Chapter Eighteen
Midtown South Police Precinct, New York – Signal Intercept Department, 19:25
Two techs were hunching over a computer terminal, trying to analyse an illegal Infolink transmission they detected. This was the second instance of it being used, both times lasting no more then a split second.
"I can't make heads or tails of this... it has an Infolink transmission signature code, but no recipient. At least not on it's own band. If it's a burst-message of some kind, it's being sent to – itself... ?" - one murmured, typing furiously on a terminal.
"Ghost protocols? Like what that Lazarus guy likes to webcast across? No Linksat involvement, just spoof-hooking on existing carrier waves?" - the second one suggested.
"Nah. Simpler. No scrambler, no cross-streaming. Nothing. Smells like P2P... but only one node. No peer. Sending to, yeah – itself – looks like, last coming from somewhere in Hell's Kitchen. Way too brief to get any more specific."
"But both times it was in that general area, right?" - the first one murmured.
"Yeah. Weird. Could be some of those hotshots at Celtos Industries, testing their new intra-company comms protocols? We did get a memo about that a month ago, right?" - the second suggested, but the first shook his head, wiping some sweat off his brow, as his chubby fingers continued typing madly.
"Was only supposed to last a week or so... and we didn't get a beep from them since. Nah... not buying it. Someone else is there. Playing it very cute, for some reason. And it's deffo an illegal frequency."
"Do we put it in our weekly report? Chief could just brush it off as paranoia... especially with all the mixed-signals we've been gettin' lately, with all the foreign diplomats and corpo-types pouring in for the Act ratification. Everyone tryin' to listen-in on everyone else... maybe this is just some indie hacker setting up shop, working for one of 'em, and running a little surveillance gig?" - the first one was dubious.
"Maybe... but I've just got one of those feelings, man. Put it in. Let the brass make of it what they will. And it is our job, after all." - the second one shrugged, then reached over for a cup of lukewarm coffee, exing it out.
"Your call." - the first one sauntered off, back to his desk.
Rand Mansion, outskirts of Jersey City, 20:00
"Madam? A phonecall for you." - a maid approached Aria Rand, currently picking through her son's things in his room.
More to try and calm her nerves, then actually hoping to find anything that might explain why would anyone want to abduct him. And it didn't make sense... the cryptic message the police recovered from the limo next to the corpses of their bodyguards, gave nothing away – though she noticed her husband's face pale visibly, when he read it.
Interviewing the driver, the only survivor, was just as fruitless, as he barely saw anything, before he was knocked out. A 'shimmer in the air'.
Repeated tries to get anything out of her husband, on what was in the message, were met with uncharacteristic stonewalling, and claims that 'he's handling it'. Then he vanished back to his VersaLife office, and she hadn't seen him since, for the past day. Calling the office, revealed that he hadn't actually stayed there more then fifteen minutes, before he departed in a black helicopter, for location unknown, alongside a 'haggard-looking young woman', and a 'heavily augmented bodyguard'.
Aria didn't know what to make of it. Clearly her husband had some idea on why was Owen abducted, but, as was the case with so many of his... strange, secretive... endeavours and projects that had little to do with his work in the company – she was kept completely in the dark. And by now, furious at him for keeping her out of the loop.
For the police investigators' part, they were more then helpful when she requested to be kept apprised of any developments, but they also, strangely, claimed not to understand the message's content, when they showed it to her. It was only one phrase, in Russian, repeated three times.
Teni tekut za predely Triaxis.
Teni tekut za predely Triaxis.
Teni tekut za predely Triaxis.
Translated, it read 'Shadows flow beyond Triaxis'. For the life of her, Aria couldn't begin to guess what it meant, anymore then the police could. As far as she was aware, Volkard didn't have any Russian-speaking associates, business or otherwise, nor did he ever mention anything called 'triaxis'. But from her husband's expression and paleness – he clearly understood. And from his behaviour since, it must have been very, very important.
"Give it here. Then leave me alone. You're dismissed for the evening." - she muttered tersely, reaching for the phone then shooing the maid away.
"Yes, madam. I... I hope young master Rand will be found soon." - the maid bowed, then left.
"Aria Rand speaking." - the woman spoke into the phone after taking a deep, slightly shuddering breath, trying to manage her anxiety.
