Gene Drifters: The Clone Soldier Chronicles-Book III (29 page)

Max was at his penthouse during the search for Roxanne, busy
hatching evil plans. He’d tuned in to the Homeland Security wave while taking
his limo home for that much needed rest. The news forced some adrenaline past
the plaques in a major artery. At first he thought Roxanne had slipped away
from Leo’s building. But now he knew where she was heading. He took out his com
and contacted his hit squad, in the
Biohazard
van.

“This is Max. Are you hearing the reports? Well yes, she’s probably
heading to Aberdeen Harbor. Don’t let her get away. Oh good, you’re following
her, excellent. But I don’t want one of your usual scenes, too messy. Just
kidnap her and do the job after, away from the press. We don’t want the press
involved. They always make such a deal of lower level killings.” Max was
speaking to his hired guns, also tuned in to the police wave. Everyone did it,
but especially corporate legals and the Triad.

While approaching Aberdeen Harbor, Roxanne was thinking how
to obtain a more appropriate costume, or disguise. Her appearance wasn’t
exactly unknown, due to Leo having splashed her bounty poster all over Hong
Kong. She grabbed a blanket from the limo while the com voice warned her repeatedly
that stealing from a robo-limo was in violation of the WME Inc. ownership
codes, and that she’d be visited by the Property Police if the blanket was not
returned.

“Will you sell this to me as a souvenir? How many vouchers
do you want?” Roxanne asked the robot driver.
“The blanket, with its official
Haul Ass Limo logo, sells at three hundred and fifty-two vouchers. Please
deposit now
.” Roxanne paid for her souvenir, wrapping it around her
shoulders and over her head, in an attempt to hide her signature face. She
stepped from the limo wrapped in a red blanket, and looking like someone very
cold, oddly on a sultry Hong Kong sort of day.

Roxanne was immediately set upon by five tall females in
dark business suits, white shirts, and skinny black ties, wearing felt fedoras.
As she fell unconscious from a ketamine dart and they hauled her into that other
van, also marked
Biohazards
, she thought her attackers were either the
Hong Kong Triad mafia or Mormons, and in either case she could be in deep
doo-doo.

“The mafia has her? Are you sure? I mean, what would the
Triad want with Roxanne Smoot? They never get involved in espionage wars. Do
you think they were hired by my competitors?” Leo had returned to his
penthouse, and was speaking to the chief of police of Hong Kong, who had come
to Leo’s Opus office in person, because Leo was his main campaign donor.

“Mr. Songtain sir, we have no idea if the Triad is involved,
but have spoken to their Don, who claims it wasn’t them. She’s checking this
out with her underlings as we speak; she thinks it’s a maverick disgruntled
offshoot of the clan. We’ll know in several hours.”

“Oh, please find her. Make sure she is unharmed. Tell the
Triad I’ll pay!” Leo whined. Now he knew she had not left him on her own volition;
she had been kidnapped right out of that ladies room in his own building,
possibly by the Triad. He was sure that was why they’d shot that assistant with
a dart. They didn’t want to kill anyone; they only wanted money. It had Triad
written all over it.

The police chief knew of Leo’s obsession with Roxanne Smoot;
had even helped put up all those bounty posters. If he could be the one to
retrieve
the
Roxanne Smoot
for Leo, he’d get as much money as he
needed for re-election. By his reckoning, the chief would need about one
billion gold vouchers to buy the election. It was so much simpler than last
century politics, which actually depended on citizen votes; how Neanderthal!
Thank god for that ancient Supreme Court decision. I mean, why not consider
Incs as people?

As the chief of police was planning out his election budget
strategy, his bot-com chimed with a message…Roxanne Smoot had been grabbed up
by a group of Fedora-clad thugs-lettes at the Aberdeen Harbor. He excused
himself and took off for the scene of the crime, as Segev and his canine
co-workers likewise arrived at the same scene.

