Sequence Page 13

  “Why’s that?”

  “It means it’s sending or receiving a signal.”

  ***

  Jacob and the others sat around the coffee table, sipping yet more espresso. Jacob replaced the organ, now wrapped with ice blocks, into the box. He surrounded it with several yards of aluminum foil, partly to keep the temperature low, but also to block any signals that might be coming out of it. “We’ve got to go to the police with what we’ve got,” Jacob said.

  Emma shook her head. “And say what? We accidently killed an android-person and ripped this thing from the body?”

  “I know it doesn’t sound good,” Jacob said. “But this is beyond what we can deal with. It’s gone far enough. I’ll go alone; I won’t implicate anyone else. This is all on me.”

  “Like hell it is,” Brian said. “For one, our DNA will be all over that body, and secondly, we stand a better chance of being taken seriously if we all go.”

  “Hey, count me out,” Phillip said. “I can’t afford to get involved with all this.”

  “Don’t worry, your name won’t be mentioned; you’re completely safe from this,” Jacob added before standing up and heading for the door.

  “Where are you going?” Emma asked.

  “To make a call. I’ll be right back.”

  “Don’t jinx it,” Brian said.

  “Yeah, thanks, Bri, very encouraging.” Jacob went out into the hall, leaving the door open a crack. He switched on his phone and looked up the number to the nearest police station. He stopped when he heard screams coming from the stairwell at the end of the corridor.

  Abandoning the call and placing the phone back into his pocket, he approached the stairs and looked down over the bannister. He heard sounds of a struggle, legs or arms striking the metal rail, followed by muffled screams and moaning. Heavy footsteps echoed up the stairs.

  He heard a woman shout from a few floors down, “Oh my God, someone help. He’s dying. Please, someone call 911!”

  Jacob started to reach for his phone when he saw the head of a large-shouldered man come into view. The man looked up. His face was impassive for a moment until he and Jacob made eye contact, then the man’s face tensed with a look of recognition.

  He was wearing a cop’s uniform. Blood stained his hands and cuffs. The man started to run up the stairs. Jacob dashed back away from the staircase, dropping his phone, but he couldn’t go back for it, didn’t have time. He sprinted down the corridor and dove back into the apartment, slamming the door behind him and frantically trying to find the locks.

  “What the hell’s wrong?” Emma said.

  Phillip rushed to the door. “Jesus, man, what’s going on?”

  “How do you lock this damned door? Quick… there’s—”

  Something heavy crashed against the door, making it vibrate in the frame and sending Jacob and Phillip darting back.

  Another crash followed.

  The hinges split from the doorframe. Fragments of wood exploded into the apartment as the door went crashing to the floor with a thud.

  The cop strode in and locked eyes with Jacob, grimacing as his body tensed, muscles stretching against the ill-fitting uniform. Something about the cop’s gait told Jacob this wasn’t a cop at all. It moved just like Miss Clipboard.

  The cop bore down on Phillip, who stood his ground, shifting into some kind of karate stance. Brian and Emma backed him up but soon saw what Jacob saw, their eyes growing wide with fear and recognition.

  “Holy Christ,” Brian said.

  “It’s one of them,” Jacob screamed.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  10:30 a.m., Day 3, XNA Industries, Alaska

  Tanya Merriweather looked in the mirror and smiled.

  “Welcome to XNA Industries. I’m the marketing executive.”

  No, that wouldn’t work, she didn’t have Gray’s permission to use the title, but she intended to ask. If she was to front a commercial campaign, she needed a title that carried some gravitas. One that might just get the right kind of attention if she put in a stellar performance. She straightened her dark blue trouser suit and looked in the mirror again, ignoring how she still shook with fear and worry.

  “I’m Tanya Merriweather, XNA.”

  It was no good, she couldn’t concentrate. As she looked around Devereaux’s office, images from the plane flashed through her mind. Murphy’s attack, the blood, the offer she couldn’t refuse. There was also the goon who appeared by the door shortly after Gray left.

