Ixeos: Book One of the Ixeos Trilogy (13 page)

Chapter Sixteen

C
lay lost himself in the
work for two hours and found that he was more relaxed and clear headed than he’d been since they’d followed those stupid ducks into the pipe. He gave the MGC a thorough servicing and cleaned years of brake dust, oil spillage, and rust off the carriage. Samson laughed when he saw it.

“You gettin’ her ready for a show?”

“Nah, just enjoying working with my hands again. I like mechanical stuff. It’s like puzzles, keeps your brain working all the time. And this bike is sweet, man!” He rubbed a hand lovingly over the small leather seat.

“Sweet but loud,” Samson said. “You done?”

“Yeah. Got anything else?”

Shaking his head, Samson threw him a rag. “There’s a bunk room in the back. We’re supposed to stay here until Vasco comes back; we’ll eat, hit the rack, and start looking at the records tomorrow. The rebels are supposed to write down mileage in a log for each bike, so we know when to service them. That’s hit and miss. On the ones that don’t have good records, we’ll just do a quick look-see. That should keep us busy awhile.”

Clay looked around the warehouse at the dozens of motorcycles parked in rows. “How many are there?”

“We got about a hundred, but they’re not all here now. We stash them in strategic places around the city, some for our use, some for the rebels. Plus another dozen are out of service because we haven’t found replacement parts yet. The tunnels help a lot there, but it takes time and usually I have to go, or another of the outsiders who’s at least a little familiar with bikes. We try to keep a good supply on the shelves, but some of these are old or pretty rare, so we do what we can.”

“And every city is like this one, with a Depot?” Clay asked.

“Sure. In some places the rebels have some pretty mean mechanics, some of the older guys who were around before the war. And they’re taking apprentices on, teaching them. I can’t be everywhere at once!”

Clay followed the big man into the bunk room and was glad to see a small battery-powered burner, a pot, plates and a small row of basic spices.

“Ready for some dinner?” Samson asked, opening his backpack.

“Starved,” Clay said.

“Won’t be fancy.” He pulled out a plastic container, pulled off the top, and dumped the contents into the pot. Looking over his shoulder, Clay saw it was beans.

“Just gotta heat it up. Will makes this up for me most days, unless there’s some fresh meat. This here’s got venison in it, some of those greens, even a little potato and carrot. Sticks to your ribs.” He stirred it as he turned on the burner.

Clay sat down on the mattress nearby. “So… You ever kill anyone here?”

Samson glanced over at him, then turned back to the pot. “Couple of Firsts. One gang banger.” He was silent.

When it was obvious he wasn’t going to elaborate, Clay asked, “What happened?”

“Gang banger followed me here one time. I was by myself, doing an emergency tire repair for Rebel Four. They were mid-op and needed to make sure they could get away from a lab they were sabotaging. Anyway, I thought I was being pretty stealth, but, well, I’m kinda big, and I guess I wasn’t being the most quiet. It’s a little nerve wracking out there alone, you know? So I get in here and see the bike, go over to the shelf for the plug kit, and next thing I know, this guy jumps me. He’s got a freakin’ big hunting knife and he’s trying to slit my throat, but he’s not too big and I think he was hopped up on something.” He stirred the pot, then looked over at Clay. “I managed to get the knife, and I stuck him with it. I didn’t aim or nothin’, I just got it, turned it, and pushed. Turned out to be beginner’s luck, because it went right up into his heart and he died instantly. There wasn’t even that much blood because his heart stopped beating.” He shook his head. “I don’t even like killing Firsts, to tell you the truth, but at least they’re not human. And they sure don’t care about us. This guy, he was probably just a junkie. They make meth in some of the houses, especially down on the south side. Maybe he was a rebel once, before it got too much for him, I don’t know. Landon said it couldn’t be helped, and he was right—if I hadn’t killed him, he woulda killed me for sure. And we’d have lost all the bikes and parts, too, mostly likely. But still, I don’t want to make it a habit.”

He pulled over two bowls and portioned out the beans equally between them. Sticking in a spoon, he handed one to Clay and took a seat on a wooden chair. They both dug in, hungry after almost a full day not eating. When they were done, Clay took the bowls and set them down on the small table used as a counter.

“I’ll get some water and we can wash those up later,” Samson said.

“What about the Firsts?” Clay asked.

“Firsts?” Samson said. “We’re good here, leastwise we ain’t ever had Firsts nosing around before.”

“No, the ones you killed…” Clay said.

Samson stared at him a long while. “I was on mission in Osaka. Not doing mechanic stuff, we were trying to take out a new breeding facility on the outskirts of the city. This was last year. Not sure if we had bad intel or what. We were working with some local rebel groups. When you get so many people involved, things can go sideways. So there were eight of us and three local cells, close to forty people altogether. The facility was in a converted hospital. Vasco and Abacus had drawn up a plan to get some of us inside, some of us planting explosives outside… I was supposed to go in and set charges in the mechanical room in the basement, take out the a/c, the generator, all that.” He sighed. “I got the charges set and left the room. The door went into the employee locker room. I walked past all those lockers and turned the corner, and there were two Firsts just standing there pointing their guns at me.”

“Firsts, they don’t really do the whole, ‘talk first, shoot later’ thing. They know if you’re not one of them, you’re either supposed to be dead or implanted. There’s no negotiating or stalling or anything like that. It’s not like the movies. I got into a football stance and tackled them.” He laughed. “They didn’t expect that, at least. And those guys, they’re not that big or strong. Exercise isn’t on their to-do list. Both of them went down, I got the gun from one and shot them.”

“Just like that?” Clay asked.

