Into the Fire Page 16

  “I can’t go down there,” he protested, “not if it’s as secure as you say.”

  “Jimmy—” I begged, and though I never actually said Lena, I knew he heard it all right.

  “It’s not going to help anyone if I get caught,” he told me.

  Delilah turned to him and raised her eyebrows, like she wasn’t so sure about that, but the little guy had obviously had a thought. “Mind you . . .”

  “What?”

  “If I could take the camera out of this,” he said, pointing at the screen, “there’s a mini-monitor amongst that stuff I brought back from Hi-Tech Alley . . . a microphone . . .”

  I just sat there, no idea what he was talking about, but knowing any interruption would be dismissed.

  “Maybe . . . just maybe,” he went on, those wheels almost visibly spinning away in his head. “Be a bit crude, but it might do the trick.”

  “Jimmy?” I asked, my curiosity getting the better of me.

  “You could be my eyes and ears . . . I can’t go, but you can.”

  I stared at him as I finally got some idea of what he had in mind. “I’m gonna be your cameraman?”

  “Yeah! I tell you what I want to see, and all you gotta do is point.” He paused for a moment as another problem occurred to him. “If it’s as sensitive as you say . . . it’s probably got some kind of image-jamming going on.” I thought that was it, he’d run out of ideas, but no, this was Jimmy. “There’ll have to be two of you—one with the camera, one with a shield.”

  Gordie felt my eyes upon him and jumped to his feet. “No problem,” he said, acting all big and hard.

  “I wouldn’t,” Jimmy said. “You’ve probably been recorded somewhere as a grouping—appear down there together, it might set alarm bells off. You’re better off with someone else—a female.”

  “Lile?” I said, not wanting to offend, but fearing she really wasn’t up to it.

  Jimmy gestured at Hanna, and Gordie immediately let out this howl of protest. “No way!”

  I turned to Hanna—I mean, she’s a great kid, and fearless too, but I really wasn’t sure about taking her to the Infinity building. She glanced up from the screen, apparently not in the least bit fazed. “Okay,” she trilled, immediately returning her attention to whatever it was she was watching.

  But Gordie was a long way from happy; him and Hanna never had got on that well, and without Arturo around to act as a buffer, their antagonism had become that much more noticeable.

  “You can’t take her,” he sneered. “All she does is dance.”

  “I can fight . . . if I have to,” she said, with the hint of a threat.

  “As long as it’s set to music,” he scoffed, but Hanna ignored him, concentrating on the screen, like he was a stupid child and she’d expected no better from him.

  “Clancy!” Gordie protested.

  “There’s not going to be any fighting,” I told him. “Leastways, I hope not.”

  “Nooo!” he cried, turning his back on the screen, sulking, or until he realized the only person he was punishing was himself.

  In the end, Jimmy’s logic prevailed. Even in the middle of the twenty-first century a man accompanied by a young female was much less threatening than two men together. And he was right about me and Gordie possibly having been logged as a group already, and covering a suspiciously wide area of the City in the last couple of days. As for the “equipment” we needed, he eagerly rose to the challenge, promising us he’d come up with something by the end of the day, and that with a bit of luck, we’d be able to head over to Infinity the following day.

  He was just about to turn off the screen and start dissembling it again when he was confronted by his own image.

  I tell ya, they sure had it in for him. I couldn’t believe all the stuff they came up with. They’d guessed he might’ve disguised himself so ran through all the possibilities, ending up with making him look like the devil, with horns and all. But it was what they said that was truly offensive. There wasn’t a thing they didn’t throw at him: his senility, the money his “terrorism” was costing everyone, the fact that his parents were illegal migrants, that he was in a relationship with a prostitute (how the hell did they even know that?), that he kept the company of young children—and all reported so heavy with innuendo that it damn near fell out the bottom of the screen. By the time they’d finished with him he was an arch-terrorist, a mass-murderer, a whoremonger, a pedophile, the bastard son of illegals—and worst of all (and the charge they kept repeating over and over, as if they knew it would have the most influence), he was gonna cost every man, woman and child thousands and thousand of dollars. There wasn’t one emotive rabble-rousing button they didn’t press.

