Origin - Season One

by James, Nathaniel Dean

  The picture changed to an elderly woman standing next to the reporter outside a tall window with the words Morisson Herald stenciled on it.

  “The idea that this town has been playing host to a terrorist cell is simply ludicrous,” she said. “I have no doubt things transpire behind closed doors that no one would be proud of, but drug trafficking and plots to bomb Americans is not one of them. These men have never been seen in this town before, and the authorities have yet to explain where all of this is meant to have taken place. Nor, for that matter, have they been able to explain the disappearance of Jesse Corbin and Amanda Hinsdale, who have not been seen since Monday afternoon. Their families deserve to know the truth.”

  “Are you suggesting someone here is deliberately withholding information?” the reporter asked.

  “Suggesting? I’m sure of it. I’ve run this paper for fifteen years, and in that time have never received so little cooperation. Even our own sheriff isn’t being told much about what’s going on.”

  The picture changed back to the reporter standing outside the police station. “As you can see, not everyone is happy with the way things are going. I tried getting an interview with the local sheriff earlier but was told he wouldn’t comment. All we can do for now is wait and see what develops. From Morisson, Vermont, this is Peter Simms. Back to you, Gus.”

  Mike handed the remote back to misses Jackson. “Ma’am, thank you very much for taking the call. I’d better be getting back.”

  She waved it off as nothing. “If he calls again, tell him to make it earlier. My daughter usually calls around this time.”

  “I will. And thank you again.”

  When he got back to his apartment, he sat down in the living room and turned on his own TV. All the networks were covering the Vermont story.

  It was going to be a long night.

  Chapter 39

  CIA Headquarters Langley, Virginia Thursday 20 July 2006

  1900 CET

  Richard Fairchild was playing a dangerous game, and he knew it. Norton Weaver, for all his poison charm, was not someone you crossed without thinking it through. In the shadowy hierarchy of power that both served and ruled over officialdom in Washington, Weaver was what the Mafia referred to as a “made man,” an untouchable.

  The phone call had confirmed what the letter had not explicitly stated: namely that the man behind it all wasn’t set on exposing the program, or what had happened at the Fed, as long as Princip was terminated. To Fairchild’s surprise, he had come across not as maniacal or arrogant, but both levelheaded and even a little sympathetic to Fairchild’s own position. If he was right – and Fairchild had no reason to think he would be lying – Weaver had ignored his instructions to consult him before he did anything. It was this more than anything else that had settled the matter in Fairchild’s mind.

  He picked up the phone and called his secretary. “Jane, please send them in.”

  She opened the door a moment later and ushered in a young man and woman. Both were in their early thirties, lean, athletic and striking in their own ways. The man looked like he might have played college football; the woman, like the senior cheerleader he would almost certainly have dated. It wasn’t hard to see why they would have been picked.

  “Take a seat,” Fairchild said.

  They did.

  He sat down and regarded them for a moment. Neither spoke or seemed remotely curious about the reason they were there. There was an indifference in their eyes that could easily be mistaken for a lack of aptitude. And what a mistake that would be. Fairchild felt a chill run up his spine at the thought of what Weaver must have done to these two to turn them into the cold methodical killers they now were.

  “Effective immediately, I’m reinstating you both to active service,” Fairchild said. “You’ll be answerable to me only, not your former handler. Not Weaver, but me. Is that clear?”

  They both nodded.

  “Good. Now, here’s what I need you to do…”

  Chapter 40

  Lake Commissaires, Quebec

  Thursday 20 July 2006

  2000 EDT

  “We should get back to the bunker,” Jesse said.

  “I hate it down there,” Amanda said. “It feels like a tomb. Can’t we stay in here tonight?”

  He considered it for a moment and shook his head. “I don’t think that’s a good idea. I know I sleep a lot better knowing all those cameras and sensors are out there. Even if it’s only animals that set them off.”

  During their previous night in the shelter the alarm had gone off three times. When Jesse had turned the monitor on the first time, a moose had been standing a few feet from the door of the cabin. On the second occasion, they hadn’t seen anything but a blur that must have been a chipmunk or a rat scurrying back into the trees. Shortly after the sun had come up, the alarm had gone off again and this time the camera had been switched from the grainy green image of night vision to a clear color picture. The sight of two red foxes going at it like rabbits had sent them both into stitches.

  “You’re right,” Amanda said. “I just hope he comes back, because I don’t think I can do this for much longer.”

  “This will end,” Jesse said. “I don’t know when or how, but it will. When Eddie, or Maurice, or whatever his name is, gets back here, and I’m pretty sure he will come back, we’ll get some answers.”

  She looked at him for a moment, then grinned. “I can’t believe he called himself Maurice! It’s the lamest thing I’ve ever heard.”

  “In this part of the world, it’s probably like John or Paul,” Jesse said.

  “Or Peter?” she suggested, smiling.

  “Yeah, or Peter. Now if Bible study’s over, I suggest we make a move.”

  They tidied up the cabin to make it look as unoccupied as possible. Jesse put out the fire, then picked the machine gun off the table and slung it over his shoulder.

