is around, which doesn’t happen much any more, she keeps treating me like I’m four, which happened a whole lot when my granddad died. I know something bad has happened.’
‘What did you say your surname was again?’
‘I didn’t, he did,’ she said, pointing to a put-out-looking Vik over her shoulder with her thumb. ‘I’m Ria Amirmoez.’
Amirmoez. The name was familiar. He’d not quite picked up on it when their mother introduced herself to Ava. He’d seen it a long time ago. Suddenly it came to him. He was reminded of news footage from right when it had come out that the riots had been orchestrated. Jacob Amirmoez was one of the founders of the NCLC. Ryan was taken aback; for some reason he’d never thought of the man having a family. What was stranger was the incongruity between this information and his previous impressions of Alice Amirmoez. She had an authority about her which had made him assume she was in charge of the base, rather than someone trying to leave the city.
Ryan made a mental note to check with Ava that this wouldn’t affect their plan in any significant way.
‘Are you all right? You seem kind of … unfazed by what you’re saying?’ he asked Ria. The girl’s jaded demeanour still troubled him.
‘I’ve been terrified for days and exhausted from looking after Zeno. I’ve been trying to be good for my mum so that she can cope with whatever’s happened to Dad, and trying to keep out of the way. There’s something big and scary out there that wants to get me, and I can’t do anything about that, and I’m just tired of it. Do you know what that’s like?’
Ryan nodded. Ria looked down at his leg. His trousers were still torn, revealing bandages underneath.
‘Anyway, I’m going to go and show Ria the rest of the building,’ said Vik. He waved goodbye, and dragged the girl towards the door. She glanced back at Ryan, over her shoulder. He supposed that, in the state he was currently in, he must have looked rather odd. He had been wearing the same clothes for two weeks and while he kept trying to wash them in the sink of the bathroom, the only difference it made for the most part was that his clothes were wet and filthy as opposed to just filthy. There was no mirror in the bathroom, but he could feel that he had grown a short beard, and his hair was probably getting longer than he’d worn it in a long time.
As the children neared the door, it opened and a surprised-looking Ava nearly walked into them. They dashed past her and up the hallway.
‘They bothering you?’ she asked, motioning towards them.
Ryan smiled. ‘I’m so bored in here that it’s a welcome distraction.’
‘If you get too bored we can always have Maalik carve you up some more.’
A faint smell of cooked meat. ‘Shut up, Ava,’ he hissed.
Her eyes widened. Ryan tried to settle himself. ‘I’m sorry. It’s just … having him in the same building is … It’s really getting to me.’
Ava winced apologetically. ‘If it’s any consolation, it won’t be long now.’
‘Without getting into specifics, can you tell me anything?’
‘It’ll be quick and your contacts have given me a guarantee that any non-combatants they find won’t be abused. I got the impression they’re afraid you’ve got Stockholm Syndrome and will open up a world of hurt if they mess with anyone. As for anyone who’s got a gun, it’ll be harder. Luckily, I’ve planned it to coincide with a big training push that got ordered.’ She exhaled heavily and gave him an anxious look. ‘Everyone’s getting additional training, which I don’t like the sound of. If the NCLC keeps escalating the violence that could be dangerous for anyone who’s present here.’
‘I don’t want anyone to get hurt if they don’t have to be.’
Ava shrugged, her brow furrowed. ‘And, fingers crossed, neither do the people with guns and batons whose opinion on that matter is the one that counts. They want heads, something to show that they can hit the rebels where they live, maybe send a message to some of the participants on the periphery who don’t really understand the reality of what they’re getting involved in. At least everyone here has played a part in something big. They knew what they were getting involved in.’
‘You didn’t.’
Ava looked at him, surprised. ‘Now’s really not the time to introduce doubt into this plan, Councillor.’
‘I’m just … I get these people wanting to keep their kids safe. I can’t begrudge them that, and yet we’re going to ruin it. We’re going to turn their parents in to the police and I have no idea what’ll happen to them.’
