Whispers of Ash (The Nameless Book 1)

by Adrian Smith

  “Yes. Brilliant, isn’t it?” Milo said.

  Zanzi grabbed her tumbler and took another swig of the scotch, enjoying the warmth and sting as it made its way to her stomach. She thought of her friends, the ones she met with on Saturdays for margaritas and tacos. She thought of her family and professors. She thought of her neighbors with their smiling children, laughing as they ran through sprinklers on a hot summer day.

  All those people and memories, snuffed out in an instant. She snarled, pivoted, and threw her empty glass at Milo.

  He jolted his head out of the way at superhuman speed, plucked the glass from mid-air, and placed it gently on his desk.

  “Now, now. Temper.”

  “You prick. You develop nanites and, instead of using them for good, you use them for global genocide!” Zanzi spat out the words, laced with as much venom as she could muster.

  Milo stood. “I see that you take after your father. Filled with an idealistic view of the world. We’ve been through this. The why’s.” He sat back down and placed his hands flat on the desk. He waited until she was sitting again and pressed a button on a small console by his phone. He glanced at the camera to one side. The red light blinked out.

  “I’m sure you have noticed our ivory skin. Smooth, unblemished. The longer the nanites have been active in your body, the more alabaster it becomes.” He rubbed his tattoo. “These indicate our rank. Offenheim insisted on them. I, like you, am flooded with nanites. If you took a CAT scan of our brains, you would see them wrapped around our brains like an octopus. They are programed to repair any damaged cells. Shoot me or stab me, even bash my head in, the nanites will repair it in seconds.” He held up his tumbler. “Alcohol or drugs have no effect on us either. I only drink to savor the taste.”

  “If nanites are responsible for what happened, did they cause the townsfolk to mutate as well?”

  “Yes. Nothing like we were expecting at all.”

  “They suck on spinal fluid.”

  “So I’ve been told. I suspect it’s to get at the nanites in their pure form. The cerebral fluid is where they are stored. But don’t take my word for it. Testing the sample you brought in will give us the answers we need. Recalibrate.”

  “Why are you telling me all this?”

  Milo sighed and looked directly at her. “I think we can help each other.” He smiled. “Your mother is alive, you know. She was working for us, in Japan. She’s disappeared off the radar. Knowing her, she found your father and they are trying to figure out a way to rescue you.”

  “My mother’s alive?” Zanzi sank back into the chair as blood rushed in her ears at Milo’s revelation. She didn’t dare believe him. All those days and weeks spent searching, the months and years of grief, until she had accepted her death. Now Milo was telling her she was alive and well?

  “She’s alive?” she said again, holding her hand over her mouth, choking back the sob that threatened.

  “She begged me every day to contact you, but she knew what would happen if she did.”

  Zanzi stared at Milo, considering her options. If her mother worked for OPIS, it was for the same reasons as hers: to destroy it. It was the only reason she could think of for why her mother had fooled her and her father.

  Zanzi took a gulp of the scotch to regain her composure. “How can I help you? To do what?”

  “I need you to kill Alba.”

  “What? Why? If she’s filled with nanites, isn’t that impossible?”

  “Cut off the head of the snake and it dies.” Milo smiled again. He opened a drawer and placed a cattle prod-like device on the desk. “One jolt of enough electricity knocks out the nanites for a few seconds. Then Alba will be vulnerable. You can shoot, like normal.”

  Zanzi had to admit that killing Alba was tempting, but she wasn’t an assassin. She shook her head. “Well that’s just dumb. All that technology and they can be zapped?”

  “It’s a big mistake, yes. We were still working on that problem but Offenheim insisted on advancing the timeline. Are you willing to kill her?”

  “I’m not killing anyone in cold blood. What’s the end game?”

  “Your freedom. I let you go, with supplies. If you can survive out there, then all credit to you.”

  Zanzi sat back to observe Milo. Had she totally misread the man? When she’d first met him, he’d been cold and calculating, void of empathy. She had joined them out of fear. Fear for her life. For Harriet. Lisa. Her father. Everyone. “Why are you doing this? Amelia?” she said.

