by Alex Howell
Stay calm, stay calm, stay calm.
“I want to know that the children are still safe,” President Morgan demanded.
Ah, crap, Raina thought. At this point, the goal was no longer to get Warrior to speak, but to keep him on the line as long as possible, the better so Kyle could work his digital magic and pick up on the signal.
Kyle, for his part, watched the situation unfold with some trepidation. He hated confrontation, though he recognized its necessity. Still, confrontation wasn’t going to help him do his job of tracking Warrior… which was coming closer and closer to fruition.
He just needed a little bit longer.
“I’ll let you speak to the children when the billion dollars are in my account,” Warrior said. “Consider it a trade for a trade. I guess you could say it’s the price tag on the kid’s heads.”
Warrior laughed, and President Morgan’s fist curled up. Raina put a hand on his arm, meant to calm him, but the president did not calm down. He looked at Raina, made a motion that suggested he wanted her to jump on, and resumed talking. Just don’t hang up, Raina thought.
“We can discuss details, Warrior,” the president said, treating the name Warrior like venom he had to spit out. “But I want you to discuss this with the woman handling the situation on our end. She can better discuss things with you, given your propensity to, let’s say, aggravate situations.”
“I don’t think so,” Warrior said, his voice growing annoyed and terse. “I know you Americans. Claim you don’t negotiate with terrorists. Your government wants to try and trick me? Pathetic!”
“Warrior,” Raina said, hating the idea of jumping in but feeling like it might slow things down enough to allow Kyle to trace the call. “I am not with the government. I’m a member of a private contracting group called Onyx. My name is Raina.”
A long silence came. Raina could confirm that Warrior was still on the other end of the line, but, in any social circumstance, the silence would have been so long that Raina would have just hung up the phone. In actuality, this was the best thing that could have happened—Kyle could continue to work his tech wizardry while Raina could sit back and not have to divulge anything and President Morgan could take the opportunity to calm himself down.
Finally, with a cough, Warrior came back.
“You expect me to believe, Raina, that you’re telling the truth?”
“Honestly? I don’t,” Raina said. She hoped that her acknowledgment of his beliefs meant more than her brutally honest admission of distrust on both sides—and that it would give Kyle the time he needed.. “But I am here to tell you that we can arrange the billion dollars if need be. However, we need to know the kids are safe. You’re right, the United States doesn’t negotiate with terrorists. This is not a negotiation. This is a trade. And—”
“Bah!” Warrior spat, but he didn’t say anything else, again pausing for a long time. Raina suspected that either she was getting to him, or this was a trick he was playing—but surely, he must have imagined that his calls would be tracked, no?
Just let it continue, Kyle thought, noticing that he needed only a few more seconds. He already had the call narrowed to the top-right quadrant of Kansas—which included Kansas City, but the longer the call went, the more it seemed unlikely that it was actually in the city.
“The billion dollars is nice, but I don’t care as much about that,” Warrior said, an admission that Raina as surprised to hear. That was leverage that she could use going forward—something that would benefit the administration to know. “Do you know what I care about, Raina? Do you know what I want most?”
“No, I don’t, because you have never told us,” Raina said, a technically true statement—although her heart sank when she realized where this was probably headed. He wants to watch the world burn. “What is it that you want the most?”
“The war with North Korea,” Warrior said. Knew it. “That, more than anything else, is what matters the most. And you, as a private contractor or whatever nonsensical term you want to use, cannot start that war. But do you know who can? The president. Put him back on!”
Raina looked at Kyle. Kyle gave the thumbs up—he should have had enough data to complete the trace, and, even if he did not, just a few more seconds would give him the necessary data. The call wasn’t going to suddenly drop so long as the president or Warrior didn’t act brashly.
Which, unfortunately, to Kyle, was far from a given.
“I’m here,” President Morgan growled. “What do you want to know, Warrior?”
“This is the deal,” Warrior said as Raina pleaded with President Morgan to remain calm. “If you want to see the kids again, it is very simple. You will start the war. All it takes is dropping one bomb on that country. Surely, even a dense fool like yourself can see the benefits of that.”
“I swear, Warrior—”
Raina had to physically reign in the president, a task not very easily accomplished.
“You can swear all you want, Mr. President, but do keep in mind that you only have two and a half more days now,” Warrior said. “Make the right choice. Don’t leave us hanging.”
With that, Warrior laughed, reminded him again of the time left, and hung up.
But he had said something critical. Us. There’s more than one of them. We suspected this, but…
Raina’s mind raced. Did that mean there was a second person on the ground with Warrior? A second person from afar? She had too many questions and not enough information, but she could say that it was a layer of the puzzle they had to resolve as soon as possible.
“Damnit!” President Morgan roared. “We need those kids back, now!”
“Kyle, you better have something,” Raina said.
“Give it, uh, one second.”
Kyle’s screen processed through some data. Kyle folded his arms, leaned back, and tried to look serious as the president and Raina both hung over his shoulder. Please turn up something, he thought. Please, please. Don’t put me on the yelling end of the president.
