Time Frame (Split Second Book 2)

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Time Frame (Split Second Book 2) Page 33

by Douglas E. Richards


  More shots rang out, this time from the opposite direction. While several penetrated the trailer, none came close to his position. Vargas spotted three shooters emerging from a sparse woods on the side he was on, too distant to achieve accuracy but closing fast, each face hidden by a black ski mask.

  He was unarmed and surrounded, so running was out of the question.

  Unfortunately, surrender didn’t appear to be an option, either.

  Vargas rushed to the back of the trailer and threw open the door as a shot grazed his thigh, drawing more blood. He climbed inside and retrieved a gun from the sleeping Aaron Blake, and then jumped back to the pavement again, firing at the approaching trio.

  He managed to hit one of the hostiles in the arm before a bullet from another finally penetrated his right shoulder, making further shooting impossible.

  In Vargas’s last moments of consciousness, he realized he wasn’t upset that he would die here. The poison capsule in his head was scheduled to kill him soon enough, anyway. He was upset that the Op had failed, and that he would now never get to see the look on Knight’s face when he realized Vargas had betrayed him.

  But this thought was fleeting as bullet after bullet found its mark, and he was jerked about like a puppet having a seizure before falling dead to the pavement, gushing blood from at least six gaping wounds.

  Seconds later the three shooters were joined by the initial sniper, who had traveled there from his position on the opposite bluff. He nodded at them and they quickly retreated back to the trees, concentrating on getting away from the scene now that their work was completed.

  The sniper wasted no time climbing into the trailer and surveying the six bodies lying prone in the pickup’s long bed. Then, satisfied that they were all accounted for, he produced an automatic weapon, pointed it at the helpless sleepers, and depressed the trigger.

  64

  Aaron Blake’s phone rang and he fished it out of his pocket with great interest. Only a handful of people in the world had this number, and he was currently with most of them at Camp David.

  When he saw that it was Tom TenBrink on the line, he allowed his spirits to soar in celebration. They must have captured Knight. They were halfway home.

  Still, TenBrink shouldn’t be calling him. He had been ignoring Blake as he should, reporting directly to the president.

  Cargill had informed the senior management team and Inner Circle that a second Blake was alive, and had described Blake’s exploits in China, North Korea, and now Camp David. But this second Blake had insisted Cargill include a prohibition against anyone from Q5 reaching out to him. He had known that choosing to survive the mission in North Korea had come at a cost. Maintaining relationships with members of the team wouldn’t be fair to either of the Blakes. The Blake still at Cheyenne Mountain deserved to be the one and only, keeping sole possession of his identity and his relationships. And the second Blake, forced to take on a new identity and new life, would be better served with a clean break from those who seemed like family to him.

  Only Cargill would stay in touch, and then only to help him resettle and feed him missions from time to time.

  Clearly, TenBrink hadn’t been able to help himself. He knew full well how important the capture of Knight would be to the Blake at Camp David, and didn’t want him to hear about it secondhand from the president.

  It was hard to be upset with Tom TenBrink when his motives were so good. Still, Blake would have to remind him that he found it too painful to have emotional connections to his old life, and they needed to sever all ties for the sake of his mental health. “You shouldn’t be calling me, Tom,” he said as he answered the call. “No matter how good the news.”

  “The news isn’t good!” said TenBrink emphatically, his voice reflecting considerable trauma. “The Op was a cluster fuck! The farmhouse Knight was in was annihilated! He’s dead, Aaron! A flea couldn’t have survived. The team we had ready to go in suffered numerous casualties.”

  TenBrink paused, as if unable to bring himself to continue. “And they’re dead, too,” he finally whispered in horror. “All of them.”

  “Slow down, Tom. What happened? Who’s dead?”

  “Cargill and the entire team.”

  Blake’s throat constricted. “No!” he pleaded. “That can’t be true! It’s impossible. The president just told me they were unconscious in the back of a pickup, and weren’t anywhere near Knight’s farm.”

