The figure jerks up mechanically and topples over backward, slamming to the ground much harder than I would have expected. Almost as if its body was far denser than it appeared to be.
I get up, wheezing and rubbing my chest and neck, and wobble my way over to the dead man.
But I guess “dead” isn't the right word.
It's a damn android. Some sort of faceless model. Just a blank expanse where the mouth and eyes and nose should be. It's shaped like a man but has no other similarities to one.
“What the hell?” I ask. “One of Vangelina's?”
“Maybe,” Ana says within my earpiece. “Rome, there’s something odd about this unit.”
“What do you mean?”
“I couldn’t sense it,” Ana remarks. “That’s so… strange. Androids aren’t cyborgs or synths, but they should still have a pulse in the data sphere.”
“What does that mean?” I ask.
“It means this android was completely undetectable, Roman.”
“Interesting. Could be tech that was designed to circumvent the reach of the Collective,” I suggest. “How’s that even possible?”
“If I had to guess I’d say the unit was likely powered by some sort of air-gapped version of a cyber brain, a brain that can't access the data sphere. Or be accessed from it. I’ve never seen one like that but that’s the only logical explanation.”
“A cyber brain completely cut off from the sphere,” I say, rubbing my chin. “In the words of Fenix, the Oligarch, that sounds like science fiction. Who the hell could even create something like that?”
“There's only one person I can think of who might conceivably be able to do it,” Ana says darkly.
I start to ask her who. But then I realize who she’s referring to. It's pretty obvious, when you think about it.
My omni pings. I look at the message, frowning to myself so hard it somehow turns into a smile.
“Speak of the devil,” I say.
“Shall we?” Ana suggests.
“Yeah,” I respond. “Let’s go see Vangelina.”
CHAPTER 13
◆◆◆
Vangelina is a bold lady. She's called our meeting at a local library, a place of quiet learning where you can connect your omni directly to a central nexus and download any information that's been recorded between now and the dawn of human civilization.
I find her in a back study room, a private place with glass walls. The blinds are down, covering a vast majority of the shimmering walls. And Vangelina is even wearing a kind of disguise. Makeup to soften her stark features. A plain hooded sweatshirt that makes her almost look like a teenager. I step into the room, stare at her with my black eye and split lip, then shut the door. I take the seat across from her and aim my weapon under the table in her direction. I make sure she hears the click of my hand moving over the round-changer. Now she knows not to try any funny business.
“Sorry I'm late,” I say to her. “I was very rudely interrupted by a certain faceless man. Undetectable in the data sphere. One of yours, I’m guessing.”
Vangelina smiles, raises her eyebrows, and shrugs. As if to say, ‘What's a girl to do?’ or something to that effect.
“He's been following me since the island, hasn’t he?” I continue. “Maybe even before.”
“No,” Vangelina says. “Just since the island. That was a different unit though.”
“Why did this one attack me? What are you trying to hide, Vangelina?” I demand.
“He didn't attack you, Roman. You attacked him.”
Technically, she’s right. I’m willing to give her an opportunity to explain herself, but I make it clear by the look on my face that she’d better start making sense sooner than later.
Vangelina smiles. “I only wanted to keep an eye on you, watch your movements to make sure you could be trusted. The android would never have harmed you more than he needed to, in order to protect himself. Also, it should be noted that I’m not really here. I’m speaking to you via an android, so you might as well put that gun away.”
“This is an android?” I ask in disbelief, tilting my head left and right, trying to see past my first impression.
“Indeed,” she says just as her face suddenly scrambles into a million bits of writhing mechanical fragments. In less than a second, the unnatural activity on her face settles and falls completely blank, just like that android that I had encountered earlier today.
“Smart move, not coming here yourself,” I admit as I put my pistol back in the holster on my hip.
“I have to confess to something. It’s rather embarrassing,” Vangelina’s says, her voice still emanating from the blank faced android in front of me.
“Can you put the face back on please. This thing is creeping me out,” I say.
“Sure,” she says, just as the android’s blank face scrambles once again.
“You were saying,” I remark, as the android’s previously worn face returns.
“A few of my most advanced androids have gone missing, Roman, and despite my best efforts I’ve been unable to recover them.”
“When did this happen?” I ask.
“Approximately two and a half years ago. I'm not sure who, but someone was able to smuggle them away. At first, this was more of an annoyance than anything, however, based on the facts of the case you presented to my counterparts and I, I’ve come to realize that the theft of my androids is actually quite the existential threat.”
“In what way? I ask, although I’ve already deduced what she’s getting at.
“I believe someone is trying to frame me,” she says.
“Is this just a theory or do you have any evidence to back that claim?” I ask.
“I found something. A list of targets from the looks of it. Fifty-six of them stand out in particular because my sources have confirmed that all of these individuals are all either confirmed dead or missing.”
“Party members?” I ask.
“Precisely.”
“Where’d you find the list?”
“Buried deep within my personal data sphere, likely by the same person who stole my androids. This is obviously a plant to make it look like the assassinations were my doing. To make matters worse, I’ve also discovered certain data that suggests my stolen androids are responsible for the assassinations. When I go down the list of people who could not only steal my androids out from under my nose, but also hack into my data sphere and plant files without my knowledge, I only come up with four names.”
