Murder Inc.: A Sci-fi Thriller: Book 1 (40 page)

What if one of Jennings security team was on the way down looking for her? What if Samantha had woken up and was on the hunt and heading her way?

The elevator on thirty-two began to descend. Then the one on twenty-eight did the same. She could use the fire stairs, but it would take forever to reach twenty-eight. And what if that was her father coming down?

There was nothing to do but wait.

∞

Jennings implant sounded again. “Fuck.”

He stepped away from Fox, who had backed into the shelving behind his desk, with nowhere else to go. He loved seeing the look of fear in the old man’s eyes. He thought about letting the call go to messages but decided it might be Chekov ringing from a different line or one of the other contacts on the Nightboat Project. The ID was silent. He touched the implant sensor on the back of his hand. “Yes.”

“Robert Jennings?”

“Who is this?”

The voice was cool and calm. “It’s not important. What’s important is that your company has been compromised. The NYPD is en route. They will have a SWAT team on the site shortly and the Department of Homeland Security following. I suggest you execute all rollback protocols immediately. Do you understand?”

Jennings felt his brow fold. “Who is this?”

The man’s voice grew firmer. “Now is not the time to question this information, Mr. Jennings. Under my obligations, I have conveyed my part of this procedure. You must do yours or face the consequences.”

The line went dead. Jennings turned around and found Fox staring at him.

“What is it?” Fox asked.

Jennings walked towards the window on legs that did not feel like his own. He pressed his face against the glass and looked down onto the street below.

His breath caught in his throat. The street outside the building perhaps a hundred yards in either direction had been cordoned off. Several cars had been parked at one end, barriers at the other. A small group of people had congregated at the north edge. What the fuck was going on? If it were a gas leak or some other form of public disruption, they would have been notified.
That’s because it’s not.

“They’ve blocked off the street.”

Fox grunted. “It’s over, Robert. The police are moving in.”

He swung around and glared at Fox. “This is all your fault.” Fox said nothing.

Jennings hurried to the desk and brought up a menu on the screen. He swiped with his fingers, tapped twice, and then entered his twelve digit executive password. A single question appeared on the screen.

Do you wish to execute server rollback protocols?

Yes, he did. He tapped the affirmative answer.

Enter the eighteen-digit password.

He turned to Fox, and said, “Regardless of how this ends, neither of us wants this company to go down. We both agree the Company needs to exist for the benefit of mankind. We’ve always agreed about that.” He let the words sink in. “I need the password to wipe all the data from the servers.”

Fox looked at him. For a long moment, Jennings thought he wasn’t going to give it up. Jennings placed the hypodermic needle on the desk, waiting, watching Fox for sudden movement. Finally, Fox said, “Zero. Nine. One. Eight. Zero. Six. Zero. Two. Two. Zero. Zero. Eight. One. Two. One. Five. One. Zero.”

When Jennings typed the final zero, the screen went blank then flashed the message:
Rollback protocol underway. Twelve minutes until completion
.

Jennings picked up the hypodermic and checked the dose again. There would be enough. Fox was old and his heart wasn’t as strong as someone like Charlie Billings.

“Are you sure you want to do this, Robert?” Fox’s face had turned a shade of pink, probably exertion from trying to break the shackles. “We’ve been through twenty years of service. We’ve both invested so much in this company. To end it all like—”

“Once I’ve administered the serum, I’ll untie you and lay you out on the floor to make it look natural. It will link nicely with the police appearance and make it appear as though you just got a little overwhelmed by the situation.”

“Robert…”

“No, Bryan. I’ve earned this opportunity. I’ve shoveled shit behind you for the last twenty- years. You’ve gotten all the money and all the glory and I’ve done most of the work. No more.” Jennings imagined himself sitting in the Washington boardroom. Only then would he feel like he had truly arrived.

Fox nodded as if conceding. “I know Chekov was somehow involved in this. Watch out for him. He’s a nasty one.”

Jennings gave a cold smile. “Believe me; I’ll take care of Mr. Chekov.”

He moved towards Fox. The bigger man began to thrash. Jennings wondered why security hadn’t bound his legs, too. It didn’t matter. The door was locked and Jennings would chase Fox around the room until he caught him, if that’s what it took.

He scrambled after the former CEO. The older man backpedalled, crashing into a buffet filled with objects from all over the world—Beijing, Peru, Iraq, Holland. A plate tipped off the shelf and smashed over the floor. Fox stared at it. Jennings leapt for him, thrusting the needle into Fox’s arm. The older man twisted, but Jennings held his arm firm and depressed the plunger. The serum disappeared into Fox’s bloodstream as he thrust himself back, grunting.

Jennings backed away. Fox’s face turned red and strained. He fell onto one knee, tottering, fighting hard to stay upright. Jennings looked into his eyes and felt no remorse. Fox had caused his share of the same and now payment was due, the same as Jennings suspected it would be for him some day. Fox staggered forward, his front foot thumping on the carpet, trying to push himself onto his feet. Go down, Jennings thought. Be done with it. And then Fox tumbled forward face first onto the floor with a thud. He rolled over, groaning, his skin a dark pink, foam gathering around his lips. He began to buck, legs kicking out in spasm.

Jennings looked at his watch. His hands were shaking, but he’d done it. It hadn’t even been thirty seconds. He watched as the fight drifted out of Fox until finally, he lay still on his side, hands secured behind his back. The new CEO waited a few moments longer, then squatted and removed the cuffs.

Fox’s implant sounded. Jennings leapt back. There was no holographic ID. He wondered who it might be. Jennings stood there, staring down at a man who had ruled his life for more than a decade, unable to believe that time had ended. But it was not the time for celebration yet.

