Big Three-Thriller Bundle Box Collection

by Gordon Kessler

  Jax gave in. “You still have the panic button?”

  Sunny nodded, pulling it out from her shirt only long enough for him to see it.

  “You activate it at the first sign your attempt is busted,” he said, and Sunny nodded again. “And you still have the map?”

  She pulled it from the back of her waistband and presented it to him.

  “The dynamic hologram is your baby,” he said unfolding the map before her. “Where do you propose putting the illumination devices in the event we need them?”

  She pulled a grease marker from Jax’s shirt pocket and narrowed her eyes at the map. After studying it briefly, she placed an “X” at three ridgelines about two miles apart.

  Jax eyed each mark, then looked out in the physical direction indicated by each.

  Sunny said, “My instructions are in the devices. Easy to understand — a first grader could set them up in fifteen minutes. And the DHIDs are self calibrating. They use a radio signal to find each other. But don’t forget that even with a full charge, they will only work at hundred-percent capacity for about thirty seconds and won’t be convincing in full daylight.”

  Jax nodded. “And for you, I have Weller’s location coordinates.” Sensing Sunny was staring at him, questioningly, he added, “Yes, I got them from the laptop. No signature.” He took the grease pen back from her and placed an “X” at the coordinates he’d received. “He should be there for another hour or so.”

  Sunny snatched the map from him. “Moonfeather,” Sunny said sympathetically, a knowing smile on her face as she refolded the map.

  Jax wondered if she was thinking he’d gone mad and joined the paranormal party train to netherworld.

  She stepped over to her camouflage ghillie, slipped it over her head, turned away and trudged toward the hill in front of them.

  “Our backs are against the wall, now,” the major said. “We get your signal, and all our covert plans are busted. We’ll go all out, rush in immediately, salvage what we can and pray to God we can get you and as many others as possible out. Do you understand, Sunny?”

  She didn’t allow the sergeant who watched the fence line to help her. After slipping through the hole under the fence, Sunny turned her face slightly toward the major.

  “Yes, sir,” she said, giving a weak salute and then pulled the ghillie’s hood over her head as she started up the wooded ravine.

  Jax watched her leave. Over his shoulder to the lieutenant, he said, “Go ahead with my instructions, minus Sunny. But tell the helo pilots to wait for my word. Get back here as quickly as you can.”

  “Yessir,” the lieutenant said.

  As Carpenter departed, Jax called over his shoulder, “Sergeant Chambers, bring my ammo can full of firecrackers — I have a job for you. We’ll just mix our high tech stuff with a little old-fashioned fun.”

  * * *

  As Sunny plodded up the hill, she considered how she would befriend Robert Weller enough to gain his trust and get him to come back with her. Now on the run from his subjugators, he might be open to at least some half-truths that sound semi-believable. She’d have to feel him out a bit and play on what he knew. And if he was some sort of a clone or copy of Dan, perhaps he’d have some of Dan’s traits and idiosyncrasies that she could work with.

  Actually, Weller did look a little like Dan. About the same height and build — perhaps a few pounds lighter. And although he wore glasses and Dan did not, their eyes were the same shape. Weller’s nose was smaller — Dan’s was a masculine, prominent one that had been broken twice. Dan had a sexy cleft in his chin but always covered it up with a beard and mustache, whereas Weller’s chin was smooth and clean shaven as was his top lip. Weller looked a bit younger, had walnut brown hair with no gray, and Dan’s blond hair had been graying at the temples.

  Lastly, Dan’s eyes were blue. Still, there was something familiar in Robert Weller’s brown eyes. She couldn’t help but think that somewhere, at sometime in the past, she had met this man.

  * * *

  Upset over loss of contact with Subject 374 because of the bungling Russians, Xiang had put the disappointment of doing without celebratory coitus with Dr. Yumi to the back of his mind. She had rushed from the control room when Wu’s report disrupted their psychic connection. There would be time to make up for it later.

  Now, after searching for the fugitive for several hours, the search teams finally were closing in on Subject 374 — one of Wu’s men had reported movement in the park that he thought was the subject.