  “That’s true. But they were killed inside the pickup. Minutes after Knight and the farmhouse went up in flames. By multiple gunmen. We have footage from satellites and several motorists. I’ll send it to you. Three gunmen murdered Vargas, and a fourth opened fire on the rest while they were still out cold. I’ve sent men to the site to get human eyes on the scene and to verify that they’re dead. But the footage leaves no doubt.”

  The room whipped around Blake’s head, and he struggled to retain his balance.

  He couldn’t bring himself to believe it. This was supposed to be the team’s finest hour. The country’s finest hour. How could this have happened? “Who did this?” he mumbled, almost too dazed to speak.

  “It was coordinated, so whoever killed Knight also killed our people. The gunmen were all wearing black ski masks. At this moment, we have no idea. But we need you back at Cheyenne Mountain immediately!”

  “What?” said Blake stupidly, still reeling.

  “Lee told us not to contact you. But he also said that if our Blake was killed, he’d call you in to resume your identity and take your twin’s place on the team. Well, our Blake is dead, Aaron! So we need you back. And since Cargill and Allen are dead also, guess what, you’re the highest-ranking surviving member of senior management. Which makes you the new head of Q5.”

  “No,” mumbled Blake. “I won’t do it. What’s the point? How can I come back to Q5 knowing that the rest of the team is gone?”

  “Snap out of it, Aaron!” shouted TenBrink. “I’m supposed to be the one who is shell-shocked here. You’ll forge another team. Rebuild. Lee says he gave all members of the senior management team elaborate instructions on how to retrieve his password, in case he was killed. The password that will give the bearer a full set of keys to the kingdom, full access to the technology. But retrieval has to be done on-site, and requires the passing of a battery of biometric tests.”

  When Blake didn’t respond immediately, TenBrink’s intensity increased even more. “Come on, Aaron!” he thundered. “We can’t let Knight win! You have to rebuild Q5!”

  “But Knight didn’t win,” noted Blake, his mind finally beginning to peek through the fog. “He’s dead, too. I’m not sure who won here, but it wasn’t Knight, and it wasn’t us.”

  “Are you coming back?”

  Blake nodded woodenly. “Yes. I’ll take a helo to the fastest military jet in the area. I’ll be with you in a few hours. In the meantime, send everything you have on the mission and what happened. Satellite footage, reports from the ground, all communications, and so on. Everything. And I want us to be in communication while I’m flying. We need to learn who’s behind this. Immediately.”

  “I couldn’t agree more,” said TenBrink, visibly relieved. “And thank you. I’ll begin sending footage and reports your way now,” he added, signing off, leaving Blake to suffer in silence.

  Blake had lost friends before on the battlefield. But nothing had ever hit him as hard as this. This loss was devastating. He had witnessed carnage so horrific it would make a surgeon or butcher puke, and hadn’t once felt even a hint of nausea. But he found the thought of losing his Q5 colleagues so powerful that he was now fighting back vomit.

  He loved this team. All had good souls. Lee Cargill was a brilliant manager of people and a master strategist. Nathan Wexler was a god, the Einstein of his generation. His loss was incalculable.

  And yet Blake’s mind kept returning to Jenna Morrison. Only when he thought of her lying dead in the back of a pickup truck did his stomach threaten to release its conten
ts onto the floor.

  Had he been in love with her?

  It hardly seemed possible. And yet, his reaction to her death left no doubt.

  He had been. He just hadn’t let himself realize how he felt until now. He had suppressed his true feelings because there was no point. She had been engaged to a man he admired, who treated her the way she deserved, whom she had met long before Blake had come into the picture.

  As he realized how he had really felt about this extraordinary woman, the emotional floodgates crashed open even wider, making the pain he was feeling almost unbearable.

  Without warning, tears began to slide down his cheeks, a wholly unfamiliar sensation.

  It was the first time Blake had been forced to tears since he was a young boy.

  PART 7

  Duplicity (Noun)

  Deceitfulness in speech or conduct; double-dealing. Synonyms: deceit, deception, fraud, guile, trickery.

