Chapter 114

 

 

El Albayzin

Granada, Southern Spain

 

Day 23

Tuesday, July 29, 2:37 p.m.

 

 

The small Fiat kept them concealed at a distance, but without air conditioning, Calla pulled the window down as Nash navigated the small car toward the edge of the medieval streets. The Fiat followed at a hear distance when Calla identified her.

Calla studied Haven. She roamed the streets on foot and stopped briefly to ask for directions which meant. Though Elvio had played a part in her life, Calla assumed she probably knew little of him now.

The grid had been correct. Haven’s movements were as visible on the operative tracking device as her head of technology services had explained at the Cove in London. Tiege was dependable and usually could find any operative through a GPS app enhanced to pick up anything with genetically modified genes such as the operatives. Most operatives’ genetic make-up had been a result of some sort of cell modification and Tiege’s app was programmed to scout out DNA synthesizing.

To disguise their own movements, they’d turned off their cellphones. A microchip had been temporally magnetized and attached to the bottom of Haven’s boots two hours ago. As she stepped into the ladies in a downtown bar, Calla had set the device, transparent and light, on the floor path.

Jack tuned the radio to an AM station that crackled out of range to check for ticking sound behind the fuzz to make sure their own car was bug free.

The bustling street ahead of them retained its Medieval Moorish past and could’ve easily been a distraction with its walled perimeter dating back to the eleventh century, built to defend the settlement of the Albaicín neighborhood. The largest part of the ancient wall now stood at a mere 350 meters with fourteen watchtowers leading from Arco de las Pesas in Plaza Larga along to the Monaita Gate in Carril de la Lona. Decorated arches punctuated the wall with notable features set along its height to control movement and merchandize.

They took a turn into Santa Isabel la Real, the street leading to the eleventh century Ziri structure, an old wall that defended the city and the oldest left in the Andalusian part of Spain. The July sun scorched down on their heads. Calla pulled down the baseball cap on her head and tugged at the tough linen tank top she wore, which did very little to keep the heat out.

Haven marched ahead, her stride determined. They stepped out of the car and kept at a distance along the wooden walkways and open public space along the length of the wall. Haven would lead them straight to Elvio and, with any luck, her plan and part in the auction.

Nash stopped the car and gave them a warning look. “Should’ve seen it. Elvio Escalante has been on many watch lists in technology development and is on the NSA’s main watch list as one of the few people who could actually manage to fund near-future technology research.”

They heard muffled sounds on Haven’s device now cracking through the small speaker in the car. Her Spanish was fluent as she received another set of directions from a local man. She strutted along the wall path with tourists flocking to the historic site.

Calla radioed in her ear piece to Tiege at headquarters in London. “What do you have for me?”

“She’s meeting someone near Bab al-Difaf on the Darro River,” he replied.

“Okay, let’s move.”

Calla had tried not to think about the baby for several days, but since her ordeal in Monaco, somehow coming face to face with the force that had violated her right as a mother motivated her to crush the auctions. Whatever was flowing through hers and Nash’s genealogy made it all so enticing to a money-hungry generation?

“Hey,” Jack said setting a hand on her shoulder. “Chin up. We’ll get her. This is my fight as well as yours.”

“I should have told you earlier, but that night at Nash’s mother’s place … well things just happened,” Jack said.

Nash raised an eyebrow. “You mean, her… Haven?”

“Hey, not everyone is as lucky as you too.”

Calla’s stare made no attempt to disguise her astonishment. “Jack, I—”

“Yeah, I’m attracted to smart, pissed-off women.”

Nash gave him an understanding nod. “Hey, I’m not judging.”

The side of Jack’s lips rose in a smirk. “Mm… wasn’t that memorable.”

The trio failed to hide their amusement as they continued following at a safe distant. They jostled past the hordes outside the Church of Santa Ana.

Jack’s phone kept a steady signal trace on Haven’s bug, but they couldn’t get too close without giving away their location.

Haven hastened through pedestrians. Facing Santa Ana, they progressed behind her down a narrow cobblestoned street to their left, marking the beginning of the Carretera del Darrow where Granada’s last arched and ancient bridges, built after the conquest in 1492, emerged into view.

“Where’s she heading?” Calla said.

