by A J Jameson
“It’s broad daylight, I didn’t want to draw attention,” the man next to Axel said, producing his own firearm.
“Get Kyle, put that away and get Kyle back in here.”
“But she’ll get away.”
“I don’t give a shit about her you get Kyle back in here right now.” The woman’s words were rushed and uneven. Wavering, like the pistol in her hands. Distressed. Unpredictable.
“Remain calm, Axel,” Little Eye said soothingly. “No sudden movements.”
The man with a dagger sticking out of his neck—unconscious now—was hauled back into the car. An unbelievable amount of blood had drained from his body. The man who had carried the wounded told Axel to put his hands over his head. “I need to frisk you.”
“Move,” was all Axel heard before blackness swallowed him.
The sun hung over Axel’s head. Bright and hot. He blinked rapidly, beckoning his vision to adjust.
He tried to rub his eyes, but his hands were stuck by his sides. Superglued, same as his back to the sand? How’d he get to the beach?
A giant shadow emerged over the horizon and stood in front of the sun. The gargantuan spoke. Its language rolled like tumultuous winds over a mountain; forceful, soothing, ubiquitous. Then a wave crashed over Axel’s head.
And another. He clamped his eyes closed, sealing them against the salty water. Another wave. Then the giant’s massive form slowly came into focus as he pinched open Axel’s eyes. A specter, with skin as white and feeble as chalk. He held a bucket big enough to fit ten Axels and released a deluge of salt water.
The effect was immediate. The giant, a mere man with gelled-back hair and sweat coating his every pore, spoke once again. “What is the name of the woman you were with? Full name.”
A brick of ice slapped Axel’s face. A hand. And again. “That’s enough of that.”
“I should shoot this mother f—” the woman’s voice gave way to a struggle. Axel mustered his energy and tried to prop himself up to a sitting position, but he was stuck. He craned his neck the best he could, a group of blurry people brushing past his occipital lobe as he found his hand—strapped to a bed.
“No,” he tried to say, but it came out tongueless. He tried again. “Nuuhh.” Cold restraints dug at his wrists.
This is to help you focus, Axel. “No, I don’t want it.” Do it for me, this one thing. Your father spoke to a doctor who specializes in your…specialty. The restraints help you keep focused on important things, like personal interaction. “I don’t like my hands stuck.” It’s only for a few months.
The specter returned, his ghostly complexion somewhat livened by his flushed cheeks. “The name of the woman.”
“He said it earlier, in the car,” someone said. Axel craned his neck to find the driver pacing back in forth, the bed next to her supporting the man Imogen had stabbed. The man lay unconscious, a feeding tube in his mouth and wires taped at various parts of his body.
A cold hand grabbed Axel by the temples and reverted his gaze. “I need my MI,” Axel said.
“The woman, her name,” the ghost demanded, “for your MI.”
“Imogen,” Axel said.
“Imogen WHAT!” the driver yelled, and then commotion again as the ghost stepped forward to halt the driver’s advance.
“Imogen Ayton. She’s my...friend. Now can I have my MI, please. And eyeglasses.”
The room emptied of almost everyone save the ghost and two others dressed in medical garment. “Keep tabs on her,” the ghost said, speaking to a man Axel hadn’t noticed lingering by the head of his bed. The man nodded, sheathed a combat knife, and left.
“My MI,” Axel repeated.
“Your belongings are being debugged, most likely destroyed. Don’t expect to see your MI again.” And then the ghost left as well.
“Wait, you can’t,” Axel pleaded. “I need Little Eye, I need my MI. I can’t function without it. I can’t interact properly. I can’t…my interview, I have an interview…”
Ice slowed the flow of Axel’s blood. A fog formed over his vision. But not before he got a glimpse of the doctor injecting his sedative. A second ghost. A woman with barely any lips. The people who came to my house. My interviewers.
