Page 44 of Shadow Boxed (Shadow Warriors #2)

Chapter thirty-six

Wolf, who was harnessed and tethered and standing in the open cargo door, watched his javaanee hand and ankle cuff the last of their five captives.

“Come on dude, step it up. You’re taking forever down there,” Simcosky said into the comm as Aiden staggered across the rocking deck. “We don’t have all fucking day.”

“No?” Aiden stopped moving long enough to flash Cosky another finger. “You late for date night? I’m sure Kait can find someone else to feed her.”

It was odd how the pair showed their kinship with insults and fuck you fingers.

“Guess we’re about to find out how motherfucking lucky we are,” Mackenzie muttered, leaning out the open cargo door without a safety harness or tether.

While he had hold of the corner of the door, a strong gust of wind could rip him out of the chopper and drop him into the ocean. Before Wolf could order the umbretan to harness up, Simcosky stepped in and lit into his former commander.

“What the hell, Mac,” Cosky said, turning his attention and sarcasm toward Mackenzie. “Are you taunting lady luck? One good gust of wind and you’ll be swimming. And while we don’t know whether that damn boat is infected, we do know the ocean around here is.”

“How about this? You worry about your own ass and I’ll worry about mine.”

Simcosky responded with a salute and a sarcastic, “Sure thing. Who am I to stop you from testing your immunity to the fucking nanobots?”

The taunt wasn’t inaccurate. While they didn’t know whether the surface water was contaminated, there was a good chance the water at the bottom of the ocean, particularly where the Harbinger rested, was crawling with the bots.

While The Bountiful Harvest was some twenty nautical klicks from the Harbinger’s grave site, that didn’t mean the water was safe here.

The ocean currents could have carried the nanobots in this direction and swirled them up to the surface.

The Shadow Mountain labs were working on a way to sample the water around the Harbinger’s grave without putting anyone in danger, but they hadn’t perfected the process yet. Until they did, the safest approach was to avoid the water.

Wolf grimaced, his mind flashing to the gallons of spray that had hit his javaanee after he’d climbed down from the wheelhouse roof.

And what about the Bountiful Harvest crew?

They were soaked as well. Even if an empty hold proved they hadn’t handled any fish, they could have picked up some bots from the ocean spray.

What in shadow’s name were they supposed to do with the crew now?

He had to assume the crew was infected until their behavior proved otherwise. Which meant he—or rather Aiden—had to babysit the crew long enough for the bots to seize their brains, and their behavior to change...if they were infected.

And this babysitting detail would include Mackenzie if the woohanta fell into the water.

“If you fall overboard, we will not haul you back up and risk infecting others.” Wolf issued the warning in a mild voice.

“What he means,” Cosky jumped in helpfully, “is you’ll be sleeping with the fishes. Permanently.”

“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” Mackenzie snarled, but he withdrew several steps to a safer position. “You boys are a bunch of lily-assed panty twisters.”

Wolf turned his attention back to his javaanee , who was finally attaching the cable to the O-ring on the hold’s hatch.

“Jesus Christ.” Mackenzie muttered. “Could he go any slower?”

Aiden straightened and stepped back. Lifting his arm, he gave a whirlybird gesture.

The winch started to whine and the cable rose.

Wolf waited until the hatch was standing halfway up before lifting and closing his fist. The winch’s whine stopped.

The hold’s door shuddered, caught between the wind and the cable.

The position of the hatch blocked his view of the boat’s refrigerated hold. Judging by the grumbles that broke through the comm, it blocked everyone else’s view too. Aiden wasn’t helping, he just stood off to the side, staring into the hold like it held the mysteries of the universe.

“The fuckers playing with us,” Cosky snarled.

The tension in Wolf evaporated. Simcosky was right, which meant the hold was empty. There would be no taunting if the hold were full. A full hold represented too many desperate decisions.

“Alright asshole, you’ve made your point,” O’Neill chimed in. “What are we looking at?”

Aiden looked up, targeting the cargo door with a thumbs up. “It’s empty.”

As Wolf had expected. However, nobody was going to like his next decision. “We are not in the clear. You are soaked...so is the Harvest’s crew. If the water carries bots...” Through the binoculars, Wolf watched darkness spread across Aiden’s face as understanding dawned.

“Then we’re all infected.” Aiden’s lips twisted. “So, what’s plan C?” There was a growl in the question. His javaanee already knew the answer and he wasn’t happy about it.

“We wait. If these men are infected, they will show signs.” As would Aiden. Wolf’s chest turned hollow.

“Son of a bitch.” Cosky snapped. “That could take forever.”

“Yes.” Wolf’s voice remained placid, but his chest ached. With the bath Aiden had taken, he could be infected again. They could not pull him up either.

“We don’t have enough fuel to hover for hours.” The pilot broke into the comm. “We’ll need to hit a depot.”

Wolf grunted in agreement. He’d already considered this.

“Aiden, you need to get these men into the wheelhouse, out of the weather. We can not risk additional spray hitting them.” Or you , although he held his tongue on the last part.