  The state or quality of having two elements or parts; being twofold or double.

  —Dictionary.com

  65

  Cargill’s eyes shot open and he gasped, as though a shot of pure adrenaline had been injected into him.

  He saw a syringe moving away from his arm. Perhaps it had been.

  His eyes drifted upward to take in the scene, and Edgar Knight’s face swam into view. Cargill threw out his hands to seize the man’s neck and choke him to death, which almost pulled his arms from their sockets as they refused to carry out his commands. His wrists and arms were locked in place, tied to the side of his chair with zip ties, and the chair had been firmly affixed to the floor.

  Standard Knight arrangements.

  “Glad you’re with us,” said Knight. “I revived you last, so I could begin the moment you were conscious.”

  To his left, affixed to another chair, was Hank Vargas, and on the far wall, the rest of the management team, not only bound like he and Vargas had been, but gagged with duct tape. All were conscious, except for Blake, who Cargill’s eyes settled upon, trying to confirm that his chest was still rising and falling.

  “Don’t worry,” said Knight, as if reading his mind, “he’s still alive. I just chose not to revive him.”

  “Why not?” asked Cargill.

  “The things his duplicate managed to accomplish at Lake Las Vegas shouldn’t have been possible. So I studied his past. Turns out he’s accomplished a number of miraculous feats in his career. But it’s a lot harder to create miracles when you’re unconscious. Security is being upgraded at this site even as we speak. When it’s finished, I’ll wake him. Even then, I’ll make sure he’s so immobilized he can’t even twitch.”

  “And the duct tape?” asked Cargill.

  “We don’t want any interruptions. It’s better to keep this initial reunion cozy and intimate, don’t you think? I revived Hank just a few seconds before you.”

  Cargill took in his surroundings. To all appearances he was in a great room in a mansion, a room that flowed from the family room, which they were now in, to the kitchen, without interruption. The ceilings of both rooms soared eighteen feet high. The floor was a beautiful white marble with veins of gray, matching a marble-topped island in the kitchen that was so expansive it was the size of an actual island. He was facing a twenty-foot long sliding glass door that could be hidden within the wall on either side, creating a wide indoor/outdoor opening looking out at nearby mountains.

  “Where are we?” demanded Cargill.

  “You don’t sound happy to see me,” said Knight, pretending to be hurt. “And after all the trouble I’ve taken to reunite you with your trusted friend and colleague.”

  “You were trusted,” said Cargill evenly. “Right up until you decided to freelance, leaving a string of bodies and moles behind.”

  “I see you don’t forgive easily,” said Knight with a grin. “No wonder you never married.”

  “What is this about, Edgar?” demanded Vargas. “I delivered Q5 as promised. So why am I a prisoner?”

  Knight laughed in delight. “Hank, it’s so bold of you to pretend you’ve been wronged, so audacious, I can’t help but be impressed. You plan to fuck me over, and then, when you awaken in an unknown situation with me on top, you pretend that this is how you intended it all along. Even though you don’t have the first clue as to how you got here. That takes balls, even for you.”

  “What are you talking about?” said Vargas.

  “All will be revealed in due course,” said Knight. “I’m enjoying this too much to rush it. Like old times, isn’t it? Me, my boss, and my boss’s boss.” He glared at Cargill. “Although I’m mostly interested in you, Lee.”

  “I’m flattered,” said Cargill. “And good for you,” he added, making a show of pulling at his restraints. “You’ve finally figured out a way to get me to listen to your demented crap.”

  “Are you really going to complain about a few restraints?” said Knight in amusement. “You should be thanking me. Look around,” he added, gesturing to the twenty-foot-long disappearing sliding glass door. “This isn’t bad, as far as prisons go. A room and a view fit for a king. I was a prisoner here myself for a while.”

  Cargill didn’t respond, but looked decidedly skeptical.

  “But don’t let the view fool you,” continued Knight. “You’re here to receive some serious payback. I have to hand it to you, Lee. You outsmarted me at Lake Las Vegas. You and your Bonnie-and-Clyde duo over there,” he added, gesturing toward Aaron Blake and Jenna Morrison immobilized against the wall. “Apparently, even the dullest among us can have a lucky inspiration that can best the smartest among us.”

