The Next Chronicle (Book 2): Damage (13 page)

Peep's eyebrows shot up. “He recruited you personally?”

“Yeah,” Kit said, careful to keep her tone pleasant. “That was a big part of the reason I took the offer. The guy went out of his way to make me feel appreciated. Special.”

And that night, Kit would find out if the loyalty she had given Robinson was deserved. She hoped the man had nothing to do with the destruction of Fairmont, but there was little hope in her heart.

Ray closed the door to his quarters and engaged the locks before turning to face his visitors.

James Shane stood next to Waid, both men looking slightly uncomfortable. This could have been due to the situation—James being a
recently captured criminal
—though Ray thought it had to do with the intense anger he had been (barely) controlling for the last hour. All through the quiet removal of the prisoner from his cell, using Waid to fool security measures, he had seethed.

“Let's go,” Ray said tersely. “You know where we're heading?”

James nodded, pointing his chin at Waid. “He showed me a bunch of satellite images. I can get us close.”

“And you're sure you can take both of us at the same time?” Waid asked nervously.

“For the tenth time, yes,” James said. “It's all about mass. You two don't push my limit.”

With that James stepped forward and put hands on Ray and Waid. The world did a cartwheel, everything tasted purple for a second, and then they were standing in the darkened lot behind The Bean, staring at a metal door. Ray took a breath and steadied himself, then gently tapped a knuckle on the door.

Meanwhile, Waid vomited noisily.

“Nice,” Ray said. “Please don't do that again when you get where you're going.”

Footsteps inside grew louder, followed by the clank of locks moving and a bar being set aside. The door opened to reveal Archer's niece, Peep, who gave Ray a beatific smile.

“You're looking handsome as ever,” Peep said to him.

“Still super gay,” Ray replied with a smile of his own. “Can we come in?”

Waid had recovered with supernatural speed, peering with interest at the woman jokingly flirting with Ray. “I'm straight,” he said weakly. Everyone paused. Peep definitely wasn't holding back a laugh. That would have been unladylike and rude, Ray thought.

In the apartment they found Kit, who was just finishing pulling on a boot. She looked up at them as they entered, and for a moment Ray forgot why he was so angry.

“What the hell are you wearing?” Ray blurted out.

Kit smiled. “I'd have thought your first question would be to ask why you aren't going with us.”

Damn, she was perceptive. Ray shrugged uncomfortably. “You're the boss. It's your call.”

Kit glanced at Waid. “Are we secure?”

Waid's face went slack, though his eyes darted around madly. “Yeah,” he said after a few seconds. “No one is watching or listening to us electronically.”

Kit raised an eyebrow at Ray, who sighed. He brought up his Surge vision and looked for disturbances showing the presence of a remote viewer or any other Next ability. “Nothing,” he said. “We're solid.”

“It's not because I'm the boss,” Kit said. “This has nothing to do with work and you know it. You're not going—hell Archer's not going—because we want to minimize risk. James and Waid have to be there, and so do I. Besides, if you end up disappearing, Kovacs is going to start getting suspicious. We've already pulled you away a bunch of times recently. We can't rock to boat too much.”

“Then why am I even here?” Ray asked.

“Because I want you to try something,” Kit said. “I have a suspicion I want to check out.”

Ray gave her a critical stare. As usual, she gave nothing away. He sighed. “Fine, what is it?”

Kit put out a hand. “I want you to disrupt my powers. As much as you can.”

“What? Why?” Ray asked. “They'll just go back to normal after I stop.”

Kit grinned. “I've got a theory I want to test. Humor me.” She put out a hand.

“Cryptic, much?” Ray grumbled, but took her hand.

He focused on the touch, eyes zeroing in on the contrast between his pale hand and the darker skin of hers. It was there, as always, that reservoir of power. Ray drew on it and tried to direct the disruption of the Surge solely on Kit.

The aura of green energy around and through her wavered, going dim. She didn't glow as powerfully as many Next rated below her, but that was because her abilities were mostly based on actual physical changes. The Surge had set those changes off to be sure, but for Kit the energy acted as a means of augmenting and refining what she could now do without it, rather than being the only means.

Ray gritted his teeth as the Surge tried to rebound, glowing much brighter around her for a moment. He pushed harder, calling on more of his reserve. That made the glow dim to its lowest point yet, but the resistance was much worse. It was like trying to push your hand into a waterbed, easy enough at first but harder and harder the more you struggled. The Surge, like water, did not seem to compress. The best he could do was choke it off somewhat. Putting it out altogether was beyond him.

Two minutes later, sweat rolling down his face, Ray stopped. “That's the best I can do,” he said in a slight pant. “I couldn't shut it all the way...”

What the hell?