Chapter 13
Zyta finished cleaning the tray of medical utensils and scrubbed her hands raw for the fourth time in the past hour. Both patients were sedated; one critical and the other stable, yet Zyta considered both lives lost. Kyle had a mild fracture along his cervical vertebrae that was treatable, but that wasn’t Zyta’s main worry. It was his blood loss. He had arrived at the compound in hypovolemic shock, and for this reason his heart and vital organs were failing.
And then her other patient…stable under all circumstances except his status to the organization. Namely, he wasn’t part of it. “Call me if anything happens,” Zyta said, drying her hands.
“Will do,” Victoria said, and used a fresh cloth to pat the sweat from Kyle’s brow. “Over a year without a life-threatening injury, and then this.”
The briefing room smelled of body odor. Zyta welcomed it compared to the blood-scented medical room.
“Axel’s condition is stable, and he’s sedated,” she announced. Everyone quieted down, disengaging from their conversations. “But Kyle remains critical.” A few muttered curses. “Victoria is closely monitoring him.”
Marek left the room, most likely off to inform Law of the situation. His departure gave Zyta a chance to plead for the life of a hacker who, technically speaking, had a death-toll of zero. This is asinine. He’s affiliated with Kyle’s attacker, after all.
But was he? There was something about the way he gave up the assailant’s name with almost no resistance… the way he begged for an MI instead of his life, as if he never considered his life to be in danger. I have an interview.
And just like that Zyta’s opportunity was gone, Marek entering the room with Law hot on his tail. “Why is there an outsider inside my compound?” Law bellowed. “Sadie, front and center.”
A cluster of bodies began to shuffle as Sadie made her way to the edge of the long table. She leaned on the table with both hands, ready to stand her ground. “Sir, we apprehended the suspect thought responsible for hacking our networks on previous missions.”
“I don’t recall apprehension being part of the mission,” Law said. He wiped away the spittle that had trickled down his chin. “Last I remember, your orders were to dispatch of the scoundrel.” He coughed. Wiped away more spittle.
“I was going to,” Sadie said, scanning the many operatives surrounding her. “I’m on the same page as you, it was…” she found who she was looking for, her eyes boring into Marek.
“It was unconfirmed,” Marek said. “His identification as the hacker. It wasn’t one-hundred percent confirmed, as required for any disposal.”
Law’s head jerked back and forth in utter confusion, his blubbery jowl wiggling for the ride. “We performed background scans…Yolanda!”
“Here, sir,” Yolanda spoke quietly. She was one of the few seated at the table, her laptop in front of her. “We confirmed his false identification, yes, but at the time we hadn’t confirmed his true identification, either.”
“At the time?” Law asked.
Yolanda looked to Marek pleadingly and mouthed sorry. Then to Law, “We had confirmed his true identification as of,” she checked her watch, “thirteen minutes ago. I ran a traceback on the IP address that gave us interference during Dragon’s Throat and found it synonymous to the IP gathered by Eduardo.”
“Why do I get the notion we’re traveling in circles,” Law said. “The hacker’s identification has been confirmed, so I ask again, why is there an outsider inside my compound?” He cycled this question through glances; first to Marek, who sat speechless; then to Yolanda, who was too lost in her keyboard to notice; and finally, to Sadie, who recognized the opportunity left by Marek’s lack of response.
“Let us do our job, eliminate the target, and get back on Laced R
ain,” she said.
Law found humor in her words. “There hasn’t been a civilian inside this base of operations since,” he ran a hand through his hair, “over three decades. Not even one. That was until you had the brilliant idea of exposing us all. Our identities, voices, the building’s architectural layout. And why, Sadie? Why did you bring him here?”
“It wasn’t my choice,” she said, her posture stiffening.
“No?” Law said. “It wasn’t you who drove the hacker to headquarters and let his associate get away?”
“I would have killed them both on the spot,” Sadie said. “It was the Vanguard’s call. He said to bring Axel in, said the hacker may be of some use.”
Law regarded Marek in the same way he regarded many of the other C3U members; as something other than family. “Is that so?”
“I made the decision with Laced Rain in mind,” Marek said. “If he were here, he couldn’t act out against us.”