  “That any good for hunting?” Amanda asked.

  “Not really. But there’s a proper hunting rifle under the floor if things get that bad.”

  “Moose burgers and fried bark? I think I’d rather starve to death.”

  When they reached the log pile they both knelt and pulled up the hatch. Amanda propped it up with the stick and went down first. She used the flashlight to connect the battery to the light bulb in the ceiling, and Jesse turned on the sensors.

  “Hungry?” she asked.

  “Starving.”

  “Spaghetti and meatballs sound good?”

  “Sounds more than good.”

  Amanda prepared the meals on one of the crates. It went considerably faster than the night before, when it had taken them almost an hour to figure out how to use the self-heating water bags. They ate the food and opened two cans of tinned peaches for dessert. When it was all gone, Amanda leaned back on the bed and sighed. “You sure you don’t want the bed tonight? I don’t mind sleeping on the floor.”

  Jesse shook his head. “No, you take it. I’m good. Besides, I want to stay close to the camera, just in case.”

  Amanda was asleep within five minutes. Jesse stayed up a little longer and sat watching her. He thought he could almost feel his own heart beginning to break. He had lost count of the number of times he had resolved to tell her how he felt. And every time he didn’t, it seemed to get harder. Having reaffirmed his vow to do it the next day, he laid his head down.

  Outside, the sun had gone down and a light rain had started to fall. Somewhere a wolf howled. Jesse pulled the machine gun a little closer and closed his eyes.

  – – –

  He was woken by the alarm.

  Jesse opened his eyes and sat up, marveling at the sight of Amanda, who hadn’t even stirred. He moved to the monitor and turned it on. The image on the screen was of the back of the cabin; there was nothing there but trees. He pushed the first of the four buttons on the panel, and the view switched to the log pile on top of the entrance to the bunker. There was nothing there either. He pushed the next button
and froze.

  What he was seeing didn’t register at first. Perhaps because the idea of finding another person out here had seemed so unlikely. But there was no mistaking him. The man was hunched down and moving forward slowly in the direction of the cabin. He was holding up a rifle and looking through the scope as he went.

  Jesse watched him.

  It occurred to Jesse that it might be Eddie returning early and taking every precaution to avoid being shot by Jesse himself, but if that were true he should have made some signal to the camera by now to let them know it was him. It was impossible to make out the man’s features in the grainy image. If he was a hunter just passing by, Jesse didn’t think this is how he would approach a derelict cabin in the middle of the woods. There was something too methodical and calculating about the way he moved, as if he were expecting to find someone here, someone dangerous.

  When the man reached the cabin, he leaned the rifle against the wall and walked to one of the windows. A moment later he moved back and slowly opened the door, looked around, then picked up the rifle and began to circle the cabin. Jesse changed the view back to the first picture and saw him slip around the corner. Every few yards he stopped, raised the rifle and looked around through the scope. When he reached the end of the wall he began moving away from the cabin and further into the woods. Jesse’s heart started beating faster as he saw the man’s course would take him straight to the log pile.

  Amanda was still sound asleep. If he woke her now, she might do or say something that would alert the man to them. If he didn’t, she still might. An agonizing minute passed in which he kept looking from Amanda to the monitor and back again. The man got within five feet of the log pile and stopped. Jesse could have sworn he was looking straight at it, but that might just have been his imagination, which was now in overdrive.

  The man turned and walked back toward the cabin. Jesse switched the cameras again just in time to see him disappear inside, then switched it again to the internal view. The man took a flashlight from his jacket and scanned the room from floor to ceiling. He walked to the fireplace, put a hand over the ashes and his posture suddenly changed. He ran the flashlight across the ceiling and past the camera mounted there, turning the image on the screen a blinding white for a moment, then the light went out. The man ducked below the line of the window, shuffled across the floor to the door, then took several steps back and pressed down on the board at his feet.

  Jesse reached over and gently shook Amanda. Looking back to the screen, he saw the man now had a knife and was prying one of the boards out. Amanda stirred and turned over. He shook her a little harder and she opened her eyes. Jesse leaned over and whispered in her ear. “There’s someone in the cabin.”

  Her eyes widened as she looked over at the screen. The man had removed three of the boards and was peering into the space under the floor with the flashlight.

  By the time they got their shoes and jackets on, the man was putting the boards back. Jesse grabbed the machine gun.

  “What do we do?” Amanda whispered.

  “Nothing,” Jesse said. “He might leave.”

  “How the hell did he find us?” Amanda said.

  Jesse only shook his head. On the screen, the man was walking back out the door. Jesse leaned down and changed the camera view again. They watched him in silence as he closed the door behind him, then turned the flashlight on again and began scanning the ground at his feet. He turned left and continued walking with the light pointed down at the ground. Jesse felt the first signs of panic grip his stomach. The man was following their footprints around the corner of the house.

  Jesse put the gun down and knelt in front of the board Francis had showed him. He gently pulled it back then picked it up and leaned it against the stack of crates. Amanda knelt beside him.

