Sequence

by Darren Wearmouth

  “Get on your knees and put your hands in the air,” the megaphone repeated.

  Gray and Murphy started talking to each other, seemingly ignoring the warning.

  “This is your last chance.”

  Both raised their hands.

  Zoe did the same, carefully approaching them, stopping ten yards short.

  “It’s over, Gray. Give yourself up!” she shouted.

  “It’s not over until I say it is,” he replied.

  “They’ll shoot you; you aren’t getting out of this.”

  Gray nodded. Murphy reached inside his jacket.

  Two rifle cracks split the air. Murphy jerked backwards, dropping a smartphone. He crumpled into a cross-legged position, clutching his chest.

  “You fools. Luddites!” Gray shouted.

  Murphy picked up the phone and thumbed the screen. He mumbled something to Gray about a detonation; Zoe couldn’t quite hear his raspy voice.

  Another round zipped down, snapping Murphy’s head back. His shoulders relaxed and he slumped backwards. Gray ducked, instinctively shielding his head.

  He glared at Zoe. “How did they know?”

  She held open one side of her jacket, pointing to the pocket. “You’re not the only person who can track things. On your knees.”

  He stepped across to Murphy’s body and dropped down onto one knee. Even now he was showing petty signs of defiance.

  “You think this ends here, Vega?”

  “Put your hands behind your head. We’re coming in,” the megaphone shouted.

  Gray took off his glasses and folded them into the breast pocket of his shirt, then wrapped both hands behind his neck. Members of the ambush team cautiously approached, weapons trained on the doctor.

  “It does for you. It already has for dozens of innocent people.”

  “XNA is coming. It is our destiny,” Gray said.

  His head twitched to one side.

  “Maybe, maybe not. But for you it’s checkmate.”

  “If you want to play the game, you must learn the rules,” Gray said.

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  His expression twisted into a grimace. “You disgust me.”

  Gray leapt to his feet, taking a couple of steps forward, lunging at Zoe with outstretched hands.

  She jumped back as multiple rounds whizzed through the air, thumping into Gray’s body, checking his stride. He clawed at his shirt, hissing through gritted teeth.

  “You’re a dead woman, Vega, I…”

  His legs buckled.

  Zoe moved to his side and rolled him onto his back. Gray gulped for air with a wheeze. He stared at her with eyes like a dead fish, emotionless.

  “Like I said, Dr. Gray, checkmate.”

  He weakly attempted to spit blood at Zoe, only managing to add to the increasing amount that soaked the front of his shirt.

  Gray coughed twice before letting out a long sigh, relaxing in death.

  Boots thudded around Zoe.

  An armed man stooped next to her. “Are these the freaks we heard about?”

  “One of them was, this guy was the brains of the outfit,” Zoe said.

  “Just these and the ones in the parking lot?”

  “In this area? I think so.”

  Zoe stood and took a deep breath. She looked across the sunlit bay, at last feeling a sense of freedom.

  “You need to come with us, Agent Vega. You’ve got a flight to catch,” the man said.

  “A flight to catch?”

  He placed a hand on her shoulder. “FBI wants to see you. We’re taking you to JBLM.”

  “FBI? When did they get involved?”

  “When it was raised by your director. We’re all involved now. Please follow me.” He turned to members of his team. “Bag these two up. They’re coming with us.”

  ***

  Tearing through the streets in the back of a van, Zoe glanced at the members of the ambush team and the two body bags. She couldn’t believe this part was finally over. Her captivity, the threat of Gray’s insanity.

  She dismissed the paranoid thoughts of Murphy ripping his way out of the body bag. The synthetics were strong, but they were flesh and blood after all. He went down just like any other person.

  “Any word on those missing eight synthetics?” she said.

  One of the team shrugged. “I heard we deployed a team to Wyoming. No news as yet.”

  She scowled as her thoughts turned to the director.

