Refraction

by Christopher Hinz

  “Good points,” Keats admitted. “But for the sake of argument, let’s say that Michael and the mercs have a viable assault plan. They’ve found a way to get past the guards and enter the facility.”

  “Then you have a whole new set of problems. If their goal is to steal this weird-ass quiver stone, you can bet it won’t be left lying around. It’ll be in a secured area, probably something equivalent to an MCL.”

  “What’s that?” Aiden asked.

  “Maximum containment laboratory.”

  “Basically, a hot lab,” Keats added. “Even if quiver isn’t considered a pathogen like Covid-19, or something even worse like smallpox or Ebola, its properties are bizarre enough that it makes sense they’ll have a protocol for keeping it isolated. Airlocks, separate HVAC system, biosafety cabinets. Probably an armed guard or two.”

  Ned shook his head. “This ain’t happening. Are you absolutely sure this op is for real?”

  “Not a hundred percent,” Keats admitted. “But there’s good circumstantial evidence. Bring up that image again.”

  Ned worked the keyboard and the screen brightened into a satellite photo. Three long narrow buildings formed a triangular configuration. In the middle of the triangle was the core building, a circular structure. A trio of equidistant walkways connected the core with the outlying buildings. A chainlink fence with razor wire surrounded the complex.

  “Tau Nine-One,” Aiden murmured, awed to be getting his first close-up look of the mysterious facility that had placed such a burden on his life. He’d accessed some online maps earlier but they hadn’t offered this level of detail. Figures were even visible standing inside the fence.

  “I didn’t think you could get such satellite views of classified facilities,” Jessie said.

  Ned grinned wickedly. “Ain’t the only thing I’m not supposed to have access to. That’s why I keep the computer guts in the basement. They’re booby-trapped. Anyone but me tries to access ’em and bulk erasers activate, followed by a hydrochloric acid bath. The drives get fried. Total memory loss.”

  Ned frowned and stared into the distance, as if realizing how that last sentence reverberated with personal meaning. Being in the early stages of Alzheimer’s meant that much of the time he would be fully aware of his terrible fate.

  A small helipad with two helicopters was visible between two of the wing buildings.

  “They’re not gunships,” Keats said. “Probably for flying the brass in and out.”

  “Still, nothing to stop the Marines from appropriating one in the event of a breach,” Ned countered. “Hover fifty meters up and strafe yourself some merc ass.”

  The only breaks in the fence were a pair of gates that allowed the railroad line to enter and leave the grounds. The track to Churchton Summit emerged from the trees, tunneled through one of the long outlying buildings and emerged out the other side. After passing back through the fence, the track made a sweeping arc across a grassy expanse and rejoined the main line at a switch. The loop enabled the train to be readied for departure without the need for a turntable, wye or runaround track.

  Ned continued. “That building is T-wing – named for the train, obviously. The other two are A-wing for administration and offices, and S-wing for sleepover staff and the Marine barracks. All experimentation is done in the core building, thirty feet below ground level. That’s where the quiver’s most likely kept.”

  “I don’t see any electric lines,” Jessie said. “Are they buried underground?”

  “Not necessary. The installation is nuke-powered; there’s a small modular reactor deep below the main building. Which means no opportunity for the attackers to gain an advantage by knocking out the power.”

  Aiden focused on the tracks. “The train stops inside the building. That’s where the workers embark and disembark?”

  “Uh-huh. Like a subway station. Not one you’re likely to pass through at your leisure, though. Coming or going, you and your carry-on will have to pass through scanners.”

  “Can you pull up a view of where Nobe and Kokay encountered the railfans?” Aiden asked.

  Ned worked the keyboard and a new image appeared. It was another aerial view but from a wider perspective. The track was visible sporadically through the thick canopy. But enough could be seen to discern a short tangent section coming from the direction of the complex. The track crossed a stream on a spindly truss-girder bridge and immediately entered a sharp S-curve to navigate a series of rock outcroppings.

