Brainrush 04 - Everlast 01: Everlast

by Bard, Richard

She explained, “The couple we had at Area 52 showed up unexpectedly to warn Bronson that we were coming for him.”

  That news did rock him, and he felt Lin sidle closer as if to settle him. He considered the ramifications. Eloise and the professor had originally been recruited because of their friendship with Jiaolong’s grandfather, which had been engendered when all three of them were active members of the Order. They believed in his grandfather’s cause at Everlast and had been happy to help in advancing the science. But it was their unexpected knowledge of the events on the island that had captured Jiaolong’s interest and sent him on his current crusade. The couple had unwittingly revealed the identity of the so-called Brainman and the other players who had been responsible for the destruction of the island and the murder of Jiaolong’s idol, Victor Brun.

  And my parents.

  Zhin said, “We have eliminated the professor and are in pursuit—”

  “No harm must come to Mr. Bronson,” Jiaolong said.

  “Of course,” Zhin said. “The team is aware of that restriction. But the chase ended badly for them.” She motioned toward the video wall. Pak entered a command on his console and a recording of the final moments of the car chase filled the center screen.

  Jiaolong watched from the point of view of the driver of the SUV. It was gaining speed on a tree-studded road when it was hit from the side by another vehicle that had appeared out of nowhere. The camera view jerked violently and Jiaolong caught a brief glimpse of a wild-eyed Jake Bronson at the wheel of the other car, with Eloise and her boss, Dr. Albert Finnegan, huddled behind him. Then the cars careened across the road, over a ridge, and an instant later the SUV flipped on its back and the camera view turned upside down as the vehicle rocketed down the slope. The helpless driver’s view shifted to one side and for a brief moment the video revealed Bronson’s Mustang wheeling down the hill in controlled turns. Moments later the terrified shouts from the SUV’s occupants were strangled short when the vehicle crashed into the trees and an explosion blackened the screen.

  “We have confirmed that Bronson and his two friends survived. They fled the scene in a different car. They discarded their phones so we cannot track them.”

  Despite his anger at the unexpected turn of events, Jiaolong couldn’t help but smile. “We knew he was resourceful,” he said with admiration, one side of his mind planning his next move while another drifted to the history between Eloise and Bronson. They’d met on the island, at which point Eloise professed to have seen a different side to the Order’s plan, one that she and the professor could not condone. They’d befriended Bronson and his team and they all had escaped together before the catastrophic conflagration.

  His mind moved toward a solution to this new wrinkle, enjoying the challenge. He was in his element, analyzing the changing game board—Bronson was on the run with Finnegan and Eloise, the doctor with access to resources that could prove troublesome. But Bronson would undoubtedly disallow contacting the authorities, wanting to stay off grid until he found his family and friends. Eloise’s knowledge was limited to Jiaolong’s grandfather’s research at Everlast. She knew nothing about Spider or Passcode, or his operations here in Hong Kong. But she was angry. The men who had taken Timmy had been surprised when she and the professor showed up unexpectedly, and the team had reported the couple objected heartily to the abduction. He’d discounted it at the time. After all, they were allies with much to lose if their clandestine involvement was revealed, and as far as they knew this was all being done on behalf of his ailing grandfather. But he had been mistaken to trust their silence, and Zhin was right to order their deaths. Of course, failing to kill both of them was a problem. The death of the professor would seal Eloise’s anger against them, and she would reveal everything she knew, which meant—

  He snorted, realizing she would unknowingly lead Bronson right into Jiaolong’s hands.

  I’m still five moves ahead of you, Mr. Bronson.

  Chapter 9

  Redondo Beach

  JAKE WAS FURIOUS with himself. After everything that had happened in the past several years—the terminal diagnosis, the MRI accident, battling terrorists, and even nearly triggering the extinction of the human race—he’d gotten lost, lured by the dream of a normal life. He should have known better. Life would never be easy for him. He’d made enemies, and the people he loved were once again at risk because he’d let down his guard. He swore that if given the chance, he would never repeat that mistake.

