Chapter Twenty Four
Hilton Hotel, Hell's Kitchen, half an hour later
"I cannot believe I'm hearing this, Brent! My husband, a kidnapper?!" - Aria Rand snapped, crossing her arms and turning to look out one of the windows of her spacious luxury suite.
"Bad enough that you still refuse to involve the police, even knowing now, where my son, and that execrable witch who took him are, but now you're insinuating-" - before the man cut her off, smoothly.
"As I recall missus Rand, it was you who first suggested the motive might be personal. And having spoken to this woman, I've no reason to assume she's lying."
Aria spun around, disbelievingly.
"A potentially-unstable, demented augment, not lying? Perish the thought." - tone dripping with sarcasm, before she caught herself, glancing down at his midsection.
"Oh...! I mean... uhmm, certain augments, of course..." - looking away briefly, embarrassed.
Radford's face darkened at that.
"You know how I feel about clanks, even being one, by necessity. And under most circumstances I'd agree with you. But prejudice won't help us here. This woman, Irene, was as cool and collected as a priest on Sunday. She recognised me by name, as soon as Owen mentioned it, and by how she talked..." - he paused, briefly.
"You remember what I said about what happened to me in Detroit, three years ago? Consequence of sticking my nose too deep where I shouldn't? Well... I was working on a case, which certain people wanted buried, so they did their best to bury me with it."
"I'm sorry to hear that Brent, but what does that have to do with my husband and this ridiculous assertion that he kidnapped someone?" - she demanded.
"Maybe nothing. But maybe the same people who wanted me dead back then, are also the ones mister Rand might be colluding with. This woman, Irene, implied as much. And given what they tried to do to me, and my clients back then... kidnapping is actually lower, on that scale-" - as she cut him off, impatiently.
"That's an awful lot of maybes, Brent. And all because of what this witch said? What were you working on back then, anyway?" - crossing her arms expectantly.
Radford bit his lip, but decided to come clean, especially given the correlation he discovered, with Triaxis.
"I was investigating a connection between my client's employee and a defunct biomedical research institute called White Helix Labs. One time subsidiary of VersaLife." - he paused significantly, "And now, I discovered that this – Triaxis – whatever it is, was once also a biomedical research facility. Remember the message Irene left for your husband? 'Shadows flow beyond Triaxis?'"
Aria was silent, turning to pace slowly away. Her face a mask of suspicion.
"And also, she told me in no uncertain terms, that she wants your husband dead. Something about revenge..." - the man finished, leaving the last word hanging in the air, before he concluded,
"A heavily augmented, likely ex-military or PMC, individual, kidnapping Owen, holding him not for ransom, but as leverage, ostensibly to keep someone Volkard Rand kidnapped, safe... and also connected with someplace that he was likely involved with, despite what you told me yesterday... this smells very personal, Aria. And it could cost Owen his life." - pointedly.
The crimson-haired woman sat heavily, onto a richly padded sofa, letting out a ragged sigh, rubbing her face with her hands. When she looked up, tears sparkled in her eyes.
"Why is this happening...?! What... what do you want me to do?" - she looked at the detective helplessly, "What can I do? Go to my husband and ask him?! Even assuming I knew how to reach him at the moment... wherever he might be." - she glared, wiping her eyes.
"I made it a point, not to know more then I need to. Or dig where I shouldn't. We have always respected each other's secrets. But... but Owen comes first." - voice turning hard.
"What is it you want, Brent?"
Radford took a deep breath, taking a seat next to her, as he laid a comforting hand on hers.
"The Rand mansion. Do you have the access codes? Including to mister Rand's private areas? Personal study, that kind of thing? I'd like to take a look around, see what I can find, that may be able to corroborate this." - seriously.
She glared, eyes narrowed... but didn't retract her hand. She turned her head away.
"Benefit of having engendered his trust, by limiting unneeded questions..." - she looked at him again, after a few moments, "Yes, I do."
She got up again, pacing to the window, conflicted. Brent remained silent.
