Hunting Nora Stone

by Colin Weldon

  Eddie glanced inside. The driver, a young man in a black suit was unconscious. Nora leaned across the driver opening the door and shoving him out onto the pavement. She then closed the door quickly, locked it and looked back at Eddie.

  “Through the window, don’t open the door,” she said.

  She extended one of her cybernetic fingers and motioned him to get inside. He shook his head and complied by placing both hands on the roof and sliding in the window legs first. He looked behind him and there, sitting at the rear of the car through the bullet proof glass barrier, was the president of the United States. He looked to be in a state of shock.

  “You ok in there, Mr President?” Eddie said. Royo did not respond.

  “You have to press the intercom,” Nora said, her gun still pointed at his head.

  She reached over and pressed the button. She indicated that he could speak.

  “Sir, are you alright?” Eddie said.

  Royo nodded.

  “Yes, you’re Eddie Conrad aren’t you?” he said.

  Eddie was a little taken aback.

  “Eh, yes sir,” he replied.

  “The situation sir,” Nora said interrupting, “Is that I need you to clear us a path all the way to the Airport, at which time we will transfer aboard and fly to a destination of my choosing.”

  Eddie’s eyes widened.

  “Your weapons, give them to me, and deactivate that thing you’re wearing,” she said.

  She placed the barrel of her gun directly on his forehead.

  “Nice and easy,” she said, pulling back the trigger.

  Eddie removed his gun and handed it to her. She took it and placed it on the floor by her feet. Eddie then pressed the button that deactivated his armour. He felt the weight of his arms increase as he did so.

  “And the other one,” she said.

  Eddie sighed and took the pistol tucked in his back pocket and handed it to her.

  “Nora, there is no way the military will allow Air Force One to take off under a hostage situation,” Royo said.

  He had now moved from the rear seat and was sitting next to the partition. Eddie looked through the windshield to try and see what was happening outside. He saw one of Hiran’s drones still hovering overhead. Directly in front was the overturned SUV with Tarsis still lying motionless. There now appeared to be dozens of soldiers in various positions up and down the street.

  “Mr President, you will order the military to stand down, clear us a path to the airport, or we all die right here, right now,” Nora said.

  There was silence in the car. Royo seemed strangely calm.

  “Do you think I am afraid of death?” Royo replied looking straight into Nora’s eyes, “Do you think I wouldn’t gladly give up my life if it meant the security of the nation. My dear, I think you have this situation all wrong. It is we that have the advantage, not you,” Royo replied.

  Eddie had to admire the strength and conviction in his tone. Nora frowned. She seemed to grit her teeth.

  “What is it you want?” Royo said.

  “I want what you have taken from me,” She replied, almost growling, “I want my daughter.”

  “Your daughter?” Royo replied

  Royo took a breath seemingly trying to guage how resolute Stone really was.

  “Let me speak to Todd Holt,” Royo said.

  “Sit back Harold,” she said drawing back her arm.

  Royo complied. Eddie also leaned back away from her. She landed a single blow on the bullet-proof partition between the two compartments. Her arm went clean through, sending small clustered chunks of the armoured glass onto the leather seats. Drawing her arm back, she handed her radio through to Royo, keeping her gun pointed at Eddie.

  “No code words, I know them all,” she said.

  Royo pressed the transmitter.

  “Holt?” Royo said.

  “Mr. President?” came Holt’s voice through the radio. Nora had disconnected the earpiece so it was on loudspeaker.

  “I need you to clear us a path to the airport.”

  Eddie watched as Royo looked out the passenger window. Eddie did the same. Holt was standing about six feet away and holding a submachine gun in his hand, presumably about to lead a breach of the car. He was flanked by two members of the French army, both of them on bended knees and each armed with rifles; pointing them at the car.

  “Sir, what is your current physical condition?” Holt asked.

  “I’m unhurt Todd. Order the men to pull back and escort us to the airport,” Royo said.