  Ever.

  A familiar regret swept through him.

  If I’d died, they would all be safe.

  At least he and his friends had found the sense to put together an emergency plan, he thought, praying his children had followed instructions. He glanced in the backseat of the Land Rover. Eloise was still unconscious and being tended to by Doc. He’d bandaged her wounds and she was breathing evenly.

  Fifteen minutes had passed since they’d left Brentwood and the helpful couple who’d loaned them the vehicle. Sirens had sounded in the distance as they drove off, and he hoped the home would be saved from the spreading fire.

  Their first stop had been at a drugstore to purchase a first-aid kit and several throwaway phones, including one smartphone. His credit cards could be tracked so he’d spent all his cash and some of Doc’s on the purchases. He’d already broken protocol as they escaped the VA campus when he asked Doc to use his phone to try reaching Jake’s family. The second breach of protocol came when Jake had used one of the burner phones to call everyone on the emergency list. When no one had answered, he’d ditched it in the drugstore parking lot and taken off fast. Even unanswered calls could be tracked with the proper expertise and equipment.

  Four blocks later, he pulled over and used the smartphone to log on to the secure site that Marshall had created as part of their escape plan. It was an essential element of the protocol—to check in at the website to coordinate meeting up. Jake navigated to the site, entered the chat-room password, and his face went slack with shock.

  The page was blank.

  He stared at the screen, its image blurred through a swell of despair. How could it be that none of the thirteen people on the list had answered their phones or checked in at the site? Where was his family? Or Tony? Or Cal and Kenny? And what about Becker in Australia and Marshall and Lacey in Rome? Had they all been attacked simultaneously? The resources required to pull that off would have been incredible. Who the hell was after them? And why? It was almost too much to bear, even after the insurmountable challenges he’d faced down in the past. But a rush of hope cleared his thoughts. His family was resourceful and they had a plan of their own in case all hell broke loose.

  He entered a brief message on the site, saying he was alive and on the run. Then he steered the Land Rover back into traffic and sped toward the South Bay.

  They were less than a block away from the Redondo Beach Pier when Jake saw the first set of flashing emergency lights. He pulled over and turned off the motor, his insides twisting.

  “Give me five minutes,” he said, getting out of the car. “If I’m not back by then, get the hell out of here.” He turned and raced down the parking ramp. He spotted the distant crowds as soon as he exited onto the lower boardwalk, his heart racing faster than his feet as he sprinted past the restaurants and shops and fishing boats, toward the cordoned-off throng surrounding the arcade. Several emergency vehicles were parked nearby. Paramedics pushed a gurney toward an ambulance; the adult male victim had a breathing cup over his mouth. Another pair of techs huddled over a figure sprawled on the ground inside the arcade.

  Jake shouldered through the gawkers to get a better look, stopping at the line imposed by several police officers. One of the EMTs shifted and Jake saw that the body on the ground belonged to an Asian man who appeared to be cut from the same cloth as those who had attacked him at the hospital. A pool of blood shimmered beside the body.

  “What happened here?” he asked the woman standing next to him.

  �
��Not sure. It was about forty minutes ago. I was at Naja’s and heard a gunshot.”

  “Two gunshots,” someone else said.

  “I don’t think the guy they’re taking away in the ambulance was shot,” a third person offered. “But he was out cold.”

  Jake searched the scene. There were no signs of his family, but he noticed a teenage boy being interviewed by two detectives. The kid had shaggy blond hair and wore board shorts and flip-flops. Jake sidled over to get within earshot.

  “There were three of them,” the shirtless teen said. “They all had backpacks. The older one fought them hard. I don’t know his name, but I recognized him. He likes to surf the cove. He kinda looks Middle Eastern.”

  Jake stopped breathing. The teen had to be speaking about Ahmed.

