Chaos

by David Meyer

  My tired fingers shook as I retrieved it from the bookcase. The binder was old and worn. It looked like it had been read dozens if not hundreds of times. I sagged into Chase’s chair and took my flashlight out of my satchel.

  I read page after page, record after record. And soon, the entire story began to emerge in front of my fatigued eyes.

  Sam Rictor was indeed a traitor. He’d reached out to ShadowFire, which was still in its infancy at that time, with an offer to sell them the Bell. Based on some sort of sample or demonstration, Chase offered to pay him a million dollars upfront with five million more upon delivery.

  I flipped back and forth a couple of pages. A description of the Bell and its purpose was absent from the binder. I wondered if I was looking at whitewashed records, designed to protect Chase in the event of a raid.

  I flipped another page. My eyes widened. The page didn’t have anything to do with the Bell. Instead, a photograph of a subway car was taped to the top of the paper. Underneath it, a box of text provided all sorts of information such as year built, conductor controls, and propulsion.

  I studied the photograph. The subway car was unlike any I’d seen of that era. In fact, I’d never seen anything like it in my entire life. It wasn’t covered with graffiti and faded, peeling paint. Instead, it was sleek and painted silver. On the side, tall black letters spelled out a word.

  Omega.

  Jenson mentioned something called the Omega. Maybe he wasn’t delirious after all.

  I flipped another page and continued to read. Soon, the importance of the Omega became clear. After Rictor disappeared, Chase started a massive investigation to find him. In the process, he discovered that Rictor secured the Omega on the evening of March 6, 1976, presumably as a transport vehicle to move the Bell out of the lab.

  I flipped more pages. The final notations were handwritten and confusing. From what I could gather, the Omega, along with Rictor and the Bell, had vanished completely into thin air.

  Abruptly, the door opened.

  Apprehension crept over me, oozing its way through my veins. The light flicked on. Holding my breath, I whirled around and found myself staring into familiar eyes.

  Standish.

  He strolled into the room. “Well, well, well. It looks like I won’t have to track you down after all. I can just kill you right here.”

  Chapter 33

  Standish reached to his waist and removed a 9 mm.

  The gun rose, pointed in my direction.

  His finger tightened on the trigger.

  “Hold it,” I said loudly. “You don’t want to do that.”

  Suddenly, Jack Chase walked into the room, surrounded by shadows. He looked bony, wiry, and tired. He wore a well-tailored black suit, a dark blue tie and white gloves over his hands. He looked similar to the last time I’d seen him with every inch of his body, save for his face, covered with clothing.

  Immediately, he pulled out his Smith & Wesson. “Cyclone? How the hell did you get in here?”

  “Never mind that. Tell your goon to lower his gun.”

  “Or what?”

  “Or you’ll never get Hartek’s journal.”

  “Ryan,” Chase said sharply. “Do as he says.”

  Standish’s eyes bulged. “He’s lying, Jack.”

  “I’m not lying. I hid the journal. If you kill me, you’ll never find it.”

  Chase shrugged. “I’ll play along. For now. Stand up and remove your weapons. Place them on the desk.”

  Thunder crashed. Out of the corner of my eyes, I saw a bolt of lightning shoot across the sky. Raindrops poured through the broken window. A small puddle formed on the floor and swiftly grew in size.

  I’d convinced Beverly to wait for me in the tunnels until I finished in ShadowFire’s headquarters. We were supposed to meet later that evening. That meant she wasn’t following Chase or Standish.

  Which meant I was on my own.

  I paused for a moment, debating my chances of grabbing my pistol and blasting holes right through their foreheads. But no matter which way I ran the scenario in my mind, it always ended the same way…with me bleeding out on the floor.

  Standing up, I took my gun from my holster and tossed it carelessly on the desk. “Happy?”

  “The machete too. And put everything into your bag.”

  I did as he requested, stuffing my weapons into the satchel and placing it on the desk.

  “Ryan,” Chase said. “Get the bag.”

  “Don’t be an idiot, Jack. Just let me kill him now and be done with it.”

