Prime, p.9
Prime, page 9
part #13 of Nathan K Series
“I have nothing to do with her. I didn’t even want Larkin to bring her here. She’s insane.”
“Then she’ll fit right in with the rest of you.”
“I didn’t betray you. I never have.”
“Yet somehow when I listen to you, I end up on the wrong end of things.”
“I cannot control what Larkin or anybody else does. I can only keep my promises, and I always have. Why do you think I’ve come all the way out here? To Norway, of all places — I hate the cold. I’m here because I found out what Larkin and Dr. Kempo were doing to you. I came to put a stop to it. If I had known that you’d breakout, that I wouldn’t be needed, I could have stayed comfortable.”
Nathan scanned the lobby. His chest tightened. She could be anywhere. Watching him. Observing him. Maybe none of this was even happening. Maybe he was strapped to that metal operating bed. She could have him drugged up, have his skull sawed open, and have people prodding his brain to see what happened.
She had done it before.
He could see it, feel it, as if it had never stopped. She was strong, too. Though she had plenty of assistants, Dr. Kempo often liked to go a few rounds on Nathan — uppercuts, jabs, back kicks, jumping snap kicks. He would be tied up, immobilized, and she would use him like a practice dummy.
That was bad. But it was only a beating. Abuse like that he could take easy. The experiments, though. From peeling his skin to electric prods to damn leeches. Anything to provoke him into action.
Pushing those memories down, leaving her sadistic face in shadow, he tried to ground himself in that lobby. That was reality. It had to be.
He hurried to the shattered partition. The glass crunching under his boots sounded real enough. He glanced back at Octavia. She had sounded real, too — saying things Octavia would say. A hallway ran in two directions, both stretching deeper into the building. One light flickered up ahead. Surely, that had to be reality. Maybe if he had been an artist, he could have created such little details, but that had never been his forte.
With a tentative hand, he tapped his ear-comm. “Robin, you there?”
“Always. Anton left for another recon, but I think he’s just filling time. Fine by me. He’s so nervous, he’s getting on my nerves. Still fighting Clockwork, but I’m getting there.”
“Tell me something, anything, about you that I don’t already know but that I’ll know right away is all you. Really, unmistakably you.”
“What now?”
He walked along the hall, his head hunched over. With an urgent growl, he said, “Please. Anything.”
“Okay. Don’t get all worked up. I don’t have to understand half of what you Immortals do to help you out. So, if this is helpful, fine. But I better not find out later that this was a joke or some way to weasel more private info from me. Then again, you know me better than anybody and you don’t have to weasel anything from me, I’ll just tell you. It’s kind of like —”
“Robin. Please.”
“Okay, okay. Sorry.”
As he listened to her switching music to a rapid-fire punk song, he stopped and pressed his back against the hall. Everything felt so solid, so true. But when he closed his eyes, he saw Dr. Kempo’s stern expression looming over him as she applied a scalpel to his brow. He tried to take several deep breaths, to slow his pulse, to refocus. Except she had stood in that lobby. He hadn’t imagined that. She had spoken. He had heard her voice. And she was nearby.
“One of my first girlfriends,” Robin said, pulling him back to that hallway, “was a college student from Delaware. Her mother was Japanese and her father was Austrian, but they had her in New Jersey, so she was a US citizen before her own parents. She was an artist. Made beautiful sculptures, things I could never make, and I suppose that’s one of the reasons I fell for her. But she didn’t understand anything about math or computers. She thought I was a genius, which I totally agreed with, and she even liked how arrogant I was at the time. She’d say that to me. She’d do it in a French accent — I luv zee way you are so arrow-gaunt. Made me laugh. I guess that’s why she did it, and I guess those were other reasons I fell for her. By the way, how much more of this do you want because I could get into the X-rated stuff but I’d rather not while I’m still trying to hack deeper levels of this computer system.”
