by Alex Howell
Shortly thereafter he hung up the phone. He then turned to the group and informed them, “That was General Thomson. He has just confirmed that the group behind the viral attack in Italy was indeed the same group that we’ve dealt with before.”
Raina cursed, “Damn...”
Kyle asked, “How did they find out?”
Mason answered, “I guess this isn’t out in the general media yet—but investigators in Rome found a key piece of evidence at the scene—pulled right from the wreckage of the burned-out car.”
Mason continued, “The detonator from the explosive device that had gone off was retrieved and after further analysis, it was determined to be 99% identical to similar devices made by the Iranian bomb maker Khalif Hatim—who in turn is linked back to a group of Italian based terrorists.”
Raina muttered, “By blood we cleanse…”
Mason confirmed, “Yes—they would be the ones.
Taking a breath, Mason then revealed, “And although the higher ups were not completely pleased with our efforts last time, it has been determined that due to our previous experience we are most likely the best group to have on the case.”
Marshal Oliver cynically remarked, “So they think that we screwed up royally before but they don’t have anyone else capable of taking this job? Or they just don’t have anyone else period?”
Mason Walker was growing more fed up with Marshal by the hour, but stayed silent. Instead it was Raina who sighed, “Well gee-whiz, if that’s not a great consolation…”
Mason had more info to reveal however, as he informed them, “According to Thomson there is still an active terror cell for this group working out of NYC. And it’s now believed that they are plotting additional attacks right here in the United States.”
Benton cursed, “Shit…”
Mason then glanced at all of his associates as he asked, “So do you want to do it or not—everybody in?”
To which they all variously nodded, and offered their personal pledge of support. Mason himself vowed his undying resolve to capture the bozos that had at one time captured him, announcing, “This mission only has three possible outcomes; either they go to prison, get killed, or I get killed—I’m going to get these guys.
14
Finding Leads and Taking Names
T HE NEXT DAY, AT A MAKESHIFT ONYX COMMAND CENTER IN NYC.
Mason was seated at a desk. Mathew Benton was seated nearby on a chair overlooking a window. He was getting ready to say something, “Hey Mason—” when the inopportune roar of an oncoming subway car drowned out his words.
Chris Bradley noting the difficulty, yelled over the din of metal wheels grating on steel railing, and the jarring vibration of concrete, “Wow you really know how to pick an HQ Mace—at the bottom of a train station no less!”
Mason not in the mood for such caustic critiques shouted back, “Look—you try to get a base of operations set up within 24 hours’ time and you’ll see how good you are at it alright? This was the best I could do considering the circumstances!”
It was at this moment that Kyle walked up to Mason and dropped a stack of papers on his desk and announced, “And according to my latest intel, it seems that the guys we’re chasing aren’t much better at founding a headquarters either, it seems that they’ve holed up inside an old abandoned Church in Brooklyn.”
Mason remembering the time that he was held captive inside a similar church in DC grimaced, “Well will wonders never cease—these unimaginative bums seem to be playing right out of the same play book that they had before.”
Mason quickly shuffled through the papers, showing GPS tracking data, block by block in Brooklyn with all of the traffic going back and forth from one source. This one spot on the grid was circled with someone’s red magic marker, with the name “St. Mark’s Protestant Episcopal Church” scrawled underneath it.
Mason muttered in recognition, “St. Mark’s… why does this place sound familiar.” Benton coolly looking across the room at Mason provided the answer, “I know why it sounds familiar to you Mason, it’s because back in the day during that stint me and you did at Ft. Harrison—that’s why it sounds familiar to you.”
Ft Harrison was a sprawling military base on the Southwest side of Brooklyn. Mason had bounced around so many different military installations during his time in the service that he almost forgot about it.
But Benton was indeed able to successfully jar his memory as he recalled, “Oh yeah—we used to walk around that area just outside the base all the time. I know exactly where that church is—it’s in the old historic district.”
Benton not wanting to waste any more time then took the initiative, hopping up from his seat and heading to the door as he called back to the others, “Okay—I’ll go start the hummer.”
ABOUT AN HOUR LATER IN BROOKLYN. Mathew Benton’s car charged off the newly built express tunnel that had replaced the outdated Brooklyn bridge just a few years prior. He was soon zooming right through the mean streets of Brooklyn. Mason riding shotgun, couldn’t help but be impressed as Benton skillfully steered his hummer around all the self-automated taxi cars that lined the busy Brooklyn streets.
He commented as much, “Wow Benton… I gotta hand it to you brother… You must really like driving.”
Benton skillfully weaved between two exiting cars, and answered without a beat, “Why do you say that?”
Mason laughed, “Because who else in their right mind would drive a manual in New York traffic in this day and age?”
Benton smirked, “What can I say? I like being in control.” Benton then pointed at the control panel on his dash and revealed, “This car’s a hybrid anyway…”
In the past a hybrid usually meant something to do with the method in which a car burned fuel, but since self-driving cars began to dominate in the mid-2020’s a “hybrid” had become a term used for cars that could switch between being manually driven and driven by the car’s onboard AI.
Mason didn’t much like this revelation however as he warned, “Benton man… hybrids are bad news. Haven’t you heard about all the accidents they’ve caused?”
