Infinity Born

by Douglas E. Richards

  ***

  Two hundred yards away, Pavel Safin’s comm picked up the major’s words and he allowed himself the flicker of a smile. To say that the guards were driving off was slightly less than accurate. They were, indeed, nearing their SUV, but they hadn’t gone anywhere.

  And they wouldn’t.

  Safin was safely hidden behind a pine tree, and the silenced rifle that his duffel had concealed was now steadied in the crook of a low branch. Given that he had been trained as a sniper and could hit a squirrel at a hundred yards, taking out these men from thirty feet was almost too easy. The only challenge had been predicting their likely path to the vehicle and the best spot to conceal himself for an ambush.

  Both men now came into view, exactly where he had expected. Safin squeezed the trigger ever-so-gently and the leftmost guard collapsed to the ground, a hole drilled in his brain. His colleague was well trained and launched himself to the ground, intending to complete a roll and come up firing, but this was not to be. Safin had moved his sights and squeezed the trigger a second time before the first victim had even completed his fall, so when the second guard hit the ground, he too, was dead.

  ***

  “Two clean kills confirmed,” said Safin’s voice in the major’s ear.

  “Understood,” replied Volkov. “Test the camera to be sure it’s operational,” he added in English, maintaining the fiction that Safin was there to prevent the guards from doubling back. Anything to shelter their frail scientist ally from the harsh realities of an assassination mission. “Then double-time it to our location. I’ll send our GPS coordinates to your phone.”

  “Roger that,” said Safin.

  “The guards won’t be returning,” said Brennan. “We’re just wasting time.”

  Volkov shot him a stare that could have intimidated the Grim Reaper. “Good thing we’re not on a clock, then, isn’t it?” he snapped.

  They waited in a chilly silence until Safin returned. Once he did, they left the SUV and continued toward the main structure on foot. Volkov carried his rucksack while his two comrades hauled large duffels.

  They covered about a quarter of a mile through heavy woods, following the lead of their new ally, when Brennan whispered for them to halt.

  “This is about ten yards from the edge of the security perimeter,” he told them. He pointed east, where they could make out a helipad, and fifty yards past this, a small hexagonal building about the size of a three-car garage.

  “The main structure is about fifty yards further east of the hexagonal building,” said Brennan. “That’s where Jordan will be.”

  Volkov cocked an ear to the side, picking up a faint but steady whooshing sound. “What am I hearing?” he asked in hushed tones. “A generator?”

  “A waterfall,” whispered Brennan. “A spectacular one at that. The building Jordan is in faces it dead on. He didn’t build here by accident.”

  Urinson and Safin unzipped their bags and removed several tablet computers and a full array of electronic probes and sensors, many of them unmatched in sophistication, even by the US. Brennan and Volkov looked on silently while the two Russians probed their surroundings.

  “Jordan’s automated security is as good as advertised,” whispered Safin when they had finished. “And Dr. Brennan is correct, the perimeter extends to about ten yards east of our current position.”

  “Thank you,” replied Volkov. He removed a laptop computer from his ruck and handed it to the tall scientist. “Time to see if you can do what you say,” he whispered.

  Brennan’s fingers flew over the keypad and touch screen, linking to the security feed and bringing up a number of screens in quick succession, each growing in complexity. Volkov waited patiently as the minutes went by, well aware that a system this sophisticated couldn’t be disarmed with a birth date or the name of a favorite pet. Especially since the goal was to disable it without it appearing to be disabled or sending an alarm.

  “Got it!” whispered Brennan at last, smiling triumphantly. “It’s down. All of it.”

  “You’ll forgive me if I verify that with my own equipment,” replied Volkov. A short time later Safin confirmed Brennan’s claim. Isaac Jordan was now at their mercy.

  “Well done, Dr. Brennan,” whispered Volkov. “Follow close behind me,” he added, sandwiching the scientist between his men.

  They crouched low and moved silently, keeping to the trees. They gave the helipad a wide berth and made it past the hexagonal building without incident. The building Jordan was in didn’t have any windows facing their direction of approach, and the teeming trees and foliage in this idyllic setting made a stealthy approach much easier than it otherwise would have been, even if Jordan happened to choose this moment to exit the facility.

  Just before they reached the main building, Volkov called a halt and ordered Safin to fall well back, just to be sure they weren’t surprised on their rear flank.

  Brennan shook his head in frustration. “That isn’t necessary,” he insisted.

  “I’ll decide what is and isn’t necessary,” whispered Volkov angrily.

  ***

  Safin headed directly to the hexagonal building with his ever-present military duffel, making sure Brennan didn’t have a line of sight on his final destination.

  He tried the door and was relieved to find that it clicked open, the electronic lock having been controlled by the security system that was no longer in operation. There was a large elevator in the room’s center, which is exactly what he had expected.

  He pressed a button and waited for the elevator doors to open. Once they did, he stepped inside and took stock of his surroundings. The walls were seamless, save for two steel buttons, one for up and one for down. He pushed the down button and took up a firing stance facing the doors, an automatic rifle ready in his arms. Sensors indicated there would be no one lying in wait, but it paid to be cautious.

