Class Fives: Origins (36 page)

“I’m tellin’ ya,” John said, exasperated, “This is exactly what I didn’t want to happen. You know what I mean? I feel like a zoo animal.”

Roger grunted agreement, but kept his attention fixed on the air before him.

John glanced around the room, as if something actually interesting might suddenly appear, then sighed.

“I thought Dan was coming today,” he said finally.

“Busy,” Roger grunted.

“Doing what?”

Roger shrugged.

“Whatever cops do,” Roger replied.

John nodded absently.

“Nice guy,” he muttered idly, drawing another grunt of agreement from Roger.

The door opened and White stepped through.

“We need to speak with you,” he said. “It’s important.”

They exchanged a glance, John shrugged and they rose and followed White down the hall to a conference room. Jones was already there, standing at the window, looking out over the medical complex grounds.

White ushered them in and closed the door.

“Sit down,” he said.

Roger and John settled into two of the comfortable chairs that surrounded the long, heavy table.

Jones turned away from the window.

“We have a situation,” he said flatly.

Roger and John exchanged a quick look.

“What kind of situation?” John asked.

Jones glanced at White, then turned back to them.

“I understand you’ve been partially briefed on the incident thirty-five years ago in Russia. The experiment.”

“Yeah,” John said, his tone slightly wary.

“And Dr. Henry’s theory that that was what caused your… capabilities.”

“That’s right,” John prompted cautiously.

Jones paused, as if to indicate a change of direction.

“We have reasonable intelligence that someone is attempting to recreate that experiment. Our analysis indicates it will occur very shortly. Most likely within the next few days.”

John stared at him, his face pinching in confusion.

“Okay, so, what are you saying? That there are going to be more like us?”

“Dr. Henry believes, and others concur, that a repeat of the experiment will most likely result in the destruction of the planet.”

John gaped at him, then shot a glance at where Roger sat, his full attention fixed on the man in the dark suit.

“Go on,” Roger said quietly.

Jones seemed to draw in a steadying breath before continuing.

He explained briefly about the bits and pieces of evidence that added up to that disturbing conclusion. He outlined what little they knew of the original attempt those long decades ago, of the discovery of Franklin and the device he had constructed, as well as his murder, and the mission currently on its way to intercept whatever it was Dr. Svag had constructed before it, too, could be snatched away to contribute to the experiment.

When he concluded, it took a moment for Roger and John to absorb what they’d heard.

“That’s one Hell of a story,” John said. “Why are you telling us?”

Jones turned his attention fully on Roger.

“We need your help,” he said flatly.

“To do what?” John interrupted.

“We need to mount an incursion into Russia. We need to locate the site of the experiment, and we need to destroy it utterly.”

Roger merely stared back at him, expressionlessly.

“Normally,” Jones continued, “We would seek a diplomatic agreement to allow our team's entry, perhaps with the assistance of the Russian Special Forces. But there simply isn’t time to navigate the bureaucratic red tape. And the Russians would certainly be suspicious. So it has to be a covert insertion.”

He paused, searching Roger’s eyes for a flicker of understanding, then continued.

“But we don’t have the proper resources to mount that kind of operation. We’d never get past their border defense systems undetected. The only chance would be a high-altitude stealth incursion.”

“Stealth,” John interrupted, “That invisible stuff.”

“Invisible to radar,” Jones corrected. “The radar signature is so small it is virtually invisible. We could fly a single long range bomber across their territory and they’d never know we were there.”

“Is there a point to this?” Roger cut in quietly.

“Yes,” Jones said, unselfconsciously. “We would like you to fly over Russian territory in a stealth bomber, and when we locate the experiment site, we want you to jump out and destroy it completely.”

Roger drew in a breath and settled back in the chair.

“You want me to jump out of a stealth bomber over Russia.”

“Yes.”

“You want me to parachute into Russia.”

“No,” Jones said, almost sharply. “The parachute would light up their radar.”

Roger stared at him a moment before responding, almost uncertainly.

