“Now that is something.” Zapata took pride in the fact he could read people’s body language well enough that he knew when people were holding back. “Out with it, Quinn.”

  “Technicians are working on bringing the fusion core back online, but they said it would take them days, maybe two weeks to repair the damage and get through the titanium shield. They don’t know if they can.”

  “Annoying, but not a disaster. We can use other ways to destroy what is left of Lincoln. Keep the Gnats in their holes with the best and most loyal squads until the technicians have exhausted every option. All other mercs and soldiers are to return to Guam. We have been down here long enough. You have two days, Quinn, then I want you back in Guam. You have command.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “One last thing. Furillo?”

  “Taken to The Nine HQ.”

  “As you were.”

  Zapata left the TSS prep room and hopped into his personal buggy. His security detail boarded, and the driver sped down the passageways, having to backtrack several times to avoid the flooding. As they passed dozens of mole rat carcasses, he appreciated the ingenuity the Watchers had shown in dealing with the mercs. He had underestimated Miller, Haru and Stone. For Gnats, they showed guile and determination, outwitting him time and again. It would be prudent of him to change his tactics. They were predicting his moves, and defending accordingly, because they thought they knew him. That was their mistake. No one really knew the real Karl Zapata. How could they? Despite all their scientific advances, the Thule hadn’t figured out how to read minds yet.

  The maze of tunnels whizzed by in a blur as Zapata let his mind wander over his next steps. CEO Young had been clear: find Dr Stacy Fisher while he concentrated on winning the off-world mining tenders. He had spared no expense and even had a hoverplane constructed with a fusion drive and equipped with the latest stealth tech.

  “We’re here, sir,” the driver said, slowing the vehicle.

  Merc guards stood to attention as Zapata climbed out of the buggy, entered the pressure door and started the climb up to The Nine HQ. The stairs were housed inside one of the decommissioned water pipes, closed since the opening of the power station. As a result, they hadn’t been discovered by the Gnats. The destruction of the institute and the old power plant had been a ruse to keep them from coming back. Just in case The Nine needed it.

  Chief Furillo stood proud despite his hands and feet being shackled to a metal pole cemented into the rock floor behind him. He watched the former commander with a barely contained sneer. “Let me guess. You’ve come to gloat at my capture?”

  “No.”

  “Then what? Haven’t you killed enough of my people?”

  “No.”

  “You always were a kint, Zapata.”

  “Chief Furillo. I have no quarrel with you. You served Lincoln loyally and always obeyed my orders to the letter. Except for one crucial time.”

  “Church of the Holy Cross.”

  Zapata was pleased Furillo understood. Maybe it was dawning on the chief that there was no way out of this situation. He could read the resignation in his voice. Then his face twitched into acceptance of his fate.

  “All you had to do was leave them be, but no. Miller and Haru poked their noses in, and now look what has happened. I didn’t want any of that,” Zapata said.

  “Bullshit. You were going to drown us all.”

  “Wouldn’t that have been easier for everyone? Now, you and Miller were close. What did he tell you of the journal?”

  “You know something?” Furillo puffed out his chest. “The old-timers liked to tell us stories when we were kids. Tall tales, legends and myths. One that I was particularly fond of was about the Echoes. You ever wonder why you’re grown in a lab?”

  “I don’t need to wonder.”

  “Ha. I bet you do, deep down. The way I heard it, it was because all the Echo men are impotent. Can’t get your dicks hard to reproduce. You Echo kints are the result of a bunch of limp-dicked, wealthy assholes playing God.”

  The anger Zapata had kept in check since the Watchers’ escape came boiling out. He curled his hands into fists and smashed the Watcher chief in the face with two quick jabs, knocking him back in his bonds.

  “Limp-dicked kints.” Furillo spat gobs of blood.

