Origin - Season One (47 page)

“Enough,” Francis said taking the picture. “Where is this Heinz?”

“Waiting outside,” the chief said.

“I’ll go,” Williams said. “You stay here.”

“No,” Richelle said. “
I’ll
go.”

“I’m not sure that’s such a great idea,” the chief said.

“I don’t give a fuck what you’re sure of,” Richelle said. “This is my job, and if that son of a bitch doesn’t like it, he can say it to my face.”

Berlin

Wednesday 26 July 2006

0300 CET

Mike Banner had no idea how close he had come to reliving the nightmare of his friend Mitch when he regained consciousness briefly and saw the stars through the cockpit of the helicopter. Unlike Mitch, however, no one needed to put him back down. The morphine in his system took care of that.

When he woke up again he was in a private hospital room. A nurse was adjusting the roller on his drip and was about to leave when Mike moved his right arm and knocked something off the bed.

She turned and offered him a sympathetic smile. “Welcome back, Mr. Stipe. How are you feeling?”

Mike tried to speak but his tongue seemed stuck to the bottom of his mouth. She saw he was struggling and walked to the sink to pour him a glass of water. “Easy now, just a little bit.”

None of it seemed to reach his throat. It was like pouring water on hot sand. He had drunk half the glass before he regained the use of his tongue. When he spoke, the words came out in a drunken slur. “Where am I?”

“You’re at the Karl Gustav Clinic in Berlin, Mr. Stipe. You were flown in late last night.”

He tried to ask her what had happened to him but the few words he had managed seemed to have drained him of all his strength. She smiled again and said, “It’s best if you rest for now. I’ll let the doctor know you’re awake.”

She left the room and Mike found himself alone, unless the incoherent jumble of thoughts and half-memories in his head could be called company. The thought that kept coming back to him was of Susan coming to New York for the weekend. Although how they were going to go house hunting if he was in a hospital bed was anyone’s guess.

He tried to move his arm again but it was too heavy. He managed to twist his head to the right, just far enough to see a bouquet of flowers and a card standing next to them on the edge of the table. When he tried to focus on the writing his vision blurred, turning the letters into little more than black swirls. He closed his eyes and opened them again. This time he could read the name.

Not
Susan
, but
Caroline
. The name meant nothing to him. He closed his eyes and fell back down into sleep, the two names swirling around in his head.

Susan.

Caroline.

Aurora

Wednesday 26 July 2006

0330 EEST

“Christ, I’ve known him all my life,” Richelle said. “My father trusted him above anyone else.”

She was standing in front of the window in the chief’s office looking out at the harbor below. From here, no one would know anything had happened. To the staff of Aurora it was just another day at the office.

The chief approached her and put a hand on her shoulder. “If I’ve learned anything over the years, it’s that you can never truly know anyone.”

“But why not admit it? That’s what I don’t get. Why not at least have the dignity to own up?”

“I don’t think he can,” the chief said. “But it’s all here. I even had Harold look into his communications logs. He’s been deleting his external calls from the main index, but Harold found the backups.”

“I still can’t believe it,” Richelle said. “And what the hell am I supposed to do about RP One? Heinz practically ran the program by himself. Without him the risks are too high. We could lose RP One
and
the Pandora. The last ten years down the fucking drain.”

She sat down and buried her head in her hands. “I could kill the old fuck. You know that? I really could.”

“What about Rainey?” the chief said.

“What
about
him?”

“Heinz seemed to think he was practically a genius. According to Erik, he understood more about Origin in twenty minutes than some of our brightest people have figured out in years. Heinz may have been lying about a lot of things, but I don’t think he was lying about that. If you think about it, it makes sense. He would have needed someone to help him if he was going to take over.”

“He’s been here for what, a week?” Richelle said. “I’m sure he’s smart, but not that smart. According to Heinz, the margin for error on the landing is less than three percent. And I don’t think he was lying about that either.”

“Still,” the chief said. “It wouldn’t hurt to speak to him yourself. Sarah was hiding him in the old generator room. They’ve gone topside to get some fresh air. You could probably use some yourself.”

