2041 Sanctuary (Let There Be Light) (48 page)

‘I can tell you still need convincing, Professor Steiner. Perhaps a friendly face will be able to convince you.’

The wallscreen turned black before a window appeared containing an image of a dark skinned man with long black hair, twisted into two plaits that rested on either side of his chest. Steiner recognised the man’s weathered features straight away. They’d only met in passing, like ships in the night, but each had felt an affinity with the other; it was if they’d been friends from another time.

‘George Steiner,’ the Apache Indian said, ‘I fear we have seen better days than these.’

Steiner could hear pain in the man’s voice. ‘Norroso, it gladdens my heart to see you alive. After we met I wondered if you’d heed my warning.’

‘I didn’t want to hear your words. Dulce was my home. I left that night with my family, seeking safe harbour in a neighbouring state, believing your pursuers would not follow. I was right. But as the weeks passed I decided to return to my ranch and things returned to normal, or as normal as they could in this life of shadow. But then one day I was out getting supplies when a large earthquake shook the land. I rushed back to find my house had collapsed. My son and wife were both killed that day and ever since I have been a man without hope.’

Steiner felt his heart lurch in sympathy. Kuruk, the young boy he’d saved from Samson’s killing spree, had been full of life. His loss was hard to bear for those memories had been fresh in Steiner’s mind during his captivity. His thoughts had often turned to the boy and his father, hoping, praying they would follow his advice and flee the state to avoid the arrival of the next asteroid. And yet it had been for nought. The boy and his mother were dead and Steiner knew only too well that Norroso’s suffering meant his life was now without meaning or direction.

‘Norroso, I don’t know what to say, except that you have my deepest sympathies.’

The Native American continued. ‘After the tragedy, the depression left in the Earth was large. It confirmed the existence of the underground world that had existed beneath. You warned me of the danger I faced, but I did not listen. I did not want to listen and for that my son and wife are dead. That is when your friend contacted me. He told me the ground had shaken because of a nuclear bomb. He said that I could help you and right the wrongs done against my ancestors’ land.’

‘You’re the man in the truck,’ Brett said, stepping forward. ‘I saw you as we drove past.’

‘I am, daughter of the man of mist. Bic told me you might not make it through. I was there to make sure you did.’

Brett frowned. ‘You’re the person who stole my car and left me those messages.’

Norroso didn’t reply.

‘How did you escape the police?’ Eric said. ‘There were so many.’

‘With great difficulty and luck,’ the Apache replied, ‘and with your friend’s help.’

Professor Steiner didn’t like the feeling of being manipulated so easily, but it was clear the cyber terrorist was much more than a one trick pony. ‘Norroso, how did Bic find you?’

‘A vintage red pick-up truck is easy to find, Professor Steiner,’ Bic said. ‘DMV records are also easy to access.’

Steiner’s eyes narrowed. ‘You knew Joiner had already destroyed Steadfast and you said nothing?’

‘Would you have believed me, Professor Steiner?’

Bic had a point, but it didn’t ease Steiner’s concern. This hacker was as dangerous as they came. Whatever his end game was, Steiner would have to be very careful he didn’t end up as just another of his pawns.

‘So, Professor Steiner,’ Bic said, ‘your friend has confirmed that USSB Steadfast is no more. This takes away any suspicions you may have had about Malcolm Joiner’s claim. Will you help us now? Will you divulge your knowledge to us so we may prepare for events to come?’

Steiner looked at Jessica, and then Eric and Brett, before turning back to Norroso, who remained on-screen. A small part of Steiner had been holding onto the belief that Joiner might have been lying about destroying Steadfast, but Norroso’s testimony had removed that shred of doubt. Of course, Steiner could hardly feel aggrieved at Norroso for confirming the worst; the poor man had endured his own horrors.

‘I won’t stand in your way,’ Steiner said, ‘and if I can cause Joiner some discomfort, I will. But I cannot, and will not, tell you what I know. I’m sorry.’

Brett shook her head in disgust. ‘You sicken me, old man.’

‘Leave him alone,’ Eric said. ‘At least he didn’t nearly get us all killed!’

Jessica put out a hand to restrain the angry German.

‘Quiet!’ Bic said. ‘You have company.’

