Involuntary Control (Gray Spear Society) (23 page)

She heard a cry of pain.

She and Smythe ran back into the dining room. Norbert was on the floor, and the rest of the family was on top of him. They were mauling him like a pack of hungry wolves.

Smythe started grabbing bodies and throwing them across the room. When they got back up, Marina shot them in the head.

The fight was over in a moment. Norbert had scratches and bite marks all over his body, but none of the wounds looked dangerous. Still, he would be in some pain for a few days. He had managed to protect his face from harm, but his forearms were a bloody mess.

Smythe helped him back to his feet.

"Why didn't you shoot them?" Marina said. "You were holding a gun."

"They were innocent children," Norbert said.

"And?"

"I couldn't just slaughter them!"

"So, you decided to lie down and let them chew on you instead?" She raised her eyebrows.

He grimaced. "That wasn't my intention."

"What was your intention? Did you have a plan? I'm curious."

He looked at the dead bodies littering the floor. Blood was already soaking into the carpet. His answer was only silence.

"In our line of work, we can't afford hesitation," she said. "You didn't want to kill, but you had no alternative in mind, and so you did nothing. You're very lucky we rescued you from your own stupidity."

"Yes, ma'am." He looked down.

"Next time, have a real plan. Anticipate the worst case, because that's what we deal with all the time."

He nodded slowly.

She walked over to the bodies and checked them. "All of them have the scars," she reported.

"God damned mother fucking White Flame bastards," Smythe said. "They can't even leave the kids out of this."

She took out her phone and called Aaron.

"Hello?" he said.

"It didn't go well. When we started interrogating Adamson, he went crazy like the others. The rest of his family mauled Norbert. All of them have the scars."

"Mauled?"

"With their fingernails and teeth," she said.

"Ugh."

"I had to put them down. Adamson is the only survivor."

Aaron paused. "We're killing too many people. I wouldn't mind so much if I thought it was a sign of real progress, but so far it's just pointless mayhem. We may actually be making the situation worse."

"I know," Marina said.

"How is Norbert?"

Smythe was examining Norbert's wounds.

"He'll be OK with a little treatment," Marina said. "Good thing we brought a doctor along. What's the plan?"

Aaron sighed. "Adamson is still alive?"

"He's tied up and drugged. He can't cause any trouble."

"I have an idea. It's a little radical."

"I love your radical ideas," she said.

"Leave Adamson where he is. Let the bad guys find him alive."

"We can't do that! He saw our faces. He'll describe us to the enemy."

"I'm one step ahead of you," he said. "Do you have a tracking device with you?"

"Sure," she said. "We have the standard field kit. Where are you going with this?"

"You'll also need a small explosive with a long-range radio detonator. This is what I want you to do..."

Chapter Fourteen

Marina watched the white stone house from across a farmer's field. She was sitting in a hayloft with Smythe and Norbert. They needed binoculars to see the target at this range, but at least they had a good angle.

A fire truck, an ambulance, and two police cars were parked in the driveway in front of the house. Their red and blue lights flashed in the night. Bright, red embers drifted towards the sky. Before leaving the property, Marina had set some trees on fire to get the authorities attention.

She looked down at a display on her lap. According to it, Adamson was still in the house. Smythe had inserted a tracking device into Adamson's abdomen through a small, surgical incision. The device would stay with the man for the rest of his short life.

"When are they going to move him?" Norbert whispered.

"Any minute," Marina whispered.

The barn smelled of fresh cut hay and fertilizer. Her nose itched but she wouldn't let herself sneeze.

The ambulance pulled out of the driveway, and simultaneously, the tracker began to beep.

"Let's go," she said.

The team quickly climbed down a wooden ladder to the dirt floor of the barn. Their car was parked in the darkness. Smythe took the driver's seat, Marina rode shotgun, and Norbert sat in the back. As soon as the doors were closed, Smythe drove off and turned onto a road.

Marina checked the tracker. "Go north."

Smythe nodded.

The country road had no street lights and there was no moon tonight. The headlights illuminated an uneven gravel surface. He struggled to drive smoothly, but the occasional rut surprised him and made the car bounce.

The tracker had an integrated GPS and map system. The large display allowed Marina to see a satellite view of the entire area, and a red dot showed Adamson's current location. The ambulance was moving fast.

"Take the next left," she said, "then a right. You'll merge onto the highway. Keep your speed up."

"Got it," Smythe said.

She glanced at Norbert in the back seat. His arms were wrapped in bandages, and blood had leaked through in spots. The anxiety on his face reminded Marina that this was his first real mission as a Spear.

"I should apologize," she said.

"For what?" he said.

"Giving you a hard time about sleeping with the twins. It caught me by surprise, and my reaction was immature. I'm the last person who should complain about sex in the workplace."

"Apology accepted."

"Seriously," she said, "what are you going to do? Was it a one-time thing, or is this for real?"

He frowned. "I honestly have no idea. I've never had much luck with relationships in the past, and those were with normal women. This time I don't even know what the girls think of me. Maybe they hated the sex and never want to do it again."

"They didn't talk to you about it?"

"Not really." He shook his head. "They don't express their feelings verbally. Strong emotions seem to confuse them. They want a logical explanation for everything."

"Wow. Good luck figuring out that mess. At least it will be entertaining."

"For you."

