Out of Time r5-2

by Cliff Ryder

  Whatever was going on, she was damned sure going to talk to this doctor first thing Monday morning. As soon as Alex came home, she was going to have a little chat with him, too.

  Alex gritted his teeth as the small plane touched down at the airport in Beijing. Jin was a terrific pilot, but Alex’s legs ached all the way to the bone and his head had begun to throb. The flight had been uneventful and smooth, but he still longed to stretch his legs. There was simply no way to get comfortable in the small space of his seat.

  Smaller aircraft landed in the back of the airport, where most of the freight lines came in. There was a customs office right there, and each plane was inspected before anyone or anything was released.

  Jin unbuckled and grabbed his clipboard. He stretched for a moment, and then opened the hatch.

  “We must stay on board until the customs officer has signed off on the cargo.” Jin sat down at the edge of the gangway and let his legs swing.

  “What about my bag?” Alex asked.

  “They won’t look. They are only interested in inspecting the cargo. Your bag is in the middle of all those boxes. They will test a few boxes from the front, a few from the rear, and then they will sign off and move on. I have an excellent reputation.”

  “How long does it usually take?” Alex stood and stretched a bit, then paced from side to side, trying to walk off the pain in his legs.

  “Not so long. There are only a few planes here today.”

  The gangway creaked and Alex’s eyes turned toward the hatch. A heavyset Chinese man stood in the doorway, a clipboard in one hand and his hat in the other. He and Jin exchanged words and clipboards and then the customs officer began slitting open boxes.

  Once he had inspected four boxes, he paused at a fifth, going so far as to remove the back from the television, checking inside for something. He nodded, satisfied, and then wrote something on his clipboard. Alex stayed casual. Jin knew to expect this and how to handle it so there should be nothing to worry about.

  More words were exchanged and Jin turned to Alex and said, “He needs to see your passport.”

  “Oh! Sure!” Alex whipped out his passport and presented it to the officer. Of course, his real name wasn’t on the form. For this trip, he was Donald Vance, living in South Korea on a work and edu-cation visa.

  The officer stamped the passport and handed it back to Alex. “Thank you, Mr. Vance,” he said in heavily accented English.

  A small truck drove up and a large man jumped out, walking purposefully toward the plane. Jin stepped toward Alex, but kept his eyes on the new arrival. “We must be very cautious now,” he hissed.

  “Don’t do anything unless I tell you.”

  He spoke rapidly to the customs inspector, but his voice only carried far enough for Alex to catch a couple of words. Alex eyed his bag in the middle of the larger boxes, knowing that it would take him precious time to get to it and make some use of it if the situation turned violent.

  “That’s Yau Sin,” Jin whispered. “Chinese Mafia. They run the inspection ports. You can get most anything in or out if you pay their fee.”

  Yau pulled a semiautomatic pistol from a holster beneath his suit and pointed it at the inspection officer, directing him toward one of the televisions.

  “If you don’t pay their fee,” Jin added, his voice hushed, “then very bad things happen to you.”

  The inspector walked over to the TV he’d examined. He nodded to the back and Yau looked inside. He looked back up and without another word shot the inspection officer point-blank in the chest.

  He raised the pistol and pointed it toward Jin and Alex. Alex knew he could never reach a weapon in time. Yau walked closer and pushed the pistol into Jin’s side.

  “Leave the box, get rid of the body,” he said in Mandarin.

  Jin nodded his understanding, never saying a word.

  Yau slipped the gun back into its holster, crossed over to his truck, got in and drove off of the tarmac.

  Alex looked at Jin and said, “What the hell was that all about?”

  “The inspector hasn’t been paying them their fees. Nothing crosses the border without their okay.”

  “Nothing?”

  “Nothing,” Jin said. “As soon as the truck gets here, we will have to unload the televisions. You will go with the driver when we are done. He is your asset for this trip and he knows far more about the facility than I do.”

  “Is that the truck we’re waiting for?”

