"The lady who left you all the messages– sounds like she’s used to getting what she wants! Hope you don’t mind me overhearing your business; its kinda hard not to in the car."
"Oh, she’s just a colleague, I’m reviewing her research this week and she’s a bit anxious, I guess. She said she had some big breakthrough that I’d be interested in."
Mark's words hung in the air. It was hard for him to think of anything other than a possible way out of his trap.
"So Kyle," Mark said to take his mind off his predicament, "what do you do for entertainment around here?"
"Huntin’, mostly. Some of the guards have a cabin up in the mountains north of here… pretty desolate up there though, but it's better than losing your pay on the Strip. I go up there sometimes to get away and think, but I don’t get much free time cause I need the hours."
"So what do you do exactly, Dr. Moran? You some kind of scientist or something?" Kyle said as he deftly avoided a longhorn sheep carcass in the road.
"You could say that, I work in a lab in Chicago. I’m out here to check on one of our projects."
Mark decided he would take a calculated risk and try to determine whether Kyle could be trusted.
"Kyle, tell me about Hank Caswell. I didn’t get a very good impression of him at all back there."
"That’s cause there ain’t a good impression of that S.O.B. I’d say you nailed him pretty good. Let’s face it," Kyle added, "Runnin’ a prison ain’t no popularity contest. You got to be tough, but he’s the toughest of ‘em all. I don’t think there’s a man at Crimson Desert that would do anything but chum sharks if they found him adrift in the ocean. Trouble is, he usually holds all the cards. Got everything that happens out there all planed out, every detail. He’s a slick one, Hank is."
"Has ReformCo ever been written up for its treatment of the prisoners?" Mark asked, hoping to find something he could exploit.
"Are you kiddin'? That’s the way the DOC like's it…they wish they had a dozen more just like him." Kyle was getting agitated now, as if he were reliving some bad experiences at the hands of Hank Caswell.
"I got the impression he was a cruel man, cruel just for the fun of it. Is that what you’ve found?"
"You’re a good judge of character Dr. Moran. I’d be keeping as far away from Hank Caswell as possible if I were you. And I’d be thanking my lucky stars you’re staying out here at the base, away from him and safe too…."
Mark decided to make his move. He didn’t know for sure that Kyle could be trusted, but then, he didn’t exactly have a lot of other options.
"Well Kyle, that’s the thing, I may not be safe even at the base. Hank’s up to something and, well, …if something should happen, well, do you think I could count on you for a favor if I needed help?"
"Sure, Doc. Tell you what, we’ll swap numbers in our phones, and if you need something, give me a call. If I hear anything odd involving you, I’ll give you a call too."
"Mind if I do it the old fashioned way?" Mark said as he pulled a business card from his wallet and put it in Kyle’s pocket.
Kyle smiled and patted his pocket. "Sure thing Doc."
Mark was starting to feel better for the first time since his traumatic encounter with Hank Caswell, when his phone vibrated again on the dash.
"She’s baaaaaack!" Kyle said, still smiling.
Mark grabbed the phone and lit the screen expecting yet another reminder from Colleen, but it wasn’t a message alert… it was a ping!
Mark’s heart sank. He realized someone had installed Termes, but he had no idea who. He had forwarded the ping to his phone, should one arrive, before he left. He didn’t want Ramy seeing it if one came in, preferring to evaluate the threat before confiding in Ramy. Even though Mark would need to get to a computer to see where exactly this IP address was, the fact that he got it at all told him someone was on his trail.
The investigation was proceeding, and this could be either a dead end, or the continuation of the process that would land him in prison. Mark began to feel as if he were in a giant hourglass, grasping at the sand around him for footing but having it slip away beneath him. He was running out of luck by the second.
Once again, potential outcomes ran through his head, but with so little information to go on, it seemed just an exercise in heightening his fear: fear of the unknown, fear of the known, Mark was growing quite weary of being afraid.
He thought again of how he could put pressure on Hank Caswell. What he needed was leverage, but not so much leverage that applying it would push Hank to take drastic action– something with which Mark imagined Hank was well acquainted. Besides, he couldn’t remember a time when he had ever had so few resources, so little leverage at his disposal, and it was driving him over the edge.
He decided he needed to keep busy to keep his sanity, but that realization didn’t mean he wouldn’t keep his eyes peeled for an opportunity to better his situation. His 'King' was not in jeopardy at the moment, he reminded himself. He began to look forward to reviewing the project data at the base, and even decided he would start on Colleen’s data that night just to take his mind off his current predicament.
Mark finished adding Kyle’s number to his phone and tried to make a call to the lab to get some news but there was spotty coverage and his call didn’t get out.
"We should have service in a few miles; we’re almost to the base," Kyle said, noticing Mark’s frustration. "It’s hit or miss out here for sure."
"Thanks Kyle, I appreciate the help. I hope I can repay the favor sometime" Mark’s voice suddenly had a serious tone that caught Kyle’s attention.
