Authors: Daniel Suarez
With a subtle motion of his hand Gragg clicked on the license plate of the police car, locking the nearest AutoM8 onto it.
The video image disappeared in a cloud of snow on impact, and Gragg chuckled to himself, imagining the consequences.
On the tarmac surrounding Building Twenty-Nine, two white panel vans came to a stop as a dozen more AutoM8s circled around them, on guard. The rear doors to each van opened, and metal mesh ramps dropped onto the pavement with a clang.
A deep, guttural roar rose over the other engines, and down each ramp rolled a riderless, black racing motorcycle with dozens of brushed steel blades running along their tops and sides like cooling fins. Neither bike had handlebars, but instead had forward-mounted hydraulic assemblies of brushed steel, folded tightly. A cowling of black laminate armor enclosed the front. In place of a rider’s saddle was a circular steel dome about a foot in diameter, its surface etched with mystical symbols. Nearly every inch of the bikes was covered in runes and glyphs and razor-sharp blades. They were as much fetish objects as machines.
The motorcycles rolled to a stop and twin hydraulic jacks slammed down onto the pavement like oversized kickstands or half-formed legs. They thrust each bike nearly a foot off the ground, where they stood revving their 1800cc engines deafeningly. Then twin robotic arms with gleaming three-foot sword blades unfolded from the forward hydraulic assemblies, lashing forth on gimbals, arcing smoothly with blinding speed as they ran through diagnostics like insects cleaning their antennae.
At some unseen signal, the bikes retracted their kickstand jacks and hit the pavement, rear wheels smoking. They streaked off toward the hulking silhouette of Building Twenty-Nine in the distance.
Philips and The Major moved swiftly down a corridor, followed by Ross and four heavily armed Korr guards. Personnel raced past them in both directions, carrying computers and boxes of files. The Major was speaking on his L3 phone. “I understand.” A pause. “Yes. We’re working back channels to warn off civilian authorities. I will.” He snapped the phone shut.
They reached the gaming pit and could see black smoke seeping from the seams of the sealed lab blast doors, hinting at the inferno burning within. Korr medics were doing CPR on two strike team members, while other guards were placing bodies in a row on the floor.
Philips slowed for a moment. “My God…”
The Major pulled her past and motioned for Ross to follow. “We’re evacuating this facility. Choppers are on the way. I’m taking the first one to go after Agent Merritt. I want you and Mr. Ross on chopper two.”
“Where is Merritt?”
“He went out after this ‘Loki’ person, but we can track him. His radio has GPS.”
Ross noticed guards pass by, uncoiling detonator wire from a reel. “What’s going on?”
“We’re about to have a serious industrial accident here. Prearranged cover story.”
Philips snapped alert. “This facility still contains critical equipment and data, Major.”
“This facility is in danger of being overrun by the enemy, Doctor.”
Philips thought about this for a moment, then produced her own encrypted phone and started punching numbers. “I haven’t received orders to abandon this facility, and until I do, I’m not going anywhere.”
“In that case…” The Major drew a Glock 9mm pistol from his coat and chambered a round. “I can’t risk you falling into enemy hands. Your knowledge of U.S. ciphers is too great.”
Ross stepped in front of her. “Wait!”
“Do you want to see my orders, Doctor?”
She was speechless, staring at the business end of the pistol.
Ross held his hands up. “She’ll go, Major.”
The Major lowered his gun. “Puts it into perspective, doesn’t it? Now get ready to pull out.”
“What about my people?”
“They’re no longer your people. This task force has been dissolved. I’ve been ordered to send you back to Fort Meade and to remand Mr. Ross to the custody of the FBI.”
“On what charges?”
“Multiple counts of wire fraud and identity theft.”
She stared at The Major. “That’s insane. He just made a breakthrough.”
“This task force has been ineffective at curbing the rapid growth of the Daemon. Your narrow field of expertise is being folded into a larger effort. Mr. Ross’s services are no longer required. If they ever were.”
Ross looked unsurprised. “But I have an amnesty agreement with the Justice Department.”
“The terms of which you failed to meet.”
“We failed because task force functions were compromised by private contractors.”
