Measure of Danger

by Jay Klages

  He felt his heart beating faster and forced himself to take a slow, deep breath through his nostrils. No one in the room responded to Pierce.

  “Yeah, I didn’t think I’d have any volunteers,” Pierce said after a couple of deep sniffs. “Here’s what’s going to happen. You’re each going to be taken into the Verax room and given a series of questions. The violator will be identified when we’re finished with the questioning, and then the Guardians will convene. They’ll be shown the evidence, a decision will be made, and we’ll discuss the penalty. Associate Soon, you’re first.”

  Lin stood and walked to the door. Kade glanced down at his cuffed hands.

  His shoes were still within reach.

  It’s time to send Alderville the signal.

  Because if I don’t, I think my time’s run out.

  CHAPTER 31

  Wednesday, June 26

  10:10 a.m. (PDT)

  AgriteX

  Lin returned and sat down, hunched with narrowed shoulders, knees pulled toward her chest like she was cold. Kade knew his turn was after Daniel’s if they went in sequence.

  How long would it take for the FBI to get me out of here? To bring the right number of people to do it? One hour? Two? If the Verax has problems and they decide to kill me this time, it’ll already be too late. I need to act now.

  Kade reached down and started playing with his shoes like he was fidgety when he felt no one was paying particular attention to him. He wedged a finger into the Velcro seam lining the boot tongue and widened it with two fingers until he could also slip his thumb inside. The tiny device clicked between his index finger and thumb when he squeezed it.

  That click was just seconds before the metallic click sounded on the holding room door’s autolock. All of the Associates looked toward the opening door and saw Daniel duck into the room and return to his spot. Daniel made eye contact with Kade and raised his eyebrows once before sitting.

  The Sentry with the blond flattop poked his head in the open door.

  “Sims, let’s go.”

  Kade got up and felt a little woozy as he shuffled toward the door, crouching through the opening where a Guardian Stone put a hand on his back and directed him down the hall to his left.

  Stone stepped to Kade’s side when they reached a door marked “EVAL,” motioning for him to enter first. It was the same ten-by-ten, white-walled room with the centerpiece reclining chair he remembered from his previous Verax session. Now from his unhooded and standing vantage point, he noticed the room had a tiny opaque window and the Verax chair was on wheels.

  The lab technician, a man with thinning hair and psoriasis who was wearing a white lab coat over casual clothes, stood waiting for him.

  “Let’s get you strapped in and relaxed,” the tech said.

  “That’s an oxymoron,” Kade said.

  The technician snorted. “Yeah, well, you know the drill now.”

  “I doubt it.” He took his time climbing into the chair and situating his head in the U-shaped headrest.

  After positioning the wired headband and the microphone, the technician disappeared from sight. Kade couldn’t think of anything to calm himself. He wondered how the Chapter might euthanize him, whether it would come as a lethal injection or a bullet to the back of his head. At the same time, he imagined an FBI SWAT team mobilizing to pull him out of the building. That’s when he heard Pierce’s voice through the headrest speaker.

  “Mr. Sims, are you ready?”

  “I guess.”

  “Okay, the questions are coming from me this time. Let’s get started with two. First, what is your full name?”

  “Kinkade Alan Sims.”

  “And what is your date of birth?”

  “November nine, nineteen-eighty-eight.”

  There was about a ten-second pause.

  “Excellent. Now from this point forward, we need a simple yes or no answer. Nothing else. Do you understand?”

  Fuck, the machine must be working now.

  “Yes,” Kade said.

  “Mr. Sims, have you provided any unauthorized information to anyone outside of the Chapter since you have been initiated as a Chapter member?”

  In the next second Kade thought: did his communication to Alex via the website count as unauthorized information? No. Maybe the communication was unauthorized, but he didn’t disclose any Chapter knowledge.

  “No.”

  “Have you attempted to harm the Chapter as an organization in any way since you have been initiated as a Chapter member?”

  Not yet.

  “No.”

