INFERNO (New Perdition's Gate Omnibus Edition) Read online

  “I N F E R N O”

  PERDITION’S GATE: PARTS ONE & TWO

  by

  James Somers

  www.jamessomers.blogspot.com

  Kindle Omnibus Edition

  2011© James Somers

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  P E R D I T I O N’ S G A T E

  PART ONE

  NIGHTSTALKER

  August 5, 2094

  Night fell upon New Rome. At 8:27pm, people milled through the streets trying to wrap up the days affairs before heading to their homes. A lone elderly man, approximately seventy years of age, sat at a table for two at a sidewalk café watching dignitaries arrive beyond the gates of the New Eden Ambassador’s Complex. He stared beyond the horizon of a cup of imported coffee. He wore corduroy slacks with an off-white, button-down short sleeve shirt.

  The politicians and their wives arrived in style, exiting limousines. Lavishly dressed, they each took their turn walking the lengthy red carpet adorning the pathway into the main building in the New Eden Ambassador’s Complex. A formal dinner had been scheduled at the main building of the complex as well as a very important meeting. The four nominees for High Representative of the New Eden Alliance planned to hold a special face to face meeting on the issues concerning the election and the Alliance’s expectations for its new leader.

  A ten nation High Council had determined all of the steps taken by the Alliance up until this point. The situation had become a constant source of infighting. The people desired one leader to take them into the next century—thus the elections.

  The elderly man, Jason Night, codename: Nightstalker, noted the time on his OS (left) contact lens display. A list of the dignitaries who had already arrived appeared on the OD (right) CLD. Jason did not see their faces for himself. One of his team positioned on the grounds fed him the information through the auditory receiver attached to the wall of his outer ear canal, approximately two millimeters from the tympanic membrane.

  According to their source data, which was always accurate coming from Babylon, these four targets would engage in their top secret meeting by 8:45pm in the west wing conference hall. That left little time to infiltrate the building, acquire the targets and terminate them while the meeting was in progress.

  For some reason, Babylon wanted this hit carried out in a public manner. It was somehow important that it be done in connection with this meeting. Jason had never cared much for politics. He didn’t have time to care about it. He just did his job—finding and terminating targets designated by his Handler. It was never personal, always business. He considered his targets as good as dead already and kept his emotions out of it. Few people meant anything to him—Sarah Cross was one of them.

  A voice came through his receiver. “Nightstalker, Theed has diverted.”

  “Where?”

  “New Rome Medical Center. His driver called in on one of their coded channels—it’s a problem with his diabetes. May I reacquire?”

  A problem. Babylon wanted all four targets present in the meeting when the hit went down, but Theed’s medical emergency meant he wasn’t going to make it to that meeting. As team leader Jason had the prerogative of scrubbing the op. But the results of this meeting were apparently what Babylon did not want coming to public attention. Time constraints did not allow him to load up and receive instruction from his Handler. It had to be done tonight. Theed had to go down with the rest, even if not in the same location.

  “You may reacquire the target, Soulman.”

  “Copy, Nightstalker.”

  Jason got up from his half empty cup of coffee, returning to the café. He set the cup on the counter and spoke to the server behind the counter in a frail voice. “Time for me to get some sleep.”

  “All right, Pops. I’ll take care of things down here.”

  The elderly Jason paused and gave a frail wave. “Goodnight, Dora.” He shuffled on past several patrons eating sandwiches toward the one man lift that accessed his over-the-shop apartment. Jason poked at the old security keypad with the yellowed buttons. The lift opened, allowing him to shuffle on inside. When the lift doors closed securely behind him, the image of a frail seventy-year-old man with white thinning hair quickly faded like a mirage to reveal his true form.

  Jason Night stood six feet tall—a man of medium build and olive skin. His dark hair was short and stylish with thin sideburns that stopped dead at his earlobes. He was a handsome young man by anyone’s standards, and his twenty nine years of age seemed more like twenty.

  He wore a full-body black uniform with a trace hint of the perceptor technology’s hexagonal weave pattern only visible when normal lighting reflected off of it at the right angle. The perceptor enhanced garment utilized complex holography blended with a Neural Wave Pulse system to produce very authentic holographic disguises for agents using the system. Perceptor Tech had the ability to bend light and produce imagery, but the key to Perceptor’s success was the Neural Wave Pulse’s ability to trick the mind of anyone within visual range by counterfeiting sensory data, sending it along the nervous system to the brain as decoded sensory data. The brain would believe the counterfeit sensory information in most cases. Of course the system did have its limitations. The image needed to approximate the size of the agent. A little voice synthesizing completed the effect.

  Another door opened at the back of the one man elevator. On the other side of the door an automaton stood waiting for the agent. “Master Jason, I trust you are well?” His programmed voice sounded middle-aged, British. He wore a matte silver finish for an outer skin over a basic mannequin frame and a run-of-the-mill stylized human face—typical robot.

  “Hello, Alfred. Is my route clear?”

