Little Deadly Things (43 page)

“I’ve never seen anything like this. Is it new?”

“No. The armor was developed years ago for sports gear and luggage.”

“Wait. I’m facing Eva Rozen at her worst wearing a
suitcase?
Why don’t I just use NMech military armor?”

“Eva can disable anything built by NMech.”

“How come nobody’s used this technology for body armor before now?”

“There’s a downside. No matter where you get hit, you’re going to feel the impact all over your body. Remember, each cell transmits the impact to each neighboring cell. The force will be reduced, but you’ll feel it everywhere. I’m hoping that this works well enough to keep you alive.”

That was two hours ago. Now Jim, invisible, approached Eva’s home on Commonwealth near Clarendon Street. He had to weave in and out of pedestrian traffic to avoid collisions.
That’s a drawback to stealth,
he thought.

Pausing at her doorway, Jim took a small aerosol can and sprayed an arc of nanoelectronics suspended in paint around the door. This electronic doorway would block any signals or electronic traffic from the entryway’s security. As he sprayed, he was reminded of the old Bible story of the ancient Hebrews, preparing to flee their Egyptian slave masters. The Hebrews painted a splash of the blood of a slaughtered lamb over their doorways to protect the household from the Angel of Death. Jim hoped that his sign on the doorway would disable Eva’s security measures as well as the lamb’s blood protected the Israelites.

Next, he placed a metal ring below the front door’s hand sensor. The fist-sized circle contained powerful magnets at the four compass points. He activated the instrument and turned it in a counter-clockwise direction. The magnets pulled the deadbolt free of the strike plate. If the deadbolt were crafted from a nonmagnetic material, the ring would generate an electric current to power the lock’s motor.

Eva Rozen was a brilliant chemist but she was not a security expert. The door opened to Jim’s device in seconds. Once inside, he paused in the entryway. He hoped that Eva’s determination to recreate the apartment of her youth would mean little enough security that he could find his father-in-law, stop Eva, restart the public health programs, and stay alive.
All in a day’s work.

The hallway’s dark paneling lent a claustrophobic feel, and the unfinished pinewood flooring looked shabby. Jim was surprised. Eva’s wealth would have allowed any extravagance, but this part of her home was dark and cramped.

He felt his way up a stairway. There was no sense being stealthy. Most likely Eva already knew he was in. Still, he tested his weight on the outer edges of each step to minimize the groans of the old timbers. Up a second flight to the third-floor landing. He saw a narrow hallway and counted five doors down its length and saw a cramped kitchen at the end.
This must be what her apartment in Sofia was like. It’s amazing how much squalor you can buy when you’re rich.

Jim paused at each door and listened for several moments and then placed a room reader on the door. The card-sized device displayed any movement within, even the slow rise and fall of someone’s breathing chest. It displayed the size of the room and the position of any occupants. It could zoom in on an object or take in the entire space.

There was nothing in the first three rooms. Jim sensed a presence in the fourth room even before he used the reader. When he did, it displayed a figure on the left side of the room. Someone was inside, sitting still. Jim enlarged and then focused the shapes within the room and saw that there was a man seated on a bed. The display showed a window on the back wall in the same position as shown on the Eva’s vid. Jim tried the doorknob. It was unlocked. He deactivated the skinsuit, took a deep breath and opened the door slowly, wincing as the old hinges complained. The man inside was Marta’s father, Rafael.

Jim slipped into the plain room and closed the door behind him. “Sir, are you okay?” he asked, his voice low.

Rafael was wearing a simple white tunic and gray gabardine slacks. He had cheap canvas slip-on shoes. Prison shoes. There was a black band around his neck. He started. “Who are you?”

“I’m Marta’s husband.”

“Jim?”

“Yes, I am. Pleased to see you again, sir. Do you know if Eva is here?”

“I heard her go up the stairs,” Rafael said.

“Is that a security collar?” Jim asked, pointing to the black band around his neck.

“Yeah. She said this thing will hurt me bad if I go anywhere in the house except the bathroom. Worse, if I try to take it off.”

Jim said, “Let me look, see if there’s any way to remove it.”

He examined the collar and then touched his datasleeve and linked to Dana. The commdisk on his jaw vibrated as he spoke with his son.

“Where are you and your mom?”

“Eva’s office at NMech. We can’t find anything here. What about you?”

Jim said, “I’m in Eva’s house. No sign of her yet, but I found your grandfather. Tell your mom that he’s okay.” He heard an exclamation of relief as Dana relayed the news.

“Look,” Jim continued. “There’s a security collar around his neck. I want to get it off. You have any ideas about how to disable this thing?” He held up his sleeve and captured an image of the collar and its schematics. A databurst transmitted it to Dana.

The link was silent for a few minutes. Then Dana said, “No. It’s got a fail-safe. It’ll generate a high-voltage electric shock before you could get it off his neck. Maybe fatal.”

“I suppose Eva can get it off,” said Jim. “I just have to convince her.”

“Dad, it’s got a fail-safe. I don’t know if Eva can get it off. I think it’s permanent.”

“Shit.”

“Yeah.”

Jim thought a moment and asked Dana, “What about modifying it? Can we make it harmless?”

Dana was silent again, pouring over the information Jim’s sleeve had transmitted. “We can try to lower the output, maybe make it non-lethal.”

“Can that backfire?” Jim asked.

“What?”

“Backfire.”

“What’s that?”

“It’s a term from when cars had spark plugs.”

“What’s a spark plug?”

“Never mind,” said Jim. “Could it go off by accident when we try to lower the power?”

“I don’t know. Maybe,” said Dana. “But do you have any choice? Otherwise, he’ll be stuck in that room for a long time.”

