Expelled (Interplanetary Spy for Hire Book 1)

by Ell Leigh Clarke

  As he stepped down onto the earth at the bottom of staircase, he briefly took in the huge, dark room and the weak fluorescent light spilling from the many passages connected to it before his eyes focused on Fred.

  The younger man, battered and limp in his restraints, was tied to a chair in the center of the room, under an ancient yellow incandescent bulb. His hands were bound to the back of the metal chair. A small speaker on the dirt in front of him was playing Elvis’ Greatest Hits, vol. 2, and strapped to his chest was a massive brick of C4, wired to a car battery under the chair.

  Fred raised his head slightly as Cameron approached, squinting at him with one eye blackened and swollen shut.

  “Oh, thank god,” he said as soon as he saw Cameron, shoulders relaxing, words slurred by his split, swollen lip and broken nose. “Please, please turn off that fucking music. If I have to listen to Burning Love for one more minute I’m going to throw up.”

  “Is there anyone else here?” Cameron asked, scanning the room warily. Fred shook his head.

  “Haven’t seen anyone but Burrett and he’s been gone for hours. Where’s Jayne? Is she okay?”

  “She’s fine,” Cameron reported, bending to turn off the speaker. “Everyone’s alright. We’re going to get you out of here.”

  Fred sighed in relief as silence fell. “I never want to hear Elvis again.”

  Cameron checked the bomb. There was no timer, which would buy them some time. “Fred, you’re safe now. Just give me a minute. I have to do the more boring part of my job real quick.” Cameron scanned the room. He gathered pretty quickly that Burrett was a messy houseguest. He was probably the kind of guy who left a hotel room in terrible shape because he thought it was housekeeping’s job to take care of it, not his.

  “Fred, do you know if Burrett stayed here? Was this one of his hideouts?”

  “He was here long enough to build a karaoke machine, so probably.”

  Pinned up on the far wall were paper read-outs of blueprints for every major building above level 100, including their sister structures on the lower levels. The buildings that provided support and stability to the top. One of the growing concerns among Theron Techcropolis’ citizens was the ever-increasing anxiety of living in a massive Jenga tower. Burrett, it seems, knew how to exploit that.

  Accompanying each blueprint was information on building materials, their heat resistance, their load-bearing maximum, and the number of people who were employed for each building. Important figures such as executives, bankers, politicians, and even celebrities were paired with the buildings they lived and worked in.

  Burrett had big plans. His plans were far bigger than shooting a cop and torturing Jayne. Burrett didn’t simply want to work his way to the top – he wanted to destroy it entirely.

  On one hand, Cameron understood Burrett’s plan. He wasn’t proud to admit it. If he was pressured, he’d keep his mouth shut. But Cameron shared Burrett’s hatred of the elite and of those in charge.

  “I hate to admit this, Fred. But I can relate to Burrett.”

  “If you mean anything besides a love for donuts, I don’t want to hear it.”

  “He’s a guy who hates the world because the world hates him. I used to be like that.” He opened up an ancient laptop on the ground and started scrolling through the open files. It didn’t make sense, Cameron thought. Burrett was as obsessed with carrying out his plans as he was with narrowly escaping capture at every turn. He wanted to be caught, in a way. Or perhaps that was just wishful thinking.

  “Yeah, it’s true.” Cameron told Fred as he quickly examined the files. “I grew up poor. Level 21. I was a punk street kid. I ran away from home when I was thirteen and ate out of dumpsters. I even sold for a little bit. Dram and crug pills, mainly”

  “Seriously? I can’t see it.”

  “Good. I’ve spent a lifetime trying to erase that part of myself.” Cameron turned his attention to the tablet. He found a series of rudimentary simulations that depicted the likely destruction patterns of each building. The rough, digital animations showed how each building would explode or collapse depending on what kind of explosives would be used and where.

  “Why?” asked Fred. He was interested now, but also trying to keep his mind off the bomb that Cameron wasn’t busy defusing for some reason.

