Authors: Doug J. Cooper
When they decided he was milked dry, Bonnie let him sleep
for a few hours. Then she explained the gravity of his situation with great
clarity.
“Dr. Sheldon, from the viewpoint of the Union, you are the
greatest traitor in the history of humanity. You’ve consorted with an alien
invader. You’ve withheld information critical to the security of the planet.
This was vital information that our leaders needed to know about when you
learned it. You waited almost two decades to tell us, and then only under
extreme duress. The entire planet may be at risk because of your unconscionable
decisions and greedy behavior.”
Sheldon was so physically and emotionally drained that he
didn’t even try to defend himself. When her words registered with him, he
realized at last that his kidnapping was a Union-organized activity; he was in
a government facility, and he had been dragged off the street and mutilated by legal
authority.
With the bandages in place, he couldn’t know that the
mutilation had been staged. He would never learn that Sid’s “crazy” accomplice was
his DSA partner, Jack, who had dressed for the part. During Sheldon’s toe
removal, Jack had created a realistic noise by pressing the spinning blade of
the cutting tool against a piece of leather he had placed at the base of the
chair. At the moment he’d started cutting the leather, he’d taken a sterile pin
in his other hand and pushed it into the skin of Sheldon’s second toe. The throbbing
ache Sheldon felt had been from a spring clip with a stiff coil Jack had used
to pinch the same toe. Once the toe “removal” was complete, the two agents had
tricked him into thinking he was seeing his own appendage by showing him a
piece of candy covered in red syrup.
But to Sheldon, it was all savagely real. His umbrage rose
and then deflated. Part of his brain suggested reasons and rationalizations for
his past actions, but he didn’t believe them himself. This woman, Bonnie, was
right. He’d been expecting a knock on the door, either from the Kardish or the
Union, for many years. Like a man on the run who had gotten caught, he could finally
rest. His nightmare was over.
He brought his attention back to her instructions.
Bonnie was no longer playing the role of the good cop. “You
must decide right now and at this moment. You may choose to be imprisoned in a
dark hole. A hole buried so deep you’ll never see sunlight or another person.
Wait, that’s wrong. You’ll see interrogators every day. And they’ll treat you
the same as you were this morning. Did you know that they can cut off a piece
of you every day, a painful bloody piece, and continue doing it for years?
Literally, Dr. Sheldon, for years. And you won’t wake up all bandaged when it’s
over. No, you’ll sit there and suffer until the next day, when it’ll start all
over. Every day. For years and years and years.”
“Stop! I’ll cooperate. Please stop.”
Bonnie changed modes. “Here it is, Dr. Sheldon. Tell me when
you don’t understand. You will live your private and professional life like
nothing has changed. You will not alter your routine or relationships in any
way. You will confirm to your public and confidential contacts that the crystal
is on schedule for delivery to the
Alliance
. We will be watching you
always to make sure you act as instructed.”
“You mean you’re going forward with it?” He was incredulous.
“After what I just told you, you’re actually putting the crystal on the Fleet ship?”
Sid sat with Cheryl in a room a few
floors down from where they’d been interrogating Sheldon. He watched her as he
summarized what they had learned and realized he was glad she hadn’t been
present to see the questioning. Portions of his tradecraft weren’t pretty, and
he wanted her to view him in a positive light.
“Sheldon confirmed that the Kardish have a quarter million three-gens
in their inventory,” he said. “He believes they’re all up on the ship. For the
past couple of years, they’ve been leaning on him to make more. He seems confident
they’ll be using these crystals for whatever their master plan is. He doesn’t
seem to know what that plan is, though.”
“And what about Criss?” she asked. “Is it one and done? If
they get him, will they leave?”
“Sheldon says that they’re deadly serious—his words—about
getting Criss. But I don’t know if he even knows what that means. He talked
about them blowing up the world if they don’t get their way, but my sense is
that he was trying to build drama. And he seems to have no idea when they’ll
leave.”
Sid put his feet up on the chair next to his and leaned back.
It was becoming a long day. Cheryl got a message and moved to the back of the
room to chat quietly. He started to get up and give her privacy, but she waved
him back to his seat. It sounded like she needed to make some decisions about
her ship and didn’t care that he heard.
He watched her as she concentrated on her work. He could not
imagine a more beautiful woman.
We were great together,
he thought. He became
momentarily ticked off at life for forcing him have to choose between her and
duty.
“Sorry about that,” she said as she returned to her seat.
He watched her get settled in, her legs draped over the
armrest, and had a thought. “Suppose the Kardish are using us to produce
crystals for them. We’ve done that, so our relationship seems primed to move
into its next phase. It would be really confusing if they kept orbiting and
collected a pile of four-gens as that production gears up. What would be the
point of it all?”
