South Seas Salvation Read online

  Table of Contents

  Title Page

  Also by JC Hay

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Epilogue

  Before You Go

  Acknowledgements

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  Copyright © 2017 JC Hay and Metal Pig Press

  Cover by The Killion Group

  Edited by Sasha Knight

  This novel is a work of fiction. The characters, places, and incidents are either fictional or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living, dead, or reconstituted from digital memories; actual events; or organizations is coincidental.

  All Rights Reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any manner without written permission from the author, except in the case of brief quotation embodied in critical articles and reviews. All rights reserved.

  For B', my joy and my center

  Also by JC Hay

  The Corporate Services series

  Dubai Double-Cross

  Zurich Connection (This exclusive short story is only available if you sign up for my mailing list)

  Mumbai Manhunt

  South Seas Salvation

  One

  He'd been on the ground fewer than three hours, and Zar Marks had already decided that Mumbai overwhelmed him. Every part of the city seemed to be turned up to maximum. Or further. The traffic, the press of people, the constant stream of augmented reality advertising—everything seemed custom designed to disorient, disrupt, and dismay him. God help whomever he'd been hired to protect; he couldn't predict where a street would suddenly turn into an alley, let alone which directions might house an active threat.

  Something they had to have known when they brought me in.

  It wasn't the first time he'd considered the possibility that he'd been set up to fail. His fingers twitched to scratch at the phantom itch creeping along his right arm. The cyberlimb felt nothing, of course, but he'd come to trust the sensation as a sign of bad things on the horizon. It seldom steered him wrong. The smart move would be to get right back onto a plane and leave Maharashtra far behind. There were too many stories about vengeful or ambitious secondaries deliberately hiring the wrong person for a job. Then, when the inevitable happened, the bodyguard got forgotten. Or disposed of. Like any other no-longer-useful tool.

  Zar stood on the sidewalk, the titanium and composite housings on his hand creaking as his fist tightened. He looked good for the patsy role too. Strong contract history, plenty of successes along the way.

  And one notable failure, if anyone bothered to dig deep enough.

  Despite the itch in his arm, he didn't flag a taxi. Didn't head back to the airport and book the next flight out. The money they'd offered for him to come out and negotiate in person kept him on the hook. They wanted him to do the job. He had to tell himself it meant there were people who needed it done right. No one fronted that kind of cash just to screw people over.

  It beat reminding himself that the dead didn't have to be paid.

  He used the interface in his cyberarm to call up his bodycomp settings. Lowering the AR filters again didn't make much difference. A riot of motion and color, from leaping fish, to swirling neon peacocks, to giant flaming inscriptions, dominated every street's augmented landscape. He'd been in cities that used AR extensively—Tokyo and Seattle were both notorious for it—but Mumbai made them all look like amateurs. He tapped his destination into the GPS interface and waited as his cybereyes painted a faint green line down the sidewalk in front of him. He'd had the autono-cab drop him off a mile from the location, partly because he couldn't ride in the tiny vehicle anymore, and partly because he wanted to walk to get a sense of the city. Any data that might help him do his job better. Some kind of baseline he could judge against while guarding his charge.

  His stomach growled as he passed a street vendor selling biryani, and he ordered in the quick-paced Creole of the region, only occasionally glancing at the translation his bodycomp provided. The flight over had been long, but he'd put it to good use. After the cashless transaction, the vendor handed him a folded paper envelope mounded with the spicy rice dish, and Zar continued on his way.

  At the next intersection, his path blinked and turned red, while the green line extended off into a nearby alley. He turned and followed it automatically, eating as he walked. He'd only made it halfway along the path when he realized he was no longer alone.

  The two lead toughs stepped in from the left-side wall, blocking off the narrow space between the buildings. Past them, seated cross-legged on the ground, sat a third, his head lolled back, mouth slack in the classic look of someone active on the 'Net and checked out from reality.

  Fucking hackers. "I should have known," he muttered.

  "Should have known what?" the first asked, his English crisp, as though he expected Zar not to understand. His suit was cut loose, and he moved like someone who knew how to fight. He rubbed his fingers together in the universal sign of payment. "Should have known you'd need to pay to cut through our alley? And cash, not digital." Despite being a full foot taller, the other man remained silent, watching uncertainly as loose-suit took the lead.

  Zar finished the last of the biryani and set the paper atop a pile of waterlogged boxes before he held his hands up. "C'mon, fellas. We don't want to do this."

  "I agree," said loose-suit. "It's much easier if you hand over the wallet now. Then we don't have to break a sweat taking it from you." He took another step closer, confident in the presence of his associate.

  Zar marked all the angles and available cover, not that there was much of either. Loose-suit had a knife in his belt, and a bulge in the big guy's pocket looked the right size and shape to be a collapsing baton. That or he enjoyed mugging people way more than his expression indicated. No one seemed to have any sign of a firearm.

  Bad luck for them, really. "Alternately," Zar said. "You could let me pass, and I won't have to take whatever measly scraps you've been able to steal so far." It wasn't how he wanted to start his trip, but any exercise would be better than none.