“There,” he said. Thank God. He reached for his Onyx phone. “I have to call Mason.”
10
August 18th, 2028
7:05 p.m. CST
Wichita, KS
Somehow, Mason accomplished something that he never thought he’d actually get to do on the train.
He managed to catch a second quick nap for the remainder of his trip.
Though the bullet train would take him barely more than an hour to get to Kansas City, at which point he’d get on a new train to go to Wichita, it was actually the perfect amount of time for Mason. It would let him sleep long enough to catch some energy back after dealing with his daughter and the ensuing thoughts, but not so long that he would wake up groggy and unable to complete his mission.
Though Mason had never been much of a napper on the teams, raising a daughter as a single father while holding down a job had made him an expert at getting in sleep when he could. He never really could say when he’d be needed and for how long, so sleep became less of a scheduled thing and more of a “get it while he can” thing.
When he awoke, he felt the proper amount of energized—eager and ready to fulfill his duties, but relaxed enough to wait for what they actually were.
Which was a good thing, too, because at this point, the next step in his mission involved “get on the train to Wichita and wait.”
So he did that, and as he did, he tried to think of all of the team members and what he had evaluated of them so far.
The most noticeable was Kyle, if only because his behavior seemed so unlike that of a SEAL. Then again, Luke had said that multiple people on the team weren’t SEALs but had specialty skills that could contribute a great deal to the cause; perhaps Kyle, in this modern era, was one such person. It felt odd to say that Kyle might yet play a critical role with the team, but if he was the equivalent of Tessa, someone whose brain surpassed his brawn, then he would play an absolutely major role in it all. It’s always the ones you do
n’t expect. That can go both ways—it can hurt you, but it can also help you.
Marshal felt a little bit like General Jones in terms of temper and personality and gruffness, though hopefully not in terms of loyalty to the country. Mason put his faith in Luke, though, that he had thoroughly vetted the man. Besides, personality similarities didn’t bear any semblance to actual results; for everything that General Jones had done, there were probably ten thousand men just like him before from the days of the Revolutionary War up to the present day who had never betrayed their country for power or for money.
Rania was fierce, but he didn’t know much of her. He had to admit there was something alluring and attractive about her, but Mason chalked that up to simply her being the only woman on the team. He had no interest in anything, anyways; it was like admiring a statue outside a city hall, but that admiration didn’t mean you wanted that statue in your own building.
And really, what was he going to do, fall for her? The notion that Mason had the capacity to love anyone other than Clara—let alone have romantic love for anyone since Bree—was just not possible. Raina would make for a great ally, but that was it. A coworker, nothing more, nothing less.
Duke and Case going off together felt like the equivalent of sending Clara and himself on a mission, two people who should never be together. But, hell, if they knew what they were doing, what was it to him to question it? Case had an ease to him that never seemed forced or demonstrative; conversely, Duke was as motivated as anyone to get things done and prove that he still had the capability to make a difference.
Poor Chris had to stand by, which Mason never would have tolerated. He would have walked right up to Luke, said, “I’ll be back in Baltimore” and never looked back.
Or, conversely, he would have gotten on the train to Kansas anyways, followed whoever was supposed to be the field person, and provide backup for them as needed. Both were distinct and real possibilities.
All-in-all, it seemed like a good team. He needed more time to interact with them and get to know them, but the chance to reflect on first impressions seemed promising. The individual weaknesses were balanced out by someone else on the team, and few seemed to clash with each other in a way that seemed foreboding. Of everyone, Duke probably had the most bitterness, but Mason could have just as easily assumed that that was mistaken for fire. Chris, actually, seemed the most prone to an outrageous outburst that would cost Onyx in some fashion.
Compared to General Jones, though, all of them seemed like good people who would never hurt the country.
The train arrived a short while later to Wichita, and Mason received a text from Luke that an automated car would be waiting to grab him, another black Series government vehicle, this time a Series C. Mason walked outside and spotted the vehicle, which looked more like a Honda Civic of the old days than what Mason had ridden in from D.C. to Baltimore. He had to admit he felt a tinge of pain that he wasn’t going to have the luxuries he had before, but he was used to the Spartan lifestyle, anyways. Him being pained was just a sign of weakness, nothing else.
Just before getting in, his phone rang with that same grating sound. Mason grimaced, looked around, felt relief that no one seemed to notice or care, and answered.
“This is Mason.”
“Hey, it’s Kyle,” the voice said softly on the other line. “Did you get my previous call?”
“Previous call?”
What did I miss?
“Yeah, I, uh, called like an hour ago?”
Damn. I must have been sleeping.
“Sorry, it never got through,” Mason said. “What’s up?”
“It has to deal with Warrior.”
Right to it. I like it.
“Hold on,” Mason said. “Let me get somewhere private.”
Mason went to the car, waited for the doors to open, and then sat down, resuming his talk as the doors securely shut behind him. He checked around his mirrors once to make sure that no one was spying on him, and aside from a few young passengers getting off the train, no one seemed any more interested in Mason and his vehicle than any of the other cars.
