by K. Z. Howell
Robert Hall.
This was the man who Mills had used to send the killers for Jen and Will. Kathryn tried to read his memories but something was wrong. Waking minds were always difficult but Halls mind was utter chaos. She realized that he must be on some powerful psychoactive drug. They had seen this before as well. A brain whose chemistry was altered created a different landscape of competing pathways. She couldn’t read his memory but she could listen to him speak through Mills ears.
“..don’t give a fuck what time it is. Get your teams briefed and moving. I want both of the others in our hands by noon.”
“Then send a chopper or a drone to locate the bastard and grab his ass anyway. Hell, that’s even better. No witnesses to ask stupid fucking questions.”
“I know who her fucking boyfriend is, that’s why I’m sending your squad after the girl. Martin can handle one punk in the woods with his men and you can take the girl and deal with the Ranger boyfriend with five men can’t you? Or do I need to come do it my fucking self?”
“Just get it the fuck done Simms. And tell Martin I said take the man alive.”
He threw the phone onto a chair and picked up a wine bottle, draining the last of it in one long gulp before walking toward the unconscious Mills.
Jen was still piecing together the unconscious womans memories when Hall entered the room and released the gag strap from the back of Mills head. The woman gasped at the sudden ability to breathe properly and suddenly her mind became less foggy. Hall was kneeling at the restraints that held her arms down, Jen would have only seconds to work before the supine woman was released and perhaps woken. They already knew what Mills wanted most of all.
Power.
Power and status were all she had ever cared about. Jen built a memory. Kathryn stood beside her free hand and now Benji was standing beside them as well. His rage and the focus they applied were nearly too much. But she made it. She built a memory that Mills could not resist and just before Hall let her fall to the floor and in the instant that the dream state became too hard to hold, Jen laid her hand on Mills head and gave her a memory she could not resist.
Indianapolis, Indiana
Kathryn Tymauf stretched her arms catlike above her head, her dark red halo framed against the white pillow as she grinned wickedly at the man who had just made her scream his name again. The neighbors would likely complain to the manager again in the morning, but she didn’t care. The stodgy prude, Mrs. Peterson and her henpecked excuse of a husband could complain all they wanted. Kathryn was happy and sated, for now. She snuggled up to Justin, draping an arm sleepily across him as she laid her head on his chest. The rhythmic rise and fall of his chest and the steady beat of his heart in her ear swiftly lulled her into a deep sleep.
She was screaming.
Justin was trying to hold her, trying to calm her by gently running his hand down her red tresses but still she screamed. Her eyes blurred as a flood of tears drenched her face and a feeling of loss and sadness froze the blood in her veins. Then she woke with a start and sat bolt upright, her sudden movement bringing Justin to full alert as he simultaneously reached for her and the .45 on the nightstand beside him. She felt the wetness on her cheeks and the cool dampness across her breasts as the teardrops cooled in the air conditioning. Justin’s protective arm felt warm and safe in the darkness but she knew the lie of that now. None of them were safe. She glanced at the clock, she had been asleep almost six hours, the alarm would have gone off in thirty minutes anyway. Kathryn hadn’t even realized she was shaking until she felt Justin running his hand calmingly down her hair.
She leaned into him, the cold feeling soothed by his warmth as he wrapped the sheet and his arms around her.
“Bad dream, sweetheart?”
“No. Not a dream.”
Justin waited, holding her patiently as she organized whatever it was that had shaken her in her sleep.
“Will is dead, Justin. Will is dead!” She said with no doubt in her voice. “I saw him. I leaned over him and saw the blood soak into the sand and felt him die on the desert rocks.” Her body shuddered against his as the sobs racked her again.
Justin Powell had been in combat often when he had been a soldier, he simply waited out the uncontrollable emotions of shock and fear, remaining the rock others counted on when the world and its cruelty became too much to bear.
Questions and words of comfort were useless while the fear and confusion of loss were fresh. He had been with Kathryn over three years now, she knew he was there and she would tell him the details when she was ready. His job at this moment was to reassure her that she was safe and that she could carry on despite the shock. Kathryn had never kept anything from him, he knew all too well what she had been involved with along with her friends in Professor Bench’s program. When Kathryn, along with Will and Jennifer had told him the details he had been skeptical, but he also knew Bench’s reputation as a brilliant scientist.
Any lingering doubts he had harbored ended two years ago when he came back to the apartment he shared with Kathryn just off campus to find her packing two months after graduation. She had just smiled at him and said how much fun Indianapolis was going to be. That had been less than an hour after he had gotten the call of an offer to work for a security think tank based in Indiana. He had applied months before and had practically forgotten about it when he had gotten no reply. He had never mentioned it to the fiery redhead.
When her sobbing subsided, Kathryn slid from his arms and put on her robe, mumbling softly about making coffee and needing to talk when it was ready. Justin hugged her and kissed her head before turning to get dressed himself.
Justin Powell poured two mugs full from the carafe and set them on the table while Kathryn dressed. One spoon of cream in her cup and he took his plain black. Kathryn came back into the cozy kitchen mere minutes later and set her backpack on the floor before sitting in his lap and laying her red crowned head on his chest.
