Cog (11 page)

The elevator doors opened and Nicholle and Chris went inside. Black metal shined to a mirror finish edged in silver enveloped them. Neither spoke on the ride down. When the door opened, Nicholle motioned to her right. Chris followed.

Beige carpeting lined the hallway, and original art hung on the wall. Nicholle gasped.

“Look. A Yebedor oil. I’ve never seen this one before.”

“We don’t have time to sightsee.”

“Yeah, yeah,” she said. Annoyance crept into her voice. It had been a harrowing past few days and the tension was catching up to her.

She headed down the hall and checked the offices. Behind the first three doors were Spartan rooms, containing little more than a desk and chair. She opened the door to the fourth office and was struck by the sight of bright marigold walls. A heavy cherry wood desk sat in front of the far end. A backlit glass insert lined the wall next to the desk, displaying imported water and Moribel cognac. A sofa and loveseat framed a small coffee table and a crystal dish of what looked like licorice rested on the desktop.

“Bingo,” Nicholle said.

She left the room and waved Chris into the office next to Wills’.

“Let’s hide in the closet the next door over,” she said.

They sat in the closet in Room A2 and squeezed the cart in front of them. If someone opened the closet, they would not be immediately visible.

“What now? How do we spy on Wills from the next office over?” Chris said.

“This place should have hidden cameras. Can you access them?”

“If it’s wi, it’s mine.”

“That so?”

“You know it.”

Nicholle sat in thought as Chris scanned. The memo didn’t specify the purpose of the meeting. She wondered what game Wills was playing.

“Got it,” Chris said. “There
are
hidden cameras in each of these rooms. I can link to the cameras in Wills’ office and feed the image to my node. So spiral in.” He worked quickly, looking like the Morse code operator on board the
Titanic
. “Okay. I’ve established the link. The feed should be coming in as soon as someone enters the office. The camera’s activated by motion.”

“By motion? Then what about the one in here?” Nicholle said.

“I’ve disabled the one in here and deleted the feed since just before we arrived.”

“So now we wait.”

“Now we wait,” Chris said. He paused, regarding her with a curious stare.

“What?” she said.

“You know, there were rumors a year or so ago. I chose to ignore them…”

“But you wondered if they were true,” she said. Nicholle expected for the news to get out and, in fact, was surprised it hadn’t been blared across the news landscape. She guessed her father had something to do with it.

“I started doing pakz and skeemz about two years ago, and I hit the street about a year back. My addiction had gotten out of hand. I made mistakes. My gallery went downhill. Hell, everything went downhill. To keep up my addiction, I had to…well, compromise myself. Had to run pakz, rack skeemz, sex up pakz suppliers, just to get froze on skeemz. Skeemz cost, but they’re safer, being programs and all. But even froze, I rose in the ranks, so to speak. Became an associate, a gofe, working for the Tets.”

“The Tets? Isn’t that one of those secret societies or some choo like that?”

“Yeah, well, they ain’t that secret. Mostly greedy businessmen looking for a quick profit, spouting some semblance of a higher purpose. They use local talent to run the day-to-day. But they’re safer than the street gangs, and a lot richer. Although some of the gang and Tet gofes move in the same circles.”

“And they run pakz?”

“Pakz, women, weapons, skeemz on the lower level. Lobbying, bribes, and corporate theft on the upper. The Shantou/Bank of Nigeria conglomerate’s got them running scared, so from last I heard, they were looking to expand.”

“How’d you get out?”

“I made the mistake of calling my brother for money. He gave me an ultimatum. I took it.”

They fell into silence. Nicholle wondered what Chris thought of her now…if he would have agreed to go with her if he had known. She couldn’t worry about it now, she thought. That was water under the bridge; she couldn’t change the past.

They did not have to wait long before someone showed up. A brown-skinned man appeared in life-like miniature holoform between her and Chris.
Wills.
He shrugged off his trenchcoat, hung it on the back of the door, and took out a fryer from the desk drawer. He began tapping up commands.

