by David Berko
--
Josh waited with the phone pressed up against his face. In 2041 you didn’t need to turn your phones off when flying. And the devices could still be used to fulfill their design: to make calls.
“Arch, it’s me.”
The trucker’s voice rang with a disgruntled note when he answered, “Why does everybody call me that? And who’s me? I don’t recognize this number.”
The Viper agent rested his phone in his palm, covering the microphone. Josh rolled his eyes in Esmeralda’s direction. “I’m with my wife. I was told I could stay with you for the day.”
“My home is always open to good folks. Just for the night?”
“We’re just passing through.”
“Uh-huh, I know what that’s all about. You had a passphrase you wanted to give me?”
“VW.” A backwards abbreviation of Westover Ventures, Damion Westover’s company.
“Enjoy your stay,” Archie said abruptly.
At the conclusion to his call the woman referred to as the wife in the phone conversation was itching to say something. “Well aren’t you just the most secretive person I’ve ever met.”
Josh’s face didn’t betray anything. If Esmeralda didn’t know any better she would’ve guessed he had gone to acting school.
“How’d I do hon?”
She played along. “We make a good couple.”
The flying car began dropping in altitude in small intervals. Josh saw the model staring out the window. She could see the ground now for the first time in hours.
“Your son is gonna ask if he can have visitors,” he explained to her.
Esmeralda thought hard. “They’re gonna be suspicious about you though.”
He knew she was thinking about how young he looked. Too young to be Damion’s dad. “I’m his step-dad.”
She laughed. “That’s weak.”
“It’s the only way…” he argued.
She openly fretted. “It’s a big risk.”
“Do you want to get your son back?”
She didn’t say anything.
--
Azriel helped Baruch muscle level six’s door open. It groaned in resistance. This time the lift hatch gave a better fight than the one five decks below.
The simulation seemed so real to young Azriel that he forgot about the artificial element to the mission.
On the top level the ceilings were much higher and the rooms more open. Gone were the claustrophobic feelings and sense of entrapment. The exciting reality that Seth must be on the same floor hit all three as soon as they stepped foot on new territory.
It didn’t hit anyone right away. The agents were able to run. No more scuba-diver antics. Seth hadn’t disrupted gravity on this floor. They were dangerously close to their objective now.
The lay of the land duplicated an airport terminal. There were no stanchions, rope, or long lines though. Everything was eggshell white. The lights were so bright too. You could see the dust drifting in the midst of the lights’ wash.
“How is one guy gonna sabotage all the ordinance going into the shuttles?”
Baruch had been read in by Malach Kemper. He knew exactly what Seth would try to do. “If you’re thinking explosives? Think again. It’s much simpler than that.”
“What?”
Straight ahead huge insectoid creatures patrolled in randomized patterns. They competently noticed the agents violate their perimeter and enter into the off-limits section yet none reacted to the Mossad agents as a threat. Someone had foretold them to expect a team to deploy in their bailiwick. Malach Kemper.
Baruch paused to admire the grotesque, mesmerizing soldiers of Scorpion. Despite the distraction he still remembered to finish filling Esther in on Seth’s methods.
“Damion Westover, the technology’s inventor, has shown Seth how to make the ordinance going onto the space shuttles a way for it to self-destruct,” Baruch articulated to Esther.
Azriel interrupted, “That couldn’t be done remotely?”
“Nope.”
“How much time does it take to knock just one of these devices offline?”
“Unknown. Doesn’t matter though. We must move like he’s deactivating number thirty already.”
--
Chapter 9
The little flags of the Fourth Reich flapped in the brisk breeze on the cold spring day. It felt like winter with the below freezing temp and overcast sky.
Seth hid behind big sunglasses with a black polished conductor’s hat arched on his head. A warm pea coat with double breasted buttons made him official.
He sat and waited in attention at the wheel to the big stretch limo. A couple minutes went by. The next time the door to the south entrance opened none other than Sofia Keller and her entourage walked through.
Seth looked down at his brass coat buttons, the pin on his left breast pocket...the small bulge on his right hip.
The cadre of officials drew closer. Amongst the knights, rooks and pawns, the queen piece enjoyed the utmost protection even though she normally moved freely as an offensive weapon. Ironically her heavily armored official ride made her more vulnerable today than being surrounded by her associates of the German government.
Sofia’s people parted like a curtain before her when she got near her waiting ride. The door opened to the back seat. She got in with grace and aplomb.
Normally the driver would be informed ahead of time of the route and destination. The chauffeur had to preprogram the coordinates into the vehicle’s trip computer before it allowed him to go anywhere. To do this a special token, much like a credit card, was assigned the driver with the trip details loaded onto it. Unless there was a destination, an official one, the driver wouldn’t be able to even leave the parking lot.
Seth prepared to take out the destination card and feed it into the slot. He knew Baruch supposedly had tampered with it to reroute Sofia Keller where the Mossad agents wanted her to go. In seconds the driver would know whether or not the fake Amalia complied.
