Part 6 (1/2)
”They're violent. I don't want any part of that.” Tony had seen Jock tear off the arm of one man for not responding to a less than subtle hint to leave a lady alone, and shoot another through the neck when the welf pulled a stun grenade. Violent or no, Jock didn't know. Unfortunately.
”Jock, you've been a true friend. And for that I'll always be grateful. I may look you up after I get myself settled.”
”I'd like that, sir.”
”You can knock off that 'sir.' I'm just plain Tony now.”
”OK, Tony.”
Tony didn't offer him any money. What Jock had done was for friends.h.i.+p, and paying him would've convinced Jock that Tony was just another one of the ma.s.ses-out for himself only. Tony knew it and Jock knew it. They parted honorable men, as only honorable men know how.
She knew the disposable percomm call would be traced. The Green Action Militia had learned from an ex-Metro, one of their own now, that it took one minute, fourteen seconds to trace such a call under the best of circ.u.mstances. Thus the GAM kept all calls under forty seconds and delivered their message crystal to a different person every time.
”This is the GAM,” she stated succinctly. ”If you want to hear our statement, you will retrieve the recording crystal from the women's restroom, fourth stall from the end, on your third floor. You have until someone flushes.”
Sometimes to mix things up they called anonymous tip hotlines, and once a media lawyer. The delivery location changed as well. Sometimes it arrived in place of the morning paper, and other times it might steer a person through seven levels of scavenger hunt.
They used only standard Fuji commercial recording crystals from a different supplier each time, picking a random device from each lot. Sonya purposely left her right pinky fingerprint on each crystal so they knew exactly whom they were dealing with. As no one had a name to match to that print or her epithelial DNA-except on other crystals-she stayed as safe as any other Nil.
Sonya dropped the ring comm to the ground and crushed it with her heel. To make certain, she stomped it three more times. She moved immediately to the edge of the not-yet-complete level 144 TriMet platform in downtown Corvallis. For security's sake she needed to be at least a full 600 meters from this place in under a minute, the top response time of even Interpol.
The average Metro response time fell into the dismal category of days, but she had to a.s.sume they'd set a trap this one time and somehow knew exactly when she would transmit. With her survival-and that of the whole organization-at stake, Sonya played to win.
She took the easy way to get away quickly from the platform-she jumped. Her stomach once again reminded her that this wasn't her favorite of tricks. The nausea never quite elicited regurgitation, but it always came close. Her mind silently counted to nine full seconds before her fingers wove a pattern in the air.
As she landed, at almost ninety meters per second, her body lit up like a miniature sun. The brightness receded rapidly, though she still glowed as she walked away. Waves of heat distortion also wreathed her as the kinetic impact energy flowed away. The few people at ground level who observed the flash or her new thermal aura chose wisely to mind their own business. People with that kind of power at their disposal didn't make good victims.
The opulence of this meeting room matched, if not exceeded, the previous. Despite imports from Mars costing nearly ten thousand credits per kilogram in s.h.i.+pping alone, a Martian lacquered-sandstone table, weighing close to a metric ton, dominated a room of orange, rust and umber. The ten matching hand-carved chairs sat arranged for the powerful individuals in attendance. Vivaldi played in the background as they entered to take their seats.
”I want to thank you all for the change in venue,” said one. ”I hope you will be comfortable here. If there's anything my staff can provide, you have but to ask.” If sacrificing a live virgin would've been the whim of even one member, the staff would merely have asked what s.e.x and hair color, and the blood would be spilled before the request went cold on the guest's lips.
”Thank you. The first order of business is the GAM Initiative,” announced Nanogate as they all took their seats. ”Phase two has moved quite according to plan, with another unexpected bonus. The girlfriend not only was bought to stay out of the way but to actively partic.i.p.ate in our plan. This reduces operational security risks considerably. The motivation was first order greed.”
”Have there been any contraindications?”
”Only one. A single employee of the subject's normal bar told him that he believes it's a corporate plot. As this is intrinsically obvious, it doesn't warrant further action.”