  “What the hell is that?” she asked.

  “I forgot to tell you. It’s a tunnel. Comes up somewhere in the woods.”

  “It doesn’t look wide enough.”

  “It’s going to have to be because you’re gonna use it.”

  She shook her head. “There’s no fucking way I’m going in there.”

  Jesse took her face in his hands. “Amanda, listen to me. You need to get in that tunnel and keep going. There’s a space at the end big enough to stand up in. You understand?”

  She nodded. He could see she was on the verge of tears.

  “I’m going to be right behind you. When you hear me coming, push up on the board as hard as you can. It will open and you can climb out – we can climb out.”

  A tear ran down her cheek. Jesse, who until now had only been scared to death, suddenly found himself getting angry at the man outside. It seemed to clear his mind.

  “Go,” he said.

  She knelt down, got on her hands and knees and looked back up at him. He gestured for her to go on and she moved into the tunnel. When her feet disappeared inside, Jesse switched the camera to the log pile and saw the man was now only ten feet away. Jesse pulled the crate out from beneath the bed and took two of the three hand grenades out. He laid them on the bed, then he picked up the satellite phone and pushed it into the back pocket of his jeans.

  He took one of the grenades and stuffed it into his left front pocket. Taking the machine gun in one hand and the remaining grenade in the other, he knelt against the wall with the tunnel to his back.

  The man was now standing over the log pile, examining it with the flashlight. He kicked the pile with one foot. When the logs didn’t topple over, he reached out and tried to pry one loose, and the entire hatch moved. Jesse curled his finger around the trigger and checked the safety. The man kicked the pile again. Something fell from the hatch cover and bounced off one of the rungs on the ladder. In the silence it sounded like a hammer blow. A second later the hatch opened a few inches and Jesse saw four fingers appear in the gap. Then it began to rise.

  Jesse closed his eye and pulled the trigger.

  Nothing happened.

  For a moment his mind went blank, then he put the grenade down, pulled back the cocking handle and released it. The hatch fell back into place just as he squeezed the trigger again. In the confined space the chatter of the machine gun sounded like full-scale war. Splinters flew everywhere as the edge of the plywood board disintegrated. He forced the barrel down as it rose to keep the fire aimed at the hatch. On the screen, he saw the man jump clear of the woodpile and dive to the ground. Jesse felt the gun go still in his hand. The ringing in his ears was so loud he thought he might actually have gone deaf in the few seconds it had taken to empty the magazine. The top of the small room was shrouded in thick tendrils of gray smoke and the smell of cordite was overpowering.

  He turned back to the screen and saw the man crawling out of view in the direction of the cabin. Jesse moved forward on his knees and switched the camera. The man was now running towards the cabin. Jesse had to change the view again and only just caught the man coming through the door. When he switched it again to the inside of the cabin, the man had already removed the floorboards and was pulling out the M16. A second later he was running back out. Jesse didn’t bother following his progress on the screen, but switched it straight back to the woodpile.

  It probably saved his life.

  He saw the man raise the M16 just in time to drop his own gun, turn around and fall to the ground. He spun around and pushed himself into the tunnel feet first and was halfway in when the ground in front of him erupted in a series of small explosions. Dirt and fragments of stone peppered his face. He reached for the grenade on the ground in front of him and scrambled the rest of the way into the tunnel, beginning to push himself back with his elbows. The sound of gunfire stopped as abruptly as it had begun. When he was about six feet in Jesse realized there was no easy way to throw the grenade in the cramped space. He heard the hatch being opened and then thrown aside. The man didn’t bother using the ladder. Jesse saw a pair of boots hit the ground less than twelve feet in front of him. He turned onto his left side and pu
shed himself as hard as he could against the tunnel wall. It gave him just enough room to bend his elbow. He pulled the pin with his teeth, released the safety lever and thrust the grenade forward. It was more of a punching motion than a throw. The grenade hit the ground and rolled towards the opening. It cleared the tunnel, but not by much. Jesse saw it roll to the right and out of his line of sight. Then it exploded.

  The rush of hot air pushed him another three feet down the tunnel before the hole in front of him disappeared and the world turned black. It felt as if both his eardrums had burst this time, although he thought he could hear faint screaming coming from somewhere behind him. He started moving again, pushing himself back, first with his hands and then his elbows. After an awkward minute of this he figured out a way to use his knees to gain a little more momentum, but it was still slow going. His hands and elbows went numb as the skin turned raw in places. If Amanda hadn’t been waiting for him at the other end, he thought he might have just given up. The ringing in his ears was so loud he didn’t think he would be able to hear her, no matter how close he was getting. He was about to stop for breath despite his panic when his foot bumped something. A hand reached down and grabbed his ankle.

  “Jesse?”

  Her voice sounded as if it were coming from the other end of the tunnel. He moved a little farther until his legs were bent up against her feet and reached for her hand. She grabbed it and squeezed, sending a bolt of pain up his arm as the sweat on her palms soaked the raw exposed flesh on his palms.