The Fog of Dreams

by Justin Bell

  ********

  McKie folded his arms across his chest, pinched the bridge of his nose, and lowered his head, shaking it slowly.

  "Welcome to my world, Director," Agent Grace said. They had just gotten a front seat to the show courtesy of the new satellite coverage. They'd seen the Strickland house escape, the car chase, and the grisly end of the whole affair, watching and mentally trying to control the outcome, but ultimately standing there useless as it unfolded before them.

  "Fuck!" McKie hissed. "Who the hell is this guy?"

  "This is William Strickland. One of the most impressive contractors the NSA has ever had. We made him even better."

  "Congratulations, you've built a soldier so damned perfect we can't control him or beat him. That's quite a fucking accomplishment." Director McKie stood still, his arms crossed.

  Agent Grace scowled. "This isn't over yet. I'm not letting this backwoods Vermont redneck outsmart us."

  McKie smiled slightly. "Good answer. What's the next play?"

  "The next play is we wait. Not for long, don't worry. He has an innate need to find his wife and daughters, and that drives his every movement. We can use that."

  McKie knew that Grace was right, and appreciated his forward thinking. The family element was something that he would have thought was a big mistake, but instead it had turned into a leveraging tool. That was something to stick in his back pocket for the future. Perhaps there was something here to salvage yet.

  "So is he going to return home?"

  "I believe so, yes. We're going to pull back, and lure him in to another trap. Only this time, we won't make the mistake of rubber bullets." Agent Grace squinted down at the monitors embedded in his desk, regarding the mangled car. Operation: Harvest had been his most impressive crowning achievement with the NSA. Losing Strickland would be a shame, but they had accumulated so much data from the experiment, he had no doubt that they could resume easily. This was far from over.