The Hunting Command (Grey Areas Triptych Book 1)

by Macalister Stevens

  JAGDKOMMANDO

  Diether Adler (Austrian) Team Leader

  Oktav Buzek (Austrian) Engineer Specialist

  Matthias Haas (Austrian) Weapons Specialist/Sniper

  Roland Manz (Austrian) Communications Specialist

  WASHINGTON DC

  The Chairman/Tiziano Bazhunaishvili (American) billionaire/political campaigner

  Director of National Intelligence (American) Head of the United States Intelligence Community (federation of 17 intelligence agencies)

  Ryan Lachkovic (American) lobbyist

  Brad Weaver (American) CIA Deputy Director

  White House Chief of Staff (American)

  White House Press Secretary (American)

  MEDIA

  Carmen Iniesta (American) TV news anchor

  Sean Jerome (American) TV news reporter

  Pierce McCarey (American) White House Press Corp

  Rob Turner (American) TV news anchor

  OTHERS

  Manfred Baumgartner aka the Owl (German) North Rhine-Westphalia police

  Kaspar Pfaff aka the Badger (German) North Rhine-Westphalia police

  Tommy Amberson (American) computer technology consultant

  Baba Yana (Bulgarian) Galina's grandmother

  Pascal Blondeau (French) businessman

  Volkan Dağ (Austrian) employed by Degen

  Dominik (Polish) employed by Degen

  Mikhail Draganov (Bulgarian) engineer

  Galina Draganova (Bulgarian) student

  Florian aka Sigmund Pfeifenberger (Austrian) artist

  Geoffrey (British) Carpenters’ Club concierge

  The Governor/John Koenig (American) brother of the VP

  Jehona Zlatar (Albanian) language teacher

  Murat Kavlak (Austrian) employed by Degen

  Nestor Persopoulos (Greek) small-time criminal

  Elisabeth Pichler (Austrian) retired

  Laila Porter (American) Xavier’s wife

  Roger Sherman (British) doctor

  Tamara (British) hospital patient

  Özgür Yilmaz (Turkish) surgeon

  ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

  For their advice, encouragement and expertise, thanks to Chantal Cooke from Panpathic Communications and The Book Booster, Sue Richardson from SRA (Sue Richardson Associates), Sarah Williams from The Book Consultancy, and writer and broadcaster Jeff Thomson.

  Thanks to cyber security expert Jim Stickley for showing me how to rob a bank.

  And thanks to Vienna—how Disney would have done Gotham City—for being a fantastic place to write.

  Preview of SLIPPING

  Engines roared, tyres squealed. I opened my eyes. A white sports car hit a ramp, flew into the air, rolled 360 degrees, slammed onto tarmac and somehow executed a screeching turn. A man spilled from the spinning car, came to rest on one knee and squeezed off a half dozen shots from a Glock he seemed to produce out of thin air. Shards of black rubber erupted from the tyres of two pursuing black sports cars. The vehicles veered, skidded and smashed into each other, the impact sending them careering in opposite directions, slewing either side of the man with the Glock as he casually rose to his feet.

  ‘Wow!’ breathed someone to my right.

  ‘How awesome was that?’ from a couple of rows in front.

  ‘Shhh!’ behind me.

  Clearly the cinema was packed with horseshit lovers.

  I checked my pockets. Found a phone. Selected the calendar icon … I was at a test screening of Kai Degen 4: Quantum Suicide. That wasn’t the title of any novel I’d written. A sly joke perhaps. I thumbed the Paperclip icon and scanned the notes that had been left for me: I had a writing credit for the screenplay, but so did the director. He was a talentless arse, which explained the drivel on the screen, and why I’d fallen asleep. I knew I shouldn’t grumble. I’d woken to much worse—people trying to con me, or lock me up, or kill me—so sitting through a shitty movie shouldn’t register much on whatever crankiness was measured by (a Grrr-o-meter perhaps), but my ability to stick to an even-keeled perspective had been a little lacking of late. Slipping between different universes will do that to you.

