by John Carrick
Ross leaned forward. "As you so elegantly put it, we are in the wind. Per protocol, run backups every 12 hours, full satellite transmission."
Snow and King groaned in annoyance but nodded.
"It's just a few days," Ross said.
"What are you going to do with Reid and the lab?" King asked.
"We're gonna double them. We'll put one in the stratosphere and drop a mirror to Davey Jones."
"You can never be too redundant, huh?" Snow asked.
"It's served us so far," Ross said. “Reid is getting the local decanters loaded and prepped, we're seven deep each.”
"But those still need six months to cook?" King asked.
“And it does us no good if Fox or Stanwood nuke Angel City,” Snow said.
“That is not going to happen,” Ross said. “What about BDU’s. Do you have any that are mission ready?”
“I’m on my last legs,” Snow answered.
“I’ve got another,” King replied.
"I’m down to one myself, and it looks like I might have to use it tonight. If Stanwood has that," Ross gestured to the player. “I know he’s going to pay me a visit soon. May as well give him a show.”
"I'll shadow you, if you want," Snow offered.
“Naw, let them have their fun. If they don't show their hand, we've got nothing, and no idea exactly who is after us.
"We know exactly who is after us," King said.
"Fox is pretty sure Senator Miller is pulling Stanwood's strings. He wants to get the roots with the weeds," Ross said.
"We should go scorched earth on these idiots. Epsilon is completely their fault in the first place," Snow said. "They never should have been testing it on prisoners. They're lucky a big crater was all they got. It could have been a lot worse."
"If he didn't make a point of sticking it in their faces every chance he got, we wouldn't be in this mess," King said.
"Yeah, well, we wouldn't be backed up on interstellar satellites and you wouldn’t have a clone on ice either," Ross pointed out.
"To-may-toe, To-mah-toe," King replied.
"You know you love it," Ross smiled.
"I live for it, which is why I agree with the Captain. We should take the fight to them. All Enemies, Foreign and Domestic."
"Be careful what you wish for." Ross sipped at the cooling tea. "Oh! One other little problem; we still have no idea Who the residential sleeper is, and after the last few calls we caught, it's clear they might have someone inside."
“What do you mean might?” King asked.
"So, Epsilon might have been sabotage after all?" Snow asked.
"No. That's not the issue. Reid is sure there is a local asset, disguised as a civilian, living on your block." Ross shook his head. "Sorry, on the doctor's block."
"Oh come on," King said. "The most logical candidate is that freak living right down the street. He was assigned to Bergstrom's unit. There is no way that's coincidence."
"Well, it's damn clumsy, if he is. It's completely obvious," Ross said.
“If who is?” Snow asked.
“Martin Dunkirk.” King answered. “He’s nightshade.”
“As in a lethal plant? But he has three kids," Snow said. "He's been living there almost as long as we have."
"Almost, " King said. “And there may be more than one.”
Ross touched his nose and then pointed to King.
"Dunkirk was a battlefield surgeon, and his record is totally sealed," King said. "Why would a surgeon's record be sealed?"
"Half of Bergstrom's unit was medical," Snow said. “They’re all sealed, just like us.”
"The other half were well known wet-workers," Ross added.
"And now one of those freaks is living right down the street from you? That is no coincidence," King said.
"Well, the DOD unit, Faulkner's team, I think the leak is somewhere over there, but Fox and Croswell swear those guys are clean," Snow said.
"Sounds like time for a good old fashioned mole hunt," King suggested.
"I just don't want my kids getting hurt," Snow said.
"I don't know how you do it," King said.
"It's not that hard," Snow said. "You ran doubles for a while, didn't you?"
"Yeah, but I hated it. I never knew who I was in the morning."
“If you were a parent, you’d understand.” Snow picked at her food.
“Anyhow, I gotta be getting back,” King said. “If they come for me, you know what I’m going to do.”
“Don’t make it too easy for them,” Snow replied.
“Ha. Very funny,” King said.