Haven stopped at the Franciscan Convento de la Concepcion, and turned. Was she onto them? She began a steady march toward them ramming pedestrians out of her way.

Haven drew a gun and aimed.

Two rounds fired. Site visitors erupted in a turmoil of screams and dove for cover.

A bullet caught the edge of Calla’s linen pants. “Damn, that girl’s annoying,” she said.

Calla’s hand slid down to the flesh wound. A graze. She was bleeding but not enough to cause the men alarm. Nash punched in a new clip in his pistol and popped off a quick warning shot. Haven set off at a run past screaming foot-travelers and vanished into the plaza.

Calla wiped blood from her hand, ripped a section of her linen pants and tied a firm knot around the wound.

“Calla,” Nash began.

“I know,” she stared at him. The pain was torture but she would live. “I need to carry a firearm.”

 

 

 

 

5:15 p.m.

 

Calla spied past a row of imposing ivory columns. The full stature of the Alhambra Roman amphitheater drew into form. Centuries of Moorish history meshed with Roman influences greeted them as they set foot on the Alhambra grounds.

They’d lost Haven close to an hour ago, but Tiege’s app had placed her on these grounds. And for a purpose.

Alhambra, a palace with its honeycomb forms, constructed as a Moorish fortress and later partially altered with Roman influences now convinced Calla why it had drawn the interest of conquerors like Napoleon. The palace city of Alhambra was a monument balanced between romanticism and power. At the late hour, the last tourists made their way past the barriers to the parking lot at the bottom of the hill.

Nash scanned the complex, set against a backdrop of mountains. “She’s here, the question is why.”

Calla studied the crimson stone that iconized Moorish architecture brought on by the hue of the towers and walls that surround the entire hill of La Sabica. A residence of kings from the thirteenth century, Alhambra comprised of palaces and a crowded assortment of government and military buildings, unpretentious houses and artisan workshops.

They circled through the maze of surrounding gardens until they reached the El Patio de los Arrayanes, a water garden that stretched for acres, populated by wild flowers, oranges, myrtles and a dense wood of English elm trees.

They entered the Roman amphitheater in the lower garden, past the Renaissance courtyard at the top of the hill of the Assabica, until they were inside the Alhambra fortification.

Roofless, it was too quiet for Calla’s liking and had been walled off for a private function. They hoisted themselves over the temporary railings. Their ears caught the sound of thundering hooves and soon the amphitheater filled with bulls charging in a circle toward them. The amphitheater had been gated off for the bulls to roam freely an unusual sight considering the site’s heritage.

Three toreros guided the bulls with a matador de tores following his entourage. Their dazzling red and yellow outfits were a bright contrast to the darkening evening. At the far end of the theater a man watched.

“Escalante,” Nash said.

He held a burgundy flag.

Elvio’s eyes didn’t leave the bulls once. The most-wanted man on any dark net, yet here he stood fascinated by the matadors and bulls. He squinted, occasionally using his binoculars. The bulls seemed to be a huge investment for him.

Nash leaned into Jack. “He’s fascinated by their strength.”

Calla interjected. “And fascinated by their minds. The bulls’ movements have been enhanced by bionic technology.”

“Haven.”

It was a unanimous conclusion.

Nash observed Escalante’s movements. “This has nothing to do with money. It’s all about the rawness, the technology capability and what better way to test a vicious fighting chip than in the brain of a bull?”

Calla shook her head. How could such a sport draw an audience in the modern world?”

“Elvio is Haven’s client. She must be here somewhere,” Nash whispered.

“What makes you think he’ll talk to us?” Jack said.

“Nothing, but getting out of here without what we need isn’t an option,” he said beginning a march toward the man behind the binoculars.

“Right behind you,” said Calla.

Escalante had dark eyes and a very bright suit that was right out of place at they advanced toward him.

Nash wasn’t wasting any time. “Hey!”

The man moved his eyes from the binoculars

“You Elvio Escalante?” Nash called.

“Who’s asking?” he said.

They moved toward him. Elvio’s curiosity was evident in his dark stare. “She said you’d be coming.”

“Perhaps we make this simpler. You tell me what you’re selling, and I’ll tell you if I’m interested,” Elvio said.

“We’re not selling,” Jack started, and Calla held a hand on his shirt.

