“The arrangements have been made,” Hideo said, loosening the medieval-style velvet doublet that was his idea of formal attire. “The Fifteen are coming here. Banshee included.”
He stripped off the bits of plate armour on his shoulders and elbows and stretched. From the bags under his eyes, he hadn’t been well-acquainted with sleep lately. Rat offered him a beer from the hotel room fridge, taking one for herself as well, and he thanked her before taking a long draught from the bottle.
Jock blinked owlishly, his eyes puffy and red from wearing goggles too long. Pink marks showed on his forehead where the VR crown’s electrodes had been. “My hearing must be going,” he rasped. His throat was rough, his lips cracked and dry. “I thought I just heard you say they’re all coming to Laputa.”
“I’m as surprised as you are, David. Somehow they agreed.” He shrugged. “I guess the report we sent them was sufficiently scary.”
“It fucking scares me.”
A dark cloud passed over Hideo’s expression. “I just don’t understand how Banshee’s mixed up in this. Bringing down GlobeNet is like hacker Armageddon. No communications, no trade, no transport. Half of Laputa would starve.”
“Ask him when he gets here,” suggested Rat with a hint of sarcasm.
“It’s at the top of my list.” He gave her a faint smile, then turned back to Jock. “They’re arriving tomorrow, so be ready. I’m going to need you in that meeting.”
Jock rolled his eyes and sighed, “Couldn’t I just project in from VR? They’d never know the difference.”
“You know the rules, David. You either come in person or you don’t come at all.”
Hideo let himself drop into the leather embrace of the big terracotta-coloured couch, rubbing the bridge of his nose. When he stopped moving for a second Rat was convinced he’d fallen asleep. Then he popped back to life to take another pull of his beer.
The three of them sat and drank for a while, without talking, and Rat discovered she felt good in a strange way. She was knocking back bottles with some of the biggest hackers in the world. She felt like she’d been adopted into the family.
“I think I’m getting closer,” Jock said suddenly. “I’ve been finding more and more traces of Gabriel’s AI barrelling through satellite images and CCTV records. I don’t think they’ve been able to narrow the target down any further than Hunan district. The guy they’re after has got some serious skills at staying hidden.”
“Oh, that reminds me.” Producing a small chip from his pocket, Hideo passed it to Jock with exaggerated care. “That’s a Federation IFF chip. It’ll get you access to the Federal emergency satellite network and any local transmitters you need. If the attack on Europe was anything to go by, we may need that access very badly.”
Jock whistled, impressed, and pocketed it. “Not bad.” After another sip of beer he added, “Any luck cleaning the zombies off our systems?”
“No. Apparently they’re resisting any attempt to find or remove them, tenacious as hell. They’ve got a lot of stealth coded in.”
“You’re gonna have to make a public announcement about them. The people have to know.”
Hideo’s lip curled. “Not yet, they don’t.”
“Hideo, we have no idea when Gabriel might pull the plug, and by then it’s gonna be too late. Do you want mass hysteria on your doorstep?”
“Enough,” said Hideo. It was an order, and it was going to be obeyed. Hideo made a disgusted noise in the back of his throat. “I’d better go. There is a lot of preparation to be done for the council. Thanks for your advice, David, I will think on it.”
He flowed upright, buttoned his doublet back up, and excused himself. Just before the door fell shut, Rat glimpsed two of Hideo’s bodyguards falling into step behind him.
Moving into Hideo’s empty spot on the couch, Rat settled closer to Jock and said, “He seems a little stressed.”
“I don’t envy him.” He smiled briefly at her. “Hideo and I made a bet when we were at college, which one of us would be the first to get their own country. He won. When I got my first glimpse of what it was really like, I didn’t want it anymore.”
She snorted, “I didn’t know you actually had any fuckin’ ambition.”
“Oh, I did. Then I got everything I was really after.” Jock stood up and rubbed at his eyes. “Time to get back to work, huh?”
He left her sitting there, alone and once again excluded from being useful. She drank until her head buzzed with alcohol and she was too pissed off to keep doing nothing. Then she grabbed her old hoodie and went out in search of something to do.
She found the King in the hotel’s big conference room, overseeing progress. Two women in work uniforms were taping insulation over the windows to block thermal cameras. The windows themselves, coloured by electropigment, had been turned completely opaque. Another technician was fitting bug detectors over all the doors, and a small white noise generator sat in the middle of the room, just in case a microphone did somehow manage to make it inside.
