The Navigator (The Apollo Stone Trilogy Book 1)

by P. M. Johnson

  Komatsu started to speak, but Linsky held up his hand to silence him.

  “Dr. Komatsu, you were Dr. Chambers’ lead assistant. Together you made remarkable strides forward, but since his death and your elevation to project manager all progress has ground to a halt. Furthermore, the quality assurance team has been unable to reproduce any of the results from prior experiments. Something is very wrong, Dr. Komatsu, and I need you to find out what it is, immediately.”

  Dr. Komatsu nervously scratched the black and gray stubble on his chin. “Colonel Linsky, my team and I are working round the clock to determine what is wrong,” he offered, his voice thin and uncertain. “We share your concern about the lack of progress and with the difficulties the QA department is experiencing. But I must say if they have followed the protocols to the letter, there should be no reason why the tests should fail.”

  Linsky dropped the report onto his desk and leaned forward. “Dr. Komatsu. I don’t think you comprehend the gravity of the situation.” He tapped the report with his right index finger. “This project is of the highest significance. We have a schedule to maintain and it cannot be extended. As you are aware, there are many interdependencies between this and other efforts, and our failure to deliver a fully functional product on time will lead to a cascade of failures of massive proportions. Lives are at stake, doctor. The survival of our nation is at stake.”

  “Y-Yes, I understand,” stammered Komatsu.

  Linsky pointed his finger at the scientist. “I certainly hope so,” he said, through clenched teeth. “Because if you fail to complete this project you’ll be lucky to be swinging a pick in a mining development. It’s more likely you’ll spend your final days in a dark cell, in a dark prison, awaiting a dark fate.”

  Komatsu’s face grew pale. He swallowed. Then, after a moment he said, “May I offer a suggestion?”

  “You may.”

  “I think we should examine the item.”

  “That’s been done,” replied Linsky.

  “We haven’t taken it out of the chamber and physically examined it,” responded Komatsu. “We’ve only checked it with diagnostic systems.”

  “You’re suggesting we take it out of the suspension chamber? That hasn’t been done in years. What if it engages unexpectedly and we lose it?”

  Komatsu leaned forward and placed his hands on the edge of the colonel’s desk. “But it’s the only variable which has not been triple checked. If you want to deliver our product on time, I fear we must take that risk.”

  Linsky threw Komatsu a threatening look. The scientist removed his hands from the desk and took a step back. Then the SPD colonel leaned back and looked at the ceiling as he considered Komatsu’s recommendation. Time was running short, and he knew that if the project failed he would be in the cell next to Komatsu’s.

  “Very well,” he said, returning his attention to the scientist. “How much time do you need?”

  “Not much. Two hours at the most.”

  “Do it. Report back as soon as you know anything.”

  “Yes sir.”

  Komatsu spun on his heel and quickly exited the office.

  Chapter 24

  The delivery truck raced through the red light and smashed into the rear quarter panel of the SPD patrol car, sending it spinning toward the far curb. Before the car came to rest, a woman and two men jumped out of the truck and ran toward the car, pistols held out in front of them. When they reached the car they tried to open the doors, but they were locked. The woman peered through the driver’s window and saw that the driver and the passengers were disoriented but moving. She signaled to one of the men, who placed a small device on the handle of the right rear door. The explosion that followed was small but sufficient to cause the door to open.

  One of the men reached in and pulled Logan out of the car. Logan looked around him, confused. His head felt like it was spinning and he had trouble maintaining his balance. One of the men unlocked his handcuffs and guided him through the intersection toward the delivery truck. Logan looked to his right and saw the traffic had stopped and people were gawking at the events unfolding at the crash scene.

  When they got to the delivery truck, the woman said to one of the men, “Get him in the back.”

  Logan shook his head. “No, wait,” he said. “We need to get something from the guard who sat next to me.”

  “What is it?” she asked.

  “A medallion. I need it.”

  “Why? Why do you need it?” she asked urgently.