  There was a silence on the line. Eddie looked at Nora who was staring through the windshield at Tarsis. Eddie followed her gaze. Tarsis was still lying on the ground.

  “Sir, I don’t think I can do that,” Holt replied.

  Nora lifted her gun up and fired a shot right past Eddie’s face. Eddie jerked backwards into his seat. His ears rang. His heart was racing at the shock of it. The soldiers gripped their rifles and ducked.

  “Hold your fire!” shouted Royo into the radio.

  “Hold your fire!” echoed Holt.

  “Todd, clear us a route to the airport,” Royo said forcefully, “that’s an order.”

  “On one condition,” Holt replied, “I come with you.”

  “That’s confirmed Holt,” Royo said.

  Nora turned to Eddie.

  “You’re driving,” she said.

  She crossed her left leg over his body and straddled him for a moment as they changed positions. Eddie thought he saw the twitch of a smile as she did so. He took his position in the driver’s seat.

  “I have another request,” Nora said, “Abigail Carroll, get her to meet us there”

  “Why?” Eddie replied

  “It’s time I had a catch up with the good doctor,” Nora replied.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  Vice President Eric Heller watched the live news feed as it came in on CNN. He stood alone in his office as his phone rang off the hook. It would only be a matter of seconds before there was a knock on his door. At thirty-nine years old he was the second youngest to hold his position. He was handsome, articulate and well on his way to the nomination, before Royo’s strange meeting with him placed him on the ticket. The sudden death of Royo’s first choice had been a shock to most. He had died in a car accident on the way to a meeting with the speaker of the house that summer, following the Democratic convention. It had been listed as an accident. A fault in the car’s braking system. As a young and outspoken member of the senate, Heller had gone into politics to change the system. He had believed in his path. But Royo’s popularity with the people had pushed Heller into ceremonial roles. He was going to change that. He was working day and night to make sure he was fully geared up and ready to run on his own as the presumptive nominee in eighteen months.

  He turned away from the screen, which showed an aerial view of what was happening in Paris, and looked at himself in the mirror. His dark hair was showing some grey streaks in it. The dark lines under his eyes seemed to be a permanent feature. He folded his suit jacket as the sounds of footsteps outside his office told him it was time. There was a knock on the door as two secret service men in black suits burst in.

  “Mr Vice President, you need to come with us,” said one of the men. Heller did not know his name. He saw no point in learning the names of any of them. He asked no questions, simply allowed the two men to guide him out of his office and escort him briskly down the hallway past the wide-eyed stares of his staff. He knew, of course, where he was headed; straight for the Situation Room.

  White House Situation Room

  The vice president placed his hand on the ID scanner on the wall outside the oak door of the situation room. The door locks clicked back. He stepped inside. It was a frantic melee of high-ranking military officers on telephones giving orders and shouting at
each other. He made his way over to the top of the long conference table at its centre and waited. The large tactical screens at the end of the room showed real time satellite imagery along with troop deployment information, communications status, orbital satellite information and naval positions. It was, of course, a highly adaptable piece of technology giving any information that the president or joint chiefs needed at the touch of a button. He looked to his right and made eye contact with Director Benjamin Wise, who gave him a look that told him to be careful, to watch his place, to watch for his lead, to obey. Wise had made it his business to get to know Heller very well. The promises made in the dark reverberated around in the back of his mind. Promises of favours and support when he got the nomination. Promises with caveats attached. Heller had agreed to every one of them. He looked at Wilbert Kroch, who was sitting beside General Hammond. Kroch extended his hand, showing him the seat at the head of the table. Heller’s heart rate increased as he looked up at the screen. The satellite picture showed a real mess down on the Parisian street. The president’s car was centre screen. There were bodies scattered all around it. It looked like it had ben hit by an IED. He raised his arm to try and calm the room.

  “Gentlemen please, can we have some order,” he said.

