by Brandt Legg
“You’re a coward.”
“Yeah, well, you’re a—”
Wen’s bullets cut through his legs and brought him screaming to his knees. “What am I?” she asked, suddenly standing above him.
He looked up, reaching for his gun. “You’re a b—”
Wen shot him in the face. “That’s for Hayward.”
She ran to join Chase and arrived just in time to help him kill the six men Anatoly had brought with him.
Chase looked at his watch, then to Wen.
“How long?” she asked, as the flashing red light kept time with the buzzer, as if counting down the final breaths until death.
“Six minutes,” he lied. It was closer to four.
Washington DC - PEOC – April 3rd – 4:43 pm
“Get me eyes on the facility,” Tess said.
The screens filled with satellite images of the entire campus. “Zoom on the big building, what is that?”
“Looks like a smoldering helicopter.”
“Put the IT-Squad there.”
Twenty seconds later, the first team dropped down on the roof. Tess looked at the clock. “We’ve got nine hours to secure this facility and shut down the fusion ray,” Tess said, having no idea the Chinese had moved up the launch.
“Another team is five minutes out,” Linda said, speaking from an open line to Mission Control.
“ETA on full military presence?”
“Eighteen minutes.”
“Hold on, Chase,” Tess whispered. “The Calvary is on the way.”
The screens suddenly erupted with fire and smoke.
“What just happened?” Tess yelled.
Only silence answered as everyone watched, speechless. The satellite images showing a massive world-ending explosion worse than any images they’d seen of nuclear detonation.
The IT-Squad had been incinerated instantly. “Anyone left anywhere near that place is gone,” Linda said, not wanting to say Chase and Wen, but knowing if they hadn’t gotten out at least twenty minutes ago. They were fried.
Seventy-Nine
Washington DC - PEOC – April 3rd – 5:12 pm
Tess only turned away from the live feeds of the disaster area because Linda had called from CISS Mission Control. “I have Nash Graham on the line,” Linda said. “Can I patch him through?”
“It’s unlikely he’s going to provide any additional information, at least not now.”
“I know, but . . . ”
“I guess in a way I owe it to Chase and Wen,” she said, “Okay.” It took a few seconds until she heard the click indicating The Astronaut was now on. “Hello Nash.”
“Did you get them out?”
“No,” she said in her gentlest voice. “I’m sorry.”
“Sorry, no!” A few moments of silence followed before he began again. “They must have escaped. Wen and Chase always escape.”
“We were trying, we just didn’t know exactly where they were in time. But I’ve watched the satellite feeds. We scrolled back in time, saw them arrive. I’m sure they were expecting to exit on their helicopter. Did you know it was destroyed?”
“No,” he said in a whimpering voice.
“Apparently neither did they, and when they found out, there wasn’t enough time left to get out another way. I’m sorry, the facility locked down.”
“But now you have people there trying to rescue, and looking for survivors?”
Tess stared at the monitors displaying images from the satellite live feed and another showing the footage being aired on the cable news networks. She knew The Astronaut was seeing the same, it had to be obvious to him that there were no survivors. However, she understood that during emotional trauma people, particularly those on the spectrum, could have a difficult time keeping a grip on logical reality. “I’m sorry,” she said again. “No one could live through that blast. More than half a mile wide radius was leveled. Even if the facility had not been locked down, even if they had access to another vehicle, they didn’t have time, there was no way to escape. It’s tragic, Nash . . . Chase and Wen died in the blast.”
“I don’t want that.”
“The state police, local governments, and FEMA are estimating that more than 12,000 people may have died. You’re not alone in your grief.”
“You should’ve rescued them,” he said bitterly, “You should have gotten them out. I need them.”
“We all needed them,” Tess said. “But whatever they did, whatever happened at the factory. Chase and Wen saved a million lives, they saved Washington DC, they saved America.”
“They saved Tu and me.”
