When he reached the end of the hall, now with only Mirror and the Cross boy behind him, he pressed a button on the wall, and another door slid open.
“This way.” Ellison waited for the others to step through, and then he followed them inside. This new room was narrow and dimly lit with a single large window in the opposite wall, and standing at its center, was Dr. John Langer. Langer wore a different flannel shirt—it was red this morning—but he had on the same exact khaki pants and lab coat. Ellison knew they were the same because he had memorized the pattern of stains on the man’s clothing. In fact, this was the third day in a row for the pants.
“Morning, guys!” Dr. Langer started forward, holding out his hand to Jeremy. “It’s good to see you again—I mean, we met yesterday. Not sure you remember, but—”
Jeremy shook Langer’s hand. “No, I don’t. Sorry.”
“Hey—no—forget about it. No worries, right? There was a lot going—”
Ellison stepped in, ending the conversation. “This is Dr. John Langer. He’s been assigned to work with you on your powers. Doctor, I think we can get started.”
Langer was still shaking the boy's hand. “It’s just John. I mean, I am a doctor, technically, but you can call me John. I mean, John’s fine—”
Ellison tried again, “Doctor—”
“Oh right. Yeah. Let’s go. Let’s do this thing.” Langer turned and walked through another door into a second room. Jeremy followed him, and the door closed behind them both. Ellison glanced sideways at Mirror, and then he stepped to the window. He could see Langer and Jeremy on the other side of the glass in the next room.
This second room was bigger and brighter than the first, with white walls and a white tiled floor. In the back corner there was a glass table, a chair, and an open laptop—Langer’s workstation—and in the center of the floor Ellison could see a large, padded shield mounted on a thick metal framework. A pair of wires snaked down from the pad, across the floor, and disappeared into a metal socket at the base of one of the walls.
Ellison flipped up a switch next to the window, and Langer’s voice filled the narrow room, piped in over an intercom. “Subject code name: G-Force. This is baseline test one for gravitational field manipulation. All right, G. We’re all set. Whenever you’re ready, go ahead and hit the bag.”
Ellison watched as G-Force squared his shoulders to the target. Then the boy pulled back his arm and threw a half-hearted punch into the bag.
Langer typed into the laptop. “Good. Sensors are all recording. I have zero change in the gravitational field. That’s our baseline. Now go ahead and increase your gravity, and hit the bag again.”
G-Force looked over his shoulder at the scientist, and then he turned back to face the bag. He pulled in both his arms this time, standing like a boxer. He hesitated. Then he snapped out a right cross into the bag. It was slow—weak.
Langer typed into the computer again. “Okay. I’m still reading zero change in the gravitational field. Let’s go ahead and have you increase the field pretty good this next time. I want to make sure the sensors are working.”
Jeremy squared his shoulders again, ready to hit the bag, but then he dropped his hands and turned instead to Langer. “I—I guess I actually don’t know how to do that. Sorry, John.”
Langer leaned back in his chair. “You mean you—? Hey, no. That’s—that’s my fault. I just assumed because of last night—what you did—but nobody can control their abilities at first. They all start out like this. It’s a defense mechanism or something, like a flinch, but they all learn to control it. You will too. I mean, that’s why you’re here, right? Let’s just go again. Try to increase your gravity and hit the bag.”
Jeremy turned back to the bag. He raised his hands and fired a right cross.
“I still have nothing. Hit it again,” Langer said.
Ellison flipped the switch by the window, killing the intercom, as he turned away from the glass. “This whole thing’s a joke.”
Lara folded her arms across her chest. “And what else did you expect? Langer’s right. We all start out like this.”
Ellison shook his head. “I need to update the colonel. What about the boy’s psych profile? Did you get anything yet?”
“I already told you, I can’t read him like that. He’s spiked. You need to give me more time.”
“And I told you that’s not good enough!” Ellison shouted. “I’m trying to avoid a disaster here, and I need you to give me a goddamn profile! I need something I can take to the colonel that actually matters!”
