by Paul Bagnell
Chapter 21: KNOCKED INTO A DREAM
Tom was semiconscious as the rogue soldier dragged him feet first over the forest floor and through the compound gate. He heard Remmie’s domineering voice circulating in the damp night air. The mission chief was commanding his loyal followers as they attacked from the mobile structure, militarily armed and ready.
Tom struggled with his hands and feet bound. Keylu was still motionless, but she appeared to be alive; that was a huge relief.
The squeaking of the hinged barbed wire gate sounded like a pack of bloodthirsty timber wolves as an orderly soldier closed it and slung a heavy chain around a tree trunk acting as the gatepost. A dim floodlight washed over the prisoners who were being detained in front of the old trailer.
“Bronze, I knew you’d be back for more,” a man said and stepped into Tom’s view.
Tom observed the elusive terrorist’s business attire. Remmie was sporting camouflaged army fatigues. The pearl handle of his gun stuck out of his belt, which signified that he was the big boss and no one dare contradict his strict authority. Tom tried to stand, but he was held down by Remmie’s leather boot.
“Bring them to our Central Command shack,” Remmie shouted, “I want both of my prisoners to witness exactly what ingenious endeavour they’ve come to ineffectually partake.”
Two young recruits tossed Tom inside the wooden structure like a wet sack of rotten potatoes. Keylu was moved with the strength of one soldier and poked forward by the barrel end of another soldier’s weapon.
From within the planked floor headquarters, Remmie instructed his team of specialists to get the night underway.
“Strap them into the special seats,” Remmie ordered.
Two heavy metal chairs were fastened together side by side; the visitors would be Remmie’s special guests for the night.
The eager soldiers inside the shack weren’t charitable as they picked up Tom and foot-bounced him across the unbending plank floor like a tough roast beef needing a stiff pounding to tenderize it; then they slapped him down in the chair and jailed him. Keylu was strapped in beside him.
Tom was regaining more of his strength and fought to break the leather straps about his wrists and ankles. He was dazed, but he could identify the outline of the man who stood in front of him.
“It’s always a pleasure to see someone for the second time,” Remmie said.
“Why’s that?” Tom replied and strained his glossy eyes wider.
Remmie smiled with a mouthful of extorted gold that reflected the hanging overhead lights that swayed back and forth. “Because I always exterminate my enemy,” he replied with a mean laugh. “That is, unless they come back from the dead; and I’ve yet to have that happen.”
Tom contorted his long, meaty body rightward. Keylu was weak but recovering. Blood had coagulated on the side of her face and it appeared that she still bled from a severe cut along her hairline. The injury was serious but not life threatening.
“What happened?” Keylu moaned as she rotated her head and tried to free her hands, but the leather bindings were too tight.
“Keylu are you okay?” Tom inquired, brotherly concerned.
“I’m feeling dizzy. Other than that I’m feeling all right,” she replied with a cold stare aimed at Remmie.
“A beautiful, young woman with all your sweet-smelling life ahead of you,” Remmie said. “What do I have here,” as he leaned for a rude taste of a pure maiden.
“It was you who killed my mother,” she said in striking anger.
Remmie stood back because the woman’s quick tongue seemed to catch him by surprise. “I finally meet Keylu, the adorable daughter of Voyid,” he said overly amused. “How is my old friend these days? I haven’t seen him in many, many years. If I did, surely this time I would kill him.”
“Remmie, she’s only a foolish young girl,” Tom interrupted.
Remmie looked down on the misplaced number cruncher.
“She knows nothing about what’s going on; just let her go.” Tom was trying to cool Remmie’s unpredictable temper and keep him from employing his weapon and shooting her.
“Bronze, you annoy me; just shut your voice hole or else.” Remmie turned away and ordered his men into action. “Hurry,” he alerted his team, “we’ve got a mission to complete.” Then he clapped his hands, “Let’s hop to it before the antiterrorist tribe gets here.”
A big soldier reported: “It was apprehended near one of the prisoners, sir.”
Remmie obtained the box and placed it down on a wooden perch located at the opposite side of the shack. “You were lucky this time,” Remmie informed the soldier. “The next time, there’ll be something hot and ticking inside that will explode in your ugly face. Do you get that, Revv, you big, stupid, brainless idiot? If it had been an explosive device of some sort, it would have blown us all sky high.”
Tom watched as Revv shifted his well-used Colt Commando around his blocky torso. Remmie’s vicious mood had triggered an unmedicated twitch in one of Revv’s eyes that caused his face to spasm uncontrollably.
“Now, guard the prisoners,” Remmie ordered.