  I sighed: a Q&A was scheduled after the screening, followed by a dinner with representatives of the Japanese manufacturer of the pony car that the (miscast) actor playing Kai Degen had just shrugged off several laws of physics to roll out of. Apparently the boys from Nippon had paid a hefty fee for the product placement, and a similar sum to have their Italian rival’s model trashed during the chase. I was expected to be charming at both events.

  Screw that. I’d already had a day dealing with dickheads.

  I closed my eyes. Inhaled slowly … exhaled slowly … inhaled for a count of six … exhaled for a count of six … … in for six … out for six … breathing in … breathing out … sound faded … the world slipped away ...

  13 hours earlier

  Abducting four career criminals had been tricky, but the real challenge was listening to their shop-worn tough-guy bluster.

  ‘I’m going to motherfucking fuck you up you fucking ... motherfucker!’

  I sighed. ‘Tell you what, I’m going to buy Mister Vocabulary a thesaurus. That’s if all of you get out of here alive.’

  All four men strained against their shackles. I casually brushed dust from my coat sleeves, giving them a moment …

  Muscles admitted defeat. Eyes didn’t. But at least the basement was rant free.

  I said, ‘A literary agent once told me that I gave good exposition. She’d had a few drinks, so I can’t be certain she wasn’t just flirting. However, I have just given you two very important pieces of information.’ I held up a finger. ‘Leaving here alive is a possibility.’ Two fingers. ‘But ...’ The fingers pointed, playground-gun style, at each of the four men in turn. ‘All of you make it. Or all of you die here. Imagine you’re a really scummy version of D’Artagnan and the Three Musketeers.’

  ‘Motherf—’

  My fist slammed into Mister Vocabulary’s face. His head snapped backwards, propelling an arcing spurt of blood into the air between us. ‘Don’t interrupt,’ I said evenly.

  The other three glared. Silently.

  A gooey mix of blood and snot landed between my feet. I studied Mister Vocabulary’s face, tutting disapproval. Blood flowed from the swelling, wrecked nose, ran over his lips and dripped from his goatee. ‘That’s nasty. But you weren’t exactly pretty to begin with.’

  I stepped back and adopted a chirpy tone. ‘Returning to exposition. It comes in many forms. One technique is The Lecture. It’s not very subtle, but as you’ll have noticed …’ I gestured at the chains linking their ankle and wrist restraints, ‘subtlety isn’t exactly part of the curriculum. Don’t worry, I’ll be brief.

  ‘Gentlemen, you’re here because I know your plan. Stage one, break into my home. Stage two, terrorise my family. Stage three, use the threat of extreme violence against them to coerce me into electronically moving a substantial amount of money. Stage four, carry out the extreme violence anyway to ensure there are no witnesses.’

  One jaw dropped. One pair of eyes widened. Mister Vocabulary glanced at the biggest of the four. And the big man maintained a poker face.

  The dropped jaw started to speak, ‘How d—’

  ‘Quiet!’ The big man quickly controlled the flare of anger across his wide face, and he slid a deadpan gaze back to me.

  I pitched him a wink, and continued. ‘As your current predicament suggests, I’m not especially pleased about the leave no witnesses part of the plan.’ I dropped the light tone. ‘That was an exceptionally bad choice.’

  Their chains clinked and clanked as they shifted uneasily, even the big guy. From the moment hoods had been pulled from their heads, the four had radiated white-hot fury, but that emotion had just been tempered. Now they knew the why, and that knowledge had cracked the armouring provided by anger, letting in a little fear. I had their attention.

  ‘Choices, gentlemen,’ I said, ‘that’s the the
me for today’s lecture.’

  I held a beat.

  ‘Parallel universes. Alternative realities. Hugh Everett’s Theory of the Universal Wavefunction, also known as the Many Worlds Interpretation of Quantum Mechanics. Anyone know what I’m talking about?’

  Blank stares.

  ‘Perhaps an example will help.’ I aimed a finger at Mister Vocabulary’s ruined nose. ‘A few moments ago, our friend was being disruptive. And that presented me with a choice. I could indulge his limited rhetoric. Or I could put a stop to it.’ My fist jabbed the air in front of me.