  Safin braced himself further as the elevator completed its descent, but when the doors whooshed open he found himself alone in another small room, as expected. This was Jordan’s private elevator, after all, and he wouldn’t want to have it widely known down below that he alone had access to a spacious aboveground facility, one with a spectacular view and filled with fresh, forest-scented air.

  Despite being in a small room that was unknown to most and usually locked, Safin wasn’t about to risk that even a whisper might give away his presence. Instead of contacting Volkov verbally, he composed a text.

  I’m in place, he typed into his phone. No issues, he added, hitting the send button.

  ***

  Forty yards to the east of Safin and sixty feet above him, Volkov read the message with great satisfaction, barely able to keep his face impassive. The major was a hard man, not prone to giddy excitement, but what he was about to accomplish would become the stuff of legend. He would transform the power structure of the entire globe.

  Hold for my mark, he texted back.

  Roger that, came the immediate reply.

  “Are you ready?” he whispered to Brennan as he and Yakov Urinson readied automatic pistols. Sensors indicated that Jordan was alone inside the structure, and the scientist assured him the door was electronic, so would now open to anyone. Not that this mattered, since even when security was fully in place, Brennan had access.

  “As ready as I’ll ever be,” mouthed Brennan, looking as if he might puke. “Remember,” he added. “Scientist. Not soldier.”

  “Yeah, I’d forgotten,” replied the major, rolling his eyes.

  They closed the remaining distance to the door. Brennan took a deep breath and led the way inside, since he would be recognized as a friendly.

  Isaac Jordan was sitting on a couch, angled away from the entrance. He had been engrossed in a tablet computer, but when he realized that someone had entered, an intrusion that shouldn’t have been possible, he whipped his head around to see who it was.

  As soon as Brennan crossed the threshold, Volkov and Urinson rushed past him and ext
ended their guns toward their target. “Freeze!” barked Volkov.

  The computer Jordan had been holding slipped through his fingers and fell to the floor. And his expression was not one of horror, but of astonishment, unable to comprehend how he could have been blindsided so completely.

  42

  Isaac Jordan twisted around and rose slowly from the white couch, his hands in the air. “John?” he said in confusion, trying to read the expression on his colleague’s face and failing.

  His gaze shifted to the major for the first time. “You’re Volkov!” he said in horror. “What is this? How did you find me here?”

  Without waiting for a response, his eyes darted back to John Brennan. “Did they hurt you?” he asked worriedly, looking him up and down.

  Brennan shook his head. “I led them here, Isaac,” he said, sadness and regret in his voice. “I’m sorry. You left me no other choice.”

  “I don’t believe it,” whispered Jordan, looking devastated by this betrayal. “How could you do this?”

  “Enough!” shouted Volkov. “Not another word!”

  He nodded at his comrade, who proceeded to bind Jordan’s hands with zip ties and gag him with gray duct tape.

  “Scan this room thoroughly for bugs or any other transmissions,” Volkov commanded Urinson. He then turned away to address Safin through his comm. “Pavel,” he said in Russian. “We have Jordan and all is secured. You’re a go to proceed.”

  “What’s going on?” asked Brennan, who didn’t understand a word of Russian. “Are you having your other man join us?”

  “Yes. But he fell back pretty far, so it may take ten or fifteen minutes. Please remain silent until he gets here.”

  ***

  Safin heard Volkov’s order in his comm and texted a quick confirmation, still unwilling to make any noise. The wait for Volkov’s green light had given him plenty of time to prepare. He was now wearing a gas mask and had readied six steel spheres, each about twice the size of a softball.

  He opened the door from the elevator room just a crack and released an insect-sized flying drone into the main facility. It sent back video immediately, showing that the coast was clear, and then continued to race through the facility, sending a 3D map back to the spheres.

  Once the insect drone had a few-minutes head start, Safin pushed open the door a second time, activated the six shiny orbs, and then released them. They began rolling forward and picking up speed and were soon screaming through the facility at speeds of up to seventy miles per hour, coordinating routes with one another so that each covered separate territory.

  Each orb was filled with gas, so highly pressurized and concentrated it had turned to a liquid, as was the case inside a propane tank. As the balls hurtled along, they released their liquid payloads as a fine gas, in this case a knockout agent of unprecedented potency and with extraordinary dispersal kinetics.

  Russia lagged behind the US when it came to big ticket, shock-and-awe military technology, but they were unsurpassed when it came to tech that could be used for more focused operations.

  The balls and insect drone also continued to map the facility as they went, sending all data back to Safin’s remaining drone, which resembled a flying can of soda. This one was the most sophisticated of all, with an AI on board designed to surpass human experts in only one area of knowledge: ventilation. It could digest the maps it was being sent and predict with uncanny accuracy where the air intakes would be located. Once it had enough information, Safin watched it launch itself into the hall of its own accord. Anyone still standing after the first barrage of gas would surely fall once this drone’s payload was deposited into the ventilation system.

  In less than ten minutes it was over. Cameras on the drones showed a number of unconscious men and women sprawled throughout the facility, and the air was saturated with enough gas to ensure that everyone within had been affected.

