The Fusion Cage (Warner & Lopez Book 2)

by Dean Crawford

  The image on the screen switched to a series of mug–shots, each showing a face that Stanley recognized.

  ‘Police are asking local residents to be on the look–out for these individuals, who were seen in the area at the time and are believed able to help police with their enquiries. All of them are wanted for questioning in connection with the events of last night and prior police investigations in several states. If you see them, do not attempt to approach them but instead call nine–one–one immediately.’

  The faces of Ethan Warner, Nicola Lopez, Amber Ryan and Stanley Meyer stared out of the screen at him, all of the shots carefully picked to show them at their most glum: Warner’s was clearly a police mug–shot taken years before, Lopez’s a grainy image from CCTV somewhere, Amber’s gothic visage staring sullenly from a school photo, and Stanley’s taken from an identity badge he’d worn for years at the National Ignition Facility in California.

  Stanley slumped into his seat as he switched the television off, and he sat for a long time watching the sunrise over the peaceful rolling valleys until he heard a key turning in the lock of his door. Stanley did not turn to look as he heard somebody walk into the room, the door closing behind them as they moved. A long silence followed before he heard a voice speak to him.

  ‘Stanley,’ it said softly, ‘It’s Huck.’

  Stanley could not bring himself to turn his head, to look upon the man who had murdered so many people already. He simply continued stare out of the window.

  Huck Seavers pulled up a chair from nearby and sat to Stanley’s right, just in view out of the corner of his eye. Seavers linked his fingers together as he rested his elbows on his knees and looked at Stanley from beneath his Stetson.

  ‘I know how you must feel right now,’ he said softly. ‘I would feel the same too, if all of this had happened to me. Believe me when I say that this is not what I wanted, that I would never have done this to you or to those people.’

  Stanley did not move, stared out of the windows of the hotel room as he thought of Amber, of his wife and all that they had been forced to endure since this whole thing had begun. For the first time ever Stanley hated what he had become, hated what he had fought for and endured and forced upon others. He hated the thought of his fusion cage, hated the naivety with which he had believed that somehow, human compassion and cooperation would overcome greed and herald a new dawn of humanity, of a people free from crippling energy bills, pollution, climate change and the machinations of corporations hell–bent on profits, fuelled by greed, fearing nothing.

  ‘There are forces at work here, Stanley,’ Huck went on, ‘forces that I would not have believed existed six months ago. They control everything, everything we think that is democratic. They scheme and conspire, and all of it in order to build and consolidate power over every human being, over every living thing, on this planet.’

  Stanley remained silent.

  ‘I have tried to resist them, tried to limit the danger that they have put people in, including me, Stanley, but there’s just no stopping them. I talked to your daughter, Amber, and tried to make her understand but she wouldn’t believe me. Then, they tracked you out of Saudi Arabia and to France, sent their own people in to talk to a guy who works there, Hans somebody or other.’

  Stanley’s chin lifted slightly, and with a chilling premonition he realized how Huck’s people had found them despite their being located so deep in Virginia.

  ‘They threatened him,’ Huck said, ‘with things that I don’t even want to think about. I have children too, a wife, a family and a future. They’ve made it clear that if I don’t do what they want I’ll lose them all. They made the same threat at Cadarache in France, and then they told me that you were coming back to America. I had to stop you, Stanley, had to intervene in Clearwater, to silence the townsfolk. I didn’t have a choice but to do what they wanted. If I hadn’t done what needed to be done, they would have killed my wife and my children and taken away everything that I … ’

  ‘Shut up.’

  The words spilled from Stanley’s mouth like poison. He heard his own rage, mixed with regret and frustration and hopelessness.

  ‘Where is Amber?’ he demanded.

  ‘She wasn’t found,’ Huck said, quick to inform Stanley that her body had not been recovered. ‘I think that she escaped because only the inhabitants of the commune have been identified from their … ’

  Seavers broke off, apparently stunned by what had happened at Nathalie. Stanley sucked in air that filled his lungs but somehow failed to replenish him.

  ‘I’ll take the money,’ Stanley said.

  Huck Seavers looked up at him. ‘What?’

  Stanley did not look at the man, keeping his eyes focused on the distant hills.

  ‘Enough people have died,’ he uttered, barely able to conceive of the terrible course of action he had put into motion. ‘I don’t want anybody else’s deaths on my hands for this, for the device that I built. I don’t want it any more. I don’t want any part of it anymore.’

  Huck remained still, his eyes searching Stanley’s face for some sign of deception.

  ‘I don’t know if they can be trusted,’ he said finally. ‘I don’t know if they’ll honour a promise to leave us be, or if they’ll make any of this simply go away.’

  For the first time Stanley began to realize that Seavers himself might actually be what Amber had suggested he was: a pawn, like Stanley, in a dangerous game much bigger than either of them.

  ‘You got yourself in with them,’ he growled, showing no sign of sympathy. ‘It’s on your hands, all of this. You killed those people, all of them.’

  Huck’s head hung low.

