Watchers

by S. T. Boston

  Then, on the very same evening he'd been expecting contact from home, he'd seen the thread appear. 'Suspected Alien Craft Crash' had been the poorly-worded title. The variety of posts and accounts had all missed the real truth, but there had been enough information to confirm his worst fears. The general consensus was that something had crashed in The Rockies that wasn't built on Earth. Xavier had immediately sent a second broadcast home using the Micro-Wormhole Radio Transmitter; he'd feared the seven-day transmission period would take too long and he'd been right. At first the sound of Oriyanna's voice on the phone had brought a massive wave of relief; however, all that soon changed once she'd explained in length the events of the last twenty-four hours. As she spoke, he'd been able to do nothing but listen in horror. The news of the virus would have been bad enough on its own; the fact that Buer was here on Earth and had the Key Tablet was nothing short of disastrous. This was certainly not the way he'd envisaged his one-hundred-year duty on Earth would start.

  Xavier slowly placed the handset back on the charging cradle, the phone beeping as it made contact with the base. The slightly smaller of the squabbling squirrels had gotten the upper hand and went sprinting up a nearby tree, triumphantly storing the prized nut in his fat cheeks.

  He didn't know how long he had. According to Oriyanna, Buer had already sent a team to kill him and it could be a matter of minutes before they arrived. It all depended on just how many of them were here and how widespread their infiltration into society had been. Xavier ran a shaky hand through his thick dark hair and considered his options. The urge to take immediate flight and escape his home was immense. Immense, but impractical, since there was work to do and he couldn't leave until everything was in place. Besides, it wouldn't take him long to get things in order. Pacing through the ground floor of the large two story house, Xavier made his way to the study.

  Plonking himself into the leather office chair, he turned on his MacBook Pro. As the small computer powered up he slid open the bottom drawer of the desk and removed his Smith & Wesson 500 from the small gun safe. Flicking out the barrel, he spun it and checked each chamber was full. Satisfied that everything was in order, he flicked his wrist and snapped the barrel back, placing the heavy weapon onto the desk with a metallic clunk. Even though he knew it was only his imagination, the MacBook seemed painfully slow to reach the home screen. When it finally loaded, he immediately opened Safari and selected the first of the many online travel agents to pop up via the Google search engine. Oriyanna needed three flights to Egypt, and he took a little comfort from the fact that she had secured two Earth-Humans to help her. They had obviously proven their worth with all they'd gone through to protect her over the last few hours, and the fact they were all still alive and relatively unhurt was nothing short of miraculous. That aside, he would have given anything to be with them now. He'd felt practically useless during the last few weeks, living each day in fear that something big was about to happen and that when it did, he would be powerless to stop it on his own.

  Eyes fixed on the small screen, Xavier ran a generic search, seeking the fastest way to get them out of the country from their current location in Canon City, Colorado. Much to his despair, there weren't a great deal of options. The only direct flights to Cairo left from Washington or JFK. The fastest and only option was a flight out of Albuquerque to JFK with a one hour stop at the New York airport, before they could pick up the direct flight to Cairo. None of the X54 fast jet services ran routes into Egypt. Xavier loaded Google Maps and checked the distance from Canon City to the airport, shaking his head at the five-hour drive-time the page displayed. It was still the fastest option, and even if they risked driving back to Denver they would have to wait six hours for a flight once they arrived. Providing they could reach Albuquerque within five hours, they would get to the airport just in time to check in for the flight to New York. Satisfied it was the only option, Xavier immediately booked three tickets. As the payment cleared he loaded a fresh screen and began searching for his own flight. Ideally, he would have liked Oriyanna to reach him so they could travel together, but that was now out of the question. He had no choice but to make his own arrangements and meet her in Cairo.