For once Rat felt glad to see Hideo’s angular bronze face. She needed the company.
She said, “Wow, you’re taking this pretty seriously.”
Hideo looked at her as if he was dredging up the distant memory of who she was. A brief smile came to his face. “Alex-han. Is David with you?”
“Too busy playing with his toys,” she grumbled, shaking her head.
“Just as well. He can be a bit trying at times.”
A kind-of weird, conspiratorial feeling filled Rat. She’d never been alone with Hideo before. Her initial dislike for him was fading — as Japanese went, Hideo was a pretty tolerable one. For a second she found herself eyeing him up, wondering what it’d be like to climb into bed with him. Probably not bad. He was pretty fit, had a nice backside, and seemed like the type to bottle up loads of sexual frustration inside . . .
She murmured, “Hey, your majesty, you got a minute?”
“I’m a little bit busy . . .” He trailed off in mid-sentence. Scrutinising her with his eyes, he caught the lopsided smile and the lazy look on her face, and he snorted a laugh. “You’ve had a few, haven’t you?”
“Guilty.” As horrible as it sounded, she couldn’t stop herself from giggling.
“Well, what can I do for you?” he asked with unfailing politeness.
She shrugged awkwardly. Her brain had trouble thinking serious thoughts, ones that didn’t involve sex or beer. She managed, “I, uh . . . I feel a little bit like a fifth wheel. Jock doesn’t want me around, and I don’t know what to do to help.”
“Really?” Hideo murmured, smiling. Then he dropped his voice to a whisper. “It just happens that I’ve already got a job in mind for you. How do you like the idea of doing some spying?”
Blinking at him, she blurted, “Spying?”
“Keep it down!” he hissed. “Look, nobody else knows who you are or that you’re with us, right? All you need to do is hang around the other guys from the Fifteen and keep your ears open. That’s all. Who knows, you might even enjoy yourself.”
Rat was too drunk to think much, and she reduced his offer to one crucial question. “How likely am I to get shot ‘keeping my ears open’ for you?”
He seemed to give the question some thought. “Not very,” he said eventually.
“Okay, I’ll take it.”
Hideo turned back to the work in progress, satisfied. Rat crossed her arms and gave him a lopsided look. Her mind was going off in odd directions, reaching through the alcohol fog, and she began to remember the time she’d spent around the King. The way he always looked at her. The slight edge to his body language. Something was going on that she didn’t understand.
She said quietly, “Y’know, I can’t figure you out. Everyone who’s ever known I was a girl has been all over me like a bad rash, but when I look in your eyes there’s nothing.” She yawned and kneaded her face, which felt like it was made of rubber. She half-expected Hideo to say something into the pause, but he stood rigid and silent, face turned away from her. Rat went on, “Is it ’cause you got someone stashed away somewhere?”
“Please excuse me,” he rasped, almost cutting her off, “I have to go make the security arrangements. I’ll talk to you later.”
Stiffly he walked away, and Rat didn’t think to go after him.
All the tiredness of the day came down on her like a hammer. Crashing, she just made it back to her room before her eyelids closed of their own accord, and let herself drop onto the bed. The next moment she was sound asleep, snoring gently, not even bothered by the creaks and groans of Jock’s VR harness in the next room.
Hawthorn was sitting by himself in one corner of the building’s old cafeteria. His was the only table that wasn’t covered in plastic sheeting, located conveniently near the bar, which was littered with broken glasses and every kind of empty drinks container in the world. A half-empty bottle of whiskey stood on the table in front of him, its label eroded beyond all recognition by the combined effects of time and moisture.
Without waiting for any kind of acknowledgement, Bomber sat down and took a slug from the bottle. It tasted like paint stripper, burning his throat on the way down, but that had never stopped him before. Finally he put the bottle back and tried a smile. It was forced and awkward but he just about managed it.
“Good stuff,” he volunteered.
“You wouldn’t say that if you knew what it was.”
“So don’t tell me.” Bomber swallowed another mouthful. “Didn’t we ever warn you about drinkin’ alone?”
Hawthorn looked up with a ghost of a smile on his lips. “You did. I just never listened to you.” He raised his glass in salute, then drained the whole thing. “Bottoms up.”
“It’s tough to lose people in action,” said Bomber, not without sympathy. “I’ve been where you are now, Hawk. You can’t stop wonderin’ what you could’ve done differently to save them. How you can look their squadmates in the eye when somebody ain’t there for the next briefing.”