Revv stood about six-foot-seven, two hundred and fifty pounds with a cheap buzz cut and a knife scar that ran all the way down the side of his face. He looked insanely dangerous.
“Hey, soldier,” Tom whispered Revv near, “is your employer, Remmie, always this happy with your job performance?”
“Do not talk. Talk only when talked at,” Revv replied in bad English while revealing his bad teeth. The word ‘OUCH’ was tattooed on the knuckles of both his hands like crude prison art.
“Ouch, that’s not a pretty sight,” Tom tried to amuse the big guard.
Revv stood over the prisoners like a monstrous gorilla to keep them from struggling.
Remmie’s voice echoed throughout the feeble structure and could be heard plainly from the other end of the floor. Tom listened and watched the soldiers who appeared to be preparing for something other than his own execution.
Positioned against the far side wall was a long table with white bed sheets cloaked over humps of unknown inventory. Remmie waved his hand like a baton and a fateful supporter yanked the sheets off a bunch of electronics. The system consisted of twin computer mini-towers, four boxy military-looking guidance system monitors, and a compact power pack, which sat nicely amongst the equipment.
The miniature shoebox was stored near the desk where Remmie had originally placed it. He eyed it, as if he wanted to flatten it with his solid fist; however, then he simply stood in front of the prisoners with his hands on his hips with the pearl handle of the gun stuck out of his belt. “This unusual box--it is important that you know I have no use for your play toys or what’s concealed within the brown paper wrap,” he said in an amused tone; “but if I should peek, then where’s the fun.” His mean face turned chisel hard. “Right now I should finish both of you and pick my valuable teeth with the fragments of your worthless bones.”
“You’re a sick man,” Tom bellowed.
Remmie’s business demeanour wasn’t graceful. “Then both of you will be out of my hair,” he said with an inhumane look in his enraged eyes as he called for assistance.
Two soldiers approached and anchored themselves at Remmie’s sides. Their weapons were aimed and ready for action.
“Our unwelcomed guests are interested in witnessing our crime show,” Remmie said to his new recruits. “Please position them so they’ll have front-row seats. I want them to feel all the comforts of a cobra’s nest.”
The soldiers dragged the chairs across the uneven floor and placed the prisoners close enough to allow them a clear view of all the tactical details that would eventually be displayed on all four monitors.
“That’s much better,” Remmie said, “now just relax and enjoy the evening.”
“Remmie, for what are you using all this equipment?” Tom called over the sound of the system operator’s speedy keystrokes.
“Soon you’ll see
,” Remmie replied and diverted his attention toward Keylu. “You have brought me an unknown present,”--and he looked to where the box was perched--“how thoughtful. I brought you one too, my darling child.” He leaned down and whispered what appeared to be things of a crude sexual nature in her ear and ran his swampy tongue the length of her smooth Asian face, but she remained professionally composed.
“My patience is running thin with your child’s play; bring me the box,” Remmie commanded, and a soldier replied instantly to his demand. He tore off the brown paper wrap and peeked inside the box. He paused, as if to study what it was. “Hmm, you people have been intriguingly bad. I’ll take care of this infectious matter later,” he said, and tossed the packet on the desktop.
Tom watched the longhaired computer operator, who was being referred to as File, bring the system to life. Each screen warmed up in a linear sequence as it was called upon.
The code lawyer’s hands pounded the keyboard like a gifted prodigy performing Mozart on a lethal injection of Speed and not once did he glance away from the monitors as Remmie worked his magical chain of commands. It was obvious that File was a professional who was probably known by Federal authorities as someone capable of jumping computer hoops around electronic security systems and probably wanted for a variety of computer-related crimes in almost every part of the world. Tom followed File’s actions. He appeared to activate a bunch of language codes via a satellite link and ready to pillage somebody’s impenetrable information empire.
Remmie moved back and forth behind File and supervised the work being performed. “Bronze, are you enjoying the entertainment?” he asked.
Tom just nodded, there being no suitable verbal expression.
“Revv, be sure to guard them extra well,” Remmie ordered authoritatively.
Revv planted himself in front of the prisoners. His legs were huge and appeared to be growing together like two giant tree trunks.
“What’s wrong?” Tom asked the muscle-bound guard.
The big man snapped to attention. He seemed to be living in a lax, daydream mode.
“Hey, big fella, you’re blocking my view of the data show,” Tom said lippy. “I want to see everything so move your wide load away from the screen visuals.”
“Prisoners have no life value or breathing rights,” Revv grunted. He stared with a painful twitch in his face. He thumped closer to Tom. His hand gripped the handle of a 9mm as he aimed it in the accountant’s face. “Quiet up; do not speak.”
