He hoped the measures he’d taken to protect her would work. He closed his eyes and his thoughts swirled away as he fell asleep in his silent surroundings.
. . . .
Upstairs Ms. Likvold sat with her feet kicked up on her desk. She had been monitoring Marty’s communications and actually had cut them short by two minutes. She didn’t want Marty’s last thoughts to be read by Mr. Sullivan. Marty’s possible support in his direction would have been all Mr. Sullivan needed to win Marty over completely.
She needed to guarantee uninterrupted production of her next machines. If not, her plan would topple and be exposed. With Marty’s last message not making it through, she knew he would continue to produce for her. Ms. Likvold would do her best to dispel any negativity Mr. Sullivan had tried to project about her.
She would make Marty her friend while keeping an eye out for any mysterious mishaps. If Marty veered off schedule or seemed to have sabotaged any aspect of her next set of helpers, Ms. Likvold could use Gretchen to change his tune quickly. The assumed death of his daughter would get him fired up, and she would be his coach-in-the-corner, offering retribution.
Marty would be staying right where he was, while he was useful at least. Mr. Sullivan’s efforts were commendable, but nothing would prevent her from succeeding now. The butcher was already deployed, and Mr. Naublock would start churning out the first fleet.
CHAPTER 12
L eo’s paranoia wasn’t unjustified in the least, if he had remained vigilant, he may have noticed that they weren’t alone. The mystery guest let Sarafina and Leo move ahead a small distance and then made contact with his employer.
“My mark is on foot, still in route, female guest present. They look quite close too. I will verify the location’s geography and challenges we may encounter when digging. Anything you want me to do? Maybe press them?”
“Absolutely not! I need him to feel comfortable and to do what I brought him in for, inventing.”
“Ten-four Ms. Likvold. I’ll shadow him till you tell me to make contact. I’ll bring your man back when the time’s right. You’ll just have to tell me what to do with the woman.”
The faint roar of falling water was heard, and her operative checked his GPS. He was three quarters of a mile from the target. The man scanned his surroundings and heard nothing. The eerie silence left him with the feeling that eyes were on him. Someone or something was watching the watcher.
. . . .
Leo pulled himself away from his view of Sarafina leading the way, her long curly hair bouncing with each step. Their current position put them approximately one hundred yards away from the GPS coordinate, the sound of rushing water had become louder, filling the forest. The stream didn’t appear on the map, and he was concerned they may have to divert their route.
Leo called out as he looked up. “Sara---” his voice was cut off by a face full of hair. He had run right into the back of a stationary Sarafina.
“Ooops, crap! Sorry Sara. Texting while walking is dangerous.”
“You’re dangerous Leo,” she smiled, “You trying to push me in?”
Leo stepped aside and looked in front of her at a briskly moving stream.
“Let’s head along the bank, maybe we’ll get lucky with a better crossing downstream.”
Sarafina headed downstream, Leo following, the stream becoming wider and much more rapid, small peaks of white water dotting the flow.
“This is beautiful,” she said. Leo followed her eyes and he gazed upwards at drifting currents of mist hitting the sun, that resulted in a kaleidoscope of color.
“Yeah, I know,” he yelled, speaking loudly enough to talk over the crashing waters beside them. Ahead, trees thinned slightly then stopped at a fluxing pool of water from a multi-tier waterfall, that scattered across natural moss-covered rock ledges. The mist being pushed by air currents created by the cool falling waters spiraled up into color in the sunlight.
“This is so amazing.” Sarafina said. She snapped away, taking pictures on her Smartphone, then looked back to him.
“Get over here cowboy.”
Leo walked over and was pulled in close by Sara. She put her arm around him and pressed her face against his, squeezing them both into the shot. They both enjoyed the embrace and slowly, reluctantly, released from each other. The temperature was much cooler near the falls, and everything was damp from the mist in the air. Leo sat down on a nearby boulder and checked the phone one last time.
