Our-World
Alison Springs, Maryland
An hour after the attack on the lab, I was sitting at a table at The Borderline. It was the same table I’d used last time, actually. It wasn’t the weekend, so the place wasn’t packed. I had my pick of the tables. A jukebox was belting out tunes in the background. It was country. Normally, that would be enough to send me looking for another place to drink, but after the events of the evening, I had enough on my mind to distract me from the music. As long as it wasn’t rap, I could keep the distraction in the back of my mind.
The waitress ambled up to the table, popped the top off a bottle of Modelo as she arrived, and slid it across the scarred surface with a smile. “Piper’s off tonight,” she said by way of greeting.
I nodded and glanced at the bottle. They didn’t carry the stuff. Either that had changed, or news about me had spread since my one and only visit to the place. I looked at the waitress’s name tag and confirmed she wasn’t one of the young women who worked during my last visit. Mindy. I didn’t recognize the name any more than the face.
Yup. There’d been gossip.
“I heard that might be true,” I said with my best disappointed shrug. “It did hurt to try anyway.” I tipped the beer and lowered my voice. “Do you mind if I ask how you knew?”
Mindy’s nose twitched in sync with the pursing of her lips and the crinkling of her brow. She hesitated somewhat transparently before glancing over her shoulder, then slipped onto the bench across the table from me. “Folks here are kind of tight-knit,” she said in a hushed tone as she leaned closer. “Piper’s really popular with the customers, as you might imagine, pretty girl and all. Young guys come in all the time to flirt. It’s fun most of the time. Piper has a bit of a reputation. She doesn’t encourage it. The fact is, she doesn’t have much patience for it.”
After glancing over her shoulder again, Mindy tilted her head in thought before continuing. “I guess that doesn’t sound quite right. She’s nice enough to people and all. She just doesn’t have patience for the messing around some of us do for fun.” She paused and made eye contact with me. “It’s all in fun, you know, and it’s really good for tips. Just chat with the customers and keep them drinking. The owner has no patience for people who get out of hand, mind you.”
At this point, I have to admit I was wondering where Mindy was heading with all this. I was here because I wanted to be alone. The events of the evening left me confused, and I needed to sort them out. If I went home and fell asleep, I’d be back on Wild-Side in a flash. I wasn’t sure if the night’s events were over, and I needed to process the attack on the lab before I moved on to the next complication.
“…and Carl tells Mike that the next thing he knew, Piper turned pale as a sheet. He said he thought she was going to pass out. He didn’t know what was wrong.” Apparently, Mindy had been talking for some time. I’m pretty sure I didn’t miss anything relevant.
Anything at all.
I took a long pull from the bottle. “And the problem was?” I prodded, hoping to shorten the story. Brevity, folks. Sometimes, you can’t overstate the importance of brevity.
Mindy appeared momentarily confused. Her head bobbed for a second, as if she were clearing her mind. “She wouldn’t say,” she finally responded. “But Mike put it together when he reviewed the surveillance videos from the bar after he opened the next morning.” Mindy placed her hand on mine and raised an eyebrow. “He thought maybe someone got out of line with Piper, and he wanted to ensure he got to the bottom of it, mind you. He’s not stalkerish or nothing.”
I nodded my understanding, trying not to ask her what was taking so long to get to the point of her story. Coincidentally, this was when I realized my bottle had mysteriously become empty. I had no memory of draining it and wondered if she would follow me if I went to get another.
It turns out Mindy was both more aware than I expected and had the ability to multitask. She glanced in the direction of the bar and waved a finger in the air. I had another beer within seconds, and she didn’t even have to pause her confusing narrative.
“So, long story short,” she said.
Um, that ship had sailed.
Still, there was kindness in her eyes, and I noticed concern in her expression. I don’t believe her intention was to gossip, and I felt confident that when we eventually reached the point, she was sharing this for a good reason.
I hope…
“She kind of freaked out when she saw you,” Mindy concluded.
“You think?” I hedged. “What makes you so sure?”
“You know each other, right?”
I just stared. The silence felt like Mindy’s nemesis. Allowing it to stretch would be a fate worse than death.
She shrugged after what must have been the longest three seconds of her life. “I didn’t see the recording. I only know what Mike said and what Carl told me. When I tried to check the recordings, they were gone for some reason.” Confusion clouded Mindy’s expression as she considered what she had just said. “Weird, too. It was only the recordings from that night. I can’t say that’s ever happened before… and I’ve been here for over a year.”
I heard Esker’s voice in my ear. “The recordings were saved to an offline system; I didn’t delete them.”
A smile was on my face before I could stop it. Piper would have deleted the footage. I’m pretty sure I pulled it back before Mindy noticed. “Technology is funny that way, I guess.”
“So, anyway,” she said, “what’s the deal?”
“Sorry?” Now, I was confused.
“You all must have some history, right?” She glanced at the beer bottle and wiggled her eyebrows. “Seems to know you pretty well.”
