The Rebirths of Tao Read online

  Roen had specifically asked for the upstairs corner unit. It offered them some privacy, though he was fairly confident anyone who patronized this establishment would probably prefer to keep to themselves anyway. More importantly, this unit offered them multiple exit points for a quick escape.

  The two settled into their new room, negotiated sleeping arrangements – Roen left side, Marco right – and then he set up shop while Marco hopped in the shower. This was when he found his new Marco pet peeve: the guy liked to take long showers. Thirty minutes after he came in, after Roen had finished doing all the work breaking down and taking inventory of their supplies, Marco came out of the bathroom dripping wet with a towel around his waist. He began to comb his hair.

  “You might want to hold off a bit, chum,” he said. “I think they’re out of hot water.”

  Roen, with the mud on his outer layer now caked dry, but his underwear still soaked through from the rain, took in a deep breath and counted down from fifty-one. Long gone were the days when it took him less than a minute to keep his cool. And when it came to Marco, his countdown might have to go into three digits. At this point, he could smell himself, he was so dirty.

  Eventually, though, he got his shower in and came out looking like a civilized human being again, though they did have to wash their clothes in the communal washer and dryer before they had anything to wear. They had decided a few hours into their walk that they needed to unload some of their luggage. After some negotiations, they finally agreed that their spare clothing was the most logical choice. Now, with one change of clothes and down two operatives, they were finally ready to begin their mission. First things first, though.

  Roen opened the duffel bag with the comm units and scowled. “We have a problem.” He held up a small bullet-ridden bag. Inside, the crypto key had broken in two.

  “We need to re-establish communication with Command another way, then,” Marco said. “It’ll be a problem getting in touch with the scout team as well.”

  “I think food is the more pressing matter at the moment,” Roen said. “We haven’t eaten in a whole day.”

  “See if we can find an up-to-date map of the town,” Marco continued. “The scout team should have left markings in case of this happening.”

  “Food is more important,” Roen repeated.

  “I’ll look into finding a secondary base of operations as well. There’s no way we can run this from a sex motel.”

  “But first food. Really, I’m starving.”

  “And maybe buy a change of clothes,” Marco said.

  “Food. Food. Food, before I chew your arm off.” Roen pounded a fist on the bed. He was not ashamed to admit he got petulant when hungry.

  Marco looked over at Roen as if he had just noticed him talking. “Well yes, dinner would be fantastic as well. I’m quite famished.”

  “I’m going hunting,” Roen growled, heading toward the door. “I think I saw a General Tso’s Chinese restaurant and a convenience store across the street.”

  “Try not to get anything with MSG,” Marco called after him. “It gives me indigestion.”

  Roen didn’t bother looking back as he raised his hand and gave Marco the middle finger. Twenty minutes later, after being tortured by the aroma of his cooking take-out, Roen came back with a pile of food. He plopped the five containers on the table and begun to dig through them.

  Marco, sitting on the bed, going through a map of the town he had found, looked up, puzzled. “Are we expecting guests?”

  Roen ignored him and began to shovel the Singapore noodles into his mouth with a pair of chopsticks. He picked up a box of General Tso’s chicken – their specialty, unsurprisingly – and unfolded the container into a plate. Then Roen busted out a twelve-pack of beer and tossed Marco a can. The two ate in silence for the next fifteen minutes, polishing off two beers apiece.

  “You know,” Marco said, tossing an empty box into the garbage can. “This Tso chap makes a damn tasty dish. He must have been a fine soldier.”

  Roen spoke with his mouth full as he kept stuffing himself to make up for a day of not eating. “Pretty sure this dish was invented in New York City. Besides, I didn’t know a general’s skill was reflected by the dishes named after him. That would make Napoleon a great general.”

  “Napoleon was a great general, one of the finest in history.”

  Roen grunted. “That’s not what Tao told me.”

