Cyrus Twelve: Leona Foxx Suspense Thriller #2

by Ted Peters

  Hillar spoke. “Jerry’s just moved in with Mom’n me. Right, Jerry?”

  “Yeh,” the older brother said, breaking his silence. “Yeh, I’m gonna bunk at home for a bit.” He forced a smile.

  “Jerry’s a vet too,” Hillar announced. “He fought in Afghanistan and against ISIS in Iraq. Secretly, yaknow.”

  Graham could not recall Jerry standing up when asking the veterans in worship to stand and be honored. “When did you get back from overseas?” he asked, looking Jerry straight in the eyes.

  “Long time ago,” Jerry mumbled. “Year or two, I reckon.”

  “What’ve you been doing since your discharge?”

  “Nuthin’ much. Hanging out with some of my military buddies,” he muttered.

  “Jerry’s been living with his friends up on the north side. Now, he’s decided to come back home. Mom and I are glad he’s back,” said Hillar with a note of feigned victory in his voice.

  “So, you’re coming home!” added Graham, trying to maintain the victory tone.

  “Actually,” Jerry went on with his head now cast downward. “Gotta go somewhere. Our household broke up. One of my buddies...well....he hung himself last week. The other three of us...well...we just thought we couldn’t live there in that place any more. So, we went our own directions.”

  “Jerry’s got PTSD,” interjected Hillar.

  “That right, Jerry?” asked the pastor.

  “Yeh. That’s right.” Jerry paused. His eyes looked around, as if to find a safer location. He shuffled his feet.

  “Bad, eh?” muttered Graham, keeping his eyes on Jerry’s. A moment passed. Hillar twitched. Graham maintained the stillness of a statue.

  “How bad, Jerry?” asked Graham.

  “I got to see a psychiatrist at the vet hospital. Said I got moral injury. That’s the worst type of PTSD, ya know. Said it comes from battle trauma, or something like that.”

  Graham decided to conduct an interrogation. “Well, Jerry, certainly you know better than a psychiatrist how you feel. Just how do you feel?”

  “I feel bad. Real bad.” This was followed by an interim pause.

  “Is this why you didn’t stand up during worship, when I asked all our vets to stand up?”

  Jerry turned to look Graham in the face for the first time. “Pastor, I know you meant well. I know you meant well to honor all of us in the military. And I know you meant well when you thanked us for fighting for America’s freedom. But, that’s just not the way it is.”

  “What do you mean, ‘that’s just not the way it is’?”

  “I mean, nobody gets free because of our fighting. We’d sweep through a village about four in the morning, looking for insurgents. We’d knock down a house door and stomp in. Then, we’d shout in English, ‘freeze or I’ll shoot!’ Hell, those people don’t know English. They’d git up outa their beds to find out about the ruckus, and we’d pepper them with bullets. We’d kill children waking up. We’d leave children without their parents, cause we’d shoot their parents. Sometimes it seemed better just to shoot the whole family, so nobody’d be left alone. Then, we’d go on to the next house. Nobody gets freedom from our merciless killing. Nobody. Not the Afghanis. Not the Iraqis. Not the Americans either.”

  Graham, Hillar, and Jerry remained standing like gravestone sculptures. Jerry continued. “I feel like I should be punished for what I did. But, I’m not punished. I’m just put on a plane and sent home, back to this life in Chicago. Most o’ those people in worship today got no inkling of what it’s like to be over there, in the war zone, destroying peoples’ homes and wasting the people who lived in them. But, I know. I know the truth.”

  Graham and Hillar remained mute, waiting for what else might erupt. Jerry stared at his shoes. Then, he lifted his face. “There’s no justice, Pastor. I thought there’d be justice. I need to be brought to justice. All my buddies’n me need to be brought to justice. But, there’s no justice. There’s only...nothing. I go home. We all go home. Except those whose homes we destroyed. Justice doesn’t chase after us. If there were such a thing as justice, it would be chasing us. If there were such a thing as justice, it would chase after me like a greyhound chases a rabbit. But…”

  Jerry looked at the horizon. “There’s no God, Pastor. Your God is not there. Or, at least your God’s justice is not there. And, if there’s no God, then there’s no me.” At that, Jerry walked down the church porch steps to the parking lot. There he turned right and headed down the street toward home.

