Against Gravity (16 page)

One moment he was strapped to the basement couch, the next he was crouching in the shadows just behind it. The leather straps that had bound him now hung loose. He smelled blood, a powerful,
rich scent that filled his nostrils. His own blood.

Kendrick glanced down and saw the deep abrasions in his flesh where he had torn away from his restraints. Without volition, without thought. Now he was simply
here
.

He waited with his knees bent, his hands ready, like a hunter waiting for his prey to show. At least for now he was merely a passenger in his own body. Kendrick watched the door by the stairwell
in anticipation. The hate he now felt was cold, pure, artificial. Even though he understood that this feeling came from his augmentations, a means of tweaking and controlling the emotions and
desires of a fully augmented warrior, the hatred
felt
like his own – as if it had always been inside him, waiting to be tapped.

Hardenbrooke pushed open the basement door, the motion seeming slow and languid to Kendrick’s accelerated perceptions.

A fraction of an instant later, Kendrick found his viewpoint propelled towards Hardenbrooke so rapidly as to seem instantaneous, the medic’s eyes only noticing him when it was already far
too late.

Kendrick caught sight of the harsh metal glint of a spray ’derm gripped in Hardenbrooke’s fist. The medic’s fingers unfolded and the ’derm rocked there, miraculously
remaining in the cup of Hardenbrooke’s palm as Kendrick’s forward momentum slammed the other man’s back against the door, the rear of his skull slamming noisily against the
wood.

Kendrick watched his own hand slide upwards to grasp the medic around the throat.

“Was it you, Hardenbrooke? Did you kill him?” Kendrick snarled.

“What? Oh Christ, please, let go of me,” Hardenbrooke croaked in fright. “There’s been a misunderstanding.”

“I don’t think so. I think you were about to kill me too. I heard you both talking about how you know I met Smeby. So what’s going on here?”

Hardenbrooke twitched, struggling to breathe in Kendrick’s iron grasp. His mouth opened a little and Kendrick eased off the pressure so that the other man could speak. The spray finally
slipped from Hardenbrooke’s hand and clattered onto the floor.

Leaning over to one side, Kendrick reached for the spray. Hardenbrooke surprised him by twisting around suddenly and almost scoring a direct hit to Kendrick’s testicles with one knee.
Kendrick, however, slipped deftly to one side and avoided injury. Unfortunately, this meant letting go of the man, just for an instant. Once he had secured the ’derm he reached out for
Hardenbrooke again.

To his surprise, Hardenbrooke bit him on the finger.

Kendrick screamed and jerked away, dropping the ’derm in the process. He felt an impact on his shoulder, and immediately a deep numbness began to spread through the flesh of his back.

Kendrick lashed out at Hardenbrooke, the force of his blow sending the medic slithering several feet across the floor to crash into the side of the treatment couch. Hardenbrooke had been
carrying more than one ’derm, and the contents of the second one were already dulling Kendrick’s senses.

It was probably the same drug that the security ’bot had shot into him, but it was taking longer to take effect this time. Still, he only had so much time before he slipped into
unconsciousness again.

Kendrick stepped over and wrapped a hand around Hardenbrooke’s throat again.

“I came here because I want information about whatever the hell it is you’ve been pumping into my veins for the past year. I came here because someone told me you’d set me up
in some way that frankly doesn’t make any fucking sense to me. I’m inclined to think my sources were right, so now I want you to tell me why.”

“I can’t,” the other man croaked. “They’d kill me.”

Kendrick placed one palm over Hardenbrooke’s forehead and, with the precision and care of a basketball player, bounced the back of the medic’s head off the hard floor.
Hardenbrooke’s teeth clicked together hard, his eyes briefly rolling up into the back of his head.

“Details,” Kendrick demanded. A wave of nausea spilled through his thoughts and he released Hardenbrooke once more, swaying uncertainly.

If he didn’t get out of here now there wouldn’t be a second chance.

So he ran.

Kendrick’s vision was blurring as he reached the clinic entrance and stumbled out onto the street. There was no sign of Malky, and he was obscurely grateful at not having to deal with any
further obstacle. He caught glimpses of staring faces, shocked as he pushed his way past them in the street. He ran across the road, his limbs starting to feel like putty.