  “Yes. She didn’t deserve that. We have rules and a process. Much like a trial. Not such a public execution.”

  “I want Tilly.”

  “Okay. I’ll be glad to be rid of the chatterbox.”

  “Then I’ll help. And one other thing.”

  “What?”

  “I want Harriet as well.”

  Milo tilted his head back and laughed, a long, deep sound, rumbling from his stomach. “I never thought we needed her anyway.” He steepled his fingers. “Do we have a deal?”

  “Yes. I’ll do as you ask.”

  Thirty-Eight

  Off the East Coast of Japan

  Near Tokyo

  No matter how well you thought you knew someone, did they ever really expose themselves? Have we become so skilled at hiding behind various masks and walls that we hide our true nature?

  Those questions were at the forefront of Ryan’s mind. He had known Calwyn for twenty-three years, been married to her for eighteen. They had survived the grueling training of the Lodge to become agents for LK3, served on the same team together for ten years, sworn the same oaths, brought bad guys to justice and rescued the innocent and, on occasion, the not-so-innocent. Through it all, he had loved her because he thought he knew her. What made Cal tick. Her hopes and dreams. Her desires. Her motivations. Yet, she had deceived him and Zanzi by remaining hidden for the last three years, allowing her loved ones to bury her and grieve.

  “Do I start?” Cal said. “Or do you want to?”

  “I don’t know what to say to you. I’m still processing it.”

  Cal sat next to him on the double bed, nursing a glass of whiskey. She swirled the liquor in the glass and held it to the light. “I know I owe you an explanation. It’s hard to explain to someone you’ve hurt so deeply the whys of doing something.”

  “Tell me from the beginning. Make me understand. You owe Zanzi and me that, at least.”

  Cal downed the last of her whiskey and looked up. “When Liam died, I thought the world was broken. That what we were doing wasn’t working. Then when we … well … I don’t remember much about the river, just being spun around and around, dipping under the water and telling myself to keep my mouth shut so I didn’t swallow any water. I remember trying to swim toward the shore with my broken arm, but the current was too strong. I remember hitting the net. When I awoke, I was strapped to a metal gurney. My whole body ached. A woman appeared and handed me a mirror. My head was shaved, and I had the scar. She smiled but didn’t speak. She used a modified cattle prod to shock me, over and over, until I fell unconscious, I suppose. I would wake up in a furnished bedroom with an en suite. Food and clothing would be brought to me. I would then be escorted back to the gurney and the woman. They repeated this for days … at least I thought it was days.”

  Ryan blew out a breath. As angry as he was at Cal, the thought of her being tortured angered him more. “What did they want?”

  “Nothing, at first. The woman, she introduced herself as Alba, questioned me. When she didn’t like an answer, zap! They would give me this pink-colored drink, and Alba would use scanners, like what Goro used before. Waving it over me while making notes. Alba soon grew bored and the real torture began.”

  Cal coughed and blinked away tears. She grabbed Ryan’s hand and squeezed it tightly. “I’m sorry, handsome man. I know I hurt you and Zanzi.”

  Ryan gripped her hand, caressed it with his thumb. He had no way to articulate his feelings.

  “
Alba would hang me upside down in darkness for God knows how long. Once, she waterboarded me, but gave up once she realized it wasn’t having any effect.”

  “Ugh. I hated that part of the training,” Ryan grunted. Just the thought of being waterboarded sent chills down his spine. One of his handlers had told him, “Everyone has a weakness. Your job as an agent is to never reveal it, or else they have you. Have the edge they desire.”

  “I’m sorry you went through that,” he said, and kissed her cheek.

  Cal kissed him back. First on the forehead, then on his lips. Ryan was hesitant at first. He wanted to scream and shout at his wife. He wanted to storm from the room, find somewhere to work out and put his frustrations to good use. Despite the last three years, he loved her with every fiber of his being. To hold her again, to feel her lips on his, melted away his anger like the sun shining down on an ice cream.