  And yet I couldn’t help but feel there was something a little desperate about it, almost as if this huge all-powerful organization was afraid of him. I turned and looked at Jimmy: this wizened, bald old guy limping around the crypt, getting all sparkly-eyed at the possibility of using that resourceful brain of his. What the hell was there to fear in him? I guess he did take out the satellites, but that was just to escape the Island. We never really thought about the repercussions. This ceaseless vendetta against the little guy didn’t make any sense at all.

  Jimmy sent me out shopping. I had to trek around for some old-fashioned wire coathangers, tinfoil, all kinds of stuff I’d normally associate with setting up a home rather than embarking on a dangerous operation.

  When he finally got everything finished—well, he sure was right when he’d said it’d be “crude.” He gave me this little bundle of techno-junk held together with insulating tape, and Hanna had a kind of large tennis racket that he proceeded to take apart and show her how to reassemble before taking it apart again and stuffing it into her pockets.

  We talked the plan through and decided the best time would be late afternoon, just as the light was starting to fade. Even with the pall of smoke hanging over the city, broad daylight hadn’t seemed like a great idea, but we needed enough light for Jimmy to get detailed images. Mind you, we were kidding ourselves if we thought less light would hamper Infinity’s security in any way. I couldn’t imagine there’d be any time they’d be at a disadvantage.

  Gordie didn’t wish us luck or even say goodbye; just made more of his acid comments. Mind you, it did feel kinda strange going off with Hanna. I seen her fight over on the Island and though she might not’ve looked it, underneath all that slender grace she was a real tough kid. But counting on her as my buddy, to watch my back? That was something else.

  I never minded that she didn’t say a lot—in fact, I preferred it. I’ve never been much of a talker myself, so it was pretty relaxing being with someone who didn’t feel the need to constantly pick up the slack. I wouldn’t’ve have expected us to exchange more than the odd word all the way over. However, when we got to the churchyard entrance and were about to head up toward the Square, I noticed another message, sprayed on a smaller scrap of burned wall but not far from the original. This time there were just three words:

  LOVE IS BLIND

  “What the hell?” I exclaimed.

  Hanna stopped and followed my gaze across the street.

  “What is that?” I exclaimed. “Always this thing about being ‘blind.’”

  We crossed over, me straining to see into the smoke just in case whoever had done it was still around. By the time I reached the other side, Hanna was already inspecting the graffiti.

  “Still smells,” she said. “Must be recent.”

  “Do you know what they mean?” I said, looking from one message to the other.

  Hanna shook her head. “Not really.”

  “‘There’s none so blind as those who won’t see’ . . . ‘Love is blind’—I just don’t get it.”

  “Do you think it’s Lena?” she asked.

  I must admit, that had been one of a thousand thoughts that’d passed through my mind but I’d never really entertained it. “Why d’ya say that?”

  “Could be.”


  “Wouldn’t she just come to the crypt?”

  “Maybe she can’t for some reason.”

  It’s weird, but as I stared into that kid’s face, with its prettiness still somewhat watermarked by what she’d endured out on the Island, I realized yet again what a complete original she was—and how useful it was having someone like her around.

  “Why not?” I asked.

  “I don’t know,” she said, turning to walk on in that assured manner that always made me think she was making her entrance onto a stage and about to dance.

  I stayed where I was, thinking it over. Even if Lena couldn’t return to the church for some reason—if she was worried about leading others here, or something—she’d find a way, wouldn’t she? Sighing to myself, I hurried after Hanna, afraid of losing her as she began to disappear into the smoke.

  We arrived at Infinity just as the falling sun was giving the building a pink rinse, though it didn’t look any less intimidating for all that. I found myself scouring those endless rows of windows again, hoping to catch a glimpse of Lena. It was pretty stupid: from that distance, and through the smoke, it was like looking for a needle in a haystack blindfolded—but still I tried.

