Gene Drifters: The Clone Soldier Chronicles-Book III (31 page)

Once Roxanne was out of Hong Kong, Shih could arrange for
her Triad plant, aka Bitbuns to visit Max’s vault and grab up those stock
vouchers, using the access codes provided by the rebels. Shih closed contact,
finished her cigar, and signaled for a meeting with her lieutenants. They had
to agree to either take Leo’s ransom money or the diamonds and the access code
to Max’s safe box. Would they vote for quick money or a long term stock option?

“When you’re finished with your nutria-blend dinner, we have
to leave.” Michael walked into the open door of Roxanne’s cell, without a sound,
as usual. Other than appearing all black, including the face and clothes, he
appeared like Michael Segev; about the same height as Roxanne, medium runner’s build,
dark, curly hair, and olive complexion, and those amber glowing eyes. Those
were the clonie give-away, the eyes. It was why he usually wore contacts or
dark glasses.

“It’s shark and bourbon soup. I’m finished. Let’s get out of
here,” Roxanne replied.

“Leave the diamonds,” Michael looked down at the pile of
diamonds on the cot.

“How did you know…?” Roxanne started to ask.

“We’ve been following you on bot-com. The diamonds stay. You
promised them to Ching Shih. And whether she lets you go, or I get you out, she
gets the diamonds; she’ll be pissed off if you don’t leave those stones behind.
You don’t want Shih on your tail.”

Michael glanced slowly over Roxanne’s body, like only Segev
could, “Nice pants. New look?” He’d settled on the paper shredder-enhanced
crotch of her leather pants, which had a retro fringed leather style, like the
old cowboy outfits, only those weren’t in the crotch. “Don’t even ask,” Roxanne
replied, raising an eyebrow and frowning.

They left the pile of diamonds on the cot. Roxanne
immediately followed Michael down the hall, not bothering to ask the obvious
questions, like how did he scale that twenty foot wall, or how did he get past
those security dogs, or the several hundred guards? Roxanne never asked Michael
Segev his trade secrets. Between them it always seemed like idle chit chat.

They entered the hallway, ran up the three flights of stairs
to the roof, and Michael removed a rope from his pack so they could rappel off
the roof. “Do you remember your training from Donner Pass?” Roxanne nodded
affirmative and started rappelling down the rope. Michael followed, and
motioned for her to follow him, but to stay close enough to be within the
olfactory range of his dog-repellant goo. It almost worked.

It should have worked. Not the escape from the Triad
compound, but the CEO nutria-blend Max had just polished off. However, as Max
packed his sixteen suits, five pairs of shoes, twenty-two silk shirts, and
matching number of ties, for the three day exile into bubble-stop #5, he felt
worse with each addition to his 18 pieces of original designer brown leather
Gutzy luggage. He had consulted with costume design, but no one seemed to have
any idea what proper attire was for a legal counsel going to a business
negotiation meeting in #5.

Finally Bitbuns suggested a suit #42, which she thought was
quite attractive on him. When finally packed, Max had one of everything, plus a
mountain of antibiotics. He was prepared for anything, even South Indian street
food. And Bitbuns did her part; she was sure that suit #42 would be just the
thing for him to wear into bubble-stop #5.

Max gave his final goodbyes to the staff like he was reading
his will, instructing his assistant on how to complete the merger contractuals,
when to appear at Leo’s outer penthouse office for those morning briefings,
even had a tearful parting with Bitbuns, who came upstairs to his office from
her new Human Resources job, carrying his #42 suit. At her suggestion, he gave
her his safe box codes and access keys to give to Leo Songtain, in the event he
did not return.

He handed the keys to his Ferrari to his assistant as he
boarded the hover-chopper for the Chek Lap Kok, the local name for Hong Kong’s
international hoverjet port. While in transit to Tokyo, he dressed in that #42 suit,
the charcoal grey wool suit, with the light blue cotton button-down collared
shirt, and silk rep tie. He refused the plate of foie gras and usual glasses of
champagne offered in high managerial class, preferring his own stock of that
CEO nutria-blend drink. He even refused the offer for on-board entertainment, a
sumptuous redhead, with long legs and green eyes. She reminded him too much of
Roxanne Smoot, and right now he hated her more than anyone else on the planet.