Jack shut his mouth after a knowing glare from Nash. “Yes, we’re selling electromechanical technology. Expertise that can transfer technology to your bulls to make them highly optimized and efficient. You may find it useful.”

Jack held back a snigger.

“Then by all means, follow me,” Elvio said, leading them up a set of stairs and into the inner rooms of the courtyard building.

Nash was behind Elvio as they proceeded through the amphitheater. The rooms within the structure were a maze yet Elvio had carved a private space within the amphitheater walls. They took seats at a table nearby and a woman came in with offers of cool Sangria.

“Refreshments?” Elvio said.

“No, thank you,” Calla said. “What is it you want, we might just have it?”

“Who are you?” Elvio said clasping his hands. “I thought I was the one asking the questions.”

“We used to work for intelligence agencies,” Calla said flashing her ISTF card. “I’m sure you won’t be disappointed. Maybe we have an offer you can’t refuse; the NSA’s most secret of innovations and the electromechancical technology we just mentioned.”

“Let us into the auction. Rumor on the street is that you have the last ticket. We can work the virtual reality environment for you,” Nash said.

An attendant with a gun strapped round his shoulder approached Calla, took her card back to a laptop section and scanned it through his security system. He then nodded to Elvio.

“What’s in it for you?” Elvio remarked.

Calla set a hand on Nash’s lap. “Let us worry about that.”

“I attend very many auctions. What auction exactly are you talking about?”

“The only one worth attending,” Calla said.

“I’ll bet you’re the last invitee, given an invitation by a certain Haven Weldon,” Nash added.

“Maybe. It’s a hefty ask.”

Calla smirked. “But you collect research technologies like merchants collect art.”

Elvio’s stare intensified. “Seems to me that this hunt is important to you. Why?”

“Maybe,” Calla said, mimicking him. “But let us worry about that.”

“How can I refuse?”

“Then don’t,” she said.

Calla shot up. “Do let us know if we’re wasting our time.”

Elvio observed them and took a deep breath. “You’re a day late. I already have a bidder in the auction. Thank you for coming to see me,” Elvio said rising to leave with his team. “Make sure you visit the arena before you leave Spain. Bullfighting is a very gratifying sport.”

“If you can call it that,” Calla said her eyes narrowing.

Nash followed the look in her face and read the alarm in them.

 

 

 

Calla focused on the bull that charged at savage swiftness toward them. Protruding from the top of the bull’s head a tiny black plastic bump flashed, extending from its crown. The gadget was linked to tiny cables, a metallic mangle of electronics attached to the chain around the beast’s neck. The device flashed blue light lines spitting out quiet static sounds.

A door behind them slammed. Trapped, they edged against the wall of the arena. The bull circled them and made a halt meters from their feet as if on command.

“Elvio is controlling him,” Jack whispered. “I can’t interfere with the signal from my phone because he’s possibly using neurons signaling resistant to wireless interference. Those devices are interpreting the bull’s brain activity and channeling that to Elvio.”

“Don’t look him in the eyes. Animals have a way of reading thoughts,” Calla said.

The bull tore between them and they launched themselves on either side of the charge. Calla crashed into the dirt scraping her lower arm. She raised her head enough to see Elvio’s animated gaze and his eye on then.

Elvio snarled concentrating on his controlling device. Haven had joined him. It was then Calla realized not only had she manufactured the bionic technology but was willing to sell the deadly thing to Elvio to lure him into the auction.

The bull rounded and charged a second time initiating a chase around the inner circle of the arena. Its hooves rumbled and raised a cloud of dust around them. Calla bit her lip and gripped Nash’s hand, her heart in her throat. She hated large animals.

Two matadors appeared at the edge of the arena their faces ghostlike with the reality of what Elvio was attempting to prove. The bull neared its targets but stopped at the moment of impact.

They heard Elvio’s voice over the intercom. “I’ll let you into the auction, but first you must defeat the bull. I take orders from him.”

He roared a thunder of laughter into the microphone the bull took a new charge toward them.

“I’ve won three bull fighting championships. It’s time I made this sport interesting. Perhaps a new electrifying show I can invest in. Haven here is a great mathematician who has calculated the exact sequences I need in each bull fight. She’s conveniently programmed a master game I would love for you to try out for me. You’d have known that, Shields, if you’d paid more attention to her in the NSA.”

