Wicker closed his eyes and rubbed his forehead.
Everson continued, “He had a lot of information too. He knew not only about this morning’s meeting, but that his targets would be boarding a helicopter afterwards.”
The vice president said, “All of that, while not advertised, was available to a lot of people. We’ll have to shore up that kind of info going forward.”
Wicker looked up, “Targets? More than just Admiral Maximus?”
Everson nodded to Clavain who stood and extended his hand toward a control console and viewer on the back wall. “May I?”
Wicker nodded.
As Clavain strode toward the viewer, he held up a PDA, “We found this attached to the weapon. It’s a standard large screen Personal Data Assistant—Tower was obviously using it as an interface to the weapon. Unfortunately, there was not a lot stored on it…except for this,” he pushed it into the PDA slot and the viewer came to life showing four images: headshots of President Wicker, Admiral Maximus, Admiral Leewood and Dr. Harrington. Clavain pointed to the text under each picture and said, “Look at the file names.” The president’s picture was named ‘primary target’, Maximus was named ‘secondary target 01’, Leewood was ‘secondary target 02’ and Harrington was ‘secondary target 03’. “Pretty self-explanatory,” he said.
Wicker’s face went slack. He looked over at Everson, “Looks like you were right, Pierce.”
Many in the room looked confused. Seeing this, Everson explained, “Over the last year, there’ve been signs that someone was trying to breach the President’s security. In response, we increased his security and limited his exposure. We’ve also been looking at anyone with a motive.”
Wicker spoke up, “On that subject, this…” he pointed at the faces on the screen, “puts a whole new light on things.” Everson raised his eyebrows and cocked his head, but the president just said, “I’ll have to give this some thought.” Wicker leaned forward, “What else?”
Everson smiled and looked over at Clavain again. Clavain smiled as well. “When I arrived on site, our…hero of the day,” he gestured toward Bugs, “informed us that it had detected an individual watching us with binoculars from the top of a nearby building. Unfortunately, by the time units reached the building, he was gone, but…” he removed Tower’s PDA from the viewer and plugged in his own smaller one. Several images of a person appeared, “Bugs was somehow able to provide us with images of the individual. We’ve identified him as a Mr. Jake Prosser—a known felon and accomplice of Towers. We’ve issued an all-points bulletin on him. With luck, he’s unaware that we know who he is, will act accordingly and we’ll be able to catch him.”
Wicker looked curiously at the images. “How were you able to get images like that?” The images showed a front, side and birds-eye view of a man; one showed him looking through the binoculars and one showed him twisting, looking behind, the spaceport cliffs clearly visible in the background.
Bugs answered, “Mr. President, newly installed sub-nite nets are capable of folding and morphing around a subject and capturing such images.”
Wicker didn’t understand but knew asking questions right now would not be productive. He looked back at the director of the FCB and said, “You have a list of people who might want to harm me but, when you add these three secondary targets, it isn’t very hard to come up with another, though it’s hard to believe.” He buzzed his secretary, “Sharon, would you kindly pull the file on ex-congressman Francis De Bella.”
---
Jake was normally a calm individual, but right now he was anything but. He did not know how he had been spotted but had to conclude that they had his image from hotel security cameras and had identified him.
He always maintained a separate safe house that only he knew about when he was on a job and he was there now. It was just a small hotel room rented for three weeks—the duration of the job. There he kept a bag, which held everything needed for a separate identity and changing his appearance. It also held a second gun and communicator—both untraceable.
He set everything out on the bed then picked up the com unit and nervously made the call he had been dreading. While the connection was being made, he tried to calm himself. His contact, who he’d never talked to before, answered on the second buzz.
“Hello?”
“This is…” he sighed, “the assistant.”
“The assistant…right. What the hell happened?”
“I’m not entirely sure. Everything was proceeding as planned. The first shot was made. As far as I can tell, somehow, it missed and then…I don’t know…all hell broke loose. I lost contact with Aar…” he swore under his breath, no names, “…with him. As per our contingency plan, I made my way to the top of a nearby building to try to get a visual fix,” Jake wiped the sweat running down the side of his face. “Several security helicopters were already there; they must have arrived within minutes. A Loud was with them and it seemed to lead them to the cave.”
“Slow down, take it easy,” Blain Usher said. “You say a Loud avatar was leading them?”
“That’s what it looked like to me.”
“Go on.”
“Another helicopter arrived as I watched. I decided to leave and it was a good thing I did,” Jake’s voice had risen, “I barely had time to get to my car when half a dozen police cars raced up and surrounded the building.”
“Damn. What did they do?”
“They locked down the whole place and searched it.”
“Okay. Where are you now?”
Jake gave him the address.
“Okay. Sit tight and I’ll pick you up in thirty minutes.”
---
They separated Adamarus and Evelyn, taking Evelyn to the safe house where Leewood and Harrington were since she and Harrington would be departing soon for Anderson. Adamarus was taken to another safe house where Grace and Nero were waiting.
Grace flung herself into Adamarus’ arms. “Oh, God, Adamarus, thank God you’re safe.” She pulled away, her arms still on his shoulders and asked incredulously, “What happened?”
