Authors: Rafael
The Huntsman (31 page)
No one panicked. They trained rigorously to operate without
electronics in case a localized electro-magnetic pulse killed communications.
They formed a well-coordinated machine and a still formidable threat. The Team
Leader reached the Commspec who with practiced, competent hands quickly
confirmed they had no radio. “I’ve got the point cut loose with no support.”
the Leader hissed. “Follow me back”
Inside the tree line, seven calm, confident commandos waited. The
huts remained quiet. It dawned on him not a shot had been fired. “We’ve got no
radio or satellite. Take your line across, standard three by three cover.
Re-connect with the point. Find out what the hell they’re doing. Safeties off.
Anything looks crooked, kill it. Anything in the huts, kill it. Secure the
device. We’ll provide rear cover. If you need us, light a flare.”
Two three-man lines began leapfrogging each other across the
clearing with Steve bringing up the rear. The pre-dawn gloom had deepened. So
had the quiet. As if the forest had stopped to watch the unfolding horror. Six
commandos reached the huts’ outer perimeters practiced hand signals sent them
in two by two. Steve rushed up to a hut wall. The eerie quiet remained
undisturbed. No sounds broke it. No footsteps, no gear groans, nothing.
Crouched low he entered the inner ring.
Five hut entrances stared open-mouthed. Nothing moved. Not an
insect, not a breeze, not his men. He crept up to a hut window, popped up,
weapon tracking for targets. Empty. Nothing stirred. The other four also stood
mute, devoid of life. At Langley, ten satellite signals moved around the huts.
He slowly circled in place ready to fire at anything. Where had nine armed men
gone? Nothing in his experience left him able to imagine their fates. All nine
had stepped into a wormhole. When it closed each had a microsecond to ponder
the pitch black and mud bottom they stepped onto before the two miles of ocean
above crushed them.
Dead silence began creeping up his spine. Fear
—
sweat producing, breath shortening fear
—
followed. Panic began to pound his ear drums. He whirled to
break for the trees and his legs collapsed. He didn’t feel pain, didn’t feel
paralyzed but his limbs no longer responded. Face to the ground, muddy feet
approached. Hands began to strip him of equipment and clothing. Soon denuded,
one dragged him away.
Within the trees, the Team Leader and radioman waited. Nothing
beyond stirred. “We’ve got to go.”
“We can’t just leave them.” the radioman countered.
“Wake up. There’s nothing to leave. If there was they’d be here by
now. Try the satellite. Tell them we’re requesting an emergency extraction.”
“TopHat, TopHat, this is Tiger1 requesting emergency extract.
Repeat, request emergency extract. TopHat this is Tiger1, come in TopHat.” The
status light glowed steady green but only hiss emanated.
“We’re leaving. Drop everything except weapons, ammo, and medical
supplies. We can’t be slowed down.” Both looked at the huts’ vague outlines
hoping someone might return or they’d detect something, anything moving.
Together they dropped to the ground. Dreamlike confusion enveloped
them. Without any understanding, one moment found them here and the next
somewhere else. Alongside Steve, they hung nude from a branch by their ankles,
outstretched arms tied at the wrist and fastened to a log beneath. Before them
a near-naked man, spear across his lap, sat cross-legged on the ground. Eyes
closed, long hair wild as the setting shadowed his face. Behind him on either
side two huge dogs sat quietly. Besides their alert eyes, only an occasional
yawn betrayed movement.
Without an indication why, he looked up. Three heads swiveled
right, stared into the woods. In one fluid motion, the savage rose to his feet.
He strode two steps toward the Team Leader. “Do you have children?” The
unexpected question stripped him of guard and defense. He began to blubber and
cry. Urine flowed down his torso and along his arms, forming steamy wisps that
wafted in the cool pre-dawn air. “Yes. Yes, I have children.” The primitive
stepped to the radioman.
“Do you have children?” His voice cracked.
“I do. I do have children. Two of them. A boy and a girl.” Perhaps
sensing the end, Steven withheld nothing.
“I have three. My ex-wife has custody.”
Man and dogs again turned right, staring for some moments. “The
father comes.” As if in reply a hideous bellow, then another shook the air. It
huffed, once, twice. All three began yanking violently trying to wrench
themselves loose.
“Please, mister. Let us go. We don’t even know you. Why are you
doing this? Please.”
Close, very close, a low, fearsome growl rumbled through the
leaves. A hand wave sent the dogs into the woods. Their captor stood in the
trees but did not turn around.
“You are not who we are. Karma must be rebalanced. What I do, I do
to delay the beasts yet to come.” No one comprehended the answer. Their frantic
jerks became more determined.
“Please, mister, please.” Steven shouted. “We’re not animals.”
