Mark Midway Box Set: Mark One, Mark Two, Mark Three, and Mark Four

by John Hindmarsh

  “What the fuck—” he began.

  “Corporal Cox,” said Dempsey. His heads up display confirmed the driver’s name and added brief personal details. Cox had been seconded from the state capital’s SWAT group only two months ago. The 145th’s base team had identified Cox from files Mark had forwarded. “Please exit the vehicle. Lieutenant, I think the presence of an MRAP here is unnecessary. I suggest you have one of your men—no, not Cox, we want to speak to him—take your monster back to its garage. If something could be overkill for this morning, it would be an MRAP.”

  Dempsey focused on each of the newly arrived SWAT officers and sent their images to the analysts. He noted the dogs were sniffing at the newcomers.

  “Who do you think you are?” spat Cox. “I’ll drive this wherever I want. I don’t give a damn—”

  Dempsey held up his hand and signaled to one of his men. “I want Special Agent Renshaw, now.”

  “Yessir,” snapped the soldier. He returned within seconds, accompanied by a woman wearing civilian clothes under her protective bulletproof vest. The FBI Special Agent, embedded with the 145th, had jumped from the Hercules with Bravo Company. She was also Cerberus-engineered. This was her first assignment since her graduation from the FBI Academy.

  The major said, “Special Agent, this is Corporal Cox. As you were briefed, his real name is Nikita Yanovich. Please place him under arrest for falsifying his visa application records—you know the rest.” Dempsey turned to the MRAP driver. “Captain Yanovich please dismount from the vehicle and hand your weapon to Lieutenant Harkness.”

  Three soldiers aimed their weapons at the Russian as Renshaw stepped forward. Yanovich snarled another expletive as he closed his door, locking it. The MRAP’s heavy construction could withstand IEDs, other explosives-based weapons, and both handgun and rifle fire. The vehicle leapt into motion, heedless of bystanders, as Yanovich guided it through the now open gate and toward the farmhouse. Dempsey made his decision. He instructed his missile teams to fire, targeting the gap between the two rear wheels on the driver’s side.

  He counted down the seconds as the first missile team readied its weapon and fired. He watched the missile’s rapid flight and nodded his satisfaction as it impacted the target with precision. The explosion lifted the rear end of the MRAP, just enough for Dempsey’s purpose. As it rose, the second missile struck, followed almost immediately by the third. The synchronized explosive staccato flipped the vehicle onto its back. The turret dug into the roadway and the vehicle tumbled, spinning until it ran out of momentum, facing back toward the gateway. It finished on its side, its engine now silent.

  Dempsey signaled two groups of soldiers forward to the MRAP as he spoke to Harkness. “Lieutenant, come with Special Agent Renshaw and me. Renshaw can complete Yanovich’s arrest. You can forget everything else. There’s nothing here to interest you. Let’s see how he fared.”

  Harkness was silent for a moment but then protested again. “Shots were reportedly fired here last night, according to my corporal. That is, according to Yanovich. The local hospital admitted a man with a gunshot wound.”

  “You’re relying on the word of a Russian spy, someone who’s here illegally? You have other evidence, I trust? You have the victim under guard at a hospital?” Dempsey said as they walked over to the smoldering MRAP. The stink of high explosives seared his nostrils. He never liked the odor; it always reminded him of battlefield death and destruction. The visual relayed by the soldier who had been first to reach the wrecked vehicle showed that the driver had not fared well. The Russian was unconscious and bloodied; he had not fastened his safety harness and the explosion-induced tumbling of the vehicle had thrown him around the cabin where sharp corners and the heavy unforgiving construction had pounded him without mercy. “Speaking of hospitals, please arrange an ambulance for Yanovich. He has a broken arm and, I suspect, some broken ribs. He’ll require some stitches, too.”

  The police officers trailed Dempsey and Harkness, seemingly as confused by events as their lieutenant. Harkness said, “Leary, contact base. Tell them we have a medical emergency and need an ambulance. According to the major, Cox—Yanovich—has a number of injuries. He’s probably correct, that was a helluva crash. Don’t add anything … Say I’ll report in-depth when we get back.”

