Zero option, p.24
Zero Option, page 24
“No way. This time the Apache wins.”
In the background Riba heard gunfire. He half expected to feel bullets burn into his body. It didn’t happen.
His adversary was still struggling. Riba increased the pressure, then jerked back against the man’s neck. There was a soft crunching sound and the hardman beneath Riba stopped his struggling. He simply went limp in the P.I.’s grip.
BOLAN COULDN’T DO much for Valens. He dragged her against the wall.
“Keep your hand over the wound,” he advised. “Pressure on it.”
She nodded vaguely.
“Go,” she said. “Don’t let him get away.”
Bolan snatched up his M-16.
“LET’S GO,” Ryan snapped. He had reached the end of his patience.
Without another word to his comrade Ryan burst through the door and swung left, vanishing from sight. The man hesitated for a fraction of a second, then followed.
He saw the two men on the floor and Ryan running down the corridor, then he made the mistake of looking back along the corridor in the other direction.
And saw Belasko heading his way.
He raised his rifle into position and triggered the weapon, feeling the M-16 jerk in his hands and seeing his shots hitting the wall and floor.
Calm down, he cautioned himself, the guy’s only human.
He felt something hit his left thigh. His leg went from beneath him and he started to fall. A burst of pain swelled up from his leg. He looked down and saw the ragged hole the bullets had made, blood pumping out. He was hit again. He felt himself pushed back against the wall. This time the pain was in his chest. It was suddenly difficult to breathe. He coughed. A burning sensation seared his throat, and he tasted liquid that frothed from his mouth, warm and bloody. He hung against the wall, weakening rapidly.
A dark shape moved by him. He tried to see who it was, but he couldn’t raise his head. He was sure a cold sensation swept over him as the shape moved by.
Something that left him with a chill.
It had to have been Belasko.
Or the specter of Death.
Just before he slipped into unconsciousness, he realized they were one and the same.
CAL RYAN HIT the exit door and stumbled into the rain-lashed gloom. Security lamps threw yellow streams of light across the lawned area. Ryan caught sight of the burned-out helicopter. The body of Colonel Orin Stengard was still out here, too, sprawled where he had died. As much as he had admired the man, at that moment in time, Ryan didn’t give a damn about his condition.
His choices were thin: make his way around the R&D building and see if he could get a vehicle, or go for the perimeter fence and lose himself in the dense woods on the other side.
That option didn’t worry him. Ryan had active experience of evasion tactics. His only concern would center around whether there were military or police units out there. He had no way of knowing whether Belasko had called in backup.
The man, whoever he was, seemed to have the knowledge to anticipate and counter opposition moves. His ability to maneuver himself out of difficult situations showed he was no novice. Far from it.
Ryan’s thoughts raced through his mind as he moved away from the door and out into the open. The ground was soft from the downpour. The rain, pushed by the ragged wind, was cold. It penetrated his blacksuit and chilled his flesh.
He raised his rifle, ready to move off, his decision to go over the perimeter fence finalized.
BOLAN SAW the open door and increased his pace. Once Ryan got into the clear he might easily slip away unnoticed.
Bolan wasn’t going to let that happen.
The opening loomed in the Executioner’s vision. He burst through the door and saw Ryan just ahead of him. The man was moving off.
There was no time to slow down. Bolan didn’t consider it. He hit Ryan from behind, driving the man to the ground. They rolled apart, each rising quickly, no more than a couple of feet apart.
Ryan was grinning. He held his rifle across his chest, then pushed it at arm’s length. He thrust and parried, butt and muzzle. Bolan used his own rifle to counter. They circled each other, testing, seeking the chance to strike.
Ryan feinted, drew back, then struck. The flat of the stock clipped Bolan’s cheek, splitting the flesh. The sight of the blood brought a gleam of anticipation to Ryan’s eyes. He was sensing victory. Bolan eased off, adding to his adversary’s sense of superiority. He lunged, carried his feint through again. Only this time the Executioner saw it coming and countered the move. The M-16s clashed, and the pair pushed to gain the advantage. Ryan threw a leg kick that glanced off Bolan’s knee. He repeated his kick, missing as the soldier twisted to one side. He used the move to free his rifle, rolling a strike with the butt that clouted Ryan across the side of his head. The man stumbled, and Bolan kept the momentum, slashing out with the M-16. The tip of the muzzle gouged Ryan’s cheek, tearing it open to the bone. Blood surged from the gash, and Bolan struck again. To the body, as well as the head.
Ryan backed off, racked with pain.
This wasn’t going as well as he had anticipated. Belasko was good. Maybe too good. The game playing hadn’t been intended to go against himself.
He dropped the M-16 and grabbed for the pistol holstered at his side. He closed his fingers around the butt, lifting the weapon from the holster.
Bolan slammed the M-16 across Ryan’s gun hand, putting all his strength to the blow. The crack of breaking bone was audible above the driving rain. Ryan roared in agony. He lifted his hand and stared at the split flesh and the shards of bone showing through.
“Bastard,” he screamed.
He saw Bolan staring at him, his own battered, bloody face glistening from the rain. The look in the man’s eyes unnerved Ryan. They were cold, empty of any compassion.
