Halon-Seven

by Xander Weaver

  She nodded. While the calm words and the conviction of his tone were reassuring, he could see she knew he was talking about killing whoever was after them, if it meant eliminating the threat.

  Cyrus noticed his own change in attitude for the first time. He had counted their group as numbering seven. The subconscious indication being that he now considered himself one of them. When he saw the troubled look in Reese’s eyes replaced by something stronger and more confident, he wondered if she had come to that same conclusion.

  “So,” she said in a voice that was at first shaky but growing in confidence. “We eliminate the threat, secure Meridian, and then we work on a way to prepare the world for the technology?”

  Cyrus smiled. “That’s the plan!”

  “I can live with that.”

  Cyrus raised his bottle, and Reese clinked hers against his in a salute. “Why don’t we take this to the living room and get more comfortable? I want you to tell me more about Walter,” he said with a smile. “And I’d like to talk about our safehouse. It’s a little unconventional, but rather ideal given all that’s happening.”

  Chapter 27

  Undisclosed Location, Australia

  Friday, 11:50 am (Thursday 6:50 pm Colorado Time)

  Cyrus looked around the small room as he stepped off the transport platform. Reese held his hand. The room was chilly and poorly lit. The walls, floor, and ceiling were all bare, unadorned concrete. Two small light bulbs hung from unprotected metal boxes attached to the face of the ceiling.

  “Great place you’ve got here,” Cyrus said with a grin, and shook the hand of the only other occupant of the room.

  Harvey ‘Hondo’ Roberts was a tall, wide-shouldered man ten years older than Cyrus. The man had a short scruff of a beard, piercing blue eyes, and skin darkened from many long hours in the Australian sun. He wore his customary short-sleeved, khaki-colored button up shirt, similar colored cargo pants, and work boots. A tattered and worn floppy-brimmed bush hat sat atop his head.

  “Great to see you, mate!” Hondo said and pulled Cyrus in for a bone-wrenching hug. “You’re looking fit. Glad to see civilian life hasn’t made you soft!”

  Cyrus laughed at the irony. “I’m not feeling much like a civilian these days,” he said. The comment was amusing because the man was well aware of the more prickly details of the preceding days. “Hondo, I’d like you to meet Reese Knoland. She took over as team lead after Meade passed.”

  Hondo’s eyes gleamed and he flashed Reese a proud grin. “Very glad to meet you, miss. Clearly you’re the brains and the beauty of this little group,” he said, and flashed her an exaggerated wink. He tipped his head back toward Cyrus. “So, tell me… What is it you need him for again?”

  This brought an unexpected laugh from Reese, while Cyrus could only shake his head. “I’m in charge of breaking stuff. I’ve got a list and everything. Keep it up, and you’ll be next on the list.”

  Cyrus motioned to Reese. She lowered a backpack from her shoulder and placed it on the cold floor. Then she removed a pair of smartphones from one of its zippered compartments and handed them to Cyrus.

  “These should come in handy,” Cyrus said, and he handed both phones to Hondo. “One for you and one for the missus. Think satellite phone, but on steroids. You’ll get reception anywhere on the planet—even down here. Unlimited calling, unlimited data.”

  Hondo took the phones but cast suspicious glances at Cyrus and Reese. “What’s the catch?”

  “Just one,” Cyrus admitted. “This technology isn’t for public consumption, so keep it on the down-low.”

  “That’s it?”

  “That’s it.”

  Hondo burst out laughing. He slapped Cyrus on the shoulder. “Come on, I’ll show you to your team’s plush accommodations!”

  Hondo stepped into the frigid concrete corridor and glanced back over his shoulder as he walked. “It can be a bit on the chilly side, but it’s solid and safe. This bunker was built back in the early days of the cold war. It was engineered to withstand nuclear detonation on the surface. You won’t find a safer place above or below ground.”

  “How far below the surface are we?” Reese asked.

  “It varies, but we’re always in the 100 meter range. The facility was built courtesy of the Australian taxpayers and later abandoned and forgotten. I’d say no one’s been down here in at least twenty years. I had a devil of a time airing the place out in preparation for your crew.”

