Zero: A Technothriller

By Nathan M Farrugia

A trainee spy. A washed-up operative.

A doomsday cult with a city to burn.

Xiu thinks her recovery mission is leading her to the middle of nowhere, but when she reaches a derelict city on the Chinese border, she finds a seasoned operative with only a pistol, twenty rounds and a broken heart.

Cut off from the rest of the world, Xiu and her new, begrudging mentor face an unimaginable enemy: a paramilitary apocalypse cult with room for two, and irradiation for two million.

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What readers are saying:

★★★★★ "I'm completely blown away by this series, one of the most amazing action stories I've read."

★★★★★ "Helix is everything I love about action and adventure novels: spies, gadgets, fights, escapes, characters you care about, and a carefully crafted story."

★★★★★ "A captivating, action-packed and suspenseful technothriller."

★★★★★ "Ambitiously, amazingly addictive. As soon as I finished this I purchased the next episode."

★★★★★ "Nathan Farrugia is back, holding his readers hostage for yet another amazing and wild ride. The characters are really brought to life on the page and in the heart."

★★★★★ "Absolutely brilliant. I've always compared Farrugia to Matthew Reilly, and with Helix I think he has finally surpassed Reilly."

★★★★★ "Helix is a fast-paced, edge-of-your-seat action-packed series guaranteed to please the most adrenaline-craving readers. Farrugia's writing is excellent, you fly through the books. I am totally emotionally invested in all the characters. A must read for all thriller fans, and sci-fi fans looking for a break from outer space."

★★★★★ "The author's signature cutting-edge technology, complex plotting, cool gadgets, three-dimensional characters and Hollywood blockbuster-style action sequences are explosively combined in this new series."

★★★★★ "This high-octane thriller by Aussie author Nathan Farrugia starts with a bang and ends the same way."

About the author

Nathan M. Farrugia is an Australian technothriller writer, and author of the USA Today bestselling Helix and Fifth Column series. Nathan is known for placing himself in dangerous situations, including climbing rooftops in Russia and being hunted by special forces trackers in the United States. He studies Systema, a little-known martial art and former secret of Russian special forces.
Beyond his army training, Nathan has trained under USMC, SEAL team, Spetsnaz and Defence Intelligence instructors, and the wilderness and tracking skills of the Chiricahua Apache scouts and Australian Aboriginals.
Nathan is currently in Malta, co-writing the sequel to the critically acclaimed video game Metro Exodus by 4A Games.

Also by Nathan M. Farrugia:
Helix #1: Helix
Helix #2: Exile
Helix #3: Interceptor
Helix #4: Anomaly
Helix #5: Inversion
Helix #6: Exclave
Helix #7: Purity
Helix #8: Kill Switch
Helix #9: Countervail
ZERO
The Chimera Vector
The Seraphim Sequence
The Phoenix Variant
The Phoenix Ascent

• Language: English
• Publisher: Anomaly Press
• Release date: Oct 1, 2020
• ISBN: 9918950331

Book preview

Farrugia

Chapter One

Xiu was the last operative.

She sat in the consultation room, oceans away from the friends she’d made in basic training. Her doctor, Qin, tucked a strand of gray hair behind one ear, then drew Xiu’s blood through a needle.

‘Are you having any trouble breathing or sleeping lately?’ Qin asked.

‘No,’ Xiu lied.

The consultation room was tiled seashell white, its linoleum floor scuffed from rubber-soled shoes. It smelled of ammonia, reminding Xiu of the clinics she’d spent time in as a child. Except those had been much worse.

A lithe man in white sneakers squeaked across the floor toward them, carrying a small paper parcel. Inside would be Xiu’s cache, wrapped several times in cling-film.

The messenger looked down at Xiu over his crooked nose, eyes glazed. ‘Your delivery.’

Xiu nodded. ‘Thank y—’

‘On my desk is fine.’ Qin said, adjusting her glasses.

He deposited the parcel as instructed, turned and left.

