Read Chase (ChronoShift Trilogy) Online
Authors: Zack Mason
Tags: #Fiction - Science Fiction, #Fiction - Historical, #Fiction - Thriller
Chase (ChronoShift Trilogy) (37 page)
Ty felt himself being pushed upward a bit as he arrived at the target time. That usually meant there was a floor or some other object below him which hadn't been present previously.
Unexpected walls suddenly surrounded him on all sides. Dull, grey walls. Something hazy obscured his vision and blurred his view of them.
He was in a room where there should be a field, and a strange gas, a bitter-tasting gas, filled the air. His lungs jolted from it at the first breath. A moment later, the blurriness in his vision grew worse.
His hand moved to his shifter, then stopped short. The face of it glowed red, inoperable.
Panicked, he ran toward one of the walls, desperately looking for a way out of this trap. The room was huge, much larger than he'd realized, and the exertion caused the gas to work even faster on his system.
He saw a door in the distance at the front of the room. It seemed to be the only way in or out.
He wasn't going to make it. His knees buckled before he could make a move toward it. The smoky gas overwhelmed his senses, thoroughly permeating his blood. The last thing he saw before losing consciousness was Vincent Torino as he shifted into the room, smiling.
***
Hardy didn't have trouble keeping up with Ty. In fact, he barely watched his friend as they made their way through the Connecticut suburb. His eyes were glued to the rooftops, windows, and the landscape surrounding them. His job was to make sure nobody got behind Ty and ambushed him.
He spied the sniper about the same time Ty did. He watched from a distance as Ty disarmed the man. Throughout the rest of the surveillance, he spied no one else waiting to get a drop on them, but something about the whole set-up still smelled rotten. He grew more and more concerned as Torino kept walking farther and farther out of the town.
Where was he going?
Why was he on foot?
He mentally willed Ty to be extra careful when Torino veered off into the empty field. There had to be a reason behind this odd behavior. They were either being lured, or Rialto's men were completely incompetent.
C'mon, Ty, what are you doing?
Don't shift,
he pled silently.
According to Mark's instructions, Ty was only supposed to follow Torino and then report back to Mark. Instead, it looked to Hardy like Ty was about to shift somewhere in order to keep up the surveillance.
His suspicions were confirmed as Ty disappeared. Now,
he
would have to decide if he would follow or just go get Mark. He reasoned he should be safe if he distanced himself far enough back from Ty's position. That way, he'd know what to tell Mark to expect if they had to go after Ty.
Seventy-five feet ought to do it. Close enough to observe, but far enough not to shift into the same trouble Ty had, assuming there was any. First, he circled the entire field to make sure he was not being observed. Then, he moved to about seventy-five feet away from Ty's point of departure and set his shifter to the time displayed on his detector. Ty had gone in about thirty seconds before Torino, but Hardy thought it safest to choose Torino's time.
The formidable concrete walls on all sides surprised him, and the gas was completely unexpected. Ty lay unconscious on the floor, and Torino stood over him.
The only visible door was flung open. Several men outfitted with gas masks and bearing machine guns entered. Torino made his way toward them. He stumbled just as the men reached him, apparently affected by the gas. One of them laid an oxygen mask over his mouth and they helped him to his feet and out the door, which swung shut solidly behind them. Bolts locked into place, echoing hollowly in the gas-filled chamber.
Hardy began to feel the effects of the gas as well. His head was swimming. The room was huge. Seventy-five feet hadn't been far enough away. He needed to get out of here. He wouldn't be able to help Ty without a gas mask.
He shook his wrist in disbelief, wondering if the gas was making him see things. The display looked red. It
couldn't
be inoperable. This was only his second shift, and he'd only gone back five years. He pushed the shift button.
Nothing.
He rocked his head side to side, trying to shake loose the growing cobwebs. The room was becoming confusing.
It spun and a knee hit the floor, a knee which was now operating independently from his mind.
That was the last thing he remembered.
***
June 2
nd
2014, Boston, MA
Neither Ty nor Hardy showed up back at headquarters. Mark waited in the lounge alone, knowing something had gone wrong.
An antique clock Savannah bought a few months ago faced him from the mantle, ticking away the seconds like an eternal metronome.
If a trap had been sprung it was up to Mark to fix it. They would be depending on him.
Absentmindedly, he fiddled his fingers, lost in concentrated thought. They were clearly in a precarious position. Rialto had them outnumbered and equally matched in equipment. If he'd killed or taken Ty and Hardy prisoner, then all Rialto would have to do now was finish Mark off and the game would be up for the good guys.
The buzz of the intercom startled him, jarring his thoughts together like the cars of the derailed train they'd just saved.
"Mark?"
"Yes, Savannah?"
"Two gentlemen are in the lobby waiting to see you."
Here we go,
he thought.
"Rialto's men?"
"They claim to be Secret Service."
"Secret Service?" It had to be a ploy. "You're not in the lobby are you?"
"No, I'm inside. I've only spoken to them over the intercom."
That was good. The door between the lobby and the rest of their headquarters was virtually impenetrable. As long as that door was not breached, no one could get in, which is why he'd given Savannah explicit instructions not to go outside or open it for any reason.
"I'll be right down," he replied.
When he got there, he saw two men on camera. And they did indeed look like the Secret Service type.
