The Osiris Contingency

by Virginia Soenksen

  Liane glared up at him, hatred pulsing through her veins as she warned, “If I were at full strength, I’d rip out your spine for even saying that.”

  Owen smiled. “How lucky for me, then, that the Agency chose to dose you with the Titan Strain.”

  Liane went still in shock as he turned and clicked a remote at one of the monitors behind him. Liane’s video about the Strain appeared, showing her from a distance as she shot at targets and leaped over walls. He paused it at just the right moment, so that the frame froze on Liane as she was turning. And her face, right down to the mismatched irises of her eyes, was visible.

  Owen smiled at the image, murmuring, “Yes, I’ve known about your little secret for a while now. And now I know about the Osiris Contingency. Before we leave tonight, I’ll send that information to the other cells of Black Sun. Maybe it will help them see what a misguided notion it was to hunt for that serum.”

  Liane looked up at him, surprised enough to blurt out, “Black Sun was searching for the Strain?”

  “Of course,” Owen said with a slight shrug. “In this world, in this fight, who wouldn’t want the means to become the perfect modification?”

  Her feverish mind slowly began putting the pieces together as she said, “Your mission in Vienna was to hunt for the Strain... Not to learn what it was, but to get a supply you could use on your soldiers.”

  Owen lifted his chin, his eyes narrowing. “You were there, weren’t you?”

  Liane glared at him. “I was there, and I’m glad I killed your men before they could get their hands on it.”

  Owen’s hand shot out, latching around her throat. Liane remained unmoving and unblinking as he leaned in and spat out, “I lost several friends in that attack. It’s good to finally have a killer to put with those murders.”

  Dark spots danced around the edges of her vision, but then Owen’s grip released slightly. She took in several shallow breaths as he went on, “Perhaps it was fate; had they succeeded, Black Sun would have started dosing their soldiers with the Strain, and it wouldn’t have taken long for them to become dependent and succumb to the Contingency. Then most of us would be just like you; dying, unable to do anything about it.”

  “One of your mods said something before they died that night,” Liane said, remembering. “They said ‘Ragnarok is coming’.” A light of interest filled Owen’s eyes as she asked, “You know what the code means—tell me.”

  “I’m surprised you haven’t already heard whispers within the Agency.”

  Impatiently, Liane asked, “If I’m dying anyway, what does it matter if I know or not?”

  “You’re not ready to know,” Owen said. “And you won’t

  until our work tonight is done.”

  Some of the fierceness returned to Liane’s voice as she said, “Let Seth go, and I’ll help you willingly. I swear it.”

  “If you survive the night, if I decide you’ve been sufficiently

  useful, then I’ll consider letting him go.” Owen turned to Paz,

  ordering, “Escort her to the armory. Give her armor but no

  weapons. Then get ready to move out; we have a long fight ahead of us.”

  CHAPTER 27

  In preparation for the Director’s induction ceremony, the arena below the Agency had been emptied of all training equipment and freshly painted. The smell of solvents hung heavy in the air as Damian stood on the balcony that looked out across the room, his hands braced on the iron railing. The arena was empty, but in a matter of hours would be full of Handlers, Agents, Supporters, and Administrators, all gathering to see and size up their new leader. It was a disconcerting thought to Damian, who had never enjoyed being on display. Behind him, Adrian watched with a knowing smile, as if she knew what he was thinking.

  The silence was broken by the swift click of high heels on the floor, and an Administrator walked out onto the balcony clutching a tablet. She looked frazzled, no doubt because their visit was both unplanned and unannounced. Still, she had the presence of mind to say formally, “Madame Minister, sir...how may I be of service?”

  Adrian turned with a smile, disarming as always as she swept forward to say, “We were just having a look over the room along with the plans for tomorrow. It’s rather, well, sparse, isn’t it?”

