The Rogue Retrieval

by Dan Koboldt

  Quinn had trained himself to look for cameras, microphones, and other forms of surveillance—­the secrets behind his stage tricks were too valuable to put at risk—­and right away, he knew they were being covered from multiple angles. Most of the cameras were stationary, but at least one or two pivoted to follow their progress as Kiara took them in.

  The company was watching.

  They stuck the magician in a secure conference room while Kiara briefed the executives. Logan waited for her outside the briefing room, looking over the file on Bradley’s father. Both the parents were dead, but the father had worked for the State Department. Sometimes that meant CIA. Kiara had told him to pull the file, to make sure it wasn’t a cover.

  Her briefing took longer than it should have. Logan knew how it had gone the second she marched out the door. He saw the tightness in her jaw, the too-­stiff posture soldiers adopted after a good chewing out.

  “That bad?” he asked.

  “They’re not happy with how it went in Vegas.”

  “Why not? We got the magician they wanted,” Logan said.

  “We were exposed. Someone knew we wanted to recruit him,” Kiara said.

  “Any word from the cleanup team on who they were?” Logan asked.

  “No, but I have my suspicions.”

  “Raptor Tech,” Logan said. CASE Global’s largest competitor. They had a huge presence in the defense industry, and were doing their best to infringe on every market CASE Global dominated. Mostly by black hat stuff, and this fit the bill.

  “The sooner we’re mission-­ready, the better,” Kiara said. She saw what Logan had been reading. “Is that the file on Bradley’s father?”

  “It looks legit,” Logan said. “He worked as a cultural attaché in Beirut when Hezbollah bombed the embassy in ’83. Spent twelve hours under the rubble, and then a month in the hospital. I saw the records.”

  “Hard to believe he stayed after that,” she said.

  “I think he’d met the mother by then,” he said. “She’d applied for asylum a ­couple of times, but couldn’t get it. He smuggled her out in ’86. Got a write-­up for it.”

  “Her family filed a complaint, too,” Kiara said. “Our sources over there say they disowned her after that.”

  “For joining the infidels?” Logan asked.

  “That, and the fact that she’d been promised to someone else.”

  Logan grunted. “No wonder he got the write-­up. State benched him after that. Put him behind a desk in Nevada.”

  “Reassignment to somewhere boring,” Kiara said.

  “The government’s favorite kind of punishment.”

  “Any red flags on the mother’s family?” she asked.

  “No ties to any radical groups. She came over alone. Wasn’t on any watch lists.”

  That was the main concern. Not that she was a terrorist—­the company couldn’t care less about that—­but the possibility that feds could be keeping tabs on Bradley. Tapping his phone, monitoring his travel. Just because of where his mother had been born. The fewer satellites keyholed to the island compound, the better.

  “All good news,” she said. “So why do I feel like you still have a problem with him?”

  He kept his face still. She’d had a tough briefing and he didn’t want to do this now. “You know where I come in on this, Lieutenant.”

  “Pretend I don’t.”

  “I never liked the idea of bringing in a civilian, much less one without any training. I’d rather bring a ­couple of my guys.”

  “We need someone Holt doesn’t know already. Someone he won’t expect. An ace in the hole.”

  Logan doubted that was a play on words. He was pretty sure Kiara had never uttered a joke in her life. “Oh, I’m sure he won’t expect us to bring a Vegas performer along. Mission accomplished.”

  “If you have a more creative idea, say the word.”

  Logan said nothing.

  “Good. One last thing: the executives want us to make sure he’s not in touch with any of his father’s old contacts from the State Department. If not, we can read him in.”

  Quinn faced Kiara and Logan across a small conference table. It hurt to keep his eyes open, but they’d insisted on the briefing right away. The conference room was modern and functional, the table a single sheet of glass on metal legs. The walls were bare except for a security camera with a steady red light. How many did that make? Quinn had lost count. The level of surveillance had him on edge.

