The Phoenix Variant: The Fifth Column 3 (5 page)

Nasira wanted to leave as well, but that wasn’t an option right now. She’d be fine in the morning, she hoped. And besides, it was the middle of the night. And the middle of a blizzard. She could wait until tomorrow. She had to.

Nasira undressed herself and climbed into the bed. There were three heavy woolen blankets but she only needed one with the fire burning. She left the other blankets at the end of the bed in case it cooled in the morning. She drifted to sleep wondering if she’d done the right thing coming here.

The light from the fire flickered over Owen Freeman, the leader of the Akhana, etching deep into the lines on his face. He waved an unlit cigarette in the warm night air.

‘You’re our Phoenix, Sophia,’ he said. ‘You rose from your own ashes.’

‘I never asked what you meant by that,’ Sophia said.

The lines in Freeman’s face ran deeper. ‘You know what I mean.’

Sophia was shaking her head. ‘No. Tell me what it means,’ she said. ‘I need to know.’

Freeman’s face started to flake away before her, glowing like embers and turning to ash. Beneath the peeled face, a new one. Denton’s. His eyes burned into her.

‘You’re the lucky one,’ Denton said.

Sophia woke. Her body shuddered beneath the musty quilt. She gathered her breath and made for the bathroom. She intended to splash her face but ended up vomiting in the sink.

She showered, checked her ruck, and left.

The library opened at seven and she was there by five past. She found a computer and checked the address hidden in the webpage—it looked to be an apartment in Williamsburg, New York. The apartment seemed odd. And a bit fancy for Aviary. Usually they would meet publicly, either at a busy diner or an empty subway platform.

It was only a short walk from her motel to Penn Station in Baltimore. She booked a seat on the Amtrak to New York using some cash from her car fences. With her ruck on her back and her Glock and Gerber knives stowed inside, she boarded the train that would take her along the northeast corridor. To another Penn Station, this one in New York. She wasn’t happy about landing right in the heart of Manhattan. For someone in her position, it was the worst place she could wind up. But she kept breathing: she’d be on and off the island in no time.

Finding her seat against the window, she kept her ruck between her legs, wrapping a strap around her knee in case she dozed off. Which she never did. The ride would take two and a half hours so she settled in as the train prepared to leave the platform. The woman next to her pecked at a laptop on the fold-out tray. The tray rattled with each key press. Sophia tried to ignore it. Eventually she gave in and reached for Aviary’s iPod, choosing a playlist at random.

With her earphones in and the volume low enough so she could hear around her, she watched the train pick up speed and tear past the local stations. She wanted to go home. Except there was no home. In the last couple of months she’d travelled through more cities than she could recall, some for just a day, others for weeks, but none of them felt like home. She’d been doing it for so long she’d started to lose focus of what she wanted. America had been a country of changes for her.

Maybe she’d never feel like she’d belong anywhere. That’s OK, she thought. There was nothing wrong with that. It was just what it was.

Her thoughts drifted to Nasira, who was somewhere in Peru right now seeking out Lucia’s family. Nasira had become strangely fixated on finding everyone’s family. Well, not her own.

Damien and Jay, on the other hand, were busy doing babysitter work. Guarding moderately wealthy and powerful clients. Without an official military history it was of course difficult to prove their skills and experience, so the work came from other places. Organized crime, not-so-organized crime. Anyone who was paranoid enough to require outside protection, if they trusted that outside protection.

She thought of DC. Not for the first time either. He wasn’t on her side, but she treated him as though he was. And she wasn’t sure why. Not that it mattered—she hadn’t seen him since she put a round through him in Denver. She doubted he’d be pleased to see her again. Not that he ever has been, she thought, recalling his impromptu rescue in a Tokyo shipping yard. She hadn’t needed his help, but he had been there and it was nice having it.

It wasn’t long before the train got to the tunnel and then emerged in New York’s Penn Station. Sophia hit the street and headed east for a subway line that would take her closer to Aviary’s meeting point. The buildings around her seemed impossibly high and dense. It was fractionally cooler in New York than in Baltimore and she appreciated the warmth her jacket offered.

As she cut a path through the crowds, everything looked the same as it had during her last visit. She had to remind herself this country was in a state of seemingly permanent catastrophic emergency. The nation’s regular government had been discreetly replaced by an ‘enduring constitutional government’, which she supposed was just a more direct line for the Fifth Column. But as she walked the streets, no one seemed concerned by this. Or at least not aware.

