Stones (Data) (58 page)

Naganuma breathes in and out with focused attention. “Do you still see the white lights in your dreams?”

“The white lights.” The snarl on Ryzaard’s face fades into a half smile as he repeats the words to himself. “I saw the Allehonen often when I was a younger man. Their promises of love and peace and the joy of creation are nothing more than a seductive lie. They require too much. Surrender of the self. Submission of the will. It is the path of weakness and leads only to suffering. My eyes have been opened to a better path.”

“You speak of the Others.”

“I speak of my own path.”

Naganuma turns and walks away from the window, back to the sofa. He bends down and picks up the crumpled wall hanging in his hands. “Are you not afraid?”

“What is there to fear?”

“You have seen the Others, as have I. Their path is a dark and cold one.” Naganuma unfolds the old yellow paper, smoothing it out with his hands. “You want to become as they are?”

Ryzaard chuckles. “You don’t understand, do you? I will become
better
than they are. I will have power and control beyond anything that can be imagined. Power over suffering, power over death. The power to bring Paradise to the world at last, fulfilling the dreams of mankind. I will follow my own path and rule over both the Allehonen
and
the Others.”

The white robes hanging from Naganuma shuffle in silence. He stands and presses the wrinkled paper back onto the wall so that it fits neatly under the fragment from which it was ripped away. His eyes close and he draws in a deep breath. The two pieces of ancient paper join seamlessly together, and the entire length of the painting seems to relax as the wrinkles flow out until it is whole again, restored to its original condition.

Naganuma turns back to Ryzaard. “I tried to teach you, but I fear I have lost you.”

“Trust me,” Ryzaard says. “You certainly have not lost me. I am perfectly aware of what I am doing. In time, you will understand. And then you will thank me for being the one to see clearly.” He picks up his jax and brings it close to his mouth. “Alexa, please come show my good friend, Mr. Naganuma, to his quarters. He is very tired and needs to rest before we begin the procedure on our new guest.”

“You’re talking about Matt Newmark?” Alexa says. “Or his girlfriend, Jessica?”

“Both, of course.” Ryzaard clears his throat and scans the room. “And never mention their names aloud again. I refuse to dignify anyone opposed to me with the use of their name. They are to be stripped of their humanity and obliterated from memory.” His eyes float over and lock onto Naganuma.

“My apologies,” Alexa says. “I’ll be more careful in the future.”

A minute later, the door opens, and Alexa enters. Smiling at Naganuma, she gestures for him to follow her.

He says nothing and walks out of the room, casting one last glaring glance at Ryzaard.

“S
o, are you going to kill him, too?” Alexa flops down on the sofa.

Ryzaard swivels in his chair so that he’s facing her. There’s a cigarette between his fingers, and he blows smoke up to the ceiling. “Who? Naganuma, the old priest?” He takes a long drag, holds it, and lets the gray fog curl out of his nose and mouth. “It may come to that, but I hope not. He knows so much and could be very useful. I would hate to lose him.”

“Two more Stones, all your own. You could have them if you wanted. No cooperation required. Just kill them both. That’s got to be tempting.”

“It is, believe me. But the unfortunate truth is that the Stones are much more powerful when the Holders cooperate. Magnitudes more powerful. Naganuma is right about that.” Ryzaard takes another drag on the cigarette. “How is he doing in there?” Ryzaard pointed at the door leading to the room with Matt.

“Fine, for the moment,” Alexa says.

“Tell me, what do you think of him?”

“What do
I
think?” Alexa lies back on the sofa and looks up at the ceiling. “Just seems like a good kid caught in the middle of something way beyond his control.”

“What would you do if you were him?”

“Use the Stone to find a way out, or a way to kill
you
.”

“Precisely,” Ryzaard says. “But as long as he is on the blue rug next to the Cube, his Stone is useless. Quite an elegant solution.”

“When are you going to start?”

“Funny you should ask.” Ryzaard stands and drops the cigarette, still burning, into an ashtray on the desk. “Right now.” He walks to the door leading to the adjacent room, and then stops and faces Alexa. “Is everything ready?”

“Yes, the power is on, both chairs have been wired. The recalibration of the trading algorithm is complete. Elsa will be waiting to test it out with the new Stone. Same for Diego and his location protocol. We are all very anxious to see how the addition of the boy’s Stone boosts performance. We’ll be in the lab. Patch us in when you’re ready.”

Ryzaard moves closer to the door. “Where’s the girl?”

Alexa pushes herself off the sofa to her feet. “She’s working in the building today, a few floors down. I can have her here in minutes. Just ask.”

“Excellent.”

Reaching for the cigarette in the ashtray, Alexa brings it to her lips. “Aren’t you going to have Naganuma join you in the experiment? I think he was expecting to be there.” She takes a deep drag and blows smoke into the middle of the room.

“No, not the first time. I’m going in alone.”