~"Miss Rand? Uhm, you don't know me, but I-I'm one of Dr. Rand's aides, and I just got a really... creepy... call, from someone saying they've got young Owen."~ - an anxious young female tone came from the device.
The stately woman's eyes lit up, but then instantly narrowed in suspicion.
"Why are you not informing my husband about this?!" - she demanded.
~"Doctor Rand is still out of reach, ma'am, ever since he left via helicopter. We've got no way of contacting him. And... t-the person said if I contacted anyone else but you or him, especially the cops, they'd kill Owen! I-I don't know what to do... They said they want to negotiate a ransom, but only directly with t-the family. And with mr. Rand unreachable... I-I..."~ - the voice stammered off.
Aria took another deep, shaky breath, but kept her voice under control.
"Understood. Thank you for calling me... did they say where they want to meet?" - she asked, hesitantly.
A part of her was very much worried this might be a trap, but at least an equal, motherly part of her, was relieved for any news on her son.
~"Battery Park, ma'am. Near Castle Clinton. Tonight at midnight. And the person also said to come alone; if they spot any cops, the meeting's off. T-they didn't say what would happen to Owen, b-but... well – can't imagine it'd end well, right?"~ - the young woman's tone remained shaky.
Aria Rand bit her lip, pacing out into the living room, to sit by the fireplace. Now that the first rush of emotions was subsiding... her suspicion returned.
~"Uh, ma'am? You still there?"~ - the voice prompted, after a dozen moments of silence.
The aristocratic-looking woman's lips compressed into a line.
"Who is 'they'? Male or female voice? Did you save a transcript of the call?" - she demanded.
~"Y-yes ma'am, as per standard procedure for emergency situations. I can send it to your phone if you wish, but the voice is scrambled. They probably used some kind of voice-changer software. No idea if it's male or female. Or just an AI recording."~ - the aide's reply came after a momentary pause.
"Do so. And thank you for informing me." - Aria Rand closed the call without goodbyes.
A minute later, the transcript arrived, and as the aide said – it was unidentifiable. A robotic-sounding, gender-neutral monotone, stating the time and place of the meeting, and threatening in no uncertain terms of the dire consequences for Owen, if the police becomes involved.
The woman bit her lip harder, then dialed another number. Not the police... but a private investigator she had on retainer.
"Brent? I need your help."
20:30, Underworld, Hell's Kitchen
Two shadowy female figures had a corner booth to themselves. One tall, augmented one in a hoodie and cargo pants, the other shorter, slender one in a business coat and skirt.
"You say she cut off, without confirming she will attend the meeting?" - Yelena asked hushedly.
Lexi nodded, taking a sip of her drink.
"Yeah. And she sounded suspicious. Like someone on the fence about it... my guess is, she's not just gonna jump at it without taking a few precautions. She's not gonna call the cops, she'll be too worried about Owen, but... I'mma level with you. That woman is slick. Rumour has it she had two divorces, back in England, and took her exes for everything they had in courts, before she hooked up with Rand. And she's not the kind to take anything at face value. If you think she'll be easier to scare then Dr. Rand, I wouldn't bet on it. Honestly, I don't think you'll get a ransom out of either of 'em... uh... that IS why you're holding Owen, right?" - the last part a bit hesitant, giving the tall, hollow-eyed cyborg a frown.
Yelena smiled, with a brittle edge to it.
"Don't worry, Lexi. People tend to bend more easily when faced with unexpected... circumstances. You have done your part and I thank you for it." - the smile vanished into an earnest expression.
"Now to your part of the bargain. You want out, and your trail covered. You're going to call in sick, tomorrow, then destroy ALL your physical documents. Same with your brother. Then, you and your brother will take the first flight to Mexico City, under these aliases and ID's. Courtesy of miss Kelso. Once there, someone will meet you, and instruct you further." - handing her a pair of ID's and passports.
Lexi's expression widened, as she examined the documents.
"What about our digital records?! As soon as we try to board with these, they'll compare 'em to the database and discover we don't exist-" - before Yelena smoothly interrupted her.
"You will, by tomorrow. Civic database hacking is something I can allow miss Kelso to do remotely via proxy, as soon as I gain access to the National Archives building in the city, and the mainframe server."
As she said that, she couldn't help but grimace slightly to herself.