“Looks like he’s accessing the admin functions of something. Maybe the DNA server? Setting controls. And he’s out,” Chris said.

Wills took off the fryer and placed it back in the drawer. After a few moments, there was a chime at the magfield door.

“Come in,” Wills said.

The field went transparent and a woman stepped through. Her hairline began halfway down her forehead. A harsh line of blush ran from her cheeks to her ears.

“Leesia. Good to see you.” He kissed her cheek.

“William. And you. I must admit, I was surprised to hear from you. The news says you embezzled from the company trough and left town. You naughty boy.” She held up a finger and waggled it at him.

“Don’t tell me you believe what you hear in the news. I had a scheduled meeting in Fiji and am just getting back. But more on that when the others get here. Please, sit down. Drink?”

“Yes, white wine, thanks,” Leesia said.

“Coming up.” The wall parted behind his desk, revealing a large bar. As he prepared the drink, the magfield chimed again.

“Must be the others. Come in,” he said. He handed Leesia her drink. The magfield faded. Two men strode inside. One had cheekbones sculpted from marble, inset over dark hollows. Hawkish eyes drew a bead on all surveyed. The other man possessed an understated confidence, evident in his swagger.

“Nwanko, Tawd. Glad you could make it. Have a seat and let’s see. Scotch on the rocks and a Guinness?” Wills asked.

“William playing the host? This must be important. I have a feeling we’re about to get our asses handed to us,” Nwanko said.

Tawd chuckled. “So what’s the bad news?” He sat on the loveseat next to Leesia, grinning.

“Lovely as always, Leesia,” he said.

“Flatterer.”

“Just one more guest and we can get down to business,” Wills said. He delivered the drinks and sat on the edge of his desk, observing the others making small talk.

Nicholle knew that look. It meant he was sizing someone up, just before a fight, whether mental, verbal, or physical. Something was about to go down, and she was sure the others wouldn’t like it, but there wasn’t a thing they could do about it.

Wills hopped down from his desk at the sound of the chime with a self-satisfied smile. When the magfield faded, another woman stepped inside. Tall, with a gap-toothed smile and a trusting face.

“Darai! Welcome,” Wills said. They kissed in greeting.

She took up a seat on the couch next to Nwanko.

“Sherry, right?” Wills asked.

“Yes, you remembered.”

“Of course.” The other guests greeted her as if they had been bosom buddies.

“All right, now we can cut to the chase. Why are we all here?” Nwanko said.

“Patience, my friend.” Wills resumed his seat on the edge of the desk.

“First of all, I’d like to thank you for coming tonight. I know all of you are busy, but I think this business opportunity is one you can’t afford to pass up.”

“Don’t tell me you’re selling insurance,” Leesia said. Good-natured laughter followed. Wills maintained a tight-lipped smile.

“Actually, in a way, I am. Do you know what happened when cars were first invented? Automobile manufacturers were competing directly with horse-and-buggies. That is, until the gas engine car was improved upon, forcing the carriage makers out of business. Many of them tried to get financing to get into the car trade, but they couldn’t. And so, we see how technology can change the landscape of the business world.

“Today, we’re at the dawn of a new age. And I’m here to say, that the more things change, the more they remain the same.”

Nicholle rolled her eyes. Wills was a blowhard, through and through, which was rare for a scientist, but perfect for a businessman.

“Cut the bull and tell us about this so-called opportunity,” Tawd said.

“Very well. I assembled a team of scientists to accomplish a task for me and they have almost succeeded.”

“Succeeded at what?” Darai said.

“Transfer of consciousness. In other words, download your personality into another body.”

Leesia choked on her drink while the others stopped in mid-motion, staring wide-eyed at Wills, who was grinning like a pundit who successfully predicted the scandal-of-the-week.

“Are you serious?” Darai said.

“How has it been tested?” Tawd said.

“Let’s just say, compromises had to be made,” Wills said.

“That smells like a class-action lawsuit,” Nwanko said. Nervous laughter.

