by Nick Svolos
“Well, that went better than expected,” Dawson said as he closed the door behind us.
“Yeah. What’s next? Gonna set up a sting or something? Think you can find this Sledge guy?”
“Probably not. I don’t have anyone set up to go undercover. I could turn it over to Narcotics, but that’s not what we’re being paid for. Are you publishing anything on this?”
“Not if it’s an ongoing investigation. I’ll hold off until you’re done, as long as you’re working on it.”
“You’re a good guy, Conway. I appreciate your help. We might be able to stop this ‘cause of what you did. Which makes things tough on me, because I have to tell you to stay the hell away from this thing.”
I kind of expected something like this, but I wasn’t about to back off. Hell, the story was just starting to get interesting. “Come on, Dawson, you know I can’t do that. I’ll be happy to co-operate or stay out of your way, whatever you need, but this is still my story. I can’t just walk away.”
He shook his head sadly. “Yeah, I figured you’d say that. You’re putting me in a situation, here. I can’t have you poking around in this thing. You aren’t a cop. You make a wrong move, ask the wrong question, you could blow the whole thing, and these guys get away. I can’t have that.”
“What are you gonna do? Arrest me?” It came out more argumentative than I wanted it to. I don’t take well to being told I can’t do something.
Dawson fixed me with that hard, cop glare. “If I have to. It’s called ‘interfering with a police investigation’. I don’t want to do that, though. Let’s see if we can reach an accommodation that works for both of us. What if I offered you a side-gig as a consultant for this case?”
“Wh-what?”
“Hah!” Dawson laughed, “Imagine that. Finally got you at a loss for words. Fact is, I’ve been thinking of this for a while. Even got the brass to fund it. I need someone who’s an expert on supers, knows the players here in town, and has a good head on his shoulders. You’re almost three for three.”
“Gee, thanks. I think.”
“Don’t mention it. Anyhow, you’re invested in this case, that much is clear. You took this to us, instead of your buddies in the Tower, so I think you want us to make this bust.”
“Well, I didn’t see anything to indicate that the bad guys have super powers. That makes it your job. Besides, I figure you need a win.”
“That we do. A bust like this could make a big difference. So, if you work with us on this thing, a lot of our problems go away. We get the benefit of your experience, which we need. You’d be working under my direction, so we don’t get crossed up, and you’d get the inside skinny on the story. The only hitch is, you can’t publish anything until this is over, but you just said you were gonna hold off, anyway.”
I have to admit, it sounded good. An additional source of income was just what I needed. But, it set off my internal alarms. “It’s tempting. I think there might be some ethical issues, though. How about if I joined the team as an embedded reporter, kinda like they do in the military? I think I’d have an easier time selling that to my editor. You’d still have me on a short leash, and I’d only publish stuff that doesn’t impact the investigation.”
“Well, if you don’t want the money…”
“It’s more like I’m not willing to jeopardize my credibility. Taking a paycheck from both the LAPD and the Beacon just smells fishy. Even if we both know we’re on the level, it raises questions. You can’t serve two masters; makes it hard to stay objective. If it’s still on the table, we can talk about consulting after the story’s done.”
“Huh? How does that change things?”
“I could do consulting if it’s not on a story I’m reporting. Journalists can have side jobs. Hell, on what we get paid, we pretty much have to. But you gotta keep the two separate. Look, let’s say you were getting paid as a security consultant for some company. Would they let you investigate a robbery there?”
“Yeah, OK, I get it. So, assuming your boss signs off, let’s get to work on our next move.”
I hung around the squad room, watching Dawson and his team plan the stakeout of Jefferson Plaza. It was quite an education. As a civilian, I always thought the biggest part of a stakeout was deciding who brought the donuts. It turns out there’s lot more to it than they show on TV. First they needed to get authorization. Stakeouts are a huge drain on resources. They’re also likely to be dangerous.
Task Force Eleven was small. Dawson was supposed to have eight people on his team, but the last two slots hadn’t been filled yet. Bureaucracy. That meant he had to go get additional resources from the other department heads. More politics. While Dawson worked the phones, I got to watch Sandoval and Powell plan the thing. Because of the way Jefferson Plaza was laid out, they decided they needed three teams to ensure they had all the angles covered. Departmental policy required each team to have two officers, and since this had to be round the clock, they would have to break it up into two twelve-hour shifts. If this thing went all the way to Wednesday, they’d need over four hundred man-hours just for the surveillance team. Add to this a sizable force of cops, big enough to swarm the place, would have to be maintained close by, ready to deploy at a moment’s notice. This was going to set the taxpayers back a few bucks.
But their work still wasn’t done. Fields of fire had to be figured out. Approaches needed to be planned. Civilians would have to be corralled and evacuated. Medical personnel had to be in on it in case somebody got hurt. Secure locations had to be found where they could set all this up without tipping off the bad guys. To my eyes, they might as well have been planning an invasion. I was fascinated by the process. My pen flew over my notebook as I took notes.
When they’d finished, the only contingency they didn’t have a plan for was what they would do if one of the criminals turned out to have superpowers. I had an idea on that, and Dawson and I discussed it at length. I left the Harbor station after getting his blessing, made the necessary call on the way home, and got to bed a little after one in the morning.