  “That’s because Tao’s host, Lafayette, hated Napoleon’s guts. Oh, trust me, Ahngr was there. He saw firsthand. Anyway,” Marco said, standing up, “now that your stomach has had its fill, let’s get down to business. We have to assume that all communication and Internet usage has a higher possibility of being monitored. The only crypto key available is with the scout team. But we can’t contact them without a key.

  “First thing tomorrow, head to the main streets and look for any IXTF or Penetra patrols. Keep an eye out for Prophus scout team markings. I don’t know what dozen they’re rotating through, but you should be able to catch the signals.”

  Roen looked dubious. “That’s the plan? You want me to walk around town all day until I find something?”

  Marco nodded. “No one said you have to walk. Go purchase a vehicle if you like.” He pulled out some cash and tossed it on the bed.

  Roen picked it up and counted through it. “Five hundred bucks? What kind of car do you think I can buy with five bills?”

  “No one said it had to be a car. You seem like a fellow who can make a dollar stretch.”

  “Well, what are you going to do then?”

  “The thing I know you positively can’t be trusted with,” Marco sniffed. “I’m going to buy us some clothes.”

  The next morning, right after sunrise, following a breakfast of leftover Chinese food, Marco and Roen headed to town. Their sleep the night before had been both blissful and uncomfortable. Blissful in that it was the first time either had slept in over twenty-four hours. Uncomfortable in that Marco liked to roll around in his sleep, and that he was a hugger.

  Roen woke up to find the Englishman draped over him. It made for a very unsettling morning, especially knowing that they were probably stuck in the same bed for the immediate future. He thought about putting a rifle down between them, but decided against it, given neither of them were small men, and bed real estate was at a premium. It was just going to have to be a burden he had to live with.

  They reached the outskirts of town and split up, Marco to shop for clothes and groceries, and Roen to explore Ontario and search for the scout team. They had decided that with the threat of the Genjix and IXTF, Roen should be the one to do most of the work around town, since getting dinged by a Penetra net was a very real possibility here.

  The first thing he intended to do was buy a car. Somewhere in this small town, someone must be selling a car for cheap. Roen had two thousand dollars in cash on him. Marco had given him the clearance to only spend the five hundred, but Roen decided he would give himself a little flexibility. After all, a car could be a valuable asset; splurging a little made sense.

  Roen spent most of the morning wandering around town until he found a salvage yard. He had stopped by all the car dealerships earlier, but was laughed out when they found out how much he wanted to spend. The salesman at the last dealership took pity on him and directed him to this place, which was hardly more than a junkyard.

  The owner of the yard noticed right away that something was a little strange about him. After all, in a town of twelve thousand people, everyone was bound to know everyone else. When a complete stranger walked up to his lot looking to buy a car, the guy had to know that something was off.

  In the end, with Roen’s pitiful budget, he only had three options: a 1978 dark green Rabbit, a rusty, mustard-colored 1982 Bug, or a 1970 light-blue station wagon with the fake wood panels on the sides. The station wagon won the beauty contest, because it had room to stow their gear, a roof rack, tinted back windows, and because he drove it off the lot for a
measly three hundred and seventy-five bucks.

  “If Tao could see me now,” he grumbled, feeling the engine twitch and pop as he made a right turn out of the lot onto Verde Road. Screw it; Tao would be proud of him for his tough negotiating skills. The guy originally wanted four hundred bucks for this damn thing.

  You drove a hard bargain, his friend would have said.

  Actually no, Tao would say something sarcastic about all the fine vehicles he had driven while working for the Prophus. That much was true. For some reason, ever since he had first become a host, he was allocated crappy car after crappy car. He initially thought it was simply because he was a new agent and had to work his way up. It wasn’t until a few years into his service that he realized that someone, or multiple someones, or everyone, for all he knew, working within the quartermaster division hated Tao and was purposely allocating Roen really pathetic and embarrassing cars. Even now, when he got to choose his car, he somehow ended up with a wagon with wooden panels.

