Inception_The Bern Project

by M James Conway

  Shink.

  “Anyways, the higher ups found out. And do you know why?” Morgan pointed his thumb over his shoulder. “Your friend, Wolf, lying dead on that there bridge back there with half his head missing, just so happened to be the one to rat me out to our superiors!” Morgan laughed. “Now, what are the odds of that?”

  Neither man moved.

  Morgan knew he had the driver scared and primed for talking, so he decided to conclude his story. He still had one more job to do, though. He got John’s attention and said, “The gags, please?” As John put the buckets of water down, he moved behind each man to remove the gags. Morgan continued, “Now, that is quite the coincidence, isn’t it? Unfortunately, there are two things I don’t like. One is coincidences. I don’t believe in them. Two, and most importantly, I really don’t like people who hurt those I care about.” Morgan leaned his head forward and spoke to both men, who were now ungagged. “And, my friends, you are guilty of both. Only you hurt someone who was much closer to me than Abbas was. You killed my boyfriend, Steve.”

  The red-headed man smirked and said, “Cute story. I’m not saying a fucking thing.” He looked down at the buckets, then back at Morgan. “And waterboarding ain’t going to work.”

  Morgan smiled back and said, “See? That’s where you’re wrong. I’m not here to ask you questions. I’m here to cause you pain. And those buckets are for washing the blood away.” Morgan pointed to the driver and continued, “He is going to answer my questions. And if he doesn’t, you are going to suffer for it.”

  Without warning, Morgan jumped up and threw himself at the red-headed man. He planted his right knee into his lap and grabbed the man around the back of the head with his left hand and pulled him close like he was consoling him. “Play time is over, motherfucker!” Morgan put the knife against the right side of the man’s head and started sawing just above the ear, but it was unnecessary. The sharpened blade cut through the skin like warm butter and the man’s ear fell to the floor, making a slight slapping sound as the blood-soaked chunk of skin hit the concrete. “Oh, baby, look at that cut! Whoa, god, I love this shit!”

  The red-headed man tried to scream, but it came out dry. Tears flowed from his eyes and he convulsed in his chair as he tried to throw his hands up to where his ear used to be, but the razor-sharp restraints kept them in place, drawing blood as his skin brushed against them.

  The driver screamed, “Ah, no!”

  Morgan got back to his chair and wiped the bloody blade with a shop rag. He picked up the ball peen hammer and pointed it at the driver. “What is your name?”

  “Nitro! My name is Nitro.”

  Morgan feigned surprise. “Wow! Nitro? That sounds like a superhero name.” He leaned toward him and continued, “Are you a superhero, Nitro?” Nitro shook his head.

  Morgan pointed the hammer to the red-headed man. “And what is his name?”

  “Don’t you fucking tell him – ”

  Morgan turned and brought the hammer crashing down on the red-headed man’s pinky finger. The loud crack of snapping bone reverberated through the workshop. The man screamed. This time it was audible.

  “Redmond! His name is Redmond!” the driver yelled.

  Morgan brought the hammer down again, this time on the red-headed man’s ring finger on the same hand, producing the same crunch and scream.

  “God damn it! Why did you do that? I answered your question!” the driver shouted.

  Morgan bent down, inches from the driver’s face. “It’s like the story of the frog and the scorpion, Nitro. It’s in my nature.” Morgan smiled, then asked, “Is he your superior?”

  Without hesitation, Nitro answered, “Yes.”

  “Good! We’re getting somewhere!” Morgan looked at Redmond, but this time, Redmond was avoiding eye contact with him. “I want to make sure you understand what’s happening here.” He sat back down. “I’m assuming, of course, that you somehow know who we are or you wouldn’t be here. You see, there’s no other reason for you to be in this area, and there certainly is no reason for you to shoot at us, right? Coincidence and all that.”

  Morgan turned to Nitro and asked, “Now, how did you find us?”

  Nitro hesitated and shook his head. “I was just following orders.”