  The kid continued, “The girl’s scream brought Scott—he’s the arcade manager—charging from the back. He slammed into the asshole holding the gun. They went rolling and the pistol came free. That’s when the older kid grabbed it and shot the man. Boom, boom. Two shots to the chest like he’d been doing it his whole life. But he had to drop the gun when one of the other guys held a knife against the little kid’s throat. The girl stopped fighting, Scott got clubbed over the head, and the Asian dudes shoved all three kids into the van and took off.”

  Jake’s heart sank. The fact that Francesca wasn’t here suggested she’d been taken as well, probably right after she sent out the alert message.

  There was a commotion around the cop cars and one of the uniformed officers rushed over to the two detectives. “They found the van at LAX,” he reported. “At one of the private terminals.”

  The airport? They could be anywhere.

  Jake shrank back into the crowd, his eyes panning for threats. Someone might have spotted him already. He ducked into the shadows of the parking garage and raced for the exit.

  Jake ran, slowing only long enough to call a buddy who worked in air traffic control at LAX.

  “I need a favor,” he said, and then explained what he was looking for.

  “Give me fifteen minutes,” his friend said.

  Jake ended the call and picked up his pace.

  How can I possibly find them on my own?

  Ever since he’d avoided direct contact with the tiny alien pyramid he’d found years earlier, his superfast reflexes had disappeared. His ability to communicate telepathically with his family had degraded as well. He was still able to influence thoughts and emotions to some extent in others, like he did with patients at the VA, and his enhanced memory and cognitive abilities were as strong as ever. The retention of those talents had been more than he could’ve hoped for, and more than he’d required in the relative peace of the past eighteen months. But now everything had changed and he needed every edge available to him.

  Regardless of the cost.

  He slid into the car. Eloise was still unconscious, her head resting on Doc’s lap.

  “They’ve got my kids,” Jake said, pulling away from the curb.

  “Dear God,” Doc gasped. “What are we going to do?”

  Good question, Jake thought, but first things first.

  He needed to stop at the house.

  Five minutes later, Jake parked the car one street over from his house and then approached on foot from the rear alley. A scan from the neighbor’s side yard confirmed there was no apparent activity in his home, so he climbed over the wall and slipped through the back door into the family room. The house was quiet. The modest furnishings hadn’t been disturbed and he felt a pang of loss as he flashed on the relaxed evening the family had shared the night before: catching up with one another over a simple meal, watching TV, a tickle fight on the couch.

  Ducking to avoid being seen through the front picture window, he made his way up the staircase and headed straight for the safe hidden beneath the cedar floorboards in his closet, thankful that Francesca had never discovered its presence. It was his secret place, kept from everyone. The cash, false ID docs, and disguise kit hidden within would provide him with the means to get off grid, and the ampoules, hypodermics, and other specialty items would give him an edge. But it was the miniature pyramid that would make him unstoppable—at least for a while.

  Before fleeing the Order’s island complex a year and a half ago, he’d plucked the “mini” from the elaborate chair-with-skullcap that had linked his son to the grid of pyramids threatening the planet. He’d kept its presence a secret from everyone, letting them believe it had been destroyed in the conflagration, knowing that knowledge of its existence would spawn disaster. He also remembered all too well how he’d become addicted to it years ago, relishing the way it had supercharged his abilities while being unaware of the dire consequences to his body. It had killed him. The government had revived him long enough to replace his failed heart, but for six years they’d been unable to bring him out of the resultant coma.

  Yes, taking the mini had been a risk and he’d second-guessed his action a dozen times—until he’d discovered that his last encounter with the Grid and the alien pyramids had changed his brain in ways he still didn’t understand, linking him to the device forever. Excessive exposure would kill him, but zero exposure could be worse.

  Without its trickle charge...

  Suppressing a shudder, he pushed the thought away. In any case, it wasn’t likely that he’d ever have to face that fear. In order to save his family, he planned to fully embrace the mini’s power.

  He’d tap its strength until his final breath.

  He pried up the floorboards, entered the combination, and opened the safe.

