Rise: Luthecker, #2

by Keith Domingue

  “What…what are you doing?”

  “Just do as I say, and I won’t hurt you. Hands behind your head.” Todd stood unmoving, unable to comprehend Two-Good’s actions. Two-Good responded by stepping closer and aiming the weapon at Todd’s head. “Please, Todd. I’m not going to ask again.”

  Todd put his hands behind his head, never taking his eyes from Two-Good’s. Two-Good saw confusion, anger, and a sense of betrayal in Todd’s stare.

  “Now turn around.”

  “He’s going to kill you,” Todd said.

  Two-Good answered by motioning with the barrel of the Glock. Todd slowly turned around. Two-Good struck Todd in the back of the head with the butt of the Glock, and Todd was unconscious before he hit the floor.

  Nicole Ellis watched in disbelief as the guard hit the floor. It took a moment before she recognized the gunman as one of her original kidnappers, and she instinctively stood up and backed against the far wall of her cell. Nikki watched as the man holstered his weapon and searched the unconscious guard’s pocket for keys. Once the man found them in a coat pocket, he removed them and turned toward Nicole.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  Two-Good didn’t answer. Keys rattled in the lock before he swung the cell door open. “Let’s go,” Two-Good finally spoke.

  “Where?”

  “Out.”

  “Why?”

  “We haven’t got time.”

  “Where’s Alex?”

  Two-Good stepped inside the cell, and Nikki backed against the wall.

  “I don’t know. And I don’t care. Now we have to go.”

  “I’m not leaving without him.”

  “Then you’ll die. But it’ll be your choice. It won’t be because of me.”

  Nikki stood for several seconds, unsure what was happening, unsure what to do. Then it dawned on her. “He spoke to you.”

  Two-Good and Nikki locked eyes. He stepped closer to her, and she held her breath.

  “People like him; they shouldn’t be able to do the things they can do. They shouldn’t exist in this world. It’s wrong.”

  Nikki could see it in Two-Good’s eyes—Alex had told this man his fate, and it had more than rattled him; it had set his life on an entirely different course.

  “Now if you want a chance to be escape, let’s go,” Two-Good said.

  Nikki’s mind reeled. She knew it with no hesitation and it almost frightened her—Alex was orchestrating this situation entirely. And if he was, there was a purpose to it. Alex was giving her an opportunity, one that she had to capitalize on, even if she didn’t understand it. She had to have faith that, somehow, Alex knew what he was doing.

  “Okay. I’ll go with you.”

  Two-Good nodded, and stepped out of the cell, Nikki in tow.

  “Wait a minute,” she said.

  Two-Good turned around and watched as Nikki approached the wooden chair across from the cell that the guard, Todd, had been seated in.

  “What the hell?” Two-Good said as he watched Nikki lift the chair over her head.

  She looked at him but didn’t answer and threw the chair against the stone floor with all her might. The wooden frame shattered to pieces.

  “What are you doing?” Two-Good asked again, this time reaching for his Glock. He watched as she picked through the broken pieces and selected two legs, each roughly two-feet in length. She felt them for weight and balance, spinning them in her hands several times before she turned to Two-Good.

  “I’m ready. Now where are we going?”

  “There’s old tunnels from the castle’s medieval days, mostly sewer drains now, that lead from the basement to just outside the castle walls. If we’re lucky, we’ll make it outside. From there, you’re on your own.”

  “What about you?”

  “My business. Let’s go.” Two-Good made his way back to where he had come from, the boiler room section of the castle, picking up his pace to a run. Nikki kept up, a chair leg in each hand, her legs responding, craving the movement. The hum of the boiler rooms grew louder. They turned the final corner and stopped in their tracks.

  Standing across from them was Lucas Parks, along with the two guards from the courtyard that Two-Good had seen from his window. The men stood on either side of Parks, AK-47s aimed at Two-Good and Nikki. One guard spoke in Russian to the other, the tone and mannerisms telling Nikki and Two-Good something about the girl, and the other guard let out a brief laugh.

