by Wesley Chu
The door opened, and an attractive woman in her mid-forties appeared. She had blond hair and still looked youthful, though Roen noticed there was a touch of weariness about her, despite her friendly smile. She was dressed in jeans and a blue flannel shirt.
“I’m sorry, I don’t recognize that name,” she continued. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“Mrs Blair, I’m here to talk about Edward,” he said.
The smile disappeared, and she gave him what he could only describe as a stink-eye. “Who are you?”
“A friend,” Roen stammered. He began to recite the story they had agreed on.
Her stare intensified and she cut him off. “Edward and I were married for fifteen years. I know all of his friends and you, Mr Tan, are not one of them.”
“Tao, this isn’t working out very well. Did she have any idea about you?”
No. Edward was very careful about keeping his Prophus operations hidden from her. She thought he just traveled a lot.
“I... I know... Edward and I worked together,” Roen stammered.
“Really? Doing what?”
“Business consulting,” he said.
“What’s the name of the company?” she asked.
“Bynum Consulting,” he replied promptly. They were getting back on script. “I wanted to offer my condolences, and that...”
“You’re a little late, Roen. My husband died ten months ago.”
“I know it has been a while. I’m sorry that it took so long...”
“So do you still work at Bynum?”
“Yes. Yes, I do. I was a colleague of his for only a short time, but...”
“That’s interesting.” She smiled.
She is on to you.
“On to me what? I have no idea what I’m talking about.”
“It’s interesting,” she said, “because after Edward disappeared, I tried to contact Bynum to find anything that might help me find him. Imagine my surprise when I discovered that Bynum was some dummy corporation in Brooklyn.”
“Um... well, it’s complicated, Mrs Blair,” Roen replied.
“Complicated? Maybe you should have been the one to talk to those men from the FBI. The ones who came to my home to ask about the guns they found in his deserted car.” Roen felt like a deer in headlights. This was way off script. “Or maybe you can tell me why I couldn’t even pull up his information when I looked up his Social Security number!” He gulped anxiously, wilting under her gaze as she stuck her finger in his face.
“So what exactly do you do then, Mr Tan, that you worked with my husband on? Consulting? Or did you two rob banks together?” she asked.
Edward was not a criminal!
“Edward was not a...” he stammered. “It’s not like that, Mrs Blair. It’s not what you think.”
“Frankly, I don’t care anymore,” she hissed, closing the door.
Roen stuck his hand through the opening as it closed. He began to talk quickly, repeating Tao’s words. “I know a lot about you. I know you and Edward met shortly after West Point. I know that you wish you had a green thumb, but you’ve never been able to keep a plant alive for more than a month. And I know that you pretend to be a terrible cook to your in-laws because you worry his mother would try to compete with you. I know you have a bottle of Mouton-Rothschild ‘82 that you were saving for your twenty-year anniversary.”
The door stopped just short of crushing his fingers and opened. Kathy, her eyes watering, stared at Roen in disbelief. “How did you know that?” Her voice came out a hoarse whisper.
“Mrs Blair, it’s a long difficult story, one I need to explain. But the first thing I want you to know is that your husband was a great man. He died fighting for a good cause.”
“He... fought? Was he in the CIA?”
“Something like that, but even more covert,” Roen replied. “I can’t get into details, but that’s the first thing you should know. That’s why he had to use Bynum as a cover. Please, I know I have a lot of explaining to do. May I come in?”
She hesitated, and then beckoned him in. He thanked her and followed, feeling very uneasy as she motioned for him to take a seat in the living room. “Please excuse the mess,” she said, “I wasn’t expecting company. Is there anything I can get you?”
Roen smiled. “Edward joked that you would always apologize for a messy house even though you always kept it immaculate.” She looked at him in shock. Roen sat down and said solemnly, “Mrs Blair, did Edward ever talk to you about Tao?”
“Edward used to talk about Tao in his sleep. What is Tao?”
“I think you better sit down,” he replied.
Then Roen told her everything; Tao felt that he owed that to Kathy. Full disclosure was something Tao rarely did, but Kathy would see through any deception, especially with a poor liar like Roen. He skipped over much of the history of the Prophus, but went into detail on Edward’s life, using specifics that no one else could have possibly known. “So, this spirit... Tao, was with Edward when he died?” she asked through moist eyes.
Roen nodded.
Kathy wiped the tears that were streaming down her face and shook her head. “How did he die?”
“Please don’t. It won’t do any good. He was a hero and missed by all of us. You were his last thought. He told Tao to tell you that he loved you and that he was sorry.” Roen paused. “Tao misses him too.”
She blew her nose on a handkerchief and dabbed her eyes. “I think this story you’re telling me is too fantastic to be true, but it does explain a few things. No wonder Edward knew so much about history. I always thought it was unusual for a meathead majoring in political science to know more about the French Revolution than I did.”
Kathy is a history professor.
She looked Roen up and down and laughed dryly. “And it explained how he always came home from his business trips looking like he got into a fist fight. Whatever you do with these aliens, Roen, you seem to have the same problem he had. To be honest, I don’t know what to believe anymore, and I really don’t care. I just miss him.”
