Crash Alive (The Haylie Black Series Book 1)

by Christopher Kerns

With quick swipes of their hands across their foreheads, tucking damp oxford shirts back into place, the brothers tried their best to compose themselves. They approached the front desk, and Walter asked for the Reading Room location with a polite yet forceful smile. The desk clerk pointed a finger across the hall as her face twisted, looking like she was trying to remember where she had seen the two flushed faces staring back at her. The brothers headed to the stairwell without even so much as a “thank you.”

  Flying up the stairs two at a time, the brothers rushed towards the door at the end of the hallway. Peering through the glass, they saw an empty room with a closed door on the other side. Walter began to knock, hopefully loud enough for someone beyond the receiving area to hear.

  “Where is she?” Benjamin said between breaths. “She has to be here.”

  Benjamin pushed his face up to the glass and knocked, his taps growing to pounding, echoing down the marble hallway.

  > > > > >

  Morgan Library Reading Room - NYC

  March 10th, 10:20AM

  William jerked his head up from the musty volume of Chaucer and towards the door leading to the reception area. Over the whispers and periodic high-pitched exclamations of joy that Josh had been making during his research, William could swear he had been hearing something—a buzzing or rattle of some sort—for the past minute or so. But now it was accompanied by a muffled, methodical pounding sound. But he couldn’t see anything past the closed door.

  Turning back to his guest, William checked his watch. Only twenty-five more minutes with this guy, then the next appointment would walk in. He’d be able to head back to the desk and check on Amber, or whatever her real name was, grab his phone, ping the leadership in London, and figure out his next move.

  He shuffled in his chair as Josh continued to flip page after page with delight.

  > > > > >

  Haylie took a long breath as she stretched her right hand higher and higher, slipping along the cool stainless-steel rail of the security cage. She extended as far as she could, placing the other hand across her mouth to keep any stray noises from making their way out, and finally felt a finger grasp onto the bottom edge of bin ‘1024.544387.’ She exhaled and rose slowly, sliding her left hand up to meet the other side, feeling the slick plastic across her finger tips.

  With two fingers from each hand now clutching both sides of the plastic container, she slowly slid the bin back in her direction along its rails. Inching the container and whatever rested inside its belly towards freedom, Haylie turned her head to catch a quick glance at the tables below. She got a clear view of the two men, sitting with their backs to her, heads down and not suspecting a thing. She nodded to herself.

  You’re actually going to pull this off.

  As she twisted back to the cage, Haylie felt her foot slip across a bare patch on the deck’s worn carpet. She fell backwards, fighting to regain her balance, as her grip on the bin went loose. The container suddenly gave way, sliding free from its home and flying into nothing as Haylie’s fingers extended helplessly in the air.

  With her feet twisted, Haylie hit the deck, cursing under her breath. As she landed, a sharp bolt of pain greeted her elbow. The bin continued its path through the air. Haylie could only watch, performing a quick, makeshift prayer for some sort of miracle.

  The plastic container spun like a Frisbee, rocketing directly into the second floor’s glass wall. It bounced back and fell at her feet as an ear-splitting shatter filled the air, the sound of an entire wall of glass exploding. The shards rained down into the Reading Room below, smashed into a million pieces.

  Goddamnit.

  The tranquility of the Reading Room was suddenly filled with a wave of mayhem as the room was showered with a tidal wave of glass, covering the floor and tables with daggers, slivers and dust. Josh went into a hunched position, startled, his hands over his ears and his head bowed.

  Haylie grabbed the bin and looked over the wall of the second floor deck, feeling her expression drop as she watched William rise. Josh turned to check the damage, hovering over his beloved book, protecting it from certain doom.

  “Is that … is that Amber?” she could hear Josh stutter.

  William turned, shaking the glass from his head and peeling the gloves off his fingers. His eyes connected with Haylie’s as he sprinted towards the stairs.

  Haylie rose to her knees. Her heart pounded as she brushed the shards from the top of the bin. She yanked at the lid, flinging it down the walkway and looked inside. She found a single piece of parchment, decorated with intricate Zodiac symbols and calligraphy centered in the middle of the page. With no time to inspect it further, she quickly rolled the document, feeling the soft crunch of the delicate paper, and took off towards the door leading back to the old library. Skidding to a stop, she yanked at the door’s handle. It resisted with a thud. Locked. She reached down to her pocket, scrambling, searching.

  The cardkey. I forgot the damn cardkey.

  Hearing William’s footsteps racing up the stairwell, she bolted back to the opened rack, its door still swinging loosely at the hinge, and found the card dangling from the lock. Giving the key ring a quick pull, the metal slid free from the lock and into her hand. She sprinted at full speed back to the exit.

  Slapping the card key across the faceplate, the door clicked open with a buzz. She slid into the passageway, fighting for breath, still clutching the parchment. She peered through the thick glass window, hoping he hadn’t seen her go through.

  A thump shook the door as William appeared in the window, only a few, short inches away. He paused to catch his breath, staring through the glass with rage filling his eyes. He reached down to fumble for his keycard, checking pocket after pocket.

