Refraction

by Christopher Hinz

  Early experiments had limited him to sending a shadow only to destinations he’d already been, places he could clearly visualize. A working familiarity with the target location had been necessary in those days, his sense of vision the sole means of directing a transmission. But then he’d made the discovery that enabled the final pieces of Tarantian to fall into place.

  Vision was based on the narrow portion of the electromagnetic spectrum associated with visible light. Michael had access to other parts of the spectrum, specifically the microwave carrier frequencies associated with GPS technology. On the day of the railfan incident, the method had enabled him to lock onto a signal from Nobe’s radio and send a shadow to the top of that ravine.

  Most times he wore a Halloween mask to prevent any chance of his doppelganger being recognized, especially vital on those occasions when he’d sent a shadow into the headquarters of Krame-Tee competitors, secretly spying on board meetings from adjacent rooms or closets. Had he been caught, escape would have been as easy as dissolving the shadow. But his face was known in segments of the corporate world, hence the masks.

  Today’s plan called for a more encompassing outfit. He stripped and donned a black body suit. At his side, the shadow mimicked his change of clothing. Sewn into the suit’s fabric were strings of tightly spaced red LEDs. Michael flicked a switch in his pocket to turn them on.

  The result was impressively creepy, worthy of a state-of-the-art Hollywood special effect. He and his doppelganger now appeared to have blood vessels lining the outside of their bodies. The final touch was donning a custom mask he’d designed himself, a demonic visage with scaly skin, glowing crimson eyes and forehead nodules suggestive of nascent horns. He pulled it over his head, pleased at the shadow’s frightful and hideous appearance.

  The insider had passed along personnel files of everyone working at Tau. Although a religion was not specified in most cases, analysis via a proprietary Krame-Tee algorithm suggested that an 87 percent majority of the workers and Marines adhered to mainstream Christian faiths, which meant his devilish appearance would have a strong psychological impact.

  The next step would depend on the insider, the one aspect Michael had the least control over. But he’d spent months studying and cultivating the woman before he’d felt confident enough to ease her into Tarantian.

  He was confident she wouldn’t let him down. Five million dollars, half of which already had been transferred to her offshore account as down payment, was enough incentive for anyone to betray their country. But she also had personal reasons for seeing the plan through, reasons that Michael understood and even empathized with. Vengeance, as he knew all too well, was a powerful motivator.

  FIFTY-ONE

  They’d set out from Jaffeburg in two vehicles, the F-150 borrowed from Ned and a Jeep Wrangler the soldiers had rented. They parked the vehicles off-road amid a cluster of pines some five miles from the bridge. It was a cool and cloudy morning, ideal conditions for a wilderness trek.

  Assisted by a GPS navigator, Keats led the way. Should they encounter any civilians, they were just seven hikers on a camping trip. Privately, Aiden doubted such a cover story would hold up. Even though weapons and gear were stashed in equipment bags slung over their shoulders, the soldiers’ khaki outfits broadcast infantry.

  Keats had selected the most rugged route to the bridge from the southeast, which made for a rougher hike across a series of steep hills and valleys. But based on last night’s recon, his best guess was that the route would be avoided by the mercs, who likely would approach over less inhospitable terrain from the west.

  “The hills and the foliage should help shield us in case the mercs have portable ground radar,” Keats had explained during final prep before leaving Jaffeburg. “I doubt they’ll have access to real-time satellite intel, although we could be spotted if they send up drones with thermal imaging. But I can’t see any good reason for them to complicate the op with flyovers.”

  The plan was to arrive at a staging area near the bridge and begin the counterassault just as the mercs hit the train.

  “Maximum confusion, maximum advantage,” Keats said. “They’ll surprise the train crew. We’ll surprise them.”

  It sounded great in theory. But none of Keats’ words allayed Aiden’s growing sense of foreboding. Still, compared to entering one of Grant’s cleavings or going into hiding, it still seemed like the best of his limited options.

