by S. S. Segran
“And you must keep in mind, this bearer of darkness is unusually gifted, even for our people. So, yes, I believed that expulsion became necessary. We stripped Reyor of every possession, including the crystals, and with a single sack of sustenance, the harbinger was banished from our home.”
Tegan saw the profound grief in the Elder’s eyes. He glanced away, and when he looked back, the sadness was replaced by resentment. “Later on, it became apparent that a handful of crystals had gone missing again, and so did one of the five lathe’ad. But it was not until recently that we were able to determine for sure that it was Reyor who stole them.”
Tegan, perched on the tallest rock on the outcrop, looked down at the others. They were absorbed, trying to make sense of what had been divulged.
“So…” Aari stuck his hands into the pockets of his jacket. “All that’s happened, or will happen, is merely to reboot humanity?”
“Humanity 2.0,” Jag said.
Kody rested his elbows on his knees and steepled his fingers. “Why didn’t we know about this sooner?”
Nageau regarded the friends with such tenderness that Tegan thought her heart might give out at any time. He really has become like a grandfather.
“Because,” he said softly, “we wanted to be sure that we had sufficient evidence that proved our assumptions were correct. If you recall the Battle of Ayen’et, the only possible link we had to the harbinger at that time was this.” He held out his hand to Tikina and his mate pressed something into his palm. When the Elder held up the silver object, the five stirred and sat straighter.
“That’s the coin I found at the mining site after the fight,” Mariah said, “isn’t it?”
“It is, youngling.” Nageau gave the silver coin to the girl.
Tegan shifted closer to better see the dark symbol carved in the coin’s center as it lay in Mariah’s hand. The rune bore a loose resemblance to the letter Z with a short horizontal line crossing midway; meaning ‘destruction’, it was part of a pair of symbols that spoke of the duality in all of existence, the other of which was ‘creation’.
“Still,” Nageau continued, “that coin was not substantial proof of anything. Even so, when we sent the five of you home soon after that battle, we suppressed your memories for your own protection. We figured that if this harbinger was indeed the one behind the operation on the mountain, there would eventually be interest in you during your time with your families. It was best if you remembered nothing of your experience in Dema-Ki.”
Jag fiddled with the pendant hanging around his neck. “Guess it does explain everything that’s been going on.”
“There’s one thing that sticks out,” Tegan said. “You mentioned that the people of Dema-Ki made a leap in evolution that gave you all these abilities. How did that happen?”
Tikina responded in Nageau’s stead. “We do not know the exact details, but what we can say is that from time to time in history, certain groups within a given population have been known to take such leaps. They become recipients of a genetic code that takes their species to the next evolutionary level. All we know is that, for our people, this leap occurred within a generation or two after our ancestors, the Islanders, found the crystals in different parts of their island. Another artifact that they found during that time were the five lathe’ad.”
Tegan saw Aari’s interest suddenly spike. He’s gonna be scratching his head over this particular evolutionary leap, the dork.
“Then what about us?” Jag asked. “We have some of these abilities, too.”
Tikina leaned closer. “And that is the most important question of all. It goes to the heart of the matter. The fact that the five of you exhibit these abilities is not only a fulfilment of the prophecy, but it is also evidence that a leap in this vein of evolution is not confined to just our people. In other words, you are the proof of the fallacy of Reyor’s theory and beliefs.” She regarded the friends, her green eyes shining with emotion Tegan couldn’t decipher.
“You,” the Elder said, “are the chink in Reyor’s armor.”
10
In the passenger seat of a parked white Camaro, the wolfdog lounged in the afternoon sun, dozing. A click, followed by the driver’s door opening, made him raise his head to greet his owner. The hazel-eyed man pulled off his sunglasses. His short, dark, textured hair was neither styled nor combed, and he sported some stubble. Though he was approaching forty, there was nary a gray hair on his head and he could match the athleticism of a man half his age.
He stroked the dog between the ears. “Hey, Chief.”
