The Attack of the Kisgar

by Tom Hunter

  From what he could hear of the conversation from the base, his plans to leave had been delayed. He took the radio from his lieutenant’s hand and spoke into the black box.

  “What exactly is the problem, Pedro?”

  A tinny voice crackled through the mesh covering. “Sorry boss. But it looks like there’s been an increase in Ranger presence in your area. We’re afraid a plane might be too visible and could be traced back here to base. We can’t afford to be banned from the US, not now,” Pedro answered. “We were lucky to get here when we did. But I think your preference for…” Ramon interrupted him.

  “You think? That is not what I pay you for. You’re good for business. Usually. So, figure out how to be good for business now.”

  “Hey, it’s me you’re talking to,” Pedro cajoled in Portuguese. “I’m trying to help. I’ve known you a long time man, but your penchant for anything loud is gonna get us all killed, or worse, jailed.”

  Pedro was a childhood friend and a longtime member of Ramon’s mercenary band. He was also the only one who could talk to Ramon as almost equal. Unfortunately, it didn’t always mean he could escape the line of fire.

  In English, Ramon exploded. “Listen! I’ve got a bunch of tired, hungry men who want to go home so they can divide their take and move on. Right now, the main goal for them is to melt back into the underbelly of whatever world they came from. Do whatever you gotta do to get it done.” Ramon’s voice rose in great crashing waves as he spoke. One hand punched air and slammed into nothing as it came down in a frustrated arc.

  If it had been anyone else, Pedro would have laughed. But he didn’t. There was a tension he could taste across the radio waves, and the sense of foreboding had pricked him with cold fingers up his spine as it had Ramon.

  What he hadn’t told Ramon was that all the reports of quakes and tremors had brought out the geologists and they were flying into Death Valley in record numbers, all armed with seismic sensors to determine the origin and record footage of any damage done. He’d been gauging reports on his radios in English and Spanish and had been surprised when he heard a report in Portuguese, though it had been speculation only and no real news had come from that far south. Pedro had a bad feeling about the whole situation.

  “Be careful, Ramon,” Pedro said quietly. “You know I usually let things take care of themselves and I know you’ve been in tighter situations, but there is something…off.” Pedro let the sentence and the implication hang unspoken.

  Ramon grunted his answer to Pedro and tossed the radio back to his lieutenant. He missed the catch and the radio fell to the cement floor. It cracked, but didn’t break. The soldier looked guiltily at Ramon as he hastily picked up the device.

  Maybe that should be our motto, thought Ramon. We might crack, but we don’t break. The Brazilian mercenary considered the strength and durability of their most basic equipment as he thought of the radio surviving what would have skewered anything else.

  All eyes were on Ramon. “Get back to work! I’m not paying you to sit around and do nothing,” he commanded. Footsteps clattered on the cement floor, and the thud of boxes and crates being moved became a cacophony of sound that echoed around the hangar once more.

  Ramon walked to the massive doors and pushed them open wider, extending an embrace to the expanse of the Death Valley desert and its rush of hot air. He looked off into the distance, then grumbled to himself that he should have asked for more money.

  “Nah, I’m not sure he’s good for me…us…anyway,” he murmured, looking behind him at the men working busily to ready everything for when word came it was time to go. Ramon shrugged. Once we leave this place, it won’t be our problem anymore. I just don’t want to see what these boys’ll do if they discover there’s no payoff. I know what I’d do.

  He shook his head in disgust and began to walk back into the recesses of the hangar when a loud crack rent the earth beneath his feet. He stumbled as he regained his footing. Another powerful rumbling seemed to roll up under him as if the earth were trying to throw him from its back. Ramon’s arms flailed as he tried to restore his balance. The ebb and flow of the rumbling felt like the rocking of a ship at sea.

  When it finally ended, Ramon stood up, shook the dust from his pant legs, and turned to the men behind him. They were scattered throughout the hangar; some on their knees, some on their sides, others still managing to stand. “Everyone OK?” he called.

