by Jan Domagala
“Oh, we still have contacts inside Col Sec. I found out who was guarding Tanya here, had to be Carter, Gregory out there has no one, been a loner most of his life. Recon Delta is his family, but Carter, he had a wife, lovely creature. I killed her so I could replace him. I knew you’d come to visit; you had to, seeing as how you showed such affection for her, coming to her rescue like that. Oh, how it must’ve pained you to have to kill her father. What would she have thought of you? But on discovering you didn’t really kill him, you had to come and give her the news. Well, I have a message from Daddy, and I had to wait for you to arrive Matt, it’s a message for you both. Daddy says that you’ve been a naughty girl Tanya and you must be punished.”
With that, never taking his eyes off Hawk he fired the Sig. Tanya’s scream was cut short as her head exploded from the pulsed plasma bolt fired at point blank range. Blood erupted over the bed as she was sent flying backwards, arms outstretched to land on her back, bouncing slightly on the mattress before settling down.
She died instantly.
Hawk caught all this; even though the second Maguire fired he too fired a rapid double tap. The two shots struck the clone’s head almost as one in a mist of blood, throwing him to the far side of the room to land in a crumpled heap, killing him stone dead.
Gregory rushed in to verify what he already knew, that the shooter was dead, while Hawk went to the bed.
Tanya, or what was left of her, was unrecognisable. The shot had destroyed her lovely face, her head was nothing but the lower half from the nose down, just a jumbled wreck of tissue and mashed bones covered in a patina of her own blood.
“Matt, what the fuck just happened here man?” Gregory asked from his position by the dead clone.
“Classified Mike, that’s all I can tell you,” Hawk replied, his voice deep and dark, full of rage. Turning away from the gory remains on the bed he left the bedroom and headed for the staircase. With a clench of his teeth he activated his ear bug and said, “General, we have a problem.”
32
On his way out to the cruiser, Hawk told Gregory to hold the fort until the clean-up squad arrived and then he left with no further explanation.
It was just a short drive from the safe house to the nearest spaceport where a sub-orbital shuttle was waiting to take him to Area 15 where General Sinclair would be waiting for him. The shuttle was one of a fleet that was loaned to Col Sec for private use in cases such as this, when military transport was unavailable or logistically infeasible. It was a small, sleek dart of a craft that had all the luxuries of a much larger passenger shuttle. The Cessna C210, nicknamed the Silver Dart due to its sleek profile and swept back wing configuration, would get Hawk to Nevada in a fraction of the time a commercial flight would and in a lot more comfort. That fact, however, did nothing to improve his mood and he doubted anything would until he crushed Jonas Wilde and his insidious group, OMEGA.
“Can I get you anything?” said a voice at his side. He was so wrapped up in his thoughts, dark thoughts full of blood and revenge; he failed to notice the flight attendant until she’d spoken. When her words finally registered he turned to look at the bright-eyed young woman with the beaming smile.
“I’m sorry, I was lost in thought then,” he apologised, his voice still dark and full of menace.
“That’s okay, sir, rough day was it?” she asked.
“You have no idea,” he said trying to hide the pain and anger he was feeling. The need to lash out was almost overwhelming and it wasn’t this young woman’s fault, so he had to control his urges.
“Can I get you anything to eat then, I always find a hot meal helps me to unwind after a tough day, you know, refuel for the next day, give you the strength to fight on.”
“You know, I am hungry, I can’t remember the last time I ate, so bring me whatever’s on the menu please.”
“Anything to drink, sir, the wet bar is quite impressive.”
“It has been a rough day so bring me a large whisky, I don’t care which just as long as it’s a single malt.”
“Coming right up, sir.”
“Excuse me Miss, but what do I call you?” Hawk asked once he’d finished ordering and she was about to leave. He found talking to her had actually helped his mood somewhat.
“I’m Lieutenant O’Neil, sir, and your flight crew are Captain Wright and Lieutenant Commander Sanders,” she replied courteously.
