The Omega Device (The Ha-Shan Chronicles Book 1) (27 page)

Maggie cast Russell a look, the sadistic humor unfathomable, “Enough.”

West rolled his eyes, made a small slice across Thorne's cheek. “Argh, you fuck!” He dabbed the area with a hand, “Asshole.”

“You'll live,” West ridiculed as he wiped the blade on a pant-leg and sheathed it in his own belt.

“Fucking testosterone-drinking, poodle-balled, junkie.”

Thorne forced his way through the group to a bathroom, returned with a cloth pressed against his face.

“Thorne, we need you for data-eval,” Reese said.

“What a big fucking shock, you need me for something,” he said, exasperated.

He sank in his chair with the cloth to his face. Shock flickered in his eyes as he saw Reese's injuries, but he quickly hid it with an intrigue over the new arrivals.

“You're who we've been chasing, huh? Can't say I cared much for what you did to Kurst, he was a nice guy. Hoff was a cock though.”

Reese criticized him, “He didn't even like you. You just couldn't tell 'cause he spoke German.”

“Yeah, whatever.”

“Just shut up. Can you do it or not?”

“Stephy, baby, you gotta' learn it's not if, but when?”

“Cut the bullshit.”

He sighed dramatically, “No respect. Fine, business then. There's no way to know 'til I see what it is.”

West eyed Maggie. She dropped her pack to unzip it. Russell watched the others carefully. Maggie removed the books, hesitated with a look to West; his sneer perpetually etched into his face.

“Be careful with them,” Maggie said, handing the books to Thorne. He gave a half-smile, winked. Maggie sensed West's bloodthirsty mouth watering. “This isn't all of it. You'll need us for the rest, which you won't get 'til we reach the weapon.”

Thorne opened books to examine them, “Well, longest part'll prob'ly be the scanning. Translation should only take a couple hours, but putting everything in's gonna'—What the fuck is this?”

“Can you translate it?”

Thorne turned pages, “What
is
it?”

“Cuneiform. Can you do it?”

Thorne was reluctant, “I'll have to write a new program. It could take days.”

Maggie surveyed West with false confidence, “We've got time.”

“You have
forty-eight hours
to program,” West corrected. “Twenty four more to scan.”

Thorne's eyes widened, “This isn't some bullshit op. You can't just—”

“Forty eight hours. Or I start taking fingers.”

“Fuck you, man, it can't be done!”

West headed for the door, nodded at Maggie, “I'll be back in three days. Until then she's in charge.”

Maggie pushed in front of him, “Where the fuck're you going?”

“Nowhere that concerns you.”

“I'll take the books and leave.”

“I'll snap your fucking neck.”

Russell's rifle rose at the back of West's head. Maggie's eyes locked. Her jaw clenched. Russell's finger poised to kill.

“Woah! Hey. Wait. This doesn't have to—”

“Thorne, shut the fuck up!” Reese barked. She licked her lips.

He countered over the vile stalemate, “He just wants to get high. This isn't worth fighting over.”

“That true?” Russell pressed, trigger-finger poised.

“More or less.”

Maggie couldn't decide if embarrassment or simple irritation underpinned his tone. Thorne further disarmed the situation, “Look, we're under orders. He can't hurt you. This is not uncommon. Just let him—”

“Thorne!” Reese shouted. He flinched, went silent.

Maggie stared into West's cold eyes, purple from the sleep-deprived overuse of stimulants. Along with his sunken sinus cavity, she recognized the signs of a junkie. The few, lucky souls that had managed to escape their addictions long enough to enter her shop always looked similar. She wasn't sure whether to feel disgust or sympathy, then recalled his treatment of Reese.

“You come back armed, or with anyone in tow, you lose the data. Are we clear?” Maggie asked, her eyes lethal.

“Yes, mum,” West mocked.

She sidestepped. West shoulder-checked her as he marched out. Maggie jolted. Her face shook with fury. The door slammed and she questioned his true intentions.

“He's only so pissy 'cause he hasn't had his fix today,” Thorne assured her.

“Thor—”

“No,
Steph!
I'm not bullshitting her. The guy's a fucking junkie,” he spat. Reese's eyes narrowed. He re-focused on Maggie, “When we're on the move he has to portion it out. It pisses him off. He only gets to be as fucked up as his rationing can provide. But here he can overdo it.”