  Keep telling yourself that.

  They walked in a single line. Keats set a vigorous pace. Aiden was breathing hard after less than a mile. He’d always considered himself in pretty good condition from those daily runs. But the soldiers, all of whom were at least a dozen years older, put him to shame. Even Rory with his slight limp and artificial leg – now oiled into silence – moved with effortless speed.

  Aiden had made a quick call to Darlene this morning from Keats’ encrypted phone. Not surprisingly, the conversation hadn’t gone well. He’d tried to assure his sister he was all right and was just following a trail of information about his past. But she sensed he was lying and, being Darlene, probed and cajoled with the intensity of a black site interrogator.

  “Send my love to Leah,” he’d said, terminating the call before it got ugly. Still, he had a lump in his throat as he hung up. There was a good chance he’d never see them again.

  Keats signaled a five-minute break when they were halfway to the bridge. Aiden sat on a log beside Chef. He’d just taken the first bite of his sandwich when Chef lit a malodorous cigar, sending a cloud of smoke wafting into his face.

  Aiden coughed and glared. Chef got the message and stood up. Before moving to a spot farther away, he gazed down on Aiden from behind mirrored sunglasses. His voice was deep, his words echoing with profundity.

  “Gravity is a compulsion, never a choice. Fall where you stand. The sacred will bestow its essence.”

  Aiden had no idea what that meant. But it was definitely the most words he’d heard Chef utter in the short time they’d been together.

  Rory chuckled at his bewilderment. “You didn’t get what he was trying to tell you?”

  “Not a clue.”

  “Join the club. Most times we don’t know what the hell he’s talking about either.”

  Rory lit up a joint. Keats scowled but didn’t protest. Rory offered Aiden a toke. He declined.

  “Sure it’s a good idea to get mellow right now?” he asked.

  “Weed it when you need it, when you don’t, you won’t.” Grinning, Rory spun toward Chef. “See, I can say weird shit too.”

  Bling and Toothpick laughed. The faintest of smiles seemed to play across Chef’s face, although Aiden might have been imagining it. The soldiers were here to repay a debt to Keats but Aiden sensed other motivations. They missed the camaraderie of their younger days, of being part of something bigger than themselves.

  Keats ordered them to get moving again. Half a kilometer farther on, they came upon the remnants of an old trail, probably dating from the era of fur trappers and assorted tradesmen. The path wound through the trees on a slight downhill course, momentarily easing their trek.

  Jessie broke ranks and came up beside Aiden. “I think I know how Michael’s going to smuggle the quiver out of Tau. He’s going to send in one of his shadows.”

  “How would that help?”

  “I don’t know, not exactly. But even if he’s not there in the flesh, he could help his insider carry out the theft.”

  “Keep it down,” Keats warned. “Voices carry further than you think in these woods.”

  “Michael is powerful and dangerous,” Jessie whispered, a devious smile curling her lips. “But don’t forget, so am I.”

  She fell back into line. A chill went through Aiden. Once the action started he’d really need to keep an eye on her. And if she made a grab for the quiver…

  PART 4

  THE INSIDER

  FIFTY-TWO

  Héloise Hoke didn’t believe coincidences required mystical
interpretation. The fact that two critical events in her life were taking place on the same day represented nothing more than the flakiness of a random universe. Still, she couldn’t help but acknowledge the irony, that she was betraying her country on her father’s birthday.

  Then again, Unit X, who’d orchestrated her treachery and set the date, might have planned it that way. Although she’d never seen his face and had no idea of his identity – she’d assigned the dehumanized moniker early in their dealings – he clearly was a devious bastard. Unit X may have deliberately arranged the birthday-betrayal conjunction to dispel any last-minute doubts and provide added incentive for Héloise to carry out his plan.

  If so, he was overthinking it. When he’d first contacted her last year through an intermediary and proposed that she help him steal the quiver stone, the enticements of revenge and financial gain had been more than enough to earn her support.

