Hurt World One and the Zombie Rats (7 page)

The Chief of Lawyers bowed deeper than anyone
else. She found it the best position to be in when she pulled one
of the contorted, twitching faces she couldn’t much control when a
verdict went against her. She had to move quickly to catch up with
Renaissance, who had already left the courtroom for the VIP
Atrium.

‘I’m sorry we didn’t get the right verdict,’
she said. ‘Judges just don’t like to label things as genocide.’

‘Yes,’ murmured Renaissance ruefully.

‘Especially when only four people have
died.’

Renaissance stopped and glared in the middle
of the luxuriously well-furnished lounge. ‘Five.’

‘If you’d like, I can file an immediate
appeal. Not on those grounds. But some of the world’s best
scientists will be waking up soon. I can have them testify on the
kinds of lethal toxins that could wipe out a population.’

‘No, never mind. Not unless one of those
scientists is Dr Gustav Fall and you can get him to tell the court
exactly which one of those toxins was in the canister.’

‘Unlikely.’

‘And Stamford TF’s cooperation is only
fractionally more reliable. If Blast dies now, they will claim that
we didn’t move fast enough or provide the best care, and they will
wash their hands of the whole incident. They will do it cleverly,
for they are a company well versed in using others for its own
advantage.’ Despite the urgency in her message, Renaissance sat
down in a plush yellow sofa-chair, hooking an arm over the
cushioned back. ‘But you can be of use outside the courtroom.’

‘How?’

‘Simply by doing what lawyers do best. Send a
bill.’

‘The United Nations doesn’t send bills.’

‘That’s fine, I doubt the receiver will pay
it anyway. I want you to send a bill to Stamford TF. Put whatever
figure you feel is appropriate. Include in the bill the legal costs
for extracting Blast from the Guatemalan criminal justice system
and the medical costs for taking care of Blast during her stay at
the Leanov Gekko Veterinarian Clinic in Switzerland.’ Renaissance
smirked. ‘And don’t offer friend prices.’

Oahn Kim frowned. ‘I don’t get it?’

‘The United Nations network is secure but I
can’t be as confident about Stamford TF’s. In fact, if Mas has the
resources to shoot down one of its magno-choppers, chances are she
can hack its communications as well.’

‘So, you’re laying a trap?’

A United Nations pilot stepped into the
exclusive atrium and picked Renaissance out from the sprinkling of
other VIPs around the room. ‘Your Air Shuttle is ready, mam.’

‘Thank you.’ Renaissance stood up and eyed
the Chief of Lawyers. ‘I would have bought you breakfast, but I
must be going to San Francisco without delay.’

‘Before I didn’t think there was much
difference between Hurt World and the Peace Keeper Strike Force,’
said Kim, ‘but now I see it. Smithers will only move when he has
established a clear target, whereas you will turn your people into
the target.’

Renaissance shrugged. ‘It’s a hungry hunter
that doesn’t get close enough to be the hunted. Now that Mas is
back, I have to wonder what has sparked her appetite. One way or
another, it is likely to have the world hurting.’

*

The Air Shuttle engines purred with the
latest magnotronic charged engines. From New York to San Francisco
was a smooth thirty minute flight. Renaissance’s position as the
head of the Hurt World saw her crisscrossing the skies on a daily
basis and she was one of the select few permitted to fly at forty
five thousand feet, the coveted number at which the congested skies
suddenly cleared, the altitude set aside for royalty and government
and those they trusted enough to allow at the same height. In some
countries there was no one. A hundred countries had granted Hurt
World access to that altitude; not that it could do its job that
high up.

Renaissance was sharing the lavishly decked
out cabin with her Manager for Operations, Spiros Pardos. Pardos
didn’t look comfortable in the bright purple lounge chair, sitting
forward, rubbing his thick moustache, the only hair above his stiff
red collar.

‘Gustav Fall has doubled the security at his
Tunisian laboratory,’ he said. ‘Like me, he obviously can’t see one
good reason why we wouldn’t pay him a visit.’

‘Forget it,’ snapped Renaissance. ‘If we
over-reach the World Court judgement, we’ll have the Stamford
lawyers all over us and I want Mas too much to be closed down.’

‘Well, who will you send after her?’

