The Phoenix Variant: The Fifth Column 3 (27 page)

Nasira crossed the roof of Grand Central the same way she’d escaped. This time, she was alone and the hurricane was at full strength above her. The wind chilled her body through her jacket. Drenched, she lowered herself to the skylights by dangling from an internal ledge, dropping to a narrow column and then hanging from the column. The drop from the column was just short enough that she could land and absorb the impact by simply bending her knees.

She needed to get inside Grand Central terminal without being spotted on camera. Before her, arched windows were protected by wrought-iron barriers. The hurricane had smashed one barrier through an arched window, breaking it and granting her access.

She crawled through and found herself high above the main concourse of Grand Central. She was standing on a long balcony that ran from east to west.

Below her, the main concourse was eerily empty and quiet except for the drum of rain outside. A four-faced opalescent clock marked the center of the concourse. The east and west ends both had stairs that led up to the mezzanine floor. On the east, a café. On the west, an Apple Store. On the north end she could see four sets of escalators that fed into the MetLife building. She saw no sign of operatives, not that she imagined they would be standing somewhere she could see them. She figured they would mostly be concentrated in the lower concourses, placed strategically so they would see her before she saw them.

She moved to the center of the balcony, wiped her wet hands on the inside of her jacket and removed the first iPhone from her pocket—one with a red cover. She used the roll of duct tape she’d taken from the office space and fixed the iPhone to the balcony with the wide lens angled outward. She slowly scrunched up a ball of tape and placed it under one end of the iPhone, angling it down to face the main concourse.

With that done, Nasira activated the camera using Aviary’s custom camera app and was pleased to discover the lens was wide enough to capture the entire concourse from end to end. She got down on her stomach to give herself some cover from below, then hit the transmit button and added Aviary’s phone and her own. She checked her own phone and found the feed coming through nice and clear.

She noticed there were two video feeds on her phone now. She swiped across to the new feed and realized it was the feed Sophia was sharing with both her and Aviary. She could see an almost three-sixty degree view of Sophia walking into the Astoria with DC and her new operative friend. Her screen could only show half of the three-sixty degrees at a time but Nasira could move her thumb to pan around behind Sophia, past her leg, to the street behind her, viewing the phone’s multiple cameras seamlessly. It looked like Sophia and DC had arrived in a Marauder armored—

Nasira froze in position, lying along the edge of the balcony, as the information booth in the center of the main concourse opened and an operative stepped out, followed by another. They moved with purpose to the west end of the concourse. Nasira didn’t retreat; she stayed in place until they disappeared from view, down one of the passages to Lexington Avenue.

She glanced back at her phone and switched to the map.

The operatives were peeling off. Moving north. In pairs.

She crawled to her knees and watched as another pair moved away. Denton was pretty confident his captives—Jay and Damien—weren’t going anywhere. He probably had his remaining Blue Berets standing guard.

She needed to get to the fiber cable, fast.

Sophia woke in a hotel room, by the looks of it some sort of presidential suite. She blinked to sharpen the edges of her vision. She was sitting in a cream chair, her wrists strapped to its polished wooden arms. Her ankles were strapped to the legs. Sitting in front of the ornate fireplace was Czarina. She was tied in a similar fashion.

Rain drummed the windows, obscuring what on any other night was likely an incredible view of New York City. Two Blue Berets sat on the crimson-and-gold-striped chairs at the other end of the suite. They watched in silence, masks on. Their presence unnerved her.

The Commander wasn’t taking any chances with her captivity.

‘If we survive this,’ Czarina said, now awake, ‘I think I’d like to go dancing somewhere. On a beach. And drink out of a coconut. That would be really nice.’

‘Are you OK?’ Sophia said.

Czarina nodded slowly. She looked drowsy still.

Sophia glared at the Berets. ‘At least they didn’t kill us.’

One of the Berets tilted his head. She wondered if perhaps he was reconsidering.

