A Temporal Trust (The Temporal Book 2)

by Martin, CJ

  Lieutenant Scott Harrison waved his arm toward the elevator and said, “Right this way, if you please.”

  Everyone, including Marcus, followed the lieutenant. Dr. Bracker also joined them to the ground floor, but as he had come, he left alone.

  Thirty minutes later, Sam settled under the covers of a king-size bed. He had intended to check on Catherine immediately, but hearing that she was held-up in her room, he too headed the call of a comfortable bed. He would check on Catherine later with a clear head.

  Sam was experiencing that dream again. He was asleep, and yet he was mindful that what he was seeing was a dream, the dream he’d had since childhood. It was what had always given him the strength to face another day; it was the dream about Suteko.

  Since meeting the real Suteko only a few months before, he had not expected to have the dream again. He had, after all, met the fulfillment of the dream. With the purpose behind that reoccurring dream known, why would it return? The warmth and overwhelming sense of love he felt in the dream did indeed carry over to reality with her—with her amazing touch. And yet, he was dreaming the dream again.

  Suteko smiled at him; he felt the muscles on his face react as a smile formed of its own.

  And then suddenly, her face changed. Her lips were no longer turned up, but filled with a pressed kind of concern, if not outright fear. Her eyes widened and her hands moved wildly as if warning him of some looming danger.

  Sam didn’t want to, but he knew the Suteko of his dreams was telling him he needed to wake up.

  When he did, he noticed there were patterns going off in a frenzy within his mind. These patterns indicated something was near. A Temporal...no, Nephloc.

  Since the last time with Kaileen—when he had failed to sense her presence while asleep—he had practiced being alert and in search of her signature at all times, even while asleep. He had awoken with several false readings before, but this was different and much stronger. Whatever it was, it wasn’t Kaileen, but it wasn’t a friend either.

  As he steadied his breathing and forced his mind to be completely awake, he organized the disordered and rapidly moving patterns.

  It was a single Nephloc, and it was very close.

  Sam jumped up and, grabbing a nearby shirt, he looped it over his neck. After thrusting his right hand through the arm hole, he grabbed the door knob. A second later he was with the others who were congregated around a table playing cards.

  “Nephloc,” said Sam, slightly out of breath. “There’s a Nephloc nearby. It appeared while I was asleep.”

  Lieutenant Harrison, who had stayed after driving them to the Berkshire House, was immediately on his feet with his pistol drawn. Harrison knew very little of the evil that stood against them, but he knew enough.

  “Sam,” said Marcus, “where is he now?”

  Sam closed his eyes, a look of utter confusion filled his face. “I...I think it is on the other side of the front door.” Sam shook his head and opened his eyes. “I can’t explain it, but the signature is loud as if it wants me to see it. And…” Sam paused, closing his eyes once more, making sure he had it right. “And it is one of the four that came to attack Suteko.”

  Ian stood up, kicking his chair out. Splinters of wood hit the wall behind him. Whether the force of his standing did it or the impact to the wall, the chair was ruined.

  “Ian, stand down. We will do this together!”

  Marcus’ voice was loud and powerful enough that even Ian was forced to obey; Ian backed away, tightening his fists as if he wanted to slam them into the wall again.

  “Sam, is it still there?”

  “Yes. It appeared about five minutes ago a few hundred feet from the door. Then, it walked to the front door and hasn’t moved since.”

  “Suteko, do you sense anything? Is this a trap?”

  Suteko shook her head. “I hear only echoes of fear. I sense no evil intent.”

  “Sam, you said this was one of the four. Is it the one that spoke to us?”

  “No. This is the one that escaped.”

  “A fine spy we have here,” said Ian with a growl. “I guess it hadn’t learned its lesson the last time. Marcus, let me loop around and bring it in for questioning.”

  “Patience, Ian. You are strong and wise, but the strength of wisdom is cut short by haste.” The old man stood straight. “Sam, monitor our friend. Tell me if he moves. Tell me if any others appear within a five mile radius. Look deep into the earth too.”

