Masters of the Broken Watches

by Razi Imam

  Nidal locked the laser guidance system to each of the three boats’ machine guns—no matter their movements on the choppy seas, the system would ensure the grenades flew straight to their targets, successfully delivering their payloads.

  “Yes we have a lock on them.” Nidal answered.

  “Open all weapon bays,” Sebastian ordered. “I want those patrol boats to see what they’re up against.”

  “Got it,” Nidal replied, fingers tapping. “Ready to fire.”

  Sebastian stared at the monitors. “Fire!”

  CHAPTER SEVENTEEN

  The Rescue

  “Searching like that does not fail.

  There will come a rider who holds you close.”

  ~Rumi

  BASIL BELEN WAS a wiry man with a nervous tic—his jaw twitched to the right at the same time his left shoulder jerked upward. The tic, like the stutter that accompanied it, was most prominent when he shared important news. He flew through the corridors of the Pentagon and took an elevator down, his foot tapping between floors. He reached the unassuming office with no nameplate, just a number painted on the door.

  Basil was the Goliath Protocol project lead, a civilian analyst responsible for finding and tracking Sebastian and his Paramarines. He had a small team of three specialists, and they had been working on the project for over twenty-four hours straight without so much as a break. Major Williams had instructed Basil to inform him immediately if they had the slightest hint as to the Paramarines’ whereabouts. A hacker by trade, Basil was amazed at the sophistication by which Sebastian and his team were eluding him. It was like they’d disappeared from existence after taking off from Andersen Air Force Base.

  After exhausting every technical approach, Basil had instructed his team to go old school—look at manual systems that didn’t require connected computers. Maybe a physical log, notes, shopping lists, receipts, anything that could show the team’s habits. They called the base and had a team of cadets comb through the entire hangar for every single scrap of paper, including the garbage. After a few hours of study, they were still empty-handed. The only habit they found of any interest was the team’s frequent visits to Island Girl’s Coffee ‘n’ Quenchers.

  “They might have had civilian visitors from off-base we could look at,” said one of the team members.

  “H-h-how will that help us?” Basil asked.

  “We could investigate their backgrounds, maybe they’d be able to provide some clues,” he explained.

  Basil nodded and gave the go ahead to contact the base visitor center.

  Within minutes, they were entering civilian names from the logs into Goliath, bringing up photo IDs and social media footprints, looking for any connections to the information found in the hangar. Before long, the hunch paid off.

  Two civilians had visited the hangar around 8:00 p.m. on the night the team escaped. Adora Celestine and Dr. Charles Shine. And, there were no exit time stamps in the logs—their visitor badges hadn’t been returned. That implied they could still be with the Paramarines.

  Goliath went to work, finding every detail on the two civilians—social security numbers, bank accounts, cell phone numbers, email addresses, passport details, fingerprints, job histories, citizenships and physical addresses. Their entire lives were accessed.

  Basil’s team then used firmware to ping their cell phones. As expected, the phones were shut off, so they installed a program that would track the phones anywhere that had cell phone coverage the moment they were turned on.

  As luck would have it, Goliath soon brought up a red-box alert—Adora had turned her phone on. Basil and his team scrambled, their fingers tapping their keyboards in a flurry. One set up the tracking protocol, another isolated and triangulated cell towers to get the phone’s precise location, and another placed a software code on her phone that would give them control over it, even if she turned it off.

  Moments later, an outgoing text message appeared on their screens: Charles and I have the opportunity to join an expedition. We’re in Vietnam for the next couple of days and will be back soon. Cell coverage will be spotty, so please don’t expect updates. I’ll ping you whenever I can. All good! Love you guys.

  Basil immediately had one of his analysts bring up all satellite images from the last four hours in a ten-mile radius of the cell phone signal. The team must have landed somewhere—there had to be an airstrip close by.

  It didn’t take them long to isolate an old airstrip at an abandoned Nike factory. Standard images didn’t show anything of interest. However, infrared images taken approximately two hours ago told a different story—the heat signature of a private jet appeared in the middle of the runway. They could only make out its engines, as the body of the aircraft appeared faint, probably due to stealth mode.