The parcel would contain Xiu’s passport and her standard-issue weapon, a Chinese QSW-06 pistol with one magazine of twenty rounds; that much she knew without looking. She would have to check whether the rounds were subsonic or armor-piercing, but that would be it for the parcel’s contents: there’d be no phone, no currency, no other assistance. All that, she would need to find herself.

That was the way of things.

Qin’s chin wrinkled as she focused on the vial slowly filling with Xiu’s blood. The doctor would’ve been about the same age as Xiu’s mother—her voice even sounded like her.

Xiu liked Qin more than the other doctors, but then there wasn’t much to like about the others, or the clinic in general. People like her came here for routine tests and were monitored closely. In the last six months, Xiu had probably given enough blood to replenish a gunshot wound.

The clinic was located on the fringe of a mostly uninhabited city. China’s rapid centralization had given life to new concrete labyrinths that glistened between lakes and forests, silent and forgotten until people threaded south from the mountains to inhabit them. Meanwhile, they acted as proving grounds for operatives in training. Operatives like her.

Qin swapped vials. ‘You’ll be pleased to know this will be your last sample for some time.’

Xiu watched her blood flow through the tube again. ‘I won’t see you again, will I?’

Qin laughed. ‘Most people would be relieved by that.’

‘Do you have any family?’ Xiu asked.

The doctor’s smile faded. ‘You know we can’t talk about that.’

Xiu nodded. She’d expected that answer.

Her gaze drifted to the wall beside her. A poster was pinned to it, a four-framed illustration showing a young girl fitting a gas mask over her face, saving herself from a dangerous nerve agent. In the final frame, the girl picks a flower from the green hill, her mask intact. Behind her, a city was shrouded in a gas cloud.

Xiu nodded at the poster. ‘Is there a moral to that story?’

‘Yes.’ Qin said. ‘Put on your gas mask.’

The needle stung dully as Qin withdrew it from her arm. ‘All done,’ she said, applying a small waterproof bandage to Xiu’s skin.

‘Thank you.’ Xiu said, touching the bandage.

‘I do have one more question,’ the doctor said. ‘Are you experiencing difficulty concentrating or focusing on tasks?’

Xiu blinked. ‘You know what we do, don’t you? What I’m trained to do.’

She wasn’t supposed to talk about that, and Qin was clearly aware.

Qin removed her gloves. ‘I have a daughter. Her name’s Sya.’

In six months, Qin had never mentioned her family.

‘I’m … sorry, you didn’t have to tell me,’ Xiu said.

‘She’s brave, like you,’ Qin said, ripping her latex gloves off. ‘She has this mane of hair, all tangled because she doesn’t brush it.’ She smiled, just slightly. ‘Eyes almost like yours, green as a glacier. And when she talks, her hands move like the ocean.’

‘Do you see her often?’

‘We haven’t spoken in a year,’ Qin said. ‘She blames me for … a lot of things.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘You don’t need to be. Why did you ask?’

Xiu shrugged. ‘I … it makes me feel like I’m here.’

Qin frowned, puzzled. ‘You are here.’

‘I know. But I don’t always feel it.’

Qin considered for a moment, then stood. ‘The isolation tank is ready. Your parcel will be here when you finish.’

Xiu followed Qin from the consultation room, down the carpeted hall to a room on the left. Inside was a bench, a chair and in the center, an isolation tank. White and shaped like an oyster the size of a hot tub, the tank hummed softly.

Qin approached the bench, on it were folded towels and a pitcher of water. Beside them were neatly folded swimsuits in various sizes. Qin picked one out in Xiu’s size—a red one-piece—and handed it to her. ‘It was nice to meet you, Xiu,’ said Qin as she stepped out of the room. ’I’m sure you’ll do very well today.’

The doctor closed the door behind her, and Xiu was alone with the humming isolation tank. Locking the door, she stripped down and neatly folded her t-shirt and jeans on the bench. She rolled her socks, placing them perfectly inside her sneakers, then folded her black bomber jacket on top.

