They didn't let Gia sleep after all. It seemed as if she had just closed her eyes, and now they were shaking her, telling her to get up. And in the dream was so good - my mother's pies, my father tells me what is the most reliable stock exchange, Max is waiting in the network, in the "Altera" - the unkillable boss, in the garage - a motorcycle...
It's a pity, it'll go for parts.
Gia opened one eye, scolded the cheeky man who had so treacherously intruded into her sleep, opened the other eye and smacked her lips, remembering yesterday. Before her stood the Russian oligarch Yegor Tochinov in person.
- There is information about Maria," he said in an even tone that did not betray his mood in any way.
- Alive? - Gia asked, getting out of bed-she had fallen asleep with her clothes on; well, there was no need to get dressed now.
- It's hard to say. We need your friend to contact her-" He twiddled his thumbs in the air, searching for a word. - Telepathically.
He wanted to ask what news, and why the hurry, but Tochinov anticipated the question:
- You try to connect, I'll explain everything later.
It's easy to say "contact," but how? It was Desmond appeared in her thoughts, he has such a gift. But why not try it, see if it works?
- Ah... now.
She lay back, relaxed, called out to Desmond, but he didn't answer. She tried, but he didn't answer. She passed out again as she tried, and Tochinov roused her. She tried again, passed out again, and he didn't answer, as expected.
- Silent," Gia shrugged, yawning, her hand over her mouth. - I guess it's just the way he wants to think, and I can't get through to him. So what's the information on Maria?
- Come with me. I only have a holographic projector in one place, for safety's sake. Just put some warm clothes on, it's snowing and it's freezing. Perhaps it's time to connect the buildings with underground tunnels.
The tunnel hurt when she thought of it-her dead father, her mother, Myka, and Gia sighed frantically, picked up her jeans, which were lying on the chair, away from her things, stacked on the bedside table.
- Change, I'll wait in the corridor," Tochinov said, and went out, letting her change in peace.
They went out into the night together. Her face pinched from the cold, her feet sank into the white ... snow! Forgetting everything in the world, Gia scooped up the snow, rolled it in her hands, and tossed it aside, not liking the feeling.
- Come," uttered Tochinov, and staggered into the darkness, leaving traces on the white canvas. Hrup, hrup, hrup.
What was the matter with Maria? Gia had no idea.
Maria
There was no tying or handcuffing of Maria. The guest, a swarthy middle-aged man, waited until she came out into the corridor, simply grabbed her under the arm and led her away, and that made it even more humiliating: everyone knew that she wouldn't do anything. Even if by some miracle she got out and stole the warder's gun, she wouldn't get far, because by the time she figured out how to shoot, she would be disarmed and hit on the head again, which still hurt.
"Who wants to talk to me? - Maria thought, trying to switch gears. - Why?"
Since her mother's death, it was as if she had fallen into emotional anabiosis and watched herself from the sidelines, her emotions breaking through occasionally. So now she walked with this swarthy, unfriendly man, like an obedient biorobot. She had no choice but to turn her head to the side, to absorb the details, so that she could transmit the picture with phenomenal clarity to Desmond, who would transmit it to her father. But could he do it without distorting the details?
There was no point in guessing when there were no windows, only walls grayed from damp, and old iron doors with rust scabs beneath the paint. Behind the windows was a landscape that could be used to draw a conclusion at least as to the location in which she was kept.
There was a hum from outside, like the hum of a large ship - Maria instinctively tensed up, tried to catch anything else - to no avail. With a rusty creak the armored door opened, the attendant pushed her in the back, and she found herself in a cramped, windowless cell like her cell. Opposite the entrance was an old desk, and behind it was a heavy, panting man with bald spots and a crease of fat in his neck, his eyes as blurred as the desk's varnish.
In the middle of the room was either a camera or an old camera, the kind Maria had seen long ago in Russia, and a chair across from the lens.
- Sit down," he ordered, and Maria complied, put her hands on her knees, intertwined her fingers.
One consolation: she was unlikely to be killed. But why was she here? She was certainly not abducted by Manga's men, they would not be so rough, but who was she and why?
- Is Egor Tochinov your father? - The stranger asked in English, with his cheeks twitching.
And what to answer? "Who is he?" So they all know...
- Why do you ask if you already know? - she wheezed.
The fat man hummed and breathed more frequently, pointing at the camera:
- Then tell your daddy that if he doesn't meet our terms within three days, we'll chop off a finger every day and send Panzotto away. - He grinned. - And I'm sure that six-fingerer will give it to the patron.
- You say so," Mary blurted out, indignation arousing in her, and somehow it seemed that if she repeated what he was about to say, she would betray herself and her father.
- Are you sure? Ahem... Well.
With a clatter of his chair, the fat man got up and walked toward Maria, and she glanced around for protective items, her gaze resting on the tripod. But the owner of the office must have pressed a secret button, and the man who had brought her here entered. He came close so that his pelvis was at the level of her face. Maria turned away and did not get up, knowing there was nothing she could do now. Her intertwined fingers clenched together so tightly that her knuckles turned white.