  He twisted to see heads nod and a chorus of “I’m cool,” “No worries,” and “I’m okay.”

  Ramon nodded. “I’ll be glad to be rid of this place,” he murmured as he braced himself for another impact. He breathed a sigh of relief when none came. The earth was calm. For now.

  Nine

  A mustard yellow sun burned against the fading day, its long tendrils stretching across the desert and climbing up the peak to Noah’s villa. It shimmered through the holographic camouflage, dappling parts of the marble decking and picking at the golden adornments. Against the gold and white were inlaid two topaz-hued rectangles which stretched from the white walls of the mansion to the edge of the cliff. Meant for lazy and long slow laps, the twin pools glowed and seemed otherworldly in the fading light.

  Miss Welker peered past the infinity pools and over the cliff. She imagined where the road might be, then she raised her eyes once more to look ahead and bask in the calmness of the evening. She knew it would be fleeting and she wanted – no, needed – to feel a moment of peace before she could continue on her assignment with Noah. Her feelings for Noah had been an unexpected side effect of their dealings. They distracted her somewhat from grounding herself, as she always did, for the mission ahead.

  Inside, they were protected from the heat. Their technological bubble crackled and hummed softly in harmony with the gentle laps of water in the pools.

  The soft clink of a glass on marble made her turn her head. As if by invisible hands, a cool iced drink appeared, clear as spring water with tiny bubbles. Gin and tonic, no straw. No fancy garnishments. She put a hand to the glass set beside her.

  Miss Welker heard the buzz of planes overhead and looked up worriedly. She wrinkled her nose as she first sniffed the drink, then took a sip. She let the cool liquid slide across her tongue and down her throat. Even though she was concealed in their high-tech covering, her throat felt parched. It was a trick of the desert, she thought. Or perhaps, it’s simply that I haven’t…

  Her musings were cut short by Noah’s laugh. He caught her gaze when she pinned him with hers. “Relax, they can’t see us,” he reassured her. “As far as they know,” Noah added. “This is just another piece of this massive desert landscape.” He waved his hand in front of him as though presenting her with the gift of a view.

  She shook her head. “Oh, no. It’s not the planes I’m worried about, Noah. Don’t you see those?” she pointed to a small dark device that hovered on the other side of their shield. Miss Welker held the glass to her lips and drank.

  She’d seen and been inside such enormous villas before, but somehow the tensions of the last few days had set her on edge. She couldn’t put a finger on why, and without thinking, added vaguely, “I still feel like I’m in a fishbowl or greenhouse or something and I keep waiting for eyes to peek in.” She smiled wryly and shrugged.

  Noah laughed, a hearty rumbling from deep within. He hadn’t thought of his villa in that way. He hadn’t laughed like that in an age, he reminisced. It was a welcome release from his cares, if only for a moment.

  Their empty glasses had been spirited away by practiced hands and in their place, two tall glasses of water stood sentry on the table between them. In unison, they picked up the refreshment and drank, the coolness coating their throats and rehydrating their bodies from the brutal desert sun.

  Miss Welker felt as though she could let her guard down just a tiny bit, aided by the G&T. They stretched on poolside lounge chairs.

  “This was a great idea, Miss Welker.” Noah sighed and smiled happily. She glanced at
him from her arched position and smiled. Then, she straightened her long, lithe body along the length of the pool’s chaise lounge and crooked her right leg and twisted her body as though she would offer her best sides to the sun. Noah watched and wished there wasn’t so much that needed to be done. She had whetted his appetite, but to stay focused he began to speak.

  Trying to sound casual, he tore his eyes away from her movements and readjusted his gaze to the view before him. He ran uncallused fingers through his hair and added, “I feel so much more relaxed and at peace, Miss Welker. Your suggestion has once again proven more valuable than I at first expected.” He peered at her sideways to gauge her reaction, and to sneak another look.

  Miss Welker nodded knowingly; a flush of pleasure at his praise crept up her neck and into her cheeks. She chastised herself that they should be discussing business and not enjoying the luxuries of his villa.