Pulling on her red swimsuit, she picked out a medium-sized set of earplugs, made of disposable yellow foam. Then she opened the hatch and climbed into the tank. It was large inside, with enough room for several people to float without touching.

The tank was dark, and the water was warm, a saturated solution of musty-smelling magnesium sulphate that was supposed to help with muscle and joint recovery. Honestly, she’d need it more after today than before.

Standing on the steps, ankle-deep in the water, she closed the hatch behind her. Everything went dark. Kneeling, she leaned back and let herself float. Her legs slipped to the surface and she closed her eyes.

Relax.

Alone with the sound of her slowing breath, she drifted and thought of what lay in wait for her later today.

Xiu’s informant was a man in his fifties, sitting alone in the tea house, at a table by the window. Everyone else wore suits and dresses, taut and uncreased, while he wore a khaki-green jacket zipped up to a black, ribbed collar.

She needed to make contact with him now.

Around her, people sat at old, polished wooden tables carved with dancing dragons. A breeze moved through the folding wooden doors, carrying the scent of jasmine tea. Red paper lanterns hung above her, coated in wire mesh and shaped like bird cages. Between the lanterns, ceiling fans turned slowly.

The informant dragged a bowl of herbs across his table. He had dark, silvering hair that curled behind his ears, and graying facial hair trimmed just short enough to reveal a mouth set in concern.

Xiu approached his table and cleared her throat.

He glared at her with dark eyes. ‘You kept me waiting.’

She sat opposite him. Outside the window, gray clouds drifted between the tips of skyscrapers. This tea house was in a skyscraper of its own, and as Xiu peered over the wooden windowsill, she saw only clouds below, concealing a city she didn’t recognize.

A waiter approached their table and served her a glass of chrysanthemum flowers—small and white with yellow centers—accompanied by a yellow straw. Carefully, he laid a teapot next to it.

‘I didn’t order,’ she said.

The waiter said nothing, just left them alone.

The informant took the teapot and filled her glass. The flowers danced in the hot water. ‘You weren’t who I was expecting.’

He filled his own cup with jasmine flowers and ruby-red wolf berries, then with weathered fingers he took a lump of rock sugar and dropped that in too.

Xiu swallowed. ‘You were expecting older.’

‘Perhaps.’ He poured water into his cup, then focused on her. ‘People come here for many things. They come for meaning, for vision. Some to forget,’ he said. ‘And some to die.’

‘I’m here for none of those things,’ Xiu said. ‘I’m here for information. Do you have it for me?’

He raised a black eyebrow. ‘Perhaps.’

‘Then I would like it. Please.’

The informant inhaled slowly, his broad chest rising under his jacket. ‘You have to be more specific.’

‘I can’t,’ she said. ‘I don’t know why I’m here, or what I’m supposed to do. I’m just following orders.’

He clasped his hands on the table. ‘Then how am I meant to help you?’

She studied him: the deep lines across his face, under his eyes and around his mouth; the arched, dark eyebrow; the creases on the bridge of his large nose.

‘I don’t know,’ she said.

‘Then perhaps you should have considered that before you came to see me.’

Under the table, Xiu clenched her hands into fists. She was ready to walk out of here, but instead, she breathed slowly and forced her hands open. She wasn’t going to let him ruin her training.

‘You need to make a choice,’ he said. ‘You don’t have to choose right now, but you will need to choose.’

Four tables over, a waiter was focused on Xiu with an intense, unbroken gaze. She kept him on the edge of her vision, watching his movements while she listened to the informant.

‘Am I in danger?’ she asked.

The informant clasped his hands on the table. ‘It’s best to assume you always are.’

‘Thanks, that’s very helpful.’

‘You need to decide whether this is all your fault. And if it is, whether it matters.’

‘Is that a code?’ she asked. ‘What does that mean?’

‘It’s not a code. It means exactly what it means.’

The waiter brushed something on his hip. Xiu noticed, but the informant’s gaze was only on her.

Voice calm, he said, ‘Get down.’

The waiter drew a pistol from under his robes and opened fire.