Things were heating up. Tomorrow was gonna be a long day.
VIII
Monday. Most people look at Mondays with some mixture of fear and loathing. Some people say they love Mondays. I think the latter group is lying, but if that’s what they have to tell themselves, who am I to judge?
I think they’re all wrong. You know how in prison movies they say you have to beat up the toughest guy in the joint to let the other prisoners know not to mess with you? Monday is that guy. If you kick his ass, the rest of the work week falls in line. If you let Monday get the better of you, the rest of the week will pass you around like a pack of cigarettes.
This week’s ass-kicking began with a brisk run, a shower and another trip to the Angel Tower. My plan involved catching Dr. Austin as he arrived at his lab, before he got sucked into some incomprehensible super-science or something, and to do that, I figured I needed to be there by nine. Monday fought back, hurling a horrendous traffic jam in my path, but I hung tough and outlasted it, passing the time by returning phone calls and enjoying my coffee. I pulled into the Tower’s parking garage at 8:57 on the dot.
How do you like me now, Monday?
To my surprise, Dr. Austin was already in his lab when I emerged from the elevator on the eighteenth floor. He and several of his assistants were gathered around some type of high-tech gizmo that looked like it might be a microscope. Of course, for all I knew, it could have been a cappuccino machine. Science wasn’t really my thing. One of the assistants looked up and waved me over, dispelling my concern that my plan to catch Dr. Austin before he got too deeply involved in his work was a washout.
As I approached, I was able to see the object of their study, some of the grey dust from the jar I’d brought in the night before. A thin layer of the stuff lay in a petri dish in a small glass enclosure that illuminated it with a bright, white light.
Dr. Austin inclined his face, lit from the bott
om by the device and looking for all the world like a mad scientist, and broke into a broad grin. “You bring us the most interesting things, Reuben.”
“Yeah, well, I have this thing about picking up shiny objects. Can’t resist.”
“I’m glad we can benefit from your disorder. I assume you’re here to learn what was in the receptacle.”
“Yup. That, and to maybe find out something about stem cells.”
“Stem cells?”
“Yeah. It’s something we got out of one of the guys the team captured yesterday. This kid bought his powers from some criminal types. He called it ‘Force’ and it had something to do with stem cells.”
The scientist’s face lit up. “So, that’s what they’re doing!” He paused for a moment, snapped his fingers and exclaimed, “Yes! If these devices can simultaneously induce pluripotent stem cell growth throughout the body, then it might be possible to hyper-stimulate them to regenerate the organism in its entirety.”
Seriously. That’s what he said. No, I didn’t understand it either. The whole team joined in on the discussion, excitedly tossing around ten-dollar words like they were were having a contest. I couldn’t do anything other than let them go on for a bit, my head ping-ponging back and forth among the scientists as I tried to track the conversation and maybe pick up a word or two that made sense.
Finally, I gave up and said, “Hey science guys. Can you dumb it down a bit? I’m still trying to figure out how fire works, over here.”
“Oh, I’m sorry,” Dr. Austin said. “Let’s start with the contents of the container. It contained some incredible nanotechnology. Do you know what that is?”
“Just what I learned from a Star Trek episode. Is that what the grey dust is?”
“No, that’s actually inert material that appears to be designed to protect the nanobots during storage. The devices themselves are too small to be seen. They exist at the molecular level. The key is that these are more complex than anything we’ve ever seen. These seem to be decades ahead of even the most cutting-edge research that we know of.”
“Got it. So, how do stem cells factor in? I thought you needed fetuses for that.”
“Not at all. Stem cells are present throughout your body. They make new blood cells, replacement cells for damaged tissue, and so forth.”
“Ah, OK. So, these nanobots could be used to cut and paste the parts of DNA that decide whether or not you have powers from one person to another?”
“That’s essentially correct. Clearly the process is more complex, but I believe that’s what these devices are designed to accomplish. The stem cells are reprogrammed, if you will, and then stimulated to an extreme degree to replace all of the necessary cells throughout the body.” Austin paused for a moment to consider something. “Only, replacing all of those cells so rapidly would require an incredible amount of material.”
“Perhaps the body’s existing cells are consumed in the process,” one of the researchers proposed.
“The kid said he started glowing during the process,” I added, hoping I was helping. “Could that have something to do with it?”
One of the other scientists looked like he might be sick. “My God, it must be agonizing.”
“It seems preposterous to imagine that someone could survive something like this, let alone that it actually works,” Dr. Austin mused. He clapped his hands together softly. “Alright people. We have a mystery to solve, and I believe we have all the clues before us.” With that, he started assigning work to his team, and I decided it was time to make myself scarce. There was no reason to hang around asking questions and slowing the process down. I understood enough now to have a working idea of how Force was harvested and used. I was more interested in linking up with Dawson’s team for the stakeout and maybe figuring out who this German “Doctor” guy was.
