Kill Switch

by Gordon Bonnet

  “That’s not your real name, is it?”

  She laughed. “Such a suspicious nature. But well-earned, I would say. No. It is not. That is who I am here and now, so it will do. In any case, first things first. Before we discuss several matters of great importance to all of us, there is something even more urgent.” She stood, walked to a closed door in the far wall, and opened it, revealing a small utility room with a throw rug and two plastic bowls on the floor.

  Baxter cannoned out the door, nearly bowling her over, and leapt at him with an enthusiasm only a dog can muster.

  Blinking away tears, Chris looked up. “How…?”

  Mrs. Hargroder gave him a grandmotherly smile. “Those who help us are rewarded for it.”

  He stared at her, his eyes narrowing. A sudden chill tempered his excitement at seeing his dog, beyond all hope, still alive. That’s what the old man said. Reward and punishment. “What did I do to help you?”

  “You led us to the enemy headquarters, of course. In their eagerness to interrogate you, they did not make you strip completely when you were caught. Sloppy of them. We have been trying to find their central office for a long time. We knew for years that it was somewhere near Seattle. But ‘somewhere near Seattle’ is a big, big place, and until now, they have been exceedingly careful. The tracking device on your shirt allowed our technicians to pinpoint its location.”

  “And you came in and killed them all.”

  Her expression tightened, by an infinitesimal degree. “Surely, Mr. Franzia, you are not about to go all tenderhearted about our eradicating men and women who would have been delighted to torture you and your friend to death.”

  “But who were they? They’re like the Illuminati, right? Gavin was right about all of his conspiracy theories?”

  “In a way. It’s not that the conspiracy theorists are wrong, really. The world is full of conspiracies. The mistake most conspiracy theorists make is in assuming only the bad guys can successfully engage in one.”

  “And you’re the good guys?” Elisa interjected.

  A shrug. “At the moment, it appears we are. Given that had we not stormed the compound, as it were, the two of you would almost certainly be dead by now.”

  “They told us they weren’t the ones who killed Gavin and Glen and the others. Is that the truth?”

  Mrs. Hargroder looked at him for a moment without speaking. “There are some parts of this it would not be in your best interest for us to explain.”

  He stared at her in dawning comprehension. “You’re the ones who killed them, aren’t you?”

  She didn’t answer.

  “You did. You killed them. The others were telling the truth, about that, at least. But why did you start to help us?”

  Elisa shook her head. “That’s easy, Chris. We were bait.” Her voice was bleak, numb. “Once they’d failed in their attempts to kill us, and realized we were fleeing right into their enemies’ arms, it was more prudent to let us live and get the whole prize.”

  “That is a narrow view.” Distaste showed clearly in Mrs. Hargroder’s face. “I have expressed to you my gratitude for your assistance. I would have thought you would be somewhat grateful in return for ours. Without it, you would by now have been tortured to death.”

  “Maybe,” Chris allowed. “But even so, you’re the same. Both of you are trying to accomplish the same thing, aren’t you? Controlling people. Influencing governments. You’re at the same game. You’re enemies not because you’re philosophically in opposition, but because you’re in competition.”

  “Mr. Franzia, I hardly think…”

  “No, wait. You’ve killed five people, and tried to kill us, and then when that didn’t work you used us as pawns to find their headquarters. If you were any different from the people you call your enemies, you would have warned us right away, protected us. Not killed people because of what they might know, then let us run across the country directly into a situation where we were tortured and interrogated and might have died.”

  Eyes glittering, the woman continued to regard them sternly, implacable. “You must understand. We did not do these things because we wanted to, because we’re some kind of evil geniuses bent on harming others for fun. It is at its base about the welfare of humanity, and about keeping dangerous technology out of the hands of people who, despite your doubt on this point, are capable and willing to do far worse than we are. What you and your friends knew was simply too dangerous. Mr. McCormick, especially, had become a serious liability.”

  “Liability?” Chris snarled. “This is not some kind of game. We’re talking about people’s lives. Not just Gavin and the rest. Chase Ballengee—”

  “Mr. Ballengee knew the risks he was undertaking.”

  “Oh. So he was one of you, too? What about Thomas T. Champion? The Harpers? The bum who they shot in the motel parking lot in St. Joseph, Missouri? What about the woman at the hotel in Pennsylvania, who warned me about the guys who had asked about me? Are they all working for you? Were they all just trying to keep me alive so I could perform a service?”

  “I am not going to confirm or deny anything regarding people you may have met. Great things are at stake, here, Mr. Franzia.”

  There was that fucking phrase again. Who did these people think they were? “Yeah. That’s what the other side said, too. ‘Great things.’ More important than human lives. Let me tell you, once you decide that accomplishing a purpose is more important than a human life, there is nothing to separate your acts from those of your enemies. Not one fucking thing.” He stood up. “Elisa, if you agree with anything I said, we should leave now.”

  “Yes.” Elisa stood, as well, putting her hand in his. “Yes, we should go.”

  “Wait.”

  Chris locked gazes with the old woman’s. “You cannot leave.”

