by A J Blanc
Chapter Six: On a Rail
The wave of nausea Will endured after the high-speed landing had subsided shortly after Milo showed his credentials to the middle-aged Latino man working alone in the operations car. Oscar, the hover train’s lone engineer and likely only employee, barely looked up when the two men entered the room; an occurrence they both doubted was common enough to merit such a flippant response.
The small, dim space was completely covered with displays, gauges, and jumping readings of countless goings on throughout the train. Milo doubted they could all be effectively monitored by just one person. However, the most difficult part of the job, he deduced, was either to elude vertigo, or stay awake for a whole shift. It was obvious which of those two the technician struggled with.
They had reached the door to the first in a string of passenger carriages when Will remembered one important detail. “Is there open access to all compartments within the entire train?”
Oscar slowly spun in his chair to face them, and had a look of both contemplation and fatigue, as though this was the most work he had done all shift. “Everywhere except the long-distance sleeper car; number seven. When you get there use the call box and I can let you in. It’ll be the display panel on your left.” He then robotically turned back to the hypnotic readouts scrolling across his multiple screens.
Will and Milo nodded simultaneously and departed the car. Will checked to see if his sidearm was still on stun, and Milo took out his rapid imbedded identification device, or RIID. The device pings all personal ID chips within a seven meter radius. Any chips that don’t match the person they’re physically looking at, or ones that don’t register on the scanner for various reasons, will be immediately recognized. Will hoped it would make the search of the train much easier, but Milo was worried the train might be full of people with active warrants.
The first three carriages were relatively straightforward passengers: commuters, vacationers, and people transiting who couldn’t afford to fly. As soon as the pair entered the fourth carriage however, they knew something was off. The most obvious difference, they noted, was that the lighting was significantly dimmer. The dusk-like environment had a circadian effect on the passengers; most of them were either asleep, or close to it. The mid-October weather was also fortuitous for the passengers in the carriage. Well over half of them were using their jackets as blankets. Thankfully, sleeping or not, most of their faces were still visible for the RIID to make a positive ID. However, any who were covered or facing the window had to be roused.
They were about to pass into the next carriage when Milo stopped at the last row. He nudged Will with his elbow to get his attention, but once he took a couple steps back Will knew to take out his selective variable repeater, model six; standard government issue sidearm.
Facing the window, with a beat-up raincoat covering a person’s entire body down to the shoes, sat someone who almost melted into the corner seat. The stained, brown coat nearly perfectly matched the brown and grey color scheme of the carriage’s wall carpeting, particularly in the dim light. The dramatic difference in that carriage was starting to make sense.
Milo showed Will the reading from his RIID, which displayed an ‘Unreadable PIC’ message. This indicated the man had a chip that couldn’t be read by even a government device, and prompted the two to share knowing glances. There were only a few logical reasons to receive that message. Damaged and altered ID chips were the most common in Milo’s experience, but certain types of military and federal chips required a very specific reader in order to even be pinged.
Will opened his mouth to ask the dozing passenger to lower the coat, when the train unexpectedly jerked forward to slow down for the next transfer station. The man hiding in the corner took advantage of the distraction. In an explosion of fabric he burst out of his seat, slammed into Will, and threw the dingy raincoat onto him, making a break for the next carriage.
It all seemed to happen simultaneously and left Milo wondering if he should give chase or help Will off the poor woman who just received a rude awakening from him toppling onto her. Milo grabbed Will with one hand and heaved him to his feet. He left the coat covering Will’s head and pulled out his own SVR-6 with his left hand, not breaking his stride in pursuit. Though he saw the large, cunning man exit the aft door of carriage five, Milo retrieved his RIID just in case he tried another disappearing trick. He felt the vibration of someone running up behind him but didn’t turn around.
“Did we lose him? Is he in here?” Will asked in somewhat of a restrained calm.
“Pretty sure he’s not in this carriage, but I’m not taking any chances. Get on that call box and have Oscar lock down the sleeper car right away.”
Milo could tell Will didn’t like being ordered around by him, but he was too focused on scanning the area to care at that particular moment. Nervous stares from passengers who noticed two men with guns drawn were starting to accumulate. Milo, however, was watching for the person who knew they were there but didn’t react the same way most others were.
Will was on the line with Oscar as Milo entered the vestibule between carriages five and six. Milo reached for the controls to open the door to number six when his RIID reported another unreadable PIC. This meant one of two things: the guy was camping out in the lavatory, which he didn’t consider feasible given the man’s tactics thus far, or he had somehow hidden himself in the vestibule.
Milo tried to contain his mounting apprehension as the door in front of him smoothly slid aside. He tensed instinctively when the door behind him opened a second afterwards. He relaxed some when he recognized the huff from Will, but he didn’t want to signal that they may be in imminent danger.
“All secure back there? That fall didn’t look too healthy, you ok?”
Will looked at him like they were meeting for the first time, and the impression was less than positive. “Yes and yes,” he answered with impatience. “Why do you care about my welfare all of a sudden?”