I shrugged. I was doing that a lot in this conversation. “What did Piper say?”
Mindy rolled her eyes as if they weren’t attached to anything in the back of her sockets. Serious drama. One hand waved through the air. “Like that girl talks about herself at all?”
I grinned. “Not sure what I can tell you then.”
In response, Mindy shot me a silent glare. But as we’ve already established, she’s not great with silence…so it didn’t last long. “The whole time I’ve known her, she won’t give a guy the time of day while at work. Then you walk in and she goes white as a sheet. After that, she heads down to the corner store, picks up a case of Modelo, and sticks it in the cooler…apparently just for you.”
“Wait—what?” The words were out of my mouth before I knew it.
Arched brows, pursed lips, and a slow head nod. I suddenly felt that Mindy had a future as an attorney. The gradual buildup to that conclusion caught me off guard.
Mindy’s serious demeanor shifted back to the original cordial nonchalance she displayed when she approached the table. “About a year ago, a guy walked in just before closing. It was the middle of the week, kind of a night like this—slow and all. Piper was closing with Carl. On nights like that, we try to wrap things up quickly so we can get home. Usually, one person closes out the drawers, puts the money away in the back, logs the take and everything, while the other sees any lingering customers out, locks the door, and turns off the lights and stuff.
“Anyway, that night Carl was in back, and Piper shooed the last laggards out the door. She was just about to lock up when a guy with pantyhose pulled over his face shoved a gun in her face and demanded the money from the registers. The drawers had already been cleaned out by that point, mind you. Carl was in back locking everything in the safe, so there was no chance it was going to go the way the guy with the gun wanted.”
“Piper didn’t even hesitate,” Mindy explained. “I’ve seen the recordings—multiple camera views. She went behind the bar just like the guy asked and opened the register. She pulled the drawer and dropped it, the whole time, with a gun to her head. She must have done it quickly because the guy didn’t get to see the drawer was only prepped for the next morning. We only have a little cash ready to start the next day.
“So, the drawer hits the floor, and the robber starts yelling for her to pick it up. Piper does. But when she comes up, she doesn’t have the drawer in her hand—she’s holding an eighteen–inch oak bat that’s about as big around as my arm. The owner keeps it under the bar. I never knew why before. I guess Piper knew what it was for because she hit that guy so hard that he lost seven teeth. His gun was gone so fast, we couldn’t even tell what direction it went when we looked at the video.”
I must have been staring at Mindy because she finally paused. The story stopped, and she just looked at me, nodding her head.
“That girl is fierce,” she said. “You should know that. She means a lot to everyone here, so if you have a history with her or are looking to start something up, make sure you treat her right. She doesn’t need anyone to fight for her, but everyone here is in her corner when push comes to shove.”
I was grinning. I could vividly imagine everything as it was being described and had no doubt that Piper would do exactly as claimed under those conditions. “Reading you loud and clear,” I said sincerely, with a hint of admiration for the kind of friends Piper had clearly been spending time with.
Mindy slid from the seat and gave me a wink. “I’ll get you another beer.”
I glanced at my second bottle. It, too, was empty, although I didn’t remember drinking it. I was beginning to wonder if they had leaks, even though the table was dry. “One question before you go?” I asked. “What happened with the robber?”
“Seven missing teeth, a broken arm, and a sprained ankle before he reached the parking lot. Once he was outside, Piper called the police. Officers found him in his car, caught up in the bushes at the end of our parking lot. They believe he panicked while leaving, causing the wreck, then got stuck and was in no condition to flee on foot.”
I laughed. It must have been quite a call for the responding officers.
Mindy leaned down to stage whisper in my ear. “They say a couple of his teeth never turned up. They might still be around here somewhere.” She winked at me before heading off to check on another customer.
A hand was still in front of my face as I struggled to hide my smile when I heard Esker’s voice in my ear. “I thought the waitress was… what is the colorful phrase you use… pulling your leg? But I found the police report detailing the incident she described. Adam Weevil Steckel was hospitalized for eleven days following the attempted robbery of a bar called The Borderline,” he said. “Several local papers ran a story that didn’t name the employee who intervened, but Piper’s name is clearly noted in the report filed by Deputy Sheriff Jared Kessel.”
I pulled a Bluetooth headset out of my pocket and slipped it onto my ear. Placing my phone on the table in front of me, I leaned back in my seat. It was common enough that anyone nearby would assume I was talking on the phone. That would attract a lot fewer glances than if anyone were sitting alone and talking to themselves; which is exactly what they would think, since, as far as I know, I’m the only one with a wireless link to my own AI sidekick.
“Not a doubt in my mind,” I said to Esker. “Do me a favor,” I said, changing my approach. “Help me sort out what happened in the lab. I’m having trouble figuring out who the party crashers were.”
“I’ve examined all the footage from the laboratory surveillance system. The masks served as a sufficient disguise to obscure their features and even thwart my facial recognition abilities. I’m reviewing airfields within a three hundred-mile radius, but many smaller installations, like this bar, do not have their surveillance systems connected to the internet.”