“The other Oligarchs,” I say.
“I refer to them as my counterparts, but I think we’re both on the same page here. It could be either one of them… or perhaps all of them.”
“Why?” I ask. “Why would they want to frame you?”
Vangelina shrugs. “You're the detective, Roman Ibarra. You tell me.”
I run through the facts in my head before I respond. I’m trying to make sense of everything. Trying to pick out the most plausible narrative presented by everything I already know as well as Lady Vangelina’s recent revelations. It takes me a few minutes but, after I take a step back and look at the big picture, I eventually wrap my head around it all.
“How certain are you that your androids are being used in the assassinations?” I finally ask her.
“One hundred percent certain,” Vangelina confirms.
I whip out my omni and access the data sphere to check on a hunch after that. My blood boils and my heartrate triples as my search confirms my hypothesis. I now have a working theory and if I’m right, things are about to get messy.
“Your androids use cyberbrains, don’t they?” I ask, looking to confirm certain parts of my theory.
“Yes, but they are a proprietary version that does not require a constant connection with the datasphere.”
“How many names are on that list you found?” I continue.
“A little over two hundred, and it’s not just a list. It’s more of a schedule. There are dates for the past assassi
nations as well as ones that haven’t happened yet.”
“Which means you weren’t supposed to find that list when you did. It was probably planted in your sphere so someone could eventually call in an anonymous tip,” I suggest. “Assuming what you’re saying is true, it’s pretty easy to deduce that someone on your side wants war with the Socialists. They’d obviously need a fall guy, which is where you come in, but I don’t think your involvement stops there. If my theory is correct, you were specifically targeted because of your android tech.”
“You have a theory?” Vangelina asks.
“More of a hunch,” I confirm. “I’m going to need a copy of that list.”
“I’ll send a copy to your omni,” Vangelina says. “In the meantime, would you care to share your hunch with me?”
“Maybe later. I’ve got to check some things out first,” I say.
“I don’t want to take the fall for this, Roman Ibarra. I had nothing to do with those assassinations,” she says firmly.
“I know,” I say as I pull my hood over my head and then stand and head towards the exit.
◆◆◆
I walk Ana and I back along a nice, peaceful route, and we discuss the list Vangelina gave us.
“The next hit is two days from now,” Ana says, going over information I've already studied. “In Socialist territory. I think you may need backup for this one, Rome.”
“I don’t think so,” I say. “I think this one will likely be another one-man deal.”
“How do you know?”
I smile. “Because that's the way I'd do it. This guy is smart. If I can see that a lone wolf would be more effective than a fire team in this case, I know he can.”
My omni receives a ping just as I finish my sentence.
“It's Abdo,” Ana says. “Probably has another job for you.”
“Yeah, it is about that time,” I say stroking my chin.
“Obviously we have bigger fish to fry at the moment.”
“Yeah. You’re probably right,” I say, already typing an Omni response to Abdo, letting him know I’ll be out of pocket for a bit.
CHAPTER 14
◆◆◆
Two days later, I’m making my way through Socialist territory. I walk through spotlessly clean streets, where it seems like everyone I encounter is dressed neater than me. The OUSP’s main regions are pretty much giant versions of synth enclaves, all futuristic and sparkling. Crime and poverty rates are extremely low but so are the freedom rates if you ask me— no doubt a product of the OUSP’s iron fist approach to governing.
Luckily, I'm apparently an honored guest, a status conferred by my current employer. I stick out like a sore thumb, but my status allows me to walk around and visit most locations without impediment. Pretty handy, when you're trying to stop an assassination and don't have time to talk to a bunch of loutish bureaucrats.
According to Vangelina’s list, the assassin’s target is a guy named Charles Sevetti. No idea if he's a synth or not. But I'm guessing he is, because he's the only name that slated for expiration today. Not part of a group, like the last one.
Sevetti is on a bit of a tour around the territory, trying to “get a feel for the people” and their present concerns and all that yadda, yadda. Exactly the sort of paid vacation you'd expect one of these Socialists to take. All I have on my list is his name, as well as the day he's getting hit.
One target should only require one hitter. I’d bet every credit I have on it. Ana keeps suggesting backup, or alerting the OUSP authorities, but I know I can save Sevetti on my own and I don't want to make a big hubbub. That'll just drive these hit squad bastards into hiding and I might never get the confirmation I need. Not solving this clusterfuck of a case could result in an all-out war, so I can’t afford to take that risk.
Ana and I have been working overtime, trying to establish Sevetti's schedule and movements. Ana confirmed that he’s been staying at a specific hotel. Penthouse suite. Alone in a big room with a private elevator and huge windows. Perfect for a hit. I'm ninety-nine percent sure that's where it's going to happen. And I also have a time frame. Sevetti will be alone in his room between the hours of one and two-thirty, practicing for a speech. He won't even have his full security team with him. Probably just a guy or so waiting outside his room. The rest of the team will be waiting for him at the site where the speech is to be delivered. Of course, I could be wrong, and the hitter could be waiting until later to make his move. The cover of darkness is always a plus in this line of work, but then again there will be way more guards around at night. For that reason, I’m sure he’s going to strike in the early afternoon.