He depressed the intercom's send button. "Can I help you?" He asked.
One of them held up what looked to be an official badge, but it was hard to be sure viewing it through the grainy camera image. "Secret Service," the man said, "We're here to see Mark Carpen." His voice was tinny over the electronic communication system.
"What about?"
"That's between us and him," The guy with the badge said.
"Put your badges in the security tray." Mark slid open a small, sliding box, similar to those used in a drive-thru at a bank. Both men placed their wallets in the tray and Mark pulled it back through the wall.
The badges looked authentic enough, but with Rialto's money, anything could be bought.
"You'll have to come back another time. We're busy today."
The men smiled at each other in the way only arrogantly confident government men can. One of them leaned over to speak into the intercom. "Sir, I don't know who you are, but this is regarding a matter of national security. You're either going to let us in right now, or we're coming in after you."
That made Mark mad. He'd had enough.
"Sirs, I have no idea who
you
are. That's exactly the problem. You can try coming in after me if you want, but the steel door between us is as thick as a bank vault. In the meantime, the door behind you is now locked."
One of the agents turned and tried it, verifying it was locked.
"Those small round black holes in the walls surrounding you are the barrels of eight different wall-mounted automatic weapons. Each of them is trained on you as we speak, attuned to your body heat, and I can activate them with the push of a button."
He did. The ominous sound of rounds being loaded into multiple chambers echoed through the small foyer.
"All I have to do is push a different button and they'll start spewing rounds. Not to mention the explosives buried in the floor under your feet. I'm having a pretty bad day so far — so don't push me."
The blood drained from the men's faces, their self-assurance deflated as surely as if he'd stuck it with a pin.
"Hold up your hands," Mark ordered.
Reluctantly, both men obeyed.
"Take off your jackets and roll up your sleeves. That's right. Push your sleeves really high. I want to see your wrists, and I want to see them good."
They did so. Neither had a shifter, at least not on their wrists. Mark turned to another screen. He'd installed a density scanner in the lobby for a situation such as this. It could scan people or packages for metal or otherwise dense objects using X-ray and other imaging techniques.
"Put your guns in the tray."
The agents complied once more, and Mark slid the tray back inside, confiscating the weapons.
"You've both got ankle holsters. I'll need those too, and you, on the right, you've got something shoved in your waistband behind your back. Fork it over."
One of the agents cursed audibly, but they did as commanded. They were not accustomed to being told what to do by a citizen, nor did they like it in the least.
Mark continued with the drill. "The front door is now unlocked. One of you can go back outside and wait. The other can come in."
The one on the right went out. The other stayed.
He locked the front door again. "All right. Take off all your clothes except for your boxers and then turn around." He was not taking any chances. "Socks too." The agent grimaced as he leaned down to take them off.
Finally, when the government man had followed all his instructions, Mark unlocked the vault door to let him in. Unclothed men often found it more difficult to fight as aggressively as they would fully dressed, plus it eliminated potential hiding places for a weapon the scanner might have missed.
As the agent entered, Mark kept him covered him with a .45, refusing to lower it for even a second. The vault door slid shut solidly after him.
The agent first looked to Savannah, who maintained her distance at the side of the room, and then Mark.
"What is the matter with you, man?" The agent was incredulous.
"Let's just say we have plenty of reasons to be suspicious."
"Are you Mark Carpen?"
"I am. What does the Secret Service want with me?"
"We don't. The President of the United States does."
End of Book 2
ChronoShift Trilogy
Acknowledgements
Authors often begin their work inspired in solitude, yet before a novel can be considered complete, it has been aided and touched by many hands, each contributing to its final excellence in their own way.
My sincere thanks go out to Jack & Barbara Mason, Lindsay Mason, Joel Odom, Daniel Server, Paul Wolak, Charlie Warner, and Lynda Bacon for taking the time to review my writing and for their endless offerings of encouragement.
To Fran Stewart, for her selfless and detailed copyediting, which clearly helped make
Chase
a better book. To Matt Smartt, a true artist, for designing such a phenomenal set of book covers, and for putting up with my nit-picky perfectionism.
To 12Stone Church, for opening up God’s house to allow a writer a peaceful place to craft his work (And to Patti Reiland for keeping him supplied with endless amounts of coffee).
And finally, to all my friends and clients who have voiced their support and helped spread the word, may you receive a multitude of blessings as you continue the journey.
About the Author
Zack Mason loves the art of the word and the thrill of the story. He has wandered the countryside of Bangladesh, built churches in Costa Rica, roamed the desert in Arizona, hiked the Alps in France, and fought human trafficking in Atlanta. He has been a dishwasher, a house framer, a teacher, a waiter, a salesman, and a businessman, just to name a few. He currently resides with his family outside Atlanta, GA and plans to continue writing for as long as he is allowed to do so.
Want a peek at a Secret Chapter?
The author has installed a secret chapter on
ChronoShift’s website that can only be viewed there.
1. Go to
www.Chrono-Shift.com
2. Use the same login give earlier in this book and
click on “Search Archives”.
3. Enter a search for “Oval Office Assault”.
4. Follow the instructions.
Don’t forget to look for the next installment of the ChronoShift Trilogy
Turn
Coming Soon - 2012
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