by James Somers
His master’s voice came through their two way com-link. “Time to go, Alfred.” Alfred knew what that meant. His master rarely acted without a well thought out plan. Up to this point, they had not deviated from it.
Jason retreated the way he had come. Alfred stepped out from behind the shredded book case to the picture window and leaped through it. He dropped down two stories to the ground, unscathed. Jason soon came running out of the house with a remote detonator held in his right hand.
Alfred easily matched Jason’s pace. “We’ve got a plane to catch, Alfred!”
“Yes, sir, everything is ready, as planned.”
Jason raised the detonator and tapped the switch. The green LED light on the box changed to red.
Agent Rogue picked himself up from the floor of Nightstalker’s kitchen. He felt like he had been hit with a wrecking ball. He looked around and found that the wall had collapsed on him and Commander Wraith. Rogue saw two men running from the house through one of the kitchen windows. None of the other agents moved beneath the rubble generated by the grenade explosion.
Wraith moaned and stirred, trying to free himself from the wreckage in the kitchen.
Rogue crawled to where Wraith was struggling, and helped lift a large piece of debris off of his commander’s hip. “Are you all right, sir?”
“I’m fine. Where is Nightstalker and his robot?” Wraith urgently searched for his weapon. “Did they get killed in the explosion?”
“I believe I saw Night running across the grounds away from the house. He must have had the H7 with him.”
Wraith’s face flushed with panic. He cursed under his breath. “We’ve got to get out of here!”
The two men scrambled for the kitchen window. Suddenly, white hot light surrounded them. A massive wave of pressure thrust them out of the house through the kitchen window. The two men felt all of their physical strength instantly sapped away as they were thrown through the air. The world spun around them. It became impossible to tell which way was up. Then they were cold, submerged in water.
Rogue gasped for breath, but sucked in water. He wasn’t sure how long he was in the water before a hand grabbed him and pulled him out. He lay on the grass, cold and wet. He smelled chlorine and smoke. He faintly heard Hatter’s voice asking him something, but he couldn’t quite make it out over the incessant ringing. Then everything went completely black.
THWARTED
September 2, 2094
Commander Wraith sat in a plush office chair at a large oval, mahogany table, inside one of the conference rooms of the New Eden Alliance Complex in New Rome. Agents Rogue and Hatter were seated with him, awaiting the Secretary General, Oliver Theed. Hatter had thought it very odd for the Secretary General to meet with them for anything. Only recently, Theed had been a primary target.
Wraith watched Hatter. He was aware that the man’s life had been purposely spared by Nightstalker when they had stormed his house and that bothered him. He wasn’t sure he could trust Hatter’s loyalties, even though he had saved him and Rogue after the explosion at Nightstalker’s home. The bomb had all but decimated the house.
The clock ticked on the wall above them. Precisely when the minute hand reached 3:00pm, the door to the conference room opened. Oliver Theed entered the room.
Wraith’s gaze fell to the table when Theed looked at him. He saw anger in the boss’ face—controlled—but it was there. Wraith knew better than anyone in the room about the pure fury that boiled within Oliver Theed. He had to be the only man on Earth that Wraith actually feared, though he had tried all of his adult life never to show it.
Theed sat at the head of the table opposite the group of agents seated at the other end of the oval. He wore a tailored, black suit that seemed to accentuate his personality—sophisticated, powerful, confident. He had a mysterious edge. This had helped to catapult the man to power, much faster than most before him.
He carried nothing with him and sat upright in his chair with his hands clasped on the table before him. His charismatic air instantly put the public at ease, but all three agents were on the edge of their seats in dreaded anticipation. “Gentlemen, good morning.”
The agents looked at one another and managed an insincere, group effort. “Good morning, sir.”
“Let me say, at the outset, that I realize you must be wondering the reason for my meeting with you—after all, you men tried to kill me recently.” He paused for effect.