  “Not yet.”

  “But…”

  “But nothing. Get his bag. Then pat him down and make sure he doesn’t have the journal on him. Afterward, I need you to leave us alone for a few minutes.”

  “Jack…”

  “Now.”

  Standish clenched his jaw in fury. But he moved toward me anyway, keeping his 9 mm trained on my forehead. Upon reaching the desk, he retrieved my bag.

  “Spread your legs and bend over,” he said. “And place your palms on the desk.”

  I obliged. His hands swept across my legs, feeling every inch of them. I glanced over my shoulder. “Could you hurry this up? The grown-ups have to talk.”

  The butt of his gun crashed into my forehead. I winced and fell to a knee, feeling blood trickle down my face. Another wave of dizziness came over me. But again, I didn’t notice any headaches or discoloration in my vision. I was so used to battling episodes while under stress that I found myself thrown off-balance by their absences.

  As the dizziness vanished, I saw Standish striding toward the door, my bag in his hands. “Hold onto that for me,” I called out. “I’ll be coming for it real soon.”

  Standish didn’t bother to respond. Instead, he walked out the door and slammed it shut behind him. The entire room rattled slightly but one noise rose above the rest. It sounded like trembling glass.

  But it wasn’t coming from the broken window. It was coming from the side of the room. Immediately, I recalled the case full of antique guns.

  There were dozens of ways I could attempt to smash the glass. However, Chase was armed. Retrieving a gun under such circumstances would prove nearly impossible. And even if I got my hands on one, there was a strong chance it wouldn’t be loaded.

  I lifted myself into Chase’s chair and propped my legs on the desk. “Is this really the most comfortable chair you could afford? Because…”

  “I see you’ve been doing some reading.”

  I glanced at the Operation Die Glocke binder. “Yeah, it’s an interesting story actually. It’s about this guy named Jack Chase. He struck a deal to buy a weapon but ended up paying a million dollars for nothing. The weapon slipped through his fingers and the rest of the world lived a happy ending.”

  “That remains to be seen.”

  “Why did Rictor go to you anyways? Why didn’t he just offer to sell the Bell to the U.S. military?”

  Chase shrugged. “Well, he didn’t invent it so it wasn’t his to give away. And if he tried to sell it to the military, they might’ve detained him and forced him to turn it over, free of charge. He couldn’t take that chance. You see, Rictor liked living the good life and spent himself into heavy debt. He needed cash and he needed it fast. I was his only option.”

  I doubted he knew about the Sand Demons. And I wasn’t about to fill him in. “Looks like he found a third option. He took the Bell and ran, along with a million dollars of your money.”

  Chase frowned. “I must admit I’m surprised to see you. I figured you’d flee the city. Why’d you come here anyway?”

  “Answers.”

  “Did you find them?”

  “Some.”

  A curious expression came over his visage. “How’d you beat my security? No one’s ever made it past them.”

  “That’s because you never pissed off a guy who knew how to climb.”

  Chase glanced toward the broken window. I followed his line of sight and stared at the
puddle of water. It seemed to ooze toward the desk with an almost magnetic attraction.

  “Impressive,” he remarked. “Perhaps after this is over, we can find some common ground. I could use someone with your skill set.”

  “Sorry. I don’t work for assholes.”

  He smiled thinly. “Well, let’s do business. You have something I want. If you give it to me now, I’ll let you go.”

  “Do you really think I’m that stupid?”

  “I have no reason to kill you. All I want is your cooperation.”

  “As soon as you get what you want, I’m dead. You can’t afford to let me live.”

  “Don’t flatter yourself.” He laughed. “You’re nothing but a pesky fly. I’m wealthy, powerful, and connected. I employ thousands of people and have influence with hundreds of politicians and bureaucrats. When I’m accused of crimes, people jump to my defense, even in the face of overwhelming evidence. And you? You’re nobody. You have no money. No job. No influence. Your former peers consider you a disgrace and a crackpot. I have nothing to fear from you. It would be a waste of my time to kill you.”

  “Have you ever considered becoming a psychotherapist?”

