He took the plates, uncovered them, and put them on the table. His mouth began to water at the sight of his favorite meal: chilled tofu marinated in balsamic vinegar, a side of roasted new potatoes, and a heaping bowl of garden salad, smothered in Ranch dressing.
Indigo was right. Zeke was taken care of on every level, and best of all, paid handsomely in the process. All the CEO expected was unadulterated loyalty and steadfast follow-through, two things that any motivated man would provide, given the circumstances. Especially a single man with nothing to lose.
It was starting to appear that Zeke’s years of dedicated service were about to pay off handsomely. He’d miss talking and working with Vito. His boss was a good man and a more than capable mentor.
“Gotta love the Internet,” he mumbled, thinking about how he blindly stumbled across the hidden employment advertisement on the Asian dating website he’d joined at the time. A site he never would’ve been surfing if he’d been married, spawned any kids, or had a stitch of family to lean on during the loneliest of days.
He never thought he’d ever say these words, but being completely alone in the world had its perks. Zeke often wondered if his life of solitude was the reason for his initial hire, meaning he and Indigo had something fundamental in common—no family, no children, and nobody around to get in the way of business. Kindred spirits, at least on the surface, because there were definitely some differences. Zeke was a simple man; Indigo was not. But in the end, it was all about the art of the deal.
Vito was a unique blend of the unexpected, running to his own beat at all times. The man never seemed to sleep and was always on his game, making him unstoppable and completely unpredictable. The competition never knew what Indigo was thinking and neither did Zeke, making it impossible for anyone to anticipate his next move. This was what made Vito ultra successful around the world with everything he touched.
Zeke was proud to be number two on the Indigo team. A team that felt like home. A warm, comfortable blanket meant just for him. A blanket worth trillions.
CHAPTER NINE
Simon lifted himself from his spot against the back doors of the van and moved to the stool in front of the computers. Tally had just finished her call with Dre, back at Pandora.
“Everything okay?” he asked.
“Yes. They’re surprised you’re with me, though. This was only supposed to be a meet-and-greet mission. Initial contact only. But then, well, you know, things went a little sideways.”
“Violent, angry mobs can do that,” Simon said.
“And the red rain!” G added.
Tally nodded. “Exactly. Well anyway, I told them we still don’t know if you’ll actually join our team or not. This day hasn’t exactly gone according to plan.”
“For you and me both,” Simon said, pausing to reflect. “Go ahead. Lay it on me. I don’t see how anything could surprise me at this point.”
“You sure you’re ready?”
“I really don’t like to repeat myself. You have my attention. For how long is up to you.”
Tally paused and looked over at G. He looked back at her and nodded. She took a deep breath—to compose herself, Simon guessed—and gave him a dramatic look as she said, “Something big is developing in the shadows, and we need your help to stop it.”
“Big? What do you mean, big? Are you talking about a government conspiracy? If so, let me save you the time, young lady. I’ve heard ‘em all before. Trust me, working in the intelligence field exposes you to everything under the sun. Most of the time, if not all of the time, it’s a complete waste of energy and resources. So, if this is some adolescent fantasy involving aliens or government cover-ups, then just pull over and let me out, now. I’m not interested in joining a band of fanatics.”
She looked a little stunned and like she was about to cry. “No, it’s nothing like that. We’re not lunatics or fanatics. How can you even say that? You don’t know me. Or my team.”
“I’m sorry. I may have been a little harsh.”
“Oh yeah. You could say that,” G quipped from his seat.
“Well then, explain it to me. I’ll keep an open mind,” he told Tally.
She hesitated, looking down for a moment. Then she spoke. “We’re watchers. Seekers of the truth. All of it stemming from my grandparents, who were biochemists and deep thinkers. My parents were scientists, too. Dad was a physicist and Mom a biologist. But they died when I was little, so I never really knew them. Not like I did my grandparents.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”
“It was a long time ago.”
“How old were you?”
“Seven.”
“That’s hard. At any age.”
“It was. I know what it’s like to lose someone important. Seeing your wife die like she did must have been awful to watch.”
Simon thought about the crushing grief when he’d learned of Tessa’s murderous violence. That type of wound never really goes away. It sits there and ferments, until it either consumes you or you consume it. He needed to write Tessa off as a dead person. Dead to him, at least. The execution had been the first step to finding closure, yet more work needed to be done. As difficult as this had been on him, he couldn’t imagine what Tally had been through, dealing with such a tremendous loss at a very young age.
“So you went to live with your grandparents at . . . Pandora?”
“Yes. But it wasn’t called Pandora back then. It was just my grandparents’ farm when they took us in. The name change came later.”
“Us?”
“Me and my younger brother. After my parents died, that’s when Grandma and Grandpa decided to become big-time preppers.”
“Met a few of them in my day. Seems like everywhere you turn these days, people are preparing for the collapse of civilization. There’s a lot of nut jobs out there.”
“Some more than others, but not us. But that’s not really important at the moment. What’s important is my family taught me science. They taught me to live by verifiable facts. To gather evidence and make logical conclusions, all while doing my best to stay unbiased. The reason I need your help—”
“We need your help—” G added with a sharp tone.