There was a message alert from Fox’s implant. Curiosity stirred, followed by a deep intuition that insisted Jennings listen to it. He thought for a moment about how to access it, before trying the standard command. “Play message.”

There was a low, whispery sound, and then a clear voice said, “Bryan, it’s Jonas. Good news. I’ve had contact with the team at Rondout Reservoir. They’ve apprehended the target and prevented the drop.” Jennings felt his heart stop. He dropped to one knee, listening, certain his hearing was mistaken. “Assailants have been subdued and relocated.” There was a pause. “Anyway, call me back as soon as you get this.”

Jennings fell back into a seated position, thunderstruck, words and thoughts a confused jumble. After a moment, he managed to sort them into some kind of coherence and the explanation filled him with total disbelief. Somehow… Fox had… what? Trumped him? Again? Yes. He had. Somehow Fox had drawn Jonas Whitmore into the folds and used him to bring down Project Nightboat. It was almost impossible.

He climbed to his feet, unsure what to do next. Did he contact Chekov? No. No, he had to think of a way to manage the situation before alerting him to anything. He strode to the window and peered down onto the street. Now there were numerous vehicles parked outside the building facing the front doors. One contained the unmistakable shape of a van and it had a black roof. SWAT.

Jennings fell away from the glass. He had to leave the building. There was an alleyway that led away from the underground car park. He’d have to take that.

As he strode towards the door, he noticed Fox’s arm with the watch had moved. Jennings froze. Then Fox’s other arm shifted, and he began to rise.

∞

Gutterson stood by the police vehicle at the edge of the cordoned-off zone, watching the thirty-two story Janefield building. He and Camilleri had been there about twenty minutes, and it had taken that long to set out the clearance zone. Beyond the barricade of vehicles and safety fencing, a small group of interested onlookers had gathered. There would be many more before this was over, Gutterson thought. En route, they were given a stroke of luck when one of the dispatchers had notified numerous nearby patrol officers of the requirement and managed to sequester half a dozen police ‘Bots working on the next block. It was about time that luck went his way, Gutterson thought.

Nervous energy had kept him close to the vehicle. He wondered if Fox and the others were alerted to their presence. He wanted nothing more than to march on in and execute the warrant, but he couldn’t move in until the extra officers and the S.W.A.T. team arrived. Technically they could enter, but their numbers wouldn’t be enough to carry out the necessary searches in the allocated time. That was making him both edgy and frustrated.

“Any word?” Camilleri asked, pushing in next to him. She wore dark glasses and a blue flak-jacket; with her midnight hair tied back in a thick ponytail, she looked like a movie star out of some early twenty-first century movie.

Biting his nails, Gutterson shook his head. “Nothing. Last I got was an ETA of eleven minutes. That was four minutes ago.”

“Taking their time,” she said, strolling away.

After almost three years and what had seemed like endless bad luck, he was standing outside Janefield Investments with a search warrant. And while that was no certainty for a conviction against the company, it was further than he’d ever gotten before, and with Tabitha Marks on their side, eventually Gutterson would take it down.

The noise of an engine floated to them. Gutterson turned to find a dark sedan cruise up to the barricades.
The DHS
, he thought. The window rolled down and the passenger flashed credentials to one of the supervising ‘Bots. A moment later, an officer lifted aside of one the barriers and the vehicle drove on through.

Gutterson felt a flutter of excitement. While the Department of Homeland Security wouldn’t do much yet, it was comforting to have the governments support on hand if needed.

Camilleri had returned. She stood looking at him, but not speaking. Gutterson could sense her from the corner of his eye. He turned. “What’s up?”

She looked down, shuffled from one foot to another. He had never seen her look uncomfortable. “I just wanted to say…”

He gave her a moment to finish. When it was clear she couldn’t, he said, “Janice… what is it?”

She looked up at him. “I just wanted to say that no matter what happens here, today, it’s been… nice working with you. I’ve learned a lot.” Gutterson raised his eyebrows. He couldn’t suppress a thin smile. “You know, you’ve taught me a lot about perseverance and commitment to the job.”

“Wow. That’s…”

She waved him off. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Make a big deal of it.”

He shrugged off her uneasiness. “I wasn’t. I’m just… surprised.”

“Why?”

“Come on.” He tilted his head sideways. “You hated me.”

She pursed her lips. “No. I just didn’t know you.”

Gutterson put a hand on her arm. “It’s all right. The truth is I’m glad I got to know you. And regardless of what happens now, we wouldn’t be here without your help.”

Camilleri flashed a smile of gratitude.

The rumble of engines indicated more vehicles had arrived. Gutterson turned and saw a line of half a dozen converging on the clearance zone. He suspected the drivers had all overridden the computer controllers to reach their destination as quickly as possible, an action that could not be done to standard consumer vehicles.

“What the hell is that?” one of the other officers asked in horror. He pointed towards the top of the building.

As he looked up, Gutterson felt his stomach twist. He covered his eyes with his hand to shield them from the glare and stretch his vision high towards the cloudy murk above. Something had smashed out the window from the top level of the Janefield building and was falling towards them.

∞

The elevators descending to the ground level were running almost equal. The one from thirty-two had paused on sixteen, giving twenty-eight the chance to catch up. Tabby paced from one to the other, hands balled into fists at her sides, expecting the worst. She even considered taking the stairs again but worried if her father were on the elevator from twenty-eight, she would miss him.

Eventually, after more periodic stopping, the first elevator from thirty-two reached the ground floor. She stood tense and ready before the shiny steel doors, certain that Samantha had regained consciousness and was waiting for her in the carriage.