Hurt World One and the Zombie Rats (19 page)

‘Trying to. How about you?’

‘No, I wasn’t trying.’

‘What is it?’

Rojas started down the corridor. ‘There’s
something.’

They walked to the other end of the floor to
a closet-sized numberless door. Rojas opened it and stood aside for
Renaissance. It was a dark, tiny room with its sole furnishings a
table and chair. The defau holograms of nature scenes rising from
the computer mat on the table was the room’s main source of
light.

‘This is where you’ve been working?’ queried
Renaissance incredulously.

‘Windows are for daydreamers,’ Rojas
barked.

‘No wonder I could never find you. I thought
this was simply a closet.’ Renaissance squeezed into the space
between the table and the far wall. ‘So what’s on your mind?’

Rojas joined her in the room and closed the
door.

‘I cannot tell you what they are saying and I
cannot tell you who is saying it. Those things are buried within
Unsociable Encryption. I would need five years in a room like this
to have a chance of breaking it. What I am getting a better idea of
is where they are transmitting from. Of course there is masking
technology to conceal its origins, but this is a weak link.’

‘So you know of a message having been sent by
Mas?’

‘That is the who. Like I said, I have no
idea.’

‘If you don’t know the who, how can you
possibly know the where?’

‘By following the arms. Someone believed to
be in Europe with a past history in Africa and murky dealings with
a boat travelling out of Costa Rica. Those are very long arms.’

Rojas reached into the hologram with an
outstretched hand. The light seized upon it, wrapping around it in
a dull red glow that quickly turned green. If his hand had failed
the security check, it would have transformed into a bolt of
electricity sufficient to render him senseless. Having been
recognised, however, the light descended back to table level,
forming an image of Earth with a triangle of red lines marked into
it.

‘Don’t ask me to explain my conclusions
because some of the steps I’ve used to reach them could be worth
patenting. And some of them are illegal even for us.’

Renaissance took her communicator to mouth.
‘Spiros, there’s been a breakthrough. Come to the east corridor
storage room - you’ll find it.’

She turned back to Rojas and snapped, ‘What
are the points on the triangle?’

‘You might have asked that before you made
the call out. It’s a strange triangle.’

‘Tell me.’

‘A space centre in Belgium, a private zoo in
the Congo and an abandoned industrial site in Mexico.’

Renaissance mulled over the hologram a
moment. ‘Interesting.’

Pardos appeared in the doorway, busily trying
to get an arm into his jacket sleeve. ‘What is it?’

‘We’re going to Belgium.’

‘When?’

‘As soon as you can get that jacket on.’

Pardos pulled a dour face and finished
dressing. He gestured to the hologram. ‘Something to do with
Mas?’

‘Maybe.’

‘Shall I tell Kaptu Z to meet us there?’

‘No, there’s a zoo in the Congo I want him to
pay a visit to. After two weeks zipped up in a bag, it’s time to
take Blast for walkies.’

Pardos looked around the converted closet and
shook his head. ‘Three in the morning in a room like this, no
wonder you’re starting to get strange ideas. Mas is not an
astronaut.’

‘Are you sure about that?’ replied
Renaissance. ‘If you stop to think about it, there is sense in it.
If she is embroiled in something big, the space colonies would be
an ideal escape route. There are no extradition treaties
enforceable outside Earth’s orbit. So there is no time to waste.
We’ll take personal responsibility for scrutinising every passenger
and crew member on every mission leaving Earth. Kaptu can help
flush her to us. By going after her loved ones, it will make it
clear her future on this planet is fast drying up.’

‘Very well. I will ready our flight.’

Once he had left, Rojas said, ‘I think you’re
right. Mas is looking to escape and she has been saying goodbye to
her family in Africa. But that means the location in Mexico must be
directly related to the criminal enterprise that has her packing
her bags. A final winner takes all job.’

Renaissance frowned. ‘You might be right, but
if we foil that plot prematurely, there may be no need for Mas to
flee Earth. She is our target, remember.’

‘Even if people have to die first?’

