The Island Deception

by Dan Koboldt

  Kiara surveyed the wreckage. “I thought it would be in worse shape.”

  “So did I.”

  When he’d been with the SEALs, “dead bird” recoveries were one of the more common missions. The numb-nuts in Congress were all about using drones to keep soldiers out of harm’s way. Right up until one of them got shot down in enemy territory. Back then, drones didn’t just crash, they shattered. You needed a shovel to pick up all the bits and pieces.

  “You double-checked the satellite scans?”

  “Thermals, RF, infrared, the whole nine. Everything was clean.”

  They cared most about the control unit, which would have the comm array and whatever scary-slick tech components that had let it reprogram incoming surface-to-air missiles. That, and a definitive ID on the maker of the bird. They knew it was Raptor Tech, but having proof in hand would give the company some serious leverage.

  A thin metal flap covered the access panel for the control unit. He dug the Gerber multi-tool out of his pocket. Talk about the MVP of tools for the field soldier. This one had saved his life more times than he cared to remember.

  The protective flap was stronger than it looked—just like the rest of the damn bird—but the Leatherman did the job. That’s when he heard the faint click. Then a red LED flashed into life beneath the pried-up metal.

  “Shit!”

  “Is that thing live?” Kiara asked.

  The LED began flashing, and the beep rose to a solid, high-pitched tone. Logan and Kiara shared a look of alarm. Any soldier with basic ordinance training knew what that meant.

  “Take cover!” Logan shouted. He wasn’t usually one to manhandle his commanding officers, but shoving the lieutenant behind a boulder seemed expedient. He threw himself down after her. The beeping became a solid tone. He squeezed his eyes shut and covered his ears.

  Ka-boom! Metal and debris showered him over the boulder’s rim. The explosion hadn’t punctured his eardrums, thank God. It hadn’t been the deep boom of C-4. More like a percussive explosion. He stood and brushed off some debris. The boulder had taken the brunt of it. Kiara was a bit wrinkled, but otherwise unharmed.

  “Well, that was unfortunate,” she said.

  “Yeah.”

  “I thought you scanned it for explosives.”

  “I did, Lieutenant. Six different ways. Nothing flagged.”

  She frowned. “Maybe it’s a new formulation.”

  “Maybe.”

  It only took a glance to tell them that the wreckage was beyond recovery. The control unit was totally gone, the solar panels shattered. Damn. He should have gone for those first. The engineers would’ve had a field day.

  Say what you want about Raptor Tech, but they know how to make a good self-destruct mechanism.

  The lieutenant checked her watch. “We’ve got about an hour until Mendez checks in.”

  “What about the wreck?”

  “That explosion might have been a binary chemical formulation. I want trace chemicals on everything.”

  “I’ll call in the hazmat team.”

  She stalked close enough to jab a finger into his chest. “And don’t do that again.”

  “What?”

  “You threw me behind that boulder like a sack of potatoes.”

  “Wasn’t a lot of time.”

  “Well, I can take care of myself.”

  He smiled. “I never said otherwise.”

  Half an hour later, Logan met Kiara in MTAC for an update on the Thorisson mission. The boat he’d stolen had turned up on a neighboring island. Abandoned, of course, and nearly out of fuel. That meant he was probably still in the region. The company had shut down all outgoing telecom for that island and six others, to keep the man from contacting Raptor Tech. Because if he managed that, it would represent the biggest security breach in CASE Global’s history. That’s why Kiara had sent Mendez after him, rather than letting the Bravo Team member get his R & R after the rough mission through the gateway.

  A bank of biometric scanners protected the door to the comm facility. Retina, voice, handprint. Logan got the green light, the door hissed open, and he heard Mendez’s voice on the radio.

  “Think I might have him.”

  I hope he really does. That bastard Thorisson had a lot to atone for. Most of Bravo team was dead because of him. The fact that he’d breached the island facility in the first place still rankled. Logan took a portable headset from one of the cubbies inside the door. High-def monitors lined virtually all of the walls. The main desk looked like the cockpit of a 737, with more switches and digital readouts than a movie soundboard. Every form of electronic communication—satellite, radio, airwave, even the fiber-optic hardline—came through here.