  “Have you left or attempted to leave the grounds of the Chapter for any activity outside of authorized activity?”

  “No.”

  “Have you ever had any known communication with a drug cartel?”

  “No.”

  There was a pause for thirty seconds, giving him time to think.

  Drug cartel? Why would they ask that? They had increasing tensions with their cartel relationships, but why?

  Someone on the inside has been communicating with a cartel, and they think it could be me?

  “Are you participating in or have you ever participated in a gang?”

  “No.”

  “Three more questions for you, Mr. Sims. Are you an FBI agent?”

  “No.”

  “Are you a member of any federal, state, or local law enforcement agency?”

  “No.”

  “Are you working for any organization with the intent to collect information on AgriteX or the Chapter?”

  “No.”

  “Perfect,” Pierce said. “We’re done here.”

  That’s it. I’m probably screwed on that last question.

  Two minutes later, the technician and Guardian Stone entered. The technician removed the headband, pulled the microphone to the side, and tore off the Velcro restraints.

  “Let’s go, Sims,” Stone said.

  Kade felt the wetness of his undershirt against his back as he slid out of the chair. Stone escorted him the thirty feet back down the hallway and activated the lock on the holding room, pushing the door open enough where he could slide through.

  “Okay, go sit where you were before,” Stone said.

  Now Kade’s heart started beating faster. Hank and Walter were next in line; if they were asked the right questions, he could be in jeopardy for what happened at the clinic. But maybe those weren’t the kinds of questions they were asking. They hadn’t asked him about his peers.

  The room was again silent except for the occasional cough of someone in the room and the hum of the ventilation. Kade thought the four Sentry guards looked bored out of their minds as they stared across the room at them.

  Another forty to forty-five minutes passed as each of the men completed their session and Stone returned.

  “Associate Reese, you’re up,” he said.

  As Carol passed, Kade met her glance. Her eyes held an intense look of bitterness while she gave the slightest smile. He could recognize that kind of smile anywhere.

  You’re fucked.

  He started to sweat again. Had she sensed the uptick in problems after he’d joined the Associate group? Could she see right through his disguise?

  Another thirty minutes elapsed—now it had to have been a couple of hours since he’d activated the transmitter. He was an idiot—he’d waited too long to activate the signal, and it was going to cost him his life.

  No one was coming.

  He should’ve sent the signal when he got back from the clinic, as soon as he heard the Associates were all going to be rounded up. He should’ve never let himself be handcuffed. Or he should’ve just taken off from the clinic when he first had the chance.

  More time ticked by. Two bathroom requests, one from Lin and one from Daniel, were denied. One of the Sentries exchanged whispered words with the guy beside him. It looked like it was some kind of a joke. Carol had been gone a long time, maybe an hour. He thought about all of the nosy questions
he’d asked her about the LLFC.

  Then the door clicked open and Guardian Stone stepped inside. He whispered something to the first Sentry, who in turn passed the message on to the other three, and then Stone exited. Moments later, Pierce ducked into the room again and took a few steps toward Kade. When their eyes met, Kade felt a slight chill, but that was also when he felt the strange clarity kick in again. He read Pierce’s face, his body language. It wasn’t threatening; Pierce was not coming for him right now. And his thoughts were validated as Pierce turned around to face the door.

  Something was being wheeled into the room through the opening. It was the Verax chair, reclined, with Carol still strapped into it. Black duct tape was wrapped twice around her mouth to the back of her neck. Stone pushed the chair to the center of the room and stood by it on the right. Dr. Drakos then stepped into the room. Pierce stood on the left and spoke in a voice that seemed too loud for the room.

  “We have come to a resolution on our security concern. But before I continue, let me make something clear: the questions you were asked during your individual Verax reviews are not to be discussed with anyone.

  “Now, it’s been some time since we’ve had a transgression this serious. We can’t provide you the details, but what I will say is that Associate Reese has betrayed the Chapter, AgriteX, and each one of you. We had clear evidence of her wrongdoing, and this was corroborated by findings from the Verax program. She had the opportunity to confess but chose not to. A council of Guardians met with the entire E-team a short time ago, and came to a unanimous agreement on the offense. The group recommended she be euthanized in a vote that well exceeded the seventy-five-percent threshold.”