  “First things first,” Kiara said. She slid over a thick document in a manila folder. “The nondisclosure agreement.”

  Quinn scanned through the pages, wishing he’d thought to consult a lawyer. Too late for that now.

  “This agreement went into effect the moment we met, and never expires,” Kiara said.

  “What if I don’t sign it?”

  “They’ll never find your body,” Logan said.

  Quinn wasn’t sure he was kidding. “Not taking any chances, are you?”

  “Everyone signs one of these. It’s standard protocol.”

  “Right.”

  “To be fair, your background has some of the executives nervous.”

  Oh, delightful. The Lebanese question again. “Look, I never met anyone from my mother’s side of the family,” he said. After she’d married his father, none of her relatives would even talk to her. She’d almost never spoken about them, either.

  “So it would seem. Telecom records only had the occasional call from her sister.”

  “Really? I—­I didn’t know.” Once, while still in high school, he’d come home early and caught her in the kitchen, whispering into the phone. She’d hung up right away, wiped her eyes, and never said a word about it.

  “Yes. But it’s not your mother I was talking about,” Kiara said.

  “What?”

  “It’s your father.”

  Now that one Quinn hadn’t seen coming. He was behind the curve again, and he hated that. “Why would he make them nervous?”

  “He worked at the State Department.”

  “Yeah, that’s how they met,” Quinn said. “But he was an office worker. Boring stuff. He said so all the time.”

  “Do you know what he was doing in Beirut?” Kiara asked.

  Quinn shook his head. “He never talked about it.” His father hadn’t been a big talker. Hell, the company probably knew more about his past than Quinn did. Knowing that added fuel to the smoldering anger against CASE Global. They’d sabotaged his career, dug into his past. God, it was almost like they were trying to piss him off.

  “You’re not in touch with any of your father’s old coworkers, then?”

  “Why does it matter?”

  “Answer the question,” Kiara said.

  “Like I said, he wasn’t a big talker. And we don’t get a lot of federal government types out in Nevada—­not a lot of foreign dignitaries in the desert. So, no.”

  Kiara pressed two fingers to her ear, as if receiving instructions. Which he realized was probably exactly what she was doing. Her eyes flickered to a large mirror on the wall. The surface wasn’t as reflective as it should be. Had to be a one-­way. No one knew mirrors better than magicians.

  She stood. “All right, Bradley. It’s time you saw where you’ll be working.”

  I guess I passed.

  Quinn followed Kiara and Logan down a stark corridor. A group of soldiers strode past, headed the other way. At least, they looked like soldiers, from the bearing and confidence. And from the way they saluted Kiara as they approached. Two men and two women. Dressed in black. With swords at their belts . . .

  Quinn did a double take.

  Yep, swords. He was about to bring it up when they hit the security checkpoint.

  There was a heavy steel door, flanked by two security guards who cradled aut
omatic weapons. They stiffened when Kiara approached, but made no salute. She slid back a panel in the wall. She put her palm on a gray panel. It lit up blue at her touch. “Lynn Kiara,” she said.

  Biometric scanners and voice recognition. So, she did have a first name. And it was Lynn. Quinn smiled. He’d never have guessed that in a million years.

  The panel flickered green, and then the guards broke composure to salute her. The steel door hissed open.

  Quinn stepped close to Kiara, so that the guards knew he was with her. The chamber beyond surprised him. It was cavernous, easily the biggest room he’d seen in the complex so far. The air was heavy and smelled of . . . wet stone? The reason became apparent when he saw that the back half of the chamber was raw bedrock, carved out around a steel-­and-­Plexiglas door.

  “What you’re about to see was discovered fifteen years ago by a local shepherd,” Kiara said. “He’d been missing for days. Limped home to his family raving about it. He was dead within a few hours.”

  “Of what?” Quinn asked. He started holding his breath, just in case it was some kind of disease.

  “Frostbite,” Kiara said.

  Logan appeared beside him. He wore a heavy coat in brown wool, and held out another for Quinn. “Put this on.”