Law remained silent, the room growing thick with apprehension. “Charlie squad, begin Nightshade treatments immediately.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Wait,” Zyta said, pushing her way to the long table. “We just got him stabilized.”
“Good, it’ll be more humane if he doesn’t know what’s happening,” Law said.
“But shouldn’t we…” Zyta looked to her brother for help.
“Debrief him, at least,” Marek said. Find out what he knows about us, and what he knows about this Imogen Ayton person. The first thing he asked for was his MI.”
“MI?” Law repeated. “A code word?”
“Not sure,” Marek answered. “And he mentioned someone named Little Eye.”
“That sounds more like a code word,” Zyta said. “An operation, maybe?”
“What’s it matter?” Sadie said. “We got the hacker and the name of his associate. The next logical step is to eliminate them.”
“And what about their relatives?” Marek said. “We know Axel Hoffmann has family an hour away, and his last phone call to them was just today. They’ll become suspicious.”
“And they’ll get him back,” Law said. “They may not be able to recognize him, but they’ll have their closure.”
Yolanda smacked the table. Then apologized for her outburst. “They have a third party. Another hacker. Every time I crack a firewall, three more go up behind it.”
“MI,” Law said.
“The camera I planted in Axel’s house,” Zyta said. “Micro-eye…Little Eye.”
“We’re Little Eye,” Marek said, piecing it together. “The job offer…we thought we were pacifying him…”
“But it was really an infiltration tactic on his part,” Zyta supplied.
“To get inside our base and hack our files,” Law said. “He’s been manipulating us.”
“So, let’s give him the job.” Murmurs followed Marek’s words. By now more than half of the gathered C3U members were perplexed, including Marek. He decided to go back to square one and keep his word. “We interview him, ‘hire’ him, and lay out a mission plan that involves the deaths of many innocents. We know from Dragon’s Throat that he’ll do whatever necessary to save lives, including contacting his colleague. When he does, Yolanda will track the signal, and get the third party’s location.”
“I can do that,” Yolanda said.
“And what about paying Kyle’s debt?” Sadie asked.
“In due time,” Law said. “For now, you backup Marek. Gather intelligence. I want to know the name of every person this Axel guy has contacted in the last year. Addresses, affiliations, locations visited. Everything. We treat this thing like cancer. Anything it touches, we cut it out.” Law reassumed his graceful demeanor. “Good job, Marek. Now let’s get to work.”
Sadie stomped out of the room, proclaiming her displeasure of the meeting’s turnout with a loud obscenity followed by a hard punch to the wall. The rest of Alpha followed quickly behind. And then a solemn Charlie squad after them. The sole member of Delta squad headed upstairs for the electronic repair shop.
“Eduardo, dismantle the vehicle Alpha squad used to apprehend the hacker,” Law ordered, taking leave.
“Yes, sir,” and without a moment to waste Eduardo was gone.
“What the hell was that?” Zyta asked her brother.
“Five minutes ago Sadie was going to kill him, and three minutes ago Caden was going to turn him into a vegetable. Cut me some slack.”
“I’m not talking about you,” Zyta said. “But, I’m glad you did that. I’m talking about Law’s decision to find and kill everybody affiliated with him. I mean, his parents?”
“We’re not going to kill his parents,” Marek said.
“And then he keeps evading my DNA tests.”
“I don’t know what to say about that. Yolanda, notify me if you break any ground,” Marek said. “I’ll be at the gun range.”
“I think Victoria is hiding something, too,” Zyta said, falling in step. “I found dispersal files under her name for undisclosed medications given to Law, and then I ask her about it and she says it was so long ago she forgets.”
“Sounds plausible.”
“Forgets? That’s why we record everything, so she can’t forget.”
“Maybe she forgot to record it.”
“I’m not joking—”
“Neither am I,” Marek said, stopping midway down the curved staircase. “Law, Victoria, and the rest of C3U are all looking outward, facing the obstacles that keep pushing against us. But you keep prying at us from the inside. Don’t you understand that if we become compromised, if this MI person or whatever learns about our past assignments, that we can be dissolved? And then what, Zee? Can you imagine living a normal life on the outside? They don’t have jobs for people like us out there. We wouldn’t survive.”