Tom noticed the soldier’s eyes were swollen. He could tell that Revv hadn’t slept a full night in many weeks; and this big, dumb idiot could be the weakest link in Remmie’s unbreakable chain. He stared into Revv’s fried eyes and locked into his wandering mind. Seconds elapsed. Tom used the overwhelming powers of the mind-crash, the ancient secrets that Exsorbo had bestowed upon him. He easily penetrated Revv’s train of logical thoughts that controlled his memory; but before he completed any mind exploration, Remmie scolded Revv.
“You big tomato-head, I’ve told you time and time again to hold your damn commando down and away. Someday, you’re going to kill us all with your rock-head stupidity,” Remmie shouted. His face was boiled with anger. “One more stupid incident like this and you’ll end up beating Siberian prison rock at a Russian sweat camp.”
Revv repositioned his weapon and stepped back from the overly obedient prisoners and relaxed.
Tom nudged Keylu. “What’s all this about?” he asked under his breath.
“Our main objective only concerns completing the mission, not to question our unfavourable situation,” she replied.
“So there’s no rescue plan?”
“Yeah, there is; but it’s called, improvisation.”
“That isn’t too comforting,” Tom replied; but with Revv’s help, he could easily loosen the bindings that held him captive. The powers of the mind-crash allowed him the capabilities of accessing Revv’s unconscious thoughts. A few seconds was all he needed to probe the big man’s loose mind.
“What should I do?” Tom whispered over and over; then he joined brainwaves with Revv using maximum mind-crash persuasion.
Within Revv’s past memories, Tom saw a small lost boy standing on a big city street corner. A man wearing an expensive-looking black suit approached the boy and offered him a better way of life.
“Doing what?” the boy questioned the man.
“The work is easy, and the hours pay good money,” the rich man admitted as he handed the boy a homemade gun. “That street bully over there,” the rich man pointed across the intersection, “has a box cutter in his pocket; and he’s going to use it to violently assault that lady.”
A successful-looking businesswoman turned in their direction. She was heading straight toward the anticipated offender.
The boy took the tube-shooter and followed the two individuals for a couple of blocks until the offender nabbed the lady off her fancy heels and dragged her kicking and screaming into a deserted alley and began violently ripping at her delicate clothes.
When the small boy entered the area, the man was physically assaulting the woman. She cried for help and tried to escape, but her attacker overpowered her.
“Stop,” the frightened boy cried as rivers of tears rolled down his boyish little face. “I’ve got a gun; let her go, or I’ll shoot you.”
“You little bastard brat; get the hell out of here. This is my alley; go find yourself another filthy, stinking bitch,” the sweaty man shouted without breaking his punching pattern.
The boy aimed the gun and fired.
Tom’s vision of Revv’s past memory went dead. It was as if a thought pump sucked the visual energy from Tom’s eyes or an unknown force had cut the mind plug. The details were so vivid. It was as if he were actually there.
Now he realized that Revv wasn’t vicious and weak like the other soldiers. Revv had been wrongfully indoctrinated into Remmie Take’s world, a world of international terror funded, in part, by the Russian underworld and partnering extremist organizations. Revv was trapped between what he thought was morally right and what he was financially compensated to do. There was so much pain corrupting Revv’s confused mind that Tom figured two subliminal commands were as much as the big man’s brainstem could withstand.
The first command word implanted was TELEPLY, which would action Revv to release the prison straps. The second activator was SERROPE, a protective spell. It would help them reach safety.
Revv appeared somewhat alert, but he was unaware of what had transpired between him and the male prisoner.
“What’s wrong? Has your big mouth ate your big fat tongue?” Tom joked.
Revv gripped his weapon, “Quiet or you die.”
“That’s no way to treat a dinner guest.”
“I said silent,” the big soldier barked as he steadfast himself with his back toward them and a few paces forward.
The Nukyi stood down; it wasn’t time for super-human action.
“Tom,” Keylu whispered.
He looked at her, “Yeah what?”
“Watch the Hippy Hacker. He appears to be coding details into the system.”
The satellite connection accepted a slue of security passwords, and the menu unlocked to another screen. The word LANDLOCKED appeared in bold lettering, the encoded activation command for Remmie’s digital sledgehammer.
Now Tom had recognized three of the four words that were printed on that paper, and the origin of FINCH was yet to be revealed. He tried to conceal his curiosity as he stretched sideways and peered around the big guard.
Without warning, Revv slammed the barrel of the commando into Tom’s face. “I see you are interested in our primetime entertainment.”
“No, your ass-breath is starting to reek in my mouth.”
“Not funny American pig. Do not get comfortable.”
“Too late, it’s way past my bedtime, and I can’t sleep.”
Revv laughed. “Your entertainment will soon lapse.”
