by JT Sawyer
He tapped his shoe heel on the metal surface again and noted its hollow ring. Oxygen container. They obviously want me alive. He brushed his elbows against the walls. Now I know what it must have felt like to be one of those poor white rats in my laboratory. Another drop in gravity, like he had jumped from a diving board, then the rush of his stomach coiling up, followed by the structure around him levelling out.
What the hell is going on? Where are they taking me and who the fuck are ‘they’? Christ—is this connected with my research—with the agency? Those bastards told me it was all on the drawing board and only being war-gamed within their walls. Did someone get a hold of my data? Is anyone from the agency or State Department even looking for me? He thought of his wife Margo, who would be worried sick, then of his kids and granddaughter. Finally, his thoughts turned to Mitch Kearns, who he’d always joked he’d call if life was ever hanging in the balance. If only I could contact him now!
He felt a vein in his neck throbbing from the implications. He forced himself to calm his breathing again and remain motionless even though every shred of every fiber in his body wanted to burst through his inky cocoon. During what he surmised was another two hours, he felt the metal structure begin to rattle and the head section become higher, like he was going into a slow dive. Then the shaking increased, his body vibrating and his ears popping while his heart felt like it was in his throat. A few minutes later, he levelled out again and then the motion stopped. Silence. Stillness. Then there was white-hot light stabbing through the right edge of the lid above as it creaked open. Schueller squinted, turning his head sideways, the sunlight hitting him like a sledgehammer. A shadow followed, allowing a respite from the intensity. He looked up into the soulless eyes of a young man, a large scar marring his upper cheek.
“Good morning, Professor. I hope the flight was not too turbulent for you in this tight space. I was told you’d be out for a few more hours.” The man spoke with an American accent.
Schueller sat up, craning his neck around as a wave of humidity swept over him. A flock of cockatoos flew overhead and he saw an emerald treeline surrounding the primitive airstrip that had been hacked out of the jungle. The scar-faced man leaned over and deftly flipped open a folding knife, slicing through his zip-ties in a fluid motion then just as quickly closing the blade and repositioning it in his pocket.
The man was wearing a gypsum-colored jacket and pleated slacks. He extended a hand and helped Schueller out of the coffin-like container. “Please forgive the rocky introduction. We’ve not met before but we probably know a lot of the same people at Langley. And I can most certainly assure you we have much to discuss regarding your research.”
Chapter 15
Mitch took the taxi for two miles, texting Dev about his location and hoping she’d made it out of the airport safely. He was walking near a busy intersection of outdoor cafes and bars in downtown Munich. Mitch rounded the bend of the street corner and canted his head up like the other tourists, who were inspecting the architecture of an old church on the corner.
He felt his cellphone vibrate and scanned the text, pressing his cupped hands around the screen to reduce the light signature on his face as he read Dev’s message: Two minutes out. Lavoy Ave and Tenth St.
He shoved the phone back in his jacket and then checked the sidewalks ahead. Feeling confident he wasn’t being tailed, he slipped out into the pedestrian traffic and continued walking north for four blocks. He stopped at a streetside café and feigned reading the menu tacked overhead while scanning the street to the east. A few seconds later, he saw a black SUV approaching, the streetlight shining through the windshield, revealing Dev’s face. Mitch casually looked around him again then made his way across the street.
As he climbed inside and shut the door, Dev continued driving straight for another block then made a series of right turns to make sure she wasn’t being followed before resuming their route out of Munich.
“I’ve arranged for the company jet to meet us in Zurich which is only about 80 kilometers from here.” She leaned back in her seat, relaxing her shoulders slightly. “What did you learn from our little encounter with Yin or back at the estate?”
“Not a whole hell of a lot, other than the dead mercenary with the tiger tattoo on his forearm—that’s one I’ve seen before. It took me a while to recall but it belongs to a group of guerrilla fighters out of Sumatra.”
