Stones: Theory (Stones #4) (57 page)

The priest reaches into one of his sleeves and comes out with a jax. “This is all the information I have.” He lays it on the table.

A full color holo jumps above it giving detailed information on the location of a handful of fabrication facilities and their internal structure. One of them is less than a hundred kilometers away. A plant that was converted from making Shinto shrines to making implants.

“All right.” Matt’s eyes drift down to Yarah with a wink. “It shouldn’t be that hard for someone with cosmic power. Let’s get to work on a plan. We strike after dark.”

“W
hen did it happen?” Ryzaard raises his upper body from the sleeping mat and stares straight ahead at the holo of Jing-wei floating just beyond his feet.

“Less than three minutes ago. 5:30 am local time.”

He stands on bare feet, raises his hands above his head until the palms touch, and stretches up to the ceiling as the muscles of his back loosen around the spine. “How many fabrication plants were destroyed?”

“Seven.” Jing-wei’s fingers dance over the surface of a slate. “All along the east coast of Japan.”

“Number of casualties?”

There is silence, as if Jing-wei is searching for the right words and hasn’t found them yet.

Ryzaard drops his arms. “How many casualties were there, Jing-wei?”

“Zero.” Her gaze slowly rises from the slate and stares ahead at Ryzaard. “The plants were totally obliterated, but there were
no casualties
.”

“What? How can that be?”

Jing-wei turns behind her and moves her fingertips across a large blue screen. “Information is still spotty. I’m patching in sat images for a local visual so we can see it together. I’ll put it through to your holo.”

The holo changes to a vertical view of a stretch of coast. The pale pink of morning light mixes with a thin fog that floats below in overlapping sheets. Long white lines of incoming surf disintegrate against rocky outcroppings like shattered glass.

“Where’s the plant?” Ryzaard says.

“You’re looking at it.”

As Ryzaard stares, he sees a faint rectangle outlined in gray enclosing what looks like uneven piles of yellow dirt. The view zooms in to show dozens of moving shapes with long shadows from the morning light. People wandering over the site like sheep in a pasture.

Jing-wei’s voice floats over the scene. “The workers say everything made of metal or ceramics suddenly turned to ash. One minute they were tending the fabrication machines, and the next they were swimming in a sand pile. It’s the same story at the other sites.”

“It’s him.” Ryzaard’s hands turn to fists and beat against the sides of his thighs. “What about Diego’s location algorithm? Any readings?”

Jing-wei’s face appears as an overlay on the holo. “I’ve already checked with both Diego and Jerek. They’ve been running a deep scan of the area ever since we got the news. But nothing’s come up yet. Are you sure it’s him?”

Ryzaard’s voice fills the top floor of the building. “Of course I’m sure it’s him! Who else could it be?”

“Children of the freedom—”

“It’s not the freedom camps!” Ryzaard charges through the holo and stares at Jing-wei from the other side. Looking up at the ceiling, he takes a deep breath, calms himself and speaks in a soft, measured tone. “What about the damage to our production schedule?”

Jing-wei’s face fades from the holo to be replaced by Jerek’s. “There’s nothing to worry about here. We factored in some nominal opposition and built multiple redundancies into our production platform, which is spread around the world.” He leans back in his chair with his feet on the desk. “The loss of seven facilities will have only a negligible effect on the overall numbers. We could lose ten more plants and still easily meet our deadline.”

“Good to hear,” Ryzaard says. “But we can’t get cocky or complacent.” His hands go behind his back as he begins to pace. “How can we increase security to the highest level?”

“Let’s see.” Jerek lifts a hand to his chin. “Satellite reconnaissance is the most effective. I suppose the most extreme approach would be to temporarily shut down Diego’s location algorithm and dedicate the resources to deep scanning the remaining facilities.” He shakes his head. “Of course, that’s not—”

“Do it.”

“What?”

Ryzaard takes a step closer to the holo. “I said do it. Production and distribution of the implants is the number-one priority right now.”

Jerek shakes his head. “Diego isn’t going to like this.”

“It doesn’t matter. The boy’s found a way to evade our location algorithm anyway. I’ve only kept it going on the chance that he’ll make a mistake.” Ryzaard walks to his meditation cushion. “We have to reallocate our resources. Get the satellites going on reconnaissance, all of them. I’ll speak with Diego.” He sits cross-legged on the cushion and stares out the window at the Brooklyn Bridge, lit up against the black midnight of the Hudson like an exotic decoration. “Jing-wei?”

Blue eyes fade into brown dots on a round face. “Yes, Dr. Ryzaard?”

“What has Miyazawa been up to lately?”

“As far as I know, he’s his usual, drug-addled self, subsisting on intravenous feedings and sub-dermal ecstasy.” She picks up her slate and stares at its glossy surface. “The most recent report from his assistant is that he’s requested a few days of solitude at his home shrine in the mountains of northern Japan.” She looks up. “Apparently he’s dropped back to the surface to perform purification rituals on himself. His white transport is back in Tokyo, giving the entire staff the first rest in a long time.”

“That’s fitting. Perhaps part of him senses that the end is coming, and he’s preparing.”

“Preparing for what?”

“Death.”

“Are you going to kill him?” Jing-wei takes a step back, eyes narrowing. “Wouldn’t that be a waste?”

“Once we achieve complete penetration of the implants, his life will have served its purpose. We will no longer need him.”