“That’s fine. First, I just want to see the evening news; then I’ll grab some endless winks.” Tom leaned back and sat still to deter Revv from taking any further hostile action.
“That’s a good Yankee boy,” Revv said. “We will send you to the slaughterhouse shortly.”
A burly soldier came up from behind Revv and whispered something into his ear; then they both vacated the area.
Tom breathed a sigh of relief; now, he was free to secretively communicate with Keylu. “What’s this electronics stuff used for?” Tom inquired.
“Something serious is going down, and we’re plunked directly in the middle of it,” Keylu admitted. “It appears they locked into the Stanton Satellite System attempting to tune into Carravecky’s computers. Our objective must have been to block their operation,” she nodded toward the box on the desk, “using that device.”
He heard the stress in her voice. She was nervous about the mission.
“If something happens to me,” she admitted, “it’s your job to activate the fail-safe lockout program in Carravecky’s system.”
“How do I do that?” he whispered. He had a vague idea; but before she could relay the details, Remmie interrupted.
“Quiet, I want silence,” Remmie shouted. His trigger hand was reaching for the silver-plated Colt in his belt.
She tried again to respond to Tom’s information request, but Remmie approached--mad as hell.
“Enough chatter; separate the prisoners,” Remmie ordered; “there’s too much secretive noise between them.”
Two experienced soldiers unclamped the chairs and dragged Keylu to the other side of the shack about twenty-five feet away from Tom.
“Anymore dialogue from the two of you,” Remmie warned, “and I’ll suspend your strangled bodies by the feet ten feet in a tree. If you persist in interrupting my procedures, I will make damn sure my threat is carried out.”
Once Remmie turned his back, it was time for Tom to action his plan. The leather straps were tight and that created a numbing sensation in his wrists and ankles. If he didn’t bust free of the bindings soon, he’d be dead. “Keylu,” Tom mouthed, “get Remmie’s attention and lead him away from me.”
She nodded with a firm understanding. “Remmie,” she said girlishly, “my little hands hurt. Could you release them for just a moment?”
“Shut up my baby child,” Remmie barked, and leaned into her palatable breath. He tweaked her tender cheeks, boorishly pressed her face back, and peered into her clear eyes as if he were deciphering his own emotionally weathered reflection in her responding pupils. “Clip, I sense a major problem; bind her voice-box,” Remmie instructed. “I don’t want to hear another peep out of her tonight.” He stood up from her airspace.
Clip was well-muscled and garbed like an escaped prisoner. He grabbed a roll of duct tape from his utility pouch and bound her face from ear to ear, which completely sealed off her mouth.
Revv had returned; he stood in the doorway gloating and counting a wallet of stolen credit cards.
“Revv,” Tom mouthed.
The big guard lumbered forward. “I told you quiet,” he snapped.
Tom stared at Revv. “I didn’t say a word.”
“Then I must have heard you thinking; quiet!” he barked and circled the prisoners.
“Remmie, countdown time till completion is 25 minutes,” File reported.
“Excellent work, my computer-hacking friend,” Remmie replied with a ruling fist.
“Teleply,” Tom whispered in Revv’s direction.
The big guard stopped dead in his awkward tracks; his stoned pinkish face turned pale white. He was now under Tom’s spell and the eerie powers of the mind-crash.
Without another instructive word, Revv reached to the front legs of the chair and loosened the leather ankle straps as well as the leather bindings around Tom’s wrists, which gave Tom just enough slack to work his way free when that particular time would arise. Once the task was completed, the soldier stood steadfast. The power dissolved from his mind, and his memory was freed.
“All system diagnostics completed; we’re ready to link into Carravecky/Stanton satellite,” File reported.
“Continue as planned,” Remmie instructed.
A few seconds later, “Sir, we’re fully patched in.”
“Well done File,” Remmie commended.
Tom stared at the box. He anticipated that Remmie would soon display its contents and reveal exactly what the device looked like.
“Clip,” Remmie called.
“Yes, sir,” Clip replied respectfully.
“I’ve changed my mind; remove the tape from my pretty little Asian’s mouth. I want her to scream defeat once our program code cycle is completed.”
“It would be my pleasure, Sir,” Clip replied and tore the adhesive strip from her skin.
Keylu screamed obscenities at Remmie from the bottom of her lungs.
Remmie stood in front of her only a few feet from her angered face.
She struggled to strike him dead but leather held her back.
“If you’re a good girl, I’ll tell you a nice bedtime story before you slide into unrecorded history,” he said and laughed.
“I don’t want to hear any of your lies,” she cried.
“You shall hear nothing but the absolute truth,” Remmie promised.
She calmed down and sat still.