“Lessons are over, Ryan.”
Something snapped in Cal Ryan that drained away every vestige of his courage. For the first time in his life he really knew what it felt to look Death in the eyes and understand what it meant.
He turned to run, but didn’t take even one step before Bolan was on him.
He caught hold of Ryan around the neck, spun the man and tightened his grip. Ryan’s feet left the ground as Bolan lifted him, arched his body and snapped the man’s spine with a brutal jerk. A spasm rippled along Ryan’s frame, from his neck down to his feet. When it had played itself out, Ryan was a deadweight in Bolan’s grip. The Executioner released his burden, letting Ryan fall to the sodden ground, his open eyes staring. Seeing nothing in the living world…
“Jack. Jess. Paid in full.”
TWO HOURS LATER the R&D building swarmed with people. There were teams from security agencies and the Air Force; medical and fire investigation teams. No civilian agencies were present. Bolan learned later that the local police had been dismissed and the outer security taken over by the Air Force. With their usual brusque attitudes the various teams pushed their way in and took command. Bolan didn’t have the energy to resist.
He was treated with grudging respect, though sometimes with ill-concealed hostility. He realized that the President had to have passed the word down the line that Mike Belasko had special privileges. That part Bolan did like, especially if it annoyed the pain-in-the-ass types.
Bolan, Valens and Riba were given medical treatment. Before she was taken away by helicopter to have her shoulder wound seen to, he managed to snatch a few moments to wish her luck. She was a gutsy lady and losing her partner had to have been a shock. He knew she’d bounce back. Her fighting spirit would see to it.
DOUG BUCHANAN WAS surrounded by Air Force personnel, but they were having a hard time with Saul Kaplan. The man had taken on a new lease of life after his experience. He refused to be overwhelmed by the military and made it clear he was still in charge. It helped that Bolan had spoken and asked Brognola to intervene on Kaplan’s behalf to the President.
“Tell him he owes me, Hal. He got what he wanted. Now let Saul Kaplan have what’s rightly his.”
“Tell the President he owes you?”
“Damned right he does after the last few days. Hal, we did what he wanted. Tell him if Kaplan doesn’t get his, I won’t vote for him when he stands for reelection.”
Brognola snorted with laughter.
“Er, you’re supposed to be dead. You don’t get to vote.”
“He doesn’t know that, Hal. Come on, this is Washington. Play the game.”
“HOW IS HE, Saul?” Bolan asked.
“Ask him yourself,” Kaplan replied.
“He’s fine, Mike,” Doug Buchanan said.
The biocouch’s adjustments had been activated. Now it resembled a comfortable lounger, with Buchanan in a full sitting position. Now that the process was complete, he was able to move about on the couch, arms free with only thin membranes connecting him to the rest of the seat.
Physically Buchanan looked the same. If anything, he looked better than he had earlier.
“Hard to know what to ask,” Bolan said. “This is new to me.”
“Join the club,” Buchanan told him. “All I can tell you is I’m feeling good.”
“The process, and now the biocouch, has taken over Doug’s bodily functions. He’ll benefit from the continuous replenishment of daily requirements far better than he would from normal input. The couch will monitor him full-time.” Kaplan smiled. “It will anticipate his needs and supply what he needs.”
“And the cancer?”
“The couch will replace damaged cells and eliminate the cancerous ones on a daily basis. In other words Doug’s cancer won’t advance as long as he remains in symbiosis with the couch. We hope in time that the cancer may completely vanish.”
“Looks like we’re stuck with each other,” Buchanan said.
“What about Zero?” Bolan asked.
“The Air Force is arranging transport to move Doug. As soon as everything is in place, Doug will be taken up to the Zero platform and the biocouch installed. Once that is completed, Doug will be able to activate the sequence that will bring Zero online.”
“And the rest is history,” Buchanan said. “With luck.”
KAPLAN HAD JOINED Bolan in one of the offices for a coffee, away from all the activity.
“I haven’t thanked you for what you did,” Kaplan said. “Now I do.”
Bolan placed a couple of coffee mugs on the desk they were sitting at.
“Has anyone told Doug about Jess?”
Kaplan nodded. “It was the least I could do.”
“How did he take it?”
“Like Doug Buchanan. He’ll do his grieving in his own way. When he gets up to Zero he’s going to have plenty of time for reflection.”
“It won’t affect his ability to do his job?”
“Doug is a remarkable man, Mr. Belasko. I realized shortly after meeting him how resilient he is. An unusually stable and coherent individual person. I believe he will cope with Zero and all it implies with ease.”
“And what about you?” Bolan asked. “I thought you had thrown in the towel?”
“I deserved that, I suppose.”
“It wasn’t meant as a criticism, Saul.”
