Light Shaper, page 17
A woman appeared on the other side of the street when they were halfway through. Her face was brightly lit by the glare of a small handheld she carried in both hands. She was walking without looking up, and although Steve tensed beside him, he did not tell Rigel to stop or do anything else, so they kept walking as naturally as they could.
The woman was maybe three steps away when she looked up. Then she quickly looked down at the screen, her eyes darting back to them immediately.
She gave a little squeal of fright.
“A… Aaron Blake?” she said, looking from Rigel to Steve. She seemed to settle on Rigel as the most likely candidate, although a bit uncertainly.
Rigel nodded out of habit. Too late, he realized this might be a trap.
But the woman smiled, relieved. Then she seemed to remember why she was there, and the urgency returned to her face. “My name is Dr. Marion Fay. Atlas sent me. Follow me, please. There isn’t much time.”
Chapter Thirteen
BARROW DIDN’T like it, but he reasoned that the sooner they were off the street the safer it would be for all of them. The woman they had found, Marion Fay, seemed to know where she was going. She led them through a couple of side streets, then made a turn onto a main road and kept on going for two blocks or so. She stopped at a large apartment building, used a key card on the front doors, and went right in with the two of them behind her.
She didn’t stop then, but kept on going straight to reception and made a beeline for the elevators. Barrow followed behind Rigel, looking around. Judging from the reception area, these were luxury apartments. Expensive-looking art hung on the walls, a few glass sculptures stood on impressive stands, and a solicitous concierge greeted Fay with familiarity. They got onto the nearest free elevator, and Fay punched the button for the penthouse level. She didn’t say anything as they went up and all but rushed outside when they finally reached the top floor. She fumbled with her apartment keys before finding the correct one, pushed the door open, and ushered them in. Only when they were safely inside the apartment did she finally relax.
“This way, Mr. Blake,” she said to Rigel. “Please have a seat. You as well, Mister….”
“Barrow,” he told her, although he didn’t go and sit down immediately like Rigel did. He looked around, taking in his surroundings. It was a comfortable apartment, obviously this woman’s home. The living room and walk-in kitchen spread out from the entrance hall, illuminated by cozy lighting. A couple of big sofas and exotic leafy plants stood next to the floor-to-ceiling windows, which covered the entirety of the left wall. They offered a spectacular view of the city at nighttime, the streets far below like little rivers of golden light. On the coat hook nearest the door was a CradleCorp-issued lab coat, an employee access card hanging next to it. This woman worked at the company too, then.
“Can I offer you a drink?” she asked them, not quite succeeding in keeping the edge of nervousness out of her voice. “Some tea, perhaps?”
“Just water would be fine,” Rigel said immediately. He had already sat down on the largest sofa and was looking down at the city with interest. “We’re very thirsty. We have been out walking all day.”
“In this heat?” Fay asked.
“Yeah,” Rigel admitted. “I don’t think I’ve ever been outside walking at noon before, and I don’t want to repeat the experience.”
“How dreadful,” she answered, taking bottles out of the fridge. “Let me at least offer you some iced tea. You’ll find it wonderfully refreshing.”
“Thank you!” Rigel answered enthusiastically.
Barrow felt a twinge of annoyance. These people were talking as if they had just met for tea and cookies on a perfectly normal night, completely ignoring the fact that there were trained killers stalking them out there. He thought about leaving and actually walked a few steps toward the door, but then he changed his mind and walked over to the living room to sit on the sofa across from Rigel. Part of it was that he was curious about what the hell was going on, but a larger part of it was that he wanted to make absolutely sure that Atlas was now satisfied that he had gotten Rigel to safety. Once he was cleared, he would disappear.