  Loose-suit laughed and elbowed his partner. "Nice try, wiseass." He stepped forward again, and this time big-guy followed to close the gap. The larger thug still didn't look sure about this, almost as though he would consider Zar's offer.

  Too bad he's got poor taste in allies. Loose-suit waded in, using a quick foot-shuffle to draw attention before he jabbed a punch aimed at Zar's head.

  Zar saw it coming from a mile away. He counter-punched to meet him fist to fist.

  The thug's look of glee turned to horror as his fist shattered against the titanium reinforcement of Zar's cyberarm. Before the thug could begin what Zar knew would be a barely human sound of agony, Zar drove his left hand into his solar plexus. He planted his feet, and as the thug doubled over, Zar threw a finishing uppercut into the point of loose-suit's jaw.

  Loose-suit changed direction immediately, arcing back and over until he lay in a limp pile on the ground. He lay so still Zar actually checked to make sure the third punch had been with his left hand as well. Not the cyberarm on his right, and thus less likely to have killed the tough outright.

  Big-guy stood there a moment, mouth working in soundless slow motion. While he watched, Zar dragged his unconscious partner out of the main path and leaned him against the wall.

  "He's going to need someone to look at his hand. Got that?" Zar snapped his fingers twice as he talked, and big-guy focused in on him. "He's also probably going to be in a foul mood when h
e comes around."

  "At least that will be normal." Big-guy shrugged and stepped back out of Zar's path with exaggerated care. "Look, this was all Vikram, okay? I've got no trouble with you."

  Zar tried not to chuckle. Humility was easy to find when they just saw what he assumed was their best fighter get coldcocked. "Don't jump me from behind, and we'll be fine. But if you and your 'Net-head friend there start thinking that math is on your side...I can assure you, it's not." He flashed his best prefight madman smile, and big-guy took another step back.

  "No! We, uh, wouldn't consider that." Big-guy nudged the third guy, who hadn't moved; whatever he had been doing on the 'Net was clearly more interesting than getting involved physically—an attitude that made zero sense to Zar. "Besides, like you said, we need to get Vikram to a doctor."

  The 'Net-head came back to reality and assessed the situation, then without a word helped big-guy lift loose-suit—Vikram—and carry him out of the alley. After a handful of minutes, it was as though Zar had only ever been alone.

  He smiled as he checked the GPS again; the green highlight still showed the alley as the fastest path to the meeting, so he grabbed the trash from his snack and headed out. Surely there'd be a composter along the way. Maybe Mumbai wouldn't be so bad after all.

  Well, shit. Yashilla turned off the security camera feed watching the mouth of the alley and unplugged from the 'Net. At the front of the room, Venkat paced back and forth, the gold on his fingers and wrist glinting as he passed beneath the yellow bulb. The bespoke cut of his dark suit spoke volumes about his success at fencing data and arranging scores.

  Yashilla gave an exaggerated sigh. "Are we planning to start sometime today?"

  Venkat sniffed. "I don't make the rules. I am supposed to wait for the other party bef—"

  "And what if they decided not to show?" Or, you know, I had them waylaid by a few street thugs.

  "The payment offered was more than generous." Venkat replied. "And I know his plane landed. He'll be here." He sniffed again.

  He's nervous. The question is why.

  And if Venkat was nervous, then she needed to be as well.

  Yashilla stood up. "I'm sure that the work is good and all, but I've got enough on my plate already. Surely you have other hackers you can bring in." She pushed back her sleeve, and the interface keys glowed beneath her skin. Without looking, she tapped in the commands to disable the street cameras outside the door. "You know how to get in touch."

  The door opened, and a massive shadow filled it. Yashilla couldn't hold back her growl of frustration. Venkat's "other party" had arrived, and she'd missed her chance to escape early.

  The newcomer glanced at her, his eyes drawn first to the interface on her arm then the sockets in her shaved temple. With a snort, he dismissed her and focused on the fixer at the front of the room. "You Venkat?"

  Venkat sighed audibly and rushed forward to shake the man's hand. "Mr. Marks, I'm so glad you could join us. My client was very specific." The fixer shot her a pleading look, quietly begging her to stay

  Yashilla puffed out an annoyed sigh. No harm in hearing it out, now that everyone was here. She slumped into a chair and gave the newcomer a fresh glance now that she wasn't watching him through security cameras. He sported high-end cybereyes with custom bronze irises, but the implants didn't hide the laugh lines in his burnt-umber skin. He kept his hands covered, right arm stiff as he used his left to shake Venkat's hand. Not a lot of hardware, which made her suspect that a lot of the muscle had to be natural rather than vat-grown implants.

  Measuring him against Venkat's height, Yashilla pegged the newcomer at almost two meters. His bald head carried a sheen of sweat, but no hair that could be grabbed in a fight or to hide the scars that crisscrossed the broad planes of his face. The nose had been broken at least twice and clearly healed naturally, rather than surgically. On reflex, she saved a half-dozen images of him to run through recognition software. It never hurt to know everything about a person.

  Venkat perched on the corner of his desk, ankles crossed, and smiled at them. "Now that we're all here—" he shot her a dirty glance as he spoke, and Yashilla knew he suspected her of misdirecting the newcomer, "—I can begin. The job is a simple extraction."

