by R J Johnson
The elevator doors opened into the dark room. Tate moved quickly through the laboratory, flipping switches to bring the lab to life.
Suddenly, he heard something stirring on the other side of the lab and Tate, whirled around quickly attempting to find where the sound was coming from.
“Mr. Kline?” Tate called out. “Hello?”
“Mr. Tate…”
The gravelly voice came over the connection and it startled Tate. Shaken, he watched the viewscreen become bright as Kline turned on the light next to him. Tate audibly gasped in horror when he saw his boss.
“Mr. Kline, sir! You’re bleeding!” Tate rushed over to his boss, but was stopped when Kline held up a hand. Tate swallowed nervously and glanced around. “Are you all right?”
Kline’s face was a mess of hamburger and peeling red flesh. He picked up his tumbler of scotch and drank the amber liquid slowly, as it dribbled out the side of his destroyed face.
“The world is a dangerous place,” Kline hissed. His voice was much rougher than it had been merely hours ago.
Tate looked on in wonder at his boss, wondering exactly how he was still standing, let alone sitting there casually drinking scotch as if nothing were wrong.
“Stare at the nightmare that’s replaced my face if you must Mr. Tate, but if you continue to look so horrified, I will make your face match my own.”
Tate swallowed and averted his eyes, “Was it McCray?”
Kline grimaced hearing the man’s name. He stood and threw his tumbler of scotch toward his cowering assistant.
He turned, leaning over Tate. Geoffrey could smell the burned flesh that was around his bosses’ face and he nearly gagged, smelling the viscera.
“You guaranteed me you could kill him Mr. Tate. How are you coming with your assignment?”
Tate leaned back and nervously reached into his jacket pocket for his smartphone, “May I?”
Kline’s eyes narrowed and he nodded.
Tate removed the smartphone and opened it to the news sites he had been monitoring on the flight back. “Once you gave me the go-ahead, I contacted our friends in the national media and gave them McCray’s file. I added a few choice details as well. They’ll be saying that the man is the biggest threat to national security since bin Laden.”
Kline nodded, “And your results so far?”
Tate didn’t want to reply. It had only been a few hours since the story broke after all. Plus, the terrorist takeover at San Ellijo had been taking up all the oxygen in the room so far and the story hadn’t gotten the kind of traction he’d expected.
“The story’s starting to make its way through the blogs and local news stations. By this time tomorrow, McCray’s photo, along with a long list of his crimes against humanity will be everywhere. He’ll have nowhere to run. And if he does pop up, I’ll be notified immediately thanks to our partners at the NRO.”
Kline nodded and looked over the workbench in the lab. He approached it and laid out his right hand that held his stone of strength. He stared at it, and turned his hand over, his palm up. He looked closely at the ring and began pulling at the flesh around it. Tate watched in horror as Kline peeled part of the flesh out from underneath his ring.
There, a red sheet of skin, fluttered loose as a hook came out. Kline carefully pulled the hook out and drew it up next to the other stone. He placed the teal stone he’d taken from Joshua Tree next to his stone of strength and placed them neatly together.
“The stones are drawing us together Mr. Tate,” Kline said softly. “Whatever fate that awaits us is drawing closer and I intend to hold all twelve of the stones before I meet my moment.”
Kline continued to work on his finger as he threaded a thin wire through the hook on the ring and on top of the stone, securing it next to his other stone.
“Your moment, sir?” Tate asked.
Kline turned, and tried to smile, but with half his face gone, it looked more like something out of a haunted house.
“Every so often, a man will face a moment where they can change their destiny for the better. Some meet their moment sooner than others. Most people are so blinded by their own drama that they miss their chance to make an impact.
He returned to his work, pulling a second hook out from under his skin, and threading a second piece of wire through it. He pulled the three stones together on his fingers and they flashed as all they touched. Kline held out his hand, admiring his work. He turned back to Tate, who had been watching him in horror as Kline had performed surgery on himself.
