‘Why me?’
‘Because you can provide the motivation I desire.’
Samson chuckled.
‘Something amusing, Colonel?’
‘You might say that.’
‘Do you care to enlighten us?’
‘Well, seeing as I couldn’t give a rat’s ass what you want or where you want it – and I’m damn sure I’m not going to do it – the fact that you think I can motivate others is pretty fucking amusing, yeah.’
Joiner sat back in smug satisfaction. ‘That’s where you’re wrong, Colonel. You see, you will help and you will do so as if the mission were your own.’
‘Is that so? I no longer care what happens to me – send me back to prison, kill me; in fact I welcome it over this bullshit, at least I won’t die of boredom.’
Joiner adjusted his spectacles. ‘I am aware that death has little meaning to you, your actions in Los Angeles made that abundantly clear. Although according to our findings, we are the intelligence service after all, it seems we’re aware of some details that have eluded the FBI and LAPD.’
‘And what’s that?’
‘That the FBI agent you abducted, and who ended up as your captor, is in fact your flesh and bone, a daughter, correct?’
♦
Joiner watched Samson with interest as the man struggled with the information he’d just received.
The colonel’s blazing eyes held Joiner’s as if he could burn him into ashes with a stare. A roar of fury erupted from his lips and he thrashed violent, the vertical slab holding him swaying in response.
Joiner stepped back as Myers moved in with a tranquiliser gun. With a hiss of gas the sedative entered Samson’s arm, leaving a circle of red on his skin. Seconds later his motion calmed.
Joiner looked at Myers. ‘I need a moment alone with the Colonel.’
Myers shook his head. ‘Sir, I—’
‘That’s an order, Agent.’
Myers held his ground, before conceding defeat under his director’s unwavering gaze. After he’d left the room Joiner turned his attention back to his prisoner, who watched him like a shark eyed its next meal.
‘Colonel, this was not my idea. In fact, I advised the Committee against such action. They insisted, however; after seeing your show in LA, they wanted to utilise your talents. They instructed me they would kill your daughter if you didn’t comply with their wishes. All they want is the woman, preferably alive, but most of all they want the pendant. Bring them the pendant and they guarantee your daughter won’t be harmed.’
A drip of drool fell from the corner of Samson’s mouth. ‘Who is the Committee?’ he said, his words slow.
‘They are the power behind everything, the new ruling order. The global elite, half hide in plain sight and the other in the population’s blind spot. They control the media, education, the financial system … everything is geared to their future success, everything.’
‘I know—’
‘You know?’
‘—about the asteroids.’
Joiner was surprised, but it put Samson’s past actions into perspective. ‘Steiner told you?’
Samson nodded. ‘I gave him no choice. I want … I want my daughter here, safe haven in Sanctuary.’
Joiner gave a bob of his head. ‘A fair request – done.’
‘One … condition.’
‘Name it.’
‘Who is to carry out the order for—’
‘Who is tasked to kill your daughter?’ Joiner could have crowed, but he remained aloof and full of gravitas. ‘Have you heard of S.I.L.V.E.R., Colonel?’
He nodded.
‘Their leader has been given the task; he seems to revel in such work.’
Samson, his fervour fighting off the effects of the drug, strained forward. ‘Tell me.’
‘His name is Ophion Nexus.’
Chapter Twenty Three
‘Colonel,’ Joiner said, ‘you will be working alongside this man, along with his team. The best course of action will be for you to find this woman and return the pendant to this base. Harming Ophion will be counterproductive to your cause.’
‘What about after I have the woman?’
‘That’s for you to decide.’
Samson, returning to clarity, gave a grim smile. ‘Says the snake of snakes.’
‘Why would I lie? I sent Myers away so I could tell you the truth about the Committee. If I was behind this I’d hardly let you go – like I’m about to – arm you to the teeth, put an army behind you, and then offer up one of our best operatives. It would make no sense. I’m your best chance to keep your daughter alive, save from yourself. I’m not the enemy, despite what you may think of me.’