  Hillar looked at Graham and shrugged his shoulders, communicating that he couldn’t explain what had just happened.

  Chapter 25

  Taipei

  At 6:05 Monday morning the cab dropped Leona off at Taipei 101. She entered the tower’s main door wearing her New Balance 967s, Bermuda shorts, a tee shirt covered by a tennis sweater, carrying a canvas bag decorated with a large green ‘S’ monogram against a white background. Her sun glasses sat atop of her head. Anyone looking at her at this time of day would quickly surmise that she was an American tourist suffering from jet lag.

  The forlorn tourist wound her way past the arcades and up the escalator to the elevator floor. After smiling at sanitation workers and an occasional security guard, she sent herself up to the 83rd floor. When the elevator doors had closed behind her, it became obvious she was alone on the floor. Nothing was open. Everything was still. She wandered past office suites until she found the doors to TaiCom International. Two large sliding doors met in the middle, flanked with matching frosted glass side panels.

  Leona looked carefully in both directions. Seeing no one, she reached into her canvas bag. From the bag she drew a small electronic device, not much larger than a cell phone. She flipped the on switch and studied the wiggling needle in front of the frequency register. She adjusted the dial. The needle on the frequency register settled. Leona pressed a switch. The doors unlatched and then slid open.

  At first Leona did not enter. She held her scanner through the opening to find the wireless frequency for the alarm system. In a moment she had disarmed it, entered the suite, and closed the doors behind her. She re-locked the doors.

  The invader surveyed the situation. A traditional style reception desk held a computer monitor and an intercom station. A spacious reception room sat to her right, complete with comfortable couches and a tea table in the center. A hall to the left led to offices, and perhaps even a lab. Directly behind the reception desk was the door to the president’s office. The name, Mr. Lionel Chang, stood out in both Chinese and English characters.

  If it were me, I’d keep the chip in the president’s office. Maybe under lock and key. Or, maybe under camouflage in a very ordinary location. Mmmmmm.

  She tried the president’s door handle. Locked. Is it an electronic or mechanical lock? She jiggled what was in her hand. Ah. Mechanical. From her bag she drew a small ring of keys, prepared in advance for just such occasions. In seconds the door was open and Leona entered the office.

  The interloper walked slowly around the desk and sat in Mr. Chang’s chair. From this vantage point she scanned the office with her eyes. A second door to the left. On the desk a massive computer screen. The keyboard with both Chinese and English characters. Now, where would I put such a chip if I sat here day after day? She took plenty of time to think.

  Too much time. Are those noises coming from the hall doors? She heard the glass doors sliding open and human voices entering the suite. She glanced at her watch. Only 6:30 am. The president’s office door was slightly ajar. Do I have time to close it before being noticed? No!

  The volume and pace of the new voices was elevated. Even though the language was Mandarin, Leona could guess they’d discovered that the security system had been turned off. Excitement seemed to explode in the reception room. Are those footsteps coming this way? Where to hide?

  Leona dove under the desk and scrunched herself into the under desk cave. I can’t believe that I’m under a desk. How infantile! Why don’t
I...

  It became clear that the voices belonged to three men. They had changed to speaking English. All three had entered the president’s office, without noticing or at least without mentioning the fact that the door had been unlocked and ajar. Evidently they were standing facing one another, each chattering and competing for the others’ attention.

  “Two deaths?! At the same time?! Friday?!” This voice sounded to Leona like that of an American.

  “Yes, Mister Kidd,” responded a second voice with a distinctive Taiwanese accent. “This is what I am trying to investigate. Now, Mr. Chang, clarify for me just how these two women were related to you?”

