by Jan Domagala
“Actually I have some leave owed to me so I can go wherever I please. To answer your other question, I suppose I’m eager to dispel the propaganda that surrounds the Alliance. We are no different from you; we have the same likes, dislikes, the same needs and fears. Borders are what separates us at this moment in time. We are all one race and despite colour, creed or spiritual belief, we are all human. We are not so unalike, you and I.”
“If you truly believe that about us irrespective of merely being soldiers, why are you so concerned about this soldier?” she asked, her eyes boring into his until he looked away.
“Perhaps in the hope that one day the fighting will cease. Perhaps that end begins with one soldier laying down his arms,” he said, looking at her again.
“Very prophetic, have you ever thought of resigning from the military and running for office? You’d have my vote,” she said sarcastically.
Norsky glanced at the floor then placed his palm against the door lock so that the palm reader could identify him. The door opened with a soft whoosh.
“Your quarters may be comfortable but make no mistake, Miss Hardy, due to the nature of our profession it is still a cell.”
As she slowly brushed past him, she looked into his eyes and said, “If I promise to behave, will you stop by to keep me company?” and then she was inside the room facing him with a smile on her face that hinted at the possible delights to follow, if he was brave enough to face the challenge.
He reached for the door lock but before engaging it said, “I am on leave, so I can spend it wherever I please.” Placing his hand on the lock he looked at her and smiled. He said, “If I kept you company, would I want you to behave though?” and the door slid shut.
Hardy watched as the door closed separating her from him and she felt an odd mix of emotions. Norsky was her gaoler, of that there was no doubt, a very charming one but a gaoler nonetheless. He was passionate about what he was doing, of that there was also no doubt. She knew he was attracted to her but would that attraction outweigh his sense of duty? Would she be able to persuade him to swop sides purely on the basis of that attraction? She had her doubts.
If that attraction failed then she would have to resort to more tried and tested methods.
MATT HAWK SAT AT HIS desk staring at a computer monitor. For the past few hours he had been perusing the personnel records of all General Sinclair’s staff, the only people with Gold clearance and therefore access to the stolen codes.
As he expected, each and everyone was beyond reproach as prerequisite for the position they held. Although they were civilian personnel, they were employed by a military body and therefore subject to military laws, rules and regulations, a fact they were made aware of right from the start.
One of them was at fault here though, he just had to delve deeper which was tricky because he had to keep his interest under wraps. If the person responsible found out someone had been going through their records they would do one of two things: either bring it to the attention of their superior or inform their contact, the real target of this investigation. If that were to happen the odds of capturing them would go from slim to none.
There was nothing at all against any of them. He had nothing to go on. His eyes felt like he’d walked through a desert sandstorm from all the hours staring at the monitor and he was about to close it down to pursue another avenue of investigation, when he noticed a comment placed on one of the files.
Zooming in on it he rechecked the file in question. The comment had been almost a throwaway. A “something and nothing” event, but because of the nature of the work they undertook and the security involved, the shift supervisors were under orders to note any changes in behaviour, habits, work patterns in fact anything. It did not matter how slight or seemingly inconsequential. It was up to someone else to work out the significance.
The person in question had been flexible where breaks were concerned, always fitting her lunch breaks around the workload. The comment was about her leaving work after hearing some bad news regarding a relative.
Quickly he checked call logs to her and saw no mention of such a call, neither was there any follow-up action.
That was it; it had to be. There was no one else who even came close to looking like a suspect.
After closing down his terminal he quickly went to his bathroom, threw off his clothes and stepped into the shower. He let the hot water spray ease out the few aches and pains he felt from being stuck at his desk for so long, while his mind worked through the problem that lay ahead.
He stepped out of the shower and the water automatically switched off, and then he entered the drying chamber. By the time he was dry and getting dressed, he knew what he had to do.
STRYDER OPENED HIS eyes and found himself in a small room. There was no window and only one door. He was lying on a simple bunk positioned by the wall to the right of the door.
Swinging his legs around and onto the floor he sat up. Taking stock of his position he quickly inspected himself. Not so amazingly, he could find nothing wrong. No injuries at all, so whatever they had done to him, they certainly hadn’t tortured him?
There were no puncture marks on his arm, not surprisingly because they would have healed instantly anyway. If they had taken blood samples then there was no way of him knowing, unless he could get someone to talk.
Despite the position he found himself in, how hopeless the situation seemed not knowing what the Alliance had done to him or taken from him, he couldn’t help but feel elated. Not just elated though, he felt good, never better in fact. He felt as strong as a bull elephant; his mind was sharp and focused so whatever they had done to him might have helped him in some way.
He had a clear and precise control over his senses and bodily functions. Not knowing how it had come about he was just aware that it had. He also felt something different about his mind, he couldn’t quite put his finger on it but there was definitely something new going on in his head.
If all those changes had occurred during their tampering, how had his already enhanced immune system been affected? He could tell that it had not been diminished and if anything it had been improved even further.