  “Did you know I served a year in juvie on the Securon Asteroid? I was spotted with a group of roughnecks who jacked a police cruiser. I wasn’t with them. I had sold them some dram earlier that day, but I was on the other side of town when they jacked that craft. I was just in the wrong place at the wrong time.”

  Cameron quickly took all the blueprints and their related documents off the walls and crudely folded them to fit in his jacket pocket. He grabbed the tablet and laptop and tucked them under his arm. “That’s why I became a cop, and then a detective. Can you believe that? I wanted to be a good cop, too. I wanted to right the wrongs and make sure the law protected the innocent, not the powerful. I knew the system was rigged and designed to keep people down. I thought I could change the system by working from the inside out. But Burrett’s hatred has twisted and perverted itself into an all out war with no discrimination. Burrett would destroy the disenfranchised if it meant toppling those in charge.”

  He set the evidence next to Fred and crouched in front of him. “Okay, Fred. Sorry for waxing poetic. It’s been a long day.”

  “Nah, it’s cool. I’m not in any rush, you know. Just sitting here with a bomb strapped to my chest. Another day at the office it seems.”

  “Glad to see you still have a sense of humor.”

  “So, you know how to defuse a bomb?” Fred asked as Cameron circled his chair.

  “Jayne is going to walk me through it,” Cameron replied, trying to sound confident, for Fred’s sake.

  “I hope, as a couple, you two have mastered the skill of open communication then.”

  Cameron started familiarizing himself with the bomb. “Of course,” he smiled. “Don’t worry about it.”

  “Yeah, sure, I’ll just stop worrying about the five pounds of C4 sitting on my chest. Why didn’t I think of that?”

  “Alfonso,” Cameron said. “Put me through to Jayne.”

  A moment later he heard her breathing in his ear, then cursing and the sound of a small explosion.

  “Everything alright?” he asked, worried.

  “Peachy,” Jayne snapped. “Burrett’s just pulling out all the stops to slow me down here.”

  “I kind of need your help with this bomb, but if it’s a bad time I can call back.”

  “Just give me a second!”

  He heard her snarl in rage and the sound of something being smashed with extreme prejudice. A few seconds passed in silence.

  “Jayne?”

  “Yeah. I’m good. Describe the bomb to me.”

  "They can’t get you visuals?”

  “Not exactly a lot of screens handy at the moment, Cameron.”

  “Right, sorry.”

  Cameron circled Fred’s chair again, getting a good look at everything, chewing his lip.

  “Alright. The explosives are up front, sewn into a vest. I can’t see a timer, but I can see two power sources. Car battery under the chair, cell phone on the vest.”

  “So you try to cut one power source, the other blows it,” Jayne assumed. “Probably not the only anti-tamper method he’s built in. I’m guessing you can’t just take the vest off of him?”

  “Looks like it goes on over the head,” Cameron said thoughtfully.

  “Don’t bother,” Fred cut in, sounding tired. “I’d have to move to take it off and Burrett said I’m sitting on a trigger.”

  “What about cutting it off?” Cameron suggested.

  “Any wires run under the vest?” Jayne asked. Cameron looked for a minute and cursed as he spotted them, running just under the fabric and around Fred’s chest.

  “Yeah. Vest is a circuit. If we cut it—”

  “No more Swan Lake,” Fred said with a sh
aky laugh. Cameron thought he was taking this pretty well, all things considered. Maybe he was just too tired to panic.

  “Alright, so we’re doing this the hard way,” Cameron said with a sigh.

  “What’s the easy way?” Fred asked. “Just out of curiosity.”

  “According to the department?” Cameron replied. “Get it clear of people and then shoot at it until it explodes.”

  “Yeah, I don’t think that’s going to work for a variety of reasons,” Fred said, laughing uneasily again.

  “Okay, so are there wires coming out of the C4?” Jayne asked.

  “A bunch,” Cameron confirmed. “Going down to the batteries, under the vest, all over the place.”

  “Great. If he’d used wireless blasting caps we’d be screwed. Any sign of the trigger?”

