Other people ran, fear etched on their faces, eyes streaming with tears as they screamed out names of loved ones. Some wandered aimlessly, eyes blank, minds shattered by shock. Still others fled for higher ground, displaced by floodwaters and motivated by natural survival instincts. As the waters rose and the streets continued to flood, they ascended to the top of the city, crammed together in crowds so thick it was hard for everyone to breathe.
Bodies were everywhere: synoids affected by Kilgore's disruptive signal. They toppled in the middle of whatever they were doing at the time, cold and stiff as corpses, eyes staring into the digital void. Some of the synthetic humanoids still had living companions kneeling beside them: weeping, begging for them to get up. My jaw clenched when I looked down at the case in my hand. Faraday's egotism was the source of all the suffering, and for a minute I seriously considered chucking his genius brain into the dark floodwaters. The only thing that stopped me was the knowledge of the catastrophe to come if some of his intellect didn't survive.
I tapped my holoband. "Call Natasha."
Her face flashed on the screen, sweaty and soot-streaked. "Mick?"
"I'm here, Natasha. Are you okay?"
"I saw him fall, Mick. He was near the stage, and when Kilgore activated the signal … he fell like the rest of them. Just dropped over like a dead man."
"Who?"
"Matt. Matt Finn, my…"
I felt a stab of pain, knowing she just experienced another tragedy I couldn't do a thing to prevent. "It meant he was a synoid, Natasha. He was never real, understand? Just a creation of Faraday to populate the Haven. I'm sorry, Natasha — I really am. But you have to focus past all of that right now. You need to get the hell out of this mess. This isn't gonna end anytime soon, and the police aren't gonna be enough to stop it."
She just stared at me, eyes overflowing. "Is it true, Mick?"
"Is what true?"
"Are you and Hunter the same person? Poddar let it slip when I questioned him. Or maybe he told me on purpose. But if that's true, then you're responsible for what's happening, just like Kilgore said."
I paused, looking at her face on the screen. She knew it was the truth, but wanted me to deny it, tell her something that could explain it all. Because she believed in me like no one else, and desperately wanted me to tell her she was wrong.
I couldn't.
"You're right, Natasha — me and Hunter are the same guy. I'm a basket case, okay? What I thought were memory blackouts were just Hunter assuming control. I built a criminal network and formulated the plan to bring this Haven down. I'll never know if I would have gone through with it because Kilgore infiltrated the Haven and seized control of my setup. But in the end, I'm the one who put everything into place. It's my fault this is happening."
"So, you knew. All this time, you knew we were in an underwater prison. You knew half the people in the city were synoids. That Matt was a…" Her voice broke off, bottom lip trembling.
"Not all this time. I had to investigate, dig up a lot of buried secrets. The underwater setting, the synoids … all of that I just recently discovered. But I tried to warn you. Remember? I told you about the memory reprogramming."
She stared at me for a long time, heartbreak evident in her gaze. "You didn't tell me everything. You didn't tell me what you were planning. You have to turn yourself in, Mick."
"It's too late for that."
"Flask has units scouring the city for you. Everyone who was at the Square, everyone who watched the broadcast — they're all looking for you. You won't last long, Mick. Not with the floodwaters pushing everyone up. We're running out of space, and soon there won't be anywhere to hide."
"Who says I'm hiding?"
"The mask on your face."
"Just a little something to blind the electric eyes. I'm not hiding, Natasha — I'm leaving. I have what Kilgore is looking for, and I'm taking it out of the Haven. He'll follow, and no one will be bothered with either of us again."
Her eyes glistened. "He'll catch you, Mick. He'll track you down, and he'll kill you."
I managed a wry grin. "Talk about a lack of faith in the ol' Troubleshooter. This ain't the first time I've been down, and it's definitely not how I'm going out. You get as high up as possible, okay? Meet me at the Dome and I'll take care of things from there. The Council will wait until all options are dried up before they take the Haven to the surface."
"What are you going to do?"
I tilted my Bogart low over my eyes and kept my head down when a fleet of drones buzzed overhead. "The only thing I'm good at. I'm gonna find Kilgore and put a bullet in his skull."
Chapter 13: No Clean Exit
The Dome was the main arena for sporting and exhibition events in the Uppers, a behemoth with a seating capacity to accommodate well over two hundred thousand. Its mirrored honeycomb exterior glistened in the rain, the panels pulsing with multicolored light. I approached it cautiously even though I didn't expect any real danger. It was far enough away from the city center to avoid major rioting, and since any events had been canceled, there was no one hanging around. All I had to do was dodge the roving drones, robot guards, and security cameras. Easy enough, especially since my goal wasn't to break into the Dome itself.
Just one of the ticket booths.
Holoband access, enter, button press to activate the lift. The floor dropped, lowering me several stories underground before stopping. The doors opened, and I stepped into my safe house, where for the past year I'd worked on the plan to bring down New Haven.
The compound was spacious, with a brightly-lit atrium ceiling, spiraled ramping, circular workstations, and floor-to-ceiling network screens. It was a command hub, created to function independently and survive any number of emergency situations — like a sudden onset of constant flooding.
Oscar Greco met me at the door, looking a lot cleaner than the tardust-snorting wannabe mobster he was before I enlisted him in my op. "I got a crew ready to roll, boss. Getting out by vehicle is gonna be tough, though. The brass has floaters grounded, and the crowds have the streets packed. No way to get through without attracting attention."
I nodded. "So, we walk."
"Take the route on foot?"
"You heard me. Space the men out, join the riot, gun down anyone who gets in the way. We'll just be another crew wrecking the place to spying eyes. Wear masks to avoid being tagged."
"Got it, boss."
"Any sign of Natasha?"
"Who?"
"Police officer Natasha Luzzatti. Should be en route as we speak."
"You got the brass tied up in this? Should we be concerned?"
"No, I should be concerned. Monitor surveillance and let me know the minute you see her coming."
"Okay, boss."
I glanced at Lord Troll, who lounged in his seat with his heels on the desk, oversized goggles covering his eyes. He gave me a thumb's up. "I downloaded a package into the security servers five minutes ago. Right now, it's giving the coppers a major headache with their communications and surveillance equipment, dropping calls and shutting down cameras in untraceable intervals. They're not gonna notice a thing."
"Good. Can you use the same system to find out where Natasha is?"
"Like looking for a needle in a haystack with the crowds out there." He gulped at my expression, straightening up to his desk. "That is to say, should be duck soup to trace. Gimme a few tics."
Nodding, I turned to Joe Cook, a hairy beast of a man who looked tubby as a wild boar and twice as filthy. His untidy appearance aside, there was no one better at smuggling goods in and out of the Haven. He paused in the act of munching on an entire pie to give me a sly wink.