He absently noted the look of triumph on Kit's face, a fact without much importance. As expected, her aura had rebounded to a steady state after he stopped pushing on it. But it was now noticeably brighter than before, with not a flicker or variation to be seen.

“Yes!” Kit said, clapping her hands like a little girl. That alone was enough to make Ray's neck itch. Someone as deadly and serious as this woman should not do a little skip of joy. It wasn't natural.

“What did I just do?” Ray asked, though mostly from habit. He knew. It was obvious.

“You gave me a boost,” Kit said. “I've been looking into it for a while now. Ever since Thomas Maggard, actually. Some things Nunez said about you two having similar abilities when it came to the Surge, plus the fact that everyone around you has slowly been getting more powerful over time. I figured tonight was as good a time to test it as any.”

“Is it permanent?” Ray asked, examining her aura closely for any changes. It hadn't dimmed that he could see.

Kit shrugged. “How should I know? I didn't know this would work at all. Though I doubt it. I think you basically just gave me something like an overcharge. I think I'll burn it off and go back to normal, but it'll definitely be appreciated on this trip.”

“Now can we talk about what you're wearing?” Waid asked, looking askance at the odd clothing Kit wore.

“Sure,” Kit said. “You two need to change when I'm done.”

She wore baggy pants tucked into hiking boots, the bulge of knee pads visible. Beneath the loose pants she wore skintight compression pants. Her top was the same, a clingy material showcasing thin, hard plastic armor. This was cut from several pieces of football padding, she explained, and put back together to give their torsos some protection. Each of them had a hood and goggles, to completely hide their features, along with plasticized mechanic's gloves and elbow pads for added safety.

“Looking at those outfits, I'm half glad I'm not going,” Ray said when Waid and James went to change. “You really went to a lot of trouble, here.”

Kit shrugged as she went about fastening straps to her legs, torso, and waist. “Not much choice. I don't want either of them recognized, and the light armor means they're less likely to get hurt or leave behind evidence. I'm not planning on letting either of them get shot, but that doesn't mean some disarmed guard can't hit them in the gut and knock the wind out of them. Something like that can wreck an operation, if the guy getting hit can't recover quickly.”

Ray nodded. “I understand that. I just mean, why not take stuff from the armory at work? Would have been a lot easier, and probably better protection.”

“Call it a dedication to paranoia,” Kit said. “Might not be a big risk, but there's always a chance that would lead back to us. Maybe someone remembers seeing me take a box of stuff out. Or does an inventory. No, we're better off this way. More risky for us personally, but it keeps everyone else out of the line of fire.”

“Just be careful,” Ray said, his anger now low embers.

“I will,” Kit said softly as she added pouches to the MOLLE straps cinched around her. “I know how much you must have wanted to make this run. You don't talk about it, but Fairmont has to weigh on you. Getting to the bottom of it has to be...I can't even find a word.”

“Archer says it's an obsession,” Ray said. “Honestly, I get why I'm not going. I do. Doesn't mean my head and heart agree with each other, but I'll live.”

“You're a good guy, Ray,” Kit said. “You have my word; by tomorrow morning, you'll know the truth. I simply won't accept failure as an option.”

Knowing her, Ray believed what Kit said. She would do everything in her power to retrieve the information. What worried him wasn't her resolve, but what lengths the people who held that information would go to in order to keep it hidden.

Clad in black, three figures moved slowly through the darkened woods as they climbed the ridge. It was a low spine of earth, an afterthought next to the much larger wave of stone a mile distant. That feature dominated the landscape, a small mountain seated in the middle of a vast, empty plain.

Kit recognized it even in the inky blackness. Like the facility, built inside the crater where Fairmont stood, this place existed because of the Next. It was an artificial mountain with artificial ridges, the former raised from the bedrock and the latter an unintended result. Pictures of the place were popular on internet lists of fantastic sights to see, showing the strange formations in their daytime glory. Kit thought it looked like God had reached down and picked at the ground with a fist, much as she might do with a blanket.

Unlike the facility, this place had not been created by accident. The design was both intentional and planned, ostensibly as a means of testing large-scale geological manipulation. The official line claimed the mountain was sculpted in a manner meant to channel the strong winds of the great plains into a more focused sheet of air. This cover story might have the benefit of being true; there was indeed a large wind farm stretching out past the thing.

From the top of the ridge, their objective shone clear. The base of the mountain included an almost perfectly circular cutout, and nestled within was a building. The walls spread out at wide angles as a defense from the wind, seeming to fuse with the wall of stone behind it. Given the huge scale of the project, the government also claimed to be studying the effects of the changes created in the landscape from the inside, necessitating underground sections of building.

