Armageddon Heights (a thriller) (33 page)

‘Alive? I’m not alive, Keegan. Everything I am, everything I ever was, is a sham, a collection of someone’s clever data programming.’

‘And maybe that’s the same for all of us, Wade. My real self is a collection of atoms - protons, neutrons, electrons. What’s the difference?’

Wade shouldered the weapon and let out a heartfelt cry. ‘Finish your goddamn map and let’s get out of here. I’m sick of having to think.’ He turned away from her, faced the tunnel. There was the muted sound of gunfire from somewhere up ahead. ‘And make it fast. I think we’re going to get company. The Sentinels can’t be far away.’

Keegan stood back from her drawing, squinting as she mentally placed herself in the crude image, imagining traversing its many threads.

‘I think I’ve got it,’ she said. ‘They have to be here,’ she said, prodding the drawing in the dirt.

‘What makes you so sure?’ His tone was cold, unforgiving.

‘It’s secure. A storage facility. Built of extra thick lead and sheet steel – or what constitutes lead and steel in the Heights. Whatever, metals were designed to have the same properties here as anywhere else. The storage facility is close by where we were taken by Cain, just before the Sentinels attacked. Hopefully it’s impervious to any tracking. That’s where I think Cain had the prisoners put. If we’re lucky, the Sentinels won’t have found them.’

‘What if they’re not in there either?’ he said flatly. ‘What if they’re somewhere else in this hellhole?’

‘It’s a chance we have to take. If they aren’t there then it’s up to you what you do. I can’t force you to come with me and save your life.’

‘Okay, let’s get going,’ he said hurriedly. However, he remained still, looking at his begrimed shoes. ‘One more thing, Keegan…’

She picked up the AT4 again and settled the rifle strap over her shoulder. ‘Yeah?’

‘Who are you really? I mean, you’re an avatar, right? Keegan isn’t a real person. So who are you, back in real life? What’s your name?’

She paused, licking her dry lips. She felt she had to come clean.

‘Melissa Lindegaard,’ she said.

He laughed. Clapped his hands. ‘Bravo, Melissa! Bravo! You
clever
girl, you!’ Dean Villiers turned to Robert Napier, whose face remained impassive. ‘
She
was Charlie Sharland. The man never existed. It was all smoke and mirrors, designed to throw people off the scent of the real mastermind behind the latest incarnation of CSL: Melissa Lindegaard.’ He grinned with a pleasure all his own. ‘Come on, Napier, you know I’m right. It’s no use denying it.’

‘Really? She can’t move, she can’t speak – you know how ill she is,’ Napier returned. But his defence was half-hearted and he knew it.

‘You’re not giving her the credit that’s due her, Napier,’ Villiers said. ‘Everyone thought she was living the life of a vegetable. I mean, look at her – she’s a physical wreck. But that isn’t the case, is it?’ He waited for Napier’s response, but the man remained tight-lipped. ‘Not playing this game anymore? Let me fill in the gaps then.’ He went to the computer, checked the readout on the VDU. ‘Interesting,’ he mused. ‘If I’m not wrong I’d say this baby is telling me she’s taking a tremtrip and is in the Heights. As Lieutenant L. Keegan.’ He stared at Napier and smiled. ‘And there’s me thinking she’d gone bye-byes.’ Then his eyes steeled and the smile vanished in an instant. Villiers asked for Napier’s weapon from Jungius. Checked it over again. ‘Serial number filed off. Now what’s someone like you doing with a hot gun like this? I’d say you didn’t want what you intended doing with it traced back to you. What is it, Napier? Revenge?’

‘Stop screwing around, Villiers. What is it you want?’ 

‘You know who had her shot, don’t you?’

‘I know who it was,’ said Napier evenly. ‘It was Dale Lindegaard.’

Villiers raised a brow. ‘This gun was meant for him, wasn’t it? You meant to kill Lindegaard and then get the hell out. Disappear. So what do you have, a new identity waiting, false ID, that kind of thing?’ He tapped the gun against his jaw. ‘We both know why Lindegaard had them shot – his brother and his niece. CSL had been meeting secretly with Melissa, who finally convinced her of the existence of Sentients. She went to her father and in turn persuaded him of the validity of their arguments. They were attending the meeting of the executive team that day to announce an end to Armageddon Heights as a game, call a stop to further developments of that and similar games and order a full investigation into the issue of sentience. Ultimately the full recognition of Sentient liberties.

‘That really stuck in the craw of Dale Lindegaard. He had big plans for the Heights, an expansion not a postponement. Add to that mix that he saw himself as the lesser of the two brothers, the undisputed underdog, he thought he’d blow away the pair, frame CSL and inherit his rightful place as leader of Lindegaard Software. Job done.

