Humanity Unlimited 1: Liberty Station

by Terry Mixon

  Jess eyed the two guards that Harry had sprung on her with disfavor. They seemed unmoved. Sandra Dean didn’t look all that intimidating, but Jess knew she was a very capable sniper and all around badass. Allen Ellison towered over both women, muscled and tough.

  Yet he deferred to Sandra, which told Jess all she needed to know about which was the more dangerous of the two.

  Both wore the same kind of camouflage uniform that they’d worn in the jungle, a liberty bell patch with the numeral 1 on their left shoulders. Instead of allowing them to blend in, it made them stand out. As did the pistols on their hips and the automatic weapons that hung in front of their chests.

  “Don’t you think this is a little over the top?” Jess asked Sandra. “We’re in the middle of a hotel under heavy guard. There’s no one here but us.”

  The wiry woman shrugged. “That’s assuming we can trust the security, which I don’t. If I think one of them is making a move on you, I’ll cap him.” She smiled sweetly at the uncomfortable looking man in a suit that trailed them. He’d easily overheard every word.

  “That’s harsh.” Jess thought Harry was being overprotective, but she couldn’t blame him. His brother had almost gotten her twice. The memory of drawing her borrowed pistol and shooting the hell out of the jungle trying to hit that bastard would haunt her for a while.

  Which reminded her. “I need your advice,” she said to Sandra. “I appreciated Harry loaning me the pistol, but I’m not going to cart something like that around on my hip. Can you recommend something smaller that I can carry in my purse?”

  “Mexico is pretty restrictive on weapons unless you have a permit. Especially concealed. If they’d have caught us in the jungle, I’m sure Guatemala would’ve locked us up, too. You’ll need your boss to make some calls.”

  The Rainforest security guy took the hint and called someone on his radio. After a brief conversation, he looked back at Jess. “My boss knows someone who can expedite a permit. He’s making some calls.”

  “Thanks.”

  Sandra darted her eyes toward the ladies room they were just passing. Jess didn’t need to go, but she took the hint and angled over toward it. “I’ll just be a couple of minutes.”

  The mercenary woman followed her in without a word to her companion.

  Jess frowned a little. “Are you going to follow me into the ladies room every time I have to go?”

  “Duh. It’s a great ambush spot. The bad guys can literally catch you with your pants down.”

  Sandra cleared the bathroom stalls. One had an occupant. The mercenary banged on the door. “Security. Wrap it up and move along.”

  “I’m busy,” a woman said acerbically. “You’ll just have to wait.”

  “If you’re not done in sixty seconds, I’m coming in to help you with that.” She keyed her radio. “One extra in the bathroom. Stand by.”

  The woman in the stall sighed and finished quickly. She washed her hands and glared at Sandra as she exited.

  The mercenary was apparently immune to embarrassment. She finished searching the stall and called the all clear to Allen.

  “Now, let’s go over a few ground rules,” she told Jess. “First, you don’t pull this gun unless you really need to. Allen and I are here to provide security. If there’s trouble, you do exactly what we tell you to do, which will not be to shoot at anyone. Clear?”

  Jess nodded. “I only used the pistol last time because I didn’t have a choice.”

  “I heard. You got a piece of him, right?”

  “Rex found a little blood, so I think so. It must not have been anything important.”

  “That’s good. It’d have been better if you shot the bastard in the head, but take what you can get. I’ve heard stories about cops and thugs emptying their pistols at one other while standing a few feet apart where they missed every shot. Adrenalin screws up your perception, so you have to train hard to overcome it.

  “Rule two, if you draw your weapon, shoot to kill. Do not shoot to wound. That never ends well. If you need a salve for your conscience, surprisingly few people die from gunshot wounds unless the shooter is really good or lucky. Odds are that anyone you cap will make it to the hospital and survive the experience. Don’t give the enemy any advantage. Clear?”