Just what he was capable of now frightened, yet excited, him a little. A wonderful feeling of euphoria had come over him and he felt he had, despite all the odds stacked against him, a better than even chance of escaping. He had absolutely no idea how he would do it, he just knew he would. It was almost like he’d already seen it in the future and all that he had to do to allow it to happen, was not deviate from that path.
But before he could do anything he had to locate Hardy and without thinking an image of her popped into his mind and he knew instantly where she was.
Using his NI he contacted her through a secure channel.
“Hardy, are you alright? If you can’t speak, clear your throat once,” he said softly. Although he had accessed a combat channel that would piggyback the signal onto local frequencies, it would still be encrypted and transmitted directly to the communication centre of her brain, so that even if she were in a crowded room the call would not be overheard. It would only gain anyone else’s attention should she reply audibly.
“I’m fine Kurt. Where are you? Are you alright? What have they done to you?” she said, concern filling her voice.
“I’ve no idea where I am, all I know is, it’s a small cell with only one door and no window. I don’t know what they’ve done, but whatever it was I feel great. Listen, we have to get out and back to Confederation space,” he said, his tone upbeat and ebullient.
“And how do you propose to do that, Kurt? We’re deep in Alliance space in a guarded facility populated by Alliance troops. Oh and we have no transport,” she said, her voice rising a little with tension.
“I’m working on it, but first things first; we need to get out of this facility,” he replied.
“Oh, when you say it like that, it doesn’t sound so bad,” she said her voice dripping with sarcasm.
; “See, I told you I’d rub off on you. Just hold on and I’ll have you out of there in a jiffy,” he said calmly.
AFTER GETTING DRESSED Hawk checked on the whereabouts of Joanne Watkiss, his suspect, who was still at home after being allowed to leave early the day before.
A sudden feeling of dread filled him. He knew how ops like this worked and he didn’t think for one second that this data Joanne Watkiss had passed over was the first titbit. Her contact had probably started off with something small and worked up to this, the big score. Now that they had what they wanted from her they would probably close the op down, and to do that they would have to sever all connections and tie off any loose ends.
This meant that the moment she had passed over the codes was the moment she had signed her death warrant. They would wait for confirmation that the codes were useful before taking action. Once the confirmation came through then she was as good as dead.
His time might have just run out, he had to get to her and fast.
PAVEL TEMIC HAD GATHERED all his things together in preparation to leave Earth. This had been his longest assignment and he had even leased a place of his own to use as an operations base. It was a small, yet plush apartment in the heart of New York. The allowance he was granted from the Alliance black ops fund paid for it, so he could maintain his cover as a playboy businessman. He made sure any meetings he attended were never anywhere near to where he lived, they were always in hotels far away.
Once he’d taken care of one last piece of business he was free to leave; that one piece was the last loose end he had to tie off. Nothing must be traced back to him; that loose end was the mole, Joanne Watkiss.
Having pre-booked a flight from Earth and put his bags in the ground car he’d leased, all he had to do was make a stop at her apartment to finish off, then straight on to the spaceport to catch his flight. It should be simple really; however these things rarely were. There were too many variables to contend with that could halt any carefully made plan. He’d thought it through as carefully as he could, given the time constraints he was working under.
He’d been ordered to return to HQ for debriefing once confirmation of Stryder’s capture had come through. Events had unfolded at breakneck speed since he’d acquired and passed on the codes from the mole. Within twelve hours it was all over and he had to leave before any Col Sec investigation could be launched and eventually point in his direction.
Working feverishly, he’d severed all contacts, tied off all loose ends except one, the mole. He’d kept track of her, his most valuable asset, and knew pressure was getting to her. He had already decided to terminate her anyway so that she could not lead them to him, but now the order had been made official.
He knew she had gone home using some excuse and was still there. He planned to make it look like suicide due to her distress over the news of the relative, which tied in with her story.
Once that was done he could leave.
His flight left in three hours. He thought he had plenty of time as he envisioned himself sitting in the departure lounge sipping a cocktail while he waited for his flight.
With that thought still in his mind, he left his apartment.
21
General Solon strode into the main lab eager for some good news. It had been a few hours since the samples had been taken from Stryder and he wanted to know what progress had been made. He could have contacted the lab from his office but he wanted to see first-hand what was happening. In his long experience he knew that a face-to-face consultation would yield better results from subordinates.
“So how’s it coming, what progress have you made on the samples?” he asked with a sense of urgency that made everyone present sit up and take notice.
“Actually it’s gone quite well. I’ve managed to isolate the genome responsible for...”
“In plain language, please! Have you got a workable serum?” Solon said cutting him dead.
“Well, obviously we would have to do some tests before...”
“Have you got a workable serum or not? Remember Doctor, these men are all volunteers.”
After some hesitation he said, “I can’t sign off on this until I’m sure.”
