Chapter 13
As Blake and Whip crossed the East-side bridge, there was the familiar sight of numerous ships, barges and tankers weaving a web of bow wake and prop wash over the harbour. The general design hadn’t changed a lot over the years, but almost all of them now had a combination of solar sails and wind accelerated turbines. The large streamlined donuts of the turbines reminded Blake of how hungry he was, a donut wouldn’t go astray now, but there was only one place left that made them, and that was only because the police had an unwritten code not to shut it down!
The bridge split into a fan of viaducts, each heading to various parts of the Coast City district. The Cryo-Gen tanks were prominent in front of them with the huge “CG” insignia proudly displayed thirty metres in the air. Apparently the boffins at CG had now perfected the reanimation process, and there were no longer frequent outbreaks of psychopathic behaviour. Nonetheless, the detention facilities were still lit up like a Christmas tree with all of the post-animation subjects living a life just metres from a world they didn’t know if they would ever see. The Coast City Observer called it the “biggest stuff up in genealogical sciences”. Blake thought the people behind the walls would agree.
The op seemed to be fairly easy but something wasn’t sitting right with Blake. If Trina had just had a run-in with Osiris earlier in the evening, why would she stay on the surface for so long, and why would she allow the people she contacted to stay in the open? Perhaps he was just off on his suspicion and she really was a lone ranger looking for some help out of a sticky situation. Maybe the runner just told her to bugger off. Maybe …
They took the 458 onto a B4 and he felt the familiar thud of the magnets grabbing the chassis, then the g’s as they accelerated hard.
Whip took his hands off the wheel and turned to Blake. “You ready for this cowboy?”
“Yeah, seems pretty standard doesn’t it?”
“You haven’t spent a lot of time in the Third Quadrant have you?”
“Not really part of my usual area of investigation. I’ve been through on a few day trips to interview witnesses.”
“Well, night time is when the freaks come out sunshine, so get your game face on. The rules over here are pretty loose, even by Osiris standards. We don’t want to be filling body-bags, but don’t take any crap. Half of these buggers would as soon stick you as they would talk to you.”
“Got it. Let’s just find these two and get on with things.”
Blake tapped the comm holo and requested Alex. A second later Alex was online. “Hey kid, what’s up?”
“Ahhh, same stuff different day, cleaning up your mess. I’m not your mother you know, if you want to go making a ruckus around the Alpha’s neighbourhood, make sure they don’t know where you’re from.”
“How could they? We didn’t talk to anyone.”
“They’re more connected than the president, arsehole, and we had a call from three of them suggesting you were starting a gang war in the neighbourhood tonight!”
“A bit of an exaggeration.”
“Nonetheless, we don’t need any press. Not that it matters where you’re going now.” He gave a little chuckle.
“When we get near the checkpoint I’m going to use my bio-tagger to pin these buggers in case they run. Have you got me synced up to the grid?”
“All ready to go cowboy, just point, tag, and I’ll track them anywhere.”
“Good, because by the sound of it, things are just getting more fun by the minute.”
Blake shut down the holo and proceeded to check his weapons were secure and ready for use. Whip did the same, then punched in the disengage code for the B4.
They were directed off the next exit, and the warning light flashed across the screen that manual drive was engaging in five seconds. Blake never got used to the hard deceleration, it wasn’t a natural braking feel, more like someone hitting you in the chest with a sledgehammer.
As they came into the downtown area, they were a few hours out from first light. The whole lower end of the city was now being reclaimed by the sea, and road detours and dead ends were commonplace. They drove past the swamp that was once Centennial Park; Blake looked across to the right to see the roads leading towards Bondi, South Coogee and Maroubra, all ending in the ocean a few hundred metres away. It seemed at this end of town they didn’t even bother with the ‘road closed’ signs anymore.