  “Yes. Don’t draw unless I have to, only draw if I intend to kill someone, and then shoot to kill.” Her stomach roiled a little at the cold-bloodedness. A few days ago, she’d never have considered anything like this. Her worldview was changing in ways she didn’t really like.

  Sandra looked her in the eyes for a moment, and then nodded. “Good enough.” She unclipped her rifle and set it on the counter. She then tugged her shirt up, revealing a black bra with a pistol butt poking out from beneath it.

  “Seriously?” Jess asked. “You have a gun attached to your bra?”

  The mercenary grinned. “Last place you’d expect to see one, right? The holster snaps around the center between my tits. Guys never see past them to what they’re hiding. Boobs of death.”

  Sandra unsnapped the holstered weapon and gestured for Jess to lift her blouse.

  “You’re more stacked than I am, which is a good thing for keeping something like this hidden,” Sandra said as she attached it to Jess’ bra. “This keeps the pistol under your breasts horizontally so that you can lift your shirt and draw. The gun comes free with a good tug. You’ll want to practice with the weapon unloaded. I want you to be able to draw from a dead sleep.”

  “You want me to go to bed armed?”

  “No, but you need to get the muscle memory in there. In a crisis, you’ll do what you’ve trained to do. You want your first response to be the right one, especially when someone is trying to kill you.”

  Once the holster was in place, Sandra pulled the pistol free and unloaded it. It looked very much like the one Harry had loaned her, though a little smaller.

  “This is a Glock subcompact 9mm,” Sandra said. “The one you had in the jungle is its big brother. You have ten rounds in the magazine and one in the pipe. I have a spare magazine that can go in your purse. Twenty-one rounds total. Most confrontations take place inside of ten feet and are over in seconds. That should be enough ammo.

  “We’ll be training you more on how to use this later, but it should make you feel safe enough for the moment. You’ll be self-conscious for a while, but no one will see it under your blouse. Hell, they might not even find it during a pat down if they cop a feel. Pretend it isn’t there. If this isn’t to your taste, we can go shopping for a different kind of holster or gun later.”

  “I don’t want to take your stuff. I need to buy my own.”

  Sandra shrugged. “You can buy me some new toys later. A girl can’t have too many hand cannons. Remind me to show you my .50 BMG single shot pistol.”

  “BMG?”

  “Big Mutherfracking Gun.”

  Jess shook her head. She’d never understand some people.

  They walked through loading and unloading the pistol safely. Then Sandra put it in the holster unloaded, Jess slid her blouse down, and she practiced drawing it a few times. The pistol came free surprisingly cleanly, though it did feel odd exposing herself a little to get at it. She supposed the distraction was a plus.

  She examined herself closely in the mirror. She didn’t see the gun at all.

  “It’s not exactly the most comfortable thing, but I suppose I’ll get used to it.”

  Sandra clapped Jess on the shoulder and handed her a spare magazine from her belt. “A gun is supposed to be comforting, not comfortable. You need to hit the can?”

  Jess shook her head and put the magazine into the side pocket of her purse. She could get to it quickly and it wouldn’t be popping out if she needed her brush. “I’m good. They’ve got to be wondering what we’re doing in here.”

  “Guys have no clue what women do in the bathroom. They might be impatient, but they’ll never guess the truth. Come on.”

  They came out of the restroom and Jess
headed down the hall with the group at her heels. “Sorry I took so long. I’d like to go see the restoration specialists.”

  The Rainforest guard stepped ahead of them. “The doctors are in a suite on the sixth floor. This way, please.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  Harry walked into the head of his father’s security forces’ office with a chip on his shoulder and two armed guards at his back. His father’s, not his.

  The man across the desk from him eyed Harry for a few seconds. “Wally, close the door on your way out.”

  The guard in question, who looked like a boxer that had taken a few too many shots to the nose, looked at Harry uncertainly. “You sure?”

  “I’ll yell if I need you,” the man’s boss said.

  Harry waited for the two men to leave and stood next to the bookcase, ignoring the chair set out in front of the desk. He wasn’t going to play these head games. He’d play his own.

