by Simon Harrak
“I just want to know who’s after me.”
“There is another man. He came asking questions. He claimed to be your brother. I didn’t trust him. I told him that we moved you to another hospital.”
Frederich frowned and stared expectantly at the doctor.
“He had a round face, strange eyes.”
Vidrik.
“And long black hair,” she added.
Frederich tilted his head.
“The hair is a disguise,” he said.
“You know him?”
“Yes.”
“Is he dangerous?”
“Very.”
They had gone down a rabbit hole for which the doctor was not prepared. She now looked ten years older, the stress finally getting the better of her.
“You’ve done too much for me,” said Frederich. “You should go. I’ll be fine.”
She closed her eyes and shook her head.
“No,” she said, opening her eyes again. “This is my unit. And you are my patient.”
Frederich snickered and shook his head. Definitely an idealist.
She moved back into the dark, returning to her chair in the corner where Frederich could hear her breath. He began to consider a plan to get out of this fix. It did not look good. He had been shot in the leg, and he was trapped in a hospital room guarded by a furious policeman who thought he had killed innocent people, including a number of fellow officers. As if that were not bad enough, Vidrik was somewhere out there. Even with no legs, Frederich could take care of a police officer. Getting out would be another issue. Taking on Vidrik on top of that meant he would need to innovate his plans beyond using force. Should he wait it out? Or should he call for help? There were no clear answers. For now he was still alive, and for that he could thank… her.
“What’s your name?” he whispered through the darkness.
“Camille,” she said.
“I’m Frederich.”
The room went silent. When she still said nothing, Frederich assumed she wanted to sleep. She had looked exhausted enough.
“Goodnight,” he said, assuming she was already out.
There was another long pause before her voice suddenly came from the corner.
“Goodnight, Frederich,” she said.
23
Inselheim and the Neutralaser team were back in action.
The semi-trailer truck sent out beep after screeching beep as it slowly reversed through the roller door. The side of the sixty-foot long container was decorated from top to bottom with an enormous illustration of a green apple and the business name beneath it. On the road from the mansion, Inselheim had noticed they were in a fruit-growing region. Now it made sense. A fruit company was an excellent cover strategy to get the equipment shipped in without suspicion.
The warehouse itself was beneath Inselheim’s typical standards. He kicked his heel into the dust-covered concrete floor, exposing the many months the place had remained unused. He inspected the vintage brickwork, the paint on the window sills which was now peeling off. The air was heavy with the residual smell of chemicals. The building itself was vastly smaller than their now destroyed state-of-the-art facility in Kazakhstan, and the equipment at their disposal was nowhere near as cutting edge. Still, it was better than nothing. The Neutralaser team was at least safe and able to work.
Ignoring the chemical stink, Inselheim inhaled deeply and smiled. There was no sign of his panic attacks. He had slept all through the previous nights, a feat he had not achieved in a long time. The team was shuffling around organising the space, and the scene reminded him of the first days of the Neutralaser project. Shirvan was busy directing the forklift driver where to place the crates. Phil and Mona exchanged smiles while putting together the work desks for the design department. The manufacturing team were in deep discussion about how to arrange the robotics equipment. Brunswick was hunched over her computer terminal in the corner.
“You would think The League of Reckoning never existed,” said Inselheim as he approached. “The way everyone is back at work.”
He noticed the Neutralaser blueprints on her screen.
“Hmm?” said Brunswick, half turning to Inselheim while still absorbed in her work.
“The team,” said Inselheim, taking a seat next to her. “It’s good to see them.”
“They’ve been through a lot,” said Brunswick, her attention now shifting to him.
“So have you,” said Inselheim.
“We all have,” replied Brunswick with a stern nod.
“I spoke to some of the team. They told me you were amazing. They think they wouldn’t have made it without you.”
“I did what I had to,” said Brunswick.
“Well, you did good,” said Inselheim. “I know it wasn’t easy.”