Behind him Jithu Ong’s apartment door locked as he strode toward
the elevator bank. A retinal scan permitted entry and he had never given
thought to being locked out if it failed. No thought at all. It always worked.
Like waking up. He always woke up. 13,881 times had made it a thoughtless
certainty. As certain as number 13,882.
He enjoyed the leisure of not having a set place to report to at a
set time. Nicholas Koh tethered him to a communicator not a desk and he rarely
called before noon at the earliest. The ample time made chores a leisurely
affair. Today’s began with some shirts and pants to the corner dry cleaner then
a quick shop for fresh eggs and tomatoes.
Since dawn, his taste buds had watered for an omelet. If the
grocery gods permitted, he’d add an avocado. Divine assistance had become an
essential component of acquiring one. The store’s stock always alternated
between hard as concrete or soft as mush. He’d even fallen for a kindly
neighbor’s suggestion an avocado placed in a paper bag and left in an oven
overnight would be ripe the next day. He hadn’t spoken to her since. Still,
avocado wedges sprinkled with sea salt around a warm tomato omelet topped with
fresh-ground black pepper danced before his eyes. He stepped into the elevator.
An overcast sky threatened rain at any moment. He wondered if the
same god who provided ripe avocados also handled requests for delayed
downpours. Inside the dry cleaner, internal scanners read his communicator and
had his account displayed complete with shirt preferences. “Good morning, Mr.
Ong. When would you like this?”
“Tomorrow?”
“After 1pm?” Jithu reflected a moment. A call from Koh might
disrupt the afternoon but the likelihood seemed small. Until they heard from
Nisha Saha, action surrounding the mysterious device remained stalled. Besides
a planned trip to the firing range, nothing else occupied his schedule. He
smiled.
“That’s fine.”
With more than a week since she had last communicated, Jithu had
begun to consider they might not hear from her. If they didn’t, Nicholas Koh
would not have many more options. Everything he had thrown at the problem had
failed. If Koh’s enemies decided to take the offensive, Jithu had to consider
they might come after him. Perhaps his future needed a new patron. But who paid
as well? He entered the market store.
Except for eggs, nothing else in the aisles caught his eye as he
continued toward the produce section. Small plum tomatoes fit his need. He
picked for two with deep red color and a little give when pressed. Guarded
against disappointment, he stepped toward the avocados. Pleasure creased a
smile. The second pick proved a winner. It squeezed like a sturdy rubber ball.
Feeling like he cheated the gods, Jithu hoped he made it to the cashier before
a lightning bolt struck.
The checkout scanner found his pocketed communicator, exchanged
information, and registered the purchase. Waiting customers joined the
screaming cashier when he collapsed to the ground, his face a dead, blank
expression. Hours later, the Medical Examiner’s eyes bulged. When he peered
into the chest cavity he had expected to confirm a routine coronary failure. A
shattered, fragmented heart the Seer had winked into lay inside.
*
* *
With one leg flipping the door shut, Josh Timson dropped his luggage
to the floor. No sub-orbital had had an open seat to accommodate his
last-minute departure. With a stop in Turkey and a connection in Spain,
atmospheric flight had to qualify as torture. He made a beeline for the sofa
chair, plopping down with a loud exhale. The chair’s back welcomed his head as
he sank in, closing his eyes. Tension accumulated over sixteen hours travelling
from India began to seep away. It felt good to be back in DC, back at home.
Felt good to be safe.
The support base Indian intelligence established in Tadoba had
become a madhouse in the final hours. When lost contact with Unit Four extended
to twenty-four hours, India’s Ministry of Defence, fearing a CIA strike team
loose within its borders, authorized a helicopter over flight. They found a
recent encampment with a tiger carcass, vehicles, and even a helicopter.
Langley meanwhile, continued to ask how R&AW could report Unit Four as
vanished when they had twelve active satellite signals showing the unit active
in the camp area. Two hours later the signals also vanished. The small CIA
contingent in Tadoba, led by Tilka Lon, then received an encrypted message.
Langley had intercepted radio transmissions from India’s Defence Ministry to
terminate Unit Four. Amid the growing tension, suspicions, and accusations, an
R&AW officer, Daaruk Kapur, approached asking to speak with him privately.
The ensuing questions and probes made it clear R&AW had a leak and Kapur
had developed information that might point to him.
Timson rubbed hands across his face. Insane, he thought. Except
for his having to leave, nothing made sense. And where were the scientists? He
looked at the luggage. He’d unpack tomorrow
—maybe. Right now a stiff scotch, a hot
shower, a stiffer scotch, and his own bed would suit him just fine. He made to
stand up. Disbelieving shock staggered him. A man popped out of thin air. He
blinked rapidly trying to clear a brain he thought fogged by jet lag.