  The mini was gone.

  Chapter 10

  Manhattan Beach, California

  THE TWO-BEDROOM SUITE of the Manhattan Beach motel was small but clean. It was the last unit on the bottom floor of the L-shaped structure, offset from Pacific Coast Highway by a drive-through portico, the kind of place locals drive by hundreds of times a year without really noticing it. The parking lot surrounded a fenced swimming pool. It was only five minutes from the airport and featured free high-speed Internet. Jake had paid with cash for a week’s stay.

  It was as good a place as any to hole up while he figured out what the hell he was going to do. The text he’d received from his buddy in air traffic control hadn’t been much help. Seven private flights had departed from the two FBOs—fixed base operators—at LAX during the timeframe immediately following the kids’ abduction, three with US destinations, one in Brazil, two in Europe, and one in Tokyo, and there was no way to isolate which flight the kids had been on. It was a dead end, at least for now.

  In the meantime, he’d have to get medical help for Eloise. She lay unconscious on the king-size bed. Doc sat beside her, swabbing her forehead with a damp washcloth. The gash had stopped bleeding, but the skin surrounding it was bruised and swollen.

  “She should be in a hospital,” Doc said.

  “No hospital will check her in without ID, and we can’t drop her off as a Jane Doe because her fingerprints are in the system since she works with you at Area 52. They’d know her identity in less than an hour and she’d be dead before the day was out.”

  Doc caressed her hair. “She’s been unconscious for too long, Jake.”

  “I know. There’s an emergency clinic just down the street. I’ll bring—”

  He stopped when he saw Eloise’s eyelids flutter open. Her brow creased and her gaze darted this way and that as she tried to push through the fog. She attempted to lift her head from the pillow, but sank back with a pained expression.

  “You’re going to be all right,” Jake said, sitting beside her and taking her hand. “You took a bad lump to the head during the crash.”

  “C-crash.” Her voice was barely audible.

  Jake had been in her position more often than he’d like to remember—waking in a strange place in a blanket of mental fog, with pain racking his body—and he knew that the single most important thing in such circumstances was to have a clear understanding of what th
e hell had happened. He leaned closer. “You followed Doc to the VA hospital. Warned us. There were men waiting in the parking lot but we got away.” He paused as her brain sorted itself out.

  She blinked several times. “Car chase?” she asked.

  “That’s right. Then the crash.”

  Her eyes widened.

  “It’s okay, we’re safe here,” he said.

  Her grip tightened around his hand. “Your f-family?”

  “They were taken,” he said, shaking his head. “I don’t know where.”

  Eloise pursed her lips and concern flashed on her face. The emotion took a toll and Jake sensed she was about to pass out again. He patted her hand and projected a calmness he hoped would help her. But instead of relaxing, her expression intensified. She grabbed his shirt, pulled him close, and whispered, “Everlast.” Then her eyes rolled back and she was unconscious once again.

  Doc’s expression tightened and the two men exchanged a worried glance.

  Jake’s mind worked quick time as he recalled the name of the company Doc had approached him about last year.

  “It can’t be,” Doc said. “I know the founder, Frederik de Vries. He’s a brilliant and generous man, and the work he’s dedicated himself to has been instrumental in helping us in our own projects. Some of the top thinkers of the world scientific community have rallied in support of his cause. I can’t believe that de Vries would ever resort to—”

  “Stop,” Jake said, glad to finally have a target on which to focus his anger. “I’ve heard it all before, Doc. Another fanatic with a noble cause.” He indexed data from his memories, thinking out loud as the pieces started to fall into place. “Think about it. Everlast claimed to be on the verge of a major breakthrough on a project intended to create human avatars, all of which hinges on their ability to transfer a person’s consciousness to a nonbiological carrier. They want to transfer the contents of a person’s brain to a computer, and then to a cybernetic robot. They call it the path to the next evolution of humanity. I call it lunacy because the world isn’t ready for it.”