Sequence

by Darren Wearmouth

  “I’ve got a plan,” Jacob whispered. “You wait here a second.”

  “Wait? What?” Emma said, as Jacob slowly edged his way out of the shadows of the rack until he came to the edge. He waited and listened, trying to ascertain if anyone was coming from the corridor that lay just ten feet away. Satisfied when he couldn’t hear anything, he tiptoed across to the body of the soldier and picked up the pistol, placing it inside his jacket as he returned quickly to the shadows.

  Emma gave him a disapproving look. “Someone could have seen you,” she whispered through gritted teeth.

  “But at least we have something to defend ourselves with.” Though he realized that even if that was the case, it didn’t mean it would do much good. If a trained soldier couldn’t take down one of Gray’s synthetics, then he’d have no chance.

  The last time he’d shot a gun was when he was a teenager. And that was his uncle’s old shotgun that he’d used for shooting pigeons. It was hardly an accurate instrument. Still, he felt the pistol at least provided a level of protection.

  Jacob rubbed Emma’s arm, trying to reassure her. “We’re going to climb up there. Just follow me and take it slow, okay?”

  “I can’t,” Emma said. “I don’t like heights.”

  “I know, just breathe, think about how great it will be to get out of here. Free, in the fresh air. Just focus on me and follow what I do. You’ll be fine.”

  The concern on Emma’s face told him a different story.

  Jacob reached up and grabbed a shelf unit just above his head. He pushed up on a lower one with his feet, using the shelves like high steps. When he’d climbed two levels, he stopped and looked back. Emma was right behind him, her face pale and glossy. Her arms shook with each lift, but she was moving, and that was all that mattered. They had to keep moving, keep climbing.

  Halfway up the rack, Jacob heard a door open and slam against the wall. His arms and legs locked and he stopped. Emma was right by his side and her eyes grew wide. Voices came from below as two synthetics surveyed the area.

  All the while, like a mantra, Jacob said in his mind over and over, Please don’t look up, please don’t look up.

  CHAPTER THIRTY

  4:14 a.m., Day 4, Montana

  Gray leaned forward, squinting at the laptop screen. The bottom right image had a view along the corridor outside through a gap in an adjacent room’s door.

  “Cooley is here. And it looks like he means business,” Gray said.

  “Do you want number five to take him out?” Michael said.

  “No, let him come in first.”

  “I’ll show him what freakoids are all about,” Michael said through gritted teeth.

  Picking up the laptop, Gray moved to the side of the door and crouched next to Michael. “Keep your cool.”

  “But you know what he’s like—”

  “A waste of good DNA, and hasn’t done a thing to help us, despite the agreement. Be quick; he’s armed.”

  Gray watched Cooley twisting the exterior handle, pushing the door with his left hand, gun in the right. The door swung inwards, juddering to a halt against a rubber stopper on the floor.

  “What the?” Cooley said. “Doctor, Michael, you in there? It’s me.”

  Gray looked to his right as Cooley stepped forward, his gun appearing through the door. Michael reached forward, ripped the weapon free and dragged him into the room by his hand. Cooley staggered forwards, roaring, as Michael squeezed. Gray screwed up his face after hearing the sound of bones crunching.

  Cooley threw his left elbow at Michael, who grabbed the agent’s throat with both hands, slamming him against the wall, raising him upwards. Gray closed the door.

  “What do you think of freakoids now? What do you think?” Michael said.

  Cooley kicked at Michael while attempting to loosen the grip with his uninjured hand. Gray put the laptop back on the table and turned toward the struggling agent.

  “The freakoid thing was just part of the act. I’m on your side. Get the hell…” Cooley gasped.

  “Sorry, I didn’t quite catch that. Do you have something to say?” Gray said.

  Cooley twisted his shoulders, raised his knees, and tried to push forwards.

  “Please. I’m on your side,” he said.

  “Only your mouth beats your greed. You’ve been next to useless,” Michael said.

  “Put him out of his misery,” Gray said. “We don’t have time for this.”

  He moved back to the laptop to observe the six on-screen feeds. Behind him, he heard three thuds against the wall. Michael appeared by his side, placing the gun on the table.

  “The warehouse appears to be clear,” Gray said.

  Five of the feeds displayed the warehouse from various angles. One was looking toward the ground, at a prone NSA squad member. A hand reached down, pulling the rifle-sling free, and picked up the rifle.

  “What about Vega?” Michael said.

  “What about her?”

  “I think she could be useful.”

  Gray shrugged. “Okay, grab a saliva sample.”

  “No, I meant some of her procedural knowledge. We could update our training packages.”

  “Fine,” Gray said, sliding the laptop across the table, “tell the others, but don’t expect me to help with babysitting.”

  Michael pointed at the screen. “I won’t need to. She’s heading this way.”

  Gray peered back at the feed. “Speak of the devil.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  4:25 a.m., Day 4, Montana

  Zoe headed back along the corridor adjacent to the warehouse, then turned right toward the interrogation room containing Gray and Murphy.

  With the threat to national security, she thought it unwise to eliminate the main sources of evidence. There could still be a legitimate way out of this. Something other than sanctioned murder. When the inquiry came, she’d justify her decision, make it clear that she’d acted in the nation’s best interest.

