Project Chiron

by Ryan King

  The call then ended with a click.

  Lucas listened to the full message two more times before putting the receiver down and thinking for nearly a quarter of an hour.

  Jackson Winters was on the island.

  Urchart has been lying to me, he thought. None of this has been in his reports. Massengill is a blowhard, but doesn't lie. That bastard Urchart has been lying to me.

  And not just Urchart, he thought.

  Lucas called two men from the governor's security detail into his office. They were old soldiers of his. Loyal, obedient, discrete, and capable. He briefed them on the situation, and then asked his secretary to find Devin and tell him to come to his office.

  Within a half hour, the man walked into his boss's office without knocking, but froze as he saw the two security personnel.

  "Close the door," said Lucas.

  Devin slowly shut the door, but stood with his back to the wall with the two other men flanking him.

  "Do you have any weapons on you?" Lucas asked.

  "You know damned well I do."

  Lucas indicated the table off to his right. "Place them there for now."

  "Why?" the man asked, his whole body tense.

  "Because I want to have a tough conversation with you. We both know you can sometimes leap to violent conclusions, and I need us all to remain calm so we can get to the bottom of this and move forward."

  Devin didn't move for several long seconds. "Fine," he finally said and strode over to the table. While being closely watched by the security detail, he pulled a compact automatic pistol from a holster in the small of his back and a snub-nosed revolver from an ankle holster. He then added a few extra magazines and a speed loader for the revolver."

  "Happy?" Devin asked.

  "As I recall, you always carry a knife," said Lucas. "That, too."

  A vein had started to throb in Devin's forehead.

  He's angry, thought Lucas. That's the right response if he isn't guilty. Is it possible he was also fooled by Urchart? That he went down there and didn't realize what was happening?

  Doesn't matter, Lucas realized. To be that incompetent is a worse sin than betrayal.

  Devin laid a spring knife on the table.

  "Now sit," said Lucas, pointing at the chair in front of him well away from Devin's weapons.

  The man obeyed while cutting his eyes to the two guards standing behind him.

  "You recently visited Bog Island and reported that Site Iaso was running without complications. Nothing to be concerned about is what I believe you said."

  "Did I?" asked Devin.

  "We both know that isn't correct."

  "Nothing runs completely smooth in covert ops. We both know that."

  Lucas leaned forward. "Don't play games with me. This is not about your impression being different from mine. This is about you intentionally deceiving me."

  "Now why would I do that?"

  "I'm not exactly sure, and I don't care," said Lucas. "Also, that's not a denial. You're trying to divert. That's a guilty response."

  "I can't deny something when I don't know what you're talking about."

  Lucas had planned to go through the whole elaborate interrogation-questioning sequence. To string it out until Devin was forced to admit what he had done. To realize his goose was cooked. Lucas had wanted to see that realization on the man's face.

  Now, he realized he was tired. Bone tired.

  "Devin, you know how this works. You kept critical information from me about what was going on down at Bog Island. You also intentionally didn't tell me about Jackson Winters and his friends. If I can't trust you, I don't need you."

  Lucas looked up at the two men along the walls and nodded to them before looking back at Devin. "Your services are no longer required."

  "Wait a minute!" said Devin, starting to rise. "If you do anything to me, then—"

  His voice was cut off as one of the security detail sent fifty thousand volts of electricity through his body from a Taser. Devin fell to the floor and convulsed and flopped. After ten full seconds, the man stopped the electricity flow, and Devin lay still on the ground.

  "Get him out of here," Lucas told them. "Remember what I told you about disposing of him. Screw it up and you'll get a lesson on how it's done correctly...firsthand."

  "We understand, Mr. Ross," said one as they lifted Devin to his feet and used flex cuffs to secure his hands behind his back. They then marched Devin out the door.

  "Close the door!" Lucas yelled, but the men were already gone.