“I have to go Justin. They killed Will and now they are coming for me. They are coming for all of us.”
“Who killed Will Sugar? Are you certain?”
“Kendra Mills, and yes, we are certain. She didn’t pull the trigger but she sent the men who did.”
“Dr. Mills? From the college? Why would she want Will dead? Rumor had it that she wanted Will for herself.” He asked with obvious disbelief.
“She works for the NSA now and they want the dream state for themselves. She has built a machine to duplicate it but she can’t finish it on her own. Professor Bench and Will hid the information when they realized how dangerous it could be. They tried to take Jen and Will but Will led them away so Jen could escape. One of the men she sent killed Will when he realized they had been tricked.” She answered.
Justin thought for a moment. If Will was dead and if Mills had ordered an NSA tactical team to capture him and Jennifer, then Kathryn was in huge trouble.
“Okay. Then we go to the police now and they can protect you. Even the NSA has rules.”
“No, Justin. They won’t be able to help. You already know that. “
His poor attempt at reassuring his frightened woman had been a vague hope anyway.
“Okay. Then we run. We fight if we have too, but first we run. Let me pack a bag and we will go. Do you have any idea when they are coming?”
“Kathryn looked up into his face. He was deadly serious; she saw eyes of a soldier who would do anything for her. Maybe they could get away if they left quickly and Justin knew these types of people, how they operated. She stood a chance with him.
“A man named Simms is supposed to have me in custody by noon. They also know about you. The one called Simms seemed worried about you being involved, so he is bringing more men.”
Justin looked worried for a brief moment, then his soldier face returned. A worried look crossed his face for a moment. He had known a CIA spook named Simms on his last tour in Afghanistan. That Simms had been very smart and very good at tracking people down. He tho
ught for a second. If this was the same man he had met back in the sandbox, escaping wouldn’t be easy. They would have to leave no trace for a professional spook to find. It also meant that were likely to already be under surveillance. They needed to move quickly.
He put his finger to his lips telling Kathryn to be quiet, then went into the bedroom closet. She followed and watched as he opened the small safe on the shelf. He took out the emergency cash he kept there and the keys to his 1968 Baracuda. The old car was kept in a storage facility less than a mile away from the apartment. The classic muscle car had been his uncles and when he passed away last year it had become Justins. He and his uncle had worked on the car for years and it ran like a top. It was also not in Justins name. The antique tags were permanent and he had not gotten around to changing the ownership. If he and Kathryn could get to it without being seen they had a better than even chance of disappearing before Simms arrived. He took out the two extra magazines for his 45 caliber pistol and put them in his pocket then slipped the weapon under his jacket. They would take nothing else. They needed speed and anonymity. Carrying bags would raise suspicions.
Without a word they walked out of the apartment, hoping no one was watching as they turned right toward the storage building instead of left towards work. It was just after 8:00 a.m. They needed to be gone long before Simms deadline.
Dream State
Chapter 10
Make for me a memory
Of light and love and greenery.
Professor August Bench
Oil Field #17
Southwest Oklahoma
Benji woke with a start. There were no sounds and it was pitch black. Coming out of the dream state into an unfamiliar place was disconcerting enough, the darkness and silence of a tent in the back country and an overpowering sense of urgency made it much worse. He sat up and checked his watch.
Almost 6:00 a.m.
He needed to move quickly. He needed to be as far away as possible when the one named Martin arrived. Benji wasn’t sure what Mills plans were for him and the girls, but he really didn’t want to find out at the point of a gun either. That had turned out badly for his friend Will.
Benji crawled out of the tent and set a pot of coffee to brewing in the percolator while he struck camp and loaded his tent into the truck. By 6:20 the sun was rising in the east, its pale yellow igniting the rolling hills of scrub brush and pines in a hazy glow. Benji sipped his wake up brew while he made one last check of his email across the pipeline connection. He saw nothing of importance; under the circumstances. As an afterthought, he sent a message to his office stating that he was moving further north up the line and would check in from past the halfway point about noon. He hoped that would send any one looking for him twenty miles further north while he made his way back south as fast as he could.
He poured his nearly empty cup onto the ground and tossed the stove and coffee pot into the bin in the truck bed. It would take nearly two hours for him to reach the office back in Elk City. He had a fifty /fifty chance of escaping this man named Martin. If his ruse worked and the soldier came down the pipeline from the north to find him, Benji could probably be long gone before they made it to where his own vehicle was parked. He was still considering exactly where he could go when he spun the big truck in the gravel and pointed it south as fast as the almost road would allow.
Tinker Air Force Base
Oklahoma City, Ok.
NSA Special Agent Stan Martin stood nose to nose with the young Air Force Staff Sergeant and tried to brow beat him into submission. SSgt. Victor Morales was having none of his bullshit though.
“Sir, the Air Force doesn’t just give helicopters and crews away to people who want them. I have no orders to supply you with anything, much less a Blackhawk and a tactical security team. Come back when you have proper authorization.”
Martin was at his wits end,
“Sergeant” he yelled, “Look at my ID. I am NSA and I am here on orders from the NSA. You are required to by law to give me any assistance I ask for, now get off your ass get me my helicopter!”