  Basil smiled. He knew what needed to be done. Tapping his fingers on the table, he said, “Increase the resolution of the engine, isolate the exhaust, and run a spectrograph analysis. That’ll give us the precise chemical composition of the exhaust. Instruct the satellite to send us real-time video of the airstrip with the spectrographic analysis superimposed.”

  The satellite video started to come through with a multiband color stream showing the jet’s exhaust in a line stretching the length of the runway. This technique hadn’t been possible at Andersen Air Force Base—too much air traffic. But here, they had the chemical signature of the plane’s exhaust, giving Goliath something to track.

  They knew the team was in Vietnam, near Nhon Ly, and Goliath’s tracking of the Gulfstream told them it was headed to Singapore. Basil grabbed his cell phone and dashed out of the command center.

  Major Francrey Williams didn’t offer Basil a chair. “I hope you have something positive to share,” he said, giving Basil a piercing look.

  Basil nodded in acknowledgement. Without getting into the details, he informed the major of their success.

  “Where’s the plane headed?” the major demanded.

  Basil’s jaw and shoulder twitched as he spoke. “Si-Si-Singapore, w-w-we think.”

  “Is the team still at the same coordinates?” the major asked.

  “No,” Basil said. “Th-they’re on the move. We’ve placed tracking code on one of their phones, which also allows us t-t-to listen in on their conversations when the phone is nearby. They’re near the beaches of a small village called N-N-Nhon Ly.”

  “Okay,” the major said, “keep tracking both the plane and the team until further notice, and send me live updates of the coordinates.” He motioned with his hand, indicating that the meeting had ended. Not sure why, Basil almost bowed before turning to leave.

  He shook his head as he made his way back, upset with himself. All his life, people like the major had been rude and dismissive to him. He couldn’t understand why—was it his physique, his tics, or just the fact that he accepted such behavior from people? Back at the command center, he told his team they did a great job and were free to go home. He picked up his messenger bag, took out two rubber bands, and secured each pant leg to his ankle. Grabbing his cycling helmet, he left the facility, irritated.

  Major picked up his cell phone and made a call. He activated his team in Singapore, ordering them to board the plane as soon as it landed and extract the specimen. He then called Secretary of Defense Richard Richardson to share the good news.

  “Good,” the secretary said. “Secure the specimen, but leave the team to me, I’ll handle them. That specimen must still be on the plane. They wouldn’t risk exposing it to the Vietnam heat. And Major—get it right this time.”

  The secretary hung up the phone and called Captain Francis Drake of the USS Bainbridge, a destroyer currently deployed testing a new weapon. Captain Drake, as his name suggested, came from a long line of famous navy men.

  “Captain Drake,” Dick said, “I need you to find a vessel in the South China Sea and seize all scientific materials on board. It’s manned by a group of American scientists, and their work is a matter of national security.
I need you to confiscate their laptops and any other equipment in their possession, and if they resist, place them under arrest.”

  Drake paused. “Where in the South China Sea? And did you say scientists?”

  “Yes, scientists,” Dick confirmed. “My team will be sending coordinates as soon as they become available. Just start sailing toward Vietnam.”

  Drake knew better than to ask for details. “Understood. I’ll wait for further instructions.”

  On hanging up with Captain Drake, secretary asked his assistant to call his general counsel. He wanted to ensure that he had full authority to move forward under the Homeland Security Act. Secretary took a moment to think about what this discovery would mean. Cebrián needed to understand the national security threat his specimen imposed. It could give America an unprecedented advantage over its enemies. The nation that gained mastery over time would become the next superpower. Under no circumstances should Cebrián be allowed to share it with the world. This was bigger than splitting the atom.

  ***

  NIDAL TAPPED THE blinking red icon on his screen, and three small rocket grenades fired, the thunderous sound startling some of the team members. Sebastian stepped out on the deck and watched them hiss nearer the patrol boats. Moments later, he saw three small puffs, followed by three muffled booms.