He held up a finger then went to Nero and hugged him. He told Nero that he needed a minute with Mommy for some grown up talk. After Nero went into the next room, he took a breath and explained what had occurred.
“My God, Adamarus, who would want to kill you?”
He had no answers.
Their security detail had a small unmarked ship put down in the backyard of the safe house. The Maximus family boarded and it lifted off for the one-hour trip to Hillcrest and the safety of the Loud compound.
---
Radin, Burnwall, Woodworth and Jan heard the news as they reached the motor pool. There, they had been delayed for 30 minutes, then they too had been whisked away to a safe house where they were detained for another hour until security details were assigned to all four.
Radin and Burnwall missed their meeting with the Joint Chiefs and it was postponed until they were safely back at Hideaway. Their security detail escorted them to the Axis Spaceport where they boarded the shuttle for Anderson. From there they would hitch a ride with a Loud Umbrella ship back to the Hideaway Shipyards to continue training exercises with the old Leviathan Battleships and fighters.
It was agreed that the sooner any on the team going off-world was in space, the better, as it was possible that those who might wish them harm could not easily follow.
---
Jan seemed in a daze as she boxed up the few personal items on her desk. The assassination attempt had come out of nowhere and deeply disturbed her. They did not have the latest information on the attempt nor the list of targets that had been discovered. So, to Jan’s mind, if they, whoever they could be and for whatever reason they could possibly have, were after part of the team, they might be after all of them.
Looking out of her office window at the large room beyond that had held almost 100 cubicles and workers seemed surreal and depressing. All the cubicles were gone now and the large room wa
s empty except for scattered debris on the dusty floor and several empty cardboard boxes someone had left in the middle of the room.
She heard footsteps echoing across the room and Woodworth appeared at the door. “Are you about ready?”
She absently nodded, looked around her empty office one last time then, box in hand, joined Woodworth. They walked out without looking back, meeting their newly assigned security agents in the hall. They boarded the elevator and headed up to the ground floor. From there, they would go to their new offices in Hillcrest.
---
Leewood had groaned at his mystery assignment: find a location for the secret construction site for the three arks that would make a run for it in an attempt to save their species should the unthinkable come to pass.
They were at the Axis Spaceport and he held Harrington tightly as they knew they would be separated for many months. He stepped back and held her at arm’s length, “Just because you’re going off-world doesn’t mean you’re safe—be careful, please.”
Harrington squeezed his upper arms, “I will, but what about you? You’re staying here—I can’t believe you don’t have a security assignment.”
“It’s a single-seater,” he smiled and nodded toward the sleek black supersonic fighter in the distance on the tarmac. A fuel truck was pulling away after topping it off. It was the one thing about this assignment Leewood looked forward to. The limited S-Class was their most advanced craft. It was bristling with recently loaded weapons, a last-minute order directly from President Wicker because of the assassination attempt. Ridiculous, Leewood thought—if whoever was out to get them could threaten him while doing Mach 3, they were really in trouble. It had all the latest bells and whistles and had orbital capability. Leewood had only recently qualified in it.
He glanced over at Evelyn who stood with their four security agents a short distance away by the vehicle waiting to take the women to their shuttle. He looked back at Harrington, “Wicker has security agents waiting for me at each of the secret candidate sites—I’ll be the safest of any of us. I love you. Take care.” He kissed her then picked his flight helmet up from the ground, turned and strode toward the S-Class fighter. He didn’t look back.
---
Blain Usher skidded to a stop and looked through the darkly tinted windows at the run-down single-story hotel across the street. Leaning forward, he opened the glove compartment and pulled out the Sauntner-Ben Alt-One Laser Handgun. It was an advanced proto-type—the first handheld laser weapon to get out of the laboratories—his new toy. It was small and looked nothing like a gun. He checked the charge again. This was probably the first time the thing had been used in the field. He wondered if his target would feel honored.
He opened the door, put the Sauntner-Ben in his coat pocket and got out, closing the door behind him. Usher stood six foot five inches and was a bull of a man. His jet-black hair was short and parted, combed to the side. It matched his intense black eyes.
He strode across the street and into the structure. Inside it was dark. He ignored the clerk reading a book behind the counter, walked across the lobby and started down the long hall, rooms on both sides, a door leading to the back parking lot, a rectangular light in the distance. Looking at the room numbers as they passed by on either side, he watched them go from 101 and ascend until about a third of the way down the long corridor, he came to 112 on the left. He immediately rapped three times, removing his new toy from his pocket.
After a moment, the door opened and Jake looked at him, then his eyes fell to the odd device in Blain’s hand. He looked back up to Blain’s face, curiosity obvious.
Blain's face remained expressionless as he flicked the safety off and, pointing the device at the center of Jake’s chest, pushed the button on top. At first nothing seemed to happen, then a puff of white steam rose from Jake’s plaid shirt. Jake’s head jerked back in surprise then, his face unchanging, he fell back into the room dead before he hit the floor.