  “Yes, sir, there are no scanning devices detected within your route through the catacombs, but I wouldn’t veer from it if I were you.”

  “Of course not, Alfred. I’ll be careful.”

  The two traded places. Jason moved into the foyer of his secret catacomb tunnel and Alfred came into the one man lift. “Very good, sir. I’ll take up my post in the apartment and meet you at the appointed time and place.”

  Jason nodded. Alfred knew exactly what to do. He had never failed to perform his duty. The wall door on the rear of the elevator replaced itself, and Alfred’s normal form as an H7 Counterpart transformed into the perceptor induced visage of the little old man Jason had been when entering the lift moments before. Alfred tapped the appropriate button on the worn panel and the old elevator began its groaning rise toward the apartment above.

  Jason turned to the countertop along the wall to his left and inspected the weaponry which Alfred had laid out for him. Usually, Jason’s list was pretty thorough, but every now and then Alfred added something that his electronic mind felt might be helpful on the mission. As an H7 Counterpart, Alfred technically wasn’t what most would even consider a person. His lithe frame held the latest advancements in robot technology, at least on the inside. Despite the H7 being an older model of robot counterparts, with the modifications Jason had made over the five years he had owned Alfred, nothing on or off the market could touch him.

  Several essential items lay spaced out on the plain wooden countertop for Jason’s inspection and acquisition. He picked up a thin black composite tube from the available it
ems and found the tab on the side. Jason pulled the clear vellum sheet out from the side of the tube, like an old style window shade. He tapped the charge button on the top of the ball point pin sized cylinder. The six by nine inch, flexible clear sheet instantly became rigid. The transparent sheet turned paper white with black print on its surface. Jason switched the image from reflective light to transmitted light and the white paper image became backlit.

  Alfred had left him a simplified schematic showing his route through the catacombs into the New Eden Complex and ultimately into the Council chambers where the presidential candidates were meeting. They wouldn’t be alone, of course. A compliment of four secret service agents escorted each presidential hopeful to this event. Two would remain with each candidate. Two others would watch perimeter areas. Then the pairs would rotate.

  One of Jason’s team already held a position as one of presidential candidate Vito Bratta’s secret servicemen. Jason’s demolition man, Mad Hatter, had taken out Bratta’s agent while the man was on holiday in Australia.

  Jason downloaded the schematic to his CLD’s then scrolled to the next vellum page with an onscreen touch-prompt. The rendezvous location, with Alfred’s encrypted communication channel, was listed on the page. Jason downloaded this information as well. True to form, Alfred allowed only ten seconds of examination before the vellum deleted itself completely.

  Replacing the vellum sheet on the table, Jason moved on to his capsule gun setup. The capsule gun, utilizing its state-of-the-art micro-compression module, easily matched the projectile velocities of older gunpowder models. However, its advantage lay in the ability to neutralize a target without a kill. Any number of capsule types could be used for ammunition—some quite lethal while other civilian types remained non-lethal and, most of all, acceptable defense in the public eye.

  Jason picked up the capsule gun and several tri-compartmental ammo clips. His standard fare remained a six hour tranquilizer, light armor piercing round and a nitroglycerin drop—sometimes called acid rain—very illegal. In fact, all non tranquilizer capsules became a quick ticket to jail for civilians. Best of all, the capsule gun produced minimal recoil for increased accuracy and was naturally quiet when fired.

  Jason popped one clip into the hollow grip, letting the light composite material slide into place against a magnetic clip on the outside of his right thigh. A small magnet in the gun’s housing made it stay where it was placed.

  Two items remained: a T-handle hypermagnetic grapple with several cable cartridges and perhaps his favorite of all, Stella. His lady was an exquisitely deadly carbon fiber reinforced plastic blade. Stella, as Jason delighted to refer to the weapon, was flat black in color, a full foot long, perfectly weighted, balanced and razor sharp. She had tasted much blood over his years as an agent. Jason slid the weapon into a sheath, horizontally, behind his waist then started down the catacomb tunnel.

  It became a dead end in stone with a granite slab jutting out from the wall at chest height. Jason slid onto it and rolled his weight into the wall. The wall gave way and his body weight carried him through a spring loaded panel just large enough to accommodate. Jason now lay on the second highest loculi of a wall inside the catacombs beneath New Rome.

  He rolled out of the loculi to the ground, crouching for just a moment to get his bearing and set his direction. Through his CLD’s, Jason sought out any heat signatures that might be present and found none—the way was clear as Alfred had assured him. A quick series of lefts and rights would bring him to a janitor’s closet in the basement of the complex. Once he came through the sliding panel on the closet’s back wall it would be an easy infiltration into the main ballroom disguised as one of its guests. Jason moved cautiously but quickly, set to his goal with singular purpose. His clients were waiting.

