The Chronos Plague (Book 1): No Time Left

by Talluto, Joseph

  I finished my pipe and waited. The other man emerged from his hiding place. He stepped over and I waved him to the hotel. I checked out and he followed me down the road to another hotel, where we managed to secure two rooms. I told him to go down to the bar and wait, I’d meet him later.

  I left him there for an hour as penance for his screw up then joined him. He was sitting at a table in the back, watching the entrance, so I figured he was at least willing to learn from his mistakes. I sat down across from him, trusting that he would tell me if anyone entered the bar that looked suspicious.

  “Joe MacCullen,” I said by way of introduction. “You are?”

  “Conner Elliott. Nice to meet you.”

  He was a young kid, probably in his late twenties, likely of Scottish or Irish descent. He was a good mix for this part of the world, sandy brown hair, light complexion, dark eyes. Average build and height, he would blend in easily, if he had learned his tradecraft well enough.

  “So, Mister Elliott. Why don’t you tell me what you have learned so far,” I said, seeing how he might react.

  “Let’s get our drinks at the bar, we’ll look less conspicuous.” Conner tried to play it cool, but I shook my head.

  “Nice try. We met at a table, and now we shift to the bar? That’s weird for anyone, let alone us,” I said. “Stay here, we’ll be fine. You keep an eye on the door, and I’ll watch the rest.” I had a good view in the mirror above the bar that showed me a majority of the place, so I wasn’t worried about my back to the place.

  Conner slumped, but I shook my head again.

  “Stop reacting. You’re not being graded. You screw up out here it’s not pass or fail. It’s either a ride home in a nice plane, or you get buried in a shallow grave. Take it seriously,” I said.

  He flinched, but nothing more, so he was learning.

  “Talk to me, tell me the information like you’re telling me a funny story,” I said quietly as I waved the server over to bring me a beer.

  Conner thought about that one, then he smiled and nodded.

  “Okay, so a few years back there was this corporation, and they were doing something with DNA, right? Oh my God, it was all over the place. They didn’t discriminate. First world, second world, hell third and fourth, possibly fifth. What’s most of Africa, fourth or fifth? Anyway, there they were. Doing stuff you wouldn’t believe!” Conner raised his voice a little with a big smile and laughed, and I chuckled with him. He seemed to be warming up to the task.

  “So a couple years back, they got the big shutdown, golden parachutes, the works. I mean, if I could catch one of those, I’d retire right now!” Another laugh. “Anyway, the rumor was they actually hadn’t closed all of them down, and a few of them were still open, keeping up the work they had started years ago. Seems like they were on the verge of something big, and then someone got his little tootsies cold and walked away from a major breakthrough.”

  “No kidding?” I asked. “How major?”

  “From what I read, and from what I could find in other places, there was a team that was working on a genetic fix for aging. How can that be?” Conner said, smiling and throwing his arms wide.

  “Shouldn’t be!” I said, slapping the table. I could see a couple of people look at us and shake their heads and smile. Perfect.

  “Want to know the weird part?” Conner said suggestively. “The really weird part?”

  “What’s that?”

  “Apparently, there was a breakthrough, just not the kind they were looking for.”

  “What happened?” I asked.

  “No one knows! All of the records suddenly came up missing. All we were able to find was a single name on a scrap of paper at one of the sites,” Conner said with a big sweep of his hand. He sat back and looked at me, and I laughed out loud.

  We laughed together for a minute and then I asked him a question.

  “So where did that horde of monkeys come in? A.D. was specific about mentioning that.”

  Conner was quick enough to pick up on that. “Too many things going down around that. Thought was they were interested in the research, so we decided to try and get there first for a change.”

  “Sound like we’re in the right place for once. All right. Let’s get some sleep and on the road in the morning,” I said, meaning that seriously.

  I met Conner in the lobby and we decided to take my car down to Prague. I called the field office in Berlin and they were going to send someone down to get his car. I had settled my bill, and went outside to wait for Conner to settle his.

  The morning was beautiful, the sky was clear, the green hills were very bright and reflected the sunlight like sparkling water. It was almost enough to make me forget the two men who were loitering across the street. They were the two men from the bar that had trailed Elliott.

  Our eyes locked at the same time and the men started across the road. I stayed where I was. I had no intention of running or trying to lose them. They were here for a reason, and I needed to know what that reason was.

  The two walked over and because they didn’t split up or pull a weapon, I knew they weren’t professional. A pro would have shot me the moment I knew he was there. This was either a shakedown or an attempt to scare me. I did want to know who was supplying them with information, however. They had Conner picked out and now they had me.

  The two men were very much alike, so much so that I wondered briefly about a familial relationship. But I had no time for thoughts like that. The first man came at me and I kicked him as hard as I could in the shin. He made a noise like a cow farting with its face and went down holding his leg. The second man watched his comrade drop and it was at that second that I hammered his throat with the heel side of my hand. He went down choking and coughing, trying to get breath past a suddenly swelling throat. The other man struggled to get up and I kicked him a second time, this time in the side of his head. He went down and stayed there.

