Project Apollo

by B. B. Gallagher

  “I want constant updates, Xander, we will start brainstorming here, invoking the resources of our agencies. It is obvious to me that Ezra has not only targeted DC, but he has targeted you, Xander. You will have to run point on this, he has chosen you. If you aren’t taking this personally yet, you damn well should.” Hooper’s tone elevated to its Commander-in-Chief status.

  “Yes, Mr. President. We will keep you posted, as soon as we have something,” Xander assured him.

  “Good luck.” Hooper clicked the feed dead and scrutinized the new task force. The room awaited his lead.

  “Thoughts?” There was a general silence over the room. The initial thought came from one of the new faces in the Situation Room - the disheveled man at the table, Director Hunterson. He puffed out his chest and spoke through one long, almost somber, exhale.

  “And you shall know the truth and the truth shall make you free… John 8:32.” He paused to take another lungful of air. “It fits… judging by Ezra’s past.”

  “Peter, what is it?” The President asked for clarity on his thought.

  “This passage, from scripture, is also our motto over at the CIA. That is why I believe that his target is Langley, Mr. President.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Tobias and Catherine had retreated back into the lab and were analyzing the blood sample. Tobias’s old television ran a rerun of Jeopardy, a show he watched religiously as he worked. It distracted his mind just enough to prevent it from overanalyzing his research.

  “It’s starship Captain James Kirk’s middle name,” Alex Trebek stated.

  “What is Tiberius…” Tobias and Catherine both answered in unison. Their heads slowly lifted from their work and their eyes connected. Catherine smiled at Tobias, who nervously pushed his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. After melting his heart, Catherine’s head fell back to the microscope, her hair falling down around it. Tobias watched as it dangled. Catherine brought her head up again to glance at Tobias, not expecting him to be still staring. Upon meeting his eyes again, she blushed and fell into a fit of flattered laughter.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Across the warehouse, Xander, Ashton and Seamus analyzed the clue. They huddled over a crate with a large piece of paper with the second clue scrawled out on it.

  “Xander,” a familiar voice chimed into his ear. He turned from the clue and responded over his comm mic.

  “Yeah, Hardy, what you got?” he asked, listening intently into his earpiece. Before the answer came, it hit. A hard pound thumped through his temples, his head dropped, trying to quell the ache. His knees wobbled weak. He had to lean up on a crate to steady himself for the ten seconds of cranial agony. The reverberating pain subsided as his head cleared. He exhaled relief and shook his head free of the strange and surprising pain.

  He was able to decipher the words coming over the comm unit.

  “… ‘and the truth shall make you free’ is the motto of Langley. We think that’s Ezra’s next target,” Xander grasped the gist and considered the hypothesis.

  “Ezra mentioned in the Compound that truth is the cure to the disease of lies. But there aren’t deities or a time component as the first and third lines of the clue indicates,” he explained.

  “We are going to send a team in,” Hardy updated.

  “Understood but still brainstorm. I’m not convinced,” Xander explained.

  “You got it. Keep you posted.” The comm unit went silent.

  Xander gathered himself for a moment and rubbed the sides of his head, shaking off the remnants of the migraine. He then turned on his heel and returned to the table.

  “The White House is sending a team to Langley,” he updated the operatives. Seamus jumped at the lead.

  “Well let’s go…” Xander raised a calming hand.

  “No… they’re missing something. We need deities and time…frozen time…”

  They racked their brains for as many references to Greek gods in the city.

  “There is Roman and Greek art all over the city,” Ashton offered.

  “How are we supposed to know, we are never home!” Seamus exclaimed. “Where are six Gods depicted. Maybe an exhibit at the National Museum of Art?” he asked the group.

  “No.” Xander pulled them back off the wrong path. He thought harder but nothing came. Being stumped was a lonely and disconcerting position for him.

  Xander plopped down on a crate and focused on the space between his feet. His mind trailed over to Fiona.

