Sins of the Assassin

Chapter 39

“Shouldn’t we be hiding or something?” said Leo.

“The idea is for Malcolm Crews’s men to find us.”

Leo ducked into the shadow of the abandoned Stuckey’s, the former restaurant and tourist stop now a collection of burned cinder blocks, broken windows, and a collapsed yellow roof. A rat scurried around in the dark interior and Leo quickly joined Rakkim.

“Why don’t you sit down and relax?” said Rakkim. “I’ll let you know if I see anybody coming.”

“I’m tired of sitting down,” said Leo. “You spend three days on the mountain having fun, while I’m stuck in that lousy motel listening to trucks race past my window.”

“You should have gone for a walk, gone to a movie.”

“People looked at me funny every time I went out. ‘Where you from, buddy? What kind of accent you talking there, pard?’” he mimicked. “Nothing for me to do all day except sit in my room, watch TV, and think about Leanne.”

Rakkim walked past the gasoline pumps, looked down the highway. No lights anywhere. The Stuckey’s had been abandoned even before the war, left behind by the tourists and the new interstate. He looked up at the sky, saw only stars and a thin slice of moon.

Leo unwrapped another candy bar, gnawed at the end. “What did Leanne’s father say when you told him about me? Was he impressed?”

“Oh, yeah, I definitely sensed tumescence.”

“Ha-ha, very funny.”

The kid had screwhead priorities-merely nodded when Rakkim had told him that Moseby had found the black-ice canister, more interested in Moseby himself. A half-hour drive to Stuckey’s and all he talked about was Moseby and what did he think about Leo’s offer of marriage, and was Leo’s religion a problem, because if it was…and did you tell him how much Leanne and I have in common and how we really, really love each other? Well, did you, Rikki? Yeah, I told him you were regular soul mates, Rakkim had said, which didn’t even slow the kid down; he went right back to the questions. Did Moseby think they were too young? Should Leo pretend that he and Leanne had never made love? The kid never shut up.

“I’m taking you back up the mountain with me when we’re done here tonight,” said Rakkim. “You ready for that?”

“Yes.”

“I made it easy for you. I told the Colonel you’re an arrogant Jewish odd-ball who can look at the weapon and tell us what it is, and if it works and-”

“I said yes.”

Rakkim squeezed through the entrance of the tourist trap. He let his eyes adjust to the dim light, then moved forward, glass crunching underfoot, past the overturned racks of singed postcards. He bent down, picked up one that showed a leering crocodile biting a half-naked woman on the ass. TASTES LIKE CHICKEN, read the postcard. He tossed it aside. Christian humor.

“Hey! I thought we were supposed to stay out here,” said Leo.

Rakkim listened to the rats scurrying over debris. Mushrooms sprouted in the corners where the rain got in.

“I don’t like being here by myself,” called Leo.

“Then come inside.”

“I don’t like it in there either.”

Rakkim’s laughter echoed among the melted bottles of suntan oil and shattered bisque lawn jockeys. He heard Leo cursing as he darted inside, tripped.

“Where are you?” asked Leo.

“Right here,” said Rakkim.

“Right here,” said Malcolm Crews at the same time.

Rakkim turned slightly as Crews detached himself from a darkened corner of the structure, dressed all in black, a shadow among the shadows, his own darkness deeper than any natural phenomenon.

“Surprised?” said Crews.

“Very,” said Rakkim.

“Rikki?” said Leo, hands outstretched as he stumbled forward. “Who’s there with you?”

“Malcolm Crews.” Crews clicked his heels.

Rakkim looked around, half expected a dozen skeleton men to emerge from the gloom.

“It’s just me,” said Crews. “My flock can’t keep quiet to save their necks, and truth be told, they weary me.”

“How long have you been waiting?” said Rakkim.

“Since yesterday.” Crews stretched, his arms extending until they almost touched the ceiling. “Just kind of hibernating until you arrived.”

Leo held a butane lighter up, the tiny flame flickering as he found his way beside Rakkim. “Why…why don’t we talk outside?”

“Your Ident buddy’s afraid of the dark,” said Crews.

“I think he’s more afraid of you,” said Rakkim.

“Ah, well…who can blame him?” Crews settled back into the shadows, his back against the wall. “Sit down, I prefer talking in here.”

Rakkim picked his way over the debris to Crews, his knife back where it belonged, resting against the inside of his right forearm.