“And why aren’t they producing crystals themselves?” Cheryl
asked. “Their technology is clearly superior to ours. What’s that all about?”
* * *
Cheryl looked up when Jack popped
his head in the door and announced, “It’s time for a nice cool beer or three.
Come on. I’m buying.” He started down the hall without checking to see if they
were keeping up. “The first round, anyway.”
She and Sid exchanged a glance and then followed Jack. He led
them a few blocks away to a funky pub where they crowded into a small booth.
Jack sat on one side, and Cheryl squeezed in tight next to Sid on the other.
Her leg pressed against his, and the physical connection was electric. She was
having trouble concentrating and wondered if Sid even noticed.
Sid and Jack had a brief debate about bottles versus
pitchers while Jack activated a newly installed security feature on his com. Given
the recent developments, the DSA had provided them a modification to block
incoming and outgoing signals in their immediate vicinity. As long as they
remained alert for direct human observers and kept the conversation
sufficiently vague, they would have privacy to discuss operational issues.
“A huge team is now putting Victoria Wellstone under a
microscope,” said Jack. “She’s being watched around the clock, teams are
visiting everywhere she’s been, we’re digging through her records, and every
poor bastard she’s ever even talked to is getting the treatment.”
Their pitcher of beer arrived. Apparently, observed Cheryl,
fresh draft carried the day. Jack poured for everyone, downed half his glass,
and belched.
He smiled at his sophisticated contribution and continued.
“Victoria has developed a convolution of corporations that own companies that
own subsidiaries that own divisions. It goes in circles, and it’s quite
effective at hiding her activities. Crystal Fabrications sells a lot of
crystals in small, legitimate transactions. It turns out that many of the
purchasers are part of her network. These outfits then centralize the purchases
and transfer them in bulk to the Kardish vessel.”
Cheryl lifted her beer and stopped before taking a draw. “How
does a race show up on an alien planet, integrate into society, and start a
sophisticated scam in only a few months?”
Sid expanded on the thought. “If they look and talk and act
like us, maybe the Kardish have been here for hundreds of years, and we never
knew it.”
As exhaustion and the amber brew relaxed them, the three
strayed from shop talk. Jack regaled Cheryl with story after story of
adventures he and Sid had experienced together. Their wild exploits amused her,
and even correcting for embellishment, she was amazed at the places they’d
been, the chances they’d taken, and the impact they’d made.
As she listened, two things fascinated her the most. The
first was personal. It appeared to her that Jack’s stories were supportive of
Sid. Sid was sophisticated. Sid was calm and cool. Sid led the way. Sid saved
the day. She wondered what Jack knew about their previous relationship and if
he was somehow trying to repair past damage.
The second was professional. She noticed that once a minute,
Jack scanned the room. He never stopped talking or laughing or being a part of
the group. But it seemed as if he were tracking everyone in the pub, mentally
recording their location and what they were doing. She watched him do this over
and over, and then became curious if Sid did it as well.
She shifted her position in the booth so she could see Sid
more directly. Given the tight seating, her movement caused her leg to push
even harder against his. He turned to look at her and saw her looking at him. He
smiled and patted her knee.
Wrong message,
she thought.
I wasn’t
playing footsies.
Story time continued with Jack relating yet another
fantastic tale. And then she saw Sid scan the room. He did it just like Jack,
only shifted by half a minute. He had Jack’s back and Jack had his. They were
partners.
She was happy for Sid that he had found his place in life,
though she couldn’t deny the emotional tug-of-war that battled in her head and
heart that it didn’t include her. Yet at this time and in this situation, she chose
to enjoy the moment.
They were most of the way through their last beer when Sid
said, “We need to have a heart-to-heart with Criss. It’s time we moved the dial
up a few notches.”
“Stand back,” Jack winked at Cheryl. “He’s entering
improviser mode and has a plan coming together.” Looking at Sid, he asked,
“What are you thinking?”
“Remember Madrid?” asked Sid.
“Which time?” responded Jack, grinning from ear to ear.
“C’mon, pal.” Sid grinned too. “An irresistible force meets
an immovable object?”
Jack clapped his hands. “Oh yeah, stuck between a rock and a
hard place.”
They both cracked up laughing, seemingly convinced they were
a comedy team who’d just created a detailed strategic plan to address a world
crisis.
Cheryl looked back and forth from one to the other, laughing
too, though she wasn’t sure why. “Is this a puzzle I can figure out, or is this
one of those ‘you had to be there’ things?” She sipped her beer. “Hmm. Wait.” She
paused as her thoughts gelled. “An irresistible force meets an immovable
object. You’re talking about Criss and the Kardish.”