  The selection of books looked professional, most relating to the security industry. The ones that didn’t fit that meme were thrillers of one kind or another.

  He allowed the silence to go on. That, too, was a power game. People abhorred silence. They wanted to fill it. Patience and keeping your mouth shut often gave one an advantage. He’d wait for hours, if need be.

  As he’d expected, the other man spoke first.

  “I’m John Cradock, Mister Roger’s head of security. I want to start this meeting off by making it clear that I’m in command of the operations around here. I don’t give a shit if my boss is your dad or not. You got that?”

  Harry took one of the thrillers off the shelf and read the back cover. A military thriller. Snipers and terrorists. Sandra might like to read it for laughs. He slid it into his pocket, turned toward the desk, and basked in the glow of the man’s dismay at his petty theft.

  “And, for my part,” Harry said, “I don’t give a shit that you don’t give a shit. My father can go to hell and you can escort him there. That said, someone I do care about needs this heist to go off without a hitch. Unless you have a lot more experience than I expect at this kind of thing, I’m going to be calling the shots.”

  The way the man was glaring, it was a wonder that the books behind Harry didn’t burst into flames. “That isn’t going to happen.”

  “Then we’re done here. You can explain to your boss why I’m pulling out and he can flap in the wind. Or we can work out a mutually agreeable plan. I have years of experience getting into places that I’m not meant to be and taking things that other people don’t want to give up. People, mostly, but we guard the ones we love the best.”

  Cradock ran his hand through his hair. “Shit. I don’t know you and I’m the one responsible for this mission. If it fails, I’m going down for it.”

  “Then let’s make sure that doesn’t happen. We’ll go over your plans and I’ll make suggestions. I’ll have almost a dozen spec ops teams here in two days, every one of them with experience being on the sharp end. Surely you and I can come up with a plan to use them effectively once we’ve gotten past this pissing contest.”

  “Shit. Fine.” He pounded on the keyboard with his thick fingers and a street map came up on the screen across from the desk.

  “This is the satellite view of the target. It’s an industrial park on the outskirts of Paris. BenCorp owns the entire park. Why they built in that cesspool, I’ll never know. The outer buildings are empty. The central building is where they designed and built the reactor.

  “I imagine they’ll bring in other tenants after the secret project is complete. Or maybe things will go so bad that they’ll abandon it. Some parts of Paris seem to be on fire 24/7 these days.”

  The map showed how isolated the target was. Fences topped with razor wire surrounded the facility. Based on the markings, guard teams heavily patrolled the grounds. The public wouldn’t get within a thousand feet of the research facility. Not even the terrorists virtually running Paris these days.

  “Where are the guard posts?”

  “There are a dozen along the perimeter and roving patrols all over the place. Random times and patterns. Dogs, bomb-sniffing robots, and automatic weapons. They’re ready to repel the strongest attack force.”

  Harry nodded. “But you’ve found a weak spot.”

  “Right.” Cradock added a layer to the image. “Sewers. BenCorp has them wired, but we’ve spent the last six months hacking the security protocols. We’ll be able to bypass the alarms and slip inside their perimeter when the time comes. The tunnels have a spur that services the target building. We’ll be inside it with no one the wiser.”

  “If you believe that, you’re an idiot.”

  Cradock bared his teeth. “You don’t know me and you don’t know how carefully we probed this thing. It’s a real weak spot.”

  “It’s a trap. My mother is like a spider. She likes people to think they’ve gotten one over on her, right up until the bear trap snaps shut on their hand. There’s no way she’d leave something basic like that unprotected.”

  “I just said it was protected. We’ve spoofed all the security monitors. I had a team probe the sewers all the way to the basement of the target building.”

  “I’m sure you did. And when your teams come in force, something you never saw coming would blow the shit out of you. I have a genius at security on my team. Let him go over what you have. If he agrees that my mother is slipping into dementia, fine and good. If not, you don’t lose dozens of men.”