  “I don’t know yet, but I’m sure I need it.” He looked at the woman, recognizing her from the library.

  The woman looked back at the patrol car. A fire had started in the engine. The guard who had been seated next to Logan stumbled out of his seat, dazed, and slowly drew his pistol.

  “Too late,” said the woman. “Let’s go.”

  Logan pushed the woman aside and bolted toward the patrol car. The SPD officer fired two shots at Logan as he raced forward. The officer was about to shoot a third time but a bullet from the woman’s gun found its mark. He fell to his knees, then slumped to the ground.

  Logan ran to the dying man, who clutched his chest in a vain attempt to stop the bleeding. Logan looked in his eyes and saw the terror. He reached into the man’s coat pocket and pulled out the medallion. The man grabbed hold of Logan’s arm and tried to prevent him from getting away, but his strength had left him. Logan pulled himself free and ran back to the truck. As they drove away, the SPD driver stepped out of the burning vehicle and fired a few shots, hitting the back of the truck but doing no serious damage.

  “After you drop us off, take the truck to the river and leave it there,” said the woman to the driver. “No time to hide it.”

  Logan looked at the woman sitting in the front passenger seat. “I remember you from the library. You showed me the book in the reserve section.”

  She nodded.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “You can call me Attika,” she replied. Then she said in a cold, measured tone. “Now that introductions are over, if I tell you to do something, you’d better make goddamn sure you do it. I just shot a man because you failed to listen to me. Never, ever do that again.”

  Logan returned Attika’s stare for a moment, then turned to the dark-haired man sitting next to him. The man looked at him, stone faced. “I recognize you from the banner race,” said Logan. “What happened to your two lady friends?”

  “You don’t need to talk to him,” said Attika.

  Logan shrugged and looked forward, but the man continued to watch Logan, his hand resting on the grip of an automatic pistol.

  The driver made a sharp turn, nearly overturning the unwieldy truck. He made several more turns until they had left the main roads and ducked into a residential neighborhood of squat gray apartment buildings. He brought the truck to a sudden stop, and Attika, Logan and the other man got out. The driver stepped on the gas and drove away just as Attika slammed her door shut.

  “This way,” said Attika. She ran toward a cluster of trees on the edge of a small grassy area. As they approached, a parked car flashed its lights twice. She veered toward the car, opened the back door and indicated for Logan and the other man to get in. Then she got in the front passenger seat.

  Attika looked in the back seat and then at Lena, who was sitting behind the steering wheel. “I see we’ve picked up an unexpected guest,” she said, nodding her head at Cap who was already in the back seat. “You weren’t supposed to pick this one up.”

  “I’ll vouch for him,” said Lena, shooting Cap a warning look in the rearview mirror as she spoke. She put the car in gear and pulled away from the curb.

  Attika looked at Cap as she spoke to Lena. “Okay, but he’s your problem if this all goes to shit.”

  “Who are you people?” demanded Logan. “Where the hell are you taking us?”

  Attika looked out the front windshield and replied, “Isn’t it enough that you’re not on your
way to a detention center and months of interrogation, followed by a lifetime of working on a frontier development?”

  “No, it’s not enough. What’s going on?” demanded Logan.

  Attika turned and looked at the two young men sitting in the back seat. “You may not like it but you’re going to have to trust me. We’re trying to get you out of the Capitol District to somewhere safe. I know you have a million questions, but here is the main thing you need to focus on. You are fucked. And not just a little bit fucked. You’re massively fucked. And you already know why. You asked questions you weren’t supposed to ask, and you learned things you weren’t supposed to know. It’s as simple as that.”

  Logan scoffed and was about to reply when Lena suddenly slowed down and pulled over to the side of the road as an SPD patrol car came up from behind. It raced by, lights flashing but no siren. Lena checked that no more patrol cars were coming and proceeded down the road.

