by J D Lasica
Thirty seconds came and went. She heard voices coming from far down the hallway. A conversation about a missing guard.
She turned to Nico. “We need to—”
“Found it!” he said.
She handed him the drive. He punched it into the slot to do its magic, a combined effort of Red Team Zero. “Let’s go!” she said. No time to wait for it to execute. They’d have to hope the hard reboot programmed into the disk would bring back the servers so there’d be no need for tech support to begin milling around down here.
They scurried down the hallway in the darkness and found their way back into their lockup where Bo was waiting. She nearly tripped across the body of the unconscious guard but righted herself.
Seconds later, the lights came back on. Power restored. Everything working. They pulled the guard’s slumped body to the side out of view, closed the door, and heard the lock engage.
Bo looked dubious. “Can you tell me why we didn’t try to break out?”
“Trust me,” Kaden said. “Our time is much better spent right here.”
She resumed signing with Amelia. She had a lot to get done.
57
Samana Cay
Volkov settled into his chair in his office, surveying his control console. Under the Critical Threat Level, he was granted sweeping powers to impose martial law and to mobilize the citizenry against any external threats.
Volkov worried there might be other spies and terrorists afoot on the island. Officials at the National Guard were analyzing data provided by the country’s vast network of sensors and CCTV cameras to identify any suspicious activities.
But he needed to do more. A line had been crossed. A tone needed to be set.
He checked the time on screen: 5:10 p.m. He called Lucid’s video chat line. “Lucid, pick up. This is a priority one call.”
“Yes, Chairman.” Lucid’s face appeared on screen, his voice tired after all the excitement of the day. He was riding in the executive compartment of the SUV again. “I’m heading back to Immersion Bay. Hearing reports of a minor disturbance.”
Volkov chose his avatar for the chat. The prophet Ezekiel. For today—in less than an hour—the fateful shipment will go out that will bend the arc of history.
“I’ve decided what to do with the prisoners,” Volkov said as he looked at Lucid watching Ezekiel seated across from him.
“Excellent. And what did you decide?”
“We’ll have a public execution.” The grave words seemed to take on added weight when spoken by Ezekiel. “The first in Samana Cay’s history.”
“No trial or hearing as we normally would?”
“We’re at Threat Level Critical. I’m sentencing the enemy combatants to death, exercising my executive powers under the Corporate Charter.”
“When should I schedule it?”
“Six o’clock tonight.”
A panicked look crossed Lucid’s face. “That’s less than an hour from now!”
“I want it to coincide with the sailaway of the Seaduction. I have something special in mind.”
“I don’t know that we can pull that together in time,” Lucid protested.
“Nonsense. Three lone prisoners. Escort them to Devil’s Point. Blindfolds. Last words. A dozen guards. We live-stream it to the nation. Alert the media. More exciting when it’s televised live. People will be captivated. And it sends a strong message about nationalism and loyalty.”
“Sir, that’s a tall order. But if you’re adamant, I need to get on that right now.”
“Go, go. I’ll be observing from here.”
Volkov disconnected the call. He rose and poured himself a glass of Belaya Rus premium vodka. He had been a heavy drinker in his teens but rarely drank now that he was running a global empire.
He drank fully, then refilled his glass in early celebration. A toast. In less than an hour, I’ll be rid of Kaden Baker and Bo Finnerty forever.
At precisely fifteen minutes until six o’clock, a platoon of Guardians led Kaden, Bo, and Nico—handcuffed and now dressed in drab gray prisoner’s uniforms—from the basement of the Data Center down the seaside path past Fantasy Live. They arrived at a windswept rock outcropping perched high atop sheer hundred-foot cliffs—a precipice that was one of the island’s signature natural wonders. Devil’s Point.
The lead guard refused to tell them why they were here, but Kaden suspected the worst. She looked out over the long ribbon of white sandy beach stretching all the way to a ship anchored in the turquoise lagoon in the distance.
Authorities had set up a makeshift rope line fifty feet away—just a long set of ropes running from one stanchion to the next for crowd control. Camera crews jostled for position, and a crowd began to form five persons deep all along the barricade.
“So this is it.” Bo looked around, but he already seemed resigned to their fate. “I’ll hand it to them. This is a beautiful place to die.”
“If this is an execution, it sure is a damned strange one,” Kaden said. “No jury trial. No chance to make a final call to relatives. No blindfold or handcuffs. No final words. No priest to say last rites.”
Nico gave a slight nod as she surveyed the sightlines. “I guess the plan is, Pop pop pop, bodies fall backward down the towering cliffside. Great visuals. Film at eleven.”
She looked up at Nico. The sunset was brightening the green flecks in Nico’s Afro. He looked nervous. He just needed to trust her a little longer.
Bo stepped closer to her. “Sorry. For everything.”
“It’s not over yet. I’m running this op,” she said.
He took a step back, searched her face. “Op? What op?”
“Follow my lead.”
Kaden turned her back to her father, the soldiers, the crowd, the media, this entire island of misery and pain. She looked out at the horizon where an orange sun was melting into the distant waters. It would be tough in these handcuffs, but she would do her best.