  THE HIT

  August 5, 2094

  “Peter Newcastle reporting for WNB Evening News…A spokesman for the World Bureau of Investigation, Janet Hines, stated earlier today, ‘The WBI has begun to assemble a massive multinational taskforce for the purpose of tracking and apprehending thousands of Jewish converts to the fundamentalist sect of Christianity.’ Despite the former worldwide terrorist attacks conducted by Christian fundamentalists in December of 2091, thousands of Jews have taken up the mantle of Christian propaganda. They have been reported to be conducting a worldwide campaign to win converts to their extremist religion. The WBI apparently fears a repeat of the mass terrorist attacks that killed almost one million people in 2091. The WBI’s aim is to stop the religious group before they can implement any further attacks.”

  “In other news, the new Jewish Temple is nearing completion upon the restored Temple Mount in Jerusalem. A dedication ceremony has been scheduled to take place on, September 12, 2095, the three year anniversary since the construction began. The restoration of the Jewish Temple was a major factor in the peace treaty secured by New Eden Secretary General, Oliver Theed, early in 2092. Under Theed’s direction, the Alliance has committed thousands of construction robots working twenty-four-seven toward its completion in hopes of celebrating the Temple’s dedication on the three and a half year midpoint of the seven year peace treaty. Rabbis within the Sanhedrin have been quoted as saying, ‘We do not support in any way, shape, or form the conversion of thousands of Jews to the Christian god, Jesus Christ, or the proselytizing efforts of the so called Two Witnesses who have been preaching near the Temple Mount area since the time our peace treaty was signed with Secretary General, Oliver Theed.’ New Eden security agents have attempted on many occasions to either capture, or kill these two religious zealots, but efforts have been unsuccessful. Eyewitness accounts which claim the Two Witnesses called down fire upon those who would apprehend them have been heavily disputed by WBI agents and New Eden security agents. We’ll have more news at the top of the hour.”

  Soulman waited as the elevator passed the floor number for Secretary General and presidential hopeful, Oliver Theed. As he had suspected, security prevented the elevator from opening at the floor where Theed was being treated. His secret service agents had seen to it that the fifth floor and any other area necessary for Theed’s treatment remained secure. Soulman decided to utilize the ventilation system to get back down to the fifth floor once he accessed it from the roof.

  Soulman activated his CLD’S, poring over a schematic of the New Rome Medical Center. The elevator only went to the top floor. From there he would have to access either the east or west wing stairwells that continued on to the roof.

  When the elevator reached the top floor, the doors opened. Soulman stepped into the hallway in the perceptor disguise of a black man—actually his true skin color—wearing scrub clothes. His badge listed him as a member of the housekeeping staff. This would give him access without any doctors paying attention to him. They were generally too busy to even care who the housekeeping staff was anyway.

  Soulman stood six feet tall of medium frame and ripped musculature. By all accounts, he was a handsome man. When he had time off he was always popular with the ladies.

  He and Nightstalker had always been the best of friends, closer than brothers, ever since their introduction to one another growing up in Babylon’s training academy. Almost all of the top level agents were orphaned at a young age and taken in as recruits by Babylon. They disappeared from society, in every way becoming ghosts to the world.

  Soulman proceeded unnoticed to one of the ventilation system returns located in the wall. The hallway showed minimal activity. When he was sure no security camera was watching him, he removed the vent screen and slipped inside. Soulman pulled the mesh screen, hinged at the bottom, back up and turned the metal tabs from the inside that held the cover in place. He had saved himself a longer trip to the roof.

  Soulman noticed the time ticking away on his contact lens display. He had to move quickly to keep pace with Nightstalker taking down the other presidential candidates. Theed happened to be the most important among them.

  He had been the Secretary Ge
neral of the New Eden Alliance for five years, steadily coming to power for many years before. Theed alone had brought peace to the Middle East conflict, striking a seven year truce with Israel that provided strong borders with its neighbors and protection for the Jews while their temple was being rebuilt. Out of all of the candidates, Theed was the one expected to emerge as the victor of this political race.

  Whatever the reason, Babylon wanted all of these men dead. He just had to take out Theed before the news of the other hits reached the hospital. In that event, security would clamp down, making it nearly impossible to get to Theed without a full onslaught.

  Soulman slid backwards along the thin tunnel. When he reached an intersecting tunnel dropping down, he slid inside controlling his decent. After a few floor intersections and he would be at the fifth floor and Theed’s location.

  Jason mingled among the party guests within the Alliance complex’s main hall in the disguise of a middle aged millionaire—John Johansen—a real celebrity. However, Johansen had not been expected to attend the party. Jason briskly marched past the security man at the door, claiming to be the John Johansen, of course he’d been invited, but his pass had not been conveyed to him on time. The security agent had recognized him, but was befuddled about letting him in. Jason pushed him aside and walked in anyway. That would buy him a few minutes at least.

  It didn’t take more than a casual examination of the room for Jason to locate Mad Hatter’s perceptor signature. Jason moved quickly through the crowd and saw Mad Hatter doing the same. He remained disguised as Vito Bratta’s secret service agent, as expected. Jason made his way to the tall marble columns that lined either side of the room. He strolled along the walkway behind them and found Mad Hatter coming toward him. No one else stood nearby.