“Really make them work for it,” Snow laughed.
“Not like I haven’t done a thousand times,” King said.
“Right.” Ross and Snow said together.
“You should go out the back,” Ross suggested. “They’re only looking for me.”
“Are you kidding me? I’m staying on this,” Snow said.
“Fox wants you on double over-watch tonight. I got this. And if they really are coming, we absolutely can’t afford to let you get pinched. You’re our secret ace.”
“Don’t bullshit me,” Snow answered.
Ross smiled, “Stow it, Marine.”
“Yes, sir.” Snow replied, laughing.
“Now, get outta here, the both of you.” Ross gestured toward the backdoor.
King and Snow exited the booth and made their way to the back of the restaurant. As Snow reached the door, she and King set their opacity to zero and became invisible.
The door opened, and Ross, capable of vision in the infrared spectrum, watched his comrades levitate up into the night sky. He turned back to his noodles and took his time finishing them.
Chapter 9 – Matt Bell
In the glass-walled home across the canyon from Dr. Fox, Captain Faulkner designated Chief Warrant Officer Lee and Sergeant Buckner to suit up and intercept the mercenaries. The other agents at nearby monitors called out relevant conditions as Buckner and Lee pulled on their armor.
Fully equipped, the two soldiers stepped out onto the main deck of the home. Lee snapped down his visor and triggered the up-linked displays and data feeds. With the enhanced optics, they could see the enemy across a dozen spectrums as they moved toward the Fox residence.
Lee and Buckner crossed the deck, strapped in and released their ropes. They vanished over the railing, moments later reaching the ground, several hundred feet below. The canyon floor was spotted with homes. Backyards overflowed onto narrow strips of unclaimed municipal property, all of which butted up against the forest preserve. Lights were out, most families fast asleep.
Inside the command post, on the flickering screens, Faulkner and Malvinas watched the images of Lee and Buckner as they chased down the interlopers, closing the gap as they came down the hillside. The group of intruders had reached the other side. As the ground became steeper, they slowed.
Captain Faulkner stood next to Otto as the surrounding agents relayed details to him. From their place in the command center, the two men could see nothing through the glass walls. It was the monitors that tracked the participants from dozens of angles and across several frequencies.
The mercenaries continued to advance on the Fox residence, oblivious of their imminent discovery by Lee and Buckner.
Captain Faulkner cracked his knuckles in anticipation.
Bell returned to the command post from his cigarette break.
Faulkner sniffed the air, burnt oil and carbon, the signature of a recently fired weapon.
Bell raised his handgun and shot Captain Faulkner in the face. The suppressor reduced the sound to a cough. As Faulkner's men pulled their weapons, Bell shot each of them in turn.
Surrounded by dying agents, Otto licked his lips in satisfaction, right on schedule.
Bell then raised the weapon on his employer, who had just enough time for expressions of both shock and indignation to flash across his face before Bell fired three times into his chest. Otto fell.
I
n the kitchen, Bell opened cabinets. He grabbed a bottle of lighter fluid and jerked the stove from the wall. He disconnected the gas line and opened the valve.
In the living room, Bell doused the bodies and equipment with the fuel. He balled up a piece of paper and covered it. He knelt beside Otto as the large man choked on his own blood.
Bell stuffed the paper into Otto's mouth and lit an edge. The flames ran across the chairman’s oil soaked skin and clothes. The fire engulfed the handmade silk and leapt to the floor to dash across the room, up the legs of the couches and surveillance terminals.
Soon the entire post was alight.
Bell was halfway down the hill before the gas bleeding out of the kitchen reached the living room. The sound wasn't an explosion, but rather a whoosh, like a jet engine igniting, illuminating the canyon.
Finished with his noodles, Ross paid for the meals, and strolled through the front door, out onto the street.
The agents hadn’t even tried to blend in. As Ross exited the restaurant, their heads rose in unison. In the crowd of people, all hustling to get home for the evening meal, only they were standing still. As he stepped out, only they noticed him.