“The reason I brought you here is that each of you is the head of a company whose industry will likely be affected by this. At least directly—medical, pharmaceutical, and aeronautics. Companies that will be transformed once I introduce this invention to the marketplace. Which means we all need to work together to perfect the process and establish a multiphased educational, social, and promotional campaign,” Wills said.

“You expect people to flock to an unproven method of transfer, where they’ll be in danger of getting their consciousness scrambled?” Leesia said. “It’ll never be accepted.”

“Oh, this is just the start of a long-term project, my dear. We have yet to achieve a fully successful transfer, but I’m working on downloading to adult clones who don’t have the baggage of a past life.”

Nwanko stood up and walked to the bar to pour another drink. “Cloning is illegal. And the Senate would never approve it.”

“This is madness. No such thing exists. I’d have to see it to believe it,” Tawd said.

“In time, Tawd, in time. I’m working with a senator to introduce legislation on cloning. It will be a process, as I said. First we’ll introduce a bill addressing therapeutic cloning, even as we continue conducting the experiments. Once that bill passes, it will open the gates for additional legislation. Imagine…people with debilitating diseases can start life again with a healthy body. Can you imagine the PR for that? The elderly can have the wisdom of an 80-year-old in a 20-year-old body. And does it take more than a lifetime to travel to the closest star? No problem. Stay in storage and download upon arrival. So…what do you say?”

The guests looked warily at each other, some fidgeting. Darai was the first to speak.

“Well, Wills, this is certainly intriguing, but I’d have to see clinical trials evidence, information that guaranteed the safety of the, uh, recipient, so to speak. I’m sure we could talk next week—”

“There will be no next week. This is a one-time offer, that expires in ten minutes,” Wills said. “The price for investment is ten trillion. So make your decision.”

“It would be impossible for me to make such a decision tonight. I’m afraid I’ll have to decline.” Darai stood up, placed her drink on the table, and headed for the door. Wills pulled a lason from his jacket and fired. She arched back as her legs splayed. Her knees bent and she crashed to the floor.

Leesia screamed as they all stood up, their faces blank masks of shock.

“Does anyone else want to back out?” Wills said. He looked each one in the eye. “Make your decision now.”

Nwanko shook with anger. “This is madness.”

“Isn’t that what they say to all geniuses? Explain it any way you like, but just make sure you transfer the money. If you have to sell stock, I have a handy broker access code that we can all use, so step right up.”

“How do you expect to explain Darai’s death? Even if we sell our stock, we could still go to the police,” Tawd said.

“Not if you’re in danger of being implicated in it. You were on the scene. Why? I’m sure your stockholders would love to find out. In addition, let’s just say I have an army, and I know where each of your children attend school. But why make it difficult? Just transfer the money, and you’ll be free to go.”

“Do we have your word?” Tawd asked.

“Of course.” Wills said, smiling.

The remaining three executives tapped up commands, sold stock, and transferred the money to Wills’ account. Then Wills shot them. Four bodies lay strewn in the office, all burnt through with a charred hole in the middle. Nicholle had seen people get shot before, but this was different. This wasn’t a pakz sale gone bad, where people knew what the deal was before it went down. These poor people had been presented with an impossible offer, then…executed.

After he was done, Wills put on his trenchcoat and walked out of the office, leaving the bodies there. Presumably to be cleaned up by someone else.

A dull ache filled Nicholle’s chest. “An army. He said he has an army. Wills has to be stopped, Chris.”

“But how? We’re in no position to challenge him on anything.”

“There’s one way. The streets. Something he doesn’t know much about.”

Chapter 11

“Whose body is it?”

“Some nurse found wired on pakz. She would’ve died anyway. We filtered the blood, flooded it with medinites, added lung capacity, and cardiovascular, muscular, and optical enhancements. So we’ve bloody given her a second chance. In a way.”

The voices flickered across Thia’s memory, barely registering as familiar. She knew these people, but their names escaped her, like a dream upon waking. When she opened her eyes, she did recognize them—Eyon Klé, the cyberneticist in the M31 Unit, and Dran Secobar, her boss. She was propped up in a bed, in a grey room with bright lights. Machinery lined the walls, manned by several white-coated lab assistants. Her bed was the only piece of furniture in the room. No chairs or tables.