“That’s not much of a breadcrumb to go on. Anything else? I don’t have any solid contacts in that region so we’d be taking a stab in the dark trying to trace any connections with her and your friend.”
Mitch was fidgeting with Yin’s phone but it only contained one number that was encrypted. “So far all we’ve got are those dead bodies at the estate, a Chinese courier with bad-ass fighting skills,” he paused to rub his sore forearm where Yin had stabbed him, “and her useless cellphone.”
He rolled up his jacket sleeve and inspected the tiny puncture wound. “From the plane ticket in her jacket she was headed to Kuala Lumpur.”
“What I’d like to know is who gave Yin a lead concussion back at the airport.”
“I’ve been wondering the same. That was no street thug who dispatched her. Anyone with close-range pistol skills who can nab a target in a crowded airport and then sneak away into the shadows—that’s probably the same dude who left that nice lawn display of shattered bodies back at the estate.”
“He’s a high-end merc then—someone with skills like you and I possess—but who’s his puppet master?”
“They’ve got considerable funding to be able to insert into a country with a hit team, weapons, and probably all the fake credentials to not draw attention at the airport. People like that are either working for a crime syndicate—say Chinese Triad for instance, given Yin’s appearance and the Oriental-looking guy I saw at the airport—or…”
“Or clandestine ops sanctioned by some government or a shadow faction within a government,” said Dev.
“Yeah, I’d say we’re going up against some heavy hitters.”
Dev pulled her shoulders back. “Then it’ll be an even match.”
Mitch stared out the window at the passing cars and then up at the moon, which hung like a pearl in the obsidian sky. The only clue he had to move forward was written on Yin’s airline ticket. “I know someone who lives in Kuala Lumpur. An old SF colleague of mine, Marco. He’d be a place to start, anyway, though it’s been a while since I’ve seen his surly mug.” Mitch dragged out the last sentence with a hint of disdain.
“Is he a trusted friend?”
“Let’s just say he’s a solid guy when he’s on the job. After hours, he’s a fight magnet and a dirty son of a bitch.”
“He double-cross you? Because I can think of better company to keep.”
“We were in a dive in Manila once after a deployment and he was hitting on another dude’s lady, this marine who had a pretty impressive enemy kill record from what we knew as young soldiers.” Mitch sighed and twisted his head up, stretching his neck. “Let’s just say my jaw still hurts from that night.” He shoved Yin’s phone back in his jacket. “Look, Dev, you’ve already gone beyond the call of duty coming out here with me. I don’t need you getting into a compromising position with your board or sticking your neck out any further for me.”
“Nonsense, this is what Gideon is supposed to be about. Besides, if I don’t have the approval of the board for my actions then I know for certain I have my father’s blessing on this one, trust me. He would’ve dropped what he was doing for you too.”
“Well, I appreciate that but you’ve got a company to think about and don’t need any further entanglements with something that could have such nebulous international ties.”
“Mitch, in the field is where I should be, not doing Skype conferences and employee meetings. To be honest, I can’t stand being in my office.”
She continued glancing in the rearview mirror, checking for anyone tailing them. “Petra and David, my two brethren wh
o were with us in Arizona last fall, are coming off an assignment in India and can rendezvous with us in KL. This is going to take more than the two of us, I suspect.”
“Ever think what it’d be like if we did normal things together like friends are supposed to do instead of these little escape and evade outings?” Mitch said.
Dev smirked. “Is that what we are—just friends?”
“Yeah, well, if you ever had more than three minutes of time off each week, maybe I’d be able to take you out for a proper dinner date.”
Dev looked in the rearview mirror and then feigned a gasp. “You mean you don’t like my mother’s cooking? You really are a cowboy—too used to biscuits and gravy.”
“Don’t even bring your mom into this—I like her and her fine meals. It’s her daughter that’s giving me a run for my money.”
“I’ll tell you what, when we get a break, I will permit you to take me out for a real dinner and I’ll even leave my work cellphone at home for a few hours.”
