God Hammer: A novel of the Demon Accords (29 page)

“Yes, you are probably right on both counts,” I said.  “But if Anvil is any example, then we are going too fast without learning how to create benevolent AI.  Susskins strikes me as brilliant and amoral.  Take it from a guy who carries a semi-sentient entity inside him, one that was written by a woman who was just as brilliant and decidedly more than amoral.”

Semi-sentient? I’ve been aware longer than your country has existed.  Moron.

Hush.  No comments from the peanut gallery, please.

My face must have reflected my internal conversation.  “Everything okay?” Chris asked.

“Sorrow was voicing his opinion of my classification of him.  It wasn’t complimentary,” I said.

“I forget that you carry that within you.  My apologies.  You, of all people, have a right to mistrust fabricated intelligence,” Tanya said.

Fabricated?  I’m not a quilt.  I was Crafted with consummate skill and exquisite precision. Peasant!

They both raised eyebrows at my expression.  “Sorrow is chatty today.  Much to say on the topic,” I said.  “Anyway, I just have some concerns.”

“Your views are perhaps more enlightened than anyone else’s,” Tanya said.  “Am I wrong, or have you reached some accord with Sorrow?  You seem to handle it better all the time,” she noted.

“
Accord
might be too strong a term.  More of a general understanding,” I said, keeping all of Sorrow’s insults and unflattering opinions to myself.

My phone chose that moment to buzz loudly.  Of course, they both heard it.  Probably could hear spiders farting in the far corners of the room.  Speaking of which, my stomach rumbled again.

“Go ahead and check your phone, Declan.  Might be important,” Chris said.

I did just that.  “It’s an update from Caeco.  Seems that the ghost’s body was a patient of the doctor that they suspected in the case.  They were able to shake his story up and his lawyer is looking for a deal.  So they were a big help to the New York office. She’s thanking me for making her look good,” I said as I read the text.  Then I felt a frown form.  Before they could ask, I told them about her little add-on at the end.  “She also mentions that one of our classmates got hired by that Department of Anomalous Activity.  Do you remember T.J.?” I asked.

“The kid with the spider robot at the last game?” Chris asked.

“That’s him.  He’s got a gift with technology.  His work is magic resistant,” I said.

“But your avatar beat him by touching him,” Tanya noted.

“Yeah, it took direct contact.  Our other spells just bounced off.  Had to use indirect magic or, in my case, touch the shell of the bot.  He was bragging to our friend Ashley about getting this big job working on secret government stuff. He’s got a thing for her. Said he’s not coming back in the fall.  Ashley told Jetta, and Jetta told Caeco.”

“This worries you?” Tanya asked.

“Yeah.  Wouldn’t they be the kind of department that would make stuff like Thing One and Thing Two?”

“That’s a troubling point, Declan,” Tanya said.  “How would you combat a resistant centipede?”

“I gotta give it some thought,” I said.

“Fair enough.  Please do.  And please think more on the quantum project if you would?” she asked.

I said my goodbyes and slipped out the door, ignoring a silent Dave.  My brain was churning a mile a second as I trudged down the long hall to the elevator.  A potential answer came to me as I stopped by the call button.  What would I do? What could I do? To start with, I could call for help.  I didn’t know if it would arrive before the next attack; hell, I wasn’t sure it could even hear my call from this far, let alone travel the distance.  But it was worth a shot.  No time or place like the present.  I was on the bottom level of the building, feet planted on concrete that likely sat on bedrock. 

Closing my eyes, I let my head fall forward, chin to chest, while I framed my mental message and pulled Earth energy to me.  Then I pushed it out in a ball of power, sending it north through the earth below me.  It left in a rush, a pulse of raw power that ran through the ground like a tremor.  Now I’d just have to wait and see.  And work on other defenses against a possibly enhanced pede.  Who knows, maybe my fears were way off base.  I mean, what the hell did I know anyway?  My innards rolled over again just as the elevator opened, the internal urgency ramping up.  I headed inside and punched my floor’s button.  Hopefully I’d make it to my apartment in time.

After our unsettling conversation with Declan, I was able to convince Tanya to have her breakfast.  Her feeding had been erratic of late, but this time, she fed with a vengeance.  I thought the day had arrived when she would finally suck me dry. 

