by David Wood
The rotor blades met the pavement and shattered, flinging fragments of carbon fiber in every direction. A tooth-loosening tremor shuddered through the lightweight frame, even as it continued to shift forward, dropping Tam toward the road surface.
The engines stalled, ending the vibration and most of the tumult. Tam fumbled for the safety belt, and then abruptly dropped a foot and a half to land face down on the street. She rolled away from the wreckage, kicking to disentangle herself from the footrest, even though she was no longer certain which way was up.
She did not think she had sustained any new injuries in the collision with the ground, but the impact and subsequent shaking reminded her of every single old one she had accrued over the past few days. She got to her hands and knees, and then remembered the reason for everything she had just done.
Samsonov was still crabbing backward, as if afraid to turn his back on her.
Smart, she thought, and went for her own Makarov.
The Russian, realizing what she was about to do, abruptly flipped over and sprang to his feet, racing headlong toward the still retreating crowd.
Tam sighted her pistol but held her fire. Too many innocent bystanders, too many witnesses.
She got her own feet under her and started after him. A spear of pain stabbed through her ankle, and despite her best efforts to grit her teeth and drive on, the best she could manage was an ungainly lurch. Samsonov was not doing much better. His left pant leg was soaked through with blood, most of which seemed to be coming from the same area as the ragged hole in his trousers, six inches above the knee. Nevertheless, he somehow managed to move at something approaching a jog, reaching the edge of the massed onlookers before Tam had closed half the distance. Samsonov pushed past an old man wearing a denim shirt and a cowboy hat, collided with a young woman in sandals, then veered left, behind both of them and vanished from Tam’s sight.
“No, you don’t,” she snarled, willing a burst of speed that brought tears to her eyes. She reached the old man a second later, searching the sidewalk for some sign of her prey and found it: fat red stains on the dirty concrete. She followed them like a trail of breadcrumbs and a moment later spotted him.
“Samsonov!”
He kept going, not once looking back. Tam was closing the distance slowly, one painful step at a time, but if the Russian was feeling the effects of blood loss, it was not showing. The pursuit stretched down the block, and as he neared the intersection, Samsonov abruptly took a step toward the street, as if intending to dart out into traffic at the first opportunity.
A black Range Rover slid up beside him, and then without warning, the door flew open and slammed into the Russian, sending him sprawling backward.
Astonished, Tam barely managed to stop short of tripping over the stunned assassin. The SUV pulled to a stop alongside her, and she looked up to see Stone’s face framed in the open driver’s side window. “Need a lift?” he asked.
EPILOGUE: RIVERBEND
Alexandria, Virginia
The gate, badly rusted wrought iron hanging from two massive piers of river rock held together with crumbling mortar, looked as if it had not been opened in half a century. A decorative arch that read “Riverbend,” spanned the distance between the gateposts. The driveway beyond was barely discernible through the tangle of broadleaf vines that partially covered the gate and eclipsed the adjoining fence altogether.
“Nice place you’ve got here,” remarked Billy Sievers from the back seat of a rented Buick Skylark. “Is that poison ivy?”
Avery, in the front passenger seat, took a second look at the foliage covering the gate and immediately recognized the distinctive three-leaf clusters.
“It’s a lot more effective than a ‘no trespassing’ sign,” Stone replied from behind the wheel. He pulled the car forward until the front bumper was almost touching the gate and shifted it into ‘park.’ “Be right back.”
As he got out, he produced a pair of nitrile gloves. After donning them, he walked over to the right-hand gatepost and carefully drew aside some of the vines to reveal a bronze plaque, which had oxidized to a whitish green. From the safety of the car, Avery could only make out a few words on the marker, just enough to infer that the property had been designated as a historical preserve by the State of Virginia.