  “Can you give me some space? I can’t think with you staring,” she said.

  “Sorry, orders from Dr. Gray. I need to make sure you’re safe.”

  “Safe from what?”

  He shrugged. She recognized him as the synthetic from the film they’d played at the Washington Convention Center. There was no point trying to change his mind. Or run.

  She sat on a brown leather chair behind the desk and spun around, facing the window. Outside, in the gleaming sunshine, Murphy led a small troop of synthetics into the warehouse. Perhaps his behavior yesterday was a one-off, and she really could realize her dreams with the company. She felt that whatever was going to happen next would be high profile; it was a difficult thing to give up, yet Murphy scared her. What if she was deemed surplus, too?

  She slammed her left hand on top of her right as it started to quiver. Tanya needed some impartial advice, away from her guard.

  “Excuse me, I need to go to the bathroom,” she said, slinging her handbag over her shoulder.

  She edged past the synthetic and walked along the corridor.

  He followed.

  “Are you serious? You’re not coming in with me.”

  “I’ll wait outside. I just need to make sure—”

  “Make sure of what?”

  “That you’re safe.”

  She quickened her pace, approached the bathroom door and pushed it hard. She’d forgotten how loose it was. It flew open and clattered off the interior wall. Her shoulders flinched upwards as a bang echoed along the corridor.

  “Please be careful when opening doors,” the synthetic said in a monotone voice.

  Tanya waited for the door to close, then turned on a sink tap, thinking it might help muffle out her voice. She sat in a cubicle and flushed the toilet. As the tank filled, she pulled out her cell and dialed her neighbor and friend, Angela. She prayed for an answer as the ringtone hummed in her ear.

  “Hello?”

  “Angie, it’s me, Tanya,” she whispered.

  “Pardon? Who is it?”

  “Tanya. Can you hear me?” she said, slightly raising her voice.

  “Oh, hi, Tanya. It sounds like you’re on a plane. Where are you?”

  “I’m in the bathroom at work; I need your advice.”

  She winced as her hushed voice seemed to fill the whole room.

  “What are you doing in there?” the synthetic called.

  “I’m scared, Angie. He killed our investor on the way back from Tacoma. He kicked him out of the freaking plane. They said they want me—”

  “Whoa, slow down. Who did what?”

  “Michael Murphy, our COO, threw our investor out of a moving plane. They still want me to front a campaign with a TV company next week.”

  “Are you serious?”

  Tanya peeped around the cubicle door and then cupped her hand around her phone and mouth, lowering her voice as much as possible while still being intelligible.

  “They put me in the dead guy’s office, and there’s one of their…” She wanted to mention synthetics, but Angie would have no idea what she was talking about. Tanya had worked all this time under a strict NDA, and given what happened to Quentin, she didn’t want to break it now, let alone make Angie a potential target. Who knew how far Murphy would go. “One of their security guards is outside the door. He followed me to the bathroom; I don’t know what to do.”

  “Why did you go in? Why didn’t you just go to the police?”

  “Murphy came to my house early
this morning; he insisted on driving me. I’m scared that if I don’t do what they say, I might end up like Devereaux.”

  She choked back a sob.

  “Listen to me. Get out of there now. Don’t wait. Just get the hell out and phone the cops.”

  “Can you come and get me?” Tanya wept. “Please, Angie, please.”

  “Okay, get somewhere safe. I’ll be there in half an hour.”

  “Thank you, thank you—”

  The door squeaked open. “Is everything all right in there?”

  “Yes, I won’t be a minute,” she replied, simultaneously ending the call.

  Tanya flushed the toilet again, turned off the tap, and touched up her makeup in the mirror. She wiped away the black smudges from around her eyes.

  The synthetic stood opposite the door outside, his arms folded.

  “Back to the office,” Tanya said. “Plenty of work to do.” She attempted to smile.

  He nodded and followed. Her legs shook as she made her way back to her office, all the time trying to think of a way out.