When Remmie was satisfied, he continued. “It was a muggy night, and the air was heavy and unbreathable. Your father, our senior commander, was ordered to raid an enemy operation. They were the best--an elite communist death squad. These men had one objective and that was to hunt us down and destroy us before we destroyed them. I was the bad apple of the crew, or so it was said. I never took it to heart.
“We were there to disrupt an unimportant war that, which in my opinion, could never be won. It was the last few months before the last of many ceasefire agreements were signed. All of us planned to return to our homelands and carry on with our somewhat normal lives. It was in my last month of active service. I couldn’t sleep because of the excitement of returning home. A thin canvas was the only thing between me and the jungle, and I could just hear your father’s voice in the distance plotting his next cancellation order. His exact words were ‘we must eliminate him.’ I never forgot that. I knew he was talking about me; that’s the reason I had to strike on my own.”
“So why did you murder my mother?” Keylu cried out painfully.
“That was a harmful mistake,” Remmie admitted calmly. “I’ve lived with that terrible error for twenty-some years now with as many nights of unrest. I always thought you’d return to finish the job, but I always hoped that wouldn’t happen.”
“Your thoughts were absolutely correct,” she said angrily.
Remmie paused, “Your father emotionally died after I tragically,” he stopped to remember those joyous days, “killed your mother. I suppose that’s why he founded the KCB so he could track me down to eliminate me and those whom I train and support.”
File interrupted, “Sir, Carravecky’s computer system and the Stanton Satellite are now accepting only our control.”
“Very good; proceed with phase two of our plan,” Remmie ordered and looked at Tom. “Bronze, now that this system is under my full command, I will hijack the sky carrier; then I will deliver it to those with the most ambition,” he said diabolically. He turned to two of his best-trained soldiers. “Spike, Grip, move our ill-contented Asian girl back together with her American boyfriend,” Remmie ordered.
The agile soldiers secured Keylu and Tom in the core of the action.
“Comrades, this is the night we shall remember for the rest of our glorious lives,” Remmie praised. “May we work together, again someday. Now, let’s get to it. File, what’s the status on the weapon tracking program?”
“Sir, 15 minutes from cycle completion; system is working like a golden charm,” File reported.
“File,” Remmie exulted, “again, I commend yo
u for your talented contributions,” then he turned to face the doomed prisoners. “Thank you, Bronze, you’ve done us a marvellous job. Now what you’re about to witness is formulated history in the making.” He turned to his men. “It’s a job well done, and a royal fee is rightfully deserved.”
“Remmie, what is it you want, the missile skid’s power source?” Tom strained toward. “You want to convert the technology to make it something even more destructive?”
“Our guest has solved the meat of our objective,” Remmie admitted. “Our mission will soon be complete, and your humble lives will eventually come to an abrupt end.” Remmie eyed the agent girl’s narrow eyes. “It’s too bad we couldn’t have known each other under different circumstances.”
She sneered and showed her teeth like a protective tiger cat defending its wilderness territory.
Remmie retreated, at least for the moment.
Tom observed the monitors. Each screen was reading columns of coded information delivered by the satellite relay system.
Remmie eyed his watch and the box. He approached the concealed gadget with caution, examined its black plastic casing, and he held it up so all those who were interested could view it.
It was about four inches in total length; the back section of the device appeared as if it contained a power source while the front section resembled a standard plug-in; the device integration seemed quite primitive for the advanced technology the terrorist organization was supporting.
The sight of the foreign object disturbed Remmie. He barked out his supreme authority over his team of homesick soldiers and a noisy computer station and verbally increased the tension level.
This created the necessary confusion that Tom required if he were going to work his hand free without being discovered. He abruptly halted his plan when Remmie turned toward him. “So, Remmie; what mad world wants these weapons?” Tom asked as he tried to divert Remmie’s keen eyes away from the loosened bindings on his hands and feet.
“Many countries want this prized system, and they’re willing to pay plenty,” Remmie admitted and dropped the device back into the box like a slice of day-old pizza; then he turned toward Revv. “Maintain security sweeps; we’re too close to have anymore unexpected interruptions,” he commanded rudely.
Revv didn’t move a lean muscle.
“Don’t just stand there, you dumb mush-head, perform another sweep of the perimeters? I don’t want another surprise dropping on my lap,” as he watched the beefy soldier dash from the structure; then he diverted his attention to the computer operator.
Tom looked at Keylu. “What can you tell me about this odd disk other than to abort a hijacking?”
“It has to be inserted into their system,” she whispered.
“I understand that,” he replied with a dumb look.
“The unit has a built-in code searcher. It will automatically load the abort matrix; that’s all I know.”