Michael arrived at Aberdeen Harbor just in time to witness
several black-suited females tossing Roxanne into the back of a white
Biohazard
van. Rose went berserk; she had to be restrained by Michael who put one hand on
her neck at a specific pressure point, thus rendering Rose temporarily
immobile.

“Not now, Rose…too many, too public. Follow them, both of
you. Bot-com as soon as you find out where they’re heading. I can’t run your
speed, but I’ll be right behind you. Do not attack them. They may harm
Roxanne.” Michael released his pressure on Rose’s neck, and she and Darcy took
off at a full-dog run, racing through traffic, taking short cuts through
department stores and shops along the way, to keep up with the van, which was
heading towards a private estate outside of Hong Kong.

Segev ran to the submersible, where one of the rebels handed
him a direct com line to Dorian. After he left Dorian a message, he hailed a hover-taxi
and instructed the robot to follow the van in front, but the limo refused to
take itself any further than within a mile radius of the Triad compound. Homeland
Security had deemed it a no-fly zone, so he had to hoof it for the final mile,
where Rose and Darcy were waiting, hiding behind a bush near the back entry
station. Michael again tried to reach Dorian to inform him of the development.

But Dorian was not answering. He was currently racing for
time, to secure his com system before the satellite worked backwards and identified
the rebel headquarters as the source of the signal.

“Dina, the codes have been compromised; we can’t use them
until I’ve checked for viruses. Some desert culling soldier intercepted my
waves, out at Lone Pine, and he sent them on to Hong Kong Homeland Security. I
am attempting to music code our offsite rebels to do damage control. But, I
fear it may be too late for Roxanne and Michael Segev,” Dorian told his wife,
who had just entered the music code room.

“Segev will take care of himself. And speaking of Segev,
he’s on com,” Dina answered from her control station across from Dorian. They
were both trying to undo damage from the intercept. Once a satellite picks up a
rogue signal, one not WME-originated, it will attempt to back send through
channels to find the source. Then, an army of laser drones will descend upon
the place and destroy everything within a ten mile radius.

“Don’t answer Segev. Wait until he uses the music code
system. Good; it’s done. I’ve re-waved through a false end out of Beatrice,
Nebraska. As we speak, several hundred of those laser drones and another
hundred culling patrollers are approaching the town.” Dorian wiped the sweat
from his face, and got up to get cups of hot chocolate for him and Dina. It was
not just his favorite drink; he needed the extra sugar for the energy, to
recharge his bio-digitals with ATP.

“Well, they won’t find anyone in Beatrice, Nebraska. You
know that. We evacuated the place last year after that anthrax outbreak. They’re
all over in Lincoln now,” Dina replied as she continued to send music codes off
to New Zealand, Eldridge at bubble-stop #4, to Gimlet and Chad Yac at #5, and
finally to the only other place she could think of who’d have a stake in
kidnapping Roxanne, or in selling rebel access codes, the Triad.
BINGO
!

                                                                                     
24

IN FACT, IT
WAS
BINGO NIGHT AT TRIAD HEADQUARTERS,
and Ching Shih, head of the Hong Kong Triad Official Mafia Economic Enhancement
Program had just won an ancient Tupperware® set. They were quite valuable,
really; they were used as food and drinking containers, to store things, and as
exchange items on the Blacks. Plus, they never, ever broke down. It was rumored
they could still be found intact at archeological dig sites in the old dumps in
the North American zone.

Shih, who named herself after that famous Chinese pirate,
looked up from her bingo card as three of her senior lieutenants entered the gaming
hall. “What is it?” she asked, in her unusually low voice. Ching Shih hated to
be interrupted during a bingo game, especially when she was winning.