Nathan had come all this way for Larkin, for his freedom, but if Dr. Kempo survived this night, he would never be free. He had heard it in her voice. Maybe even more than Larkin, she wanted to continue her experiments on him. Larkin or no Larkin, she intended to keep her work on the non-Prime Nathan K.
Swallowing against the knot in his throat, he said, “You still getting those keycard updates?”
“Back to business, huh? Yeah, I still have the updates. It hasn’t been that long. It’ll take Clockwork time to notice I’ve got that info and then longer to do something about it. Plus, when he finally tries to shut that down, I’ll have an opening on other avenues — he can only juggle so much. I know you Immortals can do a lot more than most people, but he’s still only got two hands. I mean I think so, right? Only two hands?”
“As far as I know. Now focus, please. There’s a lady — Dr. Kempo. She was just in this lobby and ran off. I need to find her.”
“Down the hall to the corner, third door on the right. It’s one of her offices. According to the floorplan, she has three spread around.”
Nathan rushed along the rest of the hallway, turned the corner, and counted to the third door.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nathan wanted to vomit. He stood in the hall, legs spread wide, arms set firm, Maggie aimed at head height, and his stomach somersaulted. On the other side of that flimsy door, he would face Dr. Kempo. He had met horrible Immortals before, but she surpassed any line of morality. She redefined sadism. At least, his flickers of memory suggested as much. Moreso, the shake in his hand, the turn in his belly, the phantom pains from souls long gone that she had ripped out of him over and over — they all promised that she was a demon beyond demons.
He waited at the ready. His body itched to move, but his mind warned for caution. Scenarios played out in rapid succession. Bursting in and shooting her in the head. Opening the door slowly and menacing her with promises of revenge. Knocking her unconscious, dragging her to the operating table in Building One, and subjecting her to a taste of what she had put him through.
At length, another part of his brain told him the truth — he was stalling. Best to get in there and deal with whatever happens.
Taking a final breath, he summoned both strength and focus as he kicked in the weak door. He rushed forward, Maggie leading the charge.
Blasting two rounds, he hoped to distract her long enough to get a sense of the room, but he should have stormed in with an arcing motion, working fast to face each possible threat. In his agitation, he had trudged forward, and after his two shots, he discovered that she was not barricaded at the other end nor standing at the ready like an Old West shootout. She rushed in from the side and pounced with the power of a lioness.
She moved fast, and his brain moved slow. He felt the injuries rather than saw the attacks. His chin smashed from underneath. His arms locked and tangled. Weight yanked him downward. His cheek slammed into a hard floor, Maggie went skittering away, a foot banged the side of his head, and his right arm bent in a direction it did not want to go.
Muscle memory saved him. Long before he regained full awareness, as she tried to yank his right arm straight back, he grabbed the lapel of his coat. She attempted to lock her ankles while using her thighs to block his free arm, but he shoved his elbow down to refuse access. By then, his mind had caught up — she used jiujitsu, attempted an armbar, and he had taken the first steps toward escape.
Grunting, she shifted her hips. She had to know she couldn’t out-muscle him. Not in a grappling situation. But that shift was her mistake. It helped Nathan scoot his legs around and force his head free. In a fast motion, he flew atop her and piled his knee into her chest. Shoving to his feet, he stumbled back, scanning for Maggie.
The office had been designed to resemble a cozy, winter cabin — fake log walls, pot-belly stove in the corner, bear skin rug on the floor. Strange. Part of his mind had assumed he would enter a business office, and that’s what he saw at first. Unless that was real and this was a hallucination.
“What did you do to me?” he said, not intending for the words to leave his lips.
He slapped his cheek hard. Nothing changed. Still in the fake cabin.
In the corner, off the side of the entrance, he saw Maggie. He stepped toward the weapon, but Dr. Kempo struck, catching him in the ribs, and sent him reeling backwards. His foot tripped on the rug’s bear head. He dropped, banging his hip and elbow on the floor. As he struggled to sit up, she flew in at him bellowing rage. Blasting into the air, tucking her knees forward, she crashed all her weight into his chest. The air spat out of his lungs as his head knocked back.