“Why didn’t your father tell you all the details?”
“I was just supposed to deliver you to Remmie’s camp,” Keylu replied bitchy. “You were supposed to do the rest. Father said that the gismo was simple and that once you held it you’d know exactly what to do.”
“That’s unspeakably comforting,” he said with a confused expression.
Remmie turned around and faced the prisoners. He was holding the device in his fist like he was going to crush it, but he spared the inert object its artificial life.
“Sir, program completion time is 10 minutes,” File reported over his shoulder.
“Good; my master plan is in its final stage,” Remmie said in a joyous tone. He stood watching the monitor screens. “In a few minutes, we’ll all be rich. Then we’ll celebrate the eventual demise of America,” Remmie shouted to the rowdy soldiers.
A dead silence overtook each man as if they had been waiting for this moment for a very long time. The ambience of silence was followed by a conservative cheer.
It was obvious Remmie anticipated success; it showed on his stone-cold grin. He stopped in front of Tom and Keylu and smiled unpleasantly. “Spike, my explosive expert, remove the floorboards in front of our useless house guests; we have a big going away present prepared for them.”
Spike lifted a plank or two and revealed a long canvas duffel bag. It appeared stuffed beyond capacity. When the explosive specialist unzipped it, Tom noticed that the weathered sack contained a remote control and a timing mechanism with its illuminated digits set at four stable zeros. Beneath the timer, dozens of wired brick-sized packages that resembled plastic explosives were installed and taped to containers marked gasoline--all just waiting for an electrical charge to bring them to fiery life.
“Bronze, have you taken your vacation this year?” Remmie inquired jokingly.
“Not yet,” Tom replied in a dull, sarcastic tone.
“Well, you’ll be taking one hell of a ride tonight,” Remmie bellowed and laughed sadistically.
The computer’s voice module began the countdown in a descending fashion.
“Remmie, all systems are operating as normal,” File reported.
“Very good,” Remmie said as he moved closer to the computer station and stood behind the code lawyer.
Revv re-entered the shack. He carried his Colt Commando slung over his square shoulder with the fiberlite barrel eyeing the floor. His eyes appeared even more bloodshot, and there was a scent of illegal smoke on his terrorist-issued uniform. “Perimeters secure, Remmie,” he reported as usual.
“Good,” Remmie said without looking in Revv’s direction. “Stay alert; now guard the prisoners.”
Revv snapped to a lazy attention. He slouched close to Tom. His weapon was cradled in one arm.
“Your eyes are so spent,” Tom commented. “You look like you haven’t slept a year of piss-drunk Black Sundays.”
“Do not speak. Speak only when spoken at,” Revv said with the weapon aimed at the male prisoner’s chest.
“Revv, I’ve got something to tell you,” Tom said with a curious yet urgent tone.
“I said quiet,” the big man barked.
“Please,” Tom insisted silently.
Revv reluctantly complied and leaned a bit forward and locked eyes with Tom. “Speak not.”
“It concerns Remmie Take.”
The big guard leaned further inwards.
“Revv, Teleply,” Tom whispered. The spell immediately reactivated the first subconscious command. “Be quick and secretive. I’m unable to free my hands. I need you to loosen the wrist straps just a bit more; then, when the time arises, I can stop you guys from destroying my world.” The guard secretively did as he was told.
“Revv, stop clowning with the prisoners and get over here,” Remmie demanded and ordered Revv to his side. “This is victory,” and raised his calloused hand overhead and summoned his dutiful servants to rally around and celebrate. When the elated soldiers disbursed, Remmie stood in front of Tom holding the disk. “This device is obviously an advanced technology of some kind, but how is it supposed to crash my technology?”
“You’re the pro; I don’t know,” Tom replied with a boyish smirk on his scruffy, manly face. “I didn’t create it so you tell me.”
“My failed American hero, it’s no big deal,” Remmie said, and tossed the device on the desk; then he pressed his strong hands on Tom’s knees and stared. “I have painful ways of making the strongest of men talk even when they have nothing to say.”
The device teetered on the corner of the wooden perch, and it looked like it was going to fall to the floor. The impact would surely damage it.
“Sir; just a few more minutes, and the program cycle will be totally irreversible,” File reported.
Remmie shifted his eyes away from the prisoner and toward the computer operator and replied, “As always, excellent work, my computer-hacking friend.” Again Remmie locked eyes with Bronze and said, “Now I am the most powerful battle commander on the face of this planet, and there’s nothing anyone can do a
bout it.”
Tom just stared with a tight jaw as Remmie stood smiling.
The system monitors began reading thousands of lines of encrypted code that scrolled briskly down the screens.
