by R J Johnson
“Then they promise boys like you a GI bill that doesn’t give you shit. They say that everything you’re doing over here matters, and you’re doing the right thing. But after you get back, you realize that no matter how much good you think you’ve done over here, none of it will ever change anything. You start to realize all this was just a smokescreen for the asshole politicians in charge to make billions off of private contractors like KBR, Halliburton, and all the rest they gave huge no-bid contracts to.”
Ash’s expression soured even further, “That doesn’t even begin to cover the fact they only started this goddamn war to send a message to the world…”
Alex listened to all his complaints with a sympathetic expression on his face. It wasn’t anything Ash hadn’t said before, but this time, his mentor sounded different.
“You realize what’s gonna happen after we’re through over here?” Ash asked, waving his hand around and spilling part of his drink.
“What’s that?”
“They’ll burn it all. All this money they’re spending to bring equipment and bombs over, none of it will ever be used again. They’ll burn it before they let the very people it’s intended to protect ever use it,” he swallowed the rest of his drink. “It’ll be the biggest bonfire of American money since…” he laughed, “well, I guess since the last time we did this.”
“Ours is not to question why…” Alex began the familiar refrain. Ash smiled grimly at him.
“So they say…”
They remained quiet for a moment as Alex refilled his friend’s drink.
“Only way to show ‘em they’re fucking up is to give ‘em a bloody nose,” Ash muttered to himself.
Alex laughed, “Bit difficult to give a bloody nose to a government that just invented killer stealth robots. It’s as if no one over in R&D ever watched Terminator.”
Ash stared at the whiskey in his tumbler for a minute before finally speaking.
“There is one way.”
“Oh?” Alex asked with an eyebrow raised, “What, pray tell, do you suggest?”
Ash leaned forward and smiled at Alex. Suddenly, Alex realized he was looking at a very different version of his friend, someone he’d never seen in the two years they'd known each other.
“There’s an idea I’ve got that I think would really bloody their nose.”
Alex looked amused. “If that’s true, I’d love to see you try.”
Ash smiled back at Alex and studied him for a minute.
“Can I trust you?” Ash asked him suddenly.
Alex was insulted. After all they’d been through, he was asking that?
Alex shrugged, “'Bout as much as you trust anyone I suppose. I never claimed to know you as anything other than my friend. That’s usually good enough for me.”
“Can I trust you to be smart?”
“No danger of that…” Alex tried to joke, but stopped when he saw his friend’s look. “Ash, what the hell are you on about?”
Ash looked at him and smiled, “You’re a good friend, Alex, but… maybe I’ve said too much.”
“Bullshit,” Alex said, getting angry. “You’re talking all mysteriously ‘cause you know I can’t resist a puzzle. If you don’t – or can’t – trust me, that’s fine, I get it. Intelligence is compartmentalized for a reason.”
Ash looked hurt, “No, that’s not it at all. In fact…” he took another sip, “I’m afraid you’re one of only a select few I CAN trust,” Ash said sadly. “I want to believe I should bring you in on this, but for something this sensitive…” He shook his head. “It’s not personal.”
Alex shrugged. He was used to being locked out of interesting information. He didn’t rank much, as far as top secret reveals go, as a quartermaster. Plus he didn’t particularly care if he was being honest.
“I’ve got top secret clearance, if that’s what you’re worried about.” Alex had a feeling that was not what Ash was referring to.
Ash chuckled and looked up at Alex. Clearly, he’d made a decision. “In or out?”
“I’m sorry?” Alex asked, confused.
“Are you in? Or are you out? If you’re in, then understand it’s until I say the job’s finished.”
“Buddy, after everything you’ve done for me over the last few years, I’d follow you to hell and back,” Alex said firmly. “Provided we’re not murdering anyone.”
Ash chuckled and stood, “That’s what I like to hear, Alex.”