  “Did you have any trouble reassembling the platform?” Cyrus asked as they continued on.

  “None at all,” Hondo offered with a single shake of his head. “She bolted together with ease. It’s really an impressive design.”

  Hondo had only experienced a part of the platform’s ingenious design, Cyrus knew. As Reese had explained to him the night before, once a platform had been taken apart and reassembled, its internal computer was sophisticated enough to engage a diagnostic routine that realigned the infrared laser array that encircled the contents of the platform a fraction of a second before teleportation took place. The platforms were a marvel of modern engineering in so many ways.

  They came to an intersection in the hallway and Hondo quickly turned right. Cyrus stopped for a moment and looked down the opposite hall. Just like the hall they’d just left, light ballasts were attached to the ceiling every twenty yards. The hall to the left stretched off almost endlessly into the distance.

  The underground complex was enormous.

  “The facility is entirely self contained,” Hondo explained as they walked on. “It has several diesel generators and enough fuel reserves to power the place well beyond the zombie apocalypse. Water comes from a natural spring, but there are redundant filtration systems as well. Come judgment day? This is where I’ll be, I’ll tell you that for nothin’!”

  “How about comms?” Cyrus asked.

  “We’re too deep for radio communication. The blokes who built this place hardwired antenna lines that run all the way to the surface. But I disabled ’em, per your instructions. There’s no cell reception. But I set up a jammer anyway. Better safe than sorry. So no radio of any kind, no phone, no TV. You know what your guys are most upset about? They can’t get on the bloody Internet!”

  Reese laughed. “Sounds about right.”

  “Has anyone made more of a stink than the rest, as far as making contact with the outside?” Cyrus asked. He couldn’t keep the hopeful anticipation from his voice.

  Hondo led them around another corner and kept walking. This place was amazing. They’d passed dozens of doors already. Almost all were unmarked. The shelter could have offered safe haven for hundreds, if not thousands of people.

  “No,” Hondo said without much thought. “Sorry to disappoint. If I had to guess, I’d say that little scare they had before coming here put things in perspective.”

  Yeah, Cyrus thought. Getting taken hostage by a group of Mexican drug runners does tend to make an impression. That was actually why he was here. He hadn’t planned on visiting the team so soon, but after receiving the results of the background checks from Agent Shaw, he suddenly had a large piece of their puzzle. He was here to double-check the way those pieces fit.

  Stopping before a pair of massive double doors, Hondo punched a six-digit code into the panel on the wall. A buzzer sounded, and he pulled one of the doors open. With a flourish of his hand, he gestured Cyrus and Reese inside.

  They stepped into a large room with a high ceiling and a number of wide wooden tables. It looked like a commissary. The floors were tile and the concrete walls were painted some sort of neutral institutional color.

  As Cyrus, Reese, and Hondo entered the room, all eyes turned to them. The research team was gathered there. They were scattered about various tables with their laptops open and documents spread out around them.

  Tracy Clark was the first on her feet. She rushed over to Reese, as if anxious for news. “Has something happened? Can we come home?”

  Cyrus shook
his head. “No, I’m sorry. We’re here to check in and make sure everyone is settled.”

  The disappointment was evident on Tracy’s face. Actually, it was obvious on most faces, though no one spoke up.

  “I need to get everyone’s home address and house key. We were lucky to find the bomb on Alfie’s truck. I’ve got a feeling the rest of you were lucky you left home when you did. I’ll go by each of your places and check them out. I’ll look for anything that might be rigged, signs of surveillance, that sort of thing. If I can get some more evidence, maybe there’ll be something that’ll lead to whoever is behind this.”

  Cyrus and Reese went around collecting address information and keys from everyone in the group. It was all for show. Not only did Cyrus know where each of them lived, but he had already sent Hondo to each of their homes. None of them were rigged. The only one targeted with explosives was Alfie Ahmed. At first it made no sense, until the paperwork arrived from Nathan. When Cyrus combined it with the background reports provided by Agent Shaw, a glaring commonality surfaced. Pieces of his puzzle were lining up, and part of the overall picture was beginning to take shape. Unfortunately, the details specific to the team that attacked him in Chicago were still not fitting.