Samson’s mouth twisted into a leer. ‘We shall see.’
‘We shall.’ Joiner called Myers back in.
The CIA operative came to stand by Joiner’s side.
Joiner waved a hand. ‘Remove the colonel’s restraints.’
Myers looked dubious.
‘Now,’ Joiner said.
Myers eyed Samson who glared back at him. ‘At least let me sedate him again.’
Joiner sighed. ‘Very well.’
Myers produced the same dispenser and sent another shot into Samson’s arm.
When the colonel’s head dropped, Myers called six of his agents into the room, ensuring they had weapons drawn and Samson in their sights. With a final glance at his boss, he unclipped the straps and released the chains binding Samson’s limbs.
Samson’s hand snaked out to grab a shocked Myers round the throat before dragging him into his vice-like grip.
The CIA agents advanced as one, shouting at Samson to release their leader while Joiner lurched to his feet. ‘Let him go, Colonel, don’t forget your daughter!’
‘Inject me again,’ Samson said, his lips pressed against Myers’ ear, ‘and I’ll rip you a new mouth.’ He thrust the agent away from him, making him stumble. In his hand he held Myers’ sidearm.
Samson turned on Joiner and moved forward with menace. ‘Seems like you need a stronger sedative, Director.’
Myers seized a weapon from an agent and aimed it at Samson’s head. Joiner held up a hand to halt him.
‘If my daughter dies, Joiner, you die.’
‘Her life is in your hands, Colonel, not mine.’
Samson held his ground before glancing at the array of guns pointed in his direction.
Hesitating a moment longer, Samson relented and held out the gun, grip first, which Myers snatched back from him.
Joiner moved closer to the irate SFSD commander. ‘Colonel, you will have every resource from this base available to you, resources that make USSB Steadfast look like a thrift shop. Whatever you want, it’s yours. Manpower, weapons, anything. Find this woman and retrieve the pendant, that’s all you need to focus on, that’s all any of us needs to focus on.’ Joiner produced a small container from a pocket and held it out for Samson to take.
‘We went to a lot of trouble to bring you here,’ Joiner said, ‘don’t let that effort go to waste.’ He gestured to the open door where a Terra Force commando waited. ‘Your men are ready, we debrief in eight hours, you ship out in twelve.’
Samson accepted the offering and flipped open the pouch. He looked at Joiner in suspicion before extracting a small red pill, which he placed in his mouth. Then, without a backward glance, he stalked away.
♦
Joiner watched the bulky form of Samson disappear into a corridor. ‘What happens when the medication wears off, will he revert to the same state?’
Myers shrugged. ‘Your guess is as good as mine. The lab techs said it would normalise extreme psychosis and trauma, I didn’t ask what would happen afterwards.’
Joiner collected his overcoat and pulled on his soft leather gloves. ‘He won’t get a chance to turn; he won’t leave Sanctuary Proper alive. I’ve taken measures. He knows too much.’
‘About what?’
‘Everything,’ Joiner said. ‘He knows too much
about everything.’
Chapter Twenty Four
Civilian traffic in USSB Sanctuary’s New Park district parted like the red sea as the flashing lights of military police vehicles bore down on them from behind. Above, unmanned aerial drones aided their progress, ensuring pedestrians were diverted and traffic signals turned to green. Escorted in the centre of this twenty strong, fast moving motorcade was a cluster of five sinister SUVs, grills snarling like fierce demons and blacked out windows hiding the occupants within. In the back of the longest of these aggressive vehicles sat GMRC Intelligence Director Malcolm Joiner, who gazed out at the simulated dusk produced by the enormous dome that encased the U.S. subterranean base’s top level.
More road signs flashed by and the scenery altered. Soldiers lifted barriers on a blockade and the cars bumped over a lip in the road before hurtling into a low-lit tunnel, its six lanes empty in both directions. Still in formation, the high speed vehicular caravan stormed on, the roar of hybrid engines reverberating through the large downward spiralling road.