  Pleased things seemed to be going his way again, Dr. Xiang went to his office to make preparations for the coming days.

  He sat behind his large wood desk, made from the best Arkansas black walnut, and ran his long fingers over its smooth, high-gloss finish. Except for a matching credenza against the near wall, the rest of the windowless room was simple, bleak. He could have had any kind of desk he wanted — he chose this one because he just loved the rich, dark grain. It was the color of his aunt’s hair as he remembered it as a child. She had been the only one Xiang had truly known, the only one who had really cared for him. But while they were in a Japanese prison camp only months before the end of WWII, she had been killed — pulled from his grasp, tortured sadistically and then gutted before his five-year-old eyes. His aunt had been only thirteen.

  Xiang slammed his fist against the hard wood of the desktop. He did not cry when she had been murdered, would never shed a tear for her or anyone else. But he would get even. And with his plans going better now, he would soon be able to realize his revenge.

  The next step would be to place Subject 374 in Washington D.C. From there he would assassinate the U.S. President and a number of other political and military leaders who did not fit in with the plan. Meanwhile, hundreds of assassins would finish their programming and join those already in place. They would enter the civilian population benignly. After being programmed specific reasons for disliking their targets, they would be placed in positions strategic to the use of their telepathic powers. Then, they would carry out their individual missions. Without cause or any sort of evidence that they could have possibly had a hand in the natural deaths of their targets, and without knowledge of it themselves, they would not be detained long, if at all. Then, they would be free to be reprogrammed for their next targets. The authorities would get wise or at least suspect the assassins involvement eventually, and many of Xiang’s psychic killers would be captured and taken out of play. With hundreds to do his bidding; however, it would be much too late. Even Xiang’s superiors did not understand the extent at which the doctor’s influence would soon reach.

  Xiang pushed his thumb against a fingerprint scanner embedded in the front of his desk, and a snap came from the inside indicating the drawers were unlocked and could be opened for the next five seconds. He slid open a side drawer and pulled out a daily planner notebook. After opening it to a blank page, he began to reorganized his thoughts with a to-do list.

  Before sunrise, he would send Subject 374 along with injured Consul General Meng on Xiang’s private jet to Washington, D.C. Within hours after landing, the subject’s support team would have him completely programmed and awaiting the first opportunity to kill President Mason. This president loved public speeches, was always in front of the people. Opportunity should be quickly at hand.

  Xiang was having trouble concentrating, disturbed by the many mistakes his people had made. He kept his list simple. As the first item, Xiang wrote Assassinate U.S. President.

  Before that, however, after they caught up with Subject 374 and things calmed down some, he would find time to coerce Dr. Yumi into a compromising position. Second on his list, but with an arrow that pointed above the first item, he wrote Screw Yumi.

  Xiang smiled. For the third item, he printed in all capital letters CONTROL THE WORLD. He chuckled as he tore the list from his planner, wadded it up and threw it into a nearby trashcan.

  From the speaker at the side of Xiang’s desk came Wu’s voice
. “Dr. Xiang! There is a disturbance on the west side of town. Dailey has reported automatic weapons’ fire. He’s requested help, and I’ve pulled the search teams in for assistance.”

  Xiang didn’t know who was responsible, but his gut feeling was that this reported disturbance was a trick. “You fools!” he yelled into the microphone. “It is a diversion! Get your search teams back in place, now!”

  Chapter 13

  At sunset she came back to me, her fiery-red hair bounding around her shoulders like a horse’s mane on fire. She had entered the park from the east, about a hundred yards away. Except for her, I hadn’t seen anyone in probably fifteen minutes.

  I was sure I’d been on the run for nearly six hours now according to the setting sun. The majority of that time I’d spent in the park, hiding in the middle of a clump of spirea bushes under an old blue spruce. It was here that I’d passed out. I sighed, realizing I’d missed the appointment with Doc Xiang. I wondered about my son, his prognosis, when and if I’d ever be able to see him again. I thought of Michelle.

