Nightfall

by Peter Hoole

  On the lower floor of the complex, the rooms were located near the driveway, as Caleb had requested.

  After exiting the vehicles, they walked their prisoner into the first room. Fortunately, the Sunday morning traffic was minimal, and they were able to get her in the room undetected.

  The room was reminiscent of several Caleb had been in before. The feel of the room was welcoming, with the beds turned down and the sheets tucked in way too tightly. Not that it mattered; the rooms were just a temporary measure.

  Murphy entered the second room, and quickly changed into civilian attire, after which she left the room and began working on the car. While she wasn’t the team’s designated mechanic, she was by far the best at learning new technology, much more so than Caleb or Casey.

  With that knowledge, Murphy would be able to ascertain what the car was capable of. She would also, more importantly, know what parts should not be on the car.

  Caleb knew there was more than likely some sort of tracking device on the car. He figured if they were able to remotely track an email, they would be more than efficient at tracking their own vehicles. With that in mind, Murphy set to work on the engine of the car, and Caleb turned his attention to the prisoner.

  “I’m not sure who sent you,” Caleb began, “but considering you and your team tried to kill everyone in this room, I’m gonna assume you know one thing.”

  The prisoner stared at him, and for the first time since she’d been captured, she spoke. “What would that be?” she asked.

  Caleb looked to Casey, knowing that he could sum it up better for the prisoner. “You, sweetheart,” Casey said, “are in some deep and stinking shit right now.”

  “Exactly right, Sergeant,” said Caleb.

  Caleb grabbed a chair, and sat down opposite the prisoner. She was perched at the end of the queen size bed.

  “So,” Caleb began talking again, “you have a choice. You can either help us and then you only go to prison… I don’t know… probably forever”. Caleb paused for a reaction. After seeing none, he continued. “Or you can refuse to help us and… well…” Caleb again paused, “I don’t think you want that option.”

  As she considered her situation, Dunleavy moved to leave the room, to make a phone call.

  “Dunleavy?” Caleb turned to the old man. “What are you doing? Who are you calling?”

  Dunleavy stopped, and turned to Caleb. “Someone who can help us,” he replied.

  “Like Carl helped us? Mike, they’re tracking your calls.”

  “Jackson, that’s impossible. This phone has so many goddam encryptions on it, that if they do manage to trace it… hell, they deserve to catch us.”

  “So, how do you explain their team getting to us then?” Casey interrupted.

  “I’m guessing that Carl’s phone was tapped, and they have someone in the CIA who got intercepted the call. Whatever happened, I don’t think Carl can help anyone anymore.”

  It was as Caleb suspected - The Colonials had influence everywhere. It made getting information from the prisoner even more important.

  “So, Mike. Who are you calling?”

  Dunleavy figured he couldn’t lie about it. Caleb was bound to find out soon enough.

  “You remember the guy I told you about? The one who did some work for me?” Dunleavy asked.

  “You mean, ‘when you could only send one guy’?”

  “Yeah. I’m calling him in.”

  “Are you sure we can trust him?” Caleb asked

  “Yes, I’m sure,” Dunleavy lied. He still had his suspicions about Jacob, but he knew they needed help.

  “Fine,” Caleb said, and Dunleavy continued on his way to outside the motel room.

  As he left, Darcy came into the room. She’d been catching up with the news of the plane incident in the adjoining room. “Caleb, you’d better turn on the television,” Darcy exclaimed, a panicked look crossing her face.

  Caleb did as he was told.

  “Turn to Channel 7.”

  It was the news channel, and a middle aged, blonde woman sat in the news desk chair. On the graphic next to her was a picture of Dunleavy. “In breaking news…” the moderately-attractive anchor began, “we have just learned that the FBI has released the identity of the suspected leader of New Light. New Light is the terrorist cell which has been identified as being behind the attack on Flight CAL57, and is also strongly suspected of being behind the assassination of former-President Hawkins late last year. The FBI say they have received strong intelligence that the mastermind behind New Light in none other than former Chief-of-Staff Michael Dunleavy. Mr. Dunleavy resigned under a cloud of secrecy in the months preceding the President’s death.”

