by Nick Braker
They left the airport and headed to the high-rise apartment. The GPS system navigated them, similar to the technology on-board the alien craft.
“I gather we’ve made some significant progress in extracting technology from the alien ship?” Magnus asked, “Is that what is responsible for the upgrades on this equipment?”
“Yeah, I was talking with Seph and--”
“Nothing new there,” Brock said.
“I was able to learn we’ve got a lot of technology coming our way in addition to this vehicle,” he continued.
“Like what?” Magnus asked.
“Communication implant devices for all of WSO personnel,” he replied.
“I--” Magnus said, doing a double take when he noticed Warren asleep next to him.
Magnus nudged him.
“Tired?” he asked.
“Sorry, yeah,” Warren said groggily. “Was trying to sneak in a nap.”
“No problem,” he nodded. “We’ll be there soon. Get yourself ready, my friend.”
New York’s nighttime skyline was amazing. The buildings were magnificent. This was his first time here and New York was more than he expected. The city was a marvel of lights at night and it helped settle him. His emotions were in turmoil knowing he was leading this team. Death was just around the corner and he didn’t want to see anyone he cared for die.
Beth’s death still haunted him but it helped that he was learning to control those emotions on command. It was likely something the alien augmentation had enhanced. It seemed easier now.
Grep was right. He had changed and his abilities were coming out, even without thinking about it. It was now who he was. His feelings for Beth though would never change and his revenge on the aliens would not stop until they were dead. He might be able to ignore the feelings when needed but he would never forget. He promised her that and it would never change. Never.
He managed a subtle smile at the New York landscape passing by him. He was closer to an answer than ever before and when he found a way, the aliens would pay.
“Twenty minutes ago, we left the airport and the GPS system said twenty minutes to our arrival. It was spot on.” Grep said, breaking the silence as they stopped.
Earth - New York City - Apartment Complex
August 21, 1987 - 6:00pm
Brock pulled up right in front of the apartment complex. A man who was opening the door for several people both arriving and leaving approached them in earnest.
“Excuse me, sirs, but you cannot park here.”
Brock jumped out and put his badge in the man’s face.
“Yes we can. Do you have a problem with that?” he asked, stepping closer to him.
The man looked at the badge which indicated he was an agent of the CIA. His eyes went wide and he visibly began to shake.
“Not again,” he said.
“We’re investigating the deaths of the three men in your apartment complex,” Grep said. “They lived in the penthouse as I understand it?”
He nodded though he was nervous.
“Yes,” he said. “They died Tuesday night. There were others from the CIA here before--”
“Yes, we know. We’re here to continue the investigation. I hope we have your cooperation?”
“Yes,” the man nodded vehemently. “Of course, anything.”
“First,” Grep said. “You can show us in. Second, do you remember anything the night--”
“Second,” Magnus said. “Is there anything you remember the night of the incident?”
“Well, as I told the others, no. It was uneventful. The gentlemen returned from a night out on the town. I remembered them coming back but they were alone. Nothing out of the ordinary,” he told them.
“Watch the vehicle,” Brock said. “Do you have a key to the apartment? We’ll need you to let us in.”
“No, but the manager will help you,” he said.
The doorman introduced them to the manager who gave them the key to the penthouse apartment. The four entered the elevator, pressing the button for the top floor.
“So these guys were, uh, affluent,” Warren said.
“New York apartment. Penthouse. Downtown. Definitely.” Grep said.
“They had money and they fit the demographics of the other victims.” Magnus added.
Warren and Brock nodded. The elevator door opened and the group stepped out in the small hallway that led to the penthouse. It had a modern motif and was immaculate. A large window at the end of the hallway overlooked the city.
“A special key was needed to access this floor guys. No one gets up here uninvited. Whoever--” Magnus stopped in mid-sentence.
He had spied a camera at the end of the hallway pointing right at the elevator.
Well, well, well. We have a closed-circuit video system. I’m sure the previous crew examined the footage but we’ll need to as well.
“You know,” Grep said out of the blue. “The previous crew were trained agents for WSO. They weren’t here long, so we must go on the fact they weren’t able to follow up on anything. It’s a fresh start for us. We’ll--”
“Got it, bro,” Magnus said. “We’ll examine everything as if nothing was done.”
The group filed into the apartment, split up and began searching it. Magnus examined the chalk lines of two bodies in the living area which was clean and uncluttered. The couch, end tables, lighting and wall hangings that decorated the place revealed at least one person with impeccable taste. The furnishings were modern and stylish. Magnus moved slowly through the apartment, giving it a cursory search hoping to find something obvious. The group had spread out but Magnus had focused on the bedrooms of each of the men. The last bedroom had another chalk mark on the floor where they had found the third body. This room had a waterbed on the center, far wall and one end table to its right. The closet was filled with clothes, mostly business suits. He took the time to search each article of clothing and came up with a receipt. The receipt was to a local restaurant in the downtown district named The Carlyle.
We’ll investigate that later.
“Guys, have you found anything yet?” Magnus asked.