  “Underground?”

  “Yes, underground.”

  Sam shrugged and began to disperse his attention in all directions including down. He immediately understood why Marcus had asked what he did. Although there were no Nephloc underground, he could sense a fading trace left behind by the one who was now in the front of the building. It had traveled here through dirt, deep underground. It made no sense to Sam, but he was certain of the direction of the Nephloc’s approach.

  “Sam, do you have anything?”

  “No. And the one outside hasn’t moved since I first noticed it. But I do sense that it came here from some underground passageway. How did you know?”

  “Where else could it come from? You expect it to walk down Sixteenth Avenue? Well, then, let us go meet our guest.” Marcus’ voice was calm and composed, as if said truly to meet a friend.

  Sam and Suteko rose with the old man. Catherine appeared from the other room, the commotion finally pulling her from her solitude. Ian stood, but said, “It could have a weapon. Let me at least go around back and get a visual first. Sam may have a great radar, but he can’t see what that thing is holding. He could have a pistol or even a bomb.” Seeing the old man’s hardened face, he added, “Don’t worry, I won’t attack your precious enemy. I’ll just report on my phone what I see.” Ian held up his cell phone.

  “He has a point,” Sam said.

  “All right, but stay out of sight of the creature. Report to us what you see. Then, let me do the talking.”

  Ian nodded and then broke into a jog toward the back exit. The others moved in the direction of the front of the building and the door nearest the Nephloc.

  Unlike the others, Ian was not gifted with the ability to slow time. He was the only Temporal Marcus had met who could not. He could run only as fast as any non-Temporal human, but he was a natural sprinter.

  Less than a minute later, Suteko’s phone rang. She answered and pressed the speaker button. “I’m east of the building.” Ian’s voice was a whisper. “I can see it now. It does not know I’m watching. It is just sitting down with its hands palms up and resting on crossed legs. It looks like some dirty hippy doing yoga. I don’t see a weapon, but I do not know what its cloak conceals.”

  “Understood,” said Marcus. “We will confront it. If it tries to run, stop it, Ian.”

  “It would be my pleasure.”

  Although it had only been minutes, the creature felt like it had been waiting for hours. It was well past sunset which meant it had disobeyed the High Lady’s command to go straight to the Temporal. She had given it a protective cloak that would have allowed it to approach the Temporal in the waning hours of the day. The thought of its disobedience brought both horror and a rebellious sense of liberty. But in the end, it had obeyed. Its fear of the High Lady eventually forced it to correct its direction—albeit much later than she would have wanted.

  It was certain that the Temporal knew of its presence. The Temporal had known they were coming before they had arrived the last time, and the High Lady told it they would know this time as well. It was not proper to question her knowledge, and to incite the fearful Temporal was not its desire.

  And so, it waited.

  It remained stock-still. It knew any sudden move or threatening gesture would result in an immediate death. It calculated its best chance for survival was to wait unarmed and in the open for the Temporal to make their appearance. It was scared. It did not wish to be there, but it had no options.

  It had a troublesome shaking i
n its hands—something that had often happened when nervous as a human. It settled into a lotus position to slow its breathing and calm its mind, something it had learned to do in its past life as a human.

  Finally, the door behind it cracked open. It lifted its eyes, but did not turn to face the enemy. A voice boomed out.

  “What is it that you want?”

  Without moving or even daring to turn to face the voice, the Nephloc said, “Weee come seeking terms of suuurren…darr.”

  “The surrender of whom?”

  “Usss. Weee seek your meer…cy”

  The old man turned to Sam wondering what “us” could mean. Sam shook his head and with a single finger indicated the Nephloc before them was the only one around.

  “Stand slowly, creature. Lift your arms and turn around to face us.”

  The Nephloc did as commanded.

  The old man looked at Sam once more. “There is no other,” was his reply.