Renaissance had a more relaxed posture on her
own garish lounge sofa. She pondered a moment and murmured,
‘Recommendations?’

‘I suggest your choice be based on one of two
considerations.’

‘Which are?’

‘The technician who successfully brings Mas
to justice will certainly be in line for promotion into Hurt World
Two, so you might want to choose the person whom you would like for
that to be. Alternatively, you can base your selection purely on
the continental region involved. In that case, the Central American
technician is Alice Organe.’

‘I see. There is a third consideration,
however. To bring in a technician deemed most likely to survive a
confrontation with Mas. And, unfortunately, I’m afraid that’s the
shortest list of all.'

‘They’ve all had the necessary training.’

‘Yes, but there will be a moment against Mas
when no matter how well practiced the skills, life and death will
be purely decided on instinct. Surviving as long as he has in
Asylum City he must have plenty of that.’

‘Kaptu Z is stateless. Parents unknown. A
police officer who gets arrested as often as he makes arrests. We
can’t control him.’

‘He’s been taking on hard cases. Illegal dog
fighting, bio-murder, the brown bear fur trade.’

‘He might tarnish our reputation. I mean,
innocent people could easily get hurt if we set two people of this
calibre against each other.’

Renaissance glared. ‘We need to think about
the welfare of the many.’

‘I am. The World Court has given us powers
and can just as easily take away powers. We have cases involving
genocide and thousands of lives that could be jeapordised.’

‘It is other sections in the United Nations
that talk themselves out of action. Our operations in Hurt World
One have saved at least one hundred species from extinction. We
have stopped animal smuggling rings, inhumane captivity and illegal
scientific experimentation. All that came with risks. And when I
say we, I am including Kaptu Z’s achievements in his three years in
Hurt World One.’

‘And all that time has been spent in Asylum
City. It is a city that lives by a different set of rules. Those
rules don’t necessarily translate well in any of the one hundred
and ninety nine nations that make up this world.’

‘I understand your background is in politics.
But remember politics is just the dust that action stirs up. I want
Kaptu Z pulled out of Asylum City without delay. He has cases on
his plate so threaten him with abduction if he doesn’t comply.’

‘Wouldn’t it just be enough to tell him he
has a chance at Mas? Her name will have come up often enough in
Hurt World correspondence. Is he so provisional he doesn’t even
keep up with that?’

‘Let’s just say he has his hands full in
Asylum City.’

‘One city when all the other Hurt World
technicians have responsibility for entire continents.’

Renaissance shrugged. ‘Asylum City is a tough
place. Come to think of it, Kaptu isn’t the type of person to
threaten with kidnap. Tell him we’ve booked the entire twentieth
floor of the San Francisco Towers Hotel as our command centre and
we’ll extend it for a whole week for his personal use once the
mission is complete.’

Pardos chuckled. ‘You’re going to blow the
emergency funds on a hotel suite.’

‘Call in Marco McRaven for the extraction.
We’re going to need the best. And that means not using the Peace
Keeper Strike Force.’

‘He doesn’t come cheap either.’

‘Make the calls on the cryptic encoder. I’ll
call the Leanov Veterinarian Clinic on a cold line.’

‘Without letting Leanov know his involvement
in a trap? It’s debatable how close we’ll draw Mas anyway. She
seems to enjoy firing missiles. She could do that without even
getting out of bed. She might even afford herself a little smirk
knowing the dog’s name is Blast.’

‘What do you want me to do, rename the damned
dog?’

6 The Meltman Express

It was the most dangerous car in Asylum City.
Just to be sitting in it meant a death sentence. And it was barely
even crawling along. But the danger was not to do with speed. At
least not yet. It was a red plastic and white glass bubble and
looked like all the other cars on the Grid. The steering wheel
hidden underneath the front window was one hint of the difference.
Free cars were strictly forbidden in Asylum City. It was a decree
issued by Mayor Glutter after the first assassination attempt
against him. All vehicles were to run connected to the Grid, their
destinations declared and set. Checkpoints and random spot checks
throughout the city ensured that the law was being enforced.
Transgressors dropped to almost zero when the first firing squads
illustrated how serious Mayor Glutter was. With DNA scanners fitted
to every vehicle, no one could move around Asylum City without
Glutter having access. It also gave him a power of life over death,
for any person who stopped into the Grid was at his mercy.
Inexplicable high speed crashes into walls or off high bridges
could be explained on computer glitches. There were many ways for
Glitter to dispose of his rivals but this was one of his
favourites. So clean and easy. His only regret was that he had to
use it sparingly for fear of starting a panic. He wouldn’t want the
whole city walking to work. Nothing would get done.

