by Layton Green
He watched as the well-heeled man he’d met in Bulgaria approached the entrance to Madison Square Garden. Tight clothing, no jacket, no visible weapons, as Jax had requested. The guy didn’t try to glance surreptitiously at a certain spot off to the side, as most people do if they have backup nearby.
What was he doing here? Maybe it was a chance email, an unrelated job. Not likely. Jax lowered his Mets cap and strolled to the entrance. He passed behind Stefan and whispered, “Wait two minutes, walk down Thirty-first to Sixth, head south, wait inside the first pub you see.”
Jax kept walking, hid amongst the crowd on the far side of Sixth and Thirty-First, then waited for Stefan to pass by the intersection. Stefan continued on to the bar, and Jax waited fifteen minutes for signs of surveillance. When he was satisfied, he followed Stefan to the bar.
Stefan had chosen a booth in the rear, out of the way but with a view of the door. He left Jax the side of the booth against the wall. Good. He wanted to establish trust.
Jax slid into the booth and showed his teeth. “We meet again. What’re the odds?”
Stefan extended a hand. “Stefan Dimitrov.”
“I remember your name. I found you, remember?”
“And you are?”
“Why’d you contact me?”
A waitress approached. They both ordered draft beers. After the waitress left, Stefan said, “My associates and I need your help. We’re willing to pay whatever it takes.”
Jax stared at him for a moment, then began to chuckle. The chuckle turned slightly hysterical. “My help? Good God man, I couldn’t help a virgin into adulthood at the moment. That little package of yours has proven to be the worst decision I’ve ever made. I was hoping you could tell me something about it.”
The waitress returned. Jax took his beer and ordered another.
Stefan cocked his head. “Tell you something?”
“I want to know how to get these crazy bastards off my back. I have no idea how they’ve been following me. It’s got to be some kind of bug, but hell if I know how they’re doing it.”
Stefan blanched. “You think they’re tracking you?”
“Have to be. No one’s that good at a tail. I’ve been all over the eastern half of this god-forsaken country and they find me every other day. Tried to head south, and they were at the border. I headed back this way, got your email and fuck it, I’m at the end of my rope. I’m going to have to take my chances with a plane. Don’t worry, they won’t bother us in the middle of a city, not during the day.”
“When did this start?”
“The night after I met with Al-Miri.”
“Have you checked your person, your belongings, your vehicle, for a tracking device?”
“Of course. I’ve changed everything three times. Trust me, they’re not using GPS. It’s got to be something new.”
Stefan looked behind him, then said, “Lean over.”
“Sorry?”
“Lean over. Let me see the top of your head.”
Jax moved his hand to the gun under his jacket. “If this is some kind of trick, you’re a dead man.”
“I need to look for something. Watch for the waitress.”
“I’ve already checked my head.” Jax felt ridiculous, but he bent over. Stefan moved his hair aside and ran his fingers across his scalp. He stopped as the waitress walked by, then resumed. Stefan pulled Jax’s head even closer and rubbed at a spot on Jax’s scalp. “You don’t feel anything, do you?”
Jax’s voice was tight. “Like what?”
Stefan released him. “A tiny pinprick from the implantation of a miniscule tracking device. Nearly impossible to detect.”
“You’re shitting me.”
“It’s a new technology, applied with a syringe. As far as I know, no military has implemented it. The right biotech could have access to it.”
“What the hell is it?”
“A remotely activated transmitter that sends a signal through the nearest cell tower. It bounces off satellites and then sends the signal to the source device through another cell tower. Think of it as the world’s tiniest cell phone, constantly in use.”
“Don’t cell phones need batteries?”
“Power is generated electromechanically through muscle movement.”
“Now you’re shitting me.”
“No.”
“And where is this source device? Does it have to be close?”
“It could be anywhere in the world within range of a cell tower.”
“How can you be sure this was what they implanted?”
Stefan hesitated. “My company is developing these devices. I’ve seen the implant dots before. My only question is how it got there.”
Jax slammed his fist on the table. “Bastards had me unconscious. How do I get this thing out?”
“Surgery. The good news is that it’s harmless. The device is implanted into the skull, and will never be a biological threat.”
“The bad news being that unless it’s taken out, I can be tracked.”
Stefan inclined his head.
Jax pushed air through his teeth. “No no no. This is most certainly not conducive to my lifestyle. I assume a military-grade jammer can disrupt the signal?”
“Yes, but it’s not a permanent solution, unless you want to carry around a jammer for the rest of your natural life.”
“Goddamn those freaks. How can I kill it?”
“I need something from you as well. Your contact in Cairo, the one who gave you the package. Dorian.”
“No problem,” Jax said. “Give me what I need, and I’ll give you Dorian.”
“You will leave and purchase a short-wave radio, then take a taxi to the airport. When you arrive, turn the radio on. Any station is fine. When you’ve done this, return to the city.”
“The short wave will disrupt the signal?”
“It’s on a different frequency, and the stronger signal will overpower the transmitter. Leave it on at all times.” Stefan gave him the address of their hotel, as he and Grey had discussed. “We’ll meet at ten p.m. tonight. That should give you sufficient time. Please leave now. I don’t wish to be seen with you while the device is operative.”