Milo’s eyes slowly tilted upward, and Will cued into what he was indicating quickly but subtly. They both backed into their respective doorways when a dark figure dropped from the archway of the vestibule, knocking them both down in the process. The man was clearly an expert martial artist; fast and precise in his attacks, but not excessively violent or arrogant by following up with taunts.
For the second time in five minutes, Will was off his feet. The level of humiliation and frustration was reaching a point he hadn’t felt since the war. He didn’t recover nearly as fast as he did then, but at least this time he had a target to shoot at. Will fired two stun bolts at the man who was already over halfway through carriage six. The guy’s body seized up and he stumbled a bit, but steadied himself on one of the seat backs. As he did so, Will got a clear look at his face to confirm he was Darius Parker.
After a few seconds to regain his balance, Parker continued to the aft door. Milo had risen to one knee and fired two more stun bolts into Parker’s back. They clearly hit their mark, but had even less effect than the bolts fired by Will’s weapon.
Parker reached the door laboriously, while the pair ran down the passageway identifying themselves as police and yelling for people to stay in their seats. Milo felt a twinge of relief when he saw that Parker was denied entry into carriage seven before the door into the next vestibule closed between them.
They reached the door, and instinctively tried to peer through the one-way glass, which would only be possible from the opposite direction unfortunately. To forestall a negative impression of him, from Parker or the other passengers, Will considerately knocked on the door while Milo cleared the nearest few rows of passengers for their safety. Cornering a combat veteran often has unpredictable consequences.
“Corporal Darius Parker! We know you’re in there; the next car is on lock down. We also know that you never should’ve been in this situation in the first place. Come with us, quietly, and we promise to do what we can so that you’re treated fairly.”
They awaited a response but none came. Aside from what Milo assumed was general train noise, the entire carriage was silent. Suddenly, a loud mechanical ‘clang’ came from inside the vestibule. Parker was tinkering with something, and based on how the train ride was going thus far, they knew they had to go in. They each took a side, to cover the opposite end of the vestibule diagonally, and Milo hit the button to open the door, as well as activating a maintenance switch to prop it open.
Parker was filling the closed doorway to car seven, and had a mostly calm countenance about him. His right hand was on a strand of loose wires, while his left held white knuckled on to a handle that was present outside of every car. The only thing that gave away his anxiety of the situation was his wide eyes, which were especially apparent in the dark space.
“Ok Parker,” Will began gently. “We’re not with BOP or Rosen. What you’ve been accused of didn’t warrant going to Leavenworth, and we have no intention of sending you back there if we can help it. Please, stop what you’re doing and allow us to bring you in. There will be police at every station on this line, and they won’t be as accommodating as we will.”
Darius’s eyes relaxed some, but his demeanor remained tense. “I didn’t do anything wrong,” he said in what Milo recognized as a south Chicago accent. “I had prescription meds, from my doctor, and I wasn’t even driving! I was in a Johnny Cab!”
Both Milo and Will nodded at the statement. The Johnson Cab Company used automated taxis that had a robotic head and torso for the appearance of a real driver. They creeped Milo out, but they didn’t seem to bother those who had no interest in conversation during their commute. Their fares were competitive with ride-share companies, so he understood their utility, but the couple of times he’d ridden in one all he did was stare at the ‘driver,’ which triggered an uncomfortable automated response.
“Sounds like an even worse deal than what Hyde was taken in for,” Will blurted out, immediately regretting it.
Parker’s wide-eyed expression seemed to bore into Will. “What happened with Hyde? Is he all right?” He asked as his frantic state ebbed back up.
Milo tried to salvage the conversation while Will composed himself. “We had convinced him to come with us to the US Marshal Field Office in Denver, but our mutual friends with Corrections took him before we could get there. We don’t want that to happen to you. We’re nearly to Salt Lake City. I have some colleagues who can help protect you, if you’ll let us…”
Milo stopped talking when he saw Darius look down and stop paying attention. His mien became noticeably grim.
“I’m not going down like that,” Darius muttered. “I didn’t want to believe him, but Watson was being straight with us. I’m not going down like that,” he repeated.
At that moment, Milo realized what the jumble of wires in Parker’s hand were for. Darius intended to separate the train while he was between cars!
“Parker, you don’t have to do this. Separating the train at this speed in a pressurized environment will end you, and possibly hurt innocent people as well. Do the honorable thing here and come with us, please!”
Darius looked up at both men; tears welling in his eyes. His stance relaxed slightly and he took his left hand off the handle it once firmly grasped. “Is that how you persuaded Hyde to come with you, before you let them take him to his death?”
Neither man had a response. Will saw Darius inhale deeply and yelled for him to wait, but he yanked down on the wire bundle with relative ease, and his pleas were drowned out by the howling wind and screams from passengers.
An alarm claxon sounded overhead, and there was a rush of cold air beckoning them to the door, as well as any loose items within the carriage, as the pressure tried to rapidly equalize. Before the door that now lead to the chilly autumn afternoon air slammed shut in front of Will and Milo, as it was programmed to do in such emergencies, they witnessed Parker’s body get whisked away like fallen leaves in a gust of wind.
