Chapter 12
As Blake and Whip entered the armoury, Ox’s last comments were rattling around in Blake’s head. It made sense that Wing’Tan would try and get someone into the agency, but how had they gotten into Osiris? Blake was a Fed and it still took him almost nine months to piece together what was ultimately a small part of the puzzle. Nonetheless, Trina did fit the bill. She approached Whip on the street and suggested she may have information for a Fed, in the name of the good city. I mean who the hell does that these days?
Assuming she was part of the Clan, she would probably be at a reasonable level, but almost certainly not of the Leadership. It would be too risky to have her caught, so their decision to let it ride for now was probably the correct one. They hadn’t told her about the details of this op, so they were confident that the Wing’Tan wouldn’t know what they were up to.
“Yo, Blake, you with us?”
“Ah yeah, sorry Alex, lost in a train of thought.”
“Uh-huh, sure, whatever. Probably best you pay attention now. Hate to see you make a mess of that pretty face of yours.”
Whip had a chuckle, Blake figured the joke was on him. So be it.
“So what have we got Junior?”
“A bullet in your arse, if you call me that again. We also have a wrist mounted Concussion Pulse. Wrap this around your forearm like this; pull up your sleeve.” He wrapped the device that looked like a fabric wrist guard around Blake’s right arm.
“Now, when you flick your wrist up, the frame will extend and push a firing plate into your palm. Hit someone, or something, hard with it, and it will emit a high voltage electric charge.”
“How high is high voltage?”
“You’ll knock a person out for about ten seconds. Or kill a cat. Depending on your mood I guess.” Blake made a mental note not to wear it around Rocky at the apartment.
“The next item is this little beast.” Alex flicked the tabs on a box the size of a briefcase and opened it. It contained two pairs of glasses and four micro drones. The drones were ion-drive models, so Blake knew they would be able to fly for over twelve hours and move at up to fifty kilometres per hour if necessary.
“The drones can fly for twenty-four hours and at speeds of up to 120 kilometre per hour, so you should get some good coverage.”
“Bit up spec from standard Fed issue then?”
“You could say that. Everything in this building is about ten years ahead of anything you’ve ever touched.” He had a smirk that showed his own self-worth and arrogance. Not that they were bad attributes in Blake’s book.
Alex continued to explain how the system worked. When the glasses were activated, they displayed an infrared terrain overlay. The drones triangulated their positions relative to each other and the user and kept in a radius relative to either one or two users. They scanned each of their zones using infrared and ultrasonic emitters and receivers, relaying information to the glasses, in real time. The end result was a full 360 degree view of the terrain for a two hundred metre radius, with heat signatures identified and coded as human, animal, vehicle etc. Once a target was positively identified, its heat signature was recorded in the system for referral at a later date.
“Nice work Alex.” Whip slapped him on the back, almost knocking him over.
“One last thing before you boys head out.” He pulled out a large drawer and gave them each a weapon that looked like a cross between a pistol and sawn-off shotgun. Blake took it and was surprised at how light weight it was.
“You sure this isn’t one of the staff’s kids’ toys, Alex?”
“Hope not, it’s a Pulse weapon. Made from Kaylantium, with a nano-kevlar skin. It has a one thousand round charge. Sounds like a lot, but in full auto mode you can pump out sixty rounds per second; there is a counter on the side to let you know how much charge is left.”
“Nice kit, but why so ugly?” Blake had a grin and figured he’d get one back on Alex.
“Well my Neanderthal friend, take a look at the panel on the right side.” Blake had a look, it had a press-pad, which he touched.
“Tap it twice, rookie.”
As Blake did, the gun morphed so the back extended out to a stock, the front extended about forty centimetres, and a holo-sight appeared showing range, altitude, auto-correction for wind, etc. The ugly-pistol was now a full-range sniper rifle.
“You lose your firing rate with this, only does three rounds per second, but has a plus or minus five centimetre accuracy at 500 metres. It has auto-infrared on the holo in low light too.”
“Stop, I’m about to jizz in my pants. C’mon Whip, let’s get out of here before I raid the rest of the kid’s drawers.”
They left the room and walked down a short corridor to the sub-floor lift. The palm I.D. registered Whip’s vitals and sent them to the vehicle dock. Waiting at the entry was what looked like a standard issue P.D. cruiser. This is not exactly what Blake was expecting. Whip saw the look on his face.