“You want me to jump out of a stealth bomber into Russia, without a parachute.”

“Yes.”

“And destroy some kind of… facility.”

“Yes.”

Roger nodded, almost sagely, then slowly turned to look at John, whose eyebrows seemed to be trying to disappear into his hairline.

Roger’s lips began to twitch.

John laughed first. In a moment both men were almost hysterical with laughter.

As it wound down a few seconds later, Jones continued as if there had been no interruption.

“It makes perfect sense,” he said simply. “You cannot be harmed. And you do not need to use weaponry. The only thing we would need to arrange would be the extraction, and we’re very good at that.”

Roger looked at him, almost disbelieving.

“You’re serious.”

“Yes.”

He looked at John as if to share another bout of hysterics, but the look in John’s eyes was of a mirth that was already dying. He turned back to Jones, his expression hardening into a cold mask.

“Now, why in Hell would I do something like that?” he said simply.

“I thought I’d explained that,” Jones said, unruffled. “If you don’t, and the experiment is conducted, it most likely will destroy the planet. I don’t see that you have much choice, unless you want to die sometime in the next few days, along with the rest of the world.”

The air seemed to chill suddenly as the implication of the statement began to sink in.

“Personally, I’m against it,” Jones said flatly. “You’ve had no training, no indoctrination. You haven’t even been properly vetted. But the reasoning is sound. You’re our least compromisable option.”

Roger pondered this a long moment.

John turned to him.

“So, what do you think?” John said quietly.

Roger took one further moment to consider the idea, then gave a small shrug.

“I think he’s right,” he said. “I don’t have much choice.”

John regarded him seriously, then gave a sharp nod and turned back to Jones.

“Okay, what about me?” he said, a hint of something like defiance in his tone.

“What about you?” Jones responded.

“Well,” John said, “If he’s going to Russia, what do you want me to do?”

“I have no orders concerning you, Mr. Kleinschmidt,” Jones said flatly.

“What?”
John almost snapped, sitting suddenly forward in his chair. “What are you talking about? What else am I here for? And why are you wasting my time?”

“He goes with me,” White said, cutting in.

Jones’s gaze snapped to take in the older man, his face darkening in a well-masked puzzlement. White returned the gaze silently, and in a few moments, Jones gave a small nod.

“Fine,” John said, “Where are we going?”

“We have a possible location for an associate of Dr. Montgomery,” White said. “We have to go check it out.”

John stared at him.

“That’s it?”

“It’s possible,” White said, “That through this associate we can reach Montgomery. Disrupt the plan before it gets executed.”

John nodded sharply, leaning back.

“That’s more like it,” he said, almost smugly.

He turned to Roger, his lips curling into a grin.

“So,” he said, “You’re going to Russia. How about that?”

Roger grunted, still consumed with his thoughts.

“And I,” John continued, “Am going to….”

He turned back to White.

“Where
are
we going?”

“Montana,” White responded.

John stared at him, his expression turning sour.

“Montana? Shit.”

Dan stood back from the car, his hand resting on the butt of his gun while Jim bent down to talk to the driver. Another idiot who had pulled to the far right at a stoplight, as if to make a turn, then did a jack rabbit to try and slip around the car to his left that occupied the actual right lane. But apparently whoever that other guy was he had gunned it, blocking this fool and forcing him to slam right into the tail of the car parked not too far back from the opposite corner.

The ambulance was on its way, and Jim was doing his best to keep the guy calm and not moving until he could be checked out.

Dan scanned the area, giving a vague wave to the traffic that crawled slowly by him, everyone taking a good long look at the crumpled mess that had been the hood of the moron’s car.

People, he thought, sourly. Why did he even bother?

His cell phone jangled harshly in his shirt pocket and he dug it out, punching the button and holding it up to his ear.

“Sinski,” he said.

“Dan? It’s Roger.”

Instantly Dan felt his mood lighten.

“Hey, Roger. What’s going on? How are the tests?”

“No more tests,” Roger responded.

“They all done? What’d they say?”