The Major nodded to the nearby guards, who raised stun guns. “These men will see that you’re delivered safely. Resistance is optional.”
Philips kept shaking her head. “Major, if Merritt captures Loki, we can find out how they compromised our systems.”
“The Daemon won this round, Doctor. I have orders to break off contact with the infiltrator as soon as possible.”
“You can’t just let Loki escape.”
“The number one goal right now is keeping the existence of the Daemon a secret until we mitigate the risks to the global economy. That goal is not compatible with open warfare on our perimeter or by Agent Merritt pursuing a pack of robotic vehicles through downtown Oakland. We’re lucky we don’t already have news choppers swarming overhead.”
“If we can stop this thing now, it will be worth the hit to the economy.”
“I’ll be sure to put that in my report,
Comrade
Philips.”
The thumping of a chopper was now audible. The Major spoke to a nearby Korr guard. “Hold them here, and rush them to the roof when the second chopper arrives—but not before. Understood?”
The lead guard saluted. “Yes, Major.”
The radio on the guard’s belt crackled to life.
“This is Perimeter-9…do you copy?”
The Major motioned for the guard to hand it to him, and he started heading toward the stairwell doors as he keyed the mic. “This is Secom, Perimeter-9. What’s your status?”
Out on the tarmac Perimeter-9 clutched a radio handset and winced in pain. “All units down. Repeat: all perimeter units are down. Request medevac and air support.” He limped painfully behind a wrecked and bullet-riddled AutoM8. His lower leg was stained with blood just below a makeshift tourniquet. The leg was badly mangled.
The Major’s voice came over the radio through a haze of static.
“Report on the unmanned vehicles.”
“They left with the intruder. But more of them just arrived. They’re forming for another attack. I’m out of ammo, sir. Badly injured.” He craned his neck back toward a chopper angling in toward the roof of Building Twenty-Nine. “Requesting immediate airlift.”
“Negative. Just stay put, Nine. Help’s on the way.”
Just then Perimeter-9 heard the howl of high-performance engines. He turned to see twin racing motorcycles streaking across the tarmac in his direction. They were moving in close formation at 150 mph or more.
“Hold it. I’ve got two motorcycles inbound….” He stepped behind the fender of the car, putting the car hood between him and the approaching bikes. “They’re moving fast as hell.”
“Where are they headed?”
Suddenly a brilliant green laser light dazzled his eyes. He held up his hands against it, squinting. “Hang on, I’m being painted by something. I can’t see—”
The roaring engines were suddenly on him and he heard a deep
thwack
. He was completely disoriented for several moments. As his vision cleared, he had a view from the ground—a view of his own headless, one-armed body slumping over the hood of the car ten feet away, then sliding onto the pavement.
Back in the gaming pit, The Major was already gone. His voice came through on a nearby guard’s radio.
“Perimeter-9! Do you copy?”
Ross watched eight armed guards piling black bags onto the floor for transport. Two were staring at him with hard eyes—stun guns ready.
“I guess I should have seen this coming.”
Philips squeezed his shoulder. “I won’t let them do this to you, Jon. I have friends in Washington, too.”
Suddenly the howl of racing engines echoed down the corridor behind the nearby ballistic doors. Everyone turned to see shadows streak along the corridor wall, then twin black motorcycles roared into view beyond the closed bulletproof glass doors. They raised robotic blade arms menacingly. The blades on the lead bike were already stained with blood.
Everyone stepped back away from the doors. The Korr guards raised their weapons, clicking off their safeties. Ross pointed toward the far glass doors. “Let’s get to the roof. Now!”
Philips stared at the machines beyond the sealed Lexan glass. The most exotic thing that the Daemon had spawned yet. “Jon, I’ve seen the word ‘Razorback’ listed in decrypted Daemon intercepts. This could—”
A spiraling green light stabbed forth from the face of the lead bike, beaming through the ballistic glass into her eyes. She screamed and slammed her palms against her face, staggering back.
Ross rushed forward and grabbed her. He pulled her behind the guards, who were also dazed by the light. “Don’t look at them! They have blinding weapons!”
