Brainrush 03 - Beyond Judgment

by Bard, Richard

  Victor hesitated before answering. His green eyes searched Jake’s. Finally, he said, “Not just me, but people like me from around the world. Men and women of influence…and faith. The ruling nations of our planet hide behind the veneer of cultured society, ignoring the realities of the world at large. They bicker and feud while the masses struggle. They can’t even agree on how to deal with global warming, much less world hunger. In the meantime, the planet crumbles. Only when the personal interests of their own nation-states are at risk do they act. And how has every tribe or empire or nation of the world dealt with such circumstances since the beginning of time? Through force. At first it was village against village using clubs and fists. Now, our methods of meting out violence are more efficient—with enough destructive power to deal with the direst of circumstances…or enemies. And the worst of these are controlled by a series of cross-checks and backup systems that ensure what governments blithely refer to as mutual assured destruction. Who would dare attack, they ask themselves, knowing that their own nation would perish as a result? The belief allows them to sleep comfortably at night. But it’s a false confidence—one that will sooner or later lead to man’s downfall. We prefer that it be sooner.”

  “How soon?”

  Victor looked at his watch. “Very.”

  “And what do I have to do with it?”

  “Nothing, really. It happens with or without you. People are in place. Everything is in motion. Nobody can stop it. Certainly not you.”

  The man was a megalomaniac, Jake thought. “There are far better men than me in the world,” he said. “Men who are probably three steps ahead of you already. Whatever convoluted plan you’ve got up your sleeve, you’ll never get away with it.”

  “Ah, but the beauty of our plan lies in its total lack of convolution. It’s quite simple. It relies on the one thing that can be counted on in this world—man’s nature. Let me ask you, Mr. Bronson: What would you conclude if a group of NATO-allied countries—the USA and all of its puppets—miraculously survived an attack that killed every one of their enemies?”

  The sheer magnitude of the premise shook Jake. The results of such an event would be cataclysmic. The world already hated America. Such an act would send it over the edge. He had no clue how Victor would pull it off. But the man’s confidence was absolute.

  “You’re a sick bastard,” Jake said.

  The man’s smile was warm and friendly. “I am neither the trigger nor the weapon. I’m merely a facilitator.”

  “And an asshole.”

  “Such vulgarity. But I suppose it’s to be expected from an American. I liked you better as an Italian.” He walked to the back of the room and crouched beside the satchel.

  Jake didn’t care any longer about his lost memory. Whatever it was that Victor wanted from him, it wasn’t good. He might die in this chair, but he sure as hell wasn’t going to help the bastard with his little experiment. He braced himself.

  Victor removed the metal container and placed it on the floor. He unsnapped the lid, lifted it off, and retrieved the mini. The surge of energy was immediate. It was like a jolt of electricity. Jake’s heart pounded, adrenaline pumped, and his brain came alive.

  Chapter 46

  Palais des Nations

  Geneva, Switzerland

  MEMORIES FLOWED LIKE water from a breached dam.

  A childhood of traveling from country to country, school to school, waving good-bye to friends who came and went. The initial flashes were general, each one replaced by a dozen more, then a hundred, a thousand. Pilot training, his deceased wife and child, cancer once, and then again, the accident in the MRI…

  He thought of Battista, the implant subjects, and dancing at a masquerade ball with Francesca.

  Then he remembered the accidental triggering of the pyramids—the one in Afghanistan and the one in Venezuela—and the false message they’d taken to their otherworld makers. He recalled the number of lives lost, and the billions more at risk because of his carelessness.

  The rush of returning memories faltered.

  Lives hinge on your ability to remain anonymous.

  The true meaning behind the words impacted him with the force of a sledgehammer. It staggered his consciousness. He was suddenly consumed with guilt. The feeling was all too familiar. He recalled going over and over it in his mind. And no matter how he’d looked at it, he’d always arrived at a single inescapable conclusion: his friends—if not the world—would be better off if he were dead. He’d tried to sacrifice his life in Venezuela, not only to cover his friends’ escape from the jungle, but to eliminate the threat of his presence forever.

