System Seven

by Parks, Michael

  Kaiya placed the call but it rang to voicemail. “Mom, you need to go to Shari’s right now. Please just go. Something’s happening here and you’re in grave danger. Don’t stay anywhere alone. I’m sorry, mom, I can’t explain but please, please go. Just do it. I love you, mom. I love you so, so much.” She hung up and fought off tears. “Damn this. Damn all of it.”

  “It’s all you can do for now. I’m sorry, Kaiya.”

  At the next exit he pulled into a Denny’s and stopped alongside a tarp-covered utility trailer towed by an SUV. He slipped an evidence bag containing their phones under the blue wrap.

  Back on the highway, he glanced at her. “Time to disappear.”

  Mac pressed a remote and turned into the garage of a modest single-story house.

  “Not what I’d imagined for an agent,” Kaiya said.

  “Follow me and stay quiet. Not a peep.” He led her into the house and down a hallway into the bathroom. Together they cleaned the ragged flesh wound on his upper arm and covered it with a gauze band aid. He pocketed a bottle of antibiotics.

  They entered a kitchen with windows facing the backyard. Mac removed the top drawer from a cabinet and reached underneath to operate two latches. He tugged upward on a section of tile countertop to break a thin line of covering grout. From a shallow cavity he withdrew a leather satchel and a cell phone with its battery and charger taped to it.

  Kaiya nodded approval.

  He closed up the hiding space and returned the drawer, then led the way towards the back fence. He looked over his shoulder at his home of six years. It shouldn’t hurt so much. The days of living on the edge abroad were long gone.

  Not that long gone. A fierceness surged, the hallmark of that lifestyle. Confidence swelled even as fear paced the moment.

  “Let’s go, over the fence. Stay under the trees as you head to the right side of the house. Mind the brickwork at the edge of the sidewalk.”

  “Do we know these people?” Kaiya asked after clearing the fence.

  “Yes, my friend Helen.”

  He approached the garage and opened the side door with his key. Inside, a single bulb illuminated two cars. He opened the interior door to reveal a dining room dimly lit by a nearby living room lamp. A cup of water and a book sat on the end table.

  “Helen? Are you awake? Helen!”

  “Mac? That you?”

  An elderly woman in a nightgown appeared from a dark hallway. She held a revolver.

  “Mac! You nearly got yourself shot! Come in, come inside. What’s wrong?” She reached for the dining room light switch.

  “No, please leave it off.” He went to her side. “Helen, listen carefully. Things have gone very badly for me. I might be framed for a shooting involving two fellow agents.” Her face fell. “Don’t believe it, Helen. They drew on me and I shot in self-defense. But there’s a bigger picture involving Kaiya here, her boyfriend, and some stolen secrets. There is real top-secret stuff driving it all. Now I’ve been sucked into it and my career is over. I... we need to disappear.”

  Helen nearly shook with feeling. “Damn the secrets, damn the murderous bastards! The country has died, like Frank always said! I wish I’d never ridden him so hard for saying it, because it was true! Mac, all those years you served, all the danger and sacrifice, and this is how they reward you. The bastards!”

  “Easy Helen.” He took the .38 from her and set it on the counter. “Frank also said there’s nothing good to come from acting in anger. It is what it is and I have to respond. And I will be careful. Right now, it’s time to run. I was thinking the Coachman–”

  “Take it! By all means Mac, I’ll never have a use for it. You know where it’s parked. Steve doesn’t have to know anything, just say you’re borrowing it. Here,” she retrieved two sets of keys, “take the Mazda, too, it’s set up for towing. Steve still opens at six sharp, best I know.” She crossed her arms tightly. “Lord, I hate this! The government’s rotten to the core and the country’s too blind to see it. Something’s got to give!”

  He glanced out the window. Across the back fence, the lights shone in his kitchen and figures moved through his bedroom.

  He motioned to Kaiya. “Into the garage, quick.”

  In the doorway to the garage, Mac held Helen’s arms. “We’ve got to go. Do you still have Frank’s old hats?”

