“That daemon makes all my internal threat bells jingle,” murmured Misha.
“We’ll get back to the daemon another time,” said Charlotte. “Damien, stipulating what you just said is true, why didn’t Howard-Prime go with Coleman’s recommendation?”
“Two reasons. First, and foremost, Coleman was just wrong about Misha. He could not accurately assess some intrinsic qualities that Prime knew existed. Misha grew up an orphan in Russia. She not only survived, she became an enforcer for the Russian mob. The various factions fought over her, enticed her with both wealth and power, and yet she walked away from all that without a single backward glance. Howard-Prime hadn’t planned to recruit her first. After all, a captain should choose her crew, but he was faced with a dilemma. Coleman said there were no viable security options. Prime knew Nerr’ath’s tests would require that a skilled defender be among the crew and there wasn’t time to engineer a new security officer from birth. Adult genetic modification was an option. However, the odds of success were low and attempting to enhance a sentient human crossed so many moral lines, that he needed to be sure Misha wasn’t a viable option. That’s why Coleman and Howard-Prime went to meet her.”
“And I nearly killed him,” snickered Misha.
“You did at that,” said Damien.
“He shouldn’t have risked himself. He was stupid,” she added.
“True on both counts,” replied Damien with a laugh, “Now hush, daddy’s talking. So, after Misha didn’t kill Howard-Prime, the two of them chatted, Coleman showed her some stuff, and they hung out in Moscow for a couple weeks to give her time to make up her mind. She decided to join up with Doctor Howard and that’s the story.”
“That is not the story,” said Omandi incredulously, “at least that’s not the entire story. What’s the rest?” Charlotte noticed her security officer’s body tense and could almost see the anxiety radiating from her.
“The rest of the story is not mine to tell,” said Damien softly. “I’ll add only this. Except for those purged memories I mentioned earlier, I should be almost indistinguishable from a younger, happier, Damien Howard. He gave me much of his knowledge. He also gifted me with his youthful personality, which, Prime thought, might better serve our captain.”
“Sometimes, there are these brief moments when even I forget that I am not the real Damien Howard, so please take this next comment in the spirit with which it’s intended. Howard-Prime considered all those who joined him in this great matter as family. You are all his children, in a sense, and not just because some of your genetic enhancements came from his own helix.” Damien paused, and pointed from his eyes to Charlotte’s “However, I will admit the sparkling green eyes you and I share was certainly a bit of vanity on his part. That aside, Howard-Prime felt a connection to each of you, but—” he stared at Misha and she looked away. Charlotte squinted at her and picked up additional changes in her breathing and capillary responses. Damien nodded as if to himself, then said, “but Howard-Prime never married. Never had his own daughters. If he had though, I know he would have wished one of them to be Misha Sokolov. She’s the most fearless and loyal person he ever met across his nearly two centuries of life.”
The security officer silently rose, and kept her back to the room as she walked to face one of the underground facility’s simulated windows. Charlotte didn’t need to see the younger woman’s face to know what she would have found there. It was mirrored in Damien’s eyes and she squinted in surprise as a tear slipped down his cheek.
“You can cry?” she asked in a whisper.
“I told you,” he replied, “most everything Doctor Damien Howard was has been preserved in me.
“What about his soul? Do you have that as well?” she asked.
He smiled at her. “Do you believe in that?”
She gave him a half-frown. “You know I do.”
He nodded. “Yes, I know and would have expected nothing less from a fine Catholic girl such as you. Still, I’m sure if God exists, He is rather displeased with Howard-Prime’s solution to that thorny little soul problem.”
“Solution?” asked Omandi, “What—”
“He trapped it, assuming it’s real” answered Misha, as she walked back toward the chairs, then added, “which it probably isn’t.” Sokolov watched Charlotte for a beat and smiled at her suppressed reaction. “You wanted to ask how he trapped a soul, didn’t you?” Misha chuckled softly and pointed to the elder hologram. “You tell her.”