As Benton leap frogged in front of a slow self-driving bus he admitted, “Yeah… somewhat…”
Mason was referring to the several instances in recent years in which the AI programming of so-called hybrids came to life even while its human operator was driving in manual mode. This happened from time to time when the onboard AI perceived some sort of emergency such as a driver falling asleep, getting sick or otherwise becoming incapacitated behind the wheel.
The only trouble was, sometimes it came to life when there was no emergency . There were several instances in which the system somehow went haywire, In more than a few cases for example, right when a human driver was needing to give a car gas at a critical moment, the AI suddenly came roaring to life and hit the brakes causing a horrific accident.
But such things should have come as a surprise to no one, these frightening scenarios of man versus machine—or at least human operator versus AI operator, had been anticipated for years.
In fact, all the way back in 2019, Bo-Wing’s B-37 Mack Airplane made headlines when the onboard AI repeatedly forced the nose of the airplane down while the pilot struggled for all his life to pull it back up. The first plane to go down was a B-37 in Indonesia, this was followed shortly thereafter by a plane forced down over Ethiopia.
Several crashes—and hundreds of lives lost—later, Bo-Wing finally discontinued all hybrid AI/Human operating systems on their planes. No one was quite able to work all of these kinks out in these hybrid systems, causing most individuals to prefer either a manual or self-driver, and not the treacherous in-between operator limbo of a hybrid.
Benton loved his hummer as is however, and wouldn’t trade it for the world. And as he shot off the freeway onto a side street and then right into an alley down the street from St. Mark’s, he seemed about as comfortable at the controls as could be.
Upon their arrival, every
body piled out of the car and with Mason, Raina, and Benton all three standing in the shadows of the alley.
A concerned Raina ventured to ask, “You are just going to leave it parked here?”
Benton laughed, “Nope—I’m not crazy.”
He then pulled out his phone and toggled an app that sent his car back into full automation mode before speaking into his phone, “Drive around the block until I call you.”
And in what just decades ago would have been every teenage boy’s fantasy, the car started up by itself, and placed itself in gear. It then rolled out of the alley to waste some time cruising the streets of Brooklyn all by its lonesome, until further notice.
15
Learning to Hurry Up and Wait
A s she stared up at the majestic steeple of what had previously been a major landmark in Brooklyn, Raina quietly remarked, “Such a beautiful church—why has it been abandoned?”
Mason shaking his head at the shuttered stained-glass windows grunted bluntly, “I don’t know—guess folks round here don’t go to church anymore.”
As they carefully walked toward the side of the building, Benton offered his own rationale, “Nah—it’s not church attendance. It’s gentrification.”
Raina questioned, “Gentrification?”
Benton nodded, “Yeah—from what I hear they want to demolish this old land mark to make way for new apartments and condos.”
Raina gazing at the rich stained—albeit shuttered glass above them, sighed, “Oh—that’s terrible. What a waste.”
As Mason guided them around the building, he gave his own rationale, “Well—at least it puts roofs over people’s heads, because right now it’s just another empty building in Brooklyn.”
Benton carefully watching their rear, then remarked, “Yeah, I just wonder how empty .”
Coming upon a side door, Mason nodded to Benton before reaching an arm out to fling the door open. Benton then charged through with gun drawn with Mason and Raina following close behind. Inside they saw what appeared to be nothing more than an empty church. Empty church pews, empty platform, and an empty altar.
Mason seeing a hallway by the platform then motioned the others to follow him, saying, “Over here—the rectory!”
Recalling what the abandoned church in DC was like, Mason figured the perps were up to their same old tricks. And since the DC terror cell had stashed a treasure trove of information in the church rectory over there, he figured they just might be dumb enough to do the same thing here in NYC.
Relying upon his instincts—or what Mason referred to as his “gut” Benton and Raina dutifully followed Mason up the steps and out into a small passageway that led to what must have been some priest’s rectory a long time ago. But the place was completely deserted. In fact, it looked like it hadn’t been used in ages.
Knocking away a few cobwebs Mason muttered to himself, “You’ve got to be kidding me!”
Raina happened to notice a calendar on the wall, took a piece of paper towel she had in her pocket and wiping away several layers of dust, read out loud, “May/1989”.
Mason groaned, “Yeah sounds about right. This place certainly looks like it hasn’t been used in about 40 years or more.”
Benton not wanting to waste any more time then advised, “Alright, we better call Kyle.”
Mason pulled Kyle up on the commlink, “Hey Kyle—it looks like you gave us a false lead.”
Mason didn’t quite mean for his words to sound like a criticism, but to ever so sensitive Kyle, it most certainly did. To him it seemed like an outright attack as he stuttered, “Bu—but that’s impossible!”
Mason disagreed, “No buddy, I’m afraid its all too possible. This place is deserted.”
Kyle was adamant however, as he repeated, “No! I don’t believe it! I have the data right here! This is the place that all that foot traffic is coming out of!”
Benton hearing the exchange looked at Mason and mouthed the words, ‘Kill it.’ Mason tired of trying to convince Kyle, nodded in agreement, before telling Kyle, “Alright buddy, we have to go. We’ll see you at the base.”