  “Of course I do, I’ll go get you one.”

  “Thank you, Helen.” He turned to Kaiya. The look in her eyes betrayed her confident stance. “Kaiya, this is it. They’re shutting me down. Technically, you’ve done nothing wrong. They might just let you go or... they could use you. I honestly don’t know. If you go with me, you’ll have to trust me and do what I say. It’s going to be a tight squeeze just getting out of here.”

  “Mac, I said you’re all I have, but... I trust you. There’s no way I can ever trust them. Or anybody else, really.” The enormity seemed to hit her then, a walloping force. He understood.

  “Fear is okay, it’s gonna be there. Just don’t let it define you. I’ll get us out of here but going forward you’ll have to do everything I say exactly when I say to do it. I need to trust you’ll do that.”

  She nodded. “You can, Mac.”

  Helen returned with two hats, a dark olive green Panama for him and a yellow sun hat for Kaiya. Her eyes crinkled with a smile as he donned Frank’s hat.

  “Frank’s favorite. Maybe he’ll help guide you. I know he will if he can.”

  He embraced Helen once more. “Thank you Helen. You are the best kind of friend. I’ll be sure you get it back.”

  Helen hugged Kaiya then pulled back and paused. “My dear, though the darkness surrounds you, you are carried towards the light. The moment doesn’t reveal much but the journey eventually does. Have heart, and most of all, have faith. Mac’s on the job. He’s a good man, a capable man.” She motioned them on. “Play it smart, Mac. And Kaiya, you support him. You’ll do alright as a team.”

  They climbed into the Mazda, Kaiya in the back seat. Helen pressed the garage door opener and watched them pull out.

  “Frank dear, see them to safety. They need all the help they can get.”

  Chapter 6

  We must travel in the direction of our fear.

  - John Berryman 1914-1972, American Poet

  A banging at the front door drew Johan to the second floor window. A lone police officer stood on the porch in yellow rain gear.

  Johan tried waiting him out. The officer circled around to the damaged side of the house with his flashlight and eyed the down pole before continuing around to the back.

  By the flickering flame of a lighter, he snatched the laptop and its bag and headed for the garage. He dumped the gear in the Volvo and checked a window.

  The officer banged on the rear door. “Anyone home? Hello?”

  He had probably notified fire and utility services and was awaiting their arrival. Thunder cracked and rolled.

  Johan bolted for the garage and lifted the door manually. Wind and rain whipped at his face. He pushed the sedan into the driveway and brought the garage door down. Back in the car, lightning flashed and thunder broke in staccato. He used the moment to start the engine. Covering karma. He backed out with his eyes glued to the corner of the house. He saw no sign of the officer as he drove away in the dark.

  The makeup kit. He slapped the wheel and cursed. Karma, indeed.

  Repair crews would come to fix the power pole. That meant hiding out for the day until he could return under darkness. Where and with whom? The corrected sketch was out; he mentally flipped through resources and settled on one woman who could be trusted even if she’d seen it. She might even believe his story, though he was having a hard time believing it himself.

  He traveled north on dark rural highways and eventually cut west across the sea barrier into the peninsula town of Den Helder. Just before dawn the stolen Volvo arrived in a small business district a few blocks from a shipyard. Damp streets were littered with debris from the night’s s
torming. Street lights and the occasional storefront glowed in the summer fog of the coast.

  He steered into an alley between long row buildings, past a bakery truck and a worker unloading goods to a restaurant and stopped at an alley door with a lamp. Above the door a sign read, ‘FileZone Internet Café’. He loaded a bowl and let the hash soften the edges of thought.

  Anki Raymer, aka WinterCat; the ex of a friend who no longer counted as a friend. They’d spent hours in chat and exchanged email over the last two years. He’d helped her with her website and sent her money when her car’s transmission died. She’d done research for him and even drop-forwarded a package for him once. Just a few weeks earlier she’d extended the invitation to finally meet again. For now she served best because of the remote location and her business, as well as her willingness to help with just about anything. This might test her and then some.

