The
Osiris
Contingency
VIRGINIA SOENKSEN
MILFORD HOUSE PRESS
An imprint of Sunbury Press, Inc
MECHANICSBURG, PA USA
For my indomitable mother.
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS
I am very grateful to the wonderful staff of Sunbury Press for their help in getting this book to print. As always, Lawrence Knorr provided fantastic support, encouragement, and guidance. I’m indebted to Chris Fenwick for her work on this manuscript and taming my overenthusiasm for adverbs. I am also, yet again, in awe of Riaan Wilmans’ work on the cover design.
Thank you to all the friends and family members who read this manuscript along the way, offered words of encouragement, and pushed me to finish. It wouldn’t be nearly as much fun to create new worlds without you there to experience them with me.
Excerpt from The Handler’s Code
To every Handler, an Agent should be the following:
An instrument to be used for the good of the nation;
Controlled so they pose no danger;
Disposable.
If a Handler neglects these truths, then both they and their
Agent should be terminated rather than permitted to live.
Chapter 1
Rain poured down on the city of London, making the oily streets gleam and the neon lights of the surrounding buildings look hazy and indistinct. Cars flew through the streets, the drivers eager to reach their destinations, while pedestrians sheltered under umbrellas and newspapers. Above them all, the
government security cameras affixed to the edges of buildings scanned back and forth, silently watching it all.
Liane stood in the shadows of an alleyway. Behind her black facemask, her eyes followed the nearest camera, counting under her breath. When the camera reached the perfect angle, she moved forward, walking quickly down the street. A few seconds later, another masked figure emerged from the alley, shadowing her movements. She glanced back over her shoulder, taking in the sight of her pursuer. He was close on her heels, the neon reflecting the onyx plastic shielding his face. A quick glance at the next camera and she realized it almost had her in its sight. She darted across the street, dodging between cars until she reached the sidewalk opposite. Her shadow followed, running now to keep the same pace.
Liane rounded the corner of a convenience store to slide into another alley. She turned just in time to meet her pursuer, grabbing two handfuls of his jacket and slamming him into the wall. In a low, furious whisper, she demanded, “Do you have to be so slow?”
The man raised his facemask and pushed back his waterproof hood to reveal a flushed, sweaty face with tanned skin and high cheekbones. Wiping at his forehead, Seth demanded, “It’s not exactly easy to keep up with you zigzagging across the street. Is there a reason we’re moving like this, or have you decided to take up dancing?”
Liane pushed up her mask and hood, glaring at him with her oddly mismatched eyes. One blue, one green; both narrowed in
irritation. “The street cameras have blind spots. I’m trying to hit as many as possible. Unless you’d prefer for the Agency to kill you before we’ve even started?”
“No, thank you,” Seth said immediately, shaking his head. “I’m going to die of old age surrounded by grandchildren and drinking expensive scotch; I decided that years ago.”
Liane rolled her eyes, replacing her mask. “Then stop complaining.”
She made as if to move on and he stopped her with a hand on her arm, saying, “Hold up a minute. I need to catch my breath.”
She sighed, reminding him, “I only agreed to let you come
because you promised you were healed.”
“I thought I was,” he said, running a hand over his stomach and wincing. “You’d think with the medical technology today, a bullet wound would mend faster than this.”
“I offered to find you mod serum. You stupidly refused.”
“Yeah, because I’m not going to risk a bad reaction while we’re on the run.”
“Typically, the first dose just accelerates healing.”
“Not always. Believe me, I’ve seen what that stuff can do to
people,” Seth said, shaking his head slightly. “Have you ever held down a mod foaming at the mouth and trying to rip apart everything in sight? Because I have.”
“You don’t know that you’d respond like that.”
“And you don’t know that I wouldn’t,” he retorted, hand still over his healing wound. “So just cut me a little slack until I’m back to fighting form, alright? We can’t all be genetically
engineered super-soldiers.”
“More’s the pity,” Liane muttered, “We’d stand more of a chance of survival if you were.”
“Maybe, but then we’d both be humorless curmudgeons.”
She tried to glare, but a smile escaped her. “Just keep moving. We’re nearly there.”
Seth gestured in front of her, his eyes on the window of the next store. “Look.”
Liane glanced at the large storefront window, registering a
display of television screens. They all showed identical footage of a young woman moving faster than any human should, taking shots at targets with incredible accuracy. The girl’s face was
hidden, only her long blonde hair visible. Liane moved closer, watching herself in the video she’d created and sent to every
major news network almost a week ago. Apparently, viewers hadn’t tired of it yet.
The video faded, replaced on screen by a news anchor. Through the glass, both Liane and Seth could hear as the woman announced, “In breaking news today, the Prime Minister has released a statement condemning the infamous Titan Strain video as a hoax. The video, released anonymously, accused the government of both developing the next advancement in genetic modification and then killing civilians to keep it secret. The
Minister has called these accusations ‘cruel and malicious lies’ and has vowed to bring the creators to justice.”