Then the ballistic doors slid open with their familiar hiss—and the roar of the advancing Razorbacks filled the cavernous gaming pit. Followed by gunfire and—almost immediately—bloodcurdling screams.
Ross pulled on Philips’s arm. “Run!” The engine roar was deafening now as Ross guided Philips down the adjacent hall toward the open security control room door. There was only a smattering of gunfire now as the roar of the engines zigzagged across the room behind them. Smashing furniture. Ross risked a quick glance back behind them. Blood was spattered all over the walls and floor near the ballistic doors. A Korr guard was running toward him, firing blindly over his shoulder as a Razorback raised twin, bloody blades and screeched after him on the polished concrete, green laser spiraling. Ross turned away as a series of metallic ringing sounds, screams, and sharp thwacks accompanied the roar of engines.
Ross reached the security control room door, half dragging the blinded Philips across the polished floor.
“What’s happening, Jon? What’s happening?”
“Keep moving!” He took another glance behind them as the same Razorback accelerated down the hallway in their direction. Ross looked away just as a laser light played across his face.
He pulled Philips inside the control room, then dropped her on the floor and raced back toward the open control room door. He kicked the hollow steel door closed just as the Razorback screeched to a stop in front of it. He put a shoulder against the door and slammed it shut, locking it.
Almost instantly a series of massive dents deformed the door, accompanied by the thunderous roar of a powerful engine. The pounding continued, deforming the door surface as Ross backed away from it.
He felt Philips clutching for his leg. “Jon, I think I’m blind!”
He glanced toward another door leading out the far side of the control room. He knelt next to her and shouted over the engine noise. “Nat, we can’t stay here!”
She gripped her face, tears streaming down from between her fingers. “My eyes, Jon! They’re burning!”
He grabbed her roughly. “Nat! Nat, listen to me!”
She stopped. The Razorback’s pounding vibrated the floor.
“It could be temporary.” He looked back at the door. “If we don’t leave here now, we’re going to die!”
The sound of deforming metal reinforced his argument.
She took a deep breath and nodded. “Where are we?”
He shouted over the deafening roar of the Razorback. “Security control room!”
She nodded. “We can make it to the back gate!”
He helped her to her feet, and they headed to the door on the far side of the small room.
One of the Razorback’s steel falchions pierced through the door and wrenched free as the engine roared again.
She stopped him. “The perimeter doors. We need to trip the breakers back on.”
“I’ll get it. Just go! Follow the left wall.” He pushed her through the door, then turned. Jagged holes had been torn into the sheet metal of the other door. Part of it was broken away, and he could see one of the Razorback’s gnarled, twisted blade arms through the slits. It paused for a moment, then he heard a
ping
sound, and the twisted blades spun free like disposable razors, clattering onto the concrete floor in the hallway outside.
Ross rushed to the breaker boxes. He stole a glance at the bank of camera monitors on the control board. One showed the Razorback in the hallway outside, reaching around to its side. A metal
click-clack
, and the arms rose with fresh, gleaming blades.
“Son of a bitch…” He opened a panel marked
Perimeter
and tripped all the breakers back on. He raced back to the far door, looking behind just as the Razorback smashed the door in. He turned away as its laser painted him, and it roared across the room. Ross slammed the new door behind them, and the pounding started almost immediately.
A Bell Jet Ranger chopper hovered inches above the cluttered roof of Building Twenty-Nine. The helicopter was electric blue with a bold yellow logo for
Golden Gate Heli-Tours.
The Major rose from his kneeling position and scurried toward it at a crouch. A crewmember wearing a Korr flak vest pulled him inside. The Major leaned toward the helmeted pilot, who nodded in his direction. The crewman handed The Major a closed-circuit headset, and The Major slipped it on.
The pilot’s voice came over the headphones, “What’s the situation here, Major?”
“I need to get topside. We’ve got a Daemon operative escaping into the city and a federal officer in pursuit. Where’s my kit?”
“Case on the floor, sir.”
The Major pointed at the crewmember and copilot in turn, but spoke to the pilot. “These people, off.”
Both men looked to the pilot, who simply said, “You heard the man. Take the next chopper out.”
They unbuckled themselves and with a hesitant look jumped down onto the roof.