Time Frame (Split Second Book 2)

by Douglas E. Richards

  “What’s going on, Major?” he said to his second-in-command, Long He, in the darkness, knowing that none of his underlings would be bold enough to call at this hour without very good reason.

  “Sorry to wake you, sir,” said Long, “but we’ve found the plane you’ve been after.”

  The colonel still hadn’t shaken off the last vestiges of sleep, but this statement blasted him fully awake. “Has it been secured?” he asked immediately.

  “Yes, but it was empty. No refrigeration unit. In fact, no cargo of any kind.”

  Li considered. “Where is it? And how did you find it?”

  “It’s on a private airport just outside of Shenyang that we are now certain belongs to the Sun Yee On Triad. Apparently, Shui Fong didn’t appreciate this encroachment into their territory and waged war for the facility. It was a bloodbath almost beyond description. I’ve sent photos to your phone.”

  Li scrolled through the images carefully, barely able to believe what he was seeing. Dead bodies were strewn about everywhere, and a massive explosion had obliterated trucks, planes, and equipment within a thirty-meter radius of its center. Men had doubtlessly been killed in the explosion, also, but the number was impossible to gauge, as they had basically been turned into paste.

  “Quite a scorched earth campaign,” he noted, almost in awe.

  “The airport is private and secluded,” continued Major Long. “Because of this, local authorities didn’t learn of this battle until two hours after it was over. When they did, they traced the ownership of all planes that had just landed, in the hope of better understanding what they were dealing with.”

  “I see,” said Li. “When they weren’t able to trace the registry of one of the planes, you put two and two together and explored this further.”

  “Precisely, Colonel Li. I was able to confirm that the mystery plane in Shenyang was, indeed, the same plane that took off from Beijing. The one you are after.”

  “Excellent work, Major,” he said.

  “Thank you, Colonel Li, but this was due to luck more than anything. Had this Triad war not broken out, we may not have found this plane for weeks, if at all.”

  “Luck favors the prepared mind, Major Long,” said Li, quoting Louis Pasteur.

  “I’ve benefited from your example, sir.”

  “You flatter me,” said Li, one of several nearly automatic responses to praise. “How long has it been since this plane landed in Shenyang?”

  “I believe just under four hours. Which means the cargo could be anywhere by now. It could have been transferred to yet another plane, which left before the conflict began.”

  “How is it that you don’t know this for sure?” asked Li.

  “I tried to pull satellite footage of the airport during the time of the attack,” replied Long. “But there is none available. Apparently this area was ordered not to be surveilled by certain unnamed authorities. My sense is that an order such as this must have originated from within the Politburo.”

  Li considered this in silence, wondering what to make of it. “Do you have men guarding the plane?” he asked.

  “Yes, Colonel Li. No one will come near it.”

  “Good. Wake DEI Director Chang. Have him and anyone he selects flown to Shenyang to inspect it. Also, for the moment, assume the cargo we’re looking for is still on the ground. I want a swarm of men watching the roads, looking for a vehicle capable of transporting a two meter by two-and-a-half meter stainless steel box.”

  “Understood.”

  “Set up roadblocks at every major and minor artery within two hundred kilometers of Shenyang,” continued Li. “I want every vehicle examined by at least two soldiers before they’re waved through. Any vehicle in the size range we’re after, or with a Caucasian inside, needs to be pulled out of line for special attention.”

  Li’s calm tone suddenly disappeared. “I want this man contained!” he demanded. “And I want these roadblocks established five minutes ago!”

  “Sealing up an area this large will require enormous manpower, Colonel Li.”

  “I’m aware. I’m also aware that a very sophisticated group has smuggled something into China that we believe can tap into the dark energy field. Director Chang believes that such a connection might be used to unleash explosive energies that would put nuclear weapons to shame. And we have no idea who is responsible, what they’re doing here, and what they intend.”

  Long let out a small gasp as the true gravity of the situation hit home. “I’m sorry, sir. I didn’t know. I will set speed records getting these roadblocks in place.”

  “I know you will, Major Long.”

  “How much time until Director Chang can supply a dark energy detector for us to use?”

  “Several days to get the first one, I’m afraid,” said Li unhappily. “After that, additional ones will come faster, but not much. They are delicate and labor intensive, and only a few DEI scientists have the required expertise to put them together. So they can’t be mass-produced. At least not yet.”

  “Understood,” said Long. “I’m signing off now. There are a number of fast-response military units I need to awaken.”

  22

  Aaron Blake was exhausted. Cut, bruised, nearly concussed, and mentally depleted.

  Driving a hobbled semi that wasn’t fully balanced didn’t help, requiring unrelenting focus on his part to keep it on a straight path over narrow roads, cutting through nearly absolute darkness.

  Zhang’s route to the tunnel under the Chinese-North Korean border had been mostly over highways, a sensible path if Zhang had been driving and the truck had been undamaged.

  Blake didn’t have this luxury.

