The Chimera Vector Read online

  As they steered her towards the north entrance, she searched the faces ahead, expecting to see Grace’s any moment now. She reached the entrance without incident and found a larger crowd to integrate with. Directly ahead, she spotted a woman walking with purpose towards her. Raven hair, alabaster skin. Grace. SIG Sauer P229 pistol in hand.

  Shit.

  Sophia hit the sidewalk outside. Grace marched straight for her. Sophia removed the lid from the coffee. The family she’d used as cover was now part of the larger crowd that encircled her. Good. No one had noticed Grace’s pistol. Yet. She had to time this perfectly.

  Grace reached the edge of the crowd, her gaze never straying from Sophia. She began pushing her way through. Only seven or eight feet away. She leveled her pistol at Sophia’s chest.

  Now.

  Sophia splashed the coffee into Grace’s face, stepped in and tripped her. Grace lost her balance. Sophia seized the barrel of the pistol as Grace fell, pulled it back towards her own forearm. Grace’s wrist couldn’t bend that way—without breaking.

  Grunting in pain, Grace released her grip. Sophia had the pistol. She sprinted, made the street corner and ran for the Part-Dieu shopping mall.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  With his P229 shoved in his waistband, Damien sprinted into the shopping mall after Sophia. He slowed down just enough to check the shops on both sides. A narrow corridor split off to the left, leading to restrooms and a change room. He jumped over a spill of deodorant cans from a toppled display and kept running. Sophia would never risk a possible dead end.

  Damien reached the center of the shopping mall. There were three possible escape routes. And tubular glass elevators behind a fountain. The fountain shot water four stories high. He checked the faces inside the elevator as it shunted them to the third floor. No Sophia.

  Lots of couples in the mall, holding hands. He ignored them, scanned the singles, and only then scanned the couples in case Sophia was improvising.

  There was a muffled explosion from his left. A garbage bin burst into flames. Gray smoke plumed from the top. A weak explosion. A deterrent.

  He moved towards it. Probably a deodorant can from the spilled display, and a cigarette lighter. He drew to a halt. Not a deterrent. A distraction.

  He spun around in time to catch sight of Sophia sprinting off in the opposite direction. She had a good head start. He took off after her, relaying her position to Jay and Grace as he ran. By the time he reached the exit, Sophia was already behind the wheel of a taxi. She pulled out from the curb and took off. The taxi driver ran after her, swearing in French.

  A gray van pulled up next to Damien. Jay was driving; Grace had the side door open. Damien jumped in.

  ‘Stay back! Let her think she escaped!’ he said.

  For once, Jay didn’t argue. He slowed, then turned right onto another boulevard. One more block and they were turning left onto another main road. This one had two lanes to move between.

  Grace blew hair from her face as she checked her pistol magazine. ‘She’ll know what we’re doing. She was one of us. Let’s not forget that.’

  ‘And there’s three of us and one of her, let’s not forget that either,’ Jay said.

  Damien shook his head, then realized neither of them could see him from where they were sitting. ‘Yeah, but where she’s taking us, there could be more of them.’

  ‘Right, so one kill each then, yeah?’ Jay said.

  ‘We just need her DNA,’ Damien said. ‘Not a severed head.’

  ***

  Sophia made it across the river to the center of Lyon and ditched the taxi. She sprinted down a laneway. It narrowed, delivering her to a magnificent eighteenth-century building: a merchant bank that, strangely enough, had been converted into a church. Its shadow swallowed her.

  Slowing to a brisk walk, she worked her way around the back of the church and continued south to her rendezvous point. She considered throwing in another diversion, but shedding possessions would give Denton easy access to her DNA. She didn’t want him smelling a rat. At least not yet.

  She couldn’t get the little boy out of her head. She had something in common with that boy: they’d both stared the person responsible for the death of someone they loved square in the eyes. She thought of Leoncjusz’s dead body. And Denton leering at her from the balcony. It snapped everything back into focus. She was going to hunt Denton down and torture him in the way he’d commanded her to torture countless others. Then she would extinguish him. Just like he’d taught her to.