  Scanning the options, he found that the flights from Dallas were a little kinder, but still not direct. Xavier's ticket would first send him to Washington with just a half hour to wait before he picked up his connecting flight. Running the numbers, Xavier estimated that all being well, he would arrive in Egypt about an hour and a half ahead of Oriyanna and her two companions; he should even be able to meet them at the airport. Switching screens again he wrote down the booking reference. Oriyanna had no travel documents whatsoever; he just hoped she could use her talents to get aboard the aircraft, or they were all in trouble. With their booking complete he switched his attention back to his own journey. Printing off his e-ticket, Xavier shut the MacBook down and removed his U.S Passport from the desk drawer. It was the first time he'd had to use it; the document was genuine but the paperwork he'd needed to obtain it was not. Gaining Earth identification was not an issue, prior to taking up his position Xavier had been provided with all the basic documents needed to slot neatly into Earth culture. While none of them had been genuine, not even the best forgery expert would have been able to tell. Along with the new identity came access to the vast legacy of wealth, built up over long years by the many generations of Watchers who had come before. Given more time, he would have had no issues getting a passport for Oriyanna, but time was not something they had and she would have to make do. The thought of things going wrong at the airport, that she might not be able to get on the flight, made Xavier feel sick. He pushed it to the back of his mind and concentrated on the matter in hand, getting out of the house and disappearing as fast as possible.

  Sliding the chair back under the desk he tucked his freshly printed ticket and the passport into a small black rucksack before slipping on a lightweight, waterproof jacket. Picking up the gun he zipped it safely into one of the large front pockets. He would need to remember to ditch the weapon before arriving at the airport; the Earth-Humans were more than a little obsessed with members of the public who tried to take guns into such places. Striding up the stairs two at a time, Xavier reached his bedroom. Opening the wardrobe he froze at the sound of a car pulling up on his drive. Ducking down he crept across the plush carpet and peered over the bottom of the window, just in time to see three well-built and suited strangers alight from a metallic grey Ford Galaxy. Almost in unison, they removed silenced pistols from their hidden body harnesses. Instantly forgetting the need to pack some clothes, Xavier grabbed the rucksack and rushed across the bedroom. He needed to get out of the house, and fast. Hurrying down the hallway he paused by the spare room as three loud knocks echoed through the house. The previous owners, who had been involved in the precious metal and jewelry trade had installed a panic room, and while he had no intention of using it and becoming trapped like a rat in a cage, it might just help throw the three assassins off his scent. Ducking into the spare bedroom he placed his bag on the floor and slid back a large mirrored door, exposing a second solid metal door behind. He hoped it would be enough to make them think he was inside. Xavier left the room, scooping up the small rucksack as he passed. He made it to the bottom of the stairs as the front door came crashing in. Xavier was fitter than most Earth-Humans in their early forties, and at just over six feet tall he could even come across as quite intimidating if the situation called for it. He certainly had nothing against standing his ground, but three against one were not the kind of odds he favoured.

  Hurrying away from the stairs he stopped by the study and grabbed his wallet and mobile, as a flurry of urgent footsteps rushed through the reception hall, smacking against the terracotta tiles. He knew the house well and avoided bumping into them by going back to the living room via the walk through kitchen. He could hear the armed intruders splitting up; heavy feet ran up the stairs while the other two accomplices reached the kitchen, missing
him by a matter of seconds. Hurriedly he crossed the living room and slid out of the large French patio doors, ducking around the back wall of the house for cover. He allowed himself a brief second to steady his nerves before crouching down below the kitchen window and sneaking along the building line. The neighbor's fence was only thirty feet away, but to Xavier it seemed like miles. Staying low he reached the wooden barrier between their properties. Preparing to launch himself over he froze. He didn't have the number to call Oriyanna back; sure, he had his mobile, but the number was on his home phone. The handset was still on the coffee table in the living room, and he'd rushed right past it as he left. He felt nauseous at the stupidity of the error; this was no time to be going back. Weighing the options up for a second he knew he had no choice. He needed that phone. Without it, he'd never be able to contact her. Cursing under his breath he retraced his steps along the back wall. A few gardens down a dog was barking as a young child screamed excitedly, no doubt fully engaged in a game of fetch. Xavier needed them to be quiet so he could hear what was going on inside. Reaching the patio doors, he peered hesitantly into the living room, confirming the phone was sitting right there on the table where he'd left it. Factoring out the glass it was no more than fifteen feet away – so near and yet so far given his current circumstances! Cautiously he grasped the sliding door handle but retreated almost instantly, when one of the assassins strode boldly into the lounge, a mobile phone pressed to his ear. Xavier could just make out his side of the call as he sauntered closer to the window and stopped.

