EXOSKELETON II: Tympanum

by Shane Stadler

  “So the location of the beacon was known sometime before 1937,” Horace said, “and the Nazis sent the Schwabenland out to explore the area in 1938.”

  “Yes,” Sylvia replied. “At about the time they’d deciphered the second and third rings.”

  “Hitler thought they were on the verge of discovering the beacon and started the war earlier than planned,” Daniel suggested.

  “Speculation,” Horace said.

  “What’s the stone telling us to do?” Sylvia asked.

  “The first ring provides the location of the beacon,” Horace replied. “Perhaps the second tells us how to access it, and the third how to activate it.”

  Something tripped in Daniel’s mind. “Yes,” he said quietly. Then louder, “yes.”

  “What?” Sylvia asked.

  “The beacon is made from an indestructible – impenetrable – material,” he vocalized his brainstorm. “It maybe even survived a nuclear blast during Operation Blackfish.”

  The others remained silent.

  “Red Falcon and Red Wraith were designed to produce someone who could separate soul from body,” Daniel continued. He stood up and walked to the map. “None of it had to do with creating super-soldiers or spies. It had to do with this!” he exclaimed and hit his fist on the map where the beacon was marked. “The only way inside the beacon is for a human to separate soul from body and pass through it. They wanted to get inside it.”

  Silence.

  Sylvia pushed her chair back and stood. “Why?”

  “They though it had some sort of power. They wanted to transcend this world, or whatever the third ring told us,” Daniel replied.

  “Control this world,” Horace said. “Hitler wanted to rule the world.”

  “But there’s nothing specific in these translations,” Sylvia said. “It was a gamble – one the Nazis lost.”

  “Because they couldn’t get someone to separate,” Daniel said. “But we were able to get someone to separate. They did it in Red Wraith.”

  Horace nodded. “And that’s why the whole world is looking for William Thompson.”

  “We have to find him,” Daniel said. “Before someone else does.”

  “Don’t you think you’re overreacting?” Sylvia asked. “The idea that he can separate is just rumor – there’s hardly any more evidence that he has this ability than there was for the Nazi victims’ alleged abilities.”

  “There’s a lot of circumstantial evidence here,” Horace argued, patting the pile of files in front of him. “Strange thing is that I don’t think they were embellished. They’d isolated three hopefuls during the time between 1946 and 1958, two men and a woman. They’d wasted the first one – tortured him to death with Hitler’s ashes, hoping to reincarnate him. But they had two more at the end.”

  “What happened to them?” Daniel asked.

  “Unknown,” Horace replied, “other than that they were to be taken away by submarine. That was near the end of it all – near the date of the final entry in Mengele’s last notebook.”

  “They were taking them to the beacon,” Daniel concluded. “The final date in Mengele’s notebook was 21 August 1958, about the time Operation Blackfish was executed. They must have nuked the area – and maybe the beacon – to stop them.”

  “We need to get Thompson,” Horace said.

  After a full minute, Sylvia broke the silence. “We need to talk to Captain McHenry. We have to tell Thackett to collect Thompson,” she said.

  Daniel nodded. “I’m going now,” he said, heading for the door. As he exited, his gait accelerated into a jog, and then to a run. He weaved his way down the corridors and around Navy personnel. He just hoped they weren’t too late.

  9

  Thursday, 4 June (10:22 p.m. CST – Baton Rouge)

  “It’ll be a bit a little tight in there,” Adler said as he pointed with a fat finger to the black bag Will carried in his left hand. “What’s that?”

  “Tools,” Will replied. “To extract the storage devices.” He turned to Natalie Tate. “You’ll get a text if I sense trouble.”

  Will made sure the ringer on his phone was turned off and crawled into the trunk of Adler’s BMW 5-series sedan. Adler closed it gently and everything went black. The car rocked as the heavy man got into the driver’s seat and slammed the door.