  “Your plan to draw profit from the drum is a good one,” Miss Welker commented as her eyes glanced at the instrument near his feet. Noah always kept it close by, as if it would get up and walk away from him at any moment. “But in order for it to work, we’ll need to launch a large-scale demonstration; perhaps a suggestion of imposed natural disaster from some of our more…useful…er, lucrative clients.” She raised her hand with a feminine flourish to underscore her words and appear casual at the same time..

  Noah bent his head and studied her. For a time, they seemed locked in a game of tug-o’-war with neither daring to look away first. Then a quickening of his heart and an electric charge of energy coursed through his body, making it tingle from his fingertips to his toes. He wondered idly if this was a waking premonition of some kind. Though he didn’t ascribe to those new age-y type people, he suddenly had a strong foreboding and a sense of déjà vu. At last he broke the silence between them and cut his gaze back to his vision of the future.

  “I see no other recourse, and agree. But I wonder if this is something father would have done…”

  She made a sound, but he couldn’t place it and turned back to face her. Narrowing his eyes, he watched her suspiciously as a thought struck him. Was she still truly an agent of his father’s, even though the man was long buried? It wasn’t the first time he’d had similar thoughts about anyone who knew him under his father’s and grandfather’s iron thumbs.

  Miss Welker glanced at him sharply. One eyebrow was lifted in surprise that he wouldn’t jump at a chance like this. It would be a twofold vendetta.

  Noah sensed rather than saw the change in her, and wondered if even now he wasn’t treading on too-dangerous ground. He shook the idea from his mind almost as soon as he thought of it. Though he’d been leery of her at their initial meeting, he’d soon gotten over the fact she’d once worked for his father. It had been his own decision, Noah convinced himself, that one of the reasons he hired the woman was because of her ability to get things done and damn the price to life and limb.

  Though some unfortunate fools had lost both life and limb, he rationalized they had suffered not in vain, but had helped him in his quest and deepest desires. They had been the sacrificial lambs edging him ever closer to his goals. He would raise wealth equal to and exceeding his grandfather’s initial find, and he would prove to his father he wasn’t a fool. Nor would he be the boor his father had been. He wasn’t trying to be villainous; just a good grandson. Or maybe I am exactly as my father suggested. Maybe I am a chip off the old block and in not trying to recoup grandfather’s wealth, but in my designs to seek only more. Perhaps I am my father’s son after all. “Dear God, am I?” Noah whispered.

  “Are you what, Noah?”

  Miss Welker didn’t turn toward him. Instead she remained facing forward and, like Noah had been earlier, she contemplated. Her focus was intense; her senses had sharpened, as years in the assassination business had taught her. Noah wondered briefly if she couldn’t hear his thoughts too.

  “I’ve just been mulling over thoughts of the feud between father and grandfather, and…”

  A soft voice cut him short. He winced and bit back his tongue. He did not like to be interrupted. Today, it really set his teeth on edge.

  “And you’re afraid you’ve become your father.” Miss Welker finished his sentence smartly. In answer, Noah steepled his fingers, steeling his peevishness, and acquiesced. He tilted his head forward slightly which Miss Welker took as a sign that she had been correct in her assumption.

  Miss Welker pursed her lips and steepled her own fingers in subconscious imitation. “You are your own man, Noah,” she began slowly. She measured every word and weighed it by the movements she sensed at her side. Stillness meant agreement. A slight shuffling and she might have hit a nerve. It was irrational, she knew, but a necessary evil and this particular communication strategy had been a long time coming. Her eyes still on the horizon, Miss Welker continued. “Everything you have done has been your decision and yours alone. It has been based on what you needed to be done.”

  Miss Welker paused to let her words sink in. She looked toward Noah. She unsteepled her fingers, lay them on the arms of the lounge chair, and twisted her body toward him. She waited until he met her gaze. “I’ve been there every step of the way and I would have cautioned you away from any sure danger.”

  He gave her a sidelong glance, then slowly twisted his own body to mirror hers. Would she caution him or would she fuel the fire? Noah knew the answer, but he realized it was also because her loyalty had become love. Albeit a misplaced love. No, not love. Something else.