He inclined his head. “Happy to. Captain Omandi, Humans are essentially bioelectrical systems and souls, therefore, must also be part of that system. Matter and Energy cannot be destroyed, they simply change forms. It follows that if a soul is present during life but not at death, there must be an exchange of matter and energy. Howard-Prime simply found the means to trap any energy that sought to escape after his death.”
Charlotte grimaced, “Where do you have it stored, in a jar somewhere?”
“His body and soul are both stored together in an exceptionally clever isolation chamber,” said Damien. “Would you like to see it?”
“No!” replied Omandi, then repeated to herself much more softly, “No, that won’t be necessary.”
The young-Howard smiled. “I know it flies in the face of your Catholic sensibilities, Charlotte, but I’m hoping to reunite Howard-Prime’s soul with his complete mind at some point in the future. Given that, whether you choose to see the isolation chamber or not, we will be taking it with us.”
Omandi pointed at the elder-hologram and said, “Not if I choose him over you we won’t.”
“No, even if you choose him,” replied Damien evenly. “In that case, I will probably just be deleted and Howard-Prime’s full memories will remain boxed up until the daemon determines there’s a safe place to put them.” He stared at Charlotte intensely for several seconds then said, “Howard-Prime has entrusted you with humanity’s future, but that does not extend to you killing him in the process. He has, quite literally, given up everything for this endeavor, so Charlotte, the least we can do is help him get his life back.”
“He is dead, Damien,” she said. “Dead is not something people should come back from.”
“Not generally, no,” he said with a smile. “However, I intend to make sure Doctor Damien Howard becomes the second person to do it.”
Omandi gave the hologram a sly smile, “I know Jesus Christ, Damien. Jesus Christ is a friend of mine, and you, sir, are no Jesus Christ.”
The younger-Howard tilted his head back and gave a laugh, that seemed so completely true and natural, that Charlotte Omandi knew he had to be part of her crew.
Chapter 9
Men in Black
Charlotte felt an emotional weight lift from her as she swung through the revolving door to her condominium. She was still pondering the source of the feeling when a thick-chested guard manning the lobby’s security desk called out to her.
Omandi saw her security officer tense as Misha’s hand slipped beneath her jacket. Charlotte leaned in. “I thought you said low profile. What are you going to do, shoot my condo’s security guard? Relax. I know him.”
“You aren’t the same woman who left this place two days ago, Captain,” Misha growled. “You don’t know who you know, anymore.”
“Taken,” whispered Charlotte, then waved to the guard and started walking toward him.
“What?” asked Misha.
“Taken. I didn’t leave two days ago. I was taken, kidnapped…abducted if you will.”
“Call it what you want, Captain, but you really have no appreciation for the danger you—”
“Jericho,” said Charlotte, as she opened her arms to the large Kenyan guard. “Have you been staying out of trouble? I haven’t seen you in a few days. Everything okay with Clara and the kids?”
Jericho Greene returned Omandi’s smile, but looked confused a moment later. “No, Ms. Omandi, I’ve been here. It is you who were missing.”
“What are you going on
about?” asked Charlotte, while taking in the questioning looks she received from two other front-desk security staffers.
“A reporter was here to interview you yesterday. They said you were named in Damien Howard’s estate.” Omandi glanced to Misha and saw her mouth, I warned you, then returned her attention to the guard who leaned closer and said, “Well, is it true? Did he give you some of his money? C’mon, Lottie, how long have we known each other? You can trust me.”
“A long time, Jeri, and I do trust you, but as God is my witness, Damien Howard did not leave me some of his money. Now, I’m heading up. I’ll chat with you later, okay?”
The large man was about to respond when, Misha slipped him a card. “Mr. Greene, if any additional reporters, or anyone else for that matter, come looking for Ms. Omandi, would you please ring the number on this card?”
He stared at the card a moment, then looked down at Misha without taking it. The large man turned his back on her and focused on Charlotte. “Who’s she?” he asked.
