Flash Point

by Thomas Locke

  Kevin stopped, halted by the truth. He waited.

  Reese swiveled around. Met his gaze. “What they don’t realize is, they’ve just given us our way out.”

  Kevin’s anguish creased both his features and his voice. “Where are we going to run?”

  “It’s not about hiding,” she replied. “It’s about making them stay away.”

  Kevin squinted, like he was straining to hear her words.

  Reese went on, “Why are they so worried about a guy who’s vanished?”

  He did not reply.

  “What happened that reduced a surgeon to a GP in some late-night clinic?”

  Kevin opened his mouth, but no sound emerged.

  “There’s only one answer that works. This Bishop guy developed the technology we’re using. Vera’s secret bosses stole it. And they made certain nobody ever came looking to use his discovery. Murdering him would leave a trail. So they disgraced him. And blinded the world in the process.”

  Kevin’s hand shook slightly as he searched for the chair. He dropped into the seat. All without taking his gaze off Reese.

  “We follow the trail,” Reese said. “Backward and forward. We give them what they want. The target’s location twelve hours from when we report in. But we hunt back at the same time.”

  “We use the information as blackmail,” Kevin said.

  She wanted to reach across the table and slap him, jolt him to full alert. But she stayed where she was and kept her voice calm. “No, Kevin. That’s not it at all.”

  “Then why . . .”

  “We track down the people who were behind this. We follow them to their lair. We make a firm ID. We give the puppet masters a name.” Reese felt the tense pleasure only a predator ever knew. “And just when they think it’s time to take us out, they’ll discover . . .”

  When she did not continue, Kevin pressed, “Discover what?”

  Reese knew he was not ready to hear what she had in mind. “Whatever we want them to see.”

  But the truth was, by this time tomorrow the group hiding behind Vera would no longer be the people in control.

  49

  On her way back across the parking lot, it struck Reese that Kevin had relinquished his position as team leader. He shuffled a half step behind her, there to support and there to follow. Reese slowed a fraction, just to see his response.

  Kevin slowed with her. He asked, “Something wrong?”

  “Just working things through.”

  “Are you sure it’s wise, you taking another voyage with them?”

  “Yes, Kevin. I need to help with the hunt.” Though in truth his concerns were valid. But Reese had no interest in leading from the rear.

  A male security guard Reese had not seen before rushed through the motel’s doors and started toward them. He announced, “There’s something you need to see.”

  The guard’s name was Colin, and Reese was fairly certain he was a retired cop. There was a vibration or a scent or some edge to his voice that set her off, like a dog yammering over a coming storm. Reese stood behind Kevin, to the right of the female guard named Loren. Reese did not want to be here. The ticking clock was a drum rattling inside her brain.

  “Loren was the one who spotted the action.” For such a big man, Colin had a very light touch on the computer console. He stopped typing and manipulated the joystick. “Watch the central monitor.”

  Kevin asked, “What are we supposed to be seeing?”

  “You tell me. Here we go.”

  Two voyagers crossed the lobby. One was male, the other female. Reese knew them both by sight. The pair wore backpacks and dragged wheelie cases across the carpet.

  Kevin said, “I suspected these two of being Vera’s spies.”

  “Your alert was why I’ve been keeping an eye on them,” Loren said.

  Reese nodded but did not speak. It was smart of Kevin to have the guards track anyone possibly spying for the opposition. That was increasingly how Reese thought of the unseen puppet masters. They weren’t enemies yet. But they were moving in that direction. It was only a matter of time.

  Kevin said, “You didn’t ask where they were headed?”

  “Your instructions were, long as they sign out, they’re free to come and go at will.” Colin pointed at the monitor showing the motel’s forecourt. “They’ve moved over into the shaded area to the right of the entry. Probably for the breeze. The cameras miss that spot. There’s nine and a half minutes of nothing, so I’m going to speed things up.”

  Several people zipped in and out of the doors. Twice, shadowy bits of someone’s body popped into the screen’s right-hand edge, then disappeared.

  Colin watched the clock above the monitors. “Okay, now we’re back on real time.”

  A minivan pulled up. Kevin squinted and demanded, “Who’s that driving?”

  “Esteban,” Reese said. Insects started moving around in her gut, even before she had worked out the reason. She watched as the side door opened and Heather stepped out. She gave the pair that same hateful-bright smile. They stowed the pair’s cases and backpacks in the rear hold. All three clambered into the van. The door slid shut. The van started forward.

  “Keep watching,” Colin said.

  The van departed, and a Nissan Altima passed in front of the camera. It followed the van across the screen. The light glinted off the windows, but Reese recognized both the driver and her passenger.

  “Play that back,” Kevin said.

  “There’s no need,” Reese replied. And no time. “It’s them. The whole midnight crew and Vera’s two spies. They’re gone.”

  Kevin kept watching the image now frozen on the monitor. “Gone where?”

  Reese thanked the guards, then waited until they were back in the lobby to reply, “There’s only one answer. They’re going to be part of Vera’s new team.”

  Kevin mulled that over. “I’ll have security run a search of all private jets taking off from the regional airports.”