  Between the fence and road at the front of the building there was a lawn, eighty yards or so wide: a human touch in an otherwise inhumane place. We’d already checked the entrance out as we sauntered by, trying not to look interested but taking in everything we could. There was all kinda stuff there: what looked like shields, scanners, maybe even automated weapons. That was what I needed Jimmy for—to be certain.

  We found a bit of cover amongst the scrub and I explained to Hanna about the cameras—that you only got thirty seconds or so before the next one came along. What I didn’t know was whether they were computer- or human-monitored, which’d make a big difference: computers can only be programmed for a finite number of actions, while humans are much better at interpretation. On the other hand, if a computer concludes you’re up to no good, it’s pretty hard to talk your way out of it.

  She waited for the next camera to pass, then took out her coathangers and began to shape them, dropping the arrangement to the ground when the next camera approached. Piece by piece she worked on assembling this kinda large saucepan, wrapped with tinfoil, adding the battery and gizmo Jimmy gave her to make a shield. She did it with such precision, followed his instructions so coolly, I gotta admit, I was already more comfortable with the decision to bring her. Meanwhile, I took out my so-called “camera and communicator.”

  “I’m ready,” Hanna told me, turning on her shield so it was working before I operated my camera. Jeez, I really hoped Jimmy knew what he was doing.

  “Jimmy?” I muttered into my apparatus, keeping my voice low. There was no answer, so I tried again. “Jimmy!”

  I looked at Hanna. “Doesn’t work,” I muttered.

  “Worry about your end of things—not mine,” came this barely recognizable, rather automated-sounding squeaky voice.

  He appeared on the mini-monitor, for some reason looking unnaturally red. Before I could speak, I had to conceal the apparatus from yet another passing camera.

  It certainly wasn’t ideal, what with Hanna and me having to hide our stuff every few moments and Jimmy not always able to hear us, but slowly we began to make sense of each other.

  “Okay, just start by panning the whole thing for me, one end to the other,” Jimmy asked. “No! Too fast—go slower!”

  “Jimmy,” I complained, seeing another camera bearing down on us, “I gotta be quick!”

  The little guy kept thinking out loud about what he could see, going through an inventory, barely taking any notice of me apart from to give orders.

  “Okay, yep, that’s pretty standard—hey, can you focus in on the roof? By the helipad there . . . Nah, can’t see—no, no, wait! . . . Whoa!” he cried. “Heavy! I won’t be landing my private jet there any time soon. I wonder what an average everyday respectable conglomerate wants with heavy-duty laser cannons? . . . Clancy, where you gone?”

  I covered my makeshift apparatus yet again as a camera slid past, pretending to be searching the waste ground for anything of value while Hanna did the same. I tell you, she was doing really well. Nothing seemed to fluster her.

  “Wow! Cool!” gasped Jimmy, impressed more than intimidated by the hardware on display.

  “So what d’ya think?” I asked.

  “I dunno,” he said. “The roof’s heavily guarded, and as for the entrance, well, forget it. I don’t get the lawn though.”

  “What d’ya mean?”

  “What’s the point of it? Every thing else is there for a purpose . . . Try chucking a rock.”

  “What?”

  “Heave a rock over there. But get ready to run.”

  “Are you kidding me?”

  “I doubt anything’ll happen outside the fence.”

  “You sure about that?”

  “More or less.”

  “Thank you, Jimmy,” I said, glaring at that tiny red representation of him on the monitor. Maybe Infinity was right and he was the devil incarnate.

  Though I say it myself, rock throwing is one of my few talents, and one was winging its way over there in no time. It landed on the grass while I trained my makeshift camera on it, watching for any reaction. There was none.

  “Try a bigger one,” Jimmy said.

  “What?”

  “It might have a heavier trigger point. Otherwise anything would set it off. A bird could drop a twig.”

  With a pointed sigh, I picked up a larger rock and lobbed it over. This time there was a reaction: a rabbit appeared from nowhere, ran around in a couple of circles, then just sat there.

  Hanna gave out with all these “cooing” and “ooohing” noises, and it occurred to me that she’d probably never seen a live rabbit in her life.