The computer’s voice module transmitted a celebratory message “THE LAST CONQUEST OF TECHNOLOGY HAS BEEN PRECLUDED. WE MUST PREPARE FOR ITS TRUE DESTINY AND CONQUEST IS ITS ONLY TRIUMPH. A NEW WORLD IS ON THE HORIZON. A NEW TECHNOLOGY WILL REPLACE THE OLD AND WE SHALL CONTROL THE NEW. THE NEW MILLENNIUM OF HUMAN LIFE WILL BE CHANGED FOREVER.”
Tom had to stop this terrorist’s game of murder madness. The loose bindings would allow him enough slack to slip his hands free and sneak out the gun that was concealed in his boot. He quickly tucked it beneath his jacket.
“Final countdown now commencing,” the voice module stated and continued counting backwards from five minutes.
Remmie was pleased. He kissed Keylu on the cheek; the cold Colt .45 was pressed against her warm skin. The hammer was cocked, and all he had to do was squeeze the trigger.
“Go ahead, you bastard, do it,” Keylu taunted angrily.
“What’s this device for, and why did Voyid send you?” Remmie demanded an answer. “Voyid sent a woman to do a man’s job, and an accountant to do an agent’s work.” He pulled the barrel away from her face and jerked it back into his belt. “You want to play stupid, do you? I’ll give you that credit; you’re an ounce smarter than I expected.”
The soldiers started to pack up their gear as if preparing for a quick departure.
“I see you watching me, Bronze,” Remmie grunted as he turned toward his prisoners.
If Tom drew his weapon and choked, he’d be a dead man. Now wasn’t the proper time so he aborted his kill.
Remmie bent down to the female agent. “Keylu, my dear, say hello to your beautiful dead mother for me,” he whispered in her ear, “and don’t forget to visit me in my nightmares.”
Tom wasn’t about to let Remmie harm a single hair on her head. He drew the gun from under his jacket. He was fully prepared to kill Remmie Take.
“Sir, please come over here,” Clip called.
Tom again concealed the gun under his jacket. He was extremely lucky none of the other soldiers had discovered his kill attempt. He slipped his hand back inside the strap and waited.
“Are we following our plans concerning the prisoners?” Clip inquired.
“Yes, we’ll be leaving them for the big bang,” Remmie reconfirmed and laughed.
“Remmie, Carravecky’s system is completely sealed up,” File reported. “Not even the devil’s electrified pitchfork can bust my missile skid hijack program.”
“Splendid,” Remmie said with greed in his voice.
The palms of Tom’s hands were nervously wet and the thumping of his heart created a throaty pastiness in his tasteless mouth. This was his perfect opportunity to strike. He reached for his gun as he was about to stand, but he was stopped by a blistering voice that bellowed from behind him.
“Sit down pencil neck,” the voice howled.
Tom felt the force of cold metal slam across the back of his neck and a force that yanked him by the hair and back into the seat. It was a natural instinct for the Nukyi to fight; but before he could exert a punch, another soldier socked him square on the chin. Tom just shook it off like a good bad boy.
“Report,” Remmie shouted, fully concerned.
“Sir, the man prisoner was attempting to escape,” Clip bellowed, “so I fed him a knuckle-crunch sandwich.”
“Revv, get over here, tighten on those straps, and watch Bronze closely this time,” Remmie ordered.
Revv half-heartedly tugged at the straps around Tom’s wrists, unaware of the gun tucked in the prisoner’s belt.
Tom coughed up a mouthful of blood but he wasn’t ready to quit, not yet. Blood trickled from his nose onto the front of his shirt. He was mad as hell and ready for a gunfight.
“Sir, we’re tracking the skid,” File reported. “The weapon system is travelling at an altitude of twelve miles; its speed is Mach 7 but decreasing. The missile carrier is heading northwest. Our intercept vehicle is in the air and ready.”
“Clip, let’s get ready to vacate,” Remmie ordered. “Contact the chopper and make the arrangements.”
“Yes sir,” he got on the radio. “Remmie, contact confirmed ETA two minutes.”
“Men, two minutes to evacuate,” Remmie shouted around the room.
Spike pulled back a floorboard and reached down and set the digital timer to remote detonation; then he replaced the board. “Have a nice trip and don’t forget to send loads of sky cards,” he said jokingly to the sour-faced prisoners.
“Everyone out,” Remmie commanded.
Clip and Revv were the last to exit the shack.
Clip called to Tom as he was leaving, “Would you like more of this?” He held up his over-sized fist. ‘COME AND GET IT’ was tattooed on his scarred knuckles.
“Clip,” Remmie shouted, “outside; group up for an orderly departure.”