  Reese thought that was a total waste of time, but all she said was, “The doctor’s disappearance obviously hit their panic button. My guess is, they’ll be up and running in a matter of days. Which means we need to accelerate.”

  Kevin responded like a willing subordinate. “How will you handle this?”

  “As far as Vera and her associates are concerned, we will perform as ordered. Track their man. Everything else stays off the grid.” Reese could see Kevin was not moving fast enough. She wanted to grip him and shake him so hard his teeth rattled. Instead, she said, “You need to start prepping for an emergency evac. Shift the money into cash and gold. Get transport for us all.”

  “Wait . . . We’re leaving?”

  “Wake up, Kevin. They’re going to equip their own team with the midnight crew, probably offering the protection they’ve lacked until now. Soon as they’re up operational, they don’t need us anymore. Would you leave us out here, knowing what we know?”

  The same haunted look returned to his weary features. “All right. Yes.”

  “One more thing. Kevin, this is the most important of all. Stop shipping out your products. Duplicate all the monitoring equipment. Stow away as many neural nets as you can. Be ready to move.”

  “When do we . . .”

  But Reese had already started for the doors. “I’m about to find that out.”

  Reese split most of the voyagers into two groups and prepped them together. As soon as one returned and reported in, the second would go out. Obtaining all the data required by Vera and the unseen people pulling their strings.

  And while this happened, Reese’s secret crew would target the real issue.

  Reese sent them out, giving the voyagers thirty minutes. Then she asked Karla, “We clear on the instructions?”

  “Yes, but who will shield you?”

  “Carl will handle me and Ridley both.” Reese left the monitoring station and entered the second departures lounge, the one reserved for her core team, and said, “New day, new target.
We’re going to have to assume the midnight crew has shifted over to the opposition.”

  They exchanged a worried look. Ridley asked, “What does that mean?”

  “I have no idea. We need to be ready for incoming fire, but not today. We’ve got at least twenty-four hours before they’re operational. So we’re splitting up. Ridley, you’re going after the missing crew. Karla will count you down and tell you to find out where they’re heading. This is important. We don’t need to know where they are now. We need to know where their point of operation is located. Clear?”

  “Yes.”

  Carl asked, “What about you?”

  “Karla is going to give me different instructions. We need to know if and when the opposition is going to come for us. Karla will tell me to stay here and move forward.”

  Ridley asked, “We’re in danger?”

  “Not if we’re already gone. You see?”

  Carl revealed a remarkably sweet smile. “You’re our early warning system.”

  “If it works,” Reese said, glad she had decided to tell them. “Can you stay linked with both of us if we move in totally different directions?”

  Carl shrugged. “I’ve got two hands. Sort of.”

  Reese settled into her chair. “We probably don’t need to share this item with the others just yet.”

  “No need to spook them,” Ridley agreed.

  “Terrible pun,” Carl said. “Awful.”

  “Then why are you smiling?”

  Reese fitted on her net. “Let’s get to work.”

  50

  Two hours later, Reese and Kevin were back in his office, talking on the scrambler phone. Reese did not want to be there. But Vera had demanded an update.

  “My people have made a number of searches, but so far we’re coming up blank,” Reese reported.

  “Send them out again.”

  She resisted the urge to snap at the woman. She was tired and stressed and worried about her team. They were doing everything right. But learning how to anchor and protect themselves was proving both difficult and time consuming. So far, their voyages had done little except keep them safe. Which was in itself a huge success. But not to Vera.

  Reese said, “I am. Repeatedly. We will get this done.”

  Vera demanded, “Do I need to remind you how urgent this is?”

  Kevin replied for her, “We are all aware of the ticking clock.”

  “Time bomb is more like it.” Vera went silent, then said, “Stay where you are.”

  When the phone clicked off, Kevin muttered, “This is the first time we’ve not had anything positive to report.”

  Reese did not reply.

  The phone clicked back. Vera said, “This issue could not be more crucial.”

  When Reese remained silent, Kevin answered, “We will get this done.”

  Reese sent the crew out once more. They returned exhausted. Despite the lack of progress on the intel front, Reese found a deep sense of satisfaction in how they all rose from their stations, alert and present and on her side. When she returned to the glass cube to report, Kevin met her upstairs in the production room. Around two dozen dark-skinned men and women worked at long benches, soldering wires and shaping flexible helmets and snipping cables and checking leads with various calibration equipment. Even the production manager, a tall Anglo with snow-white hair, occupied one of the benches. Reese thought their motions looked borderline frantic, but she had no frame of reference, as she’d never been up here before.

  Kevin greeted her with, “Anything?”

  “Not yet, but I think we’re getting close.”

  His features were crimped tight by the strain. “Still think it was a good idea to get rid of the midnight crew?”

  Reese thought nothing good could come from reworking past events. She remained silent.

  Kevin turned back to the factory floor. “I promised them triple overtime if they can complete new helmets for all of us by midnight.”

  “And the monitoring station?”