The Third Quadrant was basically the southern limit of the city before things really went to crap. Everything south of Botany Bay was now crumbled, derelict messes of entangled weeds, trees, roads and buildings. Nearing the area that was once the airport, the ground rose about twenty metres vertically on an artificial platform the city had built when they still held onto hope. The industrial area was about the size of thirty city blocks, and was almost a temple of the last effort to save the city. They parked about three blocks from the target’s last sighting.
“What you got for me Alex?”
“Whip, there are two groups of people around the neighbourhood. Two blocks to your left there looks like a moonshine bar or something similar. One block to the left is a smaller group of people. They are outside, not sure of the activity.”
“OK, we’ll get out and take a peek. If we have a positive I.D., Blake will tag them.”
“Got it.”
Blake was opening his door about to get out when a flash came from the left. He fell and rolled to the ground to see a shadow disappear around the corner of the adjacent building. He looked up and saw Whip positioning himself with his door for cover, trying to train his gun on the assailant. He holstered his gun and looked over to Blake.
“You OK?”
“Yeah, I saw the flash but didn’t hear an impact.”
“Me neither. Let’s go.”
The pair got up and moved along the building wall, using the old trash cans, burnt-out cars and building alcoves for cover. As they got to the corner, Blake drew his weapon and moved around the corner, gun and eye level, both moving together. He had a quick scan around and saw nothing.
“You go back around the other side, I’ll keep this way. Meet two blocks north, one block east.”
“Got it.”
Whip turned and quickly headed back the other way, gun drawn. He passed their car and kept moving to the next corner. Scanning the adjacent road, he saw no movement. The moon was out in full, and the streets were already fairly lit, which was good as the power had been long cut to this part of town.
He could hear the low hum of a few bio-generators, perhaps to homes, but more likely to distilleries. He kept moving and sensed something to his right. As he flicked into the alcove, he had his gun less than a metre from her head. Wrapped in not much more than old rags, she seemed a little too clean to be a hobo. Her face wasn’t scarred and was free of sores. It almost looked as though she had make-up on.
“Don’t move or you’re tomorrow’s rodent food. What the hell are you doing here?”
“I’m … hiding.”
“No, really?”
“Did you get sent by my husband?”
“No, who is your husband, and why are you here?”
“I told you, I’m hiding. My husband hit me, and said he was going to kill me.” She moved her hood away slightly, and there was a huge bruise that took up half of the left side of her face, he could see dried blood on her shoulder.
“Wait here a minute while I scan you.”
Whip kept the gun trained on her, and with his free hand pulled his bio scanner from his pocket. He flicked it on and started to check her for chemical residue. It came clean.
“Look into this.”
He held up the device and it scanned her retina. She looked familiar, but it was hard to get a good impression. Her face was puffed up, and to be honest he didn’t look at her a whole lot more than he had to.
“Wrench, run a data check on her, I need to know the deets, now.”
He never took his eye
off the woman the whole time. She was completely compliant, and the look on her face seemed to harden a little. He wasn’t sure if it was her gaining a bit of confidence that he wasn’t going rape and kill her, or she was hiding something.
“I got a yellow flash. She was detained for suspected involvement with Wing’Tan.” Whip’s eyes lit up momentarily. The woman noticed the change in his composure and started to drop her shoulders and head, ready for the inevitable. “Nothing was ever found, she was released with no further questioning.”
Blake put his comm away and looked at the woman, shaking his head. He explained to her about the warning on her file, but that it may not be of any interest to them.
“What is going to happen to me?” the woman asked in a quiet, broken voice.
“You have two choices. Wait by our car around the block and we take you in for protection and a few questions. Or wait here and maybe get found by your husband.” Whip holstered his gun and moved away into the street.
Blake moved from shop to shop, checking, listening and moving on. He heard a few muffled voices as he neared the corner on his left. As he looked around, he saw three men standing around a forty-four gallon drum, warming their hands on the fire coming from it. They looked like a bunch of cavemen in a world that had long left them behind. He neared them, gun in his hand but at his hip, slightly covered by his jacket.
