by JB Penrose
Her eyes widened and she set the cup down. “How did you find me?”
“That was a lucky break on my part,” he admitted. “But not everyone got one of those cyto units for Christmas, and it made you easier to identify,” he explained. She pulled on the sleeve of her coat to cover it. “Why are you here?”
She pretended not to hear but he knew she was considering her options. Obviously, her purpose had changed since her visit to PROBE-Tech, and Morrow wanted to know everything she could tell him.
“You really should talk to me,” he pointed out. “I’ve been the eyes and ears for Iscar on this side of the planet; he trusts me.” Morrow knew he exaggerated the truth, but this girl wouldn’t know that. If she couldn’t complete the mission Iscar sent her on – then Iscar would be needing his help. Morrow was feeling confident.
“I’m Frank Morrow. Tell the Septorian you met me at PROBE-Tech,” he encouraged. “Go ahead; the restrooms are back there,” he motioned to the hallway behind her. “You can have some privacy. I’ll wait for you here.”
Frank Morrow smiled as he added the ID card to his wallet. He sat back in the chair at the desk in his small apartment, relaxed. Years ago, he realized there could be a time in his future that required a new identity; fortunately, he’d kept up the appearance of his school chum – long since dead, for just such an occasion as this. These credentials would get him hired at PROBE-Tech.
The One World Conference was in the final stages of preparation. Frank had passed the online application and video interviews. He knew the background check had been completed – and passed, of course. Frank was diligent in his effort to keep up appearances – especially fake appearances; always making sure the driver’s license and tax records were current on his old friend’s identity. He hoped Will appreciated the reputation he had built since his death; he was sure it was more than John could have accomplished on his own.
Frank took the last puff on a cigarette from the ashtray and snuffed the butt into a pile with the others.
“Will you be here when I get back?”
Ariesh wasn’t much of a conversationalist but that wasn’t a bad thing in his mind. She never disclosed anything about her conversation with Iscar, only that when she returned from the restroom she nodded and said that Iscar told me to join you.
She looked at him oddly as he exited the bathroom of the apartment. That was also a good thing. There were slight modifications to his appearance, but it was exhilarating to release his identity of Frank Morrow. The auburn hair was a subtle change and no one would suspect it wasn’t natural. He cut the length short and trimmed the beard and mustache to reshape his face and avoid minimal recognition detection. The nose was longer and more broad, an easy change with the prosthetic’s available today. Lens contacts changed his eye color and a bit of temporary tattoo ink let him alter the shape of his eyes.
From the puzzled look on her face, his appearance had changed enough. It was daring to test the perimeters of the PROBE-Tech security, but he was excited to try. It wouldn’t be the first time he’d tested the limits of PROBE-Tech.
“I’ve got an appointment,” he told her, “and it could take several hours.”
She was not much of a connection to Iscar. It had been a week since they met, but she offered no indication of her mission. Occasionally, she disappeared for hours; a few times, she was gone overnight, and when she knocked on his apartment door, she offered no explanation where she had been. He hoped, at some point their association would prove more valuable.
“Make yourself at home,” he added casually, “but if you leave – be sure to lock the door.”
Ariesh stared at him without expression or comment, and with some feeling of exasperation, Frank grabbed his coat and let the door close behind him.
Because of the cold temperature, the line for employment built up inside the lobby – circling around until they had passed each other enough times to become friends, or hopeful co-workers. Frank joined in the banter, not so much to blend into the crowd but to glean personal facts that could be useful in the future.
“I’m glad they’re broadcasting the inauguration. I’d be there,” the girl named Carol told him, “except that I really need this job.”
“I’m glad it’s happening too,” he admitted. “The fact that they’re all there,” he laughed, “means they’re not here.”
“You’re right,” another chimed in. “The traffic wasn’t as bad as I planned for.”
Slowly, but steady, they all made their way in the line to the registration desk.
“William Bilgarusso.”
