Hunting Nora Stone

by Colin Weldon

“As you wish, Mr President, but I would urge you to grant me a full hearing on that decision before you make it final,” Wise replied, decidedly more angry than he was letting on.

  “I always consider all my options very carefully Director,” Royo said before disconnecting the call.

  He looked at Kroch.

  “Get me every scrap of data that has ever existed on Jaguar, and get me everything on Wise,” he said.

  Kroch nodded. Royo looked down at the phone.

  “I think I just hung up on the General,” he said softly to himself.

  CHAPTER TEN

  Director Wise stood in the elevator as it ascended above the downtown Washington skyline. He watched as the small circular floor indicators rose steadily in line with his heart rate. He stared down at the rooftops and wondered if it would be his last time seeing this view. Wise was no coward. As a former Navy Seal himself, he had seen his fair share of combat. Granted, it had been twenty or so years ago, but his memory was sharp and he could still taste the wet sand on the coast on Huaca Beach in Columbia, as his team landed in the dead of night. The Bogota mission had been bloody. This was different. Enemies were no longer black and white, night and day. They were everywhere. It was out of control, the whole damn thing. It was only a matter of time before they were overrun.

  The elevator began to slow. A bell chimed, indicating the arrival at the top floor. Wise cleared his throat and fixed his tie. The doors opened and he stepped off into an airlock. The elevator doors closed behind him. He listened as the carriage began its decent back to the ground floor. It was the only way in or out of this particular level. If the Quorum was not happy with how you were performing or had simply grown tired of you, then the elevator doors would open and down the shaft you would go. He had seen it once. The body of a young woman being dropped down the elevator shaft to be scooped up by the clean up crew in the basement.

  He looked through the glass doors a few feet in front of him and moved towards them. The two guards dressed in dark tailored suits on the other side stared at him Their broad shoulders filled their jackets to breaking point. They each carried sub machine guns strapped across their shoulders. They gripped their weapons tightly with both hands and glared at Wise as he approached the control pad. He placed his hand on the scanner and rested his chin on a fitted chinstrap protruding from the wall. A laser scanned his retinas and the hand scanner checked his prints. He felt a sharp pain in the palm of his hand as a needle inserted itself and drew blood for DNA analysis. A yellow light flashed next to the control panel, indicating that the scan was complete and to wait for confirmation of identity. He blinked, trying to clear the spots that had formed from the laser beam. The two guards raised their weapons, pointing them both at his head, and waited.

  Wise folded his hands behind his back. If the light turned green, the doors would open, if it did not, then down the shaft he would go, probably with a few hundred bullet holes in his chest. He sincerely hoped that he was, in fact, who he thought he was.

  The light flashed green and the doors slid apart. The guards lowered their weapons and stepped back from the entrance allowing Wise to pass.

  “Good afternoon, Director Wise,” said one of them in a quiet civil tone slightly bowing his head.

  It was the odd change in behaviour that Wise found unnerving.

  “Good afternoon gentlemen,” he replied, walking past them and into the corridor lined with a plush maroon carpet that led all the way to a single rosewood door at its end.

  He glanced upwards at the small black domes over head. He reached the end of the hallway and looked back at the two guards who had their backs to him and were once again facing the elevator door. He turned back and faced the door. The handle clicked suddenly. Wise took it, not noticing his hands shaking and turned it. He walked inside. He was surrounded by white light on all sides. The floor felt like thick plastic under his feet. He had, of course been in this room before, but it was this room that made him the most nervous. It was an incinerator. He glanced briefly at the holes on the corners of the ceiling. If given the option, he would take the elevator shaft.

  At least it would be quick. His only comfort, should it come to that, was the cyanide tooth that had replaced his back left molar. He waited in the death chamber for a tense moment preparing himself to bite down hard. There was a beeping noise. Luckily it was the sliding doors at the far end of the room. He moved briskly towards them and walked out. The door slid shut behind him, leaving him standing, once again, in a room that starkly contrasted to the last. This one had rich mahogany-lined book shelves that reached from the floor to the ceiling, nearly twenty feet in the air. Three large Georgian windows draped with rich velvet curtains pulled back with gold ropes lay directly in front of him. To his left an enormous giant fireplace was producing healthy flames, giving the room a warm glow. In front of the fire, a good fifteen feet away from where Wise was standing, five high-backed leather chairs, all occupied, surrounded a large rosewood desk. The rest of the room was empty. Wise waited by the door. The sun was splitting through the windows and casting shadows from the outlines of each small pane of glass onto the floor, creating a grid-like structure on the carpet. The five occupants of the leather chairs stared at Wise. From this distance, the men all looked similar. They all wore identical black suits and black ties. They all looked to be in their late sixties or early seventies. One of them was smoking a cigar, the one on the end. He didn’t know their names, nor did he want to. Any attempt at finding out their true identities would be met with an instant death sentence. That was rule number one. Even seeing their faces was a death sentence, at some point. Everybody dies, Wise had said to himself after their first meeting, it’s only a matter of when and how.

  “Approach,” said a low growling voice.

