Jeremy Robinson - Blackout

King resisted the urge to cajole the gambler, instead saying: “What makes you think it’s after me?”

“Isn’t it obvious? It’s after the quantum computer, which is synched to your phone.” Brown’s voice took on an air of triumph. “You could throw it away of course. Funny thing about the quantum computer, though. Do you know why I didn’t just turn it on and set it loose? Why I had to go to the trouble of finding ten different carriers for the synchronization?”

King was grateful that the darkness hid his anxious expression. He wanted to hear Brown’s explanation, but time was short and odds were good that the gambler was simply stalling. He feigned disinterest. “I’m sure you just did it because that kook Pradesh told you to. He was the expert on quantum mechanics, not you.”

“Give me some credit, Sigler.” Brown’s voice was tight, and King knew the barb had stuck. “It was my plan from the beginning, and I learned everything I could about the subject before I gave Pradesh one red cent.”

“You’re a regular super-genius,” King goaded. “You clearly had a grasp on scientific principles when you tried to engineer a virus that would turn everyone into mindless drones. And when you almost set the atmosphere on fire with Bluelight.”

Brown ignored the taunt, which is exactly what King had hoped he would do. “The quantum devices aren’t just synched to cell phones; they’re synched with the person who uses that phone.”

“You’re the one activated it. Maybe that thing is chasing you, not me.”

“It doesn’t work like that. That was Pradesh’s breakthrough. You see, when you use a computer, or even an Internet capable cell phone, a quantum connection is made. A computer, on a level we can barely comprehend, gets used to its user. The quantum computer exploits that connectivity. It knows you. So you see King, there’s nothing you can do. It’s going to catch you and it’s going to kill you, and there’s not a thing you can do to stop it.” Brown allowed himself a satisfied pause before continuing. “I have no intention of going with you. I suppose you could knock me out again, but is it really worth it for you to drag me along? That thing is coming for you.”

“Maybe I should just shoot you.”

Brown gave an indifferent shrug. “Suit yourself. You’ve had plenty of chances to do that before, and yet here I am. Maybe you don’t have the stones for cold blooded murder.”

King didn’t answer. He wasn’t sure he believed in Brown’s crazy theory about the quantum network being linked to him personally, but the gambler was right about everything else. He couldn’t take Brown with him, and he knew he couldn’t simply gun him down.

Before he could resolve the dilemma, a new voice reached out of the darkness from somewhere above. “King? Is that you?”

The familiar voice startled King, but he quickly recovered his wits and put a name to the speaker. “Chesler? How in the hell did you get up there?”

“I found a shortcut,” the mercenary said with just a hint of mischief in his voice. A flashlight beam stabbed out of the darkness from the top of the concrete wall and searched him out. “That thing is following you. It will be here any second. You’ve got to get moving.”

King turned to his captive. “I think I can drag your ass around a little while longer. Do I need to give you another concussion, or will you come along willingly?”

Brown glowered, but nodded and climbed out of the Zodiac. King kept his Uzi trained on Brown as they scrambled up the embankment to where Chesler stood with the flashlight, just beyond a low stone wall that separated the river bank from a paved roadway. As he clambered over the barrier, he repeated his earlier question to the security contractor. “Seriously. How did you get here ahead of us?”

Chesler waggled the flashlight. “I could see where I was going. Took a straight line and came ashore just a ways from here. And…I had some help.”

Two more lights flashed on, transfixing King with their beams. King shaded his eyes from the sudden glare, and he could just make out a trio of men standing alongside Chesler, wearing dark clothes and holding guns identical to the one he now carried. He didn’t recognize their faces, which were no longer concealed behind black balaclavas, but he knew immediately who they were.

King shook his head and gave a defeated sigh. “Chesler, you’re fired.”

Suvorov stared at the two men illuminated by the flashlights of his Spetsnaz teammates. One of them was the objective of the mission that had brought him to Paris. The other had killed Kharitonov.

What could be simpler? Take one, kill the other. That’s what he knew he should do. All of his military training could have been summed up in a single phrase: the mission comes first. No matter what else happened, accomplishing the mission should have been his first priority. Not fifteen minutes earlier, he would have carried out both tasks without hesitation…even with a sense of satisfaction.

But damn it, a lot had happened in the last fifteen minutes.

He didn’t know exactly what had happened. When the city had been plunged into darkness, he hadn’t really paid heed, but that thing he’d faced on the riverboat… what in God’s name was that?

It had been only inches from him when something had caused it to reverse course. A few seconds later, he’d met the SVR undercover operative-the man now going by the name Chesler-who, while providing a few answers, didn’t really know anything of use. One thing he’d said however, still echoed in Suvorov’s head.

It went after them.

He took a step forward, putting himself at arm’s length from both men. The one Chesler had called ‘King,’ evidently an American operative, had been relieved of his weapons, but Suvorov knew from experience that the man was still very dangerous.

“What is that thing?” he asked.

King gazed back impassively. “Honestly, I have no idea.”

“I don’t think you’re being truthful. I want to know what you know, even if it’s merely a supposition.” He glanced past King, toward the dark river. “We aren’t going anywhere until I get some answers. How long do you think you have before it gets here?”

King gave an odd smile, and then to Suvorov’s amazement, began talking. His account was succinct, like a military briefing. He talked about quantum phones and a crazed Indian who had believed he was unleashing a black hole upon the world.

“I don’t think it is a black hole,” King finished, “but it must be something like that. What it did to Pradesh…”

Suvorov nodded. He’d witnessed some of the fleeing passengers evaporating before his eyes and had found others evidently turned to stone. It seemed more like a demonic monster from a folktale. And didn’t those stories usually end with the hero slaying the monster?

“Bullets slowed it down,” Suvorov revealed. “There has to be a way to kill it.”

King seemed genuinely surprised by this news. “I’ve got some ideas about that myself, but I’ll need time. And a little breathing room. So, if you don’t have any more questions, it might be a good idea for us to get moving.”

“Where should we go?”

“Anywhere is better than here.” Despite the urgency of his previous statement, King studied Suvorov a moment. “You’re Russian special forces, aren’t you? Spetsnaz? I think I know why you’re here, and it’s got nothing to do with stopping that thing.”

Suvorov shrugged, confirming nothing King had said. “I think right now, the immediate problem takes precedence over other considerations.”

“And later? If we survive this?”

Suvorov didn’t answer. “You mentioned something before, something the Indian told you about where it came from.”