Chapter 7
Hours after dusk, Seth stood at the edge of the gate that led to what had once been Chinatown, looking up at it in distaste. He had agreed to meet Liane there without hesitation, eager to continue their work, but now he wondered if he shouldn’t have questioned her choice of location and proposed an alternative. Somewhere police still patrolled, or where inspectors and regulators weren’t beaten senseless when they tried to do their jobs.
The slum that filled the once-historic district had grown beyond the bounds of restrictions long ago. Right after the Third World War, a clerical oversight had permitted the area to go without government patrols or regulations for nearly four years. By the time anyone thought to venture into the slum, it was far too late to prevent the rampant, illegal construction, or shut down the black-market merchants. Here the streets narrowed into alleyways and the buildings rose so tall and unsteady that they nearly blocked out all light. Even after the city had cut off the electricity and water to the slum, the inhabitants just cheerfully went about stealing what they needed from the surrounding neighborhoods. Seth avoided Chinatown, as did most who valued their life.
But Liane was waiting there for him, so with a sigh, he buried his hands in his pockets and walked through the Dragon Gate to the chaos beyond.
Smells, sounds, and sights instantly surrounded him; red paper lanterns strung on cords across the alleyways, the scent of a thousand different types of food from countless countries, and the cries and shouts of peddlers hawking goods on the street. Seth waded through it all, feeling the occasional brush of pick-pocketing children. The restaurant Liane had specified was just off the main alley, the entrance marked by a large neon sign with Chinese characters.
Liane sat at a table inside the tiny, cluttered shop, sipping on tea and looking utterly removed from the tumult around her. No one bothered her, aside from the toothless, shriveled old woman who brought out a fresh pot. The woman chattered to Liane in rapid Cantonese, brushing a gnarled hand over the girl’s blonde hair. Liane smiled faintly and nodded, and the old woman drifted away. Seth inched through the crowd to reach Liane, sitting down across from her.
“You picked a hell of a place to meet,” he said, shaking his head.
Liane took another sip from the chipped china cup, saying with a shrug, “I like the barley tea here.”
“Sure, as long as you don’t mind getting your throat cut in the process,” Seth said. The old woman shuffled over with a plate of complimentary dumplings, baring her gums in a smile as she set them down. Seth eyed the plate, muttering, “I wonder if the filling is cat, dog, or human.”
The old woman’s smile vanished into a scowl, and she snatched back the plate and stormed off, her words sharp and clearly offended.
Liane gazed at Seth, helpfully translating. “She says it’s probably better food than what your mother served, who should be rolling in her grave to have such a rude son.”
“Joke’s on her,” Seth said, unbothered. “My mother’s alive and well in Cheshire, and only complains when I date shiksas. So why are we here?”
“Because this is where my contact operates,” Liane said, drinking the remainder of her tea and calling out to the proprietress, “Màn zǒu, gù mā.”
The old woman waved and smiled at Liane, then hawked and spat on the floor in Seth’s direction. Liane brushed past him to the alley, pulling up the hood of her jacket and commenting, “I wouldn’t try to eat here again, if I were you.”
“Thanks for the tip,” Seth muttered, following her into the twisting streets of the slum.
They wove single-file through the crowds. Liane seemed to move seamlessly around others, while Seth tended to bump into them, muttering hasty apologies afterwards. They left the area dominated by Chinese shops and stalls and moved into a mix of tech and medic stores.
Seth darted around a peddler selling police scanners, asking, “Who exactly are we meeting?”
“Ahmad el-Razi,” Liane answered without looking back.
Seth’s eyes widened. “The dealer?”
“You’ve heard of him?”
“Of course, he’s been all over the media waves. ‘The Oxford Don’; expelled from the university for engineering mod serum in their labs. The commissioner has been trying to get him for dealing ever since. Wasn’t he convicted last year?”
“Yes. The judge vacated the sentence,” Liane said, ducking her head as she passed under a dripping pipe. “At least, his successor did. I don’t think they ever found the one who tried to convict Ahmad.”
Grimy water splattered onto Seth from above, and he shook the droplets out of his curly hair with a noise of disgust. “So how exactly did you fall in with a known criminal?”