“We will return once our fuel is full,” he added in a tight voice.

Jude had drilled into him to leave no warrior behind. Yet he here he was, ordering the chopper away and leaving his javaanee to fend for himself. This was not the lesson his Anisbecco had instilled in him.

“You’re fucking with me.” Cosky sounded stunned. “You’re just gonna leave him down there?”

Wolf’s mouth flattened. “We have no choice.”

Cosky nailed Wolf with a look so volcanic it should have left scorch marks, then turned back to the cargo door.

“Aiden, once you get your new BFFs under cover,” he said into his mic, his cool tone at odds with his furious face, “keep that boat pointed into the waves. Kait won’t be happy with me if you drown out here.

So you better be waiting for us, on board and mentally intact, when we chopper back in to pick up your sorry ass. ”

Day 35 Washington, DC

Clark watched the camera feed obsessively over the next two days, but Comfrey and her infected brethren were...unexciting. Just more of that ever-present stationary shit. After their jailbreak earlier, he’d expected more. But no, they’d fallen back into their default mannequin mode.

He’d agonized over whether to shut down and replace his entire computer system and server. If the NNB26 prototype had infected the server, as he suspected, then he needed to shut down the entire building’s computer system and discard all the computers on the premises.

But the instant he shut the system down, he’d lose access to the basement cameras. Sure, he’d be able to reconnect to the camera feeds after the new server and computers were up and running, but that could take a day, possibly longer.

He couldn’t afford to lose his eyes in the basement for that length of time.

Eventually, he leased another office building on the outskirts of Washington, DC and began moving his staff over there.

The move was abrupt, and ongoing. The new building came with a brand-new computer system, one free of NNB26 infestation.

His computer engineers were loading the new server with all the files that Nantz Technology needed to continue doing business.

The work would be complete by the end of the week.

The old Nantz building would continue running on the old computer system, so the basement cameras would remain operational.

The compromise was expensive and time consuming, but necessary.

This way, he retained his eyes in the basement, while protecting his business and secrets.

The hardest part was producing an explanation for the sudden change in venue.

He’d finally hit on the perfect excuse. He’d claim he was repurposing the building, turning it into expensive condominiums for Washington’s elite.

Not only did this explanation allow him to remain in his penthouse, but it gave him plenty of wiggle room to change his mind and move his business back on site once he resolved the nanobot infestation.

Not that he was doing much resolving lately.

The reminder brought his eyes back to the laptop screen, where the camera feed was rolling.

The specimens were still huddled around the bot tanks, maintaining the same positions they’d taken on the day they entered.

Were they awaiting instructions on what to do next?

It almost seemed like that. But if so, that indicated someone oversaw them.

Maybe his little geniuses hadn’t gone rouge after all.

Maybe someone had hacked into his NNB26 prototype’s controls and reprogrammed them.

Except there was no indication of that. Nor had he been locked out of the programming module.

The prototype had simply ignored his instructions.

Grimacing, he tabled the questions and returned his attention to the camera feed in the testing tank lab.

At first, he didn’t notice any changes. Dr. Comfrey and the others were still standing around the testing tank, staring at nothing.

His gaze slid past her, only to stop and backtrack. Something was off. Something was wrong.

It took him a bit of staring to see the difference between the current camera view and the one from his memory of minutes ago. An octagon shaped piece of metal jutted up from the testing tank lid now. It hadn’t been there before. Nor did he recognize the piece of metal.

That’s when he realized there was something odd about the positioning of Comfrey’s right arm.

From her armpit down, her right arm disappeared behind the testing tank.

Yet…the angle was wrong. The tank was too wide for her arm to drop straight down like that.

It would stretch out over the tank. Unless.

...unless the lid was open. And her arm was hanging down, inside the tank.

He reeled back in horror. The chair squeaking like a rabid chihuahua.

Holy mother of Christ.

The upright piece of metal was the testing tank’s hatch. It’s open hatch.

And Comfrey had stuck her arm inside the tank, offering it to billions of active nanobots.

He jolted forward and hunched over his keyboard, tapping like a maniac.

The programming module for the atomic force microscope came online.

His fingers shook as he accessed the program.

But the program threw an error message. Comfrey must have dislodged the microscope when she opened the hatch.

He switched back to the lab camera. Her arm was still inside the testing tank.

How had she managed to open the testing tank? He’d locked it down. Without the proper code punched into the programming—

His spiraling thoughts faltered.

The testing tank security was electronic. Whoever had disabled the lab security panels must have disabled the testing tank security too.

The horror shifted to fascination. He leaned into his laptop screen, absorbed by Comfrey’s behavior. What was happening inside the tank? Were the nanobots penetrating her arm? Was she giving them a ride somewhere? Or incubating them for new hosts?

She suddenly pulled her arm out of the tank and stumbled back. With robotic movements, she turned and stumbled her way across the room. Every specimen, both breathing and not, followed her.

What were they up to now?

Comfrey stopped next to the north wall. Her entourage did as well. In unison, their faces tilted up to stare at the grate over the ventilation shaft.