  Knight turned to Vargas and shook his head. “And yes,” he added, “they did kill a version of me at Lake Las Vegas. I was a duplicate, being stored in this very residence, under house arrest. I couldn’t even venture to the other buildings in this complex. I lied to you when I said their attack had failed, Hank. It didn’t. Which is why I’m so pissed off. As if it isn’t galling enough to be outsmarted by a talentless hack like Lee, he almost won. For good. If I hadn’t had the foresight to keep a duplicate off-site, he would have.”

  “Now who doesn’t forgive easily?” said Cargill. “Good thing you aren’t married. Not that you wouldn’t eat your wife and children before too long, anyway.”

  “Is that the wittiest response you’ve got?” said Knight. “I was hoping you’d be more entertaining. But no matter, you’ll provide entertainment, one way or another. I have a lot planned for you and your Lake Las Vegas accomplices. First I’m going to torture you. Then I’m going to kill you.”

  He studied the colonel. “By rights I should be giving you the same treatment, Hank. But since you failed so miserably, and allowed me to get the upper hand, I’ll give you a clean death.”

  Knight rose from his chair and surveyed the prisoners against the back wall. “And while I may keep the rest of you around for a few months, at some point I’m going to have to kill everyone but Nathan Wexler. I’d prefer to keep some of you on indefinitely, but I can’t take the chance that you’d eventually find a way to escape. You all have knowledge that could make my life more difficult. Dr. Wexler, of course, is priceless. Irreplaceable. So he’s safe.”

  Knight removed a gun and walked over to the wall of hostages. “But this is too big of a crowd to manage,” he said. “And I want to send a message about the importance of being cooperative.”

  Without warning Knight depressed the trigger four times, putting two rounds each into the helpless seated figures of Joe Allen and Daniel Tini, who both died instantly. Blake was in between these two men, but he was unconscious, blissfully unaware of this heinous act. Jenna and Wexler both shouted in horror, but their screams were almost entirely muffled by the tape over their mouths.

  “You think that’s going to help you earn respect?” barked Cargill. “You think you’re softening us up?”

  “Yes,” said Knight simply, returning to his seat and ignoring the dead bodies and shocked prisoners now behind hi
m. “I can make threats all day long, but until I demonstrate I’m not squeamish about carrying them out, they’re toothless. This will ensure I get maximum cooperation going forward.”

  “This will do the opposite,” said Cargill. “Maybe you’re the dumb one in your family,” he added, knowing that no insult would sting Knight more. “We already know to take your threats seriously. You think this savage act will intimidate us? Make us more pliable? It will only strengthen our resolve to resist you. This is just a barbaric reminder of your true colors. That while you pretend to be rational and claim that you only want the best for humanity, you’re just as ruthless as all the Hitlers and Stalins before you.”

  “I have my reasons for everything I do,” said Knight defiantly. “Even when I take revenge on you, I’ll be sure to have my top mercs involved, so they get to witness the penalty for crossing me.”

  “So the crazed butcher thing is just an act?” said Cargill in disdain. “You’re just playing a calculated game of chess, and not getting any sick enjoyment from your sadism? No one is buying it, Edgar. You don’t torture people unless you like it.”

  “I know it looks that way at a micro level,” said Knight. “But if you could see the big picture, put my actions into context, you’d understand. Just like I’m sure you can put your own actions at Lake Las Vegas into context. I just killed two people to serve the bigger picture. How many thousands did you kill, Lee?”

  Cargill was struggling to remain calm, but this was a shot to his metaphorical balls, and his upper lip curled into a snarl. “Rationalize all you want,” he spat. “But our actions couldn’t be more different. I’m a starving man who hunts for food. You’re a well-fed man who hunts for pleasure.”

  Knight shook his head in disgust. “I’ve forgotten just how self-righteous you can be. A neat trick coming from a mass murderer.”

 

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