Gene Drifters: The Clone Soldier Chronicles-Book III

by Takemoto, D. J.

  Max had not even remembered to ask how much the ransom would chip off of Leo’s substantial portfolio. No, Max was mainly concerned about travel into #5, the home of the un….!

  “Oh god, I have to go there; I might even meet one! It might be contagious!” Max did the only thing he could think of to shore up his confidence; he had a double shot of CEO nutria-blend, and went to pack.

  Leo offed the bot and went to his vault. He’d already gotten the call from someone named Stephen, the mayor of bubble-stop #5, claiming that Max, his legal counsel had stolen the formula and some diamonds from his safe. He opened the safe and saw the framed lacrosse t-shirt, removed from the wall. Leo’s tiny heart sank. He would never have guessed that Max, his trusted legal and the only other person with a key to his safe (in the event of Leo’s death, Max had said), would stoop to such a level. This was even below legal snake level.

  But to make matters far worse, Max had conspired to kill his beloved Roxanne Smoot, had arranged for the Triad to kidnap her. Indeed Leo had just had a ransom conversation with the infamous Ching Shih, only a minute ago, confirming this treachery. Poor Leo was so upset; he’d had to chime his assistant to dress him all in black.

  “This is unthinkable. How could a corporate legal snake stoop to such a low level? Max stole my formula, conspired to have my Roxanne Smoot killed, and now my diamonds are missing. I was going to give them to Roxanne as a wedding present. Max took them. I know it! He’ll pay for this,” Leo ranted to Shih over the com. Shih paused; she asked Leo to repeat what he had said. The stolen formula was another new piece of information. Now Shih knew Roxanne was holding back information. Roxanne Smoot had not told her everything. It made her smile. “I like this woman. She’d make a good Triad member,” she thought to herself while listening to the rest of Leo’s rant.

  Leo wanted to have Max flash frozen for life, but Shih had another suggestion, a nice little side trip to bubble-stop #5 would be just the thing. The rebels had suggested it. Indeed, they had almost demanded it. Maybe Shih could get a piece of Max’s fortune, and Max could end up stuck in #5, forever. Leo was angry enough to agree. So, Shih commed the rebels, though she knew they were not actually in Canada, and agreed to a little #5 vacation for Max. As it happened, they’d been planning such a trip…and so had the Shin Bet baker.

  Once Roxanne was out of Hong Kong, Shih could arrange for her Triad plant, aka Bitbuns to visit Max’s vault and grab up those stock vouchers, using the access codes provided by the rebels. Shih closed contact, finished her cigar, and signaled for a meeting with her lieutenants. They had to agree to either take Leo’s ransom money or the diamonds and the access code to Max’s safe box. Would they vote for quick money or a long term stock option?

  “When you’re finished with your nutria-blend dinner, we have to leave.” Michael walked into the open door of Roxanne’s cell, without a sound, as usual. Other than appearing all black, including the face and clothes, he appeared like Michael Segev; about the same height as Roxanne, medium runner’s build, dark, curly hair, and olive complexion, and those amber glowing eyes. Those were the clonie give-away, the eyes. It was why he usually wore contacts or dark glasses.

  “It’s shark and bourbon soup. I’m finished. Let’s get out of here,” Roxanne replied.

  “Leave the diamonds,” Michael looked down at the pile of diamonds on the cot.

  “How did you know…?” Roxanne started to ask.

  “We’ve been following you on bot-com. The diamonds stay. You promised them to Ching Shih. And whether she lets you go, or I get you out, she gets the diamonds; she’ll be pissed off if you don’t leave those stones behind. You don’t want Shih on your tail.”

  Michael glanced slowly over Roxanne’s body, like only Segev could, “Nice pants. New look?” He’d settled on the paper shredder-enhanced crotch of her leather pants, which had a retro fringed leather style, like the old cowboy outfits, only those weren’t in the crotch. “Don’t even ask,” Roxanne replied, raising an eyebrow and frowning.

  They left the pile of diamonds on the cot. Roxanne immediately followed Michael down the hall, not bothering to ask the obvious questions, like how did he scale that twenty foot wall, or how did he get past those security dogs, or the several hundred guards? Roxanne never asked Michael Segev his trade secrets. Between them it always seemed like idle chit chat.