  The patrol boat captains also heard the explosions, and the subsequent silence of their guns. They shot glares at the firing cadets, who kept pulling their triggers, baffled expressions on their faces.

  Wang Li ordered all boats to a full stop, and the officers and the crew all stepped on the deck, staring in shock at their machine guns. A six-inch hole had been bored through each of them—something had pierced the inch-thick, solid steal exteriors and exploded inside them, causing complete destruction of the firing mechanisms.

  One of the lieutenants yelled and pointed to the open sea. Wang Li shouted for his binoculars. As the lieutenant brought them out, he snatched them, swearing under his breath. He brought the binoculars to his eyes, and what he saw almost made him take a step back. Two miles away, a formidable black catamaran warship floated with its weapon bays open, ready to engage. On the deck stood a man who seemed to be staring back at them, his hands on his hips.

  Wang Li was flabbergasted—why would an unmarked catamaran warship come out of nowhere to help this low-life fisherman? He stood there in silence, studying the ship’s arsenal. He knew he was beaten. Any further provocation would result in a battle that he couldn’t win. Frustrated and angry, he ordered his boats to retreat.

  Pham Kai and Minh, holding onto their old trunk for dear life, couldn’t understand what had happened. The machine guns had stopped firing after the three mysterious explosions. They stayed huddled in their destroyed cabin for what felt like a lifetime. Eventually, they stood up, peeking through the gaping holes in the cabin wall. At the starboard side, they saw the three patrol boats racing back for the Paracel Islands. Trembling, they turned port side and realized what had caused the Chinese to run. A Westerner stood on the deck of an amazing warship floating near them, grinning as if he knew them.

  Sebastian released a folding ramp and guided it gently onto Pham Kai’s boat. Climbing down the plank he stretched his hand out, helping the frightened couple aboard the Skjold. Pham Kai pointed at a figure of a man lying motionless on the deck.

  Maria and Fabienne joined Sebastian. Maria gave Minh a bottle of water and draped a blanket over her shivering form while Sebastian and Fabienne headed toward the back of Pham Kai’s tattered boat. Sebastian was shocked to see it was Dr. Vu Ha. His mouth was open, tongue was hanging out. His eyes were open but unseeing. Using a stretcher, they transported him to the Skjold’s medical bay.

  There, Fabienne and Sebastian went into triage mode. They stabilized Vu’s breathing with oxygen and started a saline drip. They also found morphine and gave him a small dose to ease his pain.

  Sebastian stepped out of the medical bay and walked over to the mess area, where Pham Kai and Minh sat, close together, drinking tea. “Poseidon, I need you to translate English to Vietnamese and back so we can talk with our guests.”

  He sat down at the table and for the first time got a good look at the man whose discovery would change the world. They exchanged a meaningful glance, a feeling of deep respect coming over them both.

  “Greetings,” Sebastian said. “My name is Sebastian. You’re both safe with us.” Poseidon’s voice came through the speakers in Vietnamese. Pham Kai and Minh looked up with surprise at hearing their language. Pham Kai introduced himself and Minh. He thanked them for saving their lives.

  Sebastian went on to explain that they were a group of researchers, and Pham Kai’s discovery of the fish had led them here in search of its source.

  The couple listened, nodding. Pham Kai explained that this was why they were there, too. Dr. Vu Ha had wanted to catch another specimen. The main reason they were risking their lives to help him was to get enough money for Minh’s treatment.

  Pham Kai went on to describe the whole ordeal with the patrol boats and their risky escape through the southern opening of the channel—including how the Chinese captain had boarded his boat, and ignoring Vu’s paperwork, inflicted the injury to Vu’s upper back with a metal device he wore on his hand.

  Charles joined them, and Sebastian requested that he and Maria ask for details about how Pham Kai had caught the specimen. He went back to the medical bay, sharing the details of Vu’s injury with Fabienne.