“Yes. Imagine the world if this had gone another way. If they had not succeeded and the horrible people had actually melted Washington. What would’ve come next?”
“I don’t know.” The Astronaut was closing down.
“That kind of power . . . once unleashed . . . allowed to run unchecked . . . Chase and Wen didn’t just give their lives for Washington DC, they saved the world.” She was going to add that she thought that was worth dying for, and that obviously Chase and Wen thought it was as well, instead she simply said, “They died to save us all.”
The Astronaut did not respond. Tess wasn’t sure what to do. People were waiting to speak with her, there were many decisions to make, actions to take, retaliations being weighed, counterattacks, all kinds of urgent deliberations, operations to plan, espionage to conduct, and Tess was one of the few in charge of most of it, yet she didn’t feel right about abandoning Nash, so she sat there watching the horrific images and listening to his labored and distressed breathing, knowing his world had been shattered. In the last forty-eight hours he had lost three of the people closest to him.
Linda buzzed in on the line. Tess had to get off.
“You are still alive,” Tess finally said. “They would want you to live, to continue their work. You need to get Wen’s grandmother and the boy, Tu. Take them to Dez and Bull, the five of you need to comfort each other, you’ve all lost so much, not just in his last few days but these last few years.” Tess thought of Wen’s grandmother losing all the people she knew and her homeland. Tu missed the children he’d been raised with. Bull and Dez had lost the use of their legs. Nash had not recovered from Hayward’s death. “You still have each other. Chase and Wen would want you to be together. I can send an IT-Squad to protect you and Tu. We can put you in a safe house . . . if you want you can come here. Whatever you need, just let me know.”
“I want Chase and Wen,” he whispered.
“I know.”
After another few silent moments, The Astronaut cleared his throat. “Thank you, Tess. I never liked you very much. Really not at all . . . ”
“I know,” she said. “That’s okay.”
“I think I was wrong.”
Epilogue
Vienna, Virginia – April 5th – 10:29 am
Tess stood in Mission Control, staring at dozens of monitors all filled with images relating to the worst situation she had ever faced. One of the screens was a live feed of an overhead view of the Washington historic district—the Jefferson and Lincoln Memorials, the Washington Monument, White House, Capitol building were all visible.
“I like to see them still standing,” she said to Linda.
“And that,” Linda said pointing to another screen showing Tolstoy being interrogated.
“Yes, that pleases me, too. I spoke to her myself, yesterday.”
“She’s still not cooperating?”
“No, but she will,” Tess said, a determined tone that Linda knew not to question.
“What a plan, she masterminded,” Linda said.
“Remember we don’t yet know how high it went . . . But our sources believe China’s president was not involved, that it was a member of the Central Committee.”
“That’s more than two hundred people.”
“We have it narrowed down to six,” Tess said. “Three of them have completely disappeared.”
“The Par
ty cleaning house, removing the evidence?”
“Looks that way. Apparently, Blackout had been designed to make the destruction of Washington look to the world like a mistake made by the US, as if we were creating a super weapon and lost control of it.”
“It might have worked.”
“For a while, but the Chinese knew we would figure it out, so they had a backup ploy.”
“Make Russia the fall guy.”
“Yes, China left a big trail leading right to Russia.”
“And with most of our intelligence community and military command destroyed, we wouldn’t be able to mount a real investigation into the events, all evidence would point to Russia. And it would be so easy to believe.”
“Incredible, how close they were to getting away with it.”
“We almost sent a preemptive strike to Moscow,” Linda said. “Imagine . . . ”
“I’d rather not.” Tess stared at Tolstoy again. “The Chinese used Russian code names. We almost missed Tolstoy’s true identity, because we were looking for a Russian. Incredible that it turned out Tolstoy was Jie Shi.”
“She’d been paving the way for this for years, greasing the right people to make sure the facility got built, operational, and went undetected.”