Stone pressed on the plaque, and it swung open on concealed hinges like a medicine cabinet door. Beneath was a digital keypad that looked to be in considerably better repair than anything else Avery had seen. Stone tapped in a code and then pushed the plaque back into place. As he returned to the car, he carefully stripped off the gloves, while behind him the gate—evidently well maintained despite all appearances—opened without so much as a squeak of protest.
Stone settled back into the driver’s seat and eased the car forward. The overgrowth on the drive was no illusion. No one had traveled this road in at least a year.
“This is your place?” Avery asked, still trying to wrap her head around what she was seeing.
“Yes and no,” Stone replied. “It’s the old family place, but no one has really lived here since my great-great-grandfather passed away eighty years ago.”
“I thought the government seized all your assets when they arrested you,” Sievers said. “How did they miss this?”
Stone gave a wry smile. “I made sure that it was not listed as one of my assets.”
When he did not offer to elucidate, Avery pressed the issue. “Does Tam know about this place?”
The smile faltered a little and Stone nodded. “She knows.”
Avery sensed there was a lot more to that story. She couldn’t help but wonder if the secret of the strange bond that connected Tam and Stone lay within the walls of the old abandoned mansion.
Avery had witnessed the strength of that bond for herself just a few days earlier in Mexico City, when Stone, despite having been told to hold fast in Lavelle’s hotel room, had insisted on providing backup support for the others after their departure. He had “borrowed” the Range Rover from an unsuspecting hotel guest, and with Avery monitoring the comm network and Sievers literally sitting on their two captives in the rear cargo area, they had set out for San Lazaro palace.
Avery had been horrified by the news of Greg’s injury. Samsonov’s bullet had nicked his jugular vein, but immediate pressure on the wound, followed by prompt emergency field medicine aboard the Learjet as they winged their way back to the States, and subsequent treatment at Bethesda Naval Hospital, ensured that he would make a full recovery.
Tam had declined the invitation to accompany them to Riverbend, though at the time Avery had assumed it was for reasons other than personal. Since their escape from Mexico City, she had been busy with administrative details, little things like accepting a secret commendation for having thwarted Destiny, to say nothing of poaching the head of Russia’s spy agency.
Roger Lavelle and Eric Trent were presently on their way to a black site, possibly even Stone’s old digs in the Carpathian Mountains, but Oleg Samsonov was going to disappear into a hole so dark that not even Tam would be privy to his whereabouts.
The Spear of Destiny had been recovered from Lavelle’s hotel room, only a little worse for wear, and would be returned to the Hofburg as soon as the arrests of Paul Karcher and Emil Zanger were confirmed. No doubt the two men would have some interesting things to say about Heilig Herrschaft. Avery had no idea what had become of the Mexico Purchase treaty; it would probably be locked away in a vault in the National Archives along with all the other secrets that were deemed too hot to handle. Nor would the world ever learn the true fate of Ambrose Bierce, though on reflection, Avery felt the mystery suited him better.
Kasey was with Tam at CIA headquarters, just a short drive away in Arlington. As an official member of the Myrmidons task force, Avery probably should have stayed too, but she had been unable to resist Stone’s invitation to accompany him to Riverbend, where he intended to make good on his promise to Sievers.
Stone’s integrit
y in the matter of returning the stolen data, not because it was the right thing to do, but because he had given his word, was just one more cryptic piece of the puzzle that Avery was determined to solve. He had challenged her to look past her prejudices, but thus far she had failed to see what truly motivated the man. Perhaps a look at his ancestral home would shed some light on the mystery.
A crumbling three-story Colonial mansion appeared from the trees. Stone drew up to the front steps, and as they got out, Avery raised an eyebrow. “How is this place still standing?”
“Looks can be deceiving.”
Avery sensed that Stone was referring to something more than just the state of the old house, but the truth of his words was immediately evident. Although the door appeared to be as old as the house itself, warped and brittle, the weatherworn brass knocker concealed yet another digital keypad. Stone entered an access code, and the door opened out to admit them.