Sid pointed at her. “The captain scores.”
She looked off into the distance with unfocused eyes, still
thinking. “He’s stuck between a rock and a hard place. You’re going to stick Criss
in the middle of us versus them.”
“Ding,” said Jack, ringing an imaginary bell to show she was
correct.
She drained her beer and let out a small belch. “But how do
we know what he’ll do? What would motivate him to choose us over them?”
Sid and Jack raised their glasses and said in unison, “Better
the devil you know than the devil you don't.” They downed the last of their
beers in celebration of the moment, and seemed to drift momentarily away. She wondered
if they were thinking about their crazy time in Madrid.
* * *
“Okay,” Sid admitted as they were gathering
their things to leave. “The plan needs more detail, but the basic parameters seem
fixed. We have us, we have them, and we have Criss as the lever in between.” He
stepped back so Cheryl could crawl out of the booth. “We’ll be at Crystal Fab
tomorrow and can brainstorm ideas with Juice and Criss.”
They made their way outside the pub and started up the
walkway. Cheryl and Sid were side by side, with Jack following close behind. Without
consciously thinking it through, Sid moved to put his arm around Cheryl.
As he lifted his arm, Jack roared at the top of his lungs.
“Sid! At your nine!”
The volume and urgency in Jack’s voice drove Sid to act. He
grabbed Cheryl by the shoulders, yanked her forward, and used his leg to sweep
hers out from under her. His actions caused her to plummet to the ground, and he
fell above her, absorbing his weight in his hands and toes. He gathered her
head and legs in his arms, pulling her into a ball, using his body to shield
her from the unknown danger now at his back.
At the same time, Jack dove behind a garden planter on the
walkway. He hit the ground and tilted his head to peer around the barrier. The
man had moved, and it took Jack a brief moment to relocate him. With a quiet
zwip
,
a bolt of white energy discharged from the assailant’s weapon. The bolt flew
above Sid and Cheryl, hitting the outside wall of the pub and creating an
impressive impact crater.
Jack, weapon already primed while he was mid-dive, swung his
arm from behind the planter and returned a shot in kind.
Zwip
. The bolt hit
the man in the chest. He collapsed and didn’t move. Jack scanned forward and
backward, looking for any other danger. Sid, now up and with his own weapon primed,
joined Jack in searching and assessing. Except for the fallen man, neither of
them could identify a further threat.
A crowd was gathering outside the pub. From long experience,
Sid knew that the best course of action was to leave the scene as quickly as
possible. Law enforcement would be there in seconds, and they didn’t want to be
sidetracked with sorting through the administrative details of whatever had
happened.
They helped Cheryl to her feet and scurried around a corner,
taking a circuitous route and keeping their faces covered until they were back
at the DSA facility where they’d interrogated Sheldon. Though law enforcement
would certainly be able to track three people to that building, a courteous and
officious DSA interagency relations staff member would do an admirable job of muddling
the facts and stonewalling their inquiry.
Safely inside, Jack went up to brief the night commander and
see what he could learn about the shooter. Sid stayed with Cheryl and looked
after her.
In uncharacteristic behavior, Sid expressed his thoughts. “Damn,
Cheryl. You hit the ground hard. Did I hurt you?”
“Stop, please. You’re one of the few people who know
firsthand how tough I am. I fell. It hurt. The bruises will heal. You saved my
life.” She stood up on her toes and kissed his cheek.
He pretended not to see the grimace on her face as she
stretched the nasty scrape on her hip to do so. “I’m going to take you home,” he
stated, uncomfortable having her travel alone until they learned more.
“I don’t think so, Sid.” His face fell and she added, “I do
appreciate the offer, though.”
He watched her walk away and noticed the limp in her gait.
I
do know how tough you are,
he called after her in his mind.
Jack came up behind Sid, and together they watched her move
stiffly through the exit. “She okay?”
“Yeah, she’s gonna have some nasty bruises, but she’s as
tough as they come.” Sid turned to look at him. “What’d we learn?”
“He’s a pro for hire.” Jack sat as he spoke and leaned back
with his eyes closed. “That’s all we know. There’s an impressive string of cutouts
and overlays that hide the payment and communications trail between him and his
employer. When the analysts upstairs make a connection to the next person in
the chain, they just find another layer of confusion. Whoever set it up did a frigging
work of art.”
“It’s almost worthy of Victoria,” joked Sid.
Jack opened his eyes and they looked at each other. Sid’s offhanded
comment hit a resonant chord. If Victoria Wellstone still considered Sid to be
a psych specialist who could influence the placement of the four-gen on the
Alliance
,
then she was certainly someone with the means, opportunity, and motive to
eliminate him if she perceived him to be a hurdle to her agenda.