  Will wondered if Syncorp had increased its security in response to the hit on the CP inmates. He was sure the company was behind the massacre, so they must’ve known about the gang’s plans. According to Adler, outside visitors were no longer allowed on the Syncorp campus, hence the ride in the trunk. He found it odd that they didn’t check the trunks of cars as they went in and out.

  The car’s frame creaked as it went over the speed bumps in the road that ran through Adler’s closed-gate subdivision. A half-minute later, he bounced as the tires rumbled over the guide track of the security gate. He sensed the right turn onto Kenilworth Parkway. Kenilworth led to Perkins Road, where they took another right.

  It was a good thing the trunk was empty: he’d felt every bump along the way, part of which was through unfinished road construction. He followed the bends in the road, and knew they’d arrived at the Syncorp entrance when the car slowed to a gentle halt at the gate. There was a muffled exchange with guard and then the car moved forward onto the facility grounds.

  After less than a minute, they slowed and took a sharp left. A metallic clanking sound along with a jolting bump on the front end, followed by the same on the rear, indicated that they had passed over a gate rail and into the parking facility. The echoes of their squeaking tires inside the building confirmed it.

  After a few turns, they made a sharp left and stopped. The pitch of the engine elevated as Adler shifted it into park. A second later, all was silent, except for the ticking of the cooling engine and exhaust pipes.

  Will breathed heavily and a bead of sweat trickled into his ear. He hadn’t realized how the anxiety had sneaked up on him – he wanted to get the operation moving.

  All was quiet for over two minutes. Was there was a problem? Maybe someone was nearby, and Adler was waiting for them to leave. Another half-minute passed before the driver’s door opened, and the car shifted upward with the reduced weight. The door slammed closed.

  The echoes from Adler’s heels seem to come from all directions as he walked from the side of the car to its rear. Will sensed him standing next to the trunk. What was he waiting for?

  A few seconds later, the clacks of shoes echoed from a distance, and got louder. There were at least two other people out there, maybe more. Will’s heart thumped hard. He was tempted to separate and survey the situation, but decided against it. The footfalls came to a halt at the trunk. He pulled out his phone, the bright screen illuminating the entire trunk. He sent a short text to Natalie: Trouble.

  An instant later, the trunk flew open and Will squinted into bright lights. He held his hand up to shield his eyes, but there were two or three sources, all at different angles so he couldn’t get a look at anyone. A thick hand grabbed his upper arm and yanked him out of the trunk. In the next instant he was face to face with a man that seemed to be more gorilla than human. It was a face he recognized from the Red Box. The top of his right, pig-like ear had a flesh-colored Band-Aid on it.

  The man stepped back and pointed a gun at his chest.

  “How’s that leg doing?” a man asked from behind Will and to the left.

  He recognized the voice, and turned to verify it. It was the man he’d met during his FBI training.

  “Roy,” Will said. “Glad you’re here to help us bring this place down.”

  Roy smiled and shrugged. “Sorry.”

  Will turned to the others. The first face he crossed was Adler’s. He looked into his eyes to see what was there: no fear, but smugness. Adler set him up.

  Next there was a greasy-haired Chinese man in a suit who he did not recognize and, finally, a woman who kept a light on his face. He put up his hand to shield his eyes and g
ot a glimpse of her. It was Natalie Tate.

  Natalie reached into her pocket and pulled out a vibrating phone. She smirked and showed Will the text he’d just messaged.

  Will shook his head. “I guess I now know what happened to Jennings,” he said.

  Natalie glanced at Cho and looked down.

  The Chinese man spoke with a subtle accent. “I am Cho, the new CEO of Syncorp. I am glad you came, Mr. Thompson. We are in need of your services.” The man was a few inches shorter than Will, maybe 5’ 7”, with black hair that was slicked back with some kind of gel. His brown teeth dimmed his wide smile.

  “That’s Dr. Thompson to you,” Will said, “and my services are not available.”

  Cho continued, “It’s a good thing we vet our employees thoroughly,” he said, nodding towards Adler. “Came to us right away when Jennings contacted him.”

  Adler looked at Will and smirked. “Idiot.”

