Humanity Unlimited 1: Liberty Station

by Terry Mixon

  It turned out there was a mine under the area where the SUV had stopped, too. It tossed the vehicle into the air when the fuel tank detonated. All the windows on that side of the house shattered and the house alarm went off. Harry felt like he was in an action movie.

  As soon as things finished crashing to the ground, his people headed for the balcony. The driver opened fire and they cut him down. Reynolds wasn’t anywhere in sight. Maybe he was under the burning SUV. Or maybe he was just faster than his man at finding cover.

  A crash downstairs told him the guards had broken in. Time to exit stage left. He grabbed a charge and set the timer for one minute. He dropped it onto the floor inside the bedroom and made tracks.

  Even with an injured client, they were on the ground in seconds. They almost made it to the trees before someone fired on them from the balcony. Harry returned the favor and the man went down. He saw someone else in the room right before the explosive charge went off and blew that corner of the house to splinters.

  To say that explosions and gunfire got the BenCorp security people excited was something of an understatement. His team made it through the woods and carjacked a woman in a minivan. He left her tied up on the side of the road. He felt bad about that, but they needed her vehicle.

  He stripped down to his black tee shirt. Once everyone had hunched down out of sight, he drove sedately away from the chaos. He even waved at several security cars as they flew past.

  Once he reached the fence line, Harry gunned the minivan across the field and rammed the barrier. It was designed to slow people from getting in, not escaping, so they bounced over it. Security would know where they were now, but he couldn’t do anything about that.

  It took only a couple of minutes to get back to the warehouse. The number of sirens he heard in the distance told him that they’d caused quite the scene. His mother wouldn’t like having to explain exactly what had happened back there.

  Harry shooed the team toward the van that had brought them from the airport. “Back into civilian clothing. Leave anything incriminating in the minivan. Take Cruz and get going. I’ll meet you at the plane when I get Rex.”

  They didn’t want to leave him, but a cordon would go around the general area before too long. They needed to get clear. A couple of guys had a lot better chance of escaping unnoticed than a full combat team. Harry kept a pistol for defense and the smallest explosive charge he had.

  The cases and equipment were gone. The unnamed men had removed anything his people hadn’t used. The only sign they’d been there was the stolen minivan. It almost certainly had some of their DNA inside. The fastest and easiest solution was to burn it.

  It only took a moment to put the explosive charge on the gas tank and set it for twenty minutes. He grabbed the poor woman’s belongings and put them in a reusable shopping bag he found in the back. She was doing her part to save the environment. Good for her.

  He put his camo with the others’ discarded clothing and took a snapshot of the license plate. He’d do what he could to make up for the woman’s rough treatment later. The police cars that went shooting by paid him no attention as he walked away from the warehouse.

  Once he was clear, he called Rex on his cell. “Scout, Liberty Six. Status.”

  “Hey, man. I’m a little busy right now. Mind if I call you back in five?”

  “Give me a direction to head.”

  “Try north.”

  “Copy.”

  He’d need another vehicle to get them clear in a hurry. Harry didn’t feel like carjacking someone else, though. This was Chicago. They might shoot first.

  That’s when he spotted the motorcycle behind the drycleaners. A casual touch showed it hadn’t been there long. Hotwiring it was a quick proposition. Another expense for his father to pay when this was all over. He put the carjacked woman’s personal belongings into the saddlebags

  Harry put one of the helmets on, started the bike, and took off casually. It probably wouldn’t be long before the owner noticed it was gone, so Rex needed to hurry the hell up. With all the police in the area, they’d connect a stolen vehicle to the explosions fast.

  A few minutes later, he parked out of sight and called Rex again. His scout answered on the first ring.

  “There you are. I got you a hoagie. Where are we meeting?”

  “Can you talk?”

  “Not really.”

  “I’m on a motorcycle behind an office building.” He gave Rex the address. “I can be out front when you get here if you give me an ETA.”

  Rex passed the address on to someone else. “We’re just going out the gate. Man, there are cops and firetrucks everywhere. I hope it wasn’t terrorism. I hate terrorists. I’ll be there in a couple of minutes. Later.”

  Harry waited three minutes and drove around front. Rex was just getting out of a car. A pretty girl said something to him before driving off with a smile. He’d ditched his camo for executive wear. Where the hell had he found a suit?

  His scout waved at the woman and walked over to him. He had a white bag in his hand. “The drive’s in the bag with the hoagie. Man, you caused a shit storm.”

  “It’s a gift. Give me the drive and you can have the sandwich.”

  “Sounds like a fair trade. I hope we come back this way someday. My ride seemed nice. Invited me out for coffee. She’s single.”

  Harry tucked the drive into the saddlebags. “How do you do that?”

  “It’s my super power. Did you get Cruz out?”

  “Sure did. Let’s scram before the owner of the motorcycle gets everyone in an uproar. Put your helmet on so that the traffic cameras don’t get our faces.”

  He pulled into traffic and headed away from the BenCorp headquarters. The police will probably be very interested in the torture chamber and murdered woman. His mother would be furious.

  It was turning out to be a good day.

