Callsign: King ctm-1

by Sean Ellis

  Fulbright grabbed her arm and propelled her past him. “Go!”

  He fired several shots in the direction of the two gunmen. One of them winced but shrugged the impact off as though it were nothing more than a slap. Then, their guns spoke.

  The report was thunderous, far louder than Fulbright’s pistol. Concrete exploded above Sara’s head, showering her with grit, but then she rounded the corner with Fulbright right behind her.

  “Keep going,” he shouted.

  Sara ran, but no more shots were fired. Instead, she heard the whine of the helicopter’s turbines powering up. In a matter of seconds, the whoosh of the rotor blades carving the air became audible and quickened to a roar of engine noise and wind.

  They rounded the corner to the back side of the superstructure where Fulbright signaled for her to stop. He ejected the magazine from his pistol, reloaded, and then began scanning in both directions for signs of pursuit. Sara cocked her head, hoping to hear the sound of footsteps, but the noise of the helicopter drowned out everything.

  It became apparent after a few minutes that the gunmen weren’t going to engage them. Sara heard the change in pitch as the helicopter lifted off and then flew almost horizontally away from the rooftop. Fulbright edged around the corner as the tempest quieted.

  “They’re gone.”

  Sara sagged against the wall, but her relief quickly gave way to anger. “All right. Answers.”

  Fulbright’s face was flushed with the exertions of running and fighting, but he tried to bring back his roguish smile. “I told you everything I know.”

  “Like hell you did. You know a lot more than you’re letting on. Your secrets put me and my team…” She faltered as she recalled Fulbright’s earlier comment. Her co-workers-her friends-might already be dead. “If something has happened to them, it’s on your head.”

  Fulbright sighed, his expression contrite. “I knew there was some risk. People who try to develop bio-weapons usually don’t have a lot of scruples. But I couldn’t have known anyone would try something like this.”

  His words did nothing to soothe her, but she saw that there was nothing to be gained by venting her rage. She took a deep breath and tried to focus on the bigger picture. “What do you know about this pathogen they’re after? That woman-Dr. Carter-she didn’t look sick. I don’t think she was sick.”

  He spread his hands. “I told you what they were looking for-some kind of ancient virus. When Felice Carter came back from the expedition, in the state you saw her in, I assumed that she had become infected. That’s why I sent for you. And the fact that somebody hit us here today, tells me that I was right. She found something out there and brought it back.”

  “It didn’t look like that assault team was interested in her. But they took that ape skull she was holding.”

  “They did?” Fulbright’s forehead creased in a frown. “Damn it. I should have realized how important that was.”

  “Maybe it doesn’t matter. Even if there is useful genetic material in that skull, it’s very unlikely that it’s going to turn out to be some kind of super monkey flu. And if there is something like that, Dr. Carter would have been exposed to it and there will be evidence in the blood samples I took.” She pushed away from the wall. “I need to get back down to my team. I have to know that they’re okay.”

  Before Fulbright could answer, his phone chirped. He took it out and glanced at the caller ID before answering. “What’s your ETA?…Good, we’re on the roof.” He covered the phone with a hand and addressed Sara. “They wouldn’t have hit us here if they weren’t certain that Felice had what they were looking for.”

  He uncovered the phone. “Send a ground team here to collect the rest of the CDC team and their equipment. Take them to the safe house.”

  He thumbed the end button and turned to Sara again. His face was stony with resolve. “Our ride will be here in two minutes. Those blood samples just became the most important thing in the world. I have to keep them, and you, safe.”

  9.

  A firefighter spied King and Felice as they left the stairwell on the first floor, and guided them to the exit. The fire in the conference room appeared to have been contained, but a pall of smoke hung in the air and the damage appeared considerable.

  Outside, King scanned the crowd. There were a few white faces among the dark-skinned local population, but no sign of Sara. He heard the distinctive sound of a helicopter taking off from the roof, high overhead; it could only be the assault force making their getaway.

  “We’re exposed here,” he told Felice. It was perhaps a poor choice of words. In her hospital gown, Felice was very literally exposed. Fortunately, there were dozens of other patients in a similar state of undress filling the street in front of the hospital, and no one seemed to notice her. King however wasn’t worried about someone ogling her.

  The men in Felice’s room had been armed with a very distinctive type of pistol. Normally, when staring down the barrel of a gun, a person doesn’t try to identify the make and model, but the Metal Storm O’Dwyer VLe pistols the men had been wielding sported a unique four-barrel configuration that was impossible not to recognize. The VLe pistols were radically different from traditional guns in that they had no moving parts. Instead of a mechanism to advance one round at a time into the firing chamber, the Metal Storm pistol had caseless rounds already stacked in its four barrels, and fired them with an electrical charge. A single trigger pull could unload the pistol in a fraction of a second. The design was still considered experimental, and prototypes were prohibitively expensive for the run-of-the-mill mercenary.

  “I think those men planned to kill you,” he continued, “and there’s a good chance some of them stayed behind to make sure the job was done.”

  “Kill me?” It was clearly too much for her to process.