Brunswick went silent, her stare turning vacant, which reminded Inselheim of how much the past months had fundamentally changed her. On the surface she was still her tenacious self, but when Inselheim searched deeper there was a part of her which, previously accessible to him, was now locked shut. The soft edges of her personality were gone. Nobody discussed what had happened, and the team loyally followed Brunswick’s lead in going straight back to work. Inselheim wondered if they would show symptoms of trauma as he had, but he did not dare open his mouth. The team was likely dealing with the fall-out of their ordeal in their own way. In Inselheim’s case, it was after sunset that the nightmares began, when the distraction of work was left behind. For now, he would play along, glad to have rediscovered some order in the chaos.
“Everything there?” he asked, signalling to the blueprints.
Brunswick re-gathered her focus.
“Yes, I’m just preparing the file system for Phil and the others.”
“Great,” said Inselheim.
“Whose genius idea was it to keep remote backups again?” said Brunswick.
Inselheim snickered and shook his head. They had debated for a long time the security implications of using an external server in Norway. Inselheim had been anxious about vulnerability to hackers, Brunswick had voiced her concerns about keeping everything in-house, which left the risk of losing their precious data too high for comfort.
“You do think of everything,” he said. “Did I mention I’m glad to have you back?”
“A hundred times,” said Brunswick. “I missed you too.”
Inselheim knew she meant it, but her words lacked the usual warmth to which he was accustomed. Give her time.
“Kimberley?” came a voice from behind.
Inselheim and Brunswick turned around and saw Mona approaching.
“One second, Michael,” said Brunswick and got up.
Inselheim watched Brunswick and Mona together from a distance. They communicated with ease, seamlessly laying hands on each other as they spoke, nodding at the right times, their facial expressions perfectly synced. Inselheim could only imagine what they had gone through together, but the effect had been powerful. Brunswick had grown more determined, more imposing, and her presence among the team was like an army general among their troops.
Heads suddenly turned toward the door as Stirner entered, flanked by three of his guards. Mona brushed her red hair out of her face and walked away, a small nod from Brunswick signalling the end of their meeting. Inselheim lifted himself off his chair, preparing himself to greet Stirner. Rather than approach Inselheim, Stirner went over to Brunswick instead. Inselheim stood in place, his cheeks growing progressively warmer as Stirner and Brunswick shared a long exchange without acknowledging him. Finally, Stirner and Brunswick finished their conversation and walked together toward Inselheim.
“Good afternoon, Michael,” said Stirner.
“Horst. Hello,” said Inselheim, stealing a glance at Brunswick, who looked somewhat foreign to him for a split second.
“So what do you think of the place?” said Stirner. “I hope it didn’t disappoint you too much? Unfortunately, we need to prioritise safety over luxury. Kalakia’s spies are
difficult to elude.”
“It’ll do just fine for now,” said Inselheim.
“Good sport,” said Stirner, lightly slapping Inselheim’s shoulder, which caused Inselheim to tense up.
The conversation fell flat, as Stirner smirked and shifted his gaze expectantly from Inselheim to Brunswick and then back.
“Ah, I see my people managed to get the blueprints to you,” said Stirner, turning to the contents of the computer screen. “I know this is somewhat inconvenient, you not having access to telephone or the internet. I don’t like treating you like my prisoners. I hope you understand.”
“We understand very well,” cut in Brunswick.
“Excellent,” said Stirner. “We should see each other more as business partners. With some minor exceptions, of course.”
“We can live with that,” said Brunswick. “How about we set the guidelines now, to avoid confusion later?”
“What did you have in mind?” said Stirner, crossing his arms, his expression switching from quietly confident to cold neutrality.
“We can all agree that the team has been through a lot. I want a doctor made available round the clock, and I want the authority to decide who needs a break and when.”
“Of course,” said Stirner. “The health of your team is critical to our success. I’ll have a doctor brought in. I’ll also let you manage the work schedule, but know this; our enemies do not sleep. The situation could escalate rapidly, and I may ask more of you with little notice.”
“Ok. Let’s start with the doctor,” said Brunswick. “Second, the Inselheim Group doesn’t know if its CEO is dead or alive. Our shareholders will be getting nervous. The company is in enough trouble as it is. We want word sent out that he’s ok.”