Dazed, he tried to find his enemy, tried to find an advantage. But she had already rolled off. When he thrust to his side — a first step towards standing — she flowed in on his back. Her arms and legs snaked around him, blocking his limbs from doing anything useful while securing his head tight. A little pressure as she clamped her muscles made it clear she could snap his neck with ease.
“You’re sloppy,” she said, breathing hard in his ear. “Maybe all the fun I’ve had with you these last months ruined you a little.”
He wriggled and flexed, but he couldn’t break her hold. Peeking across the room, he saw Maggie — too far out of reach.
She added more pressure onto his neck. “Go on. Take it. You can get out of this easily. You know it. There’s an incredible power within you. Why won’t you use it? Take control of it, and show me how strong you really are.”
The Darkness beckoned him, putting out its icy call like a hand offering to dance. All he had to do was grab hold. He wouldn’t need Maggie, then. He wouldn’t need anything.
“I can feel it in you. You’re throbbing with energy.” She laughed. “When Octavia told me she never bedded you, I assumed you were weak or ugly, but now I’m thinking she may have lied to me. If I had trained you, we’d never have left the bedroom.”
She licked his neck. He tried to throw his head back, break her jaw or split her nose, but she simply moved with him. Her grip tightened, and he strained to breathe.
“There, there, now. Don’t worry. You’ve had a lot of excitement today, but it’s time to go to sleep. When you wake, you’ll be back in your cell, and we’ll start anew. Now that I know how thrilling you can be, I’ll think up some new ways to draw you out. Does that sound fun? Pain or pleasure — or maybe both — I’m going to get you to use your power. You will show us how you do it. I promise you.”
Maggie’s unmistakable report filled the air, and Dr. Kempo yelled as she lost her hold. Nathan twisted free to find Octavia standing at the office entrance.
“I’m afraid I have my own promises to keep,” she said, shooting a second round into Dr. Kempo’s head.
Blood splashed toward the fireplace alongside the dark mist of her soul. Seconds later, she rubbed the healing bullet hole in her forehead. She glowered.
“Both of you,” Octavia said, “get up.”
With a snarl, Dr. Kempo brushed herself down as she stood. “I almost had him.”
“I told you that this would stop. I told you that —”
“You screwed up. When Larkin hears about this, he’ll be done with you, and I’ll be happy to kick you as you leave.”
“Careful. I’m the one that can shoot your head off right now.”
Nathan couldn’t stop the growl in his throat. “Do it. Or let me.”
Shaking her head, Octavia motioned them down the hall, back toward the lobby. “You know I won’t.”
“But she —”
“She’s a vile, pathetic excuse for a person. But she’s also an Immortal. We have our rules for a reason. Not permanently killing each other takes priority over all else.”
“Not for me.”
“These Immortal bodies are irreplaceable, and there are too few of us in existence. Less than five hundred amongst the billions of this world.”
Dr. Kempo said, “I doubt he grasps any of this. Too selfish to care.”
“Shut up,” Octavia and Nathan said in unison. Octavia went on, “The only reason we still exist, that we haven’t been hunted down and eradicated, is that we’ve controlled things from the shadows. We’ve organized and hoarded wealth and stayed out of visibility. Even the governments we’ve worked for don’t really know what we are. Most think the Larkin Group is simply an expensive and effective paramilitary unit. Private contractors willing to do whatever they don’t want to be caught doing themselves.”
“I know this,” Nathan said.
“Yet you still refuse to learn it. You’ve permanently killed more Immortals in less time than I’ve ever heard of.”
“If you all would let me go, none of this needed to happen.”
“That’s the point. You are not you. It’s your soul but not your body. You want to leave, go right ahead. But you don’t get to take the body with you.” Poking Dr. Kempo in the back with Maggie, Octavia went on, “This one — I’ll be happy to let you kill her, but only when we have another soul lined up to take her place. We can’t lose her Immortal body. Her soul — that’s the part that needs to die.”