Lara bristled now. “I’ve tried. What else do you want? I can’t read him like that. Period!”
“Then try again.” Ellison crossed to the door without looking back. He had told McCann this wouldn’t work. He told him exactly what would happen, and now here it was, actually happening, and there was nothing he or anyone else could do to stop it. Nothing he could say to change what was unfolding. Nothing he could—
Ellison caught himself. He was angry—he knew that—but not at Mirror. She was just an excuse. None of this was her fault.
Ellison stopped in the doorway and turned back. “Listen, I’m… Maybe we can go over his file again tonight. Together. In my quarters? We’ll see if we can find something useful.”
He reached out his hand for Mirror’s arm, but she pulled back before they could touch. “And I’m supposed to believe that’s all you want to look at, Major? Some of my files?”
Ellison straightened in the doorway. He hated when she played coy, turning his advances into some kind of game. On another day he would have told her as much, but after his outburst maybe he deserved it. Ellison swallowed his pride and tried his best to sound formal. “I’d like to see you at twenty-one hundred hours in my quarters.”
He stepped out of the room before she could answer, walking quickly toward the elevator. He didn’t have time to finish their game. There was still too much to do. For starters, he needed to talk to McCann about their newest recruit—that much was obvious now—but even the colonel would have to wait. Besides, there was nothing worth saying. Not yet anyway.
Three floors up, Ellison stepped out of the elevator into another brightly lit hallway. He was moving on autopilot now. Halfway down the hall, he turned to his left. The steel door in front of him slid open with a soft hiss of air, and Ellison stepped through into the Command Center.
Captain Reyes was the first on his feet, but the other three sitting around the conference table followed suit immediately.
Ellison answered with a half-salute. “As you were.”
They sat down, and Ellison stepped over to Reyes, lowering his voice. “What do we have this morning, Captain?”
Reyes looked up from his monitor. “We flagged a radio transmission out of Philly a couple of minutes ago. We’re still writing it up.”
“Show me.” Ellison folded his hands behind his back. Reyes punched a series of keys in quick succession, and the radio report flashed up on the screen on the far wall. Ellison scanned the words across the top: Transcript of radio traffic on Philadelphia police band.
He turned back to Reyes. “What got flagged?”
Reyes typed again, and the report scrolled up—some of the words were highlighted in bright red: 5718 Virginian Road.
Ellison looked back at the captain. “And?”
“It’s the Cross house, sir.”
Reyes typed again, the screen scrolled up, and more words were highlighted in red: Appears to be of natural cause. Make notification to the ME.
“Who was it? The mother?” Ellison kept his voice low.
“We’re not sure yet.” Reyes looked up from his screen. “We’re still trying to pull the report from the medical examiner. It hasn’t been entered yet, but there was no one else—”
Ellison raised his hand, cutting him off. He turned to the lone woman sitting at the table. “Lieutenant Smythe, airlock your station and join the base network. Request a complete copy of the G-Force file from th
e archives with a one-hour safety lock.”
“Yes, sir.” Smythe pulled the cable from the back of her laptop, plugged in a second cord, and started typing.
Ellison turned back to Reyes. “I want you to download emergency communications within two miles of the Cross house for the last twenty-four hours. Get them all to the lieutenant.”
Ellison could feel the sudden rush of energy around him—the sense that all hell was about to break loose—but none of that mattered. He was in perfect control now—the eye of the storm.
“Sir?” It was Smythe. “I have the G-Force file.”
“Cross-reference with the emergency transcripts. Run it through the search algorithm again.” Ellison’s voice was quicker now. He couldn’t help himself; they were closing in, and he knew it. They could all feel it.
“Yes. I got a hit,” Smythe answered, trying not to shout. “It’s another address: One fifty-four West Grange Avenue. It’s listed as the residence for Katherine J. Marino, a known associate of Jeremy Cross.”
Ellison turned back to Reyes, “Get that transcript up on the big screen.”
Reyes clicked at his computer. The image on the far wall scrolled up and Ellison skimmed along: 154 W. Grange Ave. A medical emergency. Person unresponsive. Possible overdose.