Chief wagged his tail before resting his head back down. The man hooked his sunglasses onto the open neck of his faded red henley. “I can’t stand San Francisco,” he told the dog. “City’s so broke, the bylaw officers are forced to fine people for the smallest violations.” He crumpled up a small piece of paper and tossed it over his shoulder into the backseat. “I’ve fed that friggin’ meter four bucks every hour for the past day and a half. Missed the last pay by a minute and I get a stupid ticket.”
Victor Colback, the Canadian Sentry in charge of interrogating Tony Cross, had tailed the younger man since his escape from Fort McMurray, Alberta and followed him to Edmonton. Well, it’s not really an escape if it was planned, he thought. Kid’s wily. He actually knew how to get out of his cuffs with a paperclip. Good for him. And me.
In Edmonton, Victor had eavesdropped on a call that Tony made. Along with sonokinesis—the ability to harness acoustic waves and use it as a concussive force—the Sentry was equipped with the partial gift of enhanced senses that gave him acute hearing. Tony had spoken to a man named Adrian, and, with a swift glance at Phoenix Corporation’s webpage on his smartphone, Victor surmised that it was Adrian Black, the chief executive of Phoenix Corporation.
The Sentries had come to know Phoenix Corporation as a bona fide business that dealt in a broad range of industries, but underneath the legitimacy was a clandestine operation working to bring the world to its knees. The people of Dema-Ki and the five chosen ones had had multiple run-ins with the corporation and they were never friendly.
Tony had received instructions to make his way to a small airstrip just outside of Edmonton where a private plane would take him to San Francisco. He was to show up at Phoenix Corporation’s head office as soon as possible. Victor flew out with Chief after getting a flight later that morning, putting him a few hours behind his quarry.
Now the Sentry and his faithful companion sat in their rented car, parked in a public lot right across from the corporation’s offices in downtown San Francisco. The gray-colored tower was perfectly nondescript, blending in with the other tall buildings in the financial district. Busy locals and tourists flocked from one place to another, lost in their hectic, day-to-day lives.
Drizzle pattered on the windshield, taking Victor by surprise. It had been a sunny afternoon mere moments ago. He turned on the wipers. Great. If the rain picks up, Tony might not even come out at all.
He’d staked out Phoenix Corporation HQ for over thirty hours with no sleep. Tony had only left the building during the evenings for a casual stroll, then would return to the office and not come out until the following evening. Victor suspected that there was a suite in the building where the younger man was staying.
But what is he doing here? What’s he waiting for?
He needed to get in, but there was no way to get past the security detail in the lobby without an ID. He’d loitered just outside the building, listening in on the guards’ conversations, and learned that a new guard would be joining the night shift at eight p.m.
Victor reached for the coffee cup in the drink holder. Realizing it was empty, he crushed it in his fist. “I need to get some liquid energy or I’ll crash in an hour. Coming, Chief?”
The wolfdog grunted.
“No, of course you’re not. Why did I even ask?” The Sentry got out of the car and headed to a coffee stand a block away just as the drizzle ceased and the few clouds dissipated.
He put his sunglasses back on and stood in line behind a girl. When she left, he stepped forward and ordered an espresso.
“How are you doing today?” the woman behind the counter asked, flashing a smile.
“I’m good, thanks.” The Sentry reached for some change in his pocket. “And yourself?”
“I’m just fine, honey.” She cocked her head at him curiously. “I can almost place that accent…”
Accent? Victor was tickled by the statement. “I’m from Canada.”
The woman looked excited. “Really? I have an aunt in Canada! She moves around so much, though. I don’t remember where exactly she lives now. But hey, enjoy your time in San Francisco, sweetie!”
Victor paid the woman and returned her smile. Despite the hustle and bustle of city life, he had to hand it to the locals; they were very much an open and welcoming bunch. He turned to leave and his heart suddenly leapt into his throat.
Tony Cross stared back at him.