"If I give you the codes, will you promise me one thing?"
"Anything." - he nodded.
"Don't be seen there. I will make certain our household servants and staff will be away, give them a weekend off... but anyone else who might be around – is up to you. I have little doubt he would have someone surveilling our home, especially at a time like this."
"I'll do my best." - the detective nodded solemnly, then added.
"In the meantime, will you be alright here alone, in the Hilton? I don't want to leave you alone, in case Irene does come for you, despite what she said." - dubiously.
She turned, with a sigh.
"What choice is there? If Owen's life really is contingent on me staying and being observed here, by that disgusting little lapdog of hers... fine. So be it. Besides, now that I know what she looks like – I will be on the lookout. And I can take care of myself, if needed!" - the regal woman growled, opening her purse and pulling out a Buzzkill to show him.
Radford had to chuckle.
"You're full of surprises, Aria." - before he turned serious, "But let's hope it doesn't come to that. Just in case though... I want you to have this." - he reached into his coat and pulled out the EMP grenade.
The woman's eyes widened.
"Oh my heavens... Brent, why would you carry a grenade around?!" - she gasped.
"It's my little insurance policy. And don't worry, I've got more. Now that you'll be on your own for a while, I think you should have it. It's an EMP device, it'll disable her systems temporarily, and not hurt you in the process. Give you a good chance to get away, if you have to. Just press this button here, not too hard, for at least two seconds, then hold.
"Hold...? I thought it must be thrown..." - she frowned. He nodded.
"If it were any other kind of grenade, you should never do this. To throw it, you press briefly hard, then throw. It'd be on a four second timer. But EMPs are useful as area-scramblers, since they don't hurt organic tissue. So yea, press not-too-hard, then hold. It'll be on a release-fuse, so if you release the button without pressing-in deeper, it'll detonate. Again, you won't feel much, just a brief electric shock. If you do press-in deeper, you'll feel a soft click, disarming it, ready to be primed again. Here, let me show you..."
He spent a few minutes demonstrating, then let Aria try.
"Press, not too hard, and hold. Hold... Remember, don't release now... it'll go zap! It's on a release-fuse. Now, disarm... press-in harder, till you feel a click...
"I feel it... bloody hell I almost broke a nail..." - she bit her lip nervously, doing as instructed.
"Now, release. It's disarmed." - he nodded. Holding her breath, she did so. With a soft beep, the grenade went inert again.
"Best not to forget the procedure, right? Press, hold, let go if need to fry hanzer. Press harder till click, release to disarm. Might wanna repeat that in your head a few times, and do a few more practice runs." - he smiled.
"The things I learned this past week..." - Aria Rand shook her head to herself in bemusement, as she went through the procedure two more times, then put the grenade away in her purse.
As he left the room, she again collapsed heavily onto the sofa, tears welling up once more.
Yelena's apartment, above the Underworld, at the same time...
"Damn, legs... I... uh... I... I don't know what to say. You don't waste time, and you don't beat 'round the bush! I... I'm – I'm sorry I, uh... didn't last as long as... as you probably wanted. Hope you're not – uh, mad...?" - Gilbert eyed the naked cyborg woman, as she stepped out of the shower.
Strangely enough to his eyes, she didn't seem to even notice him at first... her expression not giving anything away, as she got dressed. He got an uneasy feeling about that.
"It was fun, Gil. I needed to be plowed properly... and you made up for the lack of stamina, with your mouth... your tongue knows it's way around!" - Yelena briefly curled one corner of her lips into a mischievous grin and a wink, just as quickly gone.
Owen was still at the table, studiously avoiding to look at either of them, playing a mobile game on his phone – something Yelena allowed him to do, after the SIM card was removed from it. He couldn't call anyone, and he couldn't connect to the internet.
"Now get dressed. Time to be on your way. Remember, keep an eye on Aria Rand... you will be paid three hundred, daily, for it. If she checks out of the Hilton, let me know immediately. And pay attention to any increase in police activity in the area, as well as anyone who might be loitering around, that you haven't seen before." - all business.