Kyle turned to Mark and said, "One thing about life on the inside, Doc, you get pretty good at reading people. And you get pretty good at watching for trouble too. You’ll be ok. I’ll be out here every day shuttling inmates to the base. We’ll get along just fine."
Mark looked over at Kyle. He noticed that he had a friendly way about him, even when he wasn’t smiling. He hoped the young man was right about keeping him out of trouble.
They topped a small rise and the Air Force Base came into view for the first time. As Kyle drove the final mile or so to the main gate, he began his often delivered spiel about Randall AFB.
"Randall is the home to the Predator and Reaper drone squadrons… you know the guys who lived here but fought in Iraq and Afghanistan? They’re the ones that either killed or put most of al Quaida on the run and helped out the SEALS with recon, all from chairs stationed in those gray buildings in the back there. Yep, modern warfare pretty much evolved around them I’d say… pretty heavy-duty pressure in those jobs all right. And they have some really wicked firepower at their fingertips too!"
Kyle again took his eyes off the road and looked over at Mark to reinforce his next point. "I remember once, me an some of the guards were up in the mountains north of here and wandered into a restricted area following some game. Before we knew it, the mountainside started exploding! I mean it was hell, now. That’s the thing about them drones, you don’t see ‘em, you don’t hear ‘em… stuff just starts blowin’ up all around you, and that’s if you’re lucky! It’s a full-fledged, ass-puckering moment I’ll tell you! We lit out of there a lot closer to God than when we came in, that’s for sure!"
"What was it, do you think, a training mission?" Mark asked with a look of wonder on his face.
"Either that, or some flyboys teachin’ trespassers a lesson. We never did find out; but then again, we’ve never been back either!"
They pulled to a stop at the first checkpoint and spoke with the guard, a friend of Kyle’s. He introduced Mark; they picked up their escort, and got ID. Again, Mark was expected. Then they followed their escort to the clinic building.
Mark pulled his bag and box of data and files from the back seat and walked into the clinic with Kyle. Kyle made the introductions and asked who was scheduled to brief Mark.
"Captain Chambers will be right out," said the nurse on duty, "just have a seat over ther
e."
Kyle motioned to the row of seats against the wall and started for them when his phone rang.
"No phones in the clinic, please" said the nurse with an annoyed look on her face. Mark noticed the sign to silence all cell phones, and complied while Kyle stepped outside to take his call.
After a moment, Kyle came back in. "Looks like they want me back now. I’ll bring a load of inmates over here for you to look at this afternoon. I guess you’ll be busy before you know it Mark! See you later, okay?"
Mark thanked Kyle again and shook his hand, then watched him leave. He sat back down and waited for over an hour for Captain Chambers.
"Dr. Moran? Captain Chambers will see you now," said the nurse at the desk, rousing Mark from a daydream.
"Just through those doors and to the left. Third door on the right."
Mark followed the directions and knocked at the open door of the small office midway down the corridor.
Captain Chambers stood and offered his hand to Mark, "Welcome Dr. Moran, welcome to Randall."
Captain Chambers was a pleasant looking man, about forty or so, trim, round face with ears that stuck out from his head more than they needed to, glasses, close cropped hair and an accent from New England. Boston, Mark guessed.
"You must be some important man, for Senator Deason to get involved filling one of our interim clinician openings… how do you know the senator?" the Captain asked.
"Uh, I don’t… and call me Mark, please."
"Well, he sure knows you! Called me personally on this one. I still don’t know how he heard about the opening, or what a senator is doing taking an interest in a routine base opening! Don’t get me wrong, Mark, we’re used to political influence around here, of course. It’s just usually for the flight chairs. Know what I mean?"
"Flight chairs?" Mark asked, not following.
"Some congressman wants us to transfer one of his contributor’s sons out here so he can fight the war without leaving the country and hone his gamer skills at the same time… oh believe you me, we hear it all.
"The whole country has the wrong idea about what goes on here…. They think we’re a bunch of … well, sorry Mark, I’m sure you didn’t come all the way out here to hear me vent!
"Tell you what, why don’t I let you get settled in your quarters and show you around later? We can catch up over lunch, how’s that sound?"
"That sounds great, I have some calls I need to make," Mark said as Captain Chambers led him out to the reception area.
"Candice, get airman Means to take Dr. Moran to his quarters, would you? I’ll meet you back here in two hours Mark. I look forward to getting to know you," Captain Chambers said, then turned and walked back to his office.
Mark didn’t like being alone. It only reinforced the lack of support he’d felt since he’d been here. But the solitude on the base was different. His quarters were clean and modern, and almost made him forget his predicament. Mark was in his quarters putting his things away when he heard his cell phone buzz in his pocket. He looked at the call. It was from Ramy.
"Hi Ramy, I was just about to call you. I’ve had bad cell servi…"
"Mark, thank God I got you! I’ve been trying all morning! Walter’s dead, Mark. Did you hear me? Walter’s DEAD!"