Renaissance smirked coolly. ‘You are
obviously more than just an analyst. Even though I fear you may be
too much more, you will be in charge of investigating the Mexican
connection. No actions, however, will be taken without my go ahead.
Especially if it’s inside the US. The insurance agents have made it
quite clear we can’t afford it.’

‘Is there a technician available in case I
need someone on the ground?’

‘Roy Hill is the Hurt World One technician
for North America. He is working on a case involving hate-dog
breeders in New York. A tough bunch who will have sharpened his
teeth. We may well call on him, for I sense we are close enough to
take Mas on once again. And this time I won’t let casualties get in
the way. Even if it is me. You should read the case files on the
last time Hurt World went after her. In order to keep their Cobra X
species secure, the Spanish kept the males and females in separate
locations. When Mas got her hands on a male, it was obvious where
she was going next. And it was just as obvious what would happen if
she got a female too. Heroin 3 was being produced from regular
cobras and just starting to gain traction in the underground bar
scene. The announcement that a new more potent version of King
Cobra had been developed excited drug dealers even more than it did
scientists. A ten million New Dollar bounty was placed on the
acquisition of a breeding pair of Cobra X snakes. The United
Nations Secretary General tasked Hurt World with preventing the
transaction from ever taking place. We had skilled, well-trained
people, but Mas was pure carnage. We lost our Hurt World One
technician and most of her backup. Not to mention what happened to
the Spanish military facility. Suffice to say Mas had her breeding
pair.

‘And that was the last we heard of her until
now. Or her snakes for that matter. It was the snakes for which we
didn’t stop looking, couldn’t afford to. We didn’t know who Mas
sold them too, all that we knew was that Heroin 3 went mainstream
and came with a real pop. Overdoses went through the roof. Rumour
had it Asylum City was the source but there was no direct proof. So
we assigned Kaptu Z to look for some. And that more or less is what
he has been doing for the past two years.’

‘Has he found any proof?’ murmured Rojas,
somewhat surprised that he was being taken into Renaissance’s
confidence to such an extent.

Renaissance lingered a moment. ‘He says he
knows where to look.’

*

Natalie was staring out the rain sullied
window of her rundown Parisian apartment. The buildings huddled
together in the depths of night did not readily betray the bouts of
insomnia within, just a crack of light in a window here or there.
That was all the windows except Natalie’s. Her curtains were fully
drawn. She stood staring out at the night, cosy in her bathrobe.
She looked back at Kaptu Z in her bed. He was fast asleep like men
always seemed to be after they had made love. At least he was
sleeping handsome, his square jaw and dark complexion set like a
piece of art on the soft white pillow.

A hushed yelp drew Natalie’s attention to the
floor. Katpu was not the only one at rest in her room. She stared a
while at the black Labrador twitching with a dream on the bedroom’s
threadbare fawn carpet. Blast looked healthy and quite strong
considering it had spent the past two weeks in a Cocoon 41. Its
coat was shining, its body lean and muscled. According to Kaptu at
that moment in time it was probably the most valuable dog in the
world. She had worked out for herself that it was also no doubt one
of the most dangerous dogs in the world to be around. Taking it for
a walk in the park could easily end in a sniper’s bullet or even a
missile if the poacher, Mas, was feeling less delicate. But if it
was true Kaptu could use it to get a fix on the Meltman then a
missile would almost seem like sensitivity. At the Spanish Club she
had performed in front of the feared gangsters of the Pestasio
Brotherhood with a concoction of old alcohol, lust and violence
swimming through their heads and she had not registered a semblance
of the dread she was feeling now. She knelt down beside Blast and
stroked her head. It was soft and warm. Blast peered up at her a
moment before her heavy eyelids fell closed again. There were other
eyes, however, still open. Kaptu was staring.

‘She’s a good dog,’ murmured Natalie. ‘You
ordered her to sleep and she sleeps. And when you play fetch with
her, I’m going to be the stick. Is she good at that game? I ask
because if you throw me at the Meltman, I may be joining him in
never again seeing the light of day.’