  “How far is the bridge from Tau?” Aiden asked.

  “Thirteen klicks south, give or take.”

  “Eight miles,” Keats translated. “Roughly halfway to Churchton Summit.”

  Aiden traced his finger along the straight section. “The train might be traveling at a reasonable speed until they reach the bridge. But it would have to really brake for those curves. Maybe slow down enough for the mercs to easily hop aboard?”

  Comprehension dawned on Keats’ face. “Son of a bitch! We’ve been looking at this backwards. They’re not going to attack Tau.”

  “They’re going to ambush the train,” Aiden said.

  “Which explains what Kokay was doing at the bridge that day. He must have had scanners and spectrum analyzers. They needed to nail down the frequencies used by the train crew and Marines.”

  Jessie looked puzzled.

  “Signal suppression,” Ned said. “They’ll jam communications traffic to and from the train an instant before they hit it. Knock out phones, radios, microwave, the works. In fact, if they’re smart they’ll do more than that: hijack those frequencies and transmit false data. That way, no one back at Tau will even know the train’s come under attack.”

  Keats nodded. “Buys them a little extra time.”

  “How much time?” Aiden wondered. “How long does it take the train to get from the bridge to Churchton Summit?”

  “This ain’t exactly high-speed rail,” Ned said. “It’s an old right-of-way with lots of twists and turns. A one-way trip, sixteen miles, takes a good thirty-five minutes. And the sharpest curves tend to be closer to town. I figure at least twenty minutes from the bridge.”

  “The night-shift workers will be waiting at the station to return,” Keats said. “But you can figure another ten minutes or so before they get suspicious about the train being late and start making calls to Tau. That ideally gives the mercs a half-hour window for an intercept.”

  Ned looked skeptical. “Yeah, but you’re forgetting the big picture. How the hell do they get the quiver onto the train?”

  “Michael must have someone at Tau,” Jessie said. “That’s the only thing that makes sense. An insider who’s going to smuggle it out for him.”

  “Even with that, they might need some kind of diversion at the facility for the theft to work,” Keats said.

  “But then why go to all the trouble of an ambush in the first place?” she wondered. “Why not just wait until the train gets to Churchton Summit and hand over the quiver.”

  “Higher risk,” Ned said. “The setup in town is similar, an enclosed station with a turning loop. Even if your insider slips the contraband out of there without tripping any alerts, you’d want to get hold of the quiver ASAP.”

  Keats agreed. “In case Tau learns about the snatch too soon and alerts the station in town. In which case everybody on the train would end up getting searched. No, Aiden’s right; midway is your best bet, a surprise assault. Out there in the sticks you’ve got the highest odds of getting away clean. And if there’s a shootout in those mountains it’ll likely be too far away to be heard at either of the end points. Besides, if the plan was to simply hand it over to someone in town, there’d be no need for the mercs in the first place.”

  “How many Marines do you think they’ll have to deal with?” Aiden asked.

  “Total detachment at Tau is a small platoon,” Ned said. “Maybe thirty jarheads, split between day and night shifts. Figure a third of them being off-duty at any one time, so that’s
how many will be on the train. They probably ride together in the last car. That’s ten highly trained men and women, all armed. And the engineer and conductor will likely be packing as well.”

  “But none of them will carry more than sidearms,” Keats said. “Assault weapons would be kept onsite. And if the Marines are all in one car, Nobe probably has a plan for putting them out of commission.”

  “Makes sense. But here’s something else to consider. If we could game this scenario, so could those folks at Tau. They ain’t dummies, you know. They might already be staking out the bridge.”

  “I don’t think so,” Keats said. “The interrogators who questioned Henry Carpousis were convinced he was hallucinating when he was talking about the weird figure he claimed to have seen. They were equally certain Kokay was using his gear to detect the outer reaches of the sensor net. You know as well as I do that once an assumption is made, the group becomes strongly invested in it. They stop considering alternatives.”

  Ned gave a grudging nod. The four of them were silent for a moment, considering possibilities. Jessie summed things up.