  Marcus stepped outside and approached the creature with caution. It shivered with an icy fear, but kept its head down and arms up. Marcus circled around, feeling every inch of its cloak.

  “Into the house.”

  As the creature obeyed, Marcus waved Ian in. A few seconds later, Ian was inside and Marcus closed the door.

  Once inside, the creature quickly scuttled over and squatted down behind an antique wing chair. It happened to be in the darkest corner of the front room. Its quick footsteps were silent over the normally creaky floorboards. It had its head bowed and covered with bony arms half exposed by the slack cloak.

  “Well, what is it that you wish to tell us? Why were you sent here? What was it that the woman wanted?”

  The Nephloc seemed to choke momentarily upon hearing him speak of the woman.

  “No. Weee come alone. Surrender. Weee surreender.”

  “Then, dark one, if you are surrendering, tell us of your master. What is her goal, and where is she now?”

  “Sheee...No, lords. Speeak not of sheee. Wee’s no more than foot soldier. Wee’s know of your compassion with others—with the other three. Wee’s seek this meerrcy, the meerrcy of the other three.”

  “In exchange for that mercy, tell me something of interest to us. Tell me of your base. Where do you operate?”

  “Wee’s be no more than foot soldier. Wee’s from the earth.” It almost smiled as it remembered the dark, rich soil, moist and earthy. A glorious patch was just outside. It could leave…

  Its eyes narrowed. The thought of returning to its mistress in disobedience, however, reinforced its commitment to the mission.

  “Then, return to the earth. If you don’t tell us anything, you are no good to us. Just go and never come back.”

  “No! Wee’s must surrender. Wee’s surrender.”

  The old man opened the door. “We haven’t the facilities to house you and we simply can’t risk harboring a spy.”

  “Wee’s no spy. Wee’s surrender.”

  Sam pulled Marcus aside. “It could be coaxed into giving us needed intelligence on the enemy.”

  “Sam,” said Marcus, “I don’t trust it. Kaileen wouldn’t have allowed it to get this far without a purpose. It’s a spy.”

  “I am sure you are right, but that is all the more reason to try to learn what Kaileen is up to.”

  “Yes, yes. But we are not jailers. There is no place secure enough to keep it.” Marcus shook his head.

  “There is a back room with no windows. We can put a lock on it, and I can monitor its movements.”

  “Sam, you are tracking the Temporal around the world until they can be collected. In addition, you are watching for any incoming enemies. Can you add one more thing without exhausting yourself?”

  “If I can’t, then we just kick our guest out, or...let Ian have him.”

  Marcus gave Sam a serious frown before nodding in agreement.

  Chapter Twelve

  The V-22 Osprey was capable of speeds of up to three hundred miles per hour—twice as fast as a conventional helicopter. The unique tiltrotor technology blended the vertical lift of a helicopter with the speed, altitude, and range of a fixed-wing aircraft. The Osprey was minutes from landing.

  Inside the cabin, the noise cancellation of Sergeant Scott Dixon’s headphones failed to adequately dampen the roar of the engines and the incessant chopping of the three-bladed, thirty-eight foot propellers. But for the moment, it was as if the noise didn’t exist. The mystery surrounding the mission was far more distracting.

  The sparse lighting barely penetrated the darkness. It was night inside as well as out. Despite the Osprey’s twenty-four troop capacity, Dixon could just make out the lightly illuminated faces of the three other Marines that made up his team, the only other passengers. They were on the opposite side of the aircraft resting and waiting.

  It was his thirtieth birthday, and he had a smirky grin on his face. He wasn’t sure what or who it was that they were to pick up, but he doubted it could be as interesting as the party the boys were planning for his return. Even still, he had little doubt that this job was important.

  He and his team had been briefed—by a Colonel, no less—only a few hours before to be prepped and ready to go. The team had then been immediately isolated from the rest of the base. Their cells, radios, and laptops were sequestrated. For the past five hours, the team had been effectively cut off from the world. It wasn’t exactly the day before D-Day, but the total secrecy was unusual.