‘Blast will find you and I’ll be right
behind. It’s risky, but there’s no one else who can mark Meltman
with scent.’

‘Where did you leave it?’

‘The scent? On the table.’

Natalie went to the glass vial and lightly
ran her fingers from top to bottom. She unscrewed the cap and
sniffed the sweet burned sweet. ‘I thought the Devil’s fragrance
would be a tad bitterer,’ she murmured and replaced the cap.

‘Meltman will find it bitter enough.’

Natalie left the vial and walked to the bed.
She ran her fingers through Kaptu’s hair, very much like she had
been doing with Blast. ‘And you think you are good enough to kill
him? You and whose army?’

His defense is his labyrinth of tunnels. He
has gone deeper and deeper into the darkness until he has felt
safe. He will be flustered when he realises he has not gone deep
enough.’

Natalie chuckled. ‘I wonder if my mother has
sent you. You certainly talk like her. I miss her terribly. For a
long time I have been thinking of throwing acid on my face so that
the Meltman would not desire me anymore. I even have the acid, in
my own little glass vial. Until you showed up, I was sure there was
no other way I could see my mother again. The only thing that has
prevented me from doing it is the fear that my mother might reject
me too.’

‘There would at least be a family resemblance
to the Meltman.’

‘You’re right about that. Why don’t you just
give me a poison? I’ll see that he gets it.’

‘The people I work for don’t countenance
assassination.’

Natalie’s voice darkened. ‘Delusions of
niceness won’t get you far against the Meltman.’ She let herself
calm down a moment. ‘At least that helps narrow it down. You have
either been sent by the law or by my mother. No one else would care
if I killed someone. Being tied to either of those two, I won’t
have to worry what happens to you. It will simply be a case of you
getting your just desserts.’

‘I get the feeling you’re becoming
interested.’

Natalie released her bathrobe to the floor
and joined Kaptu between the sheets, her naked body pressing up
against him. She kissed his lips hard and passionately. ‘I am. And
you’ll be as close as this when I tag the Meltman?’

‘I wouldn’t be much good for fighting if I
were as close as this.’

Natalie nibbled his ear. ‘Only good for one
thing. You’re right, not as close as this.’

*

There were no numbers on the rusted old iron
weightlifting plates but it was clear they were heavy. The bar they
were piled onto was ever so slightly bending under the strain. And
John Leroy Scope’s heavily veined muscles were bulging as they
pressed them above his chest. His confidence had to be admired, for
potential spotters were scarce on the ground in this remote part of
the Florida Everglades, and if the bar had collapsed onto his chest
there would have been little hope of wriggling out from under it.
Despite that, Scope went for one more rep, even though his arms
were twitching and the bar wasn’t going down as straight as it had
on rep one.

McRaven couldn’t help but edge a little
closer as a precaution. He refrained, however, from announcing his
presence in case the sudden emergence of an intruder on his
property distracted him from his set – his was not the voice Scope
wanted to hear with 200 kilograms perched above his head. McRaven
contented himself with quietly looking on and soaking up a little
more of the peaceful view across the bayou. It was the kind of view
that even if there was not another soul within screaming distance,
it was impossible to feel alone.

Scope snorted wildly as he got the weights up
one last time and let them crash down onto the bench-press
holders.

McRaven clapped as he stepped forward. ‘Like
your work big guy. You might have held something back if you knew
you had me to contend with.’

Scope sprung upright on the weights bench. He
was a mid-thirties man with a hard, strong body and a world weary
look in his pale grey eyes. His beard was new and it suited him.
The air of danger was well familiar.

‘Don’t worry,’ he said. ‘I’ve got plenty left
in the tank for the likes you.’

McRaven shrugged. ‘I like your place. Is this
what you were fighting for all those years?’

‘Before you get all misty eyed, I’m only
renting.’

‘I haven’t been keeping track of your
financial position, only your location, in case I needed you for a
job.’

‘Well, that’s a waist of time considering
I’ve quit.’

‘Quit to become a crocodile hunter. It’s not
as though you turned to religion.’

‘What’s the job?’

‘It’s still the same business,
extraction.’