Stones: Theory (Stones #4) (32 page)

“Looks like their Yakuza connections aren’t too happy with the loss of cash flow.” Kalani leans back with his hands behind his head. “We’ve taken over their position. Our little algorithm now skims four times what the New Communion was getting. We’ll slowly increase it. IMUX won’t discover the discrepancy until their next annual audit, still nine months away.”

“Good work.” Ryzaard stands at the window looking out at the Brooklyn Bridge “By that time, it won’t matter. We’ll have complete control of the IMUX, the United Nations, the New Communion and every other power-hungry entity.” He turns and walks back to the table. “Looks like you’ve solved our financial issues.” His gaze drops down to the right. “What about you, Jerek? Anything you’d like to report?”

Jerek sighs. “I’m still working on the implant specs. I’ve run down a lot of leads since we last talked. All dead ends.”

Diego looks up. “Implants?”

“What are the implants for?” Jing-wei shoots a glance at Ryzaard.

He stands behind his chair. “That’s the main reason why I called the staff meeting for today.” The Stones floating above his chest suddenly turn from dark purple to fiery white. “It’s time to tell you about the next—”

He vanishes in midsentence.

M
att dreams.

Jessica’s hand is wrapped tightly around his. Through driving rain, they run down a narrow street at night. Glass skyscrapers rise on either side, their tops disappearing in the dark underbelly of the heavy clouds above. Matt glances behind them. Bright flash. A single beam of yellow energy rips through the flesh between his shoulder blades. Jolts of pain shoot into his arms and legs.

Warm liquid pours out of the hole in his chest.

“Hold on.” Jessica kneels down. Her lips are warm against his. “I’ll find your Stone.”

Her fingers dip into his side pocket and wrap around the Stone. She pulls it out and drops it into his palm. His fingers close on it, but it feels cold and dead.

Glass explodes above them. Jessica looks up.

He can see the fear in her eyes.

“Don’t worry,” she says.

He’s lying in a puddle of cold water with a pink hue. Warmth is pouring out of him. His fingers and toes go numb. The Stone rolls onto the pavement.

Jessica rips the pulse rifle off her shoulder. She points the barrel horizontally over his head. As he stares up, her fingers press the trigger, over and over. Fire sparks from the tip of the rifle with each shot. The metal stock recoils against her biceps.

A child screams.

Yarah.

Jessica jumps to her feet. Water runs off her face and hair. She’s yelling, but Matt can no longer hear. Something strikes her in the shoulder. Blood erupts from the exit wound on the back of her shirt. She puts her hand up to it, pulls it back and looks down at a scarlet palm.

Another bullet rips into her chest.

Matt tries to lift his arms, but he can’t feel them. His body is foreign and separate, no longer connected to his mind.

Jessica stands and fires the pulse rifle until it’s empty. She throws it to the pavement and, for a moment, stands over Matt looking down. Her lips move into a smile. Dozens of holes open up across the front of her body. As she falls down at his side, her hand reaches up to his face and caresses his forehead.

From somewhere high above them, shards of glass shower down upon them both, ripping, tearing.

As darkness closes in, he senses a presence standing over him. With the last of his strength, he turns his head and looks up. In the blackness, he sees the Stones, dozens of them, draped over Ryzaard’s body in long strings. The sole of a boot presses against his ribs, slowing crushing the bones.

Ryzaard motions behind him with his hand.

A multitude of people gather around and stare down at him. Their lips move, repeating the same words over and over.

“Wake up!”

Matt’s eyes shoot open. Alexa is punching him hard in the side. A half-empty water bottle lies on the ground next to him. His hair and shirt are wet. Yarah is asleep between them.

“What is it?” Matt says.

Alexa slumps back against the wall. “I thought you were going to take the first watch.”

“Sorry, I must have—”

“Can’t you hear it?” Alexa’s gaze floats back toward the village.

Matt follows her eyes. “Hear what?”

“Listen.”

A low chanting of human voices comes from somewhere behind them in the village. It reminds Matt of a Buddhist priest reading a sutra at a Japanese funeral.

“When did it start?” he asks.

“A couple of minutes ago.” Alexa reaches her hand up and grabs the small pulse rifle leaning against the wall. “Before that, there was loud moaning and groaning. Hundreds of people. I’ve never heard anything like it. The whole village must be gathered in the center. Sounds like some kind of ritual. It’s taken me five minutes to wake you up.”

Matt gets to his feet. “Let’s go.” He nudges Yarah, and her eyes snap open with recognition.

“Where?” Alexa says. “Closer to the village or away from it?”

Matt points his chin behind him. “Follow the voices.” Holding his Stone in one hand, he grabs the large pulse rifle with the other. He digs in his pocket, pulls out the cloaking box with the lid open and hands it to Yarah. “Stay sharp, little one. Your reflexes are faster than mine. If you see Jhata or sense that she’s near, snap the lid shut so we can use our Stones. Got it?”

Yarah takes the box in her hand “Got it.”

Matt swings his backpack onto both shoulders and leads the way as they step out onto the winding path between huts. The chanting grows louder as they move forward. When they pass the outer wall of a square hut, another deep path crosses in front of them. The sound comes from their left.

Dropping low to the ground, Matt points his light at the dirt. “Fresh tracks.” He looks down the path to the left and sees faint light in that direction. “This way.” Moving forward, he throws a glance back at Alexa. “Don’t shoot unless I do. We need Jessica to be alive.”

