Silence of Ash, page 16
“Who asked?”
“He always called himself Greg. Wears a bowler hat.”
Ryan raised his eyebrows in surprise. The image on SARA of the man in the bowler hat striding through the marketplace flashed through his mind. “I’ve seen him,” Ryan said.
“Where?”
SARA projected the video file onto the wall. Ryan concentrated on the image, and this time noted the smooth ivory skin, just like Yamada’s and Offenheim’s. Whoever he was, he was an elite.
“That’s him,” Fiona said.
“What did he say to you exactly?” Ryan asked.
Fiona fidgeted with the cuff of her shirt and said, “I was taken aside one day by the guards and led to a room near the marketplace. Three men entered the room – two soldiers, and Greg.”
“What did the soldiers look like?”
“I can’t remember. Maybe black hair, medium height.”
“Clothing?”
“Military, green like you see on the news. Red badge on the shoulder.”
Ryan nodded. He could rule out Black Skulls. Possibly another of the families. Prendergast. It had to be. It would explain the British accents.
“Tell me about Greg. Did he have an accent?”
“Posh.”
“What else? Anything unusual about him.”
“His skin was flawless, no freckles or marks.”
“Fits with the posh accent. Can afford the best skin care.”
Fiona pursed her lips in agreement.
“Any other details?”
“Why the sudden interest in Greg?”
“Because not knowing where I am is driving me crazy. But above that. I need to know who runs this place.”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Of course it matters.”
Fiona raised her eyes and met Ryan’s. She appeared to look at him with pity. “I learnt a long time ago to let go of my hate. My anger. You hold onto those feelings too long; they eat away at you until there’s nothing left.”
“Normally I would agree with that philosophy, but I have to think of the bigger picture.”
Fiona frowned. “He told me to look out for you, keep you out of trouble, and I’ll get more free time and VIP meals.”
“Anything else?”
“I only saw him once more, when he gave me SARA to leave outside your door. That was two weeks ago, at least. It’s hard to keep track down here.” Fiona stood and glanced into his bathroom. “Nice. Whoever you are, they wanted you to be treated a bit different to us plebs.”
“What about Luther?” Ryan said. “He visited me several times.”
“He’s been here so long, he kind of has free range.”
“Is he part of the security?”
“Not really. More like an overseer, but I’ve never seen him mistreat anyone.”
Ryan mulled it over in his head. It was risky, taking Fiona. She had determination, but she needed to be silent and act fast. Follow orders. “Okay, you’re right. I’m planning on leaving tonight. It’s a big maybe. A lot must go my way. You’ll need a hazmat suit, though.”
Fiona nudged her bundle with her foot. “Who do you think smuggled one for you?”
“That was you?”
“I didn’t get the note. A friend did and brought it to me.”
“That was lucky.”
“Not so much. We have an Underground here, of sorts. Trading items, looking out for each other.”
“Does anyone know where we are?”
“Lantan Island is the name the Underground keeps coming up with.”
“I found that out too. An exact geographic location would be handy.”
Fiona’s lips pulled tight. “You remind me of another guy that was here a couple of years ago. He was obsessed with knowing where we were too.”
“Did he get out?”
“No idea. People just disappear. One day they’re on rotation with you, the next, they’re gone. You learn to not think about it and carry on. That guy did learn something, though. He thought we were somewhere in the Pacific Ocean. Something about how salty the water was.”
That made sense to Ryan. He had helped his son Liam with a school project about the world’s oceans. Different oceans had different levels of salinity. The Atlantic was saltier than the Pacific and Indian, while the oceans around the polar regions were the least.
Again, this information wasn’t hugely helpful, but the puzzle pieces were beginning to fall into place.
“There’s something else I need to tell you. It could change your mind about coming,” Ryan said.
“Whatever it is, I’m sure it’s nothing compared to this hell.”
