by J. N. Chaney
Burner snapped back to reality after a rare moment of allowing himself to be distracted. The pain in his jaw was throwing him off, which was never a good thing.
His mind caught up with the conversation. “Yeah, pizza. Pizza is good.”
Sara sat up in the bed and leaned toward him, causing a whole new kind of distraction. The two of them stayed like that for a while, looking at each other, into each other, the only sound the low moans coming from a neighboring room.
They were interrupted by an incoming call notification from Burner’s com. He didn’t recognize the sender identifier, but he knew the SEC12 prefix for Union-standard secure communications. Before he hit the answer button, he had a good guess as to who would be on the other end.
“You’ve been disobedient, Burner.” The voice was proper, the words spoken with the careful diction of a politician. “I do not believe we instructed you to make any side trips before picking up the weapon.”
Burner’s fingers were already dancing over the tracing program in his scanner kit. “Well, to be fair, you didn’t specifically instruct me not to, and in this line of work, there’s really no room for mixed messages.”
The terrorist did not sound amused. “Let me make things as clear as I can for you, then. You will immediately make your way to The Hell’s Reach Central Weapons Store where you will pick up the weapon we have set aside for you. Then you will receive further instructions and carry those out as well without hesitation. Further delays will not be tolerated, so stop flirting with your girlfriend and get to it!” Burner could hear the anger boiling behind the proper speech.
“My girlfriend?” He glanced around the room, which he had already scanned for hidden cameras and microphones and found nothing. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“The blonde you have taken under your wing. I don’t know if she’s your girlfriend, partner, or a one-night stand, and I really don’t care. There is only a short window open before us, and you will not miss it. Even if that means I have to.... remove any distractions, personally.”
The threat lingered in the silence that followed. Burner felt himself gripping the com in a tight fist. “I’d like to see you try.”
“I’m not some pickpocket you can break and toss aside, Burner. I’d watch my words more carefully.”
In Burner’s other hand, the tracing program returned an error. Whatever protocols they were using to protect them from being traced were stronger than Burner’s over-the-counter solutions. “I’m careful about a lot of things, but words? Not so much.”
“I see you intend to continue to be disobedient,” the terrorist continued. “Very well. You have forced my hand. I have hidden a bomb on a space station. Thousands of people live, work, and commute through this station every day. If you choose to disobey any of my orders, or cause any further delays that endanger our timetable, I will be forced to detonate it. Those deaths will be on you, Burner. Think hard about whether you want that on your conscience.”
Before Burner could retort, the connection went dead.
He now had a better idea of the kind of people he was dealing with. It was the worst possible case. He was against someone who was operating on passion more than logic, and they were the most dangerous foes to face. While you could count on a logical person to act with a degree of caution, an instinct for self-preservation, there was nothing someone with a zealous passion wouldn’t do for their cause. They’d even sacrifice their own lives if it meant accomplishing their goal.
Burner filled Sara in on the other side of the conversation in case she had some additional insights.
“Do you think there really is a bomb?” Sara asked after he had finished. “Or is this just a bluff to get you to do what they want?”
He had been considering the same thing. “I think this terrorist is willing to use a bomb, and if there isn’t one yet there might be one in the near future. Do I believe he will destroy a crowded space station to get to me if I continue to defy him? Yeah, I’d say it’s not unlikely.”
The tables had been turned on him too quickly. It had been less than a day since he was told to pick up that weapon, but they had already figured out a way to keep him on a short leash. They knew he would never do anything to endanger the lives of that many civilians.
But they had also taken a risk, contacting him like that. The communication might not have been traceable, yet working back through the short conversation, Burner was able to deduce a few things.
For one, he was being followed. That much he had already figured, even though he hadn’t been able to pick out any tails besides Sara. Somehow they knew about the pickpocketing incident, and since the lady he had saved didn’t see it happen and the thief was not likely to tell anyone about the failed burglary attempt, the only way they could have known about it is if they had seen it.
Burner ran the scanner again, but still it came up empty of bugs of any kind in the room. So how are they listening to us?
Sara was watching him curiously. He took his com and typed a message into it.
-They are listening to us. Be careful what you say.-
She nodded and pulled out her own com to reply.
-How?-
Burner shrugged, his face revealing his frustration at being unable to solve the conundrum.
Out loud they had one conversation, in which they revised their dinner plans to grab street-cart fare on the way to the weapons store. Burner put on an act of being properly cowed by the terrorist’s threat. Using their pads, they traded and discarded theories on how they were being spied on.
An idea came to Burner just as they were about to leave.
-Perhaps we can use their eavesdropping to our advantage.-
Sara quickly typed her response.
-Yeah, but how?-
-I have an idea.-
UNDISCLOSED LOCATION
The tension in the air was palpable. Or maybe that was just Eggie’s normal stench. His heavy smoking had left him with gastrointestinal issues that gave him frequent gas. It’s where he had picked up the nickname “Eggie,” for always reeking of rotten eggs.