  After collecting all of the personal information, Cyrus doubled back and stopped at the table in front of Chad Brewster. “Hey, can I talk with you for a minute?” he asked quietly, making an effort not to draw undue attention.

  Chad didn’t say anything. He simply followed Cyrus out of the room. Once in the hall, they both followed Hondo down an adjacent hallway, until he stopped in front of a door and pushed it open. Hondo flipped a switch on the wall and stepped back into the corridor. “It’s all yours,” he said to Cyrus.

  The room was small, about fifteen feet to a side. Other than the light switch on the wall and two light housings on the ceiling, the walls were unadorned, bare concrete. A large steel table occupied the center of the room. There were only three chairs arranged around it. Cyrus motioned for Chad to take the single chair on the far side of the table while he waited by the door. Reese arrived a moment later and took one of the chairs on Cyrus’s side of the room. Finally, Cyrus closed the door and took the last remaining seat beside Reese.

  Chad was beginning to look uneasy. “What’s going on?” There was a defensive tone to his voice. “What do you have to say to me that you couldn’t say in front of everyone else?”

  Cyrus set down a thick manila folder he’d been carrying since they arrived at the bunker. “I want to speak with you about Walter Meade,” Cyrus said calmly.

  Chad looked at Cyrus, clearly confused. He looked at Reese, as if seeking further understanding, perhaps hoping she would offer some elaboration. But Reese said nothing. Prior to the meeting, Cyrus asked her to sit in on the interview, but he was very specific in requesting that she not react to anything that might be directed toward her. He knew it was asking a lot. It was a normal reaction to respond when spoken to. He needed her to suppress that instinct if Chad tried redirecting, for deflecting questions.

  “I don’t understand,” Chad said finally. “What about Walter?”

  “I never had a chance to work with him in the lab or see him on a day to day basis,” Cyrus explained. “If I have a better understanding of the lab, the work environment, the way that things were, I’ll have more information to work with. Somewhere in all of that will be the key to finding whoever is attacking this team.”

  “And you think that whoever is after the team has something to do with Walter?”

  Cyrus ran his fingertips over the unlabeled surface of the closed folder before him. It was a tactful way to draw Chad’s attention back to it. If Chad had a reason to lie, he would wonder whether anything in that folder would undermine his subterfuge.

  “The Meridian team has been attacked on several occasions,” Cyrus said simply. “And no one knew more about Meridian than Meade.”

  Cyrus was being calm and non-threatening. He touched the surface of the folder once more and saw Chad’s eyes twitch to the folder a few seconds later.

  “What was it like working for Meade?”

  Chad shrugged his shoulders and sat back in his chair. “I dunno. He was the boss, but he wasn’t a bad boss,” he said after giving it a little thought. “I guess he was kinda the perfect boss. He was patient and even-tempered. I worked for a guy while I was in high school. He was a hothead. The guy yelled about everything. It wasn’t that way with Walter. Walter was very good at expressing what he needed. And when something wasn’t just how he wanted it, he would explain what had to be changed. He never got upset. Come to think of it, I don’t think I ever saw the man lose his temper—not once.”

  Nodding, Cyrus absently tapped the side of his thumb on the surface of the folder and pretended to consider this information. In truth, it was all exactly what he expected to hear about the old man. He had already spoken with Reese extensively about Meade.

  “What did you think of the project?” Cyrus asked after a few moments of contemplation.

  Chads eyes lit up just thinking about Meridian. “What can I say? It was the opportunity of a lifetime! It’s something straight out of science fiction. I mean, I’m just a draftsman. I do mechanical drawings. Walter could’ve picked anyone to fill that spot. But I get to be a part of a project that’s going to change the world. What’s not to love?”