“Yes, we need your help. We’ve uncovered some startling information while looking into the facts surrounding my parents’ death.”
“And what might that be?”
“I don’t think their death was an accident, like I was told when I was little. I read the newspaper stories and got curious. I noticed their deaths were part of a trend. A disturbing trend. That’s when I brought G into to help.”
“Voodoo, baby, voodoo!” he touted from the front seat.
“Really? What kind of trend?” Simon asked her.
“Scientists have been disappearing for the past twenty years.”
“Disappearing?”
“And dying. Some of the best and brightest in the world, dying in car accidents, plane crashes, sudden illnesses, suicide—you name it. Others vanish completely and are never heard from again. Yet, the weird thing is, they still file taxes. Does any of that seem normal to you?”
He didn’t want to agree with her, not yet. “What kinds of scientists?”
“The first group seemed to be concentrated in the biochemistry and biotech fields. After that, scientists in meteorology, atmospheric sciences, agricultural meteorology, and climatology went missing. Then some physicists and mathematicians vanished, and even a few from neuropharmacology and biological psychology, though we’re not sure they’re related to the trend.”
“Hmmm,” he said, sifting through her statements. Those were big words from such a small girl, but she might be onto something. “That does seem too highly concentrated to be random.”
“Yes. Very suspicious, if you ask me.”
“My voodoo never lies!” G shouted from the driver’s seat.
“How much voodoo?” Simon asked the young tech.
“Several giga-quads. My info-bots have been c
rawling the ‘Net for months, accumulating mountains of data. I’ve built mega indexes for cross-referencing tons of facts and events. Indigo Tech has nothing on me.”
“Do you think someone is killing them off?” Simon asked Tally.
“I don’t know. Maybe. Or faking their deaths and forcing them to do work against their will? The end game is unclear. It’s tough to know what’s real and what’s not when the media, the military, and the government lie at every turn. So we dig through it on our own. We’ve put together a few theories, but that’s where I need help. I need someone with the experience to help put it all together. We’re seeing these trends, but what it all means—well, like you said, it all sounds a little nuts. I need another pair of eyes, Simon. Someone to look over my shoulder, help me sift through the facts, analyze the data, and tell me I’m not crazy. Then maybe help me do something about it.”
“Okay. But why me?”
“Because you’re unique and obviously know how to live off the grid and survive. You were in the military, you worked in intelligence, and then you worked in the private sector. Your company provided security services for high tech experimental government and military facilities, right?”
“That’s all classified, but yes. Ghost Works provided security and tactical threat assessment for both governmental and military facilities, at least until they fell into bankruptcy.”
“Which means you’ve seen things from the inside. From the ground up. You know people. You have connections that can take you places that I—that we—could never go. Put that together with your real-world experience . . . I mean, let’s face it. You’ve been on this planet a lot longer than I have. I may be young, but I’m old enough to know that experience counts. Grandpa taught me the best leaders surround themselves with the best and brightest.”
“Like me!” G shouted as he made a turn.
“Yes, like G. Look, nobody knows it all. We all need help once in a while. You, me, G—it doesn’t matter. We can’t survive on the planet alone. Leaders are only as good as the people around them. That’s why I’m here. I need your help, Simon. We need your help. We have so much to show you. It’s crazy stuff, but first you have to commit. And I mean an all-in type thing. If word ever got out about the data we’ve uncovered, a Reaper Drone would be over Pandora in a heartbeat.”
“Like opening Pandora’s box,” he said in a mumble, thinking her offer over. Two decades of missing scientists. He was intrigued. And he was starting to like Tally. She was smart. Mature beyond her years. She’d suffered loss, which made him feel connected to her. Loss changes you. Makes you stronger.
He could feel the draw—something was stirring inside him, something which he hadn’t felt since his wife had gone haywire and took his empire down. The lure of Tally wasn’t sexual. It was more along the lines of a deep respect for critical thinking, and his need to belong to something—a cause to fight for—a reason to exist. He missed being part of a team and being connected to other people. He wanted to feel human again.
“That’s a lot to process,” he told her, taking his time to consider everything.
“And that’s just the tip of the iceberg. Tell him, Wicks!” G snapped, pounding his hand on the top of the dashboard like an anxious warrior before a battle.
“There’s been movement over the past five years or so, mostly in weather-related fields, which all seems to lead to a company called RaineTech.”
“What kind of movement?”
“First, scientists getting pulled from government jobs with the National Weather Service and going to work for RaineTech, then about a year later, they drop off the map. It’s like their lives have been erased.”
He nodded slowly.
“Now, when you combine that with missing shipments of high-tech chemicals and materials, it raises a few red flags. We’ve managed to track down a few shipping manifests, and they seem to always end up at one of the facilities owned by RaineTech. Then today, this red rain. Which we didn’t see coming. But it has to be related. How can it not?”
“And you say you have evidence for all of this? Real documentation? Hard copy that I can look over?”
“It’s all digital, dude. Seriously, who uses paper anymore?” G said.
