by Alex Siegel
He sprinted through the building as fast as his short legs would carry him. There were only a few FBI agents in back, so he headed in that direction. That was his best chance of escape.
The glowing red ball followed him silently.
"What are you?" Peter panted.
"I'm the friend you know as Rebecca."
"But she's a grad student in Stanford."
"Yes," the ball said, "but you've been communicating with me, not her."
He realized this alien entity had fooled him. Pretending to be somebody else on the internet was an easy trick, one he did often, but he had never thought he would be a victim. He was deeply embarrassed.
In retrospect, the trick was obvious. "Rebecca" had always seemed far too intelligent and knowledgeable for a mere grad student, or any human for that matter. Her insights had literally come from out of this world.
Peter reached a back door and looked out through the glass at a rear parking lot. Two FBI agents in body armor were standing there. Slipping past them was impossible.
He crouched down fearfully.
* * *
Marina, Ipo, and Hanley arrived in the server room. They spread out with their guns in hand, but Ice Crusher seemed to be gone.
"Damn it," Marina muttered.
She found his secret room though. The back wall of a supply closet was actually a door, and it had been left open. The white, cubical chamber beyond had a computer desk, a narrow bed, a dresser, a toilet, and other essentials, but it lacked a shower. The simple accommodations reminded her of a monk's cell. A strong scent of body odor indicated he had been living here for a long while.
Ipo and Hanley joined her and looked around.
"The infamous matching computer must be one of those." Marina pointed at a tall rack of computers in the corner. "Everything in here is evidence. We'll take as much as we can back to headquarters. Now we just need the most important piece: Ice Crusher himself."
"Let me check the video," Hanley said.
He went to retrieve his phone, and she followed him. She and Ipo crowded around as Hanley replayed the recording from a moment ago. The small screen on his phone displayed the video in bright colors.
Marina's eyes widened when she saw a ball of red light floating above Ice Crusher's head.
"What the hell is that?" Hanley said as he froze the playback.
"An enemy of the Lord," she replied grimly.
"Really? I never thought... I mean..."
"You didn't believe us?"
"It sounded so ridiculous." He stared at the image. "That's real? My God..."
"This investigation just became a full-scale mission," Marina said. "All evidence must be erased, and Ice Crusher must be killed. We must wipe the stain clean."
"Yes, ma'am!" Ipo said. "Where do we start?"
She looked at the bomb on the floor of the hallway. Before the night was out, she would detonate it, but a few other tasks came first.
"Finding Ice Crusher will be a pain. This is a big building, and he knows the best places to hide. He could be in another secret room. With the FBI outside, he's trapped, so let's ignore him for a moment and collect evidence first."
"But we already know an enemy of God is involved."
"Yes," Marina said, "but we still have many questions, and the crap in Ice Crusher's secret room might answer a few of them. I'd like to know his real name for one, and if he's working with anybody else. Let's get to work."
* * *
"Who are you? Why are you helping me?" Peter demanded.
"You're a useful tool," Rebecca said in a voice that seemed to come from nowhere. "You can still be productive for me despite today's failure."
"But who are you?"
The ball didn't respond.
Peter frowned. "At least tell me how to get by those FBI agents."
The two agents in the parking lot were standing guard attentively. Clearly, their job was to keep somebody like Peter from escaping.
"Use a termination sequence to kill them," Rebecca said.
"Huh? Coming up with a termination sequence takes weeks of research and computer analysis. You have to know the target's background, his secrets, and his psychological makeup. You have to find the soft spots in his mind. You should know. You taught me how to do it. I've never even met these guys and don't know a thing about them. How am I supposed to kill them with words?"
"I'll help you. Prepare to receive a gift."
"A what?" Peter said.
The ball grew brighter and dived at him. Suddenly, his head was inside the red fog, and he couldn't see a thing.
Then came horrible, excruciating, intolerable pain. Peter wanted to die, but all he could do was twitch and drool. Rebecca was crawling around inside his mind like a centipede with needle-sharp legs. She was making changes, and she wasn't being gentle about it. He was helpless to stop her.
The torment ended abruptly. He vomited until nothing was left in his stomach, and he peed in his pants. There was a loud ringing in his ears.
Peter wiped his mouth with his sleeve. "What did you do to me?" he said in a hoarse voice.
"Talk to those men," Rebecca said, "and you'll find out. I must go. Spending so much time here is dangerous for me."
The ball of red light faded away. He was left staring at the empty spot where it had been.
He wondered if he were hallucinating or on drugs. It was hard to believe the last few minutes had actually happened. Something in his brain had certainly changed though. It felt like Rebecca had left a nasty little piece of herself behind.
Peter walked outside on legs that wobbled like soft rubber. Cool night air refreshed him a little, but he was still worried about falling over. The whole world seemed cockeyed. He wondered when he would feel normal again, if ever.
The two federal agents noticed him immediately.
"Hey!" one yelled. "Why aren't you with the others? Get over here."
He was tall and strongly built, and he held his submachine gun with confidence. His brown hair was cut short in a military style. Peter walked towards him.
