Time Frame (Split Second Book 2)

by Douglas E. Richards

  And now everything could be lost. Their lives were the least of it. If Knight finally won this battle with Q5 there would be no check on his power, little to stop him from achieving his warped goals. The world would be at his mercy.

  And mercy wasn’t one of Knight’s strong suits.

  Blake gritted his teeth and ratcheted up his resolve. They hadn’t lost yet. The odds weren’t great, but they weren’t zero, either. He had made a last-minute preparation that just might turn the tide. He had borrowed the belt they had taken from Vargas. After the T-4-assisted interrogation, Blake had made it a point to learn about the new weapons the colonel had brought to the table. Vargas had vetoed letting Blake wear a smart contact lens, because Knight could detect it visually, and his sensors could detect its electronic signature.

  But the belt didn’t need the contact lens for activation. Blake could manually activate it by squeezing both sides of the buckle toward each other, producing a three-hundred-sixty-degree sonic blast that would kill everyone in the room except him. It could only be fired once, but this should be plenty.

  Since the sonic weapon, while dormant, didn’t give off an electronic signature and couldn’t be detected by sensors of any kind, it was highly unlikely to be discovered. Even so, he was taking a risk, no matter how small. Knight had cameras inside the semi, and if he could tell on sight that the belt was more than it seemed, it would blow the mission. There was no reason for Blake to have such a weapon if he really thought he was going to an innocent meeting with the president.

  He had concluded that the chances of the belt being discovered were so remote it was worth bringing along, but he had refrained from telling the team, just in case Cargill decided to veto this precaution.

  “So now you know just how fucked you are,” said Rourk cheerfully after finishing his narrative. He smiled. “You know, I am glad I decided to share that with you. Thanks.”

  “Why isn’t Knight here?” said Blake. “To rub in his victory. To revive Nathan Wexler and try to learn his secrets.”

  “Because all of you are duplicates.”

  “Yeah, you told me,” said Blake. “He teleported us out of the original semi.”

  “That’s not what I mean. He duplicated you again when you arrived here. You’re just backups. The other versions are in the main house with Knight right now, having a little chat. Except for the other version of you. He’s there, too, but still unconscious.”

  “Lucky him,” muttered Blake.

  “You got that right,” said Rourk. “I’m guessing you’ll be with me in this guesthouse for some time. It will serve as a prison for Q5 duplicates for weeks, or even months. This residence, and the entire complex, is getting a security upgrade right now. In another four or five hours, an AI will be able to distinguish between those who belong here and those who don’t, and deploy lasers to stop anyone who doesn’t. Not that the place won’t always be crawling with human security personnel, but automation just adds an extra layer.”

  “Security personnel?” said Blake derisively. “You mean mercenaries? The soldier equivalent of whores?”

  Rourk shook his head. “I mean soldiers who have chosen to align themselves with the future,” he replied, ignoring the pointed barb. “You backups will be imprisoned in this guesthouse while Knight does his thing with your duplicates. If any are killed in the process, one of you will eventually replace them. But not before another copy is deposited here, on deck.”

  “Yeah,” said Blake in disgust. “I get it. We’re backups so the originals can be expendable. Like you, right Jack? How many copies of you have been killed off? I know Vargas got three of you by himself.”

  Rourk shrugged. “So what?”

  “So what?” repeated Blake in dismay. “Do you know what Knight’s reaction was after Vargas killed a trio of Jack Rourks on a farm in Maryland? I do. The colonel told me. Knight thanked him for saving him the trouble of killing you.”

  “Why the fuck do I care how many copies of me are killed? I’m still here. These others mean nothing to me.”

  “They should. Because Knight doesn’t give a shit about anyone’s life but his own. It isn’t just duplicates he’s willing to kill without blinking. You told me Knight blew up the farmhouse in Nebraska he pretended to be in. So how many of his mercenary hires did he kill there?”

  “What are you talking about? None.”

