The Trigger Mechanism

by Scott McEwen

  A bump from turbulence threw Wyatt to the cabin floor. Wyatt had just listened as Darsie, back in San Francisco, told the Red Trident team that the Chinatown raid was a bust and the suspect, Hi Kyto, was cleared. Now, there was another shooter on the ground in Virginia. The entire mission was falling apart.

  “Shooter!” Wyatt heard his father’s voice blare through the jet’s radio. “Everybody down!” Wyatt ran over to the tech, his face hovering just above the plane’s radio.

  Bam-bam-bam … bam-bam! More shots rang out. Wyatt looked at the wide-eyed tech as they listened to the sound of feet shuffling, then silence.

  “Eldon!” Avi’s voice crackled through the radio. “Sounds like it’s coming from the west wing! Near the audio visual center.”

  “Roger that,” Wyatt’s dad said. “We’ve got noises coming one hundred feet ahead of us to the left. No shooter in the hallway.”

  Wyatt waited. More silence. And then, his father again: “Avi, it’s Encyte. Did you get that? He just came over the intercom. He’s in the building. He’s got one kid hostage with him.”

  “We just did a body count,” Cass’s voice broke in over the comms. “Everyone is accounted for.”

  “We’ve got a little girl screaming,” Eldon said. “We’re following.”

  Wyatt leaned over the screens, one showing grainy footage of the auditorium where his comrades lay in fake dead poses. Another screen showing the school’s hallway, where his father and a couple members of SWAT crept carefully toward the school’s audio visual center.

  “Oh my god, Dad, please be careful,” a muffled voice broke in.

  Wyatt’s heart dropped. “Cody!” he screamed. “That’s my brother!” he said to the tech.

  The sound of more shots ricocheted down the hall: bam-bam-bam.

  “Dad, something’s not right,” Cody said after a couple of seconds. “The sound is off—”

  He was interrupted by a scream. The high-pitched, guttural scream of a young girl.

  “Dead. They’re all dead…” a maniacal voice came over the intercom again. “Don’t try to find me unless you want to join them.”

  “Avi, are you tracking?” Eldon asked.

  “There is nothing to trace!” Avi yelled over the radio. “He’s not in the network. Someone physically is in the building.”

  “We gotta move. We’ve tracked the shooter. He’s at the AV center. There’s smoke in the room. It’s sealed, but I can see behind the glass. We’re going to open fire.”

  More shots over the intercom, and then more silence.

  “It’s not live fire,” Cody said in the comms, the sudden realization obvious in his tone.

  Wyatt watched on the small screen as Cody stood up and began running across the auditorium toward the door. “Dad, stop! It’s not right! It’s not real!”

  “Get me into the comms,” Wyatt said to the tech.

  The tech hesitated.

  “Do it!”

  The guy began frantically pushing buttons and then handed Wyatt a headset. “You’re in.”

  “Dad, listen to Cody,” Wyatt yelled into the radio. “He knows what he’s talking about. Please, stand down.”

  “Wyatt? How are you on this—”

  “Doesn’t matter. Dad, you gotta listen.” Wyatt held the earpiece tight against his face. “It’s a trap! Listen to Cody!”

  “Please, Dad,” Cody chimed in. “The sound is a recording. I promise.”

  “We got eyes on him right here,” Eldon said. “I see the smoke from his gunfire behind this glass.”

  The SWAT team leader’s voice came in, “If you’re not going, I am.”

  Silence. Wyatt listened in horror to the sounds of gurgling, choking, gasping.

  “Nerve agent! It’s a trap!” Eldon yelled. “Everybody out!”

  On the screen, a man’s body shook. He put his hands to his neck. The foam from his mouth visible even in the low-def footage.

  “We’re landing!” the pilot called from the front.

  Wyatt braced as the Red Trident jet tore through the low-hanging clouds and bumped down for the landing at Fort Meade.

  CHAPTER 62

  It was only moments after the shooting that the SecDef arrived. Her hair freshly pinned back and her lips glossed and ready for the storm of press. In her shadow, Ken and a flurry of entourage as well as five black Suburbans.

  “Elaine,” Eldon said as he walked across the parking lot to greet her, unclipping his helmet. His face was tired, but it twinkled with victory. “We did it.”

