Chapter Fifteen
New York, Hell's Kitchen, around 3:20AM
"Are you sure you wanna be dropped here?" - the pilot asked dubiously, bringing the VTOL to a midair hover, high above the upscale neighbourhood.
Operating in full radar-stealth mode, the gray-on-black aircraft was all but invisible against the backdrop of a semi-cloudy sky, and hovering high enough above, that nobody below could hear the whine of the turbojets. At best, they might see the twin bright specks of exhaust, but even that was doubtful.
In truth, a standard helicopter might have been a better choice, certainly for visual concealment, but the limitations on flight range precluded that option, since the aircraft had to traverse the Atlantic, before even getting here.
"Yes. The contact is said to meet me in a nightclub called Underworld, just over an hour from now. It is said to be somewhere in this area." - Yelena replied shortly.
She was standing in the drop bay, a black-on-green armour-clad, statuesque figure, her hair tied into a very tight bun. A pair of ultrasonic blades in the back upside-down scabbards, a Zenith in a right hip holster, and a Buzzkill in a left one, completed the ensemble, alongside a midsize duffle bag she had slung over her shoulder, containing the rest of her equipment.
Looking over his shoulder from the cockpit, the pilot frowned.
"Not exactly inconspicuous, are you? Not trying to tell you your job, Colonel, but uh – you'll draw attention for sure. Especially in a classy hood like this. Not a lot of hanzers around, and especially not as... kitted-up as you. And there are intellicams all over the place." - with a minute shake of his head.
"Leave that to me." - the cyborg woman chuckled softly, then leaped out, into the glittering lights of the metropolis below.
A group of clubbers just emerging from the Underworld club, talking loudly among themselves, all pretty high on recreational drugs and quite tipsy to boot, glanced up at a faint glimmer just visible in the sky.
"Look! A shooting star!" - one of them exclaimed excitedly.
"Quick, make a wish...!" - another closed his eyes, before a third one butted in, squinting upwards. But he missed it.
"You don't get shooting stars on a cloudy sky, dumbass!"
"Coulda sworn I seen it..." - the first one looked disappointed, before the group moved on.
Yelena's skydiving descent proved more challenging then she anticipated, given the density of highrises and skyscrapers in the area, mixed in with shorter buildings and the glare of so many lights below. She was aiming her trajectory towards the dimmest area she could see, determined not to land in the middle of a busy street.
When her HUD altitude indicator showed under 150 metres above the ground, she splayed her arms to the side, flipping legs-first, and engaged the electrodynamic landing array, deciding to land on a rooftop instead. There were many to choose from, and most were flat and suitable to be landed on.
Deciding to play it a little on the safer side, worried about overshooting her target rooftop, not to mention unbalanced by the off-centre weight of the duffle bag over her shoulder, the cyborg woman slowed down more then usual, and came to a relatively soft, by-the-book touchdown, barely even needing to roll to shed excess velocity, like she usually tended to.
Another happy landing...
She thought idly, getting her bearings, then double-checking all her gear. Once finished, she paced over to the edge, and looked down. As was the case with most city buildings in USA, the one she landed on sported external fire-escape stairwells, making it relatively easy to descend, without needing to break in through the roof or windows. Convenient.
Down below, about five stories down, she could see what looked like a square with a small park, some stone benches surrounding a pair of well-groomed trees, and an alley leading westward onto what looked like a busy main street, a myriad of passerby milling lazily about, and an occassional honk of a car horn. Even in the middle of the night, the city seemed to be very much alive.
Off to the east, the park square extended into another alley. Just at the mouth of it, a faded, old-style sign stood, above a wide double-door entrance to another building, flanked by dumpsters and a couple of parked cars, with only a couple of people walking by, with a bus stop lining the street on that side.
She zoomed-in for a closer look.
Osgood and Sons Imports
Hmm. Looks like a warehouse or a loading yard of some kind. Good. So that means I should be...
Yelena thought, remembering the name from the images she had, accessing the in her Datavault, and trying to orient herself.
...no more then a few blocks away from the club, given the description Kelso's agent provided. But which way... ?
The static images didn't really provide a bearing, or give her an exact idea where she was. She resisted the temptation to Uplink to a local public network, and download the real-time plans of the neighbourhood. Using her Uplink at all, would be like broadcasting her position to any Linksats above this area. And of course, she didn't have her phone with her, being very easily traceable, now that her Steyn identity was compromised.