“I do not miss my moments Mr. Tate,” Kline said, showing off his new ring.
There was a long silence between the two of them. Destinies and fates were all the types of things Tate never thought about. He was usually too busy with whatever tasks Mr. Kline gave him.
Besides, he was beginning to realize that the man standing opposite him was not the same man who had hired him long ago. This was a God conferring with mortals.
And Gods did not take kindly to their motives being questioned.
Tate shuddered and knew that he’d given up the right to debate whether it was right or wrong to follow Kline long ago.
“What do you need from me?”
Kline stared at him, his black eyes filling Tate with dread.
“I am owed a scalp Mr. Tate. It makes no difference to me if it is young Mr. McCray’s or your own. Either way, in forty-eight hours, I expect to be satisfied.”
“The process has begun,” Tate said quickly hoping to delay his bosses’ anger. “It shouldn’t be long before McCray’s in custody. When we know where he is, we’ll let the police do the heavy lifting and use our people to take his stones.”
Kline cocked his head, as if waiting for a pet to perform a trick.
Tate swallowed quickly, avoiding his bosses’ stare, “I’ll uhh… make some calls.”
“You do that Mr. Tate.”
Chapter Six
After hitching a ride with a talkative truck driver in Oceanside, the trio finally arrived back at the hotel in downtown San Diego later that night. Emily’s fiancé Professor Maxwell Collier had knocked over a hornet’s nest of law enforcement and it seemed as if there was an armed agent from one alphabet agency or another on every block.
The heavy police presence and near nuclear meltdown was all their trucker friend Albert wanted to talk about. When he got to the rumors of a dragon rampaging through the nuclear plant, Alex had a difficult time holding back a laugh. If the man only knew.
By the time the trio entered the five star hotel, they looked so disheveled and defeated after their adventures at the nuclear plant, a bellman moved to intercept them in the hotel lobby. It was only after showing him their keys that Alex managed to convince the man they weren’t homeless or drunk looking for a warm place to sit.
Alex escorted Christina and Emily to their rooms and they headed for their room. He moved to stop them, when Christina held up a hand.
“I know you think we need to do something about Scott right now. Well, we don’t. We need sleep. We need food, and most importantly, she -” Christina pointed to Emily, “needs some time so she can process watching her fiancé go nuts and getting himself killed thanks to that overeager billionaire of yours.”
“But...” Alex began to protest, but Christina grabbed his lips and prevented him from speaking.
“And I’m betting you haven’t gotten much sleep over the last few days either. Whatever Scott’s up to right now, it won’t do us any good to try and figure it out while our brains are fried. Get some rest and we’ll assemble early in the morning to figure out what’s what.”
He stood there for a second and thought about what she said. Sometimes the need to complete the mission ran roughshod over practical matters. Emily was no wilting lily, but any normal person would need to step back after what they’d been through, so Alex decided not to fight the issue. Best friends always knew best.
Christina appraised him for a moment, and then moved to grab Emily by
the shoulder. She inserted the plastic key and they moved wordlessly into the luxury suite.
The door closed behind them and for the first time in nearly three days, Alex found himself alone once again with his thoughts.
He turned and opened the door to the suite he’d been sharing with Scott and swiped his card, and stepping inside quickly, checking his traps to see if the room had been disturbed while they were out. Nothing had been disturbed. The hotel remained a safe location.
But for how long?
He looked at the unmade bed next to his. Scott never did like doing the little chores, Alex thought to himself, thinking of their time as roommates back at Stanford. Scott was brilliant, but he was also a slob. Something that Alex had to get used to, lest he lose a friend over unwashed dishes.
He stared at the bedspread and cursed himself for being so stupid. How could he be so irresponsible to let Scott use one of the stones? He’d seen what happened to Emily’s fiancé when he’d held one.