  "I don't do that kind of work." Marks's voice resonated in the small room.

  Yashilla was quick to chime in. "And that sounds suspiciously like meatspace work. Your client picked the wrong people, Venkat. Extraction is a CorpServ gig."

  "I assure you they did not. They asked for you, , even if they didn't know your name." He took a deep breath. "My client is unable to contract an extraction from Corporate Services because they are being held captive by that same organization."

  Marks laughed out loud, a bass rumble that shook his whole frame. "Wow. This keeps getting better. Do we have to take them out of the Bulwark?"

  Venkat wasn't laughing. He fixed Yashilla with a stare. Oh shit. That's exactly what they want us to do.

  "My client was extremely precise. Someone who could infiltrate CorpServ's rather complex security systems. Someone who had done it before and was good enough to do so without leaving a trace. There is only one such person that I know of."

  Marks scoffed lightly. "Then what's my job?"

  Venkat rolled his eyes, as though the answer was the most natural thing in the world. "You're a bodyguard. Protect her."

  As though she was stupid enough to put herself in danger. As though she deserved saving. Yashilla made an obscene gesture, stood, and spun on her heel. "Fuck it. I'm out." Her pulse hammered in her temples. Rage prickled just beneath the surface of her skin like old coals waiting to flare up again.

  "Agreed," Marks said. The bodyguard appeared next to her but waited for her to get the door. "I don't babysit 'Net-heads. She can lock herself in a room and handle it from here."

  "Actually, I'm afraid she cannot." Venkat sniffed as punctuation. "The security systems she would need to cut are isolated. Only accessible from within the Bulwark. And time is of the essence, so can we please stop the interruptions."

  That made her pause. Making a run against CorpServ was one thing; she'd done that before to find their less-secure information. But on their isolated files systems... Corporate Services kept records of every job they'd ever taken, had dirt on every company that had ever used them to eliminate a rival or paid for stolen secrets. Screw the rescue mission; she was being offered the keys to the kingdom. With that data in her hands she'd be able to name her price, parceling out secrets for twice a king's ransom.

  "That sounds like soldiering," Marks muttered. "I'm in security only. I'm even less interested." He reached past her, apparently having decided she wasn't going to open the door quickly enough.

  "Let's not be too hasty," she said, putting her hand on his forearm. She refused to notice the flex of muscle under her fingers or the way her pulse hadn't slowed down despite her dissipating anger. "After all, you barely know me."

  "My client anticipated your possible aversion, Mr. Marks." Venkat sounded a little desperate, as though he feared one or both of them would genuinely leave. "You were also requested by name. They instructed me to say that it would give you a chance to make up for Nassau. I assume you know what that means."

  Marks's arm tightened under her hand. He knew, all right. And the knowledge angered him. Hopefully it would turn up when she ran the facial scan against the 'Net. Having an idea of a person's foibles was always useful, especially when you had to work with them.

  She consciously took her hand off his arm and took a step away from him. Being close to him was distracting. It made her all too aware of meatspace.

  Marks's shoulders slumped. "Fighting them on their turf isn't the best way to get revenge. More likely get us all killed."

  "My client is hoping you won't have to fight at all. As the person on the inside, they have some ability to help you with the rescue, but yes, if there were to be...excitement...it would be in Corporate Services headquarters." Another sn
iff as Venkat paused for effect to emphasize the next word. "Innocents, if such a thing can be said to exist, would not be present."

  The giant chuckled again, a deep sound like two stones being ground against each other. He dropped his hand from the doorknob and turned back to face the fixer. "Okay. Tell me more."

  Yashilla gave Venkat a tight-lipped smile. "Agreed." Going into Corporate Services' private island fortress was beyond idiotic, but if she could crack that wall and grab the files off their internal systems... Legendary was too small a word.

  She'd be epic.

  Zar forced himself to ignore the ghost of her hand on his forearm. If he thought about it, or about the last time he'd allowed another person to touch him with an open hand instead of a fist, that would only make him depressed. Besides, she was clearly a Net-head, and that choice made zero sense to him. Why focus on a virtual world of data and digits when the physical world was so...vital?

  Venkat tugged an interface from his pocket and tapped out a quick command, before getting that universal glazed look that people got when reading a feed on their cybereyes.

  He glanced at the Net-head again—speaking of cybereyes—what the hell kind of person had their prosthetics as featureless white orbs? The shaved head he could understand. Hygiene, if nothing else, meant you wanted to avoid getting hair into the ports that connect directly to your brain. The tattoos, calling attention to the bare skin and the interface ports, were quality work too. On someone who wasn't permanently taking a vacation in the Net, he'd probably even think it was hot.

  Fortunately, she tapped something into the glowing keys on her arm, reminding him she was a hacker and that he had no interest in her. Even if she weren't a client.

  The fixer, Venkat, sighed in relief. Something was definitely bugging the guy, and not just the fact that he wore a dark suit in this oppressive heat. "This is most unusual, but I have to inform you that I will need a decision fairly quickly on this. My client..." He glanced at the door.