The New Authority Conspiracy (The Keeley Dorn Adventures Book 1)

by J. S. McClelland

  I folded my hands in my lap and looked at my feet.

  These two men had known Skee quite well. They were likely members of Nasha’s rapid-strike enforcer squad and Skee had been their comrade.

  When I looked back up, they were both watching me.

  “That’s why he…” I shook my head with a sad expression, thinned my lips and looked down and to the left with despondent eyes.

  “What are you talking about?” asked dark hair.

  “I was his girl,” I said. “In Aukholm. We wanted to…well, he went into enforcement and it didn’t work out. But I still saw him whenever I could.”

  “You were his girl? The one he talked about all the damn time?” asked thick man.

  I widened my eyes, pouted my lips and tucked my elbows in, causing my already diminutive form to look even smaller. “After I told him the news, he wanted to find a way. But Nasha…”

  Now I had their total attention.

  Even with a fractured memory, there was one thing I understood without question, and that was the unspoken rules concerning male solidarity.

  Inside the hyper-masculine world of enforcement, a man was partly defined by his ability to provide protection to his female companion. Skee had been a member of their unit, so by extension, they would afford his female brotherly deference, and the same protective solidarity.

  “When he found out about the baby,” I said quietly, glancing toward the pilot seat with a fearful look, “he wanted to leave service but she wouldn’t let him.”

  Both of them gaped at me, wearing the same expression. Riveted/disturbed.

  “What baby?” asked dark hair.

  “Our baby,” I corrected. “She didn’t want any distractions around him.”

  They glanced over at each other. Disturbed/uneasy.

  “I know they said it was an accident. I mean, how he died. But, were you there? Did you see it?” I asked, pleading.

  Dark hair’s hard gaze pivoted toward the back of Nasha’s head.

  Thick man stared at me. “We were off mission. They told us it was his fault. A head injury.”

  “They told me he had a diving accident in the ocean,” I said timidly. “I didn’t believe it.”

  “He was the best diver,” said dark hair. “Better than me.”

  I fell silent and my eyes welled with moisture.

  Communication within the New Authority obviously went one way; from the top down and was strictly need-to-know.

  Enforcement officers were simply tools to Nasha, and you wouldn’t tell a hammer or a drill why you were using it.

  “Do you know what she will do with me?” I asked.

  “Didn’t she tell you?” asked thick man.

  I shook my head. “She doesn’t really want me. She wants the baby for some reason.”

  Horror/rage.

  I let that information sit with them for a moment.

  After their pulse rates had increased substantially, I continued.

  “You said he talked about me a lot. I know he wasn’t supposed to, but he told me how much it meant to him to be on your team. What good men you all are.”

  Dark man’s face turned crimson.

  Thick man had stopped watching me and was now exclusively looking at Nasha.

  “He loved working with you,” I said quietly “When things started to go bad we hoped it would work out. I think he was afraid they wouldn’t, so Skee sent that Grey to help me in case something happened to him. They must have been good friends. He didn’t want to get anyone on his team into trouble by asking you to look after me.”

  Dark hair’s left foot began to tap rapidly against the bulkhead. He folded his arms and stared ahead with a wild look in his eye.

  They obviously did not know I was one of the four people they’d been sent to eliminate on the NARPA base.

  Neither did they know the full extent of Nasha’s medical program, or else they would have simply ordered me to stop talking.

  I could see the internal dialogue play out on their faces like a pictorial conversation.

  Dark hair thought: Skee’s girl? Skee’s baby?!

  Thick man thought: Nasha, you bitch.

  I fiddled with the hem of my shirt and fixed worried/sad on my face.

  This flight would take some time, and both men had a great deal to think about for the duration. I did not expect them to hit Nasha over the head, commandeer the airship and release me. My aim was to cause them to hesitate when the moment was crucial. From their fiercely conflicted body language, I concluded that goal had successfully been accomplished.

  That done, I spent the rest of the flight considering possible event scenarios.

  I pretended to sleep for part of the journey, deliberately tucking my chin submissively, bending my hands into a child-like pose, and adopting an angelic expression while I curled myself daintily on the wide seat.

  When the airship decelerated abruptly and banked hard to the right, I flailed about and almost pitched to the floor.

  Dark hair made a move to catch me, but thick man jerked his hand out first and righted me back on the seat helpfully.

  Both of them were exhibiting protective tendencies toward me now.

  It would be very, very difficult for either of these men to shoot me in the back.

  I gave thick man a grateful, pitiful look and sat up straight while we slowed down to land.

  I could clearly see through the pilot’s windscreen to the outside. I checked the skyline and noted the location of the surrounding buildings, managed to scan the rooftop outside, and determined which direction the airship faced.

  We set down softly on the rooftop and Nasha continued with the discussion into her earpiece, oblivious to anything else, while the pilot lingered in his seat, flipping the same switch up and down with a frown. His harness was still buckled, and he had not bothered to look back once since deactivating the engines. A light on the panel indicated something that he did not like, and he seemed focused almost exclusively on identifying the problem.

