Lost Contact (The Bridge Sequence Book One)

by Nathan Hystad

  A few seconds later, she pulled away. “I think she’s gone,” Veronica panted.

  I smiled, dabbing my lips with a sleeve. “I’m sorry. I panicked.”

  “I’m not complaining.” She turned and tested the handle. It unlatched, and she entered the space. It was a guest room. I scanned the furniture. A twin bed with far too many pillows. An antique dresser with a vase of flowers and a candle. A closet. I went for it, opening the doors to find quilts and more cushions.

  “Not here.”

  We exited into the hallway. The master would be through the end door, so we tried the next one, finding it open as well. “Cal’s study,” I said as we entered.

  Framed photos neatly covered the entire wall, and showcasing Cal posed with numerous movie stars, some hot newcomers, others Oscar winners, but I ignored them all as I went to the desk. A laptop sat unopened beside a banker’s lamp, and I flicked it on.

  “If I was a unique metal souvenir from Hawaii, where would I be?” I asked out loud.

  “He probably wanted to stick it on the mantel, but from the first encounter with his wife, she doesn’t seem the type to have things out of place. Especially during a party.” Veronica quietly sifted through his drawers, and we found the lower right one locked. The rest were stuffed with take-out menus, notes on napkins, and nothing remotely interesting.

  I grabbed the utility knife from my pocket and sprang it open, making quick work of the cheap security system. The results were confusing. Inside were handcuffs, a necktie, and various contraptions I didn’t picture his put-together wife, Sarah, partaking in.

  “There it is,” Veronica whispered, indicating beyond a clear bottle.

  “Grab it,” I told her as I watched the door.

  “No, you—” Footsteps cut her off.

  I snaked my hand into the drawer, clutching the Token before sliding it shut. Veronica was already searching for a hiding spot and opened the closet doors. I sprinted in behind her and struggled to pull the second panel shut as the study’s entrance opened up.

  “What are you doing?” a woman’s voice asked.

  “What do you mean? I’m making some alone time,” Cal Harken said. I saw his face through the slats in the closet. The woman was most assuredly not his wife, and I judged her to be a good fifteen years younger than him: a young starlet looking for her first big break.

  “Sarah’s here, Cal.” The girl put her hand on his chest, and he grabbed her wrist.

  “I don’t care. She’s preoccupied with her little party.” He kissed the girl too roughly for my liking. I could smell the booze on him from here and saw Veronica tense as the young woman struggled to break his grip.

  “Cal, not now. You have a house full of—”

  “Listen, Brittany,” he said.

  She slapped him, stopping his train of thought. “It’s Brettanie, and I’m leaving.”

  His palm slammed the study door closed, and the girl gasped.

  I was about to burst from the closet when Veronica beat me to it. She crossed the room with three quick steps and grabbed Cal by the collar, tossing him to the side. He hit a bookshelf and fell to the floor, his face shifting from shock to anger in a flash.

  Cal tried getting to his feet, but I was on him, shoving him with my shoe’s heel. “Not today, buddy. Here’s what’s going to happen. Brettanie leaves, and you’ll go enjoy the party. You didn’t see us, and you’ll never touch her again.” I pointed at the girl, who was wiping her wet cheeks.

  “Who the hell do you think—”

  I opened the study door. “Sarah! Would someone find the hostess, I think she might…”

  “Okay. Okay!” he hissed. “Just get the hell out of here. All of you.”

  I smiled, making sure the girl went first, and we left abruptly, leaving Cal to recover inside. The Token was in my suit jacket pocket, and I could feel the metal shape pressing against my chest right where my tattoo was.

  “Who are you?” Brettanie asked, her fake eyelashes fluttering.

  “We’re your guardian angels, so take this as a sign from heaven. This world isn’t for you, sweetie,” Veronica said in her best motherly voice.

  The girl nodded, gathered her stuff from the valet at the door, and disappeared down the drive.

  “We should leave,” I said. The living room was half-full again, with guests tiring of Sarah’s speech, and someone had moved Veronica’s heels.

