Legacy of a Mad Scientist (9 page)

“How did you not see this coming?” Ross asked Snow
directly.

“Don’t blame me. I can’t predict the future any
better than you can.” She dug at the noodles but didn’t eat any. “I
suppose we can take comfort in the fact that he can’t really kill
us, and that, as of yet, they still don’t know who we are. And Fox
also gave us
ALL
our gear.”

“Yeah, yeah, but aside from the blue goo, and the
phase cam, and the gravity harness, the six months speed-bump,
sure,” King said. “But the idea of being hunted forever or
imprisoned isn’t very appealing either. We are not immortal. We
might be backed up, but this could all come crashing down.”

“Mister Optimism over here,” Ross said.

“Do you have any ideas, Sir?” King asked.

Major Ross shook his head. “Give me a couple of
minutes.”

"Why would he call Dr. Te and tell him that?” King
asked.

“Maybe he can’t guess the future any better than any
of us,” Ross suggested, nodding to Snow with his eyes. “Regardless,
he’s really in their crosshairs this time. They’re not going to let
this go. I had to shake two guys to get here.”

Snow sighed and pushed her noodle bowl away.

Ross leaned forward. "As you so elegantly put it, we
are in the wind. Per protocol, run backups every 12 hours, full
satellite transmission."

Snow and King groaned in annoyance but nodded.

"It's just a few days," Ross said.

"What are you going to do with Reid and the lab?"
King asked.

"We're gonna double them. We'll put one in the
stratosphere and drop a mirror to Davey Jones."

"You can never be too redundant, huh?" Snow
asked.

"It's served us so far," Ross said. “Reid is getting
the local decanters loaded and prepped, we're seven deep each.”

"But those still need six months to cook?" King
asked.

“And it does us no good if Fox or Stanwood nuke Angel
City,” Snow said.

“That is not going to happen,” Ross said. “What about
BDU’s. Do you have any that are mission ready?”

“I’m on my last legs,” Snow answered.

“I’ve got another,” King replied.

"I’m down to one myself, and it looks like I might
have to use it tonight. If Stanwood has that," Ross gestured to the
player. “I know he’s going to pay me a visit soon. May as well give
him a show.”

"I'll shadow you, if you want," Snow offered.

“Naw, let them have their fun. If they don't show
their hand, we've got nothing, and no idea exactly
who
is
after us.

"We know exactly who is after us," King said.

"Fox is pretty sure Senator Miller is pulling
Stanwood's strings. He wants to get the roots with the weeds," Ross
said.

"We should go scorched earth on these idiots. Epsilon
is completely their fault in the first place," Snow said. "They
never should have been testing it on prisoners. They're lucky a big
crater was all they got. It could have been a lot worse."

"If he didn't make a point of sticking it in their
faces every chance he got, we wouldn't be in this mess," King
said.

"Yeah, well, we wouldn't be backed up on interstellar
satellites and you wouldn’t have a clone on ice either," Ross
pointed out.

"To-may-toe, To-mah-toe," King replied.

"You know you love it," Ross smiled.

"I live for it, which is why I agree with the
Captain. We should take the fight to them. All Enemies, Foreign and
Domestic."

"Be careful what you wish for." Ross sipped at the
cooling tea. "Oh! One other little problem; we still have no idea
Who
the residential sleeper is, and after the last few calls
we caught, it's clear they might have someone inside."

“What do you mean
might
?” King asked.

"So, Epsilon
might
have been sabotage after
all?" Snow asked.

"No. That's not the issue. Reid is sure there is a
local asset, disguised as a civilian, living on your block." Ross
shook his head. "Sorry, on the doctor's block."

"Oh come on," King said. "The most logical candidate
is that freak living right down the street. He was assigned to
Bergstrom's unit. There is no way that's coincidence."

"Well, it's damn clumsy, if he is. It's completely
obvious," Ross said.

“If who is?” Snow asked.

“Martin Dunkirk.” King answered. “He’s
nightshade.”

“As in a lethal plant? But he has three kids," Snow
said. "He's been living there almost as long as we have."