The door to the suite burst open. It was DC. He moved inside and closed the door behind him. He stepped between her and the Berets. He was carrying a carbine in one hand, pointed down. The Berets started to stand, alarmed by his urgency. DC strode toward them. Sophia noticed his left hand grasped his sword, slung between his back and her ruck, which he was carrying on both shoulders.

‘Have they been talking to you at all?’ DC asked the Berets.

‘No—’

DC drew his tachi sword and ran it through the Beret’s neck. The other Beret was on his feet, carbine swinging to fire. DC used his sword to knock the carbine clear.

DC thrust his sword into the disarmed Beret. The blade fractured the Beret’s armor and moved deeper. DC used the barrel of his own carbine to remove the impaled Beret from his sword. He finished with a stroke across the neck.

‘You’ll probably need to sharpen that sword later,’ Czarina said.

She watched him wipe the blade across the fabric of a nearby chair.

‘Why did you do that?’ Sophia said.

DC sheathed his sword and approached her.

‘I guess I’m stupid enough to care,’ he said.

The words were off-hand but she felt them move to something deeper.

DC used a knife to sever the plasticuffs around her wrists. Blood flow prickled into her fingers again.

‘You didn’t care about
them
much,’ she said.

DC grimaced. He cut the plasticuffs around her ankles. ‘Everyone pays for ignorance,’ he said. ‘Sooner or later.’ He dropped her ruck from his shoulders. ‘Your pistol and phone are inside.’

Sophia grasped the comfort of her own Glock again and covered the closed door. DC freed Czarina and helped her to her feet.

‘Are we escaping?’ Czarina said, her words slurred. ‘Where are we?’

DC shot Sophia a concerned glance. ‘You need to deprogram her properly.’

‘I’ll pencil it into my busy schedule,’ Sophia said. ‘Right now we have to get out of here.’

‘Actually no,’ DC said. ‘We have a bigger problem.’

She met his gaze. ‘Denton.’

Nasira stepped into the Campbell Apartment, a neo-Florentine cocktail bar with a vividly hand-painted ceiling, stone fireplace and a lavish scarlet palette. Like the rest of Grand Central terminal it was still lit, although dimly, and a trickle of light bled in from the wall-sized stained-glass window behind the bar.

Nasira spotted the camera in the corner. If someone was watching this particular feed then she was busted. She didn’t have the time to circumvent one stupid camera. Everyone’s lives were hanging in the balance so this was a risk she had to take.

She spotted the mahogany balcony above and climbed the stairs. She ran her hand along the wall, pausing when something rippled through her. She traced it down to a cluster of cables fixed to the skirting. She followed the cables to the other end of the balcony and found the ethernet ports Aviary insisted would be there. Nasira plugged in Aviary’s antenna and connected to it with a spare iPhone.

Sauron … Connected.
Digging into the phone’s settings, she switched the Personal Hotspot on and made sure to toggle Hijack so Aviary could access the network directly.

‘Got it,’ Aviary said into her earpiece.

Nasira hit the button under her soaked T-shirt. ‘Do it quickly. They’ve already moved out.’

‘OK, gimme a minute,’ Aviary said.

Nasira couldn’t let the iPhone stray too far from the antenna while Aviary was working her magic, so she left it on the balcony, against the skirting where no one would find it.

She was tempted to visit the bar for some water, but it would be stupid to do that now when Aviary was minutes from disabling the cameras. She lay on the floor beside the phone and tried to reassure herself Jay would be OK. She figured she should use the minutes usefully so she checked the camera feeds on her own iPhone. The main concourse was still clear. She’d planted another iPhone on the mezzanine level, facing under the first camera feed so it would hit the blind spot and reveal anyone lingering out of view in the tunnels and ramps that led to the lower concourse.

She swiped from her two feeds back to Sophia’s feed.

It was gone.

‘Nasira to Aviary,’ she said into her mike. ‘You lost Sophia’s feed?’