  ‘I needed help to defeat the legal actions piling up against my company,’ Huck said. ‘They had leverage, power, they said they could make the cases go away and they did. But you have to believe me, Stanley – I had no idea that they would do anything like this. None at all. I don’t even know who they are. I tried to find out at Bilderberg, and that’s when they made the threats against my family.’ Huck looked up again at Stanley. ‘Is your wife okay?’

  Stanley felt no warmth in Huck Seaver’s concern. ‘A bit late, Seavers, to be worrying about her.’

  Seavers bit his lip. ‘Someone once told me that it’s never too late to try to put things right.’

  Stanley scowled and finally looked Seavers in the eye.

  ‘It’s too late for black–hearted cowards like you,’ he snapped. ‘I’ll take the money. One hundred million, all of it sent to accounts I’ve set up.’

  Huck’s eyes narrowed. ‘You’ve already set up accounts?’

  ‘I did it the moment I realized the fusion cage worked,’ Stanley snapped. ‘I’m not an idiot. I wanted to give the device away, but if it couldn’t be done then I wanted to ensure that my family profited from what I’d achieved. It’s called putting others first, Seavers. You should try it one day.’

  ‘My family come first,’ Huck replied coldly.

  ‘No negotiations, no discussions,’ Stanley said, ignoring Huck’s last. ‘In return, I’ll cease all work on the fusion cage and I will sign anything to show that I will never again distribute any paperwork, prototypes or other reference material pertaining to the device. If Amber and my wife are harmed in any way, ever, I swear I’ll release everything regardless of what happens to me, understood?’

  Huck Seavers nodded slowly.

  ‘I’ll pass that along. I hope that it will bring these unfortunate events to a close, that we will never have to deal with anything like this again and … ’

  ‘It will never stop,’ Stanley cut him off. ‘It will never end, because somebody else will discover what I did. Others will know, will come to understand, and one way or another they’ll bring your damned corporations to their knees. I just hope I’m alive to see it, so I can drink champagne and piss on the ashes of your company, Seavers.’

  Huck sat for a moment longer, and then he got up and walked away from Stanley and let hi
m watch the sunrise once more in peace.

  ***

  XXXI

  Richmond International Airport, Virginia

  Aaron Mitchell strode off the corporate jet and into the sweltering mid–day heat of a Virginian summer, the sound of aircraft taking off behind him on the distant runway interspersed with a ripple of birdsong in nearby trees as he walked toward a sleek, glossy black limousine parked nearby.

  The airport handled flights to Paris in Europe as part of its scheduled service, but Aaron as ever was able to call upon the near–limitless financial power of his employers to travel in corporate luxury. Flying under a local airline’s call sign to further conceal his movements, he had landed only minutes before and was forcing himself to ignore the weariness aching through his bones as he opened the limousine’s door and climbed inside.

  The interior of the vehicle was as plush as that of the jet, and he looked into the eyes of Huck Seavers and was surprised to see relief and delight sparkling in the younger man’s eyes.

  ‘What news?’ he demanded.

  ‘Meyer folded,’ Huck reported with glee. ‘His price is one hundred million, no questions asked. He’s even set up the accounts. We pay, he vanishes and it’s over.’

  Aaron looked down at a piece of paper that Huck handed him, containing account codes for numerous overseas banks.

  ‘It’s never over,’ he said as he took the paper.

  ‘That’s what Stanley said,’ Huck admitted. ‘He thinks that somebody else will achieve what he has and carry the torch for him. Whatever.’

  ‘What guarantees did he demand?’

  ‘That his family be left alone,’ Huck said. ‘Anything happens to them, he blows it all wide open.’

  ‘He could do that anyway.’

  ‘Yes he could,’ Huck agreed, eager to maintain the advantage he had created, ‘but then if that’s what you think then you would have simply killed him anyway, so why even attempt to make an offer through me? It wouldn’t make any sense.’

  ‘There are many, many things that you do not understand.’

  Huck ground his teeth in his skull, suddenly nervous.

  ‘I did what you asked,’ he said. ‘I got him to sell out. He’s going to hand everything over to us and has promised never to speak of his device ever again, or promote it or anybody else’s work. He’s given up – that’s what you people wanted.’

  Aaron stared down at the accounts for a long moment.

  ‘The money will be transferred to Seavers Incorporated by this afternoon, after which you may pass it on to these accounts.’

  Huck’s features fell.

  ‘That’s not what we agreed! You didn’t say anything about me laundering money for you! If this ever did go public they’d trace the payments right back to me!’

  ‘You are displeased?’

  Aaron’s voice rumbled like boulders tumbling down a cliff as he turned in his seat toward Huck, his eyes dark and foreboding. ‘Perhaps you think that you’re being treated unfairly?’

  Huck’s eyes wobbled in their sockets as he retreated in his seat.

  ‘You’re stacking the odds in your favour and putting me at risk,’ Huck blustered. ‘I can’t face any more public investigations or legal threats!’

  ‘Then you had best be sure that this deal you have struck with Meyer does not fall through,’ Mitchell warned as he leaned closer. ‘The consequences to Seavers Incorporated might be.., fatal.’

  Huck swallowed thickly, his voice broken and an octave higher as he replied.

  ‘Go to hell,’ he spat with a feeble veneer of bravado. ‘I’ve done what you asked, we’re finished.’