  The man I hit in the throat was tough, I had to give him that. He struggled to get up, but in the end, he did gain his feet. As he lurched toward me, I drew my pistol and shoved in his chest. His eyes grew wide as I pulled the trigger, sending a .45 caliber bullet into his heart. The hollow-point obliterated the muscle, while the shock wave tore up the flesh already broken by the passage of the bullet. He dropped to his knees, tried to hold his chest together, then fell over as his body shut down. I quickly reholstered my gun and waited for his friend to recover. I pushed the body into a doorway, arranging his limbs to make it look like he was a drunk sleeping the night off. Hopefully, he wouldn’t bleed too much more.

  The sound of the shot had been muffled thanks to the man conveniently volunteering to be a noise suppressor. There wasn’t anyone on the street at this time; thankfully, the world around here woke up in another hour.

  The second man fumbled a bit before coming to his senses, and I quickly corrected his mistake. I pushed him up against a car and I slapped him once to get his attention. His dark eyes focused on me after a second, and when they did, I slapped him again.

  He raised his hands to stop me and that’s when I knew it was time to talk.

  “Your friend is dead. Why are you following that man? Why did you attack me?” I asked.

  The man smiled at me with bloody teeth. “Jester knows, Jester sees, Jester can go anywhere.”

  “Great. Jester, Jester, Jester. Who are you people? What are you trying to do?” I asked.

  The man smiled again. “Jester knows, Jester sees, Jester will laugh last.”

  I sighed. “One last time. Why are you following us?”

  The man opened his mouth again and I expected him to say the same thing again, only this time he got smarter and started to scream, deliberately making it high-pitched to sound like a woman. Nothing got everyone’s attention like a female scream.

  This was useless. I whipped out my gun, and using the same method as I had with the other guy, I shot this one in the chest as well. His condescending smile turned to a look of h
orror and he died looking as stupid in death as he had in life. I pushed him into the alley, arranging him the same way as the other one. With luck, no one will try to wake them before we cross the border.

  A man poked his head out of a window and I looked up at him as he looked at me and the man on the ground.

  “Mein Freund hat seine Eier auf dem Müllcontainer verletzt,” I said as a way of explaining the scream. The man nodded in sympathy and ducked back inside. Every man knew what it felt like to get racked in the nuts.

  Conner met me outside, and we got in the car. I let him drive, since he wanted to, and that gave me the chance to look at the surrounding countryside. I told him to keep it normal, no need for anyone to think anything, like we were running from a crime. It also gave me a chance to think about what that man said about Jester. They knew where Conner was, they knew to tail him, and they were smart enough to find him again. Once a coincidence, twice a pattern.

  “Pull over,” I said, making a decision.

  “What?” Conner said.

  “Pull over at that station.” I pointed to a small gas station on the side of the road. It was a small affair, just a little building with two gas pumps and a couple of vending machines. It had a nice view over a small valley that boasted several farms and a small creek that was crisscrossed by dozens of small bridges.

  Elliott did as he was told and after I told him, he searched his bags while I went over the car. If it was in the car, then there was someone compromised at the field office. If it was in his bags, then it could have happened anywhere, although there was still the question as to how they knew who he was.

  I sent a secure text to the assistant director about someone’s sympathies being for a group outside the agency. She replied she would look into it. That was all I could do about that out in the field.

  Conner found a small GPS device in his pack, disguised as a quarter. He was about to toss it into the valley when I took it from him and threw it onto a flatbed truck that was slowly driving past. They could track that as far as they wanted. It was going in the same direction we were. I told Conner to look again through his things, and he found another device. This one was a plastic tile that people put on their keys so they could find them. Not overly accurate, but able to put someone within a hundred feet.

  This one I just crushed under my heel. They weren’t that reliable anyway, so they wouldn’t likely figure we found it.

  We got back on the road and in the afternoon we arrived in Prague. The border crossing was easy as could be—Czechia was accommodating to possible investors, as we presented ourselves to be.

  We drove slowly into the city, following the GPS as we made our way to the doctor’s apartment. Prague was a nice city, an easy mix of modern and classical. People were always friendly, and if you had money to spend, they were very friendly. Word was they were trying to attract foreigners with retirement money to come live in their country. If I ever thought about retirement, having a second home in Prague would not be a bad option. The women were fantastically beautiful, which was a great bonus. I preferred tall brunettes, anyway.

  “We’re here,” Conner said. He parked the car and we got out on a street that had a very young feel about it. There were several shops and coffee houses, and above them were tall apartment buildings. If I didn’t know where I was, I’d have guessed I was in any given city in the states.

  “Which one?” I asked. We’d discussed this in the car. I was going to go in alone then Conner would join me. One man was less threatening than two.

  “Apartment 15C.”

  Of course. Nobody lives on a floor easy to reach anymore. I went through the lobby and waited by the door to the apartment elevator. Lucky for me, a couple was leaving almost as soon as I got there so I got through the door without waiting too long.