“All mods know him, or know of him. All roads used to lead to Rome; all modifications lead to Ahmad. He’s going to help us find out what was in the vials we found in Jeanelle’s kit.” Liane stopped in front of a tiny, dark storefront with a blacklight shining above the door. She passed under it, her hair turning a ghostly, luminous shade. “In here.”
Seth looked at the storefront for a moment, making sure that his gun was secure in the holster under his arm before following after her.
The interior was no brighter than the alley had been, and contained stacks of shelves holding old tech, junk cables, and out-of-date weapons. A thin, surly youth sat behind the ancient till. Seth looked around, while Liane said to the cashier, “Tell Ahmad that Liane is here.”
The youth stood laconically, traipsing into the back room. There were distant footsteps, and then a tall man of Middle-Eastern descent walked through the beaded curtain. He was young and good-looking, the paunch around his middle disguised by his tailored shirt. Ahmad grinned when he spotted Liane, leaning on the counter and saying, “Here I was thinking that today was going to be a total waste, and in she walks. Liane, you get more beautiful every time I see you. When are you going to let me take you away from all this?”
“When you stop being a lying cutthroat,” Liane returned lightly, unmoved by the compliment. “So I won’t hold my breath.”
Ahmad laughed, teeth flashing against his dark skin. “God, I love the feisty ones . . . even if they do make me crazy.” His eyes lit on Seth, and he jerked his chin towards him, “Who’s he?”
“Just a friend,” Liane said.
Ahmad leaned forward on his elbows, some of the jovial humor vanishing as he looked intently at Seth. “I know you, I think. City of London Police?”
Seth returned the gaze, asking, “Is it a problem if I am?”
“Depends,” Ahmad said. “If you’re here to do business, we’ll talk. If you’re here in any official capacity, we might have to send you back to your station in pieces.”
“He’s fine, Ahmad,” Liane interjected. “I wouldn’t have brought him if he wasn’t.”
Ahmad turned his eyes to her, warning softly, “Don’t think you’re entirely safe either, sweetheart. Just because I like a pretty face doesn’t mean I won’t cut it off if need be.”
Liane shrugged, pulling out the nearly-empty container from her pocket. “I thought you might need a challenge. But if you’d rather make threats, I’ll take this to Hideo instead.”
Ahmad scoffed indignantly, and Seth caught a glimpse of wounded pride underneath the bravado. “Hideo? You’d take business to that idiot?”
Liane glanced away, as if bored. “He’s not nearly as good as you, but he doesn’t threaten dismemberment.”
“He’s a thug with a chemistry set,” snapped Ahmad.
Seth couldn’t keep from asking, “What does that make you, then?”
Ahmad grinned, spreading his arms. “An artist, of course. Now what is this?”
“That’s what we need to know,” Liane said, taking out the full vial as well. “I’ll need the composition of this serum as well.”
The dealer nodded, eyes alight as he headed towards the back room. “Come on, you know the way.”
He led them through an equally small and grimy back room, scanning his thumbprint on a hidden keypad. The wall slid aside, revealing a pristine, stainless steel staircase. Ahmad flipped a switch, and a faint blue light illuminated the stairs. They walked down, the door sliding shut behind him. Seth looked around in faint awe as they came to the end of the staircase. Beyond a small sterilization chamber was a brightly-lit laboratory, one as spotlessly clean and modern as any he had ever seen. Several techs in clean suits were working and didn’t even glance at Seth and Liane.
The three of them stayed in the antechamber for a moment, blue lights sweeping over them and neutralizing any bacteria or contaminants. Then Ahmad opened another door, and they walked into the cool confines of the lab.
Ahmad walked over to a table full of equipment, looking at both vials as he sat on a backless stool. “Now where did this come from?”
“The home of a murder victim,” Liane said, following him and watching as he began to work.
“One of the mods on the news?” When she nodded, Ahmad shook his head, “Poor bastards. I knew some of them; good people.”
“So they weren’t on the odds with any dealers?” Seth asked.
Ahmad laughed, extracting a few milliliters of the full vial with a syringe. “Not with me. If they were having trouble with a middleman, well . . . that’s their business.”
He carefully squeezed out a few drops into several thin containers, then began mixing and heating them. Liane sat nearby, not paying any attention, while Seth frowned and asked, “What are you doing?”
