One of these opened and a man stepped out. He was wearing a dark blue suit with a matching tie. Israel immediately noted the shoulder holster under the man’s jacket. He’d seen enough of them working the crime beat and took an involuntary step back. The newcomer held his hands out slightly and said, “Mr. Trent, my name is John Brindley. I’m to make sure you have everything you need and escort you to Mrs. Warburton when you’re ready.”
Israel looked him over carefully. He was a white guy with sand- colored hair that was cut short against his scalp. They were about the same age, Israel guessed, but John carried himself in that casually aware way that Israel had seen on every career cop he’d ever met. The guy was relaxed and had an easy smile on his face. “I swear, man,” he said, his tone suddenly more friendly than formal. “It’s all good.”
“No, John, it isn’t. Where are we?”
“This is Mrs. Warburton’s Georgia estate. We call it Silversky.”
“Georgia? Last night I was in California.”
John nodded. “They flew you back while you were… y’know.”
“Oh, yeah, I know.” Israel wrinkled his brow. “Silversky. That’s a weird name for a house.”
John shrugged. “It’s a really big house with an even bigger yard. Truth be told, I think the name’s a little silly. I mean, when is the sky ever silver?”
Israel nodded. “Where’s Erin? Is she here?”
“Yes, she woke up about an hour ago. She’s on the back patio with Mrs. Warburton right now. Would you like to join them?”
Israel nodded.
John gestured down the hall with one hand. “This way, please.”
They walked, side-by-side, in silence with John gesturing one way or another when they came to intersections. Israel had been right about the house- it was enormous. The walk took them through rooms and hallways furnished in varying styles and festooned with expensive-looking furniture, paintings, and sculptures. At one point they passed an open door that revealed a library that was easily the size of the house Israel had grown up in. Eventually, they came to what looked to be a massive foyer with dual staircases sweeping upwards to a second level. Perfectly polished white marble floors with veins of creamy gold running through them were at Israel’s feet. In the center of the foyer was a large fountain. A series of metal orbs, each a little larger than a softball had been stacked into a pyramid shape. Water flowed from the top in a short, thick column and splashed down over the pyramid. It filled the space with a gentle, relaxing sound.
John stopped here and pointed at a wall of windows that was thirty or so feet away. “Through those doors is the back patio,” he said. “Mrs. Warburton and Miss Simms are already out there.”
“Miss who?” Israel asked.
“Erin Simms. The woman you were found with?”
Israel mentally kicked himself. “Yeah, right. Never caught her last name.”
John nodded. “I’ll bet,” he said. “I read the after action reports on what you went through. Mr. Trent, do you mind if I give you a tip?”
“Please.”
“Mrs. Warburton will be able to explain a lot. The thing is, there is a lot to explain and most of it will be…strange. Be patient and, most importantly, keep an open mind.”
“I’ll try. Thanks.”
John nodded to him, wished him a good day, and the two men parted. Israel said, “Hey, John?”
John turned back. “Yes, sir?”
“Drop the ‘sir’ stuff, will ya? My name is Israel.”
John smiled. “Good to meet you, Israel. Remember what I said.”
Israel waved his thanks and walked over to the doors John had pointed out. They were large French doors- easily ten feet tall- that opened onto a huge two level patio with a concrete duplicate of the fountain that decorated the foyer. The late morning sky was blue and bright with just a few brush-strokes of white clouds breaking up the azure expanse. He let his eyes adjust and inhaled crisp air that was scented with honeysuckle and just a hint of chlorine from the Olympic-sized pool he could see spread out beyond the patio. Past that, there was a massive yard that ended in a thick tree line of pine and oak. Everything was green and lush.