  “Rex. Time to go.” Her voice was small, and I glanced up, seeing recognition in one man’s eyes. His suit was dark gray, his hair styled lavishly, but it was the same guy, the one from the black BMW in Boston. I’d only spotted him through tinted windows, but it was him.

  “Damn it.” I turned, trying to be casual as I pulled my phone out. I texted Francois the number 2.

  Veronica was out the door, barefoot, and I slipped the attendant fifty bucks. “Anyone comes after us, stall them.”

  He looked at me, then at the money, and nodded with a smirk on his face. And we were off.

  Ten cars were tightly parked on the front drive, and we broke onto the street at a full run. It was dark, with the moon high in the sky. A pair of headlights shone onto the street, and tires squealed as Francois raced toward the house.

  Behind us, I heard the commotion as the attendant earned his cash. The Believer fell, tripped up, and a woman tried helping him to his feet. He slapped at her arm and pulled a gun.

  “Stop!” he shouted as the Mercedes skidded to a halt. We started climbing into the back seat, and the passenger window opened.

  I heard the gunshots before I saw the 9MM in Francois’ grip, and he pulled the trigger twice. The Believer fell to the ground before he had a chance to retaliate. I stared at his lifeless body, his own gun lying a short distance from his unmoving hand.

  The car sped forward, tearing through the neighborhood, and after a few detours through side streets and around precarious corners, Francois slowed, pulling the car behind a grocery store. “No surveillance here,” he said casually, and exited the car.

  “You killed a man,” I said, trailing after Hunter Madison’s resourceful employee.

  “Yes, I did. Would you prefer I let him shoot you?” He pressed a key fob, and another car four down beeped as the headlights blinked. “Move.”

  It was an older entry-level model, and we didn’t hesitate. Veronica took the front seat, as if being closer to Francois and his gun would be useful. Sirens finally sounded, and we waited while two police cars sped past the parking lot before he fired the engine up.

  “Did you get it?” he asked finally.

  My heart raced in my chest. “We did.”

  “Good. Mr. Madison will be pleased.”

  10

  The living room seemed smaller as I paced around it, my hands unable to relax. “This isn’t good. Your henchman killed that guy, right in front of witnesses,” I blurted. Francois had dropped us at the hotel before speeding off in the borrowed sedan.

  “Do you think so little of our operations, Rexford?” Hunter sat on the couch, eyeing me cautiously.

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  Marcus and Tripp were quiet as they eavesdropped from a distance, neither willing to exit the kitchen.

  “It means everything is taken care of.”

  “Go on. Talk us through it, Hunter,” I urged.

  “Fine. The Mercedes was bought by Francois from a chop shop, the plates lifted a few hours ago. The sedan is a burner car, already heading under an overpass farther down the Five. The four houses nearest Cal Harken’s home were using the same surveillance security company, and I’ve paid to have the footage deleted due to a software glitch.” Hunter looked pleased with himself.

  “What about us? Our faces?” Veronica asked.

  “You hardly resembled Veronica Jones and Rex Walker, did you? You were Frank and Chantelle Winkle, working for Park Place Movies—which, you will find, no longer exists in any capacity.” Hunter went to stand, and groaned as he began to walk. “If
you’ll excuse me, I need sleep.” He stopped near the hallway, turning slowly. “Before I go, can I see it?”

  I reached into my breast pocket and pulled the Token out. I rotated it and stared at the engraved symbol. It looked like the letter R, but upside down, with a wave that could be a simplistic bird above it. “This is it. The fourth Token.”

  Veronica grabbed it from me, walking it over to Hunter. “I hope this is worth killing a man over.”

  Hunter smiled, just enough to show part of his teeth. “My dear, when we have all six, you will see. And we’ll learn how important this genuinely is. And that man is a Believer. By your description, he’s one of the Sovereign’s most trusted hitmen. You say he’s the same man that had been trailing you?”

  “That was him,” I reassured Hunter.

  “Then more will come. When word hits the Sovereign that his sidekick is gone, he’ll retaliate.”