  A smattering of other motorists, other trucks, would be using the highways, even during the wee hours of the morning. And highways were more brightly lit than smaller arteries would be. Blake needed to minimize the chances that his Caucasian face and battle-scarred truck could be seen. Even if this wasn’t a consideration, highways were still out, as he didn’t want to risk pushing his wounded vehicle to anywhere near highway speeds.

  So Blake had instructed K-1 to tap into the Chinese Internet, whose content, while heavily censored, did contain programs that provided accurate driving directions, and plot out a course that would take him to the tunnel he needed over backroads, as lightly traveled and off the beaten path as possible. Roads that even in America would be poorly lit, but which, in China, were as dark as the inside of a cave and perfect for his needs.

  Like most eighteen-wheelers, the green and white truck had small running lights, often called marker or clearance lights, that illuminated the trailer, delineating the rig’s dimensions for other motorists to see as a safety precaution. Blake pulled off the road soon after he was away from the airport and destroyed any of these lights that hadn’t already been shot out during the battle. Now, only the headlights of the truck were visible, and the damaged body of the semi disappeared into blackness. After four hours of driving he had seen only a handful of other vehicles, and he was confident that he hadn’t aroused suspicion.

  “K-1,” he said to the kettle supercomputer, “estimate when I will reach the tunnel using my average speed over the past four hours. Question: will I make it there before sunrise?”

  “Negative,” came the reply in his ear. “Based on your expected time of arrival, and known time of sunrise, you won’t reach it until one hour twenty-seven minutes after.”

  Blake nodded. He had expected as much. “Can you access the Chinese equivalent of Google Earth?”

  “Yes. Although there are a number of areas that are not accessible due to the presence of military installations or censorship for unknown reasons.”

  “Understood. I’ve gone past and through many miles of woods. Is our route going forward equally wooded?”

  There was the briefest of pauses. “Even more so,” said K-1.

  “Excellent. I’m looking for a place to hide out during daylight hours. The ideal location would be as follows:
Isolated. Tens of miles from the nearest residence or other sign of civilization. An area that is minimally traveled, if at all. Better if it is roughly on our route, but if I have to go an hour or two out of my way, I’m willing. Ideally, I’d like to enter a woods on a gravel or wood-chip road—the kind that is almost never used. The idea is to be able to reach a more secluded area of a woods than a paved road could manage. Are you with me so far?”

  “I believe so, yes,” replied the AI.

  “I want to leave such an unpaved road at some point and proceed into the woods. The ideal location would be where trees are fairly sparse, but get denser as I go. I want to be able to pick my way through the tress for at least twenty yards without having to bulldoze any over. After this, if I have to knock down some small trees to get to where I can’t be seen from any road, I’m willing. Understood?”

  “Understood,” said K-1. “But even if you don’t leave a trail of broken trees, you will leave tire tracks.”

  “Thanks,” said Blake. “I’m well aware.”

  Tire tracks emanating from an unpaved road that might not get used more than twice a year, anyway, was a risk he would have to take, and one he would minimize by covering the tracks with leaves, pinecones, loose branches, and other foliage. This would normally be a daunting task, but he could make unlimited copies of these materials to ensure a supply adequate to the task.

  But as he thought about tire tracks he realized he had missed an important point. It had been dry in this part of China for at least several days and the ground was hard, but if this changed the truck might never make it back out of the woods. “K-1, access the local weather forecast. What are the chances of rain tomorrow?”

  “Zero percent,” replied K-1. “This is true for the next six days. On the seventh day, there is a forty percent chance of showers.”

  “Outstanding!”

  “Is that everything?” asked the supercomputer. “Or do you have additional parameters for me to consider?”

  “That’s all,” said Blake. “Proceed now. Give me the five possibilities you believe come closest to matching my specifications.”

  “Working,” said K-1, and Blake was not surprised that it didn’t spit out an answer immediately. This was a daunting assignment, even for a supercomputer. K-1 would need to access road maps, the Chinese version of Google Earth, and numerous other sources of information, including patterns of traffic and human populations, and then pore over untold numbers of trees seen in satellite footage to find groupings in the proper location, and the proper spacing. It would have to analyze an enormous number of moving windows of one square mile blocks of area he would encounter along his route to the border tunnel, with only a few locations in this vast expanse of woods that might even come close to meeting his needs.

  Still, only seconds later the computer had finished, and described the five best possibilities it had found. Blake had it walk through each, getting an understanding of distances to pockets of civilization, type of unpaved road, and frequency of traffic—along with what data K-1 had used to determine the same. He then had it send satellite imagery to his contact lens, showing the off-road path Blake would need to take in each case.

  One of the locations was head and shoulders above the rest, a little more than an hour drive away. Perfect. Better than he had any right to hope for.

  A few seconds later, K-1 had routed him to this new destination, and he was on his way, confident that he could hole up there for many days with only minimal risk of being discovered.

  He was almost to his destination when he found himself on an access road that ran parallel to a major highway, about thirty yards to his east. “K-1, how long does this road parallel the highway?” he asked.

  “Fourteen miles.”

  “I asked you to take me over backroads,” he said. “Out of sight of any highway.”