‘Right now they’re in the most dangerous part of the city in the near-constant company of terrorists and under sustained threat of the building being attacked. Anything that happens to them will only be an improvement,’ said Ava. Ryan still felt as though he was going to throw up. He knew how much it hurt, fearing that he’d never see his children again. He’d felt it in this very building. If he had a choice he wouldn’t wish it upon anyone. Ava’s features softened. ‘I know it’s horrible, Councillor, but it’s the best of a bad situation. With luck, it’ll all be pretty painless.’
Ryan slumped back in his chair and stared up at the ceiling. The price for his freedom was that these eight children would be torn away from their parents. Those parents might be imprisoned or, worse, executed. Those children would probably end up in the care system and have a relationship with their family only during visiting hours, if at all. He thought of watching his children being taken away from him, knowing that he had failed to protect them.
His children.
Suddenly his concern vanished. It didn’t matter. What mattered was that he would be out of here soon. He’d hold his wife and children. He’d get back to work, slip into his routine like an old slipper. This room would, over time, become just another room to him, in a part of town he rarely went to and in a building he had no business being in.
That was what he looked forward to most. Never seeing this room again.
Chapter 19
THE NEWSCAST PLAYED over and over. Whenever it reached the end of the segment, Zala skipped back to the beginning and watched again. The screen of her portable terminal showed a teary-eyed Polina being taken from her home at The Ozymandias in handcuffs and bundled into the back of a police van. Below, the running headline was ‘Deputy Curator Shelters Anti-Aug Hacker-Killer’.
Zala couldn’t help but reach with her finger towards the image of her friend, arrested and humiliated because of her. Just to try to touch her. The finger passed through the holographic screen instantly. Polina was gone, and Zala was alone.
Zala had managed to get to the boundary between Naj-Pur and Surja and had located a small abandoned flat. She had hacked the central registry again, using the same credentials as before, and looked for families which had left following the outbreak of the Soucouyant virus. Assuming she hadn’t lost her talents for breaking and entering, the list was as good as a hotel directory. She had found one and made short work of the household’s home security. Her hunch paid off – the family had obviously left quickly and not only was most of the packaged food still good to eat, but they had kept a fully stocked drinks cabinet. Zala had indulged herself and the previous night’s intoxication had given way to a thunderous headache and further pain added to her already fragile emotional state. She missed the drunkenness none the less. Her face was everywhere, more prominent in recent public service announcements than that of Kahleed Banks or Maalik Moushian. She couldn’t blame them; when she’d replaced Selina Mullur’s records with her own she’d given them a photograph. Her alleged three murders, all blamed on ‘virulent anti-augmentation sentiments’, had all been dragged back up. The media, the newscasts, they all but openly accused her of creating the Soucouyant virus. It wasn’t an illogical conclusion, wrong as it was. She was probably one of the few people in the city who knew the virus well enough to know how far above her own coding ability it was. But the Council’s records showed that eight years ago the murder of three bio-augmented gang members was attributed to a young woman who’d fled the city, who reportedly hated bio-augmentations; and that her reappearance had coincided with the outbreak of the virus which was ravaging the bio-augmented citizens of New Cairo. It made total sense.
For that, Polina was being imprisoned.
Zala reached over the edge of the bed, trying to figure out whether any of the bottles she had stolen the previous night still had any alcohol left in them. She hit upon one that felt half full, but upon pulling it up and taking a swig, she found that it had already been drained and refilled with water. She didn’t recall doing that and chalked it up to her drunken self apparently having more sense than she did sober.
The tiny projected image of Polina being thrown into the back of the police van replayed for the umpteenth time. Zala told herself that Polina had known the risks, that she had been prepared for this. She’d told herself this before. It had worked when it came to the victims of the criminal organizations Zala had armed or acquired drugs for; the people she had stolen from; the people she had physically hurt; the people whose trust she had betrayed; the people she had deceived and exploited. Zala had always slept fine. They were an obstacle, nothing more.
