by Bill Denise
He paused, looking back and forth between the two men and when neither reacted negatively, he continued. “She was on the design team that created the Demon, but is now apparently on the run from her former employers. She should know something about cracking open his defenses.”
Camden's eyes brightened. “When can she get here?”
“I’m not sure. I could only send a message to the secure address and wait for a response.”
Chapter Thirteen
Reave walked out of the modest suburban home, and quickly scanned the area for any possible threats. He knew that he was taking a chance by not using a Pryke house, but he didn’t want to risk anyone stepping in and taking credit for his work. Truthfully, he trusted his own Pryke people less than most strangers on the street. Pryke was the perfect dynasty for a person of Reave’s talents and predilections, but he couldn’t trust his peers for that very reason.
Nevertheless, he felt good about himself, and he liked his chances for serious promotion within the family. Over the past months, he had located four out of the five remaining friends of Joann Tashus, and even though one still remained hidden, he was confident he had enough. He decided to leave them in their hiding spots, and made plans to have them captured all at once if he actually needed them. Again, he did not trust his Pryke counterparts to hold them for a long time without screwing something up.
He was walking in the bustling stream of people heading for the local transportation hub when his day got even better.
An alert icon popped up in his HUD and Reave stopped abruptly, causing the man behind him to jostle him as he tried to go past. Reave suppressed the urge to knock out his teeth, and returned his attention to the icon.
Someone was contacting Joann through one of the secure channels he had discovered from her friends during their interrogation. He’d been waiting for a break like this, and had just about given up hope on that lead. The telltales that he had attached to the code would not pinpoint her location, but it would give him a very small area to search.
He ran for the transportation center, brushing people aside as he went. He cursed his remote location for the hours he would lose getting back up to his ship. While he ran, he listened to the conversation.
Hearing the actual voice of his target made his heart race, and his lips drew into an involuntary snarl. The sound absorbed him for a few seconds before he realized he wasn’t listening to what they were saying.
They were circumspect, of course, but it was still easy to tell that they did not actually know each other. A twinge of disappointment passed through him because he thought the person making contact would be the last remaining friend and he would have a solid lead on both.
After a frustrating exchange, the mystery person was able to convince Joann that she could trust him. Once that was established, he quickly summarized the current state of affairs and Reave couldn’t believe his day could get any better.
As Reave took a seat on a shuttle, the two contacts ran through the details of the planned pick-up. Apparently the mystery man had some powerful friends; the strike team he put together sounded formidable. Reave was not too worried, but he wanted to avoid a confrontation with them if possible. Finally, when the call ended, Reave sat back and started his own planning.
The Demon’s down and out, and Joann’s the only hope to save him. I’ve got a lock on her location, and I’m going to make sure she never makes it to the rendezvous. Reave’s thoughts continued on into what he planned to do with Joann once he had her. He needed to deliver her alive, but she owed him a lot of pain to make up for the difficulty she’d caused him. His breathing quickened as he imagined her screams.
The transport system was unbelievably slow, and Reave‘s anxiety built as he waited for the low orbit lift to the dock where his ship berthed. Minutes ticked away and turned into hours. By the time he stormed into his ship he had lost almost an entire day. Cursing the backward, low-tech world, he threw himself into the seat and slammed the controls to readiness. He transmitted his intentions to flight control, but took off without waiting for their approval.
“Let them try to stop me,” he growled to himself.
Once away from the planet and heading for his tunneling coordinates, he faced more waiting. The trip would be quick, less than a day, but after running through the calculations a few times, he realized he’d never make it in time. He threw his screen across the cabin, shattering it against the wall. He’d miss the strike team pick-up by more than six hours, minimum, which left him with no other choice but to include the Truebloods.
He punched up the contact codes for the Director of the Trueblood special investigation team. The response was surprisingly quick, and Reave reluctantly shared what he knew about the rendezvous. After checking his available assets, the Director assured him they could get there in time, and prepared to handle the strike team if necessary.
“One last request, Director,” Reave added before cutting the communication, “I must be allowed to see the target. You must wait for me to arrive before you tunnel out.”
The Director was quiet for a moment, and Reave clenched his jaw until it hurt. Finally the Director answered. “Understood and agreed. I owe you that much for giving us this intel.”
Reave didn’t entirely trust the Trueblood. “If you double-cross me, I will find you,” he rasped through his clenched teeth.
“No need to worry,” the Director replied and cut the connection.
**** ****
Joann leaned back in her chair and breathed a sigh of relief. She’d been hiding for so long, looking over her shoulder and jumping at shadows, that she could not believe it was now coming to an end. She had to admit to herself a certain excitement at seeing Damon again, even though the circumstances were not ideal. The mysterious contact on the other end of the private connection had explained the status of the Demon, but she felt confident that the armor would keep him alive, and she knew how to bring him back.
She jumped up out of the chair and quickly started packing everything she wanted to take with her. Finally, I can take stuff that doesn’t fit in my Flight Bag!