  I got to the correct floor after two wrong tries, and found apartment 15C. I knocked and received no answer. I knocked again then took a look at the door. There was a crack near the door jam and I could see a footprint on the door. I called down to Conner and then tried the door. It opened and I let it open all the way. I could see small signs of a struggle. Carpet out of place here, picture knocked over there, just things out of kilter. I stepped inside and drew my gun. I didn’t know what I was getting into, but I knew shooting first was always the best option for survival.

  Conner came in, saw me with my gun out, and drew his. His eyes swept the apartment, and saw the same things I did, I could see that in his gaze.

  The apartment was clear until we reached what looked like a small office. In there, a woman was sprawled on the ground, her dead eyes staring up at the ceiling. There was a single stab wound to her chest, and her hands were curled into claws, evidence she died in pain.

  Doctor Anastasia Venkus was, to use a bad pun at the wrong time, a dead end.

  “Well, shoot. You’d better close the door, Conner, before someone sees us and thinks the wrong thing.” I holstered my gun and Elliott did the same.

  I went through the apartment while Conner went through the computer. I found some old files but they didn’t tell me anything. All I could find were some pay stubs from a research organization. Human Organization for Research in DNA, whatever that was. I took photographs and put everything back.

  “What do you have?” I asked Conner.

  “Not much. Whoever she was, she was very smart. Looks like she was an expert in DNA. I’ve put everything relevant in the flash drive. Doesn’t look like anyone else was in this computer,” he said.

  “So she was killed for what she could tell them. Couldn’t have been much,” I said. “We’d better get out of here and report in. Not sure what the next move is, but we’ll see what our betters have to say,” I said.

  “We just leave her here?” Conner asked.

  “Not our problem anymore,” I said. “If she was alive, it’d be a different story. Right now, it’s the cops’ problem. Let’s go.”

  We left the apartment and headed back downstairs, taking care to use the stairs and not the elevator. We emerged outside in the alley and got back to our car without incident. We drove over to the other side of town and secured a couple of rooms at an excellent hotel. We needed to keep up appearances of investors, so why not? I’d spent enough time sleeping on the dirt floors of corrugated metal huts to appreciate even a two-star hotel.

  Conner went through the files he had grabbed and I looked at the photographs I had taken. We’d sent the stuff to Langley, but it would be a little while before we got any information.

  I spent some time researching the company she worked for, and that got a lot more interesting. Just like Conner had said, the company had set up several sites around the world with some very serious lab work. What they were actually up to I couldn’t understand past DNA, but about three years ago, there were rumors of some kind of breakthrough, and then the governments of the countries suddenly shut down the facilities. That made me wonder what kind of breakthrough it was. I tried to find out more information about that, but after searching the archives of half a dozen scientific forums, my mind was shot.

  My phone rang and I picked it up.

  “We secure?” The voice on the other end was curt.

  “Hang on.” I went out onto the terrace and spoke again. “Go ahead.”

  “Dr. Anastasia Venkus was a geneticist for the Humanities Organization for Research in DNA.”

  Brilliant, you fucking analyst. Please, God, be more useful than this. I thought it so hard it was nearly out loud.

  “She worked for the organization as an expert in the transcription process of DNA replication, aiding in the development of several vaccines to help advance treatment of cancer.”

  That’s better. I thought. “Go on.”

  “Nothing more to report on the doctor or the organization at this time. More information might be found at the Jester hideout in Prague. We’ve received information from the NSA that there had been communication centered in your area. They are identifying themselves
with a Jester hat tattoo on their forearms.”

  I took the address and went back inside. I pulled up a map and spent the next hour figuring out where they were and how we could approach them. If they were responsible for Dr. Venkus’ death, then a little bit of revenge never hurt the cosmic balances.

  I checked my pistol and made sure I had my spare magazines at the ready. My knife stayed in its sheath, I just moved it closer to my hand in the front. It was a back-up piece, but useful in the clutch.

  I grabbed Conner and after a brief conversation, we were back in the car heading to the east side of Prague. The address was outside the city proper, but still largely populated. I had Conner park several blocks away around cars of similar make. No point in calling any sort of attention to ourselves.

  The walk was easy, we didn’t hurry, and I actually enjoyed the exercise. Conner was grumbling a bit because he wore the wrong shoes, and why we couldn’t have parked closer was a recurring gripe of his under his breath. I let him get angry; it might help.

  We were walking through a neighborhood, and I tried to match my speed to the speed of other people on the street. Conner wanted to hurry up, but I reminded him that the point of what we did was to blend in, not stand out. If we were hurrying, people would notice.

  The address was right in the middle of a street, one of those half addresses that was a doorway between businesses on the street. We stopped and looked at the door. It was a simple dual-lock door with a deadbolt. Not impossible to get past, but we had no time to do that on the street as exposed as we were.

  “Now what?” Conner asked. He had his hand in his pocket where his lock picking tools were. Ironically, if it had been an electronic lock, we’d have been through without a blink. Old school trumps new school, once again.

  “Improvise.” I hit the call button on the intercom and waited. Conner looked shocked, like he wanted to run. I smiled and laughed at his facial expression.