  “How did they know about the party? What aren’t you telling us?” Tripp asked from the kitchen, breaking his silence. Hunter was starting to lose control, and the trust of his group.

  “I can’t know everything. I set these precautions in place because I don’t want anyone to calculate our steps, but they have a knack for predicting our movements. It could be—”

  “Don’t say it,” I muttered.

  “The cult leaders have always suggested there might be advantages to attuning.”

  Marcus walked out, holding a cup of coffee. “You’re not saying these weirdos are seeing the future, are you?”

  “No. Nothing of the sort.” Hunter rotated the Token and kept looking at it as he spoke. “Attuning is mostly a meditation, an art they plan on using to connect with the Unknowns. If you ask me, they’re full of it, but they did predict the arrival of the Objects, so who knows for sure?”

  I crossed the living room, not willing to leave the Token in Hunter’s possession. I had the rest in my bag, as was part of the arrangement. He frowned with his fingers latched around it, and finally returned it to my palm. His hand trembled as he passed it to me. I almost expected him to call the Token his “precious” and scurry down the hall.

  “What do we do?” Marcus asked.

  “We keep on,” Hunter said. “Get some rest and leave in five hours. Everything has been arranged, and Veronica, I’ll need you to pilot the jet. I’m afraid that with Christmas in two days, finding someone to shuttle us to Punta Arenas was impossible.”

  He walked off, reaching out to balance himself as he ventured toward his room.

  Veronica leaned against the back of the couch. “Punta Arenas?”

  Marcus nodded, bringing out his phone. “Rex, can we tell them? If we can’t trust Tripp and Ronnie, then who’s left?”

  I almost didn’t grasp who he was talking about, but he’d shortened her name. “Go ahead. We’ll be there soon.”

  Marcus indicated a spot on his map. “There.”

  “Where the hell is that?” Tripp asked, squinting to see. Marcus zoomed out, and the location became obvious. “Antarctica! We’re going to search for a Token in the South Pole?”

  “That’s about the gist of it,” I said, grinning.

  “Spending Christmas at the South Pole. You do realize that’s the wrong end of the world, right? Santa’s workshop is at the other Pole,” Veronica quipped.

  Jokes were good. It meant she wasn’t freaking out from tonight, and the last thing we needed was our pilot losing grip with our final destination in hand.

  “Everyone fine with this? I know we’ve come far, but if anyone wants to back out now, I won’t hold it against you,” I told them.

  Tripp’s arms crossed over his chest, and he lowered his chin. “Hunter will be pissed, though. From the looks of things, you don’t want to end up on his bad side. I suspect he’d dispose of us without a second thought—not that I’d let him.”

  I contemplated the casual manner in which Francois had disposed of the armed cultist, and shook my head. “I suppose you’re right. See you in a few hours.”

  Tripp and Veronica walked off without another word, and Marcus hung back with me.

  “Rex, this is getting heated. What’s going to happen when we find the fifth Token? Can we go home?” he asked, and for the first time, I wondered at that very answer.

  “I don’t see why not,” I lied. Hunter wouldn’t hurt us. I was almost sure of it.

  “What about texting? I want to talk to my mom and dad. Tell them Merry Christmas before we’re down south with no connection,” he said.

  Hunter had ordered us to refrain from any contact with home, but I didn’t see the harm in it. Plus, I wanted to let Bev know that I was okay too. “Go for it. Just be quick about it.”

  He smiled and wandered off for his room. I sighed, checking the clock. Two in the morning. I used the washroom, enjoying the normality of washing my face and brushing my teeth, and ended up in my room ten minutes later with my cell phone in my hand.

  I checked my email, finding a backlog of messages: some from Jessica, others from Richard, students, old friends and colleagues, and a string of unanswered texts from Bev. I hadn’t been reading them because I was trying to focus on the Tokens, but I clicked the latest.

  Beverly – Rex, I’m really beginning to worry. I’ve heard from Richard Klein, Dad’s old associate, and he’s concerned you’re into something dangerous. Call me!

