by Fiona Quinn
Huh. Surely Vine had been through enough in her life to know that happily-ever-afters were the stuff of fairy tales. Even if you make it through one crisis, it doesn’t mean your life’s crisis quota had been used up, and from this point on, it would be a smooth and gentle ride.
“Vine approached her dad for help,” Jack continued. “And, because he wasn’t invested in her delusions, Allan Leverone — AKA Allan Hays, Indigo, and the Puppet Master — saw the truth when he did his remote viewing, which was Lynx.” He pointed at me with his red marker, and all heads swiveled to look my way.
My face heated with shame. Once again, I was the eye of the storm.
“He also saw a way to serve his dual purposes — revenge for what happened once Galaxy lost funding and was closed and also helping his daughter find happiness. Hence, Frith and the fire at Lynx’s apartment building, Frith and the serial killer taking out the women on Indigo’s hit list, Travis Wilson—”
“It’s interesting that Indigo didn’t remotely view Frith trying to lure Spyder back to DC via Maria Rodriguez,” Blaze said. “And he didn’t pick up on Maria’s kidnapping Lynx and hiding her in the prison. He wouldn’t have known either had happened had General Elliot not asked Major Trudy for help.”
“You’re right,” Jack said. “If Major Trudy hadn’t reached out to Indigo to monitor the remote viewing sessions tasked with looking for Lynx, things might not have turned out the way they did. I don’t think we’d have had those months trying to help Lynx evade Omega last summer.”
“And Striker might still have his house intact,” I added with a frown. “Looks like what Major Trudy saw in his remote viewing sessions of my dream state. Indigo realized that Spyder and I were well on our way to collapsing his infrastructure. And now, from Major Trudy’s tasking sheets, Indigo had an idea of where I could be found in Honduras.” I shifted uncomfortably. How did I always end up in the center of the shit storm?
“Once again, he involved Frith,” Jack said.
“Why didn’t he simply get Sylanos or Omega involved?” I wondered. “One bullet and I would have ceased to exist.” There were times in the Honduran prison cell when I would have welcomed that bullet. I had wanted to die rather than continue to lie there like that. The only thing I could think of was that Indigo realized how much effort and resources Iniquus put into finding me, and so I must be special to them. I bet he wanted to use me like a prisoner of war who was paraded about, taunting the enemy into reaction. Did he want an Iniquus - Omega war? Is that what we were bracing for now? I looked down at my bulletproof vest.
“Looks like the path for General Elliot was a simple one,” Jack said. “Indigo wanted the General to walk a mile in his shoes. Eighteen months of being awake and cognitively aware but unable to open his eyes or move. When that time of bodily imprisonment was over, he would awaken to find Iniquus no longer existed, and soon after, his wife would be killed. Then the general could spend the rest of his life in mourning. Tormented. And the general could feel the same depth of betrayal that Indigo did.”
We all sat there, stunned. Vine and Indigo, these were the people taking down General Elliot and Iniquus. Hurting America. And holding Striker to mess around with his brain, planting weird influencing thought seeds.
I stood. “Gator, can you come with me?”
Chapter Thirty-Nine
We moved up the corridor. “I want to do another check-in on Striker. We’re coming up around four hours since I last tried, and that’s as long as he usually sleeps.”
“Roger that,” Gator said, pushing one of the cell doors open.
The last time I had been in one of Iniquus’ soundproof rooms, I stood in the corner, howling out my rage that fate had taken my husband, Angel, from me. Had taken such a wonderful human being from this world. I didn’t think I could go through that again and maintain any sense of sanity. God, please keep Striker safe. Send your angels to surround and protect him. Amen.
I moved toward the cot to lay down, and Gator cast his eyes around the room. “Hang tight. Let me get you some water and a trashcan.”
He headed out, but there was no hanging tight. I felt Striker calling to me. I closed my eyes and swung behind the Veil.