  “There you go,” I said to Jimmy, as if the whole thing had just been declared safe by an expert. But he still wasn’t happy.

  “I don’t know,” he said. “Maybe it needs to be even heavier.”

  “Jimmy!” I protested.

  “It don’t make sense, Big Guy! All those open areas unprotected. Where did that rabbit come from?”

  “A hole, I’d guess,” I rather sneered.

  “Mm . . . That must be the dark areas I can see,” he said, obviously splitting his screen and pulling up a second image.

  For a while he said nothing as he studied and played with the other image. I couldn’t see his face that well, but he looked worried. Several cameras passed by, sliding and jerking on their wire, and I realized what they reminded me of: the dishes in the First Original Sushi Bar, trundling by on their belt.

  “There’s something wrong here,” Jimmy muttered to himself. “I just don’t know what.”

  “You want me to hop over the fence and go for a walk?” I said sarcastically.

  “Ideally, yes,” he replied.

  “Yeah, well, you know what you can do.”

  I was so intent on that tiny monitor I didn’t notice what Hanna was doing until I glanced up: she’d left her “shield” propped up in a bush and was bounding over to the fence.

  “Hanna?” I called, wondering what the hell she had in mind.

  It was like watching a champion athlete do something you wouldn’t have even thought possible. She kinda leapt up, rebounded off the fence about halfway up, then sailed over the top, slithering under the wires and down the other side, landing on the ground with barely any impact.

  “Hanna!” I shouted again, but she took a few steps away from the fence, hopefully avoiding the gaze of the oncoming camera. “What do you want me to do?”

  “Christ! Jimmy, can you see this?” I said, directing my makeshift camera at her.

  “Tell her to just walk around naturally,” he said.

  “What?”

  “She’s in there now,” he said, perfectly logically.

  When I looked up again, Hanna was already off, moving toward the squa
tting rabbit, doing her best not to frighten it, taking a few gliding steps forward at a time.

  “Big Guy?” Jimmy suddenly said, his voice lower, worried.

  “It’s okay, she’s fine,” I replied, glancing over at the main building to make sure there was no sign of any activity.

  “What the hell’s that?” Jimmy muttered.

  I turned to the monitor. He was looking at his other image and obviously something that was really unnerving him.

  “What’s the matter?”

  “There’s something going on there.”

  “What?”

  “Get her out!” he suddenly shouted.

  “Why?” I said, looking over and seeing nothing.

  “Clancy! Get her out!”

  “Hanna! Hanna!” I called.

  I tell ya, it was one helluva shock: suddenly sections of the grass started to rise up, mounds split open, doors slid back and something began to emerge.

  “Hanna!” I screamed.

  It took an age for me to realize what they were. Two of them came bounding out of one opening and several more from another: shiny, silver, moving like some kind of animal—but how could they be? Then I heard this sound, a sort of slurping, pneumatic galloping, and I realized they were robots.

  I guess they looked closest to a dog, a much chunkier version of those pit bull things I used to see around when I was a kid. Their heads were almost entirely comprised of jaws, with huge, pointed metal teeth and a couple of slashes for eyes that I guessed were cameras; and all of them were giving out with this snarling mechanical roar, louder and more chilling than any real animal could ever be.

  Hanna turned and started to run back to the fence, but it was obvious she wasn’t gonna make it. There must’ve been half a dozen or more of those things converging on her. Worse still, there was nothing I could do, no way could I get over that fence in time . . . Two of them came streaking in from the side, emerging from bunkers only yards inside the perimeter, snarling and snapping, their eager jaws ready to rip into her.

  It was weird, almost miraculous. I swear, how fast those things moved, she didn’t stand a chance, but she kind of changed mode and started to move in a different fashion, and in a lull amongst the growling and snarling, I realized she was actually humming to herself. She started to dance to the music, leaping into the air time and time again, pirouetting, leaving their jaws snapping at nothing. Two of them collided with each other, one ending up on the ground, kicking its legs in the air while the other resumed its pursuit.