Near Sighted (A Jake Townsend Science Fiction, Action and Adventure, Thriller Series Book 2)

by Richard C Hale

  “I’m pretty sure it’s a hardware issue. That’s why I needed to physically be here. I’ll have to crack ANDEE open and see what I can find. Probably an electronic eavesdropping device.”

  “Bugs again?” Maddy asked. “I was hoping we would be done with the government spying on us.”

  “I don’t think this is anything Federal,” Bodey said, sucking on a rib bone. “Too sophisticated. Our boys don’t have anything this good.”

  “Whoever is doing this is better than the government?” Jake asked.

  “Everybody’s better than the US Government,” Bodey said. “Look how bad they screwed crap up six years ago.”

  “Don’t remind me,” Jake said.

  “What really happened?” Winslow asked.

  “We could tell you, then we’d have to shoot you,” Bodey said and grinned.

  “But I’d die with the knowledge you guys aren’t making all this up.”

  “Oh, it was real,” Maddy said, with a shadow crossing her face as she remembered. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

  “We aren’t supposed to discuss it,” Jake said. “Top secret, even for you,” he said to Winslow.

  “I feel left out,” she said.

  “Don’t worry,” Maddy said. “That’s a good thing.”

  Bodey put down the rib bone and stretched. “Man that was awesome. I’m ready to crack this system open now.”

  “Let’s get to it,” Jake said.

  “I’ll clean up while you guys heal ANDEE,” Maddy said, and started putting plastic utensils and paper plates in a bag.

  ~ ~ ~

  Two hours later Bodey pulled a rectangular, black box from within the mainframe and cursed. “How the hell did they get this in here without you guys knowing about it?”

  “Must have broken in after hours,” Jake said. “Smith was able to do it six years ago.”

  “Who’s Smith?” Winslow asked.

  “An agent of a clandestine government organization. At least we can tell you that much,” Jake said.

  Maddy walked up and said, “You mean a killer.”

  “He changed, Maddy,” Jake said.

  “You always say that, but you haven’t seen him since. We don’t even know if he’s alive.”

  “The last time I saw him alive, he seemed different. Changed,” Jake said. “We got that postcard, too, from Afghanistan, remember? The one without any writing or return address. That had to be from him.”

  Maddy nodded, but said nothing else.

  “But who is he?” Winslow asked. “Could this be him?”

  “I don’t think so,” Bodey said. “This is homemade, see?” He pointed to the seam on the plastic box. “This is a generic container.” He slid his screwdriver blade in between the seam and twisted. The box split open. Wiring, components, and electronic boards lay exposed. He pulled one of the boards free and examined it. “No manufacturer stamp or signature. This chip was made by hand by somebody who knew what they were doing.”

  Jake took it from him and looked it over. He saw nothing unusual or unique about the device and was glad Bodey could tell the difference. He handed it back and asked, “What did it do?”

  “Tracked everything the computer was doing and transmitted it to whoever planted it—using our own Internet connection. That’s how I found it. This would not show up on any eavesdropping detection equipment because it does not transmit its own signal.”

  “How did it get past the firewall and security measures built into ANDEE?” Winslow asked, taking the little black box from Bodey and turning it over in her hands.

  “That would be my fault,” Bodey said, and made a sour face. “I got lazy and didn’t update the software in over a year. They used new sophisticated spyware programmed specifically for this system. This device is designed for this system and this system alone. It will not work with other computers.”

  “Somebody wanted into ANDEE bad,” Maddy said and frowned.

  “Yes,” Bodey said.

  Jake turned away and paced. “Let me get this straight—A proprietary eavesdropping device was planted in ANDEE over a year ago and has been monitoring our work this whole time with unlimited access to the technology and systems? Everything?”

  Bodey nodded.

  “Does this mean what I think it means?” Maddy asked.

  “I think so,” Jake said and frowned. “Somebody has built another ANDEE and could be using it as we speak.”

  Chapter 17

  Jackson Hole, Wyoming

  John Miller sat behind the console and sipped a soda. Bart looked over at him again and smiled tightly. He and Elise were on the other side of the room where they felt they could talk without being overheard.

  “He doesn’t know how long he’s been gone,” Elise said.

  “Or what happened. All he knows is that something is different about him and he seems to be unafraid of you or me, or anything for that matter.”

  Elise nodded. “I would be freaking out right now if I had taken some trip down the rabbit hole and come back. Where has he been all this time and why is he back now?”

  “That’s the question of the day, isn’t it?”

  “We need to find out.”

  “Understatement of the year,” Bart said, dryly.

  “Something is different. I don’t like him.”

  “Are you afraid of him?” Bart asked, surprised.

  “You aren’t? We have no idea what’s happening, Bart. I’m all for proceeding with caution.”

  “Of course, my love. We must be cautious, but we need to know what we’re dealing with and where the hell Benjamin is.”

  “And if he’s coming back.”

  “Yes.”

  They approached John Miller and he looked up at them sideways, a little greasy grin spreading across his lips as he set his can of soda down. “You don’t know how good that tastes,” he said.

  “I’m sure it does, John,” Bart said and sat in a chair next to him. “How are you feeling?”