“We got her, my Dragon Master. We got Roxanne Smoot, the
real thing. We nabbed her right before she reached the Aberdeen Harbor. It was
not possible to utilize the client’s plan, to assassinate her at the Songtain
Building. We had a malfunction with the van. The thruster jammed and the doors
locked. The mechanic is checking it out as we speak. He’ll have a full report
by tomorrow morning. We had to send in a second team. You will want to add that
cost to the client’s final bill.” The first lieutenant bowed to his superior.

“And where is this prisoner now? Has she been secured?” Shih
asked, sipping her oolong tea.

“The prisoner is out back, hogtied, and knocked out in the
back of the van. What do you want us to do with her?” the second in command,
the Vanguard asked, with deference.

“Put her in the holding cell until my game is over,” Shih
replied, examining her Vanguard with her one good, dark green eye, and then
with the opaque eye, the one that moved all around when she focused. It was
disconcerting, to say the least. Ching Shih had not won her position as Dragon
Master of the Triad by her looks. Indeed, one might kindly say she’d greatly
benefit from a visit to one of Leo’s Stem-Worm® Inc R&Rs, for a facial
rectification protocol. She stood at just under six feet tall, was made of
solid and mostly tattooed muscle, but the neck ended in the worst version of  a
head (and face), ever seen in the modern, post-regen world. What with facial
implants and all, most got modified. But Shih preferred herself just the way
she was, which made it all the more terrifying.

 “What do you want me to do if she comes to? I mean she does
have that effect on males,” the lieutenant asked, trying to avoid eye contact.”
“Just get some of the females to guard her. Now get out of here, or you’ll
break my winning streak.” Ching Shih dismissed her guard with the hand missing
two fingers, and smiled, showing more metal than one of those digi-dogs used in
the currently popular robot greyhound racing league. She ran the back of her
hand over her continuously runny nose, then wiped it on her sleeve, and hoped
she’d win the next bingo prize, a light-weight hand-held DIY appendectomy
device.

Back at Donner Pass, Dorian had been tracking Roxanne into Triad
territory. “She’s heading for Ching Shih’s place. It’s the Triad,” Dorian music
coded to Michael, who, when he saw Roxanne being taken by what he supposed was
Mafioso, got out his harmonica and headed for another nearby underground rebel
hide-out, just down the alley from the Aberdeen boat dock, and right before he
hailed that cab to the Triad compound. “So, a sat picked up the signal; how
much damage?” Michael got to the point.

“We’ve fixed it, Michael. The damage will occur to an
uninhabited town in Nebraska. I’ll go into it later.” Dina was on the music code,
and she and Michael Segev did not get along. Dorian was still in the other room,
cross-checking the control command center for possible infiltration by viruses.

 “So, it will be a drone sandwich for Nebraska. Lucky you
fixed it in time. I’ll retrieve Roxanne for you, Dina. But, I don’t have time
for any more of your mistakes.” Michael Segev offed the music transmission
before Dina could scream obscenities at him, which would have sounded really
strange when sent via a keyboard playing Mozart.

In one of the official Triad holding cells, Roxanne awoke
with a smashing headache, knowing immediately it was ketamine. She swore at
herself for getting captured. “Shit, where am I?” She reached for the bot-com
in her boot, but noticed it was missing, along with her knives, her whip, and
even the little pistol she’d kept in the sole of her left boot. The diamonds
had been missed. Someone would catch hell from Ching Shih for that little
oversight.

“Maybe I can use them to buy my way out of here,” Roxanne
mumbled to herself. She had an idea where she was. Before she lost
consciousness, Roxanne spied Michael Segev with Rose and another unidentified
canine in the alley near where the Triad goons nabbed her. She was at the Triad
compound, outside of Hong Kong. And Segev would arrive anytime. Things would
get terminally messy.

“She’s awake, Master. Should I bring her out, or do you want
to watch her through the glass while I kill her?” One of the all-female guards
stood outside the cell, watching Roxanne through the one-way window.