  Chang spoke. “The first one was Ms. Lillian Yang, my executive assistant and receptionist. Her office is right in front of this one. We passed it on the way in.”

  “Is this the body we found on the ground Friday morning, a few minutes before one o’clock?”

  “Yes. She must have thrown herself out of one of our windows,” said Chang.

  “Oh, I don’t think so, Mr. Chang,” said the police investigator. “Not from this office, anyway. Her body was found on the other side of the building. What window might she have used? Is it not the case that all windows in Taipei 101 are sealed? Were any windows here on Floor 83 tampered with?”

  “I don’t know,” muttered Chang.

  “We will investigate this. Now, tell me about the other woman.”

  “You know who it is,” continued Chang. “Katia Rui. You told me your department is investigating her murder.”

  “That’s right. She died by knife wound at the Lungshan Temple shortly after 12:00 o’clock noon on Friday. There were many witnesses. Now, this is just about the same time that Ms. Yang fell to her death, is that right?”

  “You know better than I do,” said Chang.

  “Mr. Kidd?”

  “Sorry, Officer, I am just learning about this for the first time. I met Lily Chang. I liked here a lot. But, I simply don’t know this second woman. I don’t recall having met her.”

  “You didn’t meet her, Buzz,” said Chang. “Ms. Rui worked in a different office. One down the hall. She was a lab tech, a messenger from this office to our various lab sites around the city.”

  “Was she carrying a message when she was killed, Mr. Chang?” asked the investigator.

  Chang paused. “No, she was taking an early lunch hour.”

  Leona sensed that one of the three was now sitting on the desk top, one foot still on the floor. Most likely, President Chang. She held her breath.

  “Gentlemen,” said Chang addressing his guests. “Perhaps we should continue this conversation in the reception room. We can make ourselves comfortable there. I might even be able to find us some tea.”

  “I’m ready for breakfast,” said the American.

  Leona heard them depart, closing the president’s door. She breathed a long sigh of relief. Now, I have to make my decision immediately. She stood up and looked around once again. She reached down into her left shoe and removed the pouch containing two micro-chips, the good copy plus the one with the altered circuit. She unwrapped the good copy and placed it on the computer keyboard above and between the F5 and F6 keys. She grabbed a Sharpie from the pen cup and removed the cap. She placed the open Sharpie lengthwise along the top of the F keys with the point only a eighth of an inch from the prize. She dropped the cap into the pen cup.

  Now what? Leona studied the second door, the one to the left. She opened it and stepped into a small vestibule with three more doors. She closed the president’s office door behind her. She opened the door to the left just a crack, then all the way. It was a toilet room, complete with wash basin and shower. After closing the bathroom door she opened the center door, revealing a cozy boudoir with a bed, plasma TV screen, and a wet bar. After closing this up she turned to the third door, the one on the right. She opened it just a crack, enough to peak. It led back to the reception room. The far end, away from the reception desk and central doors. Leona listened.

  The men were chattering again; but Leona could also hear a woman’s voice. Eventually Chang explained to the other two in English. This new woman had graciously agreed on short notice to come into the office and serve as receptionist for the day, or longer if necessary. He would personally train her, but only after the three had eaten breakfast together and satisfied the gentleman from the police department. Would she mind remaining in the office for an hour until he could return? Yes, of course, she would be willing. He told the temporary receptionist to keep the front doors closed until 8:00. Soon all was quiet.

  Leona slipped through the door and silently sat herself on one of the lounge chairs. She picked up her cell phone to text Angie in Michigan. The young woman behind the reception desk looked around her new space and gave the desk chair an experimental spin. When her eyes caught sight of Leona, she was startled. Seeing that her guest was an American, she spoke in English, “Have you been waiting long?”

  Chapter 26

  Taipei

  “You’re done here in Taipei,” Lee told Lee over mid-morning tea. “You can book your flight back to the states. But, please, one more assignment.”

  “I’m done?” quizzed Leona. “That was pretty easy. You brought me all the way across the Pacific just to return a chip?”