  “Where’s Hartek’s journal?”

  “Beverly has it.”

  His features hardened. “I see.”

  “If you let me go, I’ll get it for you.”

  “I have a counteroffer. If you tell me where to find it, no one gets hurt. If not, I’ll take matters into my own hands. With a snap of my fingers, my people will scour every inch of this city.”

  “You’ll never find her.”

  “They won’t be looking for her. They’ll be looking for Diane Blair.”

  A jolt of electricity shot through my body, lighting my joints on fire. “I don’t know her.”

  “Of course you do. Ryan followed you both times you went to see her.”

  “If you hurt her…”

  “I won’t hurt her,” he replied. “As long as you give me the journal.”

  My mind raced, clicking through strategies. I couldn’t let him hurt Diane. At the same time, I wasn’t about to give him the keys to the Bell. I needed a third option of my own. “Okay. I’ll get it for you.”

  He shook his head. “You’re a good liar. Good, but not great.”

  “Well, we can’t all be perfect.”

  Chase walked forward, sloshing through the thin layer of water that surrounded the desk. He stared at me through cold, dark eyes. “Tell me where to find the journal. I won’t ask again.”

  “Go to hell.”

  I don’t know if it was from loss of blood or sheer exhaustion, but I never saw it coming. I felt a sharp jab as his fist slammed into my head.

  The chair tipped over and the back of my skull crashed against the hardwood floor. My vision grew foggy and I almost passed out. But the sight of a steel-toed boot hurtling toward my head kept me awake.

  I rolled. The heavy boot smashed into the floor, barely missing my ear. I hopped to my feet and limped around the desk, backing away from him. His strength and speed had caught me by surprise.

  I didn’t intend to let it happen again.

  Chase’s left fist flew through the air. But this time I was ready. I parried the blow and grabbed his wrist. With a quick yank, I sent him hurtling toward the wall.

  He spun to the side in mid-air. His heels hit the wall, he compressed his body, and launched at me like a Hellfire missile.

  His fist punched my face at the precise moment his body crashed into mine. The combined impact drove me backward and I fell to the ground.

  As he rose to his feet, I felt warm blood pouring from my forehead. He was tearing me apart, turning my face into hamburger meat.

  He stood up, smoothed the wrinkles out of his clothing and stared at me with contempt. “Where’s the journal?”

  Slowly, I rose to my feet and wiped the blood from my face. “Half your life,” I said. “You’ve spent half your life searching for the Bell. Was it worth it?”

  “Of course it was worth it. The Bell is the future of weapons technology. Its value is immeasurable.”

  “The future? The thing’s over thirty years old.”

  He laughed. “You don’t know what the Bell is, do you?”

  I backed around the desk, keeping a corner between him and me. I needed time to think of an escape plan. The window and the door were the only exits. Unfortunately, I doubted my body could handle another climb. At the same time, Standish stood outside the door, guarding it. “It’s a particle accelerator,” I replied. “Hartek probably used it to create some useless material. What was his deal anyways? Just another scientist gone mad?”

  “Hartek wasn’t a scientist. He was an alchemist, the last of his kind, yet decades ahead of the world. And yes, the Bell is a particle accelerator. But it’s not just any particle accelerator. Hartek used it to subject a mercury-based fuel to tremendous amounts of electricity and torsion. Eventually, he created Red Mercury.”

  “What’s that?”

  Chase considered me for a moment. “It’s a superheavy element on the Island of Stability. While similar substances decay in a matter of seconds, Red Mercury has a half life of one hundred and fifty-five days.”

  I shrugged. “So what?”

  He clucked his tongue, clearly annoyed at my ignorance. “So, Red Mercury is a super-dense form of exotic matter. It’s nearly indestructible. But when subjected to extreme pressure, it undergoes a chemical reaction that releases an enormous amount of heat energy.”

  “Sounds like a blast at a barbecue.”

  “The amount of energy released is sufficient to replace the fission-based primary in a fusion bomb.”

  My heart beat faster. “Wait, are you saying…?”

