Rise: Luthecker, #2

by Keith Domingue

  “It’s a drone strike. He’s going to send a drone strike.” There was a note of panic in Parks’ voice. He abruptly grabbed Luthecker by the shoulders.

  “That’s what it is, isn’t it? A drone strike. What the fuck are you going to do about it?”

  Luthecker pushed Parks back before pointing to the sky.

  It happened so fast that the explosion seemed to erupt from the Dniester River itself. An enormous thunderclap hit first, and only a jet stream trail hanging in the air gave evidence that whatever slammed into the Dniester River came from the sky, and did not originate from the depths of the river itself.

  The impact of the SR-73 scramjet, crashing at Mach one point five onto the surface of the Dniester River, was like a bomb detonating, both in sound and seismic effect. The impact shook the North Star castle and the entire city of Tiraspol as if a powerful earthquake had struck the region. Windows of buildings nestled along the riverbank shattered, bricks shook loose, and concrete in the streets cracked. Pedestrians within a quarter mile of the impact site were literally knocked off their feet. The plume of water caused by the aircraft slamming into the water rose over one hundred feet in the air and set off an enormous ripple wave that washed beyond the river banks and over cars as far as fifty feet from either shoreline.

  The concussion of the impact, even though half a mile away, had knocked both Luthecker and Parks off their feet.

  Luthecker used the balcony railing to get up, while Parks pushed off the concrete floor to regain his footing.

  Seconds after the jet hit the surface of the water, the waves calmed, and the river absorbed the corpse of the SR-73 as if nothing happened—the only evidence of impact being the small circle of destruction caused by the waves and the echo of countless alarms going off throughout the city.

  “What the hell was that? It was a drone strike sent by Howe, wasn’t it?” Parks asked, his voice shaking. “Did you do that? Did you stop it? Was that you?”

  “That,” Luthecker began, his voice rock steady, “was the girl.”

  Parks looked out over the city of Tiraspol. He saw the twinkling of broken glass and the disarray of building bricks on the streets below, along with people scrambling in all directions, confused and panicked.

  Parks turned back to Luthecker and smiled. “You did it. Just like I knew you would. You fucking stopped James Howe.”

  Winn pushed the large chunks of plaster off his chest and rolled to his feet. He instinctively checked his forehead with his hand and pulled back a trace of blood, the cut on the side of his skull reopened. He immediately scanned the small office area in search of Nikki. The proximity of the SR-73’s crash into the Dniester River was a half mile upstream from their location, but the concussion had still caused the abandoned building’s far wall to partially collapse, and now a large slab of plaster and wood was lying across the desk where Nikki had been working only a few moments earlier. Winn sprang into action when he realized she was nowhere in sight. He jumped over several chunks of ceiling to the desk, and he pushed a large wooden beam that lay across it aside.

  He found Nikki beside the desk curled up in a fetal position. Her body and face were covered with small bits of plaster and dust.

  “Nikki,” Winn shouted.

  She didn’t move.

  Winn crouched low and pushed debris from her face.”

  “Nikki,” he said louder.

  She didn’t move.

  Then her eyes started to flutter, and she began to cough. Her limbs slowly began to unfurl.

  “Are you okay?” Winn asked.

  “I think so.”

  Winn helped Nikki to her feet. She tried to stand on her own but got dizzy. Winn held her upright. She shook off the dizziness and tried to get her bearings, tried to get her head around what she had done.

  “I was aiming for the water. It was a one in a million shot, and I—”

  “I think you hit it.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “Pretty sure.”

  “Was anyone hurt?”

  “I don’t know.”

  “We have to find out. If I hurt anyone…”

  “I don’t think you hurt anyone. And a lot of people would have died if you hadn’t intervened. You did the right thing.”

  “We have to find Alex.” It hit Nikki, abrupt and hard, how much she missed him. “I have to see him…I have to bring him home…”

  Winn hugged her close. “You will see him. And we will bring him home. It’s going to be alright,” Winn reassured both Nikki and himself, once again. “I promise you, everything will be okay.” In truth, Winn had no idea the scope of the damage after what Nikki had done, or if Alex was even alive.

  There was dead silence in the launch control center, as all monitors displayed static, and everyone in the room was in a state of shock.

  Ringing cell phones erupted throughout the room.

  “Where did it land?” Boal asked.

  “It didn’t land, sir. It crashed,” Calleri responded.

  “Where?”

  Technicians hit keys, an attempt to jumpstart their systems and regain control. The central monitor on the far wall blipped several times before displaying satellite images, grainy black and white photos of the Dniester River.

  “Close to the original target. But it looks like it ended up in the drink. We’re getting pings from the black box that are coming from the river. There is minimal damage to the surrounding area as far as I can tell. Whoever brought down our bird got really lucky.

  Howe’s thoughts immediately turned to Luthecker as the cause. Somehow, the young soothsayer was behind this. He knew that this was a disaster, and he had to have an answer, not only for the board of directors but the Department of Justice as well. He had to spin what had just happened to his advantage and convince them that Luthecker had hijacked a normal test flight and was a real threat to National Security. Lucas Parks he would deal with later. His first priority, however, was to clean up this mess. He turned to Boal. “This was a hijacking of a test plane.” There was panic and desperation in his voice.

