by Bill Denise
Then again, he thought, I am in a hurry. He sighed and some of his excitement faded. He realized they had been pleading with him, but he wasn’t listening.
“All right, shut up and tell me where to find Dr. Joann Tashus,” he said without preamble.
Both parents looked shocked when he said the name, and he knew that they had seen her recently. “Well,” he added, “start talking.” He aimed the gun at the younger child, a girl.
“No, please,” the father said, “we don’t know where she is!”
“That may be true, but it doesn’t help me. Strike one.” Reave squeezed the trigger and shot the girl in the foot. She screamed in pain and drew her foot up close to her body. Both parents started yelling at him at once.
Shaking his head, he reached down, grabbed the girl by the ankle and pulled her to him. “Start talking so I can understand you,” and he lifted the girl by her mangled foot.
“STOP!” The mother wailed over the girl’s screams, “We’ll tell you everything we know!”
“Now that’s better,” Reave said and dropped the girl roughly, feeling slightly disappointed.
Twenty minutes later he left the house and its four corpses behind, armed with a list of contacts, fake identities, and secure one-time links. He whistling softly to himself as he walked down the street.
**** ****
“We’re running out of time,” Renard said while standing at the window of his office watching the caldera waterfalls. He generally retreated to this view when he was anxious or aggravated. Recently, he seemed to find himself here much more often. Today he received no comfort or serenity from the ritual.
Jeffrey didn’t respond, he probably assumed Renard had more to add.
“We are running out of time,” he repeated in a habit born from his sermons, “before we lose all control over the Demon and subsequently the Council.”
Jeffrey continued his silence, the tapping on his screen the only sound in the room. Renard made a conscious effort to release the pressure on his jaws, suddenly aware that he was clenching. The pain and stiffness told him he’d held them that way for a long time.
“I thought we had him with the weapons platforms,” Renard continued, “but he found a way out.”
“It was close,” Jeffrey ventured, “next time we need to deploy more.”
Renard grunted and turned toward his friend. “Do we have anything more powerful?” He didn’t like the look on Jeffrey’s face.
“Those were the best platforms we have, but we can certainly get more on site. If we have more time to prepare.”
“How is Pryke finding these targets and how does he get them on the list without us finding his influence?”
Renard knew his question hit Jeffrey hard, since this was his personal area of expertise. He watched the emotions on Jeffrey’s face, and felt bad for being so blunt with his friend. Truth is, he thought regretfully, we need to find out how Pryke’s doing it so we can counter him. Jeffrey is great, but sometimes he needs a little push.
Both men were quiet for long minutes.
Finally, Jeffrey spoke, “I need to know the next target. Can you find that for me right away?”
Renard nodded.
“Good. We can start moving men and equipment as soon as we know where he’s going next. However, we still need more time. With your permission, I’ll dig deep and find ways to delay the operation.”
“How will you do that?” Renard wondered.
Jeffrey grunted. “You don’t really want to know. But with the right amount of counter-intelligence, we should be able to delay the mission long enough to get everything in place.”
Renard smiled, “I’ll get you whatever you need, just tell me what to do.”
“I know,” Jeffrey said quietly as a predatory smile grew. “Oh, and by the way, the team finished the weapon, so we’ll have a nice new surprise for the Demon as well.”
**** ****
Joann cleared away the dishes from the last table of the day and looked forward to heading back to the apartment. She quickly scanned the screen on the table to collect the tip left by the patrons. She checked the amount and shrugged. Not bad. As she made her way back to the kitchen, she stole a glance at the clock on the wall. Quitting time, she thought with relief.
After stowing her uniform in a locker and changing into her street clothes, she exited through the back of the building into an alleyway. There was a gray cat perched on the top of one of the garbage cans and it looked her in the eye and meowed.
“Don’t I know it,” Joann said to the cat and then laughed at herself, “I hate this working for a living, but we’ve got to keep up appearances, now don’t we?” She quickly looked around, realizing how stupid she was for speaking out loud. It was unlikely that anyone overhearing the conversation would understand what she meant, but she felt vulnerable nonetheless, and scurried down the alley on her way home.
It was only a short walk to her apartment, and she felt uncomfortable the whole way there. I’m just being paranoid, she thought angrily, reacting to my stupid talk to the stupid cat! Disgusted with herself for being overly dramatic, she set about making a quick dinner.
While she worked in the kitchen her screen beeped with an urgent incoming message. Curious, she stepped over to take a look.
An image of her friend Ted Khasan hovered in the corner and she jabbed the icon to complete the connection.
His face was drawn and pale, and his eyes were wide and unfocused. Her heart started pounding.
“Ted, what is it?”
“Kevin,” he said “and Lauren, and the kids.” His eyes darted side to side but he would not look at her.
“What about them?” she asked, trying to keep her voice level.
“They’re dead, Joann. Someone murdered them—and the kids!—and burned their house down!”
Her knees buckled and she collapsed in a chair.
“What? How?” She couldn’t harness her swirling thoughts.
