Legacy of a Mad Scientist (41 page)

"Loose ends," Ashley said. "We're just loose
ends.”

"You're not 'just' anything," Ross said. "They want
me, Mr. Reid, and a couple of other guys, we're loose ends. You are
about profit and power. We stay together, we stay alive, and we go
to Canada.”

"I don't want to run. I don't want to go anywhere,"
Ashley said.

"I want my old life back and I want them dead." Ash
said, coldly.

Both Geoff and Ross remained silent for a few
moments.

"In the trash cans," Geoffrey said. "Under the
garbage bags.”

"What?" Ross asked.

"In the bathrooms, that's where we put the guns,"
Geoff smiled.

Ross nodded and smiled. "I've mapped out the best
escape routes.”

He laid out some local maps, showing the nearby
streets and buildings. "There's a twenty-four hour public parking
structure here. If you have to detonate this place, go there." Ross
pointed to a square four blocks from their location. "And another
one here," Ross pointed to a second location, on the other side of
the map.

“Whichever direction you find yourselves going, just
go. You can get to either of them almost unseen by taking this
street and this alley, here." Ross laid out the trail with his
finger on the map. "I traced it yesterday. Once you get there, in
each garage is a black transport. Ditch the sedan.”

Ross handed them an electric key. "Hit the button and
the closest one will come to you.

"We're going to be the Roberts family, Ashley, your
new name is Erin. Geoff, you are Michael, and I am Michael Senior.
Once we're over the border, we pick up a second set. All we have to
do is get there.”

"Did you get a chance to check on the security
footage, at our house?" Ashley asked.

"I checked. The house looks secure, but I spotted
three roving patrols and two stationary units. It was too dangerous
to go inside.”

"We should just go after them, find out who they're
working for.”

"It's not that easy?"

"We can't just let them get away with it," Ashley
argued.

"They already did," Ross said.

"What's the point of learning how to fight and
fortify your base, if you're just going to run all the time?" Ash
asked.

"You're too young," Ross said.

“They know you're helping us. They're going to have
the borders covered. They won't be expecting us to attack.”

"They will destroy any evidence we don't already
have. As much as you may want this, we don't have the
resources.”

"I'm not leaving," Ashley was serious.

Geoff looked at her, shocked.

"I'm going after them. My father was a good person.
He never hurt anyone and our mom was super-nice. They killed her,
and I'm not just going to run away and forget. I'm going to find
out who did this, and I'm going to stop them!”

Geoff and Ross were both quiet in the wake of her
determination.

Finally, Ross spoke. "We still have some time, and we
need to be prepared to escape at any moment, but there is such a
thing as overwhelming firepower and the odds are against us.”

"Maybe we can use the Micronix to get the footage,"
Geoff suggested. "We just need to move to a better wired community.
There's not enough bandwidth here for me to get inside.”

"We need to set a trap,” Ash said. “Catch someone who
knows something and make an example out of him. If they're staking
out our house, then let's grab one of them. I'll make him talk. You
don't have to do anything." Ashley was dead serious.

"For one;
You
are Insane. For two; too many
things can go wrong. There's too few of me here to try that. I
appreciate your motivation, but you're still kids. Maybe we'll try
Geoff's plan, tomorrow, maybe. End of discussion," Ross said.

Tuesday Evening, July 28, 2308

Secretary Croswell, lounging on Stanwood’s couch,
used his Micronix amplifier to handle the digital day-to-day
requirements of his office. He was caught up before lunch and spent
the afternoon getting a jump on the next day. His helmet sat on the
coffee table.

The battle suit supplied all the nutrition he needed
in the form of Dr. Fox’s Super Blue Healing Goo. Between panels,
Croswell carried more than two gallons of the thick syrup. The
noontime injections in each hip surprised him, but as the goo
replaced the sensation of pain with one of pleasure, after a few
moments, only the fading adrenalin dump caused by the initial
surprise remained.

Croswell heard Stanwood begin to stir late in the
afternoon. At six, another injection would be triggered, unless had
settled this dispute and gotten out of the damn suit. Frustrated
and angry; Croswell rose from the couch. He had long since turned
off the phase shift camouflage. If Stanwood had awakened, he would
have seen him, but that was the whole idea.