“I’m also conducting voiceprint analysis using the recordings from the lab and comparing them to any cellular network calls made in the area since the attack. No matches have been found.”
I was at a loss for words. Esker had done all of that on his own initiative, and I was incredibly impressed. I was unsure how to respond.
“Impressive,” I remarked finally. “You put our enforcement agencies to shame. You’re doing the work of an entire team.”
“Unsuccessfully,” he said simply.
“With that kind of effort, it’s only a matter of time.” I was giving a pep talk to a machine, but I really mean it. “Honestly, I’m more puzzled by the motivation of the team behind it.”
It was Esker’s turn to pause. “Could you please explain that?”
Mindy delivered another beer, noticed I was on the phone, and set it down in front of me with a smile before leaving. I took a sip and pondered my next words. “I know why Breslin is funding Fulbright’s experiment, and I understand why I want to sabotage it. I’m struggling to comprehend who would want to steal an unproven formula. I mean, beyond Breslin’s ultimate goal and Fulbright’s interest in Brane Theory, who’s the other player interested in this game?”
“Perhaps Breslin has people behind the theft in an effort to ensure the experiment isn’t derailed like so many of his others?” I could tell Esker was asking the question more to participate in the game. There were too many gaps in the perspective, and he would have considered most, if not all of them. He was asking questions because he saw value in the brainstorming exercise.
“Breslin is funding the experiment. If he wanted the formula, he could simply demand it. He could leverage it from Fulbright. I’m sure it’s the ultimate plan. Besides, it’s of no value to Breslin until it’s proven effective. That’s the point of all the projects he’s cultivating all over hell and back.”
“Then an independent third party has to be interested in Doctor Fulbright’s work,” Esker concluded.
There was logic to that, but it seemed incredibly unlikely. This was fringe science at best. It’s not as if anyone was going to win an award for sleep science. “Even then,” I said, “What’s the point of stealing an unproven formula? Especially right before it’s about to be tested?”
“They are even less likely to benefit now that you’ve tainted the vial before handing it over.”
Then it clicked. There was only one person who would benefit in this situation.
“We have to go see Fulbright,” I grumbled.
I finished the last of the beer and was about to leave when Esker’s news changed my plans.
“I have been monitoring the lab’s surveillance system. Dr. Fulbright hasn’t returned since he left at ten fifty-one this evening. He was the last member of the project team to exit the facility, and no one has returned since then.”
“Get his home address for me. I’m not concerned about waking him. He has some explaining to do.”
“The university does not have a current address on file. It appears his pay is directly deposited into his bank account, and all mail is sent to a post office box,” Esker said.
I rubbed the fatigue from my eyes and tried to keep the frustration out of my voice. “So even you have no idea where Fulbright lives?” These days, keeping one’s address out of the digital ether isn’t easy. It requires deliberate and ongoing effort.
Movement at the end of the table caught my attention. At first, I thought it was Mindy with another drink. When I looked up, I saw a young man dressed mostly in denim. It had been a long day, so it took me a moment longer than it should have to remember his name. “Tommy?” I said. “Tommy Walsh, right?”
A grin spread across Tommy’s face as he extended his hand. “Good to see ya,” he drawled in his Texas twang. Then he glanced at the headset hanging from my ear and winced. “Sorry. Didn’t mean to interrupt your call.”
I recalled the pretense of using the Bluetooth earpiece to disguise my conversation with Esker and raised a finger to Tommy while glancing at my phone on the table. “Hey, thanks for checking that. See what you can find, and I’ll call you back in a bit.” I tapped the headset’s frame to mimic disconnecting the call before removing the headset and placing it on the table next to the phone.
“Hey,” Tommy said. “I was just stopping by for a quick drink before heading home. Do you mind if I join you?”
I considered the conversation I needed to have with Fulbright and the late hour. If I went home now, the odds were good I would end up on Wild-Side as soon as I closed my eyes. While I was anxious to get back to Piper, I really needed to sort this out with the good doctor before something bad happened here. I was sort of spinning my wheels until Esker tracked down an address, but knowing him, that wouldn’t take long, regardless of how well Fulbright covered his tracks.
“Pull up a chair,” I said, motioning to the bench seat opposite mine.
Tommy slid into the booth without hesitation. He was holding a tall draft in his hand, suggesting he had been here for at least a few minutes.
“Hey,” he said. “I overheard you on my way over. Did you say you were trying to find Doc Fulbright’s place?”
I nodded. “I guess it’s unlisted. I need to find him tonight if possible.”
“Fulbright’s an odd one,” Tommy said. “He’s one of those,” he raised his fingers in the air, “the government’s out to get you kinds,” and bracketed the statement. “He uses anonymous web browsers, virtual private networks for online shopping, and changes his email address like I change my socks. It’s all foolishness, if you ask me.”