  He had not seen which one it was. The voice seemed to emanate from all of them, and none of them. Wise began to walk across the plush carpet. It seemed to take forever. They were miles away. The distance alone was a enough to make even the hardest man sweat. He felt the sun cross his face as he stepped through the shafts of light coming in from the windows. It was warm.

  “That’s far enough,” came the voice suddenly.

  Wise stopped a few feet away from the large desk and faced the five.

  “Report,” said the man on the far right.

  It was the one smoking the cigar. His face was round. Thin grey hair surrounded a large bald spot at the front of his head. Wise cleared his throat.

  “I believe we have the situation contained,” Wise said.

  He could hear his own voice echoing off the walls and wondered if they had heard the uncertainty in it.

  “Stone has been eliminated?” said one of the men in the centre of the group.

  This one was hugely overweight with large jowls surrounding a pit-bull shaped face. Wise turned to the man, hesitating slightly. The light falling across the man’s eyes made them look hollow.

  “She has,” Wise answered.

  “Have you recovered her body?” said the man.

  Wise shifted slightly.

  “Not yet, we have a team recovering it now, the ship was completely destroyed so there is a possibility her body may have been incinerated,” Wise replied.

  The man looked to the rest of the group silently.

  “There is a problem with the President,” Wise said trying to divert the conversation, “he is planning to terminate Jaguar.”

  Wise waited while the five men stared at each other.

  “How is Tarsis functioning?” replied the man with the cigar.

  “Well, I was going to recall him,” Wise said.

  “Do not recall him, leave him in the field. Should Nora Stone have survived the strike then you will have to deal with that. As for the President, our plans will have to escalate,” said the man looking at the other four.

  “You are to issue Tarsis with his prima
ry directive,” said another member of the five.

  This one was sitting on the far left of the group. He was thin. He looked sick. His skin was clinging to a gaunt face and his fingers looked like bone.

  “I understand,” Wise replied.

  Wise began to feel small beads of sweat run down the small of his back.

  “And if we cannot locate Stone’s body?” Wise replied.

  The five men stared at him.

  “Then we will have to assume she is still alive. For your sake, you had better make sure that she is not,” said the man with the cigar, “you are to report back here in forty eight hours with both confirmation of her death and with the death of Royo. We will proceed with level two once the Vice President has been sworn in. Do not fail us.”

  Wise nodded.

  “You are dismissed,” said the man with the cigar taking a long drag and billowing a cloud of smoke in the air.

  Wise began making his way across the miles of carpet. Another bead of sweat appeared on brow and made its way down his cheek.

  CHAPTER ELEVEN

  Eddie opened his eyes. He tasted salt water, gagged and turned his head. He was lying on wet sand. He tried to move his aching limbs. At least he was alive. He managed to twist his head enough to see that he was on a deserted beach. The bright, early morning sun shone across his face. His clothes were soaked. He turned and felt a sharp pain in his side. His ribs were bruised, but not broken. He knew that pain all too well. He pressed his palms against his chest and tried to push himself up to his knees. A wave broke nearby, sending a gentle lap of water across Eddie’s legs. His head hurt. He turned and looked out to sea but saw no remains of the explosion that had thrown him clear. The smoke would have cleared by now anyway. He reckoned it was 10am or so. He looked up at the sky and scanned the surrounding area.

  “Fucking assholes,” he said to himself as he lowered his head back down on the sand and took a breath.

  His body ached. His vision was blurry and he could feel the sting of salt water in a cut above his forehead. He checked his ear for his communications device. It was empty. No phone either. He looked around the deserted white beach. Suddenly he noticed something sticking out of his breast pocket. A white flower. Fresh. It was dry. He removed it and twirled it in his fingers. Nearby was a small bush with several of the flowers growing on it.. It had been placed in his jacket while he was unconscious. So she was alive too. He got to his feet slowly and looked to the nearby tree line. Nothing. The air was filled with sounds of birds chirping overhead and the waves as they lapped along the shoreline. In the distance he heard the sounds of helicopter blades growing closer. Glancing up swiftly, he saw it approach further down the shoreline. He turned again to the tree line, feeling like he was being watched. The helicopter began to descend, landing softly in the sand. He saw two figures emerge from an open door.

  “Eddie!” shouted Abigail as she and Hiran approached.

  He raised his hand in acknowledgement. An odd defensive instinct began to take hold as he remembered Nora Stone’s words. Don’t trust Abigail.

  “Are you alright?” Hiran said reaching him.

  Abigail was blocking the sun, which, for some reason made her features look dark and ominous. Eddie dismissed the impression. She had given him no cause to consider her a threat. Nora Stone was fucking with him. Trying to sow dissent and distrust. He would be cautious but not let the words of someone who had just hit him with the butt of a gun to dictate who he should and should not trust.

  “How did you find me?” he said getting to his knees.

  Abigail knelt down and grabbed his arm firmly helping him to his feet. Hiran looked surprised.

  “Your watch,” he replied.

  Eddie looked down at his wristwatch. He had completely forgotten about it. Standard issue Jaguar field timer. They all had GPS trackers that pinged their location to a satellite anywhere in the world. He had been wearing it for years.