“I don’t know,” Richelle said. “I don’t know what the hell to do, Brendan. Everything that’s happened, it’s all too much. Maybe Heinz was right. Maybe I’m not up to this.”

“Don’t say that,” the chief said. “Your father chose you because he knew you had what it takes. For what it’s worth, I agree with him.”

“Fine,” she said. “I’ll speak to him. If nothing else, I guess I owe him an apology.”

“We all do,” the chief said. “Come, I’ll go with you.”

The Callisto
Wednesday 26 July 2006

0400 EEST

Francis was waiting in the galley when Williams returned.

“How did it go?” Francis asked.

“It wasn’t pretty.”

“It never is.”

“Brendan had one of Heinz’s staff check his external communications records. It looks like he’s been in touch with both Jack and Manin on a regular basis.”

“We should be grateful things went as smoothly as they did,” Francis said. “In my experience things like this rarely end without casualties.”

“Come on,” Williams said. “I think it’s time you got a look at the eighth wonder of the world.”

If Mitch had been surprised to see Aurora for the first time, Francis outdid him by a margin of two to one. He stood on the observation deck looking out at the facility for over a minute as Williams watched in amusement.

“I’ve seen some crazy things in my time,” Francis finally said. “But this tops them all.”

“If it’s any consolation,” Williams said. “I still get goose bumps every time I see it again. It’s a shame Peter Bershadsky never got to see it like this. You could say this place is the culmination of his life’s work.”

“I wish Jesse could have seen this,” Francis said.

“Who?”

“It’s a long story. Perhaps I’ll tell it to you sometime. Preferably over cold beers.”

“It’s a deal,” Williams said. “Now if you’re done being amazed, I thought you might like something to eat.”

“Lead the way.”

They left the dock and walked toward the houses on the waterfront. Francis stopped when they reached them.

“I think this is the most surreal moment of my life,” Francis said.

“We call it Amity. After the –”

“Jaws,” Francis finished. “I can see why.”

When they reached the small movie theater with its classic round ticket booth below the canopy Francis stopped and stood looking at a poster in the window advertising an upcoming rerun of A Few Good Men.

“You seen it?” Williams asked.

Francis didn’t seem to hear him. He was transfixed by the poster. When he turned to Williams he said, “The security chief is ex-military, am I right?”

“Yeah,” Williams said. “He was a lieutenant general in the army.”

“I need to see him.”

“What, now?” Williams asked.

“Yes, right now.”

“Sure, okay. Any particular reason?”

“I’ll tell you when we get there.”

When they reached the chief’s office there was no one there and the door was locked.

“He’s probably in Richelle’s office,” Williams said. “Come on, it’s on the top floor.”

Francis began to follow Williams, then suddenly turned and ran back toward the door. He hit it dead center with his right shoulder and it flew open, hit the wall and almost returned the favor on the rebound.

“What the hell are you doing?” Williams said, looking astonished.

Francis ignored him. He walked straight across the office to the chief’s desk and began opening the drawers. When he found one that was locked he kicked it twice and pulled it out with both hands.

“Would you mind telling me what the hell you’re doing?” Williams said.

“Looking for something?”

“What?”

“This,” Francis said and pulled a small book from the drawer.

It was a diary. Francis reached into his pocket and brought out the picture the chief had shown Richelle. He flipped through the diary until he found a page with several lines of writing and laid it down beside the picture. “I knew I’d seen it somewhere before.”

“Seen what?”

“That,” Francis said pointing at an arrowhead scribbled below Richelle’s left foot in the picture.

“What is it?” Williams said.

“You see the way the inside lines curve back up?” Francis said, “The only other place I’ve seen an arrow drawn like that is on the crest of the US Army Special Operations Command. Are you telling me a German scientist would just draw that? And look at the lines of the writing. Look at the S’s and the R’s.”

“Oh my god,” Williams said. “It’s Brendan’s writing.”