“Deciphering these serums is a delicate business,” Ahmad said, his voice filled with reverence. “Complex, tricky little concoctions, these are. You have to coax out the individual components one by one. This, my friends, is artistry.”
Ahmad worked for over an hour, wholly absorbed in his work to the point where he stopped even answering their questions. Eventually Seth and Liane drifted over to sit on the floor nearby, their backs against the wall as they watched him. He began to call over individual lab workers, murmuring to them and gesturing at various vials and microscopes. Soon all the workers within the lab were crowded around Ahmad, their heads all lowered and deep in conversation.
Finally, Ahmad swiveled to look at the two spectators, a look of amazement on his face. “What in God’s name did you bring me?”
Liane stood, frowning, “Tell me what you found out.”
Ahmad held up the full vial. “Standard issue wolf serum. High grade, low level of fillers; mine is far superior, of course. But this . . .” He held up the near-empty vial, gazing at the pearly drops as he said, “This is very special.”
Seth stood as well, asking, “It’s mod serum?”
Ahmad laughed, shaking his head. “Mod serum is dross compared to this gold. No animal genetic material, at least not crude enough for me to extract. It’s synthetic, I can tell you that, and the modification potential is off the charts. Put this in your veins, and there’s no telling what would happen.”
“Could you make more of it?” Seth asked.
Gesturing with the vial for emphasis, Ahmad said, “No one can make this. It doesn’t exist; it can’t exist with the technology we have.”
Liane moved forward, her strange eyes on the vial. “Is there enough for an injection?”
Ahmad shook his head. “I barely had enough for my tests. There’s trace enough for you to make a chemical match if you ever find more, but no more than that.”
Liane looked at him, her voice soft, “What do you think it would do?”
The dealer grinned at her, face alight at the mere thought. “I think this could give you the perfect genetic modification. Who knows? Perhaps you’ve stumbled onto the Titan Strain and you don’t even know it.”
“You think such a thing exists?” asked Liane.
“Look around you, little girl,” said Ahmad with a smirk. “A few hundred years ago and we didn’t have a cure for the cancers ravaging our race. When it comes to evolution, there’s no limit to what might exist.”
They left soon after, but only after paying Ahmad handsomely for his work. They said little as they climbed out of the underground lab, but when they were out on the street Liane turned to Seth.
“So Jeanelle found the advanced serum,” she observed, her hood pulled up against the misting rain. “That means the other victims may have found it as well. You need to check their homes again, find any modding kits.”
“We don’t need to find the serum,” Seth said, shaking his head. “We need to find the manufacturer.”
Liane nodded. “Since we’re not certain where to start, I think we need to question Crispin.”
“The alpha of the wolf mods?”
“He didn’t like that I was asking questions to the other mods about the advanced serum. Maybe that was because he knows something about it and doesn’t want it to get traced back to him.”
Seth looked at her, his voice hard as he demanded, “Do you think he could be the killer?”
“He has a lot to lose if exposed as a mod,” Liane said. “I think he’d be willing to commit murder to protect that secret.”
Seth sighed, shivering in the rain. “It’s circumstantial at best, but we don’t have a better option at this point.”
Liane turned to go, saying, “We’ll regroup soon, figure out where and when to talk to him.”
Without waiting for a reply, she turned and disappeared into the twisting alleys of the slum.
Seth waited for a minute, and then took off running down towards the main alley. He reached the Dragon Gate in seconds, and then dashed across the rain-damp street and ducked into the entrance of a bar. Through the dirt-streaked window, he had a clear view of the gate, as well as of Liane when she emerged moments later. Seth watched her head to the left, waiting until she was a block away before jogging across the street, dodging cars to reach the sidewalk. He slowed to a walk, following after her.
He had the rain to thank for the fact that she didn’t notice him tailing her; she kept her head down and hood up, walking quickly down one of the main city streets. He always kept a good distance back, ducking into doorways when she stopped to wait for traffic lights. After fifteen minutes, she arrived at the towering, silver skyscraper that was her home. Seth watched her enter through a side door, then hurried over to check the electronic directory next to the entrance. Her name wasn’t there, but when he scrolled through the photos, he found her face next to a different identity. Seth stood frowning down at the computer screen, rain dripping from his sodden curls and into the collar of his coat. He pulled out his phone and took a photo of the entry; confident that he would be able to find her again, he turned to make the long walk back to his car.