Everything she currently owned fit into two suitcases and one bag. The excess bags were heavy and cumbersome, but the change felt good. No more running away with only a single small bag, she looked forward to a return to her normal life.
Joann locked the door on her way out and felt like she was closing one chapter of her life. A chapter she didn’t particularly like, yet she felt proud of herself for surviving and thriving under the constant pressure. No longer a bookish professor with a cushy appointment to SecForce, she felt comfortable making her way in the dark recesses of society. As she turned to leave, a door slammed in the distance and she smiled at the imagery.
She arrived at the transportation center about thirty minutes early, and used the time to scout the area while buying a magazine at a local stand. She made only a half-hearted effort, since it not really necessary anymore. She picked a seat near the side of the room, which gave her quick access to an exit, and a good view over the main concourse.
Watching the ebb and flow of the crowds over the top of the magazine, while remembering to periodically turn pages to maintain the illusion, Joann saw the soldier the moment he entered the waiting area. Still a good twenty meters away, the man didn’t even make an attempt to blend in. Not that he could, she thought in disgust, wearing a full suit of powered armor! She exhaled slowly, disappointed since she thought her contacts would be much more savvy.
She began to notice disturbances in the smooth flow of people, as groups bunched up unexpectedly and shifted directions all at once. Picturing flocks of spooked birds she saw another soldier enter from a different hallway.
Then another.
And another.
Now she could see they were everywhere, and her heart jumped up to speed, thudding painfully against her chest. Her movements were awkward and jerky as she left her belongings and made for the nearby hallway leading to an exit. S
he ran, but had no pre-planned escape route in mind.
Stupid, stupid, stupid was all she could think, berating herself in rhythm with her echoing footfalls. As she neared a bend in the hall, she realized it was strangely empty. She skidded to a halt as she cleared the corner and bounced off an armored figure. Instinctively, she tried to twist and jump back, but the soldier was too quick and grabbed her arm. The force of her struggles twisted her arm painfully in his immovable grip, and she felt something give in her shoulder. The man never moved or released pressure on her arm as she lost her balance and fell against him. The pain in her shoulder intensified until she cried out and her vision blurred to black. The last thing she saw as her head cracked face-first into his chest was the blood-red crest of the Trueblood dynasty.
**** ****
Reave Nachman jumped out of the car before it stopped moving and the automated system beeped at him in protest. He bounded across the sidewalk and into the transportation center before the car door finished opening.
Barreling through anyone who couldn’t move fast enough, he charged through the building at his top augmented speed. Crashing through the door to the holding room, he nearly ripped the hardened security door from its mounting.
“Where is she?” he demanded before anyone could react to his entrance. A handful of armored soldiers jumped up and brought their weapons to bear.
Reave snarled at them, daring them to engage. In the back of his mind he knew he was out-gunned, but in his current state, he didn’t care. He’d risked everything by getting the Truebloods involved and the sooner he took his prize and left the better.
“Good morning, Lieutenant, you sure took your time getting here.” The Director sat behind a cheap desk, his posture rigid, but his demeanor calm.
Reave reigned in his fighting instincts and replied as calmly as he could. “Where is she? Don’t make me ask again.”
The Director’s eyes narrowed and leaned forward to rest his arms on the desk. “Excuse me, Lieutenant? You need to remember your place here, and if I were you, I might decide to rephrase my question.”
“Look,” Reave said loudly, pointing his finger at the Director’s face, when his HUD alerted him to weapons powering up all around. The warning flashed bright red and urgent, indicating his defenses were no match for the combined firepower. He breathed deeply and closed his eyes for a long second. He withdrew his finger and stepped back. I really need a Plan B, he thought.
“I’m sorry,” he said, though it came out through gritted teeth and did little to mollify the Director. “Please understand, I’ve been tracking her for a long time.” He kept his eyes locked on the Director’s, but also monitored the various weapons around the room through his HUD.
They stared at each other for another moment until finally the Director leaned back in his chair again, “I understand, no real harm done.” He motioned to the soldiers in the room to stand down. Reave noticed that the weapons may have been lowered, but they were not powered down. “Please try to control yourself in the future, Lieutenant.”
Reave wasn’t sure how to interpret the emphasis placed on the title. Was the Director trying to remind him of his position, or was he hinting that he knew something more? If he knew something definitive, he’d have me killed right now, Reave reassured himself, but his nerves tingled and his hands shook.
Finally, he was ushered into another room with Joann Tashus. He had to keep himself from killing her on sight, since she had given him such a difficult chase. She sat on a couch, not tied or restrained in any way. She did not have a bruise or a mark on her anywhere that he could see, but she looked haggard and defeated nonetheless. His face reddened and his fists clenched when he realized she’d been treated so gently.
He walked over and slapped her hard across the face. She yelped once as she was lifted off the couch and thrown halfway across the room. She fell in a heap on the floor, unconscious but alive. He stepped back as the soldiers all started yelling at him and rushing in to lift the inert form. Her cheek was split and bleeding, and he could see a couple of teeth laying on the floor. It lifted his spirits.