"Were you hiding inside?" the agent said.
Peter looked into the man's brown eyes and saw something very strange. It was like Peter could see the mental clockwork behind the eyes. Spinning gears, bobbing weights, and springs formed an abstract representation of a human mind. Peter could also see where the machinery was vulnerable. Breaking one key piece would send the whole contraption flying apart.
The termination sequence. It's so obvious.
"Four wheels in the air," he said. "Burnt garlic bread. A dog barking in an empty room without food or water. An old man slipping on some marbles left on a staircase."
The agent stared with wide eyes, and his face was locked in an expression of horror. He drew his sidearm, placed the muzzle against his temple, and pulled the trigger. Blood and brains sprayed into the night sky. The loud gunshot made Peter jump.
The second FBI agent ran over with his gun drawn.
"What happened?" he bellowed at Peter. "Did you kill him? Hands in the air!"
Peter looked into the man's eyes. "A small, dark space behind a water heater. Your mother crawling away and dragging a broken leg. Blood mixed with broken glass. A jar full of pennies on top of the refrigerator."
Peter was smiling as he jogged away with his precious backpack on his back. He didn't need to see what would happen next. When he heard another gunshot, he didn't even look.
Thank you, Rebecca, he thought. You're my best friend, even if I don't know what you are.
* * *
The fan noise from all the computers was giving Marina a headache. She didn't understand how anybody could work for more than ten minutes in this frigid, noisy environment.
"We got enough," she said. "Let's get out of here."
The team had found two plastic carts normally used to transport equipment. Now the carts were fully loaded with the contents of Ice Crusher's secret chamber. The evidence ran the gamut from clothes to old pho
tos to mysterious technical gadgets. The team had also pulled out several computers from the rack.
"We'll try to sneak out the back," Marina added. "There are only a few FBI agents on that side. Ipo, get the van and bring it around. Hurry."
"Yes, ma'am." Ipo ran off.
She grabbed the handle of an evidence cart and pushed it out of the server room. Hanley followed with the second cart.
Marina stopped at the bomb in the hallway. The block of C-4 was still in its duffle bag. She set the timer for twenty minutes and restarted the countdown. She also flipped a concealed switch to make it tamperproof, so if anybody tried to stop the timer, it would detonate immediately.
"You're blowing it up?" Hanley said.
She nodded. "An enemy of God was here. Fire is the best way to cleanse the stain. Come on."
She pushed her cart, and he followed with his.
"What about Ice Crusher?" he said. "He's probably still in the building."
"I would prefer to capture him alive and interrogate him, but if the bomb takes him out, that's almost as good. This place will be a fitting crematorium for him."
"And what about the FBI agents and the employees? Innocents could get hurt in the explosion."
"We'll tell them to move back," she said. "We have to do this now while all the civilians are out of the building. We may not get another good opportunity later."
Marina had seen the floor plan and knew the way to the back door. She and Hanley moved briskly through the silent, white hallways. The squeaking of the cart wheels were the only noise.
They reached the glass door which led to the rear parking lot, and flashing police lights made her pause. She peered through the glass. Two police officers, two paramedics, and five FBI agents were standing in the lot. Blankets stained with fresh blood covered two corpses on the pavement.
"We need to find out what happened," Marina said, "but first, let's get the evidence into the van. Move quickly."
She held the door, and Hanley pushed both carts outside. They each took one cart and jogged into the parking lot despite the presence of witnesses. There wasn't time to be sneaky.
The blue van came around the corner. Ipo got here fast, Marina thought. Good for him.
She and Hanley picked up their pace and met the van in the middle of the parking lot away from the crowd. Ipo got out but left the engine running.
"What's going on, ma'am?" He looked towards the dead bodies and frowned.
"I'll find out," Marina said. "You have five minutes to put all the evidence in the van. The bomb is ticking."
She left her two legionnaires behind and sprinted over to where the action was taking place. Without bothering to ask for permission, she looked under the blankets. Both victims were FBI agents, and they had been shot in the temple. Powder burns indicated the killer had put the guns right against their heads. Or maybe it was suicide, she thought. One thing is clear. Ice Crusher got away.
"Hey!" an FBI agent said. "What are you doing?"
Marina glanced at the Soulfriends building and thought about the bomb. "Just tell me what happened quickly."
"We don't know. We heard gunshots and found them like this. A neighbor called the police."
She grimaced. She wanted to dig into the details and take a closer look at the bodies, but there wasn't enough time. "Listen. We saw a bomb inside the building. Make sure everybody is at least a hundred yards back. It could go off at any moment."
"A bomb?" The agent widened his eyes.
"Yes! That's what I said!"
He used his radio to warn all the FBI agents in the area. Marina was confident a hundred yards would provide an adequate safety margin. The bomb was big enough to wreck the building but not blast it to pieces.
Special Agent Christopher came sprinting out of the back door. The overhead lights reflected off his bald skull.
"You were inside?" Marina yelled. "Why?"
"I was looking for you," Christopher responded.