  Cyrus couldn’t help but smile. The guy was right. It was the opportunity of a lifetime. At least he knew it. So why had he thrown the team under the bus? That was the part that wasn’t making sense.

  “Do you really believe that?” Cyrus asked.

  “Believe what?”

  “That Meridian would change the world?”

  “Without a doubt!”

  Cyrus nodded. Chad seemed sincere. It wasn’t just the words he used but the way he spoke them. Cyrus could literally see the excitement in Chad’s eyes. The project was important to him. “What did you think would happen to the team after Meridian went public?”

  Chad was silent.

  Cyrus let the silence stretch.

  “I don’t understand the question,” Chad finally countered.

  “Did you think you’d become famous?” Cyrus asked bluntly.

  “Absolutely!” Chad was smiling proudly. “Don’t get me wrong. I know the eggheads will be the ones to become household names. They’re the ones who did the science. They’re the ones who made the impossible possible. I’m just the guy who turned their specs into blueprints and fabricated the hardware for the platforms.

  “I’m nothing special, but I’d like to think I’ll be remembered after I’m gone—remembered as part of the team that changed the world forever. Even if it’s just my name next to theirs in the history books.”

  And there it was, one piece of the puzzle that hadn’t been present before just slipped into place for Cyrus. Chad wasn’t just the one who did the drafting for the plans, he also fabricated the platforms. It was a distinction Cyrus hadn’t made before.

  Chad seemed sincere in his pride at being a part of the project. He even seemed accepting of his limited contribution to the endeavor. It was a shame that Cyrus was going to have to take him apart for what he had done.

  “Did you think that being a part of the development team would make you rich?” Cyrus asked finally. This was the crux of his line of questioning.

  “I’m sorry?”

  “Once Meridian went public, did you think you were going to become wealthy?”

  “I don’t know,” Chad admitted. “I guess I hoped there’d be some sort of compensation once the use of the device took off. But it was a long shot. The professor was going to open source the technology. He didn’t want to make money with it. For him, it was all about improving the world.”

  “Right,” Cyrus admitted. “But you didn’t know that early on. Early on, you had your heart set on a big payday. It didn’t matter that Walter was paying you well while you were on the project. You expected to be cut in on the p
roject, once it went public.”

  “No,” Chad said shaking his head. “Professor Meade was clear on that point. It was very important to him. He wanted everyone in the world to have access to the technology, not just the rich and powerful. There was no money to be made.”

  “Which is why you found a way to make money from it on your own,” Cyrus said, and laid the palm of his hand flat across the folder before him. “You decided to cash in and make some money before the project went public. But in the process, you made promises you couldn’t keep!”

  “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  Cyrus placing one finger down on the folder and glared at Chad. “Tell me what you did!”

  Chad only stared back.

  “The more questions I have to ask, the worse this is going to get for you.” Cyrus’s voice had grown calm again. He knew the contrast would be unsettling. “I’m giving you one last chance. Tell me what you did. Until I understand, I can’t fix this.”

  Chad slammed his fist on the table and stood. His chair slid across the floor and tipped over. The crashing sound was intensified by the echoing effect of the bare concrete walls.

  “This is bullshit! I don’t have to take this from you!” Chad said and headed for the door.

  “You better take a deep breath,” Cyrus warned as Chad crossed the room. “We’re having a friendly talk right now. Once you step foot outside that door things become a lot less friendly. But either way, we’re still gonna have this talk.”

  Cyrus’s voice was calm and measured—a stark contrast to the palpable tension that filled the room. Chad was a big guy, physically imposing. He had at least a fifty-pound advantage over Cyrus. Still, sometimes words carried more effect than the most dramatic action.

  Cyrus remained in his seat. He hadn’t moved in the slightest, despite Chad’s outburst or the crashing of the chair. Reese had nearly fallen over but caught herself at the last moment. She was half sitting and half standing over the chair, looking back and forth between Cyrus and Chad. Chad had stopped with his hand on the steel door knob, the knob half turned. He didn’t look back, but he seemed to be considering Cyrus’s words.