  “Yes, we did.” The SecDef extended her hand. “My thanks to you on behalf of the American people.” She looked over at the campers all huddled, drinking water, stripping off the gear they had under their school clothes. “And to your team.”

  “This is what we’re here for. We’re happy to help. I see you brought the cavalry.” He nodded in the direction of the vehicles. “For us, I presume … an escort back to Valor.”

  The specious smile faded from the SecDef’s lips. “Actually, it’s an escort home. You and your team will caravan to a secure hangar, where everyone will be routed back to their respective cities, to their lives.”

  “Excuse me?” Eldon stepped closer, so close he could see the blurred liner gathering in the corner of her eyes. “You lied to us, to me. It was a trick.”

  “Eldon, come now—”

  “You brought me here to run this mission, so that you could get us out of our fortress. Why trust us at all?”

  “I played the odds and I won. We won here today. That counts, and you should embrace that.” She tapped him on the shoulder, then shrugged. “But the risk is too high to do it again. We’re cashing in, Eldon. Quitting while we’re still ahead.”

  Ken stepped over from behind the SecDef and opened the door to her vehicle. “Elaine, you’ve got CNN waiting. We need to get moving,” he said.

  The SecDef nodded and turned back to Eldon. “Have these kids cleaned up and at the airport within the hour.”

  Eldon glared. “These kids just saved your ass.”

  * * *

  Wyatt stepped out of the car, taking in the scene: the police beating back press, who waved cameras and microphones, trying to get a glimpse of the kids. The SWAT team leader, still convulsing, was being treated with a nerve agent antidote on a gurney. And the Valor team huddled to the side, high from their first mission as Wyatt walked up.

  “Holy crap, Cody,” Mary Alice said, wiping the fake blood from her face. “How did you know?”

  “All those hours in the gun range”—Samy patted Cody’s head—“finally paid off. You did well today, little Brewer.”

  “He’s right,” Wyatt said, walking over to where the campers were gathered. “If Dad had started shooting, it would have been a catastrophe.” Wyatt held up his hand and Cody smiled, slapping it in the air. “Avi said there was a canister of sarin in the ceiling, rigged to the sprinkler system. Would’ve killed everyone, and any responders who came in after.”

  “Dude.” Samy came over and folded Wyatt into a hug. “So glad you are back. How did you find us?”

  “I had help. I took something to reverse the effects.”

  Samy squinted. The rest of the team leaned in. “Who helped you?”

  “A former one of us,” Wyatt said.

  “What are you doing talking to my team?” a voice said just beyond the ring of kids.

  Wyatt and the rest of the group turned to see Eldon, his face smudged black from gunpowder. Cass stood behind him, a pained look on her face as she began un-Velcroing the bulletproof vest.

  “Son, I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Eldon said. “This area is restricted. No civilians.”

  “Dad, come on.” Wyatt glanced around the circle—his family, his team, no eyes would meet his. “You gotta understand. What I did—it was the only way. And we’re close. So close. The mission is not over.”

  “It is for us,” Eldon said, his words dropping like an iron curtain.

  “But Darsi
e said they’ll have the IP. Jalen has cleared a suspect, we know the area—”

  “We have orders from the SecDef,” Eldon said. “Valor is no more.”

  “Samy … Rory?” Wyatt looked to his groupmates, who just stared at their hands. He turned to Cass. “Come help me.”

  She pulled off her wig and looked at Eldon, who shook his head.

  “Oh my god, Dad, what am I supposed to do?” Wyatt said.

  “I don’t know.” Eldon said. “Maybe Darsie can help.”

  CHAPTER 63

  Jalen took the long way home. He walked slowly, turning the day over.

  It wasn’t Hi Kyto. I’m the liar. Thoughts zipped through his head over and over again, electrifying him. She’s not a murderer. She’s just a girl. A perfect girl. He wanted to throw up. He thought about her face, tearful as she climbed into the car with her mother. “I don’t ever want to see you again,” she said.

  He weaved his way through Chinatown. Along the streets, vendors were taking down shop. The winds blew and with the sun now sinking, he felt cold.