  Now for the other two.

  Dark hair got up, pulled the hatch release lever, and stood with his back to me as the ramp lowered to the roof.

  Thick man remained sitting and gestured unhappily for me to go ahead. As I caught his eye, I looked at the rear of the compartment, gasped with shock and widened my eyes with an expression of utter astonishment/disbelief while backing away quickly as if I’d just spotted something terrifying.

  Thick man spun around to see what had caused my reaction.

  I pivoted smoothly, down the ramp, and ran.

  Thick man shouted. “Luc!”

  Dark hair shouted back. “What!”

  I managed seven strides before they made it down the ramp on to the roof behind me.

  “Stop!”

  I kept running.

  “Stop!” they both shouted. This time with desperation/disbelief and no doubt weapons drawn.

  There wasn’t time to slow down and I nearly fell over the edge of the wall when I used my shoulder as a brake. I pulled the emergency fire escape lever and lunged down the tube headfirst.

  The tube unraveled ahead of me as I dropped and when I reached the bottom the fabric disgorged me on the walkway in a heap.

  I took a precious few seconds to tie the end of the tube into a knot.

  Then I sprinted toward Flick’s Grey facility.

  High overhead Nasha was screaming. “Shoot her!”

  One grid completed.

  A man landed with an audible thump at the bottom of the escape tube and swore loudly when he encountered the knot at the end.

  Half a grid to go.

  I heard the sound of slicing fabric, then heavy footfalls pursuing.

  The door to the Grey facility came into view and I sprinted up the steps two at a time.

  A chime sounded when I pushed through the heavy door, and I saw a small entry area devoid of people.

  Two separate security doors stood directly before me in tandem.

  To g
et inside I needed to pass through first one, then the other.

  I quickly palmed the first access panel.

  “Identification?” a metallic voice asked.

  “Francis. November, Alpha, One, One.”

  The door chimed and opened, allowing me into the second chamber.

  The first door closed behind me, but the second door remained closed.

  Thick man entered through the street entrance and palmed the first door. It emitted a buzz, denying him entry.

  “Welcome, Flick,” said a metallic voice. “Please provide security code.”

  I palmed the door panel. “Francis. November, Alpha, One, One.”

  “Denied.”

  Thick man hammered on the door behind me.

  “Unauthorized man attempting building access,” I said.

  A warning alarm sounded and Thick man stopped hammering long enough to withdraw his communication device. He shouted into it.

  Movement from the other side of my door drew my attention.

  A young man with a slight build and large dark eyes peered at me through a small window.

  He looked down at my Grey-issue clothing, noticed the enforcement officer who was obviously chasing me and opened the inner door without any hesitation.

  I stepped through and allowed myself the momentary weakness of emitting a relieved sigh. “Thank you.”

  He sealed the door and watched with what was clearly amusement as the enforcement officer ceased his attempts to gain entry, backed away from the door, and left the building.

  The young Grey looked me up and down and rested his gaze on my face. “Flick, you’ve changed.”

  “I don’t have very much time to explain,” I said.

  “No one around here explains things even if they do,” he said. “Come on.”

  He took me to an inclinator and we stepped inside.

  As the doors closed I watched him carefully. His hands lacked the rough look of a combat agent and his slight frame indicated he was more likely an information analyst.

  I glanced at his animated face and wide eyes. Engrossed/excited. This was probably the most interesting thing to happen to him in weeks.

  The inclinator moved sideways for a moment, then dropped rapidly.

  “So, what happened?” he asked casually. “You having a jurisdictional, or a task performance conflict with city enforcement?”

  “Procedural divergence of interests.”

  “Well, what can I do to help?”

  “Get me outside this building quickly, and quietly,” I said.

  “What kind of procedural divergences are we talking about here?” he asked with a note of unease.

  “The irreversible kind,” I replied.

  “Maybe we should call the director. I’m Thane, by the way.”

  He waited for me to reciprocate.

  The likelihood that Thane would believe the actual story of my experiences was low, to say the least. The best course of action was to tell a partial truth that sounded believable.

  I turned to face him. “I am a neurolinguistics interrogation specialist from Aukholm. A rogue group of enforcement officers here in New Dublin have illegally amassed a horde of lethal weapons. Flick called me in to assist him in his investigation of their activities. They have detained him, and tomorrow morning intend to transport him to one of their unmapped facilities to dispose of him permanently.”

  Thane blinked twice. “You are actually a neurolinguistics specialist? Incredible. I thought they were just a myth!”

  I stared at him. “That is the incredible revelation to you?”

  “I’ve never actually met one before.”

  The inclinator stopped abruptly and the doors whooshed open.

  “We are wasting time.” I walked into the hallway.

  He trotted behind me. “When you say dispose of Flick, what exactly does that mean?”

  “Which way?” I asked, moving rapidly down a dimly lit corridor.

  He pointed ahead. “Straight on, then we get on a secure screenboard and log you in.”

  I stopped. “I will not be recognized by your network,” I told him.

