Memoria

by Alex Bobl

  "His name is Dickens, then?" he nodded at the dead man — now dead for real. The pale eyes stared into the starry sky. Blood seeped from the bullet hole in his forehead.

  "Yes. He and his men tried to run me down on Claney's orders. I'll give you the details..."

  "Later." Jessup holstered his gun.

  "Do you have Claney?"

  "No. He's flown the coop." Jessup looked at Shelby. "Any idea where he could be heading? We've blocked off the roads and the airport."

  "He said he'd go to the airfield."

  "The airfield?" Jessup frowned. Airfield, he thought. Airfield... but of course! The flyboys. Their base is the only remaining strip from which he could take off unhindered.

  He swung his arm, ordering the pilot to prepare for take-off. More special-forces men appeared on the roof, among them a civilian. Short and thickset, with sharp features, he ran up to Jessup. He glanced at the dead man, then at Shelby.

  "Salem! Speak up," Jessup shouted.

  "We've suppressed their resistance, now we're mopping up in the building."

  "Very good. Take care of the witnesses and whip up some help for the wounded," Jessup pointed at the girl and the big man. "Get Archer on the line and tell him to go to the airdrome. I'm going straight there."

  "I'll come with you," he heard.

  Salem stared at Frank who'd dared to interrupt them.

  "You're wounded," Jessup sized him up, surprised.

  "That's nothing," Frank winced. "You and I, we've got something to talk about."

  "All right," the captain nodded and waved to the drop team leader. "Take off in one minute!"

  He gave Salem a few last-minute instructions and ran to the helicopter. Frank followed. The team was already piling on board.

  They didn't have a chance to talk in flight. First Frank had his wounds dressed, then Jessup had to keep the Feds posted on the radio. Soon the chopper started to snake over the river. A long chain of lights came up from the right marking the landing strip where a charter jet was just taxiing onto the runway.

  "We've arrived!" the captain shouted. "The Feds are at their gates. But they have access problems. We'll have to break through from the air."

  The drop team leader nodded. His fighters started checking their weapons and equipment.

  "We'll hover over the strip to prevent the plane from taking off," Jessup said. "The group will then rappel down and take over the jet. We need Claney alive."

  "Yes, sir," the fighter said.

  "Shelby," Jessup turned to Frank, "we're staying in the chopper."

  Frank paused. "I'll go with them."

  "No, you won't," Jessup snapped turning away from him.

  Frank glanced at the team preparing for the descent. He shuddered, raised his collar and put his hand into his pocket. His fingers found a sharp object. He pulled it out and stared, disbelieving, at the syringe he'd picked up in Bow's lab.

  Maggie had already told him a little about the capsules and the way they were programmed in the elevator on their way to the tower roof. She'd seemed to have another one of her revelations like when she'd switched off the biocurrent machine in the lab. Her personality correction procedure hadn't been finalized. They'd only managed to download the data into her brain so that she could share it at the press conference flawlessly, confessing to the crime she hadn't committed.

  Frank looked at Jessup's back and put the syringe away. No points for guessing what it contained. The opaque greenish solution held the mnemocapsule, and the liquid itself had to be the chemical mind lock he kept hearing about. The transmitter's signal had to activate both, provided the vaccinated subject had his electronic bracelet on. That's why Bow and his techs had been scared shitless at the sight of the needle.

  One question remained unanswered for Frank: how had Dickens managed to get Barney under his control? Without the transmitter signal and without Barney's bracelet...

  "Get ready!" the captain shouted distracting Frank from his ponderings.

  The chopper banked to one side hovering over the runway. The team slid the doors open, hung their backs to the wind and dropped the ropes.

  "Go! Go!" Jessup ordered.

  The men rapped down and disappeared under the helicopter. Frank stared at the long shape that was rapidly looming up toward them. Headlights shone on the jet's wings, blinding him. The plane put its nose down. Clouds of smoke billowed from around its undercarriage.