Reese huffed and disappeared into the bathroom. Maggie watched the door shut. Russell eased his rifle off and on to his back, “What's he on?”

“Whatever he can find. Around here? Heroin. But he hates downers—takes the fight out of him. So sometimes he leaves, finds the biggest coke dealer around, 'n robs 'im blind. Guy tries to take him out, he kills everyone in the room.”

Russell crossed his arms, “Why're you helping? You seem to dislike him.”

“Think any of us has a choice? Besides, have you seen what I'm running here?” He gestured to the computer-bank. “What's the alternative? You guys? No offense, but you're still in the stone-age. Plus you're down by the numbers.”

Maggie huffed, “That's a great way to look at deaths.”

“Most'a the people we've taken out the last few days have been found from chasing
you
. Those two in Oakton were the first successful hit in a while. You running just made it easier to find the bigger fish.” Maggie winced. Thorne caught it, tried to reassure her. “Don't take it so hard. It's all just business, babe. I don't kill anyone, and I don't want to. But if someone who does wants me to work for them, I'm not saying no—
especially
if they're willing to pay. The world runs on blood. The choice you gotta' make's if it's gonna' be yours. And trust me, that's always West's response to a no—especially with that freak-azoid Black giving orders.”

Russell's ears perked up, “Black?”

“Oh c'mon, like you haven't heard of Black yet.”

“I haven't,” Maggie lied.

Thorne squinted, “Damn, you guys really are wet behind the ears. See? This is why I'd rather be here than there. They don't tell you shit,
and
they don't have a pot to piss in. What's the point in protecting some ancient dust-pile anyhow?”

“So, who's Black?” Russell asked again.

“Ah, well,” Thorne began, matter-of-factly. He turned back to the keyboard for his fingers to work. “This cat's strange, man. A real out-there, black-box kinda guy. Supposedly he's the contact for Omega's higher-ups, but he'd never say that. Same guy that okayed us to work with you and ordered West not to kill you. Talks through a vocal modulator and a special sat-relay system.”

“Sat-relay? He's using satellites?”

“Yep. Got a bunch of 'em in a relay to scramble his messages. Makes him impossible to track. Never know where the messages are originating from. They just bounce from one to another in data-bursts, hidden in packet-transfers. On the outside it looks like they're relaying basic info. Real James bond-stuff, man. I ran a trace one day, just on the relay, not trying to find him but curious about the setup. All of the connections came back third party. Legit shit with tax and FBI records.”

“So you've never
seen
him?” He asked with a scratch of his cheek.

“Nah. Doubt anyone has. If they had, they wouldn't know it was him. Paranoid, man.” He lapsed into silent thought, then turned to face them. He nodded at the bathroom door, “West did it.”

Maggie's brows inverted, “Huh?”

“Steph's face. West's a brutal bastard. Neither of you did that.”

Russell glanced at the door, “Yeah, why?”

Thorne turned back, muttering, “Bastard.”

The bathroom door opened and Reese spit venom, “Thorne, get the fuck to work.”

“What d'you think I'm doing? Picking my ass?”

Maggie examined the screens, “What
are
you doing?”

The two stacked screens directly in front of Thorne were covered in a seemingly random assortment of characters. As he typed, the screens scrolled from new lines at the bottom.

“Like I was telling gorilla-man.” Reese stifled a growl. “I need to write a translation program. Right now, I'm writing one for the Old Chinese dialects—which we have dictionaries for.”

“And the Cuneiform?”

“That won't be as easy,” he admitted, his attention on the screen. “The programs are easy enough once the dictionaries are in place- they compile sample passages, then I examine them for coherency, pick the most accurate ones. Ideographic languages are trickier. Each word shifts the meaning of the passage when placed with the last. The code for the Cuneiform'll be immense and it'll take time. West's fucked. It's gonna be a lot longer than three days.”

“So, what're we supposed to do?” Russell asked.

“Once the Old Chinese program's in place, you'll start scanning the books while I search for any other dictionaries then write their programs.”

“You're giving them access to tech?” Reese spit.

“Do
you
want to scan thousands of pages of text by yourself?” He asked with a swivel toward her. She was silent. He swiveled back, “Didn't think so. We're in my ballpark now. Besides, they're just sensors.”

Reese's face relayed fury at being ordered by Thorne. Maggie watched with a detached bemusement. Reese suddenly stood, made for the door.

“Hey! Where the hell're you going?” Russell asked. Maggie rushed to block her.

