Legacy of a Mad Scientist (22 page)

Yesterday was all about blocks and blocking. We even
learned how to hold our fingers if we want to do an eye poke. They
didn’t teach us anything like this at the last camp. This is
downright dangerous stuff.

Sihing Shou said tomorrow we’re going to learn kicks,
but that we want to learn punches first, because we only want to
kick after we knock them down.

Someone asked if that was fighting dirty.

Shou said he’d rather live dirty than die clean.

Everyone laughed.

But then he stopped and said, “My point is, you
should only be fighting if it’s a life or death situation in the
first place.”

I thought that was pretty smart.

Oh, in my match-up, against Chris, he tried to do
some fancy kick and sprained his ankle. So he had to forfeit, and I
won by default.

Tuesday Evening, July 7, 2308

Ross switched his vehicle over to autopilot / roam.
He triggered his invisibility phase-cam and climbed out. He
activated the gravity harness as he fell away from the car and
headed toward his scheduled rendezvous with Snow and King.

Arriving a few minutes later, the three of them
hovered high above the Fox home. Snow and King had been
waiting.

“What the hell is going on?” King asked. “Things are
getting fishy in the middle district.”

Ross pointed out several homes in the neighborhood.
“That one is the Bureau, over there we have the NSA, those three
are private security, and that one is Stanwood’s personal
team.”

“No shit?” King asked. “Can I tell you, we just got
TAD orders the NID? They want us to find Pierce and the
device.”

“So you’ll be on the inside?” Ross asked.

“I’ve got orders to Jerusalem,” Snow interrupted.
“What’s that about?”

“SecDef says Fox asked to have you reassigned,” Ross
answered.

“Three weeks?”

“Thank Croswell,” Ross glanced around. “He may not be
here, but…”

“Big Brother is everywhere.” King laughed.

“And we have another problem,” Ross said.

“It’s been twenty-four hours since I’ve seen hide or
hair of our good doctor. It seems after his meeting yesterday he
bought a cup of coffee and fell off the face of the Earth.

“Out in DC?” Snow asked.

Ross nodded. “It gets better. Several customers
reported nausea, unconsciousness, memory loss and strange
dreams.”

“Sinusoids,” Snow said.

“Our weapons have fallen into the hands of our
enemies,” King asked.

“Croswell just sent me to Jerusalem and assigned you
to our number one enemy,” Snow said.

“Please don’t go jumping to conclusions,” Ross
said.

“Where’s the footage from the café?” Snow asked.

“A couple of hours ago, Reid got the footage of the
café, thank you. I’m sending to your internal HUDs now.”

Snow blinked and then closed her eyes for a moment.
“That’s Stanwood’s bitch,” Snow said, identifying Von Kalt.

“That’s right,” King added. “I’d recognize him
anywhere.”

“They just grabbed him off the street?” Snow asked.
“Yesterday? And we’re doing nothing about it?”

“We’re not
doing nothing
,” Ross answered.
“I’ve got Reid on it. We’ll get a location. But you are going to
New Jerusalem.”

Ross turned to King “And you are going to work for
the enemy.”

“I won’t be able to broadcast. I won’t be able to
warn you if anything is going down,” King said.

“It won’t come to that. Oh, by the way, he made that
one shot rule a standing order,” Ross said.

“That’s insane,” King said.

“What One Shot Rule?” Snow asked.

“Fox told me that if anyone ever drew on him, that I
have to give them one shot before I return fire. He said,
‘
That’s the Point of Return Fire
.”

“That’s retarded,” Snow replied.

“Right,” King agreed.

“I get it.” Ross looked at his comrades. “You really
don’t get it?”

“No, I don’t get it,” King answered. “What’s the
point of having an invisible bodyguard if you have an order that
says
let them shoot me
?”

“I agree with you that hundred percent,” Snow added.
“I’m not letting them shoot Ashley of Geoff. Not once, not ever.
That is not happening.”

No one spoke.

The late afternoon sunlight faded from the sky.

Ross glanced at his watch. “Ana is teaching
gymnastics, two buildings away from Geoff and only one from Ashley.
They are surrounded by dozens of people. They’re fine.”