“Don’t worry Blake, it ain’t stock. Just made to look that way, so we’re not too conspicuous. It’s got plenty of armour and counter-measures, as well as direct Sat-link and advanced signal jamming. Nobody’s going to get us while we’re in this beast.”
“Just when we get out, huh?”
“Exactly!”
Blake rode shotgun, Whip got in the driver’s seat. He grabbed the wheel and the seat moved in to the correct position for his body. His start-up sequence got the car moving; the electric motors made no noise, nor did the mag-lev tech that replaced bearings in the wheels.
They pulled into the street and the windows adjusted the tint to suit the sunlight. It was a bright day, Blake only hoped it stayed that way.
“Right, so Sunday has the pick-up of the tech sorted for the runner. We’re assuming Wing’Tan will intercept the call with their scanners. We have a fair idea of the route they’re taking at the moment, so we’ll wait and ambush. We have three calls going out through the day, we want all of them, so by the time the Clan figures out what we’re doing, we’ll already have three of them for interrogation.”
“What says interrogation will work this time? Hasn’t seemed to work before.”
“Let’s just say Ox and Sophie are getting pissed off with the politicians being so soft. I think their methods of information retrieval will get a lot more ‘hands-on’ from now on.”
“Is that legal?”
“Well, we kind of blur a few of the lines in this unit, Blake. You better get used to that idea quick. We’re not vigilantes, but the truth is the Alphas are balls deep in with the politicians, and more than a few of them are more than a little friendly, if you know what I mean.”
“Been having trouble pinning runners to Wing’Tan?”
“The trouble is holding them long enough. They either get pulled by higher authority, or mysteriously die in custody. Makes our job hard as hell.”
“Do we know who the Alphas are?”
“We have our eyes on a few. There is one by the name of Tyrol that seems to be making a few political moves. He’s on our radar for a recon soon. Hopefully these runners give us a lead his way, God knows we need a break soon.”
“Is the pressure just due to the Biotronics threat?”
“Nah, that’s just the politics. Those slimy Alphas get to people. They turn them, bribe them, blackmail them, whatever. We’ve got a solid team, and I stand by all of them, but you can never say never. That is the urgency.”
“Get into them before they get into us?”
“Exactly!” Whip gave him the finger-pistol shot.
“So how do you know no one has been turned already? I mean, the unit has been operating for what, a year now?”
“A little longer. I can say hand on heart that everyone is clean, it’s just a feeling that people are getting twitchy. Know what I mean?”
“Yeah, back in the Force we had that every now and then. There would be an uneasy feel no one could pin
, then someone would flip out, go AWOL, something like that.”
“Well that’s how I feel now. Sophie has her finger on the pulse; she knows her stuff and has us all in one-on-one every week. She ain’t perfect though.”
“Her arse is.” Blake made a hip-curve shape with his hands.
The two of them laughed like a couple of school kids making their first naughty joke. As they pulled into a suburban street, their conversation turned to the assignment. The first drop was supposed to be a pick up by a mid-level runner. The Feds had a bio on him, and he was definitely linked to Wing’Tan.
The drop included sensitive information on current Fed activity in the state area, so was to be an anonymous collection and delivery. Alex had placed a packet at the designated point. When the runner picked up the package, there would be a localised EMP burst to disable the vehicle and comms, at the same time Blake and Whip would lift him.
They parked in a driveway adjacent to the drop location, got out of the car and waited on opposite sides of the road with their comms live. They would disable the comms as the target approached the package to ensure they weren’t damaged by the blast. Any communication from that point was line-of-sight and hand signals only.
Blake looked up and down the street. It was mainly two-up, two-down modular apartments, the kind that took off in the early 2020s when urban living became a necessity for so many that couldn’t afford the exorbitant environmental levies put on vehicles. When a car cost twenty percent of your income to run, you started looking at other options. They’re ugly as sin, but who cares what something looks like when it keeps you and your kids warm at night.
Of course these turned to semi-ghettos, as every city does, these things go in cycles. It seemed this neighbourhood was on the rise gain, nothing too fabulous, still a few derelicts hanging around. But there were some nice front gardens, custom front doors, a few holo-trees even (gifts he assumed). Not everything was destined to turn to crap forever, case in point, but not to the observer.