Sokolov circled around to place herself between Jericho and Omandi. Misha smiled at him and said, “She, is Ms. Omandi’s executive assistant. Her name is Misha, but you can call her Ms. Sokolov because she is responsible for keeping her boss to a schedule. Now, be a good mountain and let me know if anyone comes looking for Ms. Omandi.”
Misha didn’t wait for a response but shouldered past Charlotte and toward the elevator banks. Omandi reached out and briefly grabbed Jericho’s wrist. “My assistant can be a bit abrupt at times, Jeri, but I trust her. Besides, there have been a few, uh, incidents lately so I thought it prudent to hire her.” She gave his arm another squeeze and locked her eyes with his. “Misha speaks with my voice. Whatever she says, you can assume came directly from me. Okay?”
Jericho slipped effortlessly back into his professional persona and nodded. “Got it, Ms. Omandi. Sokolov speaks for you. Yes ma’am.”
Charlotte smiled, gave him a wink, and crossed the lobby to join Misha. The security officer stood by the nearest elevator with her hand blocking the sensor. Omandi entered, and a tall well dressed man tried to follow her into the elevator car. Misha stopped him with a palm to his chest. “We’re full, sir,” she said, “Please take the next elevator.”
“There’s just the two of you,” he countered incredulously.
“Which makes it full,” she said with a smile that did not touch her eyes.
“Don’t be a bitch,” he said under his breath, and reached up to pull Misha’s hand aside. It didn’t budge. He tugged again and her smile widened.
“Having a problem, sir?” she asked.
“Fuck you,” he hissed.
“Not on your best day,” said Misha, and Charlotte saw her shoulder twitch slightly. The startled man flew backward two feet, lost his balance, and tumbled to the floor. After the door closed, Misha turned to her startled captain and said, “Going up!”
Omandi’s penthouse apartment door gave a subtle chime to indicate that it had recognized the previously paired bluetooth signal from her hand terminal. Since she had not been home for over forty-eight hours the door gave another chime and Charlotte waited as it performed a secondary facial recognition scan. A moment later the door clicked and she reached for the knob.
“Wait,” said Sokolov, “I’ll go in first. Stay behind me.”
“Misha, this is getting ridiculous, the security system would have alerted me if anyone had entered since you and Coleman abducted me.” She took a step forward then gasped as the security officer gripped her by the shoulders and effortlessly lifted her into the air.
“Captain, I don’t give a shit what your technology says. My job is to keep you safe and alive. Someone is already targeting you or do you think Howard’s estate has already gone through probate and announced heirs? Now, are you going to let me do my job, or do I need to carry you around like this indefinitely?”
“Could you do that?” asked Charlotte, looking down at the younger woman.
“Easily.”
“Uh, exactly how strong are you?”
“Very. Now, Captain, can I safely set you down? I will obey your orders and almost always execute them without question. I need you to afford me the same respect. Will you do that, sir?” Charlotte sighed, then nodded. Misha lowered her to the ground and gently brushed the creases out of her shirt. “Excellent, now stay behind me.”
The two walked into the foyer and the door clicked shut behind them. It chimed twice to indicate the security system had reengaged. Omandi leaned forward and said, “According to the repair invoice from your last interaction with my door, this new one is pure grade-4 titanium with a redundant two-hundred-fifty-six byte encrypted security key. I think we’re safe.”
Misha grunted something unintelligible, then scanned both the living and kitchen areas. She cocked her head as if listening to something, sniffed the air twice, then relaxed. “Ok, get your stuff. I want to be out of here in fifteen minutes.”
“What? You aren’t going to check the other rooms? Maybe someone is hiding in a closet or under one of the beds.” Charlotte pressed a hand to her mouth in mock terror. “Maybe they are hiding in the shower.”
“Are you done?” asked Misha dryly. “There’s no one here but us and now you have thirteen minutes before I carry you out of here.”
“How do you know there’s no one here?”
Misha’s nose flared with annoyance and she took a deep breath. “Because, sir, there are only two heartbeats, and the only other scent I pick up is a faint floral note, probably perfume. I’d say at least four days old.”