For all intents and purposes, while here – she had to be a ghost, until the informant herself contacted her on a very specific burst-frequency Kelso provided her.
I'll find an info-terminal and download the map from there. Now... to get off this roof.
Momentarily, she froze, as her sonics began picking up a low-frequency signature of a drone in the general vicinity. From the profile... it must have been a standard police-surveillance drone. She grimaced briefly, but wasn't too surprised. A well-to-do neighbourhood, no doubt there were drones on patrol. Just one more reason, if she needed one, to vacate the roof. Preemptively cloaking to prevent anyone below possibly getting a glimpse of her, Yelena dropped lightly onto a windowsill one storey below the roof, then got onto the fire escape walkway. Quickly and quietly, she descended the stairwells, then hopped the last dozen metres down into the small square with the park.
First things first... be less conspicuous.
The woman thought, carefully avoiding the field of view of a single Intellicam on the opposite side, of the square, as she found a secluded spot next to the closed Osgood and Sons warehouse, where there was a shuttered and padlocked basement window leading below. Decloaking, she briefly checked the seams for any contact-alarms or proximity sensors. Not finding any, she quickly looked around, then ripped-off the padlock, with a quick, hard stomp of her metal hoove, and entered the warehouse's basement, closing the window behind her. To cursory inspection, nothing would seem to be amiss.
She looked around the dimly-lit chamber. Some piping on the ceiling, and stairwells leading both up, and down. She assumed the first one led into the warehouse proper, an assumption confirmed, as she came up against a sealed metal door, this one with a keypad. If she really wanted to, she could bypass it with one of the disposable P-JAK multitools she had, but why waste it needlessly?
The second one led even further downward. Briefly checking in that direction, Yelena found herself in a long, dark, narrow tunnel, piping lining one side of it, leading to the north, presumably under the building itself. She shrugged, briefly reaching into her belt satchel, for a pair of NV goggles, to look around. However, she decided not to explore further for the time being. Plus, she began picking up more subsonic signatures ahead – possibly maintenance bots. Best not to alert anyone or anything, if possible. And also, she detected an EM spike, indicating there was a proximity sensor nearby. After a minute of careful searching with her zoom-capable vision, she spotted it in a slightly recessed nook, above one of the pipes.
Maintenance tunnels under the warehouse?
Shaking her head to herself, Yelena packed the NV goggles back, then returned to the basement, and opened the duffle bag, picking out a non-descreipt black hoodie and dark brown slacks, to wear over her armour. Given the considerably colder climate, the extra layers of clothing only served to make her more comfortable. And they were wide and loose enough, to easily conceal both the Zenith and the Buzzkill at her hip holsters, now covered by the pants, and her pair of ultrasonic blades under the hoodie.
The reverse scabbards made the weapons easily accessible; all she had to do was reach back, dip under the hoodie, and draw them in a backhand grip. Of course, the clothes also made her cloaking array unable to make use of her armour's thermoptic mesh to optimise power drain, but she didn't plan to cloak unless necessary. For now, blending-in was more important, and the cloak was still available, only less power-efficient, and effective, given the loose-fitting clothes. But she had enough bioenergy cells and cyberboost bars packed, that power consumption, for once, was not likely to be an issue during her stay here.
The notion made her smirk slightly.
It is nice not to have to be conservative with power drain, for a change! Now if only I could get my hands on a claymore charge or two, that would be lovely.
Belatedly, however, she scowled. For all of it's good sides, like lightness and flexibility, without sacrificing protection, the thermoptic armour suit she was provided by the Collective, was not equipped to handle the backblast, like the old one was designed to. Meaning that, if she ever used her Claymore delivery system again, the explosion would likely kill her.
For three years now, she hardly even thought about it. The expulsion-tubes were still there – under the touch, she could feel the tiny, ribbed, faceted perforations at her flanks, and the internal storage was available, along with the chemical-propellant, in the form of enzyme mixture that could be prepared or dissipated at will – but she lacked actual flechette ammunition for it. And given it's highly classified, proprietary nature, Yelena very much doubted she would ever have a chance to use it again. She didn't particularly miss the functionality of her Claymore – but then again, she took care not to put herself in a situation where she might need it.
Looking around some more, she decided that this basement area would do for now. A rat skittered underfoot, as she hid the duffle bag and it's remaining contents behind some crates, then headed back out through the window. Carrying a large, military-style duffle bag over her shoulder, would no doubt draw undue attention.