The fat man waddled over to the camera, pointed the lens at Maria and commanded an underling:
- Go ahead.
The swarthy man pressed his hand to Mary's cheek, ran a finger down her cheek, touched her lips-she shuddered, she jerked, but the man managed to grab her hair, grabbed her neck, squeezing it with the fold of his elbow, pulled Mary up and turned her toward the camera. Gasping, she instinctively clutched at his hand.
- Briefly, Mr. Tochinov. - The fat man's voice was gurgling, like that of a marrying toad. - We have your daughter. I hope you've learned by now how bad it is to throw away partners. Within three days, you wire me 10,000 bids, and you can have your girl. You know we keep our word. She gets on a barge and sails... She'll sail somewhere. And if she don't...
Darkie let Maria out of his grasp, pulled her against him, clasped her hands and ran his tongue along her cheek.
- If not, she won't feel good at first, and then it will hurt, and you'll get a month of her body parts in parcels. I'll attach a video of her losing that body part to each one. Believe me, my people can cut a man up for a long time without him dying. Three days, you hear me? Three days she stays unharmed.
Instead of succumbing to panic, Maria's perfect brain began to count. At the current exchange rate, one bitcoin is $20,000. The fat man is demanding $200 million! Is he crazy?
- I know you have that money," the fat man finished and turned off the camera, the swarthy man let Maria go, she staggered and stretched out on the floor, in no hurry to get up. Two hundred million! Astronomical sum! Would Yegor Tochinov agree to pay such a sum for his illegitimate daughter, and whether he really has so much?
What did he did so angry these bandits?
- Get up," said Darkie indifferently. - Come on, quick! Do I have to bend over for you? Come on, let's go back.
Maria stood up. Her soul felt as empty and dirty as an abandoned house. She understood that as a person she was not considered, rather - as a chip in the game, and very expensive, so that for a while no one will touch her, but then ...
However, is it worth waiting for that "then"?
The fat man poured a coke from the bottle into a glass and gave it to Maria:
- Have a drink. Let's hope for your father's discretion.
"Who's not even my own family," thought Maria, taking the glass from his shaking hands. The fat old man struggled with every movement, his shirt clung to his back, sweat broke out on his forehead, and his breathing was hissing and wheezing. She wanted to tell the truth-they were all human, in case they took pity, but she knew that the truth would only make things worse and bring her nearer to the end. Maria emptied her glass in a gulp, realizing only now how dry her throat was from the excitement.
She went to her cell, sat down on the bed, and tried to calculate the probabilities. The odds of her surviving were nil, but the odds of being tortured were over 70%... Or...
The numbers in her head were jumbled, swirling. Maria raised her head and struggled to focus on the camera. A couple of seconds and there were four cameras, that is, five, four swirling around the one in the center.
This time the focus didn't work, it was off. It had never happened before, not even when she'd been awake for two days at a rock festival. A Coke glass floated into the foreground, swelled up, turned into the head of a fat man who shook his cheeks and laughed.
"I've been poisoned," she thought, and darkness enveloped her consciousness.
Gia
A tall, skinny man, balding from the temples, twisted Maria's arms and drew her to him. When he licked her cheek, Gia shrugged and closed her eyes.
A voice-over sounded:
- If not, she won't feel good at first, and then she'll be in a lot of pain, and you'll have her body parts in parcels for a month. I'll attach a video of her losing that body part to each one. Believe me, my people can cut a man up for a long time without him dying. Three days, you hear me? Three days she stays unharmed.
The speaker turned off the camera, the picture went static and melted away, and Gia stared blankly into the void for another minute, chills pounding her. Poor Maria! They would carry out their threats!
- Two hundred million! Have they gone mad? - Gia looked at the unperturbed Tochinov, his excitement betrayed only by the twitching of his nostrils. - Do you have that kind of money?
- No," he dropped grimly, and the interpreter reproduced mechanically, "I invested it in equipment. I have very little money to spare.
- Mining farms? - Gia guessed, and he nodded. - What do you think, anyway? Who is this man?
Tochinov
waved his hand, stepped to the built-in cabinet, typed the code and
took out a bottle of whiskey, poured it into his shot glass, drank it
in a gulp.
- An Italian mobster. He had a deal gone bad. I set
him up with a man who was eliminated in a missile strike. Eliminated
along with the location of his house. Along with the merchandise. And
when the mafioso had already transferred the money. And since I was
the only survivor, he decided to ask me. What to do..." He
hesitated, and was silent for two minutes. He poured himself another
whiskey, drank it again, and stared out the window.
Gia thought about the fact that she was in danger, no matter where she was. What would prevent a point-blank liquidation - Tochinov?
- We could be liquidated, too? - she couldn't stand it.
Tochinov shook his head.
- That man was in the Congo. Russia has powerful anti-aircraft defense, and not much will reach here. And if it gets there, it would mean an open military confrontation with a nuclear power, no sane person would go for it... I want to believe that he wouldn't. What to do... I will not get so much money in three days, I will not get to France... I will try to ask Gennaro, but it is desirable to know where exactly Maria is kept, and whether she is alive now, and for this I need Desmond.