“We need to find him right now,” Francis said.

Aurora

Wednesday 26 July 2006

0420 EEST

The chief waited until Richelle was out of the elevator before turning the key in the panel and putting it back in his pocket. They approached the double steel doors at the other end of the small room and Richelle pressed the green button beside the door. The two heavy steel doors parted on a narrow dirt path weaving around several large trees into much denser woodland a few yards away. The glow given off by the dim lights that marked the boundaries of the path every few feet was just enough to see by.

“Where are they?” Richelle said.

“Probably over by the lookout.”

They set off along the path. It ran through a thick pine forest for a hundred yards or so before bending sharply to the left. The wind began to pick up as they rounded the corner. The path sloped down onto a semicircular platform surrounded on one side by a low, stone wall. Beyond the wall the ground ended in a sheer cliff face that ran down to the sea. Even this far up, the waves could be heard crashing against the rocks below in a steady procession.

“I thought you said…”

Richelle stopped when she saw the gun in the chief’s hand.

“Brendan, what the hell –”

“Shut up!”

“I don’t –”

“I said, shut your fucking mouth. If I have to listen to any more of your bitching and whining, I honestly don’t think I’ll be able to stop myself from shooting you.”

She looked at him, her eyes wide with surprise. “Brendan, I don’t know what you –”

He stepped forward and slapped her across the face with his left hand. The force knocked her off her feet.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been wanting to do that,” he said. “Now get up. We’re going to the launch.”

She got to her feet slowly and took several steps back toward the wall.

“Go on,” the chief said. “Try it. I dare you. I run five miles a day up here. It would be fitting when you consider I spend most of that time wishing you were in front of me.”

When she didn’t move, he said, “I’ll even give you a head start. I wouldn’t want you to think I was taking advantage of a helpless little bitch with nowhere to go.”

“You’re fucking insane,” Richelle said. “You’ll never get out of here alive.”

The chief nodded toward the path leading down the slope along the cliff edge. “You seem to forget that I’m the one who decides what does and what doesn’t leave this island. But then you always were a cocky little bitch. Move it.”

Richelle seemed to consider her options one final time, then did as he said.

The path moved gradually closer to the cliff edge for another two dozen yards, ending at the top of a set of steps carved from the rock with a thin metal railing along the outer edge.

“Down you go,” the chief said. “Try anything stupid, and I’ll throw you over the side.”

“What are you going to do?” Richelle said.

“The first thing I’m going to do is finish what that idiot Manin was clearly incapable of. After that I guess I’ll have to improvise, now that your boyfriend has thrown a wrench in the works. It’s just as well Jack is dead. I don’t think he would have approved.”

“You’re a twisted old fuck,” Richelle said. “You know that?”

The chief laughed. “Perhaps. I spent fifteen years listening to your father and his naïve ideas. Frankly, I don’t know how I didn’t kill him sooner.”

Richelle stopped. When she turned around, the look in her eyes was pure poison.

“That’s right,” the chief said. “I killed your father. It wasn’t hard. I mean, he was practically dead already. I smothered him with his own –”

Richelle let out a scream of rage and charged up the steps. The chief swung the butt of his gun at her face but she ducked and brought all her weight into his midsection. He stumbled back and had to let go of the gun to grab the railing. She let out another scream and pushed with all her strength. For just a moment it seemed he might actually go over. But then he grabbed her neck with both hands and pushed her head away.

“You shouldn’t have done that,” the chief said.

He tilted his head back and lifted her off the steps. Still holding her by the neck, he brought his forehead crashing into the bridge of her nose. Her wide, vacant eyes looked at him for a moment longer, then they rolled up and she went limp. The chief picked her up as if she were a child and slung her over his shoulder.

He carried on down the steps, taking them three and four at a time. As he rounded the final corner the boathouse came into view. It was a large, shoddy, wooden structure built on the shallow rocks at the bottom of the cliff and accessed by a narrow pontoon gangway. As he neared the bottom, a light came on in one of the windows. A moment later the door opened and a man stepped out.