“Here you go. Here is your tea,” Fay said a few minutes later. She was carrying a heavy tray laden with cups and plates, but her hands were shaking slightly as she put it on the table, and she nearly dropped the whole thing. Rigel was closest, and he reacted quickly, reaching out to steady the tray. It would have worked except that his grip obviously had no strength, and the thing ended up crashing down on the table, spilling tea and ice cubes everywhere. It would have been funny if it hadn’t been so sad. Rigel blushed a deep crimson and began apologizing profusely yet again, mopping up the mess with Fay’s help while Barrow watched. Rigel was obviously mortified. He sat back into his seat, hands crossed over his chest, and resolutely looked at nothing but the floor until their hostess returned with a fresh tray of beverages.
“Sorry again,” Rigel muttered. He took one of the glasses carefully with both hands, his metal braces clicking with the motion.
“Not to worry,” Fay said, offering Barrow a glass, which he took. He drank deeply. The ice-cold drink was unbelievably refreshing. “One of the senior scientists at the company has something like that around his ankle. It’s a kind of orthopedic support, isn’t it?”
“Yes,” Rigel told her, proceeding to gulp great mouthfuls of the cool drink. He managed to keep the glass steady enough not to spill any tea over himself and blushed again when he saw Barrow looking at him. “They give me stability, help me do everyday activities a bit more easily. It’s normally not as bad as this. The shaking, I mean. I’ve just been doing a lot of things I shouldn’t be doing. It should get better in a couple of weeks.”
“How interesting,” Fay said, holding her own glass absently. Now that his raging thirst was somewhat sated, Barrow noticed the brittle edge to her voice, and her darting glance to the front door. Frowning, Barrow straightened up in his seat.
“How did you know where to find us?” Rigel asked her. “Did Atlas tell you?”
“What…? Oh. Yes. We received a reading on your approximate location from one of the traffic drones earlier tonight. I had my tablet linked to a satellite data feed with real-time, high-resolution imaging of the approximate area where you were supposed to be moving through. The data was a few minutes old, but I managed to narrow down the search area to within a few blocks’ radius. It was actually rather fortunate that I found you so quickly. You might have noticed I wasn’t expecting to simply run into you like that.”
“And Atlas sent you,” Barrow intervened.
“That’s correct,” Fay said, somewhat defensively.
“But…,” Barrow protested. “Okay. Let me get this straight. I thought that Atlas was some kind of program? A machine of some kind, maybe? The guy I talked to, who said he was Atlas… well, he sounded very human. And to be honest, it seems a little far-fetched that a machine is somehow orchestrating this whole thing. Contacting me, contacting Dr. Fay here. It sounds kind of stupid.”
Rigel opened his mouth to answer, but Fay beat him to it.
“Mr. Barrow, have you interacted with Atlas directly before?” she asked, her tone slightly condescending.
“Sure. On my first day at work, inside Otherlife.”
Both Fay and Rigel looked very surprised.
“Really?” Fay answered. “How unusual… and you are a new hire for the Security Department, is that correct?”
“How do you know that?”
“I am a senior research developer at CradleCorp, Mr. Barrow,” Fay told him. “I have high-security clearance for most of the personnel files, but that is unimportant. Regarding your question about Atlas…. What you have to understand is that Project Atlas is just a name we gave to the highly complex, self-sustaining subroutine we found embedded within the structure of the logical framework that later became what you know today as Otherlife. It is still not fully understood, but it is clear that its function approaches that of a true AI. Without it, a simulation as convincing as that which can be found in the virtual worlds we create at CradleCorp would simply not be possible. Even the neural interface that links users and lets them access the system is entirely of ancient design. It can be replicated but not improved or reverse engineered. Are you still with me?”
Barrow nodded, suppressing his annoyance at her attitude. He did notice she still hadn’t taken a sip from the tea, and her posture in her chair was as rigid as a board. Again, her eyes darted to the door.
“Well, given what we know of Atlas, it is but a small step to imagine that it could begin acting on its own, beyond the restrictions that have been placed upon it. After all, its base technology is far more advanced than anything we have been able to come up with so far. If we accept this hypothesis as true, then it is evident that Atlas somehow identified the fact that Mr. Blake here would be in danger, contacted you as the person most suited to keep him safe, and then contacted me earlier this evening. It notified me of the problem and gave me an approximate location on your whereabouts. Do you understand?”