When they reached the glass-strewn opening to the lobby, three soldiers stood in the middle of the room, all pointing their rifles. They were spread apart, garbed in full-tactical gear, and edgy enough that Nathan would not have been shocked if they opened fire without a word. But the one in the center, clearly the leader, held his composure.
“Identify yourselves,” he yelled — sturdy, strong, no hint of the nervousness that must have been boiling through him. Nathan felt a tug of guilt for the guy. This soldier had no idea the depth of crap he just stepped in.
With full authority in her voice, Octavia said, “If you don’t recognize me, then you better call your superior and tell them that Octavia is here with two prisoners. I have —”
“Drop your weapon,” the soldier said, tension constraining his voice. “Drop it now. Put your hands on your head. Do it.”
“I am second only to Larkin. You know that name? It’s written on your badge.”
“Ma’am, if that’s true, then you’ll have no trouble surrendering to us. We’ll sort it out as soon as possible.”
“How can you not know who I am?”
“We will fire. Drop the weapon now. Last chance.”
Dr. Kempo smirked. “See what happens when you choose to distance yourself from your boss.” To the lead soldier, she said, “Mr. Benton? Is that you? You sound like Benton.”
He paused, leaning closer. “Doc?”
“Thank goodness,” she said, walking toward the men. “These two are trying to kill me. Shoot them, if they move.”
Benton snapped a finger to the man on his right. “Corker, disarm that woman.”
“Yes, sir.” Corker hurried up toward Octavia, making sure to keep out of Nathan’s reach. He put out his hand. “Ma’am, don’t make this difficult. Hand it over.”
“She can’t,” Nathan said. “It’s not hers to give.”
“Nobody’s talking to you. Keep it shut or you’ll regret it.” To Octavia: “Please, ma’am. Enough people have died tonight.”
Octavia looked to Nathan. At least, he thought so, at first. But her forehead wrinkled as her gaze went beyond him. Nathan looked toward the entrance. Headlights approaching. Dr. Kempo and the two soldiers near her also faced the lights.
“You expecting anybody?” Benton asked the doctor.
As Corker tried to snag a peek at the fuss, the headlights grew larger. Too large. A white van rammed through the glass doors of the entranceway, sending shards chiming across the floor. The vehicle burned its tires as it skidded along the lobby, the brakes shrieking. It mowed down the reception desk, coming to a stop angled toward the sitting area.
As the back door opened in time with the driver’s door, Nathan took advantage of the distraction. He snatched Maggie in the same rotating motion that he used to sidekick Corker away. Not waiting for Octavia’s reaction, Nathan lunged away from her.
Gunshots erupted. Everybody found cover — Octavia and Nathan on opposite sides of the wide archway that once had a glass partition. From this position, he spotted Anton crouched behind the driver’s door. Robin poked out from the van’s back corner, squeezed off two rounds, and darted back.
“What are you doing?” Nathan said, tapping his ear-comm.
No answer.
Now that he thought about it, he hadn’t heard from her in quite a while. Clockwork must have jammed their comms. That also meant Larkin’s hacker knew a lot of what was going on. Probably sent the soldiers into Building Two. Whatever else he threw their way, Robin had made a gutsy decision.
Dust and debris floated in the air. Icy winds blew in from outside and swirled the smoke around the lobby creating a thin fog. Benton and Corker had scurried behind two couches. Dr. Kempo stayed low in the back corner furthest from the action. But Nathan couldn’t find the third soldier.
He snapped a look at Octavia. “Which side are you on at the moment?”
“I don’t want anybody dying, if that’s what you mean.”
“Then order your men to stand down.”
“You think they’ll listen to me? They don’t even know who I am.”
More gunshots. Most simply ripped holes in the van. All spewed more dirt into the air.
Nathan peered through the thickening smoke. Every breath tasted off — the fresh Norwegian forest replaced with car exhaust, dry wall dust, burnt rubber, gunfire, and fear. Because no matter how seasoned a human being was in war, they were still mortal. Death meant something to them.