Ross smiled.
He stepped into the busy thoroughfare and made his way toward the closest man.
The Agent stepped forward, raising a hand as Ross approached.
Ross closed the distance with a quick blast to the agent’s throat. He collapsed toward the nearest building.
Ross continued to move with the crowd as the two following men rushed to their comrade.
Once out of sight, Ross took the first corner into an alley and burst into a sprint. A block later, he glanced behind, only one man followed.
Ross made another corner, and used a dumpster to jump up to a fire escape. The agent didn’t round the corner until Ross was cresting the three-story rooftop.
Ross sprinted for the far side of the roof. He quickly found a sign he could use to get back down to street level and his last view of the rooftop revealed his pursuer coming up on the other side.
The agent fired twice, but Ross was already below his line of sight. He jumped from the sign to the top of a van, and rolled from the vehicle as the agent appeared above him.
As he sprinted down the street-level walk, the massive traffic canyon yawned to Ross’s left. Vehicles whizzed by, just a few feet away, six thousand feet above the surface of the Earth.
Ross reached a taxi stand and heard the agent shouting into a communicator behind him. Ross climbed into the back seat of the first cab. He gave the driver fifty bucks, and staying low, climbed out of the driver’s side door. “Just drive till it runs out,” he said, closing the hatch. Ross slipped back to the second waiting cab, and climbed in as the first taxi pulled away.
“Where to, mister?” the driver asked.
Ross handed the man a bill and said, “Just sit right here for a bit.”
“Your money,” the driver replied.
Ross watched as the agent sprinted up the row of taxis and predictably climbed into the first one, his.
Ross held his weapon on the winded fed.
“Oh, what the shit?” the agent heaved.
“You tell me?” Ross answered.
“You’re not going to shoot me,” the agent said.
“Why not?”
“I’m a Federal Agent.”
“You got any ID?” Ross asked.
The agent rolled his eyes.
“How about a warrant?” Ross asked.
The agent remained mute.
“Out,” Ross said.
“This is me; getting out.” The agent opened the door and climbed out.
Ross fired, the bullet ripped into the federal agent’s knee.
As he fell backward, he closed the door, saving Ross the trouble of doing it himself.
Ross gave the driver a destination and the agent had enough time to punch the window before he went down and the taxi pulled out.
Ross was impressed with the kid’s stamina, despite the wound to his leg, he managed to keep his feet for a few seconds: impressive.
Chapter 10 – Not So Safe House
The cab landed in a rundown section of the industrial district. Ross hadn’t taken any great pains to see that they weren’t followed, but he hadn’t spotted anyone either. Ross tipped the driver handsomely and the cab pulled out, accelerating into the darkening Angel City sky.
Ross noticed no drifting transports. No one seemed to be watching or following, and he proceeded along the parking ledge until he made a turn, taking a route deeper into the district.
He soon reached an unmarked door on an unnamed street. It was, Ross admitted to himself, more of an alley, really. He hadn’t caught even the slightest hint of a tail.
Ross reached out to the knob. and it turned under his grasp, already unlocked. He opened it and stepped inside.
Even in the darkened apartment, he recognized National Intelligence Director Stanwood. He stood with his deputy, Von Kalt and a third agent.
An unseen man hit Ross in the head with what felt like a brick, but was most likely a handgun.
When he woke, he discovered he’d been duct-taped to a chair. Von Kalt was lightly slapping his cheek. Stanwood stood nearby.
Ross laughed, snapped the tape securing his right arm and grabbed Von Kalt by the throat. With a mighty effort, he head-butted the deputy director in the face, breaking his nose.
An electrical jolt to the base of his skull stopped Ross cold.
The duct tape was replaced with metal cuffs, fished from Ross’s own gear in the safe house. This time he was splashed with water, from well outside of arm’s reach.
Stanwood spoke. “If you think your friends are going to save you, think again.”
“I’m not the one who needs saving,” Ross answered.