  “Fine,” he said. “Good actually, considering your bitch here beat me to within an inch of my life. I don’t even feel sore.” He spoke as if mocking them. Almost like he knew something they didn’t or even that he knew more about his situation than he was letting them believe.

  “It was necessary to subdue you,” Bart said. “You would not have come of your own accord.”

  “My own what?”

  “Of your own free will,” Bart explained.

  “You’re right about that.” He glanced over at Elise and smiled. “You’re awfully quiet,” he said.

  She nodded, but remained silent. Bart knew she was not dealing well with this and probably a little more frightened then she let on. She was used to being in control and was a little out of her element.

  “John,” Bart said. “Do you remember what happened?”

  “Oh yes.”

  “Tell us.”

  “You don’t know?” he mocked and snickered. It was like watching a thirteen-year-old bully in the body of a thirty-year-old man. He sat back in the chair, casually, and looked from one to the other. “You two,” he pointed for emphasis, “put me in that machine. Surely, you know what happened.”

  “Enlighten us, John. There are certain aspects of the procedure that are beyond our understanding.”

  John sat forward, sneering. “You put me into a machine you didn’t even understand. Wait, that’s not a question. It’s a statement.” He stood and pushed out his chest. He seemed to grow in front of Bart’s eyes. “You put me in that contraption and didn’t even understand what you were doing. Well, I know what I’m doing now, and I’m afraid I’m not going to play along any longer.”

  He lunged for Elise, but she ducked away and moved quickly out of his grasp. Or so Bart thought. With speed that seemed inhuman, John Miller tracked her move to the left and was next to her in a blur of movement he would not have believed if he hadn’t seen it with his own eyes. John now held Elise by the throat and lifted her, struggling, off of t
he floor with one arm. Elise kicked at his groin and scratched at his eyes, anything to get him to let go, but he was unfazed by anything she did in defense of herself. The muscles stood out on his arms like chords and his neck bulged as he held her up in front of his face.

  “I don’t think you’re going to hurt me ever again, bitch. I thank you for that, but what I had to go through in there I would never wish on anybody.” He paused and looked into her eyes. “Well, except maybe you.”

  Bart stood up, crossed to John and Elise, and brought the gun he wore in his waistband up. He pressed it to John’s temple. “Let her go.” He said this with a finality that no one could question. When John hesitated, he flicked the safety off on the pistol and nudged it harder into his temple. John leered at him out of the corner of his eye.

  “Let her go,” Bart repeated.

  “I have business with her.”

  “She needs to live.”

  “Bullshit. I don’t need her to do anything but die, and then you next.”

  Elise’s lips were turning a dusky shade of blue and her bulging eyes were starting to roll up into her head. She was going to lose consciousness shortly.

  “Let her go,” Bart said again and pushed the barrel harder into John’s temple.

  “Do you think that toy will stop me?” John said.

  Bart made a decision. “Let’s find out,” he said, and pulled the trigger. Blood and white matter sprayed the wall behind John Miller and his grip went limp, dropping Elise to her feet where she fell away, gasping to the floor. John turned slowly, a gruesome mask of pain and anger on his wrecked face and then he crumpled to the floor and died. He said three words as he fell. “I’ll be back.”

  Then the air erupted above him as a portal opened and he was sucked into the black space like grains of sand into a vacuum. A faint wailing could be heard as the last of his ‘body’ disappeared into the void. It clapped shut with a deafening crack and then the lab was eerily silent. John Miller was gone again.

  Chapter 18

  Colorado

  The alarm went off and Lucky groaned as he slapped the switch to silence it. His head throbbed and pulsed as he sat up. He was not meant to be a drinker and he couldn’t understand how anyone could become an alcoholic if this is what you had to wake up to every morning. He’d heard of the ‘hair of the dog,’ but was unwilling to give it a try for fear he would toss it all back up into the toilet if he put even the smallest fraction of anything other than water to his lips. His stomach roiled at the thought and then he was up and running to the commode to give up what remained in his stomach from the night before.

  Afterward, he brushed his teeth and turned on the shower, letting the steaming water wash away the rest of the alcohol that was surely seeping from every pore in his body. If he lit a match, he would probably go up in flames. Tequila drunk was definitely not on his list of things to do in the future. At least not the immediate future.

  He was wondering how Ginny was doing when his phone rang and he reached outside of the shower and grabbed it. Speak of the devil.

  “Hey,” he said.

  “Are you up?” she asked, much more chipper than he expected. She sounded like the shots they did last night hadn’t even fazed her.

  “I’m in the shower.”

  “I’m heading over to pick you up.”

  “You are?”

  “I’m driving,” she said. “I didn’t think you’d be up for it,” and chuckled.

  “I’m fine,” he lied.

  “Uh huh. You sound like shit.”

  “Thanks.”

  “I’ll be there in twenty. Be ready,” and she clicked off before he could protest. Great.

  He finished cleaning up and was feeling a little better when the doorbell rang. Twenty minutes on the nose. I guess she’s punctual, he thought.

  He grabbed his bag and went to answer the door.

