Chasing Rain Page 14

  “Listen, we’re still getting to know each other, so I’ll tell you again: I prefer not to have the same conversation twice. You made it clear before we left that your job will be more difficult without backup, and I made the decision that we still needed to go ahead.” He stopped at the exit and looked over at Flint. “I’m sorry, but I’m not going to change my mind.”

  “Got it,” Flint said calmly.

  Chase turned onto Airport Road and headed downtown, driving as if Edmonton was his hometown. “No one knows we’re here. The papers Beltracchi got me are flawless. I breezed through customs. A crowd would attract too much unwanted attention.”

  “You wouldn’t even see them,” Flint countered.

  “I didn’t even want to bring you. My last attempt to meet her in Vancouver got three good people killed.”

  “Okay.” Although Flint continually used the side view mirror to check behind them as they headed onto AB-2 North, it did seem that they’d made it undetected.

  They could not have known that they were already blanketed by surveillance. Even before their plane had landed, two advanced stealth drones, operating illegally, had been launched. A white Honda Accord three cars ahead contained GlobeTec’s security agent 0630, while a small blue SUV moving six to seven vehicles behind them contained 0830 and Franco Madden. RAIN was no longer only something Chase needed to stop, RAIN was now being used to stop Chase.

  Franco alternated between reading Stuntwomen, by Mollie Gregory on his e-reader and watching the screen of his large tablet computer. He considered the two devices in his lap far more interesting than the road. As 0830 kept Chase’s black Challenger in sight, Franco occasionally reminded him to be sure they were not spotted. It would not be possible to lose their target. Even if they missed an exit or a traffic light, the drones were locked in. Operative 0630 had hacked into all the rental agencies and utilized a local “contractor” to “tag” each car that fell within a criteria. At the same time, 0830 had gained access to the security cameras at both departing and arriving airports. It didn’t take long to find Chase, and then Flint. Franco had made the decision not to engage until they found out where Chase was going.

  “Now that CHIPs are deployed and RAIN is active,” he’d told Sliske, “we need to know what Chase has, who he has involved, and how far his plan has progressed.”

  “While it would be nice to know those things,” Sliske had responded, “it’s more important to remove him from existence.”

  “Not your call.”

  “Then be damn sure you don’t let him get away.” Sliske had bit down hard on a cough drop, making him sound like a dog eating kibble.

  Operative 0830 interrupted Franco’s thoughts. “Target is getting off the highway.”

  “What about 0630?” Franco asked, looking at the drone footage on the tablet and then out the windshield to see if he could spot the white Honda up ahead.

  “He already exited ahead of target.”

  “How in the hell did he know Chase was going to get off?”

  “Chase had chosen to stay behind a slow moving semi rather than passing. This action completely deviated from his known pattern of driving. It could only have meant he would be taking the next exit. And he did.”

  Franco, impressed again, began to think that maybe he would need to have a RAIN CHIP installed in his own head. “If you’re so smart, where’s he going then?”

  “Not including hotels and gas stations, there are thirty-four businesses within a radius of this exit that are not available off the prior exit,” 0830 began. “Twenty-two of those are unlikely destinations . . . hair salons, florists, etcetera. Two are grocery stores, which are only a fifty-eight percent probability.”

  “Why?”

  “It will take too long to make you understand the criteria,” 0830 said flatly.

  “Fine,” Franco said. “I don’t care about the process. Do you know where he is going?”

  “A store called Canadian Tire,” 0830 said. “It is a Canadian retail company, headquartered in Toronto, with more than seventeen hundred locations. They sell a wide range of automotive, hardware, home products, sports, and leisure.”

  “Why are they going there?”

  “The store sells firearms.”

  Forty-Four

  “Why Edmonton?” Wen asked the Astronaut.

  “Oh, Edmonton. Well, you see, Edmonton seems far away and sparse, so most don’t ever really bother with it. It has good proximity to the rest of the world, so you can get somewhere quickly if you need to. And it’s big enough that you can get lost here, blend in, no one notices you. Not the kind of place someone just wanders through. It has an energy easy for me to feel.” He handed her a mug of hot cocoa made from a plug-in pitcher in the garage.

