The Omega Device (The Ha-Shan Chronicles Book 1) (12 page)

She-La led with a confident, stiff stride, her coat trailing behind her with a whimsy that accented her formal speech, “Lu-Yen is my brother, but he knows nothing. For you to understand, you must listen well.”

“I'm sorry,” Maggie said, struggling to keep pace with She-La's long legs. “But what does an
international artist
have to do with this? How is it possible you could know
anything
?”

“I know much, Ms. Doherty,” she said with a raised, pierced brow. “In fact, I have seen your work. It is quite good for a novice. You have yet to breach the market, but you will if you continue… or are not killed fairly soon.”

“That's encouraging,” Maggie said, her sarcasm mixing several, conflicting emotions into knot in her stomach.

“Yes. Unfortunately, we have little time for frivolity, but my compliment is genuine.”

She led them into a windowed sky-walk that passed through a parking garage. Maggie glanced into LAX's darkness to see the blinking lights of runways and almost collided with a woman walking toward her. She apologized, hurried past. The three dodged crowds with a fury of speed, save when the occasional weary traveler wandered aimlessly in front of them.

She-La juked and weaved them around as she explained, “Ryusaki was not merely a businessman, nor am I simply an artist. As my father and mother before me, I am a member of a group known to few who may utter its name without fear of death.”

“Should we be worried you're telling us this?” Russell asked, recalling her threat.

“As I said, only for another without permission. Otherwise, there is no threat from my group. The others are your immediate worry.”

She pivoted past a dazed mother attempting to round up three, raucous offspring with a fourth in her arms.

“Time wanes, so listen carefully. The group who attacked you opposes my own. They are agents of destruction looking to control an ancient weapon hidden for millennia.”

She led them from the sky-walk, beneath the Tom Bradley International Terminal entrance.

“This weapon is a secret closely guarded since the dawn of man. The Protectorate are aware that you have found yourself in the middle of our conflict with Omega. The position you find yourselves in is most certainly one of life and death.”

They headed straight, for a door marked “Authorized Personnel Only,” in white stenciling. She-La shoved it open to a staircase beyond.

Russell and Maggie strained to keep up. Their feet echoed off concrete walls as they descended cramped flights of stairs.

“You are presented with three choices,” She-La said. “First and foremost, accepting death and allowing Omega to kill you.”

Russell silently questioned her use of the term, “choice.” “Not an an option to me.”

“Nor to I,” She-La agreed. “Though it
is
a possible choice
.
The second is to begin running in this moment. You can, and in that, hope you might hide long enough to outlive your attackers.”
 

“And the third option?” Maggie asked, disgusted.

She-La stopped at the bottom of the stairs. A door led onto the tar-mac, brightly lit by thousands of flood-lights along buildings and runways. Nearby, a small, black helicopter blended with the darkened sky, a figure inside its cockpit poised at the stick.

She turned to them with the utmost seriousness, “You may join us, and help to end this fight once and for all.” Russell and Maggie looked to her in mutual confusion. She assuaged it, “The Protectorate can aid you greatly in your plight.”

“How?” Russell asked.

“In exchange for your protection, the Protectorate will ask your help keeping and suppressing the secrets you learn. And
I
will need your help destroying the weapon,” She-La said, stepping in front of the door and looking to them.

“What?” Maggie asked, her face drawn into astounded disbelief. “How can you expect us to do that? We have no idea what's going on with your…
cult
. Frankly, I don't care.
”
 

She-La examined her with a wily eye, “We require someone new, less reputable than the others of our Order.” She hesitated before finishing her thought, “Someone who is…
expendable
should they fail.”
 

“What?” She put her hands out in defense, as if to push her away.

Russell was upset at the insinuation, “Wait a minute we're not part of your
group
. And from what you say, you already have the ability to do what you're asking. Instead of just helping us, you're forcing us to join you, and do something we're wholly incapable of doing. Where's the logic in that?”