“Blake, you got that?”
“Black Quasar eliminator coming from your right. No windows, I have no I.D.”
“Ignore, turning left.”
“Roger.”
“Yo, Blake, what’s your story?”
“Not a hell of a lot to say. From a military family, did a stint in the service, got a window with the Feds, now I’m here.”
“Yeah, ok. So now that you’re through the job interview, what the hell are you about?”
“What am I about?”
“Stop messing with me Blake, why are you really here, what grinds your gears? You an adrenaline junkie? Warrior for justice? Redeemer of souls?”
“Heh, maybe all of the above! I know there is far more happening in our world than most of us can see. I guess I’m just trying to play my part in helping ensure our way of life, stays our way of life.”
“Sounds a bit self-righteous, Blake; who’s to say our way is the right one?”
“Careful Whip, you’re starting to sound like a fundamentalist.”
“C’mon Blake, you know they all got messed up in the 2010s. The only ones worth worrying about now are the scum we’re after today. Damned clans and their street-trash runners.”
“Well I’ve told you my bit, where are you from?”
“Well, physically, my mother is Japanese and my father is from the US.”
“Oh, so you’re a mongrel?”
“In more ways than one. I grew up in Japan after their second major financial meltdown. Things were pretty tight, fighting in the streets over food, clothes nicked at schools, stuff like that. I was a lanky bugger and had a foot on everyone in the neighbourhood, but I got my arse kicked more than anyone else. Big target to go for, I guess.”
“Yeah, never had that problem!”
“Well, it was a problem. We moved to the country where I learned Karate, Jujutsu, and how to use katana. I then went on a six month sabbatical to a Kendo Dojo in the hills. When I returned my mother had been killed in a gang attack. My father took me to Australia where I polished my English, and then applied for the forces.”
“Australia. I can’t believe of all the places in the world that would survive the big collapse, Oz was one of the few. It seems an eternity ago, all of that stuff going on in the Americas and Europe. Hard to believe they drove themselves to the point of industrial annihilation!”
“Yeah, well, when corporations actually run your government, you can guarantee things ain’t gonna end so sweet.”
“Yeah, but I was a kid in one world, and twenty years later it’s like that never existed, like we’re on another planet.”
“Hey, technology is advancing faster than humanity. Crowd-sourcing, group-computing, quantum computing, all of them had exponential effects in a linear world. Heck, I’m surprised humans are still necessary! Still, if you miss the old world you could always move to New Zealand. I hear they still use the Internet!”
“I’ll start making fires in a cave before I move there.”
“Amen to that!”
The two looked at each other and had a chuckle over their trans-Tasman brothers. In the back of their minds they both knew they had a hell of a messy fight to battle here, and they might have to leave the country if things kept going the way they did.
“Hey, dark vintage Panigale bike, coming from my front.”
“I see it. Ugly bugger.”
“I can’t see him.”
“I was talking about the bike. More fruit than a market.”
“It’s slowing, fifty metres out.”
“Got him, EMP ready, signal is strong, he grabs, we grab.”
“He’s stopped beside me, visor my way, now yours.”
“We’re compromised, go hot, don’t kill!”
As they moved out, the bike accelerated hard. Both of them moved from opposite sides of the street into the light washed road. As they took stance and focussed their aim the bike had disappeared over the rise.
“Did you see him?”
“Negative Whip, no I.D., he was twitchy, we’ll need harder cover for the next, they may be onto us.”
“Yeah, I say we jump any suspect nearby. Plenty of time for chit-chat about why they’re there later.”
“I was waiting for that. Let’s move.”
They got in the vehicle and headed off. There were a few minutes of silence then Blake started asking Whip about how he got here.
As Blake and Whip carried out a drive-by of their next drop zone, it was like a teleport into another world. The Twin Cities seemed to be full of contradictions, only thirty minutes from the last stop, being semi-acceptable dwellings, they were now in an upmarket part of town.
It wasn’t on the hills, no Alphas here, but it was near the base. You could tell, manicured street-sides, patrol signs, roving cops, the full monty. It sure was a risky place to make a pick-up, whoever the operator was either had balls and experience or was a greenhorn. Blake hoped it was the former. A greenhorn wouldn’t give them what they needed, even if they drowned the heller.