“Leave her in there for another hour. I’ve got to check
something out first. Whatever you do, don’t let any of the men in there. Keep
this place buttoned up. Nobody but me gets in. You got that?” Ching Shih
ordered the Red Pole, one of the enforcers, then left to return to her office.

 “I’ve got to check some things out. First, what was Roxanne
Smoot doing at Aberdeen Harbor when everyone knows Leo Songtain’s got a bounty
on her, second, was she followed by anyone, and third, where can we get the
biggest return on our investment? Find out those things for me, now.” Shih was
speaking to her first in command this time. He was a hulk of a man, from
ancient Mandingo heritage, and you did not cross him. He’d worked for Shih for twenty
years; it was rumored they were lovers, although when drunk enough, and if not
overheard, some of the other Triad members joked he’d have to put a bag on her
head to get it up.

“I’ve already found out, Master. She was attempting to
escape from Leo Songtain. It seems he kidnapped Rose, the co-pilot; took her to
his penthouse at the Opus, and demanded Roxanne for Rose’s release. Rose
appears to have escaped someplace, but Leo kept Roxanne, until she escaped his
security guards and left the building; well, to as far as the harbor, at least.
She does not seem to have been followed. And, finally, in answer to the last, I
would think a billion golds from Songtain are in order, unless you want to
honor our agreement with that Legal.” The Mandingo finished, sat down next to
Shih, and poured himself a whiskey.

“How did you come by this information?” Shih asked her
lieutenant. “The rebels screwed up, used an open bot-com signal, and got
sat-hacked. It seems that the rebels rectified it at the expense of a piece of Nebraska;
a lot of ash there now. We just happened to be tuned in at the Homeland
Security frequency, and that weasel, Max did tell us she was in town. We
spotted her leaving the Songtain Building, but could not grab her until she
reached the harbor. There was some mechanical malfunction with the van.”

“More like someone sat-hacked into it to shut us down. What
else?” Shih asked, staring at her Vanguard. “We had contact from the rebels ten
minutes ago. They want to place an offer on the table, for the prisoner. It
looks like we have a bidding war,” the first in command spoke, but the Mandingo
looked like he had more to say.

“What else?” Shih continued to examine him with her opaque
eye.

“That deal on the race track and custom car stocks fell
through. Max didn’t come through as agreed upon. He transferred the voucher
money to our accounts in Cabo, but not the stock receipts. He says they’ll be
transferred when the Hang Seng opens on Monday, but I don’t trust him. He’s a
greedy liar; I don’t trust him.” The Vanguard bowed his head. He always hated
giving a poor economic report to his lover and Master.

“You’re always right in your assessment of character, my
friend. I agree. The Incs will never let non-managerials own stocks, will they?
We’ll always be hand to mouth. Well, if Max wormed out, then we have no further
agreement with him. We are free to negotiate with anyone in the bidding war.
Tell the rebels we are officially in negotiation. And tell Max we keep his money.
Tell him it’s payment for not killing him.”

“What about Leo Songtain? He’s stinking rich,” the Mandingo
said.

“I have to com Leo Songtain. I’ll demand a billion in
vouchers, and Max’s new Ferrari, thrown in just to put Max in his place. Let’s
see what the rebels’ counteroffer is.” Shih knew that Max, Leo Songtain’s legal
counsel had just inherited a Ferrari, and that currently many upper management
and CEOs had collector cars. If the Triad could buy up some of those cars, they
could at least run the races, betting and takes.

“If the Incs won’t let us own part of the action, we’ll take
from the tables. Contact both sides and begin the negotiations.” Shih was
angry. She had been trying for years to get stocks, but the Incs had a
stranglehold on ownership. It was their way of ensuring the social order; of
keeping the lowers, like Ching Shih, in line. And she would never forget it.

 “Yes, Master. It is done,” the Triad operations officer
replied, and left the room to contact, first Leo Songtain, then the rebels. He’d
been given a contact code traced to someplace in Alberta, but he knew it was
nowhere near the actual and very secret rebel headquarters. Several years back
Shih had been obsessed with finding that headquarters, but after each and every
one of her assets had disappeared during the searches, she had given up.
Obviously, they had abilities far beyond hers.