“Ah, there she is. Hello, Thia,” Eyon said. “Do you know who we are? Do you know who you are?”

He had monochrome face and hair—both tan—with a large forehead. His eyes drooped in the corners, giving him a constantly sad look.

“I-I—” Her voice halted. She wanted to ask why she was strapped to a bed and why she felt like she’d been strained through a cheese grater.

“I need to tweak the speech center.”

“Is this going to work?” Dran said. His permanent scowl deepened, hardening his features, and narrowed eyes glinted as his lips puckered in disapproval. “The other ten were less than optimal.”

“They were dead. This one was still alive,” Eyon said, fiddling with some machinery. “We tried to erase all memories and traces of personality, but there may be some leakage. Of course, we won’t be able to tell until she’s fully conscious. There, she should be able to speak now. Thia?”

“What did you do to me, you brain-addled quack?”

“That’s her, all right,” Dran said.

“You were found dead in the northeast laboratory, so we added you to the consciousness transference subject study. You no doubt heard about the enhancements we made, but it may be a little while before you’ll be able to use them.”

“You put me in a pakz-addicted body? No wonder I feel like hell. This was the only one you could find?”

“It’s been refurbished. We even built up muscle mass. There should be minimal adjustment. Well, except for your looks. You’re a brunette now, black hair, brown eyes, pouty lips,” Eyon said.

“Improvement if you ask me,” Dran said. He winked.

Thia flexed her right arm, broke the restraining trap, and grabbed Dran’s throat. Thia tightened her grip, feeling his larynx buckle. His face reddened as he struggled to remove her hand.

“Thia!” Eyon said. He motioned to two blue-coated men, who peeled her hand away and held her down.

Dran coughed, holding his neck. “That bitch is crazy, Eyon. Did you do a mental scan?”

“I relied on her last review.”

“Yeah, well, things happen. Make sure she’s sane before you let her loose. And I want a full report on my desk tomorrow morning.” Dran hurried out the door.

Eyon gave her a one-sided frown as the men strapped her back down to the bed, this time with four straps for each arm. They had forgotten about her legs, she thought, but she would remain still for now, attempt to find out as much intelligence as she could.

“Do try and be a good girl, or you may wind up like the first ten,” Eyon said.

“I thought they’d been dead.”

“Yes, but they were reanimated. At least for a time. But when they didn’t perform satisfactorily…” His voice trailed off, as if mentioning their fate would make it come to pass.

“Why was I brought back to life?”

“You’re a valued agent.”

“That’s bull. There’re plenty of good agents who could take over without having to spend billions on a third-generation prototype.” She paused. “Hunh. I guess that’s all I am now. Talk about messed up.”

“Don’t be silly. You’re enhanced. Better than any agent we’ve got. Do you remember what happened when you, uh…?” His voice trailed off. Eyon waved the two men away, who walked back to their post and kept a wary eye on Thia.

Flashes of images raced in her mind—a laboratory, a room filled with various devices, a woman, a man—but they blurred together in a nonlinear manner, like scenes from a movie out of sequence.

“Not really.”

“Do you remember your childhood?”

She tried to think backward, but the images fizzled as she tried to focus on them—glimmers of a dark-haired mother who yelled a lot. But that wasn’t right. Or at least it didn’t seem right.

“No. Vaguely. But not really. Like…it’s someone else’s memory.”

“It may take time. Here. I’ll give you something to sleep.”

Before she could react, a wave of black washed over her.

b

The voices again. No doubt Dran wanted to keep an eye on his investment. The fact she was conscious would probably go unnoticed for a few seconds. This time she kept her eyes closed. But…something was different.

“Yes, and you were right. Her original neurotransmitters exhibited aberrations. But they’ve been corrected.”

“Good.”

“She’s conscious.”

She opened her eyes, annoyed at their realization. Dran leaned down and spoke loudly in her ear.

“Thia, can you hear me?”