  He cut across the street, wandering, not wanting to go back to the apartment. Wyatt and the Valor kids were safe, but it would be hours before Wyatt was back. Jalen bumped through the crowd, passing an electronics store with TVs in the window all playing the news footage of the fake shooting.

  Encyte was there. So close. Jalen stopped at a meat market. A whole suckling pig hung upside down, bloodless, staring at him. And then, the connection to Encyte hit him.

  That’s it. He wrestled his phone from his pocket and dialed up Wyatt.

  “Hey, dude, I can’t talk,” Wyatt answered, the exhaustion immediately evident in his tone. “I’m getting on a plane—”

  “I just have one question—what do you think about Morg?” Jalen asked.

  “Morg? I don’t know. Why?”

  The shopkeeper standing behind the pig stared at Jalen. “When I was on the boat,” Jalen said, “Morg was talking about pig pheromones. Do you think…?”

  In the background, the loud hum of a jet’s engine. “I don’t know,” Wyatt yelled above the noise. “I don’t see it. I mean, he works for Darsie.”

  “And so does Hi Kyto!”

  “Look, Jalen, don’t do anything. Stay there. I’ll be back in five hours,” Wyatt said and hung up.

  Jalen looked at his watch. Hi Kyto would be meeting Darsie in thirty minutes. He pulled up the search bar on his phone and typed the name “Morgan Whittendale.”

  The first hit, an article from the San Francisco Chronicle. Jalen scanned the words: For such a young man, Whittendale speaks with a professorial tone.

  Jalen’s eyes scanned the words: “They used to call me ‘the professor’ when I was in high school,” Whittendale said. “I didn’t really like that. Being a hacker used to be taboo, but now technical skill is a badge of honor. And hacking is something that can be taught.”

  Professor? Jalen stopped in his tracks, the busy people of Chinatown bumping past him toward home. He pulled up his Uber app as fast as he could and ordered a ride to Red Trident.

  * * *

  Hi Kyto was perched in the Ocean Guardian beanbag chairs, her shoes off, her face hovering above a steaming cup of tea. She held her phone to her ear, tears of anger in the corners of her eyes as she explained the day to her best friend.

  “I just can’t believe it,” she said into her phone. “I mean, of all of us, Darsie was closest to me, and he actually thought I was Encyte.”

  “I know,” Morg said gravely. “It’s just insane, Julie. Such a violation. And I saw there was another attack today.”

  “Yeah, there was. But it was staged. The whole thing.”

  “Staged? What do you mean?”

  “That woman—the shooter—went to the feds. The kids weren’t the real ones.”

  Silence. “You there?” Hi Kyto said.

  “Staging a school shooting,” Morg said slowly. “What the fuck is Darsie doing? This is giving me the creeps. Look, just let me handle some emails and I’ll just be in my office. You can see me through the glass.”

  “Okay, I just really couldn’t be alone with him right now. I’m, like, really freaking out.”

  “Of course,” Morg said. “I’ve got some essential oils. Just take a breath. Let me handle a couple of things and I’ll be right back.”

  CHAPTER 64

  Tui had known eventually everything would come to a head. And when it did, there would be chaos and he’d be able to swoop in like a hawk and pluck the unsuspecting fish from the river. Sure, it was difficult to keep up with Jalen, but again, his instincts had paid off. He’d watched the failed raid on the Chinese Kumbaya circle, enjoying the contrite look on that bastard Darsie’s face when the crowds started swarming around the church.

  But still, Tui knew this could be the billionaire’s elaborate scheme. Make a to-do about suspecting someone else to keep the attention away from yourself. Sounds just like something a punk like Darsie would do. Funny, he’s the world’s greatest hacker and yet he somehow lost the trace. How convenient.

  Even so, Tui couldn’t believe his eyes as he watched Darsie’s Tesla leave the data center, weave back through Chinatown, and then pull back into Red Trident where Hi Kyto was waiting. That sleazy MFer was headed right back to the nest. To meet with the prime suspect.

  Tui got out his phone and texted Ken: Polish the fuckin medal of honor for me.

  This is all about to pay off, my friend. Ken texted back. Big time.

  * * *

  From the back seat of the Uber, Jalen’s hands shook as he texted Hi Kyto: I know you hate me. And I promise I’ll never lie to you again.