"Almost, " King said. “And there may be more than
one.”

Ross touched his nose and then pointed to King.

"Dunkirk was a battlefield surgeon, and his record is
totally sealed," King said. "Why would a surgeon's record be
sealed?"

"Half of Bergstrom's unit was medical," Snow said.
“They’re all sealed, just like us.”

"The other half were well known wet-workers," Ross
added.

"And now one of those freaks is living right down the
street from you? That is no coincidence," King said.

"Well, the DOD unit, Faulkner's team, I think the
leak is somewhere over there, but Fox and Croswell swear those guys
are clean," Snow said.

"Sounds like time for a good old fashioned mole
hunt," King suggested.

"I just don't want my kids getting hurt," Snow
said.

"I don't know how you do it," King said.

"It's not that hard," Snow said. "You ran doubles for
a while, didn't you?"

"Yeah, but I hated it. I never knew who I was in the
morning."

“If you were a parent, you’d understand.” Snow picked
at her food.

“Anyhow, I gotta be getting back,” King said. “If
they come for me, you know what I’m going to do.”

“Don’t make it too easy for them,” Snow replied.

“Ha. Very funny,” King said.

“Really make them work for it,” Snow laughed.

“Not like I haven’t done a thousand times,” King
said.

“Right.” Ross and Snow said together.

“You should go out the back,” Ross suggested.
“They’re only looking for me.”

“Are you kidding me? I’m staying on this,” Snow
said.

“Fox wants you on double over-watch tonight. I got
this. And if they really are coming, we absolutely can’t afford to
let you get pinched. You’re our secret ace.”

“Don’t bullshit me,” Snow answered.

Ross smiled, “Stow it, Marine.”

“Yes, sir.” Snow replied, laughing.

“Now, get outta here, the both of you.” Ross gestured
toward the backdoor.

King and Snow exited the booth and made their way to
the back of the restaurant. As Snow reached the door, she and King
set their opacity to zero and became invisible.

The door opened, and Ross, capable of vision in the
infrared spectrum, watched his comrades levitate up into the night
sky. He turned back to his noodles and took his time finishing
them.

In the glass-walled home across the canyon from Dr.
Fox, Captain Faulkner designated Chief Warrant Officer Lee and
Sergeant Buckner to suit up and intercept the mercenaries. The
other agents at nearby monitors called out relevant conditions as
Buckner and Lee pulled on their armor.

Fully equipped, the two soldiers stepped out onto the
main deck of the home. Lee snapped down his visor and triggered the
up-linked displays and data feeds. With the enhanced optics, they
could see the enemy across a dozen spectrums as they moved toward
the Fox residence.

Lee and Buckner crossed the deck, strapped in and
released their ropes. They vanished over the railing, moments later
reaching the ground, several hundred feet below. The canyon floor
was spotted with homes. Backyards overflowed onto narrow strips of
unclaimed municipal property, all of which butted up against the
forest preserve. Lights were out, most families fast asleep.

Inside the command post, on the flickering screens,
Faulkner and Malvinas watched the images of Lee and Buckner as they
chased down the interlopers, closing the gap as they came down the
hillside. The group of intruders had reached the other side. As the
ground became steeper, they slowed.

Captain Faulkner stood next to Otto as the
surrounding agents relayed details to him. From their place in the
command center, the two men could see nothing through the glass
walls. It was the monitors that tracked the participants from
dozens of angles and across several frequencies.

The mercenaries continued to advance on the Fox
residence, oblivious of their imminent discovery by Lee and
Buckner.

Captain Faulkner cracked his knuckles in
anticipation.

Bell returned to the command post from his cigarette
break.

Faulkner sniffed the air, burnt oil and carbon, the
signature of a recently fired weapon.

Bell raised his handgun and shot Captain Faulkner in
the face. The suppressor reduced the sound to a cough. As
Faulkner's men pulled their weapons, Bell shot each of them in
turn.

Surrounded by dying agents, Otto licked his lips in
satisfaction, right on schedule.