The man was a lunatic. Calla took a deep breath and locked eyes with the bull. “Hey,” Calla said. “We’re going to have to work as a team. Elvio’s not a murderer, but he’ll try us to the last minute to test the bull’s instincts, strength and capabilities. And we are bait. Don’t show an announce of fear.”

“Then why am I sweating?” Jack said. “Any great ideas would be appreciated. He coming back.”

Calla drew courage from her gut and placed herself between the men the approaching mammal. She gripped his head by the horns, stunning the animal to a crashing halt, her strength matching the bull’s pull. He was fierce and it took every ounce of her operative strength to tame him.

“Grab me that rope,” she called to Nash when she spotted a discarded cord on the gravel.

Nash hurried to where the rope lay. The men joined efforts and tossed the cord round the bull’s hind legs. Calla’s mind, locked in concentration, focusing on the bull’s intent. He wasn’t ready to give in and the box around his neck flashed a mirage of electronic activity Calla reached for a nerve in the bull’s neck and jammed her thumb into it, rendering him unconscious. The large beast collapsed in a dust heap, his eyes still open.

He would be fine. Her fight wasn’t with the bull.

Jack’s hand closed over her right shoulder. “Remind me never to enter a street fight with you.”

She grinned as Nash pulled her to her feet.

An earsplitting clatter alerted them as the ground beneath their feet shuddered. A violent cloud dust grew partly blinding them to the approach.

 

 

 

 

 

A herd of bulls that flew toward them. They were outnumbered. The bulls veered toward them in half circles pawing up dust. Bulging muscles displayed the thick bones underneath that could instantly crush them. At possibly close to five-hundred kilos each, the Iberian heterogeneous beasts displayed in their eyes their instinct to assault. They cared for nothing else.

They progressed round in circles following instructions from an enhanced nerve linked to their brain. Calla glanced up the height of the arena. The bulls charged at full throttle at the command of Elvio’s finger on the remote trigger.

Calla’s eyes blinked and a flash of crimson drew into form.

A red flag.

These weren’t ordinary bulls. They’d been drugged and their movements were mathematically calculated and formulated by Haven. Time morphed into slow movements as she caught the lips of a matador at the far end of the arena mouthing inaudible syllables: Use the red flag!

Why would she do such a thing to the innocent animals? Flags decorated with paper were usually jabbed in bulls’ shoulders to further depress the ridges of neck and shoulder muscle through loss of blood, something that set fighting bulls apart from ordinary cattle. But there’d be a catch. This would also spur the bulls into further barbarous charges.

But bulls were also color blind to red; a little-known fact that matadors knew and used the movement of their capes to irritate them.

Yes. That would control the thirteen bulls. She read every syllable in the matador’s brain and took on his knowledge. Calla clung onto Nash, her fingers digging into him. It was hard to concentrate as the hooves thundered murder and were now only meters away.

Elvio’s mesmerized stare made Calla cringe as did his control of his bulls. He could stop them at any time. He observed, his eyes wide with excitement. The three matadors communicated something although their lips we’re not moving. Calla strained her ears and mental will to catch their thoughts and intent as the bulls cornered them at one end of the arena.

White-knuckled, two matadors gripped the edged of the arena’s barrier.

Nash shot her an encouraging look and even in their dilemma both men stayed calm against human nature, instinct and science.

 

 

 

 

Calla tore toward a raging bull, his eyes firmly on hers. Her heart beat at a dizzying pace.

“Calla!”

She heard Nash’s roar behind her, but she charged with even more fierceness. The flags stood on the other end of the arena where the matadors had left them. She slid under the legs of the bull, battled a gravel burn and emerged on the other side of their charge unharmed.

When she reached the flags’ point, the bulls turned away from the men. Calla reached for three flags, stretched her arm back and tossed one to Nash and then one to Jack.

“We need to split up,” she called.

Jack took off to one end of the arena and Nash to the other each grasping a flag firmly in hand.

“Now!”

Each fluttered a flag as the animals stampeded forward, scattering their unison sprint.

“To the gate!” Calla cried.

They hurried toward the gate where the herd had stormed from. Hungry for blood, the animals made a gallop for them. Calla booted the gate open breaking the lock off the hinges. She then vaulted above the gate and flapped her flag.