Roen said, “I’m sorry you had to find out this way.”
“I’m still receiving checks from Bynum. Who is sending them?”
“Our organization,” Roen replied. “You’ll continue receiving them for two more years. The Prophus try to take care of their own.”
There was a rustling at the door, and a boy of about five walked in. He was a solemn boy with brown hair and hazel eyes. He carried a brown stuffed dinosaur in one arm. The boy studied Roen for a few seconds, and then offered his dinosaur to him. Kathy walked over and gave him a hug. “Roen, this is Tyler. Honey, this is Roen Tan. He’s a friend of your daddy’s.”
Roen’s heart sank. Edward had a son? His stomach churned at the thought of the boy having to grow up without a father. He thought back to his own family and what would happen to them if he didn’t make it back. Who would tell them? Would it happen like this? One day, years after he died, some stranger would walk up to their door and try to explain how he passed away?
He stood up and went to Tyler. “It’s an honor to shake your hand, young man. Your father was a dear friend of mine and a great person.”
Tyler shook his hand timidly and then hugged his mother. They stood there for a few awkward moments before Tyler spoke. “Are we eating soon, Mom?”
She patted him on the head. “In a moment, dear. Would you like to stay for lunch, Roen?”
He shook his head. “I’m sorry, Mrs Blair. I can’t. I have a flight to catch.” She nodded and walked him to his car. As he stepped outside, he turned and offered his hand. “Thank you for your hospitality, Mrs Blair.”
“Call me Kathy,” she replied, giving him a warm hug. “Listen, Roen, I don’t know if what you said was true. But if it is, remember those around you who love you. Make sure whatever sacrifices you make are worth it.” As she spoke, more tears began to well up in her eyes.
He hugged her back and got into the car. As he drove off,
Roen looked in his rear-view mirror and saw her sobbing on the driveway. He thought about his own family again. What would his parents do? He never took into consideration the consequences of his actions and how it would affect the ones he cared about. It was selfish of him.
“Tao? If something ever happens to me, you will tell my family, right?”
Of course.
“Do me a favor, tell them immediately after... after my death? Don’t make them wait.”
I will.
“Thanks. Where do we go now?”
Head toward O’Hare. The jet is waiting for us.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
ON THE RADAR
The Council did not tolerate our dissension, and in retaliation, called for a cleansing. The Spanish Inquisition spread across Europe, a cover for the Council to rid itself of the hosts of renegade Quasing. They called us Prophus, betrayers. They referred to themselves as Genjix, the old order. From that moment, all Quasing were forced to choose sides. It was at this moment that the war to control humanity’s destiny had begun. To this day, we proudly bear the name Prophus.
Sean stood on the balcony above the docking bay floor and watched as the small army of scientists packaged the various prototypes for transportation. He brushed his hands across the railing and wrinkled his nose at the layer of dust there.
The underwater facility was not finished yet; construction was three months behind schedule and the builders were starting to cut corners in order to make up for the lost time. It was obvious to him where they were being sloppy. Sean made a mental note to remind the foreman that this was a research manufacturing facility and not some lumber store. This disgusting display of filth was unacceptable. If the prototype’s electronics failed because of dust in the systems, Sean would have his head.
“Status,” he said to no one in particular.
A beady-eyed project manager walked up next to Sean and bowed. “Father, the Chinook will be arriving within the hour to make the delivery to the air base. The Newfoundland base has reported that the freighter is standing by and ready to transport. Capulet’s Ski Lodge is expecting us. However, there is a delay in the vat decontamination. Cleaning crews anticipate a detoxification period of four weeks before they’re deemed safe for disassembly.”
“And the scientists and engineers?”
“They will join the prototypes within two weeks.”
“Another delay.” Sean ground his teeth. This month was already a wash. Two more weeks before the team could continue on the Penetra, and a bloody month before they could even take apart the damn vat. Who knew how much longer it would require for transport and reassembly, not to mention rebuilding the control mixtures. Further and further back.
The mayor had delivered the permits as promised, but the delay in completing the production facility had hindered the research and construction of the prototypes, and the program as a whole. Add in the frequent raids from the Prophus on their supply lines, and the schedule had been falling behind. Now, with the discovery of a mole – their chief biologist no less – their entire operation was compromised, and the only option now was to move the project to southern Europe. Sean hadn’t thought the Prophus had such a large presence in the Midwest. It was one of the reasons he had chosen this location.
“Unacceptable,” he snapped, causing the five people around him to jump.
Your control has been disappointing. I expected better.
“No one is punishing me more than I am, Chiyva. I am shamed before the Holy Ones. I swear I will raise myself in your eyes.”
Sean turned to the project manager and grabbed him by the tie. “I expect the cargo loaded and the Chinook up in the air within twenty minutes of it reaching the platform. Cancel the scientists and engineers’ leave. No one is allowed out of this facility. They are to go directly to Capulet’s Ski Lodge as soon as they are packed. Do you understand, Mr Cuinn?”
“Father,” Cuinn stammered, “half of them are contract civilians. They’ll be gone for a year. This will be the last time they can see their families.”