Martin had been alternately arguing with the Sergeant and screaming into his phone since 0630 hours when his transport plane had arrived from Little Rock Air Force base. His team of three other field operators was sitting on their gear just outside the hangar doors, the 90 minute pissing contest between Martin and Morales of no interest to them any longer. Like any soldier, they followed their orders and in the absence of orders they waited for orders.
SSgt. Morales had put up with the irate spook as long as he was going to, while the man stood in the doorway yelling Morales picked up his phone and dialed. That shut the screaming agent up, at least momentarily.
“This is Morales in hangar 11. I have a civilian in my office demanding that I release a helicopter and a tactical team to him without orders. Can you send someone down to take care of him for me?”
“Finally!” said Martin. “Nearly two hours later and finally you do what you’re fucking told! I have an important mission and speed is everything and you take all morning to do your fucking job!”
Morales remained silent as the NSA agent continued to berate him. Hell, he had been chewed on by full bird Colonels, this civilian James Bond wannabe was barely even a blip on the Sergeants annoyance radar.
Martin kept on until he heard footsteps clicking on the concrete hangar floor as they quickly approached him. He turned and saw the gleaming bars of an Air Force officer. At last, he would get his helicopter and if they were fast enough he could still accomplish his mission. This pilot would have to move quickly.
“It’s about damned time! Let’s get moving Captain, we have to hurry.” Martin said, just before the two lanky non-coms with the officer took him to his knees and yanked the plastic restraints painfully tight around his wrists and legs. The Captain knelt and removed the NSA agent’s pistol from its holster on his tactical vest and looked behind him to make certain his other squad had secured the three men waiting outside.
“SSgt. Morales, what seems to be the problem here?” Captain Bill Tillerson asked.
“Sir, this fine gentleman says he is from the NSA and he insists that I give him a Blackhawk and a security squad for his very important super secret squirrel mission.” replied the Sergeant in his best matter of fact tone.
“Well then Sergeant, let’s have a look at his orders and see if we can’t speed the gentleman on his way.”
From his position on his knees at the doorway agent Martin began demanding he be released, yelling that he needed to move faster to accomplish his mission.
“Airman Carter, if the gentleman opens his mouth again before I ask him a question, feel free to taze him.” Said Captain Tillerson.
“With pleasure, Sir!” came the reply.
“Sergeant Morales, have you contacted the intel cooperation liaison at Command?” Tillerson asked.
“Yes sir. Twice. They have no requests from NSA or anyone else for us to help with any operations. Lieutenant Micah has the duty desk over there today and he even called in to the national desk just in case. No orders for support are on their lists either.” Morales informed the captain.
Captain Tillerson turned to the now silent NSA man.
“Agent Martin, you do understand that attempting to commandeer Air Force equipment and personnel is a felony, don’t you? Or should we add impersonating a federal employee and trespassing under arms on military property to the list?”
Martin glared at the Airman beside him. He looked way too eager to use his tazer on the agent.
“I’m supposed to have clearance for whatever I need from this base, Captain. The Sergeant has my ID on his desk. Call the verification desk, they’ll tell you whatever you need to know.”
“Mr. Martin, this is the Air Force. We already know who you are. We already know who you work for. What we don’t know is why you think we are just going to give away an aircraft, a crew and an armed security team just because you say so. We have no orders
to assist you, we have no notification that you are here on behalf of the NSA. As far as the United States Air Force is concerned, you are a nut job with an ID who’s here trying to steal a helicopter. Until I we see proper orders, you and your men will be held in our detention facilities while the upper brass sort all this out.”
“You can’t do that!” protested Agent Martin, “My mission is sanctioned by the NSA, I have to hurry. Call the regional office again!”
Captain Tillerson ignored him.
“Airmen, escort our guests to the holding center and store their equipment while this gets sorted out.” He ordered.
The sound of an approaching vehicle echoed through the hangar. Tillerson and Morales recognized it immediately. The single gold star on the front plate meant that the base Deputy Commander, Brigadier General O’Reilly, was coming to pay a visit.
The blue HUMMV pulled up alongside the dispatch office and Tillerson called out “Attention” as the General exited from the passenger side.
“At ease Captain. I take it that the angry looking gentleman trussed up like a Thanksgiving turkey is one NSA Special Agent Martin?”
“Yes, sir.”
The general opened a folder he held and compared the photograph to Martin before handing it over to Tillerson.
“SSgt. Morales, you will release one Blackhawk and crew to Mr. Martin and his team. They will provide the NSA team transport and communications only. No Air Force personnel are to provide ground assistance, tactical assistance or any other form of help to Mr. Martin beyond flying him where he needs to go and back. Is that clear, Sergeant?”
“Yes, Sir. Transport and communications only. I will have one spooled up shortly.” Replied the SSgt.
Tillerson looked through the file and the orders before laying the paperwork ordering the Air Force to assist the NSA team in its mission on the Sergeants desk. He nodded to his Airmen who cut the irate Martin free from his bonds. Airman Caster, obviously disappointed in not getting to tazer the surly spook, cut the man free and returned him his weapon.