Dran was dressed in a different suit—grey with black pinstripes. She must’ve slept through the night.

“I can hear you perfectly. How are you today?”

“I’m fine. Strange of you to ask.”

“Strange how?”

“Because the first thing out of your mouth is usually an insult. Or like yesterday when you choked me.”

She remembered doing it, but she couldn’t understand why.

“You’re right, Mr. Secobar. I don’t know why I did it. Do accept my apology.”

“Are you kidding me? Since when do you apologize for anything? Or call me Mr. Secobar?”

“Since…“ She tried to think back to the last time she did, but drew a blank. “I can’t remember.” And that was the truth. It had fleetingly occurred to her to lie. But why would she lie?

“That makes two of us.” He turned to Eyon, hands on hips. “I thought you said she checked out.”

“I said I corrected the aberrations on her brain cells.”

“Hell, we need those aberrations back. She can’t go prowling through back alleys shooting at the bad guys. She’s more docile than a kindergarten teacher.”

“I think kindergarten teachers have to be pretty tough, actually,” Eyon said.

Dran closed his eyes, breathing deeply. “Never mind. Just get her back the way she was. I’ll just wear a steel collar.”

“You’re the boss. I’m afraid I’ll have to put you under again, Thia.”

“That’s all right, Doctor. Thank you for taking good care of me,” she said.

Dran visibly shuddered. “See what I mean? The test phase is a bitch. And I want another report this afternoon.”

b

“Thia?”

Someone held an eye open, shining a bright light in it. She grabbed the arm that held the light and sat up.

“You keep shining that in my eye and I’ll shove it up your ass.”

“Ha! There she is. Good work, Doc,” Dran said, grinning. He had on the same suit, which meant it was the same day, or two weeks later. She released Eyon’s hand.

“I’m tired of the both of you poking and prodding me, asking dumb questions. When do I get out of here? And what the hell do I look like?”

“I’ll get you a mirror,” Eyon said. He stepped out of the room, leaving her with Dran. One side of his mouth curled up.

“What are you smiling at?” she said.

An apathetic look, deposited by facial drift, came over him, which meant he was excited, but didn’t want to show it. This must be important, she thought. Whatever it was.

“I’ll be straight with you. Wills Ryder is still behind on implementation of consciousness transference. We wanted to give him some slack, see what he came up with, then shut him down and take his data. But he’s been shopping for information on cloning and looking to legalize it. He was holed up in his Fiji lab, but he went to Baltimore for a meeting with some industry execs.”

Pounding heart, clammy skin. But she didn’t know why. She fought it down while attempting to look nonchalant.

“If you know where he is, why do you need me?” she said.

“Because he disappeared, then the four executives were found dead around the state.”

“That doesn’t exactly follow.” She recalled the name, Wills, and vaguely, the face, but there was definitely a connection. They had known each other somehow. But she couldn’t remember.

“A source at the Port of Baltimore said a limo had pulled up to a warehouse. He got the license plate and we ran it. It was Ryder’s. So we scanned the whole area and found traces of their DNA. Bold move.”

“Too bold.”

“Why do you say that?”

Why did she say that? “I—he’s cautious. Usually. Unless there’s something he really wants. Then he can be ruthless.” How did she know that?

Eyon returned with a mirror, a small, silver affair. “Here you go.” He undid the straps, casting furtive glances at her.

“Don’t worry, Doc. I’m not going to bite,” she said.

When her arms were free, Thia snatched the mirror from him. She sat up and regarded herself. Her hair was long, down to her waist, raven black. A change from her short, red locks. She’d either cut it or wear it up. All that hair hanging about scratched her skin like a rucksack.

Her eyes were large and brown, with barely visible lashes, but thick eyebrows. They had started to grow together, like a bridge between two islands. Her nose angled past the normal ending point, but it was not unattractive—merely an interesting anomaly. Dran had been right about the lips. Full, pouty, in an eternal pucker. The olive skin was flawless, as smooth as the fruit itself, plump and taut. Not like her previous ruddy skin.