"Right... do – umm – do you wanna meet up again, here, or..." - he trailed off expectantly. The woman shook her head, quickly.
"That reminds me...! No. I would rather come to your room in the hotel. I do not want you frequenting this apartment, and potentially leading someone else here. Is there a back entrance? Even with an understanding with the Jaxers, I would rather not be seen by any more people then necessary, and certainly no cameras." - she asked.
The pierced man frowned, now out of bed, and padding to the shower himself.
"Well, I suppose you could climb the fire escape out back in the alley, but it's raised most of the time, so I'm not sure how you'd get up there. My room is the last one on the left, looking from the East. First floor. No balcony, just a window."
She nodded.
"Excellent. Don't worry about me getting up there... jumping and climbing is something I am very good at. Do you know which room Rand is staying in?"
"I can find out... little snooping 'round the uncle's computer. My bet would be one of the topside deluxe suites. She seems the type, y'know?" - he shrugged, stepping in the shower.
Yelena used the time to tidy-up the bedroom, following their sexual escapade, then approached Owen.
"If you need to use the toilet, do it soon. You will be handcuffed to the bed, back in the bedroom until I return. It may be several hours, fill up a bottle of water as well."
The boy just glared, but nodded slightly. He didn't want to be left thirsty overnight, like last night in that miserable room underground. It was horrible.
Regarding him for a moment, Yelena could see renewed defiance in his eyes. Clearly, the notion that he might be saved, following Radford's visit, stuck. It was time to disillusion him of it.
Ten minutes later, after Gilbert had left, she moved over to the bundle in the corner, including her duffle bag, retrieving a pair of explosive mines. Instead of proximity-detonation, she set the detonators to react to heightened decibel levels, before she planted one inside the bedroom, and the other one in front of the entrance door. Then she turned to Owen.
"Fifty-two decibel threshold. If you call for help, they will explode and kill you. If you set your phone games too loud, they will explode and kill you. So for your sake, be quiet."
All the colour drained from the boy's face, as he eyed the two ominous, dark squat shapes on the floor.
"Y-you're gonna leave me with these things... ?! Please-" - he started under his breath, before he was cut off, as she raised a hand, with reassurance.
"You will be safe as long as you don't raise your voice." - emphasising, keeping her own tone below the threshold. "I'll be back in a couple of hours, most likely. Then I will disarm them. Until then, be quiet. Yes?"
With a sigh, he nodded. Yelena paused briefly, the briefest shadow of almost – unwilling - sympathy crossing her features, just as quickly gone.
"And get some sleep. You look like you need it." - softly, before she turned and left the apartment, locking the door behind her.
As chance would have it, her path took her near the basketball court next to the subway down the street from the Hilton. Mixed-in with the steady flow of people early afternoon in one of New York's most vibrant neighbourhoods, Yelena felt reasonably confident she was all but invisible, to anyone who might be watching. Unlike at night, when she had to be aware of police and cameras focusing on individuals, since there were much less people around – now – it was all a river of humanity. She was just one drop in it.
Who would have thought, that the time would come when I consider daytime safer then nighttime?
The woman thought in some amusement.
She didn't know exactly what she was looking for. Some ideas presented themselves though. For one, she could try and get in touch with Kelso, using a large business's NSN as a medium. It would preclude the possibility of detection, that would be a risk if she simply relied on her Infolink. Yes, Kelso had said their new private channel was fully encrypted – but after what happened yesterday night at the Archives – let's just say Yelena had every reason to doubt the woman's motivations.
And she could tell that Kelso was trying to contact her. Her temporal transceiver made little doubt of that, as it buzzed on occassion in her head, attempting to establish a link. She resolutely refused to pick up the phone. If – if – Kelso was compromised, infolinking with her would be an open invitation for a lot more then two assets, to come down on her. Not worth the risk. Not unless she could mask the communique on her end, or better yet – use a third-party NSN as a medium. She knew that the Panama safehouse had an NSN. And she knew the access codes. Using someone else's NSN to establish a communications link, would be easy enough – if she could get access to one.