  Attika watched as the flashing blue lights disappeared ahead of them and continued speaking. “Those guys in the patrol car are looking for you so they can take you to a detention center outside the wall. And I can guarantee you that it would be just the first stop on a long string of unpleasant destinations.”

  She turned her attention to Cap and said, “And although I wouldn’t have invited you along, you’re lucky you’re here.”

  “I don’t feel very lucky,” replied Cap.

  “Well, you are. Your association with Brandt would have been a permanent black mark on your record. You would have spent the rest of your life on the margins, an outsider looking in. No more piloting advanced fighters for you. Your future would have consisted of recurring surprise background checks, denied security clearances, and no advancement. By age forty, you’d have settled into a comfortable rut pushing a broom in some old garage and drinking cheap liquor.”

  “I see Lena has briefed you on me and Cap,” said Logan. “That’s what you say our future would have been if you hadn’t intervened, and maybe you’re right. But how are you going to help keep it from happening, and, more importantly, why are you going to help?”

  Attika looked out the front window again and scanned for SPD vehicles as she responded. “Good questions, but I don’t have any answers. I’ve got instructions to get you out at all costs. You can ask why later, if you make it out alive.”

  “Who gave you the instructions?” asked Cap.

  Attika didn’t respond.

  Logan considered what Attika had said. He knew his reluctance to cooperate had put him on a collision course with the SPD. He hadn’t intended to make trouble, but something in his brain just refused to happily go along with whatever the SPD demanded. This was not a new phenomenon. While growing up, his mother often chastised him for being willful and stubborn, often to his own detriment. She’d say despite all his “smarts” he had a few loose wires that needed fixing. Maybe she was right – maybe he had a fatal flaw that kept him from getting with the program. Cap recognized it too. He recalled what his friend had said in the café. What rational adult sabotages a promising career over some riddles and a plaster bust?

  Logan looked at Cap, who was sitting next to him. He felt a pang of guilt at the thought of Cap not being able to live his dream of flying fighter jets. It’s all he’d wanted to do since he was a kid. He’d suffered through four years of academy education just so he could get in the cockpit of a fast plane. Now it was all gone.

  Logan’s thoughts were interrupted by the sound of multiple sirens in the distance.

  “They’ll be putting up roadblocks at major intersections,” Attika said to Lena. “Get off this street.”

  Lena turned off the wide boulevard and picked her way along a roughly parallel course on narrow side streets.

  After a few minutes, Attika asked Lena, “Did you bring it?”

  Lena nodded. “Just before they got there. It was close, but no one saw me.”

  Suddenly an SPD patrol car raced across the intersection in front of them, blue lights flashing. Lena hit the brakes. The patrol car honked its horn and swerved to avoid colliding with them.

  “That was too close,” said Lena. She exhaled and drove on, resisting the urge to speed.

  After a few more minutes, they turned into a dark alley that ran between a series of three- and four-story brick buildings. Lena parked the car behind a large garbage bin and they all got out.

  Speaking to the dark-haired man, Attika said, “I’ll take it from here. Get out of sight and be careful.”

  The short but powerfully built man nodded. Then he gave Logan and Cap a warning look and held up a cautionary finger. “Don’t get this woman killed or I’ll come for you and cut your throats.” He turned and jogged down the alley into the darkness.

  Attika pounded on the metal door next to the garbage bin. Nothing happened. She pounded again. Still no response. She prepared to pound again when the door flew open. A short, fat, balding man peered out at them from the threshold.

  “Stop making so much fuckin’ noise and get in here!” he said. He looked up and down the alleyway as they filed passed him. Once inside, they waited for the man, who closed the door behind them and slid the heavy bolt into place.

  “This way,” he breathed as he squeezed his bulk past them.

  They followed him until they reached a room that had probably been a kitchen at one time but was now some kind of workshop. They gathered around a table in the middle of the room.

  “You didn’t tell me the SPD would be on your ass,” said the fat man in a voice equal parts anger and fear. Logan raised an eyebrow when the scent of alcohol reached his nose.

