The Heist of Hollow London, page 20
Maybe it had been shut down in response to the rioting. Maybe Henrik could override it. Arlo went back down the corridor to Henrik’s office and knocked on the door.
There was no response.
He pressed his ear to the door, and heard nothing.
Arlo walked farther down the corridor and peered around the door of the support department. A support was telling the system its proposals for how to proceed weren’t acceptable.
“Is Henrik around?” Arlo said.
“In his office,” she replied tetchily, without looking up.
“He’s not. Could you find him for me?”
The support tutted and asked the system to locate Henrik.
* * *
After getting confirmation through that Arlo had the Coyne, Loren had taken the emitter and thrown it over the fence into the dead-waste yard. The fence was high and it took Loren four attempts to yeet the emitter higher, but they got it eventually. Then they’d returned to the street outside the plant and loitered there, wearing their almost-empty rucksack and trying to give off the air of someone waiting for a friend whose shift would finish soon.
Loren had seen images of Henrik on his staff record, but even if they hadn’t, they would have guessed who he was the moment they spotted him descending the ladder that ran down the side of the building from an emergency exit on the top floor. He scrambled down and hurried away from the plant—not running, but walking hastily.
Henrik looked up and saw Loren. He wasn’t interested in Loren or why they were there, but he was visibly concerned someone had seen him leave. Loren had been following events inside the plant and felt pretty sure whatever Henrik was supposed to be doing, skipping out through an emergency exit was not it. There was such panic on his face that Loren suspected the man would have shot them if he’d had a gun, just to eliminate any witnesses.
After a moment Henrik collected himself, straightened up, nodded to Loren as if in casual greeting, and walked on at what was obviously supposed to be a relaxed pace. He was visibly jumpy, his feet jerking forward with each step, but nevertheless trying to give the impression he left work every day by a ladder down the side of the building.
Loren messaged the others to tell them what they’d just seen.
Arlo quickly replied, And you just let him leave??
What did you want me to do, Loren replied, fucking rugby-tackle him?
Kline added, I doubt Loren, a person he had never previously met, would have been able to find a means to make him go back inside a building full of his angry subordinates.
Loren smirked at that.
* * *
Arlo tried to calm down, telling himself all this actually made things easier. No really, it did. From Loren’s description, Henrik had left via the emergency exit on the right-hand side of the building. There were two such exits on the top floor, at either end of the horizontal crisscross corridor. At the planning stage Drienne had suggested using one of these exits the moment they got their hands on the Coyne—but even if they’d wanted to do this they couldn’t, because the emergency exits wouldn’t open until there was an emergency.
Designing a building this way was strictly illegal in many countries, but in dereg zones like England it was acceptable to prioritize employee monitoring over employee safety, so it was not possible to bypass the security arches by slipping out through an emergency exit. The system would release the doors if it identified fire, for example, or atmospheric toxicity inside the plant, but otherwise the exits would open only if management authorized it. It seemed Henrik had done so, which meant they would all be able to use the exits, and the remaining top-floor staff agreed to take advantage. Arlo followed them to the emergency exit, pretending he didn’t know where it was. He messaged the crew, telling Drienne and Nadi to find their nearest exit and head for the rendezvous point.
But the emergency exit on the top floor refused to open. Henrik had left this way, but had not declared an emergency situation. He’d used xec privilege to open the exit and let it close behind him, and no one left inside had the credentials to open it again. They tried the exit at the opposite end of the corridor, but it was useless. Rachel tried to convince the system this was an emergency and they didn’t need to wait for it to be declared as such. The system’s response was skeptical.
* * *
Loren paced in agitated loops on the ground outside, considering what they knew about the plant’s system and how it might be convinced to release the exits. The systems must be aware there was a riot underway inside, and that this was causing damage to the interior, so Loren felt it should be possible to convince the systems of the logic of evacuating the building without permission from a xec. Kline was working on it too, trying to use HR protocols to give himself clearance to open the exits, but the system wasn’t playing ball.
Loren was explaining their suggested tactics to Arlo when they heard a vehicle approaching. They turned to see a police deployment transport approaching from the north, large enough to accommodate about twenty officers. Loren stood well back on the pavement as it passed them and stopped outside the entrance to Kentish Cyc. A second transport followed and parked behind it, and the officers got out and streamed toward the doors of the plant.
29
IT’S FUN TO BE CREATIVE
Arlo suggested Loren’s argument to Rachel, but she insisted she’d already tried it. “The system has decided its priority is to avoid spreading damage across the corpurbation. It doesn’t seem like it wants any of us to leave, and its other priority is to deal with the rioters.”
“Henrik didn’t want anyone to follow him,” said the other support. “What a prick.”
“To be fair, I think the workforce might actually have killed him if they’d caught up with him. We need to stay up here and not get drawn into what’s going on down there.”
Arlo received Loren’s message, confirming police were entering the building. Actual cops. None of them had anticipated this. The Metropolitan Police only operated out in the suburban ring these days. The megas had their own security forces and had signed up to all the treaties necessary to handle law enforcement on their own land, lightening the policing burden and getting away with many corporate illegalities in return. The operation had therefore factored in having to deal with only Oakseed securits. But Henrik evidently didn’t trust his own workforce anymore, and had called in the actual cops.