He inserted it in, held it there, then yanked it out. The large vertical display taking up the center console blinked. The image it returned Seth made his heart sink. Suddenly Seth’s foot didn’t know what to do. He couldn’t step on it anymore. Something was very, very wrong.
Sofia tapped on the partition and said, “Everything okay?”
Seth lowered it only to get a gun shoved in his face.
“Drive.”
--
“Who turned on the lights?”
Damion shielded his eyes from the penetrating flood lights he didn’t even know the room had. His eyes would need time to recalibrate. Christophe suffered from the same thing.
The warden of the Ozarks facility kindly agreed to allow the inmates visitors.
When Damion could see straight he laid eyes on someone he last saw in tears. His fault. The man with her he didn’t recognize however. Never saw him in his life.
“Esmeralda?” He never addressed her by mom or mother.
“I’m here son,” she said reassuringly.
“Who’s he?” Damion pointed.
By this time the guard had already left the group. Lucky for them, too. Otherwise Josh’s flimsy cover would’ve been destroyed already.
“Your mother and I are here to help, buddy,” the Viper agent calmly said.
Damion’s voice lowered as he took a step closer. “Who are you really?”
The billionaire read the pronounced concern in the other man’s eyes which he had an answer for. “Don’t worry, we’re not being listened to.”
Josh reached into his pocket and slipped his cred pack over to Damion for a looksee.
“Satisfied?” Josh asked.
Damion did a doubletake when he glimpsed the Sentinel shield. Christophe saw the same thing causing him to whistle.
“You were right,” he whispered to Damion.
Damion heard and smiled triumphantly. Then he thought about all the roadblocks to freedom there were which made him quest
ion, “So it’s just you?”
Esmeralda came forward in Josh’s defense. “He saved my life honey back in New Babylon.”
Christophe repeated what she just said. “Saved your life?”
“From the invasion!” she said, her pupils wide with fresh fright.
Those words didn’t need any interpretation for the prisoners whom had feared the worst possible outcome happening while they were in captivity. Damion’s Project Canvas found a user: never the one the inventor envisioned either when he designed the science marvel.
“So far you’re two for two!” his French scientist complimented Damion for his accurate predictions he made earlier.
“Yeah.”
--
Baruch ran ahead of the cadets. They struggled to keep up in his wake.
The director-general of Scorpion, Howard, had already issued the command for the great deception to play out around the world that morning. Not too long ago this couldn’t be a reality. Howard needed Damion’s holographic technology which he pillaged from Westover Venture’s right before the Free Republic of North America launched their Operation Switchblade.
Presumably the technology had already been ferried to Jeddah’s space station as soon as physically possible with the orders that went with it for it to be activated according to the earliest timeline.
…
Seth Markov was having a busy day. He didn’t have time to second guess or take an extra breath.
Not too long ago he had gotten off the phone with a man whose reputation went before him. This celebrity of the science world at seven years of age designed the prototype eventually used in New Babylon’s state of the art transportation system. When the kid hit double digits the genius in the making shared with the world a supercapacitor that had a far superior storage density to any battery currently on the market.
As Seth came to understand through a conversation with the household name, Damion Westover, he would need to travel to Jeddah to hitch an elevator ride to the space station there. What he was looking for may or may not have been still there. But nevertheless, it paid to go up to investigate anyhow.
The Mossad agent didn’t need directions on how to find his way up. In between the skyscrapers of the city a bright glowing spire got lost way up in the atmosphere. On the other end of it was the space hub.
The Mossad agent travelled in the gondola to Jeddah’s station in order to locate weapons of mass destruction before they were to be used by Scorpion.
No one else apparently needed a ride to outer space at such a late hour. Normally the operation had closing hours. However Seth engaged his coercion skills to change somebody’s mind. He got results.
First thing he did on the space station was throw a couple of blades that spun through the air. Two guards on patrol that were just rounding a corner and were about to head his way never saw it coming. They instantly tumbled to the ground rather noiselessly.
Seth grabbed both of them and stuffed them into a nearby closet. He then made tracks to find the control station of the platform to perform sabotage.
Several destructive strokes later he did what was necessary to confuse and delay anyone that came after him. Most anyone. Unless they were as good as him. That crowd was a very small percent of the population.
The elevators were dead because he had killed them. Many decks didn’t have gravity. But where he needed to be avoided all the malfunctioning plagues. Here there were Scorpion henchman all over however.
He was in the right place.
Seth came with climbing gear, just like he did for many other missions. It came in handy for urban warfare scenarios. Or when he needed to go over the heads of a bunch of bad guys that outnumbered him eight to one.
But just because he could get up in high places didn’t mean he wouldn’t be spotted.
Luck didn’t often factor into the outcome of how things went down. On this occasion though he was more than grateful he grabbed his white gear over the traditional black duds. It may have saved his life as he slithered undetected against pearl white ceilings.