  Mission accomplished, texted Safin. He no longer needed to remain silent, but he wasn’t about to remove his mask until sensors indicated it was safe.

  ***

  Marat Volkov looked down at his phone and a broad smile came over his face. Pavel Safin had performed extremely well.

  Well done, he texted back. Hold for further instructions.

  He adjusted his comm so he could communicate with Sergei Greshnev, who was with the other six men now serving as muscle on their newly formed team. “All secure here,” he reported to his second. “What is your status?”

  “We’ve identified the two guards,” said Greshnev. “We’re moving into position to take them out simultaneously.”

  “Good,” said the major. “Keep me posted.”

  “Roger that,” said Greshnev.

  Brennan’s friendly face had grown ever more unhappy and confused as the minutes had ticked by. Finally, he couldn’t contain himself any longer. “Look, what’s the holdup here?” he said. “Why are we just standing around? Isaac Jordan needs to be stopped. So please don’t prolong this,” he continued, gesturing to his former boss who was still bound and gagged. “Just kill him already!” he finished emphatically. “You gave your word.”

  “I’m afraid neither one of us has been completely honest,” replied the major with a shrug.

  Then, with brutally cold efficiency, before Brennan could utter a syllable of protest, Volkov lifted his gun and squeezed the trigger twice in quick succession, almost a point-blank double-tap between Brennan’s eyes.

  The tall scientist collapsed to the ground like a felled tree, blood spilling from his forehead.

  “And it turns out I have other plans for him,” finished Volkov evenly.

  43

  The flight to Jordan’s retreat—likely one of many such residences he owned around the world—took a little over two hours, most of it along breathtaking mountain peaks. Eventually, Carr and his small collection of new companions reached their destination, a mansion situated on a large flat cleft on one such mountain.

  Several acres all around the grand residence had been cleared and turned into gardens. Beyond the cleared area in the back were thick woods. In front was an opulent pool and spa, an extensive patio, and then fifteen feet from this, a sheer cliff wall. While the mansion didn’t face a waterfall, the view from the front was so expansive it made residents feel like they could see forever.

  Colorado had a density of mountains over much of its expanse that was nearly unrivaled. More than fifty peaks in the state soared to over fourteen thousand feet, a national record, and over a thousand exceeded twelve thousand feet.

  There was little conversation during the flight. The three passengers were in awe of the view and needed time to digest what they had heard and regroup mentally. Trish introduced them to the pilot, a man named Roberto Estrada, and Carr spoke with him briefly.

  The lieutenant was immediately impressed with the man. Although the helo was civilian, Estrada clearly had a military background and gave off an aura of being very sharp and competent. Jordan had recruited him two years earlier, not a simple process given the billionaire’s infamy and need to explain both his past and his vision for the future. But Estrada had bought in, and had become quite friendly with the great man, as he called Jordan.

  Carr was certain that Estrada had been an exceptional soldier. Jordan would be extraordinarily selective in making any additions to his small team. He was used to hiring the best, even when there was far less on the line, and why recruit a dumb-grunt soldier when you could get one with a stellar track record who was at the top of his class?

  Just because a soldier was lethal didn’t mean he couldn’t also be brilliant, as Carr himself exemplified. The best soldiers and operatives were fluent in multiple languages and could come up to speed quickly on a vast array of weaponry and sophisticated technology.

  Carr noted that Estrada was unarmed. No doubt this was to make sure Carr didn’t try anything, not that he wasn’t well aware that such an attempt would be useless. If Isaac Jordan could take control of the helo they had
been in while fleeing the church, he could certainly take control of his own aircraft, and was well prepared to do so at the first hint of any trouble.

  During the flight they also learned a little of Trish Casner’s background. She had been the manager of a boutique greeting card shop in Columbus, Ohio, only thirteen months earlier, before a woman named Mary Willis had recruited her to be a subject in a behavioral study.

  After landing, their new hostess dispensed with a grand tour. Nothing to see here. Just your typical mansion set on a mountain, one that Jordan had acquired from a multimillionaire developer through a dummy corporation. Modern, spacious, and furnished with comfort in mind, it was magnificent but not pretentious.

  Trish led them to the kitchen, while the helicopter pilot retired to the other side of the grounds, to stay at a separate guest house until his services were needed for the return trip. The guest house alone was over three thousand square feet, the size of a spacious family home, but one that was dwarfed by the main residence.

  Not surprisingly, the mansion sported a kitchen large enough to double as an airplane hangar, and Trish had her guests sit on bar stools around a blue-granite island while she warmed up lasagna for lunch. She assured them she would leave them in peace after the meal, since they had much to ponder, but that Jordan had insisted they not attempt to make life-altering decisions while hungry.

  The kitchen extended seamlessly into a vast family room, creating a great room that was truly expansive. Trish gestured to a large cherrywood dresser just beyond the kitchen border. “That’s a liquor cabinet,” she explained. “Isaac told me to be sure to point it out, in case your nerves are fried. He doesn’t drink, but it’s top-quality stuff, so help yourself if you’d like a cocktail later tonight.” She smiled. “Or later today by the pool.”