Bell then raised the weapon on his employer, who had
just enough time for expressions of both shock and indignation to
flash across his face before Bell fired three times into his chest.
Otto fell.

In the kitchen, Bell opened cabinets. He grabbed a
bottle of lighter fluid and jerked the stove from the wall. He
disconnected the gas line and opened the valve.

In the living room, Bell doused the bodies and
equipment with the fuel. He balled up a piece of paper and covered
it. He knelt beside Otto as the large man choked on his own
blood.

Bell stuffed the paper into Otto's mouth and lit an
edge. The flames ran across the chairman’s oil soaked skin and
clothes. The fire engulfed the handmade silk and leapt to the floor
to dash across the room, up the legs of the couches and
surveillance terminals.

Soon the entire post was alight.

Bell was halfway down the hill before the gas
bleeding out of the kitchen reached the living room. The sound
wasn't an explosion, but rather a whoosh, like a jet engine
igniting, illuminating the canyon.

Finished with his noodles, Ross paid for the meals,
and strolled through the front door, out onto the street.

The agents hadn’t even tried to blend in. As Ross
exited the restaurant, their heads rose in unison. In the crowd of
people, all hustling to get home for the evening meal, only
they
were standing still. As he stepped out, only they
noticed him.

Ross smiled.

He stepped into the busy thoroughfare and made his
way toward the closest man.

The Agent stepped forward, raising a hand as Ross
approached.

Ross closed the distance with a quick blast to the
agent’s throat. He collapsed toward the nearest building.

Ross continued to move with the crowd as the two
following men rushed to their comrade.

Once out of sight, Ross took the first corner into an
alley and burst into a sprint. A block later, he glanced behind,
only one man followed.

Ross made another corner, and used a dumpster to jump
up to a fire escape. The agent didn’t round the corner until Ross
was cresting the three-story rooftop.

Ross sprinted for the far side of the roof. He
quickly found a sign he could use to get back down to street level
and his last view of the rooftop revealed his pursuer coming up on
the other side.

The agent fired twice, but Ross was already below his
line of sight. He jumped from the sign to the top of a van, and
rolled from the vehicle as the agent appeared above him.

As he sprinted down the street-level walk, the
massive traffic canyon yawned to Ross’s left. Vehicles whizzed by,
just a few feet away, six thousand feet above the surface of the
Earth.

Ross reached a taxi stand and heard the agent
shouting into a communicator behind him. Ross climbed into the back
seat of the first cab. He gave the driver fifty bucks, and staying
low, climbed out of the driver’s side door. “Just drive till it
runs out,” he said, closing the hatch. Ross slipped back to the
second waiting cab, and climbed in as the first taxi pulled
away.

“Where to, mister?” the driver asked.

Ross handed the man a bill and said, “Just sit right
here for a bit.”

“Your money,” the driver replied.

Ross watched as the agent sprinted up the row of
taxis and predictably climbed into the first one, his.

Ross held his weapon on the winded fed.

“Oh, what the shit?” the agent heaved.

“You tell me?” Ross answered.

“You’re not going to shoot me,” the agent said.

“Why not?”

“I’m a Federal Agent.”

“You got any ID?” Ross asked.

The agent rolled his eyes.

“How about a warrant?” Ross asked.

The agent remained mute.

“Out,” Ross said.

“This is me; getting out.” The agent opened the door
and climbed out.

Ross fired, the bullet ripped into the federal
agent’s knee.

As he fell backward, he closed the door, saving Ross
the trouble of doing it himself.

Ross gave the driver a destination and the agent had
enough time to punch the window before he went down and the taxi
pulled out.

Ross was impressed with the kid’s stamina, despite
the wound to his leg, he managed to keep his feet for a few
seconds:
impressive
.

The cab landed in a rundown section of the industrial
district. Ross hadn’t taken any great pains to see that they
weren’t followed, but he hadn’t spotted anyone either. Ross tipped
the driver handsomely and the cab pulled out, accelerating into the
darkening Angel City sky.

Ross noticed no drifting transports. No one seemed to
be watching or following, and he proceeded along the parking ledge
until he made a turn, taking a route deeper into the district.