  “I assume the trigger must be the phone,” Cameron replied. “But there’s nothing on its screen.”

  “No convenient timer ticking down unfortunately,” Fred said. “It’s been hell on the nerves, let me tell you! Although, now that I think about it, maybe having one would be worse?”

  “Follow the wires from the phone to the C4,” Jayne said in Cameron’s ear. “We’re going to try and remove the blasting caps.”

  Cameron took a deep breath, trying not to look as nervous at this prospect as he felt. Fred could apparently see it in his eyes however.

  “What did she say?” he asked.

  Cameron swallowed his nerves and began rolling up his sleeves, fishing for the multitool in his jacket.

  “I’m going to remove the blasting caps,” he explained. “Without a smaller charge to set it off, C4 is just like a hunk of clay, completely inert. We’re going to pull the caps out, and the bomb will be harmless.”

  “Why do I get the feeling that you’re making that sound a lot easier than it is?” Fred asked, sweat beading on his skin.

  “Because I am,” Cameron said. “Hold still.”

  He traced the wires leading from the cellphone, finding the ones that formed a circuit with the car battery and the explosives.

  “There are a lot of wires here,” he muttered uneasily. “Too many.”

  “Decoy detonators. Just pull them gently loose from the explosive and don’t detach any wires. If any of the decoys are disconnected they’ll set the whole thing off.”

  “That’s what I figured,” Cameron said, clearing his throat to cover the tightness in his voice.

  “And be careful with the caps,” Jayne added. “They’re sensitive. Drop one and it could go off. They’re not crazy powerful, but they’ll take your hand off if you’re holding it. And if it’s still too close to the explosive…”

  “Yeah, I get the picture,” Cameron said, feeling a bit nauseous and beginning to reconsider whether he really wanted to do this. “Alright. Hold still, Fred.”

  “Just hold still while you’re fiddling with the explosives on my chest,” Fred said with a wheezing laugh. “No problem!”

  Cameron chose one of the wires, flipped to the pliers on his multitool, and began gently pulling it out, as slowly and carefully as he could. Fred watched him, jaw set, not breathing, as the metal fuse shape of the cap emerged. Finally, after what felt like forever, it slid free. Fred started breathing again.

  “One down,” Cameron said quietly. Fred responded with a nervous giggle. Then Cameron started to set the cap down and realized they had a new problem.

  “What’s wrong?” Fred asked, seeing him hesitate.

  Cameron licked his lips. “The wires are too short to put the caps down on the floor. They’d just be kind of… swinging. Down near the leg of the chair.”

  “Gonna assume that would not be a good thing,” Fred said, his voice cracking.

  “Wouldn’t be ideal,” Cameron agreed, evaluating the situation. Carefully, he set the cap in Fred’s lap.

  “Ooooh, I really don’t like where you’re putting that.” Fred stared at the detonators between his legs in undisguised fear.

  “Trust me,” Cameron said, seeing how close the caps still were to the explosives. “If they go off, neither of us will live long enough to worry about which part of you they blew up first.”

  “So, uh, how many bombs have you defused before?” Fred asked as Cameron began pulling out a second blasting cap.

  “Do you really want me to answer that?” Cameron asked.

  “Can you please remind Fred that I’ve done three in the field? And that he was there?” Jayne said in his ear.

  “Hear that?” Cameron said to Fred. “Jayne says—”

  “Yeah, yeah, I heard her.” Fred grumbled.

  Cameron used his sleeve to wipe the sweat off his brow. “I think that’s enough talking. Just be quiet and let me focus.”

  He carefully pulled loose the second blasting cap and set it in Fred’s lap next to the first and paused to wipe the sweat from his brow before continuing.

  “You know how your life is supposed to flash before your eyes when you’re dying?” Fred said while Cameron worked. “I think I’m having that, except it’s just incredibly vivid memories of this carnival game. You know the one where you have to move the wand from one end of the metal loop to the other without touching it? Or it makes that buzzing noise, like Operation?”

  He jumped a little as he emphasized the buzzing noise and Cameron flinched, nearly dropping his pliers. He had to stop for a moment until his hands stopped shaking before he could continue.