“Hey, you guys seen anyone suspicious just come through here?” He was looking at them all intensely trying to get a tell-tale of someone who had just been running. They all broke out laughing.
“Only you sweetheart.” They all looked his way. “And him.” One of the men nodded past him.
As Blake swung around raising his gun, it was knocked from his hand by a massive blow to his forearm. The energy of the hit started him rotating to the left. He went with it and spun around sweeping with his left leg, knocking the attacker over.
He did a double-take, it was a woman, and she didn’t look half as bad as her clothes might have suggested. He heard a muted cough, but no movement from her. The flash of light from above revealed her face; it was Trina. There was some damage, or make-up, but it was definitely her.
As he stood, the three men looked at him, then his gun that was over by the drum. Blake rushed over, one of the men was reaching toward the gun, the other two moved to the side. They all dropped their coats and had tactical armour on. Blake knew he was in a world of trouble.
As he rushed through he yelled for Wrench and Sunday to throw up for back-up on the grid. He jumped in the air and swept his right foot across to connect with the shoulder of the man reaching for the gun, he fell away from it. The two other moved in from the left and right. Blake saw one of them had a knife, the other had arms so big a weapon was irrelevant.
He stepped to the man with the knife. He didn’t have his eye on the knife, only the attacker’s eyes to see his move. The knife was jabbed at him as he pivoted to the left, another lunge as he pulled back. The attacker wasn’t moving near as fast as Blake could, but he knew how to handle the knife, never over-reaching, always moving in straight paths to minimise angles for counter-attack. Blake moved past him on the next lunge and drove his right knee into his kidneys as he punched the palm of his left hand hard into his shoulder. He felt the shoulder dislocate as the knife left the attacker’s hand.
He now had the remaining two moving in at him together. He deflected and dodged a salvo of kicks from the pair of them. They were both using Karate style kicks, which was good for Blake, as they would make an easier counter. As he raised his shins and arms blocking the moves, he could see the attackers getting too close together, he waited, and as soon as they interfered with each other on a kick he lunged at the smaller one. He kicked his inner thigh, then tried to drive his finger right through his solar-plexus, followed by an uppercut than lifted the attacker off the ground.
He was fast, to most people it would have been a blur of action, but he knew he wasn’t fast enough. The big guy had started to move away when Blake's attack began, and he was now falling from his peripheral vision. Blake moved back and to the left but it was too late; the big guy’s swing hit him hard in the chest and knocked him back a clear three metres onto the ground.
Blake got to one knee and coughed, a spit of blood hit his forearm. He got up and saw the attacker walking to him with a big smile on his face. A face that appeared as a shadow, scarred and menacing, he could see this wasn’t going to be a good day on the shop floor.
“Who are you?”
“Your nightmare,” was the reply in a flat monotone.
“I guessed, Wing’Tan?”
The man just grinned and leaned forward, about to charge. Blake knew his best chance was to use the big guy’s momentum, and he wouldn’t get too many chances. Nightmare obviously figured he had taken a lot out of Blake, but he didn’t know Blake's nano-enhancement would mask any pain he had for hours. Tomorrow he would feel like a tenderised steak, right now he was tip-top, but he did his best not to show it.
He stood semi-slouched until Nightmare was less than a few metres from him; he could almost smell his breath. As he started reaching his leg forward to a thrust kick, Blake spun to the outside and punched his knee so hard he heard a crack. The force moved Nightmare off balance, and as he landed on his knee Blake jumped forward and hit him hard in the base of the neck with a roundhouse kick. He heard a crack and Nightmare fell to a heap on the ground, face first.
Blake stood for a second, gathering himself. He looked around, there was no other movement in the street. Looking up, he saw a shadow move in a window. Third Quadrant, where darkness begins; swallower of souls. Looking down he saw Nightmare twitch. He reached down and rolled him over. Blood ran from his nose and his eyes were completely bloodshot, his breathing was raspy and slow.
Blake's eyes widened, but it wasn’t the sight of Nightmare’s face up close, it was the Fusion incendiary in his hand.