The younger man, decked in a few bruises from his interrogation sessions, seemed not to have recognized him. Victor’s thoughts raced at the speed of light. No, of course he wouldn’t recognize me. He’s only ever seen my eyes and I’ve got shades on.
He gave Tony a short nod as if he were just another stranger and headed back to his car. Inside the vehicle, he slouched in his seat, blew a raspberry, and patted his dog’s rump. “You’ll never guess what just happened, Chief. Tony actually came out of the building in broad daylight. Good thing I didn’t bring you along or else he’d have recognized us instantly.”
As he downed his drink, he kept a close eye on Tony as the young man retreated inside Phoenix Corporation’s office with his coffee and muffin. He looked at his watch. “Four more hours until the security detail rotates. Nothing to do but sit tight.”
* * *
Victor rested against one of the railings on the steps that led to the entrance of Phoenix Corporation’s head office. With his phone against his ear as if he was on a call, no one would guess that he was tuning his hearing to the conversation of the two guards in the reception area inside.
“Hey, Martinez,” the older tank-bodied guard said, “welcome to Tower 51. Let’s get you up to date, hey?”
“Yes, sir,” the new member responded. “Uh, Tower 51, sir? Like Area 51?”
“Hah, yeah. Just a nickname for this place.”
“Why? You’ve got spaceships hidden around here somewhere?”
“Wouldn’t be surprised if there were, honestly.” The older guard guffawed. “Ah, alright, enough of that. Let’s get down to it. So, anyone walks through those front doors, they need to hand you their Phoenix ID card. You scan it on that doodad by the computer and it logs their identification and check-in time. Same thing happens when they check-out. If you’re dealing with visitors, they’ll have a letter with a stamp. You cross-reference it with the daily visitors’ schedule and if it’s all good, you issue them these guest ID cards and they’re clear to go. If not, you kick ’em right out and they ain’t welcome back till they’ve got their papers together.”
“Just like that?”
“Just like that. Next thing you need to know is that most of the folks here are out by nine, though the senior execs sometimes stay back till after midnight. That ain’t our business. They stay up on the top floor and no one’s allowed up there apart from myself and the supervising janitor. It ain’t rocket science, right?”
“No, sir. Do the jannies have cards that I scan, too?”
“Yeah. They come in three times a week. Tonight’s night number two. They’re prompt, always here by nine sharp. They come into the parking garage with their van and enter the lobby from that door by the desk. The supervising janitor’s gonna need a special access card for the elevator to get to the top floor and all the rooms up there. That keycard is in the middle locked drawer to your right. Got any questions?”
“No.”
“Good. You’re better than the last guy, ha-ha. I’ll be with you for a bit, making sure you’re doing everything right, then I’m heading off to do some patrols. Once everyone’s gone, lock up the front door. I’ll send Sullivan over to show you around the place.”
Victor waited for a few minutes, then pretended to hang up his call. He strolled away, zigzagging around cars and buses in case anyone was watching, before slipping into the Camaro. Chief, fully rested, sat attentively, looking at the Sentry with his head cocked.
“I’ve got an idea, Chief. It’s risky. Bark if you see a janitorial van, eh?”
It was ten minutes to nine p.m. when a gray box van turned in at the building’s parking entrance. Chief snuffled, eyes on the vehicle.
“Yeah, I see it too.” Victor took out a small bottle of painkillers and swallowed two capsules—he loathed them, but they helped keep his chronic headaches at bay—then quickly removed his silver rings and his top. As he grabbed a dark green button-down shirt from his duffle bag in the backseat and donned a black cap, Chief watched him quizzically.
“For the cameras,” the Sentry explained, stuffing into his back pocket a flat leather pouch that housed all the tools he needed, lock pick kit and other paraphernalia. “Don’t want to look the same as I did earlier today. Now stay put. Good boy.”
He hopped out of the vehicle and stole into the garage as Tony stepped out of the front doors of the tower. Out for the usual late evening walk. Good timing.
