Free Deadlock by Mark Walden Page B

attack on the Hunt and, as such, one of the only eyewitnesses to her crimes.’
    ‘You really think that’s going to make a difference?’ Otto asked.
    ‘It certainly can’t do any harm,’ Darkdoom replied. ‘We have to show him that Furan needs to be stopped no matter how important his neutrality is to him. You can help prove that to him.’
    ‘I hope you’re right,’ Otto said, ‘because it might just be our only chance.’

    Anastasia Furan walked through the airlock and into the laboratory area with two nervous-looking scientists in white lab coats trailing behind her. She surveyed the room and seemed satisfied with the level of bustling activity. Technicians hurried about, monitoring workstations and readouts; there was an atmosphere of hurried but not panicked work. At the far end of the laboratory was a sectioned-off area contained within a thick Plexiglas box. Inside the box a large robotic arm was making quick precise movements, working on something that lay hidden within a cloud of white vapour that filled the lower half of the box.
    ‘Is the prototype ready?’ Furan asked.
    ‘Very nearly,’ the older-looking of the two scientists replied. ‘A couple more weeks of testing and we should be ready for deployment.’
    ‘We don’t have a couple more weeks, Dr Klein,’ Furan said, turning towards him with a slight frown on her face. ‘I want it ready for deployment now. My sources within G.L.O.V.E. have provided me with some very useful information and I wish to take advantage of the opportunity that it affords us. That opportunity is finite, Doctor, and I will not allow us to miss it because you wish to conduct more tests. Now, I will ask you only one more time. Is it ready?’
    ‘Yes,’ Klein replied, avoiding eye contact with Furan, ‘it’s ready.’
    ‘Good,’ she replied. ‘Prepare it to be put into the field immediately. We will need to move the moment that we have a firm target location.’
    ‘Understood,’ Klein said with a nod before walking quickly towards the technicians near the vapour-filled box and engaging them in urgent, hushed conversation.
    ‘Now, Dr Ross,’ Furan said, turning towards the other man, ‘I believe you have work to do.’
    ‘Yes, of course,’ the other scientist replied. ‘If you’d just follow me.’
    He led Furan through a nearby door and into another section of the laboratory. He walked over to a steel cabinet with a keypad on the front and punched in a series of numbers. The cabinet popped open with a hiss and he reached inside, pulling out a metal case. He carried the case over to one of the metal tables in the centre of the room and opened it as Furan approached. Inside was what looked like a thin skeletal hand made of gleaming steel.
    ‘We are ready to carry out the procedure whenever you are,’ Ross said, gesturing towards the box. ‘I should warn you though that you will need to remain fully conscious throughout the procedure so that we can be sure that the neurotech grafting has taken correctly. It will be extremely painful.’
    ‘You need not concern yourself with that, Dr Ross,’ Furan said, carefully pulling off the black leather glove and revealing the hideously scarred claw that was all that remained of her right hand after Otto Malpense had severely injured her just a few months ago. ‘I know all about pain.’

    Otto, Raven and Darkdoom walked across the bustling Piazza San Marco, the heart of Venice, trying as much as possible to blend in with the crowds of tourists. Darkdoom was, as usual, wearing a perfectly tailored dark suit and shirt and looked every inch the well-dressed local. Raven had swapped her customary, rather conspicuous, tactical outfit for a pair of tight black jeans, a high-necked sweater and a long dark trench coat. She had, with great reluctance, left her swords on board Darkdoom’s boat, which was moored nearby. They had, after all, no desire to attract the attention of the Carabinieri – tangling with the local