by Jay Klages
Kade went numb. He heard the crunch of the last punch, but it didn’t seem to hurt. He saw the bandage from the top of his head fall on the floor. Ignaty drew his hand back for another blow and Kade remembered his legs were free. He slid his butt forward in his chair and kicked hard with his right leg. The shot hit Ignaty right in the balls. He turned around and staggered out of sight.
Score one for me.
Pierce smiled and spun the Sig Sauer on the table. “Who do you work for, Mr. Sims?”
Kade leaned over the side of his wheelchair and spit some blood on the floor. He was encouraged that none of his teeth were loose or chipped when he ran his tongue over them. He coughed to clear his throat and tried to relax so he could breathe. Ignaty appeared again and walked back toward him, approaching from the side. Kade glared at him and said, “You’re great at hitting guys in chairs.” Then he looked over at Pierce. “Like I said, I work at Home Depot. I saw there’s one over in—”
Ignaty growled and put Kade in a tight headlock. He felt himself drifting out of consciousness. There was nothing he could do . . . It’s lights out.
He heard a female voice through the warble of noise.
“Time-out, guys.”
Ignaty relaxed his hold. He positioned Kade upright in the chair and stepped out of view. But seconds later, he felt Ignaty’s breath in his right ear and heard him whisper.
“Keep this up, Sims, and I’ll go after Janeen next. I’ll fly out to Amherst and visit her myself.”
Kade blinked several times. They know where Janeen goes to school. The blood was rushing back into his head. He kept blinking until the tears and dancing lights in his eyes began to clear. He recognized the nurse standing in front of him and rechecking his injuries. After she inspected the staples in his scalp, she shook her head.
“This session’s over,” she said. “Only Verax until I say otherwise.”
Pierce appeared to be disappointed. He got out of his chair and stood in front of Kade.
“We’ll talk more in a few hours, Mr. Sims. Crossing paths with us can be a curse or your lucky break. It’s up to you. Sentries, take him to his room.”
The black Sentry with the nametape HILL unlocked Kade’s cuffs, stepped around the back of his chair, and lifted him back into the wheelchair. Kade knew Hill would next flip the tiny levers off the wheelchair brakes and push. Ignaty was standing a few feet away, talking to Pierce with his back to him.
Hill hadn’t recuffed him to the wheelchair yet.
He leapt out of the wheelchair, took a stagger step, and brought his right elbow and forearm down as hard as he could on the back of Ignaty’s massive neck. Ignaty went down on all fours. Kade kept pounding his fist anywhere he could connect. Hill and another Sentry tried to pull him off as Ignaty collapsed flat on his stomach, but Kade kept hitting the right side of his face. After another few punches, the Sentries finally pried him off and sat him back down in the wheelchair. They cuffed him to the armrest and the smelly hood slid back on his head, pulled down hard by someone behind him.
His wheelchair started to move. Above his own gasping breaths inside the hood, he heard Pierce talking in a hushed, admonishing tone until the wheelchair rolled out of the room and the door shut behind him.
He hadn’t hit someone that hard since Fort Gordon, Georgia, when he was alone with his military intelligence battalion executive officer, Major Echols.
It wasn’t that Echols chewed him out for violating policy during his temporary duty at the National Counterterrorism Center—Kade was going to receive an Article 15 proceeding, a non-judicial punishment process for “Failure to Report” on time for duty. He understood that. He had been late to his shift a number of times. While off-shift, he succumbed to the allure of the DC nightlife. The overstimulation made him feel invincible.
It wasn’t uncommon for him to just stay out all night and then report for duty with no sleep. Or sometimes he was having so much fun, he forgot what time it was when morning rolled around.
Sometimes he would repeat it the next night just to see if he could.
But this was immature and irresponsible behavior. He wasn’t as effective on the job as he could’ve been. It was a failure to realize his own weaknesses and manage his life around them.
At the conclusion of his grilling, the major had made one mistake when he said something within inches of Kade’s face while Kade stood at attention.