She-La sighed, irritated at the extended need to explain, though her voice did not change, “As much as you are right, you are also wrong.”

“
How
?” Russell pressed.

“Our group is divided,” She-La explained hurriedly. “Within our ranks is a schism; one which long-time members cannot hope to act on without fear of retribution. What we need are agents of decisiveness. Someone new that will not lose much from challenging the Order's authority. Someone that might convince the others to destroy the weapon, or do it themselves.”

“What? How are we—you want
us
to put our lives on the line for something we have no stake in? Why would we do that?” Maggie asked, outraged.

She-La was getting impatient. “I promise you there is no risk of physical retaliation from us should you fail. Even bringing the argument to the Order presents little risk. If you agree to my terms, I will tell you everything, but we are wasting time now.”

Russell sneered, feeling manipulated, “Why should we trust
you?
”

She-La looked desperately between them. She grimaced, reached beneath her jacket and shirt to remove a large chain that hung loose on her narrow shoulders. A circular cut of stainless steel slid around it at an awkward angle. The chain hung through a hole in the center of its edge. She balled it up, slid it into Maggie's hand, whom examined it with a strange curiosity.

“It's… a tube vise, but it's missing the nut,” Maggie said, looking up in confusion.

“It is my most prized possession,” She-la said with an odd sentimentality. “I removed it from my first hand-made machine after it had become stripped. The machine was long ago retired, but helped me rise to my current status. It is yours now. Consider it a gift of good-will, and take it knowing that
I
wish for you to help us.”

Maggie's features drew a sudden reverie, “You're just going to hand  this over?”

“I need your trust. It is a small price to pay to gain such a thing so quickly.”

Maggie looked it over once more with curious eyes before her gaze drifted back up. She exhaled her apprehension, “I trust you, She-La, and I'll help you, but I need you to help me first.” She-La gave her a nod to continue. “My shop, it's being watched—”

“Your friends will be well cared for. No harm will come to them. Your shop will remain as it was when you left it. This much I promise, but I fear you underestimate the task ahead of you.”

Russell protested, “I don't know if I like where this is going, and I'm not sure if—”

“Russell, what choice do we have?” Maggie asked. “You said it yourself; we do what we can to survive. We're only guaranteed one chance at survival,
here.
We'd be stupid to take any other option.”
 

Russell countered, “This isn't what we came here to do.”

“Isn't it? We came to seek aid from anyone connected to Ryusaki. This is the only way to stay safe.”

Russell looked her over. She was right; they'd been caught in a deathly web, and only She-La or her people might help shake it loose.

Maggie mirrored his earlier sentiments, “We're being forced to survive or die. If this is what we have to do, then whatever they need
is
a small price to pay.”

She-La looked them over impatiently, “In either case, you must choose now. Beyond this door there is no returning. Otherwise, leave and take your chances at running.”

“And if we agree, you'll tell us what's going on?” Maggie asked.

She gave a slight bow of her head, “You have my word.”

Maggie was satisfied, but she looked to Russell. Placid curiosity filled his face over tightened urgency, reflecting an inner-struggle he seemed to be caught in.

“We're already in this,” he relented in irritation. “But I want
everything
you know.”

She-La turned for the door, shoved it open with both hands, and held it for them. Maggie slipped the chain around her neck and stepped past. Russell hesitated. He took a deep breath, looked to his feet.

The symbolism of a point of no return and a doorway of the same was not lost on him. He wondered if She-La had planned it, or if it was a simple coincidence. With everything going on, he decided he didn't care. He took a deep breath and stepped toward the tarmac.

11.

Nevada

October 1
st
 

01:30 AM

Protectorate Transport, Mojave Desert

The helicopter's blades chopped the air loud enough to muffle everything beyond the trio's stereo headsets. They'd entered the awaiting helicopter and immediately ascended to traverse LA's neon glow. In time, it disintegrated into darkness, the helicopter destined for a blackened obscurity.