“Just like that. Until you meet one, it’s hard to explain. None of us really understands how they passed for human all those years. They got dead eyes, you know? Like the captain says in
Jaws
, ‘the thing about a shark... he’s got lifeless eyes. Black eyes. Like a doll’s eyes. When he comes at ya, he doesn’t seem to be living…’ Well, Firsts are like that. They come at you, and you realize they don’t have
souls
. There’s a body and a brain, but there’s no heart, no love, no compassion. Just pure thought. It feels like you shot a doll. Or maybe a shark. Certainly not a person.”

Clay was silent as he stretched out on the bed. He stared at the ceiling, thinking about what Samson had said. Samson extinguished the lantern and moved to a mattress and stretched out, pulling a light blanket up to his chin, leaving his feet exposed.

“You asleep?” Clay asked him after a half hour.

Samson stirred and groaned. “I was. What’s up?”

“How does the prison work? The moving around, I mean. Are there people on the ground who work there, bring supplies, stuff like that?”

“We don’t really know much about how it works. We do know that there are twenty-six locations where they send it. For at least twenty years the prison has gone to those same twenty-six places. We’ve crunched it in the computer, we’ve written it out on paper, we’ve talked about it six ways from Sunday, but there doesn’t seem to be any pattern to it. And we know that, in each of those twenty-six locations, they have enough advance notice that they can get provisions in. They find out maybe a week or two ahead. Not enough time for us to get anything in place.”

Clay was thinking. “And they don’t think it’s randomly generated by a computer?”

“It’s possible that there’s an offline computer generating the picks, but there’s no evidence anywhere that they’re passing the intel along any chain of command.”

“It’s got to be a code,” Clay said.

“A code?”

“Yeah, a code. Like in World War II. Well, any war. The only way to have guaranteed communications—well, okay, not
guaranteed
, but with the most likelihood of success—is to use a code. If you use a code that generates random messages and if the only people who can decipher the code are high-ups with a physical book and an identical machine, then you can send secret messages that can’t be decoded. Like the Enigma machine.”

“The what?” Samson asked, sitting up.

“Enigma. It was the German’s code machine. Breaking it was how the Allies won the war.”

Chapter Seventeen

N
eahle awoke with jerk, totally
disoriented. She looked around wildly, seeing a room with a dozen mattresses on the floor, a boarded up window, and hearing the faint murmuring sounds of many sleeping people. As her heart rate returned to normal, she saw Élodie with her arm curled protectively around Maryse. In the corner, covered by a patchwork quilt, she could just make out Hannah’s dark ponytail spread out over a pillow. She lay back, breathing deeply, calming herself.

Frowning, she tried to remember coming to this bedroom, but had no recollection of it. Someone must have carried her. She had been worn out from fear and slept more deeply than she had since she was a child. She pressed the heels of her palms into her eyes. What was she doing here?

She rolled up into a sitting position and found herself looking into the intelligent green eyes of Gilles.

“
Bonjour,”
he whispered, smiling. He stood and held a hand out to her, helping her stand. The mattresses scattered about the room were so close together that they almost completely covered the floor, and Neahle had to walk carefully to avoid stepping on sleepers. Gilles kept hold of her hand, leading her out into the hall and down wooden stairs.

“I saw Élodie and Hannah,” Neahle said as she sat at the small kitchen table. There was a hotplate on the counter with an automobile battery attached.

“
Café
?” he asked, gesturing to an old percolator. When she nodded, he poured water into the pot from a jug and scooped out the ground coffee. “Yes, we brought them back. We took a long route, and I’m afraid the
bébé
was very tired when we finally arrived. But we did not meet any more motorcycle men.”

“Will you have to move from here?” Neahle asked.

“I’m afraid, yes. But it will take some days to move to a new safe house; in the meantime we will have to stop our activities.”

“What are you working on?” Neahle breathed in the delicious smell of the freshly perking coffee. She hadn’t seen a percolator since the last time she visited her great-grandmother’s house.

“We are trying to find a way to bring down the communications center. They have a small one at La Defense, but the main hub is closer to the center of the city. They took over a France Telecom building. It is not very far from here, maybe two kilometers. So we will need a new house, also close.” He found two mugs and poured coffee into them, handing one to Neahle. “Sugar? We have no milk, I’m afraid.”

“Sugar’s fine, thanks,” she said, wrapping her hands around the warm mug. “Can we help you? Find a new place, I mean?”

“I am hoping that Vasco will have some ideas. He and Abacus have explored many buildings in the city. He told us about this house. When he comes back, I will ask him. Until then, we will stay inside.”

“Will we stay with you?” Neahle asked.

Gilles shrugged, sipping his coffee, but he kept his eyes on hers. “I don’t know what Hannah’s assignment is. But we will see each other again.”

An hour later, Hannah found them still chatting in the kitchen. She poured a cup of coffee, drinking it black.

“Did you sleep?” Neahle asked her.

“Like a rock,” Hannah said, sipping the coffee. “That was a seriously long day.”

“What’s on the schedule for today?” Neahle asked, hoping the answer was to stay in the safe house and wait for Vasco.

“We go to the next cell,” was the depressing reply. Hannah laughed at her as she made a face. “We’ll be back. Probably this trip, since they’ll need some help shifting houses. But they won’t know where they’re going til Vasco comes back, and that’s probably not for another couple days. Meanwhile, our assignment is to check on all the cells on this side of town. Two down, two to go.” She finished her coffee and put the mug into the sink. “Got anything to eat?”

“We have fruit, cold beans, and various tins,” Gilles said, moving aside a curtain and exposing a small pantry. “I shall tell Vasco our next house needs a bread oven!”

Laughing, Hannah selected an apple and tossed a second to Neahle. “We need to head out within the hour. The next walk’s pretty long.” She left the room, throwing a wink over her shoulder.

“Well, I guess I’d better get changed,” Neahle said reluctantly.