  He gently closed the Volvo’s door and slung the laptop over his shoulder. The two-story row building loomed over the alleyway. Fog drifted like a comforting blanket all about. If ever you are near Den Helder, stop by. Use the back door. I’ll know it’s you if you... he pulled the chain three times fast, twice slow. He paused, then reversed the pattern.

  Waiting with hands in pockets, he glanced down the alley at the delivery truck. The smell of fresh baked bread conjured an earthy, grounded feeling which he seized, eager to shed the hunted vibe. A face peered from a small square window. A moment later the door swung open and Anki wrapped herself around him.

  “I thought you might never come, Gregor.”

  Her musky scent and soft skin made his pulse quicken. He held her at arm’s length, still in the doorway. Long blonde hair, almost white, and fair skin. In person her beauty breathed. “Yes, I should have come sooner.”

  Her eyes glittered as she pulled him inside.

  She was everything he needed.

  Several candles lit the bedroom while the gray of impending dawn fell from a small skylight. The draw to Anki was powerful – intimacy and sanctuary at once. Lying naked on the soft sheets, he stared into eyes that said it was okay to shed his shell, his worries, to release his guard. Arousal slowly stripped the bindings of the chase. Long hours of driving, of evading the gaze of every passing police officer, of wrestling with the idea of telepathy, awareness fields, and a secret government out to silence him... all of it had taken a physical toll. To lay with her offered a powerful reversal, restoring sanity and a sense of control.

  She massaged him until the worried thoughts faded and his spirit rose free again, curious and present in the moment. He explored her in turn, connecting with every touch, every breath, every whisper of intention. Their lips met, eyes searching, face to face after years of distant intimacy. As if exhaling, his energies flowed, colored with amour and desire. Anki responded, breathing deeper. Feeling his full arousal, she climbed atop him.

  Candlelight danced in time to their gyrations. Every thrust, every kiss drew them closer. Immersed in a world of pleasure and intimacy, he felt her need for connection. Years of loneliness without a true mate, seeking an anchor for her love... that, he understood. His recognition acted like a touch in her place of need, so much so that she lifted, thrusting faster until a blossoming psychedelic fountain surged and splayed pleasure through her every sense. Never had he experienced such vision, such connection with another being. She soared, tossed between their physical and emotional connections like a windblown flower. He couldn’t help but touch her yet again, recognizing and feeling everything she was. Once more she blossomed, vocalizing with abandon, sounding of pain and pleasure at once. A scene flashed in his mind of primitive peoples coupling in huts overlooking the sea, howling into the night, celebrating survival and pleasure. Overwhelmed, he released and slipped into the rushing flight. Thrusting together, gripping fiercely, they railed towards climax, slipping the bonds. Pleasure flared into a timeless, consuming intensity. Concepts mingled – extremes: day and night, good and evil, love and hate, joy and fear. For every one thing, there was another, no matter the degree of separation. Rock and sand, root and limb, sea and sky, tears and laughter. Every familiar thought became an agreement point joining them, drawing them closer until duality ceded to unity. Bare in thought and soul, they existed as one.

  What must have passed in seconds instead felt like long minutes. The cave’s water drops and time’s mystery echoed from his dream, splashing across their coupling like a baptism. Vaguely, the sense of another presence crested, a whisper only, then faded as time contracted and resumed.

  Anki breathed against his ear, the weight of her body earthy and grounding. She raised her head and probed with her eyes. He blinked slowly, still engaged on deep levels.

  The currents of change were running more swift than ever. He was learning, released from the grip of fear because of Anki. The universe had delivered him to her and one thing felt certain – he needed her in ways he knew nothing about yet.

  However, for it to work she had to know and accept his situation.

  Anki sat cross-legged next to his stretched-out form, touching. Blithe talk soon turned substantial as he prepared a way to breach the subject of the setup in Rotterdam, to explain how he’d not murdered anyone. She floored him before he could begin.