This had more of a conspiracy mindset vibe than I’d experienced in my somewhat limited interactions with Fulbright, but it did explain why Esker was having trouble locating the guy. It was somewhat amusing that he was being leveraged by perhaps the greatest threat to global safety since the Nazi occupation.
“You seem to know a lot about him,” I observed.
Tommy removed his cowboy hat, set it aside, and ran a hand through his hair. “Trini was a TA for him when we first started dating. She was well acquainted with his eccentricities.”
Esker made a sound that resembled a throat clearing in my ear, a very human affectation that brought a smile to my face. It was something new for him.
“I need to locate Fulbright, preferably tonight,” I explained. “Would Trini know where he lives? I can’t find his home address listed anywhere.”
Tommy chuckled. “The Doc went to great lengths to keep his address a secret. He was obsessed with it. But in the end, laziness prevailed. He had Trini doing all sorts of ridiculous tasks for him—running errands, making deliveries—you name it.”
“So she knows where he’s staying?”
Tommy nodded. “Even better, I can show you. I drove her out there a bunch of times when we first started dating.”
I grinned. “An address is sufficient. I truly appreciate it.”
Tommy’s expression changed, and I knew something was off.
“The thing is,” he said, “I don’t know the address. I can’t exactly give you directions either. It’s way out of town, and it’s been a while since I’ve had to go, so I’m not sure I remember it well enough to explain it.”
Frustration blossomed in my belly. Still, if we knew which direction the house was from town, there was a chance Esker could figure out who owned the property. He would need to investigate ownership records related to anyone even remotely connected to Fulbright. Still, I’d seen him make some impressive intuitive leaps, and data mining was his area of expertise.
“Anyway,” Tommy continued, “I can take you there.”
“Sorry?” I said, realizing I had lost track of what he had been saying. “I don’t remember it well enough to give you directions, but I’ll recall it if I drive it. I can take you now if it’s that important.”
Esker’s voice rang in my ear. “I just discovered a two hundred fifty thousand dollar transfer to a numbered account in Bermuda. It’s timestamped eight hours ago, with some processing delay preventing reporting of the transaction. I’m noticing telecommunications issues in that area. I believe this confirms your suspicion about Doctor Fulbright.”
I nodded to Tommy. “Can we go now? It might be a matter of life or death.”
The drive to Doctor Fulbright’s was longer than I expected. He didn’t just live outside of town; he lived way outside of town. True to his word, Tommy Walsh knew the way, even though he didn’t know the names of most roads. He retraced his route from long ago, navigating by landmarks. The only difficulty came when we got close to what turned out to be the last two miles of the sprawling, disused horse ranch Fulbright was using as his residence.
I watched the full moon as Tommy slipped his F150 temporarily to the edge of the ditch a hundred yards from the wide gravel drive winding through the sparse woodland separating the large house, barn, and several outbuildings from the road. Nearby, numerous shoulder-high fences were visible, snaking across the rolling hills in the distance.
“Why can’t I just drive up?” Tommy asked.
I didn’t reply right away. The attack on the laboratory had been replaying in my mind throughout the entire drive here. Now that I saw this place—the vast expanse of land surrounding the house and its remoteness—I felt more certain that something was missing.
“How long has Fulbright been here?” I asked, glancing at Tommy.
He shrugged. “At least two years, maybe longer. It’s hard to say.”
I pulled the phone from my pocket and pretended to tap a speed dial button before placing it to my ear. “E? You said that the bank transfer went through earlier, but the reporting of it was delayed. What are the chances that another transfer occurred and reporting was also delayed?”
Esker’s voice returned. “Checking…you’re right. A second transfer of an additional one hundred thousand dollars was made two hours and thirty-eight minutes ago.”
I eyed the open expanse surrounding the two-story farmhouse. No lights shone in the windows, and the barn was similarly dark. The largest of the outbuildings stood about one and a half stories tall, featuring a service door on one end and a pair of sliding barn doors on the far end. Several thickly dust-covered windows glowed with a pale yellow light.
Esker spoke, his voice somewhat hesitant. “Given the context you provided for the first funds transfer, what relevance do you attach to the second? I see no high-probability conclusion that aligns with this scenario.”
My voice lowered. “I think Fulbright retained the mercenaries for an additional task.” My voice trailed off to a whisper so only Esker could hear it. “They’re still here.”
I didn’t have a plan the first time we drove past the farm. Tommy eased us past the five hundred or so yards that lined the rural property at a slow pace that felt quite normal for the area or time of night. Someone who had just spotted a deer or other wildlife might have seen me traveling the dark country roads at such speeds, even if only for a moment. However, it wasn’t the kind of pass that would escape the notice of a trained paramilitary team.
“Want me to pull in up ahead?” Tommy asked. “I can find a spot in the woods once we pass the property marker.”
Dense woodlands appeared to flank the horse farm, making it a reasonable plan. However, it was precisely the type of plan a security team established on the farm would anticipate.
