He paused. “And then find and detonate the base’s power plant.” He stared hard down at the man in the tank.” Can you do that, Sergeant?”
He sat up straighter in the tank and gave Campbell a resolved salute. “Yes, sir!” He replied. Campbell gave him a brief salute in return and the man laid back down in the tank. When the lid closed, Campbell reset the process to reconnect the operative to his agent.
He needed a moment before the male agent reactivated. Before the reconnection process was complete, Campbell typed a brief message into the console directed to the female agent.
She had been aware that someone or something suspended her use as a repeater. She used the brief moment to stretch even though her Angel body did not need it. The insects and reptiles that had taken refuge underneath her body scattered into the darkening desert. She wondered how long she would continue to act as a repeater for her partner once his signal resumed its flow through her body, when the message from Campbell appeared on the virtual display inside her hood.
“ATTACK ON ENEMY BASE TO COMMENCE IN TWO HOURS. AGENT WILL ELIMINATE PRIORITY TARGETS. ONCE TARGETS ARE ELIMINATED, SEVER YOUR LINK WITH AGENT AND RETURN TO BASE.”
“So…” She thought. “That’s how they’re going to retire the old man.” She assumed that even though he had been an agent longer than any other pilot in the program had; his capture in the arena was unforgivable. His mistake risked the security and secrecy of a program that had existed unknown to the general population.
Once Matthew and Elizabeth Evans were killed, all she had to do was stand up and walk back to Olympus. The sudden disconnection would send a feedback overload into his system and his nervous system would never recover.
The male operative regained control of his agent and stood up from his crouched position. He wanted to get himself closer to his targets so he could strike at a moment’s notice. He twisted his torso back and forth, rolled his shoulders, and flexed his head from side to side in anticipation of his upcoming assault. He felt like a snake coiling in preparation for a strike.
He had to leave the air exchange and crawl into the smaller duct that ran above the corridor to get to a better position from which to watch and wait. He slithered through the duct until he was above the outer airlock door.
He secured himself next in the duct then used his arm console to access the internal communications network. He wanted the two Dissident pilots out of the room before he struck. Attacking a handful of unarmed civilians was not a concern. He did not want to have to deal with more than one person with military training. He traced their communicators and sent a phony message to the pilots. It would have made his mission more difficult to contend with three people with hand-to-hand combat training all at once. The agent reached the bottom of his descent and entered the air exchange chamber adjacent to the shaft. He activated his communicator and transmitted a brief message toward Olympus, hoping the encryption on his signal, if detected, would be mistaken for background static.
“TARGETS ONE AND TWO DISCOVERED. DETECTION IS UNAVOIDABLE. PROCEEDING WITH SUPERSEDING ORDERS TO ELIMINATE PRIMARY TARGETS. CONFIRM MISSION.”
Within the crawl space next to the air exchange, the agent found cabling from the security camera feeds in the secure room. He tapped into them via his console, confirming with his eyes what his nose told him before his descent. The Quorum’s top priority targets, Matthew and Elizabeth Chapel, were alive and had been located.
Under his hood, the agent flashed a menacing grin. Campbell would be pleased with this information, and perhaps his previous blunder in the arena would be forgiven. He may even get a promotion. He imagined the triumphant welcome he would receive in the Cathedral after assassinating the Chapels. It would only be a matter of time before Campbell would appoint him to Senior Operative.
Campbell continued spinning throughout the hour in the chair of his private office in the Cathedral. In the middle of one of his revolutions, he received a notification on his display. His eyes caught sight of the keywords he had trained himself to look for on the glowing screen. His rotation stopped with a jerk as he slammed his hands down on the desktop. With a malicious grin, he pulled the earpiece to Reynolds’ private line and wedged it in his ear. He leaned back in his chair and pressed the tips of his fingers together with tight anticipation. He had been waiting for years to deliver the news that the primary targets had been located.
“Yes?” Reynolds yelled into his ear. “What is it?” From the impatient tone of his voice, Campbell knew he had interrupted another one of Reynolds’ trysts. The man’s depravity knew no bounds.
When Campbell had left Reynolds’ office after his most recent visit, Reynolds had pledged he was going to plan an attack on a mystery location in the event that the Evans’s were there.
“No doubt,” Campbell thought to himself, “that his brilliant strategy will be to barrage the location with troops and lay waste to the entire area, leaving nothing salvageable for study. This man has become short-sighted over the years.”
“General,” Campbell said, “the agent has checked in and we’ve verified that Matthew and Elizabeth Chapel are, in fact, on site. He is proceeding with overriding orders to terminate them at all costs.”
A maniacal chuckle escaped Reynolds’ lips. Campbell knew that he had stopped dallying with his staff and focused on engaging in the bloody slaughter of every Dissident in the facility. Reynolds cared nothing for collateral damage or the number of casualties. All he cared about was eliminating a variable that threatened his quality of life.
“I’ll be in the Leviathan, on station, in two hours to begin the full assault and mop-up of the entire area,” he purred into the headset. “Make sure the Chapels are already dead before I arrive.”