‘Yeah,’ Aviary said. ‘Gone for a couple of minutes now. It just cut out so probably a reception problem.’

Nasira swallowed. The knot in her stomach was growing.

She switched to the map.

Six operatives were bunching around the Astoria. Only one lingered behind, at the south end of Grand Central. She figured the lone operative was keeping tabs in the control center. There was no movement yet, so the camera feed in the Campbell Apartment had yet to catch the operative’s attention.

The operatives started moving through the Astoria. Suddenly, Sophia’s location blinked to life.

That was a good sign, she thought.

Except Sophia’s dot was no longer outlined in orange. It was red. Her battery was almost toast.

‘OK, cameras out!’ Aviary shouted. ‘You’re clear!’

Nasira launched to her feet. ‘Copy that.’

‘Hey, can you leave the phone there?’ Aviary said. ‘I still want access.’

‘Why?’ Nasira pocketed her own phone and grasped her Glock.

‘A few minutes and I could hijack the security cameras—they see nothing, I see everything!’ she said. ‘Holy crap, why didn’t I think of this before? I’m glad we talked about this.’

Nasira moved down the stairs, quiet but fast. ‘Just keep an eye on everything and—’ she peered out of the cocktail bar onto the west balcony ‘—watch my back.’

‘I can do that,’ Aviary said, ‘but once you reach the lower levels I don’t know if I can talk to you.’

‘I know,’ Nasira said. ‘And when that happens, I know I’m on my own.’

A pair of masked Blue Berets threw Denton to his knees under a chandelier in the Basildon Room. Near the Parisian marble fireplace, Denton could see the ruck that contained the meteorite. Opposite it, two of his own operatives already bound and stashed in a corner. They had hoods over their heads, probably ear defenders plugging their ears too. Denton wouldn’t receive the same treatment. This Commander seemed eager to chat.

‘Predictable,’ the Commander said through his mask. ‘I would’ve expected a little more flair.’

Denton rubbed his thumb through the plasticuffs. He’d posted his two backup operatives in the building opposite the Astoria Waldorf hotel.

‘It’s early yet,’ he said. ‘I liked the flashbangs but I was hoping you’d fire off the gas just for a laugh.’ He peered down at his own chest, where a pair of swimming goggles hung. ‘I was looking forward to using these.’

The Commander’s tactics were familiar to him, and Denton had no trouble making it into the Basildon Hall with a pair of operatives. The Commander had set off the flashbangs when Denton’s operatives entered, and once he was surrounded by Blue Berets the Commander hadn’t even bothered with the CS gas.

‘It wasn’t necessary.’ The Commander removed his mask. ‘I’m sorry it’s come to this.’

Denton felt unexpectedly icy at the sight of the Commander’s face, but anger flushed through, warming him.

‘I almost didn’t recognize you,’ Denton said. ‘Did you …? New lips? Collagen?’

‘Think bigger picture.’ The Commander ran two fingers along the creases under his eye. ‘Not as remarkable as the regenerative effects of your more recent Chimera vector,’ he said. ‘But for what they had, the Nazis did a bang-up job.’

‘I thought you were dead,’ Denton said.

‘Like I said, they did a bang-up job,’ the Commander said. ‘I could have bled out on the snow or I could have lived to see the day I arrest my own grandson. Honestly, I’m not sure which I prefer.’

‘About that,’ Denton said. ‘Should have left the cellar door open.’

‘What did you say?’ the Commander said.

‘You blew my cover in Norway,’ Denton said. ‘You wanted me dead long ago.’

The Commander seemed caught between two states, as though Denton had frozen him by sheer will. If only there was a Phoenix virus for that too.

Denton smiled. ‘Guess you can finish the job now.’

‘All this time, you masqueraded as your own son,’ the Commander said.

‘They gave him Project GATE when it should have been mine,’ Denton said. ‘Also, there were other reasons but that’s my favorite.’