The consensus from Warren and Brock was they found nothing.
“Guys,” Grep said. “When you get done, let me walk you through what happened that night.”
Several minutes later they were in the living room and Grep began his story.
“First off, someone else was with them. Currently, just one other person was here. The three returned to their apartment alone but someone else joined them later. I know that because the first body was found near the door. It indicates the person who entered killed the man at the doorway area. The next victim died in the living room and it is obvious he fought well enough that he lived for several moments longer than the first. They struggled but he died here near the couch. The third victim was in his bedroom and apparently didn’t hear the fight with the other two. He died easily, without struggle. The murderer, an alien, harvested the glands from all three after killing them and then left. Nothing appears to be missing. No wall hangings, no furnishings, nothing but glands. Same M.O. as all the previous alien victims. In the end, they died, the alien left, leaving little trace of its presence. Of course, they know we’re on to what they are doing, just not who they are.” Grep breathed.
“How did you know they harvested the glands, asshole?” Brock asked.
“I read the report,” Grep responded, dripping with condescension.
Grep impressed Magnus. It was obvious the gift he possessed was intentionally designed for him. The aliens who were helping them had known what they were doing. Four above average humans were now exceptional humans. They each possessed abilities that dwarfed the best of the human race, like the four girls who now worked on the alien spaceship. Magnus had thought long about why the aliens chose them but in the end it always came back to they worked as a team. They knew each other and worked well together and the aliens had chosen them for that reason. Tom and Alexandri
a were certainly giving them leeway they wouldn’t grant to others. It all seemed too easy. He had a bad feeling it wouldn’t always be and someday, somewhere, someone he knew was going to die and everything was going to fall apart.
It’s the law of the universe.
“Guys, let’s check out the Carlyle restaurant after this. I believe I have a lead,” Magnus said, already knowing Grep was about to ask at least one question.
“What makes you say that?” Grep asked.
“A receipt from a jacket. It looked recently worn. It might be worth pursuing.”
Grep nodded and they finished their search.
“Guys, while we do have a lead at a restaurant downtown, let’s check that place out after we look at the closed circuit cameras here in the building.”
Grep’s face looked surprised.
“What?” Magnus asked. “You didn’t think I would notice the cameras?”
“I didn’t,” Grep answered.
“You’re still an arrogant bastard,” Brock told him.
“Kiss my ass, average human,” Grep volleyed.
“You might be smarter than me but I’ll kick your little arrogant ass in about two seconds,” Brock said.
“Fat chance,” Grep said, rolling his eyes.
“Want to try it?” Brock demanded.
“I’m not interested in sending you to the hospital.”
“If you do, it will be as a visitor, checking on my friend to see if he’ll make it,” Brock replied.
“Whatever, loser.”
“Enough, you two. Geez. You fight like little kids,” Warren exclaimed.
Brock’s eyes flashed with visible anger but he took a deep breath letting it fade.
“Let’s move,” Magnus said, avoiding a sigh.
Earth - New York City - Apartment Complex
August 21, 1987 - 7:30pm
The group headed back down to the ground floor and once again spoke to the manager of the hotel. Several minutes later, they were watching the video from the hallway of the penthouse camera. It showed the elevator opening and the three men walking out and then into their apartment. About ten minutes later, the camera showed the elevator door opening and then the camera failed. It showed nothing but complete static for several seconds and then it cleared back up again with the elevator already heading back down. Several minutes later, the static returned and, when the camera cleared up again, the elevator door was open but no one was in sight. It closed and proceeded down to the first floor.
“What the hell?” Warren interjected.
“I can’t believe it,” Brock said, fidgeting. “The video proof we need is all static. The murderer came through the elevator and hallway and we got nothing.”
Brock clenched his fists at his side. Grep sighed, shaking his head. His friends were frustrated. They wanted a victory here as much as he but the aliens always seemed to be several steps ahead. How could they defeat an enemy that powerful?
“We are dealing with an advanced race of beings.” Grep said. “They could easily manipulate our primitive electronics.”
“Guys, we keep going, we try--” Magnus said.
“Holy hell, I got something,” Warren said.
He backed the tape up to the point where the camera showed static and then the open elevator door. Look here, guys,” he said excitedly.
Warren pointed to the bottom of the screen which revealed the red stocking-covered leg of someone entering the elevator. The video showed an instant of the right lower portion of a leg of someone walking in.
“That red stocking and matching high heeled shoe likely means a woman entered and then left the apartment,” Warren continued.
“Guys, with that clue and the receipt from the jacket, we have at least something to go on. Let’s head over to the Carlyle restaurant and hopefully pick up the trail. Judging by the price of the meal, this place is expensive and these guys could be regulars. If the waiter or waitress remembers them, we might have something to go on,” Magnus said. “Good work, Warren.”
Warren grinned and nodded.
“Let’s get out of here,” Brock said. “We’re wasting time and I for one would like to find one of these aliens again but this time drag their stinking carcass back to WSO. Tom and the foxy boss lady would be impressed and we need this. I’m tired of the looks from all the other grunts. They think we got lucky and it’s time to prove them wrong.”