“I’m sure your parents would’ve been very disappointed.”
Kade broke his nose with a straight right.
He was then on his way to a court-martial, but ended up with a medical separation instead. It was probably easier, and possibly kinder in the long run.
Kade’s breathing calmed as he tried to gather his thoughts. He visualized the organizational chart on the whiteboard where he had trained back in Falls Church. Lerner had made him draw the whole org chart at least a dozen times. He visualized picking up a blue dry-erase marker and filling in a blank box.
Special Assistant Joshua Pierce reports to Marshall Owens, the CEO of AgriteX. So Pierce is really the Chief Operating Officer. Marshall’s right-hand man.
I screwed up the first part of the plan. But here I am, inside the Chapter.
Objective complete.
And they screwed up too. They should’ve never threatened my sister.
CHAPTER 9
Monday, June 10
4:37 p.m. (PDT)
AgriteX
The Sentry escorts wheeled Kade around for another few minutes, uncuffed him, and lifted him into a stiff twin-size bed. They pulled off the hood, and he relaxed his sweaty head on the foam pillow. The room smelled of new carpet and Febreeze.
“Take it easy now, Sims,” Hill said before opening the door and exiting. Ignaty caught the door on the backswing of its self-closing hinge and gave Kade a quick, nasty look before following Hill out. Kade couldn’t tell if Ignaty’s face was swollen, but it had to be.
He took a number of deep breaths and gazed around the room. A window with white horizontal blinds let some broken sunlight shine through. He could see the moss-covered evergreen trees outside and noticed there were bars on the windows. Flush with the windowsill was a desk with a computer monitor, wireless keyboard, and mouse on top of it. A cheap plastic mesh chair was pushed up against the desk. Across the room was an alcove leading to the bathroom area and a tweed-upholstered easy chair.
“Kade, we hope you’re feeling okay. Relax and give everything some time. We’re here for you.”
What the—?
He tensed up, looking for the source of the soft, resonant female voice. There was no one in his room. He looked up and around, finally focusing on a round speaker fixed high on the wall opposite him. The voice must have come from up there. He also noticed a surveillance camera positioned high in the corner closest to the window.
Looks like they’re no strangers to psychological ops either.
He slid off the bed and grunted from the pain when his feet hit the floor. His body felt like one gigantic ache. He shuffled across the brown-speckled carpet toward the door. The toilet, sink, and shower area resembled a modest hotel bathroom. A plain oak-veneer dresser was crammed between the entryway and alcove, his Merrell hiking boots sitting on top of it. No ball cap anywhere.
Put the boots on? No, not yet, not with the surveillance camera.
The door was heavy wood, with a dead bolt above the knob and a flip lever on the inside. When Kade moved the lever and disengaged the bolt, he still couldn’t open the door. He knocked on the wood and could tell he wasn’t going to be able to kick this thing open. He’d need a battering ram to bust out if he couldn’t disengage the lock.
I’m locked in. A prisoner.
He shuffled over toward the desk, saw the window, and looked to see if there was a way to open it. The lever that would allow the sill to slide sideways was fixed in place and had a small keyhole in it. It looked like he’d have to smash the glass and bend the bars. Not likely.
H
e sat down in the chair in front of the computer and located the single power button on the monitor. When he pressed it, the screen showed an internal network.
THE CHAPTER NETWORK
Login Status: Logged Out
He couldn’t find a way to log in and the mouse didn’t move any pointer. Two unlabeled peripherals he’d never seen before were plugged into the computer. He thought the black box might be a webcam, but it had a semitransparent red plastic disc facing him. Some kind of infrared communication device. The other device looked like it might be a backup hard drive or router. He wasn’t sure.
He got up and sat down in the easy chair. It felt better than the stiff bed on his back, and the camera would have a harder time seeing him there. He flopped back against the headrest and looked up at the single ventilation grate on the ceiling, which looked well secured by twenty-plus Phillips-head screws. And it was too small for a person to crawl through anyway.
