The Bloodlight Chronicles: Reconciliation (19 page)

“It's hardly your decision.”

“I'm making it my decision. Don't make me resort to violence.”

“You've got to be kidding.”

“I'll hogtie your ass if I have to.”

“Are you drunk?”

“You'd better hope so, because you'd never beat me in a fair fight.”

“Okay, settle down. Let's be reasonable.”

“You need me, Zak. I know you better than you know yourself.”

Zak eyed her carefully, but his expression was softening around the edges.

“I could be your helpmate,” Mia continued. “I'm a good worker. Above all else, I'm the only person you can trust now.”

A shuttle lifted off from the spaceport in the distance, the sound overpowering, rumbling in waves over them, the rocket flares illuminating the sky, revealing all from the darkness.

Zak reached for his wineglass and stared into the last dregs, balancing it in his fingers and tilting it gently back and forth. He looked like a handsome baron in his tuxedo, a prince of industry. He was Eternal and had once loved her with all his heart. Mia knew she could win his trust again. All she needed was a chance to prove herself.

When silence settled again a number of seconds later, Zak's face remained stolid.

“I know too much already,” Mia said, desperate now and ready to gamble.

Zakariah smiled his doubt and spread his fingers with invitation.

“I know that you're impersonating the Director of the
ERI
, Helena Sharp. That alone is enough to land you in prison. I know that you've installed some voodoo wetware to operate her avatar in V-space. I know that you are playing another big, fast, crazy game like you always do.”

His eyes glazed with ice, and Mia knew she had scored a direct hit. His smile didn't falter. “That's pretty good. For the record, I have her official approval and full cooperation.”

“I know you have an ampoule of activated virus and have initiated laboratory trials. You'll be the target of every bloodlord on the planet once word gets out. I'm the only person you can trust.”

Zakariah began to rub his sternum with his fingers, lost in thought, his facade cracking around him. Mia had seen it before and took comfort in the recognition. He hated being a pawn in someone else's game.

“It was supposed to be for Rix,” Mia whispered. “That's why you went offplanet in the first place.”

Zakariah nodded, breathing deep through his nose.

“I love you, Zak.”

He stiffened against her declaration. “I can't drag up the past with you, Mia. I just can't do it. The past is gone.”

“Fine. I understand that.” She held her palms up as though to ward off the sentiment, her fingers spread as wide as she could stretch. “I fully understand. But you can't treat me like a child after seventeen years of marriage.”

“What will it take to secure your silence?”

“I'm not trying to blackmail you, for God's sake. I just want to be your partner. You're still my husband.”

Zak squinted past her shoulder. His probing eyes had locked onto something behind her. His body slumped with some new realization, his face blank with concentration.

Mia twisted to look, sensing alarm. She could see nothing amiss. Just tourists and hotel workers. She turned back. “What is it? Are we in danger?”

“Probably. Have you met my father, Mia?”

“Not in person.”

“More importantly, have
we
met my father? Am I supposed to know him?”

“No,” she stated. “Not to my knowledge.”

“I had a sister once, too. Her name was Niko.”

“You're starting to remember?”

“No. These memories go back so far they were never erased. Tell me anything you know.”

“Your father left when you were quite young. He had financial difficulty and lost everything to loan sharks. He was . . . mutilated . . . his left arm.”

“Yes?”

“As far as I know there has never been any personal contact. Jimmy told me that one of Phillip's companies funded my jump through the Doorway. They have corporate interests in common.”

“Jimmy?”

“You former partner. A man you used to trust.” Mia looked back over her shoulder, searching for dragons. “He's a smuggler, primarily. A field technician.”

“You're looking well, my son.” Phillip approached with the quick efficiency of a businessman, a no-nonsense attitude that seemed a stark contrast to the pervading
manyana
sentiment on the island. He wore a tailored grey suit with a light blue collared shirt. He deliberately held his right palm open at his side to indicate that he was unarmed, a gesture that seemed both natural and eloquent. He carried a small briefcase in his left hand.