  ‘Here’s the really interesting bit. According to the Many Worlds theory, at that moment, the universe split into two branches, two new universes if you like, one for each of the possible outcomes. Why does this happen? It’s got to do with quantum decoherence and cats in boxes, but as none of us are big-brained boffins let’s just focus on the end result. This is the universe where he got a slap, but there’s now another universe where versions of us are still listening to his relentless conjugation of fuck.’

  I paused.

  ‘I know which universe I’d rather be in.’ I smiled. They didn’t.

  It was time for more theatre. I pushed my coat off my shoulders and as I threw it over the boxes behind me I made sure all four got a good look at the Glock tucked into the back of my belt.

  ‘To sum up,’ I said, ‘the choices we make shape our universe. The other universes are shaped by the choices we didn’t make.’

  ‘Cut to it,’ said the big man, a near convincing boredom in his voice. ‘You’re saying you can choose to kill us.’

  ‘Well, technically, it’s more like I can choose to kill you again.’

  Preview of THESEUS OF SHIP

  The Natives were sloppy with their communications; their breadcrumb-trail broadcasts would eventually attract vermin. Irritatingly short-sighted of them, but their transmissions had provided Ship with useful insights. Educationals, Informationals, Fictionals: all had been absorbed by Ship on its approach.

  ~ the naivety of their patchwork interpretation of the universe is adorable ~ Ship told its avatar.

  The avatar stretched and flexed, appraising its new form.

  ~ any comments on your new configuration? ~ Ship asked.

  The avatar blinked its new eyes—just two this time—and cleared its new throat. ‘Stereoscopic vision. Bipedal. Opposable thumbs. A design classic.’

  Ship’s hum altered—its equivalent of a smile. Ship liked to be appreciated.

  Ship also liked to demonstrate its sense of humour, especially its favourite joke. Ship had created the avatar prior to the first harvest, and the wear and tear of each subsequent harvest had necessitated the gradual replacing of each of the avatar’s original components. All that remained of the avatar’s first incarnation were its memories of that first harvest.

  Knowing Ship’s joke was imminent, the avatar asked, ‘So what am I called this time?’

  ~ Theseus ~ In previous incarnations the avatar had been named for a hammer, a set of armour, a broom and a plough. ~ Sugababe was considered, but there would need to be three of you to make that work ~

  Theseus accessed the relevant data: the avatar knew everything Ship did, but only when Ship allowed it.

  ‘Very amusing,’ deadpanned Theseus.

  Ship hummed satisfaction.

  ‘Is it time?’ Theseus asked.

  ~ yes; the Natives’ representatives are gathered in the Chamber ~

  A section of the wall in front of Theseus rippled, and the avatar walked towards and then through the shimmering bulkhead to emerge in a vast hall with a domed ceiling and curving walls, the surfaces of which were all the same matt black, contrasting sharply with Theseus’s silver skin. The Natives’ chatter abruptly stopped, and the unexpected nature of the stares from two hundred and fifty pairs of eyes halted Theseus mid-stride.

  The avatar had anticipated its entrance might impress, or thrill, or perhaps even frighten the Natives, but the arrangements of their facial muscles did not match any of the emotional responses Theseus recognised.

  Ship released a trickle of information, allowing Theseus to interpret the Natives’ reactions: surprised, scandalised, embarrassed. Theseus looked down at its body, and received a few more drops of data ...

  ~ Ship ~ Theseus subvocalized ~ they wear clothing; I appear to be naked ~

  Ship hummed amusement.

  Theseus shimmered briefly; it now wore a form-hugging one-piece garment, although, as the skin-tight clothing was the same achromatic shade as the avatar’s skin, it barely negated Theseus’s nakedness.

  Muttering from the Natives brought Theseus’s gaze back up towards them. ‘My name is Theseus,’ boomed the avatar. ‘As you represent your diverse polities, I represent Ship.’

  ‘Are you the commander of this vessel?’ asked a native at the front of the assembly.

  ‘No,’ replied Theseus. ‘Ship has no crew. I am an avatar. I am part of Ship. But separate. I have access to all that Ship knows …’ Theseus felt a tugging at the side of its mouth, and identified it as a smirk. ‘But Ship rations that knowledge to preserve Ship’s fiction that it does not talk to itself.’

  Ship rumbled. Causing a few starts among the Natives.