Campbell heard the soft clack of the receiving earpiece as it landed on a hard surface before the channel went silent. He removed his own earpiece and replaced it in the drawer. Standing up from his chair, he walked out toward the control room where the operators lay in their sensory deprivation tanks.
“Clear the room!” he shouted at the small group of men and women monitoring the operators’ interface tanks. Over by the main display, the technicians were running a series of diagnostics of Sergeant Davis’ system. Her body was growing overwhelmed from acting as the transponder for Aban, as a series of spikes reflected her vital stability in the monitor. The chief medical officer approached Campbell like a nervous rooster.
“Director,” he said with indignation, “Sergeant Davis’ system can’t tolerate the signal load much longer. She will die if we do not abandon the process. If we don’t cut the signal to Cross’ agent right now, we’re going to lose both of them!”
Campbell looked into the doctor’s eyes with the ambivalence of a cat watching paint dry.
“I said, clear the room,” he growled.
The doctor planted his feet and folded his arms, glaring back at Campbell with hard-set eyes.
“No, sir! Not until you decide to end this mission and cut your losses. It’s better to lose only one operative than both of them to your ego.”
Campbell and the doctor stood nose to nose for several seconds before his hand lunged up and gripped the man around the throat.
“Now, listen very carefully,” he said with controlled rage. “Each man, woman, and piece of equipment in this room is expendable. I can find someone else to do your job, Doctor, if you feel unequal to the task. One more word out of your mouth that does not comply with my orders and I’ll consider them your resignation and make preparations for your retirement party. Is that clear?”
The doctor choked and sputtered out an incoherent compliance. Campbell released him, throwing him against the console of Sergeant Cross’ tank. The purple-faced doctor sucked in a furious lung-full of air and rubbed at the red fingerprints at his windpipe. The audience of technicians scurried out as a jumbled pack, worried that Campbell would strike again. The assaulted doctor stumbled out after them.
Once he was alone, Campbell
checked the monitors to verify the female agent was still secure in her hiding place in the desert. He then reviewed the monitor of the male agent and saw that he was still crouched in the air exchange duct watching his console for confirmation of his orders.
Campbell entered a code on the console. Cross’s tank hummed as it opened, revealing the body of a small, middle-aged man submerged in the water. He sat up in the tank and stared in confusion up at Campbell.
“Is there a problem with the mission, sir?” he asked as he wiped water from his face. Campbell’s eyes darted to the other tank before responding.
“No,” he replied in a low voice. “No problem.”
Sergeant Cross continued staring in bewilderment. Campbell continued.
“The General is organizing an assault on your location,” he began. “He wants you to observe the targets until the attack commences. We don’t want there to be any possibility that they can escape once the airstrikes begin.” Campbell paused. “Find and detonate the base’s power plant. That is your second priority after you have eliminated the possibility of the Chapels escaping. Then, if you happen to survive the fallout of the attack, you are to rendezvous with your partner and report.” He stared hard down at the man in the tank. “Can you do that, Sergeant?”
The little man’s withered frame sat up straighter in the tank as he gave Campbell a resolved salute.
“Yes, sir!” he replied. Campbell gave him a brief salute in return and the man laid back down in the tank. When the lid closed, Campbell reset the process to reconnect the operative to his agent.
Before Campbell completely initiated Cross’ agent, he typed a brief message into the console directed to the female.
As Campbell had given orders directly to Cross himself, Heather had been aware that someone or something had suspended Gabriella’s use as a repeater. She used the brief moment of respite to stretch, even though her Angel body did not need it. As she shifted and stirred, the insects and reptiles that had taken refuge underneath her body scattered into the darkening desert. She had been wondering how long she would be required to act as a repeater for her partner once his signal resumed its flow through her body when the message from Campbell appeared on the virtual display inside her hood.
“ATTACK ON ENEMY BASE TO COMMENCE IN TWO HOURS. ABAN WILL ELIMINATE PRIORITY TARGETS. ONCE TARGETS ARE ELIMINATED, SEVER LINK AND RETURN TO BASE.”
“So,” she thought. “That’s how they’re going to retire the old man.” Even though he had been serving as an agent longer than any other pilot in the program had, his capture in the arena was unforgivable. His mistake risked the security and secrecy of a program that had existed unknown to the general population.
Once Matthew and Elizabeth Evans were killed, all she had to do was stand up and walk back to Olympus. The sudden disconnection would send a feedback overload into his system and his body would never recover from the surge.
The male operative regained control of his agent and stood up from his crouched position. He wanted closer proximity to his targets so he could strike at a moment’s notice. He twisted his torso back and forth, rolled his shoulders, and flexed his neck from side to side in anticipation of his upcoming assault. He felt like a snake coiling in preparation for a strike.
He had to leave the air exchange and crawl into the smaller duct running above the corridor to get to a better position from which to watch and wait. He slithered through the duct until he was situated above the outer airlock door.
He secured himself in the duct, and used his arm console to access the internal communications network. Tracing the communicators of the two people standing away from his primary targets, Aban discovered they were the pilots of two TRTV’s that had either died or deserted along with their equipment. He traced the communicators of the two pilots using the backdoor security access and sent a phony message to their private channels. He wanted the two Dissident pilots out of the room before he struck. Attacking a handful of unarmed civilians was not a concern, but he did not want to have to deal with more than one person with military training.