  Quinn took the coat and tugged it on. It wasn’t really wool, but some kind of synthetic fiber. The coat itself was actually plain and shapeless. Like the world’s warmest poncho. He’d been in caves before, and they were cold, but this seemed a bit excessive.

  Kiara had bundled up as well. She entered a command at the computer terminal on one side of the cavern, and strode over to join him. “This is CASE Global’s single most important asset.”

  The Plexiglas door slid open. Behind it, the wall of the cavern was translucent and gray. It shimmered as he watched. The air in the chamber had an energy to it, like the buildup of static electricity. It made the hair on Quinn’s arms rise.

  Kiara walked into it. The grayness swallowed her, like she’d slipped through a waterfall. Quinn gasped.

  “Your turn,” Logan said. And he shoved Quinn right after her.

  Cold. That was the first thing he felt. He stumbled on a hard stone floor and caught himself against the wall. The rock was rough under his hands, and it drained the heat from them. He jerked them back and put them in his pockets. Logan appeared behind him. Quinn had an urge to shove the man right back, and would have done it if he thought it would have moved the man an inch.

  And if he thought Logan would let him that close to begin with.

  “This way, Mr. Bradley,” Kiara said. She stood at the mouth of a tunnel, and from the brightness behind her, it must lead outside.

  Quinn followed her down a short passage. The stone walls were marked with odd symbols. Hieroglyphics, maybe. The paint looked ancient, but had a sheen to it. Like it might glow even in total darkness. They turned a corner and were greeted by the near-­blinding whiteness of outdoors.

  “Sweet Jesus,” Quinn whispered.

  A snow-­covered landscape fell away from the mouth of the cave. It was like looking down the side of a mountain. On the horizon, other peaks loomed out of an iron-­gray sky.

  “What is this place?” he asked.

  “This is where you’ll be working,” Kiara said. “The inhabitants call it Alissia.”

  Quinn felt vaguely aware that he hadn’t spoken for a long time. Logan had guided him back through the odd portal to the company facility. Took his coat off, and walked him to the conference room again. He stepped out and closed the door, leaving Quinn alone with the mirror and whoever was behind it.

  The door banged open again, startling him. Chaudri backed in, her arms occupied with a tray of refreshments. She heaved it onto the table and sat down. Quinn’s stomach rumbled at the smell of food.

  “I know that look,” Chaudri said. She set out a pair of ceramic mugs and started pouring coffee. She slid one over. “You’re going to need this.”

  He accepted a mug and leaned back, inhaling the steam. He ventured a sip and sighed. Some kind of tropical roast, strong but faintly sweet. Something normal, for once, and it helped. “God, that’s good.”

  “So, I take it you’ve been read in,” Chaudri said.

  “Kiara and Logan took me through this . . . thing.”

  “The gateway.”

  Quinn spread his arms out. “I don’t even know what it is.”

  “We’re not certain ourselves, if that makes you feel any better. Some of the consulting physicists think it’s a wormhole, between our world and theirs.”

  “Their world . . .” he said, bemused. “Kiara said it’s inhabited.” The coffee was starting to kick in, because he made the leap. “And you’re an anthropologist.”

  “Yes. I’ve been studying Alissia for ten years.”

  “Wow. And it’s been kept secret all this time?”

  “Have you seen the NDA?” she joked.

  “It was pretty serious.” He sipped more coffee. “So, how many ­people live there?”

  “We have a good idea, but I’m not allowed to tell you,” Chaudri said.

  “How come?” Quinn asked.

  “You don’t have your clearance yet.”

  But the woman knew; Quinn could see that. And anyone with a number fixed in her mind was malleable. “I didn’t see anyone while I was there. So I’d say less than ten thousand.”

  Chaudri exhaled faintly. A scoff. Far too low. “As I said, I can’t—­”

  “A hundred million.”

  “Ah, I’m not permitted to divulge exact numbers.” The jaw tightened, but the eyes widened just a little. Quinn knew he was too high, but in the ballpark. Two or three questions more and he’d have it narrowed down.