  Eddie nodded and smiled at him, then looked around the island – was it an island?

  “What’s that?” Abigail said looking at the flower still in Eddie’s hand.

  “A thank you gift,” Eddie said pushing past the pair and dropping it on the sand.

  He began to run towards the helicopter.

  “Where are you off to?” Hiran shouted from behind.

  “She was right here,” he said not looking back.

  His chest hurt as he ran. He was getting fed up with getting his ass kicked. It was time to even the odds.

  “What?” Abigail said from behind him.

  He could hear the pair as they broke into a run behind him.

  “Stone. She was right here!” Eddie said.

  He reached the door of the helicopter and climbed inside, tracking sand and water inside in the process. Hiran and Abigail followed suit.

  “We scanned the whole island there was nobody else here. If she somehow made to the mainland she could have gone anywhere,” Hiran said sitting down and grabbing his computer.

  “I need an earpiece. I lost mine. And a phone,” said Eddie.

  Abigail nodded and moved towards the front of the enormous aircraft. He looked at Hiran, “where the hell are we?”

  Hiran looked at him.

  “We’re on Pulau Abang-besar, an island fifty seven miles off the coast of Singapore.”

  Eddie looked at the map that Hiran had just brought up on his laptop.

  Their location was cut off from the chain of small islands that surrounded them, completely isolated. “So, how the hell did she get off the island?”

  “Why didn’t she kill you?” said Abigail, returning with an earpiece and working phone.

  “Not to mention, who the hell hit that ship? It nearly took us out in the process?” Hiran said. “If you hadn’t instructed us to back off…”

  Eddie looked at him. He looked up at Abigail who was staring at him with an odd look in her eye. He wondered if they had heard Miller’s transmission.

  “It was a military strike, I don’t think they knew we were on board. Wrong place wrong time, I guess,” Eddie said.

  “No shit, and you swam all the way to shore after that?”

  “I can swim you know, I was a navy seal,” Eddie responded.

  Abigail frowned. Eddie needed to play his cards close to his chest. This was bigger than a simple manhunt. Stone had said they going for Royo. She’d kept him alive for a reason. He needed to know why. Jaguar clearly saw him as an expendable asset. As a soldier, you could be ordered to your death at any moment but it was a stab in the back. A betrayal of the mission. Assholes. He needed help. Someone he could trust. The time for psychological profiling was over.

  “Did you use the phrase I gave you?” Abigail suddenly said to him.

  Eddie looked up at her then back to Hiran.

  “Hiran can you give us a minute?” he asked.

  Hiran nodded and got up from his seat.

  “Do me a favour and tell the pilot to lift off, head for Singapore and await further instructions,” Eddie said.

  “Sure thing boss,” Hiran said moving away. Eddie turned back to Abigail.

  “What the fuck is going on? No more games, I want to know what you did to her, how she was trained, what she was trained to do and how many more are there,” he paused thinking about his next question. “And who or what the fuck is Tarsis?”

  Abigail’s eyes widened.

  “What did she say about Tarsis?” she replied.

  “That Tarsis is here,” Eddie said.

  Abigail leaned over, putting her elbows on her knees and running her hands through her hair.

  “Shit,” she said quietly.

  Eddie felt the lift of the helicopter. He leaned over too, and looked at her.

  “You know, no plan survives first contact with the enemy,” he said looking at her.

&nb
sp; “What?” she said

  “No plan survives first contact with the enemy,” he repeated, “something a German field marshal once said during World War I. It means you need to have the right people doing the right thing or it all falls apart.”

  Abigail raised her eyes.

  “She told you not to trust me, didn’t she?” she replied.

  That took Eddie by surprise. He frowned.

  “Yeah,” Abigail said. “She was right you know.”

  “Oh?” Eddie replied.

  Abigail blew out a long breath and sat back in her chair.

  “We’re both dead now, either way, simple as that,” she said.

  “I’ve been dead before,” Eddie replied.

  Abigail smiled.

  “What’s it like?” she said.

  “Peaceful,” Eddie replied.

  Abigail smiled again, and looked past him towards the window.

  “They found her in a hospital. She was half dead. Car accident. The car had mangled her body,” Abigail began.

  Eddie looked at her and listened intently.

  “She was living on the streets at the time, no name, no ID, no dental or medical records to find out who she was. They had to cut her right arm off to get her out. She lost the other one a few days later. There was no reasonable way she was going to survive. The doctors gave her a few days but somehow she pulled through. That’s when the military intervened and recruited her into the Academy,” Abigail said.

  “The Academy?” Eddie said remembering that Nora had mentioned it.

  Abigail raised her hand indicating for him to hold on, she was getting to it.

  “I don’t know if she consented to the cybernetic implantation or not but either way they did it, they wiped her memory and began the conditioning process and that’s when they brought me in. You have to understand, Eddie, that this woman was dead. It was a second chance. She was strong. I was instructed to compile a conditioning program to make her psychologically ready for combat operations. I am a patriot, Eddie, you’ve seen what we’re up against out there. This technology could have given our soldiers an edge that would make them invisible against any threat,” she said