Tochinov looked at Gia point-blank, she imagined herself in Maria's shoes - how she would be raped first, and then have her fingers chopped off. Powerless anger bubbled in her chest. Her fingernails dug into her palms until they hurt.
- I'll try to contact him again. I can do it right here. - She sat down on the sofa beside Tochinov, leaned back against the soft backrest, and closed her eyes. Come on, Desmond, where are you? Talk to me, I need you!
No one answered. Gia cursed and started pacing back and forth. Then she lay back down again, tuned in, and silence again. How infuriating when you need to know something urgent and important, you call, and you do not answer!
What if something happened to him? Desmond is also a victim of the experiment, the owner of superpowers ...
It's better not to think about it. She heard him say he couldn't keep in touch all the time because it was hard, the signal kept dropping... Gia yawned. She yawned, she couldn't wait to sleep.
- There's Luka," she reminded Tochinov. - In the Virgin Islands, and we have to get him out of there...
- "Again, you want details," said Tochinov and demanded a look at Gia, as if she was a telepath and could mentally reach people across distances. - What is the island?
Exhaling noisily, she squeezed her temples, remembered the lessons of meditation, relaxed, looked inside herself, tried to clear her brain of thoughts, but they swarmed, did not give peace. Eventually fatigue took its toll, and Gia fell asleep. This time Tochinov did not wake her, and in blissful thoughtlessness she spent until morning. And she would have slept longer, but she had a strange dream: a door in the middle of blackness, and someone trying to enter, the bell ringing insistently. But there's no peephole to look through, and Gia doesn't risk opening it, afraid it might be some agents after her again, and there are no windows in the room, no other entrances or exits through which to escape, just walls of blackness.
- Goddamn it, Gia, stop sleeping! - A familiar voice came through.
Desmond! At last she would get to see him in person! Gia threw the door open without a second thought, and light burst into the blackness, hitting her eyes, throwing her out into reality, where she lay again in utter darkness. A second later she realized that she was in the room with the holographic projector, on the same couch, but lying horizontally, and Mr. Yegor had covered her with a blanket while he went off somewhere.
- It's almost nighttime, actually. I haven't slept in a long time," she muttered, wiping her eyes.
- I need your help. Luca, the fourth of ours, can take the host within an hour and hijack a helicopter; he has learned to copy other people's appearances, but not for long.
Not yet fully awake, Gia began poking around the walls in search of a switch, then remembered the ability, and not only the switches, but the wires in the walls were highlighted in red, like the vessels in an anatomy textbook.
- Cool, good for him. What do you want from me? - She squinted at the light in the room, and then realized that she was talking nonsense when she realized it was time to wake up and think.
Luca had learned to take on someone else's appearance? That's probably better than controlling things from a distance or reading minds.
- He doesn't know what a host looks like, and neither do I. - Desmond continued calmly.
Gia remembered everything he passed on about quantum computers. She had once studied the subject, but very superficially, so she had a vague idea of the parts that made up such a computer. The idea was that they were all enormous and unmanageable. Eventually, in 20 or 30 years, something more compact would be invented, but at first, it had to be like television sets and simple computers when they were invented.
- And I don't know much about it, either. So what to do?
- Ask Tochinov, he must know, and hurry up, Luka doesn't have much time left. Something tells me this host is extremely important. Not only that, he's the only one who can stop...
Gia
was interested in his assumption, and he explained:
- In the
U.S., digitization has become mandatory. Entire neighborhoods are
being cleansed, digitized forcibly, and the zombified people don't
mind. My foster mother was killed by my foster father because of me.
The information about us is leaked to the detection systems, I
disguised myself as a woman and sit in a bar, they will find me soon,
I have to leave the country, and again I need your help, I can't do
anything myself without connections!
- I'm sorry," Gia sympathized sincerely, and thought of her mother, and she felt so lonely, so desolate, that the tears coursed. - Do you know anything about Maria?
- Nothing. "We must talk to Tochinov," said Desmond. - It is urgent, he may know about the carrier! Luke does not have much time, I have a little more, but it is also in short supply.
- Okay. I'll get right on it.
Gia looked out the window, where it was night, at the clock: seven in the morning - it was already light in the Philippines at that time - she rushed to Tochinov's apartment, but remembered the radios, with which the villagers communicate with each other, was glad that she did not have to run, get dressed ...
And realized that Tochinom did not tell his number! Threw on a coat, she ran out into the street, where two men to clean the paths of snow, rushed to the blue building, where the first floor was her personal room, and the second occupied the apartment oligarch, ran up to the second floor and knocked on the door. Then she found the bell and started ringing, but no one came to the signal. There was only one thing to do: pound on the door with her fist and shout in English:
- Mr. Egor! Wake up! You are urgently needed!
But Tochinov never came out, but from the first floor came up a guy of sporty appearance, Asian eyes, European face, with lightning bolts shaved on the temples, murmured something in Russian.
- I forgot the translator. - Gia fluttered her hands. - Do you speak English?
- Why are you shouting? - He repeated, muttering the endings in a way that made her want to cringe. - You've stirred up everyone. Wouldn't it be easier to call Yegor Alexandrovich?