‘
I
gave him Project GATE!’ the Commander shouted. ‘And I gave it to him for a reason!’

Denton gave him a lubricated smile. ‘You’re right, the Nazi serum wasn’t half-bad. One little injection and I looked just like him, only somewhat more attractive of course.’ He withdrew his smile. ‘I killed your precious grandson.’

The Commander shook his head. ‘I protected you for so long,’ he said. ‘If I had any idea who you
really
were I would’ve—’

‘You would’ve what?’ Denton said. ‘Shot me back? Returned the favor? Given me a pep talk? Man to man? Jonathan Kent to Clark Kent?’

‘My time protecting you is done,’ his father said. ‘You will—’

‘Answer for my crimes?’ Denton said, reading his mind. ‘Really? That’s the best line you’ve got?’

‘They are crimes against humanity.’

‘These days it’s called a promotion,’ Denton said. ‘I was beginning to think it would never happen. Will there be a party? I’ll bring the cupcakes.’

‘It’s called a charade,’ his father said. ‘A charade you’ve maintained for two decades.’

‘That’s more or less why I was hired in the first place.’ Denton shrugged. ‘But faking your own death is fun, you should try it some—oh, you already have, haven’t you? Cheeky Daddy.’

Unlike the masked Blue Berets who flanked him, the Commander was armed with only his Colt .45 pistol. He raised it for the first time. To Denton’s head.

Denton tried to smile but he couldn’t be bothered. ‘Really?’

‘Don’t doubt me,’ his father said.

‘Oh I’m not,’ Denton said, finally managing a smile. ‘You’re doubting, I can read it straight from that antique head of yours. It’s like a big melon of … shame.’

His father’s finger moved into the trigger guard.

Denton wiggled his thumb. He was disappointed, to be honest. He expected something more. Something driving the man. But shame? That was not
something
.

‘Really?’ Denton said. ‘Of all the most insipid emotions, you’re ashamed? Well, I’m insulted.’

A vein in his father’s forehead quivered. He was thinking of squeezing the trigger but he couldn’t bring himself to do it. Denton knew he was safe. Especially as half the masked Blue Berets in the Basildon Hall were not in fact Blue Berets.

‘It was a lovely chat, Father,’ Denton said. ‘But I really should run.’

He rolled to one side, used one foot to kick the carbine from the nearest Beret and the other to strike the kneecap.

On both sides of his father, two Berets stumbled, blood spraying from arteries. Their carbines were taken, fingers kept in the trigger guard, and their magazines emptied at the Blue Berets guarding Denton.

When the firing stopped, Denton could hear a hissing sound. Something stung his eyes, burned his throat. His sinuses clogged with mucus. There was movement behind his operatives, near the fireplace. Near the ruck containing the meteorite. His vision blurred.

The CS gas.

He couldn’t reach for his goggles with his hands tied behind his back. He shut his eyes and waited for his operatives to put their own goggles and masks on first. They couldn’t help him until they’d helped themselves. He felt a pair of hands place goggles over his face then retrieve a mask from his suit pocket.

He was helped to his feet and his wrists unbound. He peered through his goggles. He could barely see a thing, his eyes filling the goggles with tears. His father lay crumpled before him, spluttering.

Denton coughed, scrambled for the ruck near the fireplace. The ruck looked empty now. He ripped it open.

It was empty.

He threw the ruck on the ground, trying to check the hall with his blurred vision. He pointed to the hooded operatives retching from the gas.

‘Untie them,’ he said.

His free operatives moved to untie their less fortunate associates while he stumbled out into the silver corridor and almost collapsed on the black and white tiles. He propped himself up against a grand piano, his throat and nasal passages in searing pain. Sophia, he thought. It had to be Sophia. He pulled his goggles and mask off, used his hands to wipe the tears and snot streaming across his face. He could barely think, let alone breathe. He reached into his pocket and found Jay’s pink iPhone. On it, Sophia’s location blinked.