The Director stepped into the room, shaking his head. “You do that again—” he said but Reave interrupted.
“Don’t worry. I need her alive and functioning just as much as you do.”
Doesn’t mean she can’t be a little beaten and battered however, he thought. Belatedly, he realized that now he would never be allowed alone with her, which would put another kink in his plans. I’ve got to learn to think farther ahead. But still, that felt good!
Over the next two weeks, the Trueblood team completed whatever mission they had used as cover to intercept Joann, and Reave was forced to wait for them. He was only allowed to see the prisoner twice in that time, and always with a contingent of guards that he would be hard-pressed to overcome. He talked with her briefly, but of course she was not forthcoming with any information.
He took most of his meals with the soldiers, and despite the fact that they were wary at first, he was able to warm them up and soon found he could banter easily with most of them. Over the many years he spent as a covert agent for the Prykes, he found that he had a knack for mingling and interacting with others. He honed the valuable skill, and trained himself to bury his true, murderous feelings, while portraying a likable facade. In this current situation, he used all of his talents, tricks, and training to work his way into the good graces of the escort crew.
From there, it was a small step to ingratiating himself to the Director. He turned out to be a relatively anti-social individual, but Reave was relentless. Finally, he felt comfortable broaching the subject he had pointedly avoided during the last two weeks.
“Director, I’d like to ask a favor.”
The Director raised one eyebrow, “Really? And just what might that be?”
“First, before I ask, let me point out a couple of facts. It was my intelligence that led you to the prisoner, and I could have nailed her on my own, using local hired help to delay her pick-up until I arrived.
“Maybe,” the Director interrupted, but his tone was light.
“Yeah, definitely. However, I chose to call you in and share the credit with you.”
“Well, there might be a bonus for me.”
Reave jumped in, “Of course there will be! Don’t play coy with me, I’m not that dumb.” The Director smiled and Reave continued. “All I ask is to be attached to her, either as escort, guard, whatever. Wherever they send her, make sure I go with her.”
The Director considered, and Reave forced himself to slowly release the breath he was holding. “That might be a rather tall order.”
“Come on,” Reave pressed, “your clout coming off this big win should give you a good amount of pull.”
“Well, maybe. I will see what can be done when we arrive at the Spire.”
Reave willfully unclenched his jaw before replying “Thanks, Director, it means a lot to me.” He felt the prickle of sweat on his back as he considered that they were going directly to the Spire on Havyn. Reave had not imagined they would travel directly into the heart of the Trueblood empire, and the thought scared him more than he liked to admit.
**** ****
“Curse-ed Kyndra!” Ken Westron exclaimed as paced across the common room of the Abyss.
The sound startled Leland out of his half-sleep and he jumped up off the couch. “What?” he asked, rubbing his eyes. Even with his enhancements, the eyes didn’t focus like they used to. “What’s wrong?” he repeated.
Ken looked at him but didn’t stop pacing. He moved so quickly that he made the largest room on the ship seem small. His hands fluttered about as he talked, and his eyes didn’t fix on anything for very long. “She missed the pick-up! The strike team is searching, but they’re convinced she’s gone.”
Leland still felt groggy as he tried to determine the implications. “She could have been held up, or needed to call off the rendezvous for any number of reasons.”
“No, no
, no,” Ken cut him off as he sat down at the control console and began tapping away furiously at the numerous screens and other devices Leland couldn’t identify. He’d never seen anyone move as quickly as Ken Westron at a console. Screens and images bloomed to life at various points around the man, only to disappear faster than Leland could follow. Obviously, Ken had some powerful implants, but despite that, Leland was amazed at what he could do.
After only a few minutes, Ken exclaimed “HA! There!” as he pointed to a display that was apparently supposed to make everything clear.
Leland could only hold up his hands in admission of ignorance.
Sighing, Ken spoke slowly and quietly, “There” he said pointing to the display. “It’s a short burst of Trueblood communication. Military.”
“And what does it say?” Leland asked.
“It’s not what it says,” Ken huffed, “It’s where it came from and when it was sent. It’s a Trueblood Security Forces transmission from our rendezvous point at the time of the pick-up. They’ve got her.” He paused and his eyes went slightly unfocused for a moment, “I still don’t know how they intercepted our private code . . . I’ll have to work on that one.”
“Coincidence, maybe,” Leland offered.
“Nope,” Ken said with finality. “I ran the numbers using the historical records of Trueblood presence in that area over the last two years. Statistically, it can be no coincidence.”
“Fine, fine,” Leland rubbed his eyes again. He still felt groggy and certainly not up to listening to Ken’s technical explanations. “Now what?” he asked of no one in particular.
Ken babbled on about something technical while Leland tried to ignore him. Perhaps it was the lack of sleep, or simply the current fogginess in his head, but an idea grew in his mind that seemed obvious, yet a little crazy. Before he gave it too much thought he blurted it out.