“No. Keep driving for a mile. We’ll circle back.” I was formulating a plan in my head. Visions of the dark structures I’d seen were shifting in my mind as I tried to understand how a team like the one I had already encountered would lay out on the place. A group of three had hit the lab. One would have stayed with the chopper since that was the exfiltration strategy, which put their numbers at four. There could have been more, but I was betting against it. I had this team pegged as mercenaries. The more members in the team, the more ways they had to split the payday. If Fulbright was footing the bill for this operation—a pair of operations if I was correct—he wouldn’t have deep pockets. He’d be working on a budget.
I glanced at Tommy. “How do you feel about being a distraction?”
He turned the truck onto an intersecting side street at a T-intersection and backed up. A tunnel of forest so dense surrounded the stretches of road that even the nearly full moon failed to penetrate the canopy. He pointed the truck back the way we had come but pulled over to the shoulder. “Is this dangerous?”
I considered how the team attacking the lab had been professional enough not to harm Fulbright’s team. They did hospitalize two security guards, however. Noting the amusement in Tommy’s gaze as it shone in the pale glow of the dashboard lights, I shrugged. “Could be nothing, but I’m betting on four armed hostiles protecting the man I need to question. If they are who I think they are, they won’t shoot unless shot at. Still, I don’t know what I don’t know. I’m operating based on a lot of guesswork. It’s probably best you drop me here and head back.”
He was silent for a few moments, his gaze focused on the road ahead and the beam of light cast by the headlights. I don’t think he was observing the night so much as contemplating the next hour or two of his life and its potential to affect the rest of it. I recognized that look. I’d seen it many times over the past year.
“You’re one of the good guys?” Tommy finally asked.
I nodded.
“Law enforcement?”
“Couldn’t be further from it, actually. Still one of the good guys. You’d have to take my word for it, though.” I’d never been one to sell folks on my crusade. Everything was more uncomplicated if I could go my own way and risk dragging as few people down with me as possible. This was one of those times when I needed another set of hands. Taking on four armed opponents wasn’t out of the question, but I had no idea where they were in this case. And if they were worth their fees, they’d have found fortified positions and wouldn’t be easy to find.
Tommy smirked wider. “If you weren’t on the level, you know that’s exactly what you’d say, right?”
I shrugged.
No arguing with that logic.
“What do you need me to do?” he said.
Esker’s voice sounded in my ear, a surprisingly dry tone of amusement woven into his words. “I’m wondering that too.”
“Give me a minute to make a quick call. I need to check on some technical support,” I said as I slipped out the door.
Walking far enough from the truck to vanish into the surrounding darkness, I focused my attention on Esker. “If there’s a team stationed on the farm, they’ll be staying in contact via radio. It’ll be encrypted. Is there any chance you can locate their signal and decrypt it?”
“Done,” Esker said. “They are using a modulated frequency-hopping algorithm. Replicating it was easy, as was breaking the encryption. Would you like to listen? They aren’t currently transmitting, but there is an open channel connecting four disparate locations.”
I had come to expect the unexpected from the AI, but the mention of the location component was intriguing. I didn’t anticipate that. “Can you identify each individual’s location based on their signal?”
“Not without additional hardware that isn’t currently available. The devices used by the team have global positioning capabilities, but that function seems intentionally disabled. I can provide only an approximate location for each receiver. In this instance, it’s not precise.”
My hopes of not needing Tommy’s help evaporated. “Can you monitor their communications and let me know if there’s anything relevant? I’m more interested in transmitting on their channel when Tommy makes an approach. I want to create some confusion and then try to take advantage of it.”
I was kneeling on the rear bumper of Tommy’s truck as he approached Fulbright’s farm from the opposite direction. Holding onto the tailgate with both hands and crouched low to keep my silhouette from being easily identifiable, I waited until we were about a hundred yards short of the property line, where the tree cover separating the road from the farm became sparse. The truck was still moving at nearly twenty-five miles an hour when I jumped from the bumper and rolled through the grass at the edge of the road. I had my pistol in my hand because I didn’t want to lose it in the dark when I tumbled, and I certainly didn’t want it stuck in my ass as a result of that crazy maneuver.
Tommy continued to drive, drawing no attention to my skilled and graceful dismount from the moving vehicle, regardless of what the local wildlife might later claim. It was dark, and any contrary claims stem entirely from the nuance of my tuck and roll being lost in the night’s murky shadows. Nonetheless, I was on my feet and more than fifty feet into the thick undergrowth of the woods to the east of the farm by the time Tommy’s truck turned onto the wide gravel drive leading to the heart of the dark, silent horse farm.
When the truck touched the drive’s entrance, its speakers began playing AC/DC’s “Burning Alive.” The distinctive song started low and rumbling but gradually crescendoed to a higher volume, controlled remotely by Esker. This was done subtly to draw everyone’s attention to the truck. I wanted all focus elsewhere, but I didn’t want it to be obvious that they should focus on it.