  “Fascinating,” Parks said as he looked at Two-Good with a combination of curiosity and genuine incredulity. “Absolutely fascinating,” Parks repeated. “With one conversation, he overcame years of conditioning and turned you against me.”

  “It’s not like that, sir.”

  “Quiet.”

  Nikki held her sticks low and eyed the AK-47s.

  Parks continued.“To be honest, I didn’t think he could do it. I didn’t think it was possible. I didn’t believe that he could twist your brain, twist your past, and hypnotize you into doing something like this. I thought you feared me more. I completely understand the interest in him by Coalition Properties now. Thank you for your service, David.”

  Two-Good thought for a moment about what his final words would be. “Don’t die,” he said to Nikki before launching himself at Parks.

  The assault was quick and unexpected, and Parks hit the floor, landing on his back with Two-Good on top of him.

  Nikki didn’t hesitate. She spun the leg chairs turned Kali sticks with blinding speed and precision, first whipping the stick in her right hand down on the hand that held the barrel of the first AK-47, shattering it, while simultaneously cracking the jaw of its holder with the stick in her left hand, sending both he and his rifle to the floor with a clatter.

  The second guard barely had time to turn the barrel of his AK toward Nikki before she dropped the stick in her left hand and caught the barrel, keeping the dangerous end away from her while beating the rifle holder’s head with the stick in her right. The gunman’s trigger finger instinctively squeezed, and a short burst of bullets bounced off the stone walls, arcing in a semi-circle, the echo of the gunfire burst almost deafening. Neither the bullets or the concussive noise slowed Nikki down, and after three strikes of the chair stick to the head of the rifle holder, he let go of the gun and slumped to the floor.

  She turned to the struggle between Lucas Parks and David Two-good. Before she could move, she heard a scream and witnessed a knife held by Lucas Parks sink deep into the stomach of David Two-Good.

  Lucas Parks rolled David Two-Good’s dead body off of him. He sat up to find both of his soldiers unconscious, one with his rifle missing. He whipped his head back and forth, searching the hallway.

  Nicole Ellis was gone.

  Lucas Parks got to his feet just as Todd, the guard in charge of watching over Nikki Ellis, approached—staggering, semiconscious, and in pain—one hand on his head and the other on the wall to hold himself steady. Todd saw Lucas Parks and immediately shook off the pain and stood up straight.

  “Put the estate on lock down,” Parks told Todd. “Make sure she doesn’t escape the grounds. I want her alive if possible. Recruit everyone in Trans Dniester if you have to.” Parks touched his lip and pulled back bloody fingers. “And bring me Alex Luthecker. Now.”

  Part III

  CHOICES

  25

  Corporatists

  “Collin Smith is here to see you, sir; he says he’s been trying to reach you. He says it’s urgent. He’s pretty insistent,” the pretty but sterile-looking blonde-haired woman in the perfect skirt suit said to James Howe.

  “Send him in,” Howe replied.

  “Yes, sir,” the woman said, before exiting the large and opulent office of the Coalition Properties’ CEO, carefully closing the heavy oak door behind her.

  Howe sat back in his chair, steepling his fingers in front of his face. Smith, the elder statesman of the Coalition board, had been seeking a one-on-one meeting with him ever since
Lucas Parks had abducted Alex Luthecker, but Howe had put the old man off, wanting to get a status update from Lucas Parks first.