There is a time for a whip, and there are men who respond to whips. You are misjudging those you lead.
Sean scowled, barely suppressing his rage. “You have my orders,” he snarled. “And you tell those contractors working on this facility that if they don’t make the next deliverable, I am docking one percent a day off their pay.” He turned and stormed off. “And if they object, shoot them.”
The weight of the Genjix is heavy on you, my son. Perhaps it has been too great.
“Chiyva, my purpose is to serve. I will not tolerate these failures.”
When the P1 project to develop the Penetra scanner was first conceived, Sean had been honored to be the vessel given the task. When the initial theoretical designs were approved, he thought his rise to the head of the Council was all but assured. But the project had been plagued by delays.
To make matters worse, when Devin saw the bill for the Homeland surveillance of Tao, Devin nearly came down to Chicago to shoot Sean himself. Add that to Marc’s complete failure to capture Roen, and it had been a very bad several months.
Control. Always be in control. Remember where I came from.
“Apologies, Holy One.”
Chiyva was right. Chiyva was always right. Sean closed his eyes and took a deep breath, bringing forth the dreams his Holy One had shown him. He thought back to the hundred years Chiyva lived in the dark in captivity. He remembered his own capture with the Vietcong. This delay was nothing.
He opened his eyes and exhaled. The project was still on course, if not slightly delayed. A few months in Quasing time was insignificant. It was better to get the project right. His place on the Council would be assured, regardless of how late the project was, as long as he delivered. He was the blessed one; it was up to him to show the humans he was their better.
Sean turned and walked back to Cuinn. “Let the scientists and engineers have their leave, Mr Cuinn. Give them an extra week. It has been a difficult few months for everyone. The time off will be good for them. Let everyone know that their work is appreciated and to come back refreshed, but remind them that the next delivery date cannot be missed. Understood?”
Cuinn nodded and bowed. “They will appreciate it, Father.”
Sean’s phone rang. He excused himself and answered it.
Marc was on the line. “Father, the surveillance team at Kathy Blair’s house picked up Roen Tan. He stayed for an hour and then left toward O’Hare Airport. Our agents followed him to a Gulfstream heading east.”
Sean’s mind raced. How could he take advantage of this information? “Were you able to get a satellite on it?”
“Even better. One of the surveillance team tagged it. We’re tracking the plane now. It’s currently across the Atlantic heading northeast. It appears he’s headed to England.”
England? What could Roen Tan be doing there? “How far are you behind him?” Sean asked.
“I can be on a jet by tonight. However, we might lose him if his trail is not picked up when he lands.”
Sean formulated a plan in seconds. The opportunity was far too great for them to let it slip through their fingers again. Tao would be away from his safety net. If they could manage to keep tabs on him, an assault team could take him when he least expected it. “Contact the European Council; calculate the trajectory of the plane and have a surveillance team ready at whatever airport they are landing at. When can your team be ready?”
“Tomorrow at the earliest.”
“You will lead the attack personally.”
“As you wish, Father.”
Sean hung up and smiled. Things were starting to look up.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
PREPARATION
When the Genjix first struck with the Inquisition, the Prophus were unprepared for their brutal onslaught. It was swift and deadly. Many of our hosts were imprisoned and put to the question and then murdered. Those Prophus survived in rodents for years until they could make
their way to other human hosts. The Genjix, who controlled the papacy and Spanish crown, waged a cleansing across all of Europe. It was a dark time. One that would set the stage for the next five hundred years.
“A beverage, sir? Coffee? Wine?”
Roen looked up at the flight attendant and smiled. He could really get used to this sort of luxury. They were in a jet that was just large enough to seat fifteen, yet an attendant was present to serve drinks. “Scotch with a touch of water, please,” he responded. The flight attendant smiled and returned with a glass.
He took a small sip and looked over at the other passengers. Sonya sat next to him, and two other men took the seats across from them. Earlier that afternoon, the small group had met at O’Hare and, without a word, boarded a private Swiss chartered jet specializing in confidential travel.
Roen could hardly contain his excitement. He was playing a major role in the mission, and this flight on a private jet was what he had in mind when he first signed on as an agent. This was a far cry from the boring reconnaissance and security details he had been doing for the past year. Even his compatriots looked like they were personalities out of the movies. He half expected secret compartments to pop out any second with the nuclear launch codes at his disposal.
After drinks were served, Sonya motioned for them to gather around. As the tactical lead, she was second in command to Stephen, a senior officer from Command. The lowest man on the totem pole, Roen found it peculiar that they operated with a cross matrix hierarchy. This was Sonya’s first time in this role, and he could tell she was a little nervous as well.
“Now that we’re in the air and the pleasantries are over,” she said, and then introduced everyone formally.
The highest-ranking Prophus here, Stephen was a dangerous looking man. With a suave, self-assured demeanor that oozed dangerous and cool, he reminded Roen of a sixty year-old Texan James Bond. He wore a sharp black suit, complete with tie, and looked more like a CEO than an agent.
Stephen patted Roen on the shoulder. “You have big shoes to fill, son.”