  “You did. But you did say whenever possible. This road is not illuminated, and you are still far enough away that only your headlights can be clearly seen. I’m aware you prefer to stay much farther from highways, but in this case this is the only option. Unavoidable if you want to get to the destination you have chosen.”

  Blake sighed. He was still uncomfortable, but he didn’t have a choice. After only a few minutes he settled back into the partial stupor he had been in much of the time, fighting exhaustion to stay awake and alert, and largely failing.

  After driving for almost eight miles, he spotted a group of men and vehicles parked at an on-ramp on the opposite side of the highway, tiny in the distance. Adrenaline surged through his body, jolting him fully awake.

  Was this a roadblock? It was too distant to tell for sure, but based on the dose of adrenaline now in his veins, his subconscious had already concluded that it was.

  He pulled to the side of the road and brought a pair of high-powered digital binoculars to his eyes, which he had retrieved from the green duffel bag Zhang had provided. The binoculars were capable of automatically switching to night vision when the surrounding light became too faint. “Shit!” he said aloud as four men, each holding assault rifles, swam into focus, along with a concrete barrier.

  Each was in uniform. Chinese military. It just kept getting better.

  There was always the chance that this roadblock was due to a local issue and had nothing to do with him. But as he continued on his journey and passed two more roadblocks, exactly the same as the first, including the four armed men on patrol, it became clear that something big was going on.

  Blake couldn’t imagine how this could possibly be about him.

  But he also couldn’t imagine how it could possibly not be.

  Fortunately, he was about to turn onto another road, much more secluded, which, twenty minutes later, would end within a wilderness populated only by animals. His daytime hideout.

  He would need to perform reconnaissance and stay put until the coast was clear. But that shouldn’t be an issue. He had planned to wait out the next day, anyway, and by tomorrow night, he felt sure the roadblocks would be gone.

  Once he finally settled into his selected hiding spot, spent a few hours literally covering his tracks, and had gotten some sleep, he would phone Lee Cargill and report.

  Cargill, and the Aaron Blake still at Cheyenne Mountain, were the only two people in the world who were aware of where he was, his mission, or even his existence. Not even Joe Allen or Jenna Morrison had any idea.

  While there was nothing Cargill could do to help him now—not in the heart of China—the man needed to be kept apprised of his progress. Or the lack thereof.

  Still, even though Blake would need to delay the mission by at least twenty-four hours, and there were some hurdles yet to clear, he was confident he would ultimately succeed.

  He didn’t care what it took. He wasn’t about to blow this opportunity to rid the world of its greatest threat.

  Cargill believed that Blake was the most resourceful operative he could possibly send on this mission. It was time for Blake to demonstrate that Cargill’s faith in him had not been misplaced.

  PART 4

  “The first Matrix was designed to be a perfect human world where none suffered. Where everyone would be happy. It was a disaster.”

  —Agent Smith, The Matrix

  23

  Jenna Morrison walked into the conference room ten minutes before her first, “future of Q5” meeting was to take place, well pleased with the amount of progress she had made in just the handful of days since she had been given this assignment.

  She had never worked harder, and that included when she was gearing up for a tough final, or even preparing for an oral exam in graduate school given by a professor with a reputation for being a human meat grinder. When she wasn’t making love to Nathan, she was discussing physics with him and with Daniel Tini—discussing possibilities. She was reading about science, its history and the leading edge of where science and tech were headed, and also about ethics and human behavior.

  Despite the mountains of research s
he had done, the nonstop thinking, the grueling hours she had been putting in, she had never been happier. When she busted her brain preparing for an exam, she was rewarded by the satisfaction of gaining new and fascinating knowledge, by the joy of discovery, and by the feeling of achievement when she aced a test or set a curve.

  But any rewards she received from these academic activities paled in comparison to those she would earn for her efforts now. Her hard work and creativity in this case could dramatically change the world, the very course of human civilization. The stakes were so high that no effort on her part could possibly be too great.

  Nathan felt the same way as he studied his own work, pondering its mind-blowing implications and applications, worked himself to blissful exhaustion. This mutual mental fatigue made for epic sex, which she and Nathan decided was the result of their conscious minds being so tired they fled into the background, along with even the tiniest of mental hang-ups about the primitive nature of the act, allowing it to unfold on an entirely unselfconscious animal plane. This was a reward that neither had expected.

  This also served to help them fall fully back in love, as much as they had ever been. Helped them to recover from the effects of their separation and the traumatic experiences they had each undergone. They had been living together and engaged for some time before Q5 happened, but had now decided to take their formal wedding vows in two months’ time.

  Even so, Jenna found that she had developed an attraction to Aaron Blake as well, which, while small, was also persistent and annoying. She thought the world of Blake, but she wasn’t in love with him by any means. It was more akin to being drawn to a dangerous, charismatic movie star. Nothing she couldn’t handle, and nothing that would interfere with her love of Nathan Wexler.

  Still, she found herself fascinated by this pull, and tried to self-diagnose the reason for it. She decided it had nothing to do with Blake’s looks, although his looks were fine. It was that he was the ultimate bad boy. Badass was more like it.