  Will took a step towards Adler, who immediately retreated.

  Roy stepped in, obstructing any further advance. “Let’s not get out of control here.”

  “Lenny,” Cho said and nodded to the gorilla man.

  Lenny nodded and walked to the tailgate of a box truck parked next to Adler’s beamer. He shoved the rear door upward on its tracks, and then reached inside and pulled out a four-foot-long roll of plastic sheet and dropped it onto the painted concrete floor, near a drain. He put on a pair of latex gloves, rolled out the plastic sheet and cut it with a utility knife, and then motioned for Adler to help him unfold it. When they’d finished, the plastic spanned an 8 x 12 foot area with the center of one edge near the drain.

  Will knew what was going on – he spotted the saw in the back of the truck. They were going to kill him and then dismember his body. He was going to have to separate while standing – his body was going to take a fall. He’d take out the gorilla first, and then Roy. He’d have to improvise with Cho and Natalie. He’d save Adler for last.

  Lenny pulled a handgun out of his coat and threaded a silencer on its barrel. He then turned and shot Adler in the middle of the forehead. Adler remained wide-eyed and standing. Lenny pushed him on the shoulder, and Adler tipped like a tall tree and landed squarely in the center of the sheet. Lenny stood over Adler’s twitching body and delivered two more bullets to his head. The shots were silenced, but still loud.

  The thug put the gun back in his jacket, jumped into the back of the truck, and pulled out a wet-dry vacuum cleaner and set it next to the plastic sheet, which was already pooling with blood. He ran an extension cord from an outlet in the back of the truck to the murder scene, and then returned for an electric knife and a small handsaw. When he came back, he set down the tools and started undressing Adler’s corpse.

  “Now,” Cho said, “while my specialist prepares Mr. Adler’s corpse to be dissolved in acid, let’s talk business.”

  “Not interested,” Will replied. He was going to take them all out.

  “I’m afraid you don’t have much of a choice,” Cho replied.

  Will nodded toward mess. “If you think that can sway me, you’re mistaken.”

  “We’re not going to threaten you, Mr. Thompson – not yet,” Cho explained with a haughty expression. “You’re much too valuable to us alive. We expect you to cooperate for other reasons.”

  “I don’t think so.”

  “Perhaps you’ll cooperate to save your friends,” Cho said, smirking now.

  “What friends?”

  “Denise Walker and Jonathan McDougal, of course,” Cho replied. “Two of my operatives are tailing them right now.”

  Will looked over to Roy.

  Roy confirmed Cho’s statement with a nod.

  Jonathan and Denise were careful and resourceful, but he didn’t know how they’d fare against professionals set on assassinating them.

  Maybe it was best to let it play out for a while. He had Cho in his sights: the CEO of Syncorp was a primary target. But maybe there were people above him – maybe he’d have a chance to get everyone at once.

  10

  Thursday, 4 June (11:28 p.m. EST – Antarctica)

  As Daniel ran through the bay towards the North Dakota, he thought about his two lawyer friends in Chicago. If foreign governments already knew what Daniel and his cohorts had just figured out, then Jonathan and Denise were in great danger, as was William Thompson.

  He slowed as he went over the ramp from the slip to the deck of the sub, and then increased pace again until he got to the hatch. He climbed down and weaved his way through the narrow corridors and around crewmembers who flattened themselves against the walls when they saw him coming. He spotted Lieutenant Diggs, and asked for Captain McHenry.

  Diggs informed him that McHenry had gone to rest in his quarters.

  Daniel insisted he bring him to the Captain.

  A minute later, Diggs knocked on McHenry’s door.

  There was rustling behind the door – as if the Captain was getting dressed – and grumbling.

  Diggs looked to Daniel. “I hope this is important.”

  Daniel nodded.

  The door opened a crack, and McHenry poked out his head and squinted through reddened eyes. “What’s going on, Parsons?” he asked, his expression changing from annoyed to concerned.

  “Can we talk in the planning room – soon?” Daniel asked.