Charlotte’s eyes grew wide. “Geranium. My housekeeper, always wears geranium scented perfume, but she comes on—”
“Wednesdays, yes sir, I know.”
“How the hell do you know that?” sputtered Omandi.
“There is a post-it note on your refrigerator. It reads, I replaced the linens even though you thought they were fine. Thank you for being so kind. I will see you next Wednesday. Yours, Subah.” Omandi stared into the kitchen for a moment then back to her security officer who smirked. “Twelve minutes, sir.”
Ten minutes later Omandi set down two large rolling suitcases and one, even larger, leather duffel bag. Sokolov stared at the bag. “That is a beast. It must have taken a whole cow to make the thing. I want one.”
“I’ll get you one,” said Charlotte with a nod, “apparently I can afford it. This one is older than I am. My grandfather bought it. It’s from America.”
Sokolov crouched down and ran her fingers across a shield shaped leather buckle that was stamped with the company’s name. “Saddleback Leather Company,” she murmured. “Never heard of it.” She looked up, “Do they make holsters?”
Charlotte snorted softly, “I think they do, actually but—”
Omandi broke off, startled, as Misha quickly rose and turned toward the door. Her entire demeanor shifted so rapidly that Charlotte actually felt a vague sense of vertigo. “Captain, get in the master bathroom and lay down in the tub.” The security officer glanced down at her shirt, and murmured, “Well, this’ll teach me to print ballistic business clothes next time, assuming there is a—”
Charlotte interrupted, confused by the other woman’s musings. “Misha? What are you—”
“Now!” she yelled and started moving toward the front door. A split second later the door frame exploded with several small detonations and the massive metal door fell forward into the foyer. Three men stood backlit by the exterior hall lights. One of them raised a hand and twin projectiles shot into the room.
Misha felt the familiar surge of hormones and her body thrummed as if she’d just jumped into icy water. Her eyes dilated and the room grew several shades brighter. Everything slowed.
Three men. Two African…locals. One caucasian…not local. Her mind snatched at the time indicated by the white man’s watch and she silently added, American. Likely CIA. His initial rules of engagement will be—
Sokolov shifted her weight almost
imperceptibly and leaned right as two taser contacts flew past her. She reached up, grabbed the thin wires that connected them to the weapon, wrapped the wires around her left hand and heaved. The first man stumbled forward having maintained his grip on the taser. As he did so she picked up a decorative vase made of thick leaded glass and threw it at the unbalanced man. It struck the side of his head with a sickening crack and he crumpled to the floor.
Misha turned toward Charlotte and yelled, “I told you to—”
“Look out!” cried Omandi as the crack of a pistol sounded. The first round struck Misha's left shoulder, its impact causing her to spin partly around. She reached into her jacket and removed her hand terminal just as a second round tore through her lower abdomen.
Misha sank to one knee when the third man said, “Kill the bodyguard and subdue the target. We need to be out of here in ninety seconds.” Sokolov looked up and saw a puff of gray smoke escape the barrel pointed at her head. Glock 19 with a sound and flash suppressor, nice choice, except for the lower muzzle velocity. Her hand flashed outward as she stood to face the two men. Her assailant fired twice more in rapid succession and Misha, again, deflected both rounds with the reinforced casing that surrounded her hand terminal.
“What the hell are you?” growled the black man and fired again. This time, Misha had fully prepared and angled her deflection with deadly precision. The man’s head snapped back and a small gout of blood sprayed over the CIA agent before the other collapsed dead. The American focused steel gray eyes on Misha appraisingly, then reached for something inside his coat. The scent of ozone filled the air followed by a slight hiss. The agent looked down at the blackened hole in his hand as his service weapon clattered to the tiled floor.
“Particle weapon,” said Misha dangerously and gestured with her own handgun. “Don’t get me wrong, I like the Glock 19. It’s a good weapon, but I’ve traded up. If you don’t kick that to me in one-second I’m going to burn a hole right through your skull.” The man nodded and his pistol skidded across the floor to be stopped by Sokolov’s booted foot.
Paradigm 2045- Trinity's Children Page 10