Israel descended to the lower patio level and found Erin seated at a table that was liberally spread with breads, meats, cheeses, fruit, and a variety of pitchers with assorted juices and teas. Across from Erin sat a silver-haired woman in a black dress. She was wearing heavy-framed eyeglasses with a silver chain that dangled from the temples and looped around the back of her neck. Her dark eyes met Israel’s as he reached the bottom of the stairs and she smiled tightly. Within her gaze, Israel suddenly felt as though he’d been measured and assessed. He couldn’t say he cared for the feeling, but he understood. From her tight smile to her soft but severely lined face, Israel could tell that this was a woman who was accustomed to being in charge. The fact that she was sitting in a heavy, black wheelchair did nothing to detract from her presence. She sat in that wheelchair like a queen on her throne.
Erin rose and came over to him. She was dressed in dark slacks and a loose, white blouse. The conservative dress contrasted oddly with her metallic red hair color. She gave him a fast, awkward hug, and said, “I’m glad you’re finally up.”
“Me too. Are you okay?”
She nodded. “Yeah. If I see that prick that shot me again, though…”
“You and me both. Is that our hostess?”
“Yeah. Mrs. Warburton. Not much of a talker, though.” Erin said it louder than she needed to. Israel noticed the tiniest hint of a smile flash across the older woman’s lips as she sipped her iced tea.
Something about that smile made Israel’s jaw tighten. He looked the woman over for a moment and tried to focus past his simmering anger. “You know,” he said, “I had to shoot someone last night. I’m not sure if he was beyond help or if he was curable but he was trying to hurt someone who was trying to help me so I killed him. I’ve never done that before. I think he was part of whoever drugged me and stuck me in that freaky torture dungeon or whatever it was, so I try and take solace in that, but I’ll never close my eyes again and not see what I did. Then, the people who helped me- sorry, helped us,” he gestured toward Erin, “electrocuted us, drugged us, and then brought us here, which is, I think, the showcase home for the one-percenters. It’s been a weird, scary couple of days, Mrs. Warburton, and while I totally appreciate Matt and those other guys getting us out of the situation we were in, I might actually appreciate it more if you could try just a little harder to hide your amusement because, lady, you’re the only one laughing.”
Israel finished speaking and realized he’d crossed the distance to Warburton with clenched fists and jaw. His belly was tight and quivered slightly. Warburton sipped her tea and held up a hand with a slight shake of her head. Israel looked over his shoulder and saw two men at the top of the patio stairs, their jackets open and hands resting on holstered collapsible batons strapped to their belts.
“I assure you, Mr. Trent, I was not laughing at your circumstances, but merely Miss Simm’s attempt to draw me into your conversation. Please, sit and partake. We can talk while you eat; you must be starving by now.”
He was hungry, but more than that he realized he was standing over an old woman in a wheelchair like he was about to punch her. He took a deep breath, stepped back, and said, “I’m sorry, ma’am.”
She waved him toward a chair. “Think nothing of it. After what you’ve been through I can hardly hold it against you. Try the croissants; they’re particularly light this morning.”
Israel sat down. A woman in a gray uniform appeared and poured him a cup of coffee. He declined the cream and sugar, as well as her assistance in preparing him a plate of food. Warburton thanked the woman and gently dismissed her. By the time Israel was taking his first bite, he was alone with Warburton and Erin.
“You have questions,” Warburton said.
“Yeah,” Erin said. “A fuck-ton.”
Warburton wrinkled
her nose slightly at Erin’s language, but said nothing. Israel chewed thoughtfully and watched her. She was right- the croissants were delicious.
“Who are you, Mrs. Warburton? What gives you the right to abduct people?” he asked.
“Yeah,” Erin said, “we’re Americans. You can’t just do shit like this.”
“Quite the contrary, Miss Simms. The fact that you’ve been abducted twice in the last ten days amply proves that your nationality has no bearing on your vulnerability to human predators.” She slid a small, gray file folder out from under a napkin. She tapped the title tab with a perfectly manicured finger. It bore Erin’s name. “You, I think, should know that better than most.”