  Aaron watched Huck Seavers for a long moment, and then he twitched his shoulders as though he were about to strike. Seavers flinched in fright and recoiled further in his seat. Aaron watched him for a moment longer before he opened the limousine’s door and climbed out once again.

  He turned away from the vehicle and walked across the apron, heard the limo pull away as he pulled a cell phone from his pocket and dialled a secure number. After a series of prolonged digital buzzing sounds as various security protocols were activated, the line rang and was picked up almost immediately.

  ‘Report?’

  ‘Meyer is controlled,’ Mitchell said. ‘One hundred million must be wired into these accounts, stand by.’

  There was a moment’s pause, and then: ‘Go.’

  Aaron relayed the account numbers and then waited patiently as they were diligently recorded.

  ‘What of Meyer? What are the guarantees?’

  ‘The man’s word and not much else. That said, he’s been pushed to the edge and he knows that any further provocation will be met with merciless retribution. Meyer has found his price and I believe that he can be contained without further need for bloodshed.’

  ‘The assault in Nathalie was a mess,’ came the retort. ‘We barely had time to cover our presence and it’s only good fortune that the Pentagon swallowed the story of a terrorist group hiding out in the woods.’

  ‘The media disinformation I initiated has taken the heat from us,’ Aaron reassured the voice on the line. ‘Right now, we have both removed Meyer from play and also ensured that General Nellis’s lapdogs are neutralized. They’ll be running from law enforcement for weeks and unable to interfere further in our operations. What of the DIA?’

  ‘Nellis is under investigation as we speak and Jarvis is under arrest, but if we push too hard then we risk exposing ourselves and defeating the object. The General has the ear of the president and can still kick up a fuss that we might struggle to contain.’

  Aaron stopped for a moment as he considered the delicate nature of what Majestic Twelve was attempting to achieve. General Nellis was far too high a figure to consider silencing permanently. Any threat against his life would draw far too much attention to the inner workings of the DIA and perhaps to their interest in MJ–12. The publicity such an event could generate was to the detriment of the cabal and absolutely must be avoided. However …

  ‘He needs to receive a message,’ Aaron replied finally, ‘a clear message that any further digging into our affairs could be detrimental to more than just his career.’

  ‘Agreed. But how do we send that message? Any threat to his family is as good as a threat to the man himself and would only entrench him further.’

  ‘The threat must be close to home, but not personal enough to provoke aggression,’ Aaron replied softly. ‘I believe we have the perfect target.’

  ‘Whom?’

  ‘Jarvis.’

  *

  J. Edgar Hoover Building,

  Washington DC

  Jarvis heard the guards coming as he sat in a featureless cell, the mattress thin and uncomfortable. Half a lifetime served in the US Marine Corps had served him well and taught him the virtues of ‘hurry up and wait’, but none the less he was relieved that something was now happening.

  The cell door opened and two armed guards stood back either side of it and beckoned him forward. Handcuffs were presented to him and Jarvis allowed himself to be restrained without complaint. The time for defiance would come later, not now when he was sealed deep in the heart of the FBI’s Headquarters on Pennsylvania Avenue – resistance here would be both futile and likely to see him incarcerated beyond the view of the public or legal aid forever. That was how the intelligence community liked to deal with such things: in house. Jarvis knew that his greatest threat now was to simply disappear forever, much like the inhabitants of Clearwater, Missouri, but without the benefit of ten million bucks.

  Nobody could hear you scream in a maximum security prison.

  The guards led Jarvis through the small cell block to the elevators, where they then took a ride up through the building to the top floor, direct. No stopping on other floors, no access to witnesses or contact with people outside of his predicament. Jarvis was in the system now as an enemy combatant, in effect, and was being treated as such.

  The top floor was deserted
as he was led out of the elevator, something which would have been ordered a few minutes before his arrival. The guards guided him toward the Director’s office, and Jarvis braced himself to find out what would happen to him and who had taken General Nellis’s place at the DIA. Replacement, in his experience, was what always happened to those who dug too deep. He had lost count of the number of well–intentioned senior officers in prime condition who had retired due to ‘family matters’, or ‘ill health’ or with an ‘unblemished record’. Such men and women were staunch patriots and rarely retired until they were unable to walk or talk straight, unless they were pushed from behind the scenes.

  The office door was opened by one of the guards and Jarvis was propelled inside. The door closed behind him and to Jarvis’s surprise General Nellis awaited him, his hands folded before him. Nellis looked up at Jarvis, his features emotionless.

  ‘I take it that I’m not about to be released with a presidential pardon and the Medal of Honor,’ Jarvis said, his hands still cuffed.

  No humour appeared on the general’s face as he replied.

  ‘They’ve got us over a barrel,’ he replied simply. ‘We’re out of moves.’

  ‘We’re never out of moves.’

  Nellis dragged a hand across his face and with the other pushed a photograph on his desk toward Jarvis, rotating it with his fingers. Jarvis looked down and saw a picture of a bright red Ford Ranger, its hood crushed as it lay on its roof in the middle of a highway, surrounded by fire–retardant foam and emergency service crews.