  What does Ezra want with her? Why call her out other than to expose me?

  The team continued their muted theories only the distant sound of Jeopardy questions could be heard.

  “JFK, J. Edgar Hoover and Ronald Reagan each had this posthumous honor.” The TV sounded in the distance.

  “What is lying in state?” Tobias answered on the other side of the hanging plastic sheet. Seamus’s eyes widened as if he had opened a treasure chest.

  “Lying in state…” Seamus thought aloud. Without providing an explanation, Seamus darted for the van.

  “Get in!” He yelled as he fired it up. Xander and Ashton confused but willingly piled into the van. Seamus glanced back from the steering wheel at his passengers as he punched the van in drive.

  “Six deities… It’s the Capitol Rotonda.”

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Mac’s fingers tapped on the keyboard as command line screens flashed long, complex scripts. Square windows populated throughout the monitors suspended before him.

  “This security is a little tricky…” Mac muttered to himself over his work. Then, he heard something from the coffee table.

  “Don’t worry about it, I got it,” Mac’s fingers froze, hovering over the keyboard.

  “You got what?” Mac’s chin hit his shoulder as he asked behind him.

  “Azir, on camera buying the phone from a Bethesda souvenir shop.” Mac spun out of his chair and joined Cusick over the laptop. To his amazement, Cusick had done it.

  “You cracked that in an hour?”

  “It helps if you have been in the NANPA before. I just had to track it to the phone manufacturer, traced the shipment to the retailer and fast forwarded to a week ago when it was purchased. Luckily this rickety shop keeps good inventory records. I was able to trace the product number to the time of purchase. The shop keeps their data on the cloud, I have a buddy who lets me remote into certain server farms.” Cusick backed from his computer and glanced up at his cocky apprentice like an older brother would. Mac’s face grew red as his mouth dropped further.

  “Do we have a street camera?” Mac tried to shake off his bewilderment. Cusick’s fingers rolled gracefully over the keyboard, a different approach to the pounding method that Mac used. After punching a final command, a street feed came up showing a large industrial truck parked outside of the store. A large decal covered the side of the truck. The logo read ‘Hyman Seafood’. The feed played out and Azir hopped in the passenger seat.

  Mac and Cusick smiled as they focused on the driver side. Mac jumped up to the whiteboard and found the name Mohammad Azir. He drew a plus sign and then a question mark next to it.

  “Azir isn’t driving that van which means he brought the contagion to DC in that truck with someone else.” Mac then wrote out the words, “Hyman Seafood” on the board.

  “We need to find that truck. It’s somewhere here in the city,” Mac concluded, but Cusick offered a further thought.

  “That’s not all… Seafood has to be transported in the cold… That’s not any truck – it’s a freezer truck, Mac. They’re keeping the bacteria on ice.”

  Chapter 22

  US Capitol Building

  8:45AM

  “The Apotheosis of Washington” Seamus explained as they passed into the Capitol Rotunda. They melded with the tourists in their casual wear, blending into the environment. Xander sported the same camera-filled glasses he wore in Geneva to provide the Situation Room with a vantage point. Seamus acted as a tour guide to Ashton, Xander, and th
e Situation Room watching over the monitors. The ornate Rotunda of the Capitol towered over them.

  The Spartans’ heads cocked back to observe the high arching dome depicting a heavenly scene of George Washington sitting amongst thirteen maidens and other symbolic figures. This central image did not concern Xander as he directed their eyes to the perimeter of the dome. There were six isolated representations, lining its frame.

  “War is represented by Columbia, Science by Minerva, Marine by Neptune, Commerce by Mercury, Mechanics by Vulcan and Agriculture by Ceres,” Seamus read from a tour guide pamphlet he had snagged. Looking up from the pamphlet, he eyed Xander. “I give you six deities.”

  “Let’s search the room for the infected,” Ashton suggested and, so she and Seamus fanned out.