The administrator typed his name into the system. “Please stand on the “X” for your photo.”
Frank moved over the spot and watched the camera intently until he sensed the lens movement, and then blinked.
“Shame,” the woman said when the picture printed. “Got you with your eyes closed. Would you like to retake the photo?”
“No, but thanks,” Frank told her. “It’s okay. It’s just a temporary ID.”
The woman handed the badge to him and pointed to a doorway on the left. “Computer testing is in that room. Good luck,” she added.
“Thanks. Hope to see you again.”
Frank finished the sentence as he walked away. PROBE-Tech had a lot to learn about security.
The large room had several hundred computers, and he was led to a desk that had just been vacated. Frank took his seat and swiped his temporary badge over the card-reader; the screen activated with a program designed to match his job skills.
Before he started the test, he let the mag-drive adhere to the underside of the keyboard and waited for the screen’s cursor to confirm the connection. Once he pressed the enter-key, the sub-program would link itself to the information on the screen and travel with it to the home-bank computer. PROBE-Tech would screen all the applicants against its own private database; Frank Morrow, or William Bilgarusso as they knew him, wanted to know exactly where that database was.
It didn’t take long to complete the skills test, which Frank considered extremely simple, but he spent a few minutes pretending to review the answers so it didn’t alert any suspicion. He had purposely simplified his résumé to not advertise his true skill level, yet apply for a position that would allow him the necessary access to what he wanted. It was irritating that he had to get a few answers wrong just to keep up the appearance.
Once the Aurora launched Frank realized the spaceship was out of his reach, forever; and Iscar’s failure at the first One World Conference had already proven that the information was going to be released to the world – like it or not. Frank was grateful for the opportunity to enter PROBE-Tech again; he was sure there was a storage bank of information somewhere on the grounds, and if he could hack into that system he would have the most valuable access of all. World access. Total and complete knowledge.
“If you’re finished here, there are others waiting to use a computer.” The attendant stood close behind him and tapped the chair with some impatience.
“Oh, sure,” Frank pushed his chair back and forced the attendant to step aside. That was all he needed to pass his fingers under the keyboard and loosen the mag-drive from its location. He let the attendant lead him to the exit.
“You’ll be contacted through email,” he recited automatically. “Thank you for your time.”
“Great, thanks,” Frank responded. His back was turned, his hand went into his pockets, and a wide smile crossed his face. “Can’t wait.”
“Oh Poppa, so good to see you.” Dera gave him a warm hug. “Hello Mother,” she said. “You look wonderful!”
“Thank you, Dera. You seem radiant today.” Mags had noticed the same glow building with Neely every time they met at the conference. She wondered if they were seeing each other outside of business, but Mags didn’t notice him in the crowd today.
“Scott will be glad to see you both. He made me save a couple of seats on the stage, but I kept them back far enough to avo
id the cameras – most of them,” she added. “I knew you’d prefer that.”
“You are a smart girl,” James kissed her cheek.
Dera led them through the intimate crowd, stopping along the way to greet someone, or casually introduce them as John Reider’s replacement as CEO and Andrew’s replacement as President at PROBE-Tech.
The new Vice President standing at the podium; Kay Shawnee was to administer the oath as her last duty on the court before assuming the vice presidency with the new administration.
James took his seat even while others stood to see, or to be seen; some phases of politics never change. His observations were interrupted by the cyto alarm from the unit on his wrist. He glanced at Mags before lifting his wrist to hear from Charlie. This kind of communication could only mean bad news.
“This is Zebede. Go ahead.”
“Mr. James, this is Charlie. I saw Frank Morrow on the campus here, and now he’s given me the slip.”
“I’ll be right there.” He let his arm drop to his side and shook his head to Mags. “A bad penny always turns up,” he told her. “I have to go.”
“I know. I’ll apologize to Scott,” she told him. “And you’ll catch Morrow – whatever he’s up to.”