  Leary rushed off to the nearest police SUV. He returned a few minutes later, almost breathless, and reported, “Lieutenant, they—base—said to tell you the shooting victim—the guy admitted for a gunshot wound—has gone.” He took a deep breath. “He was taken from the hospital about an hour ago, by someone from the Chinese Embassy. The man’s vehicle was taken as well. The ambulance should be here in fifteen minutes.”

  Harkness stared accusingly at Dempsey. “You expected this, didn’t you?”

  “I received an update when we were landing. We knew the shooting victim had diplomatic protection and the embassy would not want him to be questioned. He attempted to kill someone and the target fired back. Self-defense. I think you can close your file.”

  The police lieutenant shrugged. “Cox was far too aggressive, trying to get to the people in the farmhouse. I should have realized something was off. Who are they? Why are you protecting them?”

  Dempsey started to reply, but paused when he heard the approach of a helicopter. He said, “That’s our general arriving. He’ll expect me to brief him.” He didn’t mention Schmidt had monitored the morning’s events and did not require a briefing. “It’s need to know, I’m afraid. You and your men—except Officer Johnson and Corporal Marchini who’ll both come with us—can leave once Agent Renshaw has arrested Yanovich. You’ll want to be able to tell your boss you saw him under FBI control. We’ll see he’s taken to a hospital when the ambulance arrives. The FBI will guard him while he’s in hospital and take whatever legal action they think is warranted.”

  Dempsey and Harkness watched as soldiers extricated Yanovich from the capsized vehicle. The Russian groaned, barely conscious.

  Dempsey said, “We’ll replace the MRAP; this one is too damaged to repair. Also, we’ll arrange its recovery and disposal. We’ve plenty of spares from Afghanistan and Iraq and the army’s still giving them away for free. We’ll get you a smaller one, more practical. Now I’m scheduled to meet with the general. Have a good one.”

  “Thanks. The chief won’t believe half of this. We’ve lost two good men, three, if I include Cox—Yanovich. Damn. Even I don’t believe it and I’ve witnessed it all.” He ran his fingers across his cropped hair.

  Dempsey handed the police lieutenant his business card. “If your chief gets too rough with you, have him give me a call. We can also arrange for the general to talk to him.”