“Lexi.” It was a mantra in his brain. The only thought — my name over and over again. I knew from my time trying to contact him from behind the Veil when I was in the prison that he wouldn’t sense me at all. I could bring him no comfort.
I felt the incredible weight of his body. How much bigger he was than me. I lay with him, sensing the rumble and sway come to a stop. “He is in a vehicle that had been moving,” I said aloud, not sure if Gator was with me or not.
Time passed. His breathing had increased as he rose through the levels of consciousness and became more awake. His eyes were open. Everything was still dark with shades of grey, and I could sense if not see geometric shapes around me. Circles over rectangles — they seemed to move.
“Hello, my love, can you hear me?” a woman’s voice crooned. She was a gossamer silhouette. “It’s time to get up and go to the bathroom. Here we go.”
A hand behind his head pushed. It seemed to cover more of his head than mine would. She seemed to have very big hands; they moved to his shoulders, then moved around to pull his arms until Striker was standing. He draped his body over the person, and they moved slowly to the bathroom. Like moonwalking. A blurry Vine stood in front of him. There must be a man holding Striker up. The movement made by Striker’s left arm had something catch near the elbow. I thought about how that felt — what I had experienced in the past that I was recognizing. My mind landed on the times I was coming out of a state of unconscious at the hospitals, that catch on his arm was the tape from an infusion site. He was being drugged with an IV. Had to be. Everything was so fuzzy and softly focused. Dim.
I stayed with him until they laid him back on the mattress.
“Go to sleep, sweetheart. We have a long way to go.” Vine caressed soft fingers over his forehead and kissed his lips. I moved into her, thinking that I would be able to see down the road, get directions, and send help. But instead, she sat down in the dark space, and the rumbling started up again. Someone else was driving. Something must be covering the windows. I hoped for more information but shouts suddenly yanked me back from behind the Veil.
Gator stood in the open doorway, focused down the hallway.
I blinked my eyes and reoriented myself. Slowly, I pulled myself up and shook off the effects of the medicine in Striker’s bloodstream.
“You okay, Lynx?”
“Go. Go find out what’s happening.”
So close to answers. My body shook violently. When Gator came back in, I lay in the fetal position, trying to keep my limbs from flailing.
“What happened? What are they yelling?” I asked with tight lips and chattering teeth.
“The guys were reading a piece of the log that pissed them off. I told them they couldn’t holler like that no more.”
“Striker’s drugged.” I accidentally bit my lip, trying to talk past my jack-hammering teeth. “They put an IV in his arm to keep him sedated. He won’t be able to help us. The vehicle he’s in is large enough to walk six paces from mattress to bathroom. The bathroom is large enough to fit two people in closely, side by side.”
“He was able to walk to the bathroom?”
“Stumble with support. A man held Striker upright from behind, and Vine had to aim his penis.”
“She held his dick so he could pee? Then he’s some kinda fucked up.” He blinked. “Excuse my language, ma’am.”
I shook my already shaking head to let him know I couldn’t care less about his word choices. “I would imagine that’s the case.”
Gator called out, “Hey, bring some blankets down here, stat.” He rubbed his hands over my limbs.
“I’m not cccccold, Gator.”
“Yeah, you’re coming off of Striker’s drugs. Bet you’re going to have a killer hangover when this shaking wears off. Fluids.�
�� He raised both eyebrows to underline the importance of the word. “And you’re going to hang tight in here until you’ve got your muscles under control.”
Blaze showed up with two blankets. He looked down at me, concern warming his eyes.
“She went behind the Veil. They’ve drugged Striker.” Gator tucked the blankets tightly around me.
“That’s what we just read in the log about General Elliot. Sorry we startled you, Lynx.”
“Please. What happened to the general?”