  “I told you what would happen if you lied to me!” Morgan brought the hammer back and swung it down toward Redmond’s middle finger, shattering it. He did it again on the same finger.

  Nitro shook himself back and forth, screaming. “Okay, okay, stop! Please! Stop doing that!”

  Morgan ignored Nitro and brought the hammer crashing down on the middle of Redmond’s hand now. He did it a second time and Redmond screamed. To Nitro, Morgan yelled, “Start singing or you’re next!” He swung again, this time on Redmond’s other hand, and it started to turn into a bag of skin holding chunks of broken bone.

  Redmond let out a scream, Morgan swung the hammer…

  … and Nitro started talking.

  * * *

  Russell and Sims were still banging on the door when a loud screaming sound cut through the air.

  “What the hell is that?” Sims asked.

  Russell put his ear to the workshop door. “Christ almighty, they’re torturing those guys.” He stood back and started banging on the door again and yelling, “What are you guys doing? Stop! Let us in!” His pleas were met with the echoes of a man’s screams.

  Sims was still looking for some way in, but came up short. “It’s secured tight, Russ. We aren’t getting in.”

  Russell looked around to see if there was any tool visible in the area, and his eyes fell on John’s house. “I’ll be right back.” He started running towards John’s house and yelled back to Sims, “Stay there in case they come out!”

  This was only the second time Russell had been inside John’s house but he remembered it pretty well. The old wood faux log cabin was a single story and John’s den was at the end of the hall. He walked inside and went straight to the closet where the large gun safe sat, half opened. He opened the door and saw that most of the guns were already out and accounted for. He grabbed a Springfield XD 9mm and checked to make sure the magazine inside was loaded. It was. He placed the gun in the belt loop of his back.

  He looked at the desk. It looked like any other guy’s desk. Random pieces of paper were scattered on top and there was a large paper desk calendar and various knickknacks. He swept his hand across the desk, sending the pieces of paper flying and landing at random on the floor.

  He found an antique tin cigarette can resting on the desk. He opened it and found a bunch of pre-rolled joints. He shook his head and put the can back down.

  Bending down, he opened the desk drawer and saw several photos inside, as well as various pens, pencils, tacks, and other office supplies. In the very back he found a set of keys and pulled them out.

  He took a quick glance around the room and saw a group photo of John and a bunch of other biker-looking fellows. The Crush MC. Next to the photo was a copper wall hanger where John’s jacket would have hung. There were also several photos of John performing various martial arts moves, wearing different belts, but most of them showed him wearing a black belt. A few photos showed John kneeling and being given a belt in some sort of promotional ceremony. Based on how John looked, the most recent one showed the black belt being presented to him had two red bands around each end, but Russell had no idea what that meant.

  He looked around once more and put the keys back in the drawer and closed it. He stood up and grabbed a few pieces of the paper off the floor, crumpled them up, and threw them in the wastebasket on his way out.

  Then he froze and said, “Wait a second.”

  He turned back, walked to the desk, and looked at the floor.

  The wastebasket sat there with the newly formed crumpled-up paper resting on top of another white object. Russell bent down, pushed the ball of paper aside, seized a large chunk of plaster and shook it out. Dust fell back into the wastebasket. Russell w
asn’t a doctor, but he knew a cast when he saw one. It looked like it came from an arm or a wrist and had been rudely cut off, as if someone was in a hurry. Someone who may realize that the cast could identify them, or if some sort of situation forced the cast to come off early.

  Like a zombie plague?

  The ability to shoot a gun with a cast would be hard. It would be easier to take it off and shoot better than to have a sore, semi-healed arm and poor aim.

  Which means the cast had just come off? As recently as Friday? Or later? Or even sooner, for that matter? Either way, it looked like it was freshly cut. The frays from the cast still had very small bits of plaster dust clinging to it.

  He threw the cast on the desk and turned back to the wastebasket. A couple of photos similar to the ones in the drawer were lying face up, covered in white dust. Russell bent down, picked both up, shook the dust off and froze again.