  Kade looked at Carol struggling in her chair and trying to yell through the duct tape gag.

  Do I get up and try to stop it?

  I can’t.

  Pierce continued. “Having you all witness this event is to ensure you understand the serious consequences of your actions, and that penalties, along with Chapter rewards, are real. There are no final meals and no final words here, just final justice.”

  Pierce looked at Stone before pulling some kind of white card out from his pocket. At the same time, something Pierce said snapped Kade into focus.

  Witness. Justice.

  He fumbled at his shoe while looking around the room. Everyone, including the guards, was watching Pierce step in front of Carol while she thrashed with all of her might against the restraints.

  He pulled the tiny camera/recorder from his other shoe. Slid the record switch on and brought the camera up on his kneecap between his fingers. Found the rough surface of the other raised button and began depressing it repeatedly, varying the angle he took the pictures. He would max out the number of pictures he could take, but that didn’t matter now. He didn’t stop.

  “The Chapter Code has been broken,” Pierce said. “The ultimate penalty has been decided.”

  Pierce held a white card in front of Carol’s face as if he was offering it to read, and she stopped thrashing as it held her attention. She looked at the card, her eyes widening a bit as she read whatever was on it. She glanced up once at Pierce, and then stared forward again before convulsing in the chair. Within seconds, she slumped back in the restraints and lay still. Kade didn’t see any kind of IV hooked up to her or any sort of injection administered. Maybe the chair was somehow electrified? He slid his camera/recorder back into the tongue of his boot and squeezed the Velcro back together.

  Dr. Drakos stepped up to Carol and checked her with a stethoscope, then nodded to Pierce. Pierce put the white card back in his pocket.

  “Associate Reese,” he said, “or as she was known before joining us, Señorita Ries, is no longer a threat to the Chapter.”

  CHAPTER 32

  Wednesday, June 26

  1:13 p.m. (PDT)

  FBI field office, Portland, Oregon

  Morris knocked twice before opening the door to Velasquez’s office space and leaning inside. Velasquez was in his usual form, standing and pacing in a circle while talking on his phone. His desk was covered by stacks of paperwork, with more paper spread on the floor or in piles, and paper overflowing from the trash can and from the bottom bin of his shredder.

  Morris couldn’t have cared less about the office’s appearance, even though he joked that he could housebreak a puppy in it. Whatever methods Velasquez used to organize his casework, he delivered damn good results.

  “Neal Graves is on the line for us—urgent,” Morris said.

  Velasquez nodded, said “I’ve got to go” into his phone, and ended his call. He scooped up an eight-page printout off his desk. “This just came in from Neal a minute ago.”

  “Yep, bring it.”

  He followed Morris down the hallway to the briefing room and shut the door behind them. Morris unmuted the speakerphone and both men stood leaning, palms down on the table, as if they were about to pounce.

  “Neal?” Morris asked.

  “Yeah, I’m here,” Graves said.

  “I have Chris Velasquez here with me now. What’s going on?”

  “A big flare-up in activity. Yesterday morning there was a drug-related shooting out on the coast with two fatalities. I received the initial police report and we’re sending an investigator. I faxed that report to Chris ten minutes ago.”

  “Yeah, I got it,” Velasquez said.

  “The reason I’m calling,” Graves continued, “is that there was a mention of an AgriteX employee fatality in the report—in one of the statements.”

  “What was the name?” Morris asked.

  “Andrew Cummings,” Graves said. “He was a shooting victim who died at Portland Emanuel Tuesday evening.”

  Morris shook his head, then looked at Velasquez to check his response, but Velasquez was already speed-reading the report.

  “Where was the shooting?” Morris asked. He turned when he felt Velasquez grab his shoulder and point to a page on the conference table. Velasquez tapped on a line of text with his pen.