  She nodded and wrapped her fingers around the warm cup. “Thank you. Chocolate? I thought it would be tea.”

  “Hot cocoa is much better, don’t you think? Sorry, I’m all out of marshmallows. I can never seem to keep them around.” He reached into the trunk filled with electronic equipment—mother boards, CPUs, computer memory, wire, circuit boards, and many parts she couldn’t identify. “The delivery man, Dia, gave you the right rose,” he said, as if delighted.

  “What if he’d given me the red one?”

  “I’m sorry to say, you’d be dead now. The red rose’s stem was treated with a serum consisting of cyanide and other nasty substances. You would’ve lasted about twelve seconds after you took it from his hand.”

  “Wow,” Wen said softly. After a moment, she added, “Why didn’t it affect him?”

  “He had special sealants, kind of like invisible gloves, on his fingers,” Nash replied as he powered on the Antimatter Machine.

  “But I don’t understand. How did he know which rose to give me?”

  “Dia is a savant, like me, but not like me with mathematics. He has an extraordinary gift. Dia can read a person’s every intention, and some of their thoughts, just by studying them.”

  “How?”

  “People reveal themselves with every little twitch, each line, any tiny flicker, flesh colors, the eyes give countless clues, a half imperceptible movement of lips, the rate and pattern of your pulse . . . Dia sees it all. He notices every trace that change makes, and he understands its meaning. With all of it, in a second, he knows your immediate intention.”

  “But I killed someone just yesterday. How did he know I wouldn’t do it again today?”

  “As I said, it’s your intention. Your immediate intention. Perhaps you will kill again today, it just won’t be me.”

  “Incredible.”

  Nash nodded. “Ah, I just received confirmation. Funds have transferred from ‘BL’, which means this little lovely now belongs to you,” he said, handing her the Antimatter Machine.

  “Thank you,” she said with the sincerity of a drowning woman pulled from a stormy sea.

  “My pleasure,” he replied with twinkling eyes. “I’ve had payments from ‘BL’ before. That is a powerful ally you have there.”

  She nodded, not wanting to say too much.

  “Do you want to change the world? It can be done, you know. People think it is difficult, but so is reciting Pi carried out to nearly a million digits by memory, yet it can be done. I am warning you that what I’m about to say is a cliché, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t true. It is true. Anything is possible.”

  “Will you help?”

  “Didn’t I just?”

  “I may need more of your help.”

  He stopped and looked so deeply into her eyes that she forgot to breathe for a moment, and gulped air once he released his stare. The Astronaut nodded almost imperceptibly, his gray eyes telling long stories at a glance. Then, after a quick silence that lasted strangely longer than it could have, he pointed to the Antimatter Machine. “There are things you need to know.”

  “It works like a regular computer?” she asked.

  “Yes, but of course it is untraceable, at least with satellite jumps, it
uses an atom transistor, and there are some special features . . . the most important might be this icon, which will put you in touch with me should the need arise.”

  “Will I need that?”

  “Hard to say what you will need.” He smiled. “But just in case.”

  Wen laughed, but she wasn’t sure why. She wished she’d had the Antimatter Machine on Port Hardy Island. And she wished she could take the Astronaut with her.

  “Now, let me show you what these do,” he said, continuing to explain the functions. Minutes later, Nash stopped mid-sentence and pulled a vibrating plus-sized cell phone from his pocket. After studying the screen with a grave expression, he looked at Wen as if betrayed.

  “What?” she exclaimed, seeing the alarm on his face.

  In an instant, he realized that she did not know. “We have to go,” he said, heading toward a closet.

  Wen clutched her pack. “What’s happening?”

  “They are here.”

  “How many?” Wen didn’t ask who. The MSS has found me again. They will always find me. She moved toward the car.

  “You won’t make it in that,” he said, pointing at her vehicle. “Follow me.”