The agents stirred in their seats, uncomfortably. The suits they wore weren’t helping any either. They had a bewildered look on their faces. How did the Secretary General know they were the ones sent to assassinate him?
He continued. “You’re wondering how I know that. I know everything, gentlemen. I arranged for the hit. I’m Charlie.”
That statement from Theed may have answered the prevailing question, but opened up a whole Pandora’s Box of other mysterious possibilities. Wraith watched the others. They had no idea that he already knew all of the answers to the questions that were filling their minds.
“You probably have many other questions at this point, but I have no intention of answering any of them, so let’s remain focused. I’m only revealing myself to you three agents because I need you to understand the gravity of this situation and who it is you are dealing with.
I will not tolerate the kind of incompetence I have witnessed from this team recently. I sent you after two people in Jerusalem. Only one person was eliminated, and one of my agents was captured. Now, I send you after one man with a compliment of twenty seasoned men. The target is missing and most of the team is dead.” He paused again then accented his point with a fist on the tabletop. “DEAD!”
Theed’s breathing grew heavy for a moment then just as abruptly he became calm and collected again. “Agent Wraith, do you suppose I made a mistake in placing you in command of this team?”
Wraith didn’t like the heat turned in his direction. He looked at Hatter and Rogue then to Oliver Theed as he replied. “No, sir. I’ll find Night soon enough and eliminate him.”
“You seem very sure.” Theed smiled sarcastically. “Tell me, Wraith, exactly how do you plan to get him? I assume that was the initial plan, yet you failed miserably in the execution. How will you manage the next time?”
“We’ve already confiscated his private jet in Tel Aviv. It appears that he’s gone back to find Solomon Gauge. I’ve known Night for a long time. He probably blames Gauge for his fiancée’s death. He’ll be on the hunt for him.”
“That is a reasonable assumption. By the way, the jet in Tel Aviv was my doing, not yours.” Theed continued. “If you are correct and Night is hunting for Gauge then we need to do the same. But understand this, gentlemen, I want both of these men dead. If you find one then wait for the two to end up together. Night, as good an agent as he is, might even find Gauge. When he does, we will terminate them both. Is that quite clear, gentlemen?”
“Yes, sir.”
“Then our business here is concluded. This meeting, gentlemen, never happened.”
“Yes, sir.” The men got up to leave.
“Agent Wraith, please stay a moment. I would have a further word with you.”
Wraith sat back in his chair, as the other two men exited the room, closing the door behind them.
“John, can you really get Night? Don’t jerk me around with the machismo. My election is sure at this point, but Night is dangerous. If his knowledge of Babylon got out to the public, it might prove devastating. Eventually things would lead back to me, and I can’t allow that.”
Wraith studied the man as he spoke. “Night is good, I’ll give him that.” He thought he might choke on the words, though he meant them. “I don’t think he’s the traitor type.”
“Desperate men are prone to desperate measures, John.”
“Jason Night isn’t trying to bring down Babylon. Sure, you ticked him off by placing me in command of the team, but he wants revenge for the girl. Seeing her there in Jerusalem with Gauge p
robably has set him to a singular goal of killing the man. He might even do the job for us.”
“Yes. Revenge. But you’re the one who put the blade to her.”
Wraith thought about it for a moment. “That’s true, but in his eyes, he’s the one who gave that order. The guilt is probably eating away at him like a cancer—I love it. The fact is, I’m your best hope for getting Jason Night. I know how he thinks and I can get him. Then I’ll put the blade to him just like the girl.”
Theed narrowed his eyes. “You’re quite a devil, John.”
Wraith leaned forward with his hands on the table. Only Oliver Theed called him John. “I’m just a chip off the old block, Father.”
Jason staggered down the alley. This alley had been in Jerusalem for thousands of years. The buildings around it had changed numerous times, but this place where trash had been discarded, where insurgents had been arrested, where the children of an oppressed nation had been dashed against the walls, where beggars had lain, and where a savior had healed the infirm dregs of an ancient people, remained.