  “Just stay close to me. We’ll sort this out when we get somewhere safe.” King knew of only one group that used Metal Storm pistols. And if that was who wanted Felice dead, that was all the reason King needed to protect her.

  As they moved toward the edge of the throng, King dug out his Chess Team phone. He was just about to make a call when a young Ethiopian man stepped in front of him

  “You look like you need some help,” he said in perfect, albeit slightly accented English.

  King regarded the newcomer with suspicion, and when he put the phone back in his bag, his hand found the grip of the MP5, which he had stashed just before leaving the stairwell. “Thanks friend, but I think we can manage.”

  The Ethiopian smiled, but edged closer and lowered his voice to a surreptitious whisper. “I saw what happened. I know they came for her. I can help you.”

  King shook his head. “If you know that, then you know why I’m not exactly eager to trust you.”

  “You should.” The young man turned to Felice. “You know me, don’t you?”

  Felice looked at him then raised her eyes to King, showing no hint of recognition.

  The man’s smile slipped a notch, as if disappointed by her failure to remember him. “I’m Moses-Moses Selassie. I was with you on the expedition to the Rift Valley. I rescued you from the cave-”

  Felice’s eyes grew wide and she grabbed Moses by the shoulders. “The cave? You must take me back.”

  ›››Report.

  Where should I start? It was a disaster. The CDC team is dead, except for Fogg. And my men failed to get Sigler. He took out the entire assault force. Four men. He’s in the wind now. Who the hell is this guy?

  ›››Data concerning Sigler’s current activities are classified at the highest level. The probability that he is part of a clandestine military or counter-intelligence agency has increased to 92.3%. There is insufficient information to determine what his most probable next course of action will be.

  Like I need you to tell me that.

  ›››Do you believe Sigler will attempt to establish contact with Fogg?

  I would if I were him.

  ›››That mu
st not be permitted.

  I got it covered.

  MANUEVER

  10.

  It wasn’t until they were settled in Moses’ tenement on the edge of the city, that King realized Felice wasn’t Ethiopian. She hadn’t spoken more than a few words, and he’d been a little too busy trying to keep her alive to pay attention to the fact that she didn’t speak with an accent. When their host had stepped out to purchase food and some clothes to replace her hospital garment, she had remained withdrawn, and King had been content to leave her alone a little while longer.

  He felt as though he had been handed the pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, minus the box with a picture of what it would look like when correctly assembled. He had a stack of clues, but no idea how they related to each other. But it was his uncertainty about Sara’s fate that consumed his thoughts.

  They hit the CDC team first. That wasn’t an accident. But Sara wasn’t in Felice’s room. She missed them. And somehow I missed her. So where is she now? Are they still looking for her?

  Moses returned after about an hour, carrying several loaves of injera, a local sourdough flatbread, and a container of wat, a spicy beef stew. He also presented Felice with a traditional garment. She examined it with obvious disdain.

  “It is the habesha qemis,” he explained. “The dress worn for the coffee ceremony. Many women wear them.”

  “We can go out later and get you whatever you want,” King said. “Unless you really prefer that hospital gown.”

  She sighed. “Looks like I’m going native. Turn around boys; give a girl a little privacy.”

  King complied. “West coast, right?”

  “Kirkland, Washington.”

  “So what brings you to Africa? What’s your story?”

  There was a long silence, then: “You can turn around now.”

  The coffee dress was not exactly flattering, but it was an improvement. Moses smiled approvingly then set about preparing a meal, while King repeated his question.

  “You mean you don’t already know?”

  King regarded her for a moment, and then folded his arms over his chest. “Okay. Cards on the table. I’ll show you mine, you show me yours. Here’s what I know.

  “Yesterday, a CDC team was scrambled out of Atlanta to investigate a possible outbreak, here in Ethiopia. Patient zero-the person suspected of being the source of the outbreak-is you. He-” King gestured at Moses-“talked about an expedition and a cave, which answers a few questions, but raises a hell of a lot more.”

  He noticed her squirm at the mention of the cave.

  “But I’ll get to that in a minute. About fifteen minutes after the CDC team arrived, they were all dead. The guys who killed them then proceeded to your room where they almost took you out as well. So, that’s what I ‘already know.’ Now, it’s your turn. I’m going to ask this one more time, as diplomatically as I know how.” He paused for effect, and when he spoke again, he enunciated each word as if driving nails with a hammer. “What the fuck is going on?”

  She winced at his tone, but then straightened, as if drawing on some previously untapped vein of courage. “I guess I owe you that much.

  “I was part of an expedition to the Great Rift Valley, in northern Ethiopia. I’m a geneticist, but I specialize in paleobiology. One of the things my company does is investigate the historical record, including more esoteric sources-myths and folklore-in order to secure previously undiscovered sources of genetic material. Our information led to the discovery of a cave in the Afar Region.”

  He sensed there was a lot more to that part of the story, but didn’t press her. “Then what?”

  “Then…I don’t know. We found the cave, but I don’t remember anything after that. Nothing until the hospital.” She nodded to Moses. “Ask him.”