Ellison felt like he was holding the last piece of a jigsaw puzzle. He just had to turn it—“Where did they take her? What’s her current status?”
“Bringing it up now, sir.” Reyes typed into his laptop, scanning across the screen. “It says that Katherine Marino arrived at Einstein Medical Center at 3:12 a.m. Patient was unresponsive,” Reyes kept reading. “Efforts to revive her failed. Time of death recorded as 3:26 a.m.”
Ellison’s mind was racing. “I want both of those transcripts loaded on a tablet and backed up to a flash drive. I’ll take possession of both. I want you to pull and destroy the hard drives on all of these computers. Wipe the audio log in this room. I’m classifying this morning’s search under priority one. That means just us and the colonel have access. Are we understood?”
Everyone in the room answered, “Yes, sir.”
Ellison took a breath. He tried to center himself—to detach from the moment—to look at the facts again free from emotion. Maybe in another time, under different circumstances, the two deaths could be explained as coincidence. For Ellison, that possibility didn’t exist. He couldn’t afford the luxury of coincidence, and besides, this was too perfect—too neat.
He tried to slow down—to go through the facts again, one step at a time. To see all the angles all at once. The mother and the girlfriend were both dead. It wasn’t an accident, no matter what the police reports would say. So who were the suspects? The Red Moon would be first. They were the obvious choice. They were the group behind the attack at the mall—but they brought in Hot Shot to distance themselves from that attack. Why would they get their hands dirty now?
So was it another group? Someone like the Ryoko? Ellison shook his head. That was impossible too. The timing was too tight—a double homicide less than 24 hours after the mall attack. The Ryoko would have needed a team in place, ready to go, and even then, why would they waste the effort? So who else was left? Ellison could only think of one name—one perfect name—and he knew it from the start: Hayden.
“Sir.” Reyes stood up, breaking Ellison’s train of thought. He handed him the tablet and the flash drive.
Ellison received both with a quick nod. “Thank you, Captain.” Then he turned back to the table. “It was good work today. I’ll make sure to mention it in my report to the colonel. As for now, I need you to scrub the room, and then as you were.” Ellison saluted. Then he walked out of the command center, back into the hallway, and into the elevator.
It had to be Hayden. There was no one else. But why would he do it? Why would Hayden care if the mom and girlfriend were dead or alive? Ellison shook his head. It didn’t make sense, but then again, the why didn’t matter. Hayden did it. He was responsible. That’s what mattered.
Ellison thought about taking the information back downstairs and breaking the news to G-Force himself. Then McCann would have to do something about it. He would need to launch an investigation. He would need to—
Ellison looked down at the transcript and shook his head. It wasn’t enough—Ellison knew that—at least not yet. If he went to the colonel now, Hayden would still be left with too many outs—too many excuses. There would be too much doubt for the colonel to act. Ellison would have to wait. In the meantime, no one else could know. The transcript was a start, but now Ellison had to seal off any last chance of escape. Then Agent Hayden would hang himself.
*****
As Ellison sat in McCann’s office looking through the report on genetic anomalies he lost all track of the time. How long had he been sitting there, thumbing through the documents and photographs? Had it been an hour? Two hours, maybe? All he knew for sure about that first day at Fort Blaney was that his life was changing forever.
The file in front of him mentioned domestic surveillance protocols dating back to the 1960s, a network of secret training facilities, just like Blaney, scattered across the country, and the phrase “genetic anomaly” over and over. The sheer scope of it all made it hard to accept.
When Ellison finally closed the file, he looked across the desk at the colonel. “This reads like a comic book.”
“Christ, Stuart, you’re telling me. I’ve read through the thing three times, and I still don’t think I buy it. But here we are.” McCann reached for the intercom on his desk. “Would you please send in Special Agent Hayden and Dr. Miller?”
Ellison rose to his feet as the door behind him opened. He turned to see Hayden walk into the room, a lit cigarette dangling from his mouth.