“To smoke,” Reese hissed. “Day I take orders from Corporal Computer's the day I throw in the fucking towel.”

“I'm going with,” Maggie argued.

Reese pushed her sideways, “Like hell you are.”

A burst of anger rushed through Maggie. Before she could stop, she'd slammed her fist into Reese's stomach. Her other hand gripped Reese's arm where she'd been shot. Reese fell sideways into the wall, slid to the floor on her knees. Thorne froze in terror.

“Maggie—”

“This isn't a fucking game!” Maggie drilled. She tightened her grip on Reese's wound. “You're listening to
me
! I'm giving the orders now. West knows that. Your
boss
knows that. If I decide I'm going with, I'm going with. You defy me, you defy them. None of us has time for your macho-bravado bullshit, understand?”

Reese gave a wicked grimace, chewed her tongue, “Yes… Ma'am.”

“Good,” she said, her tongue and grip firm. “The only reason I let West go's so I'm not dealing with a jonesing addict. If he
does
come back armed, I'll kill all three of you. I'm done with games, and I'm done with
your
bullshit. You've chased me through four countries. I'm not running anymore. Shut up long enough to cooperate, or eat a bullet. Understood?”

Reese acknowledged with a quivering upper-lip, her face locked against pain.

“Good.”

She released Reese, extended her hand. It was begrudgingly taken. Maggie helped her up and followed her outside. Russell eased from his shock, patted Thorne's shoulder. He shook his head and his fingers returned to work.

“She needs to be careful, man. Pissing off West's one thing. He won't make a move without Black's say-so. Pissing off Steph's another matter.”

“She won't kill Maggie unless West says so, and that's
not
going to happen.”

“No, she'll won't kill her,” Thorne agreed. “But she's kinda like West—gotta' screw loose somewhere, likes pain.”

“I'm not sure I want to know.”

Thorne shrugged, “You don't need to, but she'll beat someone senseless if the mood strikes. And trust me, it can.”

Russell hoped Maggie's good sense would prevail and she'd remain at arm's length. Retribution from Reese seemed as much a given as an attack by West. Russell's only hope lay in Thorne's assertion that West was too busy with his vises.

Maggie followed Reese into the crisp, Lhasa afternoon. The sun was perched overhead through thin, mountainous clouds while distant machinery ground in the air. A light wind whipped through the valley as Reese covered the end of a cigarette to light it. She kicked a foot up to lean against the door.

Maggie watched a few paces away, arms crossed. She didn't like being so near her enemy, found herself grateful for the few people moving about doing their jobs. She hoped, in the event of an attack, someone might step in before serious damage was done.

Reese released a heavy cloud of smoke and Maggie questioned her, “Where is he?”

“The fuck should I know? I'm not his goddamned keeper.”

“Did something make you this hostile or were you born a cunt?” Reese glared. “I'm guessing the former.”

Reese shifted her weight between her legs, mocked her, “Let me explain something to you
Miss Molly.
I don't like you or the way you walk in here to use us. You should be a burnt corpse in a ruined temple, or rotting in a forest with a fox gnawing your crotch. If I have the chance, I
will
kill you.”

She cast a sadistic grin at Maggie under wide, psychotic eyes. Maggie began to laugh. It started with a small chuckle, turned full-on maniacal. She couldn't believe her fear had been so deeply rooted in such ignorance. Reese was caught off-guard, clearly unusual given her puzzled features.

Maggie spoke between laughs, her words a desperate plea, “Bloody hell you've all got your heads up your arses! You're blaming
everything
on us.”

“I didn't kill Hoff or Kurst.”

“You just didn't pull the trigger.”

Reese pushed from the wall, shoved her face into Maggie's, “Oh, really?”

Maggie smiled. Reese recoiled with confusion.

“I own a fucking
tattoo shop.
I did a tattoo. You came after me because of it. In the process, a couple maniacs got killed. Sounds like whoever told you to kill me got your friends killed.”  Reese was struck silent, but Maggie was far from finished. “Whoever ordered you to attack's responsible. The same one that's telling you
not
to touch me now. Yet here you are, telling me you're going to kill me, and blaming me for trying to survive. It's
your
fault, whether you accept it or not. But see, it's deeper than that.” She back-stepped, gestured wildly, “The people you're killing—the Protectorate—they've been around since we first walked upright. Somehow, your people sprang up afterward convinced they were superior.”