  King turned his gaze to their host who was in the process of ladling portions of stew onto pieces of flatbread, using the latter like serving plates. He put the food in front of each of them, and then sat down. “I can only tell you what I saw. I was just a laborer, hired to help set up the camp outside the cave.”

  “You’re very well spoken for a laborer.”

  “Being able to speak your language certainly helped me get the job. But I assure you, I was nothing more than a common bearer.” He made a sweeping gesture. “Look around. I am a man of humble means. I take whatever work I can find.”

  “Go on.”

  “For many days, everything went well. But then, the researchers in the cave stopped coming out. Three days passed with no word. There was a great deal of unrest in the camp. Some of the men started a riot. In the confusion, I went into the cave and found you.” He nodded to Felice. “You were unconscious, so I carried you out. I found a truck and drove you back to the city.”

  “And you’ve been hanging around the hospital ever since?” King asked.

  Moses shrugged, still looking at Felice. “I was concerned about you, but I dared not come forward. You see, the expedition…the camp was completely destroyed. The police would not have believed my account of events, so after I dropped you off anonymously, I kept checking to see if you had regained consciousness. I had hoped you would be able to verify my account of what happened.”

  King waved his hand emphatically. “Back up. We’re glossing over the important part here. What happened in that cave during those three days?”

  Moses and Felice looked to each other, but neither had an answer.

  King pointed to the woman first. “You were in there. You found something, right? Found whatever it is you were looking for? Those men that attacked us today took something from you. It looked like a skull. Do you remember that?”

  Felice appeared troubled by the question, but shook her head. Moses however spoke up. “Yes, you had an ape skull in the cave. When I brought you out, you were clinging to it. You would not let me take it out of your hands.”

  “Okay, let’s put a pin in that. Now, there were other researchers in that cave, right? What happened to them?” When he got no answer, King persisted. “Come on. The CDC was called in. Somebody thinks you found a virus or something. Did you? Did they all get sick and die in there? Is that why you were unconscious?”

  “I am not ill,” Moses offered. “I entered the cave and spent two days in contact with her, yet I have not shown any signs of infection.”

  “Okay, so not a virus. But something, right? Something to do with that skull?” Blank looks. King realized he wasn’t going to get anything more out of them, so he switched gears again. “Felice, who do you work for?”

  “A company called Nexus Genetics. They’re based in Seattle.”

  Nexus? That wasn’t the answer he had been expecting. “How long have you been with them?”

  “From the beginning. A little over two years now. They were formed when my old company was broken up.”

  “Let me guess. Manifold Genetics.”

  “You’ve heard of us?”

  With no little effort, King controlled his expression. “The team that hit the hospital was Gen-Y, Manifold’s private security army. They were tying up loose ends.”

  Felice’s eyes widened in sincere alarm. King knew from experience that, even though Manifold’s founder, Richard Ridley, was quite literally a monster, many of the scientists he had employed were innocent pawns in his quest for power. Some of them, and even a few Gen-Y personnel, had been instrumental in bringing Manifold down. But Ridley had survived and gone underground, and it seemed that Manifold had as well. And though Ridley was now believed to be dead, it appeared his directives were still being carried out. There was another option, though. One that King hoped wasn’t at play. Before his death, Ridley uncovered an ancient language-the original language, or Mother Tongue, which was capable of affecting the physical world in profound ways best described as Biblical-light from darkness, life granted to the inanimate, physical healing. Before being subdued, he used the language to create several duplicates of himself. Many of the duplicates were destroyed, but there was no way to kn
ow how many he created or how many of them still operated around the world. That Nexus Genetics, which had, he surmised, been cobbled together from some of the pieces of Manifold, still carried out Ridley’s agenda was an ominous sign.

  There will still pieces that didn’t quite fit, but King was starting to see the picture now. It was time to call Deep Blue. “You’re safe now,” he told her as he got out his Chess Team phone. “I’ll arrange transport back to the States.”

  “No.” Felice’s voice was edged with panic.

  King lowered the phone. “No?”

  “I need to go back to the cave.” She turned to Moses. “You can take me there. You remember the way?”

  Moses nodded uncertainly, but then looked to King, as if for reassurance.

  “You said they were ‘tying up loose ends,’ right?” Felice continued. “They’ll be going after the cave next. You know I’m right. We have to get there first.”

  “You don’t even remember what you found.”

  “No, I don’t. But somehow I just know that I have to go back there.”

  King frowned. This wasn’t what he needed right now. Sara was still out there somewhere, probably in grave danger. But Felice was right about the cave being a loose end. And if it was the source of whatever discovery had prompted the attack on the hospital, then getting there ahead of a Gen-Y clean-up crew was imperative. Where Ridley and Manifold were concerned, immediate action was required.

  He turned to Moses. “Think you can put together an expedition? Get us outfitted with supplies? Discreetly?”

  “It will be costly.”

  King loosened his belt to reveal a concealed zipper pouch, and from it he took a stack of coins which he pressed into the Ethiopian’s hand. The weight of ten solid gold Krugerrands caught Moses off guard and his fist almost fell into what was left of his meal.

  King gave a tight smile. “I think that should cover it.”

  11.