Kyle could be heard still pleading his case in what almost sounded like abject desperation, “Wait—Mason. I think—” The only thing that silenced Kyle’s frustration was the forced hang up of the call.
Benton looked at Mason, “Damn that sucks.”
Mason agreed, “Yeah… Alright come on Matt, let’s get the hell out of here.”
Raina meanwhile couldn’t help but notice that while Mason kept directly addressing Benton, he was barely even acknowledging her. It was obvious that he was suddenly trying to keep his distance.
And as they stepped out of the church it was Benton, not Mason, that checked on her, “You doing alright Raina.”
Clearing her throat, and attempting to hide her disappointment, she informed him, “Yeah Matt—yeah I’m fine.”
Mason heard her however, and he knew that chilled, pensive tone of voice meant that she was most certainly not fine . Finally relenting, he walked over to her, and explained himself, “Hey Raina, sorry if I seem distracted, I’ve just got a lot on my mind right now.”
Raina let out a slight laugh, “Uh—yeah I think we all do. This is a high stakes mission we’re in the middle of.
Mason quietly replied, “Well, yeah…” But didn’t offer any further explanation.
Raina was glad he was at least acknowledging his foibles, but she was still at a loss to understand how to clear the tumult in Mason’s psyche. She knew that she could never replace his dead wife, but if he would just give her the chance, she would do her best to accommodate him. She was frustrated, but she was still willing to give him the benefit of the doubt.
She squeezed his hand and told him, “It’s alright Mason.”
This was followed by Benton making the announcement, “Alright folks, our chariot awaits.” Just as his hummer was seen turning the corner and heading right for them.
The car stopped, and Benton barked into his phone, “Okay—unlock.”
The car’s doors were then heard unlocking. Benton got in the driver’s seat, Mason got in the passenger side, and Raina opened the side door hopping into the middle row seat of the hummer, right behind Mason and Benton.
Benton switching his car back to manual, then started to drive out of the heavily gentrified Brooklyn neighborhood. He didn’t get very far however, before Mason suddenly shouted, “Hey stop! Stop the car!”
The way Mason was shouting, you would think that someone had been killed. Pounding the brakes Benton anxiously questioned him, “Mason what is it?”
Mason motioning toward the church now a few blocks behind them, desperately tried to convey, “Back! We have to go back!”
Mason catching his breath then explained, “The Church—there is some kind of graffiti on it. Take me back to take a look!”
Benton was a bit incredulous, “Graffiti?”
There was graffiti all over NYC, what was the difference? But Mason insisted, “Damn it. Just take me back. Please!”
Benton was never one to argue with Mason, and so trusting his judgment he turned the hummer around and brought it back a short distance away. From here the group piled out and converged on the hitherto unseen side of the building that had so captured Mason’s attention in the rearview mirror of Benton’s hummer.
Standing before the graffiti scrawled wall, at first no one else could see what Mason saw. The wall was absolutely covered with gang signs and nonsensical tags by local graffiti artists. Raina staring at a graffiti drawing of some kind of big eyed, green skinned alien sitting on top of a flying saucer, his mouth wide open as he prepared to shove what looked like a Big Mac inside of it.
Raina remarked, “Uh—this just looks like some crap some stoned teenager sprayed across here.”
Giving Mason a look that suggested perhaps he was working a bit too hard, she asked him, “Are you sure you’re alright Mason?”
Mason wasn’t paying attention to the outlying
junk of previous graffiti artists however, he was looking deeper, because right in the middle of this mural he pinpointed something that no one else had seen. Raising his hand to the center of the wall, he pointed, “There! Can’t you see it?”
As they squinted their eyes—they did indeed see it. A red stream seemed to run right by the comical image of the alien, and nestled inside was—in plain English—the phrase, “By blood we cleanse.”
Raina muttered, “Uh—I’m guessing whoever drew the happy hamburger munching alien didn’t do this!”
Mason shook his head, “No this was added on later. And I have a good idea by who.”
Benton mulling it all over in his mind, “But would they really be so stupid to leave a calling card like this? Or are these guys just so freaking out of their minds that they no longer care?”
Mason shook his head, “I don’t know…”
Mason squinting his eyes at the wall then stumbled upon a stunning realization. The red river served as a kind of optical illusion hiding a secret door to the building. The red paint perfectly flowed and rippled like a river obscuring the cracks of the door, and incredibly enough, what appeared to be the graffiti alien’s mouth was actually a cleverly obscured doorknob!
Realizing as much Mason muttered, “Damn—their hiding in plain sight. that’s what they are doing.”
Benton not yet making the connection asked, “What—what are you talking about?”
Mason then informed them, “This is a freaking door.” Worrying that someone might pop out at any minute, Mason realized it would be better to do some surveillance first as he ordered, “Come on let’s take cover!”
Benton nodded, and the three of them went back into the shadows of the alley, and finding a dumpster Mason barked, “Alright let’s get in.”
Raina staring at the dumpster almost thought it was a joke, “You are kidding, right?”
Mason was not. He vigorously shook his head, “No I’m not. We can watch from inside.”