  The Administrator glanced over at Damian, but he ignored her in favor of the view. To the Prime Minister, the woman answered, “The induction ceremony is usually simple. Of course, our last Director was in office for quite some time, so perhaps an update is needed.”

  “My point exactly,” beamed Adrian. “This doesn’t happen every day, so why not make it an occasion to remember? Libertas banners hung from the ceiling, a bit of musical fanfare at the

  beginning…”

  Still facing the arena, Damian closed his eyes in

  mortification. He’d already objected to her meddling and been overruled; now she was going to turn his long-awaited moment into some gaudy Party monstrosity. As Adrian and the

  Administrator chattered behind him, his hands tightened on the railing; he hadn’t considered the possibility he’d be nervous, but he certainly was now.

  “...Damian, how does all that sound to you?” Adrian asked from behind him.

  Without turning, he said, “Whatever you think is best.”

  An hour later, they left the arena for the upper levels of the building where they parted from the anxious Administrator who was clearly wondering how on earth, she would be able to

  organize the requested changes in less than eight hours. But

  rather than heading out to her waiting car, Adrian led Damian through the lobby to the elevators, saying, “Let’s have a look at your new quarters before we go, shall we?”

  Surprised, he followed her into them, scanning his thumbprint and pushing the button that would take them up. The lift carried them halfway up the building, bypassing most of the show offices. Somewhere around the hundred and fiftieth floor, they got off and took a second elevator the rest of the way. This one had the added security of a retina scanner, which had already been keyed to Damian. The second lift slowed to a stop, and the door slid aside to let Damian see his new home for the first time.

  The flat reserved for the Director covered the top two floors of the skyscraper and was of a modern, sleek design with the latest advancements and conveniences. It was dark as they walked out of the elevator, but as they moved further into the room sensors triggered the lights to brighten to a soft glow. The main room of the flat loomed before them; to the left was a two-story-high wall of windows overlooking the city, ahead was a large fireplace, and tucked off to the right was a pristine onyx kitchen that looked as if it had never been used. Damian walked deeper into the flat,

  taking in the concrete floors stained a coppery brown and walls painted in deep tones of grey. The furniture was minimal, and there were no personal touches or clutter. He wandered,

  imagining what he would change and what he would keep. Adrian followed, silent and unobtrusive.

  After his inspection of the living room, he walked down the hall to see the rest of the rooms. The first floor held a personal gym, bathroom, and study, while a curving staircase made of steel and glass off the kitchen led to the second floor.

  He walked up the stairs and peered into the rooms; there was the master suite with minimal furniture and an incredible view, as well as a smaller, empty suite. Damian went into the empty room, which was painted the same dark grey as the rooms below and had an air of disuse.

  From the doorway, Adrian said, “Michael never used this room. I always thought he should have knocked down the wall and expanded the master suite…”

  “I’m glad he didn’t,” Damian said quietly. “Liane will need

  privacy, after all.”

  Adrian’s mouth tightened almost imperceptibly. “You’re still holding out hope, are you?”

  “I’ve already gotten the first call from the Tracker; soon I’ll have her back, and we can focus on the future,�
� Damian said, going to press the button that would lift the blinds in front of the window. Light spilled into the room; they were so high up that the illumination and colors of the city became a dull glow stretching as far as the eye could see, like lanterns floating on a dark river. He stood looking out at it, never failing to marvel at how the night managed to turn the ruined, corrupted city into something beautiful.

  Adrian came closer, turning her back to the view to look at him. She looked unusually thoughtful as she said, “Though I know you don’t want to hear it, I have some words of advice for you.” When Damian said nothing, she went on, “You’re the most powerful person in the Agency now. You stand and fall alone. To rely on anyone at this point is to make yourself vulnerable, and vulnerable leaders never last.”

  Damian glanced over at her, asking, “Is that revelation what made you push me away all those years ago?”

  Adrian’s lashes lowered, her eyes on the windowsill as she murmured, “You know that I did what was needed for us to

  succeed. At least, I thought it was needed.”