I promised myself I would never do that again, after that time in Madalyuk's mansion in Moscow... and this time, I will be proxy-slaved to someone who actually could kill me, or expose me, if they discover what my purpose is here. Blood vengeance – something tells me Kelso wouldn't be understanding! Not with her sanctimonious, holier-then-thou attitude. Not after our little chat, back on the boat. She would not understand.
With that thought, Yelena reminded herself that this time, she would HAVE to keep any errant thoughts very tightly behind her mental barriers, and not allow Anna Kelso any insight into her state of mind. With Jamella, she wasn't too worried. She had established a bond with the girl. With the former federal agent, still very much antagonistic towards her – one wrong thought could spell disaster.
At the same time, aboard the VersaLife helicopter, mid-flight to Inter-Guarda regional office outside New York...
"Where-where are we going?" - Jamella asked, after she drained a bottle of water she was given, once she boarded the chopper.
She drank like there was no tomorrow, feeling slightly better already. Of course, it was still just an aftereffect of being out of that miserable cell, and away from the torment – the girl knew she needed more extensive medical attention, given what was done to her. But for now, being out and away from there, was good enough.
"Me tell you. We go see Volky. He say so! Im-por-tant." - the Yelena-lookalike replied, in a 'duh' kind of tone.
Jamella peered closely at the stab wound in the woman's upper left-side torso. It completely stopped bleeding by now, and she looked none the worse for wear for it.
"You okay? And... thanks. For teaching those two bastards a lesson. They hurt me every day, you know. They... they..." - she barely restrained tears again.
"No cry! Uhmmg... They learn. Lesson is do Volky say. Volky say no hurt you. They hurt you. Now they hurt. So...unhhhh. They learn! Or they die." - the strange woman nodded decisively, giving her a soft touch on the cheek, before she nodded at the wound.
"Me okay. Me tough. Volky make me tough! Gheheehhhe! Me need new tooth!" - she grinned, showing Jamella an empty space in her upper jaw where the MiB's blow knocked a tooth out.
"Uhm... what's... what's your name?" - the young hacker asked tentatively, still trying to make sense of who was she talking to, exactly.
Oddly enough, the woman seemed confused by the question for a long couple of moments, her forhead frowning above those expressionless blueish occular implants.
"Mghhh... I no name. I am Me." - she finally replied, shrugging. As she did, the girl couldn't help but get the impression that she almost... recoiled, slightly, at the thought. Jamella bit her lip, but nodded.
"O...kay. If you say so. Do you... always do what Volky says?" - softly.
"Yes! Volky say, me do. Volky good! Volky say you do, you do! If you not do, you hurt. That how it work. Unhhhh. Volky... good to Me." - the woman repeated, absently, with another unnatural twitch, as she turned her attention out the helicopter window.
Jamella couldn't help feeling her hairs stand on end. Whatever was done to this poor woman, she was conditioned and brainwashed on the level that went beyond anything she could imagine.
No wonder Yelena hates that guy's guts... if she was put through something similar, back in the day... and if she's remembering more, as time goes on... Jesus. But – who IS this chick? And why didn't Yelena ever mention her? And... NO. No. She's NOT dead! Irw's not dead! I don't believe that! If for NO reason, but that those two pieces of shit back there tried their damnedest to make me believe they are! Fuck 'em! She's NOT dead... she can't be. She can't. She'll come... they'll both come...
The girl thought, almost hammering the notion down her own throat, repeating it over and over again in her mind, like a mantra.
Fifteen minutes later, the helicopter came to a landing on top of a wide, squat suburban building, somewhere on Staten Island. A lone, bald man in a suit, headed out the interior to meet them at the helipad.
"That Volky. See?" - the doppleganger pointed, a dumb smile on her face, as the helicopter's rotors stopped.
Jamella tensed, locking eyes with the man. She didn't need any particular skill at reading facial expressions, to figure out the fakeness behind that insincere, beneficent smile plastered on his face, and bright, but ice-cold eyes regarding her. Face locked into a scowl, it didn't change, as she was marched out of the helicopter by the not-Yelena, made to stop in front of him.
He turned to the tall cyborg.
"Good girl. You've earned a cookie! Go to Miss Blue, and let her take care of you. You need it!" - the man's smile widened at the cyborg woman, giving her a pat on the shoulder, his gaze briefly inspecting the mostly-healed wound in her flank.