  “Risks of the trade,” responded Attika. “We’ll need two more visas now, plus IDs. I’ll pay triple the agreed price.”

  Attika looked at Lena, who was clearly surprised by what she had heard. The older woman said, “You too. It’s time you got out.”

  The man placed both hands on top of his head and pulled his sparse greasy hair. “Three visas? Three fucking visas? It’s hard enough to do one in the time you’re giving me, but three? The IDs I can do, but not the visas. Not possible. Not fucking possible!”

  Attika looked at her watch. “You’ve got forty-five minutes.”

  “No. I won’t do it,” said the man, folding his arms across his chest. “I’m not a magician. It can’t be done, so you’d better get the hell out of here. Figure some other way to get out of the District.”

  “I thought you were the best,” said Attika.

  “I am,” replied the man. “But there are limits. I’d have to cut a lot of corners to finish three IDs with visas in forty-five minutes. And that means the chances of these three zits being caught go up, way up. And how long do you think these pussy-ass pole suckers will stand up to SPD interrogation? About a nanosecond. Then it’s bye-bye freedom, hello firing squad for yours truly.”

  Attika pulled a pistol out of her coat pocket and placed it on the table with the barrel pointed toward the man. “You will give me three visas and you will do it in forty-five minutes.”

  “Or what?” he asked. “You’ll shoot me? You’re not the shooting kind.”

  She stared into the man’s eyes for a moment. “Don’t cross me on this one. You’re doing this job, even if I have to put a slug in your leg.”

  The forger looked at Attika and then at the gun. “All right. Fuck it, I’ll do it. Under fucking protest, but I’ll do it. But they’re not going to get past a close check.” He looked at the three young people. “Avoid visa officers, okay kiddies? Their scanners will pick these fakes out right away. Try to limit any inspections to visual only.”

  “Do your best,” Attika said as she returned the gun to her pocket.

  “Okay,” said the forger as he clapped his hands together and rubbed them. “Which of you little shits is first?”

  Chapter 25

  Linsky slammed the phone down, his face red with rage. Brandt had been freed, Caparelli was missing, and the bust Chambers had gone to so much effort t
o smuggle out of the lab had not been located at the apartment.

  A knot began to form in his stomach. He picked up the phone and dialed a number. “Komatsu, what’s the status on the item?”

  “I was just about to call you.” Komatsu spoke in a quivering voice, “It’s a fake. I don’t know how it happened, but there’s no doubt.”

  “Fake? Impossible!” insisted Linsky. “It’s been locked in the containment field and kept in isolated suspension for years. No one could have touched it without setting off every alarm in the building.”

  “As I said, I don’t know how it happened, but there’s no escaping the truth,” said Komatsu. “The Apollo Stone is gone.”

  “I want a full report of your findings within the hour. I’m sending Security Chief Kassick down to the lab. I want to know who did it, how it was done, and when!”

  He hung up and immediately dialed a number. “This is Colonel Linsky. Instruct C-Comm to implement a full lockdown of the Capitol District until further notice. We are looking for two highly dangerous foreign agents. Logan Brandt and Michael Caparelli. I will transmit their details shortly. No one gets in or out of the city without explicit SPD approval.”

  He hung up and placed the phone on his desk. He stood and paced a few times across the room, angrily and loudly cursing Chambers and Brandt. After venting his anger somewhat, he stopped and looked at the phone. He had to make one more phone call before going to C-Comm to assume control of the search for the fugitives. He dialed a number. After a moment he said, “This is Colonel Linsky. Put me through to Guardian Bishop.

  Chapter 26

  The forger had gone into one of the side rooms to prepare the documents, cursing loudly and freely as he worked. Lena went out to the car and returned with the backpack from the banner race. She pulled the bust out and placed it in the middle of the table.

  “How did you get the backpack out of the apartment?” asked Logan in a surprised voice.