She began to sign.
Annika and Sayeed had different styles when it came to red teaming. In penetrating a secure database, Annika used tricks she’d picked up during her days in corporate offices, and she let her fingers fly over her keyboard. Sayeed came up from the streets and earned his chops by hacking into North Korea’s government servers with an elegant subroutine nobody had ever tried before. He preferred standing at his terminal and issuing voice commands to his online bot.
But differing hacking styles took a back seat the moment Kaden sent them an encrypted message with log-in credentials to give them root privileges. Until now they hadn’t been able to penetrate Samana Cay’s Data Center from the outside. With Kaden and Nico commandeering the main server from the inside, they not only had remote access to the cPanel, they had super admin privileges.
Super powers.
“This is pure gold,” Annika said.
“Better than gold,” Sayeed agreed. “Platinum. No, vibranium.”
They divvied up three tasks. First, they created an image backup of a critical fingerprint data file. Any second now, they should be hearing from Amelia with directions about that.
Next, they turned off geofencing for all the captured women at Immersion Bay.
Third, they got down to the hardest part: finding compromising material that could bring down this war criminal, Chairman Incognito.
Annika made an educated guess that the architects of Samana Cay’s “smart island” network reserved account User1 for Incognito. As a super admin, she’d be able to see everything.
She dove in.
Ling and Katarina met at the usual spot in the Commons on their way to Immersion Bay’s Dining Hall for dinner. They were eager to discuss the events of the day when Piper came running across the courtyard out of breath.
Ling screamed and hugged her. “What are you doing here? I thought they shipped you off.”
“I’ve been on the island the whole time,” Piper said. “Camp Defiance. I’ll tell you later but, look! Your dog collars. They’re
turned off!”
Ling and Katarina both gasped and looked down to check. Sure enough, their own neckbands were deactivated. No color diodes signaling where they stood on the leaderboard. That had never happened in the past six months.
“Here, let me.” Piper circled to Ling’s back and fumbled at the tiny clasp on the choker around her friend’s neck. The dog collar fell to the ground. Without an electrical current, the choker came off just like any other choker.
Their eyes all got wide. Ling then freed Katarina from her collar.
“The electronic locks must be short-circuiting or something,” Piper guessed.
To their right, they saw small circles of the other girls snatching off their collars, throwing them to the ground, and stomping on them. A buzz began to build in the courtyard as the girls debated what was going on and what they should do next.
From the other side of the courtyard came a crackle of gunshots. A barrage of nonstop, heavy, hit-the-deck gunfire from an automatic weapon.
The three girls knew they were exposed in the middle of the courtyard. Piper grabbed the nearest picnic table and toppled it over. They scrambled behind it to take cover.
Sayeed called Annika over to his terminal stand. “Take a look at this.”
After they’d accessed the central AI database and verified User1 was indeed Chairman Incognito, Sayeed went to work calling up all instances of Incognito using video chats or AR simulations in something called Fantasy Live. Incognito had used an avatar for every video chat, so that didn’t provide evidence of anything.
This simulation in the Fantasy Theater, though, was more interesting. The file was marked “Level 1 Access Only.” A note in the metadata showed why the recording was restricted. All sessions are recorded by default to ensure player safety and to score the performer during the simulation. Access granted to Level 1 personnel only.
“So what’s in the simulation?” Annika asked.
“Watch this.” Sayeed began playing the recording. “Looks like Mr. Incognito has a kinky side. He wants to spank this girl on her eighteenth birthday.”
“Gross. Wait, I recognize that girl. It’s Bo’s daughter!”
They watched to the end when Bailey smashed a lit candlestick stand over his head.
“Yes!” Sayeed cheered. “This is good. Incognito’s face is visible on the video.”
“I have a close-up of Incognito’s face from the Lucid Eyecam we hacked,” Annika said, hustling back to her computer. “But I just came across something better. Apparently this guy transferred over all his old videos from years ago. I guess he figured it’s a super-secure installation, better than the cloud.”
“So much for that theory,” Sayeed said.
“Check this out.” Annika began playing an old mp4 video of a video chat over Skype.
“Haven’t used Skype in years,” he said.
“Just watch.”
The date stamp showed it was recorded seventeen years ago—the oldest video in the batch. The recording showed Incognito playing a game of Truth or Dare with one of his online friends. Maybe an American, because they were speaking English.
“Is the footage corrupted—or is that him?” Annika asked. “It looks like half his face melted off.”
“There went his shot at Hollywood,” Sayeed said.
“Horror films, maybe. From their conversation, I pieced together his real name. One Maxim Volkov from Belarus. He’s nineteen here. It all jibes with public records. Am I good or what?”
“You’re the best. We’ll blow the crap out of Incognito’s cover.”
“That’s not the best part. Watch the video, see what they talk about next.”
Truth, Volkov said.
His friend said, Okay, truth. You ever kill anyone?
I can’t tell you that. Volkov let out a nervous laugh.
Major penalty! Let me think of some epic public humiliation.
Volkov hesitated. Picked up his hookah and took a hit. Hold on, I’m thinking! He downed another shot, clearly massively drunk now, and almost fell off his chair. He said, Yeah.