“Go ahead.”
“Warrior called in,” Kyle said, raising eyebrows from Mason. He’d expected it, but it was still a positive development. “He wanted to know if his demands were met yet.”
“I sure hope not. I just got here.”
Mason hadn’t meant to make the dark humor; it had just come out as a serious statement that, he realized, happened to have a tinge of darkness to it.
“Nope, nothing. We’ve got two days, which, uhh, maybe that’s a lot?”
Does he mean two and a half? Or that the countdown started from last night?
In any case, doesn’t matter. We’ll find him even if we only have two days.
“It’s enough.”
Mason wanted to also say “get to the damn point”, but he restrained himself, wanting to keep good relations with his new tech guy. He had faith that Kyle would become a better communicator with time, anyways.
He hoped, at least.
“Got it,” Kyle said, trying to sound firmer than he probably was. “In any case, he revealed something critical. We believe now he’s operating with more than just himself. We don’t, uh, we don’t know how many there are, but there are more than one.”
Hmm.
“Makes sense,” Mason said, although that really was valuable information. One person could be killed and the day was saved; multiple people needing to be killed required an increase in stealth and safety on everyone’s part. Still, it was unclear if this meant Warrior was with multiple people or if he had multiple people on the job with him. Both were bad for Onyx, but only one of them had any real impact on how Mason operated in Kansas.
“More importantly for you, uh, I managed to track the call to an exact location.”
Mason pumped his fist, anticipating a chance to take down the sadistic Warrior without him ever knowing Mason had arrived. It was a real, genuine chance to be back in the battlefield, not something that he would’ve gotten forced into by domestic terrorists.
“It’s in a warehouse that’s more or less abandoned near Manhattan. It’s a small town with a nearby college, but the warehouse is on the outskirts of the city, and the whole place is industrial anyways, so old school, so it won’t be very populated.”
“Good,” Mason said.
It was the perfect setup. Devoid of a large population, it meant Mason would have the chance to set up shop near Warrior, take him out with ease, and rescue the kids. Of course, nothing ever went so easily or according to plan—and if it did, Mason could not recall it so easily—but the setup was at least promising.
Just don’t let it take a turn like in D.C.
“Last thing we need is another bombing near a school in D.C.”
The memory of that, and how close things had come from brushing with danger to outright having it occur terrified him. At least from what Kyle was saying, this warehouse was far removed from the college, minimizing casualties. That’s the idea, at least. We’ll see how it goes in practice.
Either way, stay focused on what you can control. You know better.
“Uh, yeah. Anyways, Mason, I’m sending you the coordinates right now, hold on.”
The car then lit up, showing that the warehouse was approximately 140 miles away from where Mason was. In the old days, it would have taken two hours. But now, thanks to technology…
“Your vehicle can there in a little over an hour, my guess would be about an hour and ten,” Kyle said. “We’ll have the roads cleared for it to drive as fast as you can. But, uh, you may want to take over the last little bit. Otherwise, it’s going to pull up right to the warehouse, and I don’t think you’ll want that.”
Mason pictured the vehicle pulling up, giving a courtesy honk, and then waiting for Warrior to emerge outside. If it wasn’t such a fatal scenario, it would have carried a whiff of humor to it.
“No, not really,” Mason said, putting darkly h
umorous scenarios behind him. “But I have what I need right now. Thanks Kyle.”
“Of course.”
Sure is a lot better than having central command threaten you if you get help.
I missed this feeling. I missed being on a team like this.
I just wish being on a team didn’t involve such deadly and harsh consequences like this.
Or do I? The insurance company kept saying we were a family… are you sure it’s not just killing that you relish?
“I’ll, uh, I’ll message you if anything comes up.”
With that, Mason and Kyle hung up, the car moved slowly forward, and as soon as it cleared off of the city streets and made it to the highway, it sped forward down Interstate 135 like the bullet train Mason had just been on, reaching peak speeds in its pursuit of the First Family’s children.
Mason had several thoughts to grapple with as the car moved forward, most notably dealing with his own relationship with the rest of Onyx and himself, but with a very real target, a very real destination, and a very real finality to the night, he could put those thoughts behind. He could focus solely on the task that would face him by 8:30 or so, hopefully with the result of him back at the house before sunrise the next day.
11
August 18th, 2028
8:11 p.m. CST
Manhattan, KS
After the car seamlessly took the highway exit to Manhattan, Mason checked to see that they were less than two miles out. The drive had gone by much quicker than Mason had expected, even with the timer on the dashboard, but he was still fully prepared to do what he had to do.
It was time to take over.
He took control of the steering wheel, pressed a couple of buttons to initiate manual override, and guided the vehicle to about a quarter of a mile away from the warehouse, parking near a whole host of other abandoned warehouses on a rocky, pebble-laden road. The scene looked like something out of a steampunk novel—plenty of empty buildings, grimy sights, and not a soul within miles. Whatever the city of Manhattan, Kansas, might have been at one time, it was about as far a cry as Mason could get from the Manhattan he’d spent time in trying to rescue his daughter.