  “We're searching the house now,” said the man in a frustrated tone. “No, no sign of him yet.”

  A muffled call from one of his colleagues upstairs drew him away. Using the very slight reflection on the glass Xavier watched him turn and walk away, heading for the hall. The guy upstairs had obviously found the panic room. It was now or never. Reaching up, he slid back the patio door just enough to squeeze his stocky frame though. He could hear all three of them upstairs, involved in a heated conversation. Xavier grabbed the handset as footsteps pounded on the ceiling. Darting back across the living room, he slipped through the narrow gap and silently closed the door. This time he didn't pause, he kept low and ran as fast as he could, staying crouched down all the way to the fence. He didn't know if his neighbors were home and he didn't care; the thought of facing them was much more appealing than fronting up against the three intruders. Throwing the rucksack over first, he gripped the wobbly cedar wood capping of the fence panel. Pushing up on his legs and using his arms as a pivot he half jumped and half rolled over the five-foot panel, making it creak and shake dangerously. His feet slipped away the moment they found the soft, damp earth of the flowerbed on the other side, planting him firmly down on his ass. For the first time in long minutes, Xavier breathed deeply. Leaning back against the slats he took a second to gather his composure. The neighbors' Collie, Angus, was watching him curiously from across the garden, his tail wagging at a hundred miles an hour, making his whole rear end move from side-to-side. Xavier didn't know his elderly neighbours Mike and Claudette Haskins well enough to easily explain why he was trespassing on their property, he just hoped they were busy inside with breakfast. From his lazy spot in the sun, Angus came bounding over to him eagerly, tail still wagging madly. Immediately, Xavier was treated to a torrent of licks and nudges from his cold wet nose. “Fine guard dog you are,” he whispered to the excited mutt, giving him a rub behind the ears. Xavier could hear one of the men had returned to the Galaxy; the vehicle's side door slammed shut before heavy footsteps crunched across the gravel drive and went back into the house. Keeping Angus occupied with a plenty of rubs and pats he listened as all three of the intruders left his property, the Galaxy's engine firing up before he heard it pulling out of the drive, the wheels spitting up a hail of gravel as they went. They're leaving! Xavier thought to himself, relieved. I might actually be able to go back and grab some clothes. That was as far as his idea formulated before an earth-shattering explosion ripped through the bright, idyllic Sunday morning air.

  Chapter 17

  Finch heard the sound of the Explorer's rotor blades thumping the air before he even reached the brow of the small hill. He wasn't sure how long he'd been unconscious for, but judging by the fact it was almost nine AM, he guessed around thirty minutes. After flipping over, the car had slid down a small embankment, hiding the wrecked vehicle from view; any passing motorists would have been completely unaware of the stricken Chevy. Waking up upside down, only held in place by the seatbelt, he'd managed to get free, only to be deposited squarely onto his head after unclipping the seatbelt. The walk back seemed vastly further than he'd driven; amazingly he'd covered about a mile and a half before the crash. Clearing the crest of the hill he saw the chopper, it was getting ready to depart, the long overgrown grass around the aircraft pinned hard to the ground in an almost perfect circle which stretched out around it like a purpose made take-off and landing pad. Buer had obviously fully recovered from the mêlée of bullets that Adam Fisher hit him with. Thankfully, not one of them had been a head shot, although Finch couldn't help thinking things might have been a bit easier for him if Buer had been killed. There would be some pretty tough questions to answer yet again; and as yet, he couldn't quite piece it all together. How the hell did Fisher get a gun? If it had been Becker, it would have made a little more sense. Fisher was just some freelance writer – combat and firearms were something that certainly wouldn't come naturally to him. All that aside, he'd obviously grown a pair of balls and somehow managed to escape. If it wasn't for the shit that was bound to be heading his way, Finch could almost respect the bravery Becker had shown.