“You know every goddamn thing, Jacob,” Hawthorn shot back, but he couldn’t seem to put much venom into it. “You walk and talk like some big tough marine dude now, but I still remember the old Jake Dusther. The one who was wrapped around Sarah’s little finger. The one who used to laugh.”
“I don’t think that guy still exists.”
“Why not? ‘Cause you lost people?” He gave a small smile and toyed with his glass. “I fucking hated you, Jake. You and Sarah had that squadron sewed up tight. Jamie was in your club by default, and Pia too ’cause she was there longer than any of us. Only one person got left out. The rookie who always had to prove himself. The little brother who could never be good enough. What the fuck are you supposed to do when your CO and XO are in bed together, and the XO can barely stand to give you the time of day?”
“That’s water under the bridge, Hawk.”
“It ain’t. Not by a long shot.” Shaking his head, he poured another glass full and drank it. “What did you want to talk to me about?”
For a moment Bomber struggled to say it. He had to dredge up the galling words one by one, and rasped, “I need a favour.”
Coughing, Hawthorn dropped his glass on the table. “Say what?”
“I’m still going after Gabriel. If you’re shippin’ out anyway, you and your boys could . . . make a real difference.” In terse, halting sentences, he laid out the contents of Jock’s phone call and a quick explanation of who Gina was. He finished, “This is gonna get ugly real fast if we don’t make a move.”
Hawthorn took it in with a painfully neutral expression. “That’s a pretty intense cock-and-bull story you got, Jacob,” he said coolly when Bomber had finished. “But even if it’s all true, I’ve got other things to think about now. The Colonel’s orders aside, Gabriel was never our primary concern. The Federation is.”
Snorting, Bomber pushed down a stab of wry amusement. He could tell the bastard was enjoying this. There was one thing that Hawthorn never got to grips with, though, one thing he’d always failed to understand. The fact that other people might know him better than he knew himself. That they could see right through him. He never even entertained the concept of someone else being able to push his buttons.
Bomber said, “The Colonel knew what he was doin’, Hawk. If we can get our hands on any of Gabriel’s tech, whether it’s Hephaestus or this new info-weapon, we could finally have a chance to hit the Feds where it hurts.” A mean little smile played on his lips as he calculated his next sentence. “And if you don’t think Gabriel is something to be worried about, you’re more of an idiot than I ever dreamed.”
“Mm. You’ve got a funny way of asking for help, Jake.”
“The way I see it, you can either waste all the time you spent here gatherin’ intel on Gabriel, or you can help me take him down and maybe get some fuckin’ justice for the guys you lost. It’s up to you.”
A heavy silence fell. Hawthorn seemed to consider the idea for a long time. In the end he hissed out a deep breath through his teeth and sighed, “Okay, Jake, you’ve got me. For their sake. Not yours.”
“Thanks.” Bomber took a final swig of whiskey as he stood up. “How fast can we get to the City?”
“It’ll take a day or two to get everything done. I can ship the advance group out by tomorrow morning, including you and your friend. I’ll come along to make sure everything goes according to plan.”
“Of course,” said Bomber, and he smiled. “In that case, I’d better go and pack.”
Afternoon was breaking by the time Bomber and the others landed at the airport. Mixed feelings churned in his stomach. Somewhere in that sky of washed-out clouds was Gabriel’s airship, and the man himself, with the end of the world in his hands. If he used that info-weapon globally, millions of people were going to die. The chaos in Europe would be nothing but a blip on the radar by comparison.
The brooding mass of the City glowed just beyond the security fence; in the grey afternoon light it managed to look like some horrible disease eating away at the landscape. There was nothing but buildings and man-made spaces right up to the horizon. You could go off in any direction and all you’d find was more city, more people, all somehow managing to coexist packed together like rats.
Somehow, he thought, I always knew it’d end right back here.
Rubber tires squealed on the tarmac, and the little private jet that carried them pulled to a halt outside the little terminal. Bomber got up with the others — Toledo, Hawthorn and two of his best resistance people — and disembarked. They breezed through customs with the barest glimpse at their passports.
It was easy to walk free here even with a Federal warrant on your head. Nobody wanted to know who you were, why you came, or what you were doing. The City just accepted you, no matter what.
Bomber climbed into the waiting taxi, shiny and air-conditioned, and sat back as it rolled through the security gates into Shanghai district.
For the first time he noticed Hawthorn looking thoughtful as he stared out of the tinted windows, and it didn’t look like they were good thoughts. Bomber asked, “Ever been here before?”