“They’re surrounded by a bunch of children and
teachers, that is far from safe, or fine, and you know it,” Captain
Snow said.

“I also know that you are going to El Nuevo Jerusalem
as soon as this conversation is finished. Aren’t you?” Ross
asked.

Snow waved her hand.

“Look,” Ross said. “They’ve got no official rendition
warrants for Andrew anywhere in the system. This whole gig is
undercover.”

Snow laughed. “So, Stanwood finally grew a pair and
went off-book.” She stared at the stars, just appearing in the sky
overhead.

Ross spoke quietly, “Just go and make sure the old
man is okay. It is a matter of National Security, if it makes you
feel any better.”

“You know he just wants me out of the mix,” she
said.

“And what’s so wrong with that? You’re an original,
and the only one of us Stanwood will shoot on sight.”

“You have to find Andrew. If you haven’t heard from
him in a week, I’m coming back.”

“He said three.”

“I don’t see how Dr. Te needs my help in the first
place.”

“Orders are orders, Ana.”

“Thanks so much.”

“I swear, the moment we learn anything, you will be
the first person I call. Hell, hanging out with Te, it will
probably be you guys calling us.”

Captain Snow smiled,

King raised a hand. “Right, I’m off, must report
oh-dark-thirty. Catch you cats on the other side.”

Ross and Snow waved. Snow lingered for a moment.

Ross raised his hand. “Objection noted.”

Snow nodded, turned away and increased her elevation,
heading toward her roaming vehicle, lost somewhere in the Angel
City traffic.

Wednesday, July 8, 2308

During her third match, Ashley attracted the
attention of her instructors. Her assigned adversary, Roger, lanky
and uncoordinated, wasn't a threat to anyone but himself. It took
little effort for Ashley to stay out of his reach.

She let him chase her around the ring, swinging for
the fences and never making contact. However, despite ample
opportunity, Ashley didn't hit Roger.

Sihing Lopez was scoring the match, and at the first
break, he approached Ashley. "Why don't you strike and end the
round, take the point?”

Ash didn’t answer. She just looked at Roger, gasping
and wheezing in his corner. She wasn't even winded.

"If you don't strike, the match will end in a tie,"
Lopez said.

Ashley rolled her eyes.

Lopez turned and approached the Roger, who was
gloriously exhausted. "Breathe. Breathe," Lopez said. "That's it.
Breathe.”

Ashley decided to go for the tie. She would keep the
match as close as possible. She would let Roger get as close as
possible, but not give up any points.

When the whistle blew, Ash walked to the center of
the ring and raised her gloves. With her toe, she traced a line
across the mat, daring Roger to cross it.

Roger took the bait, but with trepidation. He raised
his gloves and inched toward the line, preparing to swing.

Ashley let him come.

Roger fired off a wild jab-hook.

Ashley watched the clumsy explosion of arm, shoulder
and face. At no point was she in any real danger.

Roger scrunched up his face when he punched, as if
afraid that the act of punching would result in his being struck.
Ashley could see why he'd become conditioned to think that way,
with such an uncoordinated throw. She let it sail past without
moving more than a fraction of an inch.

Punch after punch, Ashley moved as little as she
could to avoid him. Soon she was moving closer to his flailing
fists, but he couldn’t hit her.

Ashley's dangerous ploy began to draw spectators. The
waiting or already finished competitors became interested in her
match and the more heads turned, the more heads turned.

Roger stepped in with a haymaker.

Ashley pivoted under the strike, coming up on his
unprotected backside.

He spun, panicked, uncoiling as if he were a broken
metal spring.

Ash slipped out of the way.

Roger threw three jabs.

Ashley dodged him, his gloves inside kissing
range.

Roger stepped in with a knee and a kick.

Ashley eluded him.

He lunged at her; she caught him and kept him from
falling.

He combined jabs, hooks and elbows, she gave him a
pirouette, landing behind him and then spun twice more, just to
keep him off balance.

The timer rang, that was the end of the round.

Sihing Lopez laughed, quite a crowd had gathered.

During the break, Roger had a dozen coaches.