"Thanks Volky! Me good girl. Me good!"
Jamella couldn't help but cringe at the not-Yelena's reaction to that, bouncing up-and-down like a little girl, giggling, before she hopskipped down to the building entrance.
No...
...no. Like a dog getting a pat on the back. Fucker... he basically turned this – whoever she is – into his pet. If Yelena saw this...
The girl's one human eye narrowed in anger, as he turned his attention back on her. She waited until the doppleganger was out of sight, before she spat in his face, at the same time as he opened his mouth to address her. Her spittle almost dribbing into his mouth.
Gratified to see his insincere smile vanish instantly, Jamella tensed, as his hand rose to backhand her, a split instant before he restrained himself, and dipped it into his suit's inner pocket to fish out a handkerchief and wipe it off.
"Charming. I see you picked up a few habits from miss Fedorova." - coldly.
"Nah. This one's all of my own. She got the same, first time I met her. Just before I was about to kill her with a killphrase." - the young woman growled, pure hatred in her voice.
The man's expression twitched.
"A pity you didn't go through with that, before your people unleashed her from it. Then all of this..." - his eyes briefly flicking up-and-down her body, noticing her – stiffness – and the way she seemed to clinch her legs together, "...could've been avoided." - emphatically.
I would've. Thank God Quinn stopped me.
Was Jamella's thought in a flash. But her expression stayed stony.
"Let me make an educated guess. She's not dead, is she? And she's making trouble for you, mister Rand. Yeah, I know who you are. That's the only reason I'm out of that cell, and away from those two atonal-sounding rapist motherfuckers? Oh, by the way, your cyber-pet did a number on 'em, before she pulled me out. Seems she takes instructions very literally, especially after I told her what they did to me. I had a good laugh, watching them bleed." - the girl's tone dripping with malice, the last word literally hissed-out.
Rand's lips twitched into an indulgent smirk.
"Good for you. Must have slipped my mind to amend it's briefing. But it serves it's purpose. And those two assets were reminded not to take too much lattitude in interpreting my instructions."
"It?" - Jamella hissed, disbelievingly. He nodded, expression cold and cruel.
"It. What miss Fedorova should've become, if we did our job better. But, we've discovered one can't have both. Obedience and effectiveness. We settled for the latter, hoping the former could be... retrofitted along the way. We were mistaken, obviously." - darkly.
"You sick bastards..." - the girl gulped. None-too-gently, the man gripped her by the foream, and yanked her along, with surprising strength, leading her towards the building entrance. Jamella saw no point in resisting, keeping up. Where would she run? Why would she run? But she yanked her arm out, forcefully. He threw her a glare, but didn't try to grab her again, even as a pair of bodyguards approached from the entrance, falling in step behind them.
"In any case, your guess is correct, terrorist. She has rearranged the playing field. Abducted my son. Applied leverage. A more... circumspect... approach, then I've come to expect from her. The idea was, for her to launch some kind of direct rescue attempt, and fall into our trap."
Jamella's heart jumped.
I knew you wouldn't leave me, Yelena! I KNEW YOU WERE ALIVE!
Out loud, she scowled.
"I hope your son's having as much fun with Yelena, as I've had with your assets, back there." - vindictively.
At this, the bald man suddenly turned, and gripped her by the throat, hard enough to make her gasp for air. Releasing, he backhanded her, hard enough to send the girl flying to the hard concrete, with a moan, a spatter of blood from the side of her mouth. The two bodyguards instantly yanked her back to her feet, as he stepped close.
"Let me make it very clear, in simple terms, little bitch. If she takes one hair off my son's head, neither you, or her, will get out of this alive. She's crossed a line. She's a rogue asset, that will be dealt with. And you're a terrorist. Neither of you has a future, no matter how things develop!" - in a growl.
"Your son won't have it either looks like, if you touch me again! Keep that in mind, you bald fuck!" - the girl snarled back viciously, attempting to headbutt him, but the bodyguards restrained her. Instead, she kicked out, catching him in the crotch, making him grit his teeth in pain and stumble back.
Knowing Yelena was alive, and leveraging to save her, wiped all the fear out of Jamella, filling her with hope and renewed defiance, eclipsing even the pain she was still in.
He can't do ANYTHING to me! And he fuckin' knows it.
"Take her inside! Get her something to eat." - Rand ordered, gritting his teeth, making a heroic effort at restraining himself.
