Fires of Man Read online

  Durban, meanwhile, continued to examine the door, looking for a handle of some kind to yank it open from their side. That had to be the trick, he said, as whoever entered needed some way back out, though he would never call such a thing a mechanism. He also maintained communication with the rest of the team on the other side.

  For the most part, Faith allowed him to delegate to the others. She broke in only now and again as a subtle reminder that she was still in charge and that it was at her behest he had the responsibility of coordinating with the rest of the group. Yes, they should send for additional manpower, he told them, and yes, they should bring in machinery to cut the door out of its frame if necessary. Faith would have tried to avoid the latter except as a last resort, but Cha’a’ni loomed large in her mind and she let it pass. Anyway, it was their best chance at freedom. And their lives came before the artifact.

  After a time, Faith resigned herself to waiting for help from the outside, as did Durban. The room had held no answers, either to the question of their freedom, or the mystery of this ancient civilization.

  The place was small and stark and empty compared to the last chamber. The only adornments aside from the alcoves were three concentric circles of color in the middle of the floor: dark green on the outside, faded red in the middle, and pale yellow in the center. Whatever the significance, it was beyond her.

  Faith took a seat with her back against the wall and sipped from one of her water bottles. It wouldn’t do to become dehydrated. She did her best to ignore the growing dampness that coated her. The place was like a sauna. She would’ve given much for her old heat tolerance, before it had been stripped away by years in the Zenithian cold. The scent of her own body odor, commingling with must and dust undisturbed for thousands of years, didn’t help.

  Durban sat across the room from her, eyeing her sullenly, knees pulled up to his chin. His hard hat lay at his side, along with a pair of flashlights to provide further illumination. When he saw her notice him, he looked away.

  She cleared her throat. “This is a difficult situation. You held up well under pressure.”

  He said nothing.

  “You should be proud of yourself,” she said.

  “Don’t patronize me,” he snapped.

  She gauged him with a level look. Now was as good a time as any to clear the air. “Why do you resent me so much?” she asked.

  He stiffened and gawked at her a moment. Then his mouth pulled into a rueful smile. “For so many reasons,” he said. “But I don’t think you’d want to hear them. So let’s pretend you didn’t ask, and we can go back to peace and quiet until help comes.”

  “Try me,” she said dryly.

  “Oh?” He rubbed his chin. “If that’s what you want, fine. For starters, you were hired over any number of infinitely more qualified people.”

  “Like yourself.” She tried to keep any mocking out of her voice. “That’s what this has always been about, hasn’t it?”

  “Ivar Dabakian would have suited me just fine,” he said. “By all rights he should have been in charge. But you went and slept your way to the top.”

  “Excuse me?” A hollow, queasy feeling formed in her stomach.

  “How many times did you let Commander Barrett fuck you before he recommended you? Was it just him, or were there others?”

  She felt her face heat. “I . . . I didn’t . . .” She was too shocked to respond. She hadn’t even met Tiberian until her first day on the dig. That Durban could think . . . !

  “Or was it affirmative action?” Durban asked. “A woman, and a brown one too. Do they teach every little mami to be as entitled as you?”

  Faith’s fists clenched.

  She’d opened the door, but he had gone too far. She wanted to shut him up, but all she could think of were petty insults. His words cut to the bone. They ate at her. Did her entire team see her that way? No, they couldn’t possibly. She wanted to say something but words became dust in her throat.

  Durban’s face pulled into a sneer. He looked like he was enjoying himself. “Most of all,” he continued, “I resent you because you’re an arrogant cunt.”

  Fury subsumed her, consumed her, until she felt like she was burning up inside. That was it! She wasn’t going to sit here and take this anymore!

  Before she knew it, she was on her feet. She charged at Durban.

  He shied away from her, his vehemence melting into fear. The shadows transformed his face into a mask of terror. Did he think she would wring his neck? Maybe she would! Maybe . . .