  Heller knew that they had little respect for him but they did respect the chain of command and under these circumstances he was very much in charge.

  “Let’s get our bearings shall we? General Hammond what’s the current situation on the ground?” Heller said turning to the General who was seated directly to his left. Hammond looked briefly at Wise and then back to Heller.

  “We currently have a hostage situation on the ground. Todd Holt has just requested a clear route for Cadillac One to proceed to Le-Bourget airport. The assailant, some sort of super soldier…” he paused and flicked his eyes to Wise and back, “appears to be down on the ground. It is my recommendation that we go full breach on this and take our chances. We cannot allow the spectacle of the president’s motorcade being taken through the streets of Paris at gunpoint. It shows a weakness that would not be in the national interest,” Hammond said.

  “With all due respect Mr Vice president..,” began Malcolm Lewis, the National Security advisor sitting at the foot of the table. He was a burly man currently wearing a white shirt and off-colour striped tie with the top two buttons open. It looked like he had been up all night. The C shape receding hairline allowed the lights from overhead to bounce perfectly off his smooth head. He was also the only one smoking a cigarette. This was the only room in the White House where it was allowed, “we do that and we guarantee that the president will be killed. We go in hard and fast and we give up all chance of a rescue. We need to buy ourselves time, not to mention the fact that the president himself just gave Holt a direct order to clear a path to the airport.”

  Heller looked back at Hammond.

  “And if they manage to get off the ground?” Heller asked.

  “Then, sir, they will have hijacked this country’s most valuable asset in the sky. However, should they be allowed to take off in Air Force One, it presents us with other,” he paused, “less public options.”

  “Sir, at this point I should point out that the president’s orders are no longer valid,” Hammond added, “under Article Two, the president is now deemed to be incapacitated. Any orders under duress no longer have any validity under the constitution,” Hammond said.

  “Now, hang on just a second General, the president is not incapacitated,” interjected Kroch.

  “All due respect Bill, but the General is correct,” said Admiral Clare Fisher, Chief of Naval Operations. She was in her mid fifties and had enjoyed a remarkable career, being the youngest female Captain in the history of the US Navy and rising through the ranks with stern dedication and almost obsessive devotion to duty. She was a ‘by the book’ type of officer whose patriotism had earned her three Navy Crosses. When she spoke, the men around the table listened intently with both admiration and genuine respect.

  “The president is unable to execute the role of the office while under duress. I believe that the 25th Amendment must be enacted to transfer executive power to you immediately,” she said with her hands clasped together on the table.

  “We don’t know that, all we know right now is that the president is currently in a hostage situation. I believe that enacting the 25th is premature at this time, Mr Vice President. We need to buy time. I recommend clearing a path to the airport to try and diffuse the situation on the ground and give us options,” said Kroch.

  Heller looked at Wise.

  “Director?” he asked.

  Wise was looking at the screen and looked surprised at being called upon. He turned his chair towards Heller.

  “Let them get on the plane. We can control it from the air if needs be and the eyes of the world can’t watch. We can surround it, once airborne. There are too many variables on the street, as well as the potential for extensive collateral damage. We cannot be seen to storm the car at this stage. And sir, I should point out that there would appear to be a hole in our defences. Whatever hit that car is something our secret service and military personnel were unprepared for and unable to defend against. I would like to reiterate my petition to begin deployment of the augments. We are under attack. We have no way of knowing if this is just the beginning,” Wise said looking closely at Heller.

  Heller had, of course, known that this was coming. It was the primary reason he was sitting in this room at all.

  “Sir, I would strongly recommend against that,” said Admiral Fisher, “it’s the god damn Jaguar Augment program that created Nora Stone in the first place.”

  Wise glared at her but said nothing. There was silence in the room as all eyes were on Heller. He needed to buy himself some time, to legitimise his position and not run headlong into agreeing with Wise. That would only raise suspicion. He turned to Hammond.