  Besides, there were good reasons for selecting this particular Wednesday for the theft. The elevator leading down to the maximum containment lab area housing the quiver was in the midst of a rebuild, leaving the emergency staircase the only way in or out. Three key researchers, including her supervisor, were in Dallas for a conference, leaving the MCL lightly staffed. And Colonel Rodriguez, the base commander, was in Bermuda for a long-planned vacation with his family.

  The Colonel. His family. The words resonated, evoking darkness. Héloise had been twelve when she’d lost her own father. He too had been in charge of Tau Nine-One.

  Colonel Royce Jenkins had been a strict but loving parent, brave and honorable. That hadn’t stopped those bastards in DC from crucifying him. She’d never learned the details of why the Pentagon had made him their fall guy, only that some secret experiment involving babies had been the catalyst. Although the brats apparently hadn’t been harmed, Daddy had been raked over the coals. Héloise was convinced that the stress of having his career destroyed brought about the cancer that ultimately killed him.

  And did his death satisfy them? Not a chance. They made sure he was eternally damned. A dishonorable discharge and loss of his pension left Héloise and her mother impoverished. Mommy had reverted to her maiden name and moved them far from Montana to escape the disgraced Jenkins moniker. She’d been forced into working two crap jobs just to make ends meet. That she too died young was yet another repercussion of what they’d done to her father.

  Goddamned bastards.

  “Héloise, you OK? You look kind of pissed.”

  “I’m fine,” she said, forcing a smile as she turned to Elias, her research partner. The two of them had been alone in the module down on lab level since morning, their arms mostly inside glove boxes. They were doing what they did nearly every day: biopsying or dissecting baby mice that had been exposed to the quiver stone. Escaping such ass-numbing work was an extra benefit of going through with Unit X’s plan.

  Her phone vibrated in her pocket. She checked the clock above an equipment cabinet. 16:08. The moment she’d been anticipating for months was finally here.

  “Bathroom break,” she said, withdrawing her arms from the glove box.

  “Shift’s almost over,” Elias said. “By the time you suit up again it’ll nearly be dinnertime.”

  “Nature calls.”

  Héloise exited the module before he could lodge further protests. In the adjacent room, she removed and discarded her face mask and grabbed her handbag. She passed through the second door and into the main corridor. At the far end was the out-of-commission elevator up to ground level, thirty feet above. Beside it were two fire doors. One led downward to the small nuclear reactor and its control room buried even deeper in the complex. The other door was the emergency staircase. It was now the only way up to the surface.

  She headed the opposite direction and passed through an unsecured door into “Q” corridor. A young Marine sat behind the security desk. Ostensibly, he was observing a console of surveillance cameras. But Héloise knew he spent most of his time playing videogames on his phone.

  She approached with a practiced smile. “Hey, Chet. I need a few moments in the vault with Auntie Q.”

  Nobody called it quiver. The higher-ups preferred official codenames, which they changed every few months. The current one was Oscar Zeta Three-Seven – military gobbledygook and way too clunky for those who actually worked down here. For reasons that preceded Héloise’s tenure and remained lost in Tau Nine-One history, Auntie Q had become the preferred shorthand.

  She did a digital sign-in and left her handbag on the shelf by Chet’s station. Scanning her daily pass opened the door behind him. She entered the anteroom, donned a pressure suit with breathing gear and headed for the airlock. Two doors later she was in the vault, the inner sanctum. For someone with Héloise’s security clearance, gaining access to Auntie Q was relatively easy. Smuggling it out would be the hard part.

  The circular lab didn’t look all that impressive. Five narrow doors led to various menageries where the test animals were kept. One curving section of wall contained biocabinets similar to the ones she and Elias worked with. But these glove boxes were heavy-duty, with bulletproof glass and rip-proof gloves. Only the test animals fed into the boxes through flexible chutes were permitted to come into direct contact with Auntie Q.

