The Arena: The Awakening (1) (7 page)

“Twice in a week, I’m honoured” said Fitz as he reached out and took one of the beers from Hank.

“Well, it’s about time I had a social with you like we used to. You anywhere near getting this beast finished?” Hank enquired.

“Yeah, I think about another month and it’ll be ready to shred some tyres,” Fitz replied.

As he swigged his beer, Fitz caught a quick glance out of one of the windows in the garage door. He saw that Hank was driving an unmarked FBI car and not
Laura.

“Where’s
Laura
Hank? It’s not like you to be without her.”

“She’s back at the office. I’m on my way back from DC and didn’t want to put the extra mileage on her. She’s too good for that” Hank proudly announced.

“There’s not many '70 Challengers left in the world Hank, and it’s good to see one driven every day.” Fitz replied mid-swig.

There was an uncomfortable silence.

Fitz wanted to ask Hank how he was doing as the contact between them had been minimal since the funeral of Hank's wife. He wanted Hank to open up a bit but was unsure if he really wanted to open those floodgates. Plus, Hank wasn’t one of those guys who showed or expressed feelings of that sort. There was a time when Fitz was the same but retirement had changed him. For the better he thought.

The silence was broken by Hank's cell phone going off. Fitz could see a lot of head nodding and heard Hank say “OK” quite a lot so it was obviously work calling.

When he came off the phone, he said to Fitz “Remember you said the other day that someone else would be watching the case that I’m on?”

“To me it’s obvious Hank. Somebody, somewhere, is watching. If they’re not, someone has dropped the ball at their end which doesn’t sound likely. Why? What you got?”

“That was a call from the CSI team in DC. They’ve got a match on a DNA sample I sent them from a hunch case I was looking at. It’s matched with a hair sample I also sent them today. It was from a car in the case I’m looking at and they’ve had a hit on the database. It’s Level 9 clearance to view the details though.”

Fitz took another swig of his beer and said “I told you! I’ll bet any money it’s an agency operative. It would have to be if you needed that level of clearance. Just out of curiosity Hank, apart from the bullet you mentioned the other day, what links the victims in your case?”

“Absolutely nothing at the moment, other than they worked in the medical profession” he replied.

Fitz took a moment and then said “You’re gonna need some outside help with this one. Outside of the Bureau, so it doesn’t set off any alarms.”

Fitz walked over to his bench and scribbled something on a piece of paper. It was the name Taylor and an address in Weehawken, New Jersey.

“Touch base with this guy. His name’s Taylor. He was an NSA analyst when I worked there. I use the term 'analyst' loosely. He was more an ethical hacker than anything. He retired roughly the same time as me and then went freelance. If you tell him I sent you, he’ll hook you up. He’s probably the only person you can trust with this sort of stuff.”

Hank took the paper and started to walk out of the garage.

“Thanks for the beer Fitz” Hank shouted.

“Any time Hank. There’s plenty more here when you’re ready.” Fitz watched him drive off into the distance. He had an uneasy feeling about this one. He did wonder if he would see his friend again.

The next morning Hank had driven up to Weehawken to the address Fitz gave him. He made contact with Taylor who, after Hank explained the situation to him, was actually physically excited about taking the names and seeing what he could find on the internet. He was a strange chap. He lived in quite a nice apartment overlooking a riverside park, so he obviously wasn’t hurting for money. Hank did wonder to himself if this was the right person to be speaking to, but he had complete faith in his friend’s advice so was happy to take the chance. The meeting between them both didn’t take too long as all Taylor needed was the names and Hank was back on the road again, heading into Manhattan to Federal Plaza. That was the only place he could view a Level 9 record.

Although driving in Manhattan was a complete nightmare, he was thankful he had the company car and not
Laura
. The lights and siren systems helped a lot on making progress through the traffic. The biggest bonus was that he could park it outside the building without it getting towed away. When he got inside, he went to the hot-desking area and logged onto the computer. Hank knew that he wouldn’t have access to a Level 9 report and would need authorisation from on high to do so. He called his boss in Morristown and explained the situation. For some reason, the boss wasn’t as understanding as he was the day before. This was because it would need authorisation from a director to grant him access. Reluctantly, he said he would make the call and to sit tight until he called him back.

While he waited, Hank had a look at his email from the CSI team regarding the true identity of the Mercedes. It turned out that there was no trace anywhere on the system. They couldn’t explain where it came from. The chassis number appeared to be false as there was no record of it on the DMV database. The worrying thing was that they had contacted Mercedes and they had no trace of it on their manufacturing system. It was basically a ghost car. This made Hank’s mind wander even further.

“
Who could do that? Who had the authority and the systems to alter those computer databases?”

As he pondered the thought, his cell phone started vibrating. It was the boss. The conversation was short and sweet. Hank had been granted access to the file, however,
only
that file. He wasn’t to deviate into any other Level 9 files while he was in there. Hank acknowledged the limitations set and headed off to the archive room on the ninth floor to view it. When he got there, he was met by the receptionist who pointed him towards the stand-alone computer at the end of the hall. He had a notebook with him to write down details but she took it from him. He was allowed to take nothing in with him, including his cell phone. When he sat down at the computer, he read on the screen that the file to be viewed was prepared for Special Agent Hank Richards. They had made sure that he didn’t need to go poking around to find it. Hank clicked on the flashing 'View' icon and the file opened up on the screen. What was shown was quite a traumatic experience for him. He started sweating, and had shortness of breath. He started to feel really light-headed. Before long, Hank was slumped over the key board unconscious. He had fainted!!!