  Kiara sat in one of the two chairs. She leaned forward. “Can you get us a video feed?”

  “Already on it. Image should be coming up now,” Mendez said. His burst transmitter had a range of about fifty miles, so it could get around the telecom shutdown.

  An opaque rectangle opened on the main viewer. The video feed showed an open-air market—bright canopied tents surrounded by a square of cheap wooden houses. Mendez zoomed in at a pair of figures under one of the canopies. They leaned together in close conversation. One was an islander, dark-complected and shirtless. The other was a white guy.

  God, let that be him. Logan moved right next to the viewscreen. The guy had a similar build to Thorisson, but the hair looked too dark.

  “What do you think?” Kiara asked.

  “Not sure.” Logan leaned down to the mic. “Mendez, can you move around and get a better angle?”

  “Give me a sec.”

  The screen went dark as Mendez moved. Logan watched the numbers on his GPS location, and tried not to let his nervousness show. He still blamed himself for Thorisson’s escape. Not that it was anyone’s fault, but Logan had made two mistakes. First, he’d let Thorisson activate the drone. Then, he’d let the man out of his sight.

  I was so eager to be back that I got sloppy. Well, lesson learned. Once they got Thorisson back in hand, Logan would put him in the brig himself.

  The video feed from Mendez lit up again. Now the local’s back was to him, and they could see the white guy’s face. It was clear he’d dyed his hair jet-black, but he couldn’t hide the pale eyes and sharp jawline.

  Recognition came with a twist of cold fury in Logan’s gut. “That’s him.”

  Kiara joined him right by the viewscreen. “How did he manage to dye his hair?”

  “He’s resourceful,” Logan said. He pushed the transmit button. “Who’s the guy he’s talking to?”

  “A local boat captain,” Mendez said.

  “Damn,” Logan said.

  Thorisson was trying to catch a ride. If he got to the mainland, they’d never be able to keep tabs on him. Or prevent him from phoning home, for that matter.

  “What do you want me to do?” Mendez asked.

  “Stand by, Sergeant.” Kiara stepped out to brief the executives.

  Logan took the opportunity to brief Mendez on the drone recovery. “Bottom line, I’m not sure we’ll figure out how that bastard activated it.”

  “Too bad,” Mendez said. “Didn’t you scan it for explosives?”

  Why does everyone keep asking that? “’Course I did. We wouldn’t have gone near it if there was a blip.”

  “Maybe they’ve got a new generation of Semtex.”

  “Will you ask Thorisson, when you get a chance?”

  “Oh, sure. Because he’s been so forthcoming already.”

  “Don’t lose him. The lieutenant should be back in a minute.”

  She took longer than that, though. Guess the execs are more worried about this than I thought. When she finally pushed open the door to MTAC, her face was grim.

  “What’s the story?” Logan asked.

  She didn’t answer, but took over the mic. “Sergeant Mendez, it’s Lieutenant Kiara.”

  “Go ahead.” All business. He knew the sound of an imminent order.<
br />
  “Prevent the target from reaching the boat. By any means necessary.”

  Logan did a double take. Jesus, that’s a kill order.

  “Say again, over,” Mendez said.

  “Any means necessary,” Kiara said.

  Logan waited until she’d released the transmit button. “Are you sure about this, Lieutenant?”

  “We can’t take any chances here, given what he’s seen.”

  “He’s on foreign soil. We don’t have any authority there.”

  “Even so.”

  “We still haven’t interrogated him.”

  “The executives think a capture is too risky. He’s escaped us, what, three times?”

  It took all of Logan’s training to clamp his mouth shut. It wasn’t his call. There was no point in making this any harder than it already was.

  Kiara flipped on the mic. “Confirmation requested, over.”

  “Got the message loud and clear, Lieutenant,” Mendez said.

  Logan made sure to keep his face neutral. So did I.