Zak and Mia stood in unison to meet him. “Dad.” Zak held his arm forward.

“Zak, my boy.” They shook hands. Phillip's dark eyes were hooded by bushy eyebrows, his curly hair trimmed above his ears, grey at the temples.

“Have you met my wife, Mia?”

“I've not had the pleasure, but I see you've done well for yourself.” He shook her hand delicately, evincing great respect in a lingering touch. “I'm honoured to meet you at last.”

Mia saw now that Phillip was not carrying a briefcase in his left hand. His arm itself ended in a briefcase, or some sort of computer terminal. He had no thumb or fingers.

“I'll get you a chair,” Zak said.

“No, I believe I'll just take young Mia's place, if you don't mind.” He smiled and sat down. “I'm sure she has some packing to do.”

Zak turned to her with nothing but questions in his eyes.

Mia grabbed a chair from a nearby table and scraped it across the floor. She positioned herself between the two men. “I'm managing Zak's affairs now,” she said.

Phillip grinned. “Is that so?”

She nodded. “I'm in charge.”

“I didn't expect a social call after this many years,” Zak said.

“You don't even know how many years it has been. We could be best of friends.”

“I doubt it.”

A commercial aircraft took off from the spaceport runway and blanketed the room with noise. Zak gestured with the wine carafe, but Phillip waved away the invitation with an upright palm. Phillip's face was tanned and boyish, his nose as perfect as modern surgery would allow. His grey suit had a lustre of silk or some expensive synthetic, and he smelled exotic, lightly aromatic. He was clearly rich enough to afford chronic rejuve but didn't look Eternal in Mia's estimation. The wrinkled skin on his biologic hand showed his true mortal age.

“Why did you stay away so long?”

Phillip shrugged. “Honestly?”

“I don't see any need for deception at this point.” Zak folded his fingers in front of him and waited, his eyes cold.

“I've watched you from afar. You haven't needed more than a nudge from me along the way. Up until recently, you haven't had anything I needed.”

“And now I do?”

“Yup.”

“And that would be . . .” Zakariah trailed off, leaning forward over the table with wide eyes.

“A direct and unfiltered fiberoptic link to Seventh Heaven. Two plugs. You and me. It'll be a blast, I promise.”

“Prime Level Seven, unfiltered. That's impossible.”

“To all appearances.” Phillip smiled amiably, showing perfect white teeth. “No one will suspect a thing.”

“You're a gamer?”

“Corporate intelligence.”

“A spy?”

Phillip chuckled and shook his head. “I'm a broker, officially. I have an office on Prime Five. I'm making a special jump for a client—nothing elaborate.”

“You're crazy.”

“Perhaps.”

“Why risk it? What could possibly be worth such a reckless stunt? Money? You're obviously rich already.”

“Money doesn't interest me. It comes in and out like the tide, and there are no trustworthy receptacles in which to contain it.”

“Are you Eternal?”

“The virus doesn't interest me either. I get daily rejuve and all the Eternal blood I can transfuse. It's just like taking vitamins to me.”

“It comes from people, you know.”

“Cattle, most of them.”

Mia shook her head. This man was psychotic. “Why should we trust you for an instant?” she interjected.

Phillip swivelled his eyes to her and back to his son. “You can't trust me. That's patently obvious.”

Zak turned his palms up with a shrug. “Okay, then, why should we do anything you say?”

Phillip grinned. “Simple extortion, my boy. It's the oldest edge in town. That's what I do. Specifically . . .” He flipped open the computer terminal at the end of his left arm to reveal a miniature touchscreen and buttons. He stroked it with his right-hand fingers like a virtuoso on a harp. “. . . I have here an active satellite link to the mainland media. I have all the data I need to shut down this spaceport and cause a riot at the Eternal Research Institute.”

“I'm not your boy.”

“You're vulnerable, Ms. Helena. Frankly I don't think you're going to pull off this silly masquerade anyway, but you can buy a little time by helping me. I can't control every variable in play, of course. Just a prod here and there. Information is like lubricating oil; eventually it finds its own level despite our best efforts. I've invested considerable time and effort, so there's no point in trying to talk me down.”