  “Oh, shit,” Caleb said under his breath.

  The news anchor continued. “Authorities have noted that Mr Dunleavy was in Seattle this morning, and is accompanied by at least two well-armed persons. If you see Mr. Dunleavy, please do not approach him, as he and his companions are to be treated as armed and dangerous. We will keep you up to date with this story as we can. Repeating the news. Former Chief-of-Staff, Michael Dunleavy, has been identified as the leader of the New Light Terrorist cell.”

  The prisoner laughed. “Well,” she stated, making no attempt to hide her merriment. “Looks like I’m not the only one who’s in deep shit!”

  Chapter Thirty-Two

  The revelation had changed the situation dramatically. It was no longer a case of the authorities looking in the wrong direction. The authorities would now have their sights clearly focused - on Caleb and his companions. Caleb walked out the door, and found an oblivious Dunleavy chatting on his phone.

  “I’ll call you with a final location in an hour,” Dunleavy said, trying to bring the conversation to a close. “…Fine” he said and then he disconnected the call.

  “He’s on the way?” Caleb asked, not wanting to break the news too quickly.

  “Yeah. He got rerouted to Portland. He’s there now. I’ll call him with our next location when he gets close.”

  Caleb looked at him, the bad news written all over his face. “What? What is it Jackson?” Dunleavy asked.

  Caleb ushered him inside. As he passed the SUV, he asked Murphy for an update. The lieutenant was buried deep in the flooring of the car, her backside facing towards Caleb.

  “Yeah, I think I’ve got it,” she replied, referring to the tracking device. “Just wanna make sure.”

  “Good. Get back in here when you get a chance.”

  “Yes, sir. Be about five minutes.”

  Caleb followed Dunleavy into the room. He was standing, watching the television in complete awe. “That… that’s…” he struggled to get words out, “that’s not me. I didn’t do it.” He looked around the room, looking for some kind of reassurance.

  “We know Mike,” said Darcy, her voice soothing to the now-scared former politician. “We all know it’s not true.”

  “Good,” Dunleavy said, still lost for words.

  “Yeah, that’s good and all,” Casey interrupted, “but I’m guessing that, rather than a few people chasing us, we’ve now got about one and a half billion!”

  “One and a half billion?” Dunleavy asked.

  “Yeah, man. The plane that was shot down. It was a goddamn Chinese plane!”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah, shit indeed.”

  Caleb motioned for them all to calm down. “As long as we keep moving, we’ll buy ourselves some time.”

  “Time?” Dunleavy was becoming agitated. “What the fuck is time going to do for us?”

  Caleb grabbed hold of his shoulders. “Mike, we really don’t need you freaking out right now. The only way we can get out of this is to get the truth out there. Now, Darcy’s got her connections, and we can get the word out. But, at the moment, all we have is a completely unbelievable story. I mean, it won’t take much for them to connect the dots with the stuff at Darcy’s apartment. They were probably looking for us, anyway.” Caleb made eye contact with each
of his people, including Darcy. “We are no worse off now than we have been all day. The Colonials have a plan, and they’re ruthless.” Caleb paused, and took a deep breath. “And at the moment, we’re the only ones trying to stop them.”

  Jacob smiled as he hung up the phone. Once the plane had exploded in Seattle, all flights to and from the city had been rerouted. Jacob had found his way to Portland, Oregon. While it wasn’t a major change in direction, it would prove problematic – especially if Dunleavy kept moving. However, all his fears were allayed once he received the call from Dunleavy. After the call, he knew the old man still trusted him, and still needed his help.