  They knew nothing more than their final destination: Hydra, Greece—an island near Athens—and they only learned that after takeoff.

  In his eight years in the Marines, Dixon had never been given so little information to work with. Should he be expecting trouble? An absurd thought crossed his mind: Could it actually be a surprise party for his birthday? He was known for off duty pranks and extravagance. No doubt scaring the wits out of him would be an excellent way to simultaneously get back at him while also throwing him a party to be remembered.

  He felt the aircraft tilt as it prepared for landing. He knew whatever was waiting for them would soon be revealed. His fingers absentmindedly patted his holstered pistol as the colonel’s voice roared through his headphones.

  “All right ladies, I just got our final orders. The package is a man named Ricardo. He should be alone—this airport is decommissioned and deserted, but just in case there is any confusion, he will be wearing a red shirt and a touristy straw hat. This is a pick-up-and-go mission. No sightseeing, no jabbering on about the weather. Get him, and then get him back here. Immediate resistance isn’t expected, but the package is extremely valuable and we are to take no chances. After I give the word, I want you to create a perimeter around Ricardo with weapons drawn. Hold your positions until the package is safe onboard and I give the order.”

  His voice softened.

  “Marines, I don’t know what we will be facing. I honestly have no more intel on this mission, but the higher-ups have made this out to be something big. It should be a simple pickup, but be on guard. Out.”

  Dixon started to worry that this really would turn out to be a second invasion of Normandy.

  The voice in Dixon’s headphones was gone, and the roar of the plane filled his head. As the Osprey hovered above the tarmac, the rotor downwash caused a cyclone of dust. The cabin jarred as the aircraft touched down and then in the dim lighting, the four men looked at each other with a nod of resolve.

  As the blades slowed, Dixon stood, patted his pistol on his side, and pulled out the M16 that had been stored in the netting under his seat. The others did the same. The four men congregated at the back, waiting for the rear loading ramp to be lowered. They now knew what their mission was and only had to wait for the go signal. No one opened his mouth. With the engines killed, even the slightest shuffling of nervous feet and the occasional metallic clack of weapons being handled were amplified. A small circular porthole of pure blackness revealed nothing of the outside world.

  It seemed like minutes had passed sinc
e the aircraft landed, but no order to exit had been given, nor had the ramp been lowered.

  Then, the cockpit door opened, allowing the surprisingly bright light from a multitude of instruments to fill their eyes. Dixon briefly saw the two pilots hunkered over some electronic tablet while talking on their radios. The Colonel stepped through and closed the door shut again.

  “It seems,” he said to the four Marines, “the package isn’t here. Directly in front of us, there is a building where Ricardo was supposed to have been waiting in front of. I want you two,” he said, pointing to Dixon and the man across from him, “to search to the right of the building and you two to the left. Circle around and then enter the front. Report if you find anything. Come back quickly. Understood?”

  “Yes, sir!” came the unanimous response.

  “Now go!” he said while slamming a fist on the button to engage the rear loading ramp. Suddenly, the ramp came to life, revealing the dark outside world broken only by a narrow ring of light in front of the building. As the men took to the ramp, there was a new blast of light above. The spotlights attached to the outside of the plane now illuminated several hundred meters ahead. Even still, Dixon had a hard time distinguishing the dark stretches of a paved airfield from the black-green patches of grass.

  It was a moonless sky and the night was thick.

  Dixon and his partner moved down and onto the hard, black surface. The light from the plane was strong but the building beyond the immediate front lay mostly in shadows. There was a dark no-man’s land between their position and the building’s small circle of light. The sides of the building were similarly uninviting and that was exactly where they had to go.

  The four broke into a heavy sprint, heading toward the building. Just as they were entering the no-man’s land, they saw something that made them drop to the ground and raise their weapons. Each man fell flat on his stomach and gave full attention to the building ahead.