  Faith felt something shift beneath her. Startled, she looked down to see that she was standing on the three colored circles. They were moving, falling away from her. With a cry, she reached out and grabbed the edge of the pit. The circular piece of floor hung under her on a hinge. Before she could stop herself, she looked down. Below was a shaft of unending darkness. A current of warm air wafted from below.

  Her stomach churned. Her head swam.

  For a moment she lost her grip, slipping farther down that nightmare drop.

  Pure panic shot through her.

  If only she could get a better handhold she could haul herself up, but she was barely holding on with her fingers. Her body was a leaden weight. She had never been so afraid in her entire life. Where the hell was Durban?

  “Help,” she managed. “Help me!” Even the smallest of breaths felt like they would dislodge her.

  Durban’s face appeared over the edge of the precipice, his expression cold. He pushed a finger against the bridge of his glasses to keep them from sliding down his nose. He smiled. “Not so high and mighty now,” he said.

  She gasped feebly, her arms aflame. Her chest seared with the effort of drawing air. “Please . . .”

  “Please? Is that all? You should be begging me!” He sneered. “Beg me for help.”

  Fear trumped outrage. “I’m begging you . . . Please.” She didn’t know how long she could hold on.

  “Too little, too late,” he said. He straightened and turned toward the door. “Dr. Santia, take my hand,” he shouted, voice dripping with false alarm. He glanced toward the door and smiled. “You have to hang on!”

  “What are you—?”

  He stepped on her fingers. “Goodbye, Miss Santia.” He ground down on her digits.

  She wanted to scream, but there was no air in her lungs. And then she remembered . . . the camera! The pinhole camera on her hard hat! George, her grad student, had to be watching the whole thing.

  Her team would break down the door.

  They would help her!

  She tried to ignore the pain in her fingers, tried to draw breath. If she could only maintain her grip . . .

  One of her arms swung free. The momentum dislodged the other and then . . .

  She was falling.

  Faith did scream then, and the reverberations echoed back along the shaft, filling her ears with the horrible cacophony.

  Above, Durban’s grinning face dwindled to a pinprick.

  She fell into endless darkness.

  20

  AGENT

  The plane ride to Kodol, on the southern border of Calchis, took six hours.

  Agent rode first class; a wealthy man such as “John Black” would accept no less. The accommodations were, in fact, one of the few predilections he shared with his cover identity. He despised sitting with the abhorrent masses, so he could be clambered over every time his neighbor wished to use the restroom, be subject to the bawling of infants, the snoring of slumbering passengers, the distasteful food.

  Here, at least, he could meditate in peace, or read quietly.

  At present he was engaged in a philosophical treatise written by the stoic king Alio Lugos of ancient Graecos. Lugos would have been a man after Agent’s own heart, had Agent actually possessed one. “All things to a man should be borne in silence,” the text read. “All suffering, all pleasure, lest experiential purity turn corruptible in the eyes of other men.”

  Agent could not have said it
better himself.

  His subordinates were equally quiet and reserved. On paper, they were John Black’s chief financial officer, Brett Laroche, and his personal assistant, Marian Hennessy.

  In truth, they were two of his disciples.

  Laroche was Devon Hague, a former college athlete with a history of violence and self-destructive behavior that marked his psychopathy. Agent had trained Hague mercilessly, bludgeoned the man into obedience. Now Hague was a loyal dog, if a dangerous one. Agent was not cruel because he enjoyed it; only because the situation called for it. Hague, alternately, could be counted on to supply extra enthusiasm as needed, and he possessed a talent for interrogation.

  As for Hennessy, she was Lisa Moreau, a computer hacker. She had been on the Federal Crimes Bureau’s “Most Wanted” list for years under the alias “Bluebird” for a slew of offenses starting with cyber-terrorism and ending in treason for selling state secrets. Moreau had been easier for Agent to instruct, more apt to obey for incentive rather than fear of punishment. The woman was not a psion, but useful in her own way.