  Since their very first meeting, there had been a bond, a kinship. But Noah also knew that Miss Welker was a dangerous woman. Her soft voice belied the steel beneath.

  “You will come out the winner, Noah. You’ll prove to yourself, not your father or your grandfather, what is your right.” She met his steely gaze with her own, willing the words to sink in. She needed him to win, to get his big score, and to be the best in his family. If he won the day, so did she.

  “I don’t know…there’s a…pressure in the air. I can’t place it, but it feels odd.” Without thinking, he patted the drum.

  Their chairs skidded and shifted as the earth jumped at his command.

  It lasted only seconds, but like stepping off a boat onto land, the sensation lingered.

  “I didn’t set out to be the villain, you know,” Noah commented suddenly. “I simply wanted two things.” He raised an index finger to count tick off the first of his desires. “Return of the wealth my father stole from my grandfather. And my grandfather, I want to see what he saw. I want the chance to add to his findings and to bring his name the respect it deserves.” There was a third item on his mind, one he hadn’t even realized he wanted until this whole business had gotten underway.

  Once he’d realized the Kisgars’ power, he’d seen an opportunity which had only crossed his mind once before, when he was four years old on grandfather’s lap. A child’s voice echoed and he heard himself say, “King of the world.” A smile played at his lips as the old memory met and joined with his present.

  “Where is this coming from?” Miss Welker asked with a strange lilt to her voice. Now she felt uneasy. “Would you relax, Noah?”

  Indicating the expansive view before them, Miss Welker continued, “Look around you! We’re in a beautiful villa and discussing plans for, what, world domination?” Noah started, but with a quick glance realized Miss Welker hadn’t noticed. She laughed at her own joke and redirected herself. “No, we’re discussing your plan to recoup all that you’ve lost and offering a chance to the highest bidder should we be forced to follow through on our plan. A chance, I might add, your father did not give your grandfather.” Miss Welker paused in her speech and a long-ago memory resurfaced. A chance I didn’t give your grandfather.

  “My first memory is of shiny gold and creamy walls and stories of adventures heard sitting on Reginald’s lap. Perhaps in my old age…”

  “Don’t be ridiculous!” Miss Welker exclaimed. “You’re in your early
30s.”

  “Fine,” Noah said sharply. “Which means I have too many years of looking into poverty if this doesn’t work. We’re already so far in the red it’s a distinct possibility, and it terrifies me. It feeds everything I do and money is all that I am.

  “We’ll move forward with the plan.” He patted the drum lightly, so as not to disturb the ground. Their chairs jumped and water splashed from the pools. Noah wondered if he was still in control or if the Kisgar now had the upper hand. He worried briefly that the creatures might wreak havoc on their plans, and then shook the thought from his mind. Their plan had to work or he was sunk.

  Ten

  They should have been thankful, Thomas supposed, for the breeze of air conditioning inside their truck as they bounced along the rocky terrain following the dot on Alexia’s map. He gritted his teeth. Though the windows were tightly shut, he couldn’t help feeling the sensation sand clinging to him from head to toe. He hadn’t even had a chance to comb his beard. He tried to put it from his mind and focus on the road before them. The route was displayed via augmented reality on Alexia’s tablet.

  “Does everyone understand the plan?” Thomas asked, raising his eyes to the rearview mirror. “Let me know now if something—anything—isn’t clear.” People tried to shuffle into more comfortable positions, and the silence lingered as each person thought once more about what was coming.

  Robbie was the first to speak.

  “No worries here, Thom. But I think it might be a good idea to go over it again for Mochni.”

  The Woidnuk youth shot Robbie an angry glance and grumbled something unintelligible. “I still learning you language, but am not stupid,” complained Mochni.

  “I’m sorry, Mochni. I didn’t mean to…I don’t think you’re stupid,” Robbie said, contrite. The Woidnuk bristled and Robbie continued making apologies. “I agree. You’ve been of great help.”