Shih lifted her hand to her five-ear-ringed left ear lobe
and tugged at the jade elephant earring, her favorite. She always did that when
things bothered her. She was concerned about the future of her Triad. The WME
continuously oozed into their territory, like an alien blob, first taking over
the prostitution and slave trades, then drugs, and now some of the
racketeering, an area sacred to the Triad. She would have to do something, and
fast. Ching Shih got up from her bingo game, and walked down the hall to the
lift. She rode it up to the third floor to the holding cell.

“Have you checked to be sure you were not followed here?”
she asked one of the individuals who’d grabbed Roxanne at the harbor. She’d
just entered the guard station, next to the prison door, and everyone stood at
attention when she entered.

 “Yes Master, we’re clean, no tail, and I would guess Leo
Songtain is good for a billion, if we drag it out and threaten to kill her.
Should we kill or negotiate?”

“Negotiate, always think of economics first.” Shih examined
Roxanne through the one-way glass. “Take care of this one; she’s worth much to
our Triad,” she said to the guard.

“Alright, let me speak with her now. You wait here.” Shih got
up carrying a bottle of rig-ryder nutria-blend in one hand. Luckily, it was the
nontoxic version. She approached the cell door, signaled for the guard to
unlock it, and walked inside with the confidence of someone who could kick a
moose unconscious with one bare foot. Roxanne was still woozy, and remained
sitting on the edge of the cot. She decided, wisely, that battle mode with
Ching Shih would not be advantageous.

“Well Roxanne Smoot, we finally meet in person. I am sorry
about the knock-out drug, but I surmised you’d be a problem otherwise. What are
we going to do with you?” Shih sat down right next to Roxanne, and handed her
the bottle of harmless vitamin juice.

“Leo will pay you whatever you want. But, quite frankly, I’d
rather stay here than go back to him. And, you can take the nutria-blend back;
it’s toxic, care of Max Peabody,” Roxanne let slip, before she realized what
she’d said. The drugs had not worn off enough for her rebel skills to be
optimal. That revelation caused Shih to pause. This was new information to her,
and she usually had a hand in anything toxic in Hong Kong.

“And how would you know that?” Shih asked, but she put the
bottle carefully to the side. She’d have one of her drug labs test this bottle.
If Roxanne was right, and the nutrient drink was poisoned, she’d have to
investigate Max’s little side venture more closely; strangle him for protection
funds or blackmail him. As she thought this out, Roxanne examined the Dragon
Master’s face more closely. She was fascinated with Shih; had always wanted to
meet the famous Triad leader. Here was someone with panache; not pleasant to
look at, but a real work of art, in a Picasso sort of way. Shih noticed the
attention.

“I spent three years in a flash-freeze prison cell, back ten
years ago. It’s also how I lost these fingers and ended up with this face. I
hear they’ve improved the thaw now. I don’t believe it, of course. I’ve seen
the thaws first hand. Lucky we got #5 to store all those little official WME research
mistakes, right? That way the WME can just neatly hide the evidence away,
tucked under the ocean. I keep the face as a reminder, of what things would be
like without the counterbalance of the Triad…and your rebels, Roxanne Smoot. Yes,
I know you have contacts with the rebels. So let’s get down to business. What
kind of counteroffer can your rebels make me if you don’t fancy the company of
Leo Songtain?”

Shih doubted Roxanne had any resources of her own, other
than her rig-ryder license, or the deed to Eldridge’s bar, neither of which
interested the commander of the Hong Kong Triad. The Triad Master really wanted
to know what the
rebels
could give her…some new toy or access to those
famous sat-hack system codes, so Shih could skim some accounts for her own
people. She asked Roxanne what the rebels would give for her release.