  However, neither Hague nor Moreau held a candle to Cole Jackson. Cole was Agent’s foremost protégé; Agent had plucked him from the mire of gang violence and poverty in the slums of Chiron—not entirely unlike the fashion in which Virard had taken Agent himself out of Tripana. Cole had never been damaged so irreversibly as Agent, and Cole’s ability for empathy had proven a useful asset. Only someone who could truly understand human emotions could manipulate them as masterfully as Cole. If Agent was being honest, he experienced something remarkably akin to pride for the man.

  On their arrival in Kodol, Agent, Hague, and Moreau passed through a series of security checkpoints before they were able to board a train to Grisham. In addition to customs, there was the obligatory full body scan, as well as a brief interview by an Orion military officer. Despite the hostilities between Orion and Calchis, neither government wanted tourism and economic opportunity to be fully stymied. Kodol and Grisham were the points through which all travelers were funneled between the two countries, and even then solely by rail. The only airstrips in Orion’s hellish border desert were strictly for military use.

  The trains were two-story chrome behemoths with noses like bullets and speed to match. It took three hours for them to reach their destination. They emerged in the great Grisham Central Station—a cavernous place with high-vaulted ceilings, decorative gilded moldings, and painted landscape murals. There was not a single image of the barren desert. Typical, how men lied to themselves, or tried to ignore whatever was not pleasing. People were loath to be reminded of the emptiness in front of them.

  Cole met them at their gate, dressed in a blue-gray suit with an open collar. The light shined off his ebony skin. “Boss,” he said. “Good to see you.”

  “Cole,” Agent said. He supposed the proper response was, “Nice to see you, too,” but that was of no consequence. The only thing that mattered was that they were more than two thousand miles closer to completing their assignment.

  Cole led them through the station, past the ubiquitous throngs of living, breathing refuse. There were nearly fifty terminals; some trains headed to Calchis, but most took passengers all over the Orion Protectorate, or far south, to the countries of Cotrugal continent.

  There were simply too many people in this world, Agent thought. It was not the first time that had occurred to him. Most human beings were lazy, stupid, or both—a waste of space and oxygen, a drain on the resources of all nations, useless in their need to sustain themselves without giving back to the societies that birthed them. Even Calchis suffered from the infestation, though it did significantly less to coddle those who were an encumbrance than other nations.

  Agent and his cohorts exited into a multi-tiered concrete parking structure. Cole had a large black SUV waiting. Agent took his place in the passenger seat; Cole drove. Hague and Moreau sat silently in the back. Agent had always stayed away from Grisham due to Orion’s large military presence. It was his first time in the city. He found it to be much like any other city he had seen, excepting the high walls off in the distance.

  Cole took them to the Grisham Occasio Grand Hotel—only the best for John Black. The car was handed over to a valet. They passed through gold-framed revolving doors into a grand foyer with thick red carpeting; mirrored walls; three chandeliers; and several sitting areas, with velvet couches and armchairs flanking antique iron-framed glass coffee tables.

  The pretension was palpable.

  They rode the elevator to the penthouse floor. Cole ushered them into the enormous suite that would serve as their base of operations. As expected, the décor was extravagant: mahogany desks and bureaus, rich curtains, a full bar and kitchen. Hague and Moreau had their sleeping quarters in this room. Cole informed Agent that a separate suite across the hall had been booked for Agent’s own lodgings. Agent stopped in at his own room to stow his things, then returned to the first suite to look for Cole.

  He found him on the balcony.

  Past the railing spread a panoramic view of the city. Buildings jutted up like a child’s play blocks. Cars and people looked like swarming ants. Were Agent a different man, he might have found the vista inspiring. As it was, he spared barely a half second to look at it.

  “Hey, boss,” Cole said, his eyes fixed on the city below. There was a certain amount of insolence Agent put up with from Cole, though for the life of him he couldn’t understand why. If he didn’t know better, he would have said he actually liked Cole, laughable as the notion was.

  “Tell me what you’ve found,” Agent said.