Crews reached out, pretended to pluck something from Rakkim’s ear. Showed him the shekel of Tyre. “Has the Colonel found the rest of these yet?”

“No, but we know where they’re hidden,” said Rakkim. “They’re at the bottom of an-”

“Underground lake.” Crews enjoyed Rakkim’s surprise. “Word’s leaked out that he’s searching for something, but we’re the only ones who know what it is.” He shoved his hands in his pockets, strolled around under that sliver of moon. “It’s peaceful here.”

Leo tripped over something, the lighter sliding across the floor. He fumbled around on his hands and knees looking for it.

“There’ll be a new moon in four days,” said Rakkim. “The Colonel will have brought up the shekels by then. You and your men should attack from the south-it’s a tough climb, but the Colonel’s defenses are thin in that area. You don’t have to launch a full-on assault, he’s too dug in for that-forty or fifty men should do it. Just a raid…something to distract them long enough for me to grab the pieces of silver. I’ll slip through the lines during the firefight and meet you back here.”

“My own little homing pigeon,” said Crews.

“Where else am I going to go?” said Rakkim.

“Indeed…” Crews stared at the brand on his hand. “Does your mark burn?” He looked up at Rakkim. “Mine does. Sometimes it hurts so bad it wakes me up at night.”

“No…it itches a little, that’s all.”

Crews smiled in the darkness. “Give it time.”

Rakkim rubbed his hand, stopped himself. “Can you have your men in position in four days?”

“They’ll do whatever I ask.” Crews stepped back, seemed to settle deeper into the darkness. “What about you, Rikki? Will you do what I ask?”

“I want what’s in that underground lake just as much as you do.”

“That’s not what I asked.” Crews leaned his head back, faced the sky. Lost in the immensity. “I was a full professor once upon a time. Chairman of the department. Hard to believe, isn’t it, considering the company I keep these days. Don’t think for a moment I’m not aware of that.” His head bobbed. “American literature, that was my specialty. Huck Finn. Moby-Dick. The Amazing Adventures of Kavalier and Clay. Ah, the stories I could tell you, the depth of my insights…Do you read much, Rikki?”

“Not lately.”

“You should make time. I’ve…I’ve neglected my own studies too, for this…higher purpose.” Crews’s mouth twitched as though circled by worms. “Many are called but few are chosen…but they don’t tell you what you’re chosen for,” he snarled, his right hand sweeping aside a display of souvenir key chains. “Look at us. Called to the Church of the Mists, but left on the doorway…Locked out. Unfit. Unworthy.” He leaned forward. “Says who? We’ll show him, Rikki. You and I. Who dares stand against us?”

Rakkim belched.

Crews shook his head. “I like you.” He detached himself from the corner, eased closer, and Rakkim let him come. “This tale of the thirty pieces of silver, the ultimate blood money…lost and now found.” He cocked his head. “Is it really true? Or are you Judas himself, come to betray me? Judas betrayed Jesus with a kiss. Is that who you are?”

“Don’t get your hopes up,” said Rakkim. “Four days, Malcolm. Don’t be late.”

“‘On a moonless night, I shall lead the army of darkness into battle,’” said Crews, taking a deep, theatrical bow, arms spread wide. “That’s Christopher Marlowe.”

Rakkim shrugged. “Don’t know this Marlowe guy, but it’s the title of an old horror movie too. Army of Darkness. Woman I know is a real fan of that stuff.”

“You’ll have to introduce me,” said Crews.

“Not a fucking chance.”

Crews glared at Rakkim.

There was only the sound of crickets rising and falling, the same sad note over and over coming through the broken windows.

“We…we should go,” said Leo.

“Yes, you should,” said Crews, not taking his eyes off Rakkim.

Rakkim led Leo out through the overturned display cases and soggy cardboard boxes, Leo lumbering along, keeping close, until the two of them were outside in the fresh air, the crickets even louder now, filling the night.

“I hate that guy,” whispered Leo.

“I’ve met worse.”

“Where?” Leo didn’t expect an answer, wouldn’t have believed Rakkim anyway. He looked toward the car. “Do I meet the Colonel tonight?”

“Tomorrow.”

“Did Mr. Moseby really find the canister?”

“It’s still at the bottom of the lake, but he’s seen it. He’ll bring it up when the time is right.”

Leo tore cobwebs off his hair, swatted at bugs that may or may not have been there. “The sooner the better.”