  In the center of the vault was the coffin, so called because it was the quiver stone’s resting place when not undergoing experimentation. It looked like an overturned freezer sunk halfway into the floor.

  Héloise checked the clock. 16:13. Two minutes to spare. All she had to do now was wait for Unit X’s computer virus, the one she’d secretly input into Tau Nine-One’s network, to activate.

  Would the virus function as Unit X promised? Her confidence level was high. Then again, bad shit happened to people even when they didn’t deserve it. If the virus failed, the plan would be DOA and Héloise likely arrested for treason once they traced it back to her terminal. Screw it. She could deal with jail if it came to that. In some ways, she’d been confined to a mental prison ever since Daddy’s crucifixion. One with real bars wouldn’t be all that much of a change.

  But that fate was unlikely. Unit X was monumentally careful. The more likely outcome was she’d get away clean but spend the rest of her days in hiding. On the bright side, she’d have enough money for a comfortable lifestyle off the grid.

  The clock reached 16:14. Héloise found herself wondering again why Unit X wanted Auntie Q. Selling it was a likely motivation. No doubt there’d be plenty of bidders for such a treasure. Unit X, obviously already a rich man, might be in a position to dramatically multiply his wealth.

  Still, the theft might have nothing to do with money. Maybe he’d learned something about the substance no one else had figured out and had an entirely different use in mind. In any case, they were meant for each other. Unit X and Auntie Q. It sounded like a marriage made in hell.

  She counted down the seconds in sync with the digital display. Bottom line, his intention didn’t matter. All that was important was that she’d be five million dollars richer and have her revenge on the bastards who’d messed up her life.

  The clock reached 16:15. The virus would be racing through the network targeting specific systems, including Security. Surveillance cameras would fail. Locks would open. Héloise would begin her new life.

  FIFTY-THREE

  At 16:16 pm, Michael envisioned the microwave segment of the electromagnetic spectrum and tuned himself to the three-dimensional GPS coordinates provided by the insider. Instantaneously, his shadow was transmitted into the vault. As always, he could still sense his physical self back at the chateau, a faint presence standing in the basement lab. It would remain there until he completed the mission and terminated the shadow. Only then would full consciousness and complete freedom of movement return to his real body.

  His doppelganger took shape six feet from the insider, who stood on the other side of the quiver coffin. Early in his experiments Michael had worried about transmitting a shadow to coordina
tes already occupied by physical matter, something other than air: a person, for instance. His fear of some kind of weird fusion had proved groundless. A shadow seemingly did not interact with matter.

  Even though the insider had been prepared for his devilish features, her eyes widened in alarm at his appearance. Michael was pleased. If he could frighten someone who knew he was coming, the effect should be greater upon those he intended to scare. Héloise Hoke wasn’t aware he was a quiver kid with special powers. He’d explained his appearance as a technological breakthrough in holographic transmission, and she hadn’t questioned the lie.

  Michael had never figured out how to transmit audio or speak through a shadow. He could hear sounds although sometimes they could be low and muddled and challenging to discern. Hand signals would suffice for today. Besides, a silent wraith would have greater impact.

  He nodded toward the coffin. Héloise punched in an access code to unlock it and pulled back the heavy door. The quiver rested in the bottom of a spherical canister. It was translucent and only slightly larger than the stone itself, which was the size of a tennis ball. Michael stared in fascination at the glasslike orb within. Even though it was impossible for his spectral form to physically touch anything, he had the urge to try. Years of anticipation filled him with longing.

  Héloise carried the canister to the airlock. Michael’s shadow followed. They passed through the double portal to the anteroom where she removed the pressure suit and deposited the canister in the front pocket of her loose-fitting pants.

  They waited. Any second now…

  Emergency alarms on the ceiling activated, flashing yellow. The virus had attacked its first target. Cameras and sensors throughout the lab level would be failing.