Esker spoke softly in my ear. “Chatter on the coms channel. That got their attention.”
“And?” I whispered, huddled at the base of a pile of brush about one hundred twenty yards from the nearest outbuilding. I was perhaps sixty feet from the property line, where overgrown lawn met woodland.
“As expected,” Esker confirmed. “Confusion from all members.”
“Hit them with Stage Two.”
Stage Two featured the same song Tommy was playing, but this time it was transmitted over the mercenary team’s supposedly secure communication channel. It would also start low and barely audible, then ramp up in volume over the course of a minute, at which point it would be loud enough to render team communication impossible. Since Esker was controlling the music, two things would occur. First, the song playing on the comms channel would remain time-synchronized with the music playing in the truck. This should at least lead to a delay in the team’s response, as it would be natural to assume they were picking up some kind of interface from the recently arrived vehicle. The second outcome, courtesy of Esker, was that no matter how many times the team tried to change frequencies to mitigate the interference, it wouldn’t matter. Esker would ensure the song followed the team to whichever channel they tuned to.
I scanned the shadow-dappled grounds of the farm for signs of movement. The light sensitivity of my HUD was activated, as was the thermal feature. As I anticipated, if the mercs were out there, they were maintaining cover discipline and using some form of thermal protection. The repetitive chorus of the song now thumped and thundered in the night, with the words “burning alive” echoing in Brian Johnson’s raspy refrain.
Then movement caused two parts of the HUD to flash with color from different sections of the grounds at almost the same moment. Although the effort couldn’t have been coordinated due to the comms blackout in place, I watched as what seemed to be thermo-protective blankets were thrown back. One figure was sixty-three yards from me, and the other was four hundred and seventy-two.
Both figures had their attention focused entirely on Tommy and his truck. The closer figure was smaller and distinctly female in shape. She had already climbed to her feet for a better view of the truck, while the other remained prone, apparently with a sufficient vantage point from there. I slipped carefully to the edge of the trees but sprinted once I reached the grass.
I hit the standing woman with a flying tackle, knocking her from her feet and throwing her into a chokehold before she had time to recover. She was out cold and flex–cuffed in seconds. Where did I get the cuffs? I could thank the well–prepared mercenary for that. Not only had she been kitted out with a thermal blanket, NVGs, a pair of Glocks, an MP5, and a K-Bar, but she also had four sets of flex–cuffs on her combat harness.
The nice thing about going up against so-called professionals is that they bring all the gear you need with them when you take them down. I tossed all her toys away, kept the knife, and started to vector in on my second target.
“There’s two more,” I said to Esker. “Find them.”
This is where my plan became a little less organized. At a high level, I was using a distraction to get my opponents to reveal themselves, and Esker was preventing them from coordinating long enough for me to execute my strategy. If I could identify them quickly and take them down swiftly, it would be a solid plan.
Yes, that was the plan at a high level. There was no lower level.
Act fast and kick ass.
I was reasonably confident that one of my four opponents would stay close to Fulbright. Heat signatures made me sure he was in the largest outbuilding, which had the highest ambient temperature. I could see one figure, either prone or supine, inside. That was likely Fulbright. If a mercenary was with him, he was thermally cloaked. If he was out here with me, the numbers would be more of a trick.
My legs pumping hard, I closed in on my second target. I scanned left and right as I sprinted, my HUD sweeping for any sign of the two remaining unidentified opponents. Painfully aware that a bullet could take me out of the game at any moment, I crested the small rise separating me from the second target just in time to see him swing his hands in apparent frustration. Just before, he turned about thirty degrees to see me approaching him at full speed.
He did a double-take. He looked right at me, then glanced back at Tommy’s truck before snapping his gaze back to me, his expression registering surprise even beneath the dark face paint and the pair of night vision goggles tipped skyward atop his brow.
I tackled him with a force that sounded like it broke bones, though I’m fairly certain that noise was just me damaging some of the expensive gear strapped in his battle harness. We hit the ground in a cloud of dry dirt, his helmet and NVGs bouncing away in opposite directions. There was no need for a chokehold this time. The merc had been knocked out, either by my Airbike or by our collision with the ground. Regardless, I had him flipped face down, cuffing hands and feet in less than twenty seconds.
“The third target is closing in on the pickup truck,” Esker shouted loudly in my ear. I glanced down and noticed that the elaborate set of NVGs had landed upside down on the ground, facing the opposite direction from me. I immediately realized that Esker had taken them as his own observation platform.
I turned and drew my Springfield in time to see a man in black battle dress exactly like the one at my feet. He had an AR-15 raised and pointed at Tommy, who was still behind the truck’s wheel. The man moved slowly, adjusting his aim for a clearer line of sight on Tommy and possibly a headshot. My HUD indicated that the truck was sixty-one yards away, while the soldier was at forty-seven. It couldn’t tell me whether the soldier planned to pull the trigger.