  CHAPTER FORTY-TWO

  2 p.m., Day 5, J. Edgar Hoover Building

  Jacob yawned and stretched his arms and legs; he was sitting on a comfortable sofa in a small briefing room within the FBI headquarters. Emma sat by his side, waiting for Chavez to fetch them ahead of a morning debrief.

  His bad leg felt heavy with the protective plastic boot fitted around his foot. At least the futuristic-looking device prevented any further damage. The X-rays showed a double fracture, but it was a clean break and should heal well, the surgeon said.

  The government covered all medical expenses and provided a pair of GAP jeans and an FBI-issue polo shirt. Jacob wondered whether his first-class treatment was a way of keeping him quiet. They must have known about his blog and the circles he moved in; it made sense, from their point of view, to bring him inside and keep him there, rather than make an enemy of him, especially after everything he had learned.

  “Who would have thought it, the likes of us getting the VIP treatment at the FBI,” Jacob said, turning to face Emma. She sat next to him, her hair tied in a single ponytail, wearing the same style of clothing.

  “Better service than any hotel,” she said. “That breakfast was amazing.”

  “I know, right? Shows how the one percent live.”

  “It’s not hard to see why they defend it from the masses like us.”

  Jacob nodded, wanting to avoid going down that route. Although he agreed with the sentiment, it felt ungracious to bitch about the way they had been looked after. Growing up, he and his family had had nothing but the bare minimum. Despite that, his mother always maintained that one should be grateful for anything you receive. Though it was that thinking that made it easier to control the masses. Throw them a few crumbs and tell them to be grateful.

  On this occasion, however, he was genuinely grateful for what the FBI and the other feds had done for him. Not only had they helped him and Emma, but also they’d successfully recovered Zoe Vega, mostly unharmed, and it seemed she wasn’t going to face the same punishment as former NSA director Leonard Hatfield.

  “I really wish Brian could have been with us. He would have gone crazy if he knew we were here. I suppose we should help his parents to arrange a funeral after all this business is dealt with.”

  Emma placed her hand on his leg. “In good time, Jakey. Let’s not get ahead of ourselves. We should let his parents grieve a bit, don’t you think?”

  “I think they’ll blame me,” Jacob said. “They never thought I was a good influence, and now I’ve gotten their son killed.”

  “No,” Emma said firmly, gripping his chin and making him face her. “You’re not to blame. He was his own man and made his own decisions. We all did. We made the choice to get involved with this.”

  It made sense, but it didn’t stop him feeling like he had let his friends down, especially Brian. Jacob had been the driving force through all of this. At some point he had to take responsibility for what happened.

  In what form that would take, he didn’t yet know, but he would find a way to make amends somehow. Or at the very least, honor Brian’s memory in the best way he could.

  Jacob waited patiently, glancing about the briefing room. It felt like a dentist’s waiting area with its coffee table covered in magazines, and light-cream walls adorned with prints of famous paintings. Among the artworks were various plaques honoring former agents and significant contributors. He hoped Zoe Vega’s name would be on the wall soon. In the face of Hatfield’s threats and influence, she was
the only one to stand against him.

  The shadows of FBI workers darkened the frosted glass door as they passed by. The air-con unit hummed quietly, creating an aural blanket of inoffensive white noise only punctuated by the ticking of the clock.

  When the hand struck 10 a.m., the door opened. Chavez walked in accompanied by her lanky partner, Laramore, whose giant frame made the room feel twice as small.

  “How you feeling?” Laramore said, addressing them both.

  “Refreshed, well fed,” Emma said, despite her tired appearance.

  It would take more than one good night’s sleep to recover from this, Jacob thought. And no small amount of psychological help, either.

  “Thanks,” Jacob said, holding up a pair of crutches. “For everything.”

  “No problem,” Chavez said. “It’s time for your debriefing. We’ve found out a few things that I think you’ll find interesting.”

  ***

  Jacob’s stomach felt queasy when he took his seat in the debriefing room. It reminded him of the small boutique cinema back in his hometown in California, although this room, thankfully, lacked the sticky floor, ripped seats, and annoying kids.