“Thank you Lieutenant O’Neil,” he said with a brief smile. “You ought to do that more often if you don’t mind my saying, sir?”
“Excuse me?” he asked, not sure what she meant.
“Smile, sir,” she replied then turned and walked towards the rear of the shuttle to fill his order.
He was taken aback by her comment and he glanced around his seat to watch her leave. He was surprised to see her glance at him over her shoulder just as she went through the door.
Her smile was genuine and he had to admit she certainly was easy on the eye and, despite his earlier dark thoughts, he found himself smiling.
When she returned with his glass of Jameson Gold Reserve she said, “Your meal will be along shortly, sir,” and was gone again.
He took a sip of the amber liquid savouring the creaminess and honey sweetness as it lay on his tongue, before swallowing it and allowing the warmth to spread through him up to the peppery finale as he began to finally relax.
On his drive from the safe house he’d called Sinclair to give him a sit-rep and was told to stay on the Cessna where the General would join him once he arrived at Area 15. From there they would go directly to the Legend, which had returned from the search for the illusive base. They would dock with the cruiser and proceed to Cordoba and their meeting with Maxwell Eisenhower.
Everything was set in place; all that seemed to be required of him was to go along. With nothing left to do but wait, he sat back in the plush padded seat to savour his drink until the meal arrived.
His meal was rack of lamb with roast potatoes and seasonal vegetables embellished with mint flavoured gravy, and was quite superb. As he ate his mind wandered over what Maguire had said, the message that was for both Tanya and him and was to be delivered personally. Maguire must’ve known that it was a suicide mission, still more evidence of the blind obedience programmed into the clones, but the message wasn’t what he said but rather what he did. Look at the lengths I will go to, to deliver this message, even though it will cost me my life. Look at how easily we can reach you even though you think you are safe.
The message was clear. How were they supposed to fight and defeat an enemy with resources and resolve like that?
It was clearly meant to demoralise them but in fact it had had the opposite effect upon Hawk. He was now more than ever determined to see this through to the bitter end, and he was sure General Sinclair would feel the same.
Before he knew it the Cessna was landing at Area 15, a bleak military outpost in a remote part of the Nevada desert. From the ground it appeared to be a few low buildings dotted here and there, the real base stretched several miles underground and covered more than five city blocks.
General Sinclair boarded and Captain Wright soon had the sleek Silver Dart airborne once more. He wasted no time getting to and docking with the Legend, barely giving Sinclair time to get comfortable before he and Hawk were being led up to the bridge where they met another old friend.
“Nice to see you again, Colonel,” Sinclair said as he saw the figure of Colonel De Boer standing next to Captain Walker Townsend, commander of the Legend.
“Nice to see you too, sir, and you, Matt, but it’s not good news I’m afraid,” De Boer replied.
“Go on,” Sinclair said.
“We covered the entire area twice with no signs of any base being there at any time. We ran every test, every scan we could, sir, and still came up with nothing.”
“I’ve a theory about that,” Hawk said. Something had been bothering him about Wilde’s escape plan and, with the results now in, it was
time to air his thoughts.
“Go on, Matt,” Sinclair urged.
“It’s been bothering me, sir, that Wilde used a transport with a limited range on the hyper drive. Why? Was it because their base was that close? The search proved that not to be the case, so another alternative would be that he was rendezvousing with another craft for the second leg of the journey, which I feel is doubtful. He already had a hyper drive so why use two ships for one journey, seems pointless? The only other alternative is that he programmed the nav-comp for another jump and we stopped it before it could be completed.”
“You know that can’t be verified don’t you, the ship was totally destroyed in the explosion? Even if we could find enough of the flight recorder to test, chances are the data would be corrupted beyond recognition,” De Boer said.
“Yes, I know, but it’s the only explanation that makes any sense.”
“I tend to agree,” Sinclair said, then turned to Townsend and asked, “How soon before we can make the jump to Cordoba, Captain?”
