Not With A Whimper: Destroyers

by D. A. Boulter

  He opened a door to a small lunchroom, its serving table filled with delicacies she had not seen in years. “Have a seat, Doctor. Help yourself.”

  She took the officer at his word, and sat. The ‘Lazy Susan’ inner portion of the table revolved, presenting her with treat after tempting treat. She pulled this one and that off the serving dishes and onto the plate that a server had placed in front of her at the colonel’s wave. A glass of excellent, chilled white wine also appeared.

  Christy sampled a good variety of the delicacies on show, both because she desired just that, and also because she did not want to show independence in front of the colonel. Westorn seemed to thrive on his authority, acting somewhat like the fairytale king of ancient times, doling out largesse to those whom he favoured. The reputed fate of those he did not favour made Christy loath to enter that category.

  “Absolutely delicious,” she told him, with no word of a lie.

  Westorn grinned at her. “Just part of the inducement to get you to sign on permanently.”

  She had already come to that conclusion, but his easy confession surprised her. Then it didn’t. This man did not believe in subtle. He knew what he offered and what he wanted. He expected her to put up some resistance, and then to give in when he met her price.

  “I’ll take that under advisement, sir,” she said. “However, I have ten days, and I fully intend to spend it doing all manner of things not related to work. R&R I believe you call it. Your people no longer need me and mine to guide them. They can develop the procedures needed for the various tasks you want instilled. When I get back, I’ll review their progress, tweak where tweaking is required, ensure everything works as it should, and write you a final report.”

  Colonel Westorn smiled. “But you’ll think on it. And when you come back, you’ll have a better idea of what exactly you wish to get for your services.”

  Arrogant bastard.

  She smiled in return. “Right on both counts, sir.”

  He appeared very smug. He signalled the server. “Bring us a sample box, Private.”

  “At once, sir.”

  “I’ll leave you to it. Feel free to fill up the sampler, and take it with you. Enjoy some smoked salmon on your R&R. Private Wilson will show you out.”

  “Thank you, sir.” She stood with him.

  Wilson brought over the sampler, and escorted her to the coolers. She reached in and grabbed a package of smoked salmon for her box, then sifted through other goodies. In her peripheral vision, she saw Westorn watching her, the greedy civilian, getting all she could. She continued her hunt until he slipped out. Smoked salmon! When the fishery had collapsed, only the fish farms remained, and those that had used nets in open ocean water had suffered disaster as well. Smoked salmon in the amount she had taken would cost the average worker a week’s pay. And Westorn had offered it up as a bribe.

  Burnett hadn’t realized how much she disliked that sort of man until this moment. She considered putting everything back, but realized that he would probably get a report from Private Wilson. She didn’t want the colonel to know that she had just now decided to leave after her contract expired. The bribe had just finalized that decision. Let him believe he had her number; it would make life easier for her until she left. She filled the sampler.

  “Thank you, Private. I’m ready to go.”

  “Yes, ma’am. This way.”

  She exited the HQ building with her sample box, and began the long walk back to her quarters. There, she would pick up her small suitcase, make sure that she left nothing that might spoil during her absence, and head out the main gate to catch the bus into town, same as she did every weekend. But this time she had a whole week plus the weekend!

  A whole week without salutes, without rank, without the feeling that someone watched everything she did. It sounded like heaven. Especially now that she knew that they had compromised her private files. They, or just Westorn? It didn’t matter; she just wanted out.

  On the corner, a soldier stood on the sidewalk with map in hand, peering down at the different possibilities. He smiled at her when he saw her coming.

  “Good afternoon, ma’am. I’m afraid I’ve gotten myself lost. Could you direct me to Barracks 33? I’m supposed to meet someone there at 1545hrs; I don’t want to show up late.”

  Soldiers, with their desperate drive for timeliness, amused her. She glanced down at her chrono. Three thirty-eight. He had only seven minutes. It would take her half that to give him usable directions.