Seth crossed over into the shuttle bays. One alarmingly small problem….the Scorpion spaceships had left already.
--
Chapter 10
Tyrone started the mission with anxiety. Nothing worked to mollify those apprehensive feelings either. After Baruch had last checked in to relay the success of changing the destination card route, he decisively broke established protocol and went dark. He discarded his phone too.
Suddenly Mr. E’s hunch on Baruch spooked Tyrone.
Was he right?
The doubting thoughts on Baruch were quickly moved to lower priority. Seth wore a wire which allowed his spotters to monitor things.
Tyrone and Agent Marcello both heard the strong threatening snarl, “Drive!”
At the same time their tracking software detected the deliberate detour the limo was taking.
Alfonso Marcello shook his head and sternly glowered at his senior. “Baruch.”
“Time to pack it up.”
Alfonso helped the retired agency man shut down and power off all the gear. Then they hurried around the sides of the vehicle to mount up. Tyrone gassed it. While the vehicle gained speed Alfonso checked his battle rifle, sidearm and explosives.
“This won’t exactly be a turkey shoot,” Agent Marcello worried.
Tyrone attempted to restore confidence in the other figure by saying, “Seth can get leverage on any situation, son.” When he saw it wasn’t working he shared a seemingly hopeless tale from the past where Seth emerged triumphant, doing the impossible and turning the tables against the bad guys who had incredible numbers against one agent.
Tyrone continued talking. “The good news is he isn’t going too fast. We can head him off…”
Alfonso ran his finger along the edge of his KA-BAR knife. “Do we want to do that?”
“They have put us in an undesirable spot. Afraid we don’t have many options.”
“Are you ready for a warzone old man?”
“Nah,” Tyrone smelled his upper lip, “but I am ready to die.”
--
Damion addressed no one but it sure looked like he had meant it for someone when he said, “I hope you came in here with an exit strategy.”
While the words were still on his tongue Josh discreetly inspected their surroundings. “Not too many ways in or out, eh?”
“I dunno, I was hoping you could tell me that,”
Damion pushed back.
Josh gesticulated the need to calm down. “Relax, this place ain’t no Alcatraz. There are some soft spots.”
Christophe at least brightened at this.
“How often do the guards come this way?”
The French scientist stared at the ceiling while slowly counting on one hand. He bent his index, middle and pinkie fingers back before stopping. “Three times I think. Not often.”
An astonished Josh got a little excited. “For the whole day?”
“The second watch, monsieur.”
“Oh.”
Damion knew better but he asked anyway, “Are you armed?”
Josh answered in the future tense. “I will be.”
“So what now? Visiting hours are almost over.” Damion analyzed the broad shouldered rugged looking man once again. His flannel shirt and jeans were disarming enough. The woman he came with increased that effect. The billionaire sighed heavily and concluded, “I hope you are who you say you are.”
Though he didn’t need to prove himself, the Viper agent decided a little reassurance might help the plan. He feigned holding an arm behind his back like a casual stance to give him the opportunity to release an object clipped higher up on his right arm. Something travelled down the length of his appendage until the pointed tip of a dagger revealed itself just beyond the cuff of his shirt. In one split second Josh sent the weapon flying through the air quicker than a bullet within inches of Damion’s head.
By the time the billionaire knew what ha
d happened Josh was already stepping forward to retrieve his weapon that successfully penetrated the grout in the concrete wall in front of him.
“What the, you said...I thought you weren’t armed?!” Damion roared.
Esmeralda grabbed her son by the arm and held on to his hand. She gripped it tightly, saying, “We’re gonna leave here. Do you believe me now?”
He looked shaken and drained of color. But Damion managed a soft, “Yes.”
--
Three assailants instantaneously advanced from the south end of one hangar. They spread out with their guns dancing up, down and sideways. It would be hard to flank them or catch them unawares from any angles, really.
Seth could only see the tops of heads from his vantage point holding on to one of the many trusses connecting a massive girder to the roof. Even from his distance though he could tell there was a man and two teenagers, possibly. The three moved with agility and skill he recognized from his line of work. Professionals.
The head-scratcher though was he knew they searched for him. But they didn’t look like Scorpion pukes. He patiently observed them do a grid search for him down below. Nothing doing.
He imagined the many ways he could perform the hit. Seth utilized a pair of optics to study the quarry. His fingertips adjusted the magnification to bring the picture into sharp focus. The shoulder of the man who led the search party for Seth showed up big and large.
The Mossad coat of arms glinted.
Baruch, that son of a…
All of a sudden Seth felt something leave his pants pocket and drop the great height, landing with a bang. The mistake that could be his last.
Baruch shouted, “Up there!”
Seth had little time to react before a fusillade of bullets blasted into the steel where he once perched. The agent juked and reacted by attaching a line into a neighboring truss. He rappelled to the floor, but not before sending a few flash-bangs bouncing towards his adversaries: enough chaos to lose sight of Seth from him to regain the advantage.