With the door now closed, a muted unrest filled the train, aside from the occasional confused murmur and nervous whimper. Milo and Will paid no attention to them though. They were so paralyzed by Parker’s sacrifice they couldn’t rouse enough strength to pick themselves off the maroon-carpeted floor, or even raise their heads. Moments later, an automated announcement, with a soft female voice, said in three languages that they were about to arrive into Salt Lake City, and for everyone to take their seats. Milo and Will didn’t move.
Chapter Seven: Showtime
The hover train was behind schedule for its arrival at the Salt Lake City station. It slowed to allow the five disconnected cars to reattach, but when the relinking was completed it was only a few minutes later than normal. Milo extracted his car from the train before it continued its trek west, and he and Will remained at the station to file their reports and figure out their next move.
Response teams from the local police agencies and the National Transportation Safety Board had yet to locate Parker’s body. Milo was on his secure mobile, checking in with Kirlan to inquire if any of the other teams had any status updates on the final fugitive. As he predicted, all of the work on the so-called ‘Task Force Rubicon’ continued to come from one team; his.
Will was back on his flex tablet. His fingers were a blur as they danced over the display screen. It reminded Milo of a marionette show he saw as a child; the same one he took his own children to when they were the same age he had been when he watched it. The two men hadn’t interacted with each other for the last forty minutes, and Milo was ready to shake more answers out him.
“What do you think Parker meant when he said ‘Watson was straight with us?’ What did Watson know that the others didn’t?”
Will suddenly froze where he sat, his hand hovering over his tablet. “It was believed, by someone above my paygrade, that Watson was the original target of Rosen. The prevailing rumor was that he was approached by someone who made him an offer to join the Most Dangerous Game’s team of hunters. Following that alleged meeting, he disappeared for three days while on mission for the Agency in Belarus.”
Milo was amazed by Will’s candor. He wasn’t sure which piece of information to comment on to keep the tentative communications door open, so he went for the most obvious choice. “Since we’re talking in hypotheticals here, what’s the current theory on his little hiatus then?”
Will rolled up his tablet and sat back in his train station bench. Milo was amused to witness the man put his hand on his chin the same way he did when deep in thought. “If anybody knows that little tidbit, they haven’t told me. But my guess is that Watson accepted their offer but changed his mind at some point, so he tried to shake them and didn’t report in. Rosen of course took care of the rest, making sure he’d find his way to BOP once he turned up.”
“That’s a very compelling story,” Milo countered cynically as he took a break from pacing and sat down next to Will, “but how did two additional spec ops vets get roped into this master plan as well? Wrong place, wrong time I gather?”
Will stood up and stretched. He started at his neck, went to his shoulders and arms, then rotated his hips in a very methodical fashion. The impressively fluid way in which he moved seemed to Milo that either Will had spent a lot of time in the field, or he had some medical training, or possibly both.
“I’m still working on that,” Will said with a sigh. “I wonder if there’s anything to eat around here. I’m famished.”
“Right,” Milo agreed as he stood up as well, knowing the conversation was over for the moment. They gathered their things and went to retrieve the Studebaker. It took the auto-valet far longer than it should have, considering there weren’t many cars in the older-style garage to begin with. There were other places closer to the train station, but neither of them had been to Salt Lake City before, so they asked around as to what the good restaurants were. R&R BBQ came highly recommended.
~
For the second time that day, the person in the black Citroën watched
as the now familiar Studebaker lifted off and drifted away. This time however, she had no idea where they were going. The pair of federal investigators was far more adept than she gave them credit for. Not only had they deduced who had helped the three veterans in an impressive amount of time, they were also able to quickly figure out that the airport was not a viable means of escape and somehow got onboard the hyper-train before it reached its next major stop.
Within six hours, give or take, her plan had gone down the proverbial toilet. Hyde wasn’t interested in her proposal in the least, and he assured her that he would be safe with the Isard girl for at least a few days. That should’ve been plenty of time for the plan to be concluded, and the other two didn’t want to push him, nor did they have the time to do so. Parker, on the other hand, agreed to the terms he was given, but wanted to follow through with them from a location that involved less personal risk. This was the reason she was parked in the standard train station parking lot, awaiting his arrival. They adjusted their strategy in order to bring him to people he could trust. How devastating it was for all involved to learn that Parker had likely not survived their escape plan, and the means in which it had happened. The show must go on, she convinced herself, and listlessly drove off as if even her car was in mourning.
~
They arrived at the restaurant before the bustle of an evening crowd, so they were seated right away. The interior appeared to not know what it wanted to be; a southern steakhouse or a sports bar. No matter which way someone interpreted the place, the fragrance from the meats and spices were intoxicating. Milo’s stomach growled within seconds of sitting down.
Will was quick to order a brisket sandwich and one of the local beers, while Milo went with the pulled chicken, with one of their spicier sauces, and an Arnold Palmer to wash it down. Their drinks came quickly, with the awkwardness settling in shortly afterward. They had been in each other’s company for nearly ten hours, but they still didn’t know much about one another. There were so many questions Milo wanted to ask Will, but they were all related to the case and he wanted a reprieve from that for a while. Milo took a sip of his drink and decided to break the ice.