- He didn't give me the number," Gia shrugged.
Alex held out his hand, smiling embarrassedly:
- I'm Alex, and I'm a programmer. All coders speak English.
She touched his arm and immediately jerked hers away, a wave of hotness coursing through her body. Her gaze was drawn to his broad shoulders, toned and powerful, and the wrist itself was graceful, almost like a woman's.
- And I'm a programmer," she smiled, handing him the walkie-talkie that hung by the door, and she was tempted to add, "And my English is better, and therefore better code itself.
Alex grinned. Oh so... I was out of breath with indignation.
- Asterisk, three ones, lattice," Alex mumbled, typing the code, long beeps coming from the receiver.
- Did you hear about the hacker attack on the Filipino Dreamers? - She asked in a low voice, but didn't have time to finish her sentence before the receiver barked:
- Tochinov speaking. - And, judging by his intonation, he was awake.
- Mr. Yegor, let me in, it's Gia, I have important information!
- Great. I negotiate. Ten minutes. Stand down.
He never opened the door, which was odd, considering his level of interest. Gia turned to Alex, who raised his eyebrows and asked:
- Let's just say I heard. И?
- I'm the one who's been having fun with my buddy. And I'm ready to challenge you to a duel to prove that my code is cooler. Do you accept? - Gia tucked her chin in anticipation of victory.
But she didn't read admiration on Alex's face, or even approval. He smiled indulgently and said:
- "Unfortunately, I don't have time to prove anything to anyone. If you're so cool, come and help me with the code, because I can't solve one problem...
- Where to?" she said excitedly.
- To the farm," he answered. - I do the farm," he said. I start at nine, and you didn't let me sleep.
- I'm sorry," she smiled, excited to prove she was indispensable.
- I'll see you later. - Alex turned and started down the stairs. He stopped after a flight of stairs and turned around.
The question confused Gia-why? Did he really like her? Why not, there were only a handful of women here. Her heart was pounding, a wave of heat ran down her spine. He was a good-looking guy. Smart! And yet he was physically pumped. For the first time in her life Gia liked a real person, not an avatar or a fantasy object, and she couldn't think of what to do about it now.
- Eighteen...
- If you're telling the truth about attacking MANG, that's a cool achievement for an eighteen-year-old girl. Wait here, I'll get you a translator-the boss either doesn't know English or demonstratively doesn't communicate in it.
Gia let that last sentence pass her lips-she was infuriated by Alex's condescending attitude. For a girl of eighteen! Wasn't he an idiot? Like he was capable of that at twenty-something! I'd have to give him a beating after all.
A minute later he came back and handed Gia an interpreter with headphones, wanting to say something, but the speakers rattled, Mr. Egor invited her in.
-
I'm sorry, I have to go. And..." Gia pondered, deciding that she
shouldn't thank the turkey who was trying to screw with her in every
way.
The door to Tochinov's apartment opened, and Gia stepped
over the threshold, looking around, amazed at how modest the
oligarch's possessions were, the furniture in her apartment was
better. No crystal chandeliers, mahogany, and gilt doorknobs. A cheap
vestibule, where her overcoat and woolen jacket hung, there was no
shoe cabinet, and boots and felt boots stood against the wall. To the
right and left led a corridor, lit by the usual bulbs...
One of the doors in the right wing swung open, Tochinov leaned out and beckoned to Gia, she pulled off her sneakers without bending over, with her foot, and ran to him, speaking as she went:
- Do you know what a carrier is?
A look of surprise appeared on Tochinov's impenetrable face.
- Well, a carrier of a quantum computer," she clarified, and with a cursory voice she relayed everything she had learned to Desmond, starting in the corridor and ending in a meeting room with a single monitor on the wall, a computer and a table surrounded by six high-backed chairs.
- It's important, Desmond needs to know urgently in order to help Luca. Are you developing quantum computers?
Tochinov took a seat at the table, nodded at the chairs opposite, and, without waiting for Gia to sit down, asked:
- I take it the guy contacted you. Any word on Maria? Is she even alive?
Gia shook her head, though she caught Desmond's doubts - Mariah hadn't answered in spite of his insistence, and he allowed for the idea that she really wasn't alive.
- Nothing. Nothing at all, he couldn't get through, but he was trying. He's in trouble himself, and he asks me to get him out of New York, because it's a real mess there: forced digitization, and our, that is, the four test children's, data was leaked into the tracking system. So he disguised himself as a woman and waits for help.
Tochinov sighed heavily and began to curl his fingers.
- So I have to pull Maria from somewhere in France, Desmond from the U.S., Luke from the Virgin Islands, but the coordinates can only give Desmond? This is unrealistic! Also, I tried to talk to Gennaro Panzutto, the one who helped get Maria out, and you know what? He's not getting in touch.
- Is he the one who ratted you out? - Gia suggested.
- He's under arrest. And if he is, he's going to tell everything about Maria very soon, and then he's going to be killed. Do you understand? What is a pathetic handful of mobsters compared to the metacorporation, with its tentacles wrapped around the entire civilized world?