  Theseus smiled widely. ‘Think of that noise as Ship doing this.’ Theseus tutted and rolled its eyes.

  ‘Pourquoi êtes-vous ici?’

  Theseus turned to one of the Natives standing three rows back from the front. ‘This meeting is being broadcast around your world, and Ship requires all communication be carried out in the language all of your polities are familiar or at least comfortable with. You may leave if you are unwilling to comply with Ship’s request.’ Theseus waved a hand, and a portal winked into existence behind the Natives.

  The cheeks of the native pinkened. The native glanced behind, then turned back towards Theseus, cheeks now red. ‘I said, why are you here?’

  ~ that tone is called surly ~ subvocalized Theseus. ~ revêche in that one’s tongue ~

  Ship hummed amusement as it closed the portal. Then Theseus felt the micro-vibration that was Ship’s sigh. ~ as it appears they are not much for small talk, proceed with the announcement ~

  Theseus waved a hand at the domed ceiling. Its matt black surface shimmered and became a starscape, and the air above the Natives’ heads transformed into a three dimensional image of their moon.

  ‘Ship visited your world when it was young. Ship constructed your moon. Ship calculated size, density and orbit to ensure your moon played a pivotal role in the successful creation and development of life on your world. Life stepping foot on your moon was the signal for Ship to return.’

  Though the explosion of babble was unintelligible, Theseus had no trouble interpreting the Natives’ expressions this time: scorn; scepticism; indignation. Theseus held up a hand, and the gesture plunged the Chamber into darkness. And silence.

  Then Theseus’s voice filled the blackness. ‘How these things were done should not concern you at this time. What you must realise is that Ship has returned to collect a debt. Your moon was not a gift.’

  ‘There’s no proof it can force us.’

  ‘Have you seen the size of it? It eclipsed the sun when it arrived.’

  ‘Just because it’s big doesn’t mean it’s armed. Or even solid. For all we know, it’s just a giant space balloon. We haven’t seen any evidence of weaponry.’

  ‘And it doesn’t have an army, just that shiny dude.’

  ‘Yeah, it could be a con.’

  Hannah Degen had heard enough. She’d chosen a seat next to the aisle at the rear of the Opera House knowing she would want to slip out. This was the fourth event she’d attended, and it had followed the pattern of the previous three: a civilised exchange of reasoned and mature opinions that degenerated into the poorly-informed shouting over themselves.

  A steward—early-twenties, perhaps five years younger than Hannah—held open a door for her, and as Hannah passed him, he said, ‘
People who leave this early tend to be Acquiescers.’

  Hannah stopped and glared at him, but he held the fierce eye contact. Good for you, she thought. ‘Is that a problem?’

  ‘Not at all.’ The steward gave her a small smile. ‘If you’re interested, there’s a Volunteer rally at Heldenplatz this afternoon. I’d offer to go with you, but I’ll likely be tied up giving statements to the police after the inevitable brawl here.’ He threw a nod towards the red-faced rabble and rolled his eyes.

  A micro-flicker of déjà vu crinkled Hannah’s brow. ‘Do I know you?

  Another smile. ‘Not yet.’

  Theseus watched the female as she walked away.

  ~ the Natives consider that configuration to be attractive ~ commented Ship.

  ~ she certainly moves with more grace than most ~

  ~ she is also more formidable than most; she will be a valuable addition should she choose to enlist ~

  An angry roar turned Theseus back to the deteriorating debate. ~ shall I attempt to rescue this dialogue? ~

  ~ proceed ~

  Theseus glanced around; none of the Natives were looking its way. Its form rippled, and the youthful shell aged: hair greyed, skin darkened and wrinkled; posture slumped, waistline expanded. Its clothing also altered: the smart burgundy waistcoat was now an off-white, cable-patterned cardigan. Theseus looked down at its newly liver-spotted hands. ~ this again; really? ~

  ~ the food stains down your front have been omitted this time ~

  ~ much appreciated; you do realise local shape-shift control would be more efficient ~

  ~ much less amusing though ~

  Theseus shook its head slowly and began making its way down to the stage. At least in this form it was less likely to be assaulted when it tried to steer the Natives away from talk of conflict with Ship.

  END OF PREVIEW PAGES