  “Actually, Lee,” continued Bernard, “there’s much more to it.”

  “I thought so.”

  “The reason Holthusen called you for this assignment has more to do with the long term agenda. Your background in biology could be valuable. We thought you should start with us here in Taipei so you could get introduced to the players in this game. We fear this Transhumanism game might take quite a while to play out. We wanted you in with the starting gun.”

  “So, just who are these players?”

  “Well, you’ve already met two, sort of. You just overheard Lionel Chang and Buzz Kidd. These are the two techie geniuses. They’re committed Transhumanists, and they know their stuff. With these two as pilots, IA will take off at Mach One speed. Right now, as we’re speaking, they’re conducting a meeting at TaiCom with an international group of supporters, both techies and funders. What I predict is that they’ll lay the groundwork for their first clinical trials. What I further predict is that somehow the clinical trials will involve the espionage community. We’ll have to wait for details. Wait and watch. That’s my job. And, it’s going to be your job too, even if you’re only a part-time spy.”

  “What about the two dead women? I only got to know Katia for a few minutes; but I came to like her immediately. I find her murder most unsettling. And, is there any connection with that poor woman who fell from high up Taipei 101?”

  “The second woman was Lillian Yang, Chang’s executive assistant and just as knowledgeable as her boss regarding the chip. As of now, I don’t see any connection between the two murders. And, they were both murders. Rule out suicide.”

  “Whom do you suspect?”

  “Two possibilities. On the one hand, I suspect someone is trying to torpedo Chang’s operation, steal the chip, and divert its use. But, on the other hand, Chang himself might be responsible for the hit on Katia Rui. It’s quite likely that he discovered the chip was missing, deduced who had taken it, and ordered her immediate elimination. If this is the case, then it doesn’t matter where you left the chip in Chang’s office. He will simply think it had been moved, most likely by someone inside other than either Rui or Yang. He might even breathe a sigh of relief, thinking that no one outside TaiCom has seen it. We can only hope.”

  “But the Chang possibility does not explain the death, I mean murder, of his assistant.”

  “No, it does not, unless Chang suspected collusion between the two women. We can only speculate. Regardless, the chip is back where it belongs and we have done our job. At least for the time being.”

  “For the time being only?”

  “Time never stops for us. Here’s what you need to know. Thursday evening week after next a meeting
will take place in Silicon Valley, just south of San Francisco. It’s a follow up to what’s happening at TaiCom as we speak. NASA will host the meeting on behalf of a new joint venture between NASA Ames and a new institution, Transhumanist Technical University. Buzz Kidd is a big deficant at this so-called university. Somehow they’ve persuaded NASA scientists to throw in with them on shared research. I don’t know the details. I suggest that you show up to meet some of the principals. This knowledge might come in handy later, even though we can’t predict just how.”

  Leona smiled. “’Deficant’? I’ve never heard that word before. Is this Ph.D. level discourse?”

  “In common English, I mean ‘turd’.”

  “Thanks for the clarification. Back to this event. They certainly will not invite me into their strategy meetings?”

  “No, of course not. However, Thursday evening they’ll hold a reception. All the hot shits will be there. So will you. Simply shake hands, measure smiles, and get noticed. Didya hear me: get noticed! This is the way we’ll put money into the bank, so to speak. I’m giving you your official invitation and security clearance right now.” Bernie slipped an envelope across the table. Leona placed it into her S bag.

  “Can you find your way to O’Hare, to San Francisco, and to NASA?”

  “That I can do, for the sake of Brussels. I’ve got an old friend who works at NASA. I’ll try to connect.”

  “One more thing, Lee,” said Bernie. “You didn’t by accident take one of the viable chips, did you?”

  Leona coughed briefly into her left hand. The two smiled, shook hands, and went their separate ways.

  Chapter 27

  Taipei

  Lionel Chang was holding up the micro-chip in his right hand as the group assembled in the TaiCom conference room. It was housed in a fresh transparent plastic pouch. “I’ll pass it around so each of you can feel the future in your own hands.”