“It’s her fault I have to go to that place. She stole that
formula, I know she did. When I get back to Hong Kong I’ll see that she’s dead.
If I get back from #5; what if I catch something? I’ll catch something in #5.
Oh, what if I catch that?” Max pondered his fate for the entire hour to Tokyo,
and more during his private hover craft ride to the up side landing deck for bubble-stop
#5 near their farm hydro-pods; the dock used only by visiting heads of
charitable organizations.

Of course, Max had never been to #5. He only gave to the
arts, not the un…… “Oh! I can’t even think about it. I know I’ll have a heart
attack before I get there,” he mumbled to himself as he looked out the window
at the #5 chopper landing deck, looming below. When the chopper landed, the
pilot signaled a thumbs-up and told Max to exit via the side door. He gave Max
just enough time to get free from the slowly rushing hovers before he hit the
nitro and took off, leaving Max alone on the deck. That pilot did not want to
be staying at bubble-stop #5 for any longer than he’d been paid for, and he’d
been paid double-time for hazardous duty.

Back at the Triad compound, Roxanne landed first on the ground
outside the main building; she dove behind a statue, waiting for Michael to
follow. It did not take long, which was good because the dogs were already
barking, signifying they’d smelled her. Once she stood close to Michael, they
seemed unaware of her presence. She had to get some of that stuff! Michael
nodded his head towards a wall, indicating she should follow him there. Once
they reached the compound outer wall, Michael gave her a leg up with cupped
hands, and Roxanne grabbed at the wire he’d left dangling over the edge. They
almost got away free.

But one of the peripheral guard dogs spotted her climbing
the wall, and howled to the others. Darcy and Rose heard the howls, ran from
across the yard, and pounced into the fray. It was two master fighter canines
against six stupid guard dogs. But they were huge, with big teeth. Roxanne
watched from the top of the compound wall while Michael picked off one dog at a
time with his silenced tranquilizer gun; six rapid shots, six sound asleep
guard dogs.

“Quick, Rose, Darcy, take the ropes. I’ll lift you up,”
Michael whispered to the two co-pilots.

And, they almost made it.

Except that the howls had alerted a perimeter security guy, one
of the few who did not know about the ongoing negotiations with the rebels. He
had a red dot on Rose’s head and a finger on the trigger. If Michael had not
been there holding the rope, and reading the guys mind, the bullet would have
found home. Instead, just as the bullet left the barrel, Michael pulled on the
rope with a quick turn, and Rose caught it in the gut, not the head. She never
let out a sound.

When Darcy and a, now limp, Rose reached the top of the
wall, everyone crumbled to the other side. Michael did not stop. He hoisted
Rose onto his hoverbike, revved to 300 at full nitro and rolled away like a bat
out of Benghazi. Roxanne followed with Darcy riding shotgun. Their destination
was the Aberdeen tunnel; at least that’s what Roxanne thought. But Michael
pulled off, took off his protective helmet, and shouted, over the nitro ramp of
the motor,

“You go to the harbor, get on that submersible with Darcy,
and get out of here. I can’t save you both. Go now,” Michael commanded.

“No, I’m going with you. I’ve got to save Rose. I…,” Michael
did not let her finish. “Go, I can’t save you both. I don’t want to worry about
you, and do what I have to do to save Rose. Leave now.” Michael gave the order,
and Roxanne knew he was right. She turned in the opposite direction and ramped
to the harbor with Darcy, where Dorian had already commed the submersible crew
to be ready for a quick get-away.

Michael turned in the opposite direction, taking the rode
through the park. He’d never lost a fellow asset in the field, and he had no
intention of doing so now. He knew where he had to go. Michael Segev did the
only thing the number one Mossad hit man and alpha of Donner Pass rebel headquarters
could do; he climbed onto his hoverbike, punched full nitro, and rode like
crazy to the nearest place he could think of where someone could save her life.
MICHAEL RACED TOWARDS THE OPUS, TO LEO SONGTAIN.

                                                                                 
25

LEO SONGTAIN WAS ANGRY WHEN HE PUNCHED THE VIDS TO HIS LOBBY.
He’d just gotten off the phone with, first, a representative from bubble-stop
#5 stating that Max had stolen his
Stem-wads
® formula and given it to
them for a shit load of gold, then Ching Shih, who told him about Max’s
treacherous plan to off Roxanne Smoot, and finally, he’d contacted Max,
demanding he take that trip into #5.