  Their passion grew with each passing second, fumbling and nervous at first, then confident and lustful as they tore off each other’s clothes and rediscovered the secrets they shared.

  Afterward, they lay under the cool sheets, wrapped in a tangle of arms and legs.

  “You never said why you joined,” Ryan whispered. “Was it to just stop them killing us?”

  “Yes. And they found my weakness. My edge. As hard as I tried to resist, they found it.”

  Ryan sat up, leaning on his elbow. “What did that rich prick do to you?”

  “Offenheim was never there,” Cal croaked. “Always Alba. Just her. She locked me in a sealed room down in one of their labs. She poured in ants. Thousands of them, hundreds of thousands. Common garden ants. They crawled all over me, through my hair, up my nose and in my ears. I resisted as long as I could but…” Cal choked back a sob. “I’m so sorry.”

  Ryan clung to his wife and gritted his teeth. Throughout his travels, he had seen such kindness and love, but it never ceased to amaze him how much hatred and depravity there was in the world.

  It was the only reason he’d joined LK3. For a chance to help change that.

  “Why were they so determined to flip you?” he said.

  “I wondered the same thing and asked Offenheim when I got the chance. He laughed and said it was to torture you. Your weakness was your love for your family. Your dedication to the job. By making you believe I was dead and flipping me, you would leave LK3. And you did. You were out of the picture. Both thorns in his side, gone. Offenheim could proceed unhindered.”

  Ryan tucked her hair behind her ear. “To protect us, you played ball.”

  “I thought I could take them down from the inside. But they have a class system, a hierarchy that’s impossible to break into. It was a couple of years before I managed to get help. Amelia allowed me to insert the code on the manuscript, and a friendly scientist sewed it into Harriet’s clothing. Getting her out was the most difficult part. The whole plan was built on hope. Hope that Harriet was picked up by the FBI, that the right agent would find the USB. They never suspected I was involved. I slowly gained their trust and was allowed out on assignments.”

  “Did you know the whole plan? The self-combusting?”

  “Yes, and no.”

  “Which is it?”

  Cal smiled and punched his arm. “Idiot. I knew what they wanted to do, but not the schedule or the how. The friendly scientist told me of the nanites. That was when I decided to track you down and bring you into the fold. Then we could take them down together.”

  Cal squeezed her eyes shut and pinched the bridge of her nose. “I knew of the faction within OPIS because of Amelia—those who didn’t like the new balance. Those like Touma. But I was too late,” Cal said, and she buried her head in his chest.

  Ryan lay back, his mind whirring with the new intel. He let his muscles relax and listened to the sound of his wife breathing. He loved her and believed her explanations, but the question remained.

  Do you really know someone?

  Thirty-Nine

  Tokyo, Japan

  If he hadn’t been standing in the middle of the giant, cavernous room, Ryan wouldn’t have believed it. Made from steel and concrete, on a scale that defied comprehension, with columns as thick and tall as the California redwoods, stretching to the ceiling far above. They stood in a colossal storm water system, designed to handle the worst typhoons that frequented Japan’s shores.

  Touma Yamada let out a low whistle and adjusted his NVGs. Ryan tapped his shoulder, reminding him to be quiet. The Nameless had long since developed hand signals and touches in order to communicate in complete silence.

  Once the submarine had reached the closest outlet, Ryan had briefed Touma, Goro, and The Nameless on his plan. His prior research on Yamada Tower, probing for weaknesses, had come in useful. The cleaners came and went through the front entrance. On the first five floors, there were no windows. Garbage was disposed of through chutes, straight into wheeled bins that were taken away by trucks. There was only one weakness. The architects had neglected this one entry point because it led to the parking garage, and unless you had the right clearance, you could go no farther. Often, the best plan was simple.

  Walk through the storm system.

  Cause a couple of distractions.

  Sneak inside.

  Install updates.

  Get out.

  Sofia held up a forefinger, then made a circle with her thumb before pointing at Ryan. This was their stop; a giant set of stairs leading back to the surface. At the midway point, the stairs split into two.