Blake and Whip set up; one on the corner of the main road, the other on the commercial building adjacent to the target property. There wasn’t a lot of cover in the shop entry, but enough for Whip to hide in the shadows. They had decided they weren’t going to second guess this hit, and they weren’t going to wait for a pick-up before the grab. Just get anyone suspicious; if they’re not the mark, pump them with tranquilisers and put them in an alleyway nearby. Keep doing that all night if necessary.
“I hope we don’t get many passers-by Whip, don’t have a lot of tranqs”
“I’ve got a roundhouse kick that has the same effect.”
“Ha ha. Angry man with a loaded shoe.”
“Something like that.”
“Game time sonny, green modified Monaro GTX turning in.”
“GTX, no one drives that junk anymore.”
“Yeah, but there is no exhaust vapour,
it’s an anti-eco.”
“OK, no one legit drives them. Do your drunk act in the street, I’ll get up the driver’s side and disable the car.”
Blake walked out into the street with a bit of a stumble. He had his hood over his head, and moved as though he had a bit too much methanol on board. The car stopped and gave a rev to indicate he was about to become roadkill.
As the car stopped, Whip quickly moved out from the side house, in the rear-view blind spot. He moved faster than Blake expected, and flung into a spinning heel kick, smashing the security screen on the driver's side. While continuing his momentum, he dropped his left shoulder and still spinning hit the driver hard in the throat. Pulling his arm in he stopped his spin in time to reach in and turn off the car.
Right, thought Blake, so that’s where the ‘whip’ part comes in. He walked around the rear of the car and popped the trunk. There were two ballistic rifles, a Pulse gun, and a handful of concussion grenades. A little more than the average soccer dad needs to do a grocery run.
“This is him Whip. Cuff him, put the car around the back, and call him in.”
“Got it.”
“Good work, Bruce.”
“Who?”
“Never mind.” Kids these days got no bloody culture.
When Whip came to the road, Blake was waiting in the car. They quickly made their way to the next point of contact. It was on the hill, and as the two of them drove up, they looked at the marked change in the landscape. Although there was more street lighting, it seemed more deserted. The properties were far from the road, with large gates street-side.
Many of the properties had gate-houses at the street, but the guards all casually looked up as they drove past and paid no regard. The properties may have been upmarket, but low-paid jobs were the same everywhere. This was good, thought Blake, the less attention to attract here the better. They may have been law, but that was less relevant here than image or rumour.
“Whip, Alex here; you in position?” Alex was coming over Whip’s comm in his earpiece, which Blake had a link to.
“Not yet Alex. Blake is with me.”
Why would he say that, thought Blake. Was he expecting another response?
“Good. Get in position at 1050 Toowomba Rise. It’s a gated property, but you’re lifting someone on foot, coming from the South.”
“Roger that. Radio out.”
Whip pulled the car up 200 metres down the road from the target site. They got out and the auto-disable system hummed slightly. This should be an easy pickup, on foot there would be few people faster than Whip and Blake. They causally walked up the road, but split before the property. Blake pretended to talk to someone on the phone leaning on a wall, and Whip disappeared into the adjacent scrub.
Blake was pretending to talk into his comm device to his girlfriend. He didn’t see anyone watching him, but he doubted he was alone. He talked to Whip about his position and ensuring they had the angles covered. The plan was pretty rustic: see the target, take him out, but alive, and drag him to the car. It was the last pick-up of the night, and they were already ‘plus one’. They needed this man, but not enough to lose a life, so they would play it by the book.
They saw a body moving up the street. At first it was hard to make out, but as the person neared they could see it was a woman. She was wearing a long red dress with splits on both sides and calf-length combat boots. An odd combination, but somehow arousing for Blake.
“Yo, you see this Whip?”
“Yeah, I think we hit the jackpot here.”
“I wouldn’t be too sure, she wouldn’t be wearing boots like that for nothing. You got your Imaging Bino’s? I want to know if she’s packing before I make a move.”
“On it. Wait.”
A few seconds passed, and as she drew nearer, Blake could now make out her face. He was still in shadow, but would be visible any second.
“She’s got knives in each boot, and some sort of handheld device on her back. I can’t make out what it is. It’s not ballistic, but may be chemical or sonic.”