Inside, the garage was large, well-lit and nearly empty save for a few sleek cars. The gray van was parked in a stall against a wall near door on which ‘Lobby’ was stenciled in large capitals. A group of six men in beige coveralls and caps were busy gathering their supplies from the back of the vehicle. Victor lurked behind a concrete pillar out of the nearest security camera’s line of sight, trying to figure out which of the janitors was the supervisor.
The biggest man of the team grabbed a clipboard and spoke loudly, the echo of the garage aiding him as he listed off duties on the checklist. Maybe him? I’ve only got one chance at this.
While the men filed through the door to the lobby, the one with the clipboard took up a position between the van and the wall and lit a cigarette. Victor lowered the brim of his cap and approached him while staying in the camera’s blind spot. “Hey, pal, you the supervising janitor?”
The man looked up, surprised. “What? Yeah, wh—”
Victor swept his arm forward. A powerful wave of concussive energy shot headlong, hitting the janitor and hurling him against the wall. He crumpled to the ground, knocked out. The Sentry checked the man for injuries and only felt a small bump on the back of his head. He quickly stripped the janitor of his coveralls, then pulled out the pouch from his back pocket and went to work on the janitor’s identification badge, deftly replacing the photo with his own. Once done, he pulled the coveralls on over his clothes, tucked his black cap into one of the big pockets and put on the beige one. He dumped the man inside the van, hauled the last of the janitorial supplies onto a cart and wheeled it into the warmly-lit lobby of Phoenix Corporation.
The new guard was on his own at the front desk, watching him expectantly. Victor headed over and rested an elbow on the counter. Confidence counts for something. Act like you belong.
“Hey,” he said.
The guard sat up straight. “Evening, sir. Your badge, please.”
“Sure thing.” Victor unclipped the ID and handed it to the guard.
The guard ran the badge over a scanner. It beeped twice. He frowned, then wiped the card on his sleeve and tried again, eyeballing Victor suspiciously. Victor stared back with an air of impatience. This time there was only one beep. The Sentry exhaled quietly. When the guard didn’t hand over the badge quickly enough, he gave the other man an unimpressed look. “I’m gonna need the keycard to get to the top floor, too, by the way. Didn’t your boss tell you about that?”
The guard turned red. “Y-yes, he did. Sorry, one sec.” He unlocked the middle drawer of the desk and handed a white card to Victor. “Here you go.”
“Thanks. See you when we’re done.” Victor touched the brim of his cap and wheeled his supply cart through the massive lobby toward the elevator. The cart glided smoothly on the polished marble floor, past luxurious couches and beautiful decorative plants.
He entered the mahogany elevator and pressed the keycard against a small scanner under the buttons on the panel, then pressed Level 40 and travelled to the top floor. He stepped out onto black-and-caramel carpet that stretched the length and width of the long corridor. The walls were mahogany like the elevator, with posh warm lights giving the place a lavish glow. Placed against the wall on Victor’s right was a glass table with a gorgeous crystal sculpture of a majestic phoenix rising from its ashes.
He took a swift look around. One CCTV camera was perched on the wall behind him and another glared from the far end of the hallway. Angling his head down, Victor guided the cart past a few offices to his left and a large boardroom to his right. The corridor ended at a door with a plaque that read “Executive Suite.”
Called it. Victor swiped the card on the scanner under the door handle and stepped in, shouldering the backpack vacuum cleaner for authenticity’s sake under the cameras’ watchful gaze.
The door swung shut behind him and he had to stop himself from gaping at the room. A generous-sized pantry and kitchen greeted him on his left. A luxurious king bed with a nightstand beside it was pushed against the far corner of the room. Opposite, a sleek flat-screen television set atop a teakwood console with a sofa facing it. A bathroom was located between the bed and the pantry.
This is lavish, Victor marveled, staying pokerfaced. I wouldn’t mind crashing here for a few days myself… No wonder Tony rarely leaves.