  “Come with me. It’s not that far from where I’m going.”

  “Thank you, ma’am. Corporal James Tieff at your service.”

  She grinned. Hardly at her service, more like the other way around. “Dr. Christine Burnett,” she replied. “Hell-bent to get out of this place for a week.”

  She stepped out, and he fell into step beside her. God, they couldn’t even walk naturally. They needed to lose their identity in sameness. She would feel only relief when this contract ended.

  “Let’s cut across here. Behind that barracks, and then off to our right.”

  “Yes, ma’am. I really appreciate this.”

  He snapped a salute at an officer who walked out of the barracks and to a waiting car. She grew weary of the salutes.

  “Very nice day, isn’t it, ma’am?” the corporal said.

  “Call me Christy; I’ll call you James. I’m a civilian, and hope to stay that way. I like informality.”

  “OK, Christy. Enjoying the sun?”

  “Yes, James, I am. I’ll enjoy it more when I’m out of here, and can let my hair down – both literally and figuratively.”

  “Sounds good. Ah, look. There he is.”

  Christy looked. She recognized the soldier standing outside the open military transport car. Sergeant Frank Jensen. He had led her first batch of test subjects, and had scored somewhat less than moderately well in the sleep-training.

  “I know him,” she said.

  “You do?”

  Christy looked sideways at the man accompanying her. Something in the way he said the words sounded wrong. He already knew. Just as Westorn had known the contents of her files, this man knew that she had already met the sergeant. Something felt wrong here.

  “Yes. Well, you’ve met your man,” she glanced at her chrono, “with a minute to spare. I’ll just leave you two.”

  Sergeant Jensen waved.

  “Looks like he wants to talk with you, say hi, or something.”

  “Maybe later.” This didn’t feel right. She began to turn, but Corporal Tieff grabbed her upper arm, and pulled her along.

  “That wouldn’t be wise, Dr Burnett,” he said quietly.

  Jensen, seeing this, had jumped into the vehicle, and quickly moved toward them. Christy looked about to see if she could call to someone, but the street lay empty all around her. She opened her mouth to shout, when she felt the point of a knife prick her side.

  “Just keep quiet.”

  “You don’t know what you’re doing.” She feared that he did, and only too well.

  “Get in.” The car had arrived.

  She looked in and saw a pistol on the rear seat. Tieff pushed her into the front, beside Jenson and fastened the seatbelt for her. He got into the back and picked up the weapon.

  “Good afternoon, Dr Burnett,” Jensen said. “Just remain calm. We’re here to give you a ride into town. We understand you have leave.”

  “You’ll never get away with this,” she told him. What the blue blazes did they want? How did they expect to get out of the facility with her? The military wouldn’t stand for any hostage-taking incident. They’d kill the lot, her included, before allowing that to succeed. They’d done it before – and not that long ago.

  “If you give any sign to anyone, Corporal Tieff, behind you, will put a bullet in your head. Do you understand?”

  They moved at a sedate pace down the street towards her quarters.

  “Why are you doing this?”

  “Do you unde
rstand?” This time his words lashed her.

  “I understand. Now, why?” In the few seconds it would take her to unfasten the seatbelt and jump from the open car, Tieff could kill her. She needed to play along for the moment, but had to keep an eye out for her chance. At the very least, she would have an opportunity at the gate.

  “All in good time.”

  He stopped at her building, but shook his head when she reached for the belt buckle. A third soldier, one she recognized from the second intake, came out the door with her suitcase in his hand. He smiled at her, and then climbed in beside Tieff.

  Jensen put his foot on the accelerator, and the car moved off smoothly and nearly silently on its electric motor. They took a right, and headed for the main gate. There, she would have her chance.

  “Let me tell you what we expect of you, and what will happen should you decide to ignore our request,” Jensen began. “When we come to the gate, you will smile at the guard, and pass pleasantries the way you normally do. You will call him by name, as you usually do. You will do nothing to excite his suspicions. Do you understand?”