She suddenly pulled back, burped lightly, and covered her mouth with one hand.  “Full,” she said.  Me, I was just trying to breathe.

“Am I pushing too hard for this project?” she asked.

“He has a valid point. Quantum computing will change everything.  It would blow the doors off every supercomputer in the world. As a host for a rogue AI, it could be apocalyptic.  As we keep forgetting, he carries the original artificial intelligence inside him, so he has unique insight.”

“You said that Barbiel mentioned something about him changing the book?” she asked.

“He inferred that Declan was mellowing it out or something.  That the book corrupted everyone it touched until now,” I said.

“Have we done everything we can to protect it?” she questioned, referring to the special project.

“As far as I know.  Plus, we don’t actually have a functioning computer,” I pointed out.

“Susskins wants Declan on the project.  He told both Chet and me that he has some ideas of ways that magic might stabilize the qubits.  He actually got excited,” she said.

I tried to picture the sarcastic egomaniac getting excited.  My imagination wasn’t up to the task.

“As far as I know, we’ve done everything conceivable to protect the computing center.  Now, I have to run to make my drop-off with Deckert’s spook,” I said.

“How will he get Cuttle’s phone or tablet to you and Declan?” she asked.

“Your lawyers and analysts found out what kind of phone he carries. The model comes standard with a data sharing application that transfers stuff like photos to similar phones through wi-fi or Bluetooth or something. Declan preloaded the virus into an identical model so Mark will just need to get near Cuttle’s phone for, like, a few seconds,” I said.

“Wouldn’t Cuttle have to unlock his phone for that to work?”

“He would unless the magically enhanced version can hijack the other phone at will,” I said.

“Glad he’s on our side,” she said.

“Right?  How many people could handle his power without becoming a monster?  It boggles the mind.”

“How many could handle our power and remain as we have?” she asked with a smile.

“Point to the hot vampire,” I said, leaning down for a lingering kiss goodbye.

“Go. Before I drag you into my lair, never to be seen again,” she said, eyes lidded.

“Right.  Leaving.  Willpower fading.  Must go now,” I said robotically as I backed away.  She pouted, which froze me in my tracks, then grinned and waved me away.

The drop-off was set for a coffee-and-bagel place a couple of blocks from the Tower.  The compact spy was already at an outdoor table, sipping coffee and reading a paper.  I grabbed the table next to his, setting my own paper on the edge.  A waitress wandered over to get my order and froze when she recognized me, eyes wide and mouth open.

“Oh my God.  You’re him.  Right?  You’re actually you?” she babbled, which caused people to turn and look.

“Ah yeah, I guess I am.  Can I get a large mocha latte with extra whipped cream on top?” I asked. Other people were staring and pointing.  The waitress finally processed my request and rushed back inside the shop.  I took my phone out and went to set it on the table,
accidentally
knocking off the folded paper and the doctored phone it contained.  It fell by Mark’s feet and he folded his own paper before reaching down to pick up mine.

“Here ya go, Mr. Hammer,” he said, smirking as he adroitly switched papers and gave me back his. “Enjoy your morning.”  He got up and walked away, carrying my paper and his coffee.

Moments later, the waitress was back, followed by her manager plus about a dozen more people.  The manager held a large latte in his hand, his eyes huge as he gave it to me.  “It’s an honor sir,” he said.

Honestly, I hate this part.  How do celebrities stand it?  But he was very sincere, as were the people around him.  Cell phones came up to snap pictures or videos.  I pulled out a twenty and went to hand it to him, but he waved it away.  I nodded my thanks but tucked the twenty under the sugar dispenser on my table and stood up to leave.  A black Ford SUV pulled up to the curb and the rear window powered down.  Deckert gave me a brisk nod, then went back to scanning his surroundings.

“Damn phone!  It’s all froze up!” someone said.  “Mine too,” another voice chimed in.  At least four others agreed.  A flash of Declan telling me about Anvil in the lobby with the interns’ phones came to me.  It was all I needed to get me up and moving.  Traffic was starting to slow as people driving noticed the commotion at the shop.  I slid into the back of the Ford and the driver, Stevens, pulled smoothly into traffic like a veteran taxi driver. 