  “What, now you’re going to hold us prisoner? What happened to gratitude? Or did it go out the window with the invocation of ‘great things?’”

  “Sit down and stop being a fool.”

  He remained standing. “What you have to say, I can hear it just as well standing up. But make it fast, because in five minutes, Elisa and I are walking right the hell out of here and taking our chances with whatever’s out there. Unless you change your mind and decide to kill us. Because I am done with this, and this whole ridiculous war.” He looked at Elisa. “Disagree?”

  She shook her head. “I’m with you. One hundred percent.” And then both of them looked over at Mrs. Hargroder, waiting for her to explain.

  “You have two options.” All of the grandmotherly benevolence was gone. She looked like she was controlling her anger with an effort. “You can, as you say, walk out. I won’t stop you, although of course I cannot let you go without your being blindfolded and transported a distance away from this place. Our enemy was set back, but not vanquished, and we cannot afford to let them know our location. If you wish, we will drop you off anywhere within a hundred-mile radius. I will say, though, that if you choose to leave now, I would put your chances of survival for more than a week at near zero. Perhaps you do not realize the scale of the search you led our enemies on. There were hundreds of operatives looking for you, perhaps thousands. Your faces are, shall we say, rather well known amongst the people who would enjoy nothing more than capturing both of you, torturing you, and killing you.”

  Chris considered this for a moment. “And our other option?”

  “Simple. You put yourself under our protection. As I said, we do owe you our gratitude. We are willing to guarantee your protection, insofar as it is within our ability to do so. An ability, I might add, which is considerable.”

  “You never offered protection to Gavin.”

  “Your situation is different from Mr. McCormick’s. Your flight complicated matters, but its end result was to place you in a situation where you did us a great service. We are willing to repay that service with our protection of your lives.”

  Elisa stirred. “Under what conditions?”


  “The conditions are few, but are non-negotiable. We can provide new identities and all of the appropriate documentation. We will set you up with a place to live, and a modest but reasonable income, for life. During that time, we will have you under our continuous protection. Understand that should you accept our conditions, it will be as important to us that you remain at liberty as it will be to yourselves, considering what you could reveal about us if you were captured.”

  “And? What’s the price?”

  “You relinquish all contact with your former life. It is purely for your safety, you understand. Our enemies certainly know by now what happened at their headquarters, and who was responsible. They will be desperate to know if you survived, and, more importantly, if you were captured by our operatives. Therefore, you cannot—you must not—contact family or friends. No one can know that you survived the raid. Should you choose this option, then after a short time, we will see to it that there is an announcement of your deaths sent to the appropriate people in your home towns. The documents will give our enemies reason to believe that you were killed during the raid on their headquarters. Certainly a likely eventuality, given the circumstances.”

  Unwilling to give an inch just yet, he hedged. “What about the fact that there won’t be any bodies to bury? Kind of makes it difficult to issue a death certificate.”

  Mrs. Hargroder smiled. It wasn’t a particularly nice smile. “Oh, my dear Mr. Franzia. There won’t be any bodies left from the raid. The enemy headquarters is going to be completely destroyed. There will be nothing left for them to sift through. So in the absence of evidence to the contrary, it will be easy enough for them to be led to the conclusion that you died along with your captors.”

  “Convenient.”

  “Yes. But you must realize that once you start down that path, there can be no turning back. You must realize that your lives, and those of your loved ones, will only be safe if you follow this rule. If the enemy thinks you survived, that we have secreted you away, they will be enraged. It will make them even more desperate to find you. If they believe that they can do something to force you out of hiding, they will do it, by whatever means possible. It is only if they believe you are both dead will they give up. It is only then that you and your family and friends will be safe. And therefore, you must be dead. You must consider your old life to have died in that place from which we rescued you today.”

  “That’s horrible,” Elisa said.

  “Horrors occur when people become caught up in matters that are outside of their purview,” Mrs. Hargroder said, and there was a measure of sympathy in her voice. Or perhaps it was a ruse, as everything else had been.

  He’d been right to think that he could trust no one. There was no way to tell truth from lie. He felt he had lost his touchstone for reality.

  Except he had Elisa. She would have to be his touchstone now.

  His hand tightened on hers, and he felt a squeeze in response.

  “What else?”

  “If you accept our offer, we will transport you to any location of your choice and set you up in your new home. After that, you simply live your lives. But be aware your communications will be monitored, indefinitely. Telephone calls, emails, and so on. You know too much now ever to be completely free. True freedom is only possible for the ignorant.”

  “What guarantee do we have you’ll keep your word?”

  “None.” The response was flat and brutal—yet for all that, maybe the first really honest thing he’d heard her say. “I can give you nothing more than an assurance that if it had been our intent to kill you, we could have done so many times before now, and at much less inconvenience. You said we were the same as our enemy, but you’re wrong in one very fundamental way. We are limited in what we are willing to do, by a sense of morality and, I might add, compassion. Our enemy sees no such limits.”

  “A morality that permits you to kill.”

  “Only when it is absolutely necessary.”

  “And a morality that allows you to use innocent people to serve your ends.”

  “When it is warranted, yes.”