“But what about Shinto? Won’t you still need someone to lead it?”

“Don’t lecture me on how to carry out my plans. Stick to your assigned tasks, and all will proceed smoothly.”

The world recedes as if sucked away, and Ryzaard goes into deep meditation. Jing-wei’s persistent independence of mind is a matter of concern. A full minute of careful breathing passes, and then a thin film of green energy creeps around his body just before he vanishes.

Surrounded by the comfort of infinite blackness, he opens his eyes and stares at a dark planet below. His hand wanders up to his chest and grasps one of the Stones floating there like a breastplate of jewels.

Just a precaution.

Feeling the cold glass of the black control node against the palm of his hand, he leaves his body suspended in space and lets his mind enter through the mirrored surface and find its way to the planetary core. Its familiar circuitry pulls him through a thousand cycles in a nanosecond, and he drinks in the pleasure of pure, frictionless movement. On the next cycle, he jumps to the Mesh and enters its world of white and brilliant color.

It still bothers him.

How could Matt have known about the fabrication plants on the Japanese east coast? The only ones aware of their purpose and location are members of his immediate staff. He has no reason to suspect any of them betrayed him, but even the most trusted individuals need to be checked from time to time.

As he hangs in white space at the center of the Mesh, his mind hovers over all other minds. Their raw thoughts flow into the planetary network and then through Ryzaard’s mind.

He smiles.

Like bacteria under a microscope, they are oblivious of the connection between their brains and the master mind of the Mesh.

It’s a simple matter to find his own Children. Their implants are of a higher order, designed by Jhata, controlled by his own implant, but still looming over the billions of humanity that flow into the network of the blue jewel every day. They stand out like colorful planets against a background of fixed stars.

First, he drops into the mind of Elsa Bergman, the most mercenary of the group, motivated by power and the acquisition of more power. One might question her loyalty, but never her motives. And her motives keep her closely tied to Ryzaard for one simple reason.

He is the source of power.

Skipping over a disturbing childhood of poverty, he parses through her recent memories, searching for any connection to Matt or those loyal to him. As expected, there’s not much more than cold lines of data and multi-dimensional spreadsheets. She is siphoning off massive sums of IMUs for her own use, but that is to be expected.

Next is Kalani, the Tongan boy-genius who spends his waking hours embedded in the Mesh, exploring the new tactile world opened up by the blue jewel, impulsive, savage and prone to outbursts of emotion. Sifting through his thoughts is like navigating rough seas in high winds. Flashes of brilliant insight mix with longing and revenge. The landscape is uneven and treacherous, but nothing leads to questions about his loyalty to the cause.

Ryzaard is more amused than surprised by a Mesh-point he discovers Kalani developing. A massive water-covered sphere that offers endless beaches and surfing, along with the occasional school of great white sharks to dispose of unwanted guests.

He takes only a cursory look at Jerek and Diego. Moving through their recent memories is quick, almost instantaneous, and reveals nothing out of the ordinary other than the usual side projects they are pursuing on their own without Ryzaard’s permission.

Jing-wei is last. Of all the members of the team, she is the most guarded, the most inscrutable, the most difficult to read. The breadth of her earthly knowledge of everything from quantum encryption to the acquisition of clandestine jax IDs to the history of the hippie movement in the United States makes her an invaluable member of the team, one that is seemingly impervious to the temptations of money and power. He takes his time and makes a thorough examination.

Confirming what he already knows, he sees how she loathes the structured hierarchy of Chinese capitalism where success is entirely an outcome of
guanxi
, a person’s connections to power. Her longing for a level playing field brought her to Ryzaard’s attention. She still works for the ideal of Paradise. Of all the team members, she is the one that comes closest to being a true believer. That makes her the most valuable and, at the same time, the most dangerous. If there ever comes a time when she stops believing, the lure of power alone will no longer hold her to the cause.

But Ryzaard can find nothing beyond the usual fears that makes her suspect. She certainly isn’t plotting against him.

All of them are clean.

“I
’ve been thinking.”

“Seriously?” Jessica inhales the smell of cedar bark as they walk past columns of trees rising above the forest floor. “And what have you been thinking about?”

Matt squeezes her hand and brings it close to his lips. “Ryzaard will win.” His voice drops to a whisper.

“What?” Jessica stops and pulls her hand away. “How do you know? Something you’ve seen?” She swings her eyes up into the high canopy as an owl hoots in the pink twilight of the western sky. “A vision you’ve had?”

“Just a feeling. A premonition.”

They listen to Yarah’s infectious giggle as she rampages through the trees behind them, cracking branches, throwing rocks, chasing squirrels.

Matt turns to watch the little girl. The hint of a smile creeps across his face.

“Interesting. You think Ryzaard is going to take over the world, but you don’t look the least bit upset about it.” Jessica kneels down and touches a single white flower with four petals and two green leaves. A yellow tube extends straight out of its center. She stands, bringing the flower with her, and carries it up to her nose for a deep inhale. Then she grimaces and quickly lets it fall away.

“It’s called
dokudami
in Japanese.” Matt bends down and picks up the flower. “A beautiful plant on the outside. Looks innocent enough, but the smell is terrible, like rotten fish.”

“Meaning what?”

“Meaning that Ryzaard’s victory may not be what he expects it to be.”