“That could be difficult,” said Stirner. “Any new information could trigger a search, which would complicate matters for me.”
“I figured you would say that,” said Brunswick. “And I have a solution.”
“Yes?” said Stirner.
“You have ambitious plans. With the Neutralaser in your hand, nations will be forced to take you seriously.”
“Correct,” said Stirner.
“If we’re going to be business partners, that should include The Inselheim Group. I want whatever pact you make with those nations to include an agreement to buy arms exclusively from us. You’ll get your share, of course.”
Wait, what? thought Inselheim, who had been passively listening to the exchange. Did she want to make the Inselheim Group the official weapons manufacturer of this guy’s criminal organisation? Say something. Inselheim tried to open his mouth, but was held back by an emerging sense of helplessness.
“That’s an interesting thought,” said Stirner. “I’ll think about it.”
“You haven’t heard everything,” said Brunswick.
Stirner lifted his eyebrows in anticipation.
“The League Of Reckoning has a strong grip on world nations. Even with the Neutralaser, it won’t be easy to convince all of them to shift their loyalty at once. They have too much at stake. Any sudden shift in alliance could prematurely trigger a nuclear war, and nobody wants that. It’s more likely that they’ll group up and send in their army to take the technology by force. You’ll be vulnerable without a strong deterrence plan.”
“I see you’ve thought hard about this,” said Stirner with a tense smirk.
“But..” Brunswick paused, pursing her lips together, her expression darkening. “If we deployed the Neutralaser along with a set of long-range ballistic nuclear missiles, it would be a different story. Then they’ll be forced to play along.”
Nuclear missiles? Inselheim’s legs suddenly grew weak as his helplessness deepened.
Stirner studied Brunswick’s face for a long time.
“I don’t have access to that kind of technology,” he said.
“Leave that to me,” said Brunswick.
Stirner stared silently at Brunswick, then finally broke out chuckling. It barely made a dent in the tension Brunswick had created.
“Amusing,” said Stirner. “I have something much simpler planned. But I will keep your offer in mind, in case something changes.”
“Do that,” said Brunswick, maintaining absolute eye-contact.
“Now,” said Stirner, blinking multiple times as though having woken up from hypnosis. “I’ll be away for a couple of days. I trust you have everything you need in the meantime?”
“Yes,” said Brunswick.
“I’ll get that doctor sent over,” said Stirner with a nod before walking away.
With Stirner gone, Inselheim was finally able to force words out of his mouth.
“Are you crazy?” he said. “Did I hear right? Nuclear missiles?”
Brunswick looked back at him with a hard, impenetrable stare.
“What do you want, Michael?” she said.
“What do you mean?”
“Do you want to succeed?”
“Yes. Of course,” Inselheim said. “But you’re talking about risking nuclear war. I want the opposite of that.”
“We’ve known each other for a long time, haven’t we?”
“Yes,” said Inselheim. “But I don’t think I know you very well right now. Something’s changed.”
“Of course it has,” said Brunswick with a scowl. “That’s the problem. The whole situation has changed, and you’re still stuck in your fantasy world. What do you suggest we do? Tell me.”
Inselheim took a deep breath.
“I think we should slow down,” he said. “Consider what we’re doing before it’s too late.”
“It’s already too late,” said Brunswick. “Your plan to make this technology and then magically deploy it worldwide without a hitch, that’s never going to happen.”
“It wasn’t just my plan. It was our plan,” said Inselheim.
“Didn’t this whole experience with The League Of Reckoning teach you anything?” said Brunswick, now raising her voice. “Act, or be acted upon. Remember you used to say that? Well, we were acted on, and people died. Our friends were killed.”
“You don’t think that hurts me too?” said Inselheim.
“You weren’t there locked up with us,” said Brunswick.
“What is this really about?”
“It’s about getting the job done. Stirner has his head so far up his ass he can’t see what he’s getting himself into. Kalakia is going to make breakfast out of him. Don’t be the same. Don’t let some bloated fantasy cut you off from reality.”