  Forty-Five

  Flint looked at the big box store as they swung into the parking lot, filled with seemingly acres of cars. “Canadian Tire,” he said, reading the store’s sign. “This is where we’re meeting her?”

  “No, I just need to replace my multi-tool they took at the airport.”

  “Wait,” Flint said, moving his arm across Chase’s chest as if to prevent him from getting out of the vehicle. “You aren’t going shopping. If there isn’t time to wait for my backup team, there isn’t time to shop.”

  “It’ll take five minutes,” Chase said, pushing Flint's arm away.

  “It’s an unnecessary risk,” Flint argued. “In my business, when under threat, you avoid all unnecessary risks.”

  As Chase chose a multi-tool from fourteen different models, he received a call from Dez.

  “They got Lori!” Dez said so loudly that the man shopping next to Chase turned his way.

  Chase walked in the other direction before answering in a hushed tone, “What do you mean?”

  “That bastard, Franco! Lori is dead!”

  Lori, one of the Garbo-three, had been about to supply Chase with the first part of the encryption key he needed to complete the AI Anecdote and destroy RAIN.

  “Her husband discovered her body when he got home,” Dez continued. “Drowned in their swimming pool. No sign of foul play. It’ll probably get ruled accidental. I wouldn’t be surprised if they find drugs or alcohol in her system, even though that’s not how she . . . it was Franco!”

  Chase remained quiet for a few moments. He’d known Lori since college. She’d been one of the brightest engineers he’d worked with. There were too few tech-savvy women in Silicon Valley, and she had stood out.

  “We’ve got to get some help on this!” Dez insisted, sounding agitated, even scared. “It may be too risky to call the FBI, but how about the state police?”

  Chase, still trying not to be overheard in the crowded store, kept his yelling to a strained whisper. “State police will just shine a light on us. They aren’t sophisticated enough—they’ll just slow us down. If you call them, we’ll all end up like Porter and Lori.”

  “Listen, man. I know as well as you what’s at stake, but you’re not Jason Bourne. You think this is a battle of brains, but it’s not. This is about brawn, power . . . They have guns. They are killing! And we’re responsible for all these deaths.”

  “You’re wrong,” Chase shot back, finding an empty aisle. “It is always a battle of brains. The smartest will always win. As tragic as Lori’s death is, this is about saving humanity. The whole is greater than the sum of its parts.”

  “Philosophy? Tell that to her parents, her husband. And how long do you think it’ll take Franco to find Garbo-two and three—and you?”

  Chase didn’t respond. He knew Dez believed the SEER simulations, and would even sacrifice his own life to stop the RAIN program, but an abstract future where humanity ceased to exist was difficult to grasp while the death of a good friend created an instant ache, a crushing agony.

  “Where are you anyway?” Dez asked impatiently. “You’re off chasing your damn girlfriend while our friends are getting killed.”

  “I will be back there tonight,” Chase said firmly. “We stick to the plan. But we’ll definitely assess the threat level. Ask Adya to get security people stationed inside the other two Garbo’s houses. They should have the final keys tomorrow. Give me twenty-four hours, and if you still want to call the authorities, I’ll contact Tess Federgreen myself.”

  “I thought she was on GlobeTec’s side?”

  “Yeah, she probably is, but at least she knows what’s going on. And if she does, we’ll find out just how bad things are.”

  “You mean this can get even more impossible?”

  “Twenty-four hours.”

  “Okay. Not a minute more.”

  “Stay safe.”

  Franco, sitting in the front passenger seat of the small blue SUV, well away from where Chase had parked the Challenger, turned to 0830 and asked again, “You really think he’s buying weapons?”

  “Flint Jones did not enter the Canadian Tire store. He is currently pacing in front, watching for us or other adversaries. There is a sixty-six percent chance that Chase Malone is purchasing a weapon. To do that, he would require to have previously secured falsified documents showing that he is a Canadian citizen, has passed a safety course, obtained a Possession and Acquisition License, referred to a PAL card, and—”

  “Why would he have done all that?” Franco asked irritably. “And when? I don’t need a computer shoved in my head to know he’s there for another reason. He’s meeting someone.”

