Broken Wings (John Hardesty Z04 Book 3)

by Clay Moore

  "I don't know what you did, Mister," whispered the medic to the agent as he worked on the bleeding cuts, "I would think about telling them what they want to know. They're going to keep on doing this to you, and having me come in and repair the most significant damages. I don't like this."

  The agent lifted his head and stared him in the right eye because the left one was swollen shut. "Then – you may wish to think about – changing your employer." Then the agent started laughing. In mid-laugh he started coughing.

  The medic shook his head. He had more than just the medical side of things to do. He was supposed to be the kind guy to the other people's bad guy. Maybe this agent would talk to the medic. It turned out that he did.

  The medic turned around and shook his head at Anton. If Anton felt that he had the time, he would use more subtle means. It really left him only two options. The first choice with chemical and the second option was the pain.

  "Felix," said Anton, "beat it out of him."

  Felix was a big burly dusk-skinned man. He nodded at Anton and took his gym bag and put it on the table behind Anton. Felix took out several stainless steel devices of pain. The last thing had he took out were a pair of leather gloves. When Felix dropped these gloves on the table behind Anton, it made a big sound as if a clapper had hit a bell. Felix's gloves were leather with a small layer of dense sand, or lead shot. This weight was to assist Felix in administering the most painful blows. The shot both protected his hands and added weight to his punches.

  Felix put these gloves on in full view of the subject. The show that Felix put on was to reinforce what was going to happen to the agent. Anton knew by the size of that agent's eyes that the agent understood what was going to happen to him. The slow show of putting on the gloves was working its intended magic. The people who had abused this agent before this moment were amateurs allowed to get a little bit of practice on the field-hardened agent.

  Anton knew the fine line that was required to get any kind of information out of a person by using physical force. You have to bring pain into it, but you could not damage the body permanently. If you blind a man in the eye, what else can you do to him? You always had to have a place that you could go. It was the thought of I hurt now, but he could still bother me more. Hence, the display of the torture tools. The pain caused by one could be superseded by the pain caused by the next in line. First up was the pair of shot food old leather gloves.

  Felix finished putting on the gloves and ceiling them so that they would not fly off of his hands. Then he slowly walked to the agent in the chair. For a moment it looked like to the agent that Felix was not going to do anything. Then suddenly Felix's right hand struck the agent in the belly. The agent was surprised and could not ride with the blow as was talked in the school. The agent gathered up all of his will and saliva. When Felix came close again, the agent spat in Felix's eyes. Felix took a step back not trying to show any emotion after that liquid attack. He reached on the left-hand. A small thin boned creature that could possibly be called a man walked over to the gym bag and pulled out a white towel. He put this white cloth in Felix's left hand.

  Felix toweled off the saliva from his face. He tossed the towel back to that small creature. “Guranga, Take that. get the poker ready." Felix took a step forward and punched the agent in the stomach with his left hand. The pain had to be excruciating for the agent, but there was no cry of pain. Only the sound of the rushing air coming from his lungs on the blow. Felix tried roundhouse against the left jaw of the agent. Felix could hear the unmistakable snap of the jaw breaking.

  “You're nothing but an animal, Felix." The agent said that through gritted teeth. If he tried to open his mouth the left side of his jaw might unhinge.

  Felix started to lose control of his emotions. He reflexively punches the agent with his left hand against the agent's right jaw. The added weight on his hands drove the blow through the head. It twisted the head around the spine until there was another snap. The agent stiffened for a moment and then relaxed. Everyone stood stunned. They all knew that Felix was extremely powerful, but they had never seen anyone that would sacrifice himself for the good of the team.

  The medic went over to the body. He stuck the end of the sensor warmed against the skin of the neck. It indicated a core temperature that was decreasing about a degree for every 12 minutes. The man was dead. The medic looked at Anton and gently shook his head.

  Anton looked at the body and then looked at the medic. He nodded to the practitioner and then shook his head towards the door. The practitioner gathered up his equipment and left the charnel house. Anton stood to his full height. Unseen by anyone else he pulled out his blaster pistol and held it to his side.

  “I'm sorry Mr. Anton," said Felix.

  "This is your problem, Felix. I wanted that man alive, and I wanted this information. We got none today." The words that came out of Anton's mouth reverberated through the room carrying that anger that Anton felt to every listener.

  “I said I'm sorry, Mr. Anton."

  “You were purported to be an expert torturer. You are none. You are a tough that gets his rocks off by feeding on people who cannot fight back. I bet you that Guranga here could do a better job than you."

  “Of course you know that, Mr. Hecton. I've been your torturer now for 10 years."