Somehow he kept moving, trying to get away from the Clinic – away from Hardenbrooke.

Kendrick woke to an early-morning sky.

The scent of grass and dog shit filled his nostrils. Something wet and rough slid against his face and he lurched upwards, wondering if he was again under attack. He found himself staring into
the hairy muzzle of a small terrier. He pushed the animal away and lifted himself up from where he lay sprawled on neatly mown grass.

Bushes? He was lying behind some bushes. He heard a woman’s voice calling the dog, which ran away with its stubby tail waggling stiffly in the air. Kendrick could hear traffic somewhere
nearby.

Kendrick staggered upright and pushed his way out through the bushes, finding himself in the middle of a small well-tended park that fronted a large office building. A green-painted iron fence
separated the bushes and a row of carefully tended yew trees from the street beyond.

He remembered fleeing the Clinic now, and ran his fingers through his hair, suddenly conscious of how dishevelled he must look. A snatch of memory of himself running erratically across a road
full of heavy traffic flashed into his awareness.

Kendrick winced, feeling lucky to still be in one piece.

He glanced down at arms streaked with soil and grass stains, as well as with copious quantities of dried blood. Wondering just how much of a nightmare he must look, he let his shirtsleeves flap
loose in a half-hearted attempt to hide the injuries on his arms.

Locating his wand, he called up Caroline, keeping back from the street while he waited for her to answer.

“Kendrick! Oh God, about what I said – I’m sorry I drove away like that. But, look, what happened? I mean, did you find anything there?”

“I’ve had some problems. Can you come and get me?”

“What kind of problems? Where are you?”

“I’m not sure, but I don’t think I’m far from the Clinic.”

“Set your wand’s signal to mine and I’ll come and find you.” Her voice sounded terse and worried.

Kendrick stepped back into the shadows and waited.

Caroline’s car appeared twenty minutes later, following the GPS locator signal in Kendrick’s wand.

“Jesus, Kendrick, I mean—” she exclaimed, climbing out of the vehicle and seizing him by the arms. “You, you . . .”

“Look like I’ve been through a war?”

For the briefest instant he saw the tiniest hint of a smile, but then it was gone. “If you like, yeah,” she said more coolly. Her earlier concern was now well hidden.

Suddenly, everything was back the way it had been between them for so long now.

18 October 2096
Above the Armoured Saint

“Haven’t seen Malky since last night.” Lucia let out a puff of blue smoke, the cigarette dangling from bejewelled fingers. A tattoo on her left arm
glittered kaleidoscopically as she climbed down from the neck of her machine-monster sculpture. The tattoo she wore was a holographic design: twisting braids that changed colour depending on which
way she moved.

“Last night? Did he seem – I don’t know – worried or something?”

Her gaze flicked down to her cigarette and then back up at Kendrick. A small cool smile spread across her features. “You sound just like something out of a cop show. You look a bit rough
too, if you don’t mind me saying so. Everything okay?”

Caroline had helped Kendrick clean up and had bandaged the worst of his wounds, now hidden under a sweater. Once back at his own place, he’d crashed solidly for the rest of the day and had
stayed in bed for most of the next day as well.

“I’m fine, but I’m concerned about Malky. I think he’s in trouble.”

Lucia cocked her head to one side. “Okay, what’s he done this time?”

“Look, I just want to find him. I thought you might have some idea where he is.”

“Right.” She nodded slowly. “You just want to speak to him. That’s why you look like you’re ready to headbutt a gorilla.”

“Okay, fine, you’re saying he’s not in.” Kendrick turned to walk away.

“Ask Todd. He usually knows where Malky is, if anyone does,” Lucia called after him.

“Nope, ain’t seen him. Ain’t like him, though,” Todd commented. “Mind if I ask you a question?”

Kendrick looked at him closely. “Go ahead.”

“Mikhail – he’s mixed up in something, isn’t he?”

“I think so, yeah. Know anything about it?”

Todd shook his head. “No, but I can make guesses. Malky’s brighter than most people give him credit for, but he has a habit of getting into some things deeper than he intends to,
till he can’t necessarily get out.”

“You’re a close friend of his, so why are you telling me this?”