“Yes,” Barrow grunted.
“What I don’t understand is why you accepted such a dangerous mission,” she said. “Unless Atlas compelled you to act in some way?”
She gave Barrow an earnest, searching look, but Barrow said nothing. This woman was obviously smart. Maybe too smart. She also seemed too well informed.
“They are trying to kill us,” Rigel interjected, his voice quiet and his eyes looking out the window at the city spread out below them. “I still can’t believe it.”
Fay turned her attention back to Rigel. “Neither can I, to be honest. I have worked for Richard Tanner for many years, but I never knew him to ever authorize something like this. He must really feel threatened. I understand that you were given some information, Mr. Blake? Something, perhaps, that Atlas asked you to take out of CradleCorp?”
Rigel nodded, oblivious to the alarm bells that were ringing in Barrow’s head at the eager way the question had been asked. “Yes, Atlas gave me evidence, a quantum drive with information on something, but I have no idea what it is.” Fay gave a little involuntary start at that. “Atlas wasn’t very specific, but I imagine there has to be a lot of incriminating evidence in there if I go public with it, maybe enough to permanently damage Tanner or the company itself, or both. I’ve been thinking about it all day, and it’s the only explanation that makes sense. If Tanner wants me dead, then the information I have in my pocket must be worth millions. Whatever he’s been up to.”
Fay nodded stiffly. “That may very well be true. I have heard of certain classified projects at CradleCorp, although I do not have all the specifics myself. There are rumors that Tanner has been looking for ways to use the technology behind Otherlife for illegal purposes, maybe finding some way of securing political power in Aurora. I do not know for sure, but the information you have is truly dangerous. And you say you still have it with you? You have not made any backup copies?”
“No,” Rigel admitted, and at that moment triumph shone in Fay’s eyes, and Barrow knew for sure. “I have the only copy here in—”
Fay looked at the door again. Barrow jumped to his feet, knocking his glass to the floor where it shattered in a million pieces.
“She’s with them,” he said.
“What?” Rigel asked, confused.
But there was no time to answer him. The door was kicked open, and the assassins poured through.
They came for Rigel first. Two men, while a woman hung back in the door, blocking the exit. Barrow’s training kicked in, and his brain catalogued the situation in an instant. No exit, no way into another apartment from here. Window at his back, sheer drop—not an option. They would kill him.
But the assassins were distracted by Rigel. If he ditched him now, he could maybe get away.
Barrow caught Rigel’s eye for a split second but wrenched his look away as he made his decision. This wasn’t his problem. It wasn’t him they wanted, and he had done his part.
He ran for it.
He knocked the woman aside before she could raise her weapon and crashed into the hallway, denting the drywall with his shoulder as he hit it. He sprinted at full speed down the hall, stopping at the elevators only long enough to see that none of them were near the top floor. He ran past them, heading straight for the stairs. He had just begun to descend when he heard the sounds of pursuit behind him.
“We got Blake!” a man’s voice yelled. “Don’t let the other one get away!”
But Barrow was too fast. He jumped down the stairs five steps at a time, grabbing the handrail like a lifeline. He risked a jump from one floor to the other at one point and stumbled down until he regained his footing. He knocked over a wicked spiked cactus on one of the landings, the thorns slashing at his shirt, and barely felt it.
They didn’t catch up. He made it all the way to the ground floor while the yells above him were still two levels away or more. He rushed through reception, barely even noticing that it was completely empty, and had almost made his way to the main doors when a man came out of nowhere on his right, jumping like a tackler and colliding with him so hard they were both thrown to the floor.
Barrow wrestled with the man as they landed, managed to grab his neck in a choke hold, and squeezed. The man stopped trying to pin him down and moved his hands up to protect his neck, and Barrow used the brief moment of weakness to kick the man with both feet, pushing him backward away from him. Barrow got to his feet, made it to the front doors, and slammed his body against them, but they were locked tight and didn’t even budge.
