Out of Time r5-2

by Cliff Ryder

  He ran at a crouch, covering the ground very quickly. He gained the back of the parking lot, slid beneath a small parked truck and paused, waiting for the camera to finish its eastward sweep, and begin scanning west again. Once he was clear, he began a carefully timed passage, using the vehicles as shields. At one point, the security squad passed within a few yards of him as he clung to the under-side of a large sport utility vehicle. He moved cautiously and methodically, not allowing himself to think about consequences, only about timing.

  His legs had begun to hurt again and the rush of adrenaline had only drawn attention to that fact. He was keenly aware of every inch of his body, how badly it ached, and that he had lost some strength in his legs. No matter. He had come too far to go back.

  Liang had taken a long-range digital photo of their target. While they waited for the evening shift to change, he’d visited his contact with the photo in hand, and acquired the information they needed.

  Roy Boswell was a mercenary captain. He’d been brought in as part of the private military outfit and commanded a squad of twelve. Six of his men patrolled the exterior of the complex, and six were on internal duty. He drove a midsized black sedan, license number OB 0702. Liang had been able to spot the correct vehicle, and Alex had mentally marked its location.

  Unfortunately, the car he sought was in the next-to-last row of the parking lot. Alex had to pass through four rows of cars and dodge three cameras in order to reach it. He watched the cameras, counting as they made three sweeps. The lights were fixed, able to be moved only when there was an emergency, and then only with a great deal of effort. Again it struck him how average the security precautions seemed to be. It made no sense, and it worried him.

  Alex watched that first camera shift to the east, and then made his final move. He slipped in between his target and another car and flattened himself against the driver’s door as he pulled out a small lock pick. The car might well be unlocked, but if it was locked and the alarm had been set, he could easily set it off by trying the door handle. He pulled another small object from yet another pocket and smiled.

  He aimed the remote at the car, pressing and holding the only button on the thing. It was designed to continually fire an encoded signal at the car, until it reached the proper frequency and shut down the alarm and unlocked the doors. Not even the horn would let off the usual telltale beep.

  The device would have been useless to him without that—the noise would most likely bring an entire squad down on his head. There were few acceptable risks on this kind of mission.

  He peered in through the window and watched the dashboard. No blinking red light, no alarm.

  He shoved the remote back into its pocket and went to work on the lock. Within seconds, he had the door open and was inside the car, stretched out flat on the backseat. There was a good deal of debris on the floor, including a large newspaper and various food wrappers. He memorized the position of each one, then picked them up and piled them on the seat. Once he had stretched out on the floor, he placed the debris on top of himself, in roughly the same position it had been. It wasn’t perfect, but unless someone was looking, they were unlikely to notice his presence. It was a large car, and he curled up as close to the backs of the driver and passenger seats as possible.

  Then, he waited.

  The light that fell into the car was yellow and dim. It certainly wasn’t good enough to allow someone to see Alex’s black clothing on the dark carpet inside the car. The guard jingled his keys as he approached, unlocking his door quickly and slipping into the driver’s seat. Alex remained still, waiting.

  All he could see from the floor of the car was scenery that passed by and the back of the guard’s head. If he had any hope of signaling Liang, he would have to place the light against the window to avoid letting light flash across the glass. He reached up, the small flashlight clutched tightly in his right hand. For a moment, he feared he would drop it as his hand began to tremble. Then the trembling stopped as quickly as it had started and he placed the lens against the glass, flashing it twice. He hoped that Liang was paying attention.

  He had never worked with this asset before, so he had no idea how detail oriented the man was. If the situations had been reversed, Alex would have had the binoculars trained on Liang every single moment he had been inside that fence.

  The car made several turns and then drove deeper and deeper into the city. Alex prayed that the guard would make no stops along the way, and his prayers were answered. From his vantage point on the floor, Alex could make out a tall building, probably an apartment complex. The car stopped.