  Sophia walked as fast as she could down a lane jeweled with restaurants, barbers, candy and toy shops. She didn’t want to attract any—

  Pain exploded in her right shoulder. She froze, her breath stolen from her. Jay was standing at the other end of the lane. A hundred feet away. Pistol in both hands. She cursed herself for not seeing him first.

  Before he could squeeze off another shot, she dived to the side, into the café on her left. The pain was excruciating; she felt blood soaking her shirt.

  Dodging a waiter, she made it behind the bar. Jazz music was playing, sending sparks of rich blue and purple light over her shoulders. She seized a bottle of white rum and ran into the kitchen. Racing past the line of chefs, she pushed open the back door and found herself in a traboule. These passageways had once been used to transport silk in Old Lyon; now they provided access to a maze of apartments.

  She opened the bottle, sprinted through the narrow traboule and decanted the rum over her shoulder wound. Her arm went numb. She held the neck of the bottle with her mouth and pulled the belt from her waist with her working hand. Up ahead, the traboule spilled into a courtyard. There were balconies on the floor above. A van was parked beneath one. That would do.

  She ran, fastened the belt over her wound and slipped the hasp into the nearest notch. Staunch the flow.

  Bottle in hand, she climbed onto the van’s hood. Pain shot through her. Over the windshield, onto the roof. She scaled the balcony railing, sweat pouring from her, stinging her eyes. Covering her face, she smashed the bottle on the balcony’s glass door. It caved in, spitting fragments back at her. She stepped inside just as Grace reached the courtyard.

  Rounds cracked behind her.

  She dived from the lounge room to the hall. She was slower getting up this time. Opening the front door, she ran along the corridor. Slower than she would’ve liked. On her way she hit the elevator buttons. A decoy. No way she’d take the elevator, or the stairs. Damien and Jay would have them covered. She had to find another way out.

  She rounded the corner and found herself staring down the barrel of another P229.

  ‘Hands in the air,’ Damien said.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Grace’s voice hit Jay’s earpiece. ‘This is Tango Zero Golf. Encryption change confirmed.’

  Damien wasn’t responding. That meant possible compromise. Which meant encryption switch. Jay figured Damien had gone toe to toe with Sophia. The bitch had probably knocked out his earpiece. Jay hoped that was all that had happened. Either way, he’d make her pay.

  ‘X-Ray last seen climbing onto balcony on second floor,’ Grace said. ‘At my location. Over.’

  ‘Tango Zero Juliet to Tango Zero Golf, acknowledged. Over,’ Jay said. He raced up the first flight of stairs. ‘Tango Zero Juliet to Oscar Five Delta. I need a fix on Tango Zero Delta’s location. Over.’

  Denton’s voice filled Jay’s earpiece at twice the volume of Grace’s, bouncing across satellites all the way from Desecheo Island. Most of the words distorted in Jay’s ear. ‘Oscar Five Delta to Tango Zero Juliet. Coordinates patched through. Please confirm. Over.’

  Halfway up the stairs, Jay paused to check his com. Bingo. The target’s location was 177 feet northeast. He confirmed the location with Denton. At least he was in the right fucking building. The tagging used GPS; no elevation coordinates. He could only hope that Damien was still on the second floor.

  Pistol in hand, com in the other, he moved through t
he second-floor corridor. He snatched a glance at his com every now and then to confirm his heading. fifty-eight feet on his left. Through an apartment front door. This had to be it.

  His arms trembled. He shook them loose. He had to get a hold of himself. He’d been in this situation plenty of times before. But not like this. Not with Damien’s life on the line.

  He tightened his grip over both the com and pistol. Tried not to imagine what things would be like without Damien. Sweat poured down his forehead. He ignored it as he quietly double-looped detonation cord over the door handle. He wanted to call out and give Damien warning, but he’d be warning Sophia as well. He lit the det cord and took cover around the corner. Pocketing his com, he wiped damp palms on jeans. Pulled the slide back on his P226.

  One round in the chamber. Just for her.

  The door handle came free and hit the wall behind him. He leaped out from his cover. Wisps of white smoke obscured the door. It was still upright. He kicked through, heel first, let the momentum carry him through. He kneeled into position, aimed at Sophia’s head.