  Haylie didn’t wait around for him to find it.

  > > > > >

  Titanhurst - London

  March 10th, 3:21PM

  The camera feeds of the Reading Room all sparked back to life within ten seconds of each other. Caesar saw Agent Blue running into a door on the second level, broken glass in every direction, a wide open cage with a missing box, and Josh Wood standing in the middle of the atrium, his head in his hands, clutching his precious book.

  “Our suspect is on the run!” Caesar shouted. “Get our agents in there—now. And switch to camera fourteen, check the Reading Room reception area.”

  The screen flickered and showed a view of the two reception desks, both empty, with no one in sight. No one, that is, other than the two men banging on the outside of the doors.

  “Wait a minute,” Caesar asked. “Who are those guys?”

  > > > > >

  Morgan Library - NYC

  March 10th, 10:21AM

  Haylie raced down the narrow hallway, bumping off of stacked cardboard boxes and dented filing cabinets, and carved a quick right turn towards the staircase. She could hear footsteps echoing down the hall behind her, catching up fast. She tucked the parchment into the inside pocket of her jacket and sped up her pace.

  She flew down the stairs, knees bobbing up and down like pistons as her lungs burned, both hands gripping her backpack straps to keep her balance. Through the darkness, she could barely make out the faint outline of a door at the base of the stairs. She paced her steps a bit to catch her breath, hit the landing, and pushed at the wall with all her might.

  Crashing out onto the floor of the old Morgan Library, she found herself in the middle of a stunned tour group—half staring at her with concern, the other half looking through the newly-discovered secret passageway in the bookshelf. She straightened her glasses, pushing a smile onto her face past her exhaustion.

  “You guys have to go up there. It’s unbelievable,” Haylie said between breaths, pacing backwards towards the Rotunda. “It’s the coolest thing in the whole museum. Secret stuff!”

  She waded into the crowd as the visitors herded into the narrow doorway, inspecting the edges of the bookshelf, marveling at the spectacle. By the time William had hit the wall of tour
ists, Haylie was nowhere to be found.

  A grin crept across her face as she paced towards the exit. The adrenaline pulsed through her veins as she pushed forward, ready for whatever came next.

  She knew she was supposed to feel afraid, but she didn’t.

  She felt powerful.

  She felt indestructible.

  She felt alive.

  > > > > >

  Titanhurst - London

  March 10th, 3:27PM

  “Ok, people. Where are we? Someone give me a status,” Caesar said with a hint of despair, eyes closed, rubbing the bridge of his nose.

  “We’re scanning the crowds but we haven’t found him yet,” Sean replied. “Next we’ll talk to this Josh Wood guy and figure out if he was involved. I’m pretty sure even he doesn’t have any idea what just happened.”

  Pointing up to the screens, Caesar aimed his finger at the freeze-framed shot of the two men at the door of the Reading Room. “And what about them?”

  “We have them in custody. Our backup agents came in dressed as NYPD,” Sean replied. “They asked for their lawyer, which is just adorable. We’re going to find out what they know.”

  “Bring them to London,” Caesar said, pacing the room. “I’ll need to let Martin know we didn’t get our guy. Let’s find out what Agent Blue knows. He better be able to help us piece this together.”

  Caesar looked down to his laptop, watching the river of tourists wander the museum hallways, all without a clue of what had just happened upstairs. As he checked scene after scene, he stopped in his tracks, focusing and clicking to take the view of Camera twenty-two to full-screen.

  He saw a black and white scene of a woman gliding into the lobby and towards the exit. He leaned in for a closer look as she turned, only for a second, to look directly into the camera lens. Without even thinking, he hit a keystroke to grab a screenshot.

  It can’t be.

  Caesar opened the image file and zoomed in. He jumped back, gripping the desk behind him to stay upright, as reality hit him like a sucker punch.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE

  Somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean

  March 10th, 8:35PM

  “Business or pleasure?” the passenger next to Haylie said with a nervous chuckle. He had angled himself towards her on their shared armrest to make conversation easier, but Haylie had already turned towards her window to discourage any attempts at small talk.

  The cabin lights flickered off in a slow cascade of clicks, leaving only a pale blue tone across the ceiling. Haylie removed her glasses and rubbed her eyes, realizing she had been absorbed in her laptop for the past few hours as the plane cruised high and steady, pushing across the Atlantic Ocean.

  “Have you spent a lot of time in London?” the neighboring passenger said, trying again.

  “Sure,” Haylie lied, grabbing for her earphones and slipping them in. “Who hasn’t?” She shoved the final earpiece in, signaling the end of the conversation. Why can’t some people just shut the hell up? She closed her eyes as her mind flashed back to scenes from the day, jumping in and out, replaying the ebb and flow of the last few hours. The memories blinked and cut out of order, racing forwards and backwards.

  After exiting the Morgan Library and brushing the glass dust from her hair, Haylie had made her way northwest—three blocks up and one block over—to the New York Central Library. A nice, crowded public place with free Wi-Fi, the perfect temporary home to regroup and figure out her next step.