He tossed back the rest of the drink and withdrew a piece of paper from his pocket, handing it to Alex. “Be there tomorrow, 2200 hours. If you’re late, you’re out. If you report anything, you’re out. If I even suspect that you’re about to step out of line, you’re out. You clear, soldier?”
“Crystal.” And then, because he was a smartass and couldn’t resist, he added in a sarcastic tone, “Sir…”
Ash nodded and smiled at the implied insult, “2200 hours tomorrow night, soldier. Don’t be late.”
Ash moved out of Alex’s office and back into the baking heat of the Iraqi desert. Alex tossed his friend’s paper cup in the trash as he watched his mentor exit. Whatever Ash had in store for him, Alex was looking forward to the adventure.
Chapter Fourteen
To describe the limo ride Geoffrey took with Kline from the Palm Springs FBI office to the nearby airport as “awkward” would have been one of the biggest understatements in history.
Geoffrey attempted to engage his employer about the events from the night before, but Kline immediately shushed him. Geoffrey figured he had a better-than-even chance of ending up dead, most likely thrown out of Kline’s private plane at 30,000 feet (something Kline had a particular taste for).
The limo pulled up to the airport gate and rolled through it, heading directly for a private airplane sitting on the taxiway. One of Tate’s best and biggest men, who was waiting for them outside the jet, opened the limo door. Tate exited the limo and looked into the eyes of his second-in-command, Javier Carr. Javier did not greet his boss, but only stared at him. Tate looked into the man’s eyes and saw what he expected from Javier: deep wells of black, soulless evil.
Javier had been in charge of running an operation across the border in Texas as part of the local Mexican government’s fight against the cartels. There’d been a series of attacks and kidnappings against one of the companies who employed Kline’s MARS Security Corp, and the Laredo office had requested Javier’s services, since he had an excellent record of dealing with the type of men who made up the Mexican cartels.
Tate received the report on his smartphone last night that Javier completed his mission with minimum casualties, before the blowup at JPL, and was awaiting new orders. He’d been too far away at the time to assist with the operation at Joshua Tree, but apparently Kline had summoned him last night while Tate was still sitting inside the locked-off mine.
“Javier,” Tate nodded to the man. The steroid freak didn’t respond but only looked Tate over more closely. Kline exited the limo’s opposite door, bounding towards the waiting Global Express XRS on the tarmac and stepping inside.
“He’s waiting,” Javier said, looking at Tate. Geoffrey’s eyes narrowed, and then he nodded, turning towards the expensive plane that Kline took everywhere he needed to go. Javier moved to follow him, which surprised Geoffrey. He was used to being the only one allowed to travel with Kline, but if Javier was following him into the plane, it was only because Kline asked him to.
The 28-year-old mercenary was well trained and obviously spent a lot of time in the gym. After all that had transpired over the last forty-eight hours, Tate couldn’t blame Kline for wanting to bring in extra help – even if it was an implied insult to him. Tate ducked into the cabin of the luxurious private jet and moved to sit down at the first available seat, the smell of a perfectly cooked steak filling the cabin.
His mouth watered, but he ignored the stomach pains. He hadn’t eaten anything since yesterday afternoon, when the whole mess started. He only hoped Kline allo
wed him a chance to eat before throwing him out of the aircraft over the Pacific Ocean.
He hated the idea that his last meal might be fast food.
Kline sat in his chair and ignored the pair of mercenaries as he settled into his seat, waiting for the jet to take off. The engines spun up, the cabin door closed and Kline picked up a steak knife. His ring, the source of his inhuman strength, clinked against the expensive silverware. The crew outside removed the blocks holding the jet in place, and they began taxiing for takeoff.
Kline speared a thick cut of his steak with his fork and placed it in his mouth, savoring the perfect flavor seared within the expensive cut of meat.
“Oh good Lord, it has been quite a day,” Kline said, his words muffled through the food.