The interior was not quite the dilapidated ruin Avery would have expected from her first impression of the outside, but neither did it match with the more fanciful possibilities she had begun to entertain. It was simply an old house, musty, dusty and clearly uninhabited. Heavy white sheets shrouded the furniture. Paintings rested against the base of the walls where they might once have hung.
Stone led them through the house to a study, appointed with a heavy wooden desk and shelves lined with books. The bindings were creased and worn, indicating that the volumes were not merely for decorative purposes, but had been well-read in their day. There was a window seat set against the far wall, though the portal it overlooked was boarded over, and opposite that, a large section of interior wall was dominated by an enormous painting—a landscape of a plateau rising out of primeval rainforest. Stone took hold of the painting’s wooden frame and gave it a firm tug. It swung out to reveal a wooden door, which Stone also promptly opened.
A dark stairway lay beyond, spiraling down into the darkness. Stone slid a hand against the inside wall, and a series of hanging lights flickered on, illuminating their way. Another door—this one metal—blocked the base of the stairs.
“I think it’s a good thing Kasey stayed behind,” Stone said as he opened the door to reveal a vast cavern that had been transformed into something that was equal parts museum, library, and mad scientist’s laboratory.
“Wow,” Sievers remarked as he stepped through. “You’ve got your own Fortress of Solitude.”
Stone did not reply but moved through the vast space to a desk, cluttered with books and other miscellaneous objects. There was a laptop computer on the desktop, but Stone ignored it and instead pulled open a side drawer and took out a key-chain sized thumb drive. Without any hesitation whatsoever, he passed it to Sievers. “A promise is a promise.”
Sievers regarded the slim piece of plastic that rested on his open palm. “I’ll need to verify this.”
Stone gestured to the computer. “You can use that. It hasn’t been turned on in a while, but it should still work.”
Sievers took a step toward the desk, then stopped and faced Stone again. He held up the thumb drive. “What the hell is on here, anyway?”
“It’s a program. A predictive algorithm.”
“Predicting what?” Avery asked.
Stone cracked a smile. “Everything.” And then, evidently sensing that his answer was no answer at all, continued. “It’s funny how people get excited at the thought of the government eavesdropping on their phone calls, while they think nothing of laying themselves bare to strangers on the Internet or sharing every aspect of their lives with corporations just to save a few bucks on their groceries. Social media, shopper loyalty cards, search engine usage, even those ridiculous quizzes people are always taking—it’s all part of a massive data mining effort.”
“The government is behind all that stuff?” Avery asked, skeptically.
“No, and that’s the really scary part. If the government did it, it would be illegal. But people sign their lives away without even stopping to read the terms of service. Once the data is collected, it becomes a market commodity, available to anyone.”
“What does it matter?” countered Sievers. “So some computer somewhere knows that I like to buy Lone Star beer and barbecue potato chips, or that I searched for season three of Top Gear on Google. I don’t see how it makes any difference to anyone.”
Stone turned to Avery. “Do you remember what I told you in Vienna?”
Her eyebrows drew together in a frown. “About everything being pre-determined?”
“With perfect knowledge, we could predict anything. Even the outcome of something as random as a coin flip.” He pointed at the thumb drive. “That’s what the algorithm does. It takes all that information and assembles it into a predictive model of human behavior.
“We aren’t nearly as unique as we believe. That’s why things like personality quizzes and horoscopes can be so freakishly accurate. With just a very small sampling of data, that program can predict the actions of an individual or an entire nation.”
Sievers looked down at the thumb drive again as if seeing it anew. “They say knowledge is power. I guess anyone who has this would be damn near almighty.”
“I can see why you didn’t want the NSA to have it,” Avery said.
Stone chuckled. “I’m afraid you’ve got the wrong idea about me, Dr. Halsey. I wasn’t trying to keep them from using it. I wanted it for myself.”
Avery gaped at him.