Revv secured the shack entrance as Remmie stood in front of his prisoners and admitted, “I’m sorry things have to end this way.” He stroked Keylu’s hair; then he flexed his hand and forced her head back. “The two of you will make a fine couple in death. It’s too bad you’ll be flying in different directions.” He relaxed his hold and eased her head forward. He removed the remote control from his pocket and extended the antenna with his front teeth. “This is what will kill you, not me,” he said and held up the triggering device. “The detonation range is about three miles on a clear night. With that in mind, it may give you a few added minutes of life.” His demeanour mellowed. “Bronze, I’d like you to know that you could have been an excellent terrorist, maybe even my understudy. I felt something unworldly about you the first time we met. Maybe, we could have been the best of friends.”
“I don’t think so,” Tom replied fully disgusted.
Remmie inhaled the fresh night air into his clear lungs. “Remember, it’s purely business and nothing personal.”
The computer system’s digital voice module continued to countdown.
“Soon, my friends,” Remmie said, “this technology will be in my chosen country’s hands.”
“Whose greedy palms are they?” Tom asked loudly.
“It’s a wonderful country that has yet to be reborn,” Remmie replied.
“You bastard,” Keylu shouted. “If I were free of these bindings, you’d be lying on your back with two bullets in your skull--one for my mother and one for me.”
Remmie aimed the Colt .45 up through a rusty hole in the tin roof sheathing and said, “Those are strong words from a weak girl.”
“I mean what I say.”
“I’m sure you do, Keylu. I fully understand why you’d like a piece of me, but I’m not all that bad.”
“You must be stopped,” Keylu replied in a womanish rage.
“How about my friend, Mr. Bronze,” Remmie inquired, “would you also like a piece of me?”
“Sure, whatever you say, Mr. Take,” Tom replied as he tried to penetrate Remmie’s mind unsuccessfully.
“I’ve made it my professional trademark to identify each one of my most memorable missions with a sign that signified ‘Remmie Take’ was here.” He placed his pistol on the desk next to the data device, and he turned toward Revv and said, “Inform the flight operator that I’ll be there in a few shots.”
Revv stormed from the shack entrance with his commando in hand and boarded the chopper.
Tom felt his hand twitching for his bullet popper. His eyes were fixed on Remmie as he reacquired his Colt from the desktop and aimed it at Tom.
“I’ll be leaving soon,” he said and glanced a view toward the monitors. “It’s only a matter of seconds before the cycle is completed, but don’t worry. You should have plenty of time to spare. Utilize what few seconds you have, and I suspect the both of you will escape before I ignite the torch beneath you.”
“Whateve
r,” Tom replied. “Who taught you to play cards? Don’t you know five kings spell cheat in a deck of cards and four deuces is more than a bluff? I’d say, you blew it big time; you showed your good hand on your bad face, and that’s your weakness.”
Remmie looked at Tom with a blank searching expression as if he knew exactly what past event Bronze was talking about, and he was at a loss for an explanation.
The digital voice module confirmed “Program run time 60 seconds.”
“Well, Agent Bronze, this is it,” Remmie said. “This is my final hurrah. My mission here is complete” as he spun the bullet chamber, waiting for it to stop.
“Forty seconds,” the voice module confirmed.
This was Tom’s last chance if he wanted to terminate the terrorist.
“You man pig; you got what you want; what are you waiting for, you murderous bastard?” Keylu cried.
Tom would have expected Keylu to fight until her last breath of air was swallowed into her lungs and exhausted with a mouthful of blood.
“Twenty seconds,” the voice module confirmed.
Tom drew the gun from beneath his jacket and aimed with both throbbing hands.
Remmie was surprised yet prepared.
The countdown was in its final seconds. If Tom failed, both he and Keylu would die. The blood was surging through his fingers, and he felt the pounding of that big pulse thumping between his ears.
“Ten seconds,” the voice module confirmed.
Both gun barrels were now aligned in a deadly confrontation. Tom knew the shooter with the fastest reflexes would become the victor. Each fired simultaneously as Keylu screamed revenge.
Tom had never once fired a handgun, except for now. His bullet exploded from the barrel and just grazed the top of Remmie’s forehead before it shot through the pitted roof. Remmie’s bullet struck Tom in the neck.
He fell to the floor. His body was limp and lifeless. Tom lay in a pool of blood, silenced from Planet Earth--or was he?
End of Book One
Please Read Book Two
* * * * *
NOTE TO THE READER
:
Creative expression is like a double-edged sword, some like it some hate it--if you enjoyed book 1 of The Last Nukyi series, please continue to book 2, tell a friend or you can contact me directly, thanks.
Paul J. Bagnell can be contacted a: [email protected]