An
arm snapped out. Python-strength fingers closed around his neck, constricted
the airwave, lifted him out the chair. The instinctive reflex to breathe caused
Timson to punch, kick, and scratch. A fist slammed into his gut, paralyzing
nerve and muscle cells. It emptied lungs that couldn’t refill. On the verge of
passing out, he hung limp, near lifeless.
Fingers
loosened. In spasms, he gulped for air. Oxygen rushed into vacuums. His eyes
opened to two pitiless, lifeless orbs staring back. Despite the near nudity and
longer hair, recognition flickered. “Janesh McKenzie.” The words brought a
coughing fit—along with dismay. He cycled through options none of which had a
chance. The thought arose he might not either. His voice quavered.
“What
do you want?”
“Who
are you working for?”
“The
National Scien…” Fingers throttled his windpipe. Asphyxiation jerked his body.
They loosened again. Gasps and coughs wracked his lungs. “It’s the truth. The
National Science Foundation pays me.” Reduced to pathetic bluff, Timson glared.
Shock
grew across his face. From behind McKenzie a silver sphere floated out and began
to glow orange. With bell-like clarity it emitted the sounds of access codes
dialing and connecting. Jithu Ong’s voice answered. His own began detailing
Ekani
Jayaraman’s activities and whereabouts. His heart sank.
“You
dug into my past and found Ekani. All he ever did was save my life and become a
faithful friend. Because of that he’s dead.”
“I
didn’t know they were going to kill him. I didn’t do it. Two men from Australia
did.” A cold, pitiless smile displayed.
“They
have met their fate.” Panic grew, adrenal glands fired.
“I’ve
got money. We can work this out.” The smile widened, fingers tightened.
“Your
bank accounts have already been emptied.” Neck bones snapped. Josh Timson never
felt death. One moment he was. The next he wasn’t.
As each division head finished their summary, Nicholas Koh had no
doubt his empire had come under assault. Across the globe, banks scrambled to
contain the financial chaos centered on
Singapore Worldwide Capital. Cash
transfers to point X wound up at Y. Cash deposits at Z appeared on Q’s books.
Other profit centers reported no cash deposits or found they had grown five
times the size over the previous hour.
Delivery
dates changed forward and backward. Product orders disappeared altogether or
had their quantities increased. Phone calls to Japan connected to Canada. From
one minute to the next computer data appeared and disappeared or transferred
itself to another division. Pay checks added the taxes and issued at gross. One
by one vendors, clients, and suppliers disconnected their systems afraid the
virus running rampant through Worldwide would infect them. His firm had become
a media sensation and Nicholas Koh squirmed under the spotlight’s glare.
Whispers began his underworld connections had erupted into internecine warfare.
The IT President concluded his briefing.
“Our
only option at this point is to shut everything down. We can then come up
computer by computer until we can corner this virus.” Even though it meant
financial disaster, nods around the conference table agreed.
“How long will it take?” Nicholas asked. The IT man shrugged.
“Impossible to say. This is unprecedented. We’re electronically
isolated and no one else has been infected. We have nothing to measure possible
solutions or timetables against.”
Contrary to any common sense, logic, or reason his gut continued
to whisper Janesh McKenzie. But how? He had neither the reach nor the scope. He
inhaled sharply. The CIA. It had to be the American government. They must have
learned what the device could do. They wanted him out. More than ever, he
suspected foul play in Jithu Ong’s death. He needed a pipeline into the CIA.
Josh Timson could provide it. “Well. If we have no other choice our choice is
made for us isn’t it. Inform me the instant anything changes.”
Everyone began to file out. He glanced at the two lawyers. Scowls
did not hide their ‘we told you so’ expressions. Nicholas departed, taking his
private elevator down. Homeward bound, frustration deepened with his
communicator’s every ‘Fail’ message. He thumbed ‘End’ when the thought
crystallized Josh Timson might never answer. Home required a march past the
media horde’s flashing lights and shouted questions.
Upstairs he threw off jacket and tie to gulp down a double bourbon
before pouring another. He paced along a wall filled with a crumbling empire’s
photographed mementos. His lawyers’ mocking faces danced before his eyes.
Without Jithu Ong he felt disconnected, trapped within an apartment outside of
which a thousand eyes and ears marked his every move. He finished off the
bourbon and pressed an intercom button. His staff manager answered. “Yes, Mr.
Koh.”
“Send her up.”
He did have one hope: Nisha Saha. Her continued silence worried
him but could also be her remote location. If she had located the scientists
and device no one would suspect a deadly assassin had done so. He would make
her a queen if she succeeded.