- They'll figure out the kidnappers in no time," Gia realized.
- Exactly. And I do not know how to help my girl. - He clenched his fists, struck the nearest chair-it flew aside, scraped the floor and hit the wall. - My people in Europe and the United States are few and far between, not powerful enough. What's more, I don't even know where to look for Maria! And I don't think we'll find her any faster than MANG agents.
- Desmond can't reach her," Gia repeated. - He's really waiting for information from you about the carrier, it's important right now! Luca is going to steal the carrier and hijack the helicopter; he doesn't have much time! He can pretend to be anyone and no system will recognize him. Can you imagine how invaluable he is?
- And the developments are priceless," Tochinov nodded. - I see. We also tried to develop a carrier, and we even succeeded, but the problem is that it is stationary, too unstable and expensive. If it is transported, all the data would be lost, and it would most likely be destroyed. But... There is information that MANGA specialists have already found a way out of this situation and are currently finalizing the development of a stable system.
- Does that mean you don't know what it looks like?
- Only guessing. In its new form, it's small, the size of a thick book.
Imagining this device, Gia breathed unsteadily. What was inside it? How would she feel this marvel of technology? Would she understand it, could she control it? All this time she had been trying to survive, and therefore she had not studied her own capabilities thoroughly enough, and it was urgent to fill the gap!
- I must see at least a sketch and pass the thought on to Desmond, for I could misrepresent the pattern.
- Keep in mind, this is unreliable information. - Tochinov sat down at the computer and displayed the medium: Gia had presented everything correctly.
At that moment Desmond's excited voice sounded in her head:
- Did you find out what the medium was?
Gia informed Tochinov that Desmond was on the phone, and the oligarch asked:
- Did he find out anything about Maria?
Since Desmond had seen and heard the same thing that Gia had seen and heard, he answered immediately and repeated:
- Nothing. I need information about the carrier. It's urgent!
Gia leaned over the monitor where the image of the medium was, stared at it, and said aloud:
- Look.
- Got it, thanks.
Tochinov stood beside Gia and spoke, addressing Desmond, and the translator reproduced:
- If... When you get in touch with my girl, tell her we're doing everything we can to get her out, and we certainly will. But she must remember details, peculiarities of the area, strange sounds and smells - so that we can find her faster.
Maria
Mary
awoke with a heavy head, but the heaviness was different: it was as
if her head had been stuffed with lush, puffy clouds. The colors
seemed brighter, too; no anxiety remained. What was in the glass?
Drugs? It looked like it.
Maria tried to remember what she'd been thinking before she blacked out-it worked: how great her chances of survival were. Unsalvageable. Disappearingly small. And the threats to send her to her father in pieces are very real. So is it worth waiting for the torment? Isn't it better to cut it short now? The father is a successful businessman, which means he is not a stupid man. There is a reason why the government of many countries, where people who work are also not stupid, do not negotiate with terrorists - and he will not, because hostages are usually killed, even after getting money - it is safer to get rid of witnesses.
Maria looked around the cell looking for a ledge to hook the makeshift rope on, stared into the camera, pointed her middle finger at the watcher. Looked in the bathroom, couldn't find anything suitable. There was nothing to cut my veins with, and there was no bathtub here, no pills to swallow, no pills to hang yourself with. The only thing left to do was to snatch a gun from the guard and shoot myself...
If she could, because Maria had never held a gun in her hands. She did not believe that her life was worth 200 million, and prepared for the worst. Even if her father wants to get her out, 200 million is an astronomical sum, hardly that much free crypto is available. Businessmen prefer to invest free money.
Glancing at the camera once more, Maria sat up, clutching her head. I guess if Manga had gotten her, it would have been better. At least it would have ended quickly and not as excruciatingly.
The door swung open again. A swarthy man crossed the threshold, stepped toward Maria, handed her a cup of tea, and ordered:
- Drink.
She looked the man over from head to toe, stopped her gaze on his waist holster. Her impeccable memory reproduced the shooting sequence seen in the movies. Here it is, the last chance.
- Thank you," she dropped it, took the cup and set it on the floor.
- You have to drink it in front of me," the swarthy man insisted.
Maria swallowed the icy lump in her throat and squared her shoulders. I'm sure it's drugs-so the victim can sleep and not be inconvenienced.
- It's a sedative," the dark-haired man said, and then he was quiet for a few seconds, and then he added mundanely. No matter how much you fight it, I'm stronger. So why torture yourself?
- What is it? - She whispered, taking the cup and clutching it with icy fingers. - It's hot!
- I told you, it's a sedative. Drink.
She put the cup to her lips, but she would not drink it, she wanted to distract the jailer, and it worked. When he relaxed his shoulders, thinking about his thoughts, she threw the cup at his head - right in the temple! The man didn't fall, as she would have wished, but cursed and hissed, wiping his eyes dry with boiling water.
Enraged, Maria sprang toward him, snatched her pistol from his waist holster, and struck the jailer under the knee-he collapsed on his exposed arms. Breathing frantically with excitement, she released the safety, her finger on the trigger. She backed into the corridor and took aim at the head of the swarthy man, who was still rubbing his eyes and swearing in Italian, standing on all fours.
