City of Broken Lights Page 19

  Chapter Thirty-Nine

  Early in his political career, it had disgusted Marshall to associate with some of the individuals necessary to engage in the type of "opposition research" and assorted political dirty tricks necessary. Over time he'd grown accustomed to the clandestine games and developed respect for the network of operatives he’d built up over the years. They were people, each with their own needs, hopes, and dreams, just like Marshall.

  The trick he’d found was not to waive more money at them. It was to learn what those needs and dreams were and address those. Getting a daughter admitted to the right school bought a lifetime of loyalty. Arrange for lifesaving medical treatment for a spouse and his agent would do anything. The monthly payments were only necessary for the contact to earn a living.

  His network had its limits, time being one of the most significant constraints. If Marshall's people had the time, he was confident they could narrow down Katrina's location to a city block or two. By chance one of his contacts had delivered information of equal value. The location of the individual who was responsible for the entire mess.

  Marshall decided to try to salvage his original proposed plan. The primary modification being an immediate exchange, cash for Katrina. He’d offer transport off Athens II to sweeten the offer. If all went well, he’d leave with Katrina. Once safe, a quick call to this Sullivan and if luck prevailed, the appropriate people would die in the ensuing shootout.

  His people in the local Alliance police could handle the crime scene. Sullivan, if he survived, would be promptly paid, thanked, and escorted to the New Paris Spaceport.

  Impatient with the red traffic light and the hovercars in front of him, Marshall pounded the controls of his vehicle. Time was going to be tight.

  "CAN YOU LOCATE THE vehicle, XR-281?"

  “Yes, Chancellor. I have located it.”

  “Can you deduce where the Ambassador is headed?”

  “Without additional data, such as why the Ambassador departed unannounced and did not inform anyone of what his intentions are, no.”

  “A simple no would suffice, XR,” the Chancellor snapped.

  The A.I. remained silent, irritating Saundra even more. Of late she’d become convinced her A.I. had developed a passive-aggressive streak.

  “XR-281, if you link with a hovercar from the fleet in the garage, can you drive it?”

  “Yes, Chancellor.”

  “Would you be able to navigate the route the Ambassador used?”

  "Yes, though for safety reasons I would have to operate the vehicle at slightly slower speeds."

  Saundra grabbed her jacket and slipped it on. As the hidden door to the elevator to the underground facility slid open, Saundra gave another command to her A.I. “I’ll be taking the purple hovercar, whatever it is, model, you know what I mean. Please have it waiting.”

  The door closed behind the Chancellor, and the visible outline of the door vanished quickly. XR-281 linked to the hovercar in question and began moving it to the entrance the Chancellor would use to enter the underground facility.

  In an unusual move indicating the A.I.’s irritation with the Chancellor, XR-281 verbalized her thoughts aloud. “When this is all over I’m organizing a union for executive A.I.’s.”

  “YOU READY?”

  Sarah just nodded and slipped into the passenger seat of our rental. I sped down the block and took the corner at speed.

  “That didn’t take long,” Sarah said, giving me a nasty stink-eye.

  “I didn’t hurt ‘em,” I told her. Sarah tilted her head to the left a bit and shot me the side-eye to communicate her disapproval.

  “Okay, I admit it, I slapped them both around a couple of times, but they had it coming.”

  Sarah shook her head in disapproval and faced forward, focusing on the hoverway ahead of us. The silent treatment was a bit disconcerting. It wasn't that Sarah hadn't said much, she could go long periods without speaking.

  It was the way she looked at me, almost as if she disapproved me extracting information with a little force to help matters along quicker. I'd seen her handiwork before. Sarah could shatter bone and tear connective tissue with the best of them when wielding her steel police baton. I was sure the unknown vigilante who on occasion crippled suspected sex offenders back home in Capital City was none other than my partner.

  Father Nathan was right. This behavior couldn’t continue.

  When this was over, Sarah and I were going to have a long talk.