  “Fine,” Cradock said unwillingly. “Call him down. Use the desk phone. Cell traffic is blocked.”

  It only took a moment to call Jeremy Gonzales. Harry returned his attention to the security man when he finished explaining the situation. “Is that where the fuel is, too?”

  Cradock shook his head. “No. Mister Rogers has a factory in Northern Africa. They made deuterium-tritium pellets there for years. They have a large stockpile in storage. Unfortunately, the government collapsed and a warlord has taken over the area. He’s probably not aware of what he has under his nose, but there are militants all over the facility. They think it’s something they can use to make nuclear bombs.”

  Harry chuckled. “As if anyone sane would allow that to happen after Tel Aviv. Israel turned most of Iran into glowing craters. Good riddance. You’re right. That’s a solvable problem. We can focus on the tough nut first.”

  * * * * *

  Nathan paused the porn on his tablet and answered the call on his encrypted cell. “Mother.”

  “The women in your video are experts at restoring and safeguarding ancient artifacts. The kind of thing one finds in a Mayan pyramid. Or, I suppose, in an ancient spacecraft.”

  “Not exactly helpful. Your man on the inside isn’t able to get a bug into Harry’s room and I’ve seen no sign that he or the engineer are coming out any time soon. We’re just sitting here spinning our wheels.”

  “Perhaps not. I’ve heard that Harry is calling in his special operations strike teams. Some are on the way down to the spaceport right now. Your window to make any gains is short.”

  Nathan sat up abruptly. “He’s calling in his shooters? How many of them?”

  “How the hell should I know? All of them, as far as I can tell.”

  “Shit. Once they lock the hotel down with that kind of force, we won’t be able to do a damned thing. We need to go after them right now.”

  “Exactly my thought,” his mother said. “Except they’re not the most important thing in that building. If you can catch them, great. What I really want are the artifacts. I’m working with my people in Guatemala to take the sites away from Clayton, but he’s spent a prodigious amount of money. It won’t be easy, if it’s possible at all. We need to know what they’re looking at and get samples of it.”

  Nathan nodded thoughtfully. “We’ll go in just as the sun goes down. The other teams will be close to landing and their guard will be more relaxed. He only has one team here and they’re probably not guarding the artifacts. In and out.
We’ll need to evade the security response long enough to escape the area, though.”

  His mother smiled. The small picture didn’t do her justice. “I know just the right kind of distraction to give you the time you need. Call my man and get this rolling.”

  * * * * *

  The doctors had set up their lab in a large conference room. Jess didn’t recognize most of the equipment, but imagined they used it to stop the deterioration of delicate artifacts. The two women had their heads together over the book.

  They looked up as Jess and her entourage entered. Security was tight. There were two Rainforest guards outside and two inside, all in body armor and armed with automatic weapons. Clayton Rogers was taking security very seriously.

  Jess’ guard detail peeled off and took up spots against the wall opposite the Rainforest security team.

  “How are things going?” Jess asked.

  Paulette Young gestured toward the book. “This is amazing. The pages are made from a material somewhat like plastic, but almost as flexible as paper. It’s obviously much more durable. The pen used an ink that bonded with the pages. It’s quite ingenious. I hope the pen turns up.”

  “What about the writing itself? Has anyone looked into what language it might be?”

  “We haven’t had any luck identifying it yet. It’s written from left to right and isn’t similar to any lettering that I’m familiar with. Rachel scanned it in and we have a search of our offline database running now.”

  Rachel Powel gestured toward a computer. “We have samples of every known language on file. If it’s been used on Earth, we’ll find it.”

  “What about the tools?”

  “They seem to be made of the same material. We took a sample and sent it off to the lab. The tools don’t seem to have lost their tensile strength over the centuries. The only object that seems to have broken down is the satchel and even it has held together surprisingly well. I’m not sure there’s much for us to preserve, other than that.”

  “There are other…objects being brought in. You’ll probably need more space.”