Croswell walked to the doorway between the
elite-shelf living room and bedroom.

Stanwood was half awake and sat up, shocked to see
Croswell standing there. “James?”

Without any warning, Croswell discovered he was
furious. He’d known Joe Stanwood almost all his life. And Joe
Stanwood had shot his friend, their friend, Andy Fox, who created
the blue goo that had healed Wendell’s smashed knee.

Without any sort of pause, before Stanwood could
speak, Croswell drew his weapon and fired. He didn’t just fire
once, or twice. Croswell shot Stanwood at least a dozen times. Then
he stepped onto the blood-splattered sheets and blankets and
grabbed Stanwood by the neck.

The intelligence director coughed and choked, gasping
for air through his ruined lungs and esophagus.

Secretary Croswell unsnapped one of the blue goo
tubes from the reservoir on his back. He smiled and sprayed
Stanwood with the blue goo.

“You didn’t have the balls to try this when we were
kids, Joey. So, here you go.” Croswell could see the goo stitching
Stanwood’s splattered organs and bone back together. He knew first
hand how painful the process actually was.

Stanwood tried to scream, but couldn’t, as he could
hardly breathe.

Croswell kept his old friend pinned with his left
hand on Stanwood’s throat. After a few minutes, it was clear that
Stanwood was breathing properly. “I missed your heart,” Croswell
said. “I can do better than that.”

“Stanwood tried to raise his hands. “Jim,
listen…”

“Listen to what? You fucking shot Andy, you
asshole.”

Croswell held the barrel of his weapon on the soft
spot beneath Stanwood’s ribcage and fired three more times.

Croswell’s face was in front to of Stanwood’s. “How
do you like that, you son of a bitch?”

Stanwood began to gag and sputter. It was clear he
was dying.

Croswell rose from the bed and doused Stanwood’s
ruined midsection with another liberal helping of the healing blue
syrup. The intelligence director would survive. He’d probably be in
even better shape than before Croswell shot him.

Stanwood convulsed as the polysynthetic nano-stem
cells did their work. He coughed up a considerable volume of
blue-tinted blood and bullets.

“You’ve still got a pretty high concentration of
syrup in you there, Joey. I think you can take a couple more. What
do you think?”

“No! No, no more!” Stanwood pleaded.

“Yeah, well, fuck what you think, you dick.” Croswell
aimed at Stanwood’s knee. “You pushed Wendell into the pool didn’t
you?”

“No! I swear!”

“Bullshit.” Croswell put three rounds through
Stanwood’s knee.

Stanwood screamed and cried, holding his knee and his
ruptured guts.

Croswell stepped away from the bed and reattached the
tube to his reservoir tank. “If I were you, I’d try and spit some
of that syrup onto your knee, cause I’m not giving you any more.
And I’d bet, you being the shit-bird you are, my money says you
don’t have an emergency reserve pack stashed here somewhere.

“And don’t take the crap they give you at the
emergency room. It’s watered down to nothing. Hell, you should call
your little butt-buddy Cedric. He’s got his own version of the
stuff. But be careful, I’ve heard his grape-mix doesn’t go well
with Fox’s blue nectar. In fact, this stuff has a tendency to turn
hostile against any sort of competitive nano-products.”

Croswell pulled out his phone. “Now shut up for a
second, I need to make a call.”

Stanwood actually tried to silence his pain-filled
whimpering but could only reduce the volume slightly.

“Kelly, hey it’s Jim. I’m over here at our friend
Joe’s place, and we have reached an understanding.”

Croswell looked over at Stanwood. “He’s going to take
a step back and drop this case. After all, he has plenty of real
work that needs doing, don’t you?”

Stanwood nodded.

“So, you guys are okay, nothing to worry about
anymore. Isn’t that right Director?”

Croswell held the phone out toward Stanwood, who
whimpered and cried, “Yes, yes, yes.”

Croswell returned the phone to his ear and listened
for a moment.

“Yes, of course.” He picked up his helmet and walked
toward the front door. “I will get them and bring them directly to
you, I swear. But don’t you think it would be better if we didn’t
need to go that route.”