  Jin looked past Alex to the tarmac beyond.

  “That is the truck, yes. It will only take us a few moments to load the boxes. Then you can be off.”

  He nodded curtly and waved at the truck.

  A man climbed out of the truck and met Alex and Jin at the bottom of the gangway, walking past the body with barely a glance. He shook Jin’s hand and smiled. “This is Donald Vance,” Jin said, stepping to the side. “He’ll be leaving with you when we’re done.”

  “Pleased to meet you,” the man said, giving a slight bow at the waist. “I am called Liang.”

  “Thank you for your help, Liang.” Alex sized the man up quickly. He was much larger than Jin and appeared to be only part Asian. He was well muscled and had an economy of motion that reminded Alex of Brin and the way she moved about the lab when she was working. There was something else in his movements, too. Liang moved like a trained martial artist, and Alex knew that he would be a dangerous man in a fight. And yet there was something in the man’s eyes that appeared gentle. His gaze made Alex trust him instantly.

  True to his word, it didn’t take any longer than twenty minutes for the three of them to move the boxes into the large panel truck. Alex tossed his duffel bag into the truck and offered a handshake to Jin.

  “Thanks for the ride, my friend. I’ll see you again soon, I hope.”

  “Godspeed, Mr. Vance.” Jin bowed and Alex mirrored the motion, though it hurt his hips to do so.

  “Ready to go, Liang.” He climbed into the truck and waved once more to Jin.

  Liang started the truck and headed off across the tarmac. “We’ll have to drop the televisions at the warehouse. I’ll take you to the facility after that.

  Tonight, you’ll stay at my house.”

  “Is the facility far?” Alex asked.

  “Halfway to the Mongolian border. It shouldn’t take any more than two or three hours to get there, depending on traffic. We’ll go tonight, after it gets dark.”

  “Good deal.”

  “In the meantime, we will deliver the televisions then enjoy my wife’s fine cooking. I think you will approve. My wife is head chef at one of the finest restaurants in Beijing.”

  “You’re a lucky man, Liang.”

  “Tell me about it.” He patted his belly and chuckled.

  Denny stared at the document in his hand and frowned. It was a single page of a few precisely typed lines and an attached medical report. The report itself was a poor copy, printed from a tiny digital camera. It wasn’t the method by which the report had been obtained—in an organization like Room 59, even the watchers had to be watched.

  The information in the report was disturbing on a much deeper level.

  “Christ,” he muttered, tossing the document on his desk in frustration. “What the hell was he thinking?” He sat down heavily in his chair. The report had come in from one of his field watchers less than ten minutes earlier.

  Room 59 was comprised of concentric rings of secrecy. In order for there to be control, checks and balances, most of those who worked for the organization were watched by others to whom they had no connection. Quiet surveillance of field agents was necessary to ensure the safety and security of the organization. It was, as Kate liked to say, important to back up your backups. And in case that failed, one should always have a way in through a back door or window.

  The report was short and to the point. While only trusted doctors were consulted for Room 59

  assets, it never paid to trust too much. Routine checks were
made on the records and activities of all medical professionals within a hundred-mile radius of any of his field agents. The report on his desk was the result of just such a routine sweep.

  The message itself was simple, and the report appeared to back it up.

  Alex Tempest diagnosed with primary progressive MS. Medical testing and MRI scans reveal extensive medical problems related to disease. Recommend immediate removal from active missions and debrief for termination of fieldwork.

  The report, photographed from the private files of a neurologist named Britton, confirmed what was written in the memo. Not just MS, either, but the bad stuff…the crippling kind.

  Denny grabbed his glasses and immediately launched himself through the security protocols that would send an urgent message to Kate Cochran.

  Kate appeared almost immediately and activated a secure room for them to talk. It looked like a prison conference room. “Denny?” she asked.

  “Why the urgency?”

  “We have to talk,” he said. “It’s Alex Tempest.