Magnus smiled inwardly. He had put a concerted effort into pushing Warren and Brock to try harder. Brock was improving. It was Warren that seemed to be the one completely unchanged. Brock wanted it but Warren had something holding him back.
The group thanked the manager of the hotel and returned to the SUV. The doorman glared at Brock as they walked past but quickly dropped the look as Brock made eye contact with him. It looked like Brock would ignore the man but then he changed his mind. Magnus sighed.
“You really shouldn’t give me dirty looks. I’m one of those power crazed CIA agents willing to smash your--”
“Let’s go,” Magnus ordered.
Brock pointed at the man as he backed away, getting into the SUV.
Brock seems to be getting worse. Holy hell, I hope he doesn’t follow Grep’s lead.
Earth - New York City - Carlyle
August 21, 1987 - 8:00pm
Magnus sat behind Grep who took shotgun while Warren sat behind Brock who drove again. The night sky had cleared up somewhat from the earlier cloudy overcast.
“Where to, boy?” Brock said to Grep.
Grep rolled his eyes and entered the address into the computer system. It showed them a visual, overhead map of the area.
“Wow,” Warren said. “That is similar to the one on the ship. Where did they-- never mind, I really don’t care.”
Grep stared at him.
“Dude, we used this to get here. Where were you?”
“Catnap,” he said, shrugging.
Magnus had been pushing Warren for weeks since his recovery but so far nothing. As Tom had mentioned, he was showing signs but when the augmentation was in full force it was obvious to that person immediately. Brock and Warren were not completely experiencing their transformation regardless of whether they wanted it. It made sense to Magnus that Grep was technically first since he was the only one among the group that had dreamed of a chance like this, to be better than he was and to have a more meaningful life. His friend wanted his wife and family with him but, since that was not possible, he would accept only part of his dream. He was second but for different reasons. He actively resisted it from the beginning.
The beginning had to have been sometime during my stay in the hospital.
Magnus checked the display. The restaurant was just fifteen minutes away from the apartment and they were already five minutes into the trip.
“Grep, hand me that phone, please.” Grep lifted the device from its cradle and handed it to Magnus. “I remember the WSO help line, let’s try that.”
Seconds later a familiar voice answered the phone. The sound was clear and free of static.
“Bea’s Dry Cleaning service. May I help you?”
It was Bea from Research. She headed up the department but normally didn’t answer the phone.
“Clearance 7, code Pi Delta Delta Alpha--”, Magnus said.
“Are you serious? Is that the code you chose?” Grep asked.
Magnus ignored him.
“Hello, Magnus, what can I do for you?” Bea asked.
“What do you have on the Carlyle restaurant in New York?”
“Let me see. This new equipment works well, if I were more familiar with it. Everything is changing, you know?” she said.
“Yeah, I’ve got a phone stuck to my ear that is broadcasting instead of tethered to a wire.” Magnus retorted.
“Well, that is nothing new but certainly not readily available outside military--”
“Sorry, Bea,” Magnus said. “We are seven minutes out and need that intel,” he said politely.
&n
bsp; “Ah yes. The restaurant is part of the Carlyle hotel itself, built in 1930. It is upscale and well known among the elite. It has fed the who’s who of the world for decades. I’m sure they will cooperate but will probably want to keep their name out of the press. The proprietor of the restaurant is currently a man named Adrian Thomas. Our information on him is as follows: wife of 20 years, 2 children, lives--” Magnus interrupted her.
“What do you have on him on the shady side?” he asked.
“Well, wait, he has a prior. Decades ago but he was convicted of theft at age 21,” she said. “It was expunged from public records but we’re not public....”
“That’s all I need, Bea. Thanks.”
Magnus handed the phone back.
“We’ll get the information we need. I just needed an ace.”
Brock nodded and pushed the accelerator. He had an evil grin on his face.
“Let’s see if that system freaks out when I get there two minutes faster.”
Brock took the SUV through its paces. He zipped in and out of lanes, getting into the oncoming traffic lane at one point to pass another vehicle in his lane. Brock seemed well in control and, although Magnus had to hold on, he was nodding appreciatively at Brock when they pulled up directly in front of the restaurant. Several valets opened all four doors for them. Brock’s valet had his hand out as he left the vehicle.
“Don’t worry about it, just leave it there. We won’t be long.” Brock told him.
“Sir--”
Brock flashed him his badge.
“We won’t be long,” he repeated. The man’s expression turned from confusion to shock at seeing an official government badge being waved in front of him. “Dudes, I love this job.” Brock gloated.
Another man at the door of the restaurant opened it for them as they approached. All four, thankfully, were still in regulation black business suits with white shirts. WSO trademarks, if one knew about WSO.
“Well, at least we’ll fit in somewhat,” Warren remarked.
“This badge is all we need to fit in, man,” Brock said.
“You wave it around a lot.”
“It works, so shut up,” Brock told Warren.