  “So it’s take our chances with the guys who intended to execute both of us, or live the rest of our lives in a cage.”

  “Just so.” She gave him a chilly little smile. How could he ever have thought she looked maternal? Her eyes glittered like a predator’s on the hunt. Completely ruthless.

  Her expression reminded him of brilliant, pitiless Deirdre Ross, who had seen her attempted murder as an opportunity to be seized with both hands. She’d thrown her lot in with the other side and would have helped them torture him to death on that examining table rather than intervene and put herself at risk. He wondered if she’d died with the rest of them, or if she had somehow escaped the carnage.

  If anyone could have survived, it would be Deirdre.

  Elisa nudged him. “Hobson’s choice.”

  “In reality, they all are.” Mrs. Hargroder turned toward her now. “We rarely see it at the time. You call our offer a cage. Perhaps that is true. But if it is a cage, it can be a lovely one. Together, I would presume?”

  Chris looked at Elisa, a question in his eyes.

  “Live together, or die together. Either way, I’m not leaving your side.”

  Could it be that simple? He sighed. “But which do you want? Do we agree to what these people are offering?”

  Elisa looked at the floor. “It’s terrible. What they’re asking of us, no one should ever have to decide.”

  “No.”

  “But…” She stopped, and looked up into his eyes, and a clarity and strength met his gaze. “No. This ends here. We’ve been through enough. If she’s telling the truth…”

  “I am. As I said, there would be no reason to go through this charade if we had intended to kill you.” The older woman shrugged. “Frankly, it would be easier, and perhaps more prudent, to kill you and eliminate the chance of your breaking the rules. We are choosing not to do so.”

  There was more to it than that, though. With these people, there always was. “And also, in case you ever need to use us again.” He looked the old lady in the eye. “You’ll have destroyed our past. You’ll hold all the cards, and you’re counting on the fact that we’d do it, for the same reasons we did this time. Desperation and hope.”

  But Mrs. Hargroder would not be goaded into anger again. “Come now, Mr. Franzia. Are you always so suspicious of gifts? The truth is that there is no reason for us to do this except for the fact that my superiors feel that you deserve some recompense for what you have done for us, however unwittingly it was done.”

  “Your superiors?”

  Mrs. Hargroder laughed. “Oh, you certainly can’t tell me you think I am one of the leaders. No, sad to say, a little cog in a bigger wheel I am and shall remain, Mr. Franzia. Now, the time has come. Which will it be? The free choice of two free humans, which will almost certainly result in your untimely deaths? Or a long and peaceful, but limited, life under new identities, in a new place? I believe you understand your choices, and once chosen, you cannot go back. There is no particular reason to delay any further. Delay is only fruitful if there is the chance that time will provide you with additional information, or with greater clarity of mind. Neither is the case here.” She smiled again, and tented her fingers together. “So, shall we cut to the chase, as they say? Which will it be, the Lady or the Tiger?”

  Epilogue

  Baxter gave a single warning woof at the knock on the door. Chris jumped. He wondered how long it was going to take him to stop panicking every time something unexpected happened. He was as safe now as he could be. He set down his newspaper, went to the door of the cottage, and opened it.

  A slender young woman with waves of curly red hair and bright green eyes was standing there, a broad smile on her face and a box in her hand.

  He put a smile on his face. “Hi.”

  The woman stuck out one hand, and shook his firmly. “Hi! I’m Rainey Carrington. I’m sort of yo
ur next door neighbor. I live down the road a little. I wanted to welcome you to Crooked Creek.”

  “Come in, please.” He stepped aside, inviting her in with a wave. “I’m Dave. Dave Hamilton.”

  “Thanks. It’s great to meet you, Dave.” Rainey came inside, and handed Chris the box. “It’s just a little welcome gift. I have an herbal tea business, and I put together a little sampler for you and… your…” She hesitated.

  “Wife.” He laughed. “Abigail.” He turned and looked back toward the kitchen, “Abby? We have company.”

  Elisa appeared a moment later, drying her hands on a tea towel. She smiled in welcome. “Hi.”

  Rainey shook her hand, as well. “Rainey Carrington. I live right down the road. It’s the next house down toward town, but on the other side of the road.”

  “The house with the beautiful flower gardens?”

  “That’s the one. I live there with my boyfriend, Tyler. He’s a wildlife biologist. He’s off doing field work right now. He should be back in two weeks or so.”

  “I’ve always wished I’d gone into research.” He slipped his arm around Elisa’s waist. “I’m a retired biology teacher.”

  “That’s so cool!” She blushed with pride over her wayward partner. They must still be in their honeymoon phase, too. “Tyler’s off in Cameroon at the moment.”

  He chuckled. “Wow. Cameroon. I don’t even know if I could locate Cameroon on a map.”

  “Studying what?”

  “Well… Wildlife.” She smiled cryptically. “I think I’ll let him tell you about it. He does some pretty unusual stuff. I don’t understand half of it.”

  Ever the proper hostess, Elisa offered their new friend a cup of coffee or tea. During the early months of their exile together, he’d was still discovering just how handy she was around the kitchen—much to his waistline’s chagrin.

  “Tea, please”