Technomancer (Unspeakable Things: Book One)

damage was discovered. I mumbled my good-byes and pushed the door shut behind me. It didn’t quite latch, but it did stay closed long enough for me to leave.
    In the lobby area, I found Robert Townsend had vanished. There were bloodstains on the chair where he’d been and a few droplets led to the elevator. I got the impression he’d been dragged away. I wondered if he was still alive. From Rostok’s hints, I doubted it. In my mind, I was already editing what I was going to tell Jenna about all this.
    I took the stairs down.

Things went slowly for a while after that, compared to how fast they’d been going. But a few days later, I once again found myself standing in the desert east of Las Vegas. Under the cover of the falling dusk, McKesson, Rheinman, and Gilling joined me. McKesson was apparently working for Rostok today.
    When the rich old man who lived on top of the eastern tower of the Lucky Seven had promised me support, I had envisioned a private army. Instead, I’d received one half-interested detective. I gathered that Rostok still didn’t want anything about this action directly traceable to him.
    We’d come in two separate vehicles. Gilling drove the SUV this time, while McKesson followed us, bumping along in his sedan. It had taken us better than an hour to find the shallow depression with the scorched region in its midst. I’d been looking for the cluster of boulders, but of course, those had all come to life and crawled away. When we finallyfound the spot in the red light of the dying sun, McKesson climbed out of his car and began complaining.
    “I thought you knew where the hell you were going,” he said. “It was sheer luck that I didn’t break an axle.”
    “Sorry,” I said without a hint of regret. “This spot doesn’t look the same today.”
    We left Rheinman as lookout and guard at the top of the rise, standing with the two vehicles. We walked down into the pit of the depression, which still felt hot under my shoes. The lava slugs had left hot zones here, which still sent up wisps of vapor when we kicked at the sands that covered them. The creatures had applied enough heat to the land to form trails of slag. Underneath the blowing top layer of grit, spikes of glass were everywhere.
    “This is just like the blasted desert up north,” McKesson said, toeing the crunchy ground with his black leather shoes.
    “The testing sites?” I asked.
    “Yeah. Some of the atomic tests were above ground, you know. About a hundred of them. There were big patches of desert turned to glass and slag.”
    “All right,” Gilling said, clasping his hands. “Now that we are all here, Detective, please enlighten us.”
    “About what?”
    “Why did they send you? What have you brought to this—party?”
    We both stared at him. I wanted to know the answer too.
    McKesson shrugged. “I was asked to help.”
    “Excuse me, but we’re not impressed,” Gilling said. “We expected more from Rostok than one mercenary of questionable loyalty.”
    McKesson snorted. “Look who’s talking. A couple of rookie rogues with big ideas. By all logic, I should shoot youboth in the back now, bury your corpses, then run back to the Community claiming the Gray Men did it.”
    “And why would that be a good idea?” I asked, my eyes narrowing.
    “Because this is a suicide mission.”
    I gave him a cold smile. “We aren’t turning our backs on you now; you realize that, don’t you?”
    “Yeah, well, I kinda figured I’d blown that easy out when I told you about it. So, it’s time to answer your question, Gilling.” McKesson walked to the back of his dusty sedan and popped open the trunk. He lifted something heavy from the back.
    I shoved my hand into my jacket pocket and gripped my gun. I realized I’d lost the last shreds of my trusting nature at some point over the preceding days, if I’d ever had such a nature to begin with. By the standards of a normal person, I was paranoid. But as I kept telling myself, I had good cause.
    McKesson came back lugging a large metal case. It was about four feet long and made with ugly, green-painted metal. It was unmistakably military in appearance. He put it down at our feet and snapped open the latches. As we watched, he opened it. An even uglier piece of equipment was inside. It consisted of black metal tubes and green conical tips.
    “This is what I brought to the party,” McKesson said.
    I detected a hint of pride in his voice. For the first time today, I was