  I read a few more and witnessed the growing anxiety creeping into her messages.

  Rex – Hey, sis. Sorry I’ve been incommunicado. Don’t mind Richard. He’s been acting peculiar. I’m fine. I’m almost out of cell range, so you and the kids have a very Merry Christmas. I’ll be home before New Year’s, and I’ll come visit as soon as I’m close.

  I read the text and wondered about committing to a timeline. It would be fine. Once we found Token number five, I’d demand Hunter bring us home, at least until we figured out the next move.

  It was past five in the morning for Bev, and I didn’t expect her to read the text for a couple of hours yet. Instead of going to sleep, I went to my browser, reading headlines. The phone showed me some big news from the last places I’d visited, and I scrolled over talk about protests in Paris and an emerging alien watch in Sydney. The image displayed a group of people, half of them with aluminum foil wrapped around their heads. I was about to shut the phone off when I saw a caption describing a fire in New York.

  I clicked it and almost dropped the cell. There had been a fire in the building across from the Museum of Natural History. It had started on the ninth floor, and half of the residents were affected.

  Brian Hardy had lived on that story. The Believers had gotten to him.

  Before I could tell Marcus, Tripp was calling through my door. “Boss man says we’re moving.” He banged on it twice, and I heard him shout the same message into Veronica’s room, adjacent to mine.

  ____________

  We landed bleary-eyed and beat. The trip had taken longer than we’d hoped, with delays at every corner. Landing in southern Chile had been simple, but departing in the smaller commissioned plane for our final destination in Antarctica had proven more difficult.

  A storm hit, a deluge so heavy, Hunter had to bribe someone to eventually let Veronica take off. The subsequent flight had been shaky, but our team member proved how valuable she was, unflinching in the face of danger. I, on the other hand, was white-knuckled and silently praying to anyone that would listen for most of the flight.

  “Where is this place?” Tripp asked as he stared into the white expanse through his tiny window.

  “Private research base. Their funding recently ended, and everyone vacated a week ago,” Hunter advised him.

  “Convenient,” I mumbled.

  “Very.” Hunter had a way of getting what he wanted. Whose pockets did one line to evacuate a small research facility in the middle of the South Pole?

  The base was visible from the landing stretch, which was thankfully clear of piled snow. Considering the barren landscape, the landing
had been smooth and effortless compared with the rest of the flight.

  Veronica shut the engines off, and we opened the door after donning our parkas, boots, gloves and hats. It was cold outside. Not just cold, but freezing beyond anything I’d ever imagined. The base was only a few hundred yards from the plane, but in this temperature, it seemed like a deadly distance.

  “This isn’t natural!” Marcus called as he jogged for the research camp.

  It looked cold and lifeless on stilts in the snow. The lights were all off, and snow drifted along the outer edge, coming almost as high as a window. The complex was larger than I’d expected, with a main building and three smaller portable units. We made for the primary research facility, my eyelashes already frozen, and Hunter stopped at the entrance. There was a keypad with ten digits, and he blankly stared at them for a moment.

  “Don’t you have the code?” Marcus asked, and Hunter waved him away.

  “Quiet. I didn’t keep notes. I didn’t want anyone to find the information,” he said.

  The cold was already seeping into my bones, and I wiggled my toes inside the boots while I flexed my hands. Hunter tried a four-digit code, but nothing happened.

  “Come on, Hunter,” Tripp said. “You must have remembered it.”

  “Yes, I’m afraid my medication…” He turned, peering past me at the sun, which didn’t set this time of year at the South Pole. It reflected brightly off the pristine snow. He whispered to himself, and we tried to give him space. I was already considering how we could break into one of the portables using what we had on us. Hunter finally returned to the lock, and with a smile of triumph, it clicked after receiving the proper code. “I knew I’d have it. Just took a moment to thaw out my brain.”

  We hustled inside, and it was far warmer, though nowhere near comfortable. It was clearly insulated, but when I tried to turn the lights on, they remained powered off.