Either way, the stress on everyone’s faces was apparent. Cypher had gone off-script again. It wasn’t an uncommon occurrence. Over the time Killington had worked with him, he could count on one hand the number of times one of their plans had reached its conclusion without Cypher making sudden changes as the mood struck him.
It’s something you grew to get used to. Cypher was brilliant, and charismatic. And ruthless. All the qualities they needed in a leader. But for those who weren’t used to his eccentricities, he could see how watching Cypher risk everything they had worked for in a rage filled call could be unnerving. Hopefully they were smart enough to keep their grumblings out of Cypher’s earshot. The man did not handle dissent well.
For now, it seemed Cypher’s gambit was working though. Burner was heading back toward the weapon shop. Once things got back on course, people would start to relax.
Not that it would stop Killington from operating on his own to make sure there were contingencies in place should Burner continue to be unreliable. It was a dangerous game he played, one with mortal consequences should Cypher ever get wind of it and mistake his caution for treason. But Killington had a responsibility to all the members of the organization that looked to him for leadership to keep them safe and give their mission the greatest chance of success.
While everyone else was busy watching Burner’s movements, Killington snuck out to the mess. There, he found the person he was looking for: the tech specialist, Cade.
Cade’s skills earned him a great deal of leeway in how he worked. Even Cypher was hesitant to be too strict with him because Cade was too valuable to have him walk. Or be killed. One of the ways Cade took advantage of this leeway was to take his meals whenever he wanted, even if that meant disappearing in the middle of an active mission.
The techy waved to him as he approached the table. “Hey, Killer-ton, grab a plate and take a s
eat. I wasn’t expecting any company. Is the mission over already?”
Killington took the seat across from him. “Not yet, but I wanted to have a talk with you. One-on-one.”
Cade shrugged and turned his attention back to his food. “As long as you don’t mind me holding my end with a full mouth.”
“I need you to keep this from Cypher.” Killington looked over his shoulder. He knew Cypher would be closely monitoring Burner’s movement right now, but he still couldn’t help but feel his eyes everywhere. “I need you to go through Stack’s data and find us another window… just in case we miss this one.”
“Burf Cyphar saad—”
“Swallow your food, Cade.”
Cade held up a finger for a moment and swallowed his mouthful. “But Cypher said we only get one shot, and that looking for backups is just planning for failure.”
Killington gave him a serious look. “And that’s why I said we keep this from Cypher. For now. He’ll be glad we have the option if it comes down to it.”
The techy looked dubious but in the end just shrugged. “Whatever you say. I’ll get on it once I’m done running all the data on the blonde lady.”
And just like that, a conspiracy was born. Killington just hoped the payout was worth the risk.
It all came down to the actions of Jack Burner.
11
Hell’s Reach Central Weapon Store, Dobulla UX8, Union Space
There must have been a dozen weapon stores within travelling distance of Hell’s Reach. Most of them would be smaller and easier to monitor than the massive superstore that the kidnappers had picked for him. But there was one good reason to use the Central Weapon Store as the drop point: the cameras. It would be virtually impossible for Burner to get in and out without appearing on the cameras at least once. And that meant later, when the investigators started tracking the history of the weapon that performed whatever assassination Burner was going to perform, they would have video evidence of Burner procuring it.
Patsy. There was only one way the terrorists expected this to end: with the death of their target, and Burner in military jail, his only defense a wild story about a faceless conspiracy that forced him to do it. And here he was, walking right into it. Not an ideal situation, but the one he found himself in right now.
Sara waited nearby, playing the part of the lost tourist circling the block repeatedly. They linked their comm so they could remain in contact the whole time. Burner wasn’t anticipating any danger from a simple drop, but he hadn’t survived as long as he had without learning caution.
There’s nothing more suspicious than trying not to act suspicious, so Burner made no attempts to hide himself from the cameras or the employees inside. If the investigators reviewed these videos and interviewed the employees, they would not see a trained ex-operative out for a kill. It might only be a small thing toward his defense, but it was better than nothing.
The store, despite its size, didn’t have too many people inside. It was the nature of these enterprises. They needed a large space to house a sizable inventory, but the majority of their business was low-volume, high-value purchases. The only other customer he spotted was an old man who was browsing a rack of antiques with nostalgic eyes.
“What was the code phrase, again?” Sara asked over the com.
Burner spoke low while pretending to browse the shelves. “Rick sent me for a good time.”
She laughed. “Wouldn’t it be funny if all this was a big prank to get you to purchase a bunch of prostitutes?”
“Hilarious.” His voice was deadpan. “If it wasn’t for the, you know, threat of blowing up a space station and killing a thousand innocents.”