  “The Russians aren’t going to see it that way. Neither is the State Department.”

  “It was an experimental flight that went wrong…horribly wrong. It’s not the first time something like this has happened. But we can spin this as an entirely new threat. Electronic hijacking. If it can happen to us, it can happen to any major airline, or any military operation, and no one is safe. As a nation, we will need to triple our cyber-security efforts.” Howe suddenly sensed opportunity. “What happened here today is just as big a threat as what happened on 9/11. Coalition Properties is at the forefront of cyber-security solutions. We are the only ones who can prevent an event like this from happening again. We will find all of those who are responsible for this attack and bring them to justice. And I want your team to be on the front lines on this. You need to stick with that narrative.”

  “But, sir, the State Department—”

  “I can handle the State Department. There’s tremendous opportunity for profit here. You can become a very rich man, Dr. Boal.” Howe looked over the launch control room. Nervous eyes were locked on him.

  “As can everyone in this room,” Howe added, loud enough for all to hear.

  Technicians looked at one another, still dazed by what had just happened and unsure what to make of Howe’s offer.

  Howe’s cell phone buzzed in his pocket. He pulled the phone free and checked the caller ID. It was Collin Smith.

  Howe turned his cell phone off and slipped it back into his pocket. He turned back to Boal. “It was a hijacking; we’ve discovered a serious threat to security, and as a team, Coalition Properties is the most qualified organization to address this issue of national security. That’s the story. That’s our story. Is that understood?”

  No one moved.

  A hard knock on the door caused everyone in the small dark room to jump.

  “Who is that?” Howe asked.

  “I don’t know
,” Boal said.

  “Everyone who knows about this flight test should be in this room right now,” Howe said.

  There was another knock on the door, harder, impatient, and with authority.

  The air was tense as Boal slowly opened the door to the launch control center.

  Howe’s heart sank when he saw three men, two with military police fatigues and carrying M-16 rifles on either side of a tall man in a black suit. The man in the suit looked directly at Howe.

  “James Howe?” the man in the suit asked.

  “This is a private facility, and you have no authorization to be on the premises,” Howe began.

  The military policemen raised the barrels of their M-16s, just enough to make sure everyone in the room got the point that this wasn’t a conversation.

  “Your board of directors and the Justice Department say different,” the man in the suit said, before he pulled his wallet from his jacket pocket and opened it to his ID. He held it up for Howe to see. “Will Reid, Department of Homeland Security. James Howe, you’re under arrest for treason.”

  35

  Ne Cede Malis

  Masha slowly pulled her Impreza WRX to the side of the road. She stopped the car and put the vehicle in neutral, taking her shaking hands off the wheel. What sounded like an enormous thunderclap had just rattled the streets and abruptly ripped the steering wheel from her hands, causing her to briefly lose control of the vehicle. Even from a distance, she, along with Yaw and Chris, could see what appeared to be the source, a hundred foot high water spout exploding from the Dniester River.

  “What the hell was that?” Yaw said in reaction.

  The three of them exchanged looks.

  “Alex,” Yaw said.

  “Or Nikki,” Chris added.

  “Or both of them.”

  Masha looked at Yaw then at Chris. “You have very scary friends,” Masha said.

  “Wait until you meet Alex; he’s really gonna trip you out,” Chris answered back.

  “He’s not answering,” Parks said. It was the third time he had tried to call James Howe. “What’s happening to him right now, do you think?”

  “Cause and effect.”

  “This is a major fuck up on his part. There’s no way the Coalition takes responsibility for this. They’re going to hang him.” Parks could barely contain his excitement. “And you know all of this. I know you do. It was Brilliant. I knew you’d stop him.”

  “It wasn’t me.”

  “Yes it was. If you hadn’t saved the girl’s life, she wouldn’t love you. If she didn’t love you, you wouldn’t be here. If you weren’t here, she wouldn’t have done whatever it is she has done. It’s all connected. And none of it’s random. Otherwise, you couldn’t do what it is that you do, now could you? If things were random.”

  There was a hard knock on the door, followed by a muffled voice from the other side. “Sir, are you alright, sir?”

  Parks’ eyes flashed irritation at the interruption. He moved to the door of his suite and opened it.

  An exasperated looking guard carrying an AK-47 stood outside.

  “I’m fine. Everything is fine.”

  “It appears we had an earthquake,”

  “It was not an earthquake.”

  “There are several pieces of artwork—”

  “Take the others and sound the castle. Report back to me if there are major concerns. Otherwise, I wish to remain undisturbed.”

  The guard peeked over Parks’ shoulder and glanced at Luthecker. “Yes, sir.”

  “Go. Now.”

  Parks closed the door, and walked over to the bar. “I think this is worthy of celebration.” He approached an oak colored stand-alone wine cellar next to the bar. The refrigerated door opened with a hiss, and Parks looked over the bottles before making his selection. “Crystal, 1992. In my opinion, the best year.” Parks popped the cork and filled two champagne flutes. He held one out for Luthecker. “Now that James Howe is out of the way, have you considered my offer?”