  "Put her down!" the captain ordered the pilot.

  Sluggishly, the chopper descended. The plane swerved, ending up on the grass. Its wing tips flapping, the plane shuddered over the uneven ground. The drop team ran toward it.

  By the time Frank and Jessup left the chopper, the aircraft had come to a stop. A hatch opened in the fuselage letting out a baldheaded man with a gun. Shots resounded. Bullets ripped holes in the jet's skin around the door. The man convulsed and fell out onto the grass.

  "Shit!" the captain cursed as he ran.

  "This isn't Claney!" Frank shouted behind him. He'd already recognized the corpse.

  He felt a total wreck. He could barely move, the bullet wound in his shoulder hurt like hell, his ribs ached so much that he had difficulty breathing. He couldn't catch up with the captain.

  "Who is it, then?" Jessup reached the body first and turned it over toward him.

  Frank stopped next to him, gasping.

  "This guy is a cab driver," he collapsed onto the grass. "You see this scar? He gave me a lift. I remember him..."

  More shots rang out, this time inside the plane. Three of them, then all went quiet.

  "What cab driver?" Jessup looked up clutching the revolver.

  "From La Guardia. This was Dickens' plan A. He killed Kathleen in my apartment, and his people had to kidnap me from the airport... exactly what he planned to do after that, I don't know."

  A soldier stuck his head out of the hatch.

  "Clear!" he reported and jumped out onto the grass.

  "What about Claney?" the captain asked.

  The team pushed the handcuffed Congressman out of the plane, then jumped out themselves. One of them had his helmet split, his bulletproof vest dented, but he stood up with confidence.

  "No casualties on our side," the leader reported.

  Sirens wailed from the airfield. Everybody turned their heads to the sound. Frank scrambled to his feet. Several army Jeeps sped to the plane followed by patrol cars, their lights flashing.

  "That's Archer," the captain grinned. He looked at Frank and explained, "The Federal agent who took your case from me."

  "Do you trust him?"

  "I'm afraid I don't have much choice under the circumstances. I had to show him the tape you got from Memoria and then lost in the camp."

  They turned to Claney. Frank stepped toward him and was stopped in his tracks by his disdainful glare.

  "One of these days you'll be the next one," Claney smirked.

  Frank looked into his face, silent. He didn't have enough strength to continue the exchange. He turned away and shuffled off to the chopper on the strip. Behind his back, Jessup started reading Claney his rights.

  Epilogue. The Lull Before the Storm

  The day promised to be warm. By midday, thick clouds hung over the city. Frank wished he'd brought a raincoat with him. He stood on the granite steps in front of the police department building and looked up at the gloomy sky thinking of everything that had happened three weeks earlier.

  It didn't sound like a long time, but despite all the offices involved in the investigation, too many questions remained unanswered. Possibly, for good.

  Passersby streamed toward the pedestrian crossing opposite the building, some in a hurry overtaking the rest. Cars bustled and honked. The wailing of an ambulance or a police car resounded from a neighboring block, on their way to help someone. Or could it be the fire brigade? Frank glanced at his watch. Barney was taking his time.

  He shifted from one foot to the other, about to start up the stairs, when a cab
pulled up by the pedestrian crossing. A young dark driver jumped out of the car, ran around it and opened the door, helping his passenger out.

  Barney hadn't lost any muscle. His face, though, was hard to recognize. Blood blisters still showed in a couple of places, but they were nothing, as were the bruises and grazes. The veteran had gone completely bald. His massive forehead glistened in the sun that's forced its way through the clouds. His skull was unnaturally smooth. Nothing suggested the thick head of dark hair he once used to boast.

  "Thanks," Barney grumbled. "I'll manage."

  He leaned on his stick and hobbled heavily through the crowd toward the steps, gloomy as a cloud and large as a bear.

  Frank hurried toward him.