Jim had broadcast the conversation so that Rafael could follow. The older man said, “I don’t want this thing on me at all. I was better off in prison without it. Do whatever you have to do. I want to see my daughter and my grandson.”

“Okay,” Jim said. “Let’s do it. I have a feeling that Eva’s expecting me.”

“Dad, I’m going to send you a file,” Dana said. “Once you get it, activate the file then transmit it to the security collar. Let’s hope that works.”

“I’ll keep my fingers crossed,” Jim said.

“Why?”

“Never mind. Just send me the file.” Jim’s sleeve emitted a quiet chime. He had Dana’s transmission. He subvocalized and then pointed his sleeve at the collar. Another chime announced that the file was accepted.

“Well, Rafael seems to be all right,” Jim reported. “Sir,” he said to his father-in-law, “I’m going to find Eva. Please stay here unless it’s an emergency. I don’t know what’s going to happen with the collar.”

He looked Rafael over one more time and then said to Dana, “This is it. I’m going to find her. When I, uh, resolve things, I’ll link back. Now I’m going to link to your mom and then I have to go to work. See you soon.”

Jim linked to his wife. “Querida, I’m going after Eva.”

“Be careful.” Her voice caught. “Te quiero.” I love you.

Jim broke the connection.

He left Rafael in the small bedroom and reengaged his skinsuit. Approaching the stairway, he took a deep breath and climbed, flush with determination and dread. Sixteen steps to the fourth floor. He heard Eva pacing. He inched his way towards the sound.

This floor was different. The construction was new. The walls were paneled with a lighter wood, a reddish hue that gave a more expansive feel. Still, Jim felt hemmed in, despite the light and airy character of the timber.

The hallway led to a large, open work area. Sunlight streamed in through full-length windows. Unlike the windows in the rest of the house, these were modern nanoglass. The floors were ebony and teak. The woods were fashioned into a black and dark brown sunburst, centered in the middle of the room.

Jim heard her before he saw her. Her breathing was uneven and there was an odd crinkling sound as she moved, something like cellophane. It reminded him of wrapping paper on Christmas presents in his childhood. He remembered the barren feeling of the holidays, wondering what might anger his father.

He had not thought much about his parents for years. He’d sent a databurst link to them after he and Marta married. His father replied with an old-fashioned card, something that appeared to have been purchased from the stationary aisle at a grocery store. The card was white, with a silver pair of wedding bells embossed on the cover. The stilted poem inside the card appeared to have been composed by a journeyman writer. The prefabricated message started with the words, “We wish you years of happiness on your wedding day...” Jim wondered how he could enjoy years of happiness on a single day. The card was signed, “Your father and mother.” Not, “Dad and Mom” or, “With love...” or even, “Best wishes...”

His father’s scrawled signature was tiny, the writing faint. Jim could see places where he’d stopped and started. Marta said that the unsteady hand and uneven pressure suggested his health was failing.

“He couldn’t have written, ‘With love’? Or something personal?”

“Shhh...Querido. Let it be. His signature looks like that of someone with some neurological degeneration and loss of muscle control. Maybe Parkinson’s. At least he sent you a card.”

“Yeah, but he’s still playing cock of the walk. He didn’t even let Mom sign it.” And then he never heard from them again, not once, until his mother was dying.

She died six years earlier.
Six? Seven? I don’t remember.
An attendant at the hospital where she spent her last days had linked to him, to let him know he should come immediately. Her kidneys were failing and she’d refused dialysis. “She just wants to go,” the attendant explained.

Jim flew to Pasadena in an NMech jet to make his peace with her. She was wan and drawn. She greeted him warmly at first, but within minutes, mother and son were arguing. It was as if no time had elapsed in the past quarter century.
I guess deathbed scenes work better in vids than in real life,
he thought.

The crinkling sound was louder and it pulled Jim’s thoughts back to the present. He shook his head to clear his thoughts. Across the open studio Eva stood, feet close together. She seemed to sway. Her eyes were opened wider than normal and had a feral look. There was a rigid tension in her posture. He touched his datasleeve and allowed himself to be visible.

She spoke. “You come to me. You have to. You’re more like me than Marta.”

“No, Eva. This has nothing to do with Marta, or with you and me.”

“You owe me. I helped you. I helped her. Stay here.”

It was like hearing the petulant demands of a toddler. He tried to reason with her as he might with a child. “Eva, you’re a great woman. You are good to your friends. I admire you. But what you did is hurting people, killing them. Tens of thousands of people, maybe more.”

“Disregard that.” Her voice was matter-of-fact, as if Jim had announced the weather.

“Eva, do you know what is going on around the world? The good things you created are falling apart. We can work together to rebuild it all. Eva, I am your friend and will always be your friend. Let’s fix your good works before more people die.”

He started to edge towards her.

“Don’t come near me. I’ll hurt you.”

“I thought you wanted me to stay.”

“Maybe you’re not really my friend.”

“Eva, please. Let me help you.” Jim kept moving, an inch or two at a time. He averted his gaze, tucked his head down and hunched his shoulders slightly. Subtle transformations in body posture made him look smaller, non-threatening.

Eva took a step. There was that crinkling sound again. He looked carefully at his lifelong friend, now changed into...what? Her garments were covered with a network of black cables, each no wider than a blade of grass. They ran down her arms and legs and around her torso. Jim looked puzzled, then surprised. She was wearing an exoskeleton, electro-active polymer fibers that magnified her strength and allowed her to lift several-hundred-pound objects or strike with superhuman force. She began to walk forward. Jim held his arms out, palms up, as if to say, “I’m no threat.”

Eva advanced. A look of rage had replaced her usual expressionless demeanor. There was no mistaking her intent.