“DAMMIT!” Blake yelled, and started running hard.
The nanites went into overdrive from the massive adrenaline dump, and his pace was beyond what any normal man could do in less than two seconds. He got to the end of the block and spun around the corner, dropping and covering his head in the foetal position.
Half a second later night became day, the flash was only an instant, but Blake could see the bones of his forearms as though the flesh had been ripped from his body. The shockwave shuddered the building above him, and he looked up to see massive shards of glass falling. He dove into the middle of the road as one piece nicked the back of his right calf. On any other day he would have felt the pain and stopped to check, but he got straight to his feet and started moving back to the impact site.
He wasn’t sure if he was over it, but there was a one and a half metre diameter hollow where Nightmare used to be, surrounded by scorched ground and not much else. He stood dazed for a second, piecing together the last few minutes, then remembered Whip. If he was OK, he would be here by now, anyone in ten kilometres would have heard the blast.
Blake drew his weapon, then made his way back to the car. Nobody there, dammit. He started moving in the direction Whip was headed after they separated. Rounding the corner at the next block, he started moving up and saw a shadow on the ground towards the end of the block. He started to a jog, gun drawn, and his vision darting into each shopfront as he passed.
He got near the object and saw Whip’s jacket. As he crouched he saw the knife in the small of his back, and another at the base of his skull. Small throwing knives that were the handy work of someone skilled in their use. This was no simple mugging gone bad, they had been the targets of a tactical hit.
“Wrench, Sunday, you there?” Nothing.
“Alex, you got me?” Still nothing.
Blake removed his comm-receiver, the blast must have wrecked it. He quickly moved back to the car and hoped that was OK. When he got there he scanned his I.D. reader and the d
oor opened, jumping in, he hit the holo before he was even seated.
“Blake, what the hell is going on? We couldn’t get you or Whip, and we picked up a massive blast. Ox wants a sit rep now.” Sunday’s voice was almost frenetic.
“Sunday, personal comms are knocked out, it was a pro hit. Whip is gone, the suspects are ash, and I feel like tenderised steak.”
Ox came into the holo display. “Blake I need you here now. A clean up team is nearly there, do we need trauma units?”
“Negative, just a vacuum cleaner for the suspects, and a bag for Whip.”
“Hey! That was one of our men arsehole.” Sunday jumped back into the display.
“Hey, it was no disrespect; I only knew Whip for five minutes, but he seemed like a nice bloke. I’m just a little messed up and short on words. Heading back.” He shut down the holo and started the vehicle.
It was a slow ride back. The rain was heaving down now, causing the road to be a mix of changing colours, streaks of light and glowing surface water whipping up. The clouds sat so low it almost looked like fog. Blake had the driving assist on in case he veered off the road. All of a sudden he felt like he was sixty years old and in need of a half dozen organ transplants. His bruises now had bruises, but he had bigger problems to deal with.
Two things now became apparent to Blake. First, that Osiris had been severely compromised, and it may take them longer to find the mole than it would for the Government to shut them down. Second, there was no one he could trust there, he needed outside help. But he couldn’t give up his position in Osiris, or it would put him in immediate suspicion and probable lock-down.
He knew who he needed, he just wasn’t sure if he could find her. They had been out of contact for a while, and although she was the best of the best, her methods were outside the line, so he had to keep any contact low-key. It was a risk, especially as he would no doubt be followed actively and passively, but he would be blown if he was about to let the Clans take over the cities.
He knew Ox and Sophie would be tied up with the Secretary all afternoon, and he still held high-level clearance at Osiris. He decided he would take a pool vehicle so as not to arouse suspicion. He would park it downtown, get a mag-lev to his apartment, take his bike, and head out to the country. A friend had primed the bike for comms, Sat and scanner jamming, so if necessary he’d activate it. Of course that would take him off the grid and raise alarms, so he wouldn’t activate it unless crap hit the fan. Fifty-fifty in other words.