“Then make sure, you have one hour, then you start injecting the team,” Solon said, and with that he turned on his heel and walked towards the door. He stopped just before leaving, turned and looking at the dumbstruck lab technician and said, “Get to work Doc, the clock is ticking.” He was gone and the door closing behind him emphasised the end of the conversation.
TEMIC ARRIVED AT JOANNE Watkiss’ apartment block and parked his car at the front. As he got out of his vehicle he called her via his NI.
Inside the apartment Joanne Watkiss was sitting on her bed still crying. She had been distraught since the news had come into Col Sec HQ that Stryder had been captured and that the Alliance had got hold of the access codes to the tracking chip in the Neural Implant every Col Sec employee had. The tracking codes were unique to the Delta Recon Marines and had been Col Sec’s ace in the hole.
She knew, of course, how the codes had fallen into the possession of the Alliance, because she had handed them over. She was so distraught that she was considering suicide. She doubted she could face her employer, General Sinclair, who had placed his trust in her. The thought of being sent to a penal colony made her sick to her stomach.
She was contemplating what to do when the call came through.
“Joanne, are you alright? When you didn’t show up for work I was worried.” Temic feigned concern easily, he was a master at deception, having made it part of his job.
She was startled at first, wondering how he knew she hadn’t gone to work, then pleased that he was enquiring about her. She knew he worked for the Alliance, if she had had any doubts before, then his recent actions had destroyed them. She had given him the codes and Stryder had been captured. It didn’t require a degree in Quantum Physics to work out that he had to be responsible. The question now though was what was he doing here, at her apartment?
Not knowing what to do, she replied carefully, saying, “I’m fine, what do you want David?” trying to keep the concern out of her voice.
“I’ve come to see if you’re alright. Can’t a man show concern for his woman now?” Temic replied, hoping that would suffice.
“Yes, of course he can, it’s just that you’ve never called me your woman before and you’ve always kept your distance from my home.”
“Well, I think it’s about time to change that, don’t you? It has been long enough, don’t you think?” he said hoping that she would let him in. He could get in on his own, but he didn’t want to leave any signs of forced entry for when the authorities arrived in a few hours.
Momentarily she allowed her emotions to get the better of her and she operated the lock on the outer door to the stairwell but by then it was too late.
Temic heard the door lock release and he pushed open the door to enter the foyer. In front of him was the stairwell that led up to the third floor where her apartment was located.
It will all be over very soon, he thought as he took the steps two at a time.
MATT HAWK ARRIVED AT the same apartment block just as Temic was half way up the stairs to Watkiss’ apartment. There was a car parked outside the building and he knew instinctively that it belonged to whoever had come to kill her. He got out of his own car and ran to the door. Accessing a secure channel through his NI he said, “Miss Watkiss, my name is Hawk and I’m from Col Sec. I’m here to protect you.”
“Col Sec? Why would you be here to protect me?” she asked, trying to keep up the pretence of innocence.
“I believe you may have handed over data to someone who works for the Alliance, data of a sensitive nature and now that person has come to kill you. I’m here to prevent that from happening,” he replied.
“What do you intend to do, prosecute me?” she asked not denying her crime.
“Let’s talk about that when I’ve got you safely out of th
ere. Your safety is my main priority at the moment,” he replied then added, “Now open the door.”
“I can’t go to prison,” she said, her voice full of fear.
“Trust me; if you don’t let me in that won’t be a problem because you’ll be dead. Now let me in!” Hawk said allowing his voice to rise at the end to emphasise the danger she was in.
She didn’t want to believe him, yet found it impossible not to. She operated the door lock, allowing him entrance to the building.
Hawk ran through the door checking his pistol as he also took the stairs two at a time.
TEMIC REACHED HER APARTMENT at the same moment Hawk entered the building.
He rapped his knuckles on her door to indicate his arrival, startling her.
“Who is it?” she said before realising she’d spoken.
“Who do you think it is sweet one? It’s me, the man of your dreams,” he said injecting a note of humour into his voice hoping to put her at ease.
“David!” was all she could say. If what Hawk had said was true, and she had almost convinced herself of the validity of his words already, then she had to stall him until he got here.
“Yes, David, who else were you expecting?” Temic replied getting a little testy. He wanted this done and dusted so he could leave for the spaceport. Why was she acting like this? Had someone got to her? If they had, then it added a whole new dimension to the situation, one that he wasn’t too happy about.
He took out his pistol, a Magerov P9, standard issue for Alliance armed forces. It was larger than the Sig P996 but worked on the same principle, delivering a larger shot capability. He pulled back on the slide at the top to prime the battery clip. Selecting full power he rapped on the door once more and said with a bit more force, ”Come on Joanne, open the door.”
Behind the door Joanne Watkiss was beginning to panic, her breathing was getting faster, her pulse rate was quickening and she was beginning to sweat. Accessing her NI she replied to the last call, Hawk.