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  9:40 a.m., Day 3, New York City

  Jacob dashed away from the cop and grabbed the box containing the biochip, stuffing it in his backpack. Along with Emma and Brian, he moved to the kitchen area. Jacob and Brian each grabbed a knife from the knife block and stood in front of Emma.

  The cop focused on Jacob after surveying the apartment, taking everything in. It was without doubt one of Gray’s, Jacob thought. He had the same wild, faraway look. Not to mention he displayed the same homicidal tendencies.

  Not he, Jacob thought. It.

  The synthetic dashed forward, reached out and grabbed Phillip by the throat, flinging him across the room. With a thud, he hit the wall and collapsed onto a chest of drawers, smashing a crystal bowl.

  Jacob and the others backed off as the synthetic stalked closer.

  Blood dripped from his fists. Jacob’s heart pounded as he imagined just what he’d done with those hands. Before it could get any closer, Phillip got to his feet, picked up a katana and rushed the synthetic from behind.

  The tip of the blade exited the man’s stomach, splitting the shirt of the uniform. Blood began to flow, darkening the shirt.

  It turned and swung a heavy fist at Phillip but slipped and hit the deck face-first, sending the sword sliding back out of the wound.

  Phillip stood over the still body triumphantly, withdrawing the sword before turning to the others. “Go, get out of here. I’ll catch up with you.”

  Jacob, and Emma beside him, stared on silently.

  “Jesus,” Brian whispered. “What have you done?”

  For a moment, Jacob’s brain thought he’d just witnessed a murder—of a cop—but then the screams of those he heard from the lower floors told him this was no cop. It was definitely a synthetic. His rational side agreed. There was no doubt about it. The body was too large, ripped, and oddly out of proportion. He couldn’t quite put his finger on it, but it just looked different somehow. Even the blood from its gut didn’t flow properly.

  Phillip snapped him out of his thoughts, pushing him in the chest. “Go!” he screamed again. “Get the hell out of here.”

  “The chip,” Jacob said. “In the back of its head. We should cut it out to be sure.”

  “I’ll do it,” Phillip said as he moved to the kitchen. “Here, take these.” He tossed Jacob his keys. “In the garage, under the same number as this apartment, you’ll find my car. Meet me out front.”

  It broke the spell. All three of them sprinted out of the apartment to the stairs. They clattered down them, taking them two at a time until they came to the reception area. Bodies lay broken and twisted into awkward shapes.

  The doorman propped open the entrance, his neck twisted a hundred and eighty degrees. A gray-haired woman knelt over the body of the concierge. Her hands were smothered with blood.

  No one spoke. There was just a stunned, grief-laden silence among the carnage. Jacob walked slowly through the reception area, taking in the devastation. He counted five dead bodies, with numerous other people sitting on the floor cradling their arms or legs.

  “Did someone call 911?” Jacob asked a young man in a tracksuit. His face was badly swollen, one of his eyes almost completely shut. The man nodded and mumbled something.

  “We should wait for the police,” Emma said as she stopped and pulled Jacob back gently.

  “No,” Brian said as he turned back to the staircase. “I’m going back for Phillip.” He still held the knife in his hand, his knuckles white from the tense grip.

  Before Jacob could stop him, Brian had started back toward the stairs. Jacob followed, trying to talk sense to him, but as they both reached the first step, a shadow from above caught their attention.

  The synthetic leaned over the railings and stared down at them. He moved away briefly and then he was back, lifting something over.

  “Oh God,” Brian said.

  The dark shape of Phillip’s body came hurtling down, his limp arms and legs clattering against the stair rails. Jacob and Brian jumped back as the body hit the floor with a wet thud. Phillip’s head rolled to face them; half of it was missing.

  Brian bent over and vomited.

  Jacob stared on in stunned silence.

  After an eternity, the world came rushing through like a freight train: all noise, movement, action, and intentions moving him away from the scene. His flight response took over. He pulled Brian away and sprinted to the door, grabbing Emma’s hand as he went.