  Alex tensed. The parking brake groaned as the guard engaged it.

  Alex leaped up off the floor. He held a length of very thin piano wire stretched taunt between his gloved hands. He let his mind blank—no room for hesitation or compassion. Before the guard could cry out, the garrote bit deep, and Alex flexed his muscled arms, yanking hard.

  Legs flailed and hands clawed at Alex’s face, but the struggle was brief and feeble. A small band of blood marked the man’s neck most of the way around, and during it all, Alex was aware of Liang’s car pulling in next to them.

  The guard went limp and Alex felt for a pulse while keeping the wire taut around his neck.

  Finding no sign of life, he released the wire and balled it up, ready to shove it back into his pocket once he had wiped it clean. Then he flashed the light twice at Liang and pushed open the back door.

  Alex stumbled out of the backseat of the sedan. He still gripped the garrote tightly, and he realized that though he’d released his grip with his left hand, his right still clutched the wire. Searing pain lanced through his palm, and no matter how he concentrated, he could not force his fingers free of the wire. He stood, staring dumbly at the dangling wire, and Liang stepped up beside him.

  “You all right?” the big man asked.

  Alex nodded. He turned toward the car, trying to shield his clawed hand by the motion, and in that moment his grip released. His hand fluttered, beyond his control, but at least he was able to release the garrote. Liang watched him closely.

  “We can take some time, if you need it,” he said.

  “No, there isn’t time,” Alex said. “I’m fine.”

  Liang looked unconvinced, and suddenly Alex grew angry. He was angry with his body, angry at his hand, angry at Denny and MRIS and the world.

  He wasn’t angry at Liang, but the big man took the brunt of it anyway.

  “We need to get this car safely moved near your place, and we need to make this body disappear. I have more planning to do, and the one thing I don’t have is time,” he snapped.

  Liang’s usually jovial face closed down a notch, but he nodded.

  “Whatever you say, Mr. Vance.”

  Alex felt stricken, and despite the cultural divide, he laid a hand on the big man’s shoulder.

  Liang glanced at it, noticed the trembling and met Alex’s gaze steadily.

  “I’ll be okay,” he said, softening his voice, “and I’m sorry.”

  Liang nodded. “You are not inexperienced at this, Mr. Vance, so you will understand my concern. If you are unwell, perhaps it would be best—”

  “No!” Alex said. “The mission must be completed. It’s just stress, Liang. I’ll manage.”

  Liang stared at him for another long moment, then nodded. “Let’s wrap Mr. Boswell’s neck so he doesn’t get too messy and get him into the back of my car. You drive his and follow me. I’ll show you where to leave it—safe and out of sight. I’m going to have some people go over it, make sure you have a secure way to get what you need through the main gates without detection.”

  Alex nodded gratefully. His hands were almost numb, but functional. He rolled the garrote and slipped it back into its pouch. Then the two of them slid the guard’s body from the sedan and stuffed it into Liang’s vehicle.

  “I’ll take care of our friend here, too,” Liang said. “I’m going to get you back and you’re going to res
t. I’m not asking you this time.”

  Alex nodded.

  Liang slipped in behind the wheel of his car, and Alex took the sedan’s wheel. Thankfully no one else had appeared. A wife or girlfriend coming out to greet the guard would have been disastrous—at least for her. The records Liang had found showed him as single, but things like that tended to shift often and rapidly. The fact he lived alone simpli-fied things considerably.

  Liang led Alex on a slow, winding route. They avoided main streets and ended up on another long industrial lane similar to the one where Liang’s warehouse had been located. At the far end of a strip of squat, gray buildings, Liang stopped and stepped out of his car. A door opened, and a smaller man appeared. Alex held back until the two separated. Liang waved him forward.

  “Chen will handle cleanup,” he said. “I’m leaving our friend with him. The clothing the man is wearing will be removed and cleaned. It will be ready for you by tomorrow night. As you know, Boswell was scheduled for night shifts beginning tomorrow, so he won’t be missed in the morning.”