Erin was suddenly on her feet, and the table rattled with her movement, splashing Israel’s coffee out of the cup and onto the pristine tablecloth. “What the fuck is this?” she snapped. “That’s an invasion of privacy, you-”
Israel stood and took Erin by the arm, cutting off her rant. He led her a few feet away and said, “You’ve got to calm down.”
“Why? That bitch has a file on me. What the hell gives her the right to do that?”
“I don’t know,” he said. “Probably nothing, but we’re not going to find out anything if you can’t control yourself. We need answers, Erin, not confrontation.”
She looked back at Warburton with seething eyes. “I just want to go the fuck home. Don’t you?”
“Yeah,” he said. “Let’s find out what it’s going to take to make that happen. Let’s find out why we were taken in the first place. Okay?”
Erin nodded. “Fine. I’ll shut up.”
Israel shook his head. “No,” he said. “You’ve got as much right to talk as I do. Don’t shut up. You might spot something I don’t. Just try to keep calm when you speak. Offending her and starting an argument won’t get us anywhere.”
Israel noticed she was looking at him with an expression of subtle surprise, as though he’d told her something she hadn’t ever heard before. “We good?” he asked.
She nodded. “I’ll try to keep it together.”
They returned to the table and sat back down. Mrs. Warburton continued sipping her tea as though nothing had happened.
“Do you have one of those with my name on it?” Israel asked.
“Oh, yes,” she said. “Israel Aloysius Trent. Thirty-three, native of Illinois, only child, one surviving parent residing in an Alzheimer’s treatment facility, master’s degree in journalism with a minor in psychology, decent grades, no criminal record beyond a minor vandalism charge in college. Shall I go on?”
“No, you made your point.”
“There’s nothing in mine you need to read out loud,” Erin said.
“No,” Warburton said, her eyes softening. “I suppose there isn’t.”
“So you know us,” Israel said. “Who the hell are you?”
“That’s a little more complicated an answer than you might think, I’m afraid, as I tend to wear many hats. The most relevant to you, I suppose, is my role as CEO to an organization known as The Sentry Group.”
“And that is?” Israel said.
“Again, complicated. To answer your questions, Mr. Trent, it might help to explain the group that abducted you in the first place.”
“All right,” he said, “do that.”
“They are a very secretive organization. One that conducts illegal research on humans and ignores human rights in pursuit of their studies.”
“They have a name?” Erin asked.
“Yes. They call themselves Progenius Interiorius Tenebrius.”
Israel thought about it and said, “Progeny of the Inner Dark?”
Warburton raised an eyebrow and said, “Correct, though it is often misconstrued as Children of the Inner Dark. You know Latin?”
“I used to help an old girlfriend study. She was a languages major.”
“What kind of name is that?” Erin said.
Warburton shrugged. “I’ve no idea. That’s the only name I’ve ever heard them called by.”
Israel finished his breakfast and said, “Sounds like a terrorist group.”
“Not directly, but they often contract out.”
“How so?”
Warburton poured herself another glass of iced tea. “Equipment mostly. Weapons, explosives- anything that kills. No cause is too extreme, and they funnel the money they make into their illegal research. Research that includes genetic manipulation.”
Israel studied her face just as she studied his. She seemed to be waiting for him to pick up the thread, so he said, “The squidheads. That’s what Matt called them.”
Warburton smiled. The expression looked good, but somehow foreign on her lined face. “Matthew would. Yes, though we tend to call them Corrupted. That’s what the Progeny do to their subjects. Corruption at the genetic level.”
“What we saw,” Erin said, “I’m not a college graduate like Izzy here, but I didn’t see anything that looked like any kind of laboratory.”
“But you saw only a small part of the facility, Miss Simms, if I’m to believe reports. I assure you there were research facilities.”
Israel thought back. He remembered the room with the bodies split open, tentacles writhing, a stone table. “What we saw was more like a temple, Mrs. Warburton. With a stone altar.”