“Well, we’re here. The site is basically these falls. Not the easiest place to dig and find much. Let’s see if we can get lucky and find some mimetite anyway. Let’s try over here.”
Leo pointed to a small flat piece of land free of trees. Sarafina got to it and jabbed the shovel tip in the ground while Leo snapped an action shot of her.
“What are you takin’ one of me digging for? Am I that interesting?”
“I just thought I might send something to Anabelle and Tyler so they don’t think we’re dead.”
He sent off the photo and seconds later got a text back from Tyler:
Lol, where are you digging? Looks like you’re supervising, nice.
Leo responded, it’s a long story… just getting away for a bit.
Getting away? The both of you? Wow that was quick.
No, it’s not like that; it’s…complicated.
Yeah, definitely sounds like it might be. Where’s Willy?
Crap Willy! I’ll explain what I can without involving you too much, but I need you to get Willy and promise me you’ll keep quiet.
Sure bro, you know I will.
I mean it!
I said yes. Now get on with it, spill those beans rich man.
First off don’t enter my cottage. Try to make some noise or use food to get Willy out but don’t draw attention to yourself. As for me and Sara things are tricky. I’m doing some research, trying to piece things together and get the upper hand. Mr. Krueger is teaching me some new tricks. I will visit ‘the most boring place on earth’ in 5 days. Something tells me it’ll help.
Tyler knew Leo was being cryptic, which meant he was in some sort of trouble. He only referred to his father as Mr. Krueger. ‘The most boring place on earth’ Leo referred to was the home Leo grew up in, a joke Leo used to characterize the computer-filled home, frequent tech conversations always brimming with theories and code.
Will do. You take care of yourselves now. Where are you, in case I don’t hear from you?
Leo didn’t know how they would have access to his text messages, but he trusted little nowadays. He kept his message somewhat cryptic.
I’m not exactly sure, but they say the land of the falling lakes is beautiful.
;-)
Tyler Googled land of the falling lakes, revealing Leo’s location in Croatia.
Damn, you’re far from home.
Leo exited out of his texting app and saw he had an email waiting.
“Leo you know I’m not going to dig for this thing by myself. Get over here!” Sarafina called out.
Realizing he had been distracted, Leo apologized. “Sorry Sara, I was texting Tyler; let me read this email really quick.”
Leo launched his email and looked at the sender and subject of his newest incoming message. It was from Bartholemeau, contact required and marked urgent.
This was disconcerting seeing as how everything had boiled over with the Sullivan’s. And now he was thousands of miles from any meeting they could possibly have. Had the Sullivan’s spoken with Bartholemeau, or revealed anything? He read onward.
Dear Leo,
Cronos has informed me you came back briefly, left with equipment, and indicated you’d be gone for a while. I wanted to inform you we’ve begun prepping e-frond for a prototype run. Any personal notes and, most importantly, systems coding would be appreciated. I’ve already browsed your input data from your terminal. I need you in town at your lab for systems testing of said prototype before the week’s end.
Also, on a person note, I
care little for what transpires in your private life, as long as it doesn’t intrude on our work together. However, Cronos detected elevated stress levels in your voice, displeasure in our employee-only policy at the lab, and the most interesting set of data that you carefully loaded onto your PC only. I appreciate your concern for possible contamination but work here should remain accessible at all times. I trust you’ll share and use whatever it is you’ve learned for company purposes. Having said all that, please notify us of your location so that we can provide you with safe passage back onto American soil. Your safety is paramount.
Sincerely,
Bartholemeau
Leo’s attention was interrupted by a sound from behind him in the woods as he finished the letter. He turned to see nothing but open forest. Once again, he felt like they weren’t alone. He stood still staring into the forest, searching for any movement till Sara spoke to him.
“Leeeeeo, the digging’s over here. You owe me too, I’ve already hit some mimetite, I think.”
Leo turned to her and looked into the small hole at softball-sized rock with a green popcorn-like texture.
“Well that was easy,” said Leo.