‘Except Melissa survived, just. If you can call it survival. Melissa should have inherited the company, but Dale Lindegaard’s lawyers fought a good enough case to hand over the leadership to him, as Melissa, in her state, would never be able to eat or drink for herself, walk, talk, even go to the crapper, let alone run a multi-national. She was, it was ruled, a vegetable. But that wasn’t the case, was it, Napier?’ He sighed at Napier’s reluctance to join in. ‘Come on, man! Give me some credit for finding all this out, just a tad.’

‘Go fuck yourself, Villiers,’ Napier said.

‘Is that the best a man like you can manage? I‘m disappointed in you.’ He pointed the gun at Melissa. ‘But
this
woman – this woman I’m impressed with! She might have been a physical wreck, but inside here,’ he said, prodding her forehead with the gun, ‘she was very much alive and kicking. You saw that, didn’t you? You helped her to verbalise what was in her head through the use of one finger and a little technical wizardry. You told her what her uncle was doing to the company, how he was twisting it to suit his own personal ambitions, turning it into something Jeremy Lindegaard would have been horrified to see.’

‘What is it you want, Villiers?’ said Napier. ‘The sound of you blowing your own trumpet is starting to make me want to puke.’

‘Between you, you decide to resurrect CSL. Melissa here, with a small team to help her – poor Doctor Sanderson being one of them – designs new software to make unofficial incursions into the Heights, wile you access tremethelene supplies and help override firewalls from inside the organisation, thereby keeping one step ahead of Lindegaard all the time. CSL nips in under Lindegaard’s nose and steals away Sentients, taking them to a safe place within the Heights called Erewhon, with the intention, if I’m not mistaken, of not only saving them, but using their collected existence as undeniable proof of sentience when the right time came, thus bringing about the end of Armageddon Heights as a game, just like Melissa and her father had wanted. And the mysterious Charlie Sharland – well, what can I say? Everyone thought he was real. Even me.

‘Meanwhile a thorough investigation on your part into the bogus convictions of CSL members had you convinced beyond doubt that it was Dale Lindegaard who had Melissa and her father shot. I can’t blame you for wanting revenge. Who wouldn’t?’ he said, admiring the gun. ‘You want him stone-cold dead, and Melissa is dying, is she not? How long has she got to live? Weeks, months, days? What a pity,’ he said. ‘So as soon as she’s dead your plan was to kill Lindegaard. Am I right?’ He moved toward Napier. ‘Does she know? Did you tell her that it was her own uncle that ordered her murder?’

Napier shook his head. ‘She doesn’t know. She’ll never know. She loved him too much.’

‘What if the police find you?’ said Villiers. ‘What if you don’t get away with it?’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ he said, shrugging. ‘I don’t really care what happens to me.’

‘Don’t give me that shit about your life not being worth living without the woman you love. Jesus, Napier! I thought you were better than that!’ He strode round Napier to stand at the door again, Jungius behind him as immobile and as expressive as a slab of granite. ‘You could be a very, very rich man.  You see, I don’t want to kill you. I could have had that done straight away. But that would have been such a waste. That would be senseless. We can both come out of this smelling of roses. Melissa will get all the care she needs in her final days, I can swing it that Dale Lindegaard will meet whatever grisly end you so desire, and you, as his number two, will probably slip into his place and take the company reins. In return all we ask is that you steer the company round to selling out to my company, or at the very least throw a few vital trade secrets our way, and as a result you’ll be sitting pretty for the rest of your days. How does that sound?’

‘And swap one murdering despot for another?’ sniffed Napier.

‘That’s a little narrow-minded of you,’ said Villiers. ‘A businessman like you, as well. And this is purely business, nothing personal.’

Just then they heard a buzzing sound. They both looked across at Jungius, whose meaty hand had gone to his pocket. He pulled out a phone.

‘Jungius! Really!’ said Villiers. ‘I’m in the middle of something important. Turn the blasted thing off. You’re ruining my moment.’

Jungius offered a silent apology in the shape of a wrinkled nose, looked at the screen on his phone and hit a button, putting the phone away.

‘Now, where were we?’ Villiers said, frowning. ‘Ah, yes, my offer. The alternative, I’m afraid, is that both Melissa and you die, as will anyone else associated with your little CSL setup. We have the ability to locate and terminate every single one of them.’

What took Napier by surprise was when Jungius swung his arm round so that his gun was aimed straight at the back of Villiers’s head. Villiers read the alarmed expression in Napier’s face, turned round and was at a loss to explain what he beheld. Jungius lowered the gun and pulled the trigger.

The bullet slammed through Villiers’s chest, a tiny patch of red immediately opening up. He stood there, stunned, swaying a little, like a sapling in a breeze, looking from Jungius and the smoking gun to his chest. His hand went up to shakily explore the wound, then his eyes rolled white and he crumpled as if in slow motion to the floor.

Napier, his eyes wide, body tensed, stared at the gun in the large man’s hand, expecting at any moment to have it turned on him. Instead, Jungius lowered it and stood to one side, away from the door.