Hawthorn didn’t seem to hear at first, but then he shuddered back to life and shook his head. “It reminds me of NYC,” he said, unable to keep a tremble out of his voice. Suddenly he cleared his throat and clamped down on his emotions. “I remember somebody sent me a video of the bomb going off, right after it happened. Part of some local news report. I just couldn’t believe it.”
“This ain’t New York,” Bomber pointed out flatly. “We’re off the radar for now, but if Gabriel or the Federation finds out we’re here, we’re fucked. Remember that.”
Suddenly all his expectations were turned on their heads when Hawthorn shrugged. “Okay, Jake. You know the place, you call the shots, but anything big gets run by me first. Yes?”
Bomber gave a brief nod and picked up his new palm computer. Their strategy was still up in the air, and he needed a better picture of the capabilities of Hawthorn’s team, but he could make a start.
The first thing he did was log on to GlobeNet and press Jock for information about Gabriel’s target, and — even more importantly — for Gina’s whereabouts. Last time the little geek had hemmed and hawed about her, and Bomber had begun to wonder if he was looking for her at all. Steps might have to be taken. He couldn’t afford any unreliables on his team.
Next he pulled up some floor plans for Gabriel’s class of airship and matched them up with his own brief memories of the place, in search of some way to make a direct assault possible. He might as well be trying to squeeze blood from a stone. Attacking Gabriel’s home pitch didn’t promise brilliant odds no matter how he looked at it. There were other ways, though. Gabriel could be drawn out. Baited with something he couldn’t resist.
Bomber turned to the two soldiers whose names he couldn’t remember, picked for their tech skills, and explained quietly, “I’m gonna need surveillance on Gabriel’s airship. Covert would be better, patch into existing cameras and radar if you can, but don’t be afraid to set up our own stuff. I’ve got to know everything about everything that gets on or off that ship. You got it?”
“Yes, Sir,” said one, without hesitation, but the other stayed silent until she got a go-ahead gesture from Hawthorn. Bomber made a mental note of that. He began to suspect opinion was divided about Hawk’s leadership qualities.
They arrived at their ‘base’ a few minutes later; an empty red-brick house on an ordinary residential street, with the keys hidden under the mat. It was unfurnished and quite old, but otherwise unremarkable, except for one thing. Bomber noticed it a few minutes after walking in the door. The ground floor showed a number of freshly-installed GlobeNet jacks, so new they still had shreds of packing plastic on them and bits of brick dust covering the floor.
“Will this do you?” asked Hawthorn, a bit too casually. Bomber looked at him for a long moment. Whether he was after validation from his old XO, or subtly continuing the old rivalry, Bomber couldn’t tell. Either way, he had to keep Hawthorn friendly for now.
“Yeah,” he said. “Good job, Hawk.”
“You look like you’re aching to get out of here.”
“I gotta hit the street for some intel, and some food. You get everything set up for when I come back.” He shrugged back into his jacket and did up the zip. “Watch Gabriel, but don’t attack without my say-so, okay?”
Hawthorn nodded. “Anything else you need?”
“Actually, yeah, I just thought of something,” grinned Bomber. “Can you get us a helicopter?”
“Christ! You don’t ask for much, do you, Jake?” Hawthorn asked flatly. He lobbed a small electronic notepad at the female tech, who caught it and nodded as she read it. Hawthorn continued, “I think I’ll join you, if you don’t mind.”
“I–” Bomber hesitated. Normally he wouldn’t care, but when he looked in Hawthorn’s cool blue eyes, he got the distinct impression that turning the Major down was not an option. Shrugging, he gave in. “Suit yourself.” To Toledo he added, “Keep an eye on things for me.”
The Spaniard gave a silent thumbs up.
With that, Bomber took to the streets with Hawthorn in tow. He followed the signs to the nearest subway station and ordered two tickets on his phone. The train waited for him as an escalator carried him down to the platform. It flashed a bunch of Chinese phrases on the side, written in colourful dancing holograms, which spelled out the name of Bomber’s old neighbourhood. He’d never learned how to pronounce it.
He never used to use the old apartment much, someone else had probably moved in by now, but he stored some useful things there. He hadn’t had time to grab half of it last time. Not with Gina to protect. He shut his eyes for a moment, trying to get her face out of his mind, and finally returned to his plan: Pick up some things. Talk to some people. Rattle some cages.
I wonder if they’ve missed me, he thought cynically and climbed aboard.
God, he hoped they were going to give him trouble.