Ryan clasped his hands in front of him. He was unsure how to proceed, like he had been with Luther. But he had never got to tell the old fella. How did you tell someone that the world they knew was gone? No more shopping trips. No nights out at the theater or eating at a Michelin star restaurant. No package holidays to Spain, Jamaica, or Mexico. Their friends and family were more than likely dead.
He took a deep breath. “Before I came here, I witnessed a catastrophic event. We named it the combusting because that was the best way to describe it.”
“Combusting?”
“Fiona, the world you knew is gone…” Ryan hesitated. Nearly every human in the world had millions of nanites in their system, and OPIS had triggered a self-destruct signal so that you combusted into ash. It was a lot to take in.
“It would be easier to show you.” He grabbed a knife from his dinner tray and sliced open his forearm, grimacing at the pain.
Fiona gasped. “What are you doing?”
“Just watch.”
In seconds, the gash he had opened in his flesh congealed, the blood thickening. A tingling sensation traveled along his arm as the skin began to knit together. First it was a pink color, then it turned red, and, finally, white. He held out his arm to show Fiona. All that remained of the wound was a white scar of new flesh.
“By morning, the skin will be the same color.”
“What the hell?”
“It’s all thanks to nanites. Most of the world’s population has them in our bodies. An organization called OPIS triggered their self-destruct sequence, and billions died. I don’t know the numbers, but early estimates put the figure at two-thirds of the world’s population.”
Fiona plonked down on the bunk, her head in her hands. “Nanites?”
“Tiny robots. So small they’re on the nanoscale, hence the name.”
“That can’t be true.” Fiona shook her head. “This is just some bullshit you’re telling me so I don’t come. You could say no. I’m not an idiot.”
“I wish it were bullshit, Fiona. I really do.” Ryan handed her the knife he had used to slice his forearm open. She took it from his grasp and rubbed her thumb along the handle.
“Why are you giving this to me?”
“I want you to stab me.”
“What?”
“Stab me here.” Ryan jabbed a finger at his chest.
“Are you out of your mind?”
“Probably. It’s the only way to prove to you that I’m telling the truth. Don’t worry. I’ll heal.”
Fiona dropped the knife like it was radioactive. “I’m not stabbing you. There’s no need.” She held his gaze. “Where I first meet you, those people strapped to the gurneys…” Fiona shook her head again, her voice trailing off.
“We call them Siphons. The nanites in their systems have corrupted data, and that’s the result.”
Fiona pulled at her hair with her fingertips, choking back sobs as the enormity of what she was being told hit her like a king tide.
“My parents? Friends. Are you saying they’re all dead?”
“I’m sorry, but the possibility is high.”
“How do you know all this?”
“I work for an agency called LK3. I was retired, and then this happened. We managed to stop the second and third waves – stop them killing more people – from happening in North America, maybe South America too. I never found out. I was captured and brought here.”
Fiona wiped her eyes and jumped off the bunk. “I need to let the Underground know.”
“Outside there,” Ryan motioned to the ceiling, “it’s all changed. Even if we can stop OPIS from completing their plans, any survivors will fight for control of whatever’s left.”
“OPIS?”
“They’re the organization we believe is responsible.”
“One organization did this?” Fiona shook her head. “Bullshit.”
“I wish it was.”
“Bullshit. This is some conspiracy-level stuff. Even if what you’re telling me is true, that would take years to plan.”
“Decades. Think about it. This place. The Siphons. How can someone keep this slave factory secret?”
“That doesn’t mean they could cause millions to die.” Fiona shook her head again.
“I can’t think of a way to convince you.”
“Good luck with escaping.” Fiona stopped in the doorway. “I’ll talk to the Underground.”
“If you fight the security, take their taser batons. An electrical charge stuns the nanites.”
“Thank you,” Fiona said. She turned and disappeared down the corridor.
Ryan waited an hour before making his way into the abandoned section and slipping inside the unused silo. He slowly made his way up the empty stairwell to the abandoned admin sector for the section, careful to keep to the edge of the treads, to make his tracks less visible.