  “Allow the car to travel to the airport, General. Tell Holt that if he has a chance to take Nora Stone out, then he is to do so with extreme prejudice,” Heller said. “What do we have on Eddie Conrad, Ben?” he said looking at Wise.

  “Looks like he’s collateral damage at this stage,” Wise said, looking back at the screen.

  CHAPTER TWENTY

  CORE ERROR

  POWER LEVELS DOWN TO 61%

  REDIRECTING SIGNAL PATHWAYS TO COMPENSATE

  Tarsis opened his eyes. He waited while his optic pathways cleared the distorted transition to his brain. The world around him began to come into focus. He felt like he was moving. He was staring at a roof. His arms and legs seemed to be strapped down to a table of some sort. He began running a diagnostic of his systems. While doing so, he tilted his head and saw two soldiers sitting at the base of the gurney he was lying on. They were staring out of the back windows. Both had machine guns. He slowly tilted his head backwards and saw that he was in some sort of medical vehicle, probably an army ambulance. The language on the medical equipment on the shelves was in French.

  ‘DIAGNOSTIC COMPLETE’ read the text that was superimposed over his vision.

  -‘PRIMARY SYSTEMS FUNCTIONING WITHIN 83% OF OPTIMUM EFFICIENCY.’

  -‘PRIMARY CORE SYSTEMS ERROR’

  -‘MAIN SYNTAC ALPHA RENDERING COMPROMISED’

  -‘DAMAGE TO EXTERIOR SHELL WITHIN ACCEPTABLE TOLERANCES’

  -‘PRIMARY MISSION STATUS UNCHANGED’

  Tarsis felt his right arm twitch. His eyes showed him a flicker of static. He made one last check of his main movement servos before raising both of his arms up, easily breaking the restraints in the process and sitting up straight. Both guards looked around at the same time. Tarsis quickly grabbed the barrel of the gun from the guard on the right and bent it backwards, then swiftly snapped his neck. The surprised guard slumped to the ground.

  “Urgence!” shouted the second soldier before he was dispatched with a quick twis
t of Tarsis’s hands to his head. He removed the restraints on his ankles and moved forward through the empty space where the driver was.

  The military ambulance swerved slightly as its new driver took the wheel. Its blacked- out windows had provided sufficient cover for the change. Tarsis checked the road to make sure that the escort vehicles had not seen him as he pressed his foot on the accelerator. He remained calm as he followed their lead. The new instructions being fed into his mission protocols had been received and accepted. He felt something new. Rage. He remembered that feeling. He growled to himself as he thought about what he had to do next.

  * * *

  The engine of the president’s car had eventually started, but not without protest. The damage to the engine had been extensive but it somehow managed to keep going. Eddie drove ’The Beast’ as quickly as he could towards the main motorway towards the airport. They were flanked on either side by two French military Humvees, both with what looked like .50 Calibre machine gun turrets manned by seriously pissed-off looking soldiers. Up ahead, there must have been fifty squad cars with their lights and sirens blaring as well as a host of other military trucks. Eddie even spotted a tank following up the rear, along with another fifty or so vehicles ranging from police to SWAT to army to god knows what. Overhead, Eddie had already seen three flybys with the French Airforce’s D’assault Rafale, an impressive, delta wing shaped, attack fighter aircraft. The sweeping triangular wingspan gave it a formidable appearance when they flew in formation. He imagined that, from the air, this must look like a Russian military parade in Red Square with a small black beaten up limo at its centre. It was certainly an impressive show of force. Eddie knew that somewhere in this flotsam of military prowess, Hiran and Abigail were being debriefed. He tried to come up with options. Nora was sitting quietly beside him with her gun pointed through the empty divide at Royo and Holt. She was now also holding a grenade. She had found it in the hidden armoury in the side door of the passenger seat. Eddie had sighed to himself as she had plucked it out of the compartment.