  “Are you really that stupid?” said Blake. “You think anyone would buy that he was in the farmhouse without at least a handful of men patrolling the perimeter? Men he sent there knowing they’d be sacrificed to throw others off his trail.”

  “It’s not going to work, Blake. I’ve been with him since the beginning. The other soldiers in this room are almost as senior as I am. I know some of his new hires are expendable. But not us. He only trusts his top people with knowledge of time travel, and most of these were at Lake Las Vegas when it was wiped out. So Knight sees the four of us as the opposite of expendable.”

  “Keep telling yourself that,” said Blake in disgust.

  He frowned deeply. He was getting nowhere. Rourk couldn’t be rattled, and as long as his hands were tied above his head, his belt was useless.

  But he couldn’t let Knight win. And when the security was fully installed in four or five hours, his window of opportunity could well be closed forever. If ever there was a time for an act of desperation, this was it.

  Blake’s stomach turned as he realized what he would have to do. The course he was being forced to take was uglier than any man should ever have to contemplate. He was so tired of duplicates and death and impossible choices.

  But here he was again.

  He needed to kill everyone in this room the moment he had the chance. Which meant killing those who had become more than colleagues, more than family. No matter what, he would have to be certain he killed the backup versions of Cargill, Wexler, and Tini, the three men who could be coerced or drugged into giving Knight the information he needed in order to become unstoppable.

  Ideally, after he carried out this despicable act, he would make his way to the main mansion and find a way to kill Knight and get the team out of this. But this was a long shot, at best. He would make the attempt, but if this looked to be impossible, he would be forced to go down a much darker road. He’d be forced to eliminate the Cargill, Wexler, and Tini he found in the main mansion—now the only living copies of these men—extinguishing their minds from the universe forever.

  Having to kill his friends—twice—to prevent Knight from getting the vital information inside of their heads was too horrible for words.

  At least the duplicates in the room with him now had been asleep when they were brought into this frame of time. At least they would perish without having ever been conscious. But according to Rourk, the original versions still with Knight had been revived—all except for him.

  Even so, he would likely have no other choice but to kill them anyway.

  The stakes were too high to do anything else.

  67

  Blake was considering his options when another fist slammed into his jaw. Rourk shot him a cruel smile. “You didn’t think this was going to be all talk, did you?”

  Blake’s jaw throbbed painfully. “Very impressive,” he said. “You can batter a helpless prisoner. But before you continue to dazzle us all with your toughness, how about letting me use the bathroom? Or do you, literally, want to beat the shit out of me?”

  Before Rourk could answer, one of his three colleagues approached with a sour expression on his pockmarked face. He was tall, ugly, and bulging with muscles that suggested many years of heavy steroid use. “We’re beginning to lose patience over here, Jack,” he said. “Time to inject this guy with a knockout drug. We need to get out of here and help install the sensors and lasers.”

  “Give me a break, Ajax. We have plenty of time. We only have to test the system when the grunts have finished.”

  “That’s not what Knight told us,” replied the newcomer.
>
  Blake watched the exchange with great interest. The musclehead was called Ajax, a name made famous in Greek mythology. Ajax had been a Greek warrior, one depicted as tall, strong, and fearless, who had played a pivotal role in the Trojan War. Blake thought the ape in front of him looked too stupid to have chosen the name on purpose, but it was impossible to know for sure. In any case, Blake could sense coming friction between the two men. Perhaps he could find a way to help this along.

  “Rank has its privileges,” said Rourk. “And this is one of them. So why don’t you guys just relax for a while longer. We have hours to spare.” He nodded toward Blake. “I’ve owed this prick for a while now. I need this.”

  “You need this?” said Ajax incredulously.

  “That’s right.”

  “Okay, Jack. I’m glad you put it that way. Because I’m thinking it’s time for me to take care of my needs.”

  He walked back to the other side of the room, reached into a bag, and removed a roll of silver duct tape and one of a number of filled syringes. He then returned to where Jenna Morrison was lying on her back on the floor. He tore off two short lengths of tape and affixed them over Jenna’s mouth, and then knelt down beside her, extending the syringe toward her arm.