  I think we may have to consider some sort of recall on the mission.”

  She was silent for a moment, and even though her avatar was unchanged, Denny imagined the frown creasing Kate’s brow in real time.

  “What the hell are you telling me, Denny?

  Recall? We can’t recall. He dropped into the black zone yesterday. You know our rules. We don’t even have contact from here out. By now, he’s already inside China and working with the local asset.

  What could be so bad that we’d have to risk everything to get him back?”

  It was Denny’s turn to be silent. It was possible that Kate would consider this his fault, but he didn’t think it likely. It just looked bad all the way around, and Denny hated the feeling that produced.

  “It’s bad, Kate. Really bad. I don’t know what our wonder boy was thinking, but we’ve got to do something. I’ve got a report here from an agent who did a routine sweep on a Dr. Britton’s office.

  He found a record of a recent appointment with Alex.” He took a deep breath. “Kate, he’s got multiple sclerosis. The worst kind.”

  “You don’t think he’ll be able to complete the mission?”

  “I don’t know, but I do know that what I’m seeing here explains a lot about the errors that happened during his mission to Mexico. And this is a mission that cannot have errors,” Denny replied. “A critical failure here and they’ll be warned but without any real threat. They won’t stop.”

  “You’re not kidding.” It wasn’t a question, and Denny didn’t answer.

  “What the hell was he thinking, Denny?” Kate asked, slamming her hand onto the table for emphasis. “He’s risking a hell of a lot of lives.”

  Denny glanced at his feet. He had some ideas on that, at least. He’d seen the expression on Alex’s face at the mention of MRIS. Denny was well aware of how close Alex was to Brin. If he believed that there was only one mission left in him, Alex would want to spend it protecting his family.

  “He seemed fine,” he said at last. “When I talked to him, there was no hint of this—no mention of a problem.”

  “We did receive those intelligence reports out of Mexico,” Kate reminded him. “He got the job done, but it wasn’t clean. Not by a long shot.

  They’re still combing the streets for him over there, and it took some work to cover his tracks. It’s not like him to be sloppy but then again maybe he wasn’t. Maybe he did the best that he could—and unfortunately, his best just isn’t good enough anymore.”

  They were both quiet for a moment after that.

  “He’s already in Beijing,” Denny repeated, almost to himself, then directed his gaze to Kate.

  “You’re right. There’s no good way to contact him without breaking his cover and our silence. I hate to leave him out there, but this is way too important for that.”

  “Not to mention that it’s too sensitive to let go,”

  Kate growled. “I hope to God he knows what the hell he’s getting into, because if he blows this, there won’t be another chance. This kind of crap gives me the creeps. I don’t mind an enemy I can see and kill, but this—”

  “I know,” Denny replied.

  “Get hold of his wife,” Kate said. “Quietly. Find out what you can about how sick he is. And have someone talk with that doctor, Britton, as well. We need to know as much as possible, as soon as possible.” She paused, considering, then added,

  “And let’s see if we can get someone else in the field.

  We have got to keep an eye on this—and that means we’re going to take some chances. I’ll make some calls and see if I can think of a way to back him up.”

  “Are you sure?” Denny spoke quickly. “Really sure? It’s your decision, but that’s opening the floodgates to a lot of trouble.”

  “What do I always tell you?” she asked. “Back up your backups.”

  “Yeah,” Denny said, grinning. “And what do I tell you? We aren’t IBM and we don’t do backups.

  Ever. You said it yourself, Kate. Alex is in the black zone as of yesterday. Anything we do now risks the mission, Alex and our local asset there. That kind of risk is not acceptable to us—it never is.”

  “You sound like a damned brochure,” Kate growled. “Get on that doctor, and get Brin on the phone if you can. Find a way to get what she knows without being too obvious. We don’t want to spook her, but we need to know what we’re up against.”