But Polina looked so scared.
Zala drank the last of the water, then closed the video window on her portable terminal. She ran every system analysis, every probe, every measure she had to check that she wasn’t being watched. Then, deciding that anyone who could evade those checks had kind of earned the right to find her, she loaded up her shell operating system. She found Suman Chaudhri, and opened up a chat window before he could go offline.
>Suman, I need your help.
It took a while for a reply to arrive.
>Zala – that’s your real name, right? Look, I can’t help you. I’m part of an organization that routinely attacks policemen and yet you’re still too toxic for us. Right now, half my superiors think that you represent a loose end that needs to be tied up and the other half think you’re the one who wrote the virus in the first place. You can’t be anywhere near here.
Zala stared at the screen. Apparently she had united the city’s police and leading terrorist group in their desire to see her destroyed.
>Is there any way you can help me at all?
>Even if I thought I could do it, I’d still be obliged to track you and pass on your location. You don’t want my help.
Exhausted, Zala slumped back onto the bed. She thought for a moment.
>Do you know anything about a hacker called ANANSI?
There was a long pause, and for a moment Zala assumed that Suman had blocked her.
>How do you know that name? he replied.
>They’ve been in touch. No idea who they are though. I was hoping you could clue me in.
>I’ve heard a few things. Every so often their name will come up in a chat, if you’ve got the right people around. I didn’t even think they existed.
>That’s not good enough, Suman. What do you know?
>I know the name ANANSI is taken from an old spider god from the Nations days. A trickster god at the centre of the web sounds pretty appropriate. The name was knocking around after it was referred to in a leaked internal GeniSec document from about a decade ago. Just referred to once, very mysterious, but it gained traction on the conspiracy theory forums. I know that, for years now, if there was ever a big hacking job that no one took credit for, it was attributed to ANANSI. I know that they have access to a tremendous amount of information that suggests very high-level technical ability. That said, I’m still not entirely convinced. There’s so little proof that it wouldn’t surprise me if they’re a cover for another hacker – or a number of other hackers – who’re shifting the blame for
the stuff that would get them into the most trouble.
>Is that all you’ve got? asked a disappointed Zala.
>What’re you even asking about them for?
Zala’s fingers hammered away at the holographic keyboard in front of her.
>I’m running an investigation. Not only is ANANSI the only lead I’ve got in this mess, they’re trying to turn me off the trail every chance they get, which means I must be going in the right direction.
>What, are you talking about the same investigation you were on this whole time? It was GeniSec. You’re the one who found the evidence for that!
Zala thought back to that evening, in GeniSec Development Falkur.
>I did some more checking but I can’t find a source at all. The trail stops there, sure, but I still don’t know who created it, so we can’t pin it on them yet.
Suman didn’t reply for a moment.
>How much of this is just that you want to believe there’s more you can do?
Zala had no answer to that. Suman waited for her response, and then, when she didn’t reply, he logged out. Alone again, she went back over the events of the night she had been shot. That the other break-in at GeniSec Development Falkur was simultaneous with the arrival of ANANSI’s message was probably not a coincidence. Was ANANSI warning her? Did they direct the guys in the building? She looked back over the message she had been sent on the evening she’d been maimed.
From: ANANSI (EIP: ----.-.------.-------.---.-----.----.-------)
>Someone’s looking where they’re not supposed to.
ANANSI definitely didn’t want her looking into the Soucouyant virus, that much was certain. But could that message have been a warning? Was it even a reference to her assailants? Could the message in the hospital have been a warning that the hospital knew, and not a threat? Would she have escaped either of those situations if she wasn’t already alerted to danger?
But that was just conjecture. There was something more, something she was forgetting. There was a potential link she’d missed, somewhere along the way.
The Hive Construct Page 20