  Xander did not move though. Rather, his eyes fell from the dome and surveyed the floor. The room revolved around him – his roaming eye inspected the passing tourists.

  Alright we have our deities… where is the time component…

  His eyes searched the large oil paintings on the wall.

  “Declaration of Independence, Surrender of Lord Cornwallis, Baptism of Pocahontas…” He identified the paintings lining the walls.

  Xander rotated on his heel as he surveyed the marble statues, standing tall on the Rotunda floor.

  Lincoln, Reagan, Garfield, Washington…

  “There are no clocks, no depiction of time anywhere…” Xander spoke aloud. He stopped his revolutions and closed his eyes. He reviewed what he had seen – images of the paintings, statues and tourists. After the introspective moment, a disappointing conclusion came to mind.

  “There’s no clue here.”

  The Spartans returned to Xander, after searching for any signs of sick visitors.

  “No one appears to be sick,” Ashton reported.

  “It’s gotta be here somewhere…” Seamus clung to the hope that he had solved the clue.

  “It’s crowded, at the heart of our government and responsible for the lies he has referred to. Is this not the center of Congress? What better target than this?” Ashton countered.

  “The riddle points to a clue, not the target,” Xander passively declared with a distant certainty.

  “What? There are six deities right above us, it fits perfectly,” Seamus argued, unwilling to surrender his theory to Xander’s doubt.

  “Frozen in time, the rhyme read. There is no clock here. There is no time in the Rotunda, not in the paintings, statues, it’s nowhere. There are only references to eternity. Six deities guarding two sets of three, people don’t guard from above, they guard doorways. He’s too precise to have any loose ends.” Xander’s eyes found something that plunged his mind into a tailspin of theories. The walls encasing the rotunda were lined with columns that triggered a recollection.

  “Of course,”

  A snapshot memory materialized before him. The building on his mind was long and white, topped with an arching roof. Three American Flags stood before it and behind the flag poles six white columns that stood up against the front façade of the building. Atop the columns were six statues of Greek gods.

  After a flurry of thought, his mind came to a screeching halt as it finally met certainty. He opened his eyes and faced Seamus and Ashton.

  “The clue is at Union Station.”

  Chapter 23

  Stacey Chapman’s Apartment

  South DC

  9:15 AM

  Stacey Chapman’s hearing finally came to her and she awoke to the blaring sound of her alarm clock. She sat upright in bed and rubbed her eyes. Her head pounded and then the lump in her throat seized her.

  She coughed a brutal series of hacks. The phlegm in her chest ripped from its hold and mucus came to the back of her throat. She swallowed the thick wad down and grimaced in disgust as her insides oozed.

  She searched the room for her phone and after moments of taking in her surroundings, she found it on her bedside table – the alarm still blaring from it. She wasn’t sure how long it had been running. Her weak hand plopped down on the table and snatched up her phone. She instinctually silenced the alarm and then rubbed her eyes again to bring her vision together. She then gathered her focused on the digital clock on the phone.

  It read 9:15AM.

  “Oh no, oh no, oh no!” She burst out of her bed sheets and ran to her closet. Flinging the door open, she found her military formals and tore them off the hangar. A minute later, she bolted out of her apartment grabbing her work bag on the way out.

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Seamus slammed on the brakes and parked alongside Union Station. Getting out of the van quickly, their eyes lifted to the columns, marking the building’s entrance. They scanned the six deities and found Apollo, a cloaked god holding a scroll. A large inscription was chiseled into the stone next to him, high on the station’s structural face.

  SWEETENER OF HUT AND OF HALL

  BRINGER OF LIFE OUT OF NAUGHT

  FREEDOM O FAIREST OF ALL

  THE DAUGHTERS OF TIME AND THOUGHT

  MAN'S IMAGINATION HAS CONCEIVED ALL

  NUMBERS AND LETTERS ALL TOOLS VESSELS

  AND SHELTERS - EVERY ART AND TRADE ALL

  PHILOSOPHY AND POETRY - AND ALL POLITIES

  THE TRUTH SHALL MAKE YOU FREE

  “The truth shall make you free…” Xander repeated the last line of the etched quote.