This also had the potential to be true. The building below acted as a cover, and good covers had strong elements of truth. Kit would have bet a reasonable amount of money that within those walls there was real geological research going on, along with the infrastructure needed to manage the wind farm on the other side of the mountain.

It was also what Waid called an NSA Blank Site. Kit had never heard the term, though as she knew what a Black Site was—a term coined by the CIA for off-the-books prisons—she got the idea. This place held a trove of secrets, some accessible by a talented technopath, others less so.

“What do you think?” Kit asked.

James watched the blazing lights below, framing the building in something close to full sun. “Kind of suspicious to have so much lighting and security on a research facility,” he said.

Kit smiled faintly beneath the hood covering her face. “We already know this is the place. I meant, what do you think about the approach? Can you get us there from here?”

James wore the same total-body suit as her, but she could have read the pride in his body language without enhanced senses. “That's a little insulting. I got you guys here from Louisville, didn't I? Five hundred miles wasn't hard. This will be beyond easy.”

“Don't get cocky,” Kit said. “How about you?”

Waid nodded. “Once we're in, I shouldn't have a problem with their systems. If I don't have to ride in on an outside line, handling security and the rest should be simple. I've done dry runs through their security systems a bunch of times. With my body being this close, I will be able to handle a lot more at once. I'm solid.”

“Okay,” Kit said, taking a deep breath. “Once we leave this ridge, no names. I'm One, James is Two, and Waid is Three. We refer to each other by those numbers and nothing else. James and I will be moving as a pair, with Waid stationary if possible after we clear the entrance. Everyone have their ear buds in?”

James and Waid nodded, tapping their ears. Waid, of course, didn't actually need one due to his powers. He could speak through them to the others directly with his mind. Kit wanted him wired up anyway, just to be safe.

“In we go,” Kit said, standing next to James. This would be the easiest part; getting inside meant traveling into a closed structure, though the entrance had enough glass to give James a clear line of sight. Kit was thrilled about that, as her desire to have her molecules fused with a table or chair was pretty small.

A hand on her shoulder, a flash of light, and they stood in front of the locked entrance. The trio stood there for less than the space of a breath as James reoriented and took them inside. Kit was glad he had taken the extra step; she would rather be sure of their arrival than surprised.

The lobby was empty, though that was likely to change. In fact, the plan hinged on it. Though the electronic security would be easy for Waid to manage, the people acting as guards had to be dealt with more directly. This was why Kit had made so many stops to buy things, rather than use even the most basic stun weapons from the facility. She couldn't risk the smallest association with the OSA.

If their arrival outside hadn't triggered any alarms, the sudden appearance inside the lobby surely had. Kit glanced to Waid, who nodded. Security was aware of their arrival.

“You two get down and stay out of the way,” Kit breathed. She pulled a baton from its sheath on her leg, whipping her hand to extend it. Though the guards would be carrying firearms, Kit refused to allow her team to carry any. There would be no killing of innocent men and women.

Hospitalizations, maybe. But no killing.

The idea was to draw as many of the guards as possible to one location in order to minimize the chance someone would sneak up on them later. Kit had no illusions in that regard, knowing full well there would be others smart enough to stay back and take defensive positions.

She heard footsteps thundering up a distant set of stairs,
far
enough to give her time to mentally prepare. Kit touched her belt, where two dozen zip ties hung from a Velcro strap. The loose loops were ready to be pulled closed. She listened to the footfalls, staring at the single door across the vast lobby—empty save for a few pieces of furniture—and hoped she had enough to go around.

“Kill it,” Kit said to Waid, who crouched behind the information desk occupying the north wall.

His timing couldn't have been better. Just as the door burst open to reveal a hallway packed with angry men holding pistols, every light in the place went out.

Kit jumped with all the force she could muster, avoiding the predictable panic-shooting. Only one guard fired in surprise when the room fell to darkness, which she counted in their favor. The fact that none of the others lost control even at the sound of a gunshot increased her appreciation for their training and skills.

Respect didn't stop Kit from lashing out with a foot as she descended, knocking the two front most guards into the men behind them. Her own vision was perfectly clear, if mostly in shades of gray. She dodged back and to the right, getting out of the way of the door as the men in the back angrily shoved their fallen comrades into the lobby.

Kit was ruthless, the numbers and situation demanding no less. While the bullets were unlikely to do her much harm if they hit her anywhere but the head, they would still hurt like hell. She dealt with this problem by swinging her baton in measured strokes, knocking guns into the darkness and breaking fingers and hands in the process.

The darkness filled with the sounds of curses mixed with shouts of pain. She let them come into the room, stumbling over the men in front, and mercilessly continued her assault. It was easy. Compared to the workouts she had with other Next, this felt as unfair as fighting a group of children. Here, she kicked a man in the knee just short of breaking something. There, she grabbed someone by the heavy leather belt and flung him in a low arc ten feet or more, only to crash into the marble floor.

