Assault or Attrition by Blake Northcott Read Free Book Online Page B

cherry-red Lamborghini
X-900. Amidst this nonsense was the video we’d just seen, entitled
‘Justice for The God Slayer’. It was perched in the top slot, with
over thirty million dollars having already been raised.
    “How long has
this thing been live?” I asked. “And how did we not find it
before?”
    “It’s been two
hours,” Fitzsimmons replied.
    I had a hard
time believing it.
    “How is this
shit even legal?” Brynja shouted, banging her fist on the tabletop.
“This bitch is threatening to kill Mox right there on camera! I
know people raise money for crazy reasons, but you can’t collect
donations so you can assassinate someone...can you?”
    My lawyer
explained that it’s not so simple. The woman from the video – who
was later identified as Astrid Neve, a twenty-nine year old
translator from Manchester – didn’t make any direct threat. She
used words like ‘justice’ and ‘crusade’, but deftly side-stepped
the use of any explicit call-to-action that would involve a
physical attack – the language was deliberately ambiguous. You
can’t pursue legal action based on insinuation, and on the surface
that’s all this was. What she’s planning to do with this money once
it’s raised is incidental.
    “So what if
someone attacks Mox after they see this video,” Brynja asked.
“Would this woman be held responsible? Isn’t this hate speech or
something?”
    “It’s a fine
line,” my lawyer explained delicately. “This woman can just claim
that she was speaking in metaphors. It happens on simulcasts all
the time: a political commentator will make a vague reference to
ridding the world of someone they disagree with, and before long
that person turns up dead. There isn’t really a legal recourse for
this type of rhetoric.”
    It was a
shocking video that had the potential to further incense an already
bitter group of Taktarov’s followers, including the Red Army. And
although this type of talk had already sparked violence, there was
surely a limit to how far people would go. Something new would
happen – a political scandal, a celebrity wedding, a football game
– that would take everyone’s mind off of Matthew Moxon, the God
Slayer. That’s what I kept telling myself until my lawyer opened
one final video.
    “I know this is
a lot to absorb,” Fitzsimmons continued, his measured voice etched
with a hint of emotion, “but...there’s one last thing I need to
show you. This happened just twenty minutes ago.”
    A new window
blinked to life and the video began streaming. It was a live New
York Chronicle Simulcast, where a camera was fixed on a high-rise
which was being devoured by flames. It appeared to be a residential
apartment, where a blackened hole was blasted into the mortar, and
had taken out several stories. A pillar of ash-colored smoke
climbed into the sky, obscuring most of the building’s
surroundings. It looked like a scene from Africa or the Middle East
– some war-torn region where bombings were commonplace. But as the
smoke dissipated, the skyline behind the building came into view. I
saw the Empire State building, alongside a row of familiar
megatowers. It was Manhattan.
    “It’s your
apartment,” Fitzsimmons said flatly. “Someone attached an explosive
device to you front door.”
    It took me a
moment to process the information. “What...what was the response?
Locally, I mean, in The Fringe?”
    “Status quo,”
Fitzsimmons replied. “Blockades, arrests, martial law. The entire
city is under curfew. It seems to be contained for the moment – no
looting or rioting in the area. But—”
    “ Yeah ,”
I interrupted, massaging my forehead. “I know. ‘This is probably
just the beginning’, right?”
    Fitzsimmons
shook his head slowly. “That isn’t what I was going to say, Mister
Moxon. There is no ‘probably’ about it. This is the
beginning. And I don’t see things calming down anytime soon.”

Chapter Six
     
    “ That’s no
moon, Brynja...that’s a