  Lunch was at one of the local pizza joints. It seemed most of the restaurants here fell into one of four categories: Chinese, pizza, steak, or burgers. That suited him fine.

  By mid-afternoon, Roen had identified all the important landmarks, from the combination police and fire station to the local sporting goods store to the grocery store and restaurants. It was by chance while going over the map of the town that Roen noticed one more thing. It seemed all the hotels and shopping areas here in Ontario were located in one place, just east of the highway. The town was only eight kilometers long, after all.

  He parked himself in one of the main intersections and spent the rest of the day watching traffic. Surveillance was one of his worst skill-sets as an agent. He didn’t have the patience, he got distracted easily, and everything seemed to blur together after a while. However, he was experienced enough after all these years to power through it, and by nightfall he had noted, tracked, and followed four promising leads. In the morning, he would follow up with these leads and hopefully find this scout team.

  As he was crossing the bridge of the river that passed through town, he noticed a gray unmarked van that hadn’t been there earlier. There were many vans in town, but this one was slightly different. It sported a hump on top of its roof, just a slight elevation followed by three protruding fins not unlike that of a shark. These vans were pretty common in many major cities all over the country, but rare in such a small town. It meant the shark had smelled blood. The IXTF were here and hunting with Penetra vans.

  15

  The President

  Though it was more extreme than most civilizations, the Roman Empire followed the usual cycle: it grew, prospered, and then stagnated. It was a shining beacon of civilization, and also an example of their need for forced change. The two-hundred-year Golden Age saw little for the Quasing in terms of the advancement we required from the humans.

  Therefore, we worked tirelessly to corrupt what we had built by injecting several tribal ethnicities into the Roman armies. Near the sunset of the fifth century, we succeeded, and the Western Roman Empire fell from within. Chaos ensued, and the wheels of change continued to turn.

  Zoras

  * * *

  Today was an important meeting for Enzo. It was probably a good idea to not make the Russian president wait for too long. The man was important if Enzo was to cinch this entire continent for his faction. However, it was also important for Enzo not to show the man that they were equals. Far from it. Enzo was bestowing a favor upon a raised underling. The president must be made aware of that.

  There are some lessons that should be taught now and some later. In this case, it is better for them to have their delusions now and disappointments later.

  Enzo looked up at the clock and cut his workout short. He had been lax over the past few months, and needed to beg forgiveness and rectify his sins. However, today was not the day, and his Holy One understood, commanded it even.

  He tossed his towel to the waiting Amanda. “Have the escort ready for the Grand Kremlin Palace.”

  The look of relief on her face was palpable. She had the difficult job of shepherding him through his daily schedule and worried constantly when he pushed those constraints. One day, he reminded himself, he would find a Holy One for her.

  Enzo was twenty minutes late meeting with the president. However, he considered it a wash, considering the president had insisted on meeting him at the Grand Kremlin Palace, which was nothing less than a grandstand on his part. Still, he had to remind himself that he was not only buying the man as well as the country, but also taking him out of Vinnick’s grasp. Most importantly, the currency he was purchasing with was illusion.

  For now, Enzo would have to play these games. He walked into the office and nodded. “President Putyatin, thank you for seeing me.”

  Putyatin looked up, then down at his watch, and then up again. “Ah, Mr Enzo. I apologize. I forgot we had an appointment today. Please, sit.”

  Again, the grandstanding. There was no way the man didn’t know that Enzo was coming. He was the most important person on the continent, and the KGB had twenty-four hour surveillance at Novo-Ogarevo, the guest complex where he was staying. If Enzo so much as tripped over a rock – not like that would ever happen – it would light up half a dozen intelligence reports.

  “I am here now. That is all that is important,” he said, taking the invitation and sitting in the chair across from the president.

  “What can the Russian people do for you?” asked Putyatin.

  He is fishing. Putyatin believes he has the upper hand.