  Ali Bugunolov looked at him with the same blank expression, a hint of arrogance front and center in the photo. “Holy shit.”

  Russell looked at the next photo and recognized the older white man, but couldn’t place where he had seen him before. He’d have to worry about that later.

  He alternated glances between the cast and the photo. He looked at the wall and focused on John in each of the pictures. He pictured him wearing a nice business suit and glasses with, what, a black wig? Was the hair fake? Russell wasn’t able to tell from the video, but it was definitely possible. He remembered the security camera footage from the parking garage showing the smaller driver wearing a cast on his right wrist. The larger passenger looking like Clark Kent.

  Morgan with the cast and John with the outfit.

  It made sense. The killer and his accomplice were partners, and John and Morgan sure were close. Like brothers. Like they knew that the other would keep a secret. Being a killer was a pretty big secret.

  Russell shook his head and ran his hand across his forehead, trying to force himself to think. What was he going to do? Should he tell Sims, and if he did, how would Sims react? What could they do? Take them to jail? No, there wasn’t anything they could do except confront John and Morgan about it, but how would they respond? Would they admit to it and did it matter if they did?

  Russell shook his head again. Too many outcomes to consider. He did know what he could do about it right now, though.

  He grabbed the gun from the back of his waistband and held it out to his side. He walked out the door and headed right for the workshop.

  Chapter 36

  Nitro was born Tyron Ulysses Rushman almost thirty-five years ago in Little Rock, Arkansas. He had barely finished high school, and, sensing his future in doubt, had enlisted in the United States Marine Corps. He told himself it was because he wanted to serve his country, but deep down he knew that he was escaping his childhood. An abusive father and a crack addict mom wasn’t something you wanted to stick around for.

  He found something he was good at, having excelled through training, and became a member of Force Recon. From there, he had multiple tours to both Iraq and Afghanistan, and left the marines twelve years after 9/11, earning nothing except bad memories and dead friends, and found himself living in a country that expected him to reintegrate and suck it up.

  Over two years ago, a group called The Cabal – a subgroup of the famous and secretive Bern Institute – had birthed the plans for a one world government: The Bern Project. It was a three-phased operation that would bring about the collapse of national governments and help to create a one world governing body to be controlled by The Bern Institute.

  The first phase was population decimation, which everyone had experienced a few days ago and had been led by General Ulster Woods. One year ago, a Cabal member by the name of Dr. Meck had led a team that created a zombie-like virus, turning any human being into a rabid and uncontrollable force. No, he didn’t know how the virus was made, nor did he know how it worked. Just that it worked.

  Redmond was the leader of the twenty-five-man team in Washington and they were staying at Dr. Meck’s island in the San Juan Islands, though Nitro didn’t know the name of it. He also knew that there was a ground contact somewhere in the area by the name of Raider, though he didn’t know who Raider was, but knew he was from out of state. That was all Nitro knew. He swore to god.

  John and Morgan were both standing with their arms crossed as Nitro let the information pour out. They ended up having to place a gag in Redmond’s mouth and throw some tape on it to keep him from yelling. Not at John and Morgan, but at Nitro for talking.

  “So, what’s this second phase?” John asked.

  Nitro shook his head. “I swear to you, I have no idea. General Woods is keeping it under wraps and they are all tight-lipped about it.”

  “Why are they wanting a one world government?”

  “I don’t know that either. We just do what we’re told.”

  John walked over and ripped the tape off Redmond’s mouth and pulled the gag out of his mouth. “How about you, Redmond? Do you know what the second phase is? Who from our government other than General Woods is involved?”

  Redmond spat at John, but since his mouth was dry from the rag, nothing came out except dank and warm air. “Fuck. You!”

  Morgan came up beside John, pulled out his Glock 22 pistol, and pointed it at Redmond. John sensed he was about to pull the trigger, when an electronic trill sounded through the air.