Sophia didn’t stop until she reached Thirty-Fourth Street–Herald Square station. A flatscreen was perched above the subway entrance, advertising a crime TV series. She had trouble telling them apart so she assumed they were all the same show that her motel neighbors watched over dinner. She took the stairs and purchased a new MetroCard from one of the ticket machines. She didn’t know how long she’d need it, so she inserted a twenty-dollar note to be safe.

The train was packed and she stood near a man who made duck noises for most of the ride. After the train crossed the Williamsburg Bridge to make its first stop, he stood, looked at his hat, and said, ‘Really?’ And then he left.

The next stop was hers. The walk to Aviary’s meeting point was short. She’d arrived almost an hour early so she used the time to check the building. It was a new apartment building with eight levels. Maybe Aviary just moved in, she thought.

It had a car lot underground with one entrance at the front and one exit at the back. The lobby had three elevators and a door to the stairs that would connect with the car lot below and the levels above. She circled once, stopping to watch for surveillance—a simple matter of looking for anyone who was stationary for too long. Satisfied no one was, she moved for the lobby.

A woman not much older than her walked a few paces ahead. She swiped her fob and opened the glass lobby door. With half an hour to spare, Sophia decided to follow her in. There weren’t any cameras in the lobby or the elevator. She got out of the elevator on the same level as the woman but moved in the opposite direction. Once Sophia was sure the woman was inside her own apartment she doubled back for the stairs. Above the lobby, she didn’t need a fob for anything. She climbed two more levels until she reached the apartment Aviary had specified. She listened out the front for a few minutes but heard nothing except the muffled clang of kitchen utensils from next door. She reached under one arm, unzipped her ruck and found the grip of her Glock. With no cameras in the passageway, she moved the Glock to the front of her jeans.

She thumbed the lockpicks from her waistband and got to work seating the pins. The lock wasn’t terribly secure: she raked most of the pins and tapped the last one into place within a minute. She heard the cylinder turn so she gently tried the handle. The door opened.

Aviary’s apartment was larger than she expected. The living area was more a study area with two desks lined along the wall. She counted three laptops, their cables strewn across the desks and carpet underneath. One desk looked to be used primarily for electronics work. It was cluttered with smartphones, a digital multimeter, soldering station, pliers and tweezers. In the corner, a thick gas pipe ran from floor to ceiling, heating the apartment.

The couch and coffee table were bare, the television starting to collect a fine layer of dust. There was a balcony on her left, although there was really only enough room out there to stand. On her right, a neat kitchen, also with bare surfaces. There was a bookcase that ran along one side of the apartment, with no books in it. One shelf was dotted with ornamental candles, unused, but the others were empty.

Sophia locked the door behind her and drew her pistol. She moved through the apartment to the single bedroom at the end, clearing the apartment with her pistol held close. The powder room was untouched, just a toilet and basin and a packet of unopened toilet paper in the corner. She reached the bedroom and continued inside, moving along the wall, aiming her pistol to clear the far side. She found her barrel aimed at herself. The other side of the bedroom had mirrored closets and an en suite off to one side. The bed wasn’t made and the bedside table was littered with empty cups and cables. On the floor she noticed some discarded clothes. She recognized one of the T-shirts.

This was most definitely Aviary’s apartment.

She checked her watch. Still another twenty minutes.

Why would Aviary invite her to her own apartment? Sophia had taught her to be more careful. Standing in the bedroom, Sophia ran through as many scenarios as she could before realizing she desperately needed to pee. The en suite was cramped and filled with more personal cleaning products than she’d thought existed. She turned the light on and was almost blinded by a naked bulb that buzzed at her intrusion. She switched it off and sat in the dark—the light had kicked in the fan. She wanted to hear if someone entered the apartment.

Returning to the kitchen, she placed her Glock on the stone bench top, barrel facing the door, and looked around some more. There was a sponge in the sink. It was dry. A frypan on the stove, clean and dry. No utensils were out of place. A coffee-bean grinder with coffee grounds in it. She sniffed and quickly realized it wasn’t coffee grounds at all but iron oxide. She checked the dishwasher. It had a few plates and some cutlery. Aviary seemed to eat out a lot.