Mark didn’t have to feign surprise; he was shocked the police had followed the trail back to the lab so quickly.
"What?" Mark said. "How, where, how did you…"
"The police called me this morning. Some motel over near Cicero… shot dead, Mark."
Mark initially resisted the urge to ask how they found the connection to the lab, but then decided it would be an innocent question to ask.
"How did they know to call us? Did they say?" Mark asked, making the question as open-ended as he could.
"I’m not sure, Mark. They’re keeping pretty tight lipped. They did ask me if we had a break-in on Sunday though. They gave me a description of Walter and asked if he had been at the lab. I didn’t know what to do, I admitted he had, but…"
"But what Ramy?" Mark’s tone began to take on a disapproving quality.
"But… that we weren’t aware of anything missing. Mark, I didn’t know what to do! Jesus, Mark…I’m lying to the police now!"
"Hold on, Ramy… let’s think this through" Mark said, trying to calm him down.
Mark’s head was about to explode. He realized he had to help Ramy construct a story to explain the evidence now in police custody, but not at the expense of revealing his involvement or letting anything slip that only the murderer could know. It was just too much to work through all the possibilities while on the phone… especially with Ramy distracting him by whimpering the way he was.
If Ramy admitted the program was stolen, the police would expand their crime scene to include the lab, and then see the hall video of Walter’s visit, and interview Security, who would fill them in on their attempts to catch the thief. And Ramy’s story would fall apart.
If he didn’t admit the theft and the police had Mark’s badge, or maybe even Termes, they would come back to the lab and Ramy would be the chief suspect.
"God, Ramy, there just aren’t any good options here!" Mark said. frantically seeking another way out. Then he remembered the ping, and realized it could be exactly what they needed.
"Ramy," Mark said. "Write this down… one six eight dot, two one two dot, two two six dot, two zero four. I set my phone to receive the ping if anyone attempted to install the program and sure enough, it came across an hour or so ago. Have Security check it out to see where the computer is located. That way at least we’ll know if it is the police who have it or not."
Mark could hear Ramy hand off the address and give his muffled instructions to Security.
"Okay, Mark," Ramy said, sounding a little more relieved. "is anything happening out there?"
Mark bit his lip, -hard. "No, nothing interesting so far Ramy. You’ll just have be the one living with the excitement for a while, until this blows over… it’ll be all right Ramy."
Mark was about to say goodbye when Ramy interrupted.
"Hold on Mark, Security traced the address. The good news is the police don’t have it… but it looks like its in private hands. No location came up, but it’s somebody named W. Downs!"
Chapter 10 The Puppet Master
Hank Caswell could sit at his desk and watch the exercise yard for hours. The thought that all those men were totally under his control was better than any drug, any sex, or any achievement he’d ever experienced. If it was true that absolute power corrupts, then without a doubt, sitting in that chair, he was absolutely corrupted.
He began to look over the production schedules of the inmates and was dismayed to see a growing falloff in output over the last two months. He compared that with expenses and realized the flu was having a bigger impact on his bottom line than he first thought.
His private line buzzed.
"William!" Hank said, confident about the caller’s identity. "How are things in frozen D.C.?"
"You’re one to talk Hank; there you sit broiling nine months of the year, and you decide to bust my balls on a gorgeous fall day?"
"I know you didn’t call to discuss the weather my friend, what’s up?" Hank replied, nudging William to get to the point.
"Just wanted to let you know we have Termes up and running. We can say goodbye to the boobs at IFT. But speaking of IFT, how is our little lab rat getting along?"
"Oh, he was just here this morning. We had a little difference of opinion, but I think he understands where we stand now. He’s over at the base where he will feel a bit safer, I’d imagine. Don’t worry though, I have eyes on him."
"Well, don’t let him out of his cage, for Christ sakes! We need him to evaluate the project and solve the bugs we have before we proceed with the expansion."
"William, this isn’t my first rodeo. I can handle my end down here. You don’t mind if I play my games with him on my own time, do you?"
"Just leave enoug
h intact for him to do his job; we need those results. Are we clear?"
"Yes, William."
"When do you think he’ll be finished with the evaluation?"
"Two days should do it. I’m sending a bus full over there this afternoon. He already has the records. And he has plenty of incentive to do his job and get the hell out of here. He’ll be no trouble at all, I promise."
"Good. I’ll hold you to that Hank. Talk to you on Thursday at the latest?"
"Bye William." Hank said in a patronizing tone. He disliked taking orders. He disliked taking orders very much.
Mark began to examine the thirteen inmates that Kyle drove over in the afternoon. His lunch had to be cancelled because Captain Chambers had to attend a top level meeting… somewhere in the world was blowing up and they needed eyes in the sky– or so Mark fantasized. Probably just a boring staff meeting.
The Premise Page 9