She did not have the heart to kill him, and Maria tried to arouse her hatred for him-remembered in color how he had grabbed her by the hair, remembered his vile tongue, but her finger refused to pull the trigger and cut off the path of such, but life. He wouldn't stop, would he?
- Weapon on the floor! - There was a bark behind her, so loud that she jerked her whole body, her finger trembled, and a shot rang out, the gun spit out a bullet that almost escaped her hands- the swarthy man swayed and collapsed face first into the floor. A pool of blood appeared beneath the shot.
Maria cried out and pressed herself against the wall, pointing the gun at the second jailer who had jumped out into the corridor. Cussing, he jerked back to where he had come from, slammed the door and muttered into the radio in Italian.
From there it was as if a calculator had turned on in his head, calculating every step. Logic tried to save the situation, and the body just did what had to be done. Aiming for herself, Maria tried to open the door in front of her cell, then three more, except for the front door, behind which the jailer was sitting, but they were all locked. There was no way out.
But that was what her senses thought. Logic made me look into the cell above the entrance, put my gun to my temple, and utter a grinning voice:
- Hey, fatty, I got nothing to lose, but you might lose your millions, because if I die, what are you going to charge my father? My corpse can't talk to him.
Joy, mixed with anger, gave her courage and strength. No one would hurt her again, and the fat man would smash his forehead against the wall in frustration. Now was the time. Now is the time...
- Stop!" someone shouted so loudly that Maria jerked again, but did not shoot, for some reason she turned around, but found no one in the corridor.
Nor did she find any speakers from which the voice might have come.
- It was Desmond. - The speaker corrected his blunder. - Don't you dare! We're trying to get you out, but there's too little data.
-
We? My father wouldn't give me up? - Maria was surprised.
- As
long as you are alive, there is hope. Only death is irreparable.
She remembered the jailer she'd killed, and Maria shuddered.
- We are me, Gia, Yegor Tochinov, and the faceless men behind him," Desmond continued. - And there is Luca. Don't you dare die! Stall for time, we'll think of something.
Mary passed on what had happened to her with a picture, and read a thought not addressed to her:
So that's why it took her so long to get in touch...
- The kidnappers had already given your father the tape with the conditions. But we thought you were already dead, someone just wants to make money in parallel, because there's nothing shameful in robbing a Russian mafioso and finishing off an inconvenient girl. Stall for time. We'll figure something out.
- Don't go. I'm scared! - She babbled and burst into tears.
- Don't be hysterical! Hold on. I will not leave. Get the keys from the guard, lock yourself in the cell, and wait.
Maria sighed, put the gun to her temple with one hand, the other smeared her tears, and again showed her middle finger to the watcher.
- You won't wait!
Luca
Luca and a second bodyguard, under the watchful eye of the elderly Negro woman who was in charge on the island, lifted the carrier - a heavy, definitely more than a centner - black cube and dragged it to the helicopter.
The question of what the carrier looked like vanished by itself: It had been brought on a platter. There remained one unsolved problem: to kill Bernard Baruch and the second bodyguard and steal the helicopter. More precisely, to take the pilot hostage, as Luka himself would not take the Iroquois into the air. And then a second problem arises: let us assume that he will succeed, but what next? Where to fly the helicopter? To Russia? Won't they shoot it down? Will that Russian oligarch have enough clout to allow a foreign helicopter to land?
It would also be flying over other countries, and even with Europe Yegor Tochinov will not be able to come to an agreement. What can one do? Or maybe he could take Baruch himself hostage? That's not a very good idea either. Then those behind him would call up the entire air force, and there would be no hiding. The only option, more or less similar to the real one, was to seize control, bring the helicopter to the point agreed upon with Desmond, where Tochinov's people would pick Luca up, and simulate a plane crash.
A text warning him that mimicry would be enough for fifteen minutes flashed before my eyes.
The second bodyguard groaned and groaned, it was hard for him to drag the carrier, the perfect body Luke quickly adapted to the load, and he almost did not apply any effort, but he thought not about the superiority over the others - about what will happen next, whether he has enough time, whether Baruch will not be carried hard somewhere on the island. That he would have time to shoot Baruch's retinue, Luca had no doubt, but then...
Desmond, where are you? Clearly, no more than ten minutes had passed since the last contact, but every second counted! Fifty meters before he reached the helicopter, my partner set the load down. Stretched, resting on his lower back. Stomping, Baruch looked at him. Having figured out what to do, the local guard tried to lift the load, grunted, but did not give up, pulled himself up, and he and Luke dragged the cube.
They hadn't gone more than a dozen yards when a pain pierced his temple - Luca hissed - and Desmond's anxious voice rang out:
- Are you all right?
- I'm fine. - Luke looked at the carrier and thought about what had happened. - How about that? I didn't have to ask you to do anything.
But somehow it was Desmond's indignation that passed first, not his joy, then his thoughts:
- "I've heard rumors that a more compact version of the carrier has been developed. The MANG slaves are trying to sell Baruch some of the old stuff his competitors already have. Besides, they can't transport such a carrier; it's too unstable.