Plastic sheeting covered the computers and desks. The chairs had been stacked neatly against the walls, still in their factory wrappings. The control room was a mirror image of the admin sector he had been held in by Oxbridge. The radio nook was in the same corner. He flicked on a few switches, but the lights and screens remained dark.
Ryan squatted next to SARA and plugged in its charging cable. “Keep sending the locator beacon. I’m going to be away for a long time, but I’m coming back for everyone here.”
“If you plug me into the aerial port, my signal will be stronger.” There was a soft pop sound as a flap opened on the robotic dog’s side.
Ryan uncoiled the cable and plugged it into the main radio console. “Thank you, SARA.”
As Ryan left, a pang of guilt washed over him. SARA had been crucial over the last couple of weeks, but he didn’t think it was designed to swim, and it was too heavy for him to carry.
The night was calm and cool when Ryan exited the desolate silo and made his way once again into the city. He picked his way over rusty bikes and other refuse humanity had left behind. He stopped at every intersection and stairs, straining his ears. No sounds of pursuit, and no hounds. This time he took a circuitous route down to the waterfront, retracing where Luther had taken him. He half expected the old man to be in the harbormasters office when he entered. Ryan pulled up a chair, turning it so he had a decent view of the ship currently in port. He spotted the cranes loading the last few containers, the crew scrambling around on the deck, getting the ship ready to sail.
As he settled in to wait, his thoughts returned to the question that had plagued him since The Eyrie. Why had Cal betrayed him? Booth had tried to warn him that her return was too convenient, that she needed to be properly debriefed. Ryan cursed his stupidity again. Love made you do crazy things. It clouded your judgement even though you knew the truth. Was that why partners forgave each other for their infidelities?
It still stunned him that his life with Cal had all been a lie. That she had been with him to serve a purpose – to infiltrate Offenheim for her father, Alastair Prendergast, carrying out a plan he had set into motion twenty-seven years previously. Talk about playing the long game.
The floor under his feet vibrated as the ship pulled away from the dock. The guide wires and pulleys hummed to life, straining and creaking as the fully loaded vessel crept its way out to sea. Ryan jumped up and slunk down the stairs, breaking into a slow jog. The red light on the buoy he had to swim to blinked from its position one hundred meters offshore.
As Ryan rounded a bend, he skidded to a stop. A tall figure wearing a bowler hat blocked his way. The figure moved into the light and tipped his hat.
“Mr. Connors. I would rather you stay on the island if you please.”
“Greg? I presume.”
“Indeed, though I prefer Gregory Prendergast. GP for short.”
Ryan scanned the area behind and to Gregory’s side. He could just pick out the four heavily armed security, hiding in the shadows. The water was only ten meters away. Maybe a couple of bullets would hit him. He turned back and glanced at the ship. He still had time.
“Funny thing is, I don’t recall your name in our records of your family.”
Gregory snickered. “Like your wife, I am the product of my father’s nocturnal liaisons.”
“So they shipped you off here. That’s got to hurt.”
“What we are doing here is important work for the future,” Gregory said, gesturing to his security team, who stepped into the light.
“What is this place?”
“Come now, Mr. Connors. You’re a smart man.”
“A factory? A slave camp?”
Gregory snickered again. “It was necessary. Everyone will be released in due course.” He signaled to two of the men. They moved forward, handcuffs in hand. Ryan waited until the men were behind him. Amateurs.
One of the men grasped his shoulder while the other fumbled with the cuffs. Both were standing too close, and he used that to his advantage. Bringing the heel of his foot up, he lashed out, connecting with a shin. The guard holding the cuffs dropped them and cried out. Ryan didn’t stop. In one motion, he reached behind and snapped the other guard’s wrist, then pivoted around the man and used him as a shield. As he expected, gunshots rang out, thumping into the guard he had ducked behind. The guard’s grunts sounded more like they were from shock than pain.
