38 – Backstage

  “The driftjack is up and running,” Glitch reported, her name flashing briefly on Addie’s AUI.

  “And what about Cross Tower? Are you in comms with Tony yet?”

  “No, because I can’t figure out this damn guardian protocol. I don’t have any daemons for it; I think it must be something new. Smokey’s working on it.”

  “Keep trying.” Addie returned her focus to what she was seeing through Humpty’s eyes. Part of her could feel Glitch’s annoyance, even though the netjacker didn’t say anything—obviously, she’d keep trying. Addie couldn’t worry about that, though; there were too many boiling pots to keep track of. After plugging the driftjack into the comm array, her task was to find a way into the building for the little drone. The obvious option was to use the compact laser-cutter she’d installed on his multi-purpose, tentacle-like arm. All she needed to do was find a window with a latch that he could cut through.

  On the third floor, she found a small, square window that looked promising. “Can I open a window yet?”

  “I’m just now getting into their network, Ads. Just chill, please.”

  Beef cleared his throat, and she looked over at him, splitting her attention between Humpty’s cams and her eyes. When he saw he had her attention, he said, “I know you’re worried about him, but rushing our end is only gonna make more problems.”

  At least he had the decency not to use comms while he chastised her. That being said, it was a very un-Beef-like thing for him to say, so it gave her pause. “Am I being that bad?”

  “Nah, just not yourself, you know?”

  Addie smiled as she reached over, intending to give his arm a squeeze, but finding herself unable to grasp onto anything save the fabric of his armored duster. “Your arms are too big!”

  He chuckled. “Good for squeezing heads and necks.”

  Glitch’s name flashed on comms. “Okay, Ads. I’m in their network, and I don’t see any sort of security on the windows. There aren’t even cams anywhere but on the bottom level. I see the front doors and the lobby, but that’s all. I’m listening to the comms coming through the driftjack, though, and there should be five security personnel.”

  Addie felt her heart rate pick up as the mission suddenly felt a lot more real. “And Jen?”

  “She’s here. Just picked her up, asking the security team for a status check—no cams in that office with the lights on, though.”

  “So…”

  “So you need to explore with Humpty, sis. Get eyes on the mercs, and we can update the map before you two go in. Now, while you work on that, I’ll—”

  She cut off suddenly, and Addie scowled. “You’ll what?”

  “Sec. T just got ahold of me.”

  Addie looked at Beef, and he winked one of his dark eyes at her. “He’s crafty, ain’t he?”

  The lazy compliment brought a smile to Addie’s lips, but then Glitch threw some cold water on her mood: “He’s blown; the trap is sprung. Protocol T.” Addie clenched her jaw but held her tongue; they’d come up with the “protocol T” code during the planning stage of the mission. It meant Glitch was going to be focused on Tony and that she and Beef were on their own for a while. Addie figured that since the netjacker was in the tower’s network and cam feeds, she was going to be guiding Tony away from—or toward—Jen’s people who were there to trap him.

  “Guess that means I better get busy,” she said, switching her attention back to Humpty. She extended his multi-purpose limb and, trusting her flawless connection to her little drone, activated the tiny solid-state laser attached to the last joint of the limb. A faint white spark-halo appeared on the plasteel housing of the window as she cut through the material, and then she slowed, allowing the laser to cut more deeply, severing the little latch. All-in, it took her only twelve seconds.

  She cut the power to the laser and then used the little gripping appendage to take hold of the window frame and pivot it open. A few seconds later, Humpty was drifting into a dark employee restroom with torn drywall and plastic wall paneling where scavs had torn out the pipes. “I’m in,” she muttered, keeping Beef in the loop. “Gonna map out the building for us.”

  ###

  “There’s an active jammer,” Glitch said as Tony hunched behind the top row of seats in the auditorium.

  “How the hell are we talking?”

  “Because I’m good, T. Well, more precisely, because the mercs trying to find you are bad. They have exclusion codes for the jammer, but they’re not encrypting them. I guess they assumed you wouldn’t be good enough to penetrate the Cross network.”

  “I’m not.”

  Tony could practically hear Glitch’s smirk as she replied, “Well, right, but I am. You’ve got two in the lobby, one’s walking toward the bathroom, but there aren’t cams in that hallway—at least none I can find on the network.”

  “That’s it?”

  “Oh, no, no. I’ve clocked another three still up on 110 in those green rooms. One’s lingering by the elevator, and the other two are watching the stairwell.”

  “So, just five?” Tony subvocalized, scanning the dark auditorium; it was illuminated only by the safety LEDs on the steps leading down to the stage and the red exit signs near the doors, but his optics made it like daylight.

  “Nope, another two backstage.”

  “Seven?” he asked, his fingers starting to twitch. “Don’t make me drag it out of you, Glitch!” he hissed.

  “Hush, dummy. They probably have their ears dialed up! Yes, seven is what I’m counting so far.”

  Tony continued to watch the stage as he subvocalized, “You see a tall, scarecrow of a guy with a bulky mod on his right forearm?”

  “Does he have blond hair and red crosshairs for eyes?”