  Chapter 4

  The Green Light

  “Preparation is everything. If the audience knew how much we practiced, they’d be far less impressed.”

  —Art of Illusion, September 20

  Quinn had a personal rule: he never fell for the same trick twice. The moment he boarded the plane with Chaudri, he took a sleeping pill and bagged a solid twelve hours. When he woke up, he skipped shaving and added a touch of makeup to give himself bags under the eyes. Let them think I’m exhausted.

  When he walked into the island facility and a summons from Kiara was already waiting, Quinn could have smiled. She’d think him exhausted, but he was better than fresh. That put him, as magicians liked to say, one ahead.

  He and Veena got their new security badges and made a beeline for the conference room.

  “Want to tell me what this is about?” he asked.

  Chaudri opened her mouth, and then caught herself. “I’d better let Kiara tell you.”

  They took seats as a huge black guy lumbered through the door. Paul Logan would make a decent linebacker, but became a Navy SEAL instead, and still rocked the haircut. He was frowning as he entered. Didn’t even check his corners, so he didn’t notice Quinn was there.

  “Well, well,” Quinn said. “I thought you retired.”

  Logan snapped his head around. He grunted, then put on a look of astonishment as he shook Quinn’s hand. “Wait, aren’t you that famous magician from Las Vegas?”

  Quinn chuckled. “You’ve heard about the Bellagio, eh?”

  “Heard they had a great show recently. Guy named Teller. Is that your stage name?”

  Ooh, that hurts. “You’re thinking of half of Penn and Teller. He’s the one who never talks.”

  Logan scratched his chin. “Maybe you ought to look into that.”

  Quinn glared at him. “You’d enjoy that way too much.”

  Kiara chose that moment to barge in. For as long as Quinn had known them, Logan stood up whenever the lieutenant entered the room. This time, he didn’t move a muscle. Didn’t even look at her. What’s that about?

  “Bradley, good of you to join us,” Kiara said. “I know you must have a busy schedule.”

  Quinn spread his hands out, showman-style. “Never too busy for you, Lieutenant.”

  “Then maybe try answering your phone from now on.”

  Ouch. Guess I had that coming. “Look at the bright side. If you hadn’t sent Chaudri, I’d be in a dark cell at the Raptor Tech headquarters right now.”

  “Heard about that,” Logan said. “Nicely done, Chaudri.”

  Her cheeks colored. “I was terrified the whole time.”

  “I guess they really want Thorisson back,” Quinn said. “So, any sign of him?” He tapped the front of his new badge, where it said Security Level: 10.

  A cloud passed over Logan’s face. He clamped his mouth shut, and raised his eyebrows at Kiara. She shook her head.

  So there is a sign of him, but they’re not sharing.

  “Well, at least tell me you learned something from the drone we shot down,” Quinn said.

  Logan grimaced. “It sort of blew up on us.”

  “Wow. Jeez.”

  “Yeah,” Logan said.

  “Didn’t you scan it for explosives?”

  Logan sighed and shook his head. “Every time.”

  “In any case,” Kiara broke in, “Raptor Tech is not your concern.”

  “Yeah, they shot me with a dart gun, so I’m not sure that’s true,” Quinn said. “But fine, what should be my concern?”

  “Learning the nature of Richard Holt’s arcane protections.”

  “For what purpose?”

  “So that we can figure out how to circumvent them.”

  “All right,” he said, thinking, Good luck with that. But hey, no point in undermining his excuse to go back. He touched the amulet that hung on a leather cord around his neck. Ever since his return, the wayfinder stone had pointed unerringly toward the secure vault that held the gateway. He was still trying to wrap his head around the implications. Could more magic from the other world work in this one? If it did, he didn’t just want to go back. He craved it more than anything.

  “The backpack is still our top priority.”

  “What’s in that again? Hard drives?” Quinn asked.

  “Hard drives with every scrap of intelligence we’ve compiled over fifteen years,” Kiara said. “Not to mention the electronic equipment and the genetically modified crop seeds.”

  “And the Beretta handgun,” Logan said. “We don’t move until the backpack is neutralized.”