No one said anything to Ashley. Her corner was closer
to the wall and outside the action. She waited alone.

In the last round, Roger got more technical, but it
was too late, he was exhausted.

After one extravagant punch, Ashley reached out and
put a finger at the back of his elbow.

Roger was overextended, his stance was compromised,
and in order to escape, he was forced to collapse forward onto the
floor.

Ashley stepped back and let him wearily climb to his
feet.

Roger didn't raise his hands. He was beaten and knew
it. He didn't want to fight anymore. He was humiliated.

Sihing Lopez waved at him, "Come on. Keep going!”

Roger just looked at him.

Lopez looked over to Ashley.

Ash had no intention of hitting Roger.

After kneeing Scott in the face, quite by accident,
she saw no reason to further facilitate Shou's brutal lessons. If
he wanted people to experience pain, let him dish it out.

Lopez seemed capable of reading her thoughts, but
Ashley said nothing.

She stood her ground.

Lopez blew the whistle, ending the third round. He
awarded the win to Ashley, as Roger had forfeit the match.

Wednesday, July 8, 2308

Ross adjusted his gear as the autopilot threaded the
midday Angel City traffic. The computer chimed, alerting him that
they had reached their destination vector. The major powered up his
phase camouflage, opened the hatch and stepped into the wild blue
yonder.

As the gravity harness came online, his free fall was
gradually reversed until he was ascending again.

Ross activated his thermal lenses and went looking
for his friend.

“Are you sure you’re up for this?” Croswell
asked.

“We have to do something. And you shipped our MVPs to
BFE, just when we needed them most.”

“Ana’s trip has been planned for months. Te’s got
some new tech he’s jumping out of his shorts to show us. And we
need King right where he is, you’ll see I’m right about that.”

“Hey, I agree with you there,” Ross said.

“If we make a move now, Stanwood will say we’re
trying to take over. He’s got the AG and half of the congressional
branch convinced that Fox is planning a coup.”

“Are we?”

“What?”

“Planning a coup?”

“No.”

“Why the hell not?”

“Because killing Stanwood isn’t a coup, for one
thing.”

“I think you need to look a little deeper, we both
know that nerd is Conway’s puppet.”

“You think this is Conway?”

“If not him, then Big John Phillips. Was Conway there
for your little chat the other day?”

“You know he wasn’t”

“But Miller and Clarke, they were. And you think
Miller is going to have something incriminating in his office?”

“No. But it will piss him off.”

“Let’s just wax Stan.”

“If we kill Stanwood now, they will come down on us
like a ton of bricks. I can guarantee you our names will come out
as the active agents on the Centaur project; and then where will we
be? Immortal but locked out of society? Hunted? Yeah, fun.”

“Let’s go all the way then, straight to the top. A
coup, mutiny, that will be fun.”

“Are you suggesting installing Fox as the CEO? Let me
go on record stating that would be a disaster.”

Ross took a deep breath. “Can’t say I disagree with
you there?”

“And I don’t want that job,” Croswell said.

“Who cares who takes it next? We know who it won’t
be.”

“Look, to do this properly, we would need to
eliminate all of Fox’s enemies. That’s at least fifty elected
senators and congressmen. Once we kick that first domino, we have
to keep going until half the governing body of the country is
shifting six feet of black soil. Even as insulated as we are, we
don’t have the juice for that kind of drama. Every agency will go
on red alert the moment Stanwood hits the pavement. We can’t just
go at this like a tank through a pre-school. I’m all for
eliminating Stanwood. But we need to think bigger. We need to set
him up, expose his weakness, whatever it is. We need to find out
who’s feeding him his information.”

“That’s obvious, isn’t it?” Ross asked.

“Not to me,” Croswell answered.

“You were there the last time Fox stopped by the Oval
Office, before Epsilon. He hooked up Stagwell with an amplifier,
but from what I understand, he’s never met with Conway about all
this.”

“Are you trying to say Conway feels left out?”

“Maybe.”

“If Stanwood has managed to convince him that he had
something to fear, we don’t want to go confirming that. We need to
discredit him, squeeze him out and then flush him, if you catch my
meaning.”

“I’m sorry I asked.”