The perpetual midnight of a Nevada desert had enveloped them since. The only external light now was from stars that shone unhindered and unequaled.

“Where are we going?” Russell asked into his headset.

“There is a small airstrip in the Nevada desert,” She-la replied. “We will outfit you there.”

He squinted across the small cargo-section at She-La, “Outfit?”

“You will understand when we arrive,” She-La said dismissively. “The important thing is to recognize you are no longer safe anywhere. If you linger, Omega will find you.”

Green-lit instrument lights shined backward from the cock-pit across one-half of Maggie's face, “You said this has something to do with a weapon?”

“Yes, the Protectorate and Omega have been in conflict over it for more than a millennia.”

“
Who?
”

She-La replied, “For now know this; those hunting you are known as Omega. The Protectorate—my people, know only that they exist. Their strike-force is hunting you, aided by an endless trail of resources. As much as we've tried to trace it, it leads nowhere. Omega is a shadow within a shadow.”

She flicked on a small flash-light and opened a thick file-folder beneath it, then passed it to Russell. Maggie leaned to examine a surveillance photo of four people moving in formation with raised weapons. She recognized the alley and Russell's smashed cruiser in the background.

“How did you get these?” Russell asked.

“We have resources as well,” She-La said, urging them forward.

“These are surveillance photos—a P-I?”

“No. Focus please,” she said urgently. “This the only
known
force within Omega's ranks. We have files on
them
, but given Omega's connections, there are doubts they are the only one.”
 

Russell looked up, “So what do they
want
?”

“The weapon,” She-La said simply.

“I meant with us. Why hunt people that know nothing?”

She-La looked to Maggie, “You did work on Ryusaki, but had never seen or heard from him before, correct?” Maggie nodded. “They must
have felt you were a threat. It is likely they saw you with Ryusaki and assumed you were in league with
us
. Committing to such a small threat
is
counter-productive unless it runs parallel to their goals. Lately, that appears to be eliminating the Protectorate. What did Ryusaki want done?”
 

“Some symbols,” Maggie replied.

“
What
symbols?” She-La asked, specifically.

Maggie nudged Russell. He dug through his bag for the two sets of photographed tattoos and handed them to She-La with the flashlight. She scrutinized them beneath the beam. Maggie was suddenly self-conscious; She-La was a pro scrutinizing a relatively simple piece of hers. The work itself was so embarrassingly simplistic it was hardly worthy of review.

She-La cursed in Chinese. Russell shot her a look, “Something wrong?”

“Yes. It is as we feared.” She examined them closer, “I recognize these tattoos.”

“Do you know their significance?” He asked expectantly.

“I do. It may also confirm why they want you dead—
both
of you.”

Russell squinted, “You can tell that from four photos?”

She-La handed over two of the photographs, “These two images are of Ryusaki's arms. He died with the ink still fresh. Fresh ink has a vivid coloring to it and the ointment's reflection is visible. With an experienced hand, these things are very noticeable. Inexperienced hands tend to make any ink degraded.” Maggie's face flushed, but She-La continued, “I recognize the other set because I did the work.”

Maggie and Russell's faces fell into interrogative stares, but She-La batted them away.

“This other man is Yoshi Miramoto, a close friend of Ryusaki's and also a Tokyo native. Ryusaki's visit required him to exchange information with Miramoto when Lu-Yen was gone for the night. My guess is Miramoto gave Ryusaki the information shortly before his death. Your work came next, and Ryusaki was later killed for the information.”

“And how do we fit in?” Maggie asked.

She-La's suppositions flowed, backed by an asserted confidence, “If Omega's true aim is to eliminate the Protectorate, the information Miramoto gave Ryusaki would have been high-priority. It contained details on safe-houses and contacts critical to the Order. If Ryusaki was under surveillance after Miramoto's death, Omega would have seen you with him almost directly following the meeting.”

She paused, leaned in closer so they might see the gravity in her face.