Jax cursed the entire way out the door.
– 43 –
Grey checked his watch. Five minutes after ten. “You think he’ll show?”
“He’ll be here,” Stefan said.
Grey watched Veronica swirl her wine as she looked nervously around the hotel lobby, her eyes resting on the brown sedan parked outside. Veronica’s contact was city police, and Grey knew the protection wouldn’t last long. It probably wouldn’t last the week.
“There he is,” Stefan murmured.
Grey saw the same tall, sandy-haired man in jeans and a rugged leather jacket approaching the hotel that Grey had seen earlier in the day, when he had watched the meeting from the end of the bar.
Jax’s eyes roved from side to side as he entered, pausing on the sedan. He walked into the lobby and straight to Stefan. “Who’s in the car?”
“Police protection for the night,” Stefan said.
“You didn’t mention that. I don’t do police.”
“They’re not here for you.” Stefan tilted his head. “There’s the door, if you wish.”
Jax scowled. He looked at Grey, and then Veronica.
“They’re not police,” Stefan said. “Have a seat.”
Jax said something under his breath, then swung into the chair next to Veronica. His scowl turned into a lopsided grin as he took her hand and kissed it. He then offered his hand to Grey. “Might as well all be friends.”
Grey shook his hand without changing his expression.
Jax expanded his grin. “I don’t need or want to know a damn thing about any of this. Let’s do this little exchange and I’ll be on my way.”
“The contact?” Stefan said.
Jax reached into his jacket. Grey was sitting next to him, and his hand shot out and covered Jax’s hand. He
slipped his forefinger under Jax’s pinky; if Jax decided to keep reaching, his pinky was about to meet his wrist.
“Chill, cowboy,” Jax said. He removed his hands and let Grey pat him. Grey felt only the rectangular bulk of the radio Stefan had told him Jax would be carrying.
Jax stared at Grey. “This is your show, so I’ll let you run it. But don’t grab me again.” He returned his hand to his pocket. A moment later Grey heard static and garbled voices speaking in Spanish. The voices went away and Jax removed his hand. “I was going for effect, which you ruined. I’ll give you the contact as soon as you give me the solution to the problem concerning the fucking fact that I’m carrying around a fucking short-wave radio.”
Grey didn’t like it, but Stefan assured him the shortwave would block the signal. Besides, Grey wasn’t worried about anyone coming tonight, with him and an armed guard there. He was worried about the random night in the future when Veronica or Stefan came home to find killers in their apartments, or when their throats got slit in an alleyway.
Stefan put his elbows on the table and clasped his hands. “You appear a practical man. You understand we have no way to know if you’re telling us the truth.” Jax started to protest, and Stefan continued, “Too much is at stake here for chance. The same enemy threatens us all. I gave you your options and told you how to disrupt the signal. It’s your turn to help us.”
“Those are no options. How do I get rid of this thing in my head?”
“Besides surgery, there is only one other way to ensure you’re never tracked again.”
“Kill those bastards?”
“Destroy the source device. Each source device is calibrated to the specific signal transmitted by the implant connected to that particular source device. Think of it as a very complicated and unique phone number.”
Jax sat quietly, then took a long breath and spoke in a low, calm voice. “And?”
“I can recognize the source device,” Stefan said. “I know where in the laboratory it will be kept, what it will look like, how to disable it. Why not work together? Take us to the man who sold me the test tube. Where we find these men, we find the source device.”
“Way too many assumptions in there,” Jax said. “From where I’m sitting you need my help far more than I need yours. Dorian can help me find the source device, and I’m quite sure I can figure out how to break it.”
Grey had been watching Jax. Jax’s eyes kept roaming, from Grey to the room to the door to the sedan outside. This guy’s a pro, Grey thought. He’s a pro and he’s nervous as hell.
“Maybe Dorian will help you, maybe he won’t. There will be many source devices, and you will have to know how to find your specific one. Maybe then you can disable it on your own, maybe you can’t. Why take the chance? We’re going to the same place. We work together, we pay Dorian a visit together, we pay a visit to the laboratory together. Everybody wins.”
Jax stood. “I don’t work in teams. Try to get some sun, you all look a bit pale. I know some good places if you’re interested. Cheap rum, cheap eats, cheap—” he grinned at Veronica, “movie tickets.”
“We leave for Cairo tomorrow morning at ten,” Stefan said. “Egypt Air. JFK. Sleep on the proposal. It’s good for everyone.”
Jax winked at Veronica, then walked out the door.
“That went well,” Veronica said.
Stefan pursed his lips as he watched Jax walk down the street. “We will see what he decides, and we can look for Dorian ourselves if we must. Or we find another inside source.”
“I don’t like any of this,” Grey said. “I don’t like looking behind my back every five seconds. I don’t like that we’re all going to Cairo. I don’t like mercenaries.” He turned to Veronica. “Isn’t there a relative you can stay with? On a naval base in Alaska?”
“We’ve discussed this. I’m going.”
“This isn’t about a story. It’s about survival.”