  Howe had not been in contact with Parks since the gangster first touched down in Trans Dniester, but he hoped that Parks would reach out to him soon with news of Alex Luthecker’s execution. Howe would then spin the young man’s death to the board of directors as an unfortunate development and, that as CEO, he believed it was time for Coalition Properties to put the Alex Luthecker obsession behind them. He would explain that the future did not lie in the hands of some uncontrollable pattern-recognizing soothsayer whose most valuable purpose would be potentially shaving seconds off the soon-to-be-outdated time to profit ratio, but instead embrace the inevitable by boldly forging ahead and absorbing Lucas Parks’ organization, with its pure free market infrastructure that had virtually unlimited growth potential. The only true untapped market left in the world was the massive underground economy, and controlling it could double the market cap of what was already the world’s largest organization. In Howe’s mind, taking over Parks’ organization and expanding it represented the only path to complete and irreversible global dominance in an increasingly unregulated world. To Howe, it was only a matter of time before the line between legal and illegal commerce disappeared. And when that happened he wanted Coalition Properties to be the undisputed leader, the clear winner in what would be an all out war over the remaining resources of the world. Howe fully expected Coalition Properties to rise up and be the first and largest corporate state in the new world order. And in this new order, the time to profit ratio would cease to matter. That’s because Coalition Properties would own nearly everything. And Howe would be at the head of the table of the world’s first and only corporate superpower.

  “Sorry I’ve been unavailable Collin,” Howe said as he got to his feet and stepped out from behind his desk. Howe watched as the elderly man with splotched skin and little in the way of hair hobbled through the door, leaning on a cane for balance. The old man carefully shut the office door and turned toward Howe, and that’s when Howe noticed that Collin Smith carried a file in his free hand.

  “What’s the status?” Smith asked as the men shook hands.

  “Lucas Parks has Luthecker in custody. As well as the girl,” Howe replied as he escorted Smith to a pair of plush leather chairs on either side of an antique coffee table.

  “And where are they?”

  “Trans Dniester.”

  “The break off Republic of Moldova? Jesus Christ. What are you thinking?”

  “I’m thinking that this is perfect.”

  “Trans Dniester is not an internationally recognized state. There is zero accountability there.”

  “That’s kind of the point, Collin; zero accountability works both ways. We’re entering a truly free market world, and as I’ve told the board the situation is more containable offshore in a place where there are no rules.”

  “And Luthecker; you’ve confirmed that he’s still alive?” Smith said as he sat down.

  “I expect to hear from Lucas Parks soon. It’s all under control. Can I get you anything?”

  Smith waved Howe off. “I’ve been trying to reach you for a reason.”

  “Apologies. You know how things get around here.” Howe eyed the file Smith had in his hand. “Do you have something for me?”

  “I’ve done some digging.”

  “Into?”

  “I’ve been around a long time, James. And I don’t believe in random events. Or behavior. From either you or your predecessor.”

  “Richard Brown was a brilliant soldier. But a little too militant for civilian life, perhaps.”

  “His tactics and motivations may have been different than yours, but I assure you, his ambitions were the same. He, too, was a man who valued secrets.”

  “What are you trying to say, Collin?”

  “That I know what you’re up to.”

  Howe felt his skin get hot. He never liked Smith. The old man always kept his true thoughts to himself in the boardroom, staying in the background, choosing to go unnoticed until he felt you were at your most vulnerable. Then he would strike. Howe noticed the network of tiny veins in the old man’s face, visible through nearly translucent skin. “So tell me, what am I up to? Does it have to do with what you have in your hand?”

  Smith looked down at the file in his hand like he almost forgot he was holding it. He held it out for Howe to take. “It’s the reason we need Luthecker alive.”

  Howe took the file from Smith and opened it.

  “Legally, we own him,” Smith said.

  Howe looked up from the file. “Explain.”

  “His birth parents sought treatment from a fertility center owned by Coalition Properties.”

  “So? They’re deceased. Died in a car accident if I remember correctly. After that Luthecker became a ward of the state. Went off the grid at sixteen. Nothing new there, Collin.”

  “Those two parents are dead, that is correct. However there is a third one. And I believe she may still be alive.” Smith watched Howe’s eyes, waiting for his words to register on the younger man. The eldest board member of Coalition Properties let out the faintest of smiles as he saw that the young board leader was completely thrown by this information.

  “What the hell are you talking about?” Howe finally replied.