  “What are you doing?” barked Rourk.

  “I’m reviving the girl. You get your jollies your way, and I’ll get them mine.”

  “What are you talking about?” said Rourk.

  “What do you think I’m talking about? I’m going to fuck her brains out, that’s what I’m talking about.”

  “Right now?” said Rourk in dismay.

  “Not here,” said Ajax. “But yes. You have needs, Jack. Well, so do I. And you’re right. We do have a few hours to spare. And it’s not like we don’t have any bedrooms around here.” He turned to his two colleagues still standing against the back wall. “You guys want in?” he asked.

  “Only if you’re willing to take sloppy seconds,” said the taller of the two. “Because I’m sure as hell not.”

  The man beside him nodded his agreement.

  “Not a chance,” said Ajax. “Sorry I offered.”

  Blake had fought to keep it together, but something inside of him snapped. His mind was on fire. He yanked at his restraints like a wild animal, desperate to get his hands on the man named Ajax, a more visceral reaction than any he had ever had. “You touch her, assface, and I’ll—”

  “And you’ll what?” interrupted Ajax, drawing a gun and pointing it at Blake’s forehead. “I know exactly what you’ll do! You’ll shut your fucking mouth! One more word and I’ll knock you out cold. One more word! This is a private discussion between me and Jack.”

  Blake’s face curled up into a feral snarl, and he choked back the threats he was desperate to make. He couldn’t take the chance that Ajax really would knock him out. If he was unconscious until after the automated security was in place, all hope was lost.

  Ajax returned his gun to its holster and gazed at Jenna like a starving man eyeing a steak.

  “I can’t let you do this,” said Rourk.

  “You aren’t letting me do shit!” replied the musclehead, sticking the needle in Jenna’s arm and pushing the plunger home.

  Whatever reversal agent was in the syringe acted almost instantly. Jenna gasped awake, her eyes bulging as she took in her surroundings.

  “I don’t answer to you, Jack!” continued Ajax. “Do you know how long it’s been since I’ve been laid? This is bullshit. How many times since we began working for Knight has he refused to let us leave a compound like this for days, or even weeks? He promised in these cases he’d bring in enough pussy for everyone—to make up for it. All he’d have to do is bring in one hot chick and make as many duplicates as needed. How hard is that? But he hasn’t. I’m as loyal as the next guy, but I didn’t sign on to be a fucking priest.”

  “We all want to get laid,” said Rourk. “And Knight did say he’d take care of it. But you need to keep your dick in your pants a while longer. You heard what he said about these prisoners.”

  “I did hear. Did you? He said our job was to make sure they didn’t escape and they weren’t harmed. Period. Did you hear him say, don’t fuck anyone? And he brought her here. Might as well bring a girl to a male prison. What does he expect?” Ajax shook his head. “And he said not to hurt them. What do you think you’ve been doing, Jack? So who’s not following orders? I’ll tie this bitch to the bedposts so she can’t resist, so I won’t have to hurt her.”

  Rourk still looked unconvinced.

  “You know what else Knight told us?” said Ajax. He nodded toward Blake. “He told us this man was too dangerous to revive until the upgrades were in place. And yet me and the boys were willing to help stand guard while you got some revenge. So don’t lecture me, asshole! Besides, why do you care if I fuck her?”

  Ajax pulled Jenna to a standing position, daring Rourk to object further.

  Rourk shrugged, indicating his surrender. “Just make sure you bring her back in one piece.”

  As the two men spoke, Jenna continued to shout into the duct tape, her muffled words indecipherable. Her eyes were wide, horrified—pleading.

  Ajax pushed her ahead as he made his way from the room. Just as they approached the door, Jenna tried to resist, and he slammed her into the wall with considerable force. “Be smart, sweetheart. Don’t make me be rougher than I need to be.”