New age spa music began to play out of the wall speaker.
That’s convenient. Interrogators use music to help achieve their desired results. So they’re trying to calm me down and make me relax. And right now that’s fine with me.
He shut his eyes and fell asleep for almost two hours as it became overcast outside and grayness painted the room. The music continued to play through the speaker at a low volume.
He woke up feeling hungry, with an intense burning sensation in his stomach. A few minutes later he heard the door unlock, and Sentries Ignaty and Hill entered again. He tried to avoid eye contact with Ignaty, but thought he saw two butterfly bandages and some heavy bruising on the Sentry’s cheek. Maybe he’d gotten lucky and contributed another addition to Ignaty’s world-class scar collection.
“Hi, guys,” Kade said with excessive volume and enthusiasm.
Hill looked amused but pointed him toward the wheelchair.
“Let’s go, Sims.”
Ignaty said nothing and stood by the door while Kade complied. They cuffed his hands together this time and hooded him again.
“Can I get some chow?” Kade asked. “All this abuse is making me really hungry.”
“Later,” Ignaty said. Kade thought Ignaty had a perfect voice for narrating a horror movie trailer.
Hill pushed the wheelchair out into the hallway and moved through the complex for a few minutes before coming to a halt. Kade heard an access-card reader beep and a door open, then felt the wheelchair move for a few feet before it stopped and someone removed his hood. The Sentries lifted him into what looked like a dentist’s chair, strapped him in, and immobilized his head with an additional U-shaped headrest.
The male body of some technician leaned over him and slid a wired headband device onto his head. A flexible microphone moved in front of his mouth. The room was small, maybe ten-by-ten, and illuminated by fluorescent tubes shining on undecorated white walls.
He heard Pierce’s voice through a speaker in the headrest.
“Mr. Sims, can you hear me?”
Kade felt his stomach give another long growl. Pierce repeated himself a few times in increasing volume, but Kade didn’t say anything.
“Sims!”
“Yeah, I hear you. But I don’t think you heard me before. I’d like to speak with the police. This is a huge violation of my rights.”
“The police won’t help you. If anything, we’ll have you arrested for trespassing. You don’t have many choices here. Would you prefer to go back to the questioning room tomorrow?”
“No, that’s okay.”
“All right then. This is the Verax system. It’s one of the most sophisticated lie-detection programs in existence. Answering the technician’s questions truthfully will be your fastest ticket out of here. Your answers will be yes or no only. Understood?”
Kade was relieved he wasn’t going to get his teeth drilled or some other kind of dental torture.
“Yeah.”
The technician started the questioning in a deep Southern accent.
“Is your full birth name Kinkade Alan Sims?”
“Yes.”
“Is your date of birth November nine, nineteen eighty-eight?”
“Yes.”
There was about a thirty-second pause.
“Let’s try this again. Is your date of birth November nine, nineteen eighty-eight?”
“Yes. It’s right on my driver’s license. Along with my address. You guys have my wallet, remember?”
“Yes or no only!” Pierce said.
There was another pause. The technician reappeared in the room, removed the headband for a moment, and repositioned it. A minute after he dropped out of view again, the questioning continued.
“Did you rent a Jeep Liberty at Portland PDX Airport?” the technician asked.
“Yes.”
“Do you know where it is now?”
“No.”
About a minute passed.
“Are you being paid by any government agency?”
“No.”
“Have you ever heard of AgriteX Corporation before?”
“No.”
“Do you work for the Home Depot?”
“Yes.”
“Are both of your parents deceased?”
“Yes.”
“Is your mother’s maiden name Pamela Gwinn?”
Kade paused. You’re pushing it.
“Is your mother’s maiden name Pamela Gwinn?”
“Yes,” Kade said in a chafed tone.
“Is your sister’s name Janeen Anita Sims?”
