Endworlds - Nicholas Read [75]
To help him understand, Warujja had told Kriegmacher that he was like the black lens cap to a camera, and he needed to make that lens cap clear for the light to fall through so any image he could think of would be etched onto the material world.
The second requirement was that as Warujja served the General’s interests, Kriegmacher would one day set him free from his digital prison.
WARUJJA’S INSTRUCTIONS had borne much fruit over the past year. So it was natural that Kriegmacher should call on him to deal with the thefts at Burroughs Labs.
Reaching into a pocket he pulled out his iPhone, slid the button, dabbed at the icon labeled ‘iSprite’, and entered the code that would unlock the being imprisoned in the matrix.
An image formed.
Warujja had no horns and sported no barbed tail. Dour of mien, dark of eye, he stared out with a human’s face, eyes and nose somewhat Eurasian in style, his white hair swept back over ears slightly pinched at the tips, a reflection of men who had lived in the First Age.
While Kriegmacher’s phone was a prototype version with cameras on both sides, he kept the lenses covered by a sliver of tape, denying the Dae’mon visual stimuli. The being stared without focus as a blind man, unable to see his captor.
“Warujja, I have a problem. Someone is stealing GRID material from Burroughs Labs in Britain. It’s batteries and other devices being developed for my teams to operate in realms where light and sound function differently. When we make our first Sidestep, it’s equipment my team will need. We have to get it back. I suspect an inside job, but Security hasn’t been able to pin the thefts on anyone. They enter invisibly, appear on no cameras, and leave no clues. They seem to come and go at their pleasure.”
Warujja considered.
“Do the scenes show residue of a dimensional crack?”
The General shook his head.
“McGregor wouldn’t know to scan for that, but I’ll send a team. Though I don’t see why the Fae’er or any Othersider would steal what would be inferior technology from us, especially when it’s unlikely to work where they come from.”
Warujja indicated assent.
“Unless they have agents who need it here. Or it may be the work of very skilled intruders from one of the tribes in your world whose aim is profit, power or the means to induce fear.”
“Terrorists.” Kriegmacher tried to conceal his irritation. “No. Our spooks would have intercepted the chatter. Unless I’m being lied to, other agencies are as much in the dark as to what’s going on at Burroughs as GRID is.”
Warujja smiled pleasantly.
“What is it you wish me to do?”
“I’ll upload the specs for the material that’s been taken. Plug yourself into the phone’s browser and run a scan. See if you can find any conflict where it might have been used. Also search the grey markets: find out if any of it has been offered for sale. We might be dealing with nothing more than burglary for the sake of raising cash.”
He took a deep breath. By the time he exhaled, the Dae’mon had completed seventy thousand searches through various online databases, though unable to leave the phone.
“Nothing presents itself. There is another possibility”, Warujja murmured, “that I am sure has already crossed your mind.”
“The Longcoats.”
In their sessions together Warujja had mentioned his suspicion of connections between the Fae’er and the Cassandra Foundation. Since first hearing of the Foundation, Kriegmacher had plumbed his networks for connections, an address, anything, and had found no leads. Warujja suggested that while he also did not know where to find them (the many properties and structures they owned were unoccupied), he was sure the Foundation was giving weapons to children in urban areas, forming a secret militia ready to rise up and take arms under the very noses of the authorities.
Kriegmacher had encountered such kids before, in Vietnam, Sierra Leone and Burundi, always recruited and brainwashed to commit acts of violence against those