“Be careful.” She moves across the floor to the corridor. “Anything could happen.”

M
att Newmark.

Kent hears the words, but doesn’t comprehend their meaning, as if they are a foreign language. He backs up the recording and listens to them over and over. Arctic cold descends upon him. The slate slips from his fingers and clatters to the floor.

He finds himself in a black bubble as sound and color drain out of the world, leaving him alone. With trembling fingers, he gropes for a half-empty bottle of water and drains it, takes a deep breath and forces himself to face reality.

Matt is the boy in the room. Ryzaard is going to torture him. The result will be death if Matt doesn’t cooperate. They’ve got Jessica too.

It’s all going to start in a few minutes in a soundproof room. Kent won’t be able to listen in. He’ll have no idea what’s going on.

MX Global’s corporate machine is going to grind up and murder another member of his family.

He has no choice.

Rescue Matt and Jessica, or die trying.

It takes less than five minutes to fill the backpack. On his way out the door, he stuffs a soft diode into his ear. It’s got a wireless link to his slate so that he’ll be able to hear anything said in Ryzaard’s office outside of the round room.

The plan of attack, still half-baked, races through his mind as he rides the elevator down to the lobby. At the bottom, the glass door slides open, and Kent passes out into the sunlight where the afternoon sun is moving down the western sky somewhere on the other side of the Hudson River. The sidewalks of midtown Manhattan are still hot and muggy.

He heads straight across the street to the front of the MX Global building.

Half a dozen guards in black uniforms stand in his way. With his pulse pounding in his temples, Kent tries to smile beneath his sunglasses and strides past them to stop just short of the massive glass doors at the entrance. Like a tourist, he cranes his neck up to marvel at the 175 floors that rise almost half a mile into the sky above him. At the same time, his fingers drop down to his side and release a soft, grey lump the size of a marble into a joint in the concrete. He presses it in with the sole of his shoe. Then he turns and walks away from the building past the guards.

Just another sightseer out for a walk through the City.

A block down the street, he ducks into a small bookstore to make sure no one is tailing him. From there, he plans a walk going north and arcing to the west. It should take about half an hour and give him a chance to refine his plans, clear his head and have at least a fighting chance at success. Then he’ll slip down into the subway and double back to the MX Global stop.

Hopefully Matt will still be alive an hour from now.

Like all companies in the city with worldwide operations, MX Global keeps a full working staff around the clock. Kent will arrive on the premises just after 5:00 in the evening. The guards will be busy monitoring workers passing in and out through the security portals. Kent has a little surprise waiting for them. At the height of the chaos, he’ll pull the trigger. If all goes well, he’ll be in the building three floors below ground level with the first stage of his plan accomplished and over.

With a small backpack swung over one shoulder, he wears a sky blue T-shirt and full-length utility pants, both woven from nano-treated Titanite fibers. There’s a matching beanie and gloves in his side pocket. The Titanite emits randomized white-noise light when stimulated by a modulating magnetic field. He can generate one of those with his jax. If he’s caught on a video surveillance camera, he’ll appear like a fuzzy blob. A crude way of hiding his identity, but the best he can do.

Under normal conditions, an operation like this would require an entire team, with separate specialists for penetration, demolition, retrieval and exit. But Kent works alone. Always has. Always will. With no time to work out an elaborate plan and only the equipment he can carry on his back, he’ll have to hope for the best.

Small enough to hide in a closed fist, the bright red Magnetic Explosive Pulsed Power units are the most delicate cargo in his backpack. The MEPP’s super-magnetic neodymium cores are packed with shaped charges. Trigger it, and a focused shockwave travels inward, compressing the core and releasing a pulse of high energy vibrations. One unit carries the same destructive power of a hundred pounds of old-fashioned C-4.

Thanks to shaky Chinese design, the MEPPs are notoriously sensitive to sudden jarring movements. Drop one on the ground from four feet and there won’t be enough of you left for a laboratory slide.

The technology is new enough that neither the US military nor law enforcement has it, as far as Kent’s research has revealed. Contacts in the underworld provided him with a few samples. He’s glad he brought them along.

In addition to the MEPPs, he has his slate with its universal decryption protocols and other electronic goodies, night vision goggles, two hundred feet of double weave carbon fiber rope and an assortment of climbers and scalers.

And, of course, the crossbow.

R
yzaard stands silently before the door. He looks down at the holo screen of his jax to see Matt sitting on the sofa inside the high-security room. He pulls in a deep breath and walks to the door. It slides open with not so much as a whisper.

“I’m back.” Ryzaard moves carefully around the outer edge of the room and stops behind Matt.

“Where’s Naganuma?” Matt says, without looking up.

“He could not make it for our first round, but he is still here. I am sure we will see him later.”

Slouching on the sofa, Matt makes a studied effort to avoid looking up at Ryzaard. “Why haven’t you tied me up?”