Steeled Spies #1: The Towers Electric
Will Agent Steele Meet a Shocking End in Empire Square?
In an instant; chaos.
The quiet alcove she had managed to hold onto, to give their revolution a chance to beat back the electric tyranny they struggled under, had turned into a war zone all its own. Brother pitted against brother in a surreal cacophony of fighting and bloodshed. And through the proverbial smoke of the midnight brawl stood the one hound she had just let into the hive. He must have been the cause, how could he not be? She was too open, too unguarded. She had let a lion wrap himself in fleece and enter her flock a lamb.
For Lucille Devenreux, the mysterious gray “Jack Flash” was the rabble-rouser. He was the one who had upset what could have been, at last, the true freedom for all of Haven. He was to blame for all of this madness. If only she could find the words to rally her people once more. But alas, she felt the verbiage clog her throat, and try as she might, they refused to leap into the air for her, bringing the legions back to heel. Darker and darker she saw the world, choked by the failure of the one thing she knew best, as life drained from her body…
The vivid nightmare jolted the light gray wolf awake from the rack in her office, the blue of the night sky lighting her eyes through the gaps in the Venetian blinds, and standing in the doorway, the pariah of her imagination, “Jack Flash.” Beat up something fierce, but still standing tall.
“We need to talk,” the gray started.
“Flash, God only knows how late it is.” Lucille replied groggily. “Can’t this wait until…good grief! What happened to you?” She jolted awake upon seeing his injuries.
“Something big. Something bigger than you or me, Sister.”
She could feel the noose tying as he spoke.
“Can I trust you?” he asked.
“Is our trust mutual?” she replied.
Steele flipped the switch on the wall, stepping into the light. “Only if you permit me to unmask my white lie before laying the truth on you.”
She was perplexed, but listening.
“My name ain’t Jack Flash. I’m Roger Steele and—”
“Goddamn I knew there was something strange about you! The second you joined, I just—”
“And I’m with Lita.”
Devenreux stopped dead in her tangent. “What do you mean?”
“Miss Devenreux, I’m a partner of the Avenger’s Creed.”
The wolf’s eyes bulged as her off-white fur bristled. “Good God man, why do you say it so openly?”
“Because I can afford to. I’m just another bee buzzing around the biggest honey pot this side of a vice sting. I’ll hedge bets on them not needing surveillance for what they’re doing here when you’ve all been so public about your displays.”
She could only stare now, bracing herself for whatever came flying out of his mouth next.
“In the basement of this facility, your bargaining chip was stunned to death, I was hauled away and interrogated, and the interrogators were promptly slain on orders from your man for office, who was then killed on the drive back. A neat little domino line of death stretching all the way back here. Back to the Reformation.”
He could see her shaking now, shivering in a way he had never before, but he kept the data mine flowing freely.
“The kids I was hanging with were the ones doing the grilling. Thought I killed the prisoner, but didn’t think more than two feet ahead of themselves. On the contrary, I have suspicions your group is being turned into a front for a dissident roundup.”
For once, Lucille Devenreux was well and truly speechless. She wasn’t catatonic, but she began to shut down visibly, her eyes glazing over and her shivering subsiding into an automaton state of stillness.
“I think I’m proven out by the fact I’m the one telling you this.” he added, “I was put on the watch at 10:32 PM, and you’d think news of your bargaining chip’s death would’ve made it to you shortly after it occurred at 10:58.”
He couldn’t tell if the quick dip of her head was a nod or a spasmodic shudder. Roger dropped his air of detached cool to reel her back to life. “You and I both believe in a better tomorrow. I have my reservations about getting there, but I’d like to still be here to enjoy it. Help me do something to save the lives of those who truly wish to be free.”
Devenreux, at long last, turned to look at him.
“We’re going to Empire Square.” he said, “Not the building, the park where the rally is set to take place.”
“What are we looking for?” she asked, coming back around.
“Every way to kill a peacenik.”
The drive up was quiet and smooth, the skyline serene as a sea of glass, the Charger cruising along the winding web of back streets. Lucille Devenreux was plain clothed, riding shotgun and still trying to process even half of what had just been laid on her.
“How in God’s name can I believe you?” she asked for the umpteenth time, tending to his injuries the best she could with the medkit Steele had on hand. Having ignored attempts 1 to 1000, the agent broke his silence with a question of his own. “Why in God’s name did you hop in the car?”
At last she sighed, her cleaning of the wounds finished, and melted into the leather of the seat.
“Thought most of your types were after something other than God anyway,” Steele quipped. “Man upstairs knows I’ve made my share of supplications, but I figured you’d got bases covered here on Earth.”
Lucille scoffed quietly, taking it in stride. “That might cover some of the youngest of us, but I think He’s up there. Can’t expect Him to do all the work, but when I need Him, boy do I.”
A knowing smile passed between the two wolves.
“How you figure they’d do it?” she pressed.
Without missing a beat, the gray flipped up the screen in the center console, the radio vanishing behind it as he punched up the display. He flashed her two images; the first was of a microchip. Nothing special. The second was grainy, but was a photograph of the outer walls of Empire Square Park, where the rally was to take place. Nothing seemed too unusual.
“Computer, load blowup AA25.” With Roger’s command heeded, the image zoomed in, up and around to the top of the outer walls. The image now showed a row of strange conical devices, one at the top of each post in the wall, an upturned ice cream cone of wire and mesh.
Roger shot her a single glance, and the horror of it all came washing over her.
“You think those are micro-EMPs.” she gasped.