- So Baruch is being cheated? But why? - Luca thought, there was no time to analyze what had happened.
- Because they are different conditionally allied blocks, you see! - And now Desmond was rejoicing. - Well, like a snake and a turtle.
- No. I don't understand.
- They should be pitted against each other-the richest and the most powerful. While they're at each other's throats, they'll forget about us.
- Brilliant, but how? - All Luca could do to stall for a few minutes was to put on a weight, and feign fatigue, his thoughts wandering.
- Say that Baruch wants to cheat: a more modern medium has been developed, and you know what it looks like.
- But I don't know! And what if the connection is broken?
In my head I saw a picture, a thing that looked like a book, sealed in a black box, like the shape of a book.
- It was the same size. Don't be stupid. Well?
That's easy for you to say. Luke looked at the obsolete medium, at Baruch, displeased at the delay, opened his mouth, and it dawned on him that the idea was not feasible.
- I can't speak English! And if I speak Croatian, they'll suspect a switch. Can you say it for me? I mean through my body.
Turns out you can swear mentally, too, and how! Desmond showed wonders of linguistic ingenuity.
- Relax.
-
Ha-ha. How? It's difficult in my situation.
- Just close your
eyes. - Luca did so; he calmed his racing heart, blocked the
hormones-he had underestimated what his body was capable of-not only
calmed down, but also detached himself from what was happening.
As if he could hear Baruch's disgruntled voice echoing in his distance, Luke saw Desmond in his head, giving him something of a rudder. Come on, now. The boy was crawling in his brain like a fetus inside an egg. Baruch was getting nervous; he didn't understand why his two bodyguards were suddenly acting so strangely.
- Desmond, let's hurry...
His mouth opened on its own, and as if from the very insides the English words, which he understood thanks to the fact that he had briefly become Desmond, sprang out. It was as if Luke were vomiting those words. It had happened to him a couple of times during prayer when he and his guardian had gone to church - the Holy Spirit had spoken through his mouth: during the praise of Jesus, people began to pray in an unknown language and fell into a religious ecstasy.
Luke opened his eyes. What was going on was like a fog. The colors faded, the silhouettes blurred. After his exposure, the Negro woman's face turned white and she backed away. The local guards did not know what to do. Apparently, they had orders to obey Baruch without question.
When he had finished his accusatory speech, Luca looked at the woman, expecting her to pull out a gun and shoot everyone, but the lady herself seemed surprised by what she had heard.
- None of this is true," she said confidently.
Baruch asked Luca first:
- Where did you get this information?
- I'm not just here to protect you. I am aware of something, and if we go back to the lab, I will find the carrier and prove it...
A text appeared before my eyes:
Warning. Ten minutes to the end of the "Mimicry" ability.
Bernard pushed his sunglasses up (how could they not interfere at night?) and turned his gaze to the woman, and Luke saw her reflection, dead in the light of the lanterns.
- Deborah, you're either lying, or you're underinformed," Bernard, who had suddenly taken Luca's side, turned to her. - Have you done any engineering? What is your scientific degree?
- Do you admit the idea that it's your man who's lying, not me? - She became bolder.
- Did you do the research personally, or are you an extra? - Baruch repeated.
- I know about everything that happens on the...
- I see. Come on. - Baruch came close to Luca and whispered: - And then you'll tell me how you know, and who you are.
- I will. When we get what's rightfully ours, not the outdated junk even the competitors already have. - Further Luca spoke in a whisper, so that only Baruch could hear. - In the meantime, I'd reassure myself, I'd call my partners and tell them they're trying to screw us, just in case...
Bernard thought instantly, took a push-button phone out of his pocket, the kind that in Croatia even old people do not use anymore, did not call, typed a combination of keys.
- Indicates some kind of signal," explained Desmond. - Surely this phone costs as much as a car, and it has a crypto-chip and optional encryption. Now, when Baruch dies, they'll blame it on MANG!
- That junk costs, by the way," the woman indignantly spoke from behind, referring to the carrier, but Baruch put her down:
- Just in case. If anything should happen to our delegation, I sent a message, who can be blamed for it.
Luca stared at her unsteadily, unable to believe the indecisiveness of a man endowed with such responsibility. This predator has destroyed more than one competitor, gnawing her way to the top. Most likely, she herself does not know that there is another medium, and so she hesitates.
They made it to the lab in a minute, nine minutes to complete the mimicry, and once again Luke had to calm himself down. Desmond, on the other hand, was rejoicing - of course, he wasn't the one under the bullets, and he wouldn't know how to clean up afterwards.
There was no problem getting into the lab-the Negro woman had not given the command not to let Baruch in, and she had no opportunity to consult anyone about what to do. Bernard drew Luca in and hissed:
- If you misinform me, I'll shoot you right now.
And again I had to tame my racing heart. What if Desmond was wrong? What if his information was wrong? Luca could not verify that the medium really looked like a book, so he had to trust him wholeheartedly.
Here it is, the familiar room, where there are quantum computers, looking like transformer boxes, solid at first glance.
- And where to look for the medium here? Will you help?