  “It’s a little late for regret,” he retorted.

  She didn’t acknowledge that, instead going on, “I knew full well it would be a struggle for me in the Party. As an Agent and

  Handler, I understood who my enemies were. Things within

  Libertas are never that clear. Better to have no ties than those that could be exploited by my enemies.”

  “That was your choice,” Damian said. “Mine will be different.”

  “Perhaps.” Her green eyes rose to his, her voice soft as she went on, “I know I don’t say it often, but I’m proud of you, Damian. Knowing where you started, seeing where you are now…”

  He believed her sincerity for several seconds, long enough to feel a familiar swell of hope. Then he caught the calculating glint in her eyes, one he had seen time and again when she was

  manipulating others. At the sight, hope turned into the same slow-burning rage he’d felt every day since he’d been ordered to help modify Liane.

  Careful not to let his face show it, he lied smoothly, “Thank you. You don’t know what that means to hear you say that.”

  “I was worried, for a time,” she admitted. “I thought, perhaps, that the little incident with your Agent had soured things between us.”

  “Of course not,” he said with a shake of his head. “We worked beyond that long ago.”

  The smile Adrian gave him was almost genuine; almost, but not quite.

  Damian felt his phone vibrate in the breast pocket of his jacket. Taking it out, he said, “Yes?”

  Again, he heard the quavering breath followed by the same hoarse voice, “I’m getting close to finding her. She’s very slippery, this one.”

  Damian turned, giving Adrian his back as he went on, “How much longer?”

  “Not long,” said the Tracker, and there was a smile in his voice. “Doesn’t matter if they’re slippery, not to me. I always find them.”

  “You are not to harm her or engage when you do,” Damian

  ordered. “Just call and tell me where she is.”

  The Tracker was silent for a moment before saying in a

  petulant tone, “There’s no fun in that.”

  “This isn’t for your amusement,” Damian snapped.

  “True,” admitted the Tracker. “But I’d be a poor Agent if I didn’t enjoy my work just a little...”

  The phone beeped once, and the Tracker was gone.

  CHAPTER 28

  The city was quiet in the early hours of the morning, save for the police patrols or the odd professional intimate hurrying to the next appointment. So, while the influx of battered catering vans around the ruins of St. Paul’s Cathedral was out of the ordinary, there was no one there to see it.

  Inside one of the vans, Liane sat next to Owen and Paz. Her head was down, her face pale. She was sitting awkwardly thanks to her hands being tied behind her back. Occasionally one of the nearby mods would spew out some insult at her, but she never looked up.

  Neil and Ox sat opposite her, nearer the door, their shoulders knocking with every bump in the road. Neil glanced at her every now and then, and she ignored it as best she could. But she couldn’t help from hearing when he leaned over to Ox to mutter, “I don’t get it; Owen was once an Agent, too. He had to know what she was.”

  Ox retorted, “Paz says she was good at hiding it from him. What does that matter, anyway? The bitch came here to spy on us and report back to her Handler.”

  “According to them, maybe,” Neil said, mutinous. “Look at her; I’ve never heard of a spy willing to make themselves sick for the sake of a mission.”

  “Sympathy ploy.”

  “And what about Seth?” Neil persisted. “You think he’s a spy as well, do you?”

  Ox turned narrowed eyes on the mod as he snarled, “I think you should shut up and do what you’re ordered to do.”

  Neil settled back, but there was still a frown of distrust on his face as he did so.

  Liane leaned back against her shoulder blades to take the

  pressure off her bound wrists. They were tied at the small of her back with industrial-strength zip ties; difficult to escape, even with her modifications, but not inescapable. Owen had made it very clear that if she tried, though, they would shoot her and then send a message back to the bunker to do the same to Seth.

  Liane felt her face tighten. It wasn’t going to happen; she wouldn’t let it. She would help Owen, and then get out and run with Seth until they were both beyond the reach of Owen, Damian, and anyone else stupid enough to come after them.