  “Perfect,” Alex said.

  “We’ll leave the car here, as well,” Liang explained. “They’re going to go over it, make sure there isn’t anything we’ve missed—some security feature—a transponder signal that requires an updated key, or anything that would give you away before you get inside the gate. They are also going to work on modeling his face more carefully. You might pass for him physically, but only at a distance.

  We need to make sure you do better than that.”

  Alex grinned. This, at least, was something he could handle without concern. “Don’t worry about that,” he said. “I have my own equipment. It’s a specialty of mine.”

  Liang nodded.

  “Let’s get this thing inside,” Alex said.

  Liang gave a signal to unseen others near the doors, and a larger garage door opened in the side of the building where Chen had disappeared.

  Several dark forms emerged, and one waved Alex forward. He nosed the sedan through the door and into a dimly lit interior. Liang and one other man followed with the bundled body of the security guard. The garage door closed, and large fluorescent lights came to life, bathing the room in light.

  Workbenches lined the walls. There were welding kits, a small paint booth, machining tools and engine blocks, as well as racks of parts, tools and cables.

  Alex stepped out of the car and whistled softly.

  Liang joined him, grinning again.

  “This is quite the operation,” Alex commented.

  “Sometimes it is necessary to modify things before they are perfect for today’s market.”

  “Stolen things?” Alex asked, raising an eyebrow.

  “We prefer to believe that they are assets poorly employed by an overbearing political machine that are being reallocated to a more suitable and just purpose.”

  “Very diplomatic.” Alex chuckled.

  The large work bay bustled with activity. Alex saw that the body disappeared through a rear exit.

  He asked no questions.

  “We should be getting back,” Liang said. “Soo Lin will be waiting with dinner, and I’m hungry.

  It’s already been a very long day.”

  Alex nodded, and they left the others to their work.

  “They are thorough,” Liang said softly as the two exited and returned to his vehicle. “If there is anything in that car to be worried about, they will find it, and when you drive it back into the parking lot, they will suspect nothing. There is only so much I can do though. When you are inside—”

  “I’m on my own,” Alex completed the sentence.

  “Believe me, Liang, it won’t be the first time.”

  “Let us hope it is not the last,” the big man replied.

  “Even the Chameleon knows that his enemies watch for him all the time, waiting for the day he fails to change color and disguise himself in time.”

  He started the engine and drove back toward the city.

  THE NEXT MORNING Liang and Alex returned to the garage early. They entered through the smaller door, and found the building all but vacant. Only a very few lights remained lit, and it was Chen alone who greeted them.

  The little man was all business. He led them straight to where the black sedan was parked and began chattering at Liang in rapid-fire Chinese that Alex could follow, but barely. He gave a quick rundown of the precautions they’d taken. Nothing out of the ordinary had been found. They had installed a removable false floor in the rear. It was shielded against every form of scanning they were familiar with, and a couple that even Alex didn’t recognize. It was easy to access from the driver’s seat without drawing unwarranted attention. It would hold everything Alex needed that he couldn’t carry on his person.

  Boswell’s uniform had come equipped with a utility belt with adequate pockets for a wide array of equipment. A little rearranging had provided room for Alex’s special tools that he preferred to carry on a mission like this. The uniform was bulky and allowed plenty of room to conceal packets, and he carried a deep-pocketed clipboard organizer.

  The only thing that would have been better would have been if he could enter the building carrying a bulky duffel bag.

  When the brief was complete, they ushered Alex into a separate room, where he dressed and they outfitted him. All the time they worked, Chen chattered. When they had a moment alone, Alex asked Liang about this.

  “I hope he manages to talk less when he’s not here,” he said. “I’d hate to see you in trouble because someone couldn’t stay quiet.”

  Liang laughed.