Blaze moved farther into the cell and leaned his back against the padding that made the walls soundproof. “Vine followed General and Mrs. Elliot on their vacation. The general was drinking liberally, and Vine slipped a roofie into his drink. The busboys had to drag him to his room. Then, by looking at the time frame, we checked through the text messages. Vine sent her dad a text that said, ‘Done.’ Immediately after, in the logs, we found Indigo did an influencing task — they used a tasking code instead of writing it out. We can’t tell for sure from the numbers who he targeted, but the seeds were for a comatose state. And then it said, ‘We’ll see how you like being stuporous for eighteen months. Just wait until you see I killed your kid while you were out’.”
Jack moved into the room. “You okay? I apologize for that.”
I nodded, still a little disoriented.
“Are you sure he meant General Elliot? He don’t have kids,” Gator said, unconsciously rubbing my back.
“I think he means he’s killing Iniquus.” Pushing myself upright, I said, “Okay, eyes on the prize. We need to find Striker.” I put my feet on the ground. Gator put a restraining hand on my shoulder, keeping me in place. I didn’t fight him.
“Jack, we can’t get GPS coordinates on a burner phone, can we?” I asked.
“Not GPS, no, but if the phone is on, we can get a general trajectory by cell towers they pass,” Jack said.
“Pooh, that’s what I thought. And we don’t have that equipment, right? We’d need to get it from the phone company. Does that mean warrants?”
“Warrants and a lot of hoop-jumping — enough that it wouldn’t make any difference because your target would be long gone.”
“What about law enforcement in an emergency situation?”
“That sometimes works, sometimes doesn’t,” Blaze said. “I had a buddy in PD working a case where a carjacker took off from the gas station, and there was a baby in the back seat. The FBI, police, the mother whose name was on the phone contract, everyone begged the phone company to track the phone, which was still in the car, and the phone company refused, citing privacy concerns.”
“Holy moly, was the baby okay?”
“The carjacker left the baby in her car seat by the side of the road. A good Samaritan picked her up and called the cops. I believe the phone company is being sued. Point being, it’s a crapshoot. Why do you ask?”
I stood up and walked to the conference room with my hand on the wall for stability. “We have Vine’s private phone number on a burner phone between dad and daughter. It’s a long shot, but since these two aren’t street criminals or trained in law enforcement, they may not have thought through the significance of me having Indigo’s phone. As a matter of fact, Indigo may conclude that I have nothing at all because he probably sent the self-destruction signal through the app, and all I’d be left with for my efforts would be a bunch of plastic and metal. Which is exactly what I would have had if I hadn’t removed the battery. So this might be a viable route to follow.” I moved toward my chair.
“NSA can follow them even with the phone turned off,” Jack said.
Gator shook his head. “Yeah, but NSA has a lot of Assembly men. That would be like calling Vine up and saying, ‘We’re coming for ya.’”
“Deep, do you have any drinking buds who can help with a burner phone location? Triangulation off their cell towers?”
“Depends on the carrier. Who’s got the phone — IT or forensics?”
“Forensics.”
He stood up to leave.
“Hey, ask them if we can text to Vine’s phone, or if that would mean putting Indigo’s phone in danger of self-destruction from the app. Can we take that app off? Turn it off? Bypass it somehow?”
My phone buzzed, interrupting my train of thought.
Spyder: Media, alphabets, police, senate, house, and president have files. High alert for retaliation. Need to talk to you now about PM—call from secured location.
Lynx: Daughter kidnapped Striker. She definitely trained influencing with dad. Give me two seconds.
I moved back down the hall and made the call over an encrypted line. “Hey, what do you need?”
“I’ve been ordered to remove the threat to national security,” Spyder replied.
“Which one?” I picked up the base of the phone, so I could pace the room.
“Indigo. I need intel on his penthouse. How can I best get to him?”
“Well, I went up an internal fire escape chute that ended in his bathroom. Wait.” I stopped and focused on the floor in front of me. I remembered back to Major Trudy’s conversation about saving me on the Metro platform. He said that Indigo was taken away in an ambulance. “He might not be there right now, Spyder. Can you give me some time to try to figure things out?”