  “OK, we know Tarantian is happening late afternoon Wednesday and we know where. What now? Contact Tau Nine-One and warn them?”

  Keats shook his head. Aiden knew what he was going to say before the words left his mouth.

  “We go to Montana. We stop them.”

  “Who exactly is we?” Ned wondered.

  “Yours truly,” Keats said. “Aiden and Jessie if they’re willing to risk it.”

  “Risk it? The three of you against Nobe and his mercs?”

  “We’ll have the tactical advantage. They won’t know we’re coming.”

  “General Custer probably said some shit like that before he ran into those Indians at Little Bighorn.”

  “It’s a workable plan.”

  “It’s a clusterfuck waiting to happen.”

  Keats stiffened. “This is going down. I need you onboard.”

  Ned sighed. “All right. But maybe this would be a good time to cash in your chips.”

  “No.”

  “It would at least give you a fighting chance.”

  “No.”

  Aiden didn’t know what Ned meant about cashing in his chips and Keats didn’t offer an explanation. But Aiden agreed with the older man. The idea of the three of them trying to stop Michael and the mercs on their own sounded insane.

  He wondered again just who Keats was working for. It was unlikely his mysterious handlers had sent him on a suicide mission. Aiden tried to inject some rationality.

  “Wouldn’t it make more sense to warn those Marines at Tau Nine-One and have them set a trap for the mercs? A trap that could result in Michael and Nobe and the rest of them being killed or put out of commission?”

  Keats shook his head.

  “Trying to do this on your own is a big mistake,” Aiden maintained.

  “Maybe. But it’s my call.”

  “I’ve got a stake in this too, Keats. More than you have, frankly. Quiver warped my life. Jessie’s too.”

  “Then come with me. Maybe you’ll find some answers.”

  The idea was tempting… and ludicrous. “No. We need to call someone at Tau, warn them.”

  “I’m not doing that.”

  “Then maybe I will.”

  Keats’ voice fell to a menacing whisper. “That would be a serious mistake.”

  Aiden looked to Ned for support. But the older man remained silent.

  “Keats is right,” Jessie said. “We have to do this on our own.”

  Aiden turned to her in surprise.

  “But not just to interrupt the assault,” she continued. “If Michael’s plan fails, he won’t give up. He’ll find another way to get the quiver. He’s got to be stopped once and for all.” She faced Keats. “Promise me that if we do this we go all the way.”

  “Count on it,” Keats said grimly. “Michael de Clerkin is DMW.”

  Jessie looked perplexed. Ned translated.

  “Dead Man Walking.”

  Aiden shook his head. They were all talking crazy. He wasn’t surprised by Keats’ attitude. But Jessie? Had killing that merc given her a taste for it, left her hungry to repeat the experience?

  She left the room. He followed, caught up in the hallway.

  “Keats’ plan is nuts. Why are you supporting him?”

  “Well, duh! Michael tried to kill us, remember?”

  She turned away. He grabbed her shoulder. She spun toward him with a snarl.

  “Let go of me!”

  He withdrew. Her anger retreated.

  “Look Aiden, we can’t let Michael get hold of the quiver. That’s the bottom line.”

  “Because he’s trying to become a god.”

  “That’s right.”

  Aiden suspected that Jessie’s rationale wasn’t that simple. Had he been able to overcome the strange revulsion to her touch and make love to her in the shower, would she still be considering such a course? Was part of her desire to do this insane thing – march into a firefight with impossibly bad odds – a result of misplaced emotions because Aiden had rejected her sexual advances?

  Maybe he was giving himself too much credit. He’d only known Jessie for a day and she certainly came across as someone who wouldn’t get that bent out of shape over a mild rejection. On the other hand, from his own experiences – including marathon fights with his sister – he knew that unexamined emotions could render both parties wildly irrational.