Kline did his best to work out what was happening by interpreting the employee activity patterns. There’d been a rush toward the main entrance, which coincided exactly with the moment Loren had seen the doors open to let the police in. The police had driven the employees back toward the workfloor and closed the front doors behind themselves.
The activity patterns allowed Kline to see who’d got involved in the riot and who’d kept out of it. The police could have used the same information to target those who were actively involved; they had the technology to do so. They were not. They were attacking everyone indiscriminately. They were so rarely given any jurisdiction over this area, and they were going to enjoy it. No doubt a multitude of grudges had built up over the years, cases they hadn’t been allowed to pursue because Oakseed had taken ownership of them, and this was their chance for some ill-targeted but cathartic revenge.
A couple of minutes later, the front doors opened and Loren saw two cops drag two workers out in cuffs. The cops pushed the workers up against the wagon and searched them, confiscating their slates—standard practice, to prevent communication and recording. Loren told the others this was happening.
They’re going to arrest us too, Drienne said. She and Nadi were still on the underfloor, having checked the emergency exits and found them all closed. There was still no way to get from there to the workfloor, not that anyone wanted to right now.
They might not, said Nadi.
At the very least they’re going to search us, said Drienne.
Arlo agreed. The Coyne wasn’t a weapon but it would make the cops very suspicious. They’d want to know what was on it, they’d have ways of getting past the false tray, and when they found the money they’d wonder why a debranding operative was carrying such a vast sum. The most basic background check on Arlo and Drienne would reveal they weren’t legit RookDivest employees. There was no way of spinning this to make it look innocent.
So what do we do? said Arlo.
Nadi said she had an idea.
* * *
Arlo took the stairs straight down to the underfloor, ignoring the sound of violent clashes behind the fire doors. He emerged into a corridor on the underfloor that, in contrast to the open space of the workfloor and the simple orderliness of the top floor, was an awkwardly laid out warren of passages that connected rooms of different sizes, many adapted from their original purpose.
He found Drienne and Nadi waiting in an otherwise unoccupied room; most of the workforce seemed to have joined the protests upstairs. Drienne quickly embraced Arlo, then they listened while Nadi explained her idea.
The plant broke down every single thing that could be reused, and what was left went down a disposal chute that came out in the dead-waste yard at the back corner of the building, next to the passage that led to the platform. The chute dumped it into a cart, and the cart took it to a compactor, after which it was sent to a landfill. The access point for the chute was on the underfloor.
“You’re suggesting we go down the chute?” asked Drienne.
“No,” said Nadi, “it’s too small for a person. But if we drop the Coyne into it—”
“No,” said Arlo.
“—it’ll come out into one of the carts—”
“No.”
“There won’t be anyone there, the carts are all auto. So if someone can go down there and collect it—”
“Yes,” said Drienne abruptly. “This is a great idea.”
“No, it isn’t,” said Arlo. “You’re talking about putting it into a compactor chain. It’s too risky.”
“It’s really not. Loren can pick it up, the cops won’t catch you carrying it, and we can focus on getting out of here without getting the living shit beaten out of us.” Drienne had seized on this idea, and when she seized on an idea they always ended up doing it.
“Show me,” Arlo said to Nadi, determined not to promise anything just yet.
Nadi took them to a short, wide, grimy corridor that ended at a pipe set into the wall at an angle. In front of the pipe there was a jack on the floor that raised harvesting carts up to the level of the pipe and tipped their contents into it, and also an industrial saw with which you could cut up anything that was too large for the pipe. The pipe was indeed too small to accommodate any of them.
Arlo still disliked the idea of letting the Coyne out of his sight. “Can’t we force the emergency exits to open?”
“How?” said Nadi.
“We could start a fire.”
“What?” said Drienne. “That sounds like one of my dumb ideas.”
“I’m surprised you didn’t suggest it yourself, dear.”
“Well, I was going to say we should release some toxic gas.”
“Why, have you seen some?”
“No! I was fucking joking.”
“We haven’t got time for jokes—look, it could just be a small fire, enough to set off the alarms and release the exits.”
“I don’t know if you’re aware, but small fires have a habit of turning into bigger fires.”
“There isn’t anything to set fire to down here anyway,” said Nadi. “Everything wood-based is sealed in a silo and waiting for—”
Noises came from down the corridor, around the corner from where they were standing. Two sets of footsteps. A voice shouted, “Against the wall!”
Nadi, Arlo, and Drienne looked at each other, wondering if this had been directed at them. But then another voice spoke, at a normal volume, hard to make out; it did not sound aggressive or confrontational. This was who the first speaker had been addressing. The next sounds were a rapid set of footsteps and something striking the second speaker, causing them to cry out in pain.
Before Drienne or Arlo could stop her, Nadi strode over to the corner and peered around it.
* * *
Farther along the corridor, one of the cops was standing half in, half out of a doorway. On the floor beneath him were a pair of feet. The rest of the person connected to the feet was on the other side of the doorway. From the angle of the feet it was clear he was lying on his stomach, wriggling while the cop tried to cuff him.