It could be someone else, of course... but the chance of that was exceedingly remote. If it were Lexi, she would be using the GSM frequency, and leaving short bursts. By now, Yelena assumed Lexi and her brother were on a plane to Mexico.
Her gaze went up, to a large advertiscreen mounted on one of the buildings.
Celtos Industries – Innovation Through Augmentation
She frowned. A biotech firm – an independent one? Those were a rarity these days. So most likely a local-based enterprise, that was too small to warrant attention from – them, and TYM. Or maybe already in their pocket, just retaining a different name? Zooming-in to the advertiscreen, she read the smaller text down on the left – contact details, including a website, local office address, and a info-phone number.
They must have an NSN I could use.
She decided. The address wasn't too far, still in Hell's Kitchen. She could pay a visit. On the other hand... it it was their front, using it could just mean a different way to track her.
Biting her lip, undecided, her gaze fell lower, at the hotel entrance farther up the street, and across. She was tempted to sneak in, and find out where Radford's, and Aria Rand's rooms were, on her own. They would not share a room – that would be too eye-catching. And as a private investigator, Radford would no doubt want to be invisible, while on the case. Still, it was like she told Gil – she didn't want to be seen there, more then strictly necessary.
Suddenly, she was spared the need to decide, as a familiar gray trenchcoat-clad, older figure exited the hotel. Radford. He looked like a man with a purpose in his step, making his way across the street, and heading for one of the parked cars there, no doubt his. The cyborg woman frowned.
Where's he going, so soon? I would have thought he'd want to keep an eye on his client for now, make sure I didn't make a move, despite our agreement?
Yelena quickened her pace, staying with the crowds. The bus stop was nearby, and she took cover behind the enclosure, loitering inconspicuously, and still having something to block his line of sight, just as the man pulled out his phone, and dialed a number. Overhearing him over the gabble of people and cars passing by, would be impossible, so the cyborg woman decided to risk using her Infolink signal-intercept function, to listen-into his active GSM frequency...
~"Hey Sammie, it's Brent. Can you meet me on the corner of Oakland and Ridge avenue in Jersey? And be ready to run a systems hack? We'll be paying the Rand Mansion a visit. Got the access codes from Aria, but I'll bet ya a million creds his computer's gonna be encrypted to hell and back. I can do the rest of the digging myself, but I'll need you to crack that open."~
~"So you're taking that mystery-aug seriously? About Rand having kidnapped someone too?"~
~"Call it a hunch. This whole thing was fishy from the start, and I can't ignore what I heard. Just be there, okay? And since you'll be out on-site, I'm willing to fork over double your fee this time! How's that?"~
~"Still a bit light, for me being part of a B and E , but..."~
~"Not B and E, for fucks' sakes! Told ya, I got the codes. And she said she'd keep the staff outta the way for the weekend. Come on Sammie, I need you."~
~"Fine. Meet you there. But you owe me one, Brent."~
As the line went dead, Yelena – casually – moved on, blending into the crowds once more. A smirk dancing across her lips. Now she had the rough address to the Rand mansion itself! And that opened a whole range of new possibilities.
Until now, she wasn't really sure how she would move ahead to arrange a hostage-exchange. She was improvising, one step at a time. She couldn't simply name the time and place to Volkard Rand – it would be like walking into a trap. Oh, he would no doubt abide by her request not to have any police or his IG goons, anywhere nearby – at least not within her ability to detect them – but it would still be a death sentence, to both her and Jamella, once the 'exchange' was underway. No. The only way for this to work with no loose ends remaining, was if she got the jump on him, and got Jamella out herself. This entire notion of a hostage-exchange, was just a delaying tactic on her part, to hopefully keep the girl alive long enough.