  He’d failed.

  The government hadn’t wanted him to die. So they had patched up his body. But they couldn’t control his unconscious mind, and he suddenly realized that it was that part of him that had then taken it upon itself to complete the mission. It built a wall that neither doctors nor his own consciousness could scale, triggering amnesia and sending him into an irrecoverable coma.

  Those walls no longer existed.

  Jake was back in charge.

  The question was what to do about it. Life…or death?

  That’s when he flashed on the moment when he and Battista had shared a link with the second pyramid—just before it was launched. The flow of information hadn’t been solely between them and the object. He had sensed hundreds of other streams of data flowing from other points on the planet. He’d realized that he and Doc and the science team had been wrong about how long it would take for the visitors to return to cast judgment. They’d estimated it would require a minimum of forty years to travel back and forth between Earth and their home planet.

  But the visitors didn’t need to make that trip. The long arm of their justice was already here—in the form of hundreds of pyramids buried across the planet. He didn’t know how the remote-enforcement devices worked, but his brief connection with them six years ago left him with zero doubt in their ability to decimate humankind.

  The memory sparked a fierce inner resolve in Jake. He needed to do whatever he could to prevent the coming destruction. And he could start right here, by stopping Victor’s insane plans—whatever they were—dead in their tracks. To do that, he needed to be whole again.

  He chose life.

  The floodgates reopened. Memories bombarded his consciousness. His brain embraced them as a father would a lost child.

  He remembered them all: Tony, Marshall, Lacey, and all his loyal friends. Becker, Papa and the fire team, Street and his bangers, the prince, Cal and Kenny, Josh and Max, Ahmed, Sarafina, and Mario.

  His son. Alex.

  Francesca…

  Emotions tangled with one another. He felt loss, longing, fear, rage, love, and more. One by one his brain cross-linked them to the kaleidoscope of life events that flowed across his consciousness. The pieces of the puzzle slipped into place, and the essence that was Jake Bronson—the man who he had grown to be before the coma—reclaimed its rightful place.

  As his frontal lobes cataloged a lifetime of memories and emotions, his visual cortex registered the fact that Victor now stood directly in front of him. He held the mini. He leaned forward and placed it into the inset in the high back of the chair.

  Dr. Strauss stood beside him. At a nod from his boss, he reached around the back of the chair to throw the switch.

  Jake readied himself.

  Bring it on!

  Chapter 47

  Palais des Nations

  Geneva, Switzerland

  JAKE FELT THE chair vibrate when Strauss switched it on. When the doctor stepped back to study his reaction, his glasses reflected the bundles of pulsating lights that streamed from the skullcap and toward the ceiling. The doctor appeared satisfied with the results. He removed the syringe from his lab-coat pocket and stuck the needle into the injection port below Jake’s IV. He didn’t press the plunger, but his thumb rested on it.

  “Ready,” Strauss said.

  Victor didn’t reac
t immediately to the doctor’s signal. Instead, he appeared to be appraising Jake’s reaction.

  Jake’s jaw was clenched tighter than a torqued vise. The connection with the mini suffused him with energy. It was the only weapon he’d need. He flashed on the interrogation he’d undergone when Battista had kidnapped him. He’d survived then using his new abilities. He’d do the same here. It was time for payback.

  He focused on Victor’s forehead, imagined the spongy coils and swirls of his brain. Then he ordered a release of power into the man’s skull.

  Nothing happened.

  He tried again, grunting beneath the effort.

  Nothing.

  Victor appeared amused. “What exactly are you trying to do?”

  Jake ignored him. Instead, he focused his thoughts on unlatching the buckle on his wrist strap. He projected the tendrils of his mind around the leather and thought, Pull!

  It was no use. His abilities to affect objects remotely had not returned. His fast reflexes had kicked in during his confrontation with Victor’s thugs at the beach, but those wouldn’t do him any good here. He yanked at his restraints in frustration.

  Victor arched an eyebrow. He shook his head as a parent would to an obstinate child. With a shrug, he turned to the men at the computer stations. “Proceed.”