  A shudder ran through her, an involuntary reaction to the fever she tried to hide. Owen and Paz were sitting nearby, and their eyes never strayed too far away from their captive. Liane swallowed her discomfort, trying to make her face as impassive and untouchable as possible. If they were going to treat her like an Agent, then she would damn well act like one.

  Owen straightened up, moving his rifle to his side as he

  announced to the van, “We’re close. Get ready.”

  As the mods began zipping up jackets and loading backup weapons Owen stood, holding on to the handholds in the side of the van. Glancing down at Liane, he asked, “Ready to make amends for the lives you took, Agent?”

  Without looking at him, she said, “This isn’t for them; this is for Seth.”

  Owen gave a smirk. “How touching. If you don’t live through this, I’ll tell him how much you cared.”

  Rather than rising to his baiting, she asked, “How exactly are we getting into the Agency?”

  “We’ll access the escape tunnel through a platform of the old Underground,” Owen answered. “When we reach the doors into the Agency building, the twins will shut down power to the alarms just long enough for us to get in and out. By the time we detonate the explosives, we’ll be long gone.”

  Liane thought for a moment about what it would be like if they succeeded. All the Agents and Handlers would be gathered for the assembly, unknowing of the danger that lurked below them. And Damian would be amongst them.

  She closed her eyes, trying to keep her composure. It was a nauseating thought; that the man who had been her world, who had turned her from a half-starved orphan into something more, would be destroyed in a single moment by people who knew

  nothing about him. The only thing they knew or cared about Damian was that he was part of something they hated.

  If morality is what’s driving you, you’re headed in the wrong direction… At the time Damian had said it, she’d thought he was only trying to trick her. Now she wasn’t so sure.

  The van slowed, then stopped with a lurch. The mods all stood, and Owen pulled Liane to her feet, calling out, “Neil!”

  The reptile mod pushed his way through the crowded van,

  tossing black hair out of his eyes as he reached them. “What’s up?”

  “Stay with our guest during the mission,” Owen ordered,

  pull
ing out a large, serrated knife. “If she tries to get away, shoot her.”

  Liane turned her back to him and lifted her hands so he could cut through the ties, saying, “You have Seth. I’m not going anywhere.”

  She felt the blade of his knife cut through the plastic, and then her hands were free. Owen led towards the back door of the van, ordering, “Follow me.”

  Neil moved closer to her, muttering under his breath, “Are you really a spy?”

  “If I were a spy, I would have gathered intel and left,” she

  returned. “Spies that linger are ones that get caught.”

  “Then what are you doing here?” he demanded.

  “We were looking for help,” she said, her voice going bleak. “But we found ourselves more trouble.”

  Neil nodded at Owen’s back, asking, “You know what this is all about?”

  “Yes. They’re forcing me to help them on this mission,” she said, beginning to weave her way through the mods. “They’ve got Seth in the detention cells.”

  Neil looked outraged, but a glance over at Paz seemed to prompt him to keep his thoughts to himself. He asked, “How can I help?”

  “Just get him out,” she muttered. “After we’re done here and you get back to the bunker, go to the cells, let him out and tell him to run. Especially if...” She let out a slow, measured

  exhalation, then finished, “If I don’t make it back.”

  “Hurry,” Paz ordered, looking back over her shoulder at them.

  Liane brushed past Neil, avoiding his questioning gaze, and moved alongside Owen as he reached down and pulled the door up. The cold, foggy air hit her, chilling the sweat on her face. The world outside was dark, the street lined with office buildings that were empty and closed for the day. The few streetlamps cast halos of indigo-tinted light along the street at even intervals but were far enough away to hide them in shadows as they leaped down from the van. Two of the mods with crowbars went to the sewer grate, lifting the cover aside to reveal a ladder. Owen entered first, while Paz pointed her gun at Liane and said, “After you.”