Beside the news anchor, the still of the video was replaced by an image of Seth in his uniform. Seth let out a soft curse as the anchor went on, “Investigators have released this image of former City of London police officer Seth Laski. He is wanted for
questioning in the matter of the Strain video. If you have seen or know anything regarding his whereabouts, you’re encouraged to contact the authorities immediately.”
Liane continued to look at the screen, commenting, “It’s
impressive, in a way; they managed to discredit the video and get the whole city hunting us in under two minutes.”
“Pardon me for not being impressed,” Seth said in irritation. “Why isn’t your picture being flashed all over the evening news along with mine?”
“The Agency doesn’t want to blow my cover,” she said with a small shrug. “That means they’re still hoping for a live recovery.”
She pulled her mask down and moved away, heading back into the downpour. Seth followed her, “What does that mean, ‘live recovery’?”
“Capture, not termination,” she answered over her shoulder, voice muffled by the mask. “A trained Agent is a valuable thing; no sense in wasting one. Get your mask on.”
He did as she said, but his eyes were still crinkling around the edges in a frown as he followed her.
Hidden once more, the two fugitives made their way to a tiny, cluttered street where most the houses were abandoned. Rats darted around rubbish bins as they passed, but Liane didn’t even turn her head. Her attention was on a boarded-up building to the right. After a quick glance to check that the street was empty, she walked down the stairs to the basement flat entrance. Seth followed, casually stan
ding sentinel as she gripped the lower board with gloved hands, ripping it free of the doorframe. She did the same with the board above, then crouched to open the door itself. Ducking through the opening, she motioned for Seth to follow.
The inside of the house looked no better than the alley, even
after Liane led them up to the first floor of the house. The drywall had rotted away long ago, and every surface was covered with grime, mold, and water damage. Steady drips echoed through the house, splattering onto swollen and rotted floorboards.
“Be careful where you walk,” Liane said, stepping gingerly along the wall. She headed deeper into the house, Seth trailing
after her. They came to a back bedroom, where Liane headed to a heating grate in the wall. She pulled it free, tossing it aside before drawing out two bulging black duffel bags wrapped in waterproof plastic wrap. Seth knelt next to one, moving more stiffly and slowly than usual. Peeling off the wrap, he unzipped the bag, peering inside, “Are these both filled with weapons?”
“That one is,” Liane said, checking the contents of the second. “This one has cash, a couple medic kits, and a few false IDs.”
“Nice one,” Seth said, grinning at her as he picked up the
duffel. “How many of these stashes do you have?”
Liane afforded him a small smile. She was growing better at that, better at showing emotion in general. “Two more that we’re going to retrieve. The other three will stay hidden just in case we run into trouble.”
“When did you store all this?”
“I cleaned out my accounts before the fight in my flat,” Liane explained, busying herself with the bags. “I remembered Damian mentioning that he kept caches in the city and abroad in case of emergencies; it seemed like a good idea.”
She lifted the small messenger bag from her shoulder, carefully placing it within the duffel. She could hear the tinkling of the vials as she settled it in the center, securing the dozen-odd containers of the Titan Strain that they’d stolen from Genentech Laboratories. She’d taken to carrying the vials with them whenever they ventured out, unwilling to risk losing the serum that had nearly cost them their lives in the fight against the Agency.
Liane zipped the bag closed once more, tossing it onto her shoulder as she stood. “Right, let’s go get the others.”
Seth followed her back through the rotting house to the basement entrance, asking, “How’s your side holding up?”
Liane pressed a hand lightly in her left side, where a bullet had ripped through her. “Better. Not as tender as before.”
“Good. That means when the Agency finally tracks us down, you’ll be able to save my skin again, right?”
“That’s the plan,” she said, replacing her mask and ducking through the doorway and out into the rain. “Though what
happened to all that talk about you protecting yourself?”
Seth laughed. “I suppose my overconfidence is failing me at last.”
“Don’t let it. I’d rather have you overconfident than despairing and useless.”
“You always know just what to say,” Seth grinned, replacing his own mask and following her.
They moved side-by-side through the alley, their heads lowered against the rain and shoulders hunched to support the weight of the duffle bags. Instinct, however, made Liane look up, her shoulders going tense as she realized that a car was blocking their way out of the alley. Blue lights flared to life, spinning silently on top of the patrol car as two policemen got out, shining flashlights on Seth and Liane as they approached.
“Oh, brilliant,” Seth said under his breath, glancing at Liane. “Let me do the talking, alright?”
She kept her eyes on the officers, nodding even though her hands were curling reflexively into fists.
“Masks off and bags down,” ordered the first officer, his free hand hovering above the gun at his waist. “And keep your hands up unless you want to get shot.”
Liane carefully lowered the bag from her shoulder, setting it on the wet pavement and slowly standing with her arms raised.
Behind her, Seth did the same, pulling off his mask as he called out in a light voice, “What’s the problem, officer?”
“Looting,” retorted the second one as he drew an electric
stunning prod, snapping it out to its full length. The rain sizzled and hissed against the electric prongs as he said, “You’ve been caught out, boyo. Should have been better at avoiding the
cameras.”