  Smith adjusted himself in his chair, trying to find a way to get comfortable, before placing his cane across his lap. He cleared his throat before speaking. “In the mid-‘90s, Coalition Properties’ medical division began dabbling in genetics. It was a small program but I was aware of it because I was head of that division at the time. Our goal was to develop methods to identify and correct genetic defects through gene therapy, while the baby was still in the first trimester.”

  “A eugenics program?”

  “Good god, no. We’re capitalists, not Nazi’s. At the time we considered genetic defect correction a growth industry with tremendous upside potential, considering oncoming industrial pollutant and radiological concerns, particularly in third world countries and war torn regions of the globe.”

  “You anticipated a lot of birth defects.”

  “Correct. We still do…and at a much larger scale than we thought previously. Just look at the reports coming out of Iraq. We also anticipated then, and again still do now, that a great deal of profit can be made in fixing these defects at their earliest stages, on a genetic level. One of the most promising methods of gene therapy being tested at the time was something called a “DNA swap out.” If a defect in a fetus was determined to exist early in the first trimester, say, Down Syndrome or a cleft palate, we could potentially swap out the defective DNA with a matching donor. We discovered that up to twelve percent of the child’s DNA, originating from the birth parents, could successfully be swapped out with a third party whose DNA did not contain the defect—the donor effectively being a “third parent.” It was limited scope—it could only be done with the mother’s X-chromosome genetic strain, and thus the donor had to be another female. The process proved to be marginally effective before more successful and cost efficient methods shuttered the program. However, according to our records, there’s a strong possibility that Alex Luthecker was, in fact, a DNA swap out child, born under Coalition Properties’ medical facilities care.” Smith patiently waited for Howe to process what he had just heard.

  “You’re saying that Alex Luthecker has two mothers?” Howe finally asked.

  “I’m saying it’s a very strong possibility.”

  “Why is this the first time I’m hearing of this?”

  “As I said, it was a small program that was shut down. If it wasn’t for both yours and Richard Brown’s obsession with Alex Luthecker, I would have never even thought to check into it.”

  “Well where is she? The second mother?”

  “We’re looking. But more importantly, you must understand, Coalition Properties owns the patent on the process. And legally the product output as w
ell.” Howe paused a moment, letting Smith’s words sink in.

  “We own him.”

  “Yes. More or less, according to new U.S. patent laws.”

  “This DNA swap out. Is this why he can do…what he can do?”

  “We’re not sure, but we think so.”

  “Are there more like him?”

  “We don’t know. Thus far, it appears to be an isolated incident.”

  “We? Who else knows about this?”

  “Just myself, the second mother, if she’s alive, and the doctor who swears he did the procedure on Alex when he was still in the womb. His name is Doctor Mark Kirby, and he’s still an employee of Coalition Properties. He firmly believes that the swap out had an impact on Luthecker’s ability to memorize and process data. It’s his theory that the DNA swap is a key component behind Luthecker’s abilities.”

  “How so? And what defect was corrected?”

  “It would be better if he explained it to you.”

  “Then I want to meet him. Right away.”

  Smith moved the cane off his lap, grimacing slightly as he used it to prop himself to his feet.

  “Does Glen Turner know about this?” Howe asked, in reference to his Coalition Properties board rival.

  “If he does, he didn’t hear it from me. The last thing I want is a proxy war for control of this company. The reason I’m telling you, and have been trying to tell you, is so you understand why Alex Luthecker is so valuable to the Coalition. And to prevent you from having him killed.” Smith steadied himself with both hands on his cane.“I know that’s what you want, James. Luthecker dead. I know that you fear what he can do, just like Richard Brown did. Unlike Brown, however, you’ve never viewed him as a potential asset—only a threat that needed to be eliminated. You believe that with him out of the way, your secrets are safe, and you and Lucas Parks can own the world, and over time you’ll get rid of Parks, leaving you all alone on the throne.” Smith pointed a bony finger at Howe.“You think you’re going to be the next Alexander the Great, but what you’re really doing is setting up the world for another Dark Ages, James.”