Moments later they emerged into a bright chamber, once full of civilian residencies but now turned into a massive staging area for U.S. Army personnel. Drones hovered, floodlights shone, trucks manoeuvred and troops assembled. Joiner had shaken the nest and the termites had swarmed.
Powering on, the military led procession slipped into single file, the lead truck whooping its siren in warning. More barriers raised and they thundered into a narrow tunnel without slowing, a whoosh of sound accompanying each vehicle as it flew by. Down and down they drove through this dark passage before light dazzled again. A glimpse of another chamber either side, full of activity, disappeared in a flash as another black hole consumed them.
A minute later their progress slowed, the darkness replaced by a slow creep of fluorescence. The lead vehicles peeled away into service roads while the SUVs swept into a massive, well-lit atrium. Reaching journey’s end, they glided to a stop and formed up in a line on a circular driveway in front of a futuristic building full of glass walls, shiny steel and many floors.
Malcolm Joiner’s door opened and he stepped from his limousine. He looked at the expansive main entrance to the building and the large sign that hung above it:
Joiner walked forward with his agents by his side. Inside, the building heaved with military and SED personnel rushing about their business in preparation for the mission to come.
Two men waited for Joiner by the main doors. One he knew as Dresden Locke, the SED’s grey-haired civilian commander. The other was a taller, younger man Joiner recognised from Sarah Morgan’s dossier of crimes. He frowned.
‘Director,’ Locke said as he approached.
Joiner removed the sunshades from his spectacles. ‘Is everything ready?’
‘It is. Everyone is assembled as requested apart from the S.I.L.V.E.R. contingent, who are still en route.’
‘Of course,’ Joiner said, while wishing Ophion a long and tortuous death. His eyes flicked over to the other SED man, then back to Locke. He gestured Myers forward. ‘Agent, arrest this civilian.’
The man stepped back in shock while Locke moved to block Myers’ path. ‘Director, what are you doing?!’
‘This man,’ Joiner jabbed a finger at his target, ‘is the reason we’re all here, the reason for this damn mess.’
‘Riley is no more to blame than I am,’ Locke said. ‘It was the military who sanctioned Sarah Morgan’s employment at the SED, it was the military who let her out of custody and the military who failed to track her movements. If you want to arrest someone, arrest General Stevens.’
Joiner put a hand on Myers arm, stopping his advance. ‘You seem to forget, Commander Locke, your Riley Orton here admitted to showing Ms. Morgan around the vaults, which enabled her to carry out her infringements. His carnal relations with her also exposed SED, GMRC and U.S. security, leading to the theft of his multi-function card, the death of a colleague and the destruction of a shuttle track. This man is a liability, an accomplice, and the fact he remains on your staff continues the culture of denial and general incompetence that has resulted in this storm of shit you see around you now. If that isn’t reason enough I don’t know what is.’
Locke held his ground. ‘Riley is a top asset, Director; if you want this woman found he’s your best option.’
‘Is he, indeed? Is he not also the progeny of General Ellwood?’ He looked at Riley. ‘It seems defective decision-making runs in your family.’
Riley didn’t know what to say, but Locke continued in his defence. ‘He knows her better than anyone here. He helped train her. He knows how she thinks. He’s also one of our best Deep Reach team leaders, who will be critical in leading the military into Sanctuary. The more SED personnel you have, the more military personnel we keep alive. But if you want to damage your chances of success by all means arrest him.’ He stood aside.
♦
Riley Orton tensed, waiting for the GMRC Director of Intelligence to respond to Locke’s justification. The agent identified as Myers stood waiting for orders, handcuffs at the ready.
The director stared at Riley with dispassionate eyes. The Deep Reach team leader shifted in discomfort as the silence continued and he glanced at Locke, who remained resolute.
‘Very well,’ the director said. ‘But both of your tenures will be under review within the month, which will be dependent on the success of this mission. Fail, and your chances of continuing your work will be nil. Succeed, and things are more likely to go in your favour.’
