Damnation Code (William Massa) - William Massa Page 0,32
not to be. As soon as he closed his eyes, he was back in the barren mountains of Afghanistan. In the dream the Taliban fighters closing in on his position wore the skull-faces of robots and no matter how many rounds he pumped into the mechanical hordes, they just kept coming. Bullets tore into steel bodies, ripping out chunks of flesh wrapped in sizzling circuitry. The battlefield choked with the endoskeletons of the undying horde. For every inhuman fighter that succumbed to his firepower, another took its place.
The cybernetic terrorist army inexorably overran Talon’s position and closed in for the kill. As a robotic hand snapped out at him, mechanical fingers closing around his throat, he was jolted from the apocalyptic nightmare.
Heart pounding, skin sheathed in sweat, the salt of his perspiration stinging his lips, he rose and checked the time. It was past ten o’clock. Despite the night terrors, he’d managed to get a few hours of sleep.
A new day awaited. A new battle.
For a second Talon wanted to ring Casca. Could he go it alone? Why had he turned his back on the billionaire? The answer was simple. Casca’s beliefs in the supernatural made him question their partnership. An alliance had to be built on mutual trust; could he trust a man who thought demons and magic were real?
Talon showered and got dressed. He happened to glance at the dead cultist’s cell phone and homed in on the latest message. The sender was a girl named Jenna. She had sent the text about an hour after Talon put a bullet in its recipient’s brain. “3 PM. Apple Store on Freemont. Hope to see you there.”
Who was Jenna? Another member of the cult, or was this an unrelated gathering? It could be a trap, but it wasn’t like this meeting was taking place in some deserted back alley. You couldn’t find a more public place than an Apple Store if you tried. He was going to scout the Omicron campus regardless, and the Freemont Apple Store was only about ten minutes away.
He left the studio and spotted Erik washing his battered Mustang in the driveway. Talon took the man’s willingness to take pride in his ride as a positive sign. Hopefully Erik was getting his act together.
“How goes the hunting?” Erik asked.
“It’s started.”
“Feel free to share.”
Talon brought his buddy up to speed. He made it a point to leave out the occult algorithm or the details surrounding Casca’s past. When he got to the business of the Tarot card, Erik shook his head but couldn’t wipe the wild grin off his face. “I bet they’re starting to hate on you.”
“About time.”
Talon turned toward the Ducati and Erik touched his arm.
“Whatever you’re up to, be careful.”
“Ten years of playing in the terrorist sandbox, and I’m still here.”
He winked at Erik with a cocky grin and cranked up the bike.
About an hour later he reached the Omicron campus. He parked his wheels and proceeded on foot. Circling the campus, he counted about 12 buildings interspersed with green spaces. He passed a running track, a gym and a vast cafeteria. The only area open to the public was the company store.
As he sauntered past the main building, he inspected the security guards posted in the lobby. He counted four men fronting the min desk. Getting to Zagan would be a challenge, but not impossible. He’d find a way. After another hour of navigating the campus, Talon wrapped up his reconnaissance and headed for the his next stop.
It was about five minutes before three when he closed in on the Apple store and spotted a familiar face: Detective Jessica Serrone. Immediately he turned away, shielding his features before she could spot him.
Taking a few steps back, Talon planted himself next to a tree and kept his head low. Behind the store’s glass wall, a male detective trailed Serrone. They knew about the text message, Talon realized, but didn’t quite know what they should be on the lookout for.
That makes two of us, Talon thought.
Inside the store the iPads, iPhones and various other Apple products were fully on display in the high-ceilinged, brightly lit venue. The multiplicity of screens flashed and flickered with the promise of progress. Blue-shirted salespeople offered helpful advice and scanned credit cards with the their smartphone apps. From his position Talon couldn’t quite make out the Genius Bar and the classroom area. His gut told him that any meeting would be taking place in the back of the store.
Nothing was