Stanwood produced an arrest warrant and pointed to Ross’s name. “You see that? Kelton Ross! That’s your name right there. So instead of wasting everyone’s time, why don’t we just jump ahead to the part where you tell me what I want to know.”
Ross spit at Stanwood.
Stanwood nodded to the agent standing behind the major and another electric jolt was delivered to his wet frame.
“Fuck you,” Ross answered.
Von Kalt stepped forward with a left jab, followed by a haymaker of a right, catching Ross square on the chin.
Ross heard Von Kalt’s fist crack. The sharp intake of breath confirmed a cracked knuckle, at the least.
He laughed. “Okay, okay. I’ll tell you anything you want to know. You guys are so tough.”
Another jolt of electricity to his spine, prolonged this time.
Ross pushed the energy into his wrists; using the taser to fight the cuffs, maybe loosen them. He laughed the whole way through.
Stanwood gestured for the taser agent to step back. “Cut his shirt off.”
Von Kalt, nursing a sprained finger from punching Ross’s hard head, handed Stanwood his huge tactical buck knife.
Stanwood rolled his eyes but took the knife.
“Here’s what I don’t understand,” he said, as he cut the big man’s shirt off. “You’re a decorated veteran. They still tell stories about you at Quantico. You’re the knight in shining armor, rescued Ex-President Stagwell’s daughter single-handed. Took three bullets on that one; didn’t you? You’re a goddamn legend,” Stanwood said.
He finished with the shredded shirt and stepped back. “But what is this?” he asked, pointing to a spot on Ross’s stomach. “I read your file. You were shot here, here and here. But there’re no scars.”
Stanwood drew his pistol and fired, the lead round ripping into Ross’s stomach.
Ross coughed. “He was farther back.”
“Nice tattoo, by the way,” Stanwood said, admiring the ink covering Ross’s left shoulder. “There’s nothing about any tattoos in your file. How could a Major in the US Marine Corps get something like that redacted from his file? I wonder.”
Acros
s the room, Stanwood raised the gun and pointed to Ross’s tattoo. “Tell us what’s up with your buddy, or I’m going to have to have that taken back to the lab, for further investigation. I mean it is clearly evidence of something.”
“My buddy?” Ross asked.
Stanwood pulled out his own audio player and played Dr. Fox’s conversation with Dr. Te.
“Terillium can be detonated,” came Dr. Fox’s voice.
Stanwood looped it.
“Terillium can be detonated,” Fox said, over and over.
Stanwood stopped the player and stooped to Ross’s eye level. “Why don’t you tell me about this latest episode of treason?”
Ross said nothing.
“As we speak, federal officers are raiding the good doctor’s home.”
“Then what do you need with me?” Ross asked.
Stanwood looked at his smoking weapon.
“Ahhhh, you didn’t get a warrant on him did you? Are you going to call it some sort of ‘training mission’ when it all goes south? Or you hoping your agents don’t finger you when Fox gets a hold of them?”
“You’re right. The Attorney General refused to sign the warrant, but that’s just a temporary delay. I will take possession of the Micronix within the next few hours, and drop it in a deep dark hole. Then you and your gang of thugs will never threaten this Republic again.”
Ross spit out a mouthful of blood. “You’re the threat, Stanwood. And now that I know it’s you behind all of this, I will see you dead.”
“Ahhh therein lies the rub, Major. I’m not acting alone. And besides, threatening a federal officer is an act of treason, a capital crime, even for a Marine Corps Officer.”
“You can’t hurt me,” Ross said.
Stanwood smiled and handed Von Kalt the knife.
Von Kalt set down the ice he’d been holding on his damaged hand and took the knife. He flexed the hand, but he didn’t have the necessary mobility, as it had swollen up nicely.
“I guess I’ll just have to do this with my left then,” Von Kalt said. “Too bad for you, chum.”
“Do your worst, Sally,” Ross taunted.
Von Kalt set about removing Ross’s tattoo with the knife.