Tate stared at him, uncertain how to react to the understatement. After years of experience with his boss, Tate knew that Kline didn’t want to hear anything he had to say just yet. He was leading up to something – what that meant for his well-being, Tate had no idea, though his second in command, who was still hovering over his shoulder, did not make him feel especially safe.
“Sometimes, all you need is a good meal and a proper drink to help put things in perspective…” He accepted a scotch and soda from the impossibly sexy blonde stewardess. He nodded to her, and she disappeared into the back of the plane, where she would be out of earshot of whatever happened next.
The plane increased its acceleration. Kline held his drink steady while they lifted off from Palm Springs and flew towards their destination – still unknown for Tate.
“It’s a rare thing…” Kline said, swallowing a mouthful of his steak. “It’s a rare thing when you’re on course with destiny, and the only thing holding you back from achieving every dream you’ve ever desired is a moron who CANNOT COMPLETE A SIMPLE TASK, LIKE KILL A MAN!”
Tate flushed as Kline rose out of his chair and screamed in his face. It didn’t seem to matter that “task” had been to kill a man who had apparently been indestructible – or at least bulletproof.
“Mr. Kline, I have to object,” Tate started. He tried to keep his voice calm. He’d never gone down without a fight, so if he was to die on this plane, at least he’d go down swinging.
Kline laughed in his face and snapped his fingers. A large serrated knife appeared under Geoffrey’s chin, and he felt the heavy weight of Javier’s musclebound arm holding him in place. He wouldn’t dare move even if he could – the razor edge was already nicking the skin right next to his jugular, and if he struggled in any way, Javier would cut his throat open like a pig set for BBQ.
“You object to what?” Kline asked, leaning forward into his face.
“The man cannot be…” Tate flickered his eyes up to Javier and decided that if he was here, Kline didn’t care if he knew everything, “That man holds a stone that makes him invulnerable. He cannot be killed. He cannot be injured, and without me, he cannot be stopped.”
“Without you?” Kline sat back and laughed. He laughed like a madman. He laughed like an eight year old watching Saturday morning cartoons for the first time. He laughed as if Geoffrey had told him the single funniest joke anyone had ever come up with.
“My dear Mr. Tate,” Kline said, wiping the tears from his eyes, “do you really believe you’re so indispensable to me?”
He snapped his fingers, and Tate felt himself being lifted up out of his plush leather seat. He was dragged through the aisle towards the rear of the plane. Opening the door to the back, Javier roughly pulled Tate into the rear cargo area, with Kline following behind.
“Mr. Tate, I learned a long time ago that everyone thinks they can never be replaced. Sometimes that’s true. Take me, for instance…” Kline’s grin was large across his face. “I am in charge of billions of dollars and millions of lives. One word from me, and thousands would be out on the street, completely unsure where their next meal is coming from. Your impact, on the other hand, well, let’s just point out the obvious - you do not own several multi-billion industries, nor do you possess anything like this.” He waved the stone that gave him his strength in front of Tate’s face.
“What you do have…is a problem,” Kline continued.
He pulled a lever that opened up the rear of the plane. Kline had it specially installed by the aircraft engineers who designed the billionaire’s private jet. The official reason was that Kline was a skydiving enthusiast. The real reason was that Kline happened to enjoy this particular method of execution, and Tate found himself dreading it all the more as he stared at the yawning hatch.
He had one last trump card, and if he was going to survive this, it was time to play it.
The rear hatch finished opening, letting in the howling wind. Javier grinned and lifted Tate up off the deck, holding him on the edge as the Southern California desert passed below. Kline put a hand on the bar next to him and lectured Tate.
“You have no idea what you’ve done,” Kline hissed. “Now the government is going to be asking questions about our dig. They’ll be asking questions about the police station where you failed me so completely. They’ll even be asking questions about why our people were found dead at a major research institution. One of these failures, I might have been able to bribe our way out of. Even two, I could have helped. But all three at once?” Kline shook his head and looked at Tate sadly. “I must thank you for making my decision to…”
“Let me go?” Geoffrey said without a trace of humor. He glanced at the passing ground below.