And speaking of loose ends... she paused, glancing back again at Radford, now rummaging through the trunk of his car. She sighed, remembering her promise to Gil, how he wouldn't end up in prison, if she could help it. A shadow of that trademark hollowness, passed over them.
Realistically... there was only one way to make certain of that. Especially since Radford did strike her as a self-righteous kind. The kind that relishes putting all the 'bad guys' where they 'belong'. A noble sentiment – in a world that really didn't play by those rules.
But not here. Not yet. For now, he might be useful.
Still. He is honest. His heart is in the right place... I hope I can convince him to overlook Gilbert's involvement, rather then having to kill him. We'll see.
"Hello again, mister Radford." - the man heard a familiar accented tone, just as he was opening the driver-side doors.
He turned with a scowl, finding himself face-to-face with Irene, the tall, heavily augmented kidnapper. Dressed in a nondescript hoodie and slacks, she looked a bit less eye-catching. But not much less.
"Wish I could say nice to see you again. What is it now? And how'd you zone-in on me?" - the graying man growled, hand dipping casually under his trenchcoat.
"That was a very interesting conversation, mister Radford. But I hope you're not thinking you and your friend can simply... walk into Volkard Rand's mansion? Even with his wife's codes." - Yelena said, leadingly.
"How the hell did you pick tha-" - the man started angrily, before the aquiline figure tilted her head slightly to the side, exposing circuitry under the skin of her right ear. He swore under his breath.
"God damn robot... y'know that by itself could land you in prison for a couple years. Unauthorised surveillance. But I suppose you don't give a shit about that."
The woman gave him a mirthless chuckle.
"If I were to tally up all the crimes I committed, mister Radford, mostly on orders from above... there would be no sentence in existence, to fit. Not in any country, or by any law. Except God's law. But I can say the same about the people we're both after. Same, and much worse."
"You assume a hell of a lot." - the detective countered.
"I do not think so. Else you wouldn't be on your way to Rand's home now, to dig around." - she retorted easily.
"So what do you want?"
"To help you succeed. I know the kind of person he is. And the kind of people his associates are. You will need me along, to even get close to his home, without being either spotted and reported on, or outright taken out."
Radford shook his head.
"Not likely. Especially in broad daylight, and with his wife's blessing. Assassinating random visitors wouldn't exactly paint a pretty picture in the news, for him. Even assuming he's all you insinuate he is. Which I'm still on the fence about."
The woman's gaze flicked somewhere past his shoulder. Then narrowed, slightly, before returning to his eyes.
"Assume whatever you like. But take a look at those two... across the street next to that dumpster. Casually..." - she leaned against his car, acting nonchalant, as she reached into one of the pockets of her hoodie, pulling out a cigaweed, and lighting it.
Feeling the small hairs on his neck rising, Radford pretended to head back to the rear of the car and get something else from the trunk... in the process casting a glance in that direction – at two men, well-built, dressed in suspiciously nondescreipt brown suits, with the kind of 'secret service' look about them, that brought to memory his memorable experience in Detroit. Both trying very hard to pretend they weren't looking directly at him.
God damn it...
"Yeah. I see 'em. Thought I saw at least one of 'em before, too... when me and missus Rand were getting here." - he muttered, once he was next to the woman again.
She took a few paces away, subtly motioning him to follow, into partial cover of the bus stop overhang, taking a long pull from the cigaweed.
"One has a wireless receiver in his ear." - she reported, and he could see the irises of her dark eyes shifting slightly, traces of circuitry behind. Probably zooming-in.
"Cute trick. So, you're assuming Rand sent those two? To... what? Keep an eye on his wife... and anyone she's hanging around with? He knows me, Aria made it no secret she's got me on retainer. But now they also saw me talking to you... oh." - his own eyes narrowed.
"And he knows me very, very well. Trust me on that. So before we go anywhere, we must neutralise those two. Whether or not they had already reported-in, or are simply observing for now." - the woman growled, darkly.
"Well... easier said then done, middle of the day, in a busy street." - Radford retorted, before his gaze flicked around, to the vacant basketball court down the street, and dark alleys leading further beyond.