“Pshh, for you! I did all the digging.”
Leo laughed. “I’ll bag the sample, then let’s get out of here and get some clothes. I have some land owners I need to speak to.”
. . . .
When the man dressed in black was confident Leo’s attention was turned elsewhere, he called Ms. Likvold again to relay the news that they were on site and with a sample.
“Ms. Likvold the subject is leaving the location. Do you want me to capture them?”
“No, not yet. Keep an eye on them at all times, and don’t let them leave the country”
“So, you want me to babysit? I thought you wanted them brought back?”
“I hired you to do what I say, not to second guess me. Follow them and you’ll get paid. Don’t make exceptions.”
“Leave the girl in play? … Hello? Ms. Likvold?”
“Yes, yes leave her be for now. Let’s keep Leo focused. We’re under a serious time constraint, and we can’t have him worrying about her. We need him agreeable and fully cooperative.”
CHAPTER 13
S till stewing over his capture, Stratus endured listening to Mr. Sullivan’s instructions for him. Stratus’s impression was that Mr. Sullivan seemed different, concerned, perhaps desperate even. All of this would have normally worked to his advantage, allowing him to use this weakness and exploit it. Like a shrewd, shady businessman, Mr. Sullivan was very good at dotting his i’s and crossing his t’s, and the blackmail he had created was very convincing.
Freedom was finally granted but under Mr. Sullivan’s terms. He felt like Mr. Sullivan granted him a favor, permission, and it made him sick. Battling his way out, making a fool of Mr. Sullivan’s bots, and kicking ass would have been a much more satisfying way to gain his “so-called” freedom.
Although, being sliced to pieces by a heat laser wouldn’t have accomplished anything. Stratus’s sarcastic tone and cocky attitude only fueled Mr. Sullivan, who threatened and tightened his grip to persuade Stratus into cooperating. Having little to squeeze, seeing as how Stratus no longer had any family, Mr. Sullivan had used Stratus’s reputation and cover at the pentagon as a motivator.
Mixed emotions filled Stratus’s mind as he drove along the country roads connecting one rural town to the next.
Mr. Sullivan’s offer to use his resources to explore reviving his wife was clouding his mind with questions and false hope he knew he shouldn’t hold onto.
Medical malpractice had left Stratus’s young wife dead on the operating table, and he had kept her alive with machines till he made the decision to put her in cryogenics. He knew it was sci-fi fantasy to think reanimating her was possible, but the “what if” of it had intoxicated him. The large sum that it cost to entomb her was considerable, but it was a drop in the bucket compared to her medical malpractice suit and his already padded family pockets.
Stratus didn’t want his life in anyone’s hands but his; he liked doing things alone and he was annoyed that a civilian had power over him. He viewed it as perceived power only, and he intended on completing Mr. Sullivan’s dirty laundry in a quick manner.
After he had completed this task, it was gloves off. He would remain a slave to no man. His first step was Mrs. Sullivan’s mansion, or Likvold, as it was finally revealed to him. He wanted to gather clues she may have left behind and in the process supply ammunition for his alibi when all was exposed.
The wheels crunched over the dirt road leading to the dark mansion. Stratus felt like a common citizen, a nobody driving a non-luxury compact car he was forced to rent. He couldn’t wait to get back in his Porsche. Stratus hoped they hadn’t towed it from the lot at the airport or discovered the bullet holes in the fender.
He reached the gate that was locked on his last visit and stopped the car in the same spot where his Porsche had been shot at. The gate was cocked open slightly. He stared as he exited the vehicle, leaving the car running. He walked the area where he had scrapped with Fox Two and noticed the blood-tinged dirt and grass where he had been slain.
Stratus crouched and observed the stain, pivoting his head and looking over the area, the brawl he had been in was playing through his head.
He had been unaware someone was lurking in the woods that day. Stratus felt fortunate he hadn’t been battling both Fox Two and the butcher at the same time. Mr. Sullivan had warned him that his search and investigation might be hindered by the butcher.