The white targeting reticle pulsed to life in my HUD, and my finger rested on the trigger. As my eyes narrowed, my view of the reticle zoomed in response. I pulled the trigger twice in rapid succession, and the AR-15 seemed to disintegrate. The mercenary jumped and yelped like a kicked dog, back peddling and landing on his backside. He was flicking his hands wildly, probably still trying to understand what had just happened. My knee came down on his throat, and I pressed the muzzle of the pistol into his groin. “Going to need you to be quiet now,” I said, a calm level tone that was far easier than it should have been after all the running I’d just done.
Tommy began to step out of the truck, his eyes wide and unblinking as they met mine. I looked up at him and shook my head. “Get back in and leave. Go home or head back to the bar—either way, just get out of here and don’t come back.” I took a slow breath, trying to exude calm. “I appreciate what you’ve done; I couldn’t have accomplished this without you. The problem is, there’s one more of these guys out there, and this is your last chance to take action before things get complicated.”
“Um,” Tommy stuttered slightly. “Get complicated?” He nodded. “Sure. You think you’ll be okay?”
I grinned and shifted my weight on the neck of the guy beneath me without glancing down at him. “Three down and one to go.”
After my little display, it wasn’t difficult to get Tommy to leave. I don’t know what he thought, but extricating himself from what was clearly a dangerous situation made simple calculus. He was on the road about thirty seconds after I had the third merc in cuffs.
“One left,” I whispered to Esker, eyeing the large outbuilding that still showed the thermal signature of a prone figure. A new form, this one upright, had joined the blob of orange shades overlapped in the night vision-enhanced view of the building. The shape hugged the right side of a pair of windows overlooking the clearing I’d just crossed. I backpedaled to put a cluster of shoulder-high boulders between me and the building.
“One more that you know of,” Esker reminded me. “And you’ve lost the element of surprise.”
You think?
The question remained: how far would the remaining mercenary go to keep me from Fulbright? That assumed the remaining figure was indeed Fulbright, although that seemed like a safe bet. And who had Fulbright hired this team to protect him from? He knew nothing about me. This suggested he was worried about Breslin… or at least Breslin’s associates. So technically, we were all on the same side.
“I feel compelled to remind you,” Esker said. “Eliminating the last threat is only a challenge if you insist on using non-lethal force. You have the resources to eliminate him from standoff distance.”
He was right. That would be easier…and faster. But from what I could tell, these guys were just doing a job. If they were Breslin’s men, I wouldn’t feel as bad about taking them out. If Fulbright had hired them, they were just contractors picking up a paycheck. They might be dirtbags, but they could also be the kind of respectable pros I’d worked with a time or two along the way.
His comment sparked an idea.
“E? Kill the music and switch me to a channel with our friend in there?” I said.
“I think I saw this in a film,” I detected amusement in Esker’s tone. “You want to parlay?”
I grinned. “Something like that.”
“The channel is now open,” Esker announced.
“I know you can see me,” I said in a calm, quiet tone that I hoped would be soothing. “I can see you too.”
The silence lasted about twenty seconds before a voice with a mild English accent responded. “I find that difficult to believe.” I watched as the figure moved from the edge of the current window to a similar position two windows over. To reach there, he crawled belly-first beneath the intermediary windows.
“You just shifted to the northeast window,” I said without inflection. “You moved quickly and low, but it was a futile effort.”
After several more seconds of silence, then, “you’ve got access to impressive tech and an interesting taste in music. I saw them live a few years back. If you’re going to have a go at me, can you at least turn on one of the classics before you beat down the doors?”
I smiled. “Like you said, I have the tech. If I wanted to take you out, I could do it from here. I’d prefer to talk.”
A sound, something like a harrumph, suggested that my point had been understood. “And my team?”
“In good health. Just immobilized.”
Esker’s voice returned to my ear. “He’s carrying an encrypted smartphone. What’s the phrase? A picture is worth a thousand words?”
I slipped my phone out and shot a quick video of the flex–cuffed figure at my feet, careful to capture a closeup that included the rise and fall of the unconscious man’s chest as well as the way his hands and feet had been bound in a way that was impossible to escape.
“Sending it now,” Esker said.
“I’m supposed to take your word for that,” the Brit responded with clear skepticism.
“Of course not,” I replied. “Check your phone.”
There was a rustling sound, then a pause followed by an impressive string of mumbled expletives that suggested he was wondering how I’d sent the video to what he had previously believed to be a secure device. The silence that followed didn’t seem like mine to break, so I let it stretch.
Finally, there came the sound of someone clearing their throat. “I’ll credit you for one of the more impressive forms of battlefield intimidation.” I heard what I believed was sincere respect in the man’s tone. “You’ve bested my team and our own tech. You’re here for the Prof’s formula then?”
“I’m here to speak with the Prof,” I said, using the British slang for Doctor Fulbright. “I’m afraid he’s about to do something reckless with the experimental material he’s been working on, and I need to ensure that doesn’t happen.”