“Knowing that Morrow has penetrated PROBE-Tech before the Conference is not the news I wanted to hear.”
“You can take care of Frank Morrow,” Mags assured him. “God’s plan will never fail.”
“Let’s hope he’s got one for Morrow!”
“I’m sorry sir,” Charlie told him. “I didn’t know it was him until it was too late.”
“Just that you knew it was him was our blessing,” James patted the big man on his back. “Now, tell me what happened.”
“I was watching everyone gathered for the employment testing,” he said, “and I noticed a driver just sitting in his car. When I approached, I saw he had his computer open but he closed it quickly when he saw me.
“His hair was a darker color and the beard and moustache threw me off a bit, but when he spoke there was no mistaking the sound of his voice; I’ll never forget that.” Charlie bit his lip and shook his head. “He drove away pretty quick, but I asked the gate sentry to stop his car; I thought you’d want to question him.”
“You’re right about that,” James stood.
“Unfortunately, a patrol found the car not far from here. It was stolen; reported missing about an hour ago.”
Frank Morrow was loose on PROBE-Tech grounds! James cursed his luck and thought better of it. “Tell the patrols to be extra vigilant. Get everyone a picture of who you saw, but we should expect that he has already changed his appearance again. He’s probably changed his clothes, too, so check every person – employee or delegate through the audio database.”
“Yes sir!” Charlie turned to the door and stopped before he exited. “I’m sorry about letting him get away.”
“Charlie – just that you knew it was Morrow will foil his plan,” James assured him. “Good work!”
James brought up an overview of the campus on his computer and adjusted the timeframe to the point when Charlie found Morrow in the car, and then locked the tracker on his image. As he scrolled forward on the security footage he could see where Morrow abandoned the vehicle – not moving toward the gated exits, but deeper – toward the airstrip.
“Charlie,” James said, excited. “Concentrate your search at the airstrip. Send everyone you can!”
“Yes sir.”
Morrow had learned his way around PROBE-Tech during the siege before the Aurora launched. James was unsure what it was Frank Morrow intended to destroy, either PROBE-Tech, the Conference, or both; but it made catching him all the more important.
Frank was sure there would be at least one hoverjet at the airstrip; he blessed his additional luck that there was only one. Laughing, he watched the vehicles gather beneath him as he made his rise into freedom; he would be long-gone before they were able to get another craft into the air.
He hadn’t planned to fly out of PROBE-Tech, but he could do his work from any location as long as he had a computer. There was enough fuel in the hoverjet tank to leave the continent, but his plan required him close enough to take action when he found what he was looking for.
Frank was smart enough to know there would be a security blast at every airstrip for a PROBE-Tech hoverjet, but he wouldn’t be landing at an airstrip. There was one place he thought they’d look last – and have the hardest time finding him. Frank Morrow was about to return to the scene of the crime.
“Sir? I’ve got it,” Charlie spoke before James had a chance to look up from his desk. “I’ve found him. Well, I’ve found his ID.”
“What do you mean, Charlie?”
“His ID,” he repeated. “I know how he got in to PROBE-Tech.” Charlie held out the picture of an ID badge. “He was applying for a job at the conference. That’s why I saw him here. So, it made me think,” he continued, “and I checked the ID’s from the applicants. This,” he emphasized, “is the man I saw. It says William Bilgarusso, but I know that’s Frank Morrow.”
James studied the photo. The eyes were closed, and that made it tougher. And the hair was darker. His beard and mustache were misleading, and there was something different about the nose. “Are you sure, Charlie? I mean,” James tried to imagine the photo as Frank. “I’m sure this is who you saw, but do you think it really looks like Morrow?”
“I promise you, Mr. James. That is Frank Morrow. I will never forget anything about that man.”
“He may look different,” James concluded, “but I’ll have to agree with you. There’s no reason William Bilgarusso would steal a car, run away, and then steal a hoverjet – unless he was Frank Morrow! Good work, Charlie.”