Mr. Sullivan described him as bad news, someone who wouldn’t hesitate to kill. Stratus pulled out his personal phone and took pictures of the scene that he might be able to use later in his defense. Standing up, he looked towards the gate. It was time to go inside.
He got back into the car, put it into gear, then crept forward slowly. He wasn’t about to touch the gate with his hands, even if it was ajar. The last time he had touched the gate, the jolt nearly knocked him down.
The car would get minor cosmetic damage, but he had insurance, and after all, it was a crappy rental anyhow. Instead of a scraping metal on metal sound, the car’s contact with the gate was silent. The more the car pushed, the more relieved he was, till finally a loud crack was heard just as the gate swung wide enough for him to pass. Stupid crappy plastic paneling; that’s going to leave a mark. Oh well.
He quickly pulled up to the front of the house and exited the car. As Stratus rounded the car he eyed the damage to the rental, shaking his head. The front entrance was unlocked, and he entered cautiously, remembering what Mr. Sullivan had told him about booby traps that he and Fox One had encountered.
The building was dark and Stratus’s beam from his flashlight cut through the dim expanses, giving only a sliver of light to walk by. The main floor gave up nothing; all the rooms were clean and clear of anything useful. The library, a modern high-tech empty shell inside a one hundred plus year old home, seemed the most eerie.
He felt like this was beginning to be a waste of time, but he may as well be thorough while he was here. The stairs leading up to the 2nd floor were covered in a thick layer of dust, indicating no one had ventured up here in quite some time.
The steps groaned under his weight, and the dusty hand rail repulsed him, causing him to pull his hand away with a snarl.
The landing leading to the upper floor rooms looked like the surface of the moon, the layer of dust so dense that traffic would have left discernible foot prints. Stratus glanced at the closed doors that were visible with a confused look. This clearly would be the living quarters of most any home built during this time frame.
If Ms. Likvold had been living here it was odd she didn’t reside in or visit this part of the home, nor provide upkeep. Stratus carefully made his way back down the dusty stairs; he had yet to find a door leading to the basement.
Down on the main floor he looked in both directions, searching for a door leading
off to other parts of the home. The main doorway where he had entered the home was centered in the middle of the home, and a large bulk of the house must lie in both directions.
Each side of this dark room was covered with wooden filigree, golden gilded work, and carved gargoyles similar to the one on the extravagant front door. Mirrors were placed periodically along both sides, but one caught his eye.
In the right rear corner hung a full length, 5-foot-wide mirror, an odd place to have a mirror. Stratus approached it and examined its edges. His dull reflection in the dreary room created a shadow-like representation of himself. Nothing was along the mirror’s edges, with the exception of a wooden carved gargoyle along its right border.
The gargoyle was inset into the wall; it was a muscular burly beast and instead of a pose of prowess, it knelt. Its face looked straight down to the ground, its claw-like hand outstretched in approval. This pose was different than any he had seen before. He placed his hand on its head and ran it across the top.
He lifted his hand up to inspect it; a light layer of dust covered his finger tips and he looked over the beast’s outstretched paw. It appeared dust free and shinier than the rest.
Perhaps it had a purpose. He knelt and grabbed the paw in a handshake and pulled to see if it could be moved.
No success. He was starting to wonder if his hunch was incorrect. Stratus pushed off the paw to stand up, but his balance was thrown off. The beast’s arm moved downward by a foot until it clanked to a stop. Stratus, still off balance, tried to recover from falling over when the paw began to rise. A low metallic sound came from behind the arm like that of cog gears turning.
Stratus was nearly struck in the face by the quickly rising paw, confused and unsure whether or not it was trying to attack him, he regained his balance and hopped backwards. The entire arm rose to shoulder height and stopped with a metallic clank, then falling quickly six inches with a low thud that rattled the floor. The thick door popped open free of the frame. Stratus grabbed the paw that now served as a handle and pulled it open.
The Second Rising Page 6