  "I'll manage," without looking up, Barney stepped onto the staircase and stopped. "Have you been waiting here long?" He glanced at the street. For some reason, he avoided Frank's gaze.

  "Everything all right?" Frank looked in the same direction but saw nothing but houses, cars and passersby crossing the street at the green light. Nothing special.

  "You didn't answer my question," Barney said without changing his posture.

  Frank smiled weakly,

  "Nervous, sir?"

  "Fuck you!" Barney turned his broad face to him. "Since when do you call me sir?"

  Frank looked at him without saying a word.

  "You'll be calling me Mr. Douggan next. What are you smiling at?" Barney was obviously in a mood. But at least he was the same old Barney, strong, stern and focused. "You think I don't know Maggie ran off to see you?"

  Frank's smile faded. He squinted at the sidewalk and rubbed his chin not knowing how to answer.

  "All right," Barney rattled and coughed into his fist. "Let's go. Help me up."

  His strong arm lay over Frank's shoulder. Together, they took the steps to the doors.

  In the department, they were met by Lieutenant Salem who took them to the elevators. Together they went up one floor. Salem led them through the pool to the Captain's office and left without saying a word.

  "Take a seat," Jessup left his desk, shook their hands and pointed to the chairs. "Coffee?"

  "Water," the veteran mumbled. Groaning, he lowered himself into a chair and stretched out his leg wounded during the taking of Memoria.

  "I wouldn't mind a coffee," Frank nodded, "no sugar."

  The captain buzzed the secretary through the intercom, asked her to bring up some drinks and returned to his place.

  "So?" he rested his hands on his desk looking at Barney. "How's health? How's the leg?"

  "It's okay," Barney shifted in his chair for a more comfortable position.

  The secretary appeared in the doorway. She nodded to the visitors, placed the tray on the desk and left.

  "Help yourselves," the captain sighed and sat back.

  Barney poured the water down his broad mouth. Frank took a sip of his coffee and placed the cup back on its saucer.

  "Let's get down to business, Cap," the veteran said. "We've made statements at just about every office in the country," he looked at Frank and turned back to Jessup. "That's not why you've asked us to come, is it?"

  "It's not."

  A tense silence set in. You could feel that Barney was still mad although the reason was now different: he didn't like being there. That was probably why he was late, deciding whether to come or let Frank go without him.

  "You do know, don't you," Jessup clasped his fingers together, "that the Memoria case is a Federal one?"

  "Why are we here?" Barney asked.

  The Captain splayed his shoulders and rose. The visitors looked up at him.

  "I wanted to say good-bye. And thank you." He buttoned up his jacket and smoothed his gray hair. "I've been transferred to DC. Thank you all," he extended his hand to Barney.

  "Is that it?" he chuckled. Leaning on his stick, he got up. "You should have said so from the start."

  Frank shook his head, speechless.

  "Congratulations," Barney grumbled and added over his shoulder, "I'll wait for you by the elevator."

  Frank gave Jessup a guilty look but didn't dare stop Barney, for fear of one of his angry outbursts when the veteran could explode like an overheated boiler.

  The veteran left. Jessup eased himself back into his chair.

  "Forgive him, sir," Frank hurried to smooth over the embarrassment. "Barney has an awful temper."

  "I've noticed," Jessup's face remained detached. "It's all right."

  "Where are they transferring you to?" Frank asked.

  "What? Ah, that," The captain perked up. "To the Justice Department."

  "My congratulations, sir."

  Jessup thanked him and added something along the lines of new times and trends. But Frank missed most of it, his ears still burning from Barney's outburst. He decided to leave, too.

  "I'm sure we'll see each other again," he said rising from his chair.

  "Wait," the captain gestured him to stop, his face now serious and decisive. "Two minutes. I've got something to tell you."