  “Yes, I understand,” she replied. Jensen didn’t even bother to look at her as he spoke. She understood, all right, but she would not comply. In the past, during a dangerous contract, her handlers had taught her what to do – or, rather, what not to do. Don’t allow anyone to take you away. The more you comply, the fewer your chances of coming back alive. If she were to die anyway, she’d die here where her kidnappers could not escape.

  Jensen suddenly grinned. “I can almost hear your thoughts, Doctor. Let me elaborate. We have weapons, and we will use them. I will kill Private Walker first – the guard you know as William. We will leave his wife a widow. Corporal Tieff, meanwhile, will take out the other personnel in the guard post. He’s an excellent shot. This will all happen within five seconds of you making any inappropriate comment which may direct suspicion on us.

  “That’s four men and one woman dead, Doctor. Private Cutter, behind you, also an excellent shot, will make a dash for the post, and lower the barrier. We will attempt to go through. He will provide a rear-guard action, and who knows how many he may kill before they overcome him. If we cannot get away, we will remain and fight, also. How many deaths are you worth, Doctor?”

  She could barely believe he intended these things. He spoke so calmly about initiating a slaughter. But if he were capable of this, what might he do if they got away?

  “One last point, Doctor. One person will not die. That’s you. We have no intention of killing you either at the guard post or later. You will live to wake every morning to the fact that between five and fifty people died for you when they need not have.”

  The vehicle approached the gates.

  “The choice is yours.”

  The car slowed to a halt, and Private William Walker, the first on their list, came to greet her, a smile on his face.

  “Good afternoon, Doctor Burnett. Off to town for your leave?”

  “Yes, William,” she replied, smiling in kind, though feeling nothing like smiling. “These kind gentlemen offered to take me in. I’ll get an extra hour that way.”

  He laughed with her, then inspected the three soldiers’ IDs and entered them in his tablet. She prepared herself. She knew she had to do this, just as she knew that Jensen likely lied to her.

  “William?” Jensen spoke as if intuiting her next move.

  “Yes, Sergeant Jensen?”

  “How’s the wife?”

  Walker smiled broadly. “Another three months and there’ll be a new Walker in the world.”

  “Well, congratulations in advance. Unfortunately, three months from now will find me at another post. I know the boys usually have a whip-round for the new mother. Gentlemen.” He pulled a bill from his tunic pocket, as did the other two soldiers. Jensen collected the money and passed it to Walker. “For Jenny, now, you hear. And a nice present for the young one. No drinking it away at a bar.”

  “No, Sergeant!” Walker looked dismayed that they might think this of him. “Thank you. We appreciate it.”

  Christy moved her hand, and she sensed Jensen tensing slightly. “William, I’m not a soldier, but I’ll contribute, too.” She pulled out her wallet, and withdrew some cash. She passed it to Jensen, who relaxed again and passed it to the guard. “I’ll get a card for her later.”

  “Thank you, Dr. Burnett. I’ll see you again when you get back.”

  “Well, I certainly hope so. You take care.” Yes, she certainly hoped so, but didn’t believe it. At least her kidnappers wouldn’t get all her money. She had done one final good thing.

  Jensen slowly cruised through the gate, giving the other guards a wave as they passed.

  “You did well. You saved a lot of lives.”

  “Just lost my own,” she said before she could stop herself.

  “Didn’t I tell you that we don’t want you dead?”

  “I don’t believe you.” Whatever happened, she wouldn’t lie to them. Not to save herself, not for anything. She believed in honesty, lived her life accordingly.

  “In that case, I salute your courage and self-sacrifice, Doctor.”

  They drove on in silence for a few minutes. Then Jensen pulled off the main highway, onto a dirt track. Once out of sight of the highway, he stopped and turned to his compatriots, then nodded.

  They exited the car, and one went back, the other forward. A minute later they returned and signalled the all-clear. She had just minutes to live. She could try to run, but they’d shoot her down before she got three paces. She could try to fight, but she’d have no chance against trained soldiers. She decided to die calmly.