Kaptu Z and Al Jaqaintas were the two
passengers in the red bubble car. They were facing each other in
wall seats, their senses attuned to all around them. The Grid was
pulsating along in its usual hectic rhythms, seemingly unaware that
this particular car was not actually plugged into it. An
interloper. The technology was unproven in the field, and the CIA
had been pushing it at Kaptu for some time, wanting him to pit it
against Asylum City’s Grid. Kaptu had not rushed into accepting the
offer because it came with catches. Not least of all was the
presence of their agent Jaqaintas. Although he was feigning
interest in the operation, Jaqaintas’s primary purpose was to
ensure the stealth technology did not fall into the city’s hands.
The CIA was unapologetic in reserving the right to blow up the car
at the first hint of trouble. Kaptu doubted it would make much
difference if he happened to be in it at the time. There was
certainly no reassurance to be had in Jaqaintas’s jumpy eyes that
refused to take Kaptu in even on those brief moments they were
actually pointing his way.

‘We’re approaching the Maldives district,’
Jaqaintas murmured. ‘There’s no sunshine and beaches in those
crime-ridden alleys. Unfortunately, the rising sea levels really
did wash away those things for good.’

Kaptu moved into the front seat, pulling out
the steering wheel and slotting into the wall mount. ‘I’m too young
to remember the Maldives’s beaches,’ he said, ‘but I grew up in its
alleyways.’ He disengaged the car from the Grid and used the
accelerator lever built into the steering wheel to scream through a
series of turns that took the capsule off the main overpass into
the narrow streets of the notorious Maldives slum. He weaved
impatiently in and out of the sanitised, regulated traffic.

Jaqaintas slid across his seat to be in his
eye-line. ‘Going above standard speed puts us at risk of detection
by Grid surveillance.’

‘I’m not breaking free of the Grid just to do
the same damn things as it does,’ snapped Kaptu.

Jaqaintas refrained from saying anything more
when he saw the murderous intent in Kaptu’s eyes. Although Asylum
City was located in the USA, it certainly wasn’t a part of it, so
he had to assume he was on his own in a hostile foreign state. He
would observe and record and if his report turned out to be an
obituary then so be it.’

After a few blocks of decrepit high-rise
buildings, Kaptu made a hard turn into an underground carpark,
slamming on the breaks so hard they screeched – a sound almost
never heard with cars in the hands of the Grid’s state-of-the-art
computers.

‘Stay here,’ said Kaptu as he got out. ‘I
won’t be long.’

‘And the police might not be long either,’
said Jaqaintas. ‘I will take up a vantage point at a safe
distance.’

‘Don’t get too safe. We might need to leave
in a hurry.’ Kaptu did not take the time to explain why and would
not have done so even if asked. One of the city’s most wanted
fugitives was residing in the innocuous building above them and not
everyone believed enough in his cause to want to get so close.

Kaptu got into the elevator and pressed the
button for the eighteenth floor. He was relieved to have left
behind the CIA agent he knew almost nothing about, for it was a
death elevator and its poison gases and other primitive methods of
death were indiscriminate when put to use. The ascent to the
eighteenth floor went without incident and the doors opened to a
dark quiet corridor. Kaptu stepped out somewhat reassured, for a
decision had clearly been made to at least allow him to live long
enough to make it to the front door.

The door itself was made of heavy steel and
bore a green and white sign:
World Society for the
Protection of Animals
. There was an electric hum as the lock
bolt was remotely released. Kaptu stepped through and was greeted
by a smiling old man.

‘Kaptu Z, it is always a pleasure,’ said the
old man as they embraced as friends. ‘On this occasion, a dubious
pleasure. If I am not mistaken that is a CIA agent that has
accompanied you here and a rather illegal car that you have ridden
in on.’