“Joann, they’re after you. Whoever it is, they’re looking for you. If they got anything from Kevin, they could find you easily. Don’t use your existing codes, I’ll have to get you some new ones—”
“Ted, don’t! Just keep everyone else safe, don’t worry about me.”
He finally looked at her with red eyes. “I’ll do what I can. But we have to cut this connection—now. Take care of yourself.”
She sat and stared at the empty screen trying to make sense of what she’d heard.
Outside in the hallway, a muffled conversation caught her attention. Hearing other people was not unusual in a cheap apartment with no sound shielding, but something about the tone of the voices made her blood run cold.
This was not a casual exchange. There was emphasis behind the words on both sides, and the volume was rising.
Joann’s training from so many years ago kicked her into action, and she ran into the bathroom. Behind a well-concealed panel on the wall beside the shower ran a utility chase for the building. She had chosen this particular apartment because it had the chase running through it, and she had prepared her emergency escape for just this type of situation. Wasting no time, she climbed into the cramped space and carefully replaced the panel. It wouldn’t withstand close scrutiny, of course, but the poor condition of the paint and the walls did a good job of hiding the panel from casual view.
Inside the chase, lodged in between the pipes and conduits running vertically through the building, Joann carefully made her way down toward the basement. She had hidden her Flight Bag at the bottom of the chase since it was too difficult to maneuver between the pipes carrying something heavy. As it was, she was already getting tired.
Barely five meters down the shaft, she heard a crash above her and the surprise almost made her fall. She could hear stomping and shouting above, which she assumed must be coming from her apartment. Trying to move faster, she found that her clothes were catching on sharp corners and protrusions that she hadn’t encountered in her test run. Of course
I wasn’t actually being chased when I tried it out!
Soon her arms, hands, and legs were covered with small cuts and scratches. Working her way down the shaft, she couldn’t spare a hand to wipe her face and her vision soon became blurred with salty, stinging sweat. After what seemed like an eternity, she finally reached the bottom of the shaft in the basement of the apartment building.
It won’t take them long to find out where I went, she thought as she quickly pulled her sneakers, hooded sweatshirt, and pants from her Flight Bag. She dressed quickly, shoving her replaced clothes and shoes into the bag so as not to leave any evidence behind. She hadn’t heard anything for a while, but that could be because she had traveled eight stories in her escape.
She ran up a flight of stairs to the ground level and stopped before exiting. She tried to act casual as she opened the door and walked toward the cars parked in the employee lot outside. Once she reached the first row of cars, she sprinted for the cover of a nearby park.
Behind her Joann heard the woosh of descending aircraft and panicked. She dared a look back and tripped for her efforts, landing hard on the ground in an awkward position. Pain shot through her knee, but it was not debilitating. Lying on her back now, she could see that the aircraft had passed by her and was landing near the building. Fortunately her pursuers had not cordoned off the area. Sitting up and staying in the shadows of the park, she watched events unfold before realizing that the dark might protect her from human eyes, but she would be plainly visible to scanners. She stood up and tested her knee. It would be all right for walking, but running would be a problem.
Back at the apartment building, six aircraft had set up a perimeter, and she had seen figures moving throughout the area and in the building as they crossed in front of lit windows.
She pushed herself to keep walking, despite the guilty pain of her friends’ murder that threatened to overwhelm her.
Where do I go now?
**** ****
Only a half-kilometer away, in a different park, Reave Nachman was watching the commotion. This particular park was on a high hill and had a beautiful view of the cityscape all around, which he had intended to use to keep a watch for Joann. Now he had an excellent view of someone stealing his prize.
Murderous thoughts roamed unchecked through his mind, causing his new HUD to flicker uncertainly through different combat modes. He formulated a plan to force his way through the cordon and snatch Joann from under their noses. However, as more aircraft and soldiers arrived, he realized the futility of such a move and felt threatened by all the firepower on display.
He couldn’t crack the encryption on their radio communication, but he sent a sample to the local Pryke undercover house for analysis. As he watched, he realized they were definitely not SecForce.
No, he decided, these guys must be personal security from one of the Dynasties. One of the big Dynasties, he amended mentally.
His HUD beeped with a message from the Pryke house. Slightly surprised, he opened it and cursed out loud as he read it.
“It’s a Trueblood code. We can’t break it, but we’re 100% positive it’s Trueblood.”
Trueblood. Reave turned the name over in his mind. His eyes narrowed as he watched the activity around the apartment building. Pompous, cocky, hypocritical, conceited bastards! Spouting their pseudo-religion to the weak-minded rabble. He marveled at the size of the operation and how quickly it appeared from nothing only a few minutes ago. Why do they always have the biggest and the best? How did they get to her before me? How can they possibly have a code we can’t crack?
His skin grew hot as he mulled over questions he couldn’t answer. Finally, he couldn’t stand it any longer and his body demanded a release for his anger.
