Deadly Paths

by Jack Parker

  "A moment please. Sorry, I need a—ah, here we are."

  He bent down under the left front seat, which mirrored the driver's seat in all but function, and unfastend a small crash axe. He then moved forward to the front of the hovercrat and pulled one of the two crates into view. He began to hack open the crate. Intrigued, Victoria waited, holding the flashlight ready at her side.

  "You see my Australian friend—"

  "I'm not your friend. And I consider myself American now."

  "What is difference? Anyway, see this casing? Easy to reproduce. We don't need it. Plus, it's much too heavy so . . ."

  Mako set the laser cannon on the floor and, finding a screwdriver from the same tool area, set to work. In a moment he had a panel on the side of the weapon open, and with a twist and a yank, tore free a small sphere about the size of an apple. It glowed a potent electric blue color in four quadrants around metal criss-scrossing dark metal seams.

  He held it up for her to see. "This energy core is all we need. With this we can reverse engineer small weapons, big weapons, weapons for tanks, maybe even orbital weapons."

  "Like I'm going to let that happen. The Blackfire Dragon on getting their hands on that or this nifty hover machine."

  "Oh the hover machine isn't stolen that was already his design."

  "His?"

  Mako laughed. This time it was cold and menacing.

  "The Blackfire don't exist, Ms. Kinglsey. That name serves only to keep certain other organizations in line, and is a front for something far greater than the ideals of say, this one."

  He indicated the dead woman lying not far from her feet with a dismissive wave of his hand. A cold shiver ran down her spine.

  "Then what does exist? Who could have the assets to pull all of this off?"

  "Now that," Mako said. "Would be telling."

  He stuffed the glowing sphere into a nylon bag he had hanging at his side and moved forward to the laser between them. He spun it perpendicular to them both. For a moment, she thought he was going to remove its core as well. She realized what he was wearing as he raised his arms to do so. A glide suit.

  "You never intended to get away in this plane," she stated, trying to remain calm.

  "Of course not. The Red Flag practice would give us cover for a time, if we use right transponder codes. This was how mission was briefed. Then use foreign dignitary codes. But as you said Air Force will be mad at explosions on base."

  "Then why am I still alive?"

  "Simple. It needs to look like you won and completed your mission. It will give it away if you have bullet holes in your remains."

  Victoria had made a mental note earlier that the driver of the hovercraft and merely shifted the throttle into a neutral position as he landed it. He had never gotten around to finishing the power down sequence. The craft was still powered up and ready to go, she could even feel the slight vibration beneath her feet. This was going to be tricky.

  "What about your pilot?" she asked as she took two steps to her right.

  Mako waved off the question. "Another necessary sacrifice."

  "Then tell me one thing," Victoria said, barely containing the anger in her heart. "Why Dean? Was he also some necessary sacrifice?"

  "Ah you're boyfriend. Da. I would say he was. But, he was threat to Carlo first. Not killing him bad business to get Carlo doing what he was supposed to." A malicious smile crept onto his lips. "But, that was one sacrifice I enjoyed. Don't worry. You will join him soon."

  She brought the flashlight up and pointed it. Mako flinched and made a movement as if to go for his gun, then started to laugh.

  "You are serious? A toy flashlight from the game show?"

  "This is real CIA tech. One shot 22 caliber. Just as deadly as anything right in the head."

  "Oh. I guess I better surrender then."

  "I'm not taking prisoners."

  He reached for the trigger on the laser. She dove forward cutting the strap of his pouch as she jammed the button on her flashlight. A thin metal cord shot out and wrapped itself around the throttle. She pulled and the hovercraft whirred to life, jetting backward in full reverse. Electric blue energy sizzled out of the weapon, gashing a huge hole in the side of the plane. The hovercraft crashed into the rear door as the plane tore itself apart.

  The hovercraft pitched forward into the open sky like a large mythological winged beast. Its engines strained in high-pitched protest, but the machine was not designed to fly. Fire and debris from the exploding C-130 above lit up the night around them.