  Normally this was the point in the mission when the adrenaline began to flood through Ryan’s system, charging his muscles with the energy and precision he needed. But, for a change, that was absent. Instead, he had that nervous twisty feeling in his gut, like when you’re going to kiss someone for the first time. Ryan wasn’t used to it. Most of the time he was assured and confident. He brushed it aside, putting it down to the weirdness of the last few days and, taking a couple of deep lungfuls of air, refocused.

  Booth took the right-hand set of stairs and began to climb.

  “You clear on the plan?” Ryan said, barely making a sound into his throat mic.

  “Affirmative. Distractions in five.”

  “We need you in the alley in one minute.”

  “One minute? Can you give me two?”

  “Two it is. Watch your back.”

  “Wilco.”

  Cal took point, with Touma, Goro, and Sofia in the middle. Ryan took one last look around the immense system and imagined it filling with water, churning and boiling before it was pumped out and dispersed into the harbor.

  He felt reinvigorated after his sleep. After interrogating Cal, they had talked like it was old times. It was going to take a lot to understand why she had kept away, making him believe she was dead. But he wanted to forgive. Needed to forgive. He wanted the old Cal back; he just wasn’t sure that he would ever get her.

  After fifteen minutes of constant climbing, they made it to street level. Ryan cracked open the manhole cover and, using a small camera on a snake-like flexible tube, peeked outside. The back of Yamada Tower was clear of hostiles. Surprising that the Black Skulls hadn’t posted men on this side of the building. Surprising, but good for them.

  “Booth?” Ryan said, nudging his mic.

  “One minute. Some of those freaks are milling around.”

  “Can you get past them?”

  “Two secs. Okay, I’m in. Pachinko, anyone?”

  Surrounding Yamada Tower was an assortment of restaurants, shops and, like most streets in Tokyo, Pachinko, a gambling machine extremely popular in Japan. To say the game was huge was an understatement.

  Through his earpiece, Ryan listened as the alarms of the Pachinko machines blared out. Cal heard them too and disengaged the locking mechanism on the manhole cover. Within seconds, they were all tucked safely behind a wheeled rubbish bin. The Black Skulls began shouting orders as they reacted to the sudden noise. The Siphons reacted too, shrieking and screaming their wet gurgles
. It was all The Nameless had hoped for. The Black Skulls started firing. Small bursts at first, then rounds on full auto.

  “SITREP, Booth.”

  “Incoming.”

  Ryan kicked the manhole back down, trusting his old friend. An open manhole was too obvious, and the system locked back in place to prevent citizens wandering in and getting lost or drowning. Right on time, Booth dashed into the alley and ducked behind the garbage bin.

  The Nameless remained silent, waiting, as Sofia used her camera probe to check the coast was clear inside the parking garage. She gave the thumbs-up and helped Cal into the chute. A few minutes later, they were all inside Yamada Tower.

  The light in the parking garage was so dim, Ryan could barely make out the cars and SUVs. Even here, there was evidence of people combusting. A human-shaped form half in and out of a Mercedes. Another next to a Porsche. One lying on top of a Triumph motorcycle.

  Nothing moved. After another check with their cameras, Ryan gave the signal to proceed. The one problem they couldn’t overcome at such short notice was the cameras in the building. They were everywhere. He could only hope their distraction was enough, that no one was watching the monitors.

  A slim chance is better than no chance.

  Touma took them to a bank of elevators. He held up his wrist next to the buttons, waiting for the beep. A panel clicked open. He entered a code. Placed his hand on the palm print scanner and spoke in rapid Japanese. Several seconds passed before the elevator arrived.

  “Right. Sofia with me and Touma. We’re Alpha team. Beta team—Cal and Booth—take Goro with you. Let’s get this done. Then we can go home.”

  The Nameless split into their teams and acknowledged each other with nods. They had done this hundreds of times before, but the nerves were still there. They never went away. The knowledge that something could go wrong, drastically wrong, was always at the forefront of their minds. It kept them on their toes, made them feel alive.

  Once the elevator reached the server floor, Touma scanned his hand again and entered another code,