  His secretary stuck her head in the door with a worried expression. She looked back and forth between the two security men dragging Devin away and Lucas. "Is there anything I can do, sir?"

  "Yes, close the door and leave me alone."

  She jerked her head back and pulled the door shut behind her.

  Lucas walked over to the wall and opened his safe. He then deposited Devin's weapons from the side table inside and relocked the safe before sitting back in his chair.

  Depression descended upon him. He and Devin had been comrades-in-arms. Been through the fire together. How could he do such a thing?

  "Focus on the now," he told himself.

  First thing was to find Jackson Winters before he could talk to someone. They also needed to discredit him in case they were unsuccessful.

  A flicker of an idea came to mind. Perhaps they could kill two birds with one stone. Let the police do their job for them and at the same time make them unwilling to listen to any crazy story.

  They would also have to shut down Site Iaso. Feds would be crawling all over the area soon enough.

  Lucas began to make notes and plans, but his mind was drawn back to the confrontation with Devin.

  What had the man been about to say before the guard tased him? If anything happens to me, then I’ll...

  Then what?

  Lucas shook his head. What could a man possibly do when he was six feet under?

  Chapter 51

  Deloy had kept his word and gotten them to shore alive...but not by much. His boat was nearly swamped by the time he pulled it into a small cove. They had all been exhausted and sick from hours of bailing cold water on the sea that felt at times like a trampoline.

  They rode the next day out deep in the interior of one of the many swampy glades. Deloy had managed to remove the engine and wrap it in plastic and then turn the boat upside down. For the next twenty-four hours they had used sheets of plastic along the sides and then tried to shelter themselves inside from the wind and rain.

  By the next morning, the worst of the hurricane seemed to have passed. Exhausted, they climbed out from under the boat and spent the morning trying to dry their wet clothes and get warm around a fire.

  The sound of an approaching motorboat caused them all to stop and listen.

  "We should hide," said Deloy.

  "Hang on," said Jack. "Let's see what we got. Besides, we can't hide the boat that quickly. Someone will know we're here."

  Within minutes, a fifteen-foot boat filled with soldiers in camouflaged uniforms and orange life vests pulled into view. A few dazed civilians in blankets sat in the middle of the boat. The side of their watercraft had Louisiana National Guard stenciled on the side.

  "Hey, you folks okay?" called out a soldier from the front.

  "Better now that the wind and rain stopped," answered Johnny.

  "Ain't that the truth," the soldier replied. "I'm guessing you tried to move inland using that boat and got caught up in the surge."

  "It's almost like you were there," said Johnny.

  "You need anything?"

  "Some food and water would be nice," Johnny answered.

  The soldier pointed ahead of them. "There's an aid camp a mile ahead of us our battalion set up this morning. They've got food, water, and shelter there. We'd offer you a lift, but we're already full."

  "Our boat's still good," Deloy said. "We can make our way there."

  "Want us to wait on you?
" asked the soldier.

  "Don't bother," said Johnny. "We'll be along shortly. Thanks for the info."

  The soldier gave them a parting wave and moved on down the river.

  "Think it's safe to go there?" asked Rena. "They might be looking for us."

  "It should be okay as long as we don't use our true names," Johnny said. "If this aid camp is like any of the others I've seen after a hurricane, we should be able to blend into the crowd. Get shelter and food, and unless we ask for something, most people will ignore us."

  "Besides, we don't have much choice," said Jack. "We won't last another night out here. We'll either get hypothermia or dehydrated."

  They packed their meager belongings, righted the boat, and headed in the direction of the camp. After a half hour, they could hear the sounds of generators and see thin ribbons of exhaust in the sky. Soon, the large camp came into view.

  It sat back from the water in an open field. Dozens of large green army tents were arranged in neat rows. Civilians mingled about with each other as a few soldiers watched listlessly. A group of children chased each other around the perimeter of the camp.

  "Looks like the right place," said Johnny.

