Warhead by Andy Remic Read Free Book Online Page B

smooth surface.
    A steel door at the far end of the chamber opened and a Nex stepped onto the plush carpet, dragging a half-naked, battered, raze-wire-bound captive.
    The Nex was of no great stature; she wore a tight body-hugging black uniform and soft black boots. She had an AK52 slung over one shoulder and her face was unmasked; copper eyes glowed brightly in a beautifully pale and oval face. The hair was cut short near the scalp, leaving a tight black forest of spikes, but the lack of hair only accentuated the cold beauty of the high cheekbones and unblemished skin.
    She prodded the man, who stumbled forward and fell to his knees for a moment. He was breathing heavily, and blood had dried on his face. He lifted his steel-grey gaze and fixed it on Durell, then snarled something incomprehensible and surged upwards. He lurched to a halt in front of Durell—with the female Nex’s sub-machine gun poking viciously into his back.
    He smiled, a low spiteful smile laced with traces of blood. ‘So you’ve finally chosen to see me. You’ve finally found your balls, Durell, you twisted piece of rat-shit.’
    ‘Welcome to my simple home, Mr Haven.’ Durell spoke softly. Without emotion. He pushed back the hood of his heavy robe and smiled his own curious twisted smile. ‘I am sorry for your pain—truly I am.’
    ‘Fuck you.’
    ‘Tut, tut. Your anger is misplaced, my little Spiral friend. I never gave the order to beat you into a senseless pulp; you may thank the JT8s for that honour—and let us be honest with one another: the Justice Troops are a product of your world, not mine.’
    Haven seemed to sag a little then; Durell saw the raze-wire digging into his wrists and the blood rolling down over his hands, dripping to the carpet. Durell motioned to the female Nex warrior who reached forward. There was an electronic blip and the raze-wire retreated into itself and dropped to the carpet.
    Haven looked up, rubbing at his deeply lacerated flesh and flexing his fingers slowly, allowing life to flood back into his crippled near-blue hands. He took a step forward, but felt the prod of the gun in his back once more. He laughed then, a bitter laugh of cynicism and despair. ‘You going to kill me then, Durell? You know I don’t have the information you want. I just don’t have it—and no amount of torture can make me talk.’ His tone was mocking, and despite his obvious pain and hopeless predicament there was a glint of victory shining in his cold hard eyes.
    Durell sighed, shaking his head. ‘We will scan you for brain tattoos. It will be very painful.’
    ‘Scan me, fucker. I don’t have the access codes to the SpiralGRID—as you will shortly discover. Now I have a question for you… ’ Their eyes met and for a long moment there was a tense silence. The female Nex retreated a little, as if sensing that she wasn’t needed.
    ‘Please feel free to ask.’ Durell turned and moved once more towards the darkened glass. He stared down over the devastation of Manhattan—and over the distant chaos of rubble across the East River, in Queens and Brooklyn. He stared at the destruction he had commissioned, the sea of rubble he had wrought.
    ‘What happened?’ Haven’s voice was softer now, gentler. There was a thick slur of sentiment; of nostalgia. Durell turned and saw that Haven’s head was tilted slightly, eyes bright as if the man was holding back tears. ‘What happened to you? We used to be friends.’
    ‘Nothing happened, Haven—except the world became more corrupt, Spiral passed over more and more abominations. The politicians and the generals said the right words, earned their promotions and elections by clever words, by slick marketing and money games and underhand tactics. But when the world fell into decline they never did what was necessary; they complained and moaned, whined and stalled and found an eternity of feeble excuses. And yes—I have wrought a terrible destruction—but nothing so terrible that it