  “Thirty-nine percent.”

  “Whatever. Get in there and see what he’s doing!” Franco wanted to just kill Chase and Flint as soon as they got to their car. He would have, too, except they needed to know how far Chase had gotten in his attempt to block RAIN, who else he’d involved, and, specifically, Franco had to get much more information on the status of HuumaX. In short, Franco required a complete list of who had to be eliminated.

  Just as he was finishing the purchase, Chase’s phone rang again. This time it was Boone. He thanked the clerk as he quickly accepted the call. He’d been hoping for word that his parents were safe. Chase could see Flint waiting outside and headed that way. Still no sign of trouble.

  “Can you talk?” Boone asked.

  “Yeah.” Chase reached the entrance. “Go ahead.”

  “Mom and Dad are missing.”

  Forty-Six

  Wen looked at the Astronaut in her flurry of assessing options for getting out. Upon arrival, she’d noted the shortage of available escape routes, and figured the house might be the only choice.

  “Hurry!” Nash Graham said, opening the closet door.

  Wen knew too well that hesitation kills. She dashed behind Nash as he hit a hidden button. Incredibly, a tangle of rusty rakes, shovels, and a broom moved as a single unit. Simultaneously, a side of the closet opened on a concealed hinge. He deftly pulled an invisible trap door open, revealing concrete steps.

  Wen followed him down as the closet reassembled above them. After descending twelve feet, Nash opened a heavy vault door. The narrow passageway faded into the darkness. She turned sideways to get past the door and held onto the back of his shirt as they continued for what must have been forty feet, until they reached a wall. Nash found a keypad, which illuminated as he touched it.

  “Square root of 2001,” Nash said, tapping the numbers 44.7325384927 rapidly. “My favorite move,” he added, before she could ask.

  As he hit the last key, a grinding noise and a smooth push sound she recognized as hydraulics made the “wall” transform into a strange door that lifted a slab of concrete above their heads. A swoosh of cool air rushed in.
Wen didn’t stop to think about what held that heavy weight as she ducked under it and emerged into another dark tunnel that ran perpendicular to the one they’d exited. Which way, she wondered.

  Nash kept moving, heading to the right. She stumbled after him. As her eyes adjusted, Wen realized they were in a municipal storm drain. She stooped to keep from banging her head on the curved concrete ceiling, estimating the pipe to only be about five feet in diameter. At the same time, she tried to walk on the round walls to avoid the small store of water moving at their feet. Wen, at five-foot-seven, had difficulty, and wondered how Nash, who was much taller and older, was managing to move so fast.

  “Do you use this sewer often?” she asked, breathlessly, as the heavy air filled her lungs.

  “First time,” he panted.

  “Where are we going?”

  “Not too much farther,” he said. “We should reach daylight in another hour or two.”

  “What?” she asked, alarmed.

  The Astronaut laughed. “Meant to say a few more minutes.” His laugh turned into a coughing fit.

  “Do you need to stop and rest?” she asked.

  “That would be lovely. Next chaise lounge we get to, I’ll pull in. Meantime, I’d love a lemonade.”

  Wen patted him on the back affectionately as they pushed on.

  “Don’t worry, I’ll make it,” he assured her after another round of coughs. “Ah,” he said a couple of minutes later. He pointed up. “Ladies first.”

  Wen looked at the small rusted steel rungs protruding from the concrete silo. She could make out two small points of light above.

  “I can make the climb,” Nash said. “But you might have a better chance lifting that manhole cover.”

  She took to the rungs like an acrobat and reached the top in seconds. Bracing herself against the opposite wall, she pushed the heavy cover off and immediately squinted from the daylight. She peeked out cautiously and saw they were in a small parking lot, behind what appeared to be a church. Wen climbed out, then reached back down to help the Astronaut.