“It’ll be chaotic when Crews attacks the base camp-we’ll have plenty of opportunity to slip away with the weapon, once you tell me if it’s worth taking. I’ve picked at least eight potential escape routes-” The crickets stopped chirping and Rakkim grabbed Leo, hustled him into the car. Drove off at full acceleration, throwing up gravel from the tires as they shot down the road, lights off. Rakkim steered by starlight, as relieved as Leo to be away from the place, away from Crews.

Leo waited in vain for the headlights to come on. “Can you really see in the dark?”

“It’s not dark.”

“That must be useful.” Leo cleared his throat. “FYI, we won’t need to take the weapon when we escape, I can already tell you that.”

“I thought that was the whole idea. Take the weapon from the Colonel so he doesn’t destabilize the Belt or use it against the republic…maybe even turn it into a tool for reunification, show people in both countries that we can cooperate…What?”

“That is the idea, it’s just that once I get my hands on…” Leo’s grin threatened to crack his face. “How big did Mr. Moseby say the canister was?”

“He didn’t…not exactly. He said one man could carry it, that’s all.”

“See, a canister that small, it can’t have a full-size weapons system in it. It’s got to be almost pure data-computer cores, thumb loads, maybe even hard copy. Whatever was state-of-the-art information storage back in the old days. Point is, it’s all data.” Leo happily chattered on now, unable to contain himself. “Information…data, that’s my business.”

“We’ll still need the downloads and whatever-”

“We won’t need a thing. When Crews’s army attacks, I’ll wipe the cores clean and we’ll get away, just like you said. What we leave behind will be useless, but it will look like we didn’t get anything either.” Leo grinned again. “But we’ll have everything. All of it.” He tapped the side of his head. “Right here.”

“You have a photographic memory?”

“Don’t insult me. Memory only works if you’ve actually seen the data, experienced it in some way. That would take months and we only have, what…a few hours? Memory…” Leo shook his head, giddy. “Oh, I’m way beyond that.”

“Before we left”-Rakkim checked the rearview-“Sarah said you had been modified.”

“I prefer the term maximized.” Leo held up his hands. “My fingernails are permeated with organic silicone, converting them into ion traps. Just a little genetic manipulation, plus some nanotechnology. It’s my dad’s design, although he didn’t do the work himself. He’s more of a theoretician…” He saw Rakkim’s expression. “It means I can access any data-storage system there is with a near-instantaneous transmission rate. By touch. And brainpower, of course. That’s the most important component. Without brainpower…You have no idea what I’m talking about, do you?”

“You’re some kind of biocomputer.”

Leo shook his head. “You’re a biocomputer. I’m a quantum computer.” He wriggled his fingers. “With these, I don’t need to memorize what’s in the cylinder. I can download the whole thing while you’re singing ‘Onward Christian Soldiers.’”

Rakkim drove for another mile before he said anything. “Have you ever done this before? Downloaded massive amounts of data with just…your fingertips?”

“I’ve been tested.”

“But you’ve never done it under field conditions?”

Leo stared out the windshield into the darkness, pouting. “My maximization wasn’t completed until recently. I…I have total faith in myself.”

Still no headlights in the rearview. “I do too, kid.”

“Really?” Leo rocked happily in his seat. “Most people only use five percent of their brains. I’m what happens when you use the other ninety-five. That doesn’t usually make the five-percenters happy.” He stretched his long legs. “This canister Mr. Moseby found…what’s it made of?”

“Graphite.”

“No metallic signature that way, pretty standard stuff.” Leo sniffed. “Any markings on the outside? Symbols or warning-”

“No. Just a serial number or something.”

“What’s the number?”

“Ah…Seventy-two-slash-one-oh-six.”

“You’re sure?”

“What’s wrong?”

Leo let his head flop back. “Wow. They actually did it.”

“Did what?”

“Seventy-two-slash-one-oh-six isn’t a serial number. It’s the atomic structure of hafnium. Seventy-two protons. One hundred six neutrons. Those old-time scientists…you have to give them credit. So far beyond us, in some ways. Pure research, a culture of intellectual inquiry and unlimited budgets…must have been nice.” Leo rubbed his nose, sniffed. “It wasn’t even supposed to be possible. Oh, maybe in a purely theoretical sense, of course, but not-”

“Is it some kind of a bomb?” said Rakkim. “Like a hydrogen bomb or a neutron bomb?”

“No…not like that.” Leo giggled. “Hafnium bomb…it’s much more powerful.”