  “Yeah, right, no problem,” Denny grumbled sar-castically. “Excuse me, ma’am, I work with your husband down at the security company. We were just going through some confidential doctor-patient files, and we wondered if you could tell us the status of Alex’s health. We found some disturbing things, and we’re worried about him. He’s on a difficult assignment that we, of course, can’t tell you about—you understand?”

  “Actually, yes,” Kate said. “His cover story has held up just fine with his family. Tell her that a required physical turned up some irregularities or whatever.” She stared hard at Denny for a moment longer, then said, “Just get it done.” She severed her connection to the room and vanished, leaving Denny to stare at the empty virtual space and shake his head.

  “Alex,” he said to himself, “you are a class-A bastard.”

  He returned to his virtual office and illuminated the keyboard, punching keys rapidly. He had a lot of information to gather in a very short amount of time, and he needed to call in some favors to get it done. He’d get in touch with Brin himself, and he’d find a way to keep things calm. If he was careful, and played his cards right, maybe he could even gather a little intel on what was going on at MRIS.

  By the time Brin reached her office, she was in high temper. The delay at the pharmacy had led to a small tantrum when she’d dropped Savannah at her babysitter’s. From there she’d hit the freeway, and it had been much like hitting a brick wall. By the time she’d worked her way through the various security measures the company kept in place, her mood had gone from bad to worse, and being greeted by a curt note from Hershel Rand didn’t help things a bit. He wanted to see her immediately, and the word was in all caps, which came off like shouting.

  MRIS had courted her for this position. She was the top of her field, and the research she managed was vital to the company’s future. She came in on Saturdays because her lab ran 24/7 and she wanted to stay on top of things. She wasn’t Rand’s personal assistant, and she ignored the urgency of his note, knowing that she needed to compose herself.

  First, she pulled out the small brown pill bottle and placed it on her desk by the phone. Beside it she placed Dr. Britton’s phone number. Then, carefully and deliberately, she went through her routine. She plugged her cell phone into the docking station, logged on to the network and brought up her e-mail, then carefully returned the files she’d worked on the night before to their proper places and pulled a few new ones that required attention. She knew she would not be likely to get to them, but it was the act of keeping
Rand waiting that mattered.

  She was worried. She knew it was irrational, but Alex had never kept anything from her—not big secrets or small. The Klonopin wasn’t a simple painkiller, or even an antidepressant. She thought about dropping into her chair and bringing up the online Physician’s Desk Reference, but she didn’t want to push it. It was one thing to remind Rand that she wasn’t an office girl—quite another to actually disrupt company business. Besides, despite her bad mood, what Rand had told her the previous afternoon had intrigued her. She’d half hoped to hear from him later that afternoon, or even at home, but he hadn’t called, and despite all the concerns pulling her in different directions, she wanted to know what he had.

  When her office was in order, she stepped out into the hallway and walked to the elevator. As she went, her steps speeded slightly, despite her efforts at control. By the time the elevator door closed, she was almost sorry she’d fooled around.

  WHEN BRIN ENTERED Rand’s office, he was pacing like a caged beast. She caught him staring out the window at the parking lot below. When he heard her he spun, his hair wild, and she’d have sworn she saw sweat fly.

  “Where the hell have you been?” he snapped.

  “Calm down, Hershel,” she replied. “I know what you have here is big, but I have a job to do.

  I have an entire department dependent on me, and I can’t just get up and run every time you call.

  Besides, it is Saturday.”

  He stared at her, as if deciding whether to scream at her or laugh, and then he turned to his desk and waved his arm.

  “It’s here,” he said.

  Brin stepped up to the desk and examined the object that sat in the center of it. It was a climate-controlled package. There were several layers of insulation. The package was cooled by a small, battery-operated refrigeration unit. It was impossible to see what might be contained within the unit, but there were only so many likely possibilities. Chemicals, cultures, viral specimens, antibodies. Brin received a dozen similar packages any given week, though arguably less well contained. The labels on the box were covered in Chinese script. She understood none of it.