“I don’t get it,” said Cole. “Why would someone like that want to do all this crap? She won’t get to see this singularity thing, so why bother?”
It was Rudy who answered that. “Nicodemus.”
“I don’t understand.”
Rudy said, “Did you ever read the novel Fahrenheit 451? You know the opening line, about how it was a pleasure to burn? That’s Nicodemus.”
Even so, Bunny asked, “What does he get out of it except for jollies? I mean, if this is all so he can roast wieners as the world burns, how’s that do him any lasting good? Especially if the technological singularity happens. Shouldn’t that sort of thing end up with a new kind of stability? A smaller but less messed-up world? That’s not chaos.”
Spencer said, “What’s it matter? He’s a freak and he needs to be put down. And if we find this Bain broad alive, then she needs a bullet, too.”
“Hooah,” murmured Top.
Bug shook his head. “Here’s the thing, guys,” he said. “I’ve been going over the John the Revelator speeches to try and figure out what their moves are, and there’s a real problem.”
“How so?” Rudy said.
Bug adjusted his thick glasses. “Well, for one thing it won’t work. You can’t curate an apocalyptic event. It’s patently impossible no matter how you look at it. I mean, sure, the way they have this set up the process of tearing down the world as it is might work. And, to tell you the truth, I don’t know how we’re going to stop it.”
“Ay Dios mio,” said Rudy softly, once more touching the crucifix beneath his shirt.
“But,” continued Bug, “there’s no way to guarantee the survival of whoever they think is worthy of making the cut. Let’s figure that it’s the people who attended John’s lectures. The educated, the intellectual class, the people in favor of green solutions — basically, most of the people I know and like. It’s not like we’re all living in protected biodomes. I talked this over with Doc Cmar, and he agrees. When you have sixteen plagues released into that big a portion of the population, even if the release is controlled by nanites, the diseases will spread like wildfire, because the areas hardest hit have dense populations and poor health-care and emergency services. That means there will be millions or billions of corpses that will never be buried. You can’t cremate them all, because the smoke from that many fires would plunge the world into a kind of nuclear winter. And there are diseases from unburied decaying bodies that would go completely wild. Maybe — and I mean maybe — a few thousand, maybe a few million people worldwide — could find shelter on islands, inside walled compounds, in bunkers, on watercraft, whatever — but they wouldn’t necessarily be the technocracy. A lot of them would be doomsday preppers who’ve been expecting some kind of disaster. Some would be military. Some would just be lucky because they lived on small islands. Overall, though, it’s ridiculous to think that this mass-disease release would accomplish what John the Revelator has been predicting. And it’s not like we have robots ready to protect the chosen ones. Zephyr Bain’s DoD contracts are for things like the thresher and for WarDogs. Not for infrastructure robotics or AI that would manage a disaster.”
“So… does that mean this singularity isn’t going to happen?” asked Cole.
“I’m saying that it can’t,” said Bug. “No way. There is no model, no variation of a model, in which that can happen.”
“If Zephyr Bain believes it,” observed Rudy, “then she was manipulated into believing it.”
“Right,” said Bug, “which is why I have Nikki running down everyone who’s invested in special shielding and security, bunkers, remote compounds, whatever, with a bias toward the kinds of people that fit what we think is the model for ideal survivors. Not the poor and not the people polluting the planet. That still leaves a lot of room for error, though. Some of the people she’s finding are just doomsday preppers or social misfits.”
Church said, “Nicodemus said that we stopped the Seven Kings, Mother Night, and the Jakobys but that we missed their progeny. He intimated that the Bad Sister was coming up behind them, learning from them and surpassing them. Once Jerry found the Bain connection, we had Nikki run a deep background on her, and behind one of Davidovich’s blind spots we found that connection. Her father was a business associate of Hugo Vox’s. That connection dated back decades, so it isn’t unreasonable to believe that Zephyr was exposed to Hugo as a child or teen, and possibly to the Jakobys as well. We know that Nicodemus worked with Hugo for years. He even admitted that he was our enemy’s teacher.”
Cole marveled at this. “He… raised her to be like this? To do this?”
“I believe so,” said Church.
“Shee-eee-eeet,” said Top, drawing it out. “If Nicodemus was her role model, then that kid never had a chance to be anything but nuts.”
“But she’s dying,” said Bunny. “Does that mean this is all a going-away party for her? Instead of balloons and a scary clown, she gets to watch the world get sick and die?”
“Maybe,” I said. “Or maybe she’s been manipulated into throwing a big apocalyptic hootenanny for her mentor.”
“Maybe it’s a bit of both,” said Church, nodding.
“Hold on, though,” said Bunny. “Seems like we’re missing something. Maybe this isn’t Zephyr. I mean, we were warned about a sister, right? Good Sister and Bad Sister. Are we sure she’s the Bad Sister? Maybe she’s just Dead Sister. Maybe she’s the one who’s been texting the captain and the real bad sister is working with Nicodemus.”
Bug was shaking his head before Bunny finished. “Can’t be that, ’cause Zephyr Bain is an only child.”
Cole cut a look at Rudy. “Could it be a split-personality thing? Could Zephyr be both Good and Bad Sister?”
Rudy pondered that, lips pursed, then slowly began shaking his head. “I don’t think so. I mean, sure it’s possible, but not likely. Multiple-personality disorder isn’t as compartmentalized as that. No… I think we’re dealing with two distinct persons rather than one fractured individual.”
“So who the hell is the Good Sister?” asked Top.
No one had an answer.
“Where’s this Zephyr Bain live?” asked Bunny. “And how come we’re not en route to put a bullet in her?”
“Or arrest her,” suggested Cole.
“Sure, okay. We can look at that as a possibility,” Bunny told her unconvincingly.
“Bain has houses all over the place,” said Bug. “Her main estate is in Seattle.”
Top raised his hand. “Bunny and me… and Officer Cole… can hit that once we’re on the ground. It’s forty-five minutes from the joint-use base where we’re touching down.”
“Forty if I drive,” said Bunny.
“Thirty-five if I drive,” countered Cole.
“Good,” said Church. “I already sent the Junkyard to the airbase in anticipation of Echo Team’s arrival.”
“Won’t we need it at the camp?” asked Rudy.
“Not likely,” I said. “The DARPA camp is staffed by our guys.”
There was a bing-bong and the pilot’s voice crackled through the speakers. “Coming up on it, Cowboy.”
CHAPTER NINETY-EIGHT
The helicopter landed in a rough natural clearing surrounded by dense trees. Two men got out and stood for a moment looking back the way they’d come. Inside the chopper were six other men dressed in unmarked jungle-camouflaged BDUs. They were all heavily armed and wore broad-bladed machetes on their hips, useful for chopping through the thick jungle growth. The co-pilot let them out and ordered them to sit on the grass on the far side of the clearing. The men sat as ordered. Each of them was marked with scars from injuries received in combat, and overlaying those scars were fresher surgical scars that looped up and over their skulls.