Stones (Data) (56 page)

“Really? How?”

“We bored a micro-hole through the wall from the office next door with a hand laser and inserted an infra-red signal booster.” The man smiles. “It’s much easier to trip the lock from the inside. We would have done it sooner, but he wouldn’t leave the office. He finally did today.”

“Any idea where he went?”

“The Children lost him on a walk out in the City, but he was gone long enough to give us time to look around.”

Little John tries to sit down, but stands back up, overcome by nervous tension. “What did you find?”

“Transcripts of conversations. Tons of them. He’s been plugged in for a couple of days.” The tall man tosses a jax in the direction of Little John. “Here’s a download of everything he’s gotten so far. Interesting reading.”

The short fat man stares into the holo screen floating above the jax as he moves across the floor to the small refrigerator and pulls out a beer. He opens the can with the practiced motion of his left hand.

“Incredible.” With the beer in his hand, Little John is finally able to take a seat. “How did he get all this?”

“You won’t believe it, but he’s got a dozen lines of filament attached to windows on the MX Global building with a listening device in his office.”

“Fishing line?”

“Yep.”

Little John tips his head back and empties the can in one long drink. “Ryzaard has no idea, does he?”

“It doesn’t look like it.”

There’s silence in the tent as the sound of crickets rises to a crescendo outside, and then dies back down. The tall man walks to the front flap and opens it, looking up into the night sky. Points of crystal light stand out in the dark dome above him. He turns and shoots a backward glance at Little John. “Should we tell him?”

Little John looks up. “Who?”

“Ryzaard.” The tall man turns back to the stars. “It’s information he might be willing to pay for. It could buy us a lot of goodwill. He has money and power, enough to take the government and all the corporate hecklers off our backs. Enough to give us a complete image makeover. He might be willing to make a deal. It could help the cause.”

“It would
destroy
the cause.” Little John reaches for another beer. “Men like him are at the center of the Complex, the center of all we’re fighting against. We’re strong precisely because we don’t need his money or his power.”

“Just wanted to make sure you had thought it through.”

“That’s what I like about you.” Little John takes another drink, and the camp chair creaks as he adjusts his position. “Always thinking about our options. Always coming up with some new hare-brained idea.”

The tall man pushes his aviator sunglasses up on his nose. “Then what do we do about our man in the City who is planning on single-handedly taking down the MX Global machine?”

“Have the Children keep an eye on him. Once he makes his move, I want someone on his tail, right behind him. I have a feeling he’s planning on breaking in.”

“Your sixth sense?”

“Maybe. If he does, he’ll never get out alive without our help. It would be a shame to see a guy with this much moxie get cut down by the Complex. He deserves a fighting chance.” Little John looked down at the jax in his hand, his eyes scanning the holo screen. “And keep this stuff coming. I want to know his every move.”

W
hy hasn’t Ryzaard killed me already?

That’s the only thought that crosses Matt’s mind before two large shapes rush him from each side and drop him hard on the tatami floor face down. With practiced efficiency, they pull his hands behind his back and slap metal bands around his wrists and ankles, and then set him upright against the wall, sitting on the floor.

Ryzaard stands a few meters off to the left in his tweed jacket and bow tie, silently nodding his head up and down with a black cigarette hanging limp from his lips.

This time, there are no surprise injections of pain-inducing hallucinogens, no physical violence other than the metal bands, not even any attempts to take away his Stone. Ryzaard must know Matt can access it without his hands. It doesn’t make sense, but Matt doesn’t waste time trying to figure it out. If Ryzaard is going to allow him to use the Stone, there’s no time to waste. As soon as he’s sitting upright, he quiets his breathing and goes to the familiar place in his memory where he’s standing on the beach with his mom, and they’re watching the surf flow in and out.

Just a few more seconds, and he’ll be able to stop time, maybe even jump away. He relaxes and closes his eyes, doing what he’s done many times.

But nothing happens. Time flows on.

He tries another approach. In his mind, he sees the mountaintop where the Woman appeared and wills himself there.

No flash of light, no emptying of sound around him. Nothing.

In desperation, Matt stares at the tatami floor under him, trying to go deep into its structure, just as he had with the white pebble Naganuma showed him on the seashore.

“Rather frustrating, isn’t it?” Ryzaard stands in the corner and reaches into his jacket to bring out his own Stone for Matt to see. Then he disappears and appears again at the opposite corner of the room. He bounces back and forth between the two locations, a smile on his face. “That’s funny. Seems to work just fine for me.” The other two men in the room stare forward, uninterested in Ryzaard’s antics.

And then a reflection of light catches his eye. Turning his head to squint, he looks for the source. It’s next to the table, a shiny metal surface mirroring the sunlight coming through the open front door. On closer inspection, Matt sees that it’s a large stainless steel cube with protruding cables that snake across the tatami and out the back door of the room. He hears and feels its gentle hum.

He tries his Stone again, but it’s black and dead.

Moving around the edge of the room, Ryzaard keeps a distance of several meters between him and Matt. “You’re very lucky,” he says.

“Really?” Matt stares with cold eyes to hide the fear, not for himself, but for Jessica, that’s starting to gnaw at his stomach.

“Oh yes. Very.” Ryzaard takes the cigarette from his lips and taps the end, releasing a stream of ashes to float to the floor. “Mr. Naganuma made me promise not to kill you. And I always keep my promises. He’s the only reason you’re alive right now.”

“And the only reason you found me.”

“He
did
help.” Ryzaard takes a deep drag and blows the smoke directly at Matt. “The Stones are a tricky business, my young friend. Better not to trust anyone.”

They both turn to look out the front door at the sound of an approaching motorcycle.