  Harkness pocketed the card. “Thanks. I’ve got the message—don’t mess with the people who live here.” He turned away, signaling to his men to accompany him.

  ~~~

  Schmidt and Dempsey waited at the front of the farmhouse for someone to open the door. Dempsey had instructed his men to assemble at the gate where army vehicles would arrive in less than an hour to take Bravo Company back to Camp Brewer. He planned to return with Schmidt, in the helicopter.

  Anna opened the door. “General, Major. Welcome to our home. Please come in.” She stepped aside to provide room.

  “Thank you, Anna,” Schmidt said. “You’re looking well. Country life must agree with you.” Dempsey nodded his greeting. He had met Anna when the Cerberus children had been located at Camp Brewer.

  At Anna’s direction, they moved into a large room and joined Mark, Gabrielle and Niland. Mark had asked Reb to stay out of sight until they’d decided how much to disclose about her presence.

  “Thank you, Schmidt. You, too, Major. Your men made a remarkable entrance, very impressive,” Mark said.

  “I only hope the locals don’t start tweeting that the UN is invading New Hampshire. My men will leave in the next hour, if our trucks arrive on time. We’ll remove the MRAP as soon as possible, although that may take a week or two to o
rganize. We’ll need some heavy lifting gear.”

  Mark said, “What’s your impression of the police?”

  “Good. I made it clear to Lieutenant Harkness the local police should leave you alone. He seemed to get the message.”

  “Thank you,” Mark and Anna said in unison.

  Schmidt said, “We still have to deal with the Child Protection Services. We’ve some attorneys looking at the issue.”

  “Thanks for that, too,” Mark said. Anna nodded.

  “We have some options—to accommodate you somewhere else for a while until this social worker loses interest, or we lend you some de facto parents, a couple who can demonstrate there is a normal,” Schmidt looked at the three Cerberus-modified people and back at Mark, “well, almost normal, family here. Assuming we can find the right people, it might be a good medium or longer term solution.”

  Anna said, “I think the parenting suggestion is very good. It should work.” She ignored the frowns from Niland and Gabrielle. “We need identification papers—birth certificates, social security cards, and passports. They’re most critical. For me and the children.”

  “Agreed,” Schmidt said. “I’ll arrange for documents to be issued when I have all your details.” He turned to Mark. “You should have asked earlier.”

  “Can we interview our parents?” asked Gabrielle.

  “Of course. I’d enjoy observing the process. Mark, what do you need?”

  “All the usual documents. I’ll revert back to Midway. Just remember, we want to keep our independence.”

  “Understandable, but independence may not always be possible to maintain. In this case, though, I agree it’s in my interest to protect the four of you.”

  Mark and his three Cerberus companions looked at each other. Mark shrugged and said, “I might as well tell him now. There are five of us, here. The visitor who arrived yesterday, who was shot by the Chinese, is my sister. She wants us to help rescue three children who were also genetically engineered. Reb thinks they used a non-Cerberus process, perhaps the same one used on her and me.”

  ***

  Chapter 7

  Schmidt and Dempsey waited while Niland ran to ask Reb to join the meeting. She entered the room, an anxious expression on her face.

  Mark said, “Reb, this is General Archimedes Schmidt. He and I worked together at various times in the last year or so. He reports to the President. I believe he now controls Cerberus, at least the US part. He took over when the Chinese murdered its senior management executives. Well, except Dr. White, who was the key Cerberus researcher, who’s now working in Beijing.” He realized he had surprised Schmidt; the doctor’s defection to China was confidential information.

  Mark continued. “This is Major Dempsey. He’s the commanding officer of an MP battalion, which consists of Cerberus genetically engineered soldiers. Bravo Company is here, today. Alpha Company was also Cerberus-resourced but was wiped out last year by an attack on their base. The members of that company, plus a number of Cerberus children, were killed—some poisoned, some shot—by a Chinese assassination team that penetrated Camp Brewer.” He didn’t mention that Anna had shot and killed the murderers. “Dempsey and the 145th work closely with Schmidt.”

  “Schmidt, Dempsey, this is Reb Llewelyn. Her name was given to her at the genetics lab in Wales where she spent her childhood. She thinks we have a common parentage and based on how similar we look, she’s probably correct. We’re going to arrange a DNA analysis for confirmation. In Schmidt-speak, there’s a 95 percent probability we’re siblings. Reb is genetically enhanced, we think to the same level as me.”

  The two officers exchanged greetings with Reb. Schmidt added, “It’s intriguing to think Mark has a sister—most unexpected. He’s been very helpful on more than one occasion. I’ve been trying to recruit him for the last year, so far without success. I’ll include you with Mark and his companions here under my protection. I’ll do my best to help you all.”

  Reb said, “Thank you, General. There is just one thing.”

  Schmidt stilled. “Yes?”