Taking care not to go near any intellicams or the occassional police officer on the streets, Yelena headed out to find an info terminal. The crowds on the main street were relatively dense, and there were quite a few augmented people among them.
Turning a corner at the bus stop, the woman caught sight of another entrance, this one under an overhang, much better lit, ornate, and crowded, a pristine neon sign above it. She nodded slightly.
Hilton hotel. Classy. Yes, the brief mentioned it... the club should be somewhere nearby. But I still need a proper map... I don't know this area at all.
She moved on, looking for an infoterminal. At the end of the street about two hundred metres down, she spotted a checkpoint, complete with 'normals' and 'augmented' signs, next to what looked like another bus stop, and a small curio shop on the side. The sight instantly made her grimace in disgust.
Welcome back to 'civilised' world, Yelena! Hopefully a bit less civilised, after I'm done here. And much less so, when Ben's attack plan gets put into motion. But, one step at a time.
The woman thought with dark sarcasm, letting her gaze float over it, and off to a subway entrance, about halfway down the street. A lit stall next to it had that distinct 'info terminal' feel. So did a pair of passerby who just stopped by it, one of them beginning to type something on what she assumed to be a keypad in an alcove.
Resisting the urge to put the hood on her head, she set off casually in that direction, still making sure to keep distance from a pair of intellicams over the hotel entrance on the other side of the street.
"Watch out, clanker!" - she accidentally brushed one of the passerby. She grimaced. Civilisation, alright. Passing a side-alley leading to a fenced-in playground, she saw a few thuggish types smoking cigaweeds and talking at the far end of it. Two were augmented, one with an artificial leg, the other an artificial arm.
Moving on, she finally reached the supposed infoterminal stall, next to the subway entrance.
Three blocks away, the informant was driving down the street, carefully following the GPS instructions to Underworld. She wasn't from here, having driven from New Jersey where she lived. Kelso was very specific on the meeting place, apparently having used the club during her years as a Secret Service agent, for clandestine meetings with her local contacts.
I suppose I'm one of them now... but I'm scared. Meeting some... spec-ops type or somethin'... in the middle of the night in some dive! Not a typical Tuesday, that's for sure.
-In sixty yards, turn – left.-
The navigation's artificially-pleasant tone snapped her out of it. Coming to an intersection, she did as instructed, coming up to a vehicle checkpoint. An officer took a cursory look inside, and, seeing that she wasn't augmented, waved her through without a word.
-In a hundred yards, turn – left, then immediately – right.-
Huh. Must be the place. Probably directing me to a parking lot or something.
She thought. Figuring she was close enough by now, the informant reached one hand into her purse for her phone. Following Kelso's instructions to the letter, all she did was type... #41*12*# ...and hit the call button, then immediately shut the phone off again completely, and put it back in the purse.
Just as she downloaded the area map to her Datavault, Yelena received the signal she was waiting for. A short burst of static, directly to her Infolink, indicative of an external source momentarily trying to open a channel, before it shut off. It was a civilian GSM transmission. Nodding to herself, she moved off, taking a perpendicular street, following the map's directions to the club.
She's here.
A dozen minutes later, she finally found the club's entrance... a recessed stairwell leading down and to the left, the stylised name 'Underworld' emblazoned in red neon letters above, complete with a stylised rendition of the Devil.
I like this place already.
Yelena smirked, before it died on her lips, seeing a pair of bouncers at the bottom next to the doors, and the 'augs forbidden' sign on the door, a rendition of an augmented person with a criscrossed circle over it. They eyed her with wary suspicion.
For a briefest moment, she entertained the notion of barging through the doors anyway, and making short work of both of those no-neck apes, if they tried to stop her – but another glance at a checkpoint not far down the block, changed her mind. It wasn't worth the potential exposure, and there were too many cameras and police in the area.
Alright then. Let's be sneaky.
She bypassed the entrance, turning a corner into a side-alley. It was too much to hope for a vent anywhere, especially since she could see an air-con unit mounted above, so there was no need for traditional ventilation down in the club. But a back door wasn't out of the question.
A pair of clubbers were having a smoke nearby, clearly fed up with the noise and crowds down in the club.
"Hey there, legs! Wow... never seen a setup like that before! What's the matter? They wouldn't let you crash the party? Fuck... Yeah that no-augs thing sucks monkey-balls, man." - one, a late-teen lanky guy with a pair of skull earrings and a nose-piercing, and a mop of ruddy brown hair, remarked, giving the tall figure a once-over.
