Freedom Club (43 page)

“And that’s it?” Shinzou asked. “Just make a good impression, huh?”

“Yes!” Henry said, getting quite annoyed.

Shinzou miffed to himself. “Seems a bit low on details. Normally, we spend hours going over your behavioral matrix. This time, we’re going in blind. Aren’t you uncomfortable with that?”

Henry looked at Shinzou and thought deeply with an index finger pressed hard against his temple. “It may seem precipitous, but Shiro was quite adamant about the need to move quickly. Find common ground upon which to build our newfound relation. After all, we did make sudden contact with him. He was quite disturbed by it all.”

“Disturbed?” Shinzou spat. “That’s a nice way to put it. I just hope he doesn’t try to kill us.”

“I second that,” Sumeet added, while pulling lightly at his filter suit.

Shinzou looked sympathetically at Sumeet. Like skintight underwear, filter suits were notoriously uncomfortable. But their defensive ability was remarkable. Using a combination of acrylic polycarbonates, absorber dyes and aramid fibers, they provided reliable protection for a range of weapons, both energy based and traditional firearms.

Shinzou said, “We’re not taking any chances this time, Sumeet. That military grade filter suit and mask will provide solid protection. Initial rounds of lasers, bullets, and shrapnel will bounce off it. But don’t get brave. Just remember, in the unlikely case we find trouble, follow me, do as I do, and if we have to run?”

“Run like hell,” Sumeet said, having been drilled well. “But do you really think something will happen?”

Shinzou didn’t respond. He just stared interrogatively at Henry’s image.

“Unlikely,” said Henry. “Shiro has given me every assurance that he bears no ill feelings. And I wouldn’t agree to this meeting if I felt something untoward would occur.”

“And there you have it. Nothing untoward will happen,” Shinzou said sarcastically with upward-facing palms. “Okay. We’d better make our way up there. Now remember, Henry. Take the car outside and come to our positions if anything happens. Wherever we are!”

“I’ll be monitoring you the whole time. There’s no need to worry,” Henry said reassuringly.

Stepping outside onto old pocked concrete, Shinzou and Sumeet donned their emerald hued filter masks and checked communication links before walking toward the underground exit. They were alone, and didn’t carry on a conversation as they made their way up moldy stairwells and underground passages that led to the Cocoon building’s ground-level entrance.

Few pedestrians were around. It was early morning, but that mattered little. The sullen passages were a striking difference to the pre-quake era, when Shinjuku was arguably the busiest spot on earth. Almost four million people passed through the station on a daily basis, and surrounding business and entertainment districts were bubbling centers of commerce. But the quake and the rise of super towers changed all that. Living anywhere below fifty stories was deemed by all young Japanese as “Kakuywaruii.”

And if that wasn’t bad enough, Shinjuku’s demise was further hastened by the push toward small air transports. Cities weren’t entirely dead, but new transportation technology transformed the mountainous nation. One traditionally tethered to coastlines and arable valleys. As the population moved away, Shinjuku sublimated into a ghost town, remaining part of Tokyo like dysfunctional limbs of a paraplegic body.

But there were minor aberrations to the rule. The Cocoon Tower was one of them. Yes, it was earthquake proof, but it remained in use over the century mainly due to its architectural beauty. Unlike the jejune structures of its day, its shape was that of a gleaming elliptical glass spire, criss-crossed with support columns made of concrete-filled tubes. This unusual exterior gave the building the appearance of a woven basket, or a cocoon if you prefer, and provided it with an aesthetic reason to survive way beyond its intended lifespan.

“It’s amazing,” Sumeet said, looking up unfiltered at the building’s shimmering reflection. “I didn’t realize Tokyo still had nice old buildings like this.”

Shinzou paused and pushed his filter up off his eyes momentarily. “You have to give them credit. The Japanese may be defeated in all areas of global influence, but few commanded better sense for architecture and design.”

“You two can sightsee later,” Henry blustered verbally through their earphones. “We don’t want to be late.”