  Portland International was much busier than usual. Ranked in the high twenties for airline traffic, Portland International was struggling to cope with a sudden influx of travellers to the North West United States. With the incident at Seattle, most of the traffic was being rerouted through to Oregon. Jacob was one of those affected travellers. Not that he really minded, the extra numbers allowed him to walk through the airport with relative ease.

  The main problem was the seemingly endless line at the rental car company. The main congestion in the line was caused by the rerouted Seattle passengers, most of them making the assumption that their booking was still valid at a different airport. The rest of the line consisted of people who’d needed to make new travel arrangements.

  The FFA had grounded all air travel for the foreseeable future. There was, as yet, no indication as to when travel would resume. It made renting a car problematic.

  As Jacob waited in line, he received another call. Not his usual ringtone, Jacob placed his usual phone in his back pocket. He reached into his hooded, faux-leather jacket pocket and retrieved his second cell phone. A familiar name appeared on the display. Jacob answered after a few rings, just so he could make the caller wait. “Yes, William,” he said.

  “Jacob,” William replied, “Where are you?”

  Jacob thought about how much information to share. He didn’t trust William, but required his support to reach his final objective. “I’m close to Dunleavy,” he replied, trying not to give too much away.

  “Don’t,” William said, agitated, “don’t toy with me, Jacob. I need to know your exact location.”

  “Well, since you guys decided to fuck up the travel plans of anyone heading to the North West, I’ve had to change my plans. I’m in Portland, if you must know.”

  “Okay, good. We’ve got the last location on Dunleavy. They are at a motel on the Pacific Highway, between Seattle and Tacoma.”

  “Is he still there?”

  “Unknown. I think that, whoever he’s with, they’ve disabled the tracking device.”

  “Geez, William. Got yourself in quite a pickle, don’t you?” Jacob said, doing a bad imitation of an English accent.

  “Don’t be obtuse, Jacob. I need your help. Make your way to the motel as soon as possible. There I—”

  Jacob cut William off, mid-sentence. “Um, just so you know. Dunleavy will contact me in an hour with their location. Figured I’ll just wait for that.”

  “Really, you’re still in touch with him?”

  “Yes I am.”

  “Fine. Meet with him. But, remember our earlier conversation, about taking them out?”

  “Indeed I do. Looking forward to doing it, actually.”

  “Plans have changed. They come from the top, so if you want to take your place in the Colony, you’ll need to follow this order to the letter.”

  That got Jacob’s full attention. He always knew that William was not the main decision maker among the Colonials and that he was taking orders from someone else.

  He’d known that since the day he was captured on the Bogota mission.

  It had been his own fault. He had always worked alone, a choice that had served him well on almost all occasions. The Bogota mission was simple search and destroy, the target being a former DEA agent, suspected to be leaking information to the Colombian Cartels. Back then, Jacob was an assassin for hire. He worked for whoever paid him. Whether that be the United States, China… hell, if the Colombians even knew he existed, he would have worked for them, too.

  From the moment he’d arrived in Colombia, he knew something was wrong. It was as though the DEA agent knew he was coming. In the end, he found out that it was, in fact, the DEA agent himself who had hired him. It was a risky plan, as Jacob had a superior reputation in the art of assassination. His specialty was being able to ensure a person died in accordance with the wishes of the people that paid him. He especially enjoyed his job when the target would be inflicted with a painful death.

  In the end, the agent turned out to be William. There was a team of seven officers with William in Bogota, and they were well trained.

  So well trained that Jacob doubted he would be alive if they didn’t wish it. It was the first time he’d genuinely feared for his life. It was that fear that won his allegiance that day.

  William had promised much in their dealings thus far, but Jacob had yet to see any real benefits. Over time, William had given Jacob little pieces of information about the Colonials, but had kept the serum a secret.

  As far as William knew, Jacob was only aware that there was a plan to change the world, and that the plan had been in Phase One for a considerable period of time. After being ordered to kill Hawkins, Jacob knew the plans were starting to progress.

  And that’s all William thought he knew.