Leo wanted revenge. His legal snake had conspired to kill
his love, stolen those wedding gift diamonds intended for Roxanne Smoot, and
his secret
Stem-Wads
® formula, and given it to the People of Un… well, better
known as the citizens of bubble-stop #5. That’s what Leo called those people. And,
now the #5ers demanded a ransom for return of a copy of the formula, but as
insurance they had two people running around on the planet with his formula
memorized. They wanted funds for not blabbing it all over the com-net! They
could blackmail him forever!

Leo paced the floor in a frenzy. But after calming down, Leo
actually liked the plan. In fact, he considered it poetic justice. And everyone’s
demands were quite reasonable, really. “The citizens of bubble-stop #5 only want
enough funds to keep their little town in vaccines and food, and my promise to
vote at the WME council against the Worker Productivity Enhancement Protocol,
meaning against a robotic take-over of the bubble-stops. I want that anyway so
Roxanne can keep her job. When you get right down to it, they all just want job
security. What a novel concept! I like it! It may sell, especially with the
appropriate acronym, like EAT, Employment Advancement Team. Yes, I’ll have the
t-shirts designed right away.”

Leo was about to send a message to the Head of the Board of
Workers Productivity Protocols, when he remembered the other part, the bad
part. The Triad wanted those stocks, and that was a capital offense against the
WME.

“The stocks are part of the payment, Songtain. You got the
information on Max Peabody. We get the stocks,” was what Shih had demanded. Leo
could not do that. He’d be condemned to a life freeze. Someone else had to
steal the stock receipts from Max’s vault. Finally a solution was found; Leo
learned that Max had given his vault codes and access to that woman, Bitbunny,
or something like that…no, Bitbuns, that was it.

“This makes it simpler, Madame Shih. While I cannot access
that vault personally, there is no reason why someone else should not do it.
Shall I have the individual contact you while I take that little motivational
course on Fiji?” Leo asked, in his third com to Ching Shih in ten minutes. She
was getting annoyed at Leo, hated his whining voice.

“Yes have her contact me,” Shih replied, trying to maintain
her outer calm. But, Bitbuns need not have made a separate com to Shih. After
all, she already worked for the Triad. Within hours, the stock receipts were
safely in the hands of the Triad accountant. Shih would need the help of
someone in one of the free zones to launder the stocks, someone the rebels
could contact for her; someone with a strange black orchid tattoo on his arm. Stock
ownership had to appear high managerial, or the WME would investigate. When business
was taken care of, Shih contacted her rebel go-between to let him or her know that
Roxanne Smoot would be taken to the Harbor at midnight. She was about to go
tell her prisoner, and collect her diamonds, when she heard the shot.

Leo offed his bot to Shih, and went to his vault to get some
small gift for the Triad Master. “They did provide me with information, and
such terrible news! It is a capital flash-freeze forever for a CEO legal
counselor to steal from a client. You can steal from the public, but not from
your client. Now I need to pay the Triad off for the disclosure on Max; because
the Triad does not give out information for free.” Leo retrieved an envelope
for Shih, and a case of one hundred year old
Domaines Barons de
Rothschild
Chateau Lafite Rothschild, Pauillac
. He also agreed to be “busy” during the
entire Max’s vault stock heist event.

Leo then contacted his assistant to set up a day off in one
of his local spas, for the complete chocolate body wrap. Finally, he had the
assistant book him a CEO retreat on Fiji for the following week. When that was
completed, he contacted Max, told him that the #5ers had stolen his formula,
and that Max had to personally take the trip into bubble-stop #5 to retrieve
that secret formula. It was more than Leo had done, all by himself, in quite
some time. He was exhausted; he needed a drink. A Fueblaster was just the
thing. He poured one from his ever-ready bar tap, sat down on the sofa, and
looked out over the Hong Kong Harbor.

“Damn, how much did Max get for passing on my formula to the
#5ers? It must have been a competitor, because the bubble-stop #5 citizens are
poor, everyone knows that. Why would someone care about job loss in bubble-stop
#5? Whoever did this could extort funds from me forever. I could lose
everything.” Max finished his drink, and was about to go downstairs to catch
his limo for the chocolate body wrap thing, when his front door security rang.