  VOICES CARRIED INTO her new prison. Katrina pulled her knees up to her chest. At least this time they'd taken the restraints off her. Not that it did any good. The room had no windows, and the only door was solidly mounted with two electronic locks. Devoid of furniture of any kind, the lone item being an old mattress tossed randomly in the room. Katrina had pushed it into one corner of the room and carefully picked the only part of the mattress not covered with stains to sit.

  Bert and the horrible man with the broken nose were arguing. No doubt about what to do with her. Something had changed, and common sense said it wasn't good.

  Josef and Rondello had daydreamed about what they were going to spend their share of the ransom on and laughed cheerfully as they compared fantasies. Now they were dead.

  Bert and the horrible man were professionals. Josef had talked a tough game but never really worried Katrina. Rondello had been patient, keeping Josef under control when the younger guard’s mouth was about to get the better of him.

  Katrina didn’t know who frightened her more. The psychotic man whose nose she’d tried to bite off when he’d tried to molest her or Bert, who treated her decently but made it clear he’d kill her without hesitation if necessary. Her bite victim was mentally unstable. He'd want to take his time if he was going to kill her. Katrina was confident she could bait him into losing control, giving her a chance to injure him and escape.

  Bert, on the other hand, would merely enter the room and without saying a word shoot her.

  Katrina rocked back and forth, tears flowing freely. She closed her eyes and tucked her head between her knees and began to pray. God was her best hope now.

  WATCHING FROM THE RECEPTION desk, Vick kept an eye on the eating area as the day's volunteers served the usual crowd of drunks, derelicts, and recently homeless, families whose fear was palpable as they tried to make sense of the upside-down world they found themselves in. Today's crowd was much smaller than average.

  Vick didn't blame the people in the local community he served for staying away. Nobody wanted to be where cops had shown up, especially following a shootout in a place meant to be a sanctuary from violence and fear.

  Troubling Vick the most was the fact his new acquaintance, the kindly priest, seemed to have been the trigger that started all the violence. Had it not been for the huge, frightening Inspector, the priest would have died.

  The damage would be easy to repair. Vick would stay up until everything was patched and painted. He might be able to sleep once everything was fixed. It wouldn’t do to have signs of violence in his church. People needed to know it was safe there, a sanctuary where they didn’t have to fear the darkness of their fellow man.

  Chapter Forty

  Anxiety-ridden from the terrifying ride at the hands of her A.I., XR-281, Saundra had to force herself to stop shaking and pull her hands away from her eyes. The expensive luxury hovercar was neatly parallel parked next to a large industrial building. Just meters in front of her armored vehicle was the same model and make hovercar albeit abandoned at an angle to the sidewalk, the front right corner resting on the curb.

  “We have arrived at the location Ambassador Marshall drove the hovercar in question to,” XR-281 droned. “If you need additional assistance, I am afraid I cannot be of help. The Ambassador is not wearing a locating device.”

  Her pulse slowing, Saundra steadied herself and cleared her thoughts. “Would it be a reasonable deduction the Ambassador is inside the building?”

  "Yes, Chancellor." The A.
I. paused for an appropriate length of time before continuing to speak, all in an attempt to calm the Chancellor. "May I suggest calling this Inspector Sullivan or perhaps your own private security detail? This is clearly a dangerous situation. As Chancellor, you should not risk harm by entering the building."

  “Sound advice,” Saundra replied. “But I feel I must ignore it in this instance." Saundra closed her eyes, and as she had so many, many times before when the circumstances required it, she put on the mantle of the Iron Chancellor. Mentally Saundra let her narcissism run wild, puffing herself up, making her arrogance and unjustified confidence give her the edge she needed to face anything.

  With an emotionless exterior and stoic demeanor, the Iron Chancellor stepped out of the hovercar and adjusted her jacket. A stray wisp of hair was tucked back into place as the hot, humid wind gusted down the street, blowing bits of debris and litter along the sidewalk. Faded green weeds bent in the wind, swaying helplessly.