  A veil of hate descended over Zapata. He struck Furillo again, this time in the ribs, then the kidneys, over and over. Pounding punches, using all his genetically modified strength to do as much damage as possible. He shifted his fury up the chief’s body and hit him in the head with vicious hooks, first on the left side, then on the right. Soon, Zapata’s fists were covered in blood and soft tissue. When he felt Furillo’s head become pliable under his knuckles, he stopped. That the Watcher chief was dead was without doubt. He hung limply in his bonds, his face disfigured beyond recognition. A moment of regret passed through Zapata. He had wanted to get more information out of the Gnat before killing him. Never mind. One less of these filth to worry about.

  “Where are the other prisoners?” Zapata said to the first guard he spotted.

  “They’re being held by the elevators.”

  “Bring Furillo’s corpse and follow me.”

  The guards hurried inside, and Zapata wiped the blood off his hands and face while he waited. The remaining captives of Lincoln gasped when the guards dumped the body of the Watcher chief inside the room where they were contained. A couple of Watchers rushed over and checked Furillo’s pulse before glaring at Zapata. He didn’t care. In fact, he enjoyed their reactions. He surveyed them and saw none he thought of as useful.

  Turning his back, he signalled to a squadron of mercs. They wheeled over a large cage and, using tasers, herded the prisoners inside. Furillo was shackled to the top of the cage. Then, using a loader, a merc drove it to the edge of the reservoir. Placing the cage filled with prisoners on a barge, the mercs pushed it out into the middle of the lake, where it drifted with the slight current. Screams and shouts of terror echoed over the water.

  Zapata wanted the men and women in the cage to suffer. He wondered how long they would last. Would any of them resort to cannibalism? If any did survive and escape, they would deserve it. Being trapped in there with a rotting corpse above them was enough. Not to mention the inky blackness that would soon surround the cage. He gave the signal for everyone to depart for the surface and took his seat in the first elevator.

  “Sir.” A woman whose name he couldn’t remember came running in as the doors were closing. His security barred the way.

  “Let her through.”

  “Thank you, sir.”

  “Make it quick…?”

  “Adler. Colonel Quinn said I would find you here. I was hoping to catch you.”

  “Spit it out, Adler.”

  “It’s about the riddle you asked us to decipher. I thought it best not to radio. Maybe we should talk in private?”

  Zapata gestured to his guards. The elevator doors closed and zipped upwards. Soft music began playing, and a slight hissing sounded as the cabin adjusted the air pressure accordingly. “Go ahead.”

  “Right. Okay.” Adler wiped beads of sweat off her forehead. Was she nervous? Zapata recalled that Adler was a level seven. A level reserved for academics and far below his ruling class.

  “The riddle is perplexing. Given that it was written over three hundred years ago, and so much of our history is off limits and secured in the archives. The use of language is odd, but one phrase stood out. Where the ripper walks. Now, that could refer to multiple things, but I thought it referred to a person. Many serial killers have earnt the title over the years. Plus…”

  “Get to the point, Adler.”

  “Sorry, sir. I think the riddle is leading you to the ancient city of York, in the United Kingdom.”

  “York?” Zapata turned the name of the city over in his head. Of course, he’d heard of it, because his family could trace their lineage back to early settlers in the state of New York. So he’d learnt about its namesake in Britain. The United Kingdom was what the island group called itself now. One of the few independent states still in operation. They had survived the wars by remaining impartial. Like much of the world, only a few areas of the country were inhabited. York was one of them and Zapata had an influential friend who lived there. Perfect. That would make his job easier.

  “Why York?”

  “A serial killer named…”

  “The point, Adler. I’m not going to tell you again. Cold facts only.”

  “Sorry. Right, ummm. The other part of the riddle talks about Etruscans, who preceded the Romans. York is an ancient city where the Ripper walked.”

  “But as you said, many serial killers earnt the name Ripper.”

  “They did, yes, which leads to the third part, about the dome of the bird. I think it points to the university, but I need to do more research.”

  “Someone with good news for a change. Adler, you are now assigned to accompany me. Keep working on the riddle. Go over every detail.”

  “Yes, sir. I’ll need access to historical data to do that. What I’m working with now is inefficient.”

  “Commpad.”

  Adler handed her commpad over. Zapata wasn’t normally one to take notice of anyone below his status, but he found Adler’s features pleasing. She had a soft, round face, brunette hair and brown eyes. He updated her occupation security clearance and authorised the change with his thumbprint.

  “It would help, sir, if I had information on the author of the riddle. I’ve always found that, if one knows the person, solving mysteries is easier.”

  “Not possible until I get clearance myself. Work with what I gave you for now.”

  “Thank you for this opportunity, sir.”

  “Don’t fail me.”

  Once they reached the surface, Adler was directed to Zapata’s private accommodations with explicit instructions. He left her to it and headed into the old town that surrounded the mine head. He wasn’t afraid of being recognised now. His sponsor had seen to that, exonerating him and reinstating his elite status. As a result, he was free to go anywhere and do anything. He still had to find Fisher — that would give him a way onto the High Council. Give him the power and status he craved. Wealth was nice, but power and influence were better. With that, he could build an empire.

  Many of the workers bowed when they saw him. Some even brought their hands together in prayer. Shopkeepers offered him food and drinks, but he politely turned them all down and ducked into a narrow alley. Here, the buildings were ancient. Crammed together and stacked twenty high, the area brought with it the stench of humanity. Sweat mixed with smoke and cooking.

  He turned down another alley and entered the tiny workshop at the end. A bell tinkled as the door hit it, and a tiny Chinese man wearing thick glasses looked up from the desk where he had been hunched over his work. Old-world electronics filled every shelf and available space.

  “Mr Zapata. I have your item here.”

  “Good. Does it work?”

  “Ha. He asks me, Wang, if it works,” Wang said, turning to a fluffy cat and shaking his head. “Yes, it works. All those old satellites are still up there, waiting to be turned on.” Wang lifted a few items from the piles around him and muttered in Cantonese until he found what he was looking for and handed it to Zapata. The device looked like a commpad, but it was heavier and thicker.

  “Here.” Zapata took out the red lacquered box he had taken from Sousa’s office and placed it on the messy workbench.

  Wang’s eyes lit up with glee when he saw the contents: Lincoln-manufactured snuff. “Ah. The good kind.”

  “Careful with that. Strong.”

  “Pah. The device will only work for twenty-four hours after you switch it on, okay?”

  “A one-time thing?”

  “Yes. Old codes. Old tech. Who know how long battery will last. Thule change too much.”

  Zapata let the transgression go. Wang, even though he was a Gnat, was useful and discreet. “Keep this between us.”

  “Ha. You hear that, Mr Pickles.”

  Wang picked up a bundle of wires and went back to work. Zapata smiled at the man’s bravery, then hurried back through the town and went straight to CEO Young’s office.

  “Well, that was a mess,” Young said once he was seated.

  “Could have gone better. Lincoln will be destroyed in a few days.”

  “I was informed. A statement has been prepared. Pitt and Gladstone will remain in operation. Move your forces to our base in the Philippines.”

  “Understood.”

  “Now. I’m sure you want to proceed with the other matter?”

  “Indeed. I’ll need flight and diplomatic clearance for Asia, Europe and the UK.”

  “Interesting. If you are going to the UK, have a chat with the Duke on my behalf. I’ll send you the details shortly.”

  “You’re confident on winning the off-world tenders?”

  “I wouldn’t bother entering the lion’s den of negotiations if I wasn’t.”

  Zapata nodded, buoyed by Young’s assurances. “We’re close. I can feel it.”

  “And the Watchers?”

  “Escaped for now.”

  “Disappointing. I’m allowing you some leeway because you get results, but keep in mind what the endgame is.”

  “I will.”

  The commpad on Young’s desk buzzed, saving Zapata from any further scrutiny. Young dismissed him with a flick of his wrist.

  A light, warm rain was falling when he emerged from the monolithic Wey building, bringing with it — as it always did — a slight tang of chemicals. Rejecting the comfort of his vehicle, Zapata set off into the rain, his security falling into step beside him.

  The tug of anticipation pulling at him strongly. Since learning of Dr Fisher in his youth, he had dreamt of finding her. Finally, it was happening. The chase was on.

  CHAPTER 24

  Outpost Rig 42.

  Pacific Ocean.

  Beyond the thick glass, the ocean thrashed and boiled. Tossed up by unseen forces, the waves — almost as high as the window, which he knew to be quite high above the normal surface of the water — smashed into the structure. Despite their apparent ferocity, they caused only a slight tremor. Eli cast his eyes above the ocean to the billowy clouds. They were dark, twisting from one shape into another as the wind howled. It was strange and, at the same time, frightening. In the mines, the environment was controlled. The oxygen levels. The temperature. Air pressure. Even the flow of water was fixed by engineers. Being up on the surface, where everything was chaotic, scared Eli. How did they live, not knowing?

  Nox jumped up to the windowsill and rested his paws on the ledge.

  “Crazy, isn’t it, boy?”

  Nox licked his hand in reply as Ley and Colter joined them.

  “I thought the ocean was meant to be blue,” Ley said.

  “Doesn’t it depend on light refracting, or whatever?” Eli said.

  “Kinda,” Colter said. “Absorbing?”

  His interest piqued, Eli activated his commpad and opened the ATK app. “Yeah. The ocean appears blue because the water absorbs the red spectrum, leaving the blue visible.”

  “So, if the sky is clear and blue, it means the ocean is blue because of the sun?”

  Eli shrugged. “Doesn’t say. Maybe it depends on the creatures in it too. When we surfaced, it was green.”

  “Gonna take a while to get used to all this. We’re the new kids in town,” Colter said.

  “A stranger in a strange land,” Eli said.

  “I got nothing.” Ley chuckled. “Insert song title here.”

  “The water was dirty brown and gross where I was.” Kora stretched and gulped down her tea. “Out here, it’s nice. Near the Helstrop house, it looked like the sewer or whatever. Maybe like that nasty AF manure farm.”

  “That bad?” Eli said.

  “Yeah. Doug said it was an environmental disaster or something. Massive clean-ups were happening around the world, but after decades of abuse, it was going to take a long time to finish.”

  A pang of guilt passed through Eli. With everything going on, he hadn’t spent any time with the teenager.

  “Sorry, Kora.”

  “For what?”

  “I haven’t asked anything about your ordeal. Who’s Doug?”

  Kora shrugged in that way only people in early adulthood could. Like she didn’t care, but was offended you hadn’t asked. Nox bounced over and sat next to her. “Whatever. It’s okay.”

  “No. It was rude of me.”

  “Fine. How are… you know?”

  “Last we heard, Bill and Maureen were safe. The evac plans worked. Most got out.”

  “I wanted to leave them a note, but Simon said it was better if they didn’t know. Easier. I feel so stupid.”

  “Don’t,” Ley said. “You’re safe, and that is all that matters.”

  “What happened with Helstrop?” Eli asked.

  Kora patted Nox, then filled them in. Eli interrupted a few times to understand something better. Her journey up intrigued him. One of the many mysteries of the fate of runners solved — most had volunteered to work on the surface in some capacity. As good as his team was, they didn’t track down everyone. Now he knew where they had gone. At least, the exit. Kora finished up by telling them about her harrowing escape, meeting Agnes and Rose, then her journey out to the rig and visiting the entertainment deck.

  “All that to warn your friends?” Ley said. “Brave.”

  “The Nine were a little kooky, but most of the people were really nice. I didn’t want them coming to the surface thinking it was paradise when it’s not.”

  “What was your mission from Zapata?” Eli said.

  “He, like, wanted me to gather information on everything I saw and stuff like that.”

  “And how were you meant to communicate this?” Ley said.

  “He made me memorise a contact code but, ah, something about waiting a few weeks.”

  “Can you still remember it?”