Aban watched as the male pilot lifted his arm to read the message scrolling under transparent panel of his sleeve. The female pilot did the same while straightening her posture. Aban recognized the ready posture and made a mental note to himself. “That one is not to be underestimated,” he thought to himself.
A quick glance at each other, and they prepared to leave the room, unaware they were abandoning the Chapels and the Evans’s to their impending demise.
SEVENTY-SIX
Kevin and Felicia received messages on their consoles to report to the motor pool. Kevin walked over to Evangeline and her family, followed by Felicia, to talk for the first time since he escorted her into the lab. Evangeline heard his footsteps behind her, released her grip on her parents, and turned around to face him.
Matthew and Elizabeth took each other by the hand and smiled at Kevin with tears in their eyes. “Kevin. Felicia.” Matthew nodded. He did not fight the tears that brimmed around his eyes. He looked into each of their faces with a passion Evangeline had never seen before in her father as he took Kevin by the hand. “I don’t know how to thank you for bringing our daughter back to us. I know it wasn’t part of the plan to expose her to this, but in hindsight I can see we may have been wrong to begin with.”
Elizabeth and Felicia shared a brief hug with each other. Evangeline noted the exchanged and made a mental note to ask Felicia about it later when she could talk to her in private.
Kevin let go of Matthew’s hand and smiled down at Evangeline. He opened up his arms and she stood to embrace him. “I don’t know what to say.” She mumbled under her breath. Kevin wrapped his arms around her shoulders and gave her a tight squeeze.
“You don’t have to say anything.” He whispered. “Your parents saved me. It’s the least I can do to return the favor.” Evangeline pulled back, and stared up into his face with a hundred unanswered questions in her eyes. He laughed and let her out of his grip. “I’ll explain later.” He said in response to her expression.
Jack walked over to Felicia and held out his hand. “Thanks for saving my life, and for bringing me here to find my wife safe and sound.” He said with a lump in his throat. Jack was overwhelmed by the flow of emotions in the past several minutes as he witnessed the reunion of his wife and her parents. “If there’s ever anything I can do for you, please, please, let me know, okay?”
Felicia extended a cautious hand and took Jack’s in a firm grip. She tried to remain neutral, but gave him a small smile. “Just don’t talk to any Angel’s you don’t know, okay?” Jack raised his eyebrows. Without speaking, he raised his hands high in the air then drew a cross on his chest in an exaggerated look of surrender. Felicia appreciated his humor and allowed her smile to expand and show her crooked teeth. A soft chuckle echoed in the room. Kevin’s laugh broke the tension that had risen during the flashback of Matthew’s story. The rest of the group joined in with their own muted laughter as smiles passed to each member of the small group of family and friends.
Kevin and Felicia excused themselves and returned to the airlock. The familiar hissing sound of the outer door let Jack and the others know that the room was again secure.
Matthew and Elizabeth invited Jack and Evangeline to sit at a small table in the corner of the lab. They admitted that they did not know as much about her life as they would have liked and wanted to get to know her again.
She began by telling them what happed, from her perspective, after they had been missing for several weeks. She related to them her painful experience with Silas Graham, being relegated to a group home, and joining the military. She even told them about her decision to donate her reproductive organs out of spite. Elizabeth sobbed as she listened to her daughter’s life story. She grieved over the pain they had caused that had led their daughter to make her irreversible decision.
After an hour and a half of highlights from Evangeline’s life, the group heard the hiss fro
m the outer airlock door. Evangeline assumed it was Kevin’s return after addressing the issue that called them away. To their astonishment, instead of a white environmental suit, a black figure crossed the threshold and stalked toward them. Jack shuddered as flashbacks from the arena engulfed his mind. He swallowed hard and wondered if survive another assault and end up unconscious again, or if the room in which he stood would become his coffin.
Elizabeth covered her mouth and gasped. “How did they find us?”
Matthew’s face contorted in stern determination as he stepped in front the tank sustaining his wife’s body. Her Angel body was defenseless next to Jack and Evangeline, but for him it was more important to save her human body than to protect the puppet.
Without thinking, Jack stepped between the dark figure and Evangeline, who in turn had stepped between the agent and her parents. The agent circled to the left, away from the airlock, and made his way to one side in a flanking maneuver. Evangeline sidestepped her body to keep herself between him and her parents. She lowered her body into a slight crouch like a tiger preparing to defend her cub. She matched each of his movements step for step.
Jack attempted an act of chivalry by stepping into the line of fire between his wife and the dark figure. Evangeline felt proud of him for his heroic gesture, but she pushed him back behind her without taking her eyes off the agent. “Jack.” She whispered as her eyes locked on the agent’s hidden face. “Stay behind me. Get yourself and my parents out of here.”
Jack took a half step toward Elizabeth to shield her from the first wave of the attack when the agent took an aggressive stance and hunched his shoulders in preparation to spring. Evangeline noticed the tinkling of his fingers and the shift in his mask. She could see the eager grin that spread underneath the hood.
Avenging Angels (The Seraphim Chronicles Book 1) Page 39