From the way his eyes were darting about, and general mannerism, Yelena immediately guessed he was high on something. But out loud, she shrugged.
"Seems there's more and more of those signs all over the place. Pisses me off, y'know?" - trying her best possible impression of what she thought might pass for American accent, and specifically New York one. Needless to say, it was anything but convincing, but given her audience here, she hoped it might pass.
I hate play-acting...
"Where ya from? You sound Northern. Maine maybe?" - the other put in, frowning.
"Uh, yes... I just – umm... got here yesterday, from... uh, Portland." - the aquiline woman managed with a smile, mind-racing for the name of any city she could think of, in Maine. She even had to search her Datavault archives, to assist. To say that her geography was lacking when it came to USA states, was putting it mildly.
The lanky guy grinned, clearly nervous and attracted at the same time.
"So anyways, my name's Gilbert. Uh... Gilbert Renton. But ah, you can call me Gil! Did you know my uncle runs the Hilton? Well I... I mean not really, but he's the senior manager there!" - he offered his hand, clearly hoping to impress her.
Slipping back into her flirtatious Steyn persona that she practiced for the past five months, Yelena tried to play along, even though inwardly, she rolled her eyes. As far as pickup lines went, the 'my uncle is a big deal' one ranked fairly low. But the young man's drug-addled enthusiasm was... somewhat cute.
"Nice to meet you! I'm... Irene." - she grasped the offered hand, resisting to use her Steyn alias, making up a name on the spot, then continued, giving him a hooded gaze, "So, Gil... any ideas how a girl looking for a good time can slip inside this club?" - suggestively.
The other man looked a bit off-put.
"Yo Gil, I... uh... you sure you wanna mess with a hanzer? Something's weird about this chick." - under his breath. Unlike his friend, he was a bit intimidated by the woman's tall, sinuous stature, and those dark, shaded eyes that somehow seemed a bit... lifeless.
"Uh, hello?! Rude?" - Yelena tried an indignant, offended tone, putting her hands on her hips, something she often saw Jamella resort to. To her own ears, it sounded silly, but she knew that some people tended to back down when faced with it.
I hate passive-aggression too... but this might be the occassion.
"Yeah, Billy. That was fuckin' rude!" - Gil spoke up in agreement with a glare at his friend, gesturing in a 'you trying to ruin my chances, pal' body language. The other man just held up his hands apologetically.
"Okay, okay... uh, sorry. A-anyway, catch you later, G! Gonna grab another drink inside..." - he moved off, back onto the main street.
"Sorry 'bout that... he gets stupid when he's drunk, huh?" - the man grinned, then lowered his voice in a conspiratorial manner, and a wink.
"So yeah, you wanna get inside? It ain't that hard once you're in, nobody gives a shit, they'll take your money, hanzer or not, its just those two morons at the door get a kick out of being assholes to hanzers! You can still crash, but they make you pay triple or somethin'! Also make you show them the ID. Then the cops might pick you up later on, for breaking the rules... But... uh... there's another way in! Just 'round the back, through the kitchen! I'll show ya... hope you don't care about the smell... they dump the trash out there too." - he offered.
"That's so sweet of you! Thanks." - Yelena purred, giving him a kiss on the cheek. The man's face blushed, as his grin widened, before he motioned her to follow him down the alley.
Inside the Underworld, the cyborg woman decided the place lived up to its name. Reddish-violet hued strobe-lighting gave every aspect of the interior a suggestive, intimate feel, as trance and techno tunes ran almost... unobtrusively... in the background.
I wouldn't really call this a club... no show... and the music is too subdued. More like a high-profile bar. A classy hangout.
She decided, before her gaze fell onto a couple of women in suggestive outfits, trying to make eye contact with some of the male visitors.
Correction; a classy hangout and possible brothel. Underworld, indeed!
She smirked slightly.
The place was packed to the brim, easily around thirty people, and like Gilbert suggested, there were a few augmented individuals to be seen, too, despite the sign on the entrance.
"So... wanna grab a drink? I'm buying!" - he motioned towards the long bar counter, next to the dance floor.
"I think you've had plenty already, stud. Let's dance!" - Yelena rebutted with a smile, casually pulling him onto the floor, and into the crowd, where she began catching the rhythm, easing into it almost instinctively. Truth be told, the music was very – dance-able.