Tess had no idea that the Chinese diplomat had already been executed, and that the gray-haired man, code named, Yuri, had been arrested and sent to China’s largest and most secret prison camp—the brutal Lingchi Prison. Those who knew about it said, “If you go in, you never come out.” The name, roughly translated, means a slow, lingering death, or death by one thousand cuts. The isolated labor camp, located in the far western region of the country, had been operated by the MSS for more than two decades—although the government steadfastly denied its existence. Lingchi was as close to a cold, bitter hell as there was on earth.
“At least it’s over,” Linda said.
Tess shook her head and looked at another screen showing Popov leaving her coffee shop, but the image was old, the Russian agent had disappeared. An IT-Squad had detained one of her associates who had told them that Popov had stumbled upon Blackout, and informed her superiors in Moscow. “True the Russians were not involved, but they knew it was coming and said nothing . . . the blood of the twelve thousand dead Americans is on their hands, too.” Tess thought about how close the world had come to nuclear war.
“Would we have told them? Linda asked.
Tess shook her head. “I don’t know. If your neighbor is planning to blow up your house and another neighbor finds out about it, and they don’t tell you . . . ”
“But it’s over,” Linda repeated.
“No it’s only beginning. Now that the Chinese and the Russians . . . even us, know how easy it is to destroy cities with lasers and fusion energy weapons, no place on earth, or for that matter, in space, will ever be safe again.”
Washington, DC - April 6th - 4:11 pm
The Astronaut and Tu had just finished saying their goodbyes to their colleagues at the think tank and were about to get Zu mu and head to the Joint Base Andrews, where Tess had arranged a flight for them, when unexpectedly, Tess found them.
“What are you doing here?” The Astronaut asked, concerned.
“I have news,” she said. “Our top engineers were reviewing all the plans, and data on the facility, trying to learn as much as they could about the operation. One of them saw a rod cavity at the bottom of the silo and realized it could have been used as a kind of bunker. I figured it was worth a try . . . ”
The Astronaut’s eyes widened.
“The space extended almost twenty stories underground. It took several days, working and digging around the clock . . . Due to the reinforced construction in the lower chamber, large sections of the subterranean areas held solid, making it easier to clear. And . . . we found them.”
“Alive?” The Astronaut’s voice made the word sound less like a question and more like a prayer.
“Yes.”
Tu threw himself into The Astronaut’s arms. “Chase and Wen! I knew it! I knew it! Chase and Wen are alive!”
Tess couldn’t help but smile, and quickly wiped what may have been a stray tear. “Turns out Chase had the plans to the facility and saw what our engineers discovered. He and Wen were able to get down there in the final seconds.”
“But they’re okay?” The Astronaut asked, still hardly believing it.
“They were in rough shape. Dehydrated, hungry, battered, both with serious injuries, but . . . alive.”
“Where are they now?”
“We have them at Walter Reed,” she said, speaking of the National Military Hospital Center, in Bethesda, Maryland. “No one knows they’re alive. We’re making sure the MSS is able to ‘steal’ the satellite images of Chase and Wen entering the facility and not coming out.”
The Astronaut paused, while he digested her meaning. “So they are finally free?”
“Well, partially. The MSS thinks they’re dead, but there is still the matter of the shadow people . . . ”
“Can we see them?” Tu asked.
“I’ll take you there now.”
Undisclosed location - April 26th
Wen and Chase walked the deserted beach, both still stiff and sore from their injuries. “We shouldn’t be here,” Chase said.
“It’s totally safe,” Wen said. “You know it’s been checked and cleared multiple times.”
“That’s not what I mean. We should have died back there, buried in that concrete tomb.”
“We didn’t though.”
“Maybe a little,” Chase said, recalling the second day underground when they had decided no one could reach them in time, even if anyone guessed they might still be under there. “I don’t know if I’ll ever be able to go in a tunnel again . . . We were dead.”
“Look around, feel that humid ocean air . . . We’re alive.” She kissed him.
“It may have been worth it,” he said. “The MSS believes we’re dead. And Tess says she’s covertly spread the word widely enough that the shadow people will think we died that day, too.”