  He’d done more than enough readings as a “medium” to infer a number. Chaudri was the perfect mark.

  Logan and Kiara barged in before he could press Chaudri any further.

  Just when I was getting started, too.

  “I see you’ve recovered your spirits, Mr. Bradley,” she said.

  “Somewhat,” Quinn said. He settled back in his chair, watching her. Something about her manner always made him feel like he should find a place to hide. Or toss a smoke bomb and disappear. “I have a lot of questions.”

  “Undoubtedly,” she said. “But you should know that much of the information on Alissia is given out on a need-­to-­know basis.”

  She was stonewalling him. “But you haven’t told me anything!” Quinn said. He pointed in the direction of the chamber. “For example: What the hell was that?”

  Kiara touched the corner of the table. Light bloomed under her fingertip. A high-­def projector flicked on, casting a sharp image of the snow-­blanketed mountains he’d seen from the mouth of the cave.

  “What you saw is barely a glimpse of what lies through the gateway,” Kiara said.

  More images flickered past on the wall, aerial footage of windswept prairies, rolling hills, pristine shorelines. It was beautiful, once you got past the snow. Pure.

  Massive.

  “How big is it?” Quinn asked.

  “Based on our curvature measurements, nearly as large as Earth,” Chaudri said.

  Quinn couldn’t look away; he was riveted. There were settlements, thatch-­roof cottages for the most part. Three men leaning against a stone wall, their armor polished like chrome. A crowded bazaar packed with ­people and animals. Everything looked so real.

  But how could it be? It made no sense. One thing in particular seemed off.

  “OK, let’s back up,” Quinn said. “You said a shepherd found this fifteen years ago. So how do I not know about this already? Shouldn’t it be on CNN?”

  “CASE Global owns this entire island,” Kiara said. “We’ve managed to keep the gateway’s existence a secret.”

  Quinn was incredulous. This
was getting harder and harder to believe . . . except that he’d seen the proof. Then again, he had just shown ­people he could turn out Las Vegas by snuffing some candles, so incredulity was an integral part of his makeup. “OK, then let me get this straight. You found a portal to a whole other world. With ­people in it. And you’ve just been, what, sitting on it?”

  “We’ve been studying it from every possible angle,” Chaudri said.

  There had to be an endgame here. Billion-­dollar companies didn’t study things. They profited from them.

  More importantly, he needed to know where he fit in.

  As if anticipating that question, Kiara tapped her control panel. The image changed again, to a photo of a man in a white lab coat. He was middle-­aged, maybe a little older, with wire-­frame glasses and a pronounced nose. Looked like a cardsharp, the kind of guy who’s always thinking two moves ahead.

  “This is Richard Holt,” Kiara said. “The head of our research team since this project started.”

  “He’s a nice-­looking man, I suppose.”

  Kiara scowled.

  “Six days ago, he went rogue, and disappeared through the gateway,” Logan said.

  Quinn stole a glance at their faces. Kiara’s was cold calculation, almost hidden animosity. On Chaudri’s, sadness warred with admiration. Interesting. “Maybe he just needed a vacation,” he said.

  Chaudri barked a laugh. It came out nervous. “Dr. Holt didn’t believe in vacations.”

  “He also took a backpack full of technology that’s not allowed on the other side of the gateway.”

  “What technology are we talking about?”

  “That’s above your clearance level.”

  That excuse is starting to get real old.

  “Whatever his reasons, the executives want him retrieved,” Kiara said. “Quickly and quietly.”

  Quinn made a face, to show that he wasn’t happy about the clearance thing. “That sounds like Logan’s department.”

  “It is,” he said.

  “And we have Chaudri, for the cultural angle,” Kiara said.

  “I guess you’re all set, then,” Quinn said. He still didn’t know why they’d brought him here, why they’d shown him something that was clearly a tightly held secret. They wanted something—­something worth more than a half million dollars.