A red light flashed in the corner of the room, indicating an alarm had been tripped.

‘Until we meet again, Professor,’ Norroso said. His image disappeared as the screen switched off.

‘It’s likely the Peruvian police have come to investigate,’ Bic said, his voice emanating from his console once more, ‘or worse, the local militia. If it’s the latter they adhere to strict GMRC curfews. If they find you, they will shoot on sight. You must all hide. Quickly!’

♦

Brett Taylor adjusted her bulletproof vest and withdrew the silver revolver she’d confiscated from the newsreader. Checking it was loaded, she placed it on the desk next to her and then slid her own sidearm from its sheath. Professor Steiner and Eric moved to hide behind a desk while the lights in the room dimmed, perhaps at the hacker’s instigation. Bathed in shadow, she saw Jessica reach over and swipe her gun from the table.

With no time to reclaim it, Brett gestured to her. ‘Stay here, I’ll see if I can speak to them.’

Jessica looked scared. ‘Be careful.’

Brett thought it an odd comment.
Has she forgotten I ratted them out to the FBI back in the States?
She moved to the door with her gun’s safety on; she didn’t want to shoot an officer of the law, she was one herself.

The building they were in was a square two-storey affair and consisted of a collection of corridors and interconnecting rooms. They were on the north east corner on ground level.
If it is the police
, she thought,
they’ll check the exterior first for signs of forced entry
. That was where the problem came in as, while Bic had been able to partially disable the alarm system, Brett had been required to smash a pane of glass to get them inside.

Creeping down a corridor, Brett heard voices and the tinkle of glass. They’d found the door. Torchlight flashed across a wall and she stopped her advance. As an FBI agent she’d brushed up on her Spanish, but she couldn’t remember if all Peruvians spoke it. There was only one way to find out.

She switched on the corridor’s lights. ‘
Hola. Soy un agente federal de los Estados Unidos de América. Estoy investigando la escena del crimen
.’

Brett held her breath and heard some muttering before someone said, ‘
Mana intindinichu
.’

She cursed.
That isn’t Spanish
.

‘¡
Hark'ay
!’ someone else said. ‘¿
Imataq sutiyki
?’

She crept closer to the door and held out an open hand.

Gunshots rang out and Brett snatched her hand back. ‘Don’t shoot; I’m a U.S. federal agent!’

A flurry of furious commands came back in the same obscure language.

‘I have three terrorist suspects,’ she said, ‘please, don’t shoot!
¡No disparar!
’

‘Show them to us,’ a voice said.

At last
, she thought,
someone who understands
. ‘Okay, stay where you are and I’ll bring them out.’

‘No tricks,
señorita
.’

Brett ran back down the corridor to find the others. They were nowhere to be seen. Peering back the way she’d come, she saw a man duck his head through the door. He wore a police uniform. Brett held up a hand to him and he gave her a nod in recognition.

More shouting echoed down the corridor and the man disappeared to join in with his colleagues’ slanging match. They sounded scared and disorganised and Brett wondered if the policeman’s friends weren’t police, but militia. If that was the case they could all be in a lot of danger. She’d heard about the corruption and breakdown of law and order in the South American countries. Things could get out of hand very quickly if she wasn’t careful. The sound of a rifle being cocked reached her ears.

Brett slipped off her pistol’s safety and strode into another hallway, her eyes searching.
Where are they?
Jogging up a flight of stairs, she saw movement and trained her gun.

‘It’s me!’ Jessica said, a hand outstretched.

Brett lowered the gun a fraction. ‘Where are the others?’

Before she could answer, torchlight shone up the darkened stairwell and Jessica disappeared from view. Brett swore and followed, but the light behind vanished, forcing her to stop in a doorway. Feeling her way in the black, she found another light switch and turned it on.

♦

Jessica’s heart rate quickened.
Brett can’t be trusted.
She’d heard the FBI agent speak to one of the policemen, or whoever it was that sought them out. She would turn them over the first chance she got. Now that Brett knew Joiner had been responsible for her father’s escape, she would be after blood. The woman was single-minded. Jessica had met people like her before. They refused to bend, unable to let go of years of training and indoctrination.

Another gunshot reverberated through the building and she heard Eric call out. Disorientated in the dark, she found herself running forward.