  "No!" Mako screeched as he was ripped away from her, his suit inflating. The bag with the core remained with her. She bit down on the slender handle of the knife and clung desperately to the flashlight with both hands, praying the thin metal wire would stay tight around the throttle.

  The hovercraft spun through the air in a dizzying dance. The vehicle remained right side up with its engines pointed downward despite its off-center mass, which meant she was not in freefall. She might survive if the decent was slow enough. The trouble was the slow spin threatened to fling her out into open sky, where she would be doomed. She snarled through clenched teeth with the effort as she pulled hand over hand with all her might in an attempt to pull herself into the driver's seat, her feet trailing behind her.

  It was cold and hard to breathe. There was no telling what altitude they had been at when the falls started and it was impossible to see the ground. Only the faint glow of a crescent moon told her which way was up and the running lights of the hovercraft did not provide much visibility. She didn't see Mako until he was colliding with her, driving her hard into the floor of the hovercraft. She flailed for a handhold, catching her hand underneath a recess in the bulkhead as Mako wrestled her for the pouch. He drew his gun, but she kicked it before he could bring it to bear and sent it spinning off into the blackness of night.

  She wrapped the metal wire around her wrist, and pulled herself to a seated position. Then she pulled the strap of the nylon bag tightly over her shoulder and took the knife from her mouth. Just as she did so, Mako finished a slow climb up her legs. He punched her, snapping her head back. She tasted copper in her mouth. When she blocked his second punch and saw she had a blade, he took hold of her wrist. She stunned him by bringing a knee up hard under his chin, then kicked him away. They both scrambled for purchase around the swiveling driver's chair.

  She made it to a standing position first, and with her hand on the wheel, she managed to slow the spin. She felt weight under her feet again, but gravity was still not her friend. She made a cut at him, but he came up under her arm with an uppercut that nearly toppled her off the hovercraft. She hit the bulkhead and slid back to the floor, where she unraveled the wire from her wrist and looped it around his foot as he struggled to hang on to the chair while keeping his arms to his sides so he would not be taken away again by the winds. He pulled a knife of his own and lunged at her. She rolled to the side to avoid his downward cut, but caught a knee in the solar plexus. She coughed, but cut upward in a counterstrike that sliced through a strap on his suit. This caused something to hang loosely from his back.

  A parachute.

  She stood, using the nylon bag and core like a shield. He did as she hoped, and lunged for it while trying to stab her with his free hand. She let him take hold of the bag, then shoved him backward as her hand snagged his opposite shoulder. He yanked hard, ripping the core from her grasp, she fell backward toward the bulkhead. He snarled in triumph and spread his wings.

  "Happy landings!" he called to her. He floated two feet off the deck of the hovercraft and gave a small scream of surprise as he realized his foot was tangled in thin metal cable.

  She climbed back up the bulkhead to stand. Her hand reached for the throttle. His eyes widened as he guessed her intent.

  "What are you doing?"

  She showed him his parachute and tossed the good strap over her shoulder.

  "Making a necessary sacrifice."

  She moved the
throttle back to neutral. The engines whirred with a low moan relief as they shut down. The hovercraft flipped end over end as it entered true freefall. Victoria kicked away from it and pulled the chute's ripcord. Her body jerked upward to safety as she listened in satisfaction to Mako's final rage-filled scream. Three seconds later a brilliant fireball lit up the ground for her. She smiled at the flaming wreckage and hung on tightly to the severed strap as she floated down. There would be logistics to take care of. All the weapons would still need to be accounted for. Yet all she could think for now was, game over.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  He awoke from a dream into a nightmare. He tried to wake up, at any rate, but sleep beckoned him—her seductive hands kept trying to pull him back under into the world of dreams. But he was not at home. He was not safe in his own bed. It was like he was in a hospital, with tubes coming out of his arms, and something jammed into his nose. He heard what sounded like Chinese people speaking. He forced his eyes to open, and viewed the world through the tiny sliver of light that he managed to let in under his heavy lids.