  “That comes after. The technicians are all on this now. I’ll give them a couple of hours off, then another triple pay to complete five sets of portable monitors before dawn. We’ll check their work by using the new monitors to fix the new nets to each voyager.”

  “How long will that take?”

  He shrugged. “Should be relatively fast. We have each voyager’s mind print on record now. They’ll duplicate the frequency settings, then bring the voyagers in and check.”

  “How long?”

  “Three days, maybe four.”

  “We don’t have that long,” Reese replied.

  He pulled his gaze away from the workers. “You’re sure about that?”

  “Yes, Kevin. I am.”

  “Why is that?”

  “Because the reason why I think we’re close to identifying Bishop’s location is, I had a second team trying to track the midnight crew. This team was successful. Finally.”

  He saw it in her face. “It’s bad, isn’t it.”

  “You tell me. They’re outside Havana.”

  Kevin jerked a half step away.

  “Vera’s group has taken a waterfront estate south of the city that looks like a palace. It’s leased to the Russian government.”

  Kevin did not respond.

  “It makes sense, though,” Reese went on. “I mean, let’s back up. Somebody who can arrange murders on the other side of the globe at an instant’s notice could also be powerful enough to spring me from federal prison, right? So that same group steals a doctor’s new technology. They don’t kill this guy, because it might raise red flags. Instead, they disgrace him. How really doesn’t matter at this point, does it, Kevin.”

  He watched her, his gaze unblinking, the production room forgotten.

  “Once they obtained the doctor’s technology and quashed any potential interest by outsiders, they went on the hunt,” Reese said. “Gathering up a collection of military suppliers. Their aim was to build their own intelligence cabal. Not just here in the United States. Around the globe. And it’s not just so they can access the latest technology as soon as it’s developed. They want to know what their enemies are spending money on. Using us to do it. And at the same time, the Russians began working up a voyager team of their own.”

  “Havana is . . .”

  “A perfect cutout,” she finished for him. “Even if they’re detected, they can deny any involvement. And now they have our midnight crew to prevent their own voyagers from sinking into comas. They probably don’t like the idea of unleashing shadow monsters any more than we did. But Russia will take that risk. Soon as they confirm that their own crews are stabilized and bringing in the required intel, we’re history. Because we know too much. We’ve become a liability.”

  Reese let that sink in, then added, “We don’t have four more days, Kevin. In thirty-six hours, we are either gone or dead.”

  51

  Brett’s first real interaction with Bernard Bishop came when he described inserting the brain-wave patterns to stimulate an ascent. Bishop looked very tired. Brett assumed it was not so much from the journey as from the year of futile days and all the crushing blows that had come before.

  Bishop ignored his fatigue as only a professional surgeon could. He stood at the kitchen counter beside Brett and said, “I’m still struggling with the idea that these supposedly random experiences of my trial subjects are your mainline event.”

  “They weren’t random,” Brett replied. “Gabriella thinks they are a component of every human’s core brain-wave structure. What happens here is they become a dominant force.”

  “And allow the subject’s consciousness to separate from their physical form.”

  “In a controlled pattern,” Brett said. “Which is both the beauty and the danger of this entire process.”

  Bishop was moving with him now. “Control means direction.”

  “Access,” Brett confirmed. “No secret is safe from a spy who uses this technology to observe
and remain undetected.”

  Bishop’s gaze burned within the hollow cave of the events now behind him. “What is your ultimate aim, Dr. Riffkind?”

  “Call me Brett. I don’t know how to answer that. I thought I did, before . . .”

  Bishop gave him a minute, then said softly, “I have the impression you carry your own shadows because of all this.”

  Charlie surprised them both by responding, “Brett’s not alone there.”

  Bishop jerked around. “You would make a cat jealous.”

  Brett knew the reason Charlie had spoken was to save him from needing to respond. But he did so anyway. “My original ambition was to prove that human thought and perception were not tied to the Newtonian concept of time. That Einstein’s barrier did not exist at this level. That here was the juncture at which human existence and the quantum world combined.”

  “They would all seem to be worthy of a life’s work,” Bishop said. “Why did you drop them?”

  “He didn’t,” Charlie replied, settling a hand on Brett’s shoulder. “But this isn’t the time for Brett to go deeper into his recent activities.”

  Bishop still possessed a surgeon’s ego and a scientist’s inquisitive nature. He looked ready to argue. Brett understood the urge. They were here because of what Bishop had discovered, so he had a right to know why things had been brought to this juncture. But the past eighteen months of living down and out had taught Bishop patience as well. He asked, “So what happens now?”

  “The ladies should be back soon. We’ll have a meal and go on the hunt.”

  “Through an ascent,” Bishop said.

  “Right.”

  “I want to do this also,” Bishop told him.

  “Not just yet,” Charlie replied. “We’re headed into Indian country. You understand the term? It’s military-speak for a free-fire zone. There is no telling what we are going to find. I’m already concerned about sending Lena, but since she was our first spotter, I think it’s a necessary risk.”

  Brett understood the unspoken. How Charlie was concerned about Brett taking such a high-risk ascent. But all he felt was calm certainty. He said, “I need to go with her.”