Nash joined her and hauled Jack upward till all three flags waved over the gate.

“Jack,” Calla said. “Can you locate Elvio’s network?”

He nodded drawing out his cell phone.

“Find the signal over the arena, via satellite. Break Elvio’s signal over the area. The bulls’ mental activity is accessed through electrical impulses and we need to break into that channel and take over.”

Jack broke onto the satellite network several thousand miles above Earth, until a signal appeared on his phone. He tapped a code to organize the bulls’ subconscious into different frequency bands over a hacking app. The electric signal processed over his phone linked to a micro controller, which in turn sent a corresponding level of voltage to power the bull’s communication boxes.

“I’m in!” he called.

“Okay, send them in.”

The bulls hastened through the gate in controlled order. Once in, the trio leaped to the gravel and slammed the gate shut.

Jack noted movement on his phone app. “Elvio’s on the move.”

They crossed the length of the arena toward where Elvio stood.

Nash reached for his shoulder and heaved him to the ground. “We kept our side of the bargain. Now it’s your turn.”

Elvio spat on the dust through gritted teeth as Nash’s boot on his back kept him submissive under a weight of force.

“How did you do that?” Elvio demanded.

“Stick to answering our questions,” Calla said.

Elvio’s static expression gave her no hint as to what he was thinking. “You’re in a whole league of your own. How did you break the bulls’ mental capacities? This tech was supposed to—”

“Where’s she?” Calla said a firm grip twisting Elvio’s arm.

“I don’t know. She’s gone. I only hired her to help with the animals.” He coughed dust from his throat. “I swear that’s the truth.”

“What about the list?” Calla said, twisting further.

“What list?”

“The auction list. Have you seen it?”

“No… all she let me see was its value?”

“Which is?”

“Forty-five billion dollars all together.”

Calla shot Nash a worried look.

 

 

 

 

Las Alpacas, Malaga, Spain

 

5:09 p.m.

 

 

“If she’s one of you. Why challenge her?” Haven said. Her bottom lip clinched between her teeth as she pondered Lascar and Vortigern’s motives.

They each stood on opposite sides of the living space that looked out onto a terrace, which overlooked Sierra Nevada, a traditional-yet-stately village house situated between the grandeur of Granada’s Alhambra Palace and the citrus breezes of the Costa Tropical. Lemon groves stretched out in the valley; avocado trees and the warm Mediterranean air seemed at odds with the snowcapped mountain peaks that dominated the horizon.

Lascar examined his firearm and studied her. His evasiveness made her curious. “The day my father took you from the grips of non-compromising government agents is one you should be thanking us for. Not querying my interest in Calla Cress. Do you even know why the US government wanted you?”

“Enough, Lascar,” Vortigern said.

Lascar’s firearm had been a puzzle all morning. There was much in terms of technology she was beginning to discover that was in a league of its own. These two knew much and she could certainly use it to pay off the debt she owed Talon.

It had taken weeks, but she’d tried to gather as many Blackhorse members as possible and didn’t realize she’d had a competitor for the buyer’s attention, until the day she planted the Bayeux Tapestry in the phishing email luring prime minister Byrne.

It wasn’t millions she needed, but billions and these two could help her get it.

It had all gone well until that moron Lascar dropped in on her plan with more technology to offer that she couldn’t understand, gecko feet and hands that suspended him on the walls of the prime minister’s apartment, as well as a suit that rendered him invisible.

The man had come to her calling himself Lascar and an operative. All she knew about the operatives was speculation with the NSA, but even then, she caught glimpses of the confining room. Her mind drifted back to the reality that had been half her life.

 

The years spent in white labs, her eyes blindfolded to the men-in-white’s activity. The jabs on her arm from the tests they took. Her DNA smeared across their plasma screens. Her ears muted with cotton for fear she would interfere with their research. She had to admit when it all ended at fifteen, she was glad and ran right into the arms of someone she’s only known as Mason Laskfell, a criminal she was now being told, perhaps one of the greatest technology masterminds that had ever lived.

All she knew was Calla Cress had taken him down twice, first showing mercy, second showing none. She’d never met Calla Cress, until the day she showed up with Nash at his mother’s house. Even though she’d first known Nash at high school after her escape, and then, Laskfell had sent her to work in the NSA three years ago. It was only when he was arrested that Vortigern and Lascar, perhaps only months older than her, had made an appearance in her life and offered her the escape of a lifetime… freedom from a controller she owed more than her life.