“Maybe not, but at least we wouldn’t be killing innocents,” she said, and stormed up the stairs.
Marek thought about following her, but what would he say? That she was wrong? But she isn’t, he thought. And neither am I. We just have different codes of conduct. Different ways of handling the same situation. And was he handling the situation? Law certainly didn’t think so. He wanted the intruder disposed of. Dead. To fight and conquer in all your battles is not supreme excellence; supreme excellence consists in breaking the enemy’s resistance without fighting. Words by Sun Tzu. Why didn’t he think to recite the passage in the briefing room? Too often his solutions arrived after the opportunity had passed.
Marek reached for his favorite sniper rifle: the M40A5 with dual infrared and high-definition night vision capabilities. A target down range appeared after the rifle’s scope identified Marek’s retina. And just like that, every thought in his mind disappeared. No more random Art of War interjections. No more analyzation of past actions or words. No anticipation of the future. The only thing that existed was the target in motion. The light resistance of the trigger. And the flicker of sparks as bullet met metal.
Zyta climbed a dozen steps and then stopped. She waited for Marek to continue his descent, but she heard nothing. Did I change his mind? Please don’t come up here. And then his footfalls began. She quickly synchronized hers with his, and followed him to the lowest level, where the gun range was located. He’d have a weapon in hand within minutes, and sure enough, the report of a high-caliber rifle dampened by a suppressor reverberated in the close quarters.
Although no longer necessary, Zyta tiptoed down the remaining few steps. Marek’s sense of awareness would be reduced to a pinhole, leaving Law’s office as the last obstacle.
Zyta used the various concrete columns as cover, moving between them as she approached the garage. Only two more columns and she’d be home free.
A metallic click followed Marek’s last shot. His rifle’s magazine had one round left. Then he’d reload and potentially spot Zyta. Having spent over a thousand hours with her brother on the gun range, Zyta had his aim cycle memorized. She timed hitting the garage door perfectly with his fina
l shot. And then she was gone. Or so she thought.
A few steps into the open hangar brought Zyta face to face with Eduardo. The Cadillac, she remembered. He pushed his way out of the driver’s seat and stretched his arms, yawning.
“What a mess, huh?” he said.
“Yeah. Have you seen Pablo?”
Eduardo rubbed his neck, exaggerating aches and pains. He knew what Zyta wanted, he just didn’t know how to deny her. “You know, I think the weather said rainy and chilly today. Not ideal for an afternoon drive.”
But ideal for kidnapping. And murder. Zyta wanted to say these things, to sling the sharp teeth of sarcasm and mockery. But then she’d be projecting her anger at Law onto Eduardo. And that wasn’t fair. “The smell of rain helps me think,” she said. And felt a pang of remorse as Eduardo frowned. If there was anybody Zyta could trust with the blatant truth, it was Eduardo. “Have you ever considered a life outside of C3U?”
A heavy grunt emitted from the far side of the Cadillac, and Pablo emerged from the passenger seat. Smeared grease covered his cheek and a small portion of his neck like a half-assed application of warpaint. “Hey, Zee. Thinking about running away from home again?” he asked.
“Which one of these cars has my name on it?”
“Right there,” he said, pointing at an old Volvo propped up on four cinder blocks, its tires missing. “That’ll take ya about as far as you need to go.”
Zyta flipped him the bird and he returned it happily before ducking back into the Cadillac.
Eduardo wiped his hands on his thighs. Then he gestured for Zyta to take a seat on one of the low-profile creepers. He let out a long, tired sigh as he settled down next to her. “What’s eating at you?”
Zyta sat down a little too quickly and her chair rolled back a few inches. She cursed at it, then cursed the air’s oily aroma and metallic taste of methane gas. Anger turned to swallowed tears as she imagined never smelling that oil again. “This place,” she said. “It’s disorganized. It acts like it has a code but flips agendas whenever convenient.”