He strode to the nearest bystander and promptly beat him to death with no warning and without speaking a word. He simply rained blow upon blow upon the innocent, defenseless man until he broke his jaw, cracked his skull, and finally snapped his neck.
Shocked onlookers scattered, and Reave knew the SecForce would be on their way. For a moment he thought about picking a fight with them—now that would be satisfying—but it would delay him further and he had a lot of time to make up.
Walking toward the target building, he formulated a plan that just might salvage this mission. Why do the Truebloods want her so badly? They must need her, like we do, to counter the Demon. But they already have Avelina - don’t they? He mulled over the possible meaning behind all of the activity in front of him. Or, he postulated, she’s every bit as capable as Avelina herself. They wouldn’t expend this amount of energy on a second-rate Tech.
Slowly, an idea formed in his head that might just fix everything. He placed a secure call directly to the office of Alexander, bypassing altogether the local house. This is going to take a little finesse, he thought, and a whole lot of luck!
He knew that the Pryke intelligence division kept a few very secret, very deep planted identities in all of the major Dynasties, and he hoped that they had one in the Truebloods. Even if they did, he wasn’t entirely sure that Alexander would give it up, but he felt confident this would be a good time to use it.
The argument with Alexander had been short but dangerous, and Reave had had to endure more than one threat to his life and manhood. Finally, Alexander had given in to his obstinate conviction that he could make this crazy scheme work. Reave knew one thing for certain: if his plan failed, he had better find a really good place to hide!
Eventually, Reave got what he wanted and the secure identification of a fictitious Trueblood family member was downloading into his system, supplanting and eradicating all traces of the real Reave Nachman.
While the program was performing its high-tech magic, Reave kept watching the Trueblood agents and soldiers working at the apartment building. He was searching for the right time and place to make his move.
They’re good, he conceded again, but they can’t possibly cover the whole perimeter. He kept an eye on his passive sensors to see if they were using any scanners nearby, but detected nothing.
By the time the program had completed the transformation of his identification, he found the pattern of the patrols, and located the area giving him the best chance for success.
Reave worked himself quietly into the perfect position before observing the patrols for a few more long minutes, just to be sure. Finally, he burst from cover and moved as quickly as possible toward a group of large vehicles that looked like the mobile command at the center of activity.
A group of soldiers exited the circle of vehicles, walking with purpose and trailing an entourage of support staff and two guards.
They’re the ones in charge, he affirmed to himself as he started after them. It’s showtime!
The group stopped outside the building, conferring in heated discussion with a grizzled-looking veteran who had just emerged from inside. The veteran reacted calmly to the escalating vehemence facing him. Reave was able to get within hearing distance before being challenged by one of the guards. What he heard surprised him and caused a moment of panic regarding his plans.
“How could she possibly slip by you?” The speaker was one of the men Reave had been following.
“Not sure, of course, but I think she left the building altogether. We’re bringing in the WERA scanners now to make sure she isn’t hiding somewhere inside,” the veteran replied. He ignored the ensuing defamation of his character.
A second speaker from the command group took over from the first. “What are you doing to stop her escape? It should be easy to detect and track her now.”
“Not as easy as you’d think,” the man replied. “She’s sure to have changed her appearance sufficiently to fool facial recognition, and she’s already proven to have formidable software at her disposal.”
At this point, one of the guards finally noticed Reave’s approach and he interrupted further discourse with a quiet signal to the others.
“Stop right there sir,” the guard addressed Reave
directly, “This is a restricted operation, please identify yourself.”
Reave stopped in his tracks, realizing that this was the make-or-break moment in the entire insertion operation. Silently, he hoped the identification software had done its job properly, and that the new fake records would back up his story.
“I think I can help you gentlemen,” he said simply, ignoring the guard’s demand for identification. The group fell silent in confusion over the strange situation. No one should be able to approach the command group so easily, especially in civilian clothes. Both guards shifted their autorifles, clearly ready to fire though not being overly aggressive.
Reave found it difficult not to kill these Truebloods on the spot.
“And who, in Kyndra’s name, are you?”
The speaker hadn’t said a word until now, and Reave’s HUD popped up that he was the “Strategic Site Director,” in charge of the entire group. All of the men, except the guards, made a ritual motion at the sound of Kyndra’s name, but Reave didn’t move. His heart jumped in his chest when he realized his mistake, but no one seemed to react, so he forced himself to calm down.
“I’m Lieutenant Reave Nachman.”
Reave could hear his own pulse beating in his ears as he watched the SSD scan over something in his HUD.
Reave tried to appear bored. He knew that his new identification would tell the Director that he was on a special assignment, and not directly attached to this particular mission. In order to validate the misinformation, he wanted his body language to suggest he was more than just a low-ranking officer.
The SSD focused on him again with furrowed brow.
“I see. Mr. Nachman. It seems we have more to discuss, but in private.”
“You’d better believe it,” he said casually and turned to walk back to the command center vehicles, leaving the ranking officers behind in puzzlement. He smiled to himself, thinking he might just pull this off.