Redirecting their attention, they sauntered toward the primary ground floor entrance, where a self-service kiosk waited patiently. Inserting reserved access keys, heavy security doors opened to the main elevators. Inside, they looked whimsically at the interior’s non-laminated surface, as the ancient but sturdy pulley driven elevator ascended to the top floor where a large atrium sprawled before them.

The room was breathtaking to behold. Stepping carefully onto a soft carpeted floor, they were both greeted by massive unlaminated windows, which drenched warm sunlight throughout the unevenly angled space. Conducive to casual discussion, walls and floors protruded with carpeted geometric shapes for people to sit and lean upon.

But they weren’t alone. Sitting in a small corner near a triangular window panel, a single man wearing casual clothes fidgeted nervously. Shinzou didn’t approach at first. Instead he surveyed the room, checking for security breaches with his filter.

Turning toward Sumeet, he finally said, “We have the place to ourselves. Let’s go say hello.”

Sumeet followed Shinzou to the stranger’s position, careful not to trip. As they got close, the stranger stood by uneasily, hesitant to speak.

Henry had had enough. “Get on with it!” he grumbled quietly.

“We’re from the Freedom Club,” Shinzou said, without acknowledging the remark.

The man carefully held out his hand. “My name is Francis Weebles, but everyone calls me Flip.”

They shook cordially. But it soon became apparent that no one really knew how to run the meeting. More silence lingered uncomfortably.

Shinzou broke in. “Sorry, but we came here to meet with Shiro’s liaison. That’s you, I presume?”

Flip gawked back, unsure how to respond. “Shiro’s liaison? He just told me to come here and wait. Other than that, I’ve no idea what this is about.”

“I don’t understand,” Shinzou replied, while glancing at Sumeet. “We came here to...”

Before Shinzou could finish, an ultra-light police helicopter sped by the atrium windows. Sunlight was eclipsed momentarily as it circumnavigated around the far side of the building. Shinzou’s intuition went on high alert.

“What was that?” Flip mumbled apprehensively.

All three watched as the helicopter passed beyond their visual field. Once gone, their gazes returned to each other.

“You have no idea why you came here today?” Shinzou asked impatiently.

Flip shook his head like an innocent child. “No, I thought you were going to tell me. What is the Freedom Club, anyway? Are you another religious organization?”

Shinzou glanced over to Sumeet. “Go check the stairwell and see if it’s clear. We might have to use it.”

“What’s going on?” Flip demanded.

Holding up one finger to pause the conversation, Shinzou stepped away from Flip to address Henry waiting in virtual space. “If you’ve been following this, tell me what’s going on.”

“Hold on,” Henry said. “We have a problem. The location may not be secure. I’m talking with Shiro now. He has a new request for us.”

The sound of mechanical steps sprouted from the stairwell. Shinzou looked up and saw Sumeet stepping away from a large crawler in horror. A fully loaded flathead, with heavy armaments, shielding, and four top-mounted arms, stood ready like a praying mantis. It moved slowly toward them, stalking with multi-facetted eyes scanning in all directions.

“Where the hell did that come from?” Shinzou yelled out.

“From the stairwell,” Sumeet snapped back, his eyes wide and fearful.

Flip ran over to the elevator doors, but they refused any command. Repetitive jabs of the call button also had no effect, and he looked back deeply concerned. “It won’t open,” Flip rasped.

Shinzou went back into his filter. “Tell me something, Henry, and see if you can put the brakes on that crawler.”

Henry replied casually, “Shiro is on another session with me. It seems it’s his crawler.”

“What?” Shinzou stammered.

“He’s asking us to help him.”

“Help him? How?”

“You need to arrest Francis Weebles.”

“What?” Shinzou spat.

“It may sound strange, but...”

“Why should I do that?”

“That’s what he requests. You need to arrest Weebles and then wait for more instructions.”

Shinzou glanced carefully toward Flip, trying to retain some semblance of composure as the armed crawler continued its advance. “Forget it! That’s crazy! Get the car up here and extract us now!”

“No, Shinzou, Shiro assures me that this is important. You need to do what he asks. Arrest Weebles. Do it now!”