  The technicians tapped a series of entries into their keyboards. After a moment they both looked over at Jake. Their eyes widened in unison.

  The guards at the corners of the room shifted uneasily. Victor’s expression portrayed calm and confidence. But when he took two steps backward to position himself by the exit, Jake knew he’d grown suddenly anxious.

  Jake glanced at his reflection in Strauss’s glasses. The intensity of the light from the fiber optics had brightened. The pulses increased in speed, and he felt a tingle at the back of his head. It was gentle at first, like the tug on a line when a fish nibbles on bait. There was a gasp from one of the technicians, and Jake’s attention was drawn to the video screen.

  Both of the pyramids had stopped rotating. They glowed with a pulsating luminescence that seemed to match the pattern of light surging from the chair.

  Suddenly Jake noticed the undeniable presence of something else in his head. It was a feeling that he’d experienced twice in the past—just before the pyramids had been launched.

  Jake prepared for the worst. He closed his eyes and tightened his grip around the chair’s armrests. He felt the familiar probe of his brain. Except this time it wasn’t accompanied by the mind-numbing information transfer. Instead, it felt as if the pyramids had recognized him in a fashion. They’d already gleaned whatever knowledge they’d needed from his brain in order to be triggered in the first place. Now, it seemed as if they were in more of a monitoring mode. It was as if the intelligence on the other end was waiting for something.

  Victor’s words interrupted his thoughts. “Dr. Finnegan said it would be like an open telephone line.”

  Jake opened his eyes. He remembered Doc. He’d been a friend.

  “The machine was built specifically for you,” Victor said. “Tuned to your unique brain patterns. It didn’t work very well when others tried it.”

  Timmy had told Jake about the deaths. The young scientist had been worried that the same might happen to Jake. So far, so good, he thought. Of course, it wasn’t over yet. He was still hooked up to the damn thing.

  Victor continued, “I’d like you to send a simple test message. That’s all we need from you today. If it works, you shall live. If not…”

  “Go to hell.”

  “You are nothing if not predictable, Mr. Bronson. I’ve heard the stories about you. You have exhibited your willingness to sacrifice yourself for what you believe to be the better good. I admire such conviction. I won’t challenge it.” Victor’s expression reflected a compassion that Jake knew wasn’t really there.

  Victor continued, “However, the tales also revealed a weakness. One that I’m afraid we must leverage now.” He motioned to one of the technicians, who made a quick entry on his keyboard.

  The image on the large video display went black. A moment later it was replaced with a close-up view of a man and woman seated side by side in hardback chairs. They were gagged and tied. The head of the man who stood beside them was cut off by the tight camera shot, but the automatic weapon that he aimed at the woman’s torso was in plain sight.

  The woman’s eyes were wide with fear.

  Francesca!

  “At the risk of being somewhat redundant,” Victor said, “let me start again. I’d like you to send a message. If it works, they live. If not…”

  Jake let out a shuddering breath. His gaze darted from Francesca to her father and back again. They’d been with the kids. He was filled with a sudden dread.

  His voice cracked. “W-where are the children?”

  “It was a shame, really,” Victor said. “You see, there was a fire. I’m afraid they didn’t make it out in time.”

  Ice rippled across Jake’s skin. He’d reconnected with his friends and loved ones less than thirty-six hours ago. In that time, all but two of them had been killed by the man who stood before him. Jake felt a rage unlike any that he’d ever felt before. His chest seized, his body trembled, and his mind began to unhinge.

  Only the sight of Francesca and her father prevented him from leaping into the abyss of mindless hatred. As he teetered on the brink, he sensed a sudden intensity from the orbiting pyramids. Invisible tentacles latched onto his thoughts. A surge of energy from the mini coursed through his limbs, and he felt as though he might pop like an overfilled balloon. It was as if it was lending him the power so that its parents might see what he would do with it. He held his breath.

  Francesca is alive, he thought, staring at the screen.