Croswell listened for a moment then said, “No. It’s
just that coming back will be so much more difficult, you know
that.”

Croswell approached the front door. “Okay. I’ll talk
to you in a bit.” He disconnected the call and turned back to
Stanwood.

Croswell gave the suffering director the finger and
said, “Fuck off and die, Joey. Don’t even think about teaming up
with Bergstrom. If you go anywhere near D-Thirteen again,
President’s nephew or not, I will put a bullet in your head.”

Croswell walked toward Stanwood again, stopping at
the end of the bed. “I want you to listen me very carefully, Joe.
We’ve known each other a long time, and I have never bull-shitted
you, or bull-shat you, whatever.

“My point is; it’s time for you to resign. If you
don’t, President Conway is going have to hold his sister’s hand at
your funeral. Are you hearing me, over all that whimpering you’re
doing over there?”

Croswell drew his weapon and fired a single shot,
destroying the Director’s personal phone. He then put a round
through every terminal monitor in the condo. “Just in case I was
less than clear: Get the hell out of Angel City, shitbag.”

Croswell exited through the front door, donned his
helmet in the open courtyard and vanished into the darkening
sky.

Wednesday, July 29, 2308

The next day Ross, Ash and Geoff climbed out of the
transport outside an upscale park in a high class business /
residential district.

"Oh, this is great," Geoff said, looking at all the
trees and smiling.

"What, being out in nature?" Ross asked.

"No, the bandwidth, it's thick out here."

"This is not nature," Ashley mumbled, referring to
the floating structure they stood on.

"Wow," Geoff was amazed, grinning as he took a seat
on a nearby park bench. "Ash, you brought it?"

Ashley patted her back pocket.

"We can stay out here all day!" Geoff laughed.

"No, we can't. Stay on task, Geoffrey." Ross didn’t
even smile.

"Copy that, stay on target, Gold Leader." Geoffrey
grinned.

Ashley watched an older Chinese man practice Tai Chi
across the park. He seemed absorbed in what he was doing, as if
nothing in the world could disturb him. Ashley was envious of his
moment of peace. She hoped someday she would reach his esteemed age
and find a park of her own.

Two men walked along the sidewalk, distracting her
from the old man. Ashley watched them closely. They weren't
mercenaries or government agents, just executives taking lunch.
Ashley watched them, and the young woman walking opposite.

Ashley watched all the people moving through the
park. Ross watched too. Geoffrey sat between them, leaning back,
his eyes closed.

An hour or so later, Geoff took several deep breaths,
then spoke in a whisper, “You have to keep it. Keep it safe. There
is another. It wants to destroy it. The other, it’s pure evil. It
wants to kill us and destroy the Micronix.”

“What are you talking about?” Ashley asked,
quietly.

“Dad had it. He had both of them. But he doesn’t have
it now. It’s out here and it’s looking for us. It is The
Metachron.”

Ashley shook her brother by the shoulder. “Geoff,
Geoff. Wake up.”

Geoff blinked awake. “What? What happened?”

“Yeah, what happened? What were you just saying?” she
asked.

“I wasn’t saying anything.”

Ross glanced at Ash.

“I’m hungry,” Geoff said.

After a long and fruitless morning, the three of them
headed across the street for lunch at a local restaurant called
Four ‘n Twenty. The logo featured a blackbird breaking free from a
pie; Ash found it morbidly disturbing.

They talked about where Geoff was looking, and how to
look more effectively, but by the time lunch arrived, Geoff had
begun complaining of a headache.

Geoff remained distant during the meal, distracted.
Ashley suspected he was still in the network somewhere. Suddenly
his eyes rolled back in his head, and he crashed into the
table.

His nose bled, but it was unclear whether that was
due to his collision with his lunch, or if something more ominous
was responsible.

Ross paid in cash and got them out of the restaurant
as quickly as possible. After an extra hour of cruising the
freeways behind tinted glass, they returned to Saint Vincent’s.

Von Kalt’s phone rang, he answered it and was taken
aback. It was Director Stanwood, but it was his location that
caused his shock.

“What’s the situation, Deputy?” Stanwood asked,
rather formally.