  “Indeed I am. Once I have the Bell, I’ll be able to produce an endless supply of Red Mercury, which will allow me to build hydrogen bombs without going through the costly and tedious process of gathering and enriching uranium.”

  He smiled. “In other words, in a few short hours, I’ll be the world’s newest nuclear power.”

  Chapter 34

  The truth crashed into my mind, sending it spinning in a dozen different directions. “You’re lying.”

  “Why would I lie?”

  I suddenly felt very tired. I’d lost a lot of blood during the last hour. I just hoped I had enough left in me to keep from passing out. “But how…?”

  “The Bell originated from the Uranverein. It…”

  “The Uranverein?”

  “The Nazi nuclear energy project.” He took a step toward me. “When it became clear that Germany was doomed, the SS dismantled the Bell and murdered all of the scientists and technicians associated with it. But they spared Hartek, seeing him as a valuable asset for the inevitable rise of the Fourth Reich. Later, they entrusted him with Nazi spoils via ODESSA.”

  I stepped back. “Come to think of it, I’ve heard of Red Mercury. Back in the 1990s, there were all sorts of reports about it. But it was developed by the Soviet Union, not the Nazis.”

  “The reports started much earlier than that – 1976 to be exact.” He frowned. “After Rictor vanished, I suspected a double-cross. I did everything I could to find him. When that failed, I leaked the existence of Red Mercury to the media, hoping to smoke him out. Unfortunately, it didn’t work.”

  “How do you know Red Mercury even exists? What if Rictor made the whole thing up just to get a payout?”

  “Do you really think I’m stupid enough to buy something without proof?”

  A wave of dizziness hit me and I grabbed the desk to steady myself.

  “Frankly, yes.”

  He sneered. “Rictor gave me a sample of Red Mercury during our first meeting. Tests confirmed that it generated sufficient amounts of energy to explode a hydrogen bomb. After it decayed, my best scientists spent years trying to recreate it. But without the Bell, nuclear weapons are beyond my capabilities.”

  “Along with any hope for sanity.”

 
; Chase ignored me. “Theoretically, it’s not difficult to build a nuclear weapon. The U.S. Army proved that in 1964. They secretly hired two physics professors to design an atomic bomb using only public information. In just two years, those professors had developed the blueprints for a Hiroshima-sized weapon that could be built in a normal machine shop.”

  His eyes tensed. Then, his hand reached to his collar and scratched his neck. I caught a glimpse of a large ugly welt underneath his shirt’s fine fabric.

  “Just blueprints?” I asked.

  “Even with a working design, an atomic bomb was out of their reach. They lacked the appropriate fissionable materials. Specifically, Uranium-235 or Plutonium-239. That’s the secret of non-proliferation efforts. While the knowledge to build a bomb is available, the materials are nearly impossible to procure. Red Mercury will change that.”

  “And in the process, put nuclear weapons in the hands of terrorists.” I shook my head. “Are you crazy?”

  “I’m not crazy. I’m a businessman who sees an opportunity. For over sixty years, a small club of elite states has held a monopoly on nuclear arms. They’ve fought hard to maintain that monopoly, even going to war in some cases. And yet, they refuse to give up their own weapons.”

  “There hasn’t been a nuclear attack since 1945. I’d say that’s the only thing that matters.”

  “That’s because you’re an American.”

  “Takes one to know one.”

  His lip curled. “I might live here, but I’m not an American. Since the end of World War II, this nation has waged countless wars across the globe. Korea, Vietnam, the Dominican Republic, Nicaragua, Panama, and nations throughout the Middle East have all faced the wrath of the American empire. And do you know why? Because they lacked a nuclear deterrent.”

  He stepped forward and I took another step back. “You’ve got a lot of nerve complaining about wars,” I replied, “considering that your entire business model revolves around them.”

  “Obviously, your small mind can’t see the big picture. I didn’t start ShadowFire to prolong wars. I did it to help bring them to an end, with as little blood and chaos as possible. But my efforts have failed to address the big picture. Red Mercury will change that. It will end war on this planet.”