  Everyone looked at each other and then in Guranga. The man that had been some sort of troglodyte now changed it to the man that he was. A medium, Finn man who had the appearance of being a monastic ascetic. Here was a man that didn't want to kill. Instead, he wants to inflict pain. He wanted to know your secrets.

  “Well, Guranga, you got a chance to see the great Felix in operation. Wasn't he all that he was purported to be?"

  “Of course not. People in my profession are not allowed to have emotion. Emotions can get you in trouble."

  “Don't fret, Felix. I always send someone I trust to find out if an expert truly is an expert. You are not an expert. You are as he charged, a thug who gets off on beating people."

  Hecton lifted his right arm and pointed the blaster he had taken from his holster earlier. He didn't wait very long. He shot immediately. Felix was in mid-sentence when he died.

  Guranga went over to the body of Felix laying next to the shape of the agent. Guranga had more respect for the agent that he did for Felix. He peered at the wound inflicted by the blaster. As with all blaster wounds, there was very little blood. A 17 mm hole was in that chest.

  “Mr. Hecton yet got him right in the heart."

  "Yes, these new blaster rounds coming out from the manufacturers are working well. There's no need to penetrate the body completely with the blast around. I think we finally have reached the balance that we need between killing power and penetration power."

  What do you want us to do with him," asked Guranga?

  “We are going to hang him in the room. We still have that one agent. Perhaps we will be better served with him."

  The guard to the Employee parking lot stuck his flashlight into the vehicle and moved the beam around. Three men were sitting on a bench seat in front of the van. In the back were cleaning materials. Each of the men had IFs that allow them to enter into the Unicorn to perform their jobs. What he didn't know was that this was a front for three members of the Eridani Secret Service. In fact, he was about to be introduced to one of the technological marvels that Eridani used in that Secret Service, the needle gun.

  Oliver took out his needle gun. He waited for the guard to raise and lower both of the gates. When he got back to his guard shack, he did just that. Oliver rolled the van up to the gates and put a needle into the guard's neck. The poison on the needles this time was nothing more than a soporific. He just needed the guard to sleep for at least three or four hours. By the time that the guard woke up, he should be running out of the building.

  The guard slapped his neck where the needle hit him thinking that it was a flying insect. Then he dropped to the floor. According to some of their tipsters, the changin
g of the guard would occur in about four hours. Oliver stayed for a few more moments making sure that the guard was still breathing and that there was no excess of blood. When he assured himself that the guard was not killed, he drove on into the employee parking.

  When they discovered that the Unicorn had its deliveries and other services enter from the employee parking which was on the first sublevel, they knew that they had the unicorn. Oliver drove the van because he was the only one with a certification in tires. Everyone else was able to turn grav-cars, just not vehicles with tires.

  He followed the signs to the loading dock. When he got there, there were no other deliveries or vehicles from other services. He made a U-turn so that the rear of the van was facing the dock. He put the truck into reverse with much grinding of the gears. Finally, he got into reverse, and he brought the van to the pier. He stopped some distance away from the dock because his trailer was too low.

  "Spike and Ike, speed is of the essence. We need some sort of pushcart that can contain 100 kg. It also has to be something that custodians use when they clean. Now get to it."

  Spike and Ike were the other two members of his four-man agent team. Oliver had other people and organizations that were willing to work with him from time to time. The four men that were with him all the time were agents from Eridani Secret Service. Both men nodded at Oliver. They got out of the van and ran to the dock. Oliver got out of the truck. He noticed the swinging doors leading into the service area of the Unicorn. Oliver went to the back doors of the van and opened them. He took out three mop pails. That had a false bottom into which they placed all of the explosives. He lifted each mop pale onto the dock. That was a bit of a strain. He did the other two as well. Lucky for him he had kept up his physical fitness.

  He grabbed three mops and a container of ammonia. Then he brought out three gas masks. When they poured the vapor into the false bottom’s cover, no one would want to be around them. That was Ike's suggestion. I reminded them all that he had spent most of his life in the forests of Eridani. He had a close relationship with the fauna of home. One of that fauna was the Eridani skunk. It was amazing how many types of animals were on Eridani that mimicked the same kind of animal on old Earth. Once he had the gas masks on the dock, he closed the van’s rear doors. Placing his hands on the pier immediately jumped up while simultaneously pushing up with his hands. His feet hit the dock the same moment that his men came back with a very large pushcart.

  As soon as they saw that Oliver had all of the equipment on the dock, they were a little bit perturbed.

  "Why did you have us try and find a pushcart," asked Spike.