“No, that’s it. No more questions about my family. That’s overkill. You guys know I’m telling the truth.”
A pause.
“Are you currently working in a corporate espionage role?”
“No.”
“Have you ever conducted corporate espionage?”
“No.”
“Are you working for or associated with any state or local law enforcement organization?”
“No.”
“Are you working for the U.S. government?”
“No.”
“Did the FBI send you here?”
“No.”
“Did the FBI send you here?”
“No!”
A very long pause followed, which seemed to last at least five minutes.
“Can I please get something to eat now?” Kade asked.
“Just sit tight,” Pierce said.
“So how’d I do?”
“You’ll find out soon enough.”
CHAPTER 10
Wednesday, June 12
5:01 a.m. (PDT)
Alderville, Oregon
Agent Troy Jenkins sat down in the living area of the old Winnebago, resting his arms on the yellow plastic tabletop pocked with brown cigarette ash melt marks. Jenkins had light blue eyes and patch of curly brown hair clipped short around a receding hairline. He’d just turned forty over the weekend and had been forced to postpone a Las Vegas celebration when he learned of his assignment in CLEARCUT.
Across from him, Agent Jeff Stephenson sipped a cup of coffee and ate a peanut butter and jelly sandwich. Stephenson was thirty-seven and looked like a bear with bed-head. His muscular build suggested regular gym time and protein supplements.
Jenkins opened the window shade and the early morning light of the Pacific Northwest summer lit up the interior.
“Time to check in, right?” Stephenson asked.
“Yeah,” Jenkins said. He pulled his phone from its hip holster and a can of Copenhagen from his pocket. He put a dip in his mouth before pressing the speed dial.
“This is Chris,” Agent Velasquez answered.
“Hey, this is Jenkins and Stephenson at the Lost Lake Campground.”
“Hey, guys, what’s the status?”
“Status is we’ve had no contact with Flash. I checked the campground yesterday morning. Only three people there, and he wasn’t one of ’em. Then by nine, I went trout fishing at the lake all day until sundown. If he’d been here, I would’ve seen him, eas
y. Stephenson just got back thirty minutes ago. He can tell you about his search.”
Jenkins switched to speakerphone and placed the phone on the table. Stephenson set down his sandwich, finished chewing, and gave his update.
“Yeah, his Jeep’s in a ravine inside their private property. It’s right around the last GPS reading we recorded, and it’s wrecked. It’s going to be hard for anyone to retrieve it. I got close enough to confirm that Flash wasn’t still inside. It rained enough last night that I wasn’t too worried about leaving footprints.”
“Shit. Hope he’s okay,” Velasquez said.
“There’s blood in the vehicle,” Stephenson continued. “Hard to say how much, since the windows were open and the rain soaked everything, but there was a fair amount of staining on the seat upholstery. It was a pretty long hike from here to the crash site, so it seems unlikely he came our way on foot. His cap was in the vehicle . . . I took it and have it here. His gear was still in the back—now all mixed up with fish bait and other stuff he packed. I left it all in there. Fuel leaked everywhere. Lucky the Jeep didn’t go up in smoke. After that, I walked a small radius—maybe fifty to a hundred yards—with night-vision goggles to see if I could find him. Nothing.”
Stephenson left out that he’d repeated the same area sweep with his flashlight on, calling out Sims’s name. If Sims had been nearby and seen a flashlight, he might have yelled for help. This may have been risky, given possible AgriteX security patrols, but if Sims was severely injured, the operation would be over anyway.
“Damn it,” Velasquez said. “Call the Nehalem Clinic, Tillamook Community, Seaside Memorial. Do another check of the campground later and give me a status at seven.”
“Okay, talk to you at seven,” Jenkins said, and ended the call. He looked at Stephenson. “I’ve got this covered right now. You go get some rest.”
Stephenson didn’t need to be told twice to go and recharge. These ops could be dull one moment and exciting the next. And this was feeling like it wouldn’t be one of the dull ones.