“There is an underlying pattern to everything,” he went on, his tone becoming almost reverent. “The universal source code, written into the laws of nature. It’s there, and it’s not as complicated as you might think. Cause and effect. Action and reaction. It’s present in the material world, and in human behavior. I have to know what it is.”
“Why?” asked Sievers.
The question seemed to confuse Stone. “Why? Why not? Understanding the source code would be like knowing the mind of God.”
Sievers scratched his chin. “I don’t know about you, but I kind of like not knowing the score of a game until I’ve watched it. Predictions are great for the betting man, but when it’s a sure thing, what’s the point?”
Stone’s expression darkened for a moment, then he smiled again. “I knew you’d say that, Sievers.”
Sievers burst into laughter. “So tell me this: what am I gonna do now?”
Stone shrugged and spread his hands. “Surprise me.”
With a grin, Sievers opened his hand and let the thumb drive fall to the floor. He then took a step forward and pulverized it beneath his boot heel. “A promise is a promise. If what you say is true, then I don’t think anyone needs this kind of power.”
Stone did not reply.
“Are you saying that everything you’ve done—the crimes you’ve committed, the things you’ve stolen—it’s all about trying to figure out this source code?” Avery said. “It’s really that important to you?”
Stone nodded. “It’s the only thing that matters to me.”
Avery stared at the thumb drive. “Then why give it up now?”
For the second time, Stone was taken aback by an unexpected question. “I made a promise.”
“You promised to give Sievers the data, and in exchange, he would let you help us stop the Dominion, stop Destiny. But why would you ever agree to give up something so important in the first place?”
“Because,” he answered, almost too softly for her to hear. “Tam needed me to.”
When they emerged from the underground room, they found Tam Broderick in the window seat across from the door.
“I see your key still works,” Stone said, as if he had known all along that she would be waiting there.
Tam made an affirmative noise. “Had to come make sure you boys played nice.”
Sievers grinned. “Absolutely. A deal’s a deal. He’s all yours.”
“Good to hear.” She cocked her head sideways and looked at him. “What about you?”
“Back to w
ork, I guess. Reckon I’ll get a bonus since I’m the guy who finally cracked Stone.” He laughed at the unintentional pun.
“You could come work for me.”
Sievers was taken aback. “You’re serious?”
“Stone trusts you, and I trust him. I’ll admit, your rough edges kind of rubbed me the wrong way at first, but there’s no way we could have stopped Destiny without you.”
Sievers turned to Stone. “And I suppose you’re going to working with her, too?”
Stone shrugged. “It’s better than the alternative. International fugitive, on the run, always looking over my shoulder.”
“It is that.”
“It’s an official job offer,” Tam continued. “I have the letter in the car. You’ll be sworn in as an operations officer, seniority adjusted for prior service. What do you say? Ready to join the Myrmidons?”
“A Myrmidon,” Sievers repeated the word as if trying it on for size. “Hell, why not? I was always happier getting my paychecks from Uncle Sam.” He shook his head, then grinned at Stone. “I guess you saw that coming?”
Stone shook his head. “Nope. I can never predict what Tam will do. That’s why I love her.”
~End~
ABOUT THE AUTHORS
David Wood is the author of the popular action-adventure series, The Dane Maddock Adventures, as well as several stand-alone works and two series for young adults. Under his David Debord pen name he is the author of the Absent Gods fantasy series. When not writing, he co-hosts the Authorcast podcast. David and his family live in Santa Fe, New Mexico. Visit him online at www.davidwoodweb.com.
Sean Ellis is the author of several thriller and adventure novels. He is a veteran of Operation Enduring Freedom, and has a Bachelor of Science degree in Natural Resources Policy from Oregon State University. Sean is also a member of the International Thriller Writers organization. He currently resides in Arizona, where he divides his time between writing, adventure sports, and trying to figure out how to save the world. Visit him at www.seanellisthrillers.com.