He sighed, warring with himself. What did he really know about this woman? Nothing, except that she was likely a cold-blooded murderer. Then again... those two bricks back there, gave him the creeps. Memories from Detroit now very fresh in his mind.
He lifted a sidelong glance at her, taking another whiff of the cig.
"Wanna take a little walk?" - nodding discreetly towards the basketball court, and the alleys beyond.
"M-hm." - the tall cyborg woman hummed, a flash in her dark gaze.
The alley was dingy and narrow, covered in refuse, empty soda cans and beer bottles, and a few discarded needles – indicating it was also a junkie hangout. As the two Inter-Guarda observers entered it, nobody was in sight, aside from a couple of rats, skittering behind some corrugated roofing boards lying against the wall some distance ahead. Farther up ahead, there was a wider stretch, with a trashcan and what looked like a pair of storage-area doors with keypads, some crates piled next to them.
"Where are they? We saw 'em cross the court and enter here." - one man muttered, looking around, then up. Aside from fire-escape scaffoldings, there was nothing to be seen.
"Let's keep moving. We need to get a positive facial ID on the chick. If she is Fedorova." - the other led the way into the alley.
Up above, on the scaffolding, a slight shimmer of air moved against the sunlight.
As the two came into the clearing with the storage doors, Radford stepped out behind the stack of crates, hands seemingly crossed over his chest, but one dipping inside the trenchcoat, lightly gripping the Diamondback in a holster there.
"Gentlemen. You seem to have an interest in me. Care to explain why?" - he asked.
"Where is she?" - one of the men growled, not mincing words.
"Where's who?" - Radford countered. Next to him, beside the crates, there was a bundle of dark clothing... the woman's hoodie and slacks.
"Don't play coy, mister Radford. The woman you were talking to next to your car." - the other guy narrowed his eyes, his own hand sliding into his suit's coat now.
A whiff of electrified air behind them was their only warning.
"Me?" - a cold female tone sounded, making the two spin around on their heel.
The first one caught a half-decloaked elbow to the hinge of his jaw, before he was even fully around, making his head snap back... then forward again, as he recovered, his own hands snapping up to a fighting stance – too slow – right into a follow-up kick to his throat, the narrow, pointed metal hoof crushing his windpipe like a coke can.
With a choked gurgle he collapsed, gasping for air, choking to death. The other man swore, throwing a crisp and snappy open-palm jab directly to the tall figure's face, rocking the woman's own head back, some blood painting her nose, before he tried to side-kick for distance, one hand reaching for a weapon. She caught his foot, then pulled him in, as she jumped, landing a brutal flying knee into his solar plexus – collapsing the diaphragm.
The man's eyes bulged, as he clutched his chest, leaning half-over, his cardiac muscles seizing up. Casually grabbing him in a front headlock under her armpit, she twisted and snapped his neck.
Radford bit his lip, removing his hand from the trenchcoat – empty. Eyeing her tall, whipcord figure with some wariness. Despite the two nasty-looking blades in the scabbards on her back – she didn't seem to need them here.
"Guess you don't really need much help, do you lady?"
"Not usually, no." - the aquiline woman shrugged, briefly wiping the blood from her nose, before she stepped over the two bodies, to put on her hoodie and slacks again.
Then she thought better of it... simply rolling them under her arm. If she was going to stay cloaked for the drive, she would need full optimisation of her cloaking array – which meant making use of the thermoptic armour's mesh.
"Right... let's hide 'em among these crates." - Radford muttered, dragging the first corpse. Still conflicted about all of this. But the die was cast now.
Ten minutes later...
"You're sure they won't see you at the checkpoints? It's a decently long drive out to Jersey..." - the detective asked as he drove, seemingly alone in the car.
"I'm sure. As long as your documentation is in order, and we aren't delayed on any of them for too long. I can stay cloaked for a while, unmoving, but not indefinitely." - the empty back seat replied.
"Good to know."