"Right on, legs! Uh... s-sorry, I mean Irene." - the man grinned, starting to shake and twist next to her.
From this more or less central position in the main lounge, Yelena had a good all around view of the people present, amplified by her height, towering over everyone, as her sharp gaze casually passed over each one, looking for her contact. Kelso had given her a detailed description, along with what the informant would be wearing.
And there she was. A shadowy, slender female figure in one of the corner booths, dressed in a brown satin blouse, jeans and a short black coat, trying very hard to look engrossed in nursing her drink. To Yelena's trained eye, the individual's body language instantly screamed 'waiting for someone', alongside 'trying to hide nervousness'.
Alright! Now... how to get away from my date, without being – rude. Or make him overly curious. If only I'd get her attention... but she seems oblivious to her surroundings.
As she kept dancing, Yelena made sure to keep her gaze on the woman in the booth, remembering something else. Gilbert seemed to be too zoned-out to notice anything amiss. Or just too preoccupied swallowing her figure with his eyes, if the 'how lucky am I' grin plastered all over his face, was any indication.
If you stare at someone long enough, they will inevitably become aware of it. Intuition - sixth sense - is very real. Especially for us women.
And sure enough, within a minute, the lone figure in the booth stirred, looking around. Instantly, her brown gaze met Yelena's black one. To the aquiline woman's eye, she seemed to tense up slightly, before Yelena gave her a microscopic nod, then motioned with her head in the direction of the restrooms down the hall to the left, next to a large mirror.
Nodding her understanding, the informant casually rose, and headed for the restrooms.
"Gil? Be a dear and get us a pair of beers. I'll join you after I visit the ladies' room!" - Yelena then purred in her impromptu date's ear.
"You got it!" - he shuffled off towards the bar.
Inside the women's restroom, the informant took a deep breath, straightening her clothes. To say that she was nervous, was an understatement.
The master doors behind her opened, then closed before she had time to turn around, finding herself face-to-face with the tall, statuesque, striking cyborg woman. Despite the baggy clothing, the individual's grace and poise was formidable.
"Were you followed?" - the cyborg asked under her breath without preamble, locking the doors. She had a distinctly Slavic accent. That was consistent with what she was told to expect, but of course, a confirmation was needed.
"Um no... no I don't think so! So... do we have a friend in common?" - the informant asked, keeping her voice steady, as she used the code-phrase Kelso told her to.
"No. We have an army in common." - Yelena replied neutrally, with the code-answer. The woman's tension instantly seemed to evaporate, as she visibly relaxed.
She was a looker, in the cyborg woman's considered opinion. Small wonder, how she would catch the eye of the kind of man she assumed Rand was. No doubt giving her quite an insight into his frame of mind – and the information Yelena was after.
"Great! Oh, you've got no idea what a nervous wreck I've been today... didn't really know what to expect, y'know. Have to say, you're not exactly what I pictured." - the woman began, still keeping her tone low. "Name's Lexi."
"Yelena. Now, before you brief me, let us vacate the premises. For one, I left a... companion... in the main lounge, who is under the impression we're on a date. It was the only way to get in here, without arousing suspicion, given what I am." - the aquiline woman nodded, getting right down to business.
"For another, you didn't seem sure, when I asked if you were followed. I would prefer not to take chances. Let's go. Out the back, through the kitchen. Nice and casual. There is a warehouse basement a couple of blocks from here, where we should be able to talk freely in." - she motioned to the door.
"A b-basement? You sure?! I mean I... I hope there's not rats, down there." - Lexi's eyes widened briefly, but she hesitantly stepped to the door and unlocked it.
Resisting the urge to roll her eyes, Yelena followed.
Let's hope rats will be the worst of our challenges while here. She sounds a little like a spoiled princess type. Still. There must be more to her then meets the eye, if she lasted for a year as a sleeper, without being discovered.
She thought with a slight grimace. As they exited the club, Yelena palmed a small EM scanner she had in the pocket of her pants, running a surreptitious scan on the woman, for any listening devices. She didn't find any.
Just as the two made their way back onto the main street, Yelena caught a glimpse of Gilbert's friend, across the street, having a hushed conversation with a police officer, before the man pointed in the direction of the club. She scowled, as the two quickly mixed-in with the gaggle of passerby in the street.
Well. So much for you scoring with me, Gil. You really do keep stupid friends. It seems we left just in time.