Alex withdrew the stone he’d taken from Collier’s body and stared at it, thinking about the power contained within. He flashed on what might have happened to the whole west coast as a result of the man’s insanity. Thirty million people put at risk because of his stupid bullheaded decisions.
And now, another stone was held by a wildcard. He didn’t think Scott would do anything as foolish as use it to take over a nuclear power plant to create chaos like Collier had. But then again, Collier was reportedly as sane as anyone else before he took possession of his mysterious fire stone in Peru.
What made him different? Why hadn’t he gone insane?
Alex felt for the healing stone his father gave him and took it out from underneath his shirt. He stared at them as he compared the two he had left.
The pair were identical. There was nothing to distinguish between them besides the color. The shape (curved like some sort of claw that had once belonged on a prehistoric beast) was the same, the weight (a few grams at most) was identical. The only difference between the two was apparently the powers it granted whoever held it.
He took off the necklace holding the stone that healed him from any injury and set it down next to the fire stone. He sat down on the bed opposite them and stared at them.
What are these stupid stones? Where did they come from? Why was I forced to carry them? All they’ve done is bring me pain!
Alex began trembling and he ran for the bathroom, barely making it to the bowl in time before emptying his entire stomach’s contents into it. He sat back and wiped his mouth, breathing heavily from the exertion.
He wasn’t the badass superspy Jason McCray right now. He was a scared ten year old who missed his friend and father.
He wasn’t even supposed to be here, Alex thought, resting his head against the doorjamb. This was supposed to be his vacation.
Alex closed his eyes. All he wanted was rest. The last seventy-two hours aside, he’d been on the run for the last few months, trying to stay one step ahead of Ash and his motley squad of mercenaries.
After the robbery of the C-130 had gone off without a hitch, they’d landed in the Atlantic where Ash inflated a portable raft. They took off their gear and began to put themselves back together. They still had a lot of work to do if they wanted to get away. The four other men who’d parachuted out of the plane with Alex and Ash, inflated rafts of their own.
Ash had told Alex they would get away with at least six billion dollars and looking at the size of the floating containers nearby led him to believe it was all there.
So much money bobbing innocently in the Atlantic, Alex thought to himself.
“Blackbeard’s wet dream,” Alex muttered. He had to appreciate the moment, no matter how bizarre it was.
“What was that?” Ash grunted from the other side of the raft.
Alex looked up from his work. They had been trying to wrangle the floating cargo containers close enough so they could lash them together for the last half hour, but it had been slow going in the middle of the cold Atlantic. The only thing that made it easy to spot the containers were the bright LED lights that had been affixed to the top of each container.
“I was thinking how Blackbeard would’ve been proud. Six billion and change with just one job. I’ll bet he never saw anything like that in his life terrorizing the seas,” Alex said. “It’s a pirate’s life for me…”
“Alex, now is not the time,” Ash said firmly. He struggled with the rope, and motioned for Alex to come help him, his patience clearly waning.
Properly rebuked, Alex swallowed and helped haul the rope Ash was struggling with, coiling it neatly in the middle of their raft. Ash stood, wobbling in the heavy seas and he held on to the container, hoping to stabilize it long enough so he could tie their raft to it.
Ash pulled out his radio mic and clicked, “SitRep if you please gentlemen.”
“Cargo four and five recovered,” a voice sounded in his earpiece. Alex turned the volume down, it seemed unnecessary now that they were far from the noisy engines of the C-130.
A second voice confirmed finding two other cargo containers leaving only one unaccounted for. Ash frowned and opened his equipment bag, fetching a small data pad.
“Neat, what’s that?” Alex asked, looking over the touchscreen device with interest.
“Nex-gen stuff,” Ash said mysteriously, touching several icons on the screen. “Makes my job a helluva lot easier I can tell you that.”
He played with the device for a few minutes before frowning and shaking his head. He clicked the mic, “I need an update on cargo six.”