“This belongs to us, sir,” Seth protested, blinking the rain out of his eyes.
The other officer laughed, his eyes glinting. “That so? You in a habit of storing things in condemned buildings, then?”
“Have you seen the prices of storage units in the city?” Seth asked with an apologetic smile. “I think everyone will be using condemned buildings soon—”
The officer struck out with the prod, electricity buzzing as the prongs connected with Seth’s side. He crumpled and collapsed hard onto the wet pavement, gasping for air and muscles
convulsing. Liane stood where she was, calculating her options as the officer went on, “Right, now let’s talk about what it will take for us not to arrest you. I’m thinking half of whatever’s in those bags, plus an additional thousand in cash.”
“We don’t have any money,” lied Liane, whose eyes narrowed behind her mask. The officer reached out, tugging it off to reveal her striking face. She glared up at him, pale skin dampened by the rain.
The officer stepped closer to her, the electric prod resting
casually on his shoulder. Grinning, he reached out a gloved hand and gripped her face. His thumb brushed over her lower lip, “Well, then maybe we can work out another sort of exchange. What do you think, love? Have you got anything worth my while?”
Liane jerked away from him, but the other officer was at her back, his massive hand gripping her shoulder to hold her in place. She heard him snap open his own electric prod, felt the heat of his breath on her cheek as he leaned in and warned, “Give me a reason. I dare you.”
She gave a small shrug. “If you insist.”
Her hand shot out behind her, seizing his hand holding the electric prod and driving the prongs up into the throat of the
officer in front of her. He let out a strangled breath as he
collapsed heavily, clutching at his neck and mouth working
uselessly. The other officer wrenched free, drawing his gun.
Moving inhumanly fast, Liane grasped his arm and twisted it at an angle until she felt bones snap, dropping him as he began to scream in pain. Turning, she spotted the stunned officer crawling towards the patrol car; drawing her own weapon, she took aim and shot him in the back of his thigh. He screamed, abandoning his escape to clap his hands around the spurting wound.
Liane heard a telltale click from behind her and turned to find the other officer, his face a grimace of pain as he pointed a gun with his unbroken arm at her head. She darted towards him, feeling the bullet whiz past her cheek as she grasped his arm and slammed it over her knee at a wrong angle. He screamed once before she gripped his throat, stifling his cries as she prepared to snap his neck…
“Liane, stop!” Seth shouted, struggling to stand behind her. She glanced back at him, feeling the wildness in her face as he
reminded her, “No more killing; that’s what you wanted,
remember?”
Liane let out a tsk of irritation, using her grip on the man’s throat to knock his head against the pavement. His eyes rolled back, and he was unconscious by the time she released him. She stood, returning to the wounded officer who was still attempting to crawl away. She struck him once on the back of his head with the butt of her gun, and he too lay motionless in the rain.
Seth struggled to his feet, muttering, “We would run into
London’s finest, wouldn’t we?”
She eyed him; his hand was still clamped over his side, his movements awkward from discomfort. Holstering her wea
pon, she asked, “Are you alright?”
Seth nodded, wincing as he said, “I’ll probably take a double shot of pain medication when we get back home, but I can move. Let’s get out of here before backup arrives.”
Liane knelt to pick up her mask, then confiscated the officers’ weapons and wallets. She emptied the cash out, shoving it into her coat pocket, then tossed the wallets beside the prone bodies. Picking up the duffel bag again, she said, “Come on; we can retrieve the other two caches tomorrow.”
Seth nodded, still holding a hand over the spot where he’d been stunned as he shouldered his bag and followed her.
It took over an hour for them to reach their safe house, which was located within the ruins beyond the edges of the city. By then the rain had stopped, the metallic scent on the air replaced by the acrid odor of car exhaust. When she had been an Agent, Liane had often ventured into the ruins. But that had been for fun, distraction; as she navigated the broken streets and piles of
rubble, she was amazed that it was now her home. Not that they were the only ones. There was a host of others who lived beyond the safety and surveillance of London itself. Criminals and
refugees living alongside the poor and desperate. As they reached the edge of the crumbling, half-standing building that had been their shelter for the last week, Liane spotted several shadows drawing back from the doorways and windows of the nearby buildings.
Seth looked at them regretfully, asking her, “Why does everyone out here have to hide from one another?”
“Because it’s better to be alone than to risk trusting the wrong person,” Liane replied, ducking under the fallen beam that partially blocked the entrance to their safe house. “If they knew the price on your head, they’d probably sell you out within the hour.”
The first room was open and empty, without any sign of human habitation. Liane went to a nearby wall, pulling away a mattress that hid the real entrance. Behind it was an opening in the drywall that led to a narrow, dark passage. Liane and Seth squeezed through it, tugging the duffels behind them as they moved within the wall. At the end of the passage, a narrow rope ladder hung from above, and the two of them climbed awkwardly up to the floor above.
The Osiris Contingency Page 1