  "The subject is regaining consciousness," a voice said in English.

  "Let him for a moment," another, more accented voice said. "His mind need reset. Dreams only happen in cycles."

  "Have we got what we need yet from him?" A third voice. Electronic. Somewhere else.

  "We're still sorting the material from the dream reader, my lord."

  Now more discussion in Chinese, or was it Japanese? It didn't matter. Oriental gibberish. He was an engineer. One of the best. Why was he here? He tried to remember. Someone had taken him. That was when the nightmare had started. Pulled up and snatched him into a van right off the street.

  "I want that core repaired. No excuses."

  "Yes Lord—oh! He offline. Figures. Damn Sasha. Why he screw it all up? Now it be weeks if not months before we ready."

  "We still have the one businessman too," said the voice with better English. "Perhaps we should alternate the two subjects and—"

  "No time! Our Lord won't wait. We put him back under now."

  No wait! He tried to speak but could only make a tired sounding moan. Why are you doing this to me? Who are you?

  No answers would come for the engineer. Only dreams; long, confusing, dreams.

  * * *

  "What do you mean I'm being put back on the show?" Jake asked in disbelief. He wasn't sure whether to be thrilled or horrified at the news. "How is that going to work exactly?"

  "Wouldn't cha know it? Director Goodson wouldn't say," said the same plump little woman he had run into after that crazy motorcycle challenge sequence. "Has me right bamboozled too but that's the way they want it. Seems like we had to give some other contestant the boot."

  Jake already knew that much. Mako got more than the boot all right.

  "Anywho, here's your tickets to China and room key for your hotel room tonight. Make sure you go and report in straight away just like normal. It's a long flight. Toodles!"

  "Yeah, um, toodles," Jake said as he closed the door behind him and stepped back into the suit. He took the airline tickets out of the envelope and examined them. There were tickets for two to Hong Kong. He strolled through the room staring at them and nearly ran smack into the sliding glass door to the balcony, where Victoria was gazing at the city in a silver night-slip.

  "Guess what, babe, I'm going to Hong Kong too."

  She turned from the railing and gave him an impish grin.

  "Oh, I didn't tell you? Must have slipped my mind."

  "You'll be sorry for teasing me when I have a million dollars and won't give you any to retire with."

  She wrapped her arms around his neck. He was careful not to mess her shoulder bandage again. He discovered recently that she tended to reward accidental pain with some pain inflicted on purpose—even in the throes of love making.

  "And who says I am going to let you win?"

  "Why are you still on the show anyway? I thought your job was done."

  Her face was suddenly serious.

  "I'm not sure my job will ever be done."

  "You know what I mean."

  "This from the man who voted himself off to keep me on."

  "So you could complete your mission. Now it's done."

  She sighed. "We couldn't account for one of the cores. And, the analysts think the show is still connected somehow when it goes to China."

  He tilted his head at her. "That was way too easy. Am I supposed to know this?"

  "If you are going to continue on as an official CIA consultant, I suppose you'll have to know a few things. As will Director Goodson."

  "And Charlie?"

  "Will mind her own bloody business now I hope."

  Jake laughed. "Not likely."

  Victoria laughed with him.

  "But seriously, you did what you set out to do, and your cover is blown isn't it? How can the agency continue to justify operations that have already killed so many bystanders?"

  Victoria's face darkened and she looked away. He realized he had just hit a nerve full of guilt, but he could think of nothing to say to backpedal out of the hole.

  "The families of the three fatalities have been . . . well compensated. In China all I need to do is pick up a lead and they will send agents to cover those leads away from the show. Then I'll be voted out. It's just mop up work. A milk run."

  "Do you think Steve would have approved of this? He was pretty livid when—"

  "Don't." She pushed away. "Just don't bring Agent Majerczyk into this. It's not fair to him, Scott, or especially to Grace."