Dale Lindegaard strode into the room, his cream suit giving off a spectral glow in the dim light.

‘Looks like a butcher’s yard in here,’ he observed, looking about him. ‘Maybe wearing cream today wasn’t such a good idea,’ he said, careful not to tread in the scattered pools of blood on the floor. ‘Was he boring you, Robert?’ he asked. ‘I was listening to him for a long time outside. He was boring me. There again, he always did like to hear the sound of his own voice.’ He smiled at Napier’s obvious bewilderment. ‘Such a turnaround of events, eh, Robert?’ He nodded at Jungius. ‘He works for me, of course. But I suppose that’s plain to see. I know everything.’ Lindegaard walked up to Napier, gave a slow shake of his head. His white hair glistened like brushed steel. ‘What have you done to me, Robert? Eh? I trusted you, gave you position and power, and this is how you repay me. You betrayed me.’

‘You’re an animal, Lindegaard. You murdered your brother,’ Napier said,’ and you tried to kill Melissa. You did
that
to her!’ he said, pointing to the woman lying in the chair. ‘What did you expect from me?’

‘Ah, yes, Melissa. Your wife. That, I admit, did come as a complete surprise. Why? Why marry her? Villiers and I had at least one thing in common in asking that of you.’

‘You’ll never know…’ he returned, his eyes burning with hatred for the man.

He offered a grunt. ‘I don’t want to know.’ He regarded Napier deeply. ‘So is it true you planned to kill me?’

‘And I still will, when I get the chance.’

Lindegaard smiled thinly. ‘Sadly that chance will never come. I can’t let you live, you do know that, don’t you, Robert?’ He held out the flat of his hand to Jungius. ‘Ordinarily he’s very good at his job. He messed up when he failed to kill Melissa that day, but I’m assured that was a one-off.’ He took enjoyment from Napier’s reaction. ‘That’s right. It’s all falling into place now, isn’t it? He’s lucky he’ll get a second chance.’ He waved Jungius over and the man strode to hover menacingly over Melissa, his footsteps unusually light for such a big man, Napier thought.

‘What are you going to do? Leave her alone!’ Napier said.

‘Have you ever seen anyone die of a tremethelene overdose?’ Lindegaard asked icily. ‘No? If you take 10ml over the limit the effect is to die quite peacefully, maximum time ten minutes. Take 100ml over the limit and it’s not very nice at all. In the early days of its development we had two deaths during the initial trials. With a large overdose, the brain experiences a severe form of epilepsy, the body goes into manic convulsions – you would never believe the excruciating positions a body can get into until you witness it – and the pain! Oh the pain of it must be quite unendurable. But that’s not the end of it. The brain starts to melt. Literally turns to mush. Death takes five minutes. But it’s the worst five minutes anyone ever had to endure. So do you really want Melissa to die like that?’

‘Say what you want, Lindegaard,’ Napier breathed, watching as Jungius put down his gun on the table near Melissa’s chair and casually filled a syringe from a glass bottle.

‘Tell me where Erewhon is and I promise Melissa’s death shall be quick and painless. Yours, too.’

‘I don’t know where it is. Only Melissa knows.’

‘You’re bluffing, Robert.’

Jungius squirted fluid through the needle, took hold of Melissa’s arm.

‘I’m not. The only other people who knew the coordinates were those who helped her with the software development that helped isolate it, and they’re both lying dead on the floor over there.’

Lindegaard scrutinised the bodies of Sanderson and his colleague. ‘Plausible. And so like Villiers to go in all guns blazing without thinking about it. You’re saying she didn’t trust you, her loyal, loving husband? I find that hard to believe.’

‘It’s the truth. It’s too valuable to share. Everything depends upon Erewhon being kept a total secret. You’ll never get to the Sentients, Lindegaard.’

‘I’ll find them one day. It’s only a matter of time,’ Lindegaard said. ‘And then this entire Sentient nonsense will be finished with and we can get back to business.’ He took out a handkerchief, swiped it across his forehead. ‘I’m offering you one last chance, Robert. If not for your sake then for the sake of Melissa: tell me where Erewhon is.’

Napier hung his head. ‘I don’t
know
.’

‘But Melissa does.’

‘She’ll never tell you,’ Napier said firmly. ‘You know that. What can you do to her? She’s already close to dying. You’ll be finished very soon, Lindegaard, we’ve seen to that.’ And strangely Napier smiled. He saw the unsettling effect it had on Lindegaard. Napier turned to the equipment on the table. ‘You getting all this?’

A voice crackled from the computer, high and tinny. ‘Getting it all loud and clear, Mr Napier.’

‘Visuals?’

‘Everything we need.’

Dale Lindegaard stared daggers at the computer, realising his every word, everything that had happened within the room, had been captured on video.