  It was a statement made by Kinkade Sims. Velasquez pointed to Sims’s signature.

  Graves said, “It happened in Nehalem, not too far from Manzanita, at the Nehalem Clinic—a medical facility.”

  “Hold on, Neal,” Morris said. “Give us a minute.” Morris muted the phone.

  “So Flash was a patient there?” Morris asked Velasquez.

  “No. Here’s the statement.” Velasquez read aloud.

  I was at the clinic as part of an internship observing medical treatment with Dr. Walter Lefear, Hank Stanfield, and a Mr. Cummings (don’t know his first name). Cummings was supervising the three of us. We’re all AgriteX employees. I was in the waiting room bathroom when the shooting started. I came out of the bathroom and helped Hank Stanfield subdue a young man with an injured arm. There was another man lying next to him dead and shot through the head. I had never seen either of these two men before.

  “Was Flash the target? Or was it someone with him?” Morris asked.

  Velasquez shrugged. “Maybe it was just a soft-target attack against a group of AgriteX employees away from their well-guarded corporate headquarters.”

  Morris unmuted the phone.

  “Neal, who do you think was the intended target?”

  “It’s uncertain. A missing link is one of the shooting victims, a backpacker, who fled on foot and is now at Portland Emanuel. The doctors haven’t cleared him for questioning yet.”

  “The shooter knew the AgriteX people would be there, meaning their surveillance is pretty good,” Morris said.

  “You’ll find the deceased shooter, Esteban Morales, listed in the NGIC database as affiliated with Oeste-13,” Graves said. “The shooter’s assistant is being held for further questioning.”

  “So this could be the ordered hit we discussed before,” Velasquez said.

  “Yes, it could,” Graves said. “It’s another pencil line connecting AgriteX and drug activity. We’ll be investigating further. A shooting like this has neve
r happened in public on the North Coast, much less in a health-care facility.”

  “We’ll want to reinterview some of these people,” Morris said. “We’ll coordinate with Tillamook County and the state police. Thanks for the call, Neal. Let us know if anything else trickles in.”

  “Will do.”

  “Okay, thanks, bye.” Morris poked the big red “X” button on the phone and paused for a few breaths. “Flash called this an internship, but he has no medical background. It doesn’t make sense.”

  “Maybe he didn’t have a choice,” Velasquez said. “Maybe it was an opportunity he decided to investigate, or an ad hoc escape plan if he thought our plan wouldn’t work. The shooting couldn’t have been anticipated.”

  Morris locked his hands together behind his neck.

  “This isn’t good. We’ve got a greater convergence of cartel and Chapter activity with our source in the middle. I think we need to get him out before we risk losing what he’s already collected.”

  Velasquez knew when Morris phrased his thoughts like this he was asking for an opinion or even a debate. They had an unspoken, efficient rhythm used in many operations over six years. Velasquez ran over the options in his head for a full thirty seconds and consulted the calendar on his phone before he spoke.

  “I agree,” Velasquez said. “I’ll call the Oregon police to notify them we are taking over the investigation. We’ll send Alderville into AgriteX tomorrow during the business day to interview Flash and then bring him in for further questioning on the Nehalem Clinic shooting investigation. That’ll be it. He’ll have been inside AgriteX long enough, I think.”

  “On second thought,” Morris said, “let’s interview all three AgriteX employees who were at the scene and also see if Neal’s available to link up with Alderville to go with them. It’ll seem like the natural follow-up to have someone from DEA in the lead and questioning all three men.”

  Velasquez nodded. “Perfect.”

  CHAPTER 33

  Wednesday, June 26

  6:32 p.m. (PDT)

  AgriteX

  The first thing Kade noticed in the AgriteX café was the short supply of Sentries. Instead of seeing a herd of them seated together for dinner, he now only counted two black uniforms in the room. There was still one full table of Guardians about sixty feet away, at his ten o’clock, and the group seemed to be having an intense discussion, not regular, light dinner conversation. No arguments, but no smiles either.