He joined the group, and everybody moved back to the recommended distance. The corpses were left behind, but they didn't care about the bomb.
"What's going on?" Christopher said. "Who saw a bomb?"
"I did," Marina said.
She judged it would explode in just a few more minutes. She glanced at the blue van anxiously. It appeared Ipo and Hanley had finished putting the evidence in back, and they were waiting for her to join them.
"First I lose two guys," Christopher said angrily, "and now there's a bomb. I demand an explanation."
Marina smiled apologetically. "Sorry. I have to be going. We'll talk later." She took a step towards the van.
"No way." He lunged forward and grabbed her arm. "I don't care if Director Felt fires me. I'm done putting up with your bullshit. We'll talk now."
She looked down at his hand. She knew a hundred painful ways to force him to release her, but she restrained herself.
"I wish I could tell you the truth, but the rules forbid it. You're simply not authorized. I'm very sorry about your men. I promise the killer will be caught and punished."
Marina looked at the van again. Ipo and Hanley had climbed inside, and they were driving it to the far side of the parking lot, far from the impending explosion.
"I don't want promises," Christopher said. "I want answers."
The bomb detonated earlier than she had expected, or maybe she had just lost track of time. Orange light filled the interior of the building, and all the windows shattered at once. First came a loud bang followed by a deeper roar as pressure equalized. As she had anticipated, the building mostly stayed in one piece.
A choking noise drew Marina's attention back to Christopher. A triangular piece of glass was embedded in his throat, and blood was pouring out of the wound. He would be dead in a moment.
"Shit," she muttered.
She ran to the blue van while everybody else was still distracted by the explosion. She opened up the side door and jumped inside. Ipo was in the driver's seat.
"Go!" she yelled.
The van squealed away, and she was thrown violently backwards. She fought to get into her chair.
Ipo was an expert driver, and they made a clean getaway. A few minutes later, they were cruising down an avenue at a more reasonable speed in the direction of headquarters.
Hanley was in the passenger's seat up front. "What happened, ma'am?" he said excitedly.
Marina gave him a quick summary.
He sighed with sadness. "I feel bad about Christopher. That's terrible luck."
"It wasn't any kind of luck." She shook her head. "It was God teaching me a lesson."
"What do you mean?"
She looked out the side window. The city lights were hypnotic, or maybe she was just very tired.
"Involving the FBI was a mistake," she said softly. "I knew it, and Ipo even told me so, but I was too impatient to follow the rules. Now three federal agents are dead. The Lord wanted to make damn sure I got the message by killing the third right in front of me. His blood is on my hands. Damn it!" She pounded her arm rest. "First Ethel chews me out, and now God. I am really fucking up tonight."
Nobody spoke for a long moment.
She continued in an even softer voice, "I want so much to be a great commander. I want my first mission to be a great success." She closed her eyes. "So far, it's been a comedy of errors."
"You can be great," Hanley said.
"Shut up. I don't need a pep talk from you."
Marina thought about calling Aaron, but he was probably asleep. Besides, she was too embarrassed to tell him what had happened. She stewed in silence instead.
"I'm a little confused, ma'am," Hanley said. "You told us the FBI agents were shot at extremely close range."
"The gun was right against their heads."
"I'm having a hard time visualizing that. We're talking about two well-armed and alert federal agents. There is no way a chubby geek could just walk up and shoot them."
"I know," Marina said. "It had to be s
uicide. Ice Crusher used a text message to make Bill Conway kill himself. Maybe this was similar."
Hanley shook his head. "That's even harder to believe."
"Hopefully, we'll find out the truth soon enough. Ipo, hurry up. I want to go home."
"Yes, ma'am." Ipo drove a little faster.
Chapter Twenty-four
Peter Hastings looked up at the front of a hotel which was about fifteen stories tall. The exterior was made of plain concrete, and the windows formed a regular grid. The simplicity of the architecture appealed to him. He liked unambiguous things. He adjusted his heavy backpack on his shoulders and proceeded into the lobby.
The interior of the hotel had walls covered in yellow marble panels. The floor was white marble. A Mexican man was waiting behind the front desk, and Peter walked over to him.
"Can I help you?" the clerk said.
"I need a nice room right now," Peter said.
"Of course, but you'll have to pay for tonight even though technically, it's the morning."
"Sure. I may be staying a few days."
"I'll need a credit card and a driver's license, please," the clerk said.
Peter shrugged off his backpack and plopped it on the counter. He dug into the tightly packed contents until he found a wallet. He had several wallets, each containing a full set of identification with different fake names. He gave the clerk a credit card and a matching driver's license.
The clerk began to process the transaction.
Peter was amused but tried not to show it. The hotel was taking money that had literally come from nowhere. He knew how to create millions of dollars by manipulating database entries in bank computers, and the transactions could never be traced back to him. He was a master of financial slight-of-hand. It wasn't even theft because he wasn't stealing from anybody in particular.
"Thank you," the clerk said. "Room number 929."
Peter collected his belongings and his room key, and he walked off.