  “But, everyone is recognized by our network,” he said. We’re Greys.”

  “I’m in interrogation. We officially do not exist. You already know that.”

  His face twisted with confusion. “Right. How can I initiate a complaint file and petition for Flick’s release unless we log this incident?”

  “A complaint file?” I echoed with venom.

  He flinched and his nostrils flared. Uncertainty/worry.

  I advanced on him until he’d backed against the wall. “In less than 24 hours Flick will be dead. Do you understand? This group of men will kill him. I am the only one who can prevent this. Think carefully about your next statement.”

  Thane swallowed. “Ah, what do you need me to do?”

  “Take me to a jetcar.”

  He cringed apologetically. “I can’t. We don’t have access a jetcar, not unless it’s ordered by the governor, and that’s practically impossible.”

  “What about a helicar? Are there any available?”

  “Flick’s helicar has finally been repaired. It hasn’t been flight-tested yet, but theoretically—”

  I started walking again. “That is acceptable.”

  He trotted after me. “We need to go to the roof.”

  “First you will provide me with a few items I will need.”

  “Items?”

  “Where is your operation gear stored?”

  Thane pivoted in a half circle. “That is ah…back up one floor and to the…”

  I walked back to the inclinator and palmed the panel. The doors whooshed open and Thane managed to dart inside with me before they closed.

  “I need an oxygen compression unit, a plasma cutter, distance viewers, and a way to open an airship hatch from the outside.”

  “Sure. Anything else?” he asked sarcastically.

  “A skinner tied to the helicar.”

  “And what, exactly, do you need all of that for?”

  I told him.

  He stared at me, and then laughed out loud. “That’s impossible.”

  “No, merely difficult.”

  “And how do you plan on—”

  “In less than ten minutes you will see an airship land on this building, offload eight highly trained enforcement officers who will be firing bullets, not smokers, and their goal will be to locate and kill me. Do you wish to delay in order to facilitate their mission?”

  Thane swallowed nervously. “I’ll get you the skinner and the oxygen. The plasma cutter will be a little more difficult.”

  “Then perhaps you should hurry.”

  The doors opened again and we got moving.

  We located the supply area and I harried and harassed him to move faster while he gathered up the items I’d requested.

  Then we wasted precious seconds while he palmed, begged, and coerced the locked vault into allowing him to remove a plasma cutter, but it was critical equipment and therefore necessary.

  We stepped into the inclinator and headed for the roof.

  I tried to think of anything I might have overlooked. One thing did come to mind. “Explain to me the procedure for landing a helicar,” I said.

  He turned to stare at me. “Uh…why?”

  “In case my observations were not sufficient and I have neglected something important,” I replied.

  “You haven’t ever landed before?”

  “Not that I recall.”

  “It’s exactly like taking off, only it’s much easier to crash.”

  “That is not very helpful,” I said.

  “The basic principle is the same as hovering. Have you ever done that before?”

  The inclinator slowed down. We were almost to the roof.

  “I’ve seen it done.”

  “Well, it’s like that, only in the end, you don’t hover anymore because you’re sitting on the ground.”

  P
ointless.

  In all probability, I wouldn’t make it that far anyway.

  The inclinator doors opened and I expected to see an airship swooping to the rooftop with men descending on ropes, armed.

  The sky was empty.

  I knew it would not stay that way for long.

  “Over here,” Thane said.

  He led me toward two helicars. Flick’s was positioned behind a disabled green one that lacked propeller blades and was obviously not functioning. Thane palmed the access panel on the familiar silver vehicle and spent the next sixty seconds connecting my new skinner to the helicar.

  “All right, palm it,” he instructed.

  I did so and the panel chimed to indicate I’d successfully completed the link.

  “Now you can talk to it,” he said. “I’ve set it to recognize you and, obviously, Flick, as pilots.”

  I climbed inside and started the process of activating the engines. “You should stand back.”

  His jaw tensed and he waved his hands with alarm. “You can’t take off from here. I need to get a roller and move it out to the landing pad.”

  “It would be incredibly helpful if you went back inside and scrubbed my movements for the next 22 hours,” I said.

  The engine whined to life and the rotor slowly began moving.

  Thane scrambled backward, shaking his head. “You’ll kill yourself!”

  I pulled on my harness, slammed the hatch and grabbed the control stick. “Not if I can help it.”

  I performed the startup functions exactly as Flick had, and in a few seconds, the rotor blades spun at an optimal speed.

  My hands sweated profusely as I pulled back on the stick.

  The helicar lifted up erratically, pitched disappointingly to the side, and nearly rammed into the retaining wall.

  I loosened my grip on the stick and applied less force. It rose smoothly in the air.

  As soon as I’d successfully cleared the rooftop I forced the helicar into a dive straight for the walkway below the building.

  When I was four meters from the walkway I leveled my descent and flew as quickly as possible between the buildings, paying particular attention to obstacles along the way.

  Instead of running, the people below me stood there staring at me stupidly, but I was high enough not to cause any damage other than knocking over a few recycling receptacles.