A subsequent pause ensued that raised some concern. Rightfully so, as it turned out.
“Might me a little late on that point, mate,” the voice said. “The Prof gave himself an injection over an hour ago, and he’s been unresponsive since. I haven’t been able to wake him.”
Shit.
That meant I was too late even while driving out to the farm. All this messing around to make my advance was a wasted effort.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
More hesitation, then, “Pike.”
“You can call me Gray. Look, Pike, I need to get in there and check on the Doc. Can I do that?”
“Just you?” His tone revealed some reluctance, yet the question made me realize he assumed I was part of a larger team. It was a perspective I hadn’t entertained until that moment.
“Just me. My team secures the perimeter, and no harm will come to your people as long as no harm comes to me.”
“And the Prof?”
The question threw me for a loop. “Sorry?”
“Do you promise not to hurt the Prof?”
“Pike, I’m not here to hurt Pemberton. I promise you that.”
I stepped to the door as Pike eased it open. He was dressed like the rest of his team, though he’d taken off his helmet and the holster on his hip was empty. Shorter than I expected, he stood about five foot eight, with short dark hair and coal-black eyes. Streaks of dark grease paint smeared his face. As he backed into the room to give me access, his gaze stayed locked on mine. “You’re younger than I expected,” he said.
My Springfield was in hand, hanging casually at my side. I studied the Brit for a moment, then nodded as if I had come to a decision about the man, before slipping the pistol into the back of my jeans. “You’re shorter than I expected,” I countered.
The man grunted, what I believe was his version of a laugh, before tilting his head toward the center of the room. Fulbright lay on what I thought was once a folding massage table. An IV stand hung with a pair of drip bags, their lines leading to the cannulas in his forearm and hand. I recognized one bag as having the same color and viscosity as the formula we had been working on for the experiment.
“He hired your team?” I asked Pike, leaning over Pemberton to study his pale complexion in the dull light from the nightstand. A lamp was draped with a red handkerchief to soften its glow and presumably help Pike maintain his night vision. Pemberton wore a hospital gown that hung loosely over his supine form.
“He said he wanted protection while he was under,” Pike confirmed. “I thought it was from you, but you don’t sound like one of Breslin’s people.”
I shot a look at Pike. “You know about Breslin?”
Pike shrugged. “Just what the boss tells us. Breslin financed his work but has been putting increasing pressure on him. The Prof became concerned for his safety and worried about the money man’s ultimate goal for the project, so he brought us in to protect him. He said tonight would either make or break his venture. He just needed protection long enough to confirm his formula worked. He mentioned that someone’s been undermining his work.”
I smiled. He was right about everything; he just didn’t know the complete story behind any of it.
I pressed two fingers to the side of Pemberton’s neck and noted an irregular pulse. “You said you tried waking him?” I pulled the eyelid back on one eye and saw the pupil was fully dilated. Waving a hand closely in front of the eye, it was entirely unresponsive. I pulled the handkerchief from the lamp and fully bathed the room in the light. The eye remained unresponsive, but I noticed medical hardware on tables and stands throughout the room. It seemed the Doc had planned ahead. He’d just been overzealous in his willingness to try the formula on himself.
“He became unresponsive about twenty minutes after injecting himself with the formula. He mentioned it might happen but also assured that it wouldn’t last more than an hour.” Pike glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s been well over an hour now.”
I knew this wasn’t a good sign. Swallowing hard, I met the Brit’s gaze. “Does anyone on your team have emergency medical training?”
“Alley,” he said quickly. “Alley Lauer—an emergency medical technician who worked three years in a trauma ward before joining my outfit.”
I nodded. “She should be awake by now. Just a bit of a headache, but she’s okay. You’ll find her where she was stationed. Go get her and bring her back.” I waved toward the door.
Pike bolted for the door but stopped with his hand on the knob. “Ah, Gray? Would you let your boys know I’m coming out? I’d rather avoid friendly fire, you know? We’re all on the same team now, right?”
I grinned and shrugged. “Same team? Sure. But it’s just me. There’s no one out there but your people. Round them up and try to convince them that payback isn’t worth the effort, okay? I respect that everyone will want another chance at me…we just don’t have time. I need Alley to get Pemberton on life support ASAP. This isn’t going as he planned.” I met his eye. “We good?”
Pike was studying me as if for the first time. His gaze shifted to take me in from head to toe. I heard him mumble something under his breath before he grinned. “If you’re not a threat to the Prof, then we’re good. I’m sure each of my guys will want to settle up with you, but that can wait. You have my pledge on that.”
Amusingly, Pike was shaking his head and muttering curses to himself as he stepped out into the night.
“Do you really think you can trust these people?” Esker whispered in my ear.
I nodded. “That, and I don’t have any options right now. Fulbright isn’t responsive. I need the medic to look closer, but I don’t think he’s following his own procedure. Pike’s team should be able to tell me what I need to know, but I suspect something went wrong.”
