Project Maigo(47)

25



Fourteen hours later, I’m standing on top of a 325-foot-tall apartment building, not all that dissimilar from the one Maigo was murdered in—except that this building stands on the coast of Boston’s North End. Or rather, what once was Boston’s North End. While work crews have been slowly working their way toward this part of town, clearing debris, they’ve barely scratched the surface. I’ve heard estimates between five and ten years just to clear out the rubble. Needless to say, this part of town is empty. A wasteland. Although the building beneath my feet was somehow spared, the skyscrapers to my back, and the New England Aquarium to my left, look like they’ve weathered the apocalypse. Those buildings that are still standing are missing windows, their skeletons exposed and their insides rotting in the humid summer air. Straight down the middle is a stretch of molten destruction, where Nemesis self-immolated to clear a path.

So we’ve chosen this harbor-side high-rise with the hopes that Nemesis will choose the path of least resistance. She may not. She might tromp right over Logan Airport again, which has been rebuilt. But the airport has been evacuated of people and planes, so if she does take the shortcut, damage will be primarily to the runways.

Our plan was met with extreme backlash, but in matters of National Security regarding Nemesis, the FC-P pretty much has final say. And with Zoomb supporting the plan, the White House wasn’t about to decline our rather large requests.

So here I am, pacing over the tacky-hot surface of the black tar roof, waiting for Nemesis to come to my rescue. There’s just one problem. I’m not in danger. “We’ve been here for three hours now. I’m not sure Gordon’s going to show up.”

Endo, the only other person on the roof with me, glances back over his shoulder. He’s been standing at the roof’s edge, staring out to sea, waiting for Nemesis’s arrival, pining for her return. “I’m not certain he will.”

I groan. The last thing I expected this mission to be was boring. I toggle Devine, connecting with Woodstock, who is circling the area with Collins and Alessi. Betty has been retrofitted once again, this time with Zoomb’s prototype, Kaiju neural implant. “See anything up there?”

“Not a thing,” Woodstock replies.

A year ago, I wouldn’t have volunteered to stand on a building, waiting for a man-thing who wants me dead, and his Kaiju pets, with the hopes that Nemesis will come to my aid, thus allowing me to enter her thoughts via a neural implant. And now that I’m thinking about it, I realize the ridiculousness of this plan.

“This isn’t going to work,” I say to Endo. “Gordon’s not an idiot. He’s not going to come after me here. Admiral Ackbar would see this coming a mile away.”

Endo actually chuckles and mumbles, “It’s a trap.”

I sometimes forget that this cold, killing, fighting machine was once a sci-fi loving kid who became obsessed with Kaiju. I’ve done my research. I know his public history, and his private. Interviewed his old friends. His parents. They haven’t seen or heard from him since he joined up with General Gordon, and thinking he was dead or missing, and that I was on the case, they filled me in on his geeky beginnings. That he understands my Star Wars reference shouldn’t come as a surprise. The humor doesn’t last long, though. “I never expected Gordon to show up.”

My pacing stops. “Excuse me?”

“Gordon’s not a fool.”

“I thought...” Past conversations play through my mind. I try to remember the specifics of this plan, as they were presented to me by Endo. I realize that every mention of Gordon in relation to my imminent danger was presented by myself or my team. Not by him. “So we’re just hoping Nemesis is going to show up, then?”

Endo shakes his head. “She will come.”

He says it with such confidence, I nearly believe him. But without me being in danger, the plan won’t work.

“You’re life is in jeopardy,” Endo says, answering my unspoken question. “It has been since the moment you and I stepped on this roof.”

“How so?” I ask.

He looks at his watch. “Because in ten minutes, I’m going to kill you.” The cold glare he shoots my way removes any doubt that he’s bluffing. I take a step away from him, reaching for my sidearm and cursing when I find my hip empty. Endo had told me the metal weapon could interfere with the neural implant’s connection to the hardware on my head. In reality, it would have interfered with the severe ass-kicking I’m about to receive.

Reaching lower, I pull my cell phone out, swipe the screen and try to connect with Woodstock again. No signal. Since Devine can use any and all cell towers, it’s nearly impossible for me to not have a signal. That I’m unable to connect means Endo is blocking my signal, which also means he’s got Zoomb’s support in this.