“Yes. It’s all back in Pandora, secured behind firewalls on isolated servers. But we can print some of it out, if it makes you feel more comfortable. I’m sure G has a working laser printer in storage somewhere.”
Simon was more than intrigued. He’d come across his share of conspiracy theorists in his time, but this pair took the cake. His mind flashed the face of the infamous talk show host, Alec Stone, on Shadow Wars, then erased it just as quickly. But Tally didn’t have the same feel as that rabble-rouser. She was grounded; she didn’t have the glow of fanaticism in her eyes that seemed to be so prevalent in the untrained prepper and end of the world circles. And she was right about something else, which was eminently practical: he needed a place to recuperate from his injuries.
“Well?” she asked. “What do you say? Will you help us?”
“Not sure yet. I need to think it over. However, I’ll go with you to your camp and have a look at the evidence. Then I’ll decide. That’s the best I can do right now.”
“Fair enough. But there’s one more thing,” Tally said.
“Yeah, and what’s that?”
“We don’t think your wife was responsible for gunning down all those people.”
CHAPTER TEN
Zeke Olsen finished the last mouthful of the to-go order his boss had provided from the upscale restaurant in Paris. He gave the empty plate and soiled flatware to the ButlerBot humming nearby and returned to the video monitoring station in the main room, where he planned to watch the latest news about the red storms.
The rolling chair was waiting for him several feet from its tucked-under home position, which seemed odd since the Mark II had been whirring about the place on its own. He thought Vito’s self-contained robot might have been cleaning and organizing the space to stay busy, but apparently not, leaving the chair exactly where he’d sent it rolling earlier.
He sat down and turned up the sound on the monitoring station with a few finger swipes on what Vito had called the remote control. The device was an outdated Apple iPad tablet that had been repurposed for sentimental reasons, he guessed.
All of Apple’s gear had fallen into the recycle bin after the company’s swift bankruptcy, thanks in no small part to Indigo Tech’s new holographic sensor design. Touch screens and finger swipes were no longer all the rage. It was Indigo’s new laser-sensed, virtual interface that had everyone talking. It only took a handful of months for Apple’s old-school tactile controls to fall out of favor with the civilian population and be replaced with Indigo’s DigiPad and its mid-air finger and hand twists, or ‘twips.’
“This is Nancy Lee reporting live for StarBright News from a very strange scene,” intoned the reporter on the screen. She held an umbrella in one hand and a microphone in the other. Zeke recognized the view behind her: the classic, south-facing shot of the narrow traffic island in the center of Times Square, with the towering Coca-Cola advertisement dominating the background.
The reporter continued. “I’m here live in the heart of New York City. As you can see, there are virtually no pedestrians out, and the only cars on the streets are a few GoogleCabs and police cruisers. It seems the residents of New York are heeding the no-travel order issued last night by Mayor Dickerson.”
“That’s spooky, seeing the city like that,” Zeke mumbled.
Zeke tapped the tablet, and the image changed abruptly to a red-faced female preacher standing in a pulpit, spewing religious fanaticism to anyone who’d listen.
“The end is near. What we see before us is a clear sign from the heavenly father. The time has come for each of us to answer for our Earthly sins. Hell’s tears are raining down upon us, washing over and through us with the blood of shame. Behold what the Good Book says in Isaiah: Drip down, O heavens, from above, An
d let the clouds pour down righteousness. My good people, the all-powerful and all-knowing Lord Almighty pours down his righteousness even now. And why is the rain the color of red, my brothers and sisters? Because red is the symbol of hellfire, as the Good Book says: the LORD will come in fire, and his chariots like the whirlwind, to render his anger with fury. Now we know the true meaning of these words as sent down by God himself for all of mankind to heed. Repent, all ye sinners for the end of days is upon us—”
The lights in the room flickered and the screen went dark for a moment, then came back on, but not on the gospel-spinning preacher. It was a test screen. Vertical bars of yellow, blue, green, red and purple filled the wall.
A second later, the test screen went dark, then the preacher came back on, red-faced and frothing. Zeke changed the channel immediately, looking for something more interesting.
He found an elderly weatherman, with a heavy middle that sagged well below his beltline, standing before a satellite image of the United States. America was virtually unrecognizable—red clouds covered the eastern and western sections. The storms from the Atlantic had moved inland, ending in a vertical front that stretched from Michigan to Alabama. In the west, the redness stretched from Montana in the north to the border of New Mexico in the south.
“As you can see by the directional arrows on the screen, the activity is not following any normal weather pattern. Most of us are familiar with the jet stream that typically flows across our country from west to east, but there are exceptions to this pattern, of course. For example, the dreaded ‘Nor’easters’ in New England that have plagued fishermen for as long as we’ve been recording the weather. But as the map shows, these storms are building and spreading like something else entirely. If the storms continue along their current track, we expect them to merge somewhere over the Midwest. Nobody can predict how long this strange weather might last, so keep your rain gear and umbrellas handy, folks. We might be in for a long couple of days.”
Zeke swiped two channels over, stopping on a news report being broadcast from New Orleans by a Hispanic woman dressed in rain gear and holding an umbrella. Her accent was thick and so was her red lipstick.
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