”And that employee?”
”Nothing. We don't want to alarm the subject-he's already skittish enough. The employee, a bar tough, is a Nil, so I propose no action against him.
”I call for a vote. Opposed?” Silence was his answer. ”Then there is nothing further to report. Oh, one minor item to note. Once the subject has contacted the GAM, we'll almost certainly be unable to monitor his actions as we are now.”
”Then how are we going to be able to gauge his effectiveness to plan?”
”Only by observing the results. Clearly this falls into the 'results oriented management' category defined in the late twentieth century. It's not nearly as effective as our current invasive management techniques, but it's the only course open to us with this scheme.”
”Agreed. I suggest we move on to the next topic.”
”I'd like to bring to your attention New Zealand's proposed execution of one of Taste Dynamics's midlevel managers for the industrial accident of May third. It's a message of sorts that I suggest we respond to vigorously...”
Her breath wheezed as her chest went up and down steadily in deep sleep. A tribute to his fast thinking, Tony thought. His visit held no rationale, not even the merest whisper of a reason. It took quite a good deal of time and effort to find her, not to mention the three-hundred credit bribe to have a nurse let him in.
No different than any other hospital room for the last three centuries, the stuffy room smelled of alcohol and bleach. The cramped s.p.a.ce held only a single horribly uncomfortable bed and two equally uncomfortable straight back chairs in sickly green. Odd instruments clung to the off-white walls like lichen adorning an undersea rock. Her standard hospital issue blue gown could've been on any patient all the way back to antiquity. It split down the back and barely covered the hip nearest him. A small plastic tube from the wall dumped oxygen right into her nostrils.
She held all the changes of his life together like a keystone. Save a life, lose your own. Some dark, twisted force seemed to have manipulated that equity around to apply to his life. While probability played a cruel role, he felt more at work than mere fate.
He sat quietly, barely moving. His own breathing matched in rhythm to that of the old woman in the bed. A nurse came in to take blood pressure and temperature readings as if she didn't trust their remote monitors. Tony slipped the nurse another hundred for good measure. A dull ache behind his eyes pulled at his thoughts, but none coalesced.
Some time later, before the sun lightened the sky enough to call it morning, the patient's eyes flickered open. Groggily, the woman looked over at Tony as the sleep fled from her eyes. ”Do I know you?” Even as she said it, her expression started in realization. The volume of her voice matched the early morning hour. ”You're from the bus! They said you saved my life.”
”I just did what my grandfather taught me.”
”I could sue you for malpractice, you know. I've had five lawyers a day in here trying to get me to do just that.”
Tony sat silently. He had nothing to offer.
Her eyes softened. ”I have absolutely no intention of doing so. I just want to know why you risked yourself. No one else would have.”
”Maybe that's why. There are too many 'no ones' in this world and not enough 'some ones.' I wanted to make mine count.”
”You are a very odd man.”
”I've never considered myself all that odd.”
”Well, perhaps unusual would be a better descriptive.”
Tony looked into her wizened face. It held only honesty. Wrinkles and age-spotted hands showed her veins beneath the thinned skin. He realized he'd never really seen an old person. Oh, they were around, but he'd never really looked. They just blended into the background.
”I guess you could call me unusual,” he admitted. ”Is this bad?”
”No, not at all. The world needs unusual people.” She sighed for a moment before continuing. ”Please don't take this the wrong way, but did you know I'm going to die anyway?”
Tony instantly saw the futility of his sacrifice in a blinding flash.
”Of course you didn't know. How could you? I have a rare disease in my liver and I'll be dead within the week. I can feel it pulling at me now, deep inside.”
This interview had played itself out in Tony's head much differently on his way here. He must regain control. He needed to look into her eyes as he asked his question. Tony felt that he'd know if she were telling the truth. On this one thing he must be positive.
”Do you know why they're doing this to me?”
”Doing what?” Nothing but surprise wrinkled her face. ”I don't understand.”
”You don't know. It's all coincidence.” Tony's shoulders slumped and he turned away.
”I don't understand.”