  Her eyes felt tired as she walked along the artificially lit corridor, although the feeling in her stomach and thoughts swirling in her head kept her switched on.

  As she reached for the door handle, her cell buzzed three times. She answered.

  “Vega, update.”

  “Sir, I’m about to deal with the situation, but—”

  “But what?”

  “We need more information. There’s way more going on than we realize. I’m sure of it.” She paused; a rustling sound came through the earpiece. “Sir?”

  “We checked out the locations. Are you sure the coordinates are right?”

  Zoe felt a sting in Hatfield’s question. She composed herself. “Hundred percent. The information is directly from Murphy’s laptop.”

  “We found nothing but empty woodland.”

  “You found nothing?”

  “We’re still searching. Do we have anything else to go on?”

  “I’ll ask Murphy again. Have you increased security at the power station?”

  “I don’t need you telling me how to do my job, Vega. Just do yours, okay?”

  “I’ll get the information from them. One way or another.”

  “Fine. Extract the information, and then finish them. I want nothing left behind.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “Are the other two taken care of?”

  Zoe paused for a moment, the lie sticking in her throat. “Yes—”

  The line cut, of course.

  Zoe sighed, slipping the cell back in her pocket. She reached for the handle again. Two shots echoed through the building in quick succession. She froze. Was it Cooley or the squad? Had they shot Jacob and Emma?

  Dammit! Gray and Murphy would have to wait.

  A closet door creaked behind her.

  She spun around. A figure appeared in front of her. Her hand twitched on her gun as she felt a blow to her temple. Zoe staggered backwards and fell. The acoustic tiles above her blurred. Someone grabbed her by the legs as she finally suc
cumbed to unconsciousness.

  ***

  Zoe blinked. Her cheek rested against a cool surface.

  She tried to pull her clasped hands apart, feeling restraints around her wrists. As her vision returned, she recognized the table from an interrogation room. She raised her head a few inches to look at her wrists bound together with what looked like a lace from a hiking boot. She pulled herself up with a groan, trying to focus on the man sitting opposite her.

  Gray smiled. “Nice to see you’re back with us, Agent Vega.”

  Zoe winced, half closing one eye in the glaring light. She tried to stand. A hand pressed down on her shoulder.

  “Please remain seated,” Murphy said.

  She looked around the room. Her shoulders tensed as she saw Cooley and Shane slumped against the wall, motionless, dead. In the corner lay broken cuffs and chains.

  “Who’s been helping you?” she said.

  “No one has been helping us. Well, perhaps inadvertently, but that doesn’t really count,” Gray said.

  “Who released you? Who killed Cooley and Shane?”

  “I did,” Murphy said. “The good news for you is that you’re coming with us.”

  “I’m not going anywhere. You can’t get out of here; you’re equally screwed.”

  “Agent Vega,” Gray said, rolling his eyes, “do you really think we’d agree to come here if we thought we wouldn’t be leaving on our own terms?”

  Zoe shook her head, trying to clear her thoughts. A distant burst of gunfire rang out.

  “The squad, they’ll be here soon. Give yourselves up.”

  Gray twisted the laptop screen towards her. “They already know there’s something wrong. Take a look.”

  Zoe watched the six feeds, trying to register what she was seeing. One feed stalked the corridor outside, two others moved from room to room. Three showed the kitchen from different angles.

  Three squad members lay on the floor.

  “My God, you’ve got people here!” she said.

  “Just watch and learn,” Gray said.

  One of the moving feeds entered a room. Zoe watched as the feed panned around and stopped on a squad member crouching behind a desk. The screen cut to black as fire from an automatic weapon simultaneously sounded from the laptop and inside the building. Murphy slammed his fist on the desk.

  “Steady, Michael. There can’t be many left,” Gray said.

  The other feeds started to move. Zoe recognized they were heading toward the same room from two different directions. One arrived outside the door. A man’s hand came into view, holding a flash grenade; a second hand released the pin and he threw it inside. She heard a sharp blast echo along the corridor. The man—Zoe finally realizing she was seeing live action through some type of helmet-cam—moved into the room and swept it with gunfire. He paused for a moment to observe the squad member’s body.

  “Do you know what you’re looking at?” Gray said.

  “You got a team of armed mercenaries to infiltrate a government facility and commit treason. What do you think happens when the director finds out?”

  Gray frowned. “Director Hatfield is concerned with other matters. Like his career, for starters. You’ll be the last thing on his mind.”

  “You think you’ve got this all worked out, don’t you?” Zoe said.

  She still wasn’t sure what Gray’s plan was, nor his real motivations for XNA Industries. The best thing to do was to stall them as much as possible while trying to gather information.

  “Do you play chess?” Gray said.

  “I know how to play. So what?”

  He leaned back on the bench, folding his arms. “Well, in basic terms, when you start a match there are twenty possible positions after your opponent’s first move. Four hundred after the second. Five thousand, three hundred and sixty-two after the third. Are you following?”

  She nodded. “So far.”