“Interesting,” she said.

“Ruthless, eh? What makes you say that?” Dran said.

“What?”

“Wills Ryder. You said he could be ruthless. I mean, you would know. You were lovers. I had sent you to him. Remember?”

That was it. Sketches of images danced across her mind. A deserted beach in Madagascar, a ski chalet in the Alps, a heated pool at the Hilton. An eternal promise. Revelation of subterfuge. Betrayal.

“Bastard. He even stole back the ring,” she said.

“What ring?” Eyon said.

She hesitated. “Just a ruby ring I liked.”

“An engagement ring?” Dran said.

“No,” she lied.

“Good. Can’t have my best agents running around with broken hearts. Makes for unstable relationships and unreliable intelligence.”

Unreliable intelligence. If only they knew. She smiled in response, pushing the thoughts from her mind. Her memories were returning. But there was something different, something there that shouldn’t be.

“This leakage, Doc. What characteristics can it take?” she said.

“Well, you may remember things that didn’t happen to you, or you may recognize people you’ve never met. Smells or tastes may trigger memories that aren’t there. We don’t have much experience in this arena, so you’ll be able to give us invaluable information,” Eyon said.

“I’m not connected.”

“We didn’t want to introduce too much to your brain. Once we have you stabilized, you’ll be connected.”

It was weird, she thought, not being connected. Not being able to tap a finger and find what you wanted, call whom you wanted. She felt detached, isolated from the mainstream. Not in the know. Keeping tabs on her informants, her contacts, her field agents—it’s what occupied her mind. Now there was just trying to piece together memories, for good or ill, even those that weren’t hers.

And which was which? It was hard to tell, at least now, before her brain had a chance to sort through them all. Perhaps her dominant brain would push out the other memories, feelings, recollections—the ones that didn’t belong. But she didn’t hold out much hope for that. She was stuck in this body, unless this one was destroyed, and she doubted they could repeat the process. If they did, she’d be even less of herself. Someone else. An amalgamation of a pakz addict, herself, and probably some homeless bum who got kicked out by an ex-wife.

When she’d signed up for the agency, she certainly hadn’t expected this.

“So when will I be stabilized?”

“Hopefully by tomorrow. We’ve got to get you in the field,” Dran said. “If anyone can get Wills Ryder, it’s you.”

“Your other lackeys can’t follow a lead?” she said.

“Not like you. So we’ll let you out of bed to perform some tests on you. Strength, endurance, memory, stuff like that. Right, Doc?” He clapped Eyon on the back, who almost pitched forward onto the bed. When he righted, he cleared his throat.

“Yes, stuff like that, as it were.”

“As a matter of fact, try to stand up,” Dran said.

She threw off the sheet. A self-molding yellow plastic gown clung to her body. Swinging her legs off the bed, she found the annoying crackle in her knees gone.

“This is a younger body,” she said. Even with the medinites in her old body, she still knew youth when she felt it.

“By ten years. Do you feel it?” Eyon said.

“Yes. Feels good.” The cheese grater sensation had disappeared, replaced by a white-washed but newly energized feeling. Like a clean slate.
Almost.

She stood, stretched. Definitely more limber. She feared to think what uses her flexibility had been put toward. Her muscles weren’t developed as much as she’d like, but a few workouts in the gym would remedy that.

“So?” Dran said.

“I can definitely work with this,” she said.

b

Her hair was braided and wrapped around her head, like some medieval German barmaid. She didn’t know what else to do with it. Dran had bought her a navy pants suit that draped well. Her breasts were bigger, so the bulge in the center of her chest was a change. The buttons on her shirt strained. She was also shorter—an advantage for quickness, disadvantage for physical capacity. It would take some getting used to. Perhaps heels would help.

“I’m still not comfortable letting her go,” Eyon said. He sulked on a loveseat in Dran’s office. Dran sat behind his teak desk, swiveling in his chair from side to side, his fingertips in a diamond shape.

“Every moment that goes by is wasted. We need her out there,” Dran said. “Besides, she thinks she’s ready.”