  “Four entrances into the base,” Cole said, “with a twenty-four hour armed guard. Always at least one psion. Best point of ingress is probably the maintenance shaft on the south side of the compound. No guards, but they do have some sophisticated security measures. IR sensors. Cameras. The works. Nothing Lisa can’t handle, though, as long as we can get her access to their system.”

  “Ordnance?” Agent asked.

  “On its way. Should be here any day now.”

  “Have you made contact with anyone inside the base?” Agent asked.

  “Two people, so far. First is Captain Lucrasz Deregski. He’s a real class act, that guy. Drinker, womanizer. Bet he’s got some skeletons in his closet. He’s got some gambling debts. I bet we can pay him off, but barring that, I know we can get enough dirt to blackmail him into cooperation.”

  “And the second?” Agent asked.

  “Staff Sergeant Katherine Barrett. She’s vulnerable. And looking for companionship. I think she can be manipulated.”

  When Agent heard the name, his ears perked up. Very interesting. “You’re aware this sergeant is Commander Barrett’s sister?” he asked.

  “Of course,” Cole said.

  Agent graced him with a satisfied nod—the extent of the approval he was willing to display. “Perhaps she might agree to aid us in return for contact with her brother.”

  “Can we get confirmation on that?” Cole asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  Only an infinitesimal flaring of Cole’s nostrils belied his displeasure; he kept his poker face well. Anyone other than Agent might have missed it. “I just want to know if I’m lying before I make promises,” Cole said.

  “For now, I only want you to gauge whether or not she is susceptible to being turned,” Agent said. “Do not jeopardize your cover until you are absolutely certain. If you misstep and she has to be neutralized, that’s on your head.”

  “I got it, boss,” Cole said. “Can you ask about that deal?”

  None of Agent’s subordinates would dare speak to him that way except for Cole. The man had courage; it was the only reason Agent permitted it. “I’ll inquire. When a moment presents itself.” He appraised Cole. “One more thing.”

  “Boss?”

  “Is she attractive, this Barrett girl?” Agent asked.

  “I don’t see what that has to—”

  “Enough, Cole,” Age
nt warned him. “I see through your feeble protestations. According to your intelligence, Deregski should prove more than enough for our purposes.”

  “But we always have a backup plan,” Cole said.

  “Indeed,” Agent said. “Which is while I’ll allow this. But. Do not let this become personal, Cole. Do not grow attached. You may need to get rid of her, and if that should happen, you cannot hesitate. Am I clear?”

  “Boss . . .”

  “Am I clear?” Agent repeated.

  “Yes, sir,” Cole said. His shoulders slumped ever so slightly.

  “Good,” Agent said.

  Cole had been orphaned at a tender age, and had been raised by his older sister and her abusive boyfriend. This upbringing had left Cole with a reticence to see or do violence against women. If it came down to it, Agent had no doubt Cole would do what was necessary, but there was no harm in a firm reminder.

  “So what about Deregski?” Cole asked.

  “I’ll take care of him myself,” Agent said. “Where can I expect to find him?”

  Cole told Agent about a bar and grill where the captain went for lunch every Thursday. It would suffice.

  Agent stepped back inside, leaving Cole to enjoy the view.

  Hague and Moreau had finished unpacking. Agent began to plan. He had Moreau set up her laptop and begin testing the Orion facility’s firewalls. She had created a worm that would give her full access to the base’s security functions. However, she wasn’t sure she would be able to hack in without alerting Orion’s IT department, so the worm’s use was contingent on convincing either Deregski or Barrett to plug a flash drive into a computer within the facility. If this proved untenable, Agent would have to go in alone, teleporting past Orion’s defenses. This would leave him hard pressed to plant all the explosives in time; even he could not be two places at once. Furthermore, being in unfamiliar territory, surrounded by walls obstructing his sight lines, would make it near impossible to transport himself to each exact location. Regardless, he set down variations on the mission for every possible contingency.

  The first few days in Grisham were uneventful.