She nodded. "Exactly. I'll let you tell Aaron when you're ready, but I think he'll figure it out pretty quickly anyway."

"Thank you."

They followed the red dot north. Marina had expected it to take them to the nearest hospital, but instead they turned off the highway early. The map showed nothing but farmland in this area. The red dot finally stopped moving in a spot where the map didn't even show a road. It was just a blank space.

"Pull over," she said. "Let's approach on foot."

Smythe parked the car in the tall grass by the side of the road. Marina kept an eye on the tracker and saw that the red dot still hadn't moved. Everybody got out and started walking in the darkness.

"I think Mr. Adamson has outlived his usefulness," she said.

"I agree," he said.

She pressed a red button on a remote detonator attached to her belt. It set off an ounce of C-4 that Smythe had implanted in Adamson's abdomen beside the tracking device. The red dot vanished.

"Done," she said.

"So much death," Norbert muttered.

She ignored him.

They crept through the night. Her eyes were slowly adjusting to the darkness, which allowed her to move a little quicker over the rough ground. She wasn't quite as silent as she wanted to be, but at least she was quieter than Norbert. He sounded like a rampaging elephant to her sensitive ears.

They turned a corner and saw a large structure up ahead. A tall brick wall surrounded it on all sides, and guard towers stood on the corners. The style reminded her of an old fashioned fort. The building inside was three stories tall, and it was also made of brick. Iron grills covered the uniformly small, square windows. Barbed wire and bright lights all around made it clear the occupants were passionate about security.

The team dropped down behind some tall grass.

"I don't know what's going on in there," Smythe whispered, "but I'm sure I won't like it."

"We have to get inside," Marina said.

"I was afraid you'd say that."

"You knew the job was dangerous when you signed up."

"Technically," he said, "I didn't sign up. Ethel coerced me into joining the Society. Did you actually have a choice?"

"Sure," she said. "I had the perfectly reasonable alternative of getting permanently imprisoned for treason instead. The CIA wasn't pleased with the way I quit the agency. You could say I nuked a bridge on the way out."

"Oh?"

"The director liked to have sex with dogs. I might've allowed the media to get their hands on some shockingly explicit photographs of him doing it."

His eyes opened wide. "I remember that story. It was a national scandal. You were behind it?"

"I was young and pissed off." She shrugged.

"Ethel rescued you from the CIA's wrath?"

"When she found me, I was on the run and in a lot of trouble. I had no friends. I was making terrible decisions. I was a complete mess. She made a phone call to Washington, and a few hours later the director decided to step down instead of fighting for his job. His replacement wasn't interested in persecuting me. The price I paid for that call was agreeing to join the Society."

He nodded. "And here we are, about to do something so dangerous it makes getting imprisoned for treason seem like a good idea in comparison."

"I'd better call Aaron. I should tell him I love him before we get ourselves killed." She lowered herself even deeper into the grass and used her phone.

"Hello?" Aaron said.

"Your plan worked, honey," Marina said.

"Don't they always?"

"No comment. We're in the middle of nowhere, and I do mean nowhere. We're looking at a high security facility that shouldn't be here. Getting in will be tough, and getting out will be even tougher."

"OK," he said. "Back off while I figure out a plan. I'll get your location from your phone and look at satellite photos. Maybe the twins can help me."

"Don't take too long, sir. I'd like to get this done tonight. I love you."

"I love you, too."

* * *

Aaron put down his phone. He had been trying to clear his desk of paperwork, but the job was only half-done. Apparently, it would stay that way tonight.

When he had become the commander of the cell, he hadn't known the job was so administratively demanding. Ethel required daily written reports, but a paragraph or three was usually enough for her. He was also obligated to examine all expenditures by his team members, large or small. The cell didn't have a budget, but that didn't mean they could spend recklessly. It was God's money after all. Extravagances had to be kept to a minimum.

Lately, his team had been spending a lot of money. Building a new headquarters was an ongoing and very expensive project. There was so much equipment to buy, and now the twins were requesting a lot more. They wanted the latest computers, the fastest internet, and gadgets he didn't even recognize. Their appetite for exotic technology was insatiable.

Then there was the personal correspondence. As a general rule, Society cells avoided contact with each other. If one cell became compromised, there would be less opportunity to "infect" other cells. However, commanders didn't follow that rule. They had an ancient tradition of sending handwritten notes to each other by special, highly trusted couriers. The notes could contain useful news, advice, or just friendly greetings. Sometimes, commanders simply wanted to complain to each other about a job that was inherently difficult, lonely, and stressful. As a consequence Aaron was slowly getting to know all the other commanders in North America, which could be useful in an emergency.

He stood up and stretched his arms. He went downstairs to the computer room.

He found Bethany and Leanna sitting on the concrete floor. They were surrounded by spools of wires and odd looking tools.

"What are you doing?" Aaron said.

"Making computer cables, sir," Leanna said.

"By hand? You can buy those things in stores, you know. They aren't very expensive, and they come nicely packaged."

"But then they'd be a little too long or short."

"All your wires have to be exactly the right length?"

"Of course, sir," Bethany said.

Aaron sighed.

The twins wore their usual white shirts and pleated, red skirts. They had many copies of exactly the same outfit and no other clothes as far as he knew. They never wore shoes, either, and the soles of their bare feet were grimy.