  “I see we have your attention,” Victor said, watching the high-def display. His voice was a million miles away. “Are you ready to cooperate now, Mr. B—”

  His words cut off when the video image suddenly dropped to Francesca’s bound feet. The scene was skewed ninety degrees. The remote camera had toppled over. A shadow passed across the screen, and a man’s boot stepped in front of the lens. The sound of automatic gunfire spilled forth. Blood splattered on Francesca’s flinching legs. A man’s shout. More gunfire. A rush of movement. Francesca’s chair toppled backward, her torso hidden from view. She was motionless. Blood flowed from beneath her chair and spread across the hardwood floor.

  The image went black.

  “Nooo!” Jake yelled. His bloodlust rose, his body seized, and fury erupted from his core. The scene around him slowed as he unleashed a wave of primordial rage.

  In one beat, the doctor’s thumb hovered over the syringe’s plunger; the next, his palms were pressed to his temples. He screamed in agony as Jake focused his thoughts on the folds of the doctor’s brain. Strauss’s eyes bulged, and blood leaked from his ears. He twisted and shriveled to the floor. The guards were next. The muzzles of their weapons made it only halfway to bear before Jake directed his fury at them. He sent a mental command that loosed a laser beam of energy from the mini into their foreheads. Their brains boiled, and they collapsed in a heap. When the door swung closed, Jake realized that Victor had left the room.

  “Die!” Jake shouted after the man, sending his wrath at the door. But he could tell it hadn’t worked. Victor had escaped. However, his two techs were still in their chairs, and they were every bit as guilty as their boss. Jake ignored their wild-eyed appeals. He killed them where they sat.

  It felt good.

  The power surging within him made Jake feel invincible. He yanked on his restraints, expecting them to rip free. They didn’t. He refocused his thoughts on the clasps, drew in a deep breath, and…

  The connection with the pyramids suddenly waned. It felt as if they had learned all they needed to. Tentacles unlatched, fiber optics stopped pulsing, and energy drained from his system faster than jet fuel from a bullet-ridden wing tank.

  It was in that
moment that he sensed another presence in his mind. It seemed filled with concern. It was a familiar sensation—one that he’d last felt in the underground hideaway on San Michelle. Jake embraced it.

  Alex?

  Then he sensed Sarafina and he knew instantly that they were alive. He swelled with hope…until he looked around and realized what his rage had wrought—all while linked to the pyramids.

  What have I done?

  The last drop of energy leached from his system, and Jake collapsed into unconsciousness.

  Chapter 48

  Geneva, Switzerland

  THERE WAS A keyless-entry digital keypad beside each of the doors. Apartment 6B was halfway down the hallway. Ahmed knocked, but nobody answered. He tried the handle.

  It was locked.

  Sarafina noticed that Alex’s eyes targeted the keypad. “Go for it,” she said.

  He reached up and entered a code. Sarafina recognized the number sequence that he’d first suggested they use downstairs—the one that he’d apparently overheard in San Michelle. The lock clicked. He looked up and smiled.

  She was taken aback by the rare eye-to-eye contact. He’d done it once on the train ride as well. She placed her hands on his shoulders and savored the moment. “I’m proud of you.”

  “As am I,” Ahmed added. Then he pushed open the door.

  “Hello,” he called out. No one replied. They stepped inside.

  Sarafina’s excitement rose as she took it all in. There were signs everywhere that the apartment was occupied. The main room included a kitchen, dining, and living area. There were dishes in the sink and half-empty coffee cups in the sitting area. A map was spread out on the dining table. There was a laptop beside it. Lacey’s perfume lingered in the air.

  “They were here,” she said.

  “The coffeepot is still warm,” Ahmed said from the kitchen. “They must have just left.” He rummaged through a paper bag on the counter and came out with a lone pastry. He broke it into thirds and gave each of them a piece. It was fresh and sweet. Alex scarfed his down so fast that he finished it before Ahmed took his first bite. Ahmed noticed, and he relinquished his piece to Sarafina’s little brother. The sacrifice moved her. She knew how much Ahmed loved his pastries. Two days ago the gesture wouldn’t have crossed his mind, she thought. But the challenges that had been thrust upon them had changed him.