  I had come to consciousness with the worst hangover I could remember, but oddly enough, I couldn’t recall any specific instances when I’d actually been hung over. The pain and most of the fog inside my skull had dissipated over the last half hour, and now I was deciding on my next cautious step. Darkness would play a large role in my escape, and I waited for its protective shroud.

  Only minutes earlier, there had been men positioned at each of the four corners, watching the streets. Of course, they were wearing blue suits. Once, a man in SWAT gear, armed with what I thought was an M-16, had actually pushed through my hiding place in search of me. I’d been lucky, avoiding him by crawling and weaving through the bushes. He finally left. A few times I spotted a head bobbing behind the cornice of a three-story building about a hundred yards away. I had no idea what that guy might be up to, but I couldn’t help thinking it wasn’t something I would be pleased with. After the faint sound of what might have been fireworks came from the west side of town about fifteen minutes ago, it seemed everyone who had been searching for me had left.

  The air had become chilly. In my inactivity, I felt the cold deeply and knew I must do something soon. My plan was so simple it was not really a plan at all. As soon as it became dark enough for me to pass unseen, I’d go to the public telephone two blocks away, punch 911 and explain my situation.

  Harvey didn’t like my plan. He’d been cautioning me to sit tight, that I would be okay if I stayed out of sight. Something will happen. An opportunity will arise, and you’ll recognize it as such. Then you’ll be able to get to safety and straighten everything out.

  I wished he’d leave me alone.

  Then she came again, the beautiful redhead I’d seen that morning on my way to work. She still wore her green sweats, and it appeared she was on a late afternoon run. I drew my head back into the bushes as she jogged by. Her image was only a dark silhouette, and her hair blended in with the bright orange of the western sky. She stopped a few feet past me and started shaking her arms and walking in circles. My first thought was that she was going into some kind of pre-death convulsions.

  “God, no!” I said, stepping from my leafy sanctuary, fearing I’d killed her, too.

  She turned with a start, her hand to her chest. Her big eyes were wide in surprise and as clear as the iridescent-green water of a calm Okinawan cove that I must have seen on a calendar somewhere. And they seemed that deep, too. I couldn’t describe it exactly, but from that first moment I saw those eyes on my morning walk to work, I had the feeling I was falling into them, naked and entranced. They were the kind of eyes that explore souls, looking past any kind of guise, that draw you deep inside them while eliciting an overwhelming feeling of euphoria.

  I felt some sort of connection between us, not that I wanted one — Michelle was a wonderful wife. Still, I felt it as tangibly as a lover’s reaching arms. It could’ve been chemical, electrical, psychic, mystical, I didn’t know.

  I saw quickly she wasn’t in her death throes and stepped back to my concealment.

  “I’m sorry.” With a half-smile, I shook my head and then scanned the corners of the block and that three-story building on the other side of the park. My pursuers seemed to have given up. None were in sight. When I looked to her again, she was staring back. I told her, “I thought, well . . . that you were having an attack or something.”

  She gave me the cutest frown I’d ever seen, her face glowing. She shook her arms again. “I was shaking it off. I’ve been jogging, you know. Five miles.”

  Something about her I couldn’t describe temporarily disarmed me, brought down my defenses and even the common sense fear for my own safety and hers.

  I said, “Jeez, five miles. I get winded just looking at running shoes.”

  She snickered. “Aren’t we just all kinds of witty?” She held out her hand. “They call me Sunny.”

  I gave her hand a cordial shake. “How ‘bout that, Sunny and Funny. We could have our own variety show.”

  Her hand was soft and warm, but it made me shiver. I quickly released her, afraid I might be putting her life in danger, too. I stepped back. Mostly shielded by the spruce tree, I took another scan of the area and decided I was safe from view, at least momentarily. Still, I hunkered down.

  The woman stepped closer to me, and she also bent over slightly.

  Apparently, the only way to get rid of her would be to run. Hell, she might run after me. She obviously could keep up. I had to be firm, yet not too loud. But I found being firm with her was difficult. Everything that had happened and was happening now told me I should shove this woman away as hard as I could. However, everything inside of me, emotions I couldn’t understand, told me I needed her.