He nodded coldly. “I don’t know how they snuck one in to nix the White Coat. Maybe his chip was internally programmed with a timer, maybe it was remotely done by Ace herself. But I know one thing’s for certain: if your candidate Draco had anything to do with this, that means he had men inside the Election Subcommittee which means men inside the Board, therefore…”
“Collusion,” she finished.
“And I don’t know the exact details, but I can’t imagine you’ve had time to extract many of the chips from your newcomers, members in the city-at-large… hell, I don’t know if you debugged yourself. How many are expected to attend?”
The claws of peril began to wrap their wiry digits around Devenreux’s throat once more. She managed to sputter out a feeble “5000...at least” before finally releasing the tension.
“Computer, dispense Compound X2-0.”
Out came a small pill and a covered cup of water on a tray in the glove compartment. On instinct, Devenreux dove for the pill and popped it, knocking the water back like a shot of whiskey.
“Receptacle is on the floor,” he said. Sure enough, a small can shot out from beneath the seat, and she dispensed the emptied cup without hesitation.
“I must look like a damned idiot in this state.” she sighed, the sedative finally calming her nerves. All she got from Roger was the kind of glance that said it all. The glance of “if only you knew,” the glance of a hound who’d been in the field too long. When he finally spoke, he answered with, “We’ll be at the wall soon.”
Empire Square Park wasn’t guarded by the usual wolves nor checkpoints. The only thing worth securing was the tower itself, the myriad of meetings and conventions held by the Board and the many subcommittees therein making it a prime target for dissent. But the tower was half-a-block back into the park, the rest festooned with immaculate greenery, perhaps the only form of true antiquity left in the city’s design.
Steele parked the Charger in a nearby alleyway, and turned to Devenreux. “I’ve got one important question to ask you, and it may very well determine how much of this leg of the journey you can be a part of: where was your chip inserted?”
Devenreux nodded. “Back of the neck, just before the top of the shoulders.”
“Open the glove box.”
She did so, revealing a pair of scissors and a dozen swatches of lead, no bigger than the tip of her thumb.
“It isn’t foolproof,” Roger said, “But should anything happen, it may spare you the worst of the EMP’s effects.”
She snipped off enough fur to lay the patch in neatly against her skin.
“And Miss Devenreux,” he added, the light gray leader snapping towards him. “Don’t forget you’ve got a dream to save.” It was the gleam in his eye that showed her she had chosen wisely.
Carefully, the duo crossed the street. The tall lamps behind the walls cast long shadows with thin wisps of light lingering on the barren road. Both were quick to make it to the wall so they wouldn’t be seen. Carefully, Steele drew a small device. No thicker than a pen and no longer than his palm, he held it up and pointed towards one of the conical devices. When he flipped the device on its end, the number “1.1” flashed upon its screen.
“With amperage like that, she’s built to kill,” he whispered.
“What can we do to disable it?” she asked.
Steele slid into his black leather gloves before reaching into his coat pocket, producing a pair of wire-cutters. He snipped them playfully and cocked his head to the park wall. For all her small frame, Devenreux was strong enough to help Roger up to the top of the wall, the leader keeping her eyes peeled while the agent set to work.
A mist hung over the park, the gloom of a London fog enveloping the faux forest before him, the lamplight now a hazy cotton ball, and the urban sprawl fading into the distance. He could feel the strange cloud dew on his fur, the caress of the vapor cooling him, but never lulling him away from his task.
First came the cutting of the outer mesh, which was easy enough. Then the tricky part: getting to the device.
The mechanism was impenetrable, guarded by a vacuum-formed metal casing. Not a screw to be undone.
Roger quickly rummaged through his coat pockets once more, this time producing a small black box with tabs of brass tabs on the bottom. Gently, he pressed the box upon the casing, the device taking hold. Producing his ammeter once more, he took a second reading: 0.0005.
“Current’s severely limited,” he said. “A good start.”
Devenreux looked worried. “But can you disarm the complete perimeter?”
Roger looked down to her, then back at the unending row of apparatuses. “You tell me.” he said, tossing the ammeter down.
She walked all along the wall’s towers, and with fortune in their favor, found that the devices were linked in fives, every fifth cone disabling the next four. With tedium the only price to pay, Steele and Devenreux worked their way along the trail, Roger producing box after box from his coat pocket.
“You ever run out?” she teased from below.
Roger smirked. “You learn to pack everything in this field. But believe me, we’ll be coming up on the last of these shortly.”
It wasn’t the only thing they were running out of.
In the distance, though faint at first, a streak of silver could be seen floating from out of the cobalt-blue of Haven’s haze. It was a sight familiar to both wolves. Without missing a beat, Steele leapt off the wall and bolted with Devenreux back to the Charger. Into the shadows they vanished as the autocop drew nearer and nearer, the hovercraft slinking its way through the street, the blood red of its scanner surveying all before it. Steele clenched the Mauser tight in his gloved fist, Devenreux ready to fight the damn thing barehanded.
Closer and closer it came, scanning inch after inch of ground. Just as it came to the mouth of the alley, ready to pass by the duo at any moment…
“HALT. H-H-H-ALT!” came an autocop roaring up behind the Charger.
Steele and Devenreux dove into their machine, the engine firing up furiously as they were now surrounded on all sides. The agent looked to the leader, who looked back with a devious grin; the kind he saw in a certain dark gray punk.
“Tell me what to do Steele,” she nodded, “And let’s fry us some bacon.”
Roger handed her his Mauser.
“Take good care of the Kaiser,” he winked, flipping up the top of his gearshift, a crimson button waiting to be pressed. Whatever was to become of them, they weren’t going down without raining hell…
TO BE CONTINUED