Xiu threw herself off her chair and onto the floor, momentarily out of the shooter’s view. Rounds cracked past her, blasting through the tea house.

Xiu woke in the isolation tank.

She was still floating, in darkness and in silence, alone with her thoughts. And, it seemed, strange dreams. She lay in the water for a moment—

Gunfire punched through the side of the tank.

Even with her earplugs, the sound was deafening. The rounds had just missed her, fingers of light poking through the holes they’d made. Xiu thrashed away from the gunfire, reaching for the steps in the isolation tank. She climbed them, pressed herself against the door and gripped its handle, breathing hard. Her hands were shaking. Whatever was happening out there was real. She opened the door and light poured in, followed by dull, chaotic sounds.

She ripped out her earplugs.

Yelling. Screaming. Coming from the center of the clinic.

She stepped out of the tank, dripping wet in her swimsuit, and stood utterly still, slowing her breathing. Listening. She was alone in the room, the door shut. Someone—several someones—had opened fire and shot through a number of the walls, the rounds passing through her isolation tank.

Voices shouted demands at the staff. Some doctors screamed, others tried to bargain with the invaders. She recognized Qin’s voice immediately, even through the screams.

Xiu knew the layout of the clinic, she’d been here enough times. There were only two exits, the rear being her best way out.

She had to think this through.

She was unarmed, her issued firearm still inside a parcel in Qin’s room, which was between her and the armed invaders. She didn’t have much information on them yet, didn’t know how many there were, how well trained, or even what they wanted, but they seemed more concerned with the staff than searching—

More gunfire.

The door handle turned.

Xiu acted quickly, stepping behind the door as it opened, and an armed man stepped through. The gunman focused immediately on the isolation tank, its front hatch still open; he edged for it, unaware of Xiu’s presence.

The intruder was a fraction taller than Xiu and wore black fatigues, dusty boots and thick chest armor. No helmet, just a mask on his face. He gripped a bullpup carbine, matte black, with a wide stock and a curved magazine behind the trigger. Special Forces issue, except this soldier wore no markings or insignia.

He pointed the jagged tip of its flash suppressor toward the open hatch as he approached it. Just above his gloved hand was a fire selector switch and a tiny red diode—the weapon was fitted with a retention system, just like Xiu’s pistol. Only an authorized fingerprint would free the trigger.

By now, there were at least six paces between them. The soldier ducked under the open hatch and peered through the opening, searching the gloom, his weapon ready. He reached for a flashlight on his belt. He seemed about to aim it inside the tank, when something made him hesitate. Xiu realized what it was. He’d spotted the wet footprints on the floor; footprints that led away from the tank.

Xiu launched across the linoleum floor, only to slip on the puddled water. She slid on her heel toward the soldier. As he turned, she grabbed the hatch above his head and swung it down hard, striking him on the back of his head. Dropping his flashlight and carbine, which hung by its sling, he stumbled through the tank’s opening, and went head-first into the salt water.

Xiu’s attention was drawn to the flashlight. It had a jagged edge around the bulb and a secondary rubber button on its barrel. Recognizing its purpose, she snatched it up.

In the knee-deep water, the soldier pulled himself upright.

Before he could grasp his weapon, Xiu pressed hard on the flashlight’s second button, blasting him with strobing light. That made it impossible for him to see her, or adjust to the darkness.

The soldier went to his knees, squinting from the salt water and the strobe. Xiu grabbed a towel from the bench and stepped inside. She swung the hatch shut behind her, making the tank almost soundproof again; only the bullet holes in its side would allow any noise to escape.

The strobe made it impossible for the soldier to place her location, so she circled him quickly. He aimed his weapon at the closed hatch, but his trigger finger did nothing. The fingerprint scanner didn’t mix with water, it seemed.

He wore an expressionless, ballistic mask: charcoal gray with thin rectangles for eyes. There was a wider rectangle for his mouth and small perforations to breathe through, just under his nose. In the flicker of the strobe light, his mask looked hellish.

His radio likely wasn’t waterproof, and he let his