  For the first time since my morning shower, I thought of the mysterious note. Whether real or imagined, besides the warning it had contained words of wisdom. Everything you know is lies. Trust not in what you hear or see, but solely in your emotions — for within them is the only real truth. What I’d been seeing over the past several hours had been crazy. What I’d heard had been insane. My emotions — what I had felt — had been incredible fear for my life. And now this, an emotional connection, a need for this woman. I was thankful Harvey hadn’t popped up with more advice to add to my confusion. Still, I was endangering the woman’s life.

  “Look, miss, you’ve got to get out of here,” I told her. “Something really bad might happen.”

  “Oh, are you a rapist or something?”

  I felt stupid, unable to explain, not even wanting to.

  “Cause if you are, I know Ca-rotch-ee.” She took another step toward me and placed a snap kick two inches from my groin. Her full lips thinned into a broad smile.

  I tried to shield myself, but way too late. This woman seemed a little nuts, and I really didn’t need her to complicate my life any more than it already was. “No, it’s not that — ”

  “Hey. I know you.”

  “Yeah, this morning on the sidewalk, we passed and you slapped the hell out of — ”

  “Oh, yeah, the bee. If you’re thanking me, you’re welcome. But I meant College. Stanford, right?”

  I’d never been to California, nor ever wanted to go, and I certainly never attended a school like Stanford. My college experience was limited to a two-year degree from Summit County Community College nearly twenty years ago. However, she did seem familiar. Surely though, as stunning as she was, I would have remembered her, that is if we’d been close enough acquaintances for her to recognize me.

  “Yeah,” she said, answering her own question, and she came at me.

  I backed away, but before I knew it, she was hugging me. Her body was warm and damp and her soft hair smelled like lilacs in the rain. I couldn’t help but nuzzle into it briefly.

  “Robert. Robert Weller!” She pushed back to look into my face. “Come on, Robert, Sunny, remember? It’s been more than fifteen years, but surely, you remember me. Sunny O’Donnell. I wore g
lasses, and I was a little frumpy.”

  “Sunny? Uh, well, you look, maybe, a little familiar. And you’ve got my name correct, but I’ve never — ”

  “Robert, I am surprised at you. After all we went through.” She put her hand to her mouth and whispered, “After all we di-id!”

  God, I thought, seeing past her unzipped sweatshirt to her filled-out Adidas T-shirt, noticing her trim waist and slender legs, I wish I could remember. “Listen, I’m sorry but you need to get out of here. There’ve been people dying.”

  “Robbie! Quit it. Be nice or you’re going to hurt my . . . ” She stopped and a pall came across her face. “You’re not joking. How awful. Are you okay?” She took a second to look me over.

  “Yeah, I’m fine, for now, I guess.” I was about to insist I didn’t remember her, but I thought, why bother.

  “You . . . look fine.” She grinned wide again and nodded. “Except for those broken lenses.”

  I touched my glasses, about to explain, but decided it would do no good.

  “Well, it doesn’t matter,” she said. “It doesn’t matter a bit whether you remember or not. Come on. Let’s go someplace more comfortable, have some coffee or something. We’ve got a lot of catching up to do.” She started pulling me by the arm. “What are you doing hiding in the bushes anyway?” She glanced back at me. “No, don’t tell me, you really have become a rapist.”

  I couldn’t find the words to answer her.

  She sang out, “Who cares, I’ll take you to my room anyhow.” She tugged on my arm again. “I’m staying at the Mother Lode Inn, just down the street.”

  I kept my feet planted, and she put her hands on her hips.

  “Uh, Sunny,” I said, trying to be firm, “My wife wouldn’t like it.”

  “Rob, I’m only kidding. There’s a restaurant nearby.” She glanced at her watch. “It’s nearly six o’clock. You look hungry. Let me guess — cheeseburger with the cheese on the bottom, right?” She gazed at me seeming to study my reaction.