  He does love to neutralize things.

  Kiara gave a curt nod. “The timetable isn’t finalized, but Operation Checkmate is active as of this moment.”

  “Aw, that’s our op name?” Quinn groused. “I would have liked to be consulted.”

  “I think it’s fitting, actually,” Chaudri said. “We have the same goal as any chess master.”

  “Which is what?” Quinn asked.

  “To remove the king.”

  The next two weeks were beyond brutal. Every day was a new test of just how much physical punishment Quinn’s body could endure. He’d moved rooms when he returned to the island facility, and used his new security clearance to request that the location not be made public. Mostly so he could avoid Logan’s early-morning wake-up calls.

  Unfortunately, such requests were “security matters” and so they got routed right to Logan. So the request was gleefully denied, and Quinn’s days started at five a.m. with a ham-sized fist pounding on his door.

  “Go away!” he’d shouted, the first day Logan had pulled this crap.

  “Get dressed, Houdini,” Logan had said. “The R & D team doesn’t get moving until nine. That gives us four solid hours.”

  “For what?”

  “Survival training.”

  There was no point in arguing. Logan had protested the fact that Quinn would have to spend some time traveling alone in the other world, something that virtually guaranteed to bring about his death in a gruesome fashion. Something was eating the man, too. He’d always been a harsh taskmaster, but now he was punishing Quinn like he got real pleasure out of it.

  And it was past time to figure out why.

  It was a morning toward the end of the first week. Might have been sixth, might have been seventh—they were already starting to run together. They were sparring in the armory, which was really just a fancy way of saying that Logan was beating the crap out of him with a blunted weapon.

  Quinn made a side-handed slash at his torso. His arms already felt like lead. Logan’s block nearly jolted the sword out of his hand, and spun him around enough that he couldn’t see the riposte that smacked him in the thigh.

  “Ow!” he shouted. “Son of a bitch, that hurt.”

  “If this were a real fight, you’d be bleeding out right now,” Logan said.

  “I’d also have run away the se
cond I saw the size of you.”

  “You don’t always get to pick who you fight. Now, keep your guard up this time.”

  “What’s Mendez up to?” he asked. He needed another minute to catch his breath.

  Logan’s mouth twitched downward. “He’s on assignment.”

  Here we go. Quinn sucked in a breath. “In-world?”

  “None of your business.”

  “Hey, I’m level-ten clearance now.”

  “And I’m still at level ‘Don’t care.’ ”

  “I don’t think that’s an actual security level.” Maybe a different tack would help. “Well, wherever he is, I hope he’s all right.”

  Logan’s expression softened. “Me, too.”

  “Did he come up under the Logan learn-or-die training program, too?”

  Logan smiled, but it was fleeting. “He did, but I can’t take all the credit. He’s a natural born soldier.”

  “Then I’m sure he’s fine,” Quinn lied. He pretended that was the end of the conversation. Come on, give me a hint.

  Logan sheathed his sword a little too forcefully. “He’s not in Alissia. I guess there’s no harm in telling you that.”

  On assignment, but on Earth. What could that mean? The biggest threat here was Raptor Tech. What had Kiara said about them? Not my concern. Even as he remembered that, the pieces fell into place. Mendez must be after Thorisson. And Thorisson killed most of Bravo Team. Maybe Logan was worried what Mendez would do if he caught him.

  “So—” Quinn began, but Logan waved him off.

  “Enough chitchat. Let’s see if your archery skills have slipped.”

  Quinn had been promised three solid weeks to prepare for the new mission. That was already pushing it for the R & D lab to finish his new set of equipment. So he got a bad feeling when his communicator beeped with the summons from Kiara: Mission update. Conf room ASAP.

  “Damn.” He was in the R & D lab testing out the new prototype for the elemental projector. The wrist-mounted original had saved his life a couple of times on the first mission, so he wasn’t going back in without one. In fact, he had the lab making twin projectors, one for each arm. He’d been about to do the first trial run. “Guess I’ll have to test it later. Just got summoned by Kiara.”