With that bit of morbidity out of the way and the reminder of the stakes, Burner found himself in full mission mode. It was an odd feeling, after all these years of retirement, like slipping on a comfortable old sweater. His instincts became even more honed, his mind worked faster, and his reflexes felt quicker.
He catalogued in his head every weapon that surrounded him, their firing power, their reliability, their optimal effective range. He knew how long it would take to assemble each one, get it loaded, and fire off a shot. Every employee was assessed for their potential as a combatant, an ally, or a source of information.
The obvious target was the one working the main counter. His eyes locked onto Burner the moment he stepped through the door. Burner matched his gaze as he walked up to the counter.
Physically, the clerk was an impressive man: massive and muscular, with arms as thick around as Burner’s neck. But there was a difference between show muscle and combat muscle, and this guy’s body was the definition of show muscle—hours spent in the gym every day and a diet rich in protein to gain the maximum amount of bulk. But show muscles were clumsy and made a person inflexible and slow. Given the lack of blemishes on his face, Burner would guess that this guy had never been in a fight before.
The shopkeeper squared his shoulders as Burner approached, attempting to make himself even larger and more intimidating, but Burner could see his nervousness. Whatever he had been told about Burner, it was enough to put the fear of the gods in him. Or maybe the terrorists themselves had scared him pretty good, and he associated Burner with them. Either way, he could identify Burner from sight so he must have been shown a picture. Why they decided they also needed a code phrase was a mystery.
“Good evening, Erik,” Burner said, reading off the shopkeeper’s nametag. “Do you know why I’m here?”
“H-hello, mister.” Erik was sweating in sheets, his nerves already getting the best of him after just one sentence. “Uh, yeah—I think I know, I mean, probably, what you are here for. But you’re supposed to—I mean, they told me not to say anything until—”
Burner decided to give the passphrase before the shopkeeper had a heart attack. “It’s fine. Rick sent me here for a good time.”
Erik let out an audible sigh of relief. “Right, so now I’m supposed to give you this.” He reached under the counter and pulled out the bag that Burner had seen on his playbacks of the cameras’ video memory. Next to it he placed a small comm unit. Burner recognized it as one of the cheap disposable models frequently used by cheating spouses and low-level drug pushers to hide their activity. The fact that they didn’t have many of the features of the more standard com models actually served in their favor for security. It was tough to hack the GPS location of a com with no GPS chip.
The shopkeeper was clearly hoping that Burner would just take the bag and the comm and be on his way, but Burner had some questions he needed answered first. “What can you tell me about the man who left these for me?”
Erik fidgeted nervously, a fact that seemed absurd for a man his size. “Not much. He was… normal looking, I guess. Wore a hat.”
Burner wasn’t sure yet whether Erik wasn’t being intentionally unhelpful or if his nerves were so bad he actually couldn’t think of anything. He pressed on. “Was that the first time you met that man?”
“Yeah. Before that was just calls—that’s how they always talked to me. The guy didn’t actually say much when he was in here, just had me repeat my instructions and dropped off the bag and the comm.”
The other employees were beginning to look over at them now, noticing their boss’s near total panic while dealing with a customer. Burner would have to be quick. “You done things for these people before?”
Erik wavered on his feet like he was going to faint. “N-No. This was the first—we get some weirdos in here sometimes looking to buy weapons, but nothing like this has ever happened before.”
Nothing about the way that Erik talked or behaved struck Burner as dishonest. Like Dr. Suffolk, they must have found some leverage on the shopkeeper to force his compliance. Fortunately for Erik, he had a better chance of surviving than the poor dentist because the terrorists would want him to be able to identify Burner to the investigators later.
If Erik had incidentally learned anything useful during his dealing wit
h the terrorists, he was too out of his mind to think of it. Burner couldn’t risk creating a scene right now by having the shopkeeper faint in front of him. Instead, he shouldered the bag, picked up the comm, and calmly strode out the front door.
He hadn’t taken more than two steps out of the building when the incoming notification sound came from the disposable comm. There wasn’t much point in trying to run a trace through the cheap piece of equipment so Burner didn’t even try to set one up as he answered the call. “Yeah, I got your bag. Now what?”
A different voice from the one that had contacted his personal comm spoke. This one was more serious, more somber. “Get to the Herod’s District. Don’t waste time.”
“You going to give me more than that?” Whoever he spoke to this time was not as easily antagonized as the last and simply disconnected the call.
The group he was dealing with was apparently one of disparate personalities. He could have engaged with up to three different members of the gang so far. He wondered how they kept all the conflicting attitudes in check, and if perhaps there might be a weakness there for him to exploit.
He regrouped with Sara, who was already up to speed thanks to following along on their shared com. “We’ve got a ways to go to get to Herod's district.”
“It can’t be too much further.” He held up the disposable com as proof. “These things work on a limited network. The job will be local. Somewhere on this planet, probably not far from this city.”