  * * * * *

  Jess flew low to stay off any curious radars and they reached the cargo ship just as the sun was beginning to set. Someone had cleared the bow, giving them enough space to land. A number of choppers from the raid circled and waited their turn. One was unloading bins as she joined the rest flying around the ship.

  One of the other helicopters pulled up beside her and the pilot got her attention. He pointed at her and held up his index finger. She took that to mean she was next up for landing.

  As soon as the cargo chopper took off, she cautiously approached the deck. A man waved two glow sticks at her. He had one in each hand and used them to guide her right down to the landing spot. When he crossed them in front of his legs, she heaved a sigh of relief, let the helicopter settle, and slowed the engine to idle.

  A man in a flight suit and helmet helped her out and took her spot. He lifted off as soon as everyone was clear.

  Sandra pulled her along as they followed a crewman to the tall control deck. Cradock was standing there waiting for them.

  “The warlord took out the jet’s crew and the guards I left behind,” he said grimly. “I’ll make him a special project in the very near future. I’m glad you managed to get clear and I’m sorry about your flight crew. It was damned lucky you could fly.”

  She felt a little hollow at his words. “It’s been a rough few days. What’s the plan now?”

  “The ship docks in Italy early tomorrow morning. We’ll get the fuel moved to a cargo plane and on its way by dawn. You’ll meet Harry in Paris tomorrow.”

  “My passport won’t have a valid entry stamp. Won’t someone freak out?”

  The security man shook his head. “I’ll get you stamped when we dock. The same woman who’ll get our cargo through will make sure you don’t have any issues.” He looked at his watch. “You should clean up and get some sleep. Things are going to be happening fast from now on.”

  “They’ve been coming fast and furious for a while,” she muttered. “A shower sounds good, though.”

  “The captain is loaning you his quarters. If you’ll follow this
young man, he’ll get you there.”

  A boy with curly black hair and bright eyes led them through a confusing maze of corridors and ladders. He bowed a little and opened the metal door for her.

  Sandra went in and cleared the room. It was small, but neat. The bathroom was actually clean.

  “Give me your clothes and I’ll see if I can get you something that fits,” Sandra said.

  Jess stripped down to her underwear and discovered that her phone had a couple of missed calls and one voicemail.

  Two decades ago, before cell service and wireless became ubiquitous, she wouldn’t have reception on a freighter at sea. Now everything was a hotspot. Progress was wonderful, sometimes.

  She played the message. It was from Rachel Powell.

  “Miss Cook, I just wanted to let you know that we’ve identified the language. It’s the lettering used in the Voynich Manuscript. No one has managed to translate it. Call me for details as soon as you get this.” She left a number.

  “I better call her and find out what this means.” She passed her bloody clothes on to Sandra.

  “Lock the hatch behind me and don’t open it for anyone else. Two of our men are in the corridor. And remember, nothing classified over an unsecured line. The NSA monitors everything.” The mercenary let herself out.

  Jess locked the hatch and made the call.

  “Doctor Powell. Jess Cook. I just got your message.” She did a little math in her head and realized it must be night in Mexico. “I’m sorry for calling so late.”

  The other woman’s voice held no hint of sleep. “I’m still up writing a report on the book for Mister Rogers. Have you ever heard of the Voynich Manuscript?”

  “No. Please give me a brief rundown. And remember we’re on a commercial line.”

  “I’ll keep that in mind. The Voynich Manuscript is a hand-written codex from sometime between 1404 and 1438. They verified that time frame by carbon dating the vellum. They named the folio after Wilfrid Voynich, a Polish book dealer who bought it in 1912.

  “Some of the pages are missing, but around 240 are still in the same collection. The manuscript is at Yale University.”

  Jess considered that. The book they’d found was from centuries earlier and it wasn’t written on vellum. “You said that no one has been able to crack the meaning of the manuscript?”

  “That’s correct. Scholars have proposed a number of origin theories. Everything from aliens to it being a complex code. Even people at the NSA have made runs at it. The use of the letters is internally consistent, but the meaning has eluded everyone. Most of the pages have illustrations of unknown plants and medieval figures.”

  The engineer snorted. “Well, if the NSA can’t crack it, I doubt we will either. Unless we can find a Rosetta Stone.”

  “To be fair, the NSA looked at it in the 1950’s,” Powell said. “A supercomputer might be able to crack the meaning.”

  “You said that there were only 240 pages left. Does that mean that there were more originally?”

  “That’s correct. Someone removed a number of pages and probably sold them. They’re almost certainly in the hands of private collectors at this point. There’s a subculture of wealthy people that want to own objects of historical and artistic significance without any intention of ever allowing them to see the light of day.” Her tone indicated strong disapproval.

  “Is there any chance that you can find out who the owners of these missing pages might be?”

  “I’ll make some calls, but I don’t think I’ll have any luck. These people are quite secretive.”

  “Do the best you can. Let me know if you get lucky.”

  Jess hung up and padded into the bathroom. A hot shower might make her feel clean again.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Kathleen Bennett was ready to kill someone. Specifically, her ex-husband. She’d have added her security chief to the list if he hadn’t died in the explosion that wrecked his house. The police and FBI were overrunning her headquarters asking the kind of questions no sane human being wanted to answer.