“Lewis and Jones were in charge of securing Cargo six,” a voice came back over the radio. “After we lost them up on the FRED I don’t think their tasks were re-assigned. Cargo six may be lost.”
Ash swore loudly and Alex looked up in surprise. They managed to get away clean with nearly five billion dollars. No one was looking for them and with the mess Alex made of the cargo manifest, they’d be scratching their heads for weeks. So what if they missed one cargo container?
“Secure those containers!” Ash barked over the radio. “I want them locked down by the time our ride gets here.”
Ash switched off the radio and mumbled something Alex didn’t quite catch.
“What’s the big deal?” Alex asked, his eyebrow raised. “Did you take out a billion dollar line of credit?”
“You could call it that,” Ash said, sounding angry. Alex decided he didn’t want the answer to that.
“How long ‘til we get picked up?”
Ash sighed and set the tablet to the side, looking Alex directly in the eye. He stared at him until Alex felt uncomfortable. What was wrong with his friend? Why would he treat him like this?
“You and I need to get some things straight. Whatever life you thought was ahead of you twenty-four hours ago is over with.”
“Whoa guy!” Alex protested. “What the hell are you talking about?”
Ash didn’t say another word. He just lunged forward and grabbed Alex by the throat. His friend’s face looked serene, as if he was simply disciplining a family dog who’d just messed on the carpet.
“I need you to get your shit together soldier,” Ash hissed through his teeth, “I DO NOT have time to babysit your sorry ass.”
He released Alex’s throat and sat back, moving back to the GPS tracker he was using to track the cargo containers.
“What… what the fuck Ash?” Alex stammered. “Why…?” He couldn’t finish the sentence, so betrayed he was by his friend’s violence.
Ash looked back over at him, shaking his head sadly.
“I’m trying to help you Alex,” he said. “You need to understand that everything you are, everything that you are about to become, will all be a result of me, and me alone. I will be the only person who will keep you alive. And that only happens by listening to me and keeping your goddamn mouth shut. You’ve got some skills, and I plan on using them where appropriate.”
His eyes narrowed as he return
ed to his tablet, “But right now, I need you to shut the hell up, quit asking meaningless questions and let me do my job so maybe we can all get through the next week alive.”
Alex watched his friend in horror, wondering what the hell he had gotten himself into. For his part, Ash ignored Alex’s stare and continued typing quickly on his tablet. He picked up the earpiece and put it back into his ear.
“Are we sure there was no activation on the GPS for cargo six?” Ash asked the crew over the radio.
“We had an active signal from six for a few minutes, but it’s gone,” the voice over the radio said.
“Find it!”
“Sir, if I had to guess, it’s too late. It’s Davy Jones’s money now. I’m showing nothing on the scope other than the five we’ve confirmed.”
Ash cursed, and checked his chronometer again, “Danger Twelve is approaching and signaling they’re ready for pickup. You read them?”
“Five by five,” the voice returned.
“Proceed, I’ll see you in ten,” Ash took out the earpiece and turned back to the GPS hoping that the cargo container might resurface.
Alex didn’t know what was going on, but after everything he’d seen on the C-130 and Ash’s mysterious behavior was too much. Unless he got some real answers, he was getting off this ride. He could make contact with his CO and say he’d been pulled into something deep. There’d be consequences for his going AWOL obviously, but Alex had faith in the system.
Making his decision, Alex pulled out his sidearm and aimed the .45 caliber at Ash.
Ash turned back to Alex and was about to talk about their next step when he noticed the gun. He didn’t react. He just stared at him with a blank look on his face.
“Ash, I don’t know what’s going on, but I think it’s time you started talking. Last night you convinced me I was about to die if I didn’t follow you into this little folly of yours and I trusted you. I’ve always trusted you. Now you’ve clearly gone off the reservation and I think it’s time you explained a few things to me. Killing those flyboys? What the fuck man? Those were just kids!”