“Roger, I’m going to need you to distract her for a second so I can move in.”
“OK, five seconds.”
Blake watched as Whip made a rustle in the bush then walked out as though he had just taken a piss, pulling his zip.
“Evening ma’am. What you doing out this late?”
The woman turned to face him, casually as though she knew he was there all along. As she turned, Blake made his move. He quickly stepped along the side of the wall, still in shadow, but now line-of-sight.
As he moved onto the street, Blake saw her face, and in surprise, spoke. “Trina?”
She spun towards him and went to reach for the device on her back. Blake rushed forward and swung a roundhouse at her right shoulder. Trina ducked, stretching away, and as she raised up drove her knee high at him. Blake stepped away and Whip came in from the left. Trina landed from her knee lift and kicked her heel high in the air behind her, catching Whip on the chin and lifting him off his feet. He hit the ground and didn’t move.
Blake reached for his gun, but Trina already had the device from her hip. It was a tranquiliser, and by the time Blake realised she was holding it, the dart had pierced his skin. He raised his gun, but everything had gone blurry. He felt someone grabbing him under the arms, and then nothing.
“Yo, Blake, wake up.” He felt a hard slap against his face, but didn’t recognise the pain for a few seconds.
“What the hell happened?”
“It was Trina, from the meeting this morning.”
“I know, I recognised her too. Does Ox know why she was here? I thought we were the only two ops on the ground.”
‘We are. I just spoke to Ox, he never told her about the sting.”
“So she wasn’t here for Osiris, she must have been here as a runner.”
“More likely she was here to ‘take out’ the runner. I’m guessing she was planning to get to the runner quickly, and take whatever he had. I just saw a bike ride past, slow down, then take-off like a bat out of hell.”
So, was Trina working freelance, or is she Wing’Tan?”
“Dunno Blake, we’re working on that. Chances are she recognised you from this morning, so she won’t be back again. Unless she’s an idiot. Or we’re completely wrong.”
“I don’t think that’s the case on either count.”
“So we just have to figure out where to from here. One thing is for sure, tonight’s sting was a stuff up from whoa to go, so we either have really bad luck, or a traitor.” Whip looked at Blake hard for a second, then gave a half smile and raised his eyebrow.
“Hey, it ain’t me sunshine, Sophie will clear that up at the debrief.”
“I wasn’t pointing the finger bud, just keeping you on your toes. You may not be a mole, but more than a few people at the office will look at you sideways after this.”
“Yeah, well screw that, I didn’t spend all this time getting in here to get the arse because of some chick in combat boots!”
“So, money on the table. You reckon Trina is Wing’Tan?”
“For all we know, she is Wing’Tan. What if all that ‘Leadership’ rubbish is just a façade and it’s a one-man, or woman, show?”
“Be a hell of a façade Blake, I mean every legend of the Wing’Tan originates in the group forming from gangs that went back over a generation. For a start she is no more than thirty years old.”
“Hey it’s just a theory. If we can get our hands on her we’d get a better idea of that whole operation. Assuming she’s in on it of course. All I’m saying is we should be looking outside the square. If she is a ring-leader, she slipped into Osiris far too easy. Either she’s a damned genius or we have a mole.”
“Well I think you’re off-base. But that’s why we brought you in, you’re a fresh set of eyes, and your theory isn’t completely without merit. Let’s head back and debrief.”
&
nbsp; As they walked back to the car, Blake noticed the cool air now coming through. It wasn’t unseasonable, but it made him feel on edge. Perhaps it was just the cemetery-like feel of the abandoned streets and full moon. Either way, he sensed a change coming, and it wasn’t all good.
Ox came up on the comm holo-display. He advised they had the captured runner stewing in interrogation, with Sophie keeping an eye on him. She would spend the rest of the night wearing him down and squeezing him for information before they shipped him off to Staton Penn. It was way overkill for what his charges were, but they needed him right off the grid for the next few months.
While they were on the comm, Ox was getting live intel from another source downtown. The source claimed to have seen Trina a few minutes earlier in the Third Quadrant talking to two mid-level runners before leaving quickly in an armoured cross-terrain truck. The truck wasn’t important, the fact that the two runners were still hanging around was. Alex had uploaded the co-ordinates of the sighting while they were briefed, this was a high-priority lift. The two runners could lead them straight to Trina.