  They entered the hallway, ran up the three flights of stairs to the roof, and Michael removed a rope from his pack so they could rappel off the roof. “Do you remember your training from Donner Pass?” Roxanne nodded affirmative and started rappelling down the rope. Michael followed, and motioned for her to follow him, but to stay close enough to be within the olfactory range of his dog-repellant goo. It almost worked.

  It should have worked. Not the escape from the Triad compound, but the CEO nutria-blend Max had just polished off. However, as Max packed his sixteen suits, five pairs of shoes, twenty-two silk shirts, and matching number of ties, for the three day exile into bubble-stop #5, he felt worse with each addition to his 18 pieces of original designer brown leather Gutzy luggage. He had consulted with costume design, but no one seemed to have any idea what proper attire was for a legal counsel going to a business negotiation meeting in #5.

  Finally Bitbuns suggested a suit #42, which she thought was quite attractive on him. When finally packed, Max had one of everything, plus a mountain of antibiotics. He was prepared for anything, even South Indian street food. And Bitbuns did her part; she was sure that suit #42 would be just the thing for him to wear into bubble-stop #5.

  Max gave his final goodbyes to the staff like he was reading his will, instructing his assistant on how to complete the merger contractuals, when to appear at Leo’s outer penthouse office for those morning briefings, even had a tearful parting with Bitbuns, who came upstairs to his office from her new Human Resources job, carrying his #42 suit. At her suggestion, he gave her his safe box codes and access keys to give to Leo Songtain, in the event he did not return.

  He handed the keys to his Ferrari to his assistant as he boarded the hover-chopper for the Chek Lap Kok, the local name for Hong Kong’s international hoverjet port. While in transit to Tokyo, he dressed in that #42 suit, the charcoal grey wool suit, with the light blue cotton button-down collared shirt, and silk rep tie. He refused the plate of foie gras and usual glasses of champagne offered in high managerial class, preferring his own stock of that CEO nutria-blend drink. He even refused the offer for on-board entertainment, a sumptuous redhead, with long legs and green eyes. She reminded him too much of Roxanne Smoot, and right now he hated her more than anyone else on the planet.

  “It’s her fault I have to go to that place. She stole that formula, I know she did. When I get back to Hong Kong I’ll see that she’s dead. If I get back from #5; what if I catch something? I’ll catch something in #5. Oh, what if I catch that?” Max pondered his fate for the entire hour to Tokyo, and more during his private hover craft ride to the up side landing deck for bubble-stop #5 near their farm hydro-pods; the dock used only by visiting heads of charitable organizations.

  Of course, Max had never been to #5. He only gave to the arts, not the un…… “Oh! I can’t even think about it. I know I’ll have a heart attack before I get there,” he mumbled to himself as he looked out the window at the #5 chopper landing deck, looming below. When the chopper landed, the pilot signaled a thumbs-up and told Max to exit via the side door. He gave Max just enough time to get free from the slowly rushing hovers before he hit the nitro and took off, leaving Max alone on the deck. That pilot did not want to be staying at bubble-stop #5 for any longer than he’d been paid for, and he’d been paid double-time for hazardous duty.

  Back at the Triad compound, Roxanne landed first on the ground outside the main building; she dove behind a statue, waiting for Michael to follow. It did not take long, which was good because the dogs were already barking, signifying they’d smelled her. Once she stood close to Michael, they seemed unaware of her presence.
She had to get some of that stuff! Michael nodded his head towards a wall, indicating she should follow him there. Once they reached the compound outer wall, Michael gave her a leg up with cupped hands, and Roxanne grabbed at the wire he’d left dangling over the edge. They almost got away free.

  But one of the peripheral guard dogs spotted her climbing the wall, and howled to the others. Darcy and Rose heard the howls, ran from across the yard, and pounced into the fray. It was two master fighter canines against six stupid guard dogs. But they were huge, with big teeth. Roxanne watched from the top of the compound wall while Michael picked off one dog at a time with his silenced tranquilizer gun; six rapid shots, six sound asleep guard dogs.

  “Quick, Rose, Darcy, take the ropes. I’ll lift you up,” Michael whispered to the two co-pilots.