“Haven, you’re safe now,” Vortigern had said. “Your one job is to make sure you and Alex uphold the operatives’ cause.”

Vortigern’s cobalt eyes held a well of sympathy. “You may have been lab rats for government scientists trying to understand you, but no science can fully understand the operatives, which is what you and your sister have been from day one.”

“Twin sisters to be exact,” Vortigern continued. “Science loves twins and they form the best type of study.”

It was no fault of hers that she was a mathematical prodigy and could piece together the world’s numerical puzzles with little thought. Fifteen years ago, the day she was dragged from the MIT building after a fire erupted in their first attempt at programming virtual reality, she’d sworn she would find her sister and complete what they’d started. They’d been close and her sister had been all she had. When she’d first met Laskfell, she’d hoped he would help her find her. Later since her own name had been changed., she assumed her sister’s had been too.

Little did she know they would be pitted against each other.

Alex made a quiet entry into the room.

“Okay,” Lascar said, raising from his chair. “You two will be better off fighting this if you act as one.”

Vortigern nodded in agreement. “You have had an unfortunate start, no one really understood your talents, but we can put them to good use here,” he said.

Haven raised an eyebrow. Even though she was just getting reacquainted with a sister she was separated from at fifteen, she admired Alex’s gutsiness. That’s how they’d pulled off the fire at MIT, through her mathematical knowledge and Haven’s knack for handling scientific chemicals.

“How did you know we were sisters when you found us?” Haven asked.

“Laskfell always had an interest in the most interesting operatives and you two were indeed that… unusual to them and to us just a shade below the most interesting operative of all—Calla Cress.”

Alex raised an eyebrow. “But she doesn’t behave like one, if anything she’s more—”

“Like him,” Lascar interjected. “Like Shields?”

Haven noted the pang of jealously in Lascar’s voice.

“Enough of that, the biggest question here isn’t Shields or Cress, but what they have and what Talon wants. He asked you, Alex, to drop off a ransom message via malware, but we don’t know what that note said or indeed what he has on them that he’s willing to have you sell in the auctions.”

“No, we don’t,” Alex said throwing her hands in the air.

Haven could tell her patience with their debtor was thin. She, like Alex, owed Talon a huge debt. Like Alex, she’d never laid eyes on Talon but had offered her life. Anything to get away from government eyes.

Vortigern stroked his hand over his jawline. “What did you take from the buyer?”

Alex sank into the chair opposite him. “It was more than a couple of years now. We never knew who he was and still don’t. Talon recruited us both for a mission involving extortion of funds from corporations around the world. The assignment came only in an earpiece left in our NSA lockers with the instructions to acknowledge acceptance of the mission by taking them and using them.”

Haven took in a deep breath. “It was our hacking skills that would do the job. Quick in and quick out.”

“Later when Laskfell was arrested, we learned Cress had made our mission fail. That day Laskfell’s agents showed up with a knife to my throat,” Haven said. “They said we had cost the seller a lot of money. The voice, that I now believe was Talon’s, said he’d paid a lot of money to keep us unharmed. To pay off our debts he instructed we sell off a list that only he knew the contents of and we would mastermind its functionality.”

“So, you’ve never known what you’re selling?”

“No,” Alex said.

“What about Malta? Why did he send you after Cress?”

Alex shrugged. “I was given a weapon, told how to use it and I did.”

“When the weapon shot Cress, what did it do?” Lascar said.

“Hey,” Alex interjected. “What’s it with Cress?”

Vortigern thought for a minute. “There are many possibilities with a lead operative. That’s just the problem. What did you do with the weapon after you followed instructions?”

“I left it where instructed in an offshore account in a Venice bank vault. I went back later, but when I returned to the bank off San Marco Square, it had disappeared overnight.”

Vortigern raised an eyebrow, “We have to assume that that’s linked to his highest offer on the list he’s having you sell. We can’t let him sell it. We need to get to it before Talon hands it over at your last auction. You can do that by joining sister forces and Lascar here will be right behind you.”

“I recall the government papers I read on you. You could blow up a building or two with just one chemical formula. I wonder what you’d be capable of now?” Lascar said.