"And a hot shower! Got it?!" - Jamella yelled back at him.
As she was escorted down a hallway to the left, by a pair of Inter-Guarda personnel, Rand fell in step with Zelazny, waiting inside the lobby on the other side. The two headed down the right side hallway.
"Report on the Panama operation?" - the bald man growled.
"Possible safehouse discovered in Panama City, my people are trying to make confirmations. Probable sighting of Irwine, along with an unknown augmented operative, in the company of Mercia cartel personnel. As per my orders, they're not engaging before a full confirmation, and additional assets in position. Might take a week, possibly longer." - the cyborg replied.
"Good. Stay atop of it. Right now, I need you here to figure out what Fedorova's game plan is. She didn't give a meeting place, or any details on a possible hostage exchange. Just that god damn message... trying to get under my skin. We've appropriated a police forensic analysis on the limousine's interior; no fingerprints, no DNA traces, nothing."
Zelazny nodded.
"And the driver doesn't know anything, she didn't use him as a messenger... She's playing it safe, gauging our response. Safe to say she doesn't want to leave any concrete trails for the cops to jump on. Pretty slick so far, snatching the kid out of the school... but the timing is – convenient. She couldn't have known the exact itinerary. Or even which school he goes to." - giving Rand a significant look.
The man nodded back.
"Someone's been feeding her intel from the inside. Hence why we're here, and not the HQ. I don't want more leaks. Not too many people know about Owen's itinerary, so that narrows it down slightly... our house staff, at least some of them, our bodyguards, and a couple of my aides."
Zelazny crossed his arms, as the two entered a shielded office.
"We've put your staff, bodyguards, and one of the aides under surveillance, sir, but we're having trouble locating the second one – miss Lexi Bekrios. Apparently she hadn't yet returned to her apartment after work. Her car's missing, too."
Rand narrowed his eyes.
"Lexi? What about her brother?"
"Not at home, either. We've sent inquiries to the Augmented Registration Office, for his ID implant code. We'll be able to track him that way, unless the implant is disabled or removed. Meanwhile, I've taken the liberty of sending a cell-trace request on miss Bekrios's phone, in your name, to the city police SigInt division. Assuming she makes a call, we'll be able to trace her."
Rand shook his head, one fist clenching on impulse, before he took a deep breath to calm down.
"I don't want to believe Lexi could've done it... she was always a – loyal – employee. Then again, company's IT management already had her flagged for suspicious activity on her computer – but they never found any evidence. Maybe we should've looked more closely... or maybe it's just a coincidence..." - dubiously, before noticing Zelazny giving him a look.
"Sir, maybe your... casual involvement with her, influences your-" - before the man cut him off, tensely.
"Yes...! I – the thought had occurred, Commander. I want her found and brought in. I won't make any snap-judgements, maybe she has personal business to attend to, but... well. Meanwhile, our people in Jersey City police have also got their hands on a missing AI truck report, near the site where the limousine was found. Stolen right out of company parking lot, not yet found."
"You think Fedorova could've hacked it, sir?" - Zelazny caught on. Rand shrugged.
"If she wanted expedient transportation around the city, without being discovered at checkpoints, that would be one way to do it. Especially if she had a hostage with her."
The cyborg nodded slowly.
"Too bad most checkpoints aren't equipped with EM scanners. Something she probably found out, and took advantage of." - Zelazny paused, thinking hard... "That would imply she accessed a police computer, which meant either a break-in at a precinct somewhere, or..." - he glanced at Rand again.
"...or one of the checkpoints themselves." - he finished, frowning again, before he moved over to a terminal.
"What is it, Commander?" - Rand demanded, noticing a spring in the man's step, as if he suddenly had a flash of insight.
"I'm accessing the police database, sir... there was something about a checkpoint officer being reported missing, yesterday, in..." - he paused, typing, before the report came up on screen, "...Hell's Kitchen." - motioning Rand to take a look at the report.
The report details were sparse, but apparently the missing officer was not yet found, alive or otherwise.
"Might be a stretch, sir, but..." - he trailed off. Rand nodded.
"Get some people to Hell's Kitchen, to take a look around. Plainclothes. Do we have a description on the stolen AI truck?" - he asked.
"Yes sir. I'll tell 'em to keep a lookout for it."