  Her eyes widened with shock. “Who in this day and age uses brass knuckles? It’s more a weapon for street thugs, not a captain in the navy.”

  They set up the portable X-ray machine and took a series of images. The damage was clear, and quite serious—the 3C, 4C, and 5C vertebrae were fractured. They stood outside the medical bay, discussing the team’s options. They couldn’t continue the mission with the professor in this condition. Even with a neck brace to stabilize him, any sudden movements—even the rhythmic rocking of the ship—could cause a catastrophic worsening of his condition, up to and including death. They had to stay put until a medical team could reach them and airlift Vu to a hospital in Qui Nhon.

  “We can’t stay here, we can’t move on, and we can’t come out of stealth mode,” Sebastian whispered. Fabienne nodded, deep in thought. He pressed a nearby intercom, asking Shiloh to join them. The trio found a small meeting room and sat around the metal conference table.

  Their best idea involved contacting Zeke to see if he could arrange for a medical chopper. Fabienne’s eyes sparkled. She shot up and started pacing the small room. “Remember what happened to the fungi cells that were exposed to Fisio time particles?”

  “Yeah,” Sebastian said, “they stopped aging.”

  “No,” Fabienne shook her head. “They didn’t just stop aging. They acted like stem cells—they were becoming younger. What if this time particle could activate the stem cells in Vu’s spinal column? They would start to repair his cranial nerves and rebuild his fractured vertebrae.”

  Sebastian got up and started pacing too. “Do you think that could work? How long would Vu need to be exposed before his condition improved?”

  Fabienne eye darted around, unsure. “Hours? Days? I don’t know. I recommend we run the experiment for two hours, then stop and examine him. If we see any improvement, we can run it again for another two hours. This way, we’ll be checking on his progress at timed intervals.”

  “Let’s give it a shot,” Sebastian said.

  Shiloh retrieved the time warp device from his cabin. Fabienne made sure Vu’s vitals were strong, and gave Shiloh a thumbs-up. He placed his device on the table next to the wall, already loaded with the slide containing a single-cell layer of the Fisio side of the nodule. He then walked out of the medical bay with Fabienne and closed the door. Sebastian watched him, noticing that he hadn’t activated the device.

  Shiloh had made another modification—Bluetooth compatibility, allowing him to operate the device with his p
hone from a distance, so as not to be affected by its time field. He pulled out his cell phone and opened the time warp app. They soon saw Vu surrounded by the silver mist created by the Fisio time particles. With the time field set for two hours, all they could do was wait.

  The trio was still standing in the corridor when Sebastian’s phone buzzed.

  “Now what?” Sebastian muttered.

  It was a text from the captain of Panther Two. Reading the text, his heart sank. Armed men have boarded the plane, and they’re taking the incubator. They claim to be with our government. They also tried to access the server data and our logs, but Poseidon had already erased everything, so they didn’t get any information. Unfortunately they have possession of the incubator.

  “Dammit!” Sebastian cursed, shaking his head.

  “What happened?” Shiloh asked.

  “The specimen has been taken by armed men,” Sebastian answered, more than frustrated with the turn of events.

  Fabienne shook her head and whispered, “Not really, follow me.”

  She took them to her cabin. Her bags and equipment sat on the bed, and a small fridge occupied a corner. She opened it and pulled out Vu’s lunch box.

  She placed it on the table and opened it. In the top compartment, Sebastian saw two small, powerful batteries attached to wires that led down into the second compartment. Removing the top portion, she exposed two small nitrogen cylinders with rudimentary circuitry. It appeared they were wired to fire a burst of nitrogen at set intervals to cool the lunch box. Fabienne then removed the second compartment, and there rested the Isikhathi Isilwandle, its nodule glowing magnificently.

  Sebastian couldn’t believe what he was seeing. The prized specimen was right there with them—it was never left on the plane. “How?” he asked.

  “Just before the attack in the hangar,” Fabienne said, “I asked Shiloh for a favor. I needed him to create a portable device that could store the specimen inconspicuously. Vu’s lunch box fit the bill.”