Blain entered and closed the door. Placing the laser in his coat pocket, he pulled gloves from his inside pocket and put them on. He saw that Jake had packed a bag and searched it first. Then he searched Jake, pocketing his com unit. He searched the rest of the room, finding nothing of interest.
With a final look around, he left, closed the door behind him and retraced his steps. Back in the lobby, the clerk’s eyes had never left his book. He exited, crossed the street and slid back into his car. He pulled out his new toy, checked the safety was on and smiled—he liked his new toy. He returned it to the glovebox and pulled away.
---
Ninety-one million miles away, the small planetoid Cinder made its ancient circuit around Amular’s sun, a scant 13 million miles away from the orange dwarf’s surface. The Hideaway Shipyards was a beehive of activity. Every one of the 5,382 engineers watched as the first of the old Leviathan Battleships was being moved into Space Dock Two.
Brandon Eden watched through the large window of the main control room, which had been extended 200 feet from the side of Space Dock Two for a better view. For weeks, the maneuver had been stalled by alignment problems with the huge rubber rollers that guided the battleship into place.
“Okay, Mr. Berryman, let’s bring her in,” Brandon said. Clanks, bangs and the sounds of large motors starting up rumbled through the large circular room where 15 technicians operated control stations, watching panels of monitors that showed every side of the battleship from every angle.
Suddenly, an alarm sounded, red lights blinked on the control panels and on all the monitors the words "Ab-End! Operation Aborted!” appeared in red letters that blinked off and on.
Brandon ran a hand across his eyes as he groaned. All the sounds abruptly ceased. The large starboard rollers had jammed.
Mr. Berryman, the supervisor, looked down and shook his head. Brandon patted him on the back, “Well, Tony, cheer up, we’re getting there. Want to try a reset before we send a team out?”
“Yes, sir, Mr. Eden,” Berryman replied and began issuing orders.
“Mr. Eden, sir,” one of the technicians called out, “you’ve a call on the tach-com from Amular.”
Brandon got Berryman’s attention and asked to use the supervisor’s office. Once inside, the door slid closed, blocking out all of the noise, leaving him in blissful quiet. He sat at the desk and turned on the tach-com. The screen came to life showing his wife’s beautiful face, but her expression immediately caused alarm. “What’s happened?” he asked.
“Hi, sweetheart,” she said. “There was an assassination attempt. I wanted to tell you what happened before you heard it on the news.”
“Go on,” Brandon said.
“A bullet was fired at Adamarus as we left the back of the capitol building. I happened to be walking next to him and it would have hit both of us in the head. Unbelievably, Bugs somehow intercepted it—no one was hurt. Well, except for the shooter who I understand was killed.”
“My God,” Brandon said.
“They found information which indicated that the targets were President Wicker, Admiral Maximus, Admiral Leewood and Dr. Harrington. Not me, thank goodness, but it’s all so unbelievable—who…why…it makes no sense.”
“With things like this, it usually doesn’t,” Brandon said. “Are you coming back?”
“No. Getting the ball rolling and handing off the reigns at Anderson and Bernard are still planned.”
“That must be hard considering both came here to your facility and were killed.”
“I don’t think anyone really looks at it that way. However, discovering that another shipyard exists that's larger than both, I think that’s somewhat of an adjustment that’s still in progress.”
“So, everyone’s alright and they got the idiot?”
“They got the shooter or, at least he’s dead but, he was just the hired gun. No one here has any idea who hired him or why, although the targets seem to narrow it way down.”
“Who?” Brandon asked.
“Wel
l, I’m not supposed to know—no one is but…the congressman who headed the First Contact Committee is the rumor going around.”
“Congressman De Bella?” Brandon asked.
“Good memory. I don’t know all the circumstances or why he’s a suspect.”
“Well…if it is him, I have a feeling it’s related to his sudden and unexpected resignation back when this all started.”
---
They say that every person has a double somewhere and it was The Archive and a modified version of a facial recognition program that had allowed De Bella to find his double. It turned out to be a person by the name of Norman Greenway. Mr. Greenway was half De Bella’s age, but the Loud immortality pills had leveled the playing field in that regard.
Usher and two assistants sat in a black van with darkly tinted windows parked across the street from Mr. Greenway’s home in Ruddock, a small town on the Northern edge of the Central Continent. They’d been waiting patiently for an hour.
“He’s going to be late for work,” Usher deadpanned.
“Yeah,” the guy sitting next to him said.
“Well,” the guy in the backseat added in, “we kind of already knew that.”
They all laughed. Indeed, if all went as planned, Mr. Greenway would be missing work today…and forever after.
Finally, the front door opened, the screen door was kicked outward and Mr. Greenway appeared.
Usher picked up a pair of binoculars and studied the man. He did indeed look like De Bella.
Briefcase in one hand, coffee in the other and car keys held in his mouth, he shuffled through the screen door whose spring repeatedly tried to pull it closed on Greenway. He tried but failed to keep his coffee from spilling. He paused and his lips moved.
Countdown Amageddon (The Spiral Slayers Book 2) Page 8