  “So what did the woman do?”

  He returned her gaze, unable to reply. She already knew, yet she’d taken him in, even slept with him. Without fear.

  Moments passed. An impulse rose and he followed it: to attempt to communicate without words. Slowly, his truth, that of innocence, naturally saturated as his only thought or feeling... it seeped beyond, made available for her to sense. Nothing forceful, just – available.

  She searched his eyes. Recognition rippled. Reciprocation flowed back. She’d felt his truth – and was relieved. Relieved, because her own instincts had been right.

  The moment passed, an extraordinary communication.

  “So what did you do?” she asked.

  “I received a link to an encrypted file. Something I didn’t ask for.”

  She cast about, trying to assemble. “What?”

  “The link was to a documentary of sorts. Secret. It was very... disturbing. It came with a warning to go into hiding. Said I was in danger.”

  “So you left.”

  “Within half an hour. I went up the street to watch the apartment. To see if anyone would show up.”

  “And?”

  “Men arrived. In minutes. Went straight up to my apartment. That was Saturday. Monday night I heard of the murder and knew I was framed. Because I have their damn video.”

  Anki sat, absorbed in thought. A distance formed between them.

  “Talk to me, Cat.”

  She looked over. “You’re different, Gregor. What you just did is nothing I’ve felt before. You entered me. You were inside me, part of me. I felt it, let it begin, then I couldn’t stop you.” She searched his eyes. “You know what I’m saying. And then just now... you conveyed your innocence without a word, yet completely. I have no doubt.”

  He nodded.

  “What does the video show?” she asked. Her eyes probed feather soft.

  Informed, she could make her own decisions. That was fair and necessary, so he described the video and the dream after viewing it. He spoke of the Comannda and how they could enter the flow of thought in others, of how they could travel the world without a body and find people by using memories and emotions. He explained what the video showed of wars, disease, culture, and technology and how they had been used to keep mankind distracted, divided, and unevolved.

  By the time he finished, Anki’s uncertainty was plain. Not doubt, rather the opposite: she grasped and accepted the situation, as if familiar with the possibilities. The question was whether she wanted to become part of his predicament or not.

  She withdrew tightly, stood, and walked to a large white candle. She passed her hand over the flame, once, twice. He tried penetrating her field, her essence, but could not.

  Gre
at. Unseen agents sought him and she shielded him off like an afterthought. Surely they would, too. It felt like an intermittent blindness. He had to become more adept. He had to be able to intrude without permission.

  She held her finger directly over the candle’s flame, testing her own limits.

  “Anki–”

  She turned and regarded him briefly before rejoining him on the bed. She put her finger to his cheek, the heat tremendous.

  “You just described my greatest fears. That you found proof is sad. A big part of me wants to ignore you and pretend it’s all crazy talk.” She looked up to the skylight. “But it’s not.” She stared, deep in thought. “For all I know I could live the rest of my life with you. I might. I feel it. But there is danger now, here, and wherever you go...” She trailed off.

  Johan sat, silently churning.

  They didn’t talk further. Instead, she led him back into the Eros like two lovers fleeing their village, hiding in the lush forest to partake in the sins of the flesh.

  • • •

  The five gathered again, skimming surface tensions, coordinating efforts. They sought the subject detected before, having had a sufficiently strong impression. They received another hit but the input lasted less than a minute; intense enough to lead them to the northern reaches of the Netherlands but brief enough to strand them again.

  “Peak signature, probable climax.”

  “Sex, yeah.”

  “Definite male. High probability match for subject A2.”

  Each agreed.

  “Settling in, then. Safe region bound by Amsterdam on the west, Apledoorn on the south, and Groningen on the east.”

  “I say coastal regions. I sense big water.”

  “Noted. I have a tentative harmonic that we’ll work with. Confirm with the director, this is solid.”

  “Confirmed.”

  “Come on, A2. Let yourself go a bit, swim in it. You know you want to.”

  Director Tomov frowned at the latest report.