“We’re ready when you are, sir,” Townsend replied in his huge bass voice that seemed to fill any room he occupied.
“At your discretion then, Captain, I’m eager to get this over with,” Sinclair said with grim determination.
When they arrived at Cordoba, General Sinclair, Matt Hawk and Colonel De Boer met at the docking bay to board the Cessna.
“Are you ready for this Colonel? This time I can assure you there will be no stalling. I’ve gained a Presidential Warrant to proceed and question Eisenhower,” Sinclair said before they boarded.
“I’ve been waiting a long time for this, sir, and despite your warrant I’d still like to have a few of my men present, just in case it doesn’t go quite as planned,” De Boer replied.
“Good idea, Colonel. Have them ready, we leave in five minutes,” agreed Sinclair, turning to enter the Cessna.
“Are you alright, Matt?” De Boer asked when he saw the dark look in his friend’s eyes. He wore an expression that warned of impending violence and it worried him that he may be close to breaking point.
“I’m fine, which is more than I can say for Eisenhower if it’s proven he’s involved in all this,” Hawk replied coldly.
“Matt, take a step back my friend. Don’t take this personally, be the professional we all know you to be.”
“I didn’t make it personal. Jonas Wilde did when he sent one of his damned clones to kill his own daughter in front of me. He was told to wait until I arrived, told him exactly what to say before shooting her in the head knowing full well I would kill the shooter no matter what happened. If that’s not making it personal I don’t know what is.”
“Okay, I see your point but please think before you act. Don’t let him cloud your thinking so you blunder headlong into making a mistake you’ll live to regret.”
“I’ll do my best, Colonel. All I can see at the moment though is that poor girl’s terror as she lay there waiting to be killed, knowing there was nothing I could do to help but praying I would try anyway. That’s an image I’ll take to my grave,” Hawk said and his haunted eyes told the truth of it.
De Boer had nothing to offer and watched him board the Cessna. Once he was alone he contacted four of his marines and ordered them to get there in less than five minutes.
Once everyone was on board Captain Wright took the Cessna out of the docking bay and headed towards the planet they were orbiting.
The endgame was about to be played.
33
Captain Wright took the Cessna down to Cordoba’s main spaceport and put her down on a pad reserved for private charter users. A ground car had already been ordered, one of the fleet of Grand Voyager 600s that Col Sec used was waiting for them as they left the craft. Their driver was a Col Sec operative stationed at the embassy there, named John Todd.
General Sinclair, Matt Hawk, Colonel De Boer and the four marines, Privates Wilkerson, Davies, Moore and Shaw piled into the rear compartment of the vehicle settling themselves down in the comfortable seats.
“Where to, sir?” Todd asked once they were all buckled in.
“MaxCorp Headquarters please,” Sinclair said without preamble.
“Okay, sir, we’re on our way,” Todd replied.
“What armaments does this vehicle contain son?” De Boer enquired.
“Agent Todd, sir, and she has standard fire power, pulse cannons front and rear, missile racks to either side with six mini Hellfires to each rack and reinforced coachwork with blast shields. Are you expecting trouble here, sir? I only ask because when I saw those Recon Delta boys back there I assumed this wasn’t purely a social call.”
“You’re right, Todd, this isn’t a social call but we’re not expecting any trouble. However, if we do run into any, it’s best we go in fully prepared, don’t you agree?” Sinclair added.
“That’s just what my Daddy used to say, sir, be prepared. Yes, sir, General,” Todd replied with a smile.
“You know who I am?”
“Yes, sir, General Sinclair, head of Col Sec Intelligence Division. So this is big, right?”
“You have no idea, Todd,” Hawk said and Todd closed the screen between him and the passengers to give them some privacy and as it closed Todd couldn’t help but wonder what the hell he was getting involved in. Concentrating on his driving he tried to put those thoughts out of his mind. He was there to do a job and that’s what he would do.