  Jessie headed back to their bedroom. He stared after her. Maybe he was misreading the situation entirely and her eagerness for battle arose from a different motivation. He recalled what she’d said about Michael, back when Aiden and Keats had first arrived at her house.

  Gods, by their very nature, don’t tolerate competition.

  As scary as Michael de Clerkin was, could Jessie have a similar agenda? Beneath their surfaces, did the quiver kids known as Red and Magenta have more than a little in common? Did Jessie want to stop Michael from getting the quiver so she could have it for herself, use it to boost her own abilities? Could Aiden’s subconscious recognition of that reality be the reason he’d been so creeped out by the thought of being intimate with her?

  I’m overthinking this.

  He hoped that was the case. Because, whether fighting a man yearning for godhood or fighting in the company of a woman with the same aspirations, the ultimate outcome couldn’t be good.

  FORTY

  It was late afternoon when Aiden stepped outside Ned’s hilltop home to prepare for departure. Mabeline had driven into town on some errands and they’d said their goodbyes earlier. Aiden had expressed concern to her about leaving Ned alone. But Mabeline said she often did so for short periods, and seemed confident he’d be all right.

  Aiden had little choice but to go with Keats and Jessie. Staying here with the Nedelkas wasn’t an enticing option. But he still had grave doubts about Keats’ plan.

  Ned had loaned them a ride, an old Ford F-150 with a crew cab. Keats said they couldn’t take the chance that Michael had used his influence to inform the authorities to be on the lookout for the Bronco, or even if that wasn’t the case, that someone else may have spotted them driving to or from Jessie’s house and ID’d their vehicle. Once the dead mercs were discovered they’d become suspects.

  Aiden doubted Keats’ theory, especially the part about Michael using his influence to set the cops on them. More than likely, dangling the possibility was meant to provide extra incentive for Aiden to stay on the run and follow Keats’ agenda: reach Tau and somehow stop Michael and the mercs.

  “I don’t use it anymore,” Ned grumbled, gesturing to the truck. “Promised Mabeline my driving days are over. Goddamned whitecoats think I’ll have an episode behind the wheel.”

  “Best to be safe,” Jessie offered.

  “Safe my ass. And this coming from a girl about to prance her merry behind into a shitstorm.”

  Jessie’s response was a tight smile as s
he helped Keats transfer the weapons confiscated from the mercs into the pickup. They hid the guns under a pile of blankets behind the front seats.

  “What are you packing?” Ned asked.

  Keats opened his jacket to reveal the holstered Glock. “Plus what we lifted from those dead mercs: two more handguns and a rifle. And Jessie’s 12-gauge. I think we’re good.”

  Ned grunted. “That’s not good; it’s barely adequate. If you’re hunting big game, you need serious firepower.”

  He pivoted his wheelchair toward the house, hollered, “Mabeline! Key to the armory, if you please!”

  “She went to town,” Aiden gently reminded him.

  Ned darkened. Aiden thought he was going to throw another tantrum. But he muttered something about getting the key himself and motored toward the door.

  “Want me to put the Bronco in the garage?” Keats called after him.

  “Hell no. If things go belly up, I don’t want any trace you were here. There’s an old fire trail a quarter mile down my lane. Drive the Bronco into the woods and hide it off-road as far in as you can.”

  Keats nodded and got behind the wheel. Jessie offered to go with him. Aiden followed Ned into the house, watched him retrieve a key from a kitchen cabinet. As he propelled the wheelchair back into the hallway, Aiden stepped in front of him, blocking his path.

  “You got a problem, son?” Ned challenged.

  “Lots of them, actually. But right now what I need are some answers. We both know that Keats’ plan is lunacy.”

  “Certifiable.”

  “So why’s he going through with it?”

  “Those assholes tried to kill him. Screw with a man like Deke Keats and you’re askin’ for a bullet bath.”

  “There’s more to it than that. He was committed to going after Michael and Nobe from the beginning. I need to know who he’s working for and why.”

  The hoary face regarded him with amused contempt. “Is that so? Well, I suggest you ask Deke.”