  Parked not five feet from where the Chevy had been less than an hour ago, Finch could see one of their black rental SUVs. It looked like Mitchell had just arrived from Denver; it was going to be a wasted trip. Reaching the edge of the field he jumped over the small drainage ditch and made his way toward the building, as he got closer the turbulent air from the spinning blades plastered the dirty, crumpled suit to his skin as a bevy of loose dirt and grass whipped up around him. Buer was standing out front, shouting instructions at Mitchell and another from his team who Finch recognized but couldn't place; they were both leaning in, trying hard to hear what was being said over the roar of the Explorer's engine. Buer spotted him from a good fifty yards away. His glare hit Finch like an iron fist and he slowed down, like a child reluctant to approach an angry parent. As Buer ended his conversation, Finch watched Mitchell and his scruffy colleague climb into the SUV and head back up the bumpy road leading to the lodge. They both looked fed up and sleep deprived as they drove by. Buer stood and watched them leave before turning and going back inside, wrestling for a brief moment to open the screen door which was firmly pinned shut by the helicopter's downdraft. Finally managing to prise it open, Buer held the rickety timber frame in place with his strong back, gesturing for Finch to go in first.

  “Do you know what makes me angrier than anything, Robert?” Buer said, more calmly than Finch had expected. As he spoke, he made his way through to the old kitchen and dining area. The lifeless bodies of the Malone brothers were still slumped in a heap, on top of each other in the doorway, blood pooling in a thick sticky puddle around them. Buer halted by the smashed up chair Oriyanna had been bound to and absently kicked a few pieces of the broken timber out of his way. “There are undoubtedly times when you really do excel in your duties,” he continued, not giving Finch a chance to speak. “But then there are times when I really have to question your abilities.” The only sign that Buer had been involved in the gun battle was his dirty, scuffed black leather shoes. He must have had the luxury of a change of clothes, the pinstriped black trousers and open collar blue shirt looked freshly laundered.

  “What happened?” Finch asked cautiously.

  Buer ran his eyes around the room, pausing momentarily on the two dead bodies, “What happened, Robert, was that Adam Fisher had a gun on him.” He paused for a secon
d, and Finch could sense Buer's eyes boring into him, seeking some kind of reaction. “Somehow,” he continued, “and for the life of me I can't figure out how, he managed to get out of his restraints, and the fucker shot me – four times! Can you please explain to me how that happened?”

  “I can't,” replied Finch truthfully. There was no excuse for what had happened. He had obviously forgotten to search Fisher properly, or just taken for granted in the heat of the moment that the man was no real threat.

  “I'm guessing the fact that you arrived back here on foot means your attempts to go after them were also less than successful?”

  Finch could see the fury smouldering away in Buer as it had back in Denver; the memory of how he'd almost been strangled made his throat close up. Instinctively, he began to rub his neck. “I almost had them,” Finch replied weakly, “but Becker had some small explosive charges. I think they were flash bangs. Whatever they were, they did a job on the Chevy, it's about a mile down the road on its roof.” Sam Becker was turning out to be a real thorn in his side. Finch just hoped he would get the chance to meet him again, if he did, he would end his life.

  Buer nodded slowly, taking in every detail, “So, Oriyanna is still alive, as well as the two British men,” he summarized. “It's not ideal, but at least we have the Key Tablet.”