Ryan took his sidearm and returned fire, but instead of aiming for the security, he shot Gregory, hitting him in the chest. Gregory toppled over, confusion etched on his face. The two security guards stopped shooting, frozen by indecision.
Ryan motioned for them to stay back and crouched next to Gregory. He was fumbling with a white handkerchief, trying to stem the flow of blood.
Ryan placed the VP9 to Gregory’s temple. “What is the Prendergast plan?”
“I can’t tell you that.”
“Why? It’s not like you have much choice.” Ryan pressed the muzzle harder, earning a wince of discomfort.
One of the guards started to lift his rifle.
“Don’t,” Ryan warned.
The guard hesitated a few seconds before letting the barrel drop. Instead, he spoke into his radio.
“The Prendergast plan, Gregory. What is it?”
“It doesn’t matter.”
“It does to me. I want to know why my wife betrayed me, her daughter, and her friends. What was worth more than that?” Ryan moved in front of Gregory, keeping his gun leveled at his head.
Gregory barked out a laugh and tried to sit up. His strength was returning. “She betrayed you because you worked on a ship of fools.” Gregory tossed his bloody handkerchief at Ryan. It bounced off his chin and fell inside his overalls.
“Get him, you morons!” Gregory let out a high-pitched scream before Ryan silenced him with a bullet to the head.
Ryan then shot the guard who, moments ago, had raised his rifle, and ran toward the water. At the edge, he skidded to a stop and spun around, facing the remaining men. In the distance, he could hear the thumping of boots and the growls of the hounds. For his plan to work, they had to think he was dead. He risked a quick glance over his shoulder at the looming ship.
The guards opened fire. One bullet, then three, and a fourth hit Ryan. He gasped as each slammed into him and dropped into the water. The cool liquid washed over him as he fought through the pain and kicked deeper into the murky shadows. Bullets whizzed through the water around him.
He had taken a chance that the security forces hadn’t kept up their skillset. They had grown complacent, too used to the tedium and boredom of guarding a mainly docile population. It was a risk he’d had to take, and one he’d taken many times over the years.
Ryan popped up next to the buoy and gritted his teeth, hanging on. The Red Shields were sweeping the water with bright flashlights. Ignoring the discomfort of his healing gunshot wounds, he swam away from the buoy, keeping as low as he could. The ship churned next to him, and he donned the gloves he had made earlier.
When he was planning his escape, one thing had stood out. How was he going to get on the ship? It had struck him while cleaning up in the bathroom: magnets. So he had pilfered the magnetic catches on the linen cupboards in the unused silo and duct taped them to a spare set of gloves. Breathing out, he whacked his hand against the side of the ship and prayed that the magnets were strong enough. The glove stuck fast. Ryan kept kicking his feet and tested his weight. It held until he lost buoyancy. He quickly attached his other hand and clung on, just above the waterline. The water began to chill his muscles, so he kept moving around the hull of the ship and held on as Lantan Island slowly disappeared into the darkness.
Hang in there, Fiona, Luther. Everyone. If I survive this journey, I’ll come back.
Sixteen
LK3 safehouse, Hong Kong
“Odd place to have a meeting,” Zanzi said as she stared at the map laid on the table in front of her. Hong Kong was a central location, but if OPIS was attacked by anyone, they had few options. She traced a finger up the Pearl River and into the middle of China. Someone could hide in there for a long time. She shrugged. What did she know of military tactics. “Don’t you think?”
Reid offered her another coffee, but she waved it away.
“Think what?” Reid said.
“Weren’t you listening?”
Reid added another sachet of sugar to his drink and smoothed down the corner of the map. “No, I heard. But it could be a perfect place, too. Wasn’t Hong Kong a smugglers’ haven at some point? Look at all these tiny coves everywhere.” He tapped his finger on Lamma Island. “They could have it here, in a mansion, anywhere.”