  Damien was sitting on a chair, earpiece still in place. He was alive. He didn’t look hurt. Sophia was behind him, her pistol—a large, bulky Beretta—pressed against his temple. A belt was wrapped around her right shoulder just above where Jay had shot her.

  He had his first line ready. ‘You know our protocol, Sophia. The elimination of an insurgency leader is worth the sacrifice of one operative.’

  Sophia pointed her Beretta at him. ‘How about two?’

  Damien wasn’t even tied up. He just sat there of his own free will, eyes glazed over. He stared straight through Jay as if he were an apparition.

  ‘Damien!’ Jay yelled.

  Damien continued to stare through him.

  ‘What have you done to him?’ Jay tried to keep his voice low and measured, but even he could hear the hysteria in his voice.

  Sophia spoke in the calm tone Jay was trying for but hadn’t quite achieved. ‘The very fact you were here to bait me into an ambush confirms that I have a traitor in my ranks. I don’t know who but I know it’s someone. For that, I can thank you.’

  Jay kept his aim below the tip of her nose. Catastrophic head shot through the brain stem. He’d drop her as soon as he could ensure Damien was clear.

  ‘You hit my shoulder.’ She seemed more amused than offended.

  Jay rose to his feet slowly. ‘My aim was off.’

  She smiled. ‘Your aim is never off.’

  A headache surfaced, making his vision hazy. ‘It won’t be this time.’

  She returned her barrel to Damien’s temple. ‘Neither will mine.’

  ‘What did you do to him?’ Flecks of saliva sprayed from Jay’s mouth.

  ‘Doctor Adamicz programmed triggers into every operative,’ Sophia said. ‘There are some unofficial triggers he never wrote down. Triggers Denton doesn’t even know exist. But I do.’

  ‘You’re crazy,’ Jay said, with a confidence that surprised even himself. ‘You’re a danger to yourself.’

  She considered him for a moment. ‘When was the last time you had a vacation?’

  ‘I don’t see how that’s relevant.’ He gripped his P226 tighter.

  ‘It’s a simple question. If you don’t want Damien to die, then answer it. When was the last time you had a vacation?’

  ‘I don’t take time off because there are more important things on my mind than leisure . . . erliness.’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘Leisureliness, you mean?’ She smiled again. ‘That’s a big word for you, isn’t it? I see your vocabulary is wandering outside the Fifth Column standard-issue doublespeak.’ She shook her head. ‘Naughty boy.’

  ‘Jesus.’ He tried not to look at Damien’s blank eyes, kept his focus on her. ‘Have you gone completely insane?’

  ‘Grace is due any moment. Along with a sizable number of Blue Berets, no doubt,’ Sophia said. ‘I’ll need you to keep them from interfering.’

  Jay kept his aim. ‘What do you mean by that?’

  ‘Oh, don’t kill her. I know you’re good at all that, but just incapacitate her while we go for a road trip.’ She gave him a little wink. ‘How doth the little crocodile improve his shining tail. And pour the waters of the Nile on every golden scale.’

  ***

  Jay had no idea what the fuck happened after that. He woke up in the back of a van. His van. He couldn’t remember how he’d gotten there. His vision was blurry. He had trouble focusing on just about anything. He tried to move his head to look around but nothing happened. His first thought was that his spine was fucked. He tried to lash out with his arms and legs. No movement.

  Where the hell was Damien?

  Jay could still breathe, and he could still move his eyes. Not bad things, after all. Frantically, he looked around. Someone was sitting opposite him, on the other side of the weapons cage. She came into focus. Long hair, tied back. Cream skin. Self-assured composure.

  ‘Glad you could join us,’ Sophia said.

  His mind raced. What had she done to him? He wanted to demand answers but his lips, sticky and cracked, remained firm. He tried to calm himself. Analyze the situation. He concentrated on his breathing. She’d dumped him in the rear partition of the van, in the weapons cage. He looked down, his eyes twitching with pain as he tried to see at the edge of his vision. The ordnance wasn’t there any more. The only thing in here was him.

  No matter what happened, he would find a way to kill her.