  Luthecker made no move to take the glass of champagne.

  “You don’t have to decide right away. You have until I find your woman.”

  “Do you want to know how you’re going to die?”

  Parks placed both glasses of champagne on the bar. “We’re going to do this now, I see. Fair enough.” Parks then pulled the KA-BAR combat Kukri blade from the back of his waistband. “I never really believed that you would accept my offer,” Parks said as he moved the knife from one hand to the other. “But I made it sincerely. If you had accepted it, I would have honored my word. So technically, I never lied. Which makes what’s about to happen next entirely your choice. I’m just curious—considering my sincerity, and your inability to observe the observer, did you see this coming? Are you willing to take responsibility for everything that’s happened?”

  “When you were just ten years old, you watched your father get beat to death.”

  “My father was not an intelligent man,” Parks snapped back, without hesitation. “I knew that when I was nine. He picked a fight, and he lost. He didn’t think before he acted. In that brief moment, while I watched him being pummeled to his end, I learned, what not to do.”

  Luthecker watched as Parks held the blade with his right hand and tightened his grip on the handle.

  “What you pulled on those weaker men will not work on me.” Parks stepped closer.

  Luthecker didn’t move. “From that moment on, you decide to shut out everything you were afraid of. And you were successful—save for one thing. Would you like to know how you’re going to die?”

  Parks lunged at Luthecker, slashing the blade from right to left at neck level. Luthecker anticipated the strike, sidestepped, blocking Parks’ blade hand with his left, and back fisting Parks in the temple with his right, causing Parks to stumble backwards. Parks shook it off and began to circle Luthecker.

  To even the most experienced warriors, combat is a blur of instinct and adrenaline that is survived by molding technique into lethal habit with repetitive training. Details of success stand out and anchor a warrior’s memory—how quickly a knee collapsed with a particular strike. How fast a body dropped to the floor when removed of life by a knife slashed across the throat. The simple weight of a sword. The amount of recoil from a weapon’s discharge. These details, in turn, create entrenched patterns in combat style. What few understood was that some of those anchored details in a warrior’s memory might have little to do with combat and reached back all the way to childhood.

  Luthecker saw those details in Parks’ life in a near overwhelming kaleidoscope of images. He could see which minute details influenced Parks’ every move of aggression, long before Parks had held his first weapon.

  Parks slashed his blade toward Luthecker again, wildly this time, but Luthecker was already standing on the other side of him. Luthecker then circled back and away, toward the wall.

  Parks grinned in response. “You’re very fast. I see you’ve been trained.”

  “Do you want me to tell you what you’re going to do next?”

  “I already know.” Parks ripped one of the Turco-Mongol sabers from the wall.

  “You despised your father, and his death led to your world view of cold indifference. To you, most lives don’t matter unless they’re made to matter. But it was when your younger sister died of pneumonia at the age of six, however, that you lost your ability to love; and that indifference transformed into hate.”

  Parks stopped moving.

  “It was the poverty you blamed. Your father was dead. Your mother had no money. The ER was so overcrowded with all that helplessness and death. And then suddenly your sister was among them. You were among them. The helpless and the dead. You were twelve, and she was six. She was innocent. She didn’t deserve this. And you loved her so much.”

  “Whatever you think you’re doing, it isn’t going to work,” Parks said as he raised the long, heavy blade of his Turco-Mongol saber. The ancient sword trembled, ever so s
lightly, in Parks’ hand.

  “The moment you saw your sister’s corpse sitting on a filthy slab, you defined love as a liability, so you shut it out, forever. You emptied your soul of everything, save for the pain, the only reminder of her besides the jewelry box you chose to keep, which over time inverted itself into a lust for the suffering of others. Einstein postulated that energy is never created nor destroyed; it merely changes forms. That applies to human energy as well. Thus your humanity transformed into an emotionless machine with a lust for death which abhorred poverty and was focused on only one goal; you vowed to become the most powerful man in the world, by any means necessary.”

  Parks lashed out at Luthecker with the much bigger saber blade, but to empty air.

  “It’s all so obvious.”

  “Shut up and die.” Parks kept lunging at Luthecker, slashing back and forth with the Genghis Kahn-era weapon, but Luthecker was always just one move ahead. The fact that Luthecker’s elusiveness seemed to take so little effort rattled Parks and caused him to second guess his own moves. Luthecker pounded on the hesitation with his words.

  “But there’s still a fading ember of life left in you. Why is it you think that you built hospitals? Why is it that you kept her music box?”

  Parks lunged.

  Luthecker sidestepped.

  The couch was now between he and Parks.

  “That fading ember represents the one fear that you have left; and it’s not that you won’t conquer the world. You’ve done that. It’s that when you die, she won’t be there, waiting for you.”

  Parks visibly snapped. He let out a roar and leapt over the couch, blade high, slashing down at Luthecker with all his strength. Luthecker, for all his prescience, barely stepped away in time.

  Parks looked at Luthecker, his face covered in sweat. “You’re a monster,” he said between hard breaths.

  “Maybe. But Evil is its own thing, and I will not yield to it. Ever.”

  “Stop running. Stop talking. Just shut up and fight.”