The entry door opened to his latest purchase whose raw sexuality
and absolute compliance made her the flavor-of-the-week. Waist-length raven
hair flowed down a nude body covered by a calf-length silk chemise. Erect
nipples jutted through the sheer material. The Laotian’s almond eyes locked
onto his as she cat-walked across the carpeted living room.
Nicholas ripped the garment in two flinging the pieces away. His
hand choked her. Her eyes closed halfway, lips parted, a moan escaped. “Oh,
baby.” she whispered. “You know how I like it.” He manhandled her toward the
coffee table sweeping everything off its top then pushed her down on all fours.
“Oh yes, baby, yes. Like this.” Pants dropped, he pressed against her. “Please,
baby, don’t tease me. I need you.”
He penetrated and drove deep. The concubine gasped, releasing a
long moan drenched in pleasure. He pounded against her shoving deep with every
thrust. Her frenzied, rhythmic groans filled the room. Without warning she
dropped flat, a motionless heap atop the table.
Nicholas stared down confused. He slapped her rear. Slapped it
harder with no response. A dull panic rose. Right now nothing could be worse
than a dead female in his living room. He lifted her head by the hair, pressed
two fingers against her neck. Relief washed over him. A strong pulse throbbed
within. He flipped her over. Ear to chest, a clear heartbeat thumped within.
“She’ll be fine.” Nicholas whirled around. A loin-clothed Janesh
McKenzie, spear in hand, stood in the room. Nicholas’ eyes darted everywhere
searching for how. Only he had his private elevator’s access code. Two armed
guards stood at the first floor entry. Eyes narrowed recalling the scientists
pasted to his headquarters’ wall. Random synapses clicked. The device! It
worked. “When she wakens, she won’t remember a thing. Just like two nights ago
when I visited her bedroom.”
What the hell? Did he expect him to be jealous over a by-the-hour
woman? Nicholas straightened and took a casual step toward the bar where he
kept an automatic. “Ah, ah, ah. Stay right where you are, Nicholas.” The spear
point leveled toward him. “I’m already straining not to gut you where you stand.”
But he hadn’t. Why not? Thoughts continued to churn. Memory popped
out a Tacoma photograph. CIA operatives in the front. McKenzie standing in the
background. The Maldives rendezvous with the CIA. Of course. Again Nicholas’
eyes narrowed.
“You’re behind the virus attacking my company, aren’t you?”
“I am. But a virus is attacking you. What’s attacking your company
is far, far more than a virus.” A cold, venomous smile grew. “Let me explain.
When I visited your playmate here I left an organism inside her vagina. Now
it’s in you. Ah, Nicholas. I can see in your eyes you don’t believe me.” From
behind him a silver sphere floated out. “Introduce yourself.” It briefly glowed
orange.
“I am the Seer. I see all.”
Nicholas stared open-mouthed. It hung in the air. Silent. With no
apparent power source. He appreciated the technology displayed had just turned
the world inside out but not how hopeless his had become. His mind raced
through options how to capture it. “What is it you want, McKenzie?”
“I don’t want anything, Nicholas. Well, maybe watch your facial
expressions as I explain why I’m here. In a few hours that thing you like to
insert everywhere will begin turning black. After a while, it will dry up and
start to flake off. Piece by piece. It’ll be agonizing. All that’ll be left is
an aperture for you to piss through.” Janesh chuckled. “You may want to think
about buying diapers.”
Paradoxically, the pain will go away. You’ll then have two maybe
three weeks left. If you decide to go to a hospital they will quarantine you.
Your only company will be people wearing bio-hazard suits. They’ll be panicked
not to let you become Patient Zero in a worldwide, incurable pandemic. They’ll
use every technology possible to identify the organism. Nothing will succeed.
It’s quite clever, intelligent even. Used throughout the galaxy to exterminate
entire species. Not to worry though. My friend made sure that wouldn’t happen. The
organism is coded to your genetic signature. You’ll be the only person
infected.
Despite all their efforts and tests, your insides will begin
turning black. Even your skin. They’ll watch horrified as you dry up and flake
away. It’ll be excruciating. Pain killers won’t work. Like I said, it’s quite
clever. It’ll defeat anything they have. Death will be a welcome relief,
although I suspect you’ll be screaming to the very end.
All the while your company will be falling apart. After some time
it will cease to exist and no one will want to touch it. Eventually, a
consortium controlled by me will bravely step forth to buy it at fire-sale
prices. You’ll rest peacefully in your grave knowing I will do everything in my
power to raise your empire to its former glory.
Forgive me for not sticking around and explaining all this Seer
and galaxy stuff. But I’m sure you have bigger things to worry about.” Janesh
paused, gathered himself. “We’ll never see one another again. I can’t speak for
you, but I consider the prospect a distinct pleasure. Goodbye, Nicholas.”
Janesh turned and disappeared.