She stopped and savored the feel of the soft, warm sand on her bare feet.
“Being buried alive under an exploding sun is a high price,” Chase said. “But I’m sure looking forward to life without the shadow people chasing us.”
Wen glanced at him, a determined look on her face. “Yes, this time we’ll be chasing them.”
They gazed down the beach and saw the people who had saved them at the Exorcist Steps coming toward them. Shelby and Grimes waved. “The cartel is about to find out that power goes both ways.”
END of CHASING TIME
The CHASE continues…
suggested reading order
Chasing Rain
Chasing Fire
Chasing Wind
Chasing Dirt
Chasing Life
Chasing Kill
Chasing Risk
Chasing Mind
Chasing Time
Chasing Lies
Click here to see choose your next Chase Wen Thriller
Acknowledgments
Chasing Time . . . This title has multiple meanings for me. To those who have read many of my books, you know the line “Time is a funny thing.” I guess everyone can relate to the speed at which life seems to race by. People we’ve lost, who we’ve shared too little time with, the ones still with us who there is never enough time to be with, the dreams we seek, the peace we yearn for . . . it feels as if we’re all constantly chasing time.
Although this book is a thriller, an action-packed page-turner, the theme of the story is that the clock never stops moving. We must not waste a moment, whether we are trying to defuse a bomb, or find a few moments to enjoy a sunset, or share our time with a loved one.
There is no place to get more time. Spend it wisely.
Thank you to Ro and Teakki, who make me the luckiest man in the world, and who live with the characters in my stories whether they like it or not. (
Sometimes it gets crowded, but there’s never a dull moment!) We talk about the people and plots in my books quite a lot, but hopefully not too much. And Teakki, an extra thanks for your ideas about the ending!
And to my mother, Barbara Blair. Her enthusiasm for my work is easy to take for granted, because she’s my mom, and yet I have so much respect for her. I’m humbled by her high opinions. It’s great fun sharing these adventures with her. She has also single-handedly kept certain “fictional” characters alive by her influence.
Joan Osborne and Gil Forbes deserve special recognition for sharing their finely-tuned and experienced minds. I always appreciate Jack Llartin, my copy editor, who has mastered the method of under promising and over delivering, and has a special talent for the final polish. I thank Elena at L1 Graphics for another amazing cover. She’s a wonder at capturing the excitement of the story.
And, finally, to Teakki, who patiently waited to read me the latest scene he’s written on one of his projects, to show me something he’s built, or to discuss movies, until I finished writing each day. Best part of my day, best part of the world.
Most of all, I can never express enough gratitude to my readers. To all the ones that have read everything I’ve published, to the ones who have just finished their first Booker thriller or Chasing adventure, it means the world to me that you’ve decided to spend your money and time on my stories. Please drop me an email anytime. Responding to reader emails is one of my favorite parts of the day!
There are so many wonderful authors I’ve had a chance to meet. This is a small group of the ones who’ve made a difference to me: Robert Gatewood, Mike Sager, Craig Martelle, Michael Anderle, Mark Dawson, Nick Thacker, Ernest Dempsey, John Grisham, A. Kelly Pruitt, Eric J. Gates, Dale DeVino, Phil M. Williams, Jennifer Theriot, Haris Orkin, Brian Meeks, Michelle McCarty, Mollie Gregory, and Zoe Saadia.
There are so many friends of mine who are creatives as well. Their work inspires my work (and my life): Tony Schueller, David Manzanares, Geraint Smith, Michael Hearne, Don Richmond, Lenny Foster, Jared Rowe, Jimmy Stadler, Scott Thomas, Carol Morgan-Eagle, Deonne Kahler, Bart Anderson, Ernest James, Jenny Bird, Angelika Maria Koch, Brad Hockmeyer, Verne Verona, Brooke Tatum, Markus Kolber, Terrie Bennett, and many others!
