by Brandt Legg
“That’s why they went after Balance?” Wen asked. “Because of their connection to RAI?”
“More than that,” the Astronaut began, “they were declaring war on technology. The deployment of horUS may have dictated the timing of these strikes, but make no mistake, the people behind this are attempting to destroy the technological backbone of the future. That’s the second track. They didn’t care that Balance sold RAI, they knew Chase and Balance were on the leading edge of tech. That’s what all the non-horUS companies have in common—creating the future . . . a future the Fire Bombers don’t want.”
Seventy-Four
As Chase and Wen rushed to leave the Mirage hotel, Wen linked into Heaven and sent CISS a zoomed photo she’d taken of Powder. Wen didn’t have the time or easy access to search for his identity. She was about to sign off the ultra-classified intelligence network when she noticed an anomaly. A source line of numbers that the Astronaut had discovered pertained to horUS appeared in a large data dump.
“Hold on,” Wen said, “I need another minute.”
“Did you send Tess the Fire Bomber photo?” Chase asked, knowing that would essentially fulfill any obligation he had to her.
“Yes, but someone is doing something big on the horUS program right now. The Astronaut had me memorize these sequence strings so I could explore Heaven for horUS, and I just spotted one in a large—”
“Where’d he get the codes?” Chase asked as she typed.
“He wouldn’t say. He may have created them himself.”
“That would be an impressive trick.”
Wen nodded. “Here it is, horUS-ARES.”
“What’s Ares?”
“Ares is the Greek god of war who endows savage, dangerous, and militarized qualities.”
“Sounds like more than drone surveillance,” Chase said. “But we need to go.”
“I know, one more second. We know horUS is High Optics Reconnaissance of United States, so what does ARES stand for?” she wondered, navigating the endless streams of unassembled data.
“Wen, it’s time to leave.”
“Here it is! Adaptive Response Enhanced Surveillance. What does that mean?”
“We’ll look on the plane,” Chase said, stepping into the hallway.
Wen clicked a button and then closed the Antimatter Machine. “Okay.” She stared into her phone as they walked briskly down the hall.
“Now what are you doing?”
“The Astronaut created an app so I can access the Antimatter Machine on my phone.”
“Impressive to the second power, but is it secure?”
“Of course it is. It’s the Astronaut.”
A silver minivan carrying three of Flint’s men, engine running, waited outside the Polynesian-themed entranceway of the Mirage. Wen noticed a fourth man standing by one of the square stone columns as she scanned the area. He followed Chase and her into their vehicle.
“Still going to the airport?” the driver asked.
“Yeah, but make sure we aren’t followed,” Chase said. He’d already briefed them about Ryker and Damon. As much as he wanted a shot at Ryker, Chase wasn’t interested in a surprise visit from the man who’d killed his father.
As they departed the reception area in the predawn darkness and pulled around the circular drive in front of the resort, Wen remained vigilant. The driver began to turn left onto Las Vegas Boulevard when the vehicle suddenly rocked. A crunching metallic jolt came as a large SUV rammed the back corner of their van. Bullets blew out the side window. Glass crystals rained in as one of Flint’s men took several shots to the head, instantly dead.
The driver attempted to maneuver the vehicle out, but they were pinned in between a large stone column supporting the MIRAGE sign and a picturesque lagoon. Wen brought up her weapon and began shooting out of the blown window. Chase got the sliding side door open. He and Wen tumbled out onto the sidewalk, weapons firing. They engaged the SUV behind them, but quickly realized they were out-gunned.
“It’s an ambush!” one of Flint’s men shouted.
Chase counted three vehicles with armed men pouring out before diving into the landscaped grounds bordering the lagoon. A palm tree took a string of bullets as he passed. Wen disappeared into a group of large shrubs topped with tropical flowers. Flint’s three remaining men were returning fire, but they weren’t going to last long. The Vegas strip at five AM wasn’t the same as other places. Darkness in Sin City is but a myth among the neon.
“You think it’s Ryker?” Chase yelled as they found their first area of concealment.
“I’m sure of it,” Wen shouted back. “I saw him. Positive ID.”
Seventy-Five
Travis looked at Tess. The woman he’d worked with for so many years suddenly appeared twice her age. “Are you okay?” he asked, having just heard about the attack on her home and Flint, but having no idea what the man meant to her.
“Not really, but there’s no time to be what I really feel like being.”
“Maybe you should go home.” He regretted the suggestion as soon as the words escaped.
Her eyes questioned his sanity for a moment before she smiled. “There is progress.”
“Fill me in,” he said, happy to change the subject.
“We’ve arrested the Fire Bomber.”
“Where?”
“Las Vegas. Chase Malone sent us his photo.”
Travis nodded, absorbing the fact that apparently she’d been right about Chase.
“Do you know what the Bomber said when they caught him?” Tess asked. “‘It ain’t gonna stop, it doesn’t end with me.’”
“What does that mean?”
“They didn’t use the Bomber in at least sixteen of tonight’s strikes. They had pre-planted explosives in the buildings. A Google engineer figured out they tied Doomsday into the electrical or gas connections. But how long have the bombs been there? How many more are out there? We have no idea.”