“Dan,” Roger said, “I’m going on a mission.”

Dan was momentarily taken aback.

“A what? What do you mean, mission? For who?”

“I can’t tell you,” Roger responded. “It’s secret.”

Dan considered this, absorbing it.

“You’re going on a secret mission?”

“That’s right.”

“Well, son of a bitch. You okay with it?”

“I think so,” Roger responded, thoughtfully. “We’ll see. I just wanted to let you know, I’ll be away for a while. I don’t know how long. But I wanted to thank you.”

“For what? I didn’t do anything.”

“Yes, you did,” Roger said quietly. “You did a lot, actually. So… thank you.”

Dan was puzzled, and gave an absent shrug to no one in particular.

“You’re welcome, I guess,” he responded. “So, you’ll get in touch when you get back?”

“Count on it,” Roger replied.

“Well… take care of yourself,” Dan said, suddenly realizing how silly it was to say that to this man.

“You too… officer.”

The connection broke.

Dan slowly lowered the phone and looked at it.

Roger was going on a mission. A secret mission. Just like in…

He smiled.

How about that.

Roger handed the phone back to Jones, who slipped it back into his jacket even as he turned the long, black car around the end of the large hanger building.

Roger couldn’t help but lean forward as he spotted the strange aircraft sitting just outside it.

So that is a stealth bomber, he thought. It was considerably bigger than he pictured it, and it looked more like a fat, black boomerang than an aircraft.

“We need to get you fitted for a flight suit,” Jones said. “And communications gear.”

“And we’re going from here to London?”

“You are. An air force base outside London. You’ll stage from there. As soon as we get intel on where the site is, you’ll take off and make the penetration.”

“And I get out of that thing, how?”

“You’ll lay in the bomb bay, on the doors. They just open them and you drop out.”

Roger shook his head, considering this, as Jones turned the car into the open end of the hanger where a dozen men in military camouflage stood at various stations, or moved to complete various tasks.

“How long before we get there? To London?”

“A few hours,” Jones said. “Then you just wait.”

Roger nodded.

“I’m getting pretty good at that lately,” he said flatly.

The car rolled to a stop and Jones turned to regard him.

“Thank you for doing this,” he said, simply.

Roger regarded him a long moment, then shrugged.

“What the Hell,” he said, and reached for the door handle.

The squat tanker truck rumbled up the narrow lane toward the closed, heavy steel gate, its brakes already hissing as it slowed.

Beyond the tall fence were the grounds of the facility: nicely maintained, open fields of lush grass with a single lane leading to the wide, squat, ugly building. Not many outsiders knew that beneath that unattractive, concrete structure were secure scientific facilities for the most advanced research in the world. The specialized equipment it contained was worth billions all by itself. But that was nothing compared to the priceless wealth of knowledge in the realms of medicine, chemistry and physics it might someday produce.

The entire facility had a deserted look about it. Being a week-end, it was
for the most part closed and locked while the researchers and staff enjoyed a day off. Only a single man was sure to be inside, working away on the research that was his passion.

The truck ground to a halt just before the wide, currently sealed gate, just beyond which jutted the huge, steel pillars that would pop out of the roadway in an emergency and stop any vehicle attempting to burst through the fence by sheer force.

From the small covered door in the small, concrete box to the left of the lane stepped a guard in military style BDU’s, a nasty-looking submachine gun slung over his shoulder, its business end pointing before him.

The blond driver of the truck turned and presented him with a wide smile.

In the passenger’s seat the other man remained unmoving, slumped deep down, snoring slightly.

The guard approached cautiously, his eyes flicking over the heavy, squat truck.

The Lieutenant turned to rummage on the seat beside him, already aware that the other guard must, by now, have taken up his own watchful station on the passenger’s side of the truck, his own weapon in hand, just in case.

The guard called out to the Lieutenant, who turned back nodding, the smile spreading.

Too bad I don’t speak that Czech gibberish all that well, the Lieutenant thought, then raised the silenced pistol and pumped a shot into the guard’s chest.