  The main room of the Central Library held a football-field sized cathedral of a study area, with rows and rows of tables filling the floor and elaborate murals painted across the ceiling. Just entering the room had calmed her heart’s pace and for the first time in a few days, she felt tiny and at peace.

  She had found an empty seat and carefully retrieved the paper from her pocket, slowly unrolling the stiff parchment. It was an old Zodiac meeting dinner menu, listing a five-course meal complete with wine pairings and coffee. Rack of lamb. Boeuf Bourguignon. No vegan options back then, I guess. But as she scanned the paper, nothing had seemed out of the ordinary. That quickly changed when she flipped the menu over.

  On the back, she found a square of machine-printed text, glued to the back of the parchment.

  You’ve worked hard to get here.

  So let’s just get to it, shall we?

  Head to the National Gallery.

  Figures set in stone.

  Find our father, our leader, our Principia.

  Más sabe el diablo por viejo que por diablo.

  She had done a few quick searches on the National Gallery, and had found plenty of results to work with. Poised at the top of Trafalgar Square in London, the museum housed a huge collection of priceless artwork from Van Gogh, Michelangelo, Monet; the list went on and on.

  Haylie focused on the term “Principia,” finding a collection of possible hits. There was the book Philosophiæ Naturalis Principia Mathematica, written by Isaac Newton, which she had bookmarked as she kept looking.

  “Principia” was the Roman word for the center of a fort. Could the National Gallery be the place where these guys hold their meetings?

  But Haylie had stopped in her tracks when she saw the next listing: a book titled Principia Mathematica by Bertrand Russell and Alfred North Whitehead. Over the years, Haylie had seen a series of threads on hacker message boards featuring homages to Bertrand Russell. Many hackers referred to him as “The Godfather,” claiming Russell had laid the groundwork for modern computer science and artificial intelligence.

  This has to be it.

  As Haylie pored over Russell’s background, she found plenty of material about his mathematical achievements. But what had pushed her over the edge were the series of articles about Russell’s work after World War 2, detailing how he had become an outspoken supporter of a more centralized world government. One quote had stood out in particular:

  Unification under a single government is probably necessary unless we are to acquiesce in either a return to barbarism or the extinction of the human race.

  With that, and with Walter’s credit card that she had copied down earlier—just in case—Haylie had booked a ticket on the next flight to London.

  She did a subtle check of the man to her left, who had now thankfully given up on Haylie and moved on to another passenger across the aisle. As the night flew by, Haylie stared out her window, welcoming the calm at thirty-five thousand feet.

  She thought about Caesar, hoping for the love of God she would find him somewhere in London. He’d be fine; she just knew it. Somehow, somewhere, he was safe, and she was going to track him down. For once, she was going to help him, and not the other way around.

  As sleep began to creep in, she remembered one last piece of the clue she had yet to figure out. She opened a browser window and typed the final line from the menu—‘Más sabe el diablo por viejo que por diablo’—and selected the translate option from the search results. The literal translation came up with missing words, but additional search results identified the saying as an old Mexican proverb.

  The devil knows more because he is old than because he is the devil.

  Haylie stared into the screen as the words pushed back at her, flying along with her quietly through the night.

  > > > > >

  Titanhurst - London

  March 11th, 2:05AM

  Fumbling with the remote, Martin cursed under his breath as he pressed the Select Input button again and again. The delayed response on the monitor—a two or three second lag each time—was almost as infuriating as how hard it was in the modern age to get a simple video call working properly. It had been six minutes and counting since trying to open a channel to Agent Blue in New York with no luck.

  Selecting ‘HDMI-3’ from the input menu finally did the trick. After an awkward volley of “Can you hear me?” back-and-forths, Martin completely lost his patience.

  “Stop,” Martin said, sternly. “Agent Blue, talk.”

  “Yes. Of
course, sir,” Blue said. His eyes met the camera as he straightened his jacket. “The target worked her way around my visibility and into the old library. It was my understanding that the Reading Room was the only–”

  “And the men we found at the doors? The Sterling brothers?”

  Agent Blue looked down to the floor. “I never saw them, never met them. They arrived after I entered the Reading Room. I was focused on the woman at the desk.”

  “You knew she was a potential threat and you let her get in,” Martin barked, leaning in to the camera. “And worse, you let her escape. Isn’t that right?”

  Agent Blue paused and composed himself before answering back to Martin. “We have video of her,” he stammered, making his case. “We know where she’s headed and what she looks like.”

  Martin pounded the keyboard with a solid fist and the video feed went dead. He began to pace the length of the room, interlacing his fingers behind the back of his neck, thinking.

  His phone pinged with a message from Crowne.

  Need status. Now.

  Give me some good news, Martin.

  Martin weighed his options, searching for his next step.

  Worry grew to panic.

  > > > > >

  Titanhurst - London

  March 11th, 6:29AM

  As the morning sun poured in through windows, the team huddled around the coffee station for some much-needed caffeine. Caesar ran his hands through his hair, ratcheting his neck back and forth to shake off the few hours of sleep he had managed to scavenge. He stared at his laptop, zooming in with a few taps of the keyboard and studying the pixelated image on his screen.