  “You look worse than you sound,” she said as she pushed her way into his apartment. “I brought coffee.”

  “I don’t think I could drink it,” he said, watching her take in his small place. She wandered over to the living room and turned in a circle inspecting everything in her view.

  “Not bad—for a jock.” She smiled and walked back toward him where he stood holding the front door open. He had not moved. She handed him a Styrofoam cup. “Drink this. It will help.”

  “I’ll probably throw it up.” He pushed it back toward her.

  “That will help too.”

  “Already did it. Don’t want to anymore.”

  She laughed and took his hand in hers and gently put the cup into it. He liked the feel of her skin against his. Even in his delicate condition.

  “Just try it,” she said, gently, and she raised his hand with the cup in it to his lips, like a child. “It’s my own special fix-me-up.”

  He sipped and it actually tasted pretty good. He drank on his own and felt the warm liquid energize him somehow. “What is this?” he said as she walked out the front door.

  “Coffee and a special tea. It’s a secret.” She turned her head back toward him and grinned as she walked. He followed, locking the door behind him and carrying his backpack to her car. It was a ’69 Chevelle SS and he stopped, admiring the classic muscle car.

  “Now this I would not expect,” he said.

  “What? A girl can’t have a cool car?”

  “This is not just cool. Where did you get this?” he asked as he opened the passenger door and slid in.

  “It was my brother’s. I bought it from him after the divorce. I needed to be able to pull chicks as I cruised the street.”

  “Right. Total lesbo car.”

  “That’s exactly what I thought.”

  “No—really. Why do you have this?”

  “To pull chicks.”

  “Never mind.”

  She started the engine and the throaty rumble of the 305 settled into his seat and he could feel the energy of the car work its way into his blood. He could definitely own a car like this and never look back. She depressed the clutch, popped it in first gear and then they were moving. She handled the car very well.

  “Where to first?” he said.

  “We need to stop by The Cave and pick up some gear. The general wants to see us too. Something about some new development.”

  “He probably wants to give us a secret handshake to use or something. He’s so covert.”

  She laughed. “I don’t know if I would have used that term, but I know what you mean. I wonder what he did before The Cave?”

  “Rumor has it he was almost killed in some terrorist debacle here in the US. Something that never made the papers,” Lucky said and sipped his drink. It was making him feel better as the minutes ticked by.

  “I heard that too. Maybe there’s some truth to it. Most rumors start from somewhere.”

  He nodded, looked out the window at the rising sun over the mountains and then looked back at her sitting behind the wheel. Her auburn hair shimmered in the new dawn and her small ears peeked from beneath it as the wind played with her locks. Her ears were so cute. Her profile was something he could get used to. She must have sensed him staring because she turned and then smiled coyly at him.

  “What are you thinking Eugene?” she asked.

  “That you wouldn’t call me that.”

  “What are you thinking Lucky?”

  “How you look so good when I feel like shit.”

  “I can handle my tequila better is all.”

  He chose not to answer that one and turned back to the view out the front glass. Though the mountains in Colorado were beautiful, the view to his left was so much better.

  They rode in silence for a few minutes. The cold air blowing in her cracked window felt good and the snow that had fallen last night made everything seem new and clean. If he hadn’t been suffering from the leftovers of his hangover, this would almost be a perfect day.

  “You never got the chance to tell me about Pam,” he said, breaking the quiet.


  “What do you want to know?”

  “Why?”

  “Why what? Why did I cheat on Pam?” She looked a little hurt.

  “No. Why Pam at all? Why did you bail on guys?”

  She smiled at that. “Don’t you mean ‘dudes?’ This really bothers you, doesn’t it?”

  “Not like you think,” he said.

  “Let’s see—typical guy thinking is this. It bothers you because you feel it’s a waste for such a pretty girl to be playing for the same team. Is that about right?” She didn’t smile.

  “Okay—you got me. I’m a typical dude. I do think it’s a waste.”

  “You don’t know anything about me,” she was smiling a little, but he could tell she was getting miffed.

  “I know some, but I wonder what happened to get you to change teams. What did he do to you?”

  This hit a nerve and her smile faded. She turned and looked out her window into the countryside and didn’t say anything for a long time. He felt he must have really pissed her off when she said, quietly, “He was so hard. Nothing about him was gentle or soft.” She turned to him and looked into his eyes. “Girls are soft and tender, and they care differently. I like the way they care.”

  This seemed to make sense to him, but it also brought him down a notch. He couldn’t compete with that. He was not soft and knew he could not bring the emotions women bore in relationships, nor did he want to. Hadn’t he read once that emotions were like colors and guys only possessed a limited supply of them compared to women? He knew he had way fewer crayons than she did.

  “Pam was soft like that?” he asked. “She seems a little rough around the edges.”

  “In public, she puts on a show, but alone with me…”

  He nodded and drank from his cup. “Then why risk all that with another guy again? You said you needed a break from her.”

  “I did.”

  “And…”

  She smiled again. “You really want to hear this?”

  “I asked, didn’t I?”

  “Yes, you did.”

  She paused again and he watched as she bit her lip a little while she thought through what she was going to say. He wondered if she knew how cute she really was.