  The lights were low, and the small half-circle of seats, approximately a hundred or so, arced round a stage with a lectern to its right side. A twenty-foot projection screen hung from the low roof behind the stage.

  Chavez walked onto the stage and placed a file on the lectern. She looked up into the seats and nodded to someone Jacob couldn’t see without turning all the way round. The seats were half-filled with suited men and women.

  Tapping the mic, Chavez cleared her throat, opened her file, and began to address the room.

  “Ladies, gentlemen, thank you for joining me this morning. I’ve forwarded the report to your departments, including additional appendixes with the full results of the autopsies and the reports from Jacob Miller and Emma Jenkins.”

  Chavez caught Jacob’s eye, giving him a subtle nod.

  “I will forward the dossiers on Dr. Julian Gray and Michael Murphy later this afternoon. You’ll forgive me for not having them available at this point in time; we’re still working with other agencies to collate all sources of information. With that said, I will briefly go over the situation and define the next stage of this case.”

  Jacob waited nervously for Agent Chavez to continue. He’d heard rumors about what happened at the port but nothing concrete. He’d seen Agent Vega leave the hospital as he arrived but didn’t have time to speak with her.

  “Yesterday afternoon, our brave men from the Rangers foiled an attempt to launch a nuclear strike on this country from the Wyoming Bravo-Two Missile Alert Facility.

  “Due to the bravery of Mr. Miller and Ms. Jenkins, we discovered one of Dr. Gray’s synthetics had infiltrated NSA headquarters and procured a set of launch codes. A further eight of these synthetics managed to gain entry to the missile alert facility. New protocols are currently undergoing review to prevent any such future attack from happening.

  “Further to this outcome, former NSA director Leonard Hatfield will face trial for treason, conspiracy to murder, terrorism, and other related charges, all of which are defined in Appendix D of the report. If found guilty, Mr. Hatfield will be facing the death penalty.”

  A murmur of affirmation broke out among the group. Jacob was pleased to hear that the justice system was moving swiftly with regards to Hatfield.

  “We are currently tracking down the locations of all former XNA Industries staff members. Their facility in Alaska was found destroyed, including a series of cryo-chambers, shortly after the confrontation in Seattle. We believe this was Michael Murphy’s last order, although we’re waiting for confirmation through his phone records. Our forensics team is on-site picking through the scant remains in the hopes of finding more useful evidence.

  “We’ve discovered the bodies of two staff members and a third body identified as a friend of Tanya Merriweather; some remain unidentified, but we’re following up on a few local leads. Quentin Devereaux’s body is also being released to his family. That concludes the brief outline with regards to XNA Industries.

  “Former NSA Agent Zoe Vega has been pardoned and given a role within this organization to continue to investigate Dr. Julian Gray’s threat. Agent Vega, if you would like to take over from here?”

  Chavez looked to her right as Agent Vega, dressed in a formal black suit, approached the lectern. She shared a private word with Chavez and gave her a quick smile.

  “Thank you, Agent Chavez, for everything,” she said before addressing the crowd. Jacob was pleased to see she looked well and hadn’t suffered too much at Gray’s and Michael’s hands. His nervousness peaked as he tapped his fingers against the seat’s armrest. This was what he had been waiting for: to find out what happened after Gray took Vega from the compound.

  “I too would like to extend my thanks to Mr. Miller and Ms. Jenkins. They showed incredible bravery at an NSA facility in Montana, since identified as a rogue operation under the guidance of former director Hatfield. Without their will to survive and their intelligence in recovering the laptop, none of us might be sitting here today and America would be a very different place.”

  Feeling his cheeks blush, Jacob squeezed Emma’s hand as a quiet, polite ripple of applause broke out. He didn’t know what to do so just nodded at those he could see in the dark and waited eagerly for Agent Vega to continue.

  When the applause died down, she carried on. “You’ll find the details of Dr. Julian Gray’s and Michael Murphy’s death in the report, but I would like to add my gratitude to those at JSOC and the Rangers for their rapid and effective support.