  John looked around and then down at the bag they had taken from the Humvee. The sound was coming from inside. He reached in and pulled out a complicated looking cell phone and read the illuminated screen. “It says, ‘coordinates confirmed. acknowledge.’ What does that mean?” He held it up to Redmond’s face. “What does it mean?”

  Redmond started laughing. Nitro remained silent.

  “Is this some sort of rescue party of yours?” John asked.

  Redmond started laughing harder.

  “Can I shoot him?” Morgan asked, still holding the gun to Redmond’s head.

  “Not yet.” To Nitro, John said, “Do you know what it means?”

  “Look. I’m done answering questions, okay? You’re going to kill us anyways, so…”

  “Answer his questions and I’ll think about it and maybe let you live,” Morgan said.

  Nitro shook his head then said, “I’ll take what I can get, I guess.” To John, he said, “Yes. We were to report back within twenty-four hours after we left.”

  “How long ago did you leave?” John asked.

  “Over twenty-four hours ago.”

  “What was your mission?”

  “We were to come here, pick up Raider, kill survivors, and head back.”

  John looked at Morgan then back to Nitro. “Raider is here?”

  Nitro nodded. “Yes.”

  “With us?” John asked.

  Nitro nodded again. “Yes. How do you think we found you?”

  Morgan looked at Redmond. “Who is this Raider person, huh?”

  Redmond laughed.

  “What does he look like?”

  Redmond’s laugh had turned into hysterics.

  John turned and looked at Morgan, who was staring back at him. To Nitro, he said, “Do you know who Raider is?”

  Nitro shook his head emphatically. “No. No, I swear. I have no idea who he is. He keeps in contact with Redmond. All I know is that he was planted in Seattle to find survivors and for HUMINT, but I never talk to him. Only he does.” Nitro nodded toward Redmond.

  “Tell me who he is,” Morgan said to Redmond.

  John said, “Morgan, we have to leave. We can’t – ”

  He was interrupted by a loud bang and then heard Nitro screaming. He looked over to Morgan and saw smoke coming from the barrel of his Glock. He then looked over to Redmond and saw his head leaning to the side, blood dripping from the back of his head. A large black dot was under his left eye.

  “Damn, man! You killed him! Oh, god!” Nitro was rocking back and forth, tears in his eyes.

  M
organ ignored him and said to John, “It has to be Boogie. It’s not us. We know it’s not Frankie. I highly doubt it’s Russell and Sims since…” Morgan scowled, then continued, “…they’re detectives, John! In Bellevue! Huh? What are the odds?” Morgan holstered his weapon and started pacing back and forth. “Damn it!”

  John nodded but stayed calm. “Okay. Let’s get armed up and let everyone know what’s going on. If they have men coming here, we have to get prepared.”

  Morgan turned to Nitro. “How many men were coming to rescue you if you didn’t report back?”

  Nitro swallowed what little saliva was in his mouth and said, “All of them. Twenty or so. Humvees and a Blackhawk.”

  “Okay.”

  John grabbed the bag and started toward the door with Morgan following.

  “Wait! You said you were going to let me go if I told you everything!” Nitro yelled.

  Morgan stopped and turned to look at Nitro. “No. I said I’d think about it.” He lifted the Glock and shot Nitro through the forehead. “And the answer is no. That was for Steve.”

  As John was unlocking the door, he asked Morgan, “So, who’s this General Woods?”

  “Nobody we want to mess with. Trust me on that. We need to hightail it out of here, John, and I mean fast.”

  John had the door unlocked and slid it open. “Fine.”

  He exited the workshop and froze as a handgun was pointed at his head.

  “Small world, huh?” Russell said. Sims was standing right next to him.

  Chapter 37

  “Russell, what the hell are you doing?” John said.

  “What are the odds, huh, John? The two detectives investigating your case just so happen to get rescued by the two suspects?” Russell let out a little laugh and shook his head.

  “Case? What are you talking about?”