  "How is she doing, you know, with the whole thing . . .and with you?"

  "I don't think she blames me if that's what you mean. But she doesn't like it at all that I'm still going to be around. Which is why I intend to wrap this up as quickly as possible."

  "And then I get you all to myself?"

  She smiled, came back over to him, stood on her toes a little, and kissed him.

  "You can already have me any time you want . . ." She paused for effect. "Jules Vern Joyner."

  "Ugh. You promised not to call me that if I told you."

  "I'd like to stick with what's real for a while, if you don't mind."

  He chuckled. "Just as long as the real is as good as being with you, I don't mind at all."

  Then he gave her a real kiss.

  * * *

  Grace picked at her noodles, twirling them with her chopsticks. They were much more interesting than anything going on at this little lunch meeting. Grace hated lunch meetings. They pretended to replace business with informality, but somehow that just made the politics all the more unbearable.

  At first, she had thought this was going to be about how she was going to be fired and replaced. When that didn't happen, she figured the big news was that the show was going to be canceled. That's what should have happened, if she had her way. But no, the show was still expected to be too much of a cash cow, and no act of terrorism or deaths on the show was going to stop that. One of the network executives, some guy named Jamie, gave her a plaster-faced grin full of pearly white teeth.

  "Don't like your food, Grace?"

  "Not in the mood I guess," she mumbled. "Did we really have to go to a Chinese place? I am going to China tomorrow. At least, that's what I hear you all saying to me."

  "We figured that made it more appropriate," said a man with thin grey hair and wire framed glasses. His name was Bert or Bernie, or maybe he was the Walter. She didn't care. They were all just suits that had no clue what it took to actually run a show like Spy Games.

  "Come on, Grace, this is supposed to be a celebration!" said Marty, the marketing director for the show and at least one face she actually interacted with on a regular basis. "The show lives on! We're going to really take the show to new heights and a wider audience in China!"

  "Here, here!"

  "Here, here!"

  Several glasses clinked. There were three others crowded around two square tab
les that had been pushed together to make one long rectangular one. Only one of them was a woman. She was about Grace's age, but she was mild mannered. She hadn't said a word the whole luncheon so far. But here she heartily carried on with the men and raised her glass. Grace smiled and raised her own.

  "Since we are toasting," Grace said, talking over them. "I have a few words."

  "That's the spirit, Grace!" beamed Marty.

  "Here's to David Todd!" Grace said as brightly as she could manage. "One of the best contestants I ever saw, who tragically died of, oh what did they call it? Oh, that's right."

  "Grace."

  Marty was frowning at her.

  "A heart attack! Right as the bomb went off. Poor guy. May he rest in peace."

  She took a sip. No one else did. They just stared at her. She continued.

  "And to my crewmembers Robert Jackson, who died bravely staring down a mad gunwoman, and Melanie Green who was hit by stray fire as she fled and fought for her life . . ."

  Grace was fighting back tears now. Walter, or Bert, or whoever the hell he was leaned over and whispered in another bigshot's ear. Someone cleared their throat at the tense pause. Marty grabbed her arm gently but she shook him free.

  "She fought for life for six hours before she finally succumbed to her wounds! Let me tell you, you just can't replace good people like that!"

  "Ok, Grace, that's enough," Marty pleaded next to her.

  "No!" She staggered, knocking her chair over. A waiter had come over. Other restaurant patrons were also staring. "No there's one more."

  She took a deep calming breath and steadied herself against the table while someone tried to explain to the waiter that their poor friend was drunk. She wanted to say his real name. Victoria had told it to her. At least she had the decency to do that. But he was gone. Gone forever and nobody in her life that mattered would ever know what he did. His own family would probably never know what he did. They would be just like her, and only know that he was gone. She raised her glass higher than ever before.

  "To Steve Morrison. My . . ." she hesitated. Nobody had drinks. A few of them even gathering up their coats or briefcases and preparing to leave. Had the bill been paid? "My hero."