  A careful visual examination revealed the entrance Marshall used. Another tug on the hem of the tailored jacket and a single nervous fiddling with a button and the Chancellor was ready. With steely purpose, she made her way towards the door.

  THE AVERAGE CIVILIAN doesn't understand the adrenaline rush that comes when facing a possible combat situation or a police raid that could go bad. It changes how the senses work. I can't speak for anyone but myself, but I get tunnel vision. A strange focus and calm come over me. Time even seems to slow down, giving me more time to make critical decisions or take aim for a crucial shot.

  One of the mixed blessings of having a cybernetic eye is it has a targeting mechanism that makes it almost impossible for me to miss. That’s a good thing. I hit what I aim at. One shot, one kill. The drawback is my right eye records everything. It’s bad enough I remember the kill shots on my own. Having a recording stored in the computer my brain can access on command is a nightmare.

  Literally.

  For some reason, my subconscious likes to access arbitrary files when I'm asleep and replay those recordings. All of them in vivid HD color with a pretty good accompanying soundtrack. More than once I've considered having my eye removed along with the offending computer and just wearing an eye-patch.

  I was driving at three times the posted speed limit as Sarah and I approached the address Greg and his partner had coughed up. Everything seemed as if the hovercar was barely moving. I was on an adrenaline high.

  Two hovercars were parked in front of the large factory and warehouse complex. One was neatly parked and the turbo off. The other at an angle with the turbo idling and the driver door slightly ajar. Both vehicles had government plates.

  I parked on the opposite side of the street a block away, killed the turbo, and got out. Without thinking about my actions, I drew my .50 cal. as I pushed the door shut and started walking down the sidewalk. In the back of my mind, I was vaguely aware Sarah had gotten out of the car and done her disappearing act. I heard the passenger door shut and the sharp snap of her police baton extending to its full length. Her senses would be even more heightened than mine.

  Katrina was somewhere in the building, and the thought terrified me. On its own accord, my rebellious mind pulled up the horrifying memory of me hesitating to pull the trigger. Because of my mistake, Sarah's beloved twin Maria died at the hands of a sadistic serial killer. In the time that passed between Maria's death and my rescuing Sarah, she'd made peace with my mistake, forgiven me even.

  If only I could forgive myself.

  Now my daughter, whom I'd never met, was being held hostage by dangerous terrorists. My best friend was in a clinic recovering from a bullet wound, and the best partner I'd ever had was marching in lockstep with me to walk into an ambush.

  SHOUTING OUTSIDE THE room startled Katrina, yanking her from a troubled sleep. She couldn't make out what was being said but had no trouble understanding the anger in the voices. Things were coming to a head. One way or another, Katrina knew she wouldn't be a captive much longer, one way or another.

  With no warning, the door to the room burst open. The sudden rush of air blew the scraps of paper on the floor about and caused the dust to fill the air. Katrina covered her nose and coughed from the dust, squinting as the white and grey particles stung her already reddened eyes. Standing in the doorway, eyes crazed and bulging was Broken Nose. The bandage covering the stitches on his nose was gone, revealing the swollen and angry wound Katrina's bite had left behind.

  “Well, well,” Broken Nose teased. “Seems you have some visitors that want to have a talk with the boss man about springing you.”

  Darting suddenly, Broken Nose surprised Katrina by grabbing her arm. Pain radiated up and down her arm, a result of her tormentor's cruel grip. Yanking her close, Katrina found herself inches from Broken Nose's face. His hot, foul breath, teased her nose, burning her nostrils, turning her stomach.

  "Well, little miss spoiled rich girl. Let's see if being a daughter of privilege is worth everything it's cracked up to be." An insane laugh shook Katrina. Broken Nose snapped his jaw open and shut several times, a centimeter from her nose. "Yeah, that's right, little rich girl. I know your dirty little secret."

  “WHERE IS MY DAUGHTER?”

  Marshall glared at Saundra, his fury evident in his face. “Chancellor, you need to leave. Now.”