“I thought you didn’t want me by myself? They might come while I’m gone, you said. Remember that? Remember what that psychopath was going to do to me? I’d rather be with you than living here in fear.”
Grey looked out the window. “I just don’t like it.”
– 44 –
Al-Miri rose out of the circular basin set into the cement floor. He stood in the center, naked and glistening, as the water slid down his body.
He waded to the edge and took a vase in his right hand. He dipped the vase into the water, then poured the water over his head. He bowed his head and spoke the words and the flush of spiritual peace warmed him. He was purified, he was new, he was ready.
He stepped out of the basin, performed the breathing ritual, and then padded across the plush rug covering the rest of the floor. He took a robe off a hook and slipped into the cool green fabric. The cotton flattened against his damp skin. It was symbolic, an absorption of the waters of purification.
He opened the door to the next chamber. He saw the fine carpets, the haze of incense, the seven men sitting cross-legged in a circle. He saw the low pedestal in the middle of the circle, the three jade chalices on the pedestal.
It was good to come home.
His stomach lurched in anticipation. He was sorry Nomti was not here to participate, but the new addition to the circle, a man who had served Al-Miri well, would receive a taste, just a taste of what all who served him were promised.
And he would never be the same.
Al-Miri walked through the pungent whorls of incense and into the middle of the circle. He knelt in front of the table, his hands trembling with anticipation. The men in the circle continued their low chanting as he selected the chalice in the middle and raised it to his lips. Inside a shiny liquid rocked gently to the motion of his hands, the fluid a unique hue, oxidized copper captured in liquid form.
Al-Miri drank greedily, his lips never leaving the chalice. The liquid poured into him, a gift from his god, a miracle, oh how it tingled, renewed, saved!
After he finished drinking, he stood motionless in the middle of the circle, the cup empty, his spirit restored. He reveled in the pleasure of the moment, and a smile of genuine happiness overcame him. He took the second cup and handed it to the man kneeling in front of him. The man accepted the cup with reverent care, took the tiniest of sips, and passed the cup to the next man. Each man took a similar amount, and the cup traveled around the circle until it was empty.
The men bowed their heads. Al-Miri took the third cup and left the room through a set of double doors opposite the door he had entered. He walked down a carpeted hallway and entered a room as different from the ritual chamber as a room could be. He closed the door behind him. This room was sterile, a room of white-washed walls and stainless steel. A room of science rather than faith.
A gurney with a single white sheet rested in the middle of the room, surrounded by a dizzying array of tubes and monitors and electronic devices. Al-Miri shivered in the dampness of his robe. Steady beeps provided the only sound in the room. His eyes rested on the silver tube that led from underneath the sheet to a funnel-shaped container on a metal stand behind the head of the gurney. He raised the third chalice, and emptied it into the funnel. If only he could use more.
When the chalice emptied he remained standing where he was. His eyes rested on the empty cup, and then moved to the gurney.
To the human form outlined underneath the sheet.
– 45 –
Grey, Stefan and Veronica boarded the direct flight to Cairo along with a large tour group and the usual assortment of businessmen, Egyptian nationals, and independent travelers. They’d taken a circuitous route to JFK. Grey hadn’t spotted any tails, and he was also counting on the fact that Cairo was the last place Al-Miri would expect them to travel.
The plane thrust towards the heavens. Grey was in an aisle seat, Veronica sandwiched between him and Stefan. After a double beep signaled safe altitude, Stefan rose to use the restroom.
Veronica ran a finger along Grey’s forearm. “Why d
idn’t you answer my knock last night?”
“I fell asleep early.”
She slipped her hand under his shirt and stroked his ridged abdominals. “Want to know what I thought about before I fell asleep?”
“How dangerous our situation is?”
“I prefer escapism. I can’t stop thinking about the other night.”
“You’re lucky. I can’t stop thinking about what the hell we’re going to do in Egypt.”
She frowned. “Are you trying to be an ass? Of course I can’t stop thinking about that. I was the one trapped in the chair, remember? It doesn’t mean we can’t amuse ourselves in the meantime.”
“Look, the other night was great, but maybe we should talk about things first.”
“Like what?”
“I just want to be on the same page.”
“And what page is that?”
He opened his mouth, then closed it.
“God, what do you think, I’m in love with you? Why don’t you tell me what’s really on your mind? Is that last girl-”
She cut off and her eyes flicked to the aisle. Stefan had returned. Grey stood and let him in, then walked towards the rear of the plane.
Why was he so bad at this sort of thing? He was no saint, he just believed in transparent relationships. And the fact of the matter was that while he was attracted to Veronica, very attracted, he didn’t have that… other thing… with her. She didn’t move him in that way people needed to be moved, at least not yet.
But he could deal with that. Veronica was a big girl, they were both adults. He knew the real reason he didn’t feel right was because Nya’s brown eyes and caramel skin still hovered at the edge of his vision, still lingered in his system like a virus. He wasn’t sure what it meant. He just knew it was there.
Grey moved to the corner of the rear cabin and stretched his neck and legs. During one of his stretches someone tapped him on the shoulder.