Before Shinzou could answer, sirens went off inside the atrium. Flip stood back as the elevator doors finally slid open, exposing another crawler that quickly stepped out. But unlike the first, it displayed gleaming dark blue bumpers, Keishicho insignia of the Japanese MPD, and a heavy mixed array of both lethal and nonlethal weapons bolted to its wide payload mounting frame.

Panicking in disarray, Flip turned to run but was blocked by Shiro’s crawler. He froze in place, terrified, but soon realized it was interested in the Keishicho flathead, which already had its arms up in a defensive posture. Flip leaped away.

A pitched battle ensued as both machines attempted to disable the other with lighting thrusts and computer-controlled lunges far beyond the speed of human eyes. The attacks were brutal. Blurring combinations of parry and riposte met simultaneously in midair, reverberating with ear-splitting cracks of titanium on steel.

Such tactics soon gave away to interlocking vise grips and close-range firearms. Each crawler aimed at vital organs to incapacitate as they spun each other about, furiously tearing up carpet and lamination in their wake.

“Stay out of their way!” Shinzou screamed.

Without waiting, Sumeet wedged himself into a far corner, where the outer glass panels met the building’s frame. A miserable hiding spot. But, given the mayhem, Shinzou realized there was little choice, and moved himself between Sumeet and the fighting crawlers. Weaponless, he prepared for the worst.

Flip too lay in hiding until his visceral fear erupted. Both crawlers crashed into a table-like floor panel, creating a brief pause for him to act. Lunging toward the elevator, he jabbed frantically at the call buttons once again. But the door remained locked, precluding any chance of escape. Desperate, he smashed both fists against the door’s aluminum frame. Echoes rang out against the clashing of robotic gladiators.

“Shinzou!” Henry called out from within his filter. “Arrest Flip before he gets away. Shiro tells me that it’s imperative!”

“Are you crazy?” Shinzou yelled back, while keeping sharp eyes on the battling robots. “Staying alive is the higher priority!”

“No, you can’t put this off.”

“Like hell I can’t!”

“Shinzou!”

“Not now, Henry!”

Grabbing Sumeet’s arm, Shinzou yanked hard and pulled them away as the crawlers scraped dangerously close. The momentum sent them sprawling over a large rectangular block of flooring. Both cursed as they recovered and headed toward the stairwell.

Their actions didn’t go unnoticed. Even in the heated pitch of battle, the Keishicho crawler realized its targets were about to escape. With one loud burst, a combination of chili balls and rubber bullets hit Shinzou square in the upper back. He went down hard on the floor and reached toward Sumeet, who stopped to help. Realizing he would soon be next, Sumeet instinctively dove to the ground.

The MPD crawler took aim, when suddenly its firing arm was severed with a high-strength garroting wire. Sparks erupted in all directions as the police crawler reeled backward, leaving its severed limb behind. Shiro’s crawler hauled the damaged flathead away from Shinzou and Sumeet, toward the room’s center. But the fight wasn’t over. With machine-like tenacity, both crawlers deployed energy weapons and fired opposing lasers in a deadly game of lethal disablement.

Flip watched the ongoing battle and realized his only chance of escape was through the stairwell. He made a final mad dash, and began tugging vainly at the door with one foot up on the doorjamb. Flip looked back toward Sumeet and Shinzou, his teeth chattering out of control.

With Sumeet’s assistance, Shinzou staggered up to help. He barely noticed that his scorched sports jacket had been cut wide open. It fell loosely down around his arms and exposed his underlying filter suit. Shinzou then tried smashing the door down with his shoulder, but it was useless. He bounced off hard and reeled back while Flip and Sumeet desperately shook the door’s handle.

“It’s no use,” Shinzou blurted. “It’s magnetically locked. We need to find another way!”

The two crawlers furiously battled their way toward the stairwell as Shinzou scanned around for any options that remained. Seeing the severed firing arm, he scooped it up and held it out like a truncheon. But he soon realized the severed arm made little difference, and threw it aside as the two crawlers feverishly exchanged blows.