A little over an hour later they pulled up at the front of the huge MaxCorp building. The seven passengers got out and Sinclair said to Todd, “No matter what happens, you stay here.”
The concierge came running down the steps from the foyer waving his arms at them telling them they couldn’t park there as it was reserved for VIPs only.
Sinclair halted the irate man with a hand placed firmly on his chest. “We are VIPs, sir. General Sinclair of Col Sec and party to see Maxwell Eisenhower. I believe you’ll find he’s expecting us,” he said calmly, yet firmly.
The concierge looked first at Sinclair then at each of them in turn as if he was sizing them up. Finally he waved them on up to the front entrance of the huge building.
“Do you get the impression we’re not that welcome?” Hawk said as they made their way into the building.
“About as welcome as a fart in an elevator,” Wilkerson commented which brought a rousing, “I heard dat!” from the other three marines.
As they entered the foyer Hawk expected the same stonewalling treatment they received the last time they were there, several burly, armed security guards reluctant to let them pass without the proper authorisation.
This time though the foyer was virtually empty and they could get to the elevators without any trouble.
The ride up was smooth and fast and the elevator deposited them on the Penthouse level where Eisenhower had his office. They got out, again expecting some form of resistance from security, but their passage to the huge office was uneventful.
“Secure the area around the office,” Sinclair said to De Boer who immediately began issuing orders to his men via hand signals. “Matt, you’re with me. Let’s go pay Maxwell a visit and give him the bad news,” he added, then opened the office door.
Inside the door was another office where Eisenhower’s aide sat, almost like a sentinel guarding it’s master, except that the desk was unoccupied along with the room.
“You know, General, I’m starting to get a very bad feeling about this. We’ve hardly seen a soul since we entered the building and those we did see avoided us like the plague,” Hawk said as he paused before the door to the office of the CEO.
“I’ve been getting the same feeling too, Matt,” Sinclair agreed activating his ear bug. “Colonel look lively, this could be a set up. Any sign of trouble and you come get us, okay?”
“Copy that, sir,” De Boer said from the corridor. He had already deployed his men to what he considered to be the best positions; he just wished they had come with more firepower than just standard
issue sidearms.
“Well, we’ve come this far, let’s not back out now. I’ve waited far too long to deliver this message and it’s cost too many lives for it to go undelivered, especially when we’re so close,” Sinclair said.
Placing his hand on the butt of his Sig in preparation for a quick draw should the need arise, Hawk said, “Okay, sir, let’s do it.”
The door opened as they approached revealing a large office tastefully decorated in warm colours. A rich, thick carpet on the floor, pictures on the walls from contemporary artists and large drapes hanging by the window that covered an entire wall, giving the occupant a spectacular panoramic view of the city below. That occupant was seated behind a large mahogany desk that had just one item on it, a computer monitor.
“Welcome, gentlemen, I’ve been expecting you for some time now,” Eisenhower said calmly.
“Thank you, I’ve wanted to meet you too, but the illusive Maxwell Eisenhower is hard to pin down, so I took the direct approach seeing as my agent here had so much trouble the last time he called,” Sinclair said as he watched the man seated before him. He certainly was a cool customer; there was no sign of stress, just an outward visage of serenity.
“I must apologise for the last time you called, my second-in- command Jonas Wilde was playing some sort of game that I was totally unaware of. He actually ran a criminal organisation out of this building, funded by my corporation without my knowledge, can you believe that?” Eisenhower said exasperated at the consequences.
“Actually, sir, no, I can’t. I find it extremely hard to believe, so much so that I am hereby cancelling all Col Sec contracts with your company, effective immediately,” Sinclair said coldly.
“I see,” Eisenhower said slowly rising to his feet. He started to slowly pace across his office observed by Sinclair and Hawk.
“You don’t seem perturbed by my statement, in fact it’s almost like you expected it, which again, I find hard to believe. I mean, it’s not like you lose multi-billion credit contracts every day now is it?”