  * * *

  When Frank left the office and rejoined Barney by the elevator, they nearly quarreled. Frank tried to explain that Jessup had suspected Memoria's bosses from the start and conducted a secret investigation of his own. He had risked his job and his rank doing so, he'd broken the rules and regs, but ultimately, he'd been right and earned his promotion. It wasn't his fault that the case had now been handed over to the Feds for further inquiry, and it definitely wasn't his problem. He'd already done more than he could.

  "He's got a promotion," Barney tapped his stick on the elevator floor in indignation. "And Max got his place in the graveyard. As did lots of other people."

  "You," Frank very nearly prodded him with his finger, "you-" he turned away to the doors. "We could have learned what happened to Bow. Whether they found him or not. He could have told us what it was in those capsules and why you've lost your hair. Jessup was about to share some information. He won't do it now."

  "Never mind. You'll learn it all in DC." When the elevator doors opened, he shouldered him aside and walked out into the spacious lobby.

  Frank stepped out after him and stopped looking at his broad back as the veteran headed for the doors. What an asshole. How did he learn about Frank's DC trip? It was classified. Only a few people knew about the new talks with the migrants. Frank hadn't spoken to anyone about it, not even Maggie.

  He caught up with Barney by the exit.

  "Wait."

  The veteran swung around. Frank looked into his eyes as he searched for the right words.

  "Well?" the veteran drawled.

  "I don't want to argue with you," suddenly, Frank realized that he had to accept this huge angry man standing in front of him as he was. Barney Douggan had been around the block a few times. He remembered a lot. Frank still had a lot to experience.

  Barney's expression changed. His face softened good-naturedly.

  "Forget it. Out with whatever the Captain told you."

  Frank looked up at him and said in a quiet voice,

  "He warned us about Claney. According to him, he's only a puppet. There're much more powerful forces behind him, and he doesn't yet know what they are."

  "That's pretty obvious."

  "Don't interrupt me," Frank shook his head. "Just like you, Claney was under control. His body was literally studded with mnemocapsules." He fell silent waiting for two civilians to walk past. One had a detective's ID pinned to his lapel.

  "All right," Barney mumbled, perplexed. "What now, then?"

  "The Captain is asking you to leave New York. He suggests you lie low for a while. You know how to remove the bracelet so disappearing off their radars won't be a problem. Know what I mean?"

  Out of habit, Barney touched the bare skin under his nose where his fat mustache used to be. Frank could guess what he was thinking.

  "Let's go," Barney said. Then he added, agitated, "Maggie's waiting for us. I've made some stew. Took me all morning. Di
d my best for you two. That's why I was late." He wanted to add something else, waved it off and started limping down the steps.

  Frank overtook him. He had no doubts what the veteran wanted to talk to them about during the meal. He opened the back door of the cab waiting by the curb, threw one last glance at the department windows and stepped inside after Barney.

  "Where to?" the dark young driver turned in his seat.

  "Home," the two said in unison and looked at each other.

  "Oh well," the driver raised his eyebrows and started the engine.

  About the Author

  Alex (Aleksei) Bobl is a Russia-based science fiction writer, author of 11 novels. An ex-paratrooper, he used his military knowledge and experience to write his debut novels for S.T.A.L.K.E.R., a bestselling science fiction action adventure series set in a post-apocalyptic Chernobyl.

  After his initial success, Alex Bobl teamed up with his friend and S.T.A.L.K.E.R. co-author Andrei Levitski to create a SF project of their own. Entitled TechnoTma: The Dark Times, this action adventure series is set in a post-apocalyptic future where the Black Sea has dried out and the Crimea has become a major desert. The eight books of TechnoTma had a total print run of over 250,000 copies and have been translated into German and Spanish. Talks are now under way about translating TechnoTma into English.

  Memoria. A Corporation of Lies is Alex's last science fiction novel to date - a hard-boiled men's adventure set in a dystopian New York. Alex Bobl lives in Moscow with his wife and two boys and is currently working on his next science fiction novel, The Continent Anomalous. You can follow its progress in Alex's blog, Obviously Incredible, as well as on Twitter and Facebook.