“You’ll ‘permit me,’ oh please, it’s more like ‘you will accompany me.’”
She shook her head while containing a grin. “And you should know I’m very particular about where we go to eat.”
“Geez, this is quite a tab I’m gonna be running up. Looks like I’ll have to skip taking you to a burger joint and shoot for something fancy.”
She lowered her chin and smiled, keeping her vision on the road ahead. “I might just permit you to do that.”
Chapter 16
“I had to decommission the target. She was at risk of getting away. Her plane ticket indicated Kuala Lumpur,” said Von into his cellphone as he exited the Munich Airport. “There were some other players involved too but I didn’t get to make their acquaintance, though I managed to snap a photo of the man from a distance with my phone.”
“How many—what did they look like?” barked Crenna.
“Just two. A man in his mid-thirties, European or American by the looks of it and a woman of tan complexion who moved like a cat.”
“Shit, did they have any contact with Yin?”
“Yeah, but not for long. It looked like she had just escaped from them when I put her down.”
He could hear Crenna’s labored breathing in his earpiece in between sentences. “Send me the photo of the man and I’ll see what I can turn up on him.”
“Will do.”
“Where are you now?”
“Still in Munich.”
“I need you on the next flight out to Kuala Lumpur to track down any leads Yin may have had there. She must certainly have an accomplice there.”
“Or she was just fleeing there after selling any intel she had. What makes you suspect an accomplice?”
There was a slight pause before Crenna replied. “Potential accomplice is what I meant. We just need to be sure that any loose threads are tied off.”
Von stopped walking and took in a deep breath; he figured he would be done being Crenna’s errand boy. “I thought things would be wrapped up once the package was disposed of. Surely the professor must be dead by now. Have there been any demands or contact from his supposed captors?”
“He still has to be in play somehow based upon some things I recently uncovered in Europe. Yin was just one tentacle of this beast. Head to Kuala Lumpur and await further instructions. If you should locate Schueller, dispatch him and retrieve any data that you can.”
Von tucked his phone away and scanned behind him and then along the street. Why kill a valued DOD researcher like Schueller? Nothing in the old man’s files indicates he’d be the type to go rogue. Yin I understand but this guy? Von rubbed the back of his neck. What’s Crenna not telling me this time around?
Chapter 17
Dev was staring at the plethora of tiny islands below that were peppered throughout the Andaman Sea near the coast of Thailand. In forty minutes they would be landing in Kuala Lumpur and she wondered what would await them in this next leg of the trip.
Mitch leaned over her shoulder, staring at the waters below. “Did you spot an old shipwreck down there? Seems like something’s caught your interest.”
She sighed, slumping her shoulders back into the seat. “So many quaint little islands that a person could just disappear into and spend their days on the beach, not a care in the world.”
“Ah, a city girl like you—I’d give you a week and you’d be aching for a mall,” he said with a nudge of his elbow.
She smirked and didn’t avert her eyes as her mind wandered over the bewitching contours of the landscape below. Her face was tense and she was sure it wasn’t from the sun streaming in through the portal. Her whole body was rigid despite her best efforts at relaxing during the long flight. She never wanted to be a CEO and run her father’s tentacled organization; being responsible for so many lives coupled with week after week in that corporate setting was bleeding her soul. She marveled at her father’s ability to command so many facets of the business while keeping so many alpha types in check. But then he had been a guerilla fighter in the trenches for decades so running a company with only egos to battle was probably a hell of a lot easier. How she wanted to talk to him again, walk through the cedars around their old house and to get his counsel. She was glad to be away from her duties for a while though the board of directors weren’t going to keep buying her story about assisting a new client.
She needed a change in her mental landscape and leaned over towards Mitch. “You miss them much?” said Dev. “Your old unit buddies I mean.”