She met his gaze and there was the slightest twitch to her eye when she said, “I am unable to explain that. Nor the light you profess to have seen. I can only say that you were in an incredibly stressful situation and still under the influence of the narcotics you had been given.”
“Hallucination?” Erin said. “Oh, bull-” She bit back the rest of her statement and looked at Israel.
“Okay,” he said, “fine. Let’s assume that you’re not jerking us around. Why us? Were we snatched at random? And what does a rich old woman such as yourself have to do with getting in the way of these Progeny people? You don’t strike me as law enforcement.”
“Oh, I’m not but The Sentry Group does work with different government agencies on a fairly regular basis. To answer your first question, though, we actually don’t believe your abduction was random. That’s why you’re here.”
This time Israel was silent and waited for her to continue. He thought he detected the hint of a smile before she said, “As I said, the Progeny have become deeply invested in genetics research over the last few decades-”
“Wait,” Israel said. “Decades?”
“Oh, yes. They are a very old organization. As I was saying, their interest in genetics has moved to the forefront of their efforts. What you saw were failed attempts at creating genetically modified humans who were suited for combat and military operations. Apparently the procedure got out of hand and infected the staff at the facility you were being held in.”
“The armbands,” Israel said.
“That’s as close as they come to a uniform. Easily removed and hidden should the need arise.”
“You still haven’t said why they took us.”
“We aren’t sure. You were two among a group of thirteen that were taken. Each of you is from a different part of the country, with different backgrounds, nationalities, professions, lifestyles- no obvious connection between any of you that we can determine. More to the point, most of you had someone who would notice your absence. This tells me that each of you was targeted rather than chosen at random since the Progeny could have much more easily rounded up thirteen members of Oceanside’s homeless population if all they needed were warm bodies. The question then becomes ‘How and why were you each chosen?’ What makes you special?”
Israel looked at Erin. “Anything special about you?” he asked
She shook her head.
Israel said, “You’ve got our lives in those little folders of yours, Mrs. Warburton. As far as I know, we’re pretty average.”
The older woman nodded. “Indeed. That’s why I think that your uniqueness lies deeper. I think there is something in your genetic profile that ma
de you valuable to the Progeny and I’m hoping you will help me discover what.”
“How?”
“Remain here for a time. A few days. I have fully qualified and licensed personnel on staff who can conduct the necessary tests that can give us what we need: blood, CAT scans, MRIs, that kind of thing. Nothing too invasive. I will, of course, compensate you handsomely for your time and assure your safety throughout the process.”
“I have a job,” Israel said.
“Not anymore. You’ve been gone without a word for nearly two weeks, Mr. Trent. You were let go.”
A series of musical notes started playing. Warburton picked up a black smart-phone and checked the caller ID. She said “Excuse me” and operated the small joystick in the handle of the chair to roll a short distance away before taking the call.
Israel leaned in to Erin and said, “What do you think?”
“I think it must be hard to shovel that much bullshit from a wheelchair,” she replied.
Israel smiled. “Maybe. But her answers fit the things we saw.”
Erin shook her head. “This shit can’t be real.”
“It does seem unbelievable. If I were just hearing the story and not living it, I’d agree. Here we are, though.”
“She’s holding back, Izzy. I don’t trust the bitch. Can’t say I hate the idea of a payday, though. Especially if it’s just for some blood tests.”
Israel started to comment on the shortening of his name but let it go. “Back in the dungeon- I don’t know what else to call it- we promised to watch each other’s backs until we were out. Somehow, I think we need to extend that promise.”
Erin met his eyes and nodded. “I’m in if you are,” she said.
Warburton was rolling back to the table, the phone still pressed to her ear. “Thank you, Mr. Stone,” she said as she came to a halt. “Make the arrangements immediately, please.” She ended the call and placed the phone slowly on the table. She looked up with a strangely worn expression, the confidant queen demeanor replaced by someone who looked like she wanted nothing more than to rest.
Awakened Page 4