Alexa nods. “Better hurry. The chanting is getting louder, like it’s building toward something.”

Matt breaks into a jog.

The first thing he sees is the flames arranged in a circle. Then he notices the people sitting on the ground, bobbing their heads up and down to the rhythm of the chanting. Three old women stand in the center of the ring of fire. Four men stand next to them, heads bowed. A long orange object hangs down from each of their hands.

From where Matt stands, it looks like they are holding metallic snakes. But his vision isn’t very good in the dark. The men turn and raise the shiny ribbons horizontally over their head as if they are showing the crowd.

“Knives,” Alexa whispers. “Very
long
knives. Looks like they’re about to use them.”

“On what?” Matt slips out of the backpack and drops it to the ground.

“You mean
who
? I don’t think this is a pork-carving ceremony.” Alexa strains her neck for a better look. “They’re looking down at the ground.”

Yarah’s eyes open wide. She looks up and pulls on Matt’s sleeve.

At first, he doesn’t notice. His eyes are squinting and trying to see what is going on.

Yarah pulls again, hard enough to bring Matt to his knees. “I feel something familiar.”

“What do you mean?” Matt says.

“Jessica is here.”

“—p
hase of our project.”

Ryzaard finishes speaking and looks down where the crystal conference table and his young helpers should have been. Instead, Jhata is standing five meters away, arms crossed over the red silk kimono.

“Welcome back,” she says. “Hope I didn’t interrupt anything important.” She unfolds her arms. “Then again I don’t really care. I brought you here to show you this.” An index finger points behind Ryzaard. “I’ve accomplished my end of the bargain. Now it’s time for you to fulfill yours.”

He turns and stares at golden spheres piled in pyramids. Ten black boxes two meters high stand like over-sized dominos. Next to them is a single steel cube four meters on a side. The sound of pressurized air floats out of the cube’s interior. A slot opens up in its smooth face and slowly ejects one of the domino-like structures.

Jhata walks to a large bin a few feet away and dips her hand in. Walking to Ryzaard, she opens her palm to reveal a fistful of small blue jewels.

Holding out both hands, Ryzaard receives them with a short bow.

“The implants, I presume.” Quickly slipping them into a pocket, he brings one up close to his eye to admire the delicate white veins in lapis stone set in the shape of a tiny claw. “Beautiful. Exquisite.”

“Did you expect anything less?” Jhata walks close to Ryzaard and arches an eyebrow as she peers up into his face. She continues walking by him and stops in front of the spheres piled on the floor. “The manufacturing process is simple enough. Everything you need is right here.”

Ryzaard turns to face the same direction. “Are there operating instructions? A manual perhaps?”

“No need for that.” She plucks a sphere from the pile and tosses it to Ryzaard. “All they require is a steady flow of seawater. I assume you can manage that.”

“What about the power source? Feedstocks? The Mesh interface? Implant protocol?” He picks up a sphere, looks through the eyeball-sized hole in the top and sees nothing but blue solid state components.

Jhata smiles. “Like I said, the manufacturing process is a study in simplicity.” She points to the right. “The large silver cube makes the black boxes. The black boxes make the spheres, and the spheres make the implants. Each unit requires only seawater at the input points. They’re self-powered. Start the flow of water and they automatically begin the process. I’ve designed the implants to autonomously connect to your Mesh.” She produces one of the tiny units out of her sleeve. “As for the implant procedure, it’s as simple as pressing it firmly against the skin. Anywhere on the body close to nerves. Behind the ear works well. It bonds on contact and connects to the brain.”

Ryzaard looks down at the blue jewel. “Incredible,” he says. “Just as I imagined it.”

“You have a physics and manufacturing expert on your staff. Jerek, as I recall. Give him some time with this, and he’ll understand. It’s all very intuitive.”

Ryzaard studies one of the implants. “Have you tested it?”

“I’ve tested the master control units, the ones you and your staff will be wearing.” Jhata opens her palm. Seven slightly larger implants rest there. “They work perfectly.” She picks one up and takes a step toward Ryzaard. “Hold still.” Her fingers move up to his right ear.

He steps back. “Wait. I’m not ready.” His eyes become slits. “How do I know I can trust you?”

Jhata smiles. “You can’t. But we have an agreement, remember? My job is to develop the implant technology. I’ve done that.” A feral stare takes over her brilliant blue eyes. “You will make Earth part of my empire, a model colony.”

“So I am to be your vassal?”

“That was the bargain you struck.” A faint glow flows through the Stones on her belt. “It gives me some reason to keep you alive. Do you wish to reconsider?”

Ryzaard meets her stare with his. “Of course not.”

“I thought that’s what you’d say.” She moves closer and runs her hand up the right side of Ryzaard’s face. “Don’t resist. You’ll find this much to your liking.” Drawing a finger along his jawline, she presses the implant into the skin over the bony bump just behind his right ear.

A brief prick of pain follows the sensation of a needle entering the skin under the jewel. Then all awareness of the object fades. Ryzaard brushes the implant and finds it to be flush to the skin with no gaps around the edges. Laying his finger on top of its metallic surface, it’s as if he were touching his own skin.

The implant has become one with his body.

“Other than the implant sealing itself into me, I don’t feel anything.” Ryzaard drops a glance to Jhata. “Are you sure it works?”

Saying nothing, she looks down at her open palm, her porcelain fingers hovering and then selecting another one of the master control units. Her eyelashes drop down and the hand goes up behind her right ear. It gently pushes the jewel into the skin. Her eyes open.