“
Because
he’s a friend. He’s helped me enough in the past. Sometimes you have to return the favour.”

“So you know what’s going on then?”

Todd sighed. “Can’t say I do.” Then he smiled. “I was kind of hoping
you
were going to tell
me
.”

Kendrick shook his head. “Look, there’s something you can help me with meanwhile. I need to find somebody.”

Todd regarded him warily. “Who? And what for? And, by the way, I don’t work for free.”

“I know that,” Kendrick replied testily. “Does the name Hardenbrooke mean anything to you?”

“Not sure.” Todd looked thoughtful. “Might have heard it. Who is he?”

“A medic, from LA.”

“This wouldn’t be some guy with a serious overdose of LA tan, would it? I might have seen him in the bar.”

“It might be.” Kendrick nodded. “I need you to help me find him.”

A little while later, Kendrick returned again to Hardenbrooke’s clinic, finding that its upper windows had now been boarded up. He climbed over the railings that
surrounded the building, dropped down and kicked in an uncovered basement window before climbing inside. He carried a golf club that he’d decided would be a handy way to deal with the spider
robots he’d encountered last time around.

But this time there were no automatic surveillance systems – or at least none that prevented Kendrick exploring. It came as no surprise to find that the building was completely deserted
and empty, top to bottom.

Except for one unpleasant item.

He found Malky in the basement, wedged into a corner of the office where Kendrick had discovered the names and details of so many Labrats. Malky’s eyes gazed sightlessly outward, under a
neat hole drilled in the centre of his forehead.

The back of his head – what was left of it – rested on a pile of eepsheets sticky with blood. Kendrick noticed a spray of red a little higher up on the wall behind the body, where
the bullet had embedded itself after passing through Malky’s brain.

Grimacing, Kendrick managed to prise a sole remaining eepsheet from behind the dead man but found that it contained nothing of significance.

Malky had betrayed him, but Kendrick felt grief flooding through him nonetheless. In a way this surprised him, that he should feel such a loss. Perhaps, betrayal or not, he simply couldn’t
find it in himself to believe that Malky’s friendship had been anything but genuine.

Then he continued his search, even though he realized that Hardenbrooke would have left nothing for him to find.

19 October 2096
Arlington Hotel, Edinburgh

Kendrick blinked in the sharp morning light, glancing down at his arms that were now concealed by a charcoal-grey suit jacket. He’d taken the bandages off that
morning to find that the flesh underneath was already almost healed. Breaking free of Hardenbrooke’s restraints would have broken the bones of any normal man, yet after little more than a day
the damage had faded into irregular dark patches on his arms and legs.

But along with such a vastly increased capacity for self-repair came accelerated carcinomas, irreversible nervous-system damage, and the risk of total breakdown of the auto-immune system.

Smeby’s aide, Candice, was already waiting for Kendrick outside the hotel as he arrived, standing next to a long and elegant-looking car.

“You should be aware,” she told him, “that Mr Draeger is currently at his base of operations in the Far East. I hope that doesn’t present a major problem for
you.”

The Far East? “No, it doesn’t.” Why hadn’t he realized this? He’d been assuming that he’d meet Draeger somewhere more neutral – perhaps here in
Edinburgh, or in London. So much had been happening around him recently that he wasn’t thinking straight. Instead, he was now flying straight into the dragon’s lair. He began to have
second thoughts.

Candice smiled. “It’s not really going to put you to that much trouble. Mr Draeger provides extremely fast transport for his employees.”

Kendrick studied her. “That’s a long way to go just to have a talk with someone.”

In answer she pulled open the door of the limousine. “I’m not allowed access to any details of your conversation with Mr Smeby. My instructions are simply to deliver you to him.
You’re not here under any coercion, so if you’ve changed your mind it’s up to you.”

It’s up to me?
But until Kendrick could track down Buddy, there was really nowhere else he could go if he was to have any chance of figuring out what in hell was going on around
him. And so, despite a definite sense of foreboding, Kendrick bent and climbed into the limousine.

A sheet of smoked glass that doubled as a gridscreen separated Candice, sitting in the front, from him. Kendrick couldn’t even see if there was a flesh-and-blood driver, or whether the car
drove itself.