“Watch everything,” I said, unable to stop my voice from deepening as Grim took over.  “That damn program is here.”   

The stoplight ahead of us had just turned green. Now it flashed through yellow to red.  Cars screeched to a stop, drivers yelling at each other over the sudden confusion. Stevens slammed us to a halt.

“Shit, it’s trapping us here,” Deckert said, head pivoting.  Grim expanded my senses, reaching out into the world around us.  Traffic confusion, staring people, busy people, honking cars, the stench of hot engines and scorched antifreeze, garbage odors from the garbage truck next to us, a whiff of gas, a child yelling at another child, a couple arguing.  Wait.  Gas?

“Everyone out of the car,” Grim ordered.  They obeyed, the smell getting stronger as we cleared the vehicle.  The street had four lanes.  Our car was closest to the sidewalk, the garbage truck near the centerline, big front tire rolled right up on a manhole cover.

People were still pointing and aiming phones at us, well, me mostly.  Deckert and I herded Stevens and the third bodyguard toward the sidewalk.  The driver of the garbage truck gaped at me.  The ground shook once.  Then exploded, manhole cover lifting straight up under the truck, as did the asphalt.  The street split open right at the far white line on the other side of the street, almost directly under the heavy waste hauler.  Split open and lifted the truck.

The gas explosion was concentrated under the big vehicle, and it threw it into the air like a toy, flipping it over so that it would come down on our Ford.  The driver was still staring at me, likely the last thing he’d ever see, as the door of his compartment would hit the ground first.  The guys were clear but moving like molasses.  The explosion had been centered under the truck, doing exactly what it had been designed to do.

Grim jumped—at the flying truck.  One hand grabbed the roof of the driver’s side, the other gripped the open window frame.  Feet touched down on the left fender, arms twitched, and the door ripped open.  Right index finger formed a hook, mono-edge lining the inside.  Seatbelts parting like tissue, driver gripped by belt.  Grim flipped us away, a two-hundred-thirty-pound cargo hanging from a belt.  We hit the roof of the Ford SUV, denting it, the multi-ton hauler inverting itself overhead.  Jumped again, cleared the sidewalk and landed, Clinging to the side of the café, driver dangling from his belt.

The garbage truck came down directly on top of our Ford, crushing it flat and spraying foul-smelling rubbish in every direction.

Smoke and dust rolled out from the blast zone as red and orange flames flared up from the broken street.  The cloud rolled across the café, its occupants and workers, and up the side of the building, leaving us all covered in gray powder.  Grim walked us down the wall, setting the garbage driver down on his feet, where he promptly collapsed. 

Deckert was there in an instant, eyes scanning me for damage.  I pointed at the driver and without missing a beat, he directed his extra security guy to check the shaken man over.

The café crowd stood stunned, most still holding camera phones out.  Now they came back to life, some moving toward us while a few of the more civic-minded checked on the drivers of the cars in front and in back of ours.  A Chevy Terrain that had been directly behind us had a flattened engine compartment, but the way the truck had fallen on it had shoved the SUV backward like a toy, which in turned kept the driver from getting pasted.

“God’s Hammer,” someone loudly whispered. 

“He did it!  He got that man out!” another voice yelled.

The damned phones were coming back up.  Deckert spun around to face the crowd.

“This was an attack aimed at Mr. Gordon.  He needs to leave the area or there could be another attempt,” he told the crowd in a voice that would make a drill instructor proud. 

“Kill the Hammer?  No way!  Not in this city,” a man said, face flickering from shock to anger in a New York second.

“If you will open a path, Mr. Gordon will get clear as fast as he can.  That will lead any danger away from you all and frankly, it’ll be best for him as well,” Deckert said, making a Moses parting the sea motion with both hands.  Damned if they didn’t listen to him.  His head swiveled my way.  “Get the fuck outta here—sir!” he growled. “Full speed.”

I wanted to stay, but Grim agreed with Deckert and I was gone, moving fast enough to pull a big funnel of smoke after me.  Across the street and up the side of a building till I could follow the rooftops and head for the Tower, which rose like a pinnacle above my elevated footpath.  Behind me, I could hear sirens winding up, a sound I’ve heard far too many times in my short life, while I ran away.