“Will the Bomber talk?”
“He doesn’t have to. We used horUS to track down his boss and captured him. Ironic, isn’t it?”
“When did you get him?”
“Just now.” Tess clicked a button and a giant screen filled with the live feed of Gunner being arrested. Recognize him?”
“No.”
“Are you sure? Because you served in the army with him.”
“What? Who is he?”
“Travis, I’m disappointed with you. Even before we discovered your old friend was the mastermind, I knew you were the source. What I don’t know is why you committed treason.”
“Because you committed treason,” Travis said, narrowing his eyes.
“Me?” Tess said, shocked. “I live and breathe every moment to protect this country.”
“The country maybe, but not her people,” Travis said sharply. “You know what horUS is. It’s the beginning of the end. The government will manage the program to control, not protect the people.”
“Who are you to decide?”
“It is my duty to protect the public, the innocent populace, from people like you. It is my duty, damn it!”
“Your duty to aid terrorists. They are killing your ‘innocent populace.’”
“Don’t get hypocritical on me. You kill people every day Tess. Who are you to decide?”
“Our elected officials gave me that authority.”
“Did they? You know they don’t have any idea of everything CISS does? And what about horUS? Why do only nine people know about it? What would happen if we gave it to the people for a vote?”
“I admit I don’t like it, but it is necessary. If we don’t use technology to maintain order, than surely the technology will lead to our demise.”
Travis nodded. “I know you believe that.”
“I’m sorry, but you are in a terrible place,” she said, looking genuinely sad. “With your knowledge of horUS and the fact that you were the source for Gunner’s militia . . . ”
“I knew the risks,” Trav
is said. “Tell me which street corner to stand on and I’ll take the bullet.”
She smiled solemnly. “I’m afraid you’ll never leave this building.”
He nodded slowly and forced a smile.
Two men appeared at the door. She buzzed them in.
“Mr. Watts, please come with us,” one of them said.
“Tess, think about what you’re doing.”
“You left me no choice, Travis.”
“Not with me, with horUS. Ask yourself why Westfield targeted you. Dig a little, you’ll discover there is more to horUS than even you know. Much more.”
She stared at him.
“You know,” he said, aghast. “Of course you do. You’ve known all along about ARES, haven’t you?”
“Take him away,” she said.
The two men stepped up and cuffed Travis. As they were leading him out, he turned around.
“You may think you have it all under control, that you know everything, but it’s bigger than that! I assure you, it’s beyond all of us!”
A few minutes later, another agent entered Mission Control.
“I want to be absolutely certain I understand this order,” the agent said. “I am to deploy a CoD on Deputy Assistant Secretary of Defense Cain Westfield.”
“Correct. It is to be done immediately,” Tess said, sorry not to do it herself. A CoD, or CISS of Death, was an order to kill. In this case, it would be carried out as if Westfield had killed himself.
Tomorrow there would be another CoD for Westfield’s boss, the Secretary of Defense, who would die of “natural causes,” a heart attack due to the extreme stress.
She still hadn’t decided if her boss, the director of the CIA, would be spared a CISS of Death. First she needed to have a chat with a very loose end—Chase Malone.
Seventy-Six
Chase scrambled up the rocks of a large, circular, cascading waterfall. The stone outcroppings formed a series of natural-looking steps that could have been along any jungle river in the tropics. The landscape provided plenty of cover, but he wasn’t interested in hiding. Three objectives flashed in his mind: protect Wen (although that might be the other way around), stay alive, and kill Ryker.
The sun still hadn’t risen. Regardless, floodlights reflecting off the building made the Mirage hotel like a giant full moon. Chase had already dodged several spotlights meant to accentuate the waterfall and palm trees of the ‘oasis’, and he noticed Wen had smashed out a few of the ones near her. He wedged himself in behind a large boulder and went to work on objective number three. He fired his submachine gun in the direction of the vehicles where three of Flint’s men were engaging at least half a dozen of Ryker’s men.
The bursting rattle of gunfire behind Chase alerted him to Wen’s whereabouts. He turned and saw her. Somehow, from an impossible angle, she had managed to take down one of Ryker’s people back at the van. But the ones still fighting weren’t their problem. At least five others had now taken up positions in the small patch of jungle around the waterfall. One of them was almost certainly Ryker.
Chase knew that in less than a minute they’d have him surrounded. Taking a chance, while continuing to fire, he climbed to the top of the waterfall. Wider than expected, it was too far to leap across. He’d be safer on the other side, so he sloshed through the water. He lost his footing on the slippery rocks and almost went over, his leg still weak from the dam injury, nearly losing his gun. His silhouetted drew fire from below just as he rolled over the stone border backing the falls.
Wen stopped firing and was able to work the blinking shadows as they transformed in size, shape, and shade based on the blinking neon and light filters. She moved behind one of the men shooting at Chase and silently snapped his spine.
At the top of the waterfall, as Chase reached the rock on the other side, a hand pulled him. One of Ryker’s men, who’d lost his gun on the treacherous climb up, got Chase in a choke hold. Chase used his legs to push against the big rock he’d just climbed. The two men struggled while Wen, unable to get a safe shot off, moved in their direction.