  They burst out into the street. Without even thinking where they were going, they ran down the sidewalk, knocking people out of the way. Jacob didn’t look back for a full minute, too concerned with getting some distance on the synthetic, all the time urging Emma on.

  They darted across a road, narrowly missing a cab as it slammed on its brakes and blared its horn. Jacob stared at the enraged cabbie, ignored him, and carried on.

  Brian lagged behind, his great bulk and lack of fitness hampering him from keeping up. Jacob and Emma stopped near a hot dog cart and turned to wait for Brian to catch up. Jacob saw the synthetic turn out of Phillip’s building and head their way.

  “Oh no, he’s spotted us,” Emma said.

  Pedestrians backed away from the faux cop with fear on their faces, no doubt at the sight of blood on his shirt and hands.

  “Come on, Bri, keep going,” Emma cajoled him. All the while, the gap was reducing. When Brian finally caught up, Emma urged them across the street, this time at a red light. They pushed people out of the way, getting a torrent of abuse in return. They dove down the stairs of a subway station and hurdled the ticket barriers.

  A pair of security officers yelled and moved after them.

  Good, Jacob thought. Get as many people between them as possible.

  As they ran down the stairs and onto the platform, a train pulled up. A stream of tourists got off.

  After the travelers disembarked, the trio pushed through the river of people and jumped on the train before the doors could close. Their car was empty apart from discarded newspapers and bottles littering the seats.

  Jacob watched out the window as the ticket officers searched the few remaining people standing in a small group on the platform. Behind them, the synthetic muscled its way through the crowd of tourists, throwing one person against the train and another to the ground.

  “It’s like the fucking Terminator or something,” Brian said between heavy breaths. He collapsed into a seat, dropping his head into his hands, mumbling, “Phillip… I can’t… I just…”

  Before the train could pull away with any speed, the synthetic crashed against the door, pushing its face against the glass. It just stared at them before standing back, watching them from the platform.

  Jacob checked the map inside the car to see where they were. When he glanced back, the synthetic had disappeared from the platform. He breathed out a heavy sigh as he fell into a seat.

  Emma remaine
d standing, gripping the overhead handles and letting her body sway to the rocking of the train. “What the hell are we going to do?” she said, her voice taut and heavy with stress.

  ***

  They rode the train for about twenty minutes in a daze of indecision. The loss of Phillip and the scenes of carnage sapped their ability to analyze their next step.

  Jacob thought back through the nightmare and pictured the synthetic smashing its way into the apartment.

  “It all makes sense,” he said, his words breaking the silence like a scalpel through flesh. Emma and Brian both flinched, snapping out of their dream state.

  “Eh?” Brian said, his head still bowed, swaying with the rocking motion of the train.

  “The synthetic… it wasn’t necessarily coming for us. Or what I mean is, it wasn’t tracking us. It was coming after the biochip. Those noises we heard, like a cell phone? It was transmitting data. Gray must have these things networked.”

  He realized then he’d left his cell back at Phillip’s place. His guts churned with the thought of being implicated in Phillip’s murder. “We ought to phone the police,” he said. “For Phillip’s sake.”

  “No signal,” Emma said. She looked ill with a paler than usual complexion. Her hand trembled slightly and she steadied it by crossing her arms over her chest.

  Shock, Jacob thought. He had the same nervous tremble. Anxiety, fear, the comedown after a flood of adrenaline, plus all the caffeine. It was no wonder he felt like curling up into a ball.

  But he couldn’t. His friends needed him. Shit just got way serious. He had to be the one to get them out of it. He looked up at the map and noted the next station on the scrolling LED screen.

  “We’re getting off at the next station,” Jacob said. “We can’t stay on here forever. We’ll book you two into a hotel somewhere and I’ll go hand myself into the police and tell them everything. Hand in this biochip and flash drive. I’ll give a statement about Phillip.”

  “No,” Emma said. “I can’t let you do that alone. I’m coming with you. We’re in this together. It’s not all on you, Jake.”