I went back down to the ground floor and was about to turn in my badge when the phone at the security desk rang. The attendant on duty answered the phone, and I overheard her responding. “Yes sir. He’s actually down here right now. Yes, I’ll tell him.” She smiled and handed my badge back to me. “I hope you have a few minutes to spare. Ultiman just called a team meeting and requested your attendance. They’re gathering in the briefing room.”
It’s a good thing I don’t wear glasses, else my eyes might have bumped into the lenses. Why the heck would Ultiman call me into one of their team meetings? I figured Dr. Austin would have reported the details we’d discovered about Force, but without any evidence of supervillainy, it wouldn’t be like him to meddle in the case. I clipped my badge back on and headed up.
The Angels were already seated at the conference table, along with Ben Jefferson, their head of security, and a pair I hadn’t seen before. One of them was in a heavily-decorated Army uniform, a Lieutenant General if I remembered what the three silver stars on his collar meant. The other was a slender blond woman in a well-tailored black suit. There were two functionaries standing at a respectful distance behind her, and she radiated a different kind of power from the heroes at the table. Government power. I felt the hair on the back of my neck start to stand up.
There was an empty seat next to Herculene, so I took it and whispered, “Any idea what this is about?”
“I was just about to ask you the same thing. Weren’t you just talking with Ultiman?”
“Huh? No, I’ve been down in the Science Lab all morning.”
She gave me a confused look, “But Archangel said…”
“We are all here, so let us begin.” The table chatter came to an abrupt halt as Ultiman rose to his feet. “Thank you all for coming. We have two guests today. To my right is Assistant Secretary for Political-Military Affairs Janice Kirk, and next to her is Lieutenant General Drummond, currently serving as her military attaché for the duration of the crisis with North Korea. This meeting and any discussion taking place here should be considered Classified.” Ultiman shot me a quick glance, driving the point home. I nodded. “Assistant Secretary Kirk, the floor is yours.”
“Thank you, Ultiman,” the diplomat said as she stood. “As you all know, tensions between our country and North Korea are at their highest point since the fifties. The North Koreans have denied involvement in Saturday’s attack, and I understand your own investigation has been inconclusive. Is that correct?”
“SpeedDamon’s investigation of our coastline yielded no evidence that the attack was launched domestically,” Ultiman replied. “Likewise, the Lords of Atlantis confirmed that there have been no ships or submersibles leaving East Asia that would be capable of delivering the machines that we encountered.”
“Do you really think those potheads would notice if there was?” Drummond irritably grumbled.
“For all their faults, their network of sensors and human assets is extensive, General. If something happened in the Pacific, they would know about it.”
The General frowned his disapproval of Ultiman’s testimonial. “Well, our review of our satellite monitoring and radar network data shows that the attack wasn’t launched by air,” Drummond added. “The only explanation is that the Lords missed something.”
“That’s irrelevant, General,” Kirk interrupted, retaking control of the conversation. “The fact is, we don’t know for sure where the attack originated. The Senate and House majority whips are counting heads for a Declaration of War vote later this week. It appears that they have the votes and public sentiment is trending in their favor. Without any concrete evidence exonerating the North Korean regime, the Administration’s hands are tied. We have a very small window in which to take action if we wish to prevent a disaster.”
This revelation sent a chill through the room. It was unthinkable. The U.S. military was already stretched to the breaking point. A war with North Korea would likely bring in the Chinese and the Russians and send shockwaves throughout the region. South Korea would almost certainly be caught in the crossfire, but Taiwan and Japan would become targets as well. From there, well, there’s no telling
how things would shake out or how far the war would spread. This was bad. There was a very real possibility that we would lose.
“What the hell are they thinking?” Mentalia muttered.
“OK, so that just means we better find out who really did this. How long do we have? When’s the vote?” Bill asked.
“From what we’re hearing from our sources on the Hill,” Kirk replied, “They’ll call the vote as soon as they know they have the votes to pass it. Right now, that looks like Wednesday. Friday at the latest.”
“That’s not enough time,” SpeedDamon observed. “Unless we get really lucky.”
“No, it’s not, and the Secretary doesn’t believe in luck. This morning, he met with the President and received approval for the plan I’m about to detail.” She pulled a sheet of paper out of a folder as her two suits moved around the room handing out similar pages to each of The Angels. The last sheet found its way to me.
I had assumed I was just there to observe, but this letter, under an ornate masthead that declared that it came directly from the desk of the President of the United States, was addressed to me by name. I quickly scanned the document, and immediately wished I hadn’t. My God, they can’t be serious.
“Allow me to paraphrase,” the Assistant Secretary broke the stunned silence. “The President is requesting that The Angels travel to Pyongyang under a flag of truce. Once there, you will perform such an investigation as you deem necessary to determine whether or not the North Koreans had any involvement. General Drummond has prepared a list of sites that might possibly have the technology to develop these machines. The Secretary suggests you start with those, but once there, you’ll be left to your own discretion.”
“And Glorious Leader agreed to this?” Bill asked.
“Yes, provided the entire team goes.” She shifted her gaze to me. “Mr. Conway, your role in this matter is to accompany the team and report to the public on the investigation. It would also be very helpful if you would agree to interview Glorious Leader, per his request. Your cooperation is appreciated.”