The firefight at the van had ended badly. Flint’s men were all down—dead or badly injured. The lone surviving person from Ryker’s squad fired at Wen, forcing her to retreat into the palms. She counted bodies and calculated. Flint’s team had taken out seven—an impressive feat—which might mean she and Chase had a chance to survive this. Sirens meant the police would be there any second and complicate matters more. Arrest was not an option for any of them.
Chase spun and flipped backwards into the top of the falls. The man gripping his neck went over the edge, but managed to hold on for a few seconds, trying to strangle Chase, who desperately fought to keep himself from being swept off. His hands clung to the jagged concrete edges of the pool. If he let go to free his neck from the man’s grip, he’d go down the cascade with him.
Just when Chase didn’t think he could breathe much longer, the man’s fingers slipped. He careened backwards over the falls, his head smashing on the wet rocks below.
Chase took a moment to recover, trying to get air, and then scanned for Wen and Ryker.
In the lagoon, Wen, camouflaged, in water up to her eyes, fired a single shot and killed the man who’d been pursuing her. Another calculation. “It’s Chase, me, and two others,” she whispered to herself as she emerged from the water.
She searched the area through her scope and spotted a man up in the volcano. “Ryker.” She lined up to take the shot, but he suddenly moved. He’s seen something, or someone. She traced his line of vision, and then saw who.
Ryker has his sights on Chase!
She yelled for Chase. Apparently he couldn’t hear her over the sirens and rushing water. Wen tried to get a clear shot, but didn’t have it. She ran, hoping to reach him in time. Ryker had killed the father, and was now going after the son.
Seventy-Seven
Wen pushed the Astronaut’s app button on her phone as she ran along the edge of the pool, trying to get a shot at Ryker. His shot at Chase went wide. As Wen had also discovered, shooting into the carnival of lights and shadows was not easy. The depth, angles, and rise were all off. Ryker, still positioned atop the volcano, seemed to have lost his prey for the moment. So had Wen.
“We’re in Las Vegas at the Mirage,” Wen said as the Astronaut answered.
“I can see that,” he replied.
“Can you hack into the hotel’s computer system? They have a volcano show every evening. I need you to make it erupt.”
“Whatever for?” the Astronaut asked, his fingers blazing rapidly across the keyboard.
“There’s a man inside.”
“Must be a very bad man if you want me to turn on the volcano while he’s in there?”
“He’s the devil,” Wen said, spitting the words. “He killed Chase’s father.”
“Okay. I’m almost there.”
Wen could see Ryker only as the light moved and the blinks of nearby neon hit just right. He wasn’t staying still. His training, like hers, had taught him to use the high ground for tactical advantage. He’d also, obviously, liked the vantage point to locate Chase.
“Where are you?” she muttered, searching the area for Chase as she moved closer to the volcano.
“I’m in,” the Astronaut said, thinking she meant him.
Wen turned at the sound of gunfire behind her. Someone picked off two approaching police officers. That brought the evening’s total of LVPD fatalities to five, as she’d already encountered three bodies.
“Can you do it now?”
“I am definitely not excited about killing someone, even the devil,” the Astronaut said.
“Don’t worry, it’s not lava. Only water and lights come out the top.”
“Of course. Las Vegas, all smoke and mirrors, the city of illusion.”
“Yeah,” Wen said, looking around at the spectacle of monuments and towers. “And once the show starts, I’ll take care of the killing.”
“I’m starting
it now.”
“Do it!”
Suddenly, she crashed into the lagoon. Wen had heard the shot at the same moment she felt the bullet rip into her. As she reeled in pain, Wen stayed under the shallow water. Whoever shot her would keep shooting. She moved away from the impact spot, avoiding two other bullets, which told her that the man was not firing a machine gun. Wen reached down to feel the gunshot wound; her right thigh was bleeding badly.
Finally, out of air, she surfaced only to stare into Damon’s pistol. She swept a wide splash of water in his face and grabbed his legs. Wen twisted and kicked, her leg raging in agony. Still, the blow was enough to knock his gun loose. She grabbed for his arm. He recovered and jabbed back, punching her thigh. Wen collapsed to her knees. Damon shoved Wen hard, forcing her under water.
They splashed and slipped in a tugging match, wrestling with hellacious fury. Wen, outmatched by Damon’s bulk and strength and her loss of blood, relied on pure instinct and muscle memory from years of training and actual fights. But he got her down, and held her. The air, she figured, was her only weapon. Wen had practiced since a child, and could hold her breath for up to four minutes in ideal situations. With the leg injury and exertion, she guessed she had two and a half minutes at most. She went still. It took what seemed an eternity, yet was actually just over a minute of him holding her under the black water before he released, stood, and turned to go find Chase.
Wen came up with fury and pulled him back. As he tried to turn, she elbowed his face between his eye socket and nose. He collapsed back into the water and she lunged. A few seconds later, Damon was no longer breathing. She had not made his mistake. Instead of wasting time, Wen finished him.