  They unloaded their boat, and Deloy chained it to a tree with a padlock.

  "You really think someone's going to steal it?" asked Jack.

  "Best not to leave the temptation out there," said Deloy. "I know mainlanders aren't as trustworthy."

  Jack decided to let the comment go, as he was the only “mainlander” among them.

  The four moved slowly up into the camp, and soldiers directed them to a nearby tent. He stated they could pick out a cot, drop their belongings, and then go register at the administration tent. After that, they could get food and maybe a shower.

  "Registration doesn't sound good," said Deloy from a cot near the edge of a large tent.

  "Why not?" asked Jack. "We can finally talk to the police and tell them what has happened. These army folks might be able to help as well."

  "I'm not so sure," said Johnny. "We don't yet know what we're dealing with. Don't forget that what happened at Bog Island was the government. Don't stick your head out there yet until we know what's flying around above us."

  "Fine," said Jack, "for now. But they're going to want to have a name for their registration. Maybe even want to see identification."

  "Make up names," said Rena. "Say all our identification was lost. Daddy, Johnny, and I are all family that fled the storm, and we picked you up along the way."

  "Because I'm white?" asked Jackson.

  "No," answered Deloy, "because you aren't part of the family."

  "Yes," said Rena. "One of these things is not like the others," she sang.

  "Whatever," said Jack. "Let's go get this over with so we can get something to eat. I'm starving."

  A half hour later, they were sitting at a long table in a food tent. The registration had been surprisingly perfunctory. They had added their names and addresses to a list and been given a blanket, pillow, and meal card.

  "Damn, beef stew never tasted so good," mumbled Jack.

  Other groups of disheveled refugees moved around them, but everyone mostly kept to themselves. Many had the dazed look of someone who believes they have lost everything.

  Johnny who had eaten and departed to get information returned and sat beside them. "Found a soldier who had a newspaper he let me borrow. It's from yesterday. New Orleans Tribune."

  "What's it say? Hurricane coming?" asked Deloy.

  "No," said Johnny. He opened the newspaper to the inside page and then turned it so Jack could see.

  Jack's spoon froze halfway to his mouth. He was looking at a picture of himself in a suit smiling. The title read, “Police on Lookout for Missing Attorney, Suspect in Multiple Disappearances.”

  He took the paper and began to read.

  Jackson Winters, an attorney at Riley and Associate Law Firm in Lafayette, LA, has been missing since Thursday the 28th of May. Jackson is the son of former Supreme Court Justice the Honorable Jeremiah Winters. Authorities state that he and five friends went on a fishing trip and never returned. At first, it was believed that they might have been the victims of an accident, but recent evidence has surfaced that Mr. Winters has psychological issues and may have been responsible for the deaths of his friends on Bog Island. Authorities are currently investigating, but if anyone has information about the whereabouts of Jackson Winters, telephone the state police immediately. Under no circumstances should anyone attempt to approach the suspect, as he is considered extremely dangerous.

  The suspect, thought Jack. That's me. Killed my friends?

  "Good thing we didn't use our real names," said Rena.

  Jack looked at his picture and then around the tent self-consciously.

  "Don't worry," said Johnny. "No one's going to recognize you. Not with that beard and scraggly hair. You've also lost at least fifteen pounds."

  Jack turned back to the paper and read the story again. "Those bastards," he finally said.

  "What now?" asked Deloy. "We obviously can't go to the police."

  Jack thought for several long moments. "Do we have any money?"

  "Some," answered Deloy. "We brought all we had...but it's not a lot."

  "I don't need a lot," Jack answered. "And don't worry, I'll pay you back."

  "That's not what I'm worried about," answered Deloy.

  "What are you thinking?" asked Rena.

  Jack smiled. "What my father would have done."

  "And what's that?" asked Rena.

  "Come at them sideways," Jack answered.

  Johnny smiled.