Disguised as a homeless man, Jason made his way toward another man who lay in the alley, his legs pulled up to his body. He was a scrawny looking fellow, wearing clothes that were well past their prime, full of dirt, holes and tears. He wore a gaunt, pale face. Scraggy stubble adorned his face. Every few minutes, he coughed to dislodge a wad of phlegm. The man huddled against the wall next to a group of trash cans.
Jason walked up to where he sat. The man did not regard him as he shivered in the shadows. Jason sat down next to him, not looking quite as impoverished, but close enough to keep each other company.
“Alfred, is everything secure?”
The robot spoke through the homeless man in his usual well-groomed English accent. “Yes, sir, I’ve found an old underground sewage treatment plant. It is abandoned at present and we have a secure entrance through an old closed down drainage pipe, not far from here.”
“Very good, Alfred.”
“How goes the hunt, sir?”
“Not as well as I’d hoped. Finding the Christian underground may prove more difficult than I had first thought. If Gauge is leading them, he’s done a good job of covering their tracks. I couldn’t pick up anything on the street.”
“Sir, exactly how long are you prepared to carry out this search for Gauge?”
Jason gave his trusted companion a thoughtful glance. “I know, Alfred. Babylon will surely be looking here in Jerusalem now that they have the plane. But I want Gauge. I have to know his connection to Sarah.” Jason’s face contorted with anger and his own guilt. “Then I’m going to make him pay for it.”
Alfred looked at him with concern.
Jason continued. “No matter how long it takes. But don’t worry, old friend, I have no intention of letting Babylon find us. We’ve still got plenty of weapons and supplies, not to mention our wits.”
Alfred smiled. “Our wits have gotten us this far, haven’t they?”
Jason patted Alfred on the shoulder as he got up from the ground. “Hey, I’m just glad you’re with me, Alfred. Robot, or not, you’re still my only friend.”
Alfred strengthened the smile on his pale, unshaven face. Jason stood to go—there was a Christian underground to be found. “Frankly, I don’t know what I would ever do without you.”
“I will find you later and lead you to our new underground home.”
“See what I mean—what would I do without you? Be careful, and I’ll see you this evening.”
Jason limped away, acting the part, disappearing around the corner of one of the buildings, leaving Alfred to his duties.
PREPARATION
July 14, 2095
On a rather plain, wooden table, inside the laboratory conference room of Jacob Stein, sat a lengthy row of small electronic devices. They looked more like jewelry than technology. Each device was about the size of a coin, with very small prongs on the back side and a single red disc on the anterior surface, resembling a ruby. A thin band of pure gold rimmed the jewel.
A young man, who appeared to be no older than twenty-five with dark hair and well tanned skin, stood next to the table. He beamed like a new father over the technology on display. “Now, Mr. Stein, I’ve already shown your associate some of the finer points of the mechanism. It can easily be tracked globally, and once someone is installed into the master database they won’t be able to buy, or sell, at any designated location without the implant.”
Jacob smiled as he looked at the objects. “That’s excellent, Mr. Kline. Are you quite sure that you can meet the numbers that Aleister gave you for our needs?”
“Of course, Mr. Stein, we have ten locations internationally ready to go into full time production of the implants as soon as you give the word and the money is wired to our account.”
Aleister interrupted. “Finances won’t be a problem, Mr. Kline. Why don’t you show Mr. Stein the most interesting quality of the device?”
“Oh yes, of course. The implant also acts as a fully integrated uplink to the World Mind.”
“With a population thoroughly addicted to loading, whoever controls access to the World Mind can control the populace.” Aleister spoke more to Jacob, than to Mr. Kline.
Jacob understood Aleister’s point well. “Yes, they wouldn’t want to be without the Mind would they. They would stampede to get the implant.”
“And the World Mind is under the direct governance of the High Representative of the New Eden Alliance.” The two men eyed one another knowingly. Their master would soon have complete control of the office of High Representative—even more than he did at the moment.