‘Eric, she said, her voice hushed, ‘where are you?’

There was no answer.

Eyes straining to see, she bumped into a wall and she stopped to listen.

All was quiet.

The handle on her gun felt slick in her sweating palm and she adjusted her grip before moving on. Senses heightened, Jessica stepped into another corridor.

Powerful arms grabbed her from behind. Jessica screamed and her gun discharged. The dark lit up with a flash and a bang and she was released.

Strip lights blinked on down the corridor and halfway down Brett knelt with her gun trained on Jessica. ‘Put it down!’ she shouted.

A man in camos appeared beyond the FBI agent at the end of the hall, his assault rifle aimed at her back.

With no time to think, Jessica raised her gun and pulled the trigger.

Brett returned fire. Two shots in quick succession.

Silence followed before the sound of a body hitting the floor made Jessica glance round.

A policeman lay dead behind her, his pistol resting in limp fingers.

Brett turned to see the dead form of the other attacker felled by Jessica moments before. Standing, the FBI agent ran forward and grasped Jessica’s shoulders. ‘MOVE!’

Jessica felt dazed.
I’ve just killed someone
.

Another man appeared at the far end of the hallway. Letting out a cry of anguish, he picked up his dead friend’s automatic weapon and bullets flew.

Brett dived forward and propelled Jessica through a doorway. They hit the floor hard and both their guns skittered away into the dark. Brett lurched to her feet, but Jessica remained sitting, frozen in abject terror. The militia man appeared in the doorway, rifle aimed straight at her. He depressed the trigger; the gun clicked but failed to fire. The man struggled with the mechanism and Brett leapt to grab the weapon’s barrel. The two of them grappled before the gun discharged. Brett fell back into the corridor and the man unleashed a barrage of shots at point blank range. The FBI agent dropped to the floor and the man turned his gun on Jessica, who rolled aside, chased by bullets. The deafening onslaught stopped as the man’s clip emptied. In the half-light Jessica saw a glint of steel and she scrambled towards it. The man advanced, kicking tables and chairs aside as he switched out his magazine for another. He pulled back the cocking leaver and Jessica flipped onto her back and fired her pistol. One – two – three shots rang out. The man’s expression turned to surprise as he toppled sideways, blood gushing.

Jessica lay there for a moment in shock, revolver in hand.

‘Jessica,’ Eric said, appearing from nowhere, ‘are you okay?’

Professor Steiner stepped past him and helped her to her feet.

‘Are you hurt?’ Steiner said, bringing her into the light.

‘No, I don’t think so.’ Then she remembered. ‘Brett—’

They turned to the FBI agent who lay in the hallway, unmoving. Blood was everywhere.

‘Oh, my God.’ Jessica’s voice shook.

Professor Steiner put a finger to Brett’s throat. ‘She has a pulse.’

Brett’s eyes fluttered open and she reared up, gasping for air. She tore open her shirt to reveal a cluster of bullets embedded in her protective vest. Her fingers scrabbled at Velcro fasteners and Steiner helped her remove the bulletproof jacket and her breathing eased.

‘But the blood,’ Eric said.

‘It’s not hers.’ Jessica pointed a shaky finger at the dead body of the policeman Brett had saved her from before.

Waving away their assistance, Brett struggled to her feet and stood bent over with her hands on her knees.

‘I owe you my life,’ Jessica said, moving closer.

The agent stared up at her before her eyes grew wild. With a snarl, she surged forward and Jessica found herself slammed against a wall with thick fingers crushing her throat.

Before Eric and Steiner could react, Brett hauled her to the prone body of the Peruvian police officer and Jessica was held down to look into the man’s unseeing face.

‘Look what you made do,’ Brett said, between clenched teeth. ‘LOOK!’

Jessica turned her head away, but Brett forced it back. ‘I told you to stay where you were, I had it under control!’

‘You were going to turn us over to them,’ Jessica said, looking into the dead man’s eyes. ‘I heard you.’

Brett gave the back of her head one last shove and released her. ‘You heard shit; you put me in danger, that’s what you did, acting the fucking hero.’

All Jessica could see was blood on the floor, on the walls … on her hands. The taste of bile built at the back of her throat.