Hayden smirked. “Major.”
Ellison bristled, but then, behind Hayden, a woman walked through the door. She was blonde, wearing a navy skirt, white blouse, and glasses—young, professional, and attractive. Ellison was impressed.
McCann made the introductions. “Major Ellison, you’ve already met Agent Hayden.”
“Yes, sir.”
“And this is Dr. Lara Miller. Dr. Miller will serve as our liaison with the genetic anomalies.”
The woman smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, but please, you can both just call me Mirror. That’s my—it’s what everyone calls me around here.”
McCann corrected himself. “Right. That was in the file. Mirror.”
Ellison looked from the woman to McCann, and then back to the woman. “You mean… You’re saying we have genetic anomalies here? At Fort Blaney?”
Mirror smiled again. “We have three. I brought their files for you to look over. I thought we could do introductions in the morning. You’ll all be working very close together.”
Ellison turned back to McCann.
The colonel leaned back in his chair and folded his hands; any frivolity in his voice was gone. “Stuart, I need this place back up and running by tomorrow morning. We need to be a functioning military base. There can be no excuses. Too much is at stake. That’s why I’ve called in Agent Hayden and Dr.—Mirror. If you have any questions, let’s get ‘em all out on the table now.”
Ellison looked across at Hayden, staring him down. “I only have one question, sir. If this is a CIA facility running a CIA program, why are they calling in the army?”
Now it was Hayden’s turn to speak; his lip curled over his snarled tooth. “That one’s easy, Major. You’re here because those three Anoms used to be four. One got away from us, and in the process he killed seventeen agents and researchers. So my bosses decided it would be easier to replace seventeen standard issue grunts like you than one agent like me. Anything else?”
*****
The elevator doors opened, and when Ellison stepped out into the hallway, his face was blank again—no emotion. He was resolved now. Hayden’s days at Fort Blaney were numbered. Ellison walked down the hallway and turned right into the soldiers’ common room.
/> “I need to see Sergeant Mandel. Now,” he barked.
The common room was mostly empty. A couple of soldiers were standing around the pool table to his right, and on the left side, four soldiers were sitting on couches arranged around a television. Mandel was one of these. He rose to his feet and followed Ellison out of the room.
They walked side by side down the hallway, Mandel matching the quicker step of the major. Neither man spoke. At the end of the hall, Ellison pressed the button for the elevator. The doors opened, and they stepped inside.
Finally Ellison turned to Mandel. “What’s your report, sergeant?”
“Yes, sir.” Mandel rubbed at his eye, and his voice sounded heavy. “I observed Agent Hayden crossing the outer perimeter of Fort Blaney at approximately 1500 hours yesterday. He returned to base between 0700 and 0730 this morning. I’ve checked in every half hour.”
“So Agent Hayden just returned?” Ellison felt his pulse start to quicken; it was all too perfect.
“Yes, sir,” Mandel answered, fighting back a yawn. “I wanted to report before I caught some rack time. I’ve been up all night with this. I was hoping you could change out my duty—”
Ellison nodded absently; he was only half-listening, his mind running three steps ahead. Hayden was AWOL last night. That much, at least, was fact. Mandel could swear to it if need be. Ellison tried to follow the rest of the trail. Hayden was AWOL. That gave him plenty of time to travel to Philadelphia and back.
Ellison turned back to Mandel. “I want you to keep a log. Write down the time Hayden goes out and the time he’s back in. Keep it on your person twenty-four hour a day. Your eyes only.”
“Yes, sir.”
“I want you to check on Agent Hayden’s location every two hours from now on. When he is off base, I want you on the perimeter. I need to know how he’s leaving base and how he’s sneaking back on. You report it all directly to me with status updates once a day.”
The elevator stopped, and the doors opened to reveal the hangar; Ellison looked out. “Why don’t you sweep the perimeter one time right now? Make it look like we came up here for a reason. Then get some rest. I want you back on this starting at 1300 hours.”
ANOM: Awakening (The ANOM Series Book 1) Page 12