The details on the screen read:

Laura Richards

Born 12/04/1976

Confirmed NSA Agent

Killed in the line of duty.

Next of kin: Hank Richards.

Chapter 11

The day out

The fresh breeze from the Potomac River enhanced Mia’s senses. That, combined with the greenery of the trees and the smell of the cut grass would normally equate to a perfect day. Kyle had taken her out to Jones Point Park on the outskirts of Alexandria. For what it was worth, she enjoyed being there. It calmed her thoughts and relaxed her. What she was finding more frustrating was that she was still in her chair and helpless. She had come to the conclusion that this man who claimed to be her husband, was in fact a carer looking after her for the Arena. Because the serum hadn’t totally worked this time round, Mia felt more alive than she had ever done. Unknown to most, Mia was actually an extremely intelligent person before her accident. Her thought processes were methodical and calculated. There wasn’t much she couldn’t work out. That’s why she passed all of her courses in the past with distinction.

Kyle had stopped and sat down on a bench overlooking the Potomac and had positioned Mia so she could see the view as well. The landscape wasn’t what she was interested in though. As they sat there, Mia was working out her best course of action, although she did acknowledge that it would be difficult. She needed to get back inside the Arena. If this serum was beginning to fail and she could complete another task for them, hopefully the next injection would have more of an effect on her and possibly help her with a plan of escape. But how would she do it?

As she sat there, apart from the breeze and the rustling of the leaves in the trees, there were no distracting noises to take away the moment that Mia was having. She needed to make a part of her body move! If she could, she might panic her husband into taking her back to the Arena for tests. They would need to 'wake her up' for that. She concentrated hard on her hand. She was willing her fingers to move.

She was screaming in her head
“
MOVE, DAMN IT, MOVE!!
”

But there was no response from her body. She was straining that hard that she actually made her eyes water. Her husband leant over and wiped the tears off her cheek. As he did this, Mia stared at him. If looks could kill, he’d by laying on a slab by now! She looked at him so intently, she made him feel that there was something wrong. As usual, he didn’t say anything. He just stood up and started to push her back towards the parking lot and their minivan. Mia wasn’t one to totally give up on an idea but, as luck would have it, she wouldn’t have to put herself through that frustration again.

On the way to the minivan, her husband’s cell phone rang. He stopped pushing her for a minute while he answered it.

“Hello Doctor Cooper” she heard him say.

“
What did he want this time?”
she thought.

There was a lot of “Yes. Hmm. No. Yes” being said. Before long, he was back pushing her chair towards the minivan. After a few minutes she was locked back into place and they were back on the road.

Out of nowhere, her husband announced “We’re heading into DC to the rehab centre Mia. Dr Cooper wants to do some more testing on your motor functions as soon as possible.” “

That’s a lie,”
she thought to herself.

She didn’t really mind as they obviously wanted her to do another job which fitted in with her plan to break free.

She needed to rest so she fell asleep in her chair and before she knew it, she was being pushed along the sterile corridor of the Arena again. The next couple of hours went like clockwork, however this time it was different. Her husband actually came into the Arena with her. Before handing her over to the medical team, her husband took her into a bathroom and bathed and cleaned her. She didn’t remember him ever doing this before but, if her memory was being wiped each time, she realised she wouldn’t remember it anyway. After about half an hour, she was back on the medical bed in the Arena with the bright lights beaming down on her once again. She could see Dr Cooper at the podium talking to the same group of people that was there last time. Mia couldn’t really see their faces but could see that a few of them were wearing military dress uniforms. As she concentrated on them, she felt a sharp prick in her upper arm. The injection had been given.

Within a few minutes, Mia was standing up at the side of the bed and was approached by a man dressed in a sharply tailored suit.

He held a photograph in front of her and said “This is subject number one.”

She looked at it and memorised it.

“This photograph is only six hours old so there will be no real change to his physical appearance. He will be having coffee tomorrow evening at six o'clock, outdoors at The Cafe in Brooklyn Bridge Park as he always does. He is always alone and takes a seat in the chairs along the waterfront outside the venue.”

He then turned and walked away out of the squeaky door of the arena. Mia had her orders. It was time to play the game.

After getting dressed and picking up her suitcase, Mia left the Arena through the side entrance of the building and headed off towards her car in the underground parking lot. On route, she called the most expensive hotel in Front Street Manhattan and booked a penthouse room overlooking the Hudson River for the next couple of nights. She was all set, right up to the point of getting to the floor where her car was parked.

“
Shit!!”
thought Mia.

As she looked around the car park, she could see that her car was no longer there.

“
Where the hell is it?”
she thought.
“I need my car!”

She started walking around the rest of the parking lot looking for another suitable car. This was a long- term parking garage so there were plenty of high-end cars around. Out of the corner of her eye, she spotted a beautiful maroon Aston Martin Vanquish just sticking out from beneath a cover.

“
Now that looks like fun”
she thought to herself.

From her suitcase, she retrieved a small control box which was a frequency scanner. Within seconds, it had found the frequency of the alarm on the car and disabled it. She loaded her suitcase into the trunk but before closing up she retrieved a set of number plates from the base of her case and quickly changed them on the Aston. Before long, she was out in the city, heading towards the freeway.

Although there was usually no contact made by Mia to the Arena during a job, she had to arrange for new number plates for the car. Using her hands-free headset, she used her cell phone to call in to her contact desk. It was an odd cell phone as it only had one number programmed into it. When she got through, she gave the make and model, as well as the original number plate to the operator. She told the operator she needed 4 sets of plates and gave the details of the hotel she would be staying at. By the time Mia got to the hotel, the plates would be waiting for her at the reception.