  “Do it now,” she said. She refused to look at any of them. “Let’s get it over with.”

  “No questions?”

  “The dead don’t need answers.”

  Jensen shook his head sadly. “I told you that we don’t want you dead.”

  Her eyes widened. “You disgust me,” she said with a sneer.

  Jensen blanked for a second, then laughed. “Sorry,” he apologized for his laughter. “No, not that, either. We simply want you to drink this.”

  He pulled out a flask, and held it out.

  “What’s in it?”

  “I thought you didn’t need any answers.” He canted his head, waiting for a response. When she just sat there quietly, he continued. “Something to put you to sleep. When you wake and see us again, you’ll understand everything. I promise.”

  He sat there so calmly, holding out the flask. Could he be telling the truth? Would she in fact survive? She felt her hands starting to tremble. Denied the surety of death, she began to fear.

  “And if I refuse?”

  “Then we’ll have to give you an injection. But we’re not skilled at that; we might give you an air embolism, which we don’t want. We need you alive; we need you to understand.”

  “Understand what?”

  “You have to see it for yourself.” He held out the flask again.

  This time, she accepted it, and drank deeply. It took less time than she thought it would. She sat in the car, but began to feel odd. Then her vision narrowed to a tunnel, and the tunnel began to go black. Doctor Christine Burnett felt herself falling into deep space, and wondered if she’d ever return.

  THREE

  AZORES

  Saturday, May 29th

  Karl Müller walked the streets of the town, enjoying his day off. The warm spring sun shone down, and the salt air off the ocean invigorated him. He stepped into a confectionery, and ordered an ice cream. The bell on the door rang, and Karl turned to see an old man sporting a shock of white hair step in and let the door swing closed. With a slightly unsteady gait, the man came to stand behind him.

  “Nice day,” Karl commented, speaking Portuguese, the language of the islands.

  “Very nice,” the old man replied. “Good day for something cool – like ice cream.”

  The server brought Karl’s order to the counter. Karl
accepted it, and stepped over to the cash to pay – but not before noticing the look that the woman gave to his uniform. The look did not bespeak respect, but fear.

  Taken aback, for he knew of nothing that should make her fear him – or any from the base – he passed his credit chip to the cashier, who handled it as if it might explode. What had happened to occasion this?

  Dumbfounded, Karl found an empty table and sat. The old man, after collecting his own ice cream, followed him to the table, and raised his eyebrows as he approached. Karl indicated the empty chair opposite.

  “Do not reproach them,” the old man said after sitting. “You have seen the news, probably know more than the rest of us.”

  So, the old man had noticed it, too. “I fear that I do not understand. Has someone from the base acted improperly? I have heard nothing of this.” If someone had – especially if it had been any of the personnel under his command – he’d find out about it and have them broken in rank and put in prison.

  The old man stared at him, and then gave a small smile.

  “No, no, nothing of that sort. But surely you’ve seen the reports from the Kashmir, from the South Atlantic, from Asia. Everyone fears a war, and you are the very symbol of that. When wars begin, more civilians than soldiers die – and soldiers do the killing.” He gave Karl a sad smile. “And your base makes us a target.”

  Karl glanced around the room, and noted that several patrons looked at him with varying degrees of opprobrium. For the very first time, he felt unwelcome on the island.

  “I should leave,” he said. “If I make everyone uncomfortable, they will not enjoy their confection.”

  “Yes,” the old man said, “perhaps you should.”

  So, the old man wanted him gone, too. Very well. He stood. To his surprise, the old man stood as well, and said, “Come, let us eat outside.”

  Together, they left the confectionery to sit at one of the sidewalk tables. “Why do you accompany me?” Karl asked. “Do you not also feel that I endanger you?”

  The old man laughed. “Years ago – before you were born, probably – I wore just such a uniform. I know the looks, and they are both just and unjust.”