  McHenry nodded. “Be there in 10 minutes,” he said and closed the door.

  Daniel headed to the mess to get coffee and something to eat. He was sitting at a table organizing his thoughts when Sylvia and Horace joined him.

  “Five minutes in the ready room,” Daniel said and took a bite of scrambled eggs. “You guys should eat something.”

  Horace nodded and left to get something, but Sylvia stayed.

  “Do you think you might be moving too quickly on this?” she asked.

  The thought had already gone through his mind a dozen times. “I could be wrong,” he admitted. “But if I’m right, this is a race. And if we don’t move now, we lose. And if we lose … well, I don’t know.” Existential implications. “What do we lose if I am wrong?”

  Sylvia shrugged. “Credibility?”

  Horace returned with juice and two nutrition bars. He gave one to Sylvia.

  Daniel led the way to the ready room. Diggs was already there. A minute later, McHenry entered and closed the door, and they all sat around the small table.

  “What’s going on?” McHenry asked.

  Horace and Sylvia looked to Daniel to start the conversation.

  “We think we may know what’s going on here,” Daniel started.

  “The purpose of the base?” McHenry asked.

  “Yes, and the purpose of the research – the real purpose of Red Falcon,” Daniel said, his words picking up speed as he spoke.

  “Let’s hear it,” McHenry said.

  “This base was built to torture people until they acquired the ability to separate their souls from their bodies,” Daniel said, just spilling it. He knew McHenry was well aware that something heinous was going on, but from his expression, he knew it caught him off guard.

  “It was also the purpose of the American Red Wraith project,” Horace added. “You know, the Compressed Punishment program that had recently been exposed.”

  McHenry shook his head but remained silent.

  “This was no great surprise to us,” Daniel said. “We knew all of that before we got here.”

  “Why separate the soul from the body?” Diggs asked.

  “Separation is a unique state of existence,” Daniel explained. “In this state, the soul can interact with the physical world in peculiar ways.”

  “To what purpose?” McHenry asked.

  “We originally thought they’d been trying to create super-soldiers or super-spies,” Daniel explained. “You see, the physical interaction is expected to be quite powerful. Also, the soul can presumably pass through walls undetected. You can see the utility in this ability for a spy.”

  McHe
nry nodded. “Of course. But why expend such resources on the very slim chance that this was even possible?”

  “Because it had nothing to do with spies,” Daniel answered. “The Americans never figured that out.”

  “Then what?” McHenry asked.

  “The White Stone gave instructions on how to find, enter, and activate the beacon,” Sylvia said.

  “Enter?” McHenry asked.

  “Yes,” Daniel replied. “But, the problem is that the beacon is made from an impenetrable material – there’s no known way inside. No conventional way.”

  McHenry’s eyes widened and he nodded. “But a separated soul could get in.”

  “Precisely,” Horace said.

  “We know that the Red Wraith project produced one subject who had supposedly acquired the ability to separate,” Daniel explained. “The Chinese are currently pursuing him, and they’re looking in the right places. Finding the base is one important objective for them; they probably want the White Stone and any other useful information. But they know enough already to be on the continent looking for the base, and are in the Antarctic seas positioning themselves near the beacon. They know what we know – probably more.”

  “What do you want me to do?” McHenry asked.

  “We need to get a message back to the CIA – to our director,” Horace said. “He must find this man before the Chinese collect him.”

  “Or before the Russians do,” Daniel added. “We need him in protective custody. If the Chinese get him first, they’ll bring him to the beacon.”

  McHenry shook his head in what seemed to be both skepticism and confusion. “What is the threat? So far, the thing has only made noise.”

  “It’s alien to our current technology,” Horace said. “Who knows what it was meant to do.”

  McHenry sighed, closed his eyes, and nodded reluctantly. “If you’re telling me it’s imperative that we get this message out, then I will arrange it. But it will mean that we have to pack up and leave. Sending a message from here will reveal the base.”

  “We can take everything we need,” Daniel said. “We’ll take the White Stone, all of the important books and files.”