Mia felt foundations crumbling beneath them. Zak seemed astonished. “Where in the world would I find a direct and unfiltered fiberoptic link to Seventh Heaven?” he asked.

“The
ERI
has a main shunt in the basement. It branches from there into the Operations Room and elsewhere throughout the compound.”

Zakariah's eyes narrowed as he considered specifics. “Who could rig it?”

“Jimmy can do it.”

“Jimmy?” He stole a sideward glance at Mia. The tip of his tongue tapped on his upper lip.

“You don't remember old Jimmy? He was your main man on cheap street. Mia can vouch for him. He taught you everything he knew and watched you zoom away up Prime without him, but he came into a stockpile of cash in the end.”

“You blackmailed him, too?”

“Nope. Got nothing on him. But Jimmy and I speak the same language. The money was channelled through a casino he did some work for years ago. Jimmy puts in backdoors everywhere he goes—that's his signature. On the record he simply had a lucky night at the roulette table. We came to a business arrangement that was mutually advantageous.

“Don't worry, son. I've looked after everything. I've booked the seat beside you on the plane, and Jimmy's already flying in from his ranch house in Vegas. You just tell your security goons at the Institute that your wife and father are visiting for a few days. Anyone who checks will see it's all legit. I've already got access laminates for the whole complex.”

Zak slumped like a broken man resigned to his fate, a hunted pawn trapped in a corner. “I don't know my way around Prime Seven,” he said absently.

“I'll show you the ropes, kid. We're just going to slide a bit of data. That's always been your specialty. But this time we'll be right under the nose of the Beast.”

Jimmy arrived at the Eternal Research Institute at the same time as two black stretch limousines with mirror-tinted windows. A tangle of cars were parked out front, and servants in uniform were trundling carts of luggage in the main double doors. He surveyed the scene with dismay. It looked like he had stumbled into prime time at the MGM Grand.

He eyed a phalanx of security guards with distrust as his taxi driver slid a window down to await clearance. The guards wore token firearms in button-down holsters. They were not looking for trouble—merely hirelings on parade. The meter clicked steadily as a green-suited traffic cop approached the vehicle.

Jimmy studied the schematics carefully. The roadway approaching the Institute was cordoned off into three lanes with bright orange pylons. The complex was divided into four sections: a six-storey central headquarters of concrete and glass with three wings attached by narrow corridors equidistant from the hub.

The stretch limos moved forward into the lane furthest right, closest to the main driveway. Jimmy's taxi was directed to the lane furthest left, the low-priority route for service vehicles. Their slow progress came to a halt almost a quarter mile from the front doors at a small guard station where an unarmed patrolman stood sweating in his navy-blue
ERI
uniform.

“No vehicles past this point today,” he said apologetically to Jimmy past the taxi driver's shoulder. “What's your business?”

“Computer tech,” said Jimmy, measuring the distance he would have to travel with his heavy toolkit. He held up his stolen
ID
card, which matched the smart fibre in his company-issue uniform, courtesy of Rix and the catgirl.

The guard scanned the proffered barcode, checked his clipboard monitor, and looked up. “I've got you as a priority. Give me a minute to expedite you through this mess.”

“Can I get a cart for my toolbox?” Jimmy asked. He rested his hand on the large black box on the seat beside him.

“We'll get something,” the guard said as he handed a plastic debit voucher to the taxi driver.

The driver swiped the card and handed it back. The meter stopped its onerous momentum and chirped happily as currency changed hands instantaneously via satellite link.

Jimmy exited the cab and delicately hauled his black box out onto the sidewalk, hoping his care and precision would go unnoticed. On his closely shaved head he wore a black baseball cap that dropped down artfully over his brow. He was a burly man but would leave a bland description of a tradesman behind. He had spoken fewer than a dozen words to the cabbie and hoped to do the same with anyone else. No strings, no dancing.