  But Jacob knew a lot more than that. Most of this knowledge came from his other contact - Mike Dunleavy.

  As a result of his capture in Bogota, Jacob was now officially on the map, and a target for many foreign governments. Dunleavy used this as leverage to recruit Jacob into his little group. It was Dunleavy who had told Jacob about the serum, and the fact that it could sustain life indefinitely. And that serum was controlled by the Colonials.

  At first, Jacob didn’t believe Dunleavy, but after seeing the evidence of the old man’s claims thought various missions that he and others carried out, it became obvious that Dunleavy was telling the truth. Or most of it, anyway. Jacob knew that he had to have the serum, regardless of the cost.

  “Who?” Jacob replied, “Who did the orders come from?”

  “They came from my superior. That’s all you need to know for now,” replied William.

  “What does he want me to do?” Jacob replied, embarrassed by the desperation in his voice.

  “Good. I can tell by your voice that you know the critical nature of anything we do from now on.”

  “Just tell me, William.”

  “You need to bring them to the Zone Three Colony. I don’t care how you do it, just get it done.”

  “I’m guessing that you’re doing this to kill them yourselves? Correct?”

  “Our intentions are not your concern, Jacob. Do not try to take them out yourself.”

  “They won’t be anything I can’t handle,” Jacob said, trying to understand why the plan had changed so dramatically.

  “Jacob, just listen. They’ve already killed at least six of our best trained operatives.”

  “Shit,” Jacob’s replied, knowing just how hard they were to kill.

  “I know, Jacob. Just… call me on this number when you need the location of the colony.” William hung up the phone.

  Jacob thought back to Bogota. The people who had captured him… William’s people, had been the best he’d ever come up against. He’d never been dealt with so easily. Perhaps it was a good idea just to meet Dunleavy, and take them to the Colony as William suggested. Pondering this, Jacob looked at the line stretched out ahead of him. In the ten minutes he’d been standing there, he hadn’t moved. So, he decided to make alternative arrangements.

  Jacob collected his overnight bag. It contained clothes, and some alternative identification. So proficient was he at killing, he didn’t feel the need to carry a weapon. He’d killed plenty of people with his hands alone. Plus, it just added to the risk of him being caught in transit.


  He stepped out of the line and moved towards the arrivals gate, where he looked for an opportune target.

  It didn’t take long, as the passengers from the next flight began streaming through the gate as soon as he took up position. After a couple of minutes, Jacob had spotted several couples, a number of families and long lost travellers. None of these people were what he was looking for. And then, he spotted her in the crowd.

  Wearing a light brown business skirt, matching jacket and a light blue blouse, the woman walked fast and with purpose. She was not distracted by the emotions of other travellers around her. Her only concern was getting through the crowd.

  As Jacob observed her, her beautiful complexion and features had obviously served her well. She had a Rolex, and Louboutin shoes, not the cheapest stuff money can buy.

  Jacob figured that image was very important to her, as she obviously looked after herself. She wouldn’t have looked out of place on a modelling runway. She dragged her suitcase behind her and hurried towards the exit. So focused was the woman on reaching her destination, she didn’t notice as Jacob followed her out.

  The woman crossed the road directly outside the terminal, and made her way across to the multilevel car park. Jacob pulled his hood low over his head and followed, careful not to stand-out. She got in the elevator, and Jacob joined her. The woman pressed the button for the third floor. Having noticed this, Jacob pretended to do the same.

  Once he saw the number illuminated, he stopped short, justifying in advance why he would get out of the elevator at the same time.

  They were joined by a few others. A young Asian couple and a middle-aged African-American man. Jacob took note of their floors, in case his plan didn’t work.

  The number three lit up above them, and the elevator stopped. The woman exited the elevator, and Jacob casually followed, leaving space between him and her to ensure she didn’t expect anything. She turned left and crossed the parking lot, heading towards a navy-blue Toyota. It wasn’t a car befitting her image, but it was practical enough. As she approached, the trunk opened.