  And, they almost made it.

  Except that the howls had alerted a perimeter security guy, one of the few who did not know about the ongoing negotiations with the rebels. He had a red dot on Rose’s head and a finger on the trigger. If Michael had not been there holding the rope, and reading the guys mind, the bullet would have found home. Instead, just as the bullet left the barrel, Michael pulled on the rope with a quick turn, and Rose caught it in the gut, not the head. She never let out a sound.

  When Darcy and a, now limp, Rose reached the top of the wall, everyone crumbled to the other side. Michael did not stop. He hoisted Rose onto his hoverbike, revved to 300 at full nitro and rolled away like a bat out of Benghazi. Roxanne followed with Darcy riding shotgun. Their destination was the Aberdeen tunnel; at least that’s what Roxanne thought. But Michael pulled off, took off his protective helmet, and shouted, over the nitro ramp of the motor,

  “You go to the harbor, get on that submersible with Darcy, and get out of here. I can’t save you both. Go now,” Michael commanded.

  “No, I’m going with you. I’ve got to save Rose. I…,” Michael did not let her finish. “Go, I can’t save you both. I don’t want to worry about you, and do what I have to do to save Rose. Leave now.” Michael gave the order, and Roxanne knew he was right. She turned in the opposite direction and ramped to the harbor with Darcy, where Dorian had already commed the submersible crew to be ready for a quick get-away.

  Michael turned in the opposite direction, taking the rode through the park. He’d never lost a fellow asset in the field, and he had no intention of doing so now. He knew where he had to go. Michael Segev did the only thing the number one Mossad hit man and alpha of Donner Pass rebel headquarters could do; he climbed onto his hoverbike, punched full nitro, and rode like crazy to the nearest place he could think of where someone could save her life. MICHAEL RACED TOWARDS THE OPUS, TO LEO SONGTAIN.

  25

  LEO SONGTAIN WAS ANGRY WHEN HE PUNCHED THE VIDS TO HIS LOBBY. He’d just gotten off the phone with, first, a representative from bubble-stop #5 stating that Max had stolen his Stem-wads® formula and given it to them for a shit load of gold, then Ching Shih, who told him about Max’s treacherous plan to off Roxanne Smoot, and finally, he’d contacted Max, demanding he take that trip into #5.

  Leo wanted revenge. His legal snake had conspired to kill his love, stolen those wedding gift diamonds intended for Roxanne Smoot, and his secret Stem-Wads® formula, and given it to the People of Un… well, better known as the citizens of bubble-stop #5. That’s what Leo called those people. And, now the #5ers demanded a ransom for return of a copy of the formula, but as insurance they had two people running around on the planet with his formula memorized. They wanted funds for not blabbing it all over the com-net! They could blackmail him forever!

  Leo paced the floor in a frenzy. But after calming down, Leo actually liked the plan. In fact, he considered it poetic justice. And everyone’s demands were quite reasonable, really. “The citizens of bubble-stop #5 only want enough funds to keep their little town in vaccines and food, and my promise to vote at the WME council against the Worker Productivity Enhancement Protocol, meaning against a robotic take-over of the bubble-stops. I want that anyway so Roxanne can keep her job. When you get right down to it, they all just want job security. What a novel concept! I like it! It may sell, especially with the appropriate acronym, like EAT, Employment Advancement Team. Yes, I’ll have the t-shirts designed right away.”

  Leo was about to send a message to the Head of the Board of Workers Productivity Protocols, when he remembered the other part, the bad part. The Triad wanted those stocks, and that was a capital offense against the WME.

  “The stocks are part of the payment, Songtain. You got the information on Max Peabody. We get the stocks,” was what Shih had demanded. Leo could not do that. He’d be condemned to a life freeze. Someone else had to steal the stock receipts from Max’s vault. Finally a solution was found; Leo learned that Max had given his vault codes and access to that woman, Bitbunny, or something like that…no, Bitbuns, that was it.

  “This makes it simpler, Madame Shih. While I cannot access that vault personally, there is no reason why someone else should not do it. Shall I have the individual contact you while I take that little motivational course on Fiji?” Leo asked, in his third com to Ching Shih in ten minutes. She was getting annoyed at Leo, hated his whining voice.