  “Yeah. Wacky Wire. Please hold still.”

  “Wacky Wire,” Fred repeated, a little breathless with stress. “I just keep seeing that over and over. This shitty carnival my dad took me to when I was like ten and this stupid game. I spent all my money trying to beat it. I’d seen this video online and I thought I knew the trick to it. My dad kept trying to get me to stop and move on but I was sure if I just tried one more time I’d get it. I keep seeing that over and over. God, I can practically taste the stale popcorn.”

  “What was the trick?” Cameron asked, hoping he could at least keep Fred’s attention on something else. “Maybe it’ll work on this.”

  “I don’t remember,” Fred laughed, a high-pitched panic sound. “Something stupid about how you hold your elbows.”

  “Did you beat it in the end?” Cameron asked, sweat running down his face as he carefully laid another blasting cap in Fred’s lap.

  “Nah,” Fred answered. “My dad just left me there after a while because my little sister was bored and throwing a fit. I just kept going till I ran out of money. I’d been saving up for something, I don’t even remember what. But right then it was like everything depended on beating that game. You ever get absorbed in a game like that?”

  “Yeah, when Tetris came out for VR,” Cameron answered, his voice shaking as he carefully removed another cap. “I can’t remember anything from that week but falling blocks.”

  Fred laughed again, more natural this time. “You would be a Tetris fan. Christ, and I thought I was a nerd.”

  “Tetris is a classic,” Cameron muttered. “When we get out of here I’ll kick your ass at doubles.”

  Fred shook his head, but his expression grew more pensive with every silent second.

  “But seriously,” he said. “It felt so important at the time. Critical. Like my whole future would change if I could just” — he struggled for the words for a moment, biting his lip — “just be good enough.”

  He stared at the far wall, expression intense for a moment, and then he shrugged, the nervous laugh returning.

  “But, uh, then I ran out of money! And I couldn’t find my dad and I ended up wandering around the fairground looking for him till dark. I was really scared they’d gone home without me at one point. Like, I was seriously considering my future as a carnie? Like obviously if I’m still here when the fairground closes the clowns will just adopt me and I’m going to have to learn how to juggle. Real existential panic.”

  “Understandable,” Cameron said, carefully teasing out another detonator. “I never und
erstood kids that wanted to run away and join the circus.”

  “Well, first of all, the circus and the carnival are two completely different things,” Fred said. “Second, you never wanted to run away and join the circus? Oh, right, I forgot you were a Tetris kid. Tetris kid who grew up to be a cop. I bet you wanted to run away and join an accounting firm.”

  Cameron laughed under his breath, attention fully focused on the blasting cap.

  “Actually,” he said. “I wanted to run away to Narnia. Or something like it. Anything with knights and dragons. I had a big thing about wanting to be a knight.”

  “I guess that makes me your damsel in distress. Sorry I’m not prettier. And that we’re both probably going to get blown up.”

  “No one’s going to get blown up,” Cameron said firmly, wishing he were more confident about it. “Finish the story. Did your dad find you, or were you raised by carnies?”

  “Oh, he found me,” Fred said, wincing. “And he was pissed. Angrier than I’d ever seen him. And Mom was even angrier at him for leaving me alone. They fought the whole way home, just screaming their lungs out.” He paused for a moment, bit the inside of his cheek. Cameron wondered if that fight was still echoing in his head. Fred’s voice was quieter when he kept going. “They split up a little less than a year later. And you know, for years, in the back of my head I was convinced that if I had beaten that stupid game…”

  He trailed off.

  “Those games are always rigged anyway,” Cameron said, unsure what else to say. Fred was shaking, tremors running through him every time Cameron moved. He was masking it pretty well, but Cameron could tell he was more than just terrified. Fred was ready to die. Or trying to be.

  “Star Voyage,” Fred said suddenly, making Cameron jump. “That’s what I was saving for! This fucking Star Voyage limited edition VR console. Christ, I was a nerd. Still am, I guess.”