  “No,” Vanzetti ordered.

  Standing in the open space on the former factory floor was a collection of what Sully would probably call the usual suspects. Goons whose concealed weapons could appear in the blink of an eye. Vanzetti recognized the situation for what it was. An opportunity.

  If things went well, she would leave with Katrina, minus a significant sum of cash, and be home in time for a late dinner. Tomorrow she would begin the process of engineering the election of a particularly incompetent fool to take her place.

  If she made a single misstep, everything would be lost. There was no coming back from the dead in politics.

  Never had Vanzetti played such a high stakes game before. The excitement and danger thrilled her in a way no drug or sex ever could. She was a gambler of sorts. Of sorts because Vanzetti never lost.

  Evening the odds, changing them to her advantage so she could win was what Vanzetti did best. To change the odds to her favor, she had long ago learned information was the best tactical tool. Even better, Marshall was there. A tool she’d learned long ago to use to the best possible advantage.

  A quick count put the number of the armed goons at seven. There would be at least two if not three in the upstairs office complex guarding Katrina. Another two or three would be watching the perimeter of the building.

  Sitting in a chair at the table in the center of the open space was the individual who was her opponent. Behind him was a dirty grey wall with orange safety markings of a sort unfamiliar to Vanzetti. The entire area was dimly lit as most of the lights were broken or no longer gave off light. Steel stairs of the kind found in such buildings connected the factory floor with the second level. Flakes of paint were missing on the railings, revealing spots of rust.

  The Iron Chancellor smiled at the leader. He was reasonably well dressed. The black suit with silver pinstripes he wore was not cheap. Nor was it custom tailored, merely a nice off the rack suit. He was a man who put on airs. Trying to give the impression he was something he was not. Putting one foot slightly forward and both hands on her hips, Vanzetti whispered so softly only she could hear the words. “Let the games begin.”

  Tapping the toe of her right foot impatiently, Vanzetti repeated her demand.

  “Where is my daughter?”

  Chapter Forty-One

  It was early evening, dark enough the few working street lights were starting to flicker and hum in an effort to disperse the first shadows of the night. Even as the sun set and the twin moons of Athens II began to rise into the evening sky the heat of the day still warmed the air to an uncomfortable temperature. I crossed the street and picked up my pace breaking into a jog. Behind me, I coul
d hear the sound of Sarah's boots striking the pavement of the road.

  Slipping between the two parked government Hovertrons, I stopped by the open door and took cover against the wall. I looked down at the grey and dirty concrete of the sidewalk, catching a glimpse of Sarah as she pressed herself against the wall of the factory. The building gave off an intimidating feel. The entire wall, some one hundred meters long and forty meters high had but one opening, the door I stood beside, pressed against the steel siding.

  Painted in the color scheme of the parent company, black, yellow, and emerald green, the siding had dents and scratches, leaving bare spots of metal with dark rust spots speckling the walls. Industrial lights protruded from the wall every twenty meters. Like the streetlights, most of them did not work, and the ones that did were flickering in vain to spread light as the sun went about its business of setting.

  Voices arguing came from the open door. I nodded at Sarah who was visible at the moment and entered the door. A long dark passageway with a single light midway down the hall was the only source of illumination. It gave off a cold, white light, casting shadows on the dirty, off-white walls of the hallway.

  With measured steps I moved down the hallway, my sidearm held ready at my side, and my targeting system activated and ready. Behind me, I felt Sarah's presence as she followed my lead. The voices grew louder as we approached what had to have been the assembly line area in the abandoned factory.

  The acrid smell of oil and steel mixed together hung in the air. A layer of dust covered things. Earlier in the day, the passage of people had stirred the dust up, mixing its stale odor with that of the once busy machines of the factory. It was a smell that engendered thoughts of decay and rot. I could hear voices arguing as Sarah, and I approached the end of the hallway. Mixed together with the darkness of the passageway my senses told me an evil presence awaited just through the door at the end of the hall.