Ryzaard motions with his cigarette at one of the large men standing next to Matt. The man bends down and forces a hand into Matt’s side pocket, bringing out his Stone. He walks it over to Ryzaard and drops it into a small box Ryzaard has taken from inside his jacket. It looks like the same stone box that Naganuma showed to Matt before. Ryzaard immediately snaps the lid shut and puts it back into his suit coat.

The sound of the motorcycle grows louder until it’s just outside the building. Then the engine cuts out, and they hear footsteps crunching across the gravel.

Naganuma comes up the wooden steps and walks through the front door, stopping in the small area below the main floor to take off his shoes.

At the sound of his entrance, Matt looks up with questioning eyes.

Naganuma seems not to notice him and stares straight across the room over Matt’s head into the eyes of Ryzaard. “I see you have kept your side of the bargain, so far.”

“Of course,” Ryzaard says. “What did you expect?”

The priest nods his head. “Is it functional?” His gaze drops past Matt to the cube on the floor.

“It appears to be working quite well. Thank you for allowing us to use the box. With some reverse engineering, we were able to come up with a system that duplicates its neutralizing effects on a Stone, at least within a limited area.” Ryzaard points at Matt. “Our young friend is tangible proof. He has found his Stone to be
quite
useless.”

They all hear the
thump-thump
of a helicopter transport descending from above. It drops onto the white pebble sea of the shrine grounds not far away.

Naganuma takes another look at the cube under the table. “I expect you to keep your bargain to the end.” His eyes brush past Matt, hanging on him for a split-second, and move to the transport outside.

“And I trust that you will keep yours.” Ryzaard nods to the two burly men standing at attention. They pick Matt up and hold him a foot off the floor. “Shall we go, my young friend?”

“Do I have a choice?”

“It would be in your best interest to cooperate.” Ryzaard allows a smile to bend at the corner of his lips.

They all walk out the front door, down the steps, to the waiting helicopter.

Matt settles into his seat between the two broad-shouldered men, his wrists and ankles still shackled and connected by a thin chain of extremely hard metal. The two men hold onto its loose ends and stoically stare forward.

The silver cube is slid into place between Matt’s feet.

In the faint darkness of the transport, there’s a light prick on his neck, and something powerful pulls him into a dreamless sleep.

When he wakes, he’s engulfed in the same
thump thump
sound that was the last thing he remembers after boarding the transport in Japan. The entire aircraft banks sharply to the right and down while flying over a city that he immediately recognizes.

Ryzaard and Naganuma sit across from him, an empty space separating them.

The helicopter transport levels out and slows into a descent as they settle down on to the roof of a building in the heart of Manhattan. The doors slide open. Twenty big men in black battle armor surround the helicopter and back up a couple of paces with their fingers resting easy on the triggers of pulse rifles.

“Shall we proceed?” Ryzaard stands and walks down the metal steps to the roof level, followed by Naganuma, still avoiding Matt’s eyes. The two men on each side of Matt stand, pulling him up like a puppet on a string. He takes a step to the door and stumbles forward, his head protruding into the open air before strong arms pull him back by his wrists and keep him from tumbling down the steps.

Ryzaard looks back and up at Matt. “Baby steps.” He smiles warmly.

The two men grab Matt’s shoulders and carry him down to the level of the roof. At the bottom, he’s surrounded by soldiers. They come together and form a tight circle with him in the center as they escort him to a silver ring marked on the roof. When Matt is inside the ring, the soldiers pull back two paces, weapons drawn, fingers on triggers.

They seem to grow taller.

Matt realizes he is dropping down into the building through a metal tube. The sky above him shrinks to a tiny point and disappears entirely as the aperture closes. He tries over and over to jump away, but the connection to his Stone feels broken. Footlights come on, and he rides down in silence, counting to thirty before the motion stops. The side of the tube opens up into a door. He passes through it into a long steel corridor where Ryzaard and Naganuma are waiting.

He falls in behind them, dragging the chains attached to shackles, and is followed by two guards. There is the distinct odor of burnt ozone in the air, like the smell of an electronics laboratory. When they come to a door at the end of the corridor, Ryzaard waves his hand over a glass panel, and the door slides open without a sound.

They walk into an office.

Matt throws around a few quick glances and takes it all in. One entire wall is a window that looks out over the City. There’s a large wooden desk and chair in the middle that reminds Matt of an old movie. A red sofa sits under a Chinese wall hanging to the right, and a grandfather clock stands on the far left. The smell of tobacco hangs in the air. But the dominant feature is the breathtaking view of the City through the enormous window.

“Welcome to my office,” Ryzaard says.

Walking along the wall to the right, he places his hands on a black dot. A section slides away to reveal a square opening, and they all follow him through into another room.

“And this is your office.” Ryzaard waves his hands around and turns to look at Matt. “I trust you will find it comfortable.”

The opening closes behind them and seals shut with a sucking sound. Matt feels the subtle increase in air pressure.

It all has the look of a rich kid’s loft apartment, except there are no windows. Sweeping it with his eyes, Matt makes a quick mental inventory. It’s a circular space, about ten meters across. A shag rug covers the center of the floor like a huge blue dot, leaving a three meter space between it and the walls. There are a couple of white leather sofas long enough for Matt to sleep on, arranged in the shape of the letter L. A low table floats on a slender column in the middle. A small silver refrigerator stands next to the sofa. The entire room is encased in a floor-to-ceiling blue screen displaying a 360 degree view of a white sand beach somewhere in the Pacific.

It’s all sparsely furnished, just the way Matt likes it, and the overall impression is one of style and comfort, except for three foreign objects. A stainless steel cube positioned in the exact center of the blue rug, and two ominous looking dental chairs lined up next to the cube, side by side.