  ‘Don’t be alarmed,’ she said. ‘I’ve paralyzed the pair of you with a trigger phrase.’

  He glimpsed a vague shape on the left. It had to be Damien. Please be Damien.

  ‘Once we arrive at our destination, I’ll remove the paralysis,’ Sophia said. ‘For now, all you need to do is listen. You’re going to tell Denton that you used your van to chase me. But you lost me in an underground parking lot in Paris.’

  Paris? Had he been out that long? He noticed that the belt fastened around her shoulder had been replaced by a tightly wound bandage. How long had he been here? Was Damien drugged as well?

  ‘My original plan was to deprogram you. End of story.’ Sophia ran her fingertips across her scarred eyebrow. A Beretta pistol rested on a manila folder next to her. ‘But considering our present situation, I think we could reach a more mutually satisfying arrangement.’ She leaned forward, elbows resting on her thighs. ‘We don’t have much time so you get the express debrief. Here’s how it works. We plan to infiltrate the Desecheo Island facility and take the Chimera vector codes.’

  Jay wanted to say ‘Go fuck yourself’ but his vocal cords didn’t budge. He had no choice but to sit there and listen to her drivel. But still, he was going to pay careful attention to every word. He would have to relay all of this to Denton later.

  ‘Your cooperation in our activities will see each of you three million richer,’ she said. ‘Such cooperation must take place without Denton’s knowledge. Meaning: you could choose to continue working for the Fifth Column; you could choose to work with us; or you could choose to work with no one. You would be free men, you would be . . .’ She paused, then said, ‘Long has paled that sunny sky, echoes fade and memories die.’

  She rested the Beretta on her lap. ‘You’re free to move, but if you try anything I will paralyze you again.’

  Jay’s fingers twitched. Sensation returned to his limbs with a vicious warmth that made him shudder. He looked over at the shape beside him. Damien moved in tiny increments, testing arms and legs.

  ‘You OK?’ Jay said.

  Damien nodded. ‘Yeah. Considering.’

  Jay glared at Sophia. He kept his voice low and menacing. ‘What makes you think we’d even consider helping you?’

  She gave him a knowing smile. ‘Because your payment is more than just money. It’s the answers you’ve been searching for.’

  ‘We found what we were searching for,’ Damien said. ‘You.’

  Sophia picked up the manila folder beside her, g
ave it a cursory glance before sliding it under the cage to Jay.

  ‘Is this a new torture technique?’ Jay said. ‘Make me read your bad poetry?’

  Sophia’s words were sharp and incisive. ‘Open it.’

  Under the van’s insufficient lighting, he opened the folder. It contained records of children the Fifth Column were running tests on. He leafed through them just to satisfy her.

  ‘Why are you showing me this? This is—’

  One of the pages caught his attention. It was a record of a young boy; recruitment location listed as Rocinha, Rio de Janeiro. The boy had taken part in some sort of scientific testing.

  ‘Who’s this boy?’ Jay said.

  She waited a moment, perhaps hoping he’d answer the question himself. But he remained silent, eyes locked on hers. She pointed directly at him.

  His first instinct was to laugh, but the picture of the boy did resemble him a little bit. Well, maybe more than a little bit. If it was fake, she’d picked a convincing shot.

  He read over the record again. A proxy of the Fifth Column called the Argus Foundation had been monitoring the boy, Jay Cardoso, for years.

  Jay’s stomach felt as if a brick had been dropped inside it.

  ‘The Argus Foundation,’ Sophia said. ‘They pretended to provide medicine and education. What they actually did was track potential test subjects for Project GATE and recruit them under the guise of a phony scholarship program. Do you remember the scholarship program, Jay?’

  She was trying to sow suspicion into him. He laughed softly. He could play this game. And the moment she slipped up, she would wish she’d never fucked with him.

  ‘I’m not having a discussion about this with a goddamned terrorist,’ he said. ‘What do you want from us?’

  ‘The scholarship,’ Damien said beside him. He spoke in a conversational tone, as though they were all just sitting around having a beer. ‘They told us we could always leave the program. But no one ever did.’ His gaze fell on Jay. ‘Because we never really could.’