  “I’m enlisting Mark’s—and Anna’s—yes, and Niland’s and Gabrielle’s assistance, too.” She added the two younger children to stave off their undoubted protests if she left them out. “I want Mark to help me rescue three genetically engineered children who were in the laboratory with me. They’re sixteen, seventeen or so in maturity terms.”

  “I don’t see any difficulty. That should be straightforward,” Schmidt said.

  “Yes,” Mark said. “Except they’re located in London.”

  Dempsey laughed. “I’ll be interested to see how this works out. Bending the rules in this country, when you have the President’s ear and half the Cabinet’s, might seem easy, but we’re short of influence in Westminster.”

  “Oh,” Gabrielle said, “it’s not a problem. We’re going to rescue them ourselves. I don’t think you’d be able to land Bravo Company in England without causing a lot of publicity. I saw what you did, this morning.”

  Dempsey looked pained. “We can be far more subtle, if we must.”

  “I noticed,” Anna said. She was seated next to Mark. “Our drones record voice as well as images.” She did not mention they’d recorded the streams of data transmitted by the soldiers’ ARG helmets; Mark had worked quickly to copy those transmissions. She continued, “What did the police lieutenant say? Oh yes, “I got the message, don’t mess with the people who live here.” I wonder what the Child Protection Services lady will say when she hears about this morning.” Her smile took the sting out of her words.

  Schmidt said, with almost a defensive tone, “We had to do something, otherwise you’d be in custody by now.”

  “Or more likely, they would’ve found no one here,” corrected Mark. “We have our exit. We need very little notice. We’d be on I93 in less than five minutes and in Boston in forty. We’ve timed it. The disadvantage of fleeing is that we’d lose this base, our home, with all our belongings and equipment.”

  “Did you check out this woman—what’s her name, McKeen, Bridget McKeen?” Anna asked.

  “Yes. She’s not Russian, at least there’s no evidence suggesting that,” Schmidt said.

  “Can you persuade her to lose interest in us?” Mark asked. He did not wish to surrender his home with Anna and he suspected Gabrielle and Niland had similar thoughts.

  “She’s applied for another position, with relocation to DC, and we’re accelerating the selection process. When she succeeds with her application, we’ll arrange deletion of all the files, both computer and paper, that she created covering her visit here. There’s a 90 percent probability she was influenced by Yanovich. Maeve and her team think Yanovich told Ms. McKeen he was acting on information obtained from confidential informants. When she hears he’s a Russian spy and has been arrested, she’ll more than likely discount his information.”

  “How is she? Maeve?” Mark asked. The last time he’d seen Maeve Donnelly, then director of the FBI, she had been kidnapped by a group of Russians. Mark had been standing near both Maeve and the leader of the kidnap gang. She had signaled her instruction for Mark to shoot the leader of the kidnappers, even though he was holding a gun to her head. When the Russian was momentarily distracted, Mark had followed her instruction, to Schmidt’s consternation. Maeve resigned soon afterwards and subsequently had taken on responsibility of building and managing Schmidt’s team of analysts.

  “She’s well, enjoying all the challenges I throw at her team. I’ll pass on your regards.”

  “Thanks. How do we go about setting up these pseudo-parents?”

  “Gilmore’s available, if you agree?”

  Mark turned to Anna and said, “You remember, he helped us get out of Camp Brewer.”

  Anna nodded.

  Schmidt said, “He’s freelancing. I’ve been trying to find suitable assignments for him. I’ll check if he and his business partner are interested. Or they may know someone suitable. If he agrees to take on the assig
nment, he’ll provide excellent protection for Niland and Gabrielle.”

  “Should I get new papers, too?” Reb asked.

  “It seems the Chinese have identified you, so I must say yes. American, though. You’ll have to develop a story to explain why you have American papers but a strong Welsh accent. Mark, send me names, ages, and appropriate birth dates. I’ll check if Gilmore’s available and interested, and can recruit someone to act as mother. If that works out, I’ll arrange parent records for these two.” He indicated Gabrielle and Niland. “If not, we’ll find someone. Is there anything else you need? Before I head back to DC?”

  Mark said, “No, we’ve covered the critical items.”

  Dempsey said, “We may need to refute all kinds of media reports, if the police videoed our activities.”

  “Oh, I wouldn’t worry,” Mark said. “I ran a process just before they departed—it’s the software equivalent of an EMP blast. I used our drones and other equipment at the gateway. All their images are corrupted. Inexplicable, I know.” He shrugged.

  “I suppose you copied our data feeds as well?”

  “Data feeds? What data feeds?” Mark’s expression remained innocent.

  Schmidt laughed. “It’s time we left. We’ve things to do, MRAPs to dispose of, papers to arrange, plus passports for all. Come on.” He led the way out of the room. Dempsey and everyone followed.

  Passports for all? Mark wondered. Did Schmidt expect the two young children to travel to London, too? Perhaps it would be simpler than trying to persuade them to remain here.