  As the two were leaving the room, Blake went emotionally berserk. He had experienced bloodlust in the heat of battle many times, but never like this. He felt a primal, mindless desire to rip out Ajax’s jugular with his teeth.

  He would be protective of any woman in Jenna’s situation. But this was different. It was a mindless rage of such magnitude that it stripped him of all rationality. Given she was a duplicate, he had been prepared to kill her in her sleep if he had to. But he would not stand for this. Duplicate or no duplicate, he would not allow her to be violated by this ape, no matter what he had to do to prevent it.

  A whisper of clarity made it through the rage that was consuming his mind.

  He was in love with Jenna Morrison. He suddenly saw it, clear as day.

  His eyes widened as the floodgates of his true feelings were torn open.

  He was in love with her. It was the only way to explain his reaction. He had suppressed his feelings, but it was now obvious. He could never have her, since Nathan Wexler had come first, but that didn’t change how he felt.

  “Hold on, Jenna,” he mouthed silently, closing his eyes and breathing deeply to calm himself.

  If he wanted to have any hope of saving her, of saving anyone, he needed to let go of his rage and let the creative mind that had served him so well regain control.

  68

  Blake continued taking deep breaths. He was panicked, out of his mind with rage and a desperation to kill Ajax, but he couldn’t show any of this. If he did, Rourk would delight in drilling at this nerve and wasting precious time.

  And time was something Blake couldn’t spare.

  “Glad that’s over,” said Blake casually, as if complaining about a noisy car alarm that had finally been shut off. “So how about that bathroom break I was asking about before we got interrupted?”

  “That’s all you have to say? No ranting and raving about what’s happening to the girl? I thought you might blow a blood vessel when he took her out of here.”

  “Would ranting and raving help?” asked Blake.

  “You know it wouldn’t.”

  “Exactly. So what’s the point of me getting excited? But there is a point to me using the bathroom.”

  Rourk shook his head in amusement. “You’re back to the bathroom again? Really? How many movies have I seen where a prisoner escapes after being cut loose to pee? Twenty? Fifty? You really think I’ll fall for that?”

  “This isn’t a movie, Jack. Are you saying that no prisoner has ever needed to use a bathroom without it being a ploy? In all of human history? Come on. I’ve been gasse
d, revived, and hit in the gut several times. My insides aren’t handling it well. I’m telling you, if I don’t get to the bathroom in a few minutes, pee is the least of our worries. I might be wearing what comes out, but you won’t be able to get away from the smell. Don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

  Rourk stared into Blake’s eyes, searching for deception.

  “You’re still thinking about it?” said Blake. “Seriously? My wrists and ankles will still be cuffed. You still have two guys in here with assault rifles. You think I’m going to take you out and then waddle over there and kick their asses? Good to know you have so much respect for my abilities.”

  Rourk bent over and removed a combat knife sheathed inside his right pant leg near the ankle. “You have five minutes!” he snapped, reaching up and cutting Blake’s hands loose from the ring above his head.

  Blake let out an audible sigh of relief as his arms fell down to his stomach, his muscles sore from maintaining a reach for so long, even though he had let the zip ties take most of the weight. “Thank you,” he said as he began taking tiny penguin steps toward the bathroom.

  After he had traveled ten feet and could feel blood flow returning to his hands, he braced himself mentally and squeezed both sides of his belt buckle as hard as he could.

  There was no sound, but something stabbed at his brain like an ice pick, delivering a searing headache and a wave of nausea like nothing he had ever felt. The pain and disorientation were so severe that he barely noticed that Rourk and his two colleagues had collapsed to the floor.

  Blake joined them on the floor seconds later as a wall of dizziness hit him like the shock wave of a nuclear blast. He managed to fight off vomit, but only because his stomach was empty.

  The room spun around him like an amusement park ride and his ears continued to ring, his hearing temporarily lost. He closed his eyes to shut off the spinning room and tried to rise to his hands and knees, falling back to the floor twice before his inner ear recovered enough for him to manage it.