  “As we’ve discussed earlier, Germany.”

  Putyatin looked unimpressed. “What would I do with that? It is a people I do not identify with, a land I do not care for.”

  Enzo was surprised at the answer. “It is a land you would rule. One in which you could create a dynasty. To pass down to your sons and daughters.”

  “So you wish to make me a king?”

  “An emperor. A tsar. Whatever you wish to call it.”

  Putyatin stood up and turned toward the large map of the world behind him. He looked at Germany. “You ask for a lot, and offer not little, but I am a patriot as well. What would you do with my country after I align its interests with yours?”

  “There are enemies to both of our people,” Enzo said. “I would see them crushed.”

  “To war then,” Putyatin nodded thoughtfully.

  This is a ruse. Well-rehearsed. His decision has already been made.

  “Let me ask you, Mr Enzo,” Putyatin continued. “Tell me why it is in my best interest to hand over my beloved country, just so you can lead her to war, in exchange for a small piece of the Earth. It seems you have much more to gain from my cooperation than I would receiving a land of good beer and little oil. It is too much risk, not enough reward, and frankly, no guarantees.”

  “Are you doubting the Genjix, Mr President?”

  Putyatin shrugged. “I doubt anyone who offers the world to me on a platter. Besides, I know Mr Vinnick. He and I have had business in the past. I know what he is offering. I can see and touch it. You offer me nothing but platitudes and dreams, Mr Enzo. Dreams that require I risk my country.”

  Enzo stood up and sneered. He was tiring of these constant games. “Dreams? Mr President, the Genjix are currently in control of a power bloc of nineteen countries, including China, the second largest economy and military in the world. You think all we have is wishful thinking?”

  Putyatin stood up as well. “Good day, Mr Enzo. I wish you and your people the best. We are done here.”

  Enzo, in a controlled rage, turned to leave. Right before he reached the door, he stopped.

  I would not advise playing this card. Not yet.

  “How is your mother doing in Sochi? The Black Sea is beautiful this time of year.”

  Putyatin stiffened. “A threat, Mr Enzo?”

  Enzo turned around. “Or Boris, your brother, the General currently in charge of retooling the Eig
hth Army in Stryi? Your daughter, who exactly seven minutes ago went to her skating practice just off the Varvarka? I hear she is fantastic and has a good chance of qualifying for the Winter Olympics next year. You’ll see to that, won’t you?

  “But that’s all public information. How about your son, currently attending the Lundsbergs boarding school in Sweden under the pseudonym of Karl Pschuenko? Your youngest daughter, currently at the Humanitarian Classical Gymnasium? Your mistress, the twenty-two year-old daughter of your loyal ally and friend, the Prime Minister? Not that I blame you; she is quite a beauty. She is currently in Paris attending Fashion Week.

  “And your wife’s nephew, the one you detest for being a bumbling simpleton, Captain Lieutenant Masorin. Ah, he has risen in rank quickly. Nothing to do with his aunt’s influence, of course. I believe as of oh-four-hundred this morning, his battleship Martynin had just embarked for the White Sea on a nine-day patrol over concerns of United States submarine incursions in the Arctic Circle. I believe that mission is classified.”

  Enzo relished the stunned look on that arrogant Russian’s face as he walked back to the desk. He leaned forward. “You see, Mr President, we Genjix have been running the world for a very, very long time, and we’ve been guiding humans toward what is best for them for almost as long. I encourage you to reconsider our offer. It’s really the best scenario for everyone.”

  A little over the top, but effective. I would have held back. It could backfire.

  “I am through with these games, Zoras.”

  Then Enzo walked away and stopped at the doorway once more. He turned and smiled at Putyatin. “By the way, I am going to do you a favor. Good day, Mr President.” Then he walked out of the door.

  That night, the Russian Battleship Martynin sunk under mysterious circumstances. There were no distress calls, signs of battle, or indications of a collision. All hands on deck were lost.

  16