Kline grinned and nodded.
“You could say that.”
He nodded towards Javier, who pulled at Geoffrey.
“No!” Geoffrey shouted. “You’ll need me!”
“Anything you can do, I can do better,” Javier calmly said to him. He aimed his weapon at Tate and motioned for him to walk out voluntarily. Tate knew this was his last chance. He’d had several people make this walk himself.
Impatiently, Javier pushed Tate out. Tate reached out and grabbed onto one of the hydraulic lifts, his pants and jacket whipping furiously in the wind.
“You don’t understand,” Geoffrey shouted at Kline. He was barely able to hold onto the plane, his knuckles turning white. “Maybe I can’t kill him, but I can stop him from making trouble for you!”
Kline raised a hand. Javier lowered his weapon.
“What do you mean, ‘you can stop him?’” Kline asked, suspicious. “You tried killing him three different ways, and he healed himself. You said so.”
“I did say so,” Geoffrey shouted. “Give me five minutes to explain my plan. If you don’t like it, throw me off the plane yourself!”
Kline strode forward and reached for him, hauling Tate back in as easily as he would pull a puppy up by its scruff. He placed Tate down on the deck of the plane and pulled the lever, closing the door.
“So long as Mr. McCray has possession of that stone, it’s impossible to kill him.” Kline said as Tate knelt in front of his boss, trying to catch his breath.
“You have thirty seconds.”
“A man like McCray isn’t going to break. He isn’t going to respond to threats on his family, or friends, or anyone he cares about,” Tate said desperately. “He won’t even kill you, otherwise he would’ve done it back at the Mesa.”
“Fifteen seconds, Mr. Tate,” Kline said, sounding bored.
“You kill him the same way you kill any other god,” Tate said, his eyes flashing dangerously. “You make people stop believing in him…”
Kline smiled and lifted Geoffrey off the deck of the plane, brushing him off and placing an arm around him.
“Tell me more…”
Chapter Fifteen
The last thing Collier remembered was feeling the power of the untapped potential of the flames that surrounded him.
He woke in a cheap motel just off the 8 freeway, not far from UCSD. After retreating and blending in with the panicked students and faculty fleeing the burning university building, he checked into a nearby motel and started pl
anning his next move.
How could he have been so stupid? He pounded his fist to his forehead, punishing himself for not remembering Kevin’s silly video log. But how was he supposed to know all that video and audio were set to automatically upload to the university’s cloud storage? He’d never been much of a techie growing up, and as he focused more on his major, he had decided that the little details, like how to run a computer and website, should be left up to grad students.
He hated the idea that it was his own hubris that brought him down.
Never again, he swore to himself. No longer would people see him as a stepping stone to a better career. No more would people look at him like he was crazy because he dared believe in ancient lost civilizations. No more would people laugh at him just because he was smarter than they were.
No, he decided, this would be the day everyone paid for their transgressions against him. This would be the day when he started taking what life owed him instead of waiting to be rewarded for hard work. This would be the day his enemies saw their reckoning.
Hard work got you nothing in life, he’d learned. It was high time other people learned that as well.
He opened his laptop and waited for it to boot up. The MacBook connected to the motel’s free internet, and he scanned the headlines of the news sites that popped up.
A small headline flashed across the top of the screen, talking about a major fire at UCSD that was just now being contained. He grinned, thinking of the chaos he left behind. There wasn’t anything more satisfying than seeing the news report on his deeds, he decided. Good, bad, indifferent; at least people were finally paying attention to him.
He opened a new tab on his browser and began looking for nearby banks. Most of them were small commercial banks – none of which would really have the kind of money he wanted to steal. Even the bigger, national banks only contained enough money to get them through the day-to-day. If they ever needed more cash, they’d simply borrow whatever they needed from partners.