  Spike was always the noisy one. If there was something, someone wanted to say Spike was the most likely to be that person. Sometimes he made briefings easier to handle, and sometimes he went the garrulous one for Oliver.

  “Did you see any guards," asked Oliver.

  “Of course we did in its 11 PM in the standard day," said Ike.

  Of the pair, I was the smartest one. When things don't make sense, I was the first one to speak as well. Spike and I were both irascible, and they kept Oliver on his toes. In a way, Oliver owed the success of his position to these two iconoclasts.

  "Would you have gone in there and done the reconnaissance that I wanted, if I asked you to do reconnaissance?"

  "We were never people that did reconnaissance," said Spike. Ike was standing pulling on his lip with his right hand while feeling the lapel of the overalls with his left. Both men had chosen to put a little dirt on their face and some hair oil in their hair. This gave them the look of someone who had done some hard work today.

  “Well, congratulations," said Oliver. "You did your first practice on doing reconnaissance.

  Oliver picked up to the gas masks and tossed them to Spike and Ike. Both men held the gas mass with the right hand and shrugged. Oliver smiled as he put on his gas mask. He poured the ammonia into the shallow false top. Within minutes of Oliver pouring the ammonia Spike and Ike had put on the gas masks.

  “You'll notice," said Oliver, "that the gas mass doesn't have any protection for the eyes. That's because the concentration of ammonia that we are using here is just for the smell and nothing else.”

  Spike nodded his head furiously. "If I didn't have to be here I would be long gone by now."

  "John Hardesty wants to keep down the loss of life. When this building goes down, there's going to be a lot of death. If this was on Eridani and it got out that we were involved we could face criminal charges. Just be glad that we are on Snake Eyes."

  Ike fixed Oliver with a stare. "I understand that Snake Eyes is not a choice posting for the Eridani Secret Service.”

  "It may seem like that. That's because Mr. bull on and now Mr. Hardesty is here. Both of these agents can operate without supervision from Eridani. Which is why they are where they are. You, on the other hand, have a chance to actually shine in front of the brass. Trust me the brass is looking for this mission, and looking at every little cog that was in it. We get this done, and you might get a new and better posting, maybe Alphacent, or even Eridani.”

  “I'd rather go where the action is," said Spike.

  “They do not wish for that. I know some people and headquarters that could make that wish come true.

  “Okay, that's it for that. What the way was going to work is this you all brought your Slates?”

  "Yeah, yeah," said Spike. "Why is the slate now all of a sudden the big thing."

  "What if I had to send you information now?"

  "I guess you could call me.”

  “I could, but what if you worked in the boonies and needed to be silent? The slate can be updated without noise. Also, isolate can engage in secure two-way communications. A slight, after all, is nothing more than a book-sized computer."

  “Okay, now I understand," said Spike. "Don't get me wrong I love this device." Spike shook his slick to emphasize the device he meant. This is really the first time that has ever used it on a mission."

  “Another reason to carry the slate is that it can be wiped. If you are captured your slate can be made empty in seconds. They'll not even be able to get residual files off the storage media."

  “What about Mr. Fancy-pants," asked Ike. "Who can wipe his slight if he is captured."

  “Trust me he has someone that watches over him. That person will make his Slate empty.”

  "What is it you run around with a monitor?" Asked Ike.

  "Yeah, he sort of travels around with the monitor."

  “Real cool," said Spike.

  "Look at your Slate and noticed that there are 10 posts that we have to plant at least one bomb on. As soon as the bomb is attached to the pillar, you are to activate the detonator. Don't worry. I am the one with the switch to blow it. When you have finished doing your pillars, you are to meet us all at the central Radamite storage. Here we are going to put at least one bomb lit on each wall of the tankage. If we have any extra, you are going to put them on other walls. Have fun doing this. What you have placed all of them there, make sure that you activate the detonators.”

  “Part of this keeping the body count down is the reason we were given needle guns."

  “You got that right, Ike. If you feel like you are in a threatening situation, make liberal use of the needles. If you have to empty your entire clip into a group of people, do it! Only when you have no needles left are you to draw your blaster. Are you clear on that?"

  "Yes sir," said Spike and Ike together.

  "Okay, gentlemen. Go plant your bombs. I'll meet you at the Radamite storage."

  It took a couple of minutes for Spike to realize what Oliver said. Spike was no thinker. Philosophy was not a subject he even studied. So it was somewhat hard for him to understand the subtle comments that Oliver and John made. He thought he was making progress on that, but it seemed that Oliver and John kept dragging on their rapier wits. It never occurred to him that Oliver and John were training him and the only way that would be effective for hi
m. He had to reach for what he wanted, and so John and Oliver were unconsciously teaching him.