  Tony’s lips twisted into a snarl. “Blond, yeah, but his eyes must be new.”

  “He’s one of the guys upstairs.”

  “What are these assholes wearing?”

  “I see a lot of body armor, surprisingly customized. Cross doesn’t have a uniform?”

  “These are Jen’s guys. They won’t be wearing Cross gear.” Tony crept toward the nearest aisle. “Safe for me to rush the stage?”

  “Wait! One of the goons backstage is approaching the left—your left—wing. Looks like he might walk across.”

  Tony remained crouched and, while he waited for Glitch’s all-clear, he dialed his eyes to another preset cosmetic setting: solid black, no illumination. “Tell me when.”

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  “He’s standing there, looking around. Just a minute…”

  Tony subvocalized, “Send me a pic.” A few seconds passed and then an image appeared on his AUI: a black-clad merc standing near the side of the stage, suppressed SMG held ready in his hands as his matte-black helmet visor panned left and right over the front few rows of the auditorium. Tony frowned. There was no doubt in his mind that he was scanning every spectrum. When he shifted his gaze up, he’d see Tony’s heat signature. “I’m not safe here,” he subvocalized.

  “I’m working on something,” Glitch replied. Tony glanced at the door he’d come through, wondering if he ought to take his chances with the guys in the lobby. Just then he heard footsteps pounding, and Glitch announced, “He’s gone.”

  “Where?”

  “I spoofed a message from one of the others, saying they saw you in the stairwell.”

  Tony didn’t waste time congratulating her. He rushed the stage, keeping his steps as quiet as possible. “Anyone left backstage?”

  “Yes, I only messaged the one goon. He ran to the back hallway.” Tony had memorized the floor plan ahead of the mission. He knew the hallway would lead past a storage room, a bathroom, and a media control room. Further on would be the door to the ready-room stairwell.

  While Glitch spoke, Tony climbed onto the stage and moved to the left side. “Where’s the other guy?”

  “In the prop area behind the stage. He’s staring after the guy who just ran and asking him what’s up through their comms.”

  “You’re in their comms?”

  “Didn’t I just tell you I spoofed a message?”

  “Right, forget it. Can you update my map—” Before he could finish the question, he saw a blinking red dot on his mini-map, not ten meters away.

  “Sorry, should have thought of that.”

  Tony crept through the wing curtains, his high-end dress-boots silent on the dark rubberized flooring. He switched his optics to infra-red and saw his mark, a yellow outline enhanced by AI algorithms to add tiny details, like the shape of his armored vest, the smooth curve of his helmet, and the gun barrel jutting sideways as he stared toward the back of the cluttered prop area. There was a large object between them—some kind of smart screen meant to be rolled out for presentations—so Tony edged to his right, arm extended.

  When he cleared the side of the object, his optics added additional details to his target. He saw a sidearm, a long vibroblade along the back of his belt, and the clear details of his armor. Tony didn’t think his needler stood a chance against the torso armor, but the guy was wearing thigh, knee, and shin guards; the backs of his thighs weren’t armored. With no hesitation, he lowered his aim and fired four paralytic rounds. Snick-snick, snick-snick.

  The merc instantly went rigid, and Tony took two quick steps, wrapped his mechanical arm around the base of his helmet and jerked with all his might. The force of the motion as enough to lift the guy off his feet, but when Tony jerked again left and right, the merc’s neck gave way with a series of pops that reverberated through his arm—a grinding sensation that raised the hackles on the back of his neck.

  Tony lowered the body, tapped the release for the helmet’s pressurized seal, yanked it off, and then snatched the dead man’s PAI out, crushing it between his alloy fingers—probably overkill since Glitch had control of the network. “Am I still clear?” he asked.

  “The guy I sent to the stairs is trying to message the others. The one who went to the bathroom is back in the lobby talking to the other one. I think you’re clear for now.”

  Tony unfastened the clips holding the dead merc’s body armor on. It was hard-shelled and custom-made for the guy, but he was going to try to wear it anyway—it would stop a hell of a lot more than his bullet-resistant dress jacket. He peeled the armor away, admiring the actuating hinges that stretched and contracted depending on the state of the fasteners. He’d just shrugged out of his jacket and had one arm in the body armor when Glitch came through comms again:

  “T, the guy on the stairs is coming your way. He’s back in the hallway already. I tried to fake more messages to him, and of course I blocked his outgoing ones, but he’s suspicious.”

  Tony jammed his other arm into the armor and froze. He’d forgotten about his needler. Where his suit jacket had a mesh panel sewn into the sleeve, the armor would block the ports. Growling, he threw it off, angry with himself for wasting the time. He ignored the SMG on the ground and snatched the merc’s helmet, pistol, and vibroblade. Then, he stood and hurried toward the recesses of the backstage area, the corner opposite the one with the doorway to the hall.

  Lurking there behind a few stacks of folding chairs, he examined the interior of the helmet for a pairing button. “Under the padding at the crown,” Nora said helpfully.

  “Thanks.” Tony grunted, pulling the padding back to reveal a recessed push button. He held it down, and Nora displayed a pairing indicator on his AUI. He silently counted as the bar expanded until it flashed green.