Yeah, what?
Yeah, I killed someone. My parents.
No shit! His friend smiled broadly, rocked back in his chair. Why’d you do that?
It was partly an accident. I was trying to off my mom. Total bitch. I paid someone a lot of rubles to take her out, force her car over a guardrail into a gorge. Make it look like an accident. Afterward the guy says, You didn’t say she had to be alone.
He stopped rocking his chair and took another drag on his water pipe. He went on. She had an appointment—they decided at the last second to head out with her. My father was driving. My older brother in the back seat. Guy says he didn’t see him there.
Holy shit! And that’s how you got the house?
The house, all their holdings. Everything. It’s a lot. He exhaled out a strange, joyless laugh. Then he grabbed the ends of his computer screen and leaned forward. I never told that to anyone. You say a word and I’ll kill you.
You personally? No hitman? What an honor. His friend burst out laughing. Then Maxim Volkov cursed him and reached down to turn off his computer.
The video ended.
Sayeed rubbed his stubbly jaw. “Wow. This guy is now the head of state of Samana Cay?”
“One and the same. He inherited billions. I’m finishing up a highlight video reel now.”
“That’ll be must-see TV.”
“Look!” they both said at once. Incoming message from Kaden.
Execute Operation Lethal Checkmate.
58
Samana Cay
At Devil’s Point, Kaden looked down at the grand view of the island’s southern beaches, the waterfall, and the sweep of sea. The Swift boat that attacked Redman’s yacht patrolled the waters far to the east. She checked her smart contacts for the time. Five minutes until six o’clock Standard Grim Reaper Time. She looked at Bo and had to admit—it still stung that her father had given up on her so long ago.
No matter what happens now, I won’t do the same to him.
The unit commander—stern faced, dressed in a white officer’s uniform, hair graying beneath his white cap—ordered the prisoners to line up along the precipice at the edge of the cliff. He directed one of his men to release the prisoners from their handcuffs. Then he instructed his men to allow the camera crews to advance beyond the rope line and set up just behind where the firing squad would be located. But there was something weird going on. A murmur going through the crowd. People holding up their phones and watching something.
The commander didn’t seem to notice or care. When the cameras went live, he read from a prepared statement, using the scenic sunset as a backdrop.
“Under the emergency powers granted me by the Corporate Charter, I, Chairman Incognito, do hereby sentence the enemy spies Kaden Baker, Bo Finnerty, and Nico Johnson to death by firing squad.”
Kaden let the words flutter by. Her eyes swept over the crowd. Standing against the rope line, one young mother bounced a two-year-old girl in her arms. Kaden saw the mother glare at her, and she returned the stare with interest. How could she bring her daughter to this? If she knew one thing now, it’s that family is supposed to protect you from life’s cruelties, not subject you to them.
The commander continued to intone, “Let the word go out to the enemies of Samana Cay, both foreign and domestic: This is the fate you will meet for acts of espionage and terrorism against our citizenry.”
He folded the sheet of paper and tucked it into his uniform’s pants pocket. He nodded to a soldier, who came up and marked their prisoner uniforms with a big black X over their hearts. He then offered them a choice of putting on a black hood or not. They all declined. He stepped away.
“Company, take your positions!” The commander took his place on the right side of the firing squad. He raised a long steel sword into the air.
The guards, dressed in military fatigues with olive-colored berets, set up in front of the television crews
. Three of them lay in prone positions and three went to one knee, all facing the captives. They were all carrying the standard-issue SCAR 17E military-style assault rifle—the smart version.
Kaden checked the time. Six o’clock sharp. She stood in the middle and grasped hands with Bo and Nico. White seabirds fluttered above the heads of the spectators. The crowd fell silent.
“Courage,” Kaden said in a low voice so only Bo and Nico could hear her.
The commander brandished the sword forward. “Company, prepare arms!” The Guardians aimed their weapons at the prisoners’ chests. The commander spaced out the words. “Ready! Aim!” He brought his sword down with a flourish. “Fire!”
Kaden flinched and shut her eyes. When she reopened them, she saw that the guards had confused looks on their faces. The commander repeated, “Fire! Fire!”
It worked, thank God. Annika had swapped out the fingerprint registry for every networked assault rifle on the island. Until now, more than 500 Guardians were able to pick up any smart rifle and have it fire. The new registry permitted only four people to fire the smart weapons: Kaden, Bo, Nico, and Bailey.
“Now!” Kaden shouted. They rushed the Guardians.
Volkov watched the public execution proceedings from his command center. What was happening? Faulty rifles? Someone is going to pay for this major screw-up! He watched the local TV networks televise the fracas at Devil’s Point.
One by one, the stations cut away from the prisoners and guards’ hand-to-hand combat and went to a video. It took him a full moment to realize what he was looking at. No, it can’t be. A video of himself! A video that showed his young, disfigured face! A video that, he now realized, he himself had once recorded but hadn’t watched in years. He turned up the volume.
Yeah, I killed my parents.
A two-line red chyron at the bottom of the screen read: