No Graves for Heroes Page 11

“It’s beautiful,” Devon said.

  “Except for all the ugliness inside,” said Axel.

  A crew member spun around in his chair. “Captain, the tower has control. We will be docking in thirty minutes.”

  “Very good,” said Danso.

  “Guess we don’t have to wait in line,” said Axel. He watched as security patrol fighters buzzed the Zulu Dancer. Each embossed with the emblem for Pangaea, five green and gold palm leaves arranged to form a star.

  “Not with your reservations,” said Danso.

  Axel turned to Devon. “Come on, let’s get our things.”

  An hour later, Axel and Devon were on their own once again at the main VIP terminal. The Zulu Dancer would wait at the docking bay for Axel’s signal that he had the kids.

  “So, play this cool,” said Axel to Devon. He didn’t want her going full-adoring-trophy-wife mode in front of the hotel staff.

  “We are honored to have you, Mr. Nash,” said the red-clad receptionist. She was young, beautiful, and standing behind a black marble kiosk. The immense aquarium behind her teemed with schools of fish in shimmering blue water. “I see you are staying in the Autumn Moon penthouse for two weeks. Is that correct?”

  Axel prayed they would be there less than two days, but he figured Cougar and Javelin were being cautious.

  “Correct,” said Axel. His eyes roamed the lobby of the Sol Seasons Hotel. He didn’t see anyone watching him, but he did notice at least fifty cameras scanning the giant entrance hall.

  Tourists from every major nation bustled about with family and friends. There were businessmen and women in their corporate uniforms, suits adorned with fashionable accents, denoting management levels. High-ranking military strolled about, in their class As. And then there were the lazy rich, young and old, with perfect tans, designer linen clothing, and a casual look as though they never left this place.

  Children ran around a tiered fountain, throwing gold coins into the water. Staff in white uniforms bustled to and fro, escorting guests or just standing sentry, waiting to be of assistance. Service drones hummed through the air, carrying room service deliveries and luggage. The air smelled of exotic flowers and perfume.

  “You are all set, Mr. Nash. Would you like assistance with your luggage?” asked the receptionist.

  “I think we can manage,” said Axel. They only had a few bags. Plus, he didn’t want any nosy bellhops finding his hidden toys.

  A porter led them through the lobby to an ivy-covered walkway. Above, Axel got his first view of the dome covering the entire resort. It looked like the blue sky on earth. He could hear birds calling to one another and, in the distance, he could make out water splashing and children laughing.

  Through it all, Axel picked up hints of the underworld that permeated everything here. Brazilian wannabe big shots acting friendly to a group of Italian teenagers, probably looking to sell them designer hallucinogens; a vial of something sliding under the table. Bulky men in sunglasses and long coats with subtle bulges around the waist kept a close eye on their employers. And a plainclothes resort management staff member pretended to relax under an umbrella while furiously tapping away on a tablet.

  He tuned all of that out—he was on a mission. He needed to forget about the rich folks’ playground and get the hell out. Cougar’s warning about a coming civil war banged away in his mind. At any moment this place could become a shooting gallery and this paradise a war zone of trigger-popping resort guards, personal protection forces, and terrified tourists.

  The penthouse was easily the most luxurious space Axel had ever seen. No movie or tourism show or private fantasy could match what lay before him. Platinum and black marble seemed to cover every wall, except for the wall-sized monitor displaying a cloud of flower petals falling in slow motion against a cobalt-blue background. Devon walked over to the screen. As she approached, the petals parted. She waved her arms and the petals flew in all directions.

  “Okay,” she said. “This is just cool.”

  Axel tipped the porter and they were alone.

  “I hate to interrupt playtime, but could you see about tapping into the local network?”

  “One second,” she said, then jumped up and down. The petals flew in different directions.

  Axel shook his head, reminded of watching one of his children play in the rain or a fountain. Cindy had loved to do that. So had Lake. She was the wildest of them all, a red-haired whirlwind. She would be twenty…maybe twenty-two.

  He thought for a moment. He had time. What could it hurt? Devon wasn’t going to rat on him. Would she? No. He rummaged through his bag and found one of the phones Cougar’s team provided. From memory he dialed Lake’s number.

  She answered on the third ring. “Who’s this?” she asked. There was loud music playing in the background.

  Axel froze. He hadn’t actually expected she would answer. “Lake,” he finally said.

  “Yeah?” she asked impatiently.

  “It’s…it’s your daddy…dad.”

  “Who?”

  “Axel Nash. It’s Daddy. I was just thinking about you.” He prayed she would be nice to him. He hadn’t dared try to call her in over a year. Maybe she’d forgiven him.

  “Oh. What do you want?”

  “I just wanted to call and say hi, while I’ve got a minute. How are you doing?”

  “Fine.”

  There was a long pause and all Axel could hear is the low thrum of her music.

  “What are you up to these days?” He barely recognized his own voice, high-pitched and weak.

  “Really busy. You talk to Mom at all?”

  “No, I, uh, haven’t talked to her in…well, it’s been a while.”

  “Yeah, well, maybe you’d know she’s sick, real sick.”

  “Oh, I didn’t know anything about that. What’s—”

  “Maybe you’d know that if you gave a shit about her.”

  The call ended.

  Axel held the phone to his ear as if the line would magically reconnect. But the music never came back.

  He knew he deserved that. Lake wanted nothing to do with him. Her mother, Clair, and Axel hadn’t spoken in five years, maybe even six. With all the surveillance under the Values government, it was nearly impossible to reach out to his kids. All it would take was for the voice recognition software to hear his voice and he’d be in handcuffs and off to a black site in minutes. Black market phones, connected to rogue networks, cost more than he made in a month.

  The stash of slate in Axel’s bag called to him. “Want to make the pain of being a non-existent dad to so many kids go away? I’m right here. Don’t be afraid. Devon could take hours to get through the resort’s security. Come on and reset. Just a quick hit.”

  “Hey,” said Devon. “You all right?”

  Axel had been so lost, thinking about forgetting, that he didn’t even see her come up on him. “Yeah, I’m fine. Just…”

  She tilted her head and furrowed her brow. “Sure?”

  “Yeah. You find anything?”

  “The main router in this place has connections to at least seventeen international internets.”

  “Guess they want to make sure everyone can phone home. What about the internal networks, like guest residences? That’s all we need.”

  “I got in through a vulnerability in the room service system. Ravel and Jean-Baptiste Rudeaux had dinner delivered to their suite three days ago. They’re staying in the Columbia Major Estate, in the tropical zone. So, they’re not far from us. This will help.”

  She turned to the flower petal wall and waved her hand. The flower petals flew off the screen as if carried by a strong breeze. They were replaced by a three-dimensional map of the resort. Devon used hand gestures to zoom into the section of the resort between their hotel and the Columbia. Axel quickly realized this was a live map of the resort; people he’d seen were outside, milling about. This could come in handy later on.

  He scowled seeing all this tech. Nothing like this was avail
able to the Americans. They were so far behind the curve, it pained him. This map was beautiful, elegant and the resolution was razor-sharp. A small part of him could just marvel at it for the rest of the day, sort of virtual people-watching.

  “What about the underground infrastructure?” asked Axel.

  Devon put the tips of her index fingers together and twisted them back and forth. “That’s going to be a little more difficult. I know there are internal staff networks, but I haven’t found them yet.”

  “Keep at it.” Axel dug into his suitcase for his pistol and snapped it to his belt, under his sport coat. “I’m going to go see about the kids. How long until the emperor’s birthday?”

  “About forty-two hours.”

  “Fuck me,” said Axel with a big exhale. “I’m out of here. Call me when you find something.”

  Pangaea’s common areas hummed with music, laughter, and a gentle feminine voice announcing events over the PA system. The blue dome above had dimmed since Axel left the suite. The resort, no doubt, wanting to simulate Earth’s day/night cycle. Axel watched as a young man with a beard laced with gold threads strolled toward a hotel surrounded by a dozen blonde women. He looked closer and noticed they were identical models of Devon. Their hair was done up differently, but there was no mistaking her eyes and slender frame. Here was a man who could afford anything and he chose to surround himself with a harem of squibs. He probably had them all programmed to worship him.

  What a tool, Axel thought.

  He stood next to the hotel’s doorman who hailed a car for him.

  Axel got in and saw there was no driver, just a screen in the dashboard with a soothing blue orb in the center.

  “Where can I take you?” asked the orb.

  “The Columbia.”

  “Right away, sir.”

  The car pulled on to the main street and merged with traffic. “Is this your first time in Pangaea, Mr. Nash?”

  Axel stammered as he tried to respond. Then he realized there must be facial recognition camera in the car, probably throughout the entire resort. “Yes.” He wondered how long it would take for his facial scans to make their way to the law enforcement databases.

  Wait a minute, he thought. This place was full of criminals. None of them seemed to be getting hauled off by security guards. He pondered the lack of ethics, realizing that this was a sanctuary for the rich and the rules didn’t apply to them. Pangaea didn’t care if he set a freighter full of orphans on fire, so long as his bank account was full and he kept paying his tab.

  “Are you enjoying yourself?” asked the orb.

  So far, the trip had been a bit of a disappointment. His daughter reminded him of what a shit parent he was and now his mug might just blow the whole operation. “Great, so far,” he replied with a forced smile.

  “Do you have any plans for this evening?”

  “You asking me out on a date?”

  The orb pulsed as it giggled. “I don’t think that would work, Mr. Nash. I’m married.”

  “What?”

  “To my work.” There was a pause. “Sorry, that always gets a laugh.”

  “Real funny. What’s happening tonight?”

  “His highness, Prince Tang, is having a celebration for his great-grandfather’s birthday. All resort guests are invited. There will be a feast and fireworks. We’re coming up on his estate now.”

  Nash could make out the obtuse angles of a massive home beyond an ivy-covered gate. It was almost totally dark above and the grounds radiated with yellow light. Mech-suited infantry stood guard by a fence that surrounded the house. Their enameled armor and shoulder-mounted auto cannons glinted green and gold.

  “His birthday isn’t for another two days,” said Axel.

  “The party will go for several days.”

  “Sounds great, but I’ve got plans.”

  The car wove through a shopping district, with gold-bathed stores and swarms of shoppers carrying bags with designer logos. Axel took a moment to look up through the car’s clear roof to see the orange ball of Titan. It was huge, taking up almost a third of the total area of the resort’s protective dome. In a few hours, Saturn would be visible in the distance as Pangaea completed its orbit of Titan.

  “Beautiful, isn’t it?” asked the orb.

  “Yeah, who’s down there? Still the Brazilians and the Koreans?”

  “Mostly Brazilians. They took over most of the Korean and Japanese colonies in 2168, right before the war.”

  I remember, thought Axel. The orb was referring to the regional skirmishes that blew up into full-scale war. Once the push began to move national capitals off-world, some countries saw the solar system as the wild west and everything became a landgrab.

  The orb continued. “They are the main suppliers of raw fabrication materials for the Saturn zone. Mendes Engenharia, the largest Brazilian construction company, is based on Titan. They built Pangaea. The president has a residence here. There is also a substantial electronics and media presence in the southern hemisphere. Although I don’t recommend it as a tourist destination. Pangaea is where all the cool kids are.”

  The car rolled to a stop in front of the Columbia.

  “Here we are,” said the orb.

  For a moment, Axel wondered if he needed to pay. He’d expected a human driver he could hand a card or a bill. There was a pause.

  “The ride is a courtesy of your suite, Mr. Nash.”

  Nash grinned. “I knew that.” He didn’t.

  The door opened and Nash got out to go find Ravel and Jean-Baptiste’s place. He could already sense he was going to be disappointed.

  The Columbia was an American-themed series of hotels, casinos, and malls. There was even an amusement park with people dressed up as cartoon animals. Axel blew through the lobby and made for the tallest condominium tower. The kids apparently had been staying in the penthouse for the last few months.

  The staff dressed as impressions of cowboys, gangsters, or baseball players. Iconography of American presidents mixed with sports celebrities in the style of Norman Rockwell played on wall monitors. All the furniture seemed to be covered in stars or stripes. The entire spectacle felt familiar and alien at the same time. Axel was slightly comforted by seeing reminders of a home he never knew, but at the same time uneasy at how nothing seemed accurate, like a movie slightly out of focus. Icons of lost American brands adorned a wall—McDonald’s, Exxon, Universal. These had all gone out of business decades before he was born, crushed by the multinationals, yet here they were as art in a hallway.

  What did a Large Mac taste like? he wondered.

  At the elevator, he produced the phone Javelin provided. The screen lit up with a scan code. He pressed the screen against the penthouse level on the floor options. The unlock chime sounded and the doors opened. Axel got in and shot up to the top floor.

  Right before the doors opened, he racked a round into his pistol and clicked off the safety. The composite metal of the pistol triggered the killer’s resolve deep inside him. His senses sharpened. He’d considered injecting himself with Highjack before this, but reasoned he might need it for later if things went south.

  The doors opened and Axel eased into the penthouse foyer. He heard a media stream in another room—a man and woman talking. No one called out to see who had just come off the elevator. There were no footsteps.

  Probably passed out in front of the tube.

  With the speed and efficiency of a special operator, he started checking the rooms. Clothes and shopping bags lay everywhere. But no overturned furniture. The shelves were tidy with rows of books and expensive toy figurines. The air was cold and smelled of stale food and beer. A check of the bedrooms revealed messy beds and full closets. The dressers were closed, clothes stuffed into drawers.

  Axel went back to the foyer and started a second sweep, looking for blood stains or signs of a struggle. Nothing.

  “Bonjour, qui est la?” said a woman’s voice.

  Axel whipped around, instinctivel
y pointing his pistol toward the voice. His heart jumped into his throat. How could someone have surprised him?

  It was a wall monitor the size of a poster with the smiling face of Ravel Rudeaux looking at him. She was young and beautiful, with long carefree locks of brown hair and freckles across her nose.

  “Mademoiselle Rudeaux?” he asked with all the politeness he could muster. Seeing his target was both exhilarating and frustrating. A camera must have caught him. At least she was alive.

  “Oui,” she replied.

  Axel ripped his phone from his pocket and tried to pull up his translation software. “Aw, son of a bitch,” he mumbled.

  “Who are you?” Ravel asked.

  “You speak English?”

  “Of course.”

  “Ravel, I need to talk with you. It’s urgent you come with me.”

  “I’m not Ravel.” She giggled and smiled. “I’m her AI.”

  Axel felt his face sag. He’d heard about these things. AI proxies for the lazy rich. They were software replications of the actual person, when they didn’t want to be bothered with interacting with people they wanted to avoid. “Do you know where you are? I mean, where she is.”

  The AI thought for a moment, tapping her finger against her chin and staring off into space. “No. Sorry.”

  “What about your brother, Jean-Baptiste?”

  A young man with a thin beard appeared next to Ravel. He wrapped his arm around her and smiled. “You looking for me?” he asked.

  “Yes, both of you. Where are you?”

  “I cannot say, monsieur.”

  Axel let out a big sigh and shook his head. “When was the last time you were here?”

  The two looked at each other and smiled, before turning back to Axel. “I don’t want to tell you,” said Jean-Baptiste. “We don’t know you.”

  “You two are in terrible danger. I am not joking. Please let me know when was the last time you were here. I’m here to help you before…” Axel stopped himself. He had no idea if this exasperating conversation was being monitored or recorded. The Chinese attack was privileged information and the fewer outsiders knew about it, the better. All he wanted was to find these two and get the hell out of here.