  She might’ve been able to cover this up as some kind of gas explosion if Donald hadn’t installed a minefield. Really? That was insane.

  They’d already put out the fire and found several bodies, including one in a cell. For a few minutes, she’d deluded herself into believing the body might be that of the traitor, but her man in the police department told her it was a woman.

  No matter how this played out, she’d look like an idiot or worse. Why, no Mister Federal Agent, I have no idea how my head of security smuggled all those land mines onto my facility. He was torturing and murdering people, you say? Oh, dear.

  With the way this was going, they’d find a bunch of unmarked graves in the woods.

  She sighed. Of course they would. Where else would that homicidal idiot hide the people he killed for sport? Could things get any worse?

  As if on cue, Nathan came in and closed the door. “Well, things are certainly exciting this morning. Are you ready to let me kill Harry now?”

  “We don’t know it was your brother.”

  “Do you think it was the Tooth Fairy? It was Harry. He and father conspired to do this to you. Are you going to bend over and take it?”

  The urge to reach into her desk for the pistol she kept handy was strong. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that, boy. I can blame your death on Donald.”

  “Please. If you want payback, I’m the person to make that happen. Say the word and I’ll go make them suffer.”

  It wasn’t as though she had much choice now. With Donald gone, Nathan was her best chance of pulling off her planned revenge. God help her.

  “If you fail me, I’ll put a price on your head so big that you’ll never get a moment’s peace. This has to go exactly according to plan. The timing is critical. Is that clear enough for you?”

  “I’m not a moron,” he sneered. “Of course I’ll succeed. Other than the girl, I’ve never failed you.”

  Kathleen brought a map up on her screen and explained what she wanted done.

  * * * * *

  Jess had just finished showering when she got another call. The number wasn’t familiar to her.

  “Hello?”

  “Jess, this is Harry. Everything came out fine. We’re in the air.”

  A bit of tension that she hadn’t been consciously aware of drained away. “Thank God. Did you rescue the man?”

  “We did. My father’s people have the drive. They’ll assess its contents while we’re in the air. How’d your thing go?” He was being circumspect because of the NSA. She really had to struggle to keep that in mind.

  “It was a little more exciting than I’d imagined it would be, but we got it. I have more information about the book, too.” She explained the Voynich Manuscript to him.

  “That’s pretty odd. The Europeans didn’t know about the Mayans until almost a hundred years later.”

  She grabbed her tablet. “I’m sending you some images. Check out the plants in the original manuscript.”

  After a minute he spoke. “I’ve seen something like this before. On the mission before we met. There were pages like this in the office.”

  “Are you sure? These things look like a lot of other manuscripts of the time, except for the unknown language and unrecognizable plants.”

  “I’m almost certain. I didn’t look closely enough to recognize the lettering, but the style of illustrations is spot on. I didn’t recognize the plants, but I’m not a botanist.”

  “How many pages were there?” she asked.

  “I had other things on my mind. A dozen? Maybe twice that.”

  She grinned, even though he couldn’t see her. “We need to get them. Or at least pictures of them.”

  “No way. That bastard’s security is going to be super tight.”

  “He doesn’t have to know I’m connected with that.”

  “So, you just waltz in and say ‘hi, I heard through the grapevine that you had these secret m
anuscript pages’ and he lets you in for a peek? I think not. Besides, when would you do this? The schedule is tight from here on.”

  “We had a change in plans, too. We’re on a ship about to dock in Italy. I can do this and still beat you to France.”

  She started pacing. “Harry, you don’t understand how important this might be. Even the NSA couldn’t crack the damned thing. We need those pages. It won’t take your mother long to figure out the connection. Do you want to take the chance she might get these pages before we do?”

  He sighed. “Sandra has to sign off on your plan. Please be careful. If it’s too dangerous, walk away.”

  “Don’t worry about a thing. I won’t take any unnecessary chances.”

  * * * * *

  Harry called Cradock on an encrypted line. He really needed to get one to Jess. The security man sounded just as displeased at Jess’ plan as Harry was. “Dammit. Someone almost shot her at the airport. Does the woman have a death wish?”

  “Shot? What happened? Tell me everything.”

  He listened to how the warlord had almost killed everyone on Jess’ helicopter, and how she’d managed to escape. And now she wanted to go play James Bond. It made his teeth ache.

  Maybe he needed to focus on the things he could control. “When does the fuel leave for Mexico?”

  “In about six hours, once we dock and transship it to a cargo plane. Look, it will take a while before we have the data to plan for stealing the reactor. Get some sleep. Call me once you wake up. We should be able to make final plans by then.”

  “Get Jess an encrypted phone and try to get some sleep,” Harry said. “Text me the number.”

  Harry hung up, but getting to sleep was hard. He kept imagining all the things that could go wrong with Jess’ mission. And he couldn’t do a thing about it.

  Well, that wasn’t quite true. He dialed his father’s number. Maybe the old bastard could talk some sense into the crazy engineer before she got herself killed.