Mr. Kline rubbed his hands together. “Do you think, Mr. Stein, that the Master will be pleased with my efforts?”
Jacob grasped Kline’s shoulder. “Absolutely. Only be sure that you keep production up to schedule. There isn’t much time left to accomplish our work.”
“I’m way ahead of you, sir. I’ve already taken the liberty of pre-producing one million units, to get us ahead of schedule before next month.”
Jacob smiled. “Very good, Mr. Kline. Now, about the implantation procedure—”
“I’m way ahead of you, sir.” Kline moved around the table and picked up a device that resembled a plastic gun. He then took one of the jeweled implants and placed it onto the end of the gun barrel. “Here you go, Mr. Stein.” He handed Jacob a syringe filled with lidocaine. “If you will administer the anesthetic to Mr. Scire, we can place the implant in either the right hand or the forehead.”
“Which is better?”
Mr. Kline rubbed his chin. “Personally, I’d say the forehead because of the World Mind uplink, but they say it doesn’t make much difference, either way. The implant will access the median nerve in the hand, and utilize the peripheral nervous system for a virtually identical outcome. So, I guess it’s really a question of aesthetics in the end.”
“Aleister?”
“The forehead, sir, definitely the forehead.”
Jacob nodded. He pricked the skin of Aleister’s forehead with the needle and injected the lidocaine. “Is there much pain?”
“Oh, I almost forgot. Take a valium and you’re good as gold.” Kline produced a pill and gave it to Aleister. “There’s about twelve hours of pain in the forehead while the implant makes a slow burrow to the last layer of your skull. When it reaches this point, it can interface with the central nervous system. Normally, it would feel like a terrible migraine, but the valium knocks it out pretty good.”
Kline positioned himself in front of Aleister, pressing the gun barrel with the implant against his forehead. “Here we go.” He pressed the trigger. Compressed gas hissed then popped. When Kline removed the gun barrel, the ruby implant remained on Aleister’s forehead—a gold banded jewel, about the size of a dime.
Aleister blinked his eyes as though he were dizzy and shook his head slightly. “I feel a dull ache in that spot.”
Kline nodded. “Completely normal, sir.”
Aleister rubbed the implant with the tip of his finger. “How soon before I can upload to the Mind with it?”
“As I said before, it will take the implant about twelve hours to slowly burrow in. Then you’ll be able to upload to the Mind with a simple voice command.”
Jacob studied the placement on Aleister’s forehead. “And what is the voice command?”
Mr. Kline almost giggled. “You’re going to love it. The voice command phrase is Worship the Master.”
Oliver Theed paced back and forth inside the virtual war room. It wasn’t that Wraith was late for their meeting, in fact he was early. Rather, the situation had him on edge. It had now been one year, since they lost Agent Nightstalker. His last known location had been Tel Aviv with a likely destination of Jerusalem. Despite a long term search, Wraith and his team had been unable to find him, or Solomon Gauge. Oliver’s patience had now worn beyond thin.
“Hello, Father.” Wraith appeared behind him in the virtual war room.
Even expecting him, Oliver still started—a sign of his nervousness. Something more than Nightstalker caused it, but he couldn’t place the source. For months it had been building, like a spiritual storm. Oliver knew the scriptures that placed him in time at this moment: a world leader, one to be worshipped, and one to be somehow struck down in the prime of power and yet live. He had confidently boasted to Jacob Stein about his ability to avoid the prophecies, by the knowledge of them, but he didn’t feel sure of anything, anymore.
“John, how are you?”
Wraith didn’t answer. Was this to be a social call? His father had never been one for compassion and it was unlikely he had learned it since coming into power as the High Representative of the New Eden Alliance, a few months ago.
“Have a seat, John?” Oliver looked tense, despite the fact he was conveyed as a virtual image in the war room. “Where are you loading from?”