  “Definitely in the right place,” Ashton updated.

  “Is that the clue?” The remnants of the commuter rush brushed past them as their gaze remained elevated to the heights of the Apollo statue.

  “I don’t think so…there are no two sets of three, it’s just a row of six, no division amongst them. Look for references to time in the station,” he replied.

  Guarding two sets of three… They are physically guarding the doors. The clue must be in the station.

  Xander walked toward the front door, while Seamus and Ashton fanned out to either wing of the station. Upon passing through the doorway, he walked into the main terminal which had an expansive arched ceiling towering overhead.

  With golden octagonal indentations lining the arch, the regality of the station was apparent. The floor space was wide and open, filled with echoing footsteps from the bustling crowds of people that passed through. Xander headed east and spun as he surveyed all 360 degrees of his position.

  “I don’t see anything out of the ordinary over here,” Ashton updated in his comm, west of his position.

  “Nothing yet for me” Seamus mentioned, “Could be up near the shops.” Xander remained silent and focused on his surroundings. He found himself walking in the shoes of a mass murderer, trying to run a psychoanalysis on Ezra.

  It would be out of the way, untampered for days. Yet it would blend in enough for everyone to not notice it unless they were looking for it.

  He passed a decorated wall and progressed into the next chamber. He stopped for a moment and consulted his snapshot of five paces back. The decoration was odd, for it was displayed in two sets of three. He searched his memory.

  That was not there the last time I was here.

  He returned to the wall and marveled at what he knew was the clue to Ezra’s next target. But then a wide-sweeping feeling of bewilderment chilled him to the bone.

  But what does it mean?

  Frozen in time. Answer this ticking rhyme.

  Chapter 24

  The Compound

  9:45 AM

  Fiona began pacing before Ezra’s cell. He remained motionless and completely in control, despite the aggression she carried in her step. Fiona had no ideas about the riddle he had given them but realized that she could coax other clues from him. It was the only way to help her husband from her position.

  I have the biggest clue to the cure in front of me. I need to break him. I can’t just torture it out him, he’s too good for that. But I could start playing the role of his student… Let him teach me things… Gain insight into his mind.

  She remembered wh
at Xander had told her before he left. Don’t let him in… But if I don’t, he won’t let his guard down. I can’t just sit here and wait for him to take over the city.

  She grabbed the back of a chair and slowly dragged it across the Compound floor. It let out a harrowing shriek, but she did not speed up. She took her time, letting the awful sound shake Ezra up from his meditative state. Finally, after reaching the glass cell she dropped the back of the chair and casually took a seat right in front of the glass. After a moment of squaring him up and drawing his eyes to her’s, she began.

  “Why me?” she asked plainly with a gentle inflection. “I’m enjoying civilian life, baking pies and you had to come along and ruin my cover.”

  Ezra paused for a moment as if to consider whether he was going to engage in conversation. “Don’t lie to me… we both know you weren’t enjoying life on the other side.”

  “Okay… I’ll grant you that. Being a housewife is not as exciting as being one of the US government’s best kept secrets. But my question still stands, why me?” she asked again.

  “Because you have a different perspective, now that you’re on the other side. Because you’ve escaped the mental confines of Project Sparta. Your mind is free.” His head rested in his hands as he talked.

  “What do you know that I don’t, Ezra?” It was the first time she had used his name, attempting to connect personally with him.

  This question seemed to pierce Ezra’s hard exterior. He lifted his head from his hands and straightened up.

  “I know that a government that preaches truth, freedom and liberty but then hides ten sixteen-year-old prodigy recruits in an underground bunker is hiding more than just a black ops program.” His candor knocked her breath out, but only because it made logical sense.