  “When Chen is not in this building, he might as well be a mute. You would see him, and you would not believe it is the same man. He is what Americans believe all Asians to be—inscrutable.”

  As if sensing he was being discussed, Chen turned and grinned at them, then he winked. Alex buckled on the utility belt and shook his head with a short laugh.

  “It is almost time,” Liang told him.

  “This last part will take a few minutes,” Alex said. He stepped over to a mirrored bench where he’d laid out his equipment. There was a blowup photo of Boswell on the bench, taken from his security badge. Alex studied it, tracing the lines of the man’s face with his index finger, which was thankfully steady for the moment, then using the digital image, he transferred the data into a rectan-gular metal container. He tapped several buttons, then waited as the small machine hummed to life.

  When it was finished, he opened the case, and removed a human face—a re-creation of Boswell’s image in a special type of formfitting latex. He placed it over his own face, and set to work, ensuring that it fit properly around his eyes, nose and mouth, and using small touches of makeup to blend it in with his own skin. He moved quickly, having gone through this many times in the past.

  It was ironic, in a way, that while he could appear to become someone else, he could not escape who he was, the disease that would forever change him into something else, as well.

  Fifteen minutes later he took a last glance at the mirror, and then closed his eyes. He sent his thoughts back over the hours to when he’d first observed Boswell crossing the parking lot to his men. He pictured the set of the guard’s shoulders, the way he held his chin and the way he moved.

  He brought his mind slowly into synch with that image, sensing how the man’s gait would feel, watching himself through the other man’s eyes.

  This was the hard part. The mask was only the most basic part of the disguise. To become someone else, he had to mimic the way they moved, held their body, even how they walked and talked.

  To that effect, he took out a small recorder that had a brief sampling of Boswell’s voice on it, obtained from his apartment phone. He sent that data into a different device that analyzed the sounds, then created a biodegradable chip. While it worked, he continued to practice his facial expressions and movement. When the chip was completed, he swallowed it, where it lodged against his vocal cords.

>   When he turned away from the bench and faced Liang and Chen, the two men took a step back.

  “My God,” Liang murmured.

  Alex smiled. “Gentlemen,” he said in Boswell’s voice, “I believe it’s time to go.”

  Chen started chattering under his breath.

  “You’re him!” Liang exclaimed.

  “Just like Halloween,” Alex said. “Only with better costuming.” He walked past them and into the main bay of the garage. As he went, he clipped Boswell’s ID to his chest. Liang watched him, not moving. A dead man navigated the benches and test equipment, opened the driver’s door of the black sedan and slid in behind the wheel. The transformation was nothing short of eerie.

  As Alex settled in and rolled down the passenger window, Liang stepped up close. Chen kept his distance.

  “Now I know,” Liang said softly.

  “Know what?” Alex asked, grinning up at him.

  “Who you are,” he replied. “It has been said that our organization employs someone they call the Chameleon. That is you, yes?”

  Alex laughed and started the engine. “If I said no, would you believe me?” he asked.

  Liang shook his head, and Chen finally got moving and opened the outer bay door to the garage.

  “You’ve got enough explosive to take out that entire complex, as it shows on the plans,” Liang said. “If you’re right, though—if they have another facility below?”

  “That’s what I have to make sure of before I act,” Alex replied. “If it’s there, and if it’s protected against just such an attack, as I suspect it must be, then what I have isn’t enough to do the entire job. I have to target the source of the research and take out the computers, laboratories and, with a little luck, the brains behind this entire crazed program. If there is a lower level, I’ll penetrate as deeply as I can before I set the charges.”

  “Raises your risk,” Liang said. “It’s likely to have tighter security and we don’t have any schematics for it. Now that we’ve killed a guard, waiting for more information is out of the question, yes?”

  “If we don’t stop this, the risk is raised for everyone. I don’t know what I’m going to find when I get inside that building, but I know I have this one shot, and it’s time to take it.”