His eyes darted around. There were no other exits that he could see, and when he felt around his belt, his gun wasn’t there anymore. There was only the empty reception, the elevators, and the front doors. And one man plus the woman running down the stairs now, aside from the guy on the floor, who was starting to get up.
No choice. He had to fight.
The men regrouped, then spread out to cut him off from going back up the stairs. They all sized each other up. Then the shorter of the men rushed at him, a long metal stick in his hand. Barrow blocked the first downward swipe, got inside the man’s reach, and delivered a quick jab to his solar plexus. The man grunted and fell back, but the taller man was on top of him then. He grabbed Barrow from behind, pinning his arms to his sides. Barrow struggled, bellowing, and with a mighty heave managed to plant both his feet firmly on the ground and deliver a crushing backward headbutt that collided with something soft that gave way. The attacker’s nose, he hoped.
Barrow spun around, kicked at the air with a heavy boot, and got the tall man right in the ribs. The guy bent over in pain, moaning, and out of the corner of his eye, Barrow saw the woman calmly taking aim at him with something too large to be a gun. Barrow dived out of the way instinctively, and the shot missed. Barrow hit the floor hard, barely registering that the shot had not been the normal explosive boom of a gun or even the whizz of a silenced bullet. When he pushed back from the floor and jumped onto his feet, he saw the why sticking out of a chair not two feet away. The woman had fired an arrow at him.
The short man was back, and he took advantage of Barrow’s split-second distraction to deliver a savage kick to one of Barrow’s shins. It hurt like hell, and worse than that was the fact that it destabilized Barrow so the guy’s next punch got him full in the stomach. Barrow stumbled backward in pain, the air knocked out of him, and only barely managed to deflect a second jab from the long metal rod the guy was carrying. He threw a punch, missed, and ducked wildly out of the way when the rod came swinging again like a club.
The guy still on the floor kicked at Barrow’s feet and tripped him.
Barrow crashed on top of a stand holding a sculpture, and more glass shattered around him. Something sharp poked him in the back as he hit the floor.
The shorter guy was on top of him in an instant. He brought his weapon down, and Barrow identified it when it was already too late to defend himself.
Buzzer.
His body spasmed in pain as the burst of electricity hit, and he bit his tongue with the first jolt. There was the sudden taste of blood in his mouth, then something slammed over his head, and he blacked out for a second. He opened his eyes only to see a savage kick directed at his face. He moved but didn’t block it completely, and he felt something crunch under the impact as it hit.
Then the Buzzer came down again, and he blacked out for good.
Chapter Fourteen
HIS PRIVATE line rang. Tanner picked up the receiver slowly, his face inscrutable. The caller ID showed him that it was Diana Herrera.
“This is Tanner. You call with good news, I presume?”
She chuckled on the other end of the line. “Yes. We got Blake. The other one too. The man who was protecting him.”
“His name is Steve Barrow,” Tanner said. “Not that it matters to you. I trust Blake is unhurt?”
“Tied up but fine otherwise. Don’t know why you want him alive now, but that’s how you’re getting him. Can’t say the same for the other one. He attacked a couple of my Trackers before we managed to catch him. He’s bruised and bloody, and I think he’s got a concussion. I did not expect him to be that good. He’s out cold now, though.”
“Bring both of them here at once. Did Blake have the evidence on him?”
“Yeah, Fay has it,” Diana answered smugly.
“And is it the only copy?”
“Yes, according to Marion Fay. She says she talked to both of them before we came in, and Blake admitted that he hadn’t made any other copies. She’s right here if you want to speak to her. A bit hysterical, but she can talk.”
“There is no need,” Tanner answered. “Just make sure to bring both of the men here as fast as possible and in one piece. Despite what they told Ms. Fay, they might have hidden something somewhere or talked to somebody during the day. The interrogation should give us all the information we need.”