With all the desire to stretch time, Luke stepped to the nearest computer, began to press on the suspicious ledges, but they were all unremovable. What if the fucking carrier was fixed, too?
- See? He doesn't know what he's looking for," Deborah said triumphantly from behind him.
Luke
didn't turn around, running his fingers over the metal. He shuddered
when he received the notification that he had seven minutes to find
the carrier and get into the helicopter. When another indentation
beneath his fingers first filed deep into the hull and then moved
back, Luca knew he was saved. He was stunned by Desmond's joy, while
his own feelings were muted. All that remained was to get to the
helicopter, and fast.
The carrier, sticking out of the case, did
indeed resemble a book... no, a casket, sealed on all sides. With one
hand on his holster, Luke turned to show the carrier to Bernard
Baruch, glancing sideways at Deborah, who was fluttering her lashes
in confusion.
- We must go," at last the second bodyguard voiced, grabbing his gun. - We've got to go now.
Desmond noted in Luke's mind that Baruch tended to trust his bodyguards, which meant they were carefully selected.
Baruch held out his hand, and Luca handed him the carrier and drew his pistol. Four minutes to go, no time to delay.
The door swung open, and an elderly man with his hair slicked back on his bald head burst in, exclaiming angrily:
- Who let... - But shut up when he saw the guns aimed at him, raised his hands.
The first bodyguard looked out into the corridor, gestured for them to come out.
- You cover the getaway," Desmond said, but Luca knew what to do, took aim at Deborah, backed away.
Waited for Baruch to come out into the corridor, followed him, glancing around. The guards raised their hands and huddled against the wall.
Outside they retreated in the same order: the bodyguard with the espagnolo, Baruch with the priceless carrier, Luke. He kept thinking that the Mangs were about to wake up and open fire, but they had no such orders.
His imagination pictured Deborah talking to someone higher up right now, upstairs conferring and giving her orders. Perhaps they would not be in favor of Baruch, who, instead of running away, was walking slowly, bluntly, flicking phone buttons - sending encrypted messages to his own.
- He's the man! - Desmond exulted. - What a trick that would be! No one would ever think that Manga had anything to do with the murder.
Luca did not like his ardor, for nothing had happened yet, and he had three minutes before he was back to his old self. That could be accompanied by convulsions, and then he'd be taken for sure, and there'd be no killing.
Desmond finally realized that the beautiful plan could be ruined, and lurked as if it had never happened.
In the helicopter the espagnolo-wearing bodyguard took the pilot's chair and engaged in a myriad of tumblers and buttons-the arrows behind the round windows came to life, twitching. There was so much here, Luca certainly would not have got the helicopter into the air. Baruch sat down next to the pilot and put on his helmet. Fortunately, there were only two chairs in front, and the partition separating the cockpit from the compartment where the landing party usually sat was removed, and four more chairs were placed, a pair behind each other.
Luca took the right one in the last row, which was the least visible, and hoped that he would be temporarily forgotten.
roared the engines, and the noise was so loud that Luca finally calmed down: speaking in such a roar was impossible, which means that Baruch would moderate curiosity and not interrogate him before he landed.
Warning. Two minutes to the end of the "Mimicry" ability.
The countdown numbers flashed. The roar inside the cockpit intensified, and Luka put his helmet on, so they wouldn't notice his face change right away. They couldn't let the switch be discovered now. If it happened, the right thing to do would be to blow up the helicopter with himself, sowing the seeds of discord between the supreme oligarchy and the Manga. But Luca was not ready to die, he still wanted to live a little longer, so he mentally crossed himself when the car took off, glanced at the timer, where the seconds were changing:
34
33
32
The helicopter jerked, lifted off the ground.
- Come on, baldy, take him far away," Luke heard Desmond say to the pilot, seized by excitement. - And do not look back, just do not look back!
Luca understood that the pilot would not turn his head now, he risked crashing, he needed to be as focused as possible, but there was still Baruch, eager to know how his young bodyguard had secret information, what if he had been sent by a rival friend? Who knows what kind of lead he might have, what if he wants to talk right now?
20
19
18
The helicopter rose higher and higher. The two-seater helicopter began to look like a puppet, the human silhouettes on the platform, flooded with the light of the lanterns - bugs. Luke was still waiting for someone to raise the "fly" and fire a volley, but so far they were not going to shoot them down, but in a couple of minutes everything could change.
I wonder if the body's new capabilities would save it from death if it fell from such a height. The helicopter had already risen twenty meters, the island could be seen as in the palm of my hand: and the "official" villa near the helipad, and the shining residence of the vampires, where children's blood was transfused to old men, and the laboratories with quantum computers.
You can't crash right over the island. You have to get the helicopter to fly at least a couple of kilometers away and crash near another large island where Luke can take shelter.
4
3
2
Luka
closed his eyes, put the gun next to him, and grabbed the armrests,
mentally praying that he would not fall and start banging his head on
the floor.
- Hold on, Luke! - Desmond encouraged him.
He said something else, but Luca wasn't listening - the notice came that the time for mimicry was over, and he gripped the armrests harder.