“Yes, sir! It’s Morrow, all right. I’ll stake my job on that!”
“That’s not necessary,” James assured him. “Let’s get this picture posted in the security database. And Charlie, I’m going to have someone from National Security reach out to you; please share any information you can about Morrow.”
“Of course, Mr. James. I’m happy to share. Frank Morrow is bad news all around.”
James reached for the phone as Charlie was leaving.
“Dera,” he said. “Who would I speak to at the NSA about Frank Morrow? After his actions here at PROBE-Tech today, I’m sure President Cauthron would agree he is a national threat.”
* * *
“Fairidai?”
The girl stepped into the light of the doorway. “Pardon me, Spokesmon. I didn’t mean to intrude.”
“No worries. You could never intrude.” Rachel extended her hands in invitation. “Have you been out there long?”
“Not long, Spokesmon. But I didn’t want to disturb your prayers.”
“Come over here,” Rachel invited. “Is everything alright?”
“Yes, ma’am,” Fairidai told her. “I just--” She stumbled over a rock as she entered and immediately fell to her knees. “I’m so sorry. I’m not usually like this. Zeus! What’s wrong with me?”
Fairidai got up quickly and tried to brush the sand from her tunic; the blood was quickly outlining the gnash. She rubbed her knee. “I should never have interrupted you.”
Rachel helped Fairidai stand and assisted her as she limped to the flat rock for a seat.
“Don’t worry,” Rachel assured her. “You weren’t interrupting. Now, let’s take a look at that cut.” She checked the redness of the girl’s knee. “I could tell that you weren’t trying to intrude on my thoughts, but you are a very strong-”
“Empath!” They said it together and giggled.
“You’re doing just fine. I appreciate your help.” Rachel smiled and with a fingertip, she traced the thin line of blood on the girl’s knee.
“I felt that!” Fairidai’s hand quickly went to her knee.
“And now there’s now nothing to feel,” Rachel smiled. “All signs erased.”
“What did you do? A healing?”
“Oh, thank you!” Fairidai stood, excited, and walked to the pool’s edge to rinse off the dried blood. She examined the lack of a scar or tenderness by the lights of the floating candelabra.
“So,” Rachel changed the subject. “How did you find me? Have you been in here before? Is this one of your secret hideouts?”
“I’ve never been here,” Fairidai confessed. “But I knew I could find you if I was still and listened; that’s what set me in the right direction. Then I followed the Light.”
“Can you see the Light of my star from outside?” Rachel asked.
“Your star? These,” she waved to the candelabra, “aren’t bright enough to see outside. But the Septorian’s Star helped in the climbing.”
Rachel laughed. “No I meant Ishleen,” Rachel pointed behind her. “She named herself when she came forth.”
Fairidai stared curiously at the Spokesmon. “Is there someone here with us?”
“No,” Rachel laughed. “I mean the star I created. Back there – behind the straw formations. Isn’t she magnificent?”
Fairidai’s gaze moved over Rachel’s shoulder then slowly returned, but the confusion showing on her face remained the same. “Spokesmon,” she confessed slowly. “I don’t see anything behind you.”
“But of course,” Rachel turned around to verify the star’s radiance. “Maybe you thought it had always been here. It doesn’t matter that I thought I created it. It is beautiful, isn’t it?”
Fairidai continued to stare strangely at the Spokesmon and didn’t speak.
“Remember.” Rachel heard the urging from Ishleen in her inner-most thoughts. From the lack of change on Fairidai’s face, Rachel understood only she heard the prompting.
“You don’t see a star behind me in the corner of this cave,” Rachel confirmed quietly. “Do you?”
Fairidai slowly shook her head.
Rachel looked over her shoulder to convince herself Ishleen was indeed real, if only to her, and then smiled to herself knowingly. This was the Light from her own heart; this Light was a piece of her. Ishleen - was personal to the Spokesmon.