  “Yes have her contact me,” Shih replied, trying to maintain her outer calm. But, Bitbuns need not have made a separate com to Shih. After all, she already worked for the Triad. Within hours, the stock receipts were safely in the hands of the Triad accountant. Shih would need the help of someone in one of the free zones to launder the stocks, someone the rebels could contact for her; someone with a strange black orchid tattoo on his arm. Stock ownership had to appear high managerial, or the WME would investigate. When business was taken care of, Shih contacted her rebel go-between to let him or her know that Roxanne Smoot would be taken to the Harbor at midnight. She was about to go tell her prisoner, and collect her diamonds, when she heard the shot.

  Leo offed his bot to Shih, and went to his vault to get some small gift for the Triad Master. “They did provide me with information, and such terrible news! It is a capital flash-freeze forever for a CEO legal counselor to steal from a client. You can steal from the public, but not from your client. Now I need to pay the Triad off for the disclosure on Max; because the Triad does not give out information for free.” Leo retrieved an envelope for Shih, and a case of one hundred year old Domaines Barons de Rothschild Chateau Lafite Rothschild, Pauillac. He also agreed to be “busy” during the entire Max’s vault stock heist event.

  Leo then contacted his assistant to set up a day off in one of his local spas, for the complete chocolate body wrap. Finally, he had the assistant book him a CEO retreat on Fiji for the following week. When that was completed, he contacted Max, told him that the #5ers had stolen his formula, and that Max had to personally take the trip into bubble-stop #5 to retrieve that secret formula. It was more than Leo had done, all by himself, in quite some time. He was exhausted; he needed a drink. A Fueblaster was just the thing. He poured one from his ever-ready bar tap, sat down on the sofa, and looked out over the Hong Kong Harbor.

  “Damn, how much did Max get for passing on my formula to the #5ers? It must have been a competitor, because the bubble-stop #5 citizens are poor, everyone knows that. Why would someone care about job loss in bubble-stop #5? Whoever did this could extort funds from me forever. I could lose everything.” Max finished his drink, and was about to go downstairs to catch his limo for the chocolate body wrap thing, when his front door security rang.

  “What is it? What do you want, who are you?” Leo could only see one individual at the door, of maybe Israeli heritage; he seemed to be carrying a sack over his shoulders.”

  “Open up, Leo. I have Rose. She’s been shot by the Triad.”

  All thoughts of Fiji or a chocolate wrap went out the window. His beautiful pet had been shot! “Oh my god, is it serious? Here, I’ve buzzed you in. Go directly to the third floor. It’s my personal hospital.” Leo offed the vid and contacted his personal physi
cians and staff to be ready for something serious, very serious. When Leo arrived at the hospital, using his personal and direct lift, Michael Segev was already busy lifting a limp and unconscious Rose onto the operating table. She was not breathing.

  On a submersible outbound for Tokyo the real Roxanne listened in on their open com, while Roxie-II watched on her new bot-com tattoo, as she flew the short hover jet trip to New Zealand, to her very own brand new organic farm. At Donner Pass, Dorian and Dina viewed the regen surgery on their sat-coms, with some suggestions for enhanced surgical procedures provided using the music code to Leo via Segev. Of course, it was routed through Hebden Bridge so that the location could not be traced this time. At bubble-stop #5, Gimlet and Chad heard everything, using her tattoo com, and at Shin Bet, the baker placed a call to someone else, who said Segev had taken care of things, and should return to base as quickly as possible for his next assignment…in Mongolia.

  During the seven hour regen surgery, and using Leo’s newest formula, Fast-act Stem-wads®, Segev, and Leo made two coms, first from Michael to Dorian to set up what would go down in #5, then from Leo to Ching Shih, to finalize the monetary deal. Afterwards, while Rose was in postop, Leo made a quick visit to Max’s safe vault to be sure it was empty. It was. Bitbuns had done her job, and returned to Triad headquarters.

  The Triad guard was sorry he’d shot Rose by mistake; he was actually the dog trainer, and his favorites were Dobermans. Ching Shih said if there was anything she could do, to let her know. But Rose’s fate was in the tiny hands of Leo Songtain, who performed the surgery himself.