Riley breathed a sigh of relief and he could tell Locke felt the same way. With the moment having passed, the director moved on into the SED with his agents in tow.
Locke looked at Riley. ‘Remember what I told you, this man answers to no one. Be careful what you say and how you say it and we all might get out of this in one piece.’
Riley nodded and heard Locke mumble, ‘literally’ as they followed the agents inside before leading them up a set of escalators and on into the building’s main complex.
♦
Little time passed before Riley found himself standing in the Exploration Division’s central command suite. The room housed a thirty foot wide circular desk, its surface acting as a digital screen and holographic projector.
Around him, grim-faced men and a number of women waited for the meeting to begin, dim lighting casting deep shadows across their faces. Locke stood to Riley’s right, speaking in low tones to General Stevens, who was on his other side. The general held his customary Cuban cigar and the smoke wafted around him like a personal cloak. His usual demeanour of assured arrogance seemed muted, his brash manner quelled, perhaps by the presence of the high ranking individual from the GMRC’s all powerful Directorate, the director who’d just threatened to have Riley arrested. Stevens shot the tall, reptilian intelligence director the occasional nervous look while fiddling with a thick bandage that covered the palm of one hand.
A few of Riley’s SED colleagues conversed with one another in a huddle off to his left, most of them team leaders for the Deep Reach survey teams who would lead the chase for Sarah out in Sanctuary Proper. The thought of the woman he’d come to care for during their time together sent a host of emotions swirling round his head. In the few months he’d known her she’d evolved from a colleague to a friend to a lover. Now he didn’t know what she was, apart from being wanted by seemingly everyone in a position of power. He knew one thing, he still cared for her, but her inexplicable actions had thrown him into a spin and into a world he didn’t know. Everything had changed and he had no idea how to regain control.
Riley turned his attention back to the room, forcing such feelings down lest his distraction become obvious. Across from him various armoured Special Forces Subterranean Detachment commandos, the fearsome SFSD, or Terra Force as they were known, stood in patient silence, the stripes on their armour indicating various ranks from captain through to colonel. Riley recognised most of them, used to, as he was, working alongside them out in
the field. And then there were the GMRC agents, many of them garbed in tactical gear, apart from a couple, including Agent Myers, who stood next to his boss like the right hand of God.
The twin doors to the office swished open and everyone turned as three people entered.
The chrome armour of the newcomers glinted under the room’s diffused lighting and at their head strode a giant of a man. Built like an ox and with eagle-like eyes, he exuded strength and power, his long black hair tied back into a tight plait that draped down over one shoulder. The faces of his two companions remained concealed behind fierce helmets that matched their metallic suits; both, however, were female, the obvious curves in their armour leaving much to the imagination.
The GMRC director moved to the fore, giving the three late shows no hint of welcome, and switched on the desk screen, its light bathing those around it in campfire-like illumination. The room went quiet and he waited until he had everyone’s full attention.
‘For those of you who don’t already know, my name is Malcolm Joiner. I’m the U.S. and GMRC Intelligence Director, a member of the GMRC Directorate and, for anyone who falls short of my expectations, your worst nightmare.’ The director let that information sink in, his eyes raking the room before he continued. ‘You all know why we’re gathered here.’
Agent Myers pressed a couple of buttons and sent duplicated images of Sarah cascading round the table so each person had an image of her to view. In the centre, video footage played in various overlapping graphical windows. Footage as Sarah trained with Riley in the SED, as she ran through the corridors to the Smithsonian’s vaults, as she fled the base under a hail of gunfire. Riley dragged his gaze away.
‘We are here to find this woman,’ Malcolm Joiner said, ‘one Sarah Morgan. We are also here to ensure this facility’s integrity is maintained, along with the integrity of the entire GMRC subterranean programme, and to return priceless objects of scientific importance back into the hands of the U.S. government, which we all serve.
2041 Sanctuary (Let There Be Light) Page 16