“I haven’t done anything,” the person was saying.
The cop ignored this and, gripping a wrist in each hand, heavily planted a foot in the small of his back, provoking a howl of pain.
“Hey!” said Nadi. “You don’t need to do that.”
The cop looked up sharply and saw Nadi approaching. He swiftly wrapped the cuffs around his victim’s wrists and let the bound hands fall. Then he straightened up and readied himself as Nadi reached him.
“Look, some of us are just trying to get out of here,” said Nadi. “We’re not part of this, we don’t want—”
The cop reached out for her shoulder. But Nadi knew these moves only too well: he was aiming to pin her to the wall, face-first. The instant she saw his hand move, she dipped her shoulder and his hand failed to find any purchase. Nadi took a step back and put her hand out to him, a placatory gesture designed to keep him at a distance. “Hey…”
The cop reached down to his side and removed his nightstick from its catch. There was a sleek metal noise as it automatically extended in his hand. He brought it round in an arc and landed a blow on the side of Nadi’s head.
Nadi’s training told her to remain calm when faced with provocative situations. But since getting away from Oakseed, she’d become more and more frustrated with the person her training had made her into, and how others had used it to manipulate her. The impact of the nightstick rang through her head and she staggered back, and it was as if the blow rebounded back off the core of her being and surged into her chest. She drew back a fist and flung it squarely into the cop’s nose with a cry of rage, which turned to a yelp of exhilaration as she saw blood force its way through his nostrils and the ruptures she’d made in his skin. At that moment, he was every colleague she’d ever hated and she thrilled to see him hurt.
The cop tried to come back at Nadi, but she had already grasped the other end of his nightstick. He wasn’t about to let go of it but, in a maneuver she came up with on the spot, she used it to take control of his right hand and, with a quick jabbing motion that took him by surprise, she made him punch himself in the balls. Using your training was all very well, but it was fun to be creative sometimes.
The cop lost his grip on the nightstick and Nadi was able to use it on him in just the way he’d used it on her, and after that he couldn’t recover. As he fell to the floor, he grabbed her around the waist and tried to push her over, but when you go for a move like that you have to execute it, otherwise you’re left staggering around like you’re in a drunken hug. Nadi was presented with an easy shot: she brought the tip of the stick down sharply on the top of his neck, and he reeled away.
Nadi figured he was too dazed and in pain to follow her, so she headed for the stairwell—if one cop had got down there, the fire shutters must be up and there must be a way out. But as she approached the stairwell, she heard boots stomping down it. The cavalry was coming. There was nowhere to run and very soon they’d find Arlo and Drienne down here. All Nadi could do now was buy them some time.
Four more officers emerged from the stairwell and onto the corridor. Nadi gripped the nightstick and charged at them.
* * *
Arlo and Drienne peered around the corner, saw what was going on, and withdrew out of sight.
“We need to fucking do something before they find us,” Drienne said in a low, urgent voice. “We need to do like Nadi said and put the thing down the pipe.”
“What if Loren can’t get it and it gets crushed and sent to landfill?”
“It won’t get crushed and sent to fucking landfill. The system has stopped and I’ve already told Kline to grant Loren access and they’re heading down there now.”
“When did you do that?”
“Just now, while Nadi was beating up that cop. We’ve got to do this, there’ll be more of them coming. Give me the Coyne.” Drienne put her hand out.
“Drienne, I don’t think—”
“Fucking give me it.”
Arlo put his hand in his pocket and gave her the Coyne.
“Have we got anything to put it in?” she asked.
Arlo checked his pockets and happened upon his sunglasses inside their case. He removed the sunglasses and gave Drienne the case: the Coyne just about fit inside it, at a slight angle. She snapped the case closed and, with only the barest hesitation, tossed it down the pipe.
Eleven seconds later, a cop marched around the corner. Arlo and Drienne took an involuntary step back. Arlo was still holding his sunglasses; he dropped them as he thrust his hands in the air. He was wondering whether to say We surrender! or something of the sort when Drienne cried, “Thank god you’re here!”
* * *
Kline felt annoyed at being given another job to do; he already had a lot to think about and he was trying to prepare to leave the apartment. He’d packed his suitcase earlier this afternoon, including some of the items the others had given him (but only some—he had disposed of a number of items he considered too heavy or too frivolous). And now he had to do something that wasn’t even his skill set: logistics, not human resources. He could do it, sure, but the thing was, he shouldn’t have to.
Grudgingly, Kline identified the process that governed the dead-waste outlet, located the hierarchy of responsibility for managing that process, and inserted Loren’s alt-id into that hierarchy as casual labor, which meant Loren could use their slate to log a maintenance ticket on the outlet. He had one last check of the apartment, then one last glance at the apartment across the street (no sign of Frankie James), before returning to his windows to see if Loren had reported back. But he found he was receiving no information at all. At first he assumed a fault, and tried to get it back online—but when this failed to produce any results, it became clear the plant’s connection had been taken down. The cops must have gone to the top floor and forced it offline to prevent anyone from streaming what was going on in there. This meant no devices could communicate in the vicinity of the plant, and the crew was entirely out of contact.