Taking the pistol, Sophia shed her jacket and sat on the couch to wait for Aviary. She imagined this is what normal people did, sitting on couches when they were waiting for someone. They probably watched television while they waited or played a game on their smartphone. Or checked their email online—
on the line
as Freeman used to say.

Sophia did none of those things so she sat patiently and thought of the possible reasons Aviary wanted to meet her. Her fingers ran through her wallet, checking its contents, revealing her photos once more.

*

The door closed, startling her awake. She grasped her pistol and aimed it one-handed at an intruder with fire-red hair.

‘Why are you already—?’ Aviary rolled her eyes. ‘Never mind. Sorry I’m late.’

Sophia lowered her pistol and stood. She checked her watch. ‘Twenty minutes.’

‘Trains were redirected.’ Aviary kicked off her sneakers and paused. ‘You didn’t black out, did you? That shouldn’t be happening anymore.’

‘No. I guess I dozed off.’ Sophia slipped her pistol back into her waistband. ‘Is everything OK?’

‘Yeah,’ Aviary said. ‘I mean, I’m fine. My shift ended late and I was really hungry and I wanted nachos but then I remembered the festival tonight so yeah, that’s my cool story.’

‘OK,’ Sophia said.

‘How’s Nasira, still in Peru?’

Sophia looked out the balcony window. ‘Haven’t heard from her. When she’s done, she’ll be back.’

Aviary emptied her pockets on the kitchen bench top. ‘And the boys?’

‘Running jobs,’ Sophia said. ‘The less we ask, the better.’

‘Why don’t they do some honest work, like you?’ Aviary said.

Sophia forced a smile. ‘Stealing cars? Trust me, their work pays better.’

Aviary grinned. ‘That’s because you’re stealing the wrong cars.’

Sophia noticed her wallet was sitting on the couch, part of Leon’s photo visible. She reached down to collect it.

‘You should never invite a terrorist into your home,’ Sophia said.

‘Really?’ Aviary said. ‘Because I’ve been doing that for weeks.’

‘I’m serious.’ 
Sophia noticed Aviary’s license on the kitchen benchtop. ‘Your name is spelled like a—’

Aviary raised an eyebrow. ‘Like a large enclosure for birds? Yeah, my mother liked birds. Really liked birds.’ Aviary quickly circled the couch to her desks. 
‘I have to show you this.’ 

Sophia noticed an assortment of colored iPhones and HTC Ones on the desks.

‘I’m not using a fucking iPhone,’ Sophia said.

‘I knew you’d be receptive.’ Aviary laughed. ‘That was kind of a half-hearted pun and I need nachos.’

Aviary flipped open one of her laptops. Sophia barely recognized the operating system, Kirin, developed by the Shadow Akhana a few years back. It looked like Aviary had made some significant changes of her own. But she didn’t mention it and instead pulled up a new window.

‘Google Maps,’ Sophia said. ‘Yeah, I know how to use that now.’

Aviary snorted. ‘Hang on.’ She hit a few more keys and buttons until she was satisfied. ‘Look at the overlay.’

Sophia stepped closer until she was beside Aviary. The map had zoomed out to encompass the United States. There were dots sprinkled across different states.

‘OK,’ Sophia said.

Aviary zoomed out more, until half the planet was visible. There were more dots across Europe. She zoomed in on one of the dots, somewhere in northern France. She kept zooming in until she could make out the building number and the street name.

The dot moved fractionally to the left, then stopped.

‘It’s live,’ Aviary said.

‘You’re tracking someone,’ Sophia said, leaning in.

Aviary couldn’t hide her grin any longer. ‘Not just someone.’

Sophia’s heart kicked up a few notches. She stepped back, fingers moving over her pistol grip. ‘Where’s this data coming from?’

‘The Fifth Column,’ Aviary said. ‘I’m pretty good,’ she added quietly.

Sophia just stared at the screen for a moment, trying to get a handle on what she was seeing. ‘This is … this is incredible.’

‘You said you wanted to find them, right?’ Aviary said. ‘And with all the Akhana spies dead, because people killed them and stuff, that was going to be kind of hard. The operatives’ RFID implants aren’t just passive tags. They also contain geolocation broadcasting capabilities. So presto, you can see where they are anywhere in the world.’

‘And it’s live? The whole time?’ Sophia said.

‘Yeah,’ Aviary said. ‘Well, it drops out sometimes, but not for long. Dependent on the Fifth Column satellites that track them.’

‘How many operatives are here? In this country?’ Sophia said.