  Chapter 52

  St Keel was on the phone when Lucas entered the office. The governor kept talking and motioned for Lucas to come on in and take a seat.

  Lucas sat and gazed around the office. It was filled with mementoes and pictures. There was a rather large photograph of the governor in black robes the day he had graduated from Tulane. A dignified middle-aged gentleman stood beside him. Jeremiah Winters had his arm around the governor's shoulders, and his face beamed with pride.

  This is going to be hard, Lucas thought.

  St Keel hung up the phone and shook his head. "There are many things about this job that I love, but catering to donors who might give me ten dollars and a friendly nod is not one of them."

  "I'm afraid I have some bad news," Lucas said. "I've been digging into the media stories about Jackson Winters."

  The governor was already shaking his head, sensing what his chief-of-staff was going to tell him. "I don't believe it."

  "I'm afraid it's true. There are witnesses who will testify that Jackson Winters took his friends to Bog Island. He then sunk the boat out in the ocean and systematically hunted and killed his five friends. It is also likely that he killed four personnel at our...special site there."

  "He's a lawyer for God's sake! I know this kid. He's no killer."

  "Believe me," said Lucas. "You never really know who is a killer and who isn't. There are some indications that he was suffering from psychological issues. In that case, I guess it could be argued that's he's not entirely responsible for his actions."

  St Keel ran his hands through his hair and looked over at the picture Lucas had noticed earlier. "Any idea where he's at?"

  "Not yet, but all the authorities have a picture and description. He can't stay hidden forever."

  "Maybe he's still on the island."

  "We know that he left during the recent hurricane. Our guards there confirmed as much."

  "Guards?" said the governor. "I thought we have a research laboratory there. Why are there guards?"

  "They're doing high-level sensitive research," Lucas explained. "Corporate espionage is a serious concern, and when it comes to stakes, a cure for cancer is as big as they get."

  St Keel thought for a moment. "Perhaps it's time I go see this operation."

  "That's not a good idea. This is not a sanctioned operation. Keeping i
t hidden comes with a cost. One that our friends at the big pharmas are willing to pay, but in order to protect you, there needs to be some distance."

  "But if we're not doing anything wrong, why do we need to go through all of this?"

  "Trust me," said Lucas. "This is for the best. Perception is sometimes worse than doing wrong."

  What are you not telling me? St Keel wondered. What are you trying to protect and what's in it for you, my friend?

  "It's going to get out now anyway," said the governor. "The media is going to know that Bog Island is the...scene of these horrific acts. They're going to descend on the park soon."

  "By then, everything will be shut down and moved elsewhere," Lucas said. "The hurricane has helped in that regard because it has delayed getting people out there. By the time the blood-suckers descend, our operation will be gone, and the park service will have cleaned everything else up."

  "Moved elsewhere? Where exactly?"

  "Sir, it really is best you don't know."

  St Keel let the silence hang in the air for a few seconds. "You do know that if you are telling me everything and it turns out anything criminal or immoral has been going on...it's all going to stop with you."

  "That's exactly how it is supposed to be," answered Lucas. "My job is to protect you, and that's what I'm doing now."

  St Keel sighed. "I guess you're right. I've trusted you this long and have no reason to stop now."

  "Thank you, sir."

  "Just make sure we find Jack Winters. I don't want anything bad to happen to him. Make sure everyone knows he might be mentally incapacitated. I don't want some Barney Fife to go in all blasting the first time they see him."

  "Understood," said Lucas.

  "I still can't believe it," said St Keel. "I'm glad his father didn't live to see this day. It would have crushed a very fine man."

  "Will that be all? I've got some things I need to wrap up."

  "Yes," said the governor, waving in his direction but looking away outside. "I think I'd like to be alone for a while anyway."

  Lucas left the office. He now knew that whatever happened, Jackson Winters could not be taken alive. If anyone else talked to him, they wouldn't believe his story and would chalk it up to the fabricated psyche reports his people had planted.