“And what’s the reality, Kimberley?”
“The reality is that the world isn’t ready for this. We need to drag them kicking and screaming. If we don’t, then everything we’ve worked for is gone.”
“This is crazy,” said Inselheim, placing his hands on the back his neck and shaking his head.
“We’re a weapons manufacturer,” said Brunswick. “We make money off products that kill people. Face it. Deep down you wanted to build the Neutralaser so you could feed your ego. It was your reputation you cared about, not the future of mankind. It was all about legacy for you. Don’t be such a hypocrite.”
Brunswick had delivered her last lines like a knockout punch, with such spite in her voice that Inselheim could not bring himself to hear any more. Her voice was like sandpaper tearing his insides to shreds, a corrosive liquid eating into his soul. He grew suddenly desperate to escape her laser-sharp stare. He stormed off, and fled to a corner behind the containers.
There he sat alone, dizzy with doubt and confusion. He stayed crouched on the ground for what felt like hours. Nobody came to check on him. After a short silence, the warehouse had broken into chatter again and the team seemed to get back to work. When Inselheim realised nobody was coming, he felt helpless and alone. What had just happened? Only this morning he had been filled with hope. Now his closest friend had turned his world upside-down. Being eviscerated like that by Brunswick was too much. Inselheim started sweating and shaking, as a new wave of pani
c attacks hit him, leaving him wondering when this nightmare was ever going to end.
24
Gerricks rubbed his eyes and turned from the screen, trying to blink away the soreness. The stream of information coming through was merciless. His shoulders and back were stiff like rock, his usually unwavering focus was failing him. A nap would have been a smart idea, but there was no time for that. The news was in a frenzy about the attacks, and rightfully so. There was no ignoring what had occurred in such a short time and on that kind of scale. The social media wheel was spinning like a jet engine. It was The Worldwide Horror all over again, and League Intel had long given up trying to control the narrative.
Gerricks reached over and grabbed his bottle of caffeine pills and shook two into his hand, tossed them into his mouth and washed them down with a gulp of energy drink. He managed to force his attention back to the screen, which showed #armageddon, #murder and #nowheretohide as the most trending hashtags in the world. Existential fear was collectively boiling up to the surface, uniting all people under the banner of impending doom. Web servers were dropping one-by-one from the sheer volume of users scampering to find ways to unload their angst via the web. Gerricks marvelled from his computer terminal at the reactions. A movement had begun planning for a migration north beyond the Nordic countries before ‘World War III broke out.’ Iceland was also mentioned in the discussion. Countless frightened citizens had crowded government offices all over the world. Sporadic incidents of looting had broken out. Supermarkets were quickly selling out of survival food. Protests were being planned in every nation to demand answers. Good luck with that.
Global stability might as well have been propped up with toothpicks, but Gerricks had his mind on something else. He sat ruminating about it until the caffeine pills kicked in, where his heart began pounding like a jackhammer and an involuntary shaking had taken over his legs. His neck cracked all over as he stretched it from side to side while trying to roll the tension out of his shoulders.
“I’m going for a walk,” he told the team when his restlessness grew unbearable.
They acknowledged his comment with disinterested grunts without moving their eyes from the screens. Gerricks walked the length of the bunker and emerged out into the forest. He strode up the ramp then leaned against a tree and lit a cigarette, oblivious to the various signs of life in the woods. He had been with The League for eight years and had never experienced anything like this. There had been minor crises, such as the recession which led to a sharp increase in unemployment. There was also the ‘Tech Mutiny’ in Silicon Valley, where the CEOs of the most influential technology companies had hired mercenaries to resist The League. There were other minor situations peppered in between as well, but not once did doubt seep into Gerricks’ mind. Kalakia took care of those situations as though he had been expecting them. Where was Kalakia’s genius move now? What the hell was he waiting for? Gerricks hated even to think it, but if he had to guess, he would say that Kalakia had no idea what he was doing. The man was likely biding his time, hoping his opponent would shoot himself in the foot or something. The League had its chance already, and it had blown it.