The trick was to keep moving and unharmed long enough to spread them out. This took about forty seconds of normal time, much longer as Kit's brain stretched her perceptions. When the last man was in the room, she began darting between them. The baton slid into the back of her belt where she could easily grab it, her hands occupied with the task of restraining her captives.

Zip ties pulled tight, one after another, as Kit bound hands to feet. There wasn't much worry they'd break, the ties being the thickest she could find. In short order all the guards—eight of them—lay on their sides, hands behind their backs and knees bent. It wasn't a bad job, she judged. Three ties to each man, using all the ones Kit had at her belt.

Waid and James moved to help her search the men after the binding was finished, removing anything they might use to cut their bonds. Kit dumped the assortment of pocket knives, folding blades, and multi-tools in one drawer of the desk before quickly stripping every pistol down to its components and dumping them in another.

Most of the guards lay in terrified silence as the three of them moved to leave the room. Understandable, really. They had just had their asses handed to them easily, by persons unknown. They had to be afraid of what came next. Were they going to be executed? The fear had to be there. Kit said nothing to reassure them, however much she wanted to. She planned on not having her voice heard by anyone aside from her team.

“I'm gonna fucking kill you, you motherfucker,” one guard said as Kit walked past him. “You're one of those freaks, I know it.”

“Jesus Christ, Jerry,” another guard hissed. “Shut the hell up.”

Yeah, Jerry,
Kit thought,
shut up.

She kicked him in the head, just hard enough to get the point across.

Jerry shut up.

They moved down the stairs and through several rooms with no incidents. Waid found a space he liked two floors below the surface, a small room packed with racks of electronics he said was the security system.

“Stay safe,” Kit said as she closed the door on him. He nodded back to her, tapping his ear. The door locked as it shut, the electronic mechanism beeping. There wasn't even a place for a regular key, which made Kit feel a little better. They'd have to take an axe to the door to get the technopath out of the room.

Kit and James moved, dashing through doors whose locks disengaged just in front of them. Waid was as good as his word, managing the internal systems of the building with apparent ease. As they descended another set of stairs, a flashlight beam below alerted Kit to an incoming guard. She didn't hesitate, leaping over the rail and snagging a hand on it to change her momentum and direction.

Her elbow caught the guard in the space where neck met shoulder as she dropped onto the landing behind him. She pulled more ties from a pouch, securing the dazed man to the railing.

They kept moving, directed by Waid. Though the security system was not recording or even transmitting to the men watching the monitors, Waid was still able to watch through the cameras like a hundred eyes. His voice, tinny through the earpieces, led them clear of a few other guards and closer to their goal.

“Wait,” Waid said as Kit and James stepped into a server room. “I'm going to need to look around in here a bit, and that will take a lot of my attention.”

“How much of your attention?” James asked. “I'd rather not be caught by surprise.”

“I'll still be watching the cameras,” Waid assured him. “If anything moves, I'll know it and pull back out to let you know. I just want to scan through these servers to see if I can find anything interesting.”

“Roger that,” Kit said, taking a position to one side of the door they had come through. “Try to be quick.”

“I will,” Waid said. “I can process information pretty fast. Just hold tight.”

The wait was less than a minute. “These are the intranet servers for the research going on here,” Waid said. “Nothing important. Head to the door on the far side of the room and I'll direct you from there.”

Kit did as he said, motioning for James to follow. Waid kept his instructions short by necessity, as his questing mind had to reach out and scan every computer and piece of electronics in the building. He had explained it as a sort of progressive map of the place, created as they moved through the building. While his mind could reach any system within a thousand feet or so without the need for transmission lines of some sort—his mental WiFi, he called it—even his enhanced brain could process only so much information at once.

So they moved at a measured pace, letting Waid touch and sort through new data from systems they were near.

They were on the fifth floor below the surface when a triumphant laugh sounded through their ear buds. “I found it! You're close to the computer that manages the NSA vaults. I'm looking through it for indexes or some kind of directory now, but I can tell you where the entrance...oh. Shit.”

“What is it?” Kit asked more calmly than she felt. “Is someone coming?”

“No. Er, not exactly. Just hang on a second.”

Kit waited, though it was nearly two minutes before Waid finally came back online.

“Okay. The good news is that you're only thirty feet from the entrance to the vault.”

Kit counted backward from ten in her head, trying not to snap at him. “What's the bad news?”

“It doesn't have an electronic lock,” Waid said, his electronic voice somber. “It's manual. The door is four inches of steel, and there are four men behind it, armed to the teeth and ready for you.”