  “There is, however, more work to be done. Dr. Julian Gray is not, in fact, dead, or at least we cannot confirm or deny his status.”

  Emma flashed Jacob a look of surprise. What the hell did she mean?

  “The post-mortem investigation has proven that the person we considered to be Dr. Julian Gray was, in fact, a synthetic human, as was Michael Murphy. Further to this revelation, the synthetic known as Michael Murphy, XNA Industries’ COO, was modeled on former Navy SEAL Jared Scarsgard.”

  A hushed, tense silence followed a series of surprised breaths. The crowd exchanged whispers. Emma looked at Jacob with an expression of confusion. She leaned in and whispered, “Gray was a synthetic all along? That’s crazy.”

  “I can’t believe it,” Jacob whispered back.

  “For those of you not familiar with that name,” Agent Vega said, interrupting the growing chatter, “Mr. Scarsgard went missing in action in 1986 while on a mission in the Middle East. Ever since then, the CIA has tried to track him down. It is believed that he defected to Russia, where he worked for terrorist and foreign intelligence organizations. An eyewitness, as mentioned in a report in 1992, detailed a brief appearance by Mr. Scarsgard during a conflict in the Balkans. The eyewitness claimed Mr. Scarsgard was killed.

  “It appears that report was misleading. The CIA has reopened the case and will be working closely with the FBI to see how his involvement fits within Dr. Gray’s plans. The latter we believe is still at large and poses a significant risk to the United States of America and the wider world.”

  A hand shot up from the front row. Agent Vega acknowledged the audience member.

  “Do you have any idea where Gray is?” the man asked.

  “We’re searching his records and speaking with previous known associates in an attempt to establish when he replaced himself with the synthetic. We know that two years ago he was diagnosed with stage 3 pancreatic cancer. Since around that time, he appears to have cut contact with everyone outside of XNA Industries. Eyewitnesses have seen him around Alaska, but that was probably his synthetic double. If he’s out there, we will find him. Are there any further questions?”

  After a brief moment of silence, Agent Vega continued. “That concludes the meeting. I would urge you to read the reports and all appendixes as soon as we’re finished here. The operation i
s officially open as of this moment. Agent Chavez is the lead on this one. Finally, I would like to thank you for the warm welcome to your organization. I know my being here will likely cause a few raised eyebrows, but I promise you all I won’t stop until the real leaders behind XNA Industries are brought to justice, one way or another.”

  Vega left the stage and headed out a side door, passing Chavez on the way. The latter retook her position behind the lectern.

  “Okay, everyone, back to work. I’ll keep the heads of departments up to speed on developments. Any questions, speak with Agent Laramore, who will liaise with you. Mr. Miller, Ms. Jenkins, I’d like to see you, please.”

  Chavez left the stage and waited for Jacob and Emma by the side door. Using his crutches, Jacob followed Emma down the aisle and carefully negotiated the four steps until he was by the right-hand side exit.

  “You two, come with me. Kowalski’s got something he wants to show you.”

  ***

  The elevator stopped and the door opened. They were on an operations floor featuring rows and rows of workstations. Chavez led them to an office at the end of the floor. She knocked on the door twice, opening it before anyone had time to respond. Agent Kowalski sat at his desk, typing on his laptop.

  “Hey, Jake, Emma,” he said, smiling. “Good to see you both again. Are they looking after you?”

  “Yeah, everything’s fine,” Jacob said. “You wanted to see us?” He couldn’t help but feel like he was at the principal’s office, waiting to be taken to task. Kowalski’s face didn’t indicate any forthcoming trouble, but he did seem on edge.

  “Take a seat,” Chavez said to Jacob and Emma, indicating two chairs facing an LCD TV on the wall. “You’ll want to see this.”

  “Are we in trouble?” Emma said, clearly feeling the same as Jacob.

  “No, of course not,” Kowalski said. “I want you both to watch this video.”

  “What is it?” Jacob asked as he placed his crutches against the chair and sat down, keeping his bad leg out straight.