“Speed of thought and action are imperative, Lexicon. The files have been released. Very soon, the rats will be jumping from the ships. We cannot allow this rat to escape down a hiding hole.”
“Yes, sir.” I hung up the receiver and pulled my cellphone from my waistband. “Deep, I need you to pull two rabbits from your hat at the same time.”
“What’s that, Lynx?”
“Striker, of course, is a priority, and we need to know where the camper is headed. But I also need you to find the 911 call from Omega headquarters that took Allan Leverone — probably under the name Allan Hays — to the hospital. From the responders' information, you should get another alias if that one’s not right. Find out what hospital he went to, and then I need you to hack into their computer system.”
“No can do with that last request, Lynx. Hospital computers aren’t linked to the Internet so that it’s impossible to hack them.”
“I need that information. Is it possible that once you find the hospital that you might have a contact in their IT who is patriotic enough to send us a copy of Indigo’s medical files?”
“If I don’t, someone here in our IT should. I’ll get back to you as soon as I have something.”
“Deep. Fast. Please.”
“I’m on it.”
***
Back in the secure room, I showed the team Spyder’s text.
“PM?” asked Jack.
“The Puppet Master, Indigo, Allan Leverone, one of the world’s only remote viewers and remote influencers, who apparently taught his daughter the tricks of the trade.” I took a steadying breath in before I said, “Spyder has been ordered by the White House to neutralize the threat.” At this point, I couldn’t care less out who should be in the loop, what was classified, and who was need-to-know. This was my team, and I needed them working on all four burners. I’d deal with any fall out after this smoke had cleared.
“Spyder’s neutralizing the threat?” Jack’s face was full military focus. “We’re on American soil, and we’re not going for an arrest?”
“How could we contain him and stop him from continuing his behavior by imprisoning him? Put him in an aluminum-lined cell?”
That was met with a general round of frowns and head-nods.
“What are the files about? If the White House is involved, this is high-priority national security.”
I took in a deep breath. “Files have been dispersed that include incontrovertible data to implicate the Hydra — the Sylanos cartel, the Assembly, and Omega in crimes against the state — and Indigo, but he obviously won’t be standing trial. That threat will be voided.”
That stopped everyone in their tracks.
“No wonder we’re on c
ode yellow.” Blaze eyed the rifles lined up against the wall. “The Assembly? You and Spyder went after that Moby Dick? Shit, girl, you’ve got balls.”
“The Indigo threat will not be void,” Jack said. “He trained his daughter.” He picked up a metal folding chair, spun it around backward, and straddled the seat, posting his crossed arms on the back. “If Vine drugged Striker to try to influence him, what could that mean to him? To security? What’s her endgame? What does she want him to do? Does this go beyond an obsession?”
“It means nothing. Absolutely nothing. Influencing won’t work on Striker. Whatever it is Vine wants, it can’t work. He’s too solid, like the general,” I insisted.
“But the general isn’t fully revived — brainwashing, Stockholm syndrome, it happens to the best of the best,” Blaze said. “We don’t know what’s been planted in his brain while he was out and what he’ll do when he’s revived. He could be like some kind of sleeper assassin. If we don’t know what Vine’s planting in Striker’s head, we don’t know what the result could be.”
Was it possible there is more to this than Vine manipulating Striker into a marriage?
“Whatever it is, I bet she’s been trying for a while,” Jack said.
I looked over at him, my nostrils flaring with anger.
“He’s had a headache for weeks now.” Jack blinked and stared over my shoulder at the blank wall, thinking. “He started getting them after Omega attacked his house.” He focused solidly on me. “Think about it. If Indigo is Vine’s father and Vine wanted you taken out of the picture — look at the board and the things Indigo did. He worked on Frith, planted seeds of hatred and vengeance mentally and physically, he put Frith on your trail. Again and again, he gave Frith the information. I’d say he was reveling in the angst he was causing. Otherwise, he’d just have sent someone from Sylanos’ cartel or from Omega to make a quick hit.”