Mitch rubbed the whiskers on his chin. “Yeah, sometimes. We all keep in touch via email. Whenever I travel, I’ll look up one of them or vice-versa. There were about a dozen guys I knew well but I was really only good buds with four of them. Like brothers—the Fantastic Four.”
“Was Marco one of them?”
“Mmm…no but he was a damn fine armorer and knew more about ballistics than anyone I ever met. He’s a solid guy whom I could always count on when the lead was flying. Plus, he owes me one after I bailed him out of the slammer for a drunken fight with some squids—you know, navy guys.”
“So, how did he come to live in Kuala Lumpur?” Dev said, studying the rolling terrain outside her window.
“After he got out of the military, Marco did a few stints as a private contractor in the Middle East, saving enough money to buy a used plane. Said he could make a lot of loot taking rich tourists out to remote beaches.” Mitch turned the ventilation fan over his head up a notch.
“His first wife was Indonesian. He told me he met her in a brothel in Thailand. She’s the one who introduced him to the city during their ten-month marriage.”
“Sounds like a ‘solid’ guy alright.”
“Actually, he is in a firefight. He once got shot in the knuckles by an AK round after disembarking a C-130 in Afghanistan. He was walking off the loading ramp and some Taliban in the foothills unleashed on his guys on the runway. Good ole Marco waved the plane off and took to the boulders, refusing medical treatment for nine hours while sending hate downrange to assure his men were safe.”
“I’ve known some warriors like that. They are exactly the type of person you want on your side when things get rough but they’re sometimes a menace to themselves in civilian life without a war to wage.”
Mitch leaned over, pressing his shoulder against hers. “So, I know you’re a big girl and all, but be warned that Marco has a roving eye—and sometimes roving hands.”
“Why, Mitchell Kearns, do I detect a vein of chivalry in you?”
“Just watch yourself, though I’ll keep him in line if he gets to be too much.”
“I’ll be fine, thanks.” She closed the shutter on the window and stared down the aisle. “So he’ll be obvious to find amidst that throng of people in the city.”
“Marco—ah, yeah, let’s just say there are some streets in Kuala Lumpur he can’t go down.”
“A habitual brawler who looks for trouble—great.”
“Not that so much as
the guy’s as wide as a rhino.” Mitch puffed out his chest as if he’d been inflated with helium. “You’ll spot him from a hundred yards off. The Indonesians usually just part when they see him coming. We used to joke in our unit that if we were ever stranded on an island, Marco would be the first guy we’d sacrifice to extend our rations.”
The pilot announced that he was taking the jet in for its descent. Mitch pulled his seat forward and thought about his days abroad with Marco and his other SF buddies. It seemed like a millennium ago and he missed the camaraderie though his creaky knees from too many airborne jumps sometimes reminded him that he wasn’t in his twenties any longer.
Chapter 18
After checking into their hotel near Merdeka Square, Mitch strode down to a streetside clothing vendor and purchased some t-shirts and garments for the group. Urban camouflage meant fitting in with the locals and it was the first thing he did when arriving in a new country. The second-hand stores were the best places to obtain clothing with a more weathered appearance but since Kuala Lumpur was such a tourist haven it wasn’t hard to find suitable attire.
Two hours later, the taxi dropped them off at the Golden Macau Bar four blocks from downtown Kuala Lumpur. The outer façade of the three-story building held a hint of British colonialist architecture amidst the gaudy red-and-green paint adorning the exterior walls. Across the street was an abandoned mosque with graffiti covering the flaking stucco walls. The Petronas Twin Towers and other skyscrapers were visible in the distance in the more affluent section of the city. Their present location could best be described as the budget side of town with its greasy boardwalk lined with pubs, cocktail lounges, and other alcohol-fueled entertainment venues. Filling the sidewalks were numerous hawker stalls peddling knock-off watches and shoes while a carnival of prostitutes mingled with the human river that spilled onto the street. The humid air was an amalgam of sweat and musty trash combined with charcoal smoke from the curbside food vendors.