  “All set, Tony,” Nora said.

  He yanked the helmet onto his head, grimacing at the slightly damp gel padding. As his AUI adapted to the helmet’s built-in HUD, and the lighting brightened slightly, Tony looked down at the pistol in his hands. It was an old-school .45 ACP and didn’t have a lick of security. “Perfect,” he said, knowing his voice would be swallowed by the helmet’s noise-dampening. He pulled the slide back, saw the bullet in the chamber, and nodded. The mag should have seven more, but he popped it just to be sure, and saw that it wasn’t as old-school as he’d thought—eight rounds.

  “Nine shots,” he said, and Nora updated his AUI with a bullet counter.

  He tucked the gun into his waistband, right behind his belt buckle so it wouldn’t slip easily, then he yanked the sheath off the vibroblade. It had a safety where his index finger would rest, and he didn’t depress it; some vibroblades were notoriously noisy. Naked blade in hand, Tony stared into the backstage area, his gaze focused on the door leading into the stairwell hallway. “Where is he?” he asked through comms.

  “He’s lingering near the door. I’ve stopped three more messages he’s sent out, but we have a problem.”

  “What?”

  “The guys in the lobby have been messaging him and the guy you killed. Of course, I’ve been sending fake responses, but they just sent out a watchword check. I don’t know the answer.”

  “So they’re on to you?”

  “They’re on to something.”

  Tony had heard enough. He stalked through the backstage area toward the door, knife ready. He was just a meter from his target, about to reach for the door handle and burst through, when the merc beat him to it. Tony had no idea what had clued the guy in—maybe he’d just had a gut feeling and gone with it. Whatever the case, he came through the door, SMG blazing. Like the one Tony had left behind, it was suppressed, but it still made a hell of a racket as the bullets pinged into props and furniture. Tony wasn’t there; he’d spent some more precious Dust activating his wire-job.

  As the merc’s gun hissed little mechanical expletives with each polymer round, Tony’s vibroblade came to life like an angry hornet. He’d rushed to the side of the door when he saw it swinging open. Now, he slammed it shut and drove the buzzing blade through the tough, bullet-resistant fabric of the merc’s collar. It bit deeply, and the man recoiled, desperately trying to bring his gun’s muzzle toward Tony.

  When the vibroblade failed to kill him with one shot and, worse, got stuck on the way out, Tony released it, cocked his arm back and fired the kinetic amplifier mod, sending his hard, alloy fist crashing into the merc’s faceplate. His knuckles cracked the bulletproof panel, smashing a concave hollow into it that bent the merc’s facial bones a little too far for comfort. His scream escaped the compromised faceplate seal as he staggered back, blindly groping for his helmet release.

  Tony swept his ankle, sending him crashing onto his side, and then he fell on him, cocking his arm back for another punch. His AUI told him his kinetic amplifier’s charge was at 55%, so he used it again to punch the poor bastard’s already-bent faceplate. With a crackling crunch, the man’s screams came to a sudden stop.

  “T!” Glitch said through comms, and he had a feeling it wasn’t the first time she’d tried to get his attention. “You’ve got incoming from the auditorium—the guys from the lobby.”

  Tony grabbed the merc’s arm, yanked the door open, and dragged him through before closing it as quietly as he could. “Glitch,” he said into the filtered air of his helmet, “can you dream me up a distraction?”

  ###

  “Clear again,” Addie said, narrating her progress to Beef. She hadn’t found any security personnel on any of the floors she’d explored, and JJ was building a comprehensive map of the interior. The guards she had found were all in the stairwell—two watching the exit to the top floor and two at the bottom. She figured the last one was probably wandering the first floor near the main entrance, but she hadn’t explored down there yet.

  Because of the guards in the stairwell, she’d had to use windows to move between floors, so that had been a bit of a time sink. Even so, she’d taken Beef’s advice about not rushing, so when she reached the ground floor and hovered near a window there—she’d found the same kind of bathroom window on every level—she paused and peered through, just in case the security guard was taking a potty break. Her heart almost stopped when Humpty’s infrared spectrum picked up a human-shaped figure standing there.

  “He’s in the bathroom!” she hissed.

  “Yeah?” Beef grunted. “Then we’re done. That’s five, right?”

  “Unless Glitch was mistaken…”

  “Just keep your eyes on him.” Beef turned in his seat and stood, grunting and cursing under his breath as he worked his way around Glitch’s immersion rig. “After you track him to his post, we’ll kick shit off.”

  Addie only half listened to him. Part of her attention was focused on Humpty’s feed, doing exactly what Beef had said she should: keeping track of the fifth security team member. The rest of her concentration was lost trying to imagine what was going on with Tony. Knowing Beef would give her grief for it later, she caved and spoke into comms, “Glitch, any update?”

  Rather than Glitch responding, a raspy masculine voice with a definitive southern twang came through comms: “Hey there, Adelaide; this is Smokey. Sorry, ma’am, but Glitchwitch’s full attention is drilled down on Tony’s current situation. She wants me to keep an eye on y’all while you move into the secondary location. You happen to have an update on the security team? I’m all ears.”