  Seconds passed. Then a text popped up: What do you want?

  The handle Pro_F_er, Jalen typed furiously, have u ever seen it?

  Maybe. I’ve played like 1000 handles.

  Morg’s handle? Was it his?

  Don’t think so. He had a bunch. His main one was like Ocean Boy. Or Sea Boy. Please stop.

  Sea-boy? Jalen’s heart pounded in his throat. Not high boy?

  No.

  Jalen looked out the window at the late-afternoon traffic. Hi Kyto texted again: But hai is sea in Chinese.

  “Oh my god.” Jalen tapped his driver’s shoulder. “Please, man, can you please go faster?” He called Hi Kyto.

  “Jay, I can’t do this right now,” Hi Kyto said.

  “Julie, listen to me. You’re not safe. Please, where are you?”

  “I’m in Morg’s office right now. Look, if you have questions, you can talk to him yourself. He’s walking in.”

  Jalen listened in horror as she passed off the phone.

  “Hey, Jay,” Morgan said.

  * * *

  Tui flipped his FBI badge at the salad-eating security guard at the pavilion entrance and ran to the elevator, jamming his thick, tan hand between the doors before they could close.

  “What floor?” Darsie asked as he pressed the fourth.

  “Same, thank you.” Tui smiled.

  The fourth floor pinged and Darsie stepped out, almost charging down the dingy hallway. Tui fell in step behind him, feeling for his gun as he entered the business office of Ocean Guardian. Everything was grungy. Like stepping from the sleek future back into the year 1989.

  Tui watched Darsie duck inside the office where the Asian gaming chick and a young college-aged kid with stupid-looking long hair were waiting. It was dark. The overhead fluorescent lights were off as the staff and volunteers were leaving for the end of the day. Tui’s eyes shifted to the glass, peering through the sea of stickers.

  Now was the time. Tui entered the waiting area, where the three were sitting in beanbag chairs. He leveled his gun. “Think I need to have a little talk with you guys.”

  Morgan jerked Hi Kyto by the wrist and started stepping backward toward his office. “Yeah, I don’t think so.” Morgan slammed the door, peering at Tui and Darsie through the glass.

  “Morg, what are you doing?” Hi Kyto writhed in his
grip. “Let me go!”

  Tui leveled his gun at the door.

  “No!” Darsie called out. “It’s bulletproof!”

  “Then I’ll kick it in.” Tui slammed his giant foot into the door.

  Tui began slamming his whole body into the glass door. A few more kicks and slams and suddenly, the door gave way. He was in.

  He made it only a couple of feet before—BOOOM!

  A horrible explosion rocked the room, blowing glass and knocking Darsie to the floor. Black smoke and flames permeated the air. Darsie looked out into the chaos: water raining down from the ceiling and Tui, legless on the floor, eyes open, body severed in half.

  Darsie stared blankly, then shifted his body, seeing a giant chunk of glass piercing his torso, blood seeping around it. He peered into Morg’s office—filled with smoke and broken glass, the windows completely blown out. He watched as Morg secured a neon yellow rappelling rope to a cabinet and slipped over the edge, struggling to support a limp Hi Kyto tucked under his arm.

  He dropped from sight, and moments later, Darsie heard a motorcycle engine rev.

  CHAPTER 65

  As soon as Jalen stepped out of the car at the Darsie Pavilion, he could hear the chaos following the explosion. He looked up, above the wall of fire engines and first responders, and saw where the fourth-floor office windows had been blown out.

  A pack of EMTs were wheeling a man out on a gurney.

  “Darsie!” Jalen yelled and ran toward him, the EMTs barely giving him any notice and not slowing.

  Darsie’s pale face turned to Jalen. He’d lost a lot of blood, but he tried to speak as Jalen ran alongside the gurney: “… has Julie,” Darsie said to Jalen, his hand flopping off the gurney. He dropped a key fob as the EMTs whisked him away.

  Jalen snatched the fob, clicked the key. The lights to a BMW i8—the sleek all-electric coupe—flashed. Jalen ran to the car, instinctively taking the passenger side. He checked his steps and corrected, heading for the driver’s seat. He had no doubt where Morg was taking Hi Kyto.