“When I was a younger man, I was full of ideas that were going to bring about a wonderful world. I would create machines to help humankind and serve my country. But it seems the dreams of youth are easily seduced by the mistress of necessity. I allowed myself to be drawn into the creation of machines of destruction. All done in the name of national security. The defense of America. If we failed to remain strong, what hope was there for the rest of humankind? It all sounded so positive and I let myself run with the rest.” Kaplan allowed a ghost of a smile cross his face. “You see there was a certain glamour attached to it all. Working with the military. Everything top secret. No expense spared. We created weapons and systems to protect America and the free world, whatever the free world is. My downfall was my own creativity. You see, I was good at my job. Perhaps too good. The military saw this and gave me a totally free hand. The jewel in my crown was Zero. When I first came up with the concept, even my military masters were doubtful it could be done. But I convinced them because the whole concept was mine and no one else’s. Pride. Maybe even a certain amount of vanity. I was determined to make the thing work. It took almost six months to actually get approval to reach the design stage. By this time the Air Force project oversight committee saw the positive benefits of the project. It took two more years to realize the concept on computer simulations.
“The possible integration of man and machine was totally new territory. We did small-scale trials and the amazing thing was we got successful results from the start.”
Kaplan broke off to drink his coffee. He raised his eyes and studied Bolan.
“International tensions. The Middle East troubles. Asia. You name it. There were too many things out of our control. So it was decided to go ahead with Zero. There was a need for something that would enable America to remain the strongest nation, capable of having the final say when things started to slip into insanity.”
“So you went ahead and built it.”
Kaplan nodded. “Looking back, I suppose it was entirely presumptuous for the U.S. to make itself the ultimate decision maker, holding the fate of the world in our hands. But we became overwhelmed by the project. I mean, there we were, right at the center of this thing. We watched it being created, built, then shipped into orbit and assembled. It took another two years to complete after that.
“I can still remember the day Zero came partway online. When that floating mass of metal and electronics came to life and started to feed us data, it was an incredible moment.”
“But…?”
“My doubts began almost at the same time, like your best and worst day ever all rolled into one. The total reality of what we had done started to put pressure on me. We had the subject for the bioconnection already undergoing the final implant surgery. His body was accepting the implants, and they were responding to neural stimulation. We had a way to go still. Then orders started to come through for us to progress to the final stages of the process. Something told me we were being asked to move too quickly. I tried to argue my objections. I was concerned about Doug, how this would affect him. I mean, this kind of thing was completely without precedent. We were moving into uncharted territory. Doug Buchanan was being turned into a new species almost. A man who would, if our conception worked, become as one with a machine on a level never before considered.”
Kaplan took a moment to stare at one of the photographs on the wall. His reflection in the glass returned his stare, unblinking, seeming to peer deep into his own soul.
“It’s hard to put into words,” Kaplan said. “I mean, what we were doing was close to being a blasphemy. We were about to take a human and bond him to a machine so that his living presence would meld into the metal and plastic. Doug Buchanan would become the machine once the bonding process was complete. He would be the machine. A living and breathing part of Zero. There was no reversing the process. Doug would be Zero would be Doug. Total fusion. I started asking myself if we had the right to do this to another human being. Doug had agreed because he saw little else for him if he stayed as he was. There was no argument about his cancer. It would kill him. So his life would have been over in less than a year. He was given the choice and he took it, but I know without a doubt that he was helped in his decision by the hierarchy in the military. They saw Zero as the most advanced piece of hardware ever devised. You could almost see them drooling over the concept.”
“And now the thing was under way the military wanted to speed the process?”
“Oh, yes. They saw their Zero platform orbiting in space, and they wanted it fully operational. I was given reasons why. The change in world views in the wake of September 11. Homeland defense. It was hard to disagree, because most of what was said rang true. So they began to push for Doug’s integration sooner rather than later. When I objected, because I still had my concerns over that part of the system, they began to isolate me. They brought in their own people, took my authority away and all my research data. It wasn’t long before I began to see the way it was going. It wasn’t national security any longer. It had become national superiority. In truth the military wanted nothing more. I did my best to resist, but it’s amazing to see how the people you believed were friends, suddenly turning away when you came into a room. I had become an embarrassment to them. I can’t entirely blame them. They had their own lives to consider. Their jobs. But I had to air my views. Have my say. The atmosphere became terrible. I saw the futility of it all. So I resigned my position, which suited them ideally. I walked away.
“It occurred to me soon after that we haven’t learned anything in the past thousand years except how to destroy each other, and there I was part of it. Look at us, Mr. Belasko. Supposedly the most advanced, intelligent species on Earth. But we maim and destroy each other. We debase and defile life as if it doesn’t matter. No other species does this kind of thing to its own. Only the human species. In the end I opened my eyes. I saw the reality and I didn’t like what I saw.”
“There’s nothing wrong with your thinking, Saul. But what alternative do we have? Sit back and let the bad guys win? By doing nothing that’s exactly how they will win. We have a long way to go before we can settle global differences by the simple matter of talking. It would be nice if we could. In the meantime what do we do about the people who refuse to come to the table? Who openly defy national boundaries, or ignore any other agenda but their own and to hell with the rest of the world? Standing back and saying ‘I won’t listen,’ and maybe it will go away doesn’t work. Ignoring the bully only makes him think he’s got away with it, so he keeps on doing it. Give him a bloody nose and he’ll consider the options next time around. Saul, it’s a sad fact, but that’s the way it is.”