  “If you’ve got a good idea of your opponent’s strategy, and if you know enough about them, you can plan to counter their moves while executing your own. Effectively drawing their strength to one area of the board and striking where they are most vulnerable. Where they least expect it.”

  “Get to the point, Doctor,” Zoe said.

  “Each team will tend to use sacrificial pawns. You’ve just seen one of ours on the laptop,” Gray said. He momentarily closed his eyes, nodding in Murphy’s direction before continuing. “You have no idea what kind of game you’re in, Agent Vega. And do you know why?”

  Zoe tried not to betray any signs of emotion, clasping her hands tightly together. “Why don’t you tell me?”

  “Because you are a pawn. Do you understand? If we leave you here, you will be sacrificed by your player. He will do it so he can play again.”

  “Why don’t you cut the metaphors and start talking? If you’re so confident of victory, what have you got to lose?”

  “Oh, Zoe. May I call you Zoe?”

  “I’m not really in a position to argue.”

  “This isn’t a James Bond film. I won’t be explaining intricate parts of the plan. After your involvement in the Sequence Project, your days at the NSA are numbered. You must surely see that?”

  Zoe was finding it difficult to read Gray. Was he trying to test her? He wasn’t stupid and would see straight through her if she immediately flipped.

  “Your synthetics won’t reach the nuclear power station,” she said.

  “Why don’t we call your boss and see?”

  He looked up. Murphy took his hand off Zoe’s shoulder and moved into view. Zoe kicked herself for not fully seeing it before: the vacant look, robotic style, unquestioning obedience.

  Murphy put her cell on the table and scrolled through the list of contacts. “You’ve got his number, right?”

  Zoe nodded. The realization dawned on her that the synthetics were probably a lot more advanced than what the NSA had been led to believe. Red and Blue from the Portland safe house wouldn’t have been capable of pulling off Murphy’s deception. And the video feeds made them look like they acted as a team.

  “Those helmet-cam shots, are they from synthetics? Did you use one of your own creations as a sacrificial pawn?” Zoe said to Gray.

  “Helmet-cam, no. Synthetics, yes. Sacrificial pawn, yes. Any more questions, no.”

  Gray let out a heavy sigh. She decided against pushing for more information.

  “Is he DH?” Murphy said, holding the screen toward Zoe.

  “Yes.”

  He pushed the call button and put the cell onto loudspeaker mode and walked behind Zoe. His hand clamped tightly around her mouth. She resisted the urge to bite his fingers, trying to calmly breathe through her nose.

  “Vega, update, please,” the director said.

  “This is Dr. Gray. Good morning.” The line stayed open, but there was no response. “Director, hello, this is Dr. Gray. I know you can hear me.”

  “What do you want? Where’s Vega?”

  “Agent Vega is here, with us. As for what I want, you’ll find out soon enough.”

  “You’re not getting out of this—”

  “I have every intention of leaving this”—Gray paused and glanced around the room with a look of disgust on his face—“facility very soon. What would you like us to do with Agent Vega?”

  “What do you mean? What the hell is going on there?”

  “It’s a straightforward question,” Gray said.

  “Release her. Immediately, Gray. You’ve—”

  “How’s the search coming along? Have you found what you’re looking for?”

  “I’d advise you to stop playing games. This has been escalated. It’s not just me you’re going to have to deal with—”

  “I don’t play games. We’ve taken control here. Would you like me to kill Agent Vega?”

  Zoe found the long pause telling.

  “There’s a suitable solution to this. If you’re prepared to listen,” the director said.

  “A suitable solution
? Do you intend to play me like a fiddle while you order a strike?”

  “Something that suits both of us. Stop what you’re doing and I’ll arrange safe passage out of the country.”

  “You’re a fool, Hatfield. Goodbye,” Gray said.

  The director tried to reply, but Gray hung up.

  Zoe wondered how the director felt, getting some of his own treatment. She’d decided during the call that she wasn’t going to be his scapegoat. If she managed to get through this, out of Gray’s grasp, the Sequence Project deserved to be exposed.

  Murphy released his grip and returned to the laptop.

  “What are you going to do with me?” Zoe said, trying to sound as sincere as possible.

  “You’re coming on an overseas trip. Michael thinks your procedural knowledge can be used to update our training packages.”

  “And if I refuse?”

  “I’d advise against that,” Murphy said.

  “Agent Vega, Zoe,” Gray said, pointing to the corpses propped against the wall, “you can either help us or join your two former colleagues.”

  Murphy stood up and rubbed his hands together.

  “Good news?” Gray said.

  “Unit A has come through. She has the codes,” Michael said.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO

  4:28 a.m., Day 4, Montana

  Jacob balanced near the top of the shelving unit, his chest on one of the wide shelves. With his left hand, he helped Emma to stay in position on a shelf below.

  On the warehouse floor, two synthetics checked the body of the dead soldier. Male models, one looking like the one that chased them in New York.

  Jacob watched the synthetics as they swept the room. He knew it was probably just a matter of time before they’d see them up there, in the shadows.

  Damn things probably had night vision too, he thought.

  “I’m scared,” Emma whispered, her arms shaking with the effort of holding her weight on the shelf. “I don’t know what to do.”