So, at 12:55pm, I'm standing in an elevator with a special keycard given to me by the hotel staff.
The elevator doors open. I walk down a short hallway, toward an ornate set of doors at the end. I see that they're propped slightly open. A rolled-up napkin or something has been set between them so they don't quite latch.
Just in case, I start reaching toward my weapon.
And that's when the door opens and he steps through.
My heartrate spikes the moment I see him. He’s built like an athlete. Roughly the same height as me. Wearing a shiny goblin-faced mask that makes my skin crawl a bit. He’s dressed in black, holding a sidearm that's still smoking.
Sevetti must have gotten here early. Or he changed his schedule. Whatever the case, I could instantly tell that Ana and I were likely working on outdated information.
“Stop!” I shout reflexively, drawing my weapon and aiming at the assassin.
But he's already flowing back into the room like a liquid shadow. I see the door swinging shut, and I bolt forward to catch it before it latches. My keycard would open it, but even that small task will burn too much time. This guy is fast, and I know I don’t have any seconds to spare.
I get to the door just in the nick of time and plunge through. Straight into a cloud of smoke. A rolling gas grenade knocks against my foot. I hit the deck and scramble over to a nearby dead body. Must have been one of Sevetti’s guards. One look and I can tell the hitter must have taken the guard down quickly. Definitely a clean kill. Impressive even, but I didn’t crawl over just to marvel at the tight grouping of gunshot wounds in the cadaver’s chest and neck. I need the gasmask still strapped to the dead guy’s face.
As I’m pulling the mask over my face, I hear a sound somewhere in the room, a window opening. I can't see it, but my ears pinpoint the direction and I start moving that way as soon as I secure the gasmask on my head. A body appears out of the smoke at my feet.
Dammit, I think as I realize it’s Sevetti, on his back with a big hole burned deep into his cyber brain.
Something moves to my left. I don't hear it or feel it. I just see the displacement of the smoke as some unseen person moves silently through it. He probably doesn't know I've stopped. I can tell by his movements that he must think I'm still heading to the window, that I won't see the little smoke swirls left in his wake. Now he's doubling back to the door, going out behind me. Clever bastard. It's just what I would have done.
I turn slowly, trying to minimize my own smoke swirls. I wait until I see just a hint of black near the door, a silhouette cast through the smoke by the light of the hallway. Then I charge forward.
He hears me coming, slams the door in my face. Cursing, I reach for the handle and twist it down just as my shoulder strikes the door. I go flying through, expecting for a moment to see the killer waving at me from the elevator as the doors slide shut. But I don't see him.
Where the hell did he go? I think.
The answer comes in an instant. As my feet skid along the hall floor, I turn around and see the assassin rushing right back into the room. Into the smoke. The old double fake out. The killer’s one clever bastard. I have to give him that. This time he’ll really go through the window, but not before locking the door behind him to slow me down.
Playing on that deduction, I don’t waste time trying the doorknob. Instead, I
whip my pistol forward and blast the handle and locking mechanism out of existence, probably just after he finished locking it. The assassin is making a break for the window when I kick the door in and storm back into the room. I’m prepared to give chase, but I pause in my tracks when he suddenly stops and glances at the floor. He must realize that I’m just as crafty as he is, and I can tell that he’s deciding if it’s better to continue to flee or to try his hand at taking me out before the OUSP authorities arrive.
After a few moments he shows his hand, turning to face me and gracefully moving into a fighting stance.
We come together, throwing mirrored blows that we’re both able to dodge.
The guy is fast and surprisingly agile for his size. But so am I. I hold my own for the most part, but it doesn’t take long for me to realize that he is considerably stronger than me. He throws haymakers trying to leverage his superior strength but I’m able to parry or evade most of his power shots.
I see stars after he clocks me with a well-placed right cross. He’s far too eager to end the fight when he follows up with an aggressive left hook. Despite the ringing in my ears, I’m still sharp enough to slip the power shot and I use his momentum to execute a swift single leg take down, which takes him by surprise. I instantly reach for his mask when we hit the ground, but he bats my hands away and tries to scramble to his feet before I can try again. Instead of going for the mask again, I sweep his legs from under him before he can fully regain his footing.
Can’t let him get back to his feet. This guy hits like a truck and we both know he’ll beat me like a drum unless I keep the fight on the ground. My timing is perfect as he pounces at me. I roll to the right and slip behind him, locking him into a tight sleeper hold before he’s able to react. The hold is not very effective at slowing him down, but it at least serves to confirm a theory of mine.
Heavy footsteps in the hallway gain the assassin’s attention. I use the momentary distraction to make another attempt to unmask him. Big mistake. The killer suddenly catches my hand in midair and tightly wraps his other hand around my wrist.
Black Marble (Darkside Dreams - Series 1 Book 3) Page 18