The Red Phoenix 12: Strength Comes in Numbers (10 page)

“Hey, I’m going to run down to the storage area for a minute but will you keep unpacking the weapons?” asked Scott.

“Absolutely,” Chris answered, opening another case of XDs.

“When I get back, we’ll start testing them,” Scott added as he left the room.

***

Tom Flanders, the storage department’s manager, strolled down a corridor on level minus thirty, wearing a hard hat and white lab coat, carrying a clipboard.

Scott came around the corner, holding a coffee, and bumped into him. The hot drink splashed all over Scott, drenching the lenses on his glasses, his face and lab coat.

“Scott! I’m sorry about that!” said Tom in a loud voice, wiping the spilled coffee off his clipboard. “Are you all right?”

“It’s okay,” Scott replied, cleaning his face off. “I’m glad it wasn’t that hot.”

“So, where do they have you now?” asked Tom in a cordial voice, looking down at Scott, still wiping coffee off his clipboard.

“I’m up in special operations with Siddoway,” he answered, putting his cleaned glasses back on.

“What are you doing down here?” asked Tom in a pleasant voice.

“I’m on my way to chat with Bob and Herb,” Scott replied.

“Me too. They’re both missing. Did you know?” asked Tom.

“I didn’t,” Scott answered in a troubled voice.

“Their families called in wondering where the hell they are,” said Tom, sounding concerned. “I was on my way down there, too, to see if I could find out something.”

“Let’s head on down together,” Scott suggested.

Tom ducked his head a tad to avoid bumping his hard hat into the top of the corridor entrance.

“How long you plan on working at the Phoenix?” asked Tom.

“Til I get that mediocre government retirement,” Scott answered. “I’m fifteen years in, five more to go for my pension. You?”

“Two more years for me,” Tom answered with a grin.

***

Tom and Scott entered Herb and Bob’s work area, looking around.

“Bob?” Scott called, casing the place out.

“Herb? You guys in here?” Tom called, panning the upper level storage area with shelves.

Tom noticed papers were scattered in disarray on top of Bob’s desk and on the floor as he looked around a corridor that led down a dark, narrow hallway.

“Bob? Herb? You boys here?” Tom called as he walked down the hallway, shining a flashlight.

No one answered.

Scott took the stairs to the upper level that overlooked their main workstation, calling their names, but no one was up there.

“Bob? You guys here?” Tom called again, turning on a light switch.

There wasn’t a soul around. He felt strange and returned to their work area.

“Anything?” Tom asked Scott in a loud voice.

“Nothing,” Scott answered. “I even checked the vault.”

“That is weird,” stated Tom. “It’s not like them to up and vanish without saying anything.”

Tom noticed the tagged
silver-red
metal chest
on the floor. He stepped over a box with his long legs, picked it up, set it on the Bob’s desk and made a call with Bob’s office phone.

“Hi Judy? Tom here. Do you have any idea where Bob and Herb are? It seems they’re missing. I’m getting calls from their families, they haven’t seen them over twenty-four hours.”

Tom listened to Judy for a moment.

Scott made his way to the desk, curious as to the missing employees’ whereabouts. A device on Scott’s belt made a distinct beeping sound.

“What the—” Scott muttered, taking his device off his belt.

“I’m at their workstation now. It looks like they left some things undone then up and vanished,” said Tom into the phone, continuing his call.

Scott held up his device, scanning the room with it, focusing and turning his body, trying to find the source.

“Check with the guard at the main lobby, Judy. Have him look through the video cams and see if they were seen leaving the building,” Tom added. “It’s strange they have just disappeared.”

He listened to her again.

“Okay then, we’ll just keep our eyes out for them. Thanks, bye,” said Tom, hanging up Bob’s desk office phone, noticing Scott waving his device around.

“Strange,” stated Scott.

“Are you picking up on something?” asked Tom.

“This instrument is designed to pick up on high levels of lithium,” Scott answered.

“What is that?” asked Tom.

“A base ingredient for tritium. An isotope of hydrogen,” Scott answered, honing in on Bob’s workstation, opening the tri-level of drawers on his desk.

“Wow, you lost me,” stated Tom. “I’m no science guy. I just work here, you know?”

“I use this thing all the time in Siddoway’s lab when I test his weapons,” stated Scott, scanning the desk over the metal chest. “There is something in this room.”

Scott held the device over the
chest
, noticing the readings were speeding up and beeping quicker.

“It’s this metal box,” said Scott. “Is this yours?”

“No, I just found it on the floor when we walked in,” Tom answered. “It looks like Bob tagged it but didn’t put it in the vault yet.”

“Where did it come from?” asked Scott.

“I’m not sure,” Tom replied. “Other government science labs? Hell, it may have come from N.A.S.A., along with a truck load of their junk as far as I know.”

“Well, with these kinds of readings this chest shouldn’t go in the vault,” stated Scott, examining it. “I should have Siddoway take a look at it.”

“I don’t care,” Tom said. “I’m just trying to find my two employees, you know what I mean?”

“Well, if I see Bob or Herb, I’ll let you know,” said Scott.

“Appreciate,” Tom responded.

Scott left with the metal chest in his arm and made a call.

***

The night was falling over downtown Phoenix. Dennis Mueller, the CEO of Mueller Weapons Incorporated, stood in his spacious eighteenth-story skyscraper office, looking out at the city lights near his desk. The reflection of his face in the window from the office lighting showed his bald head, glasses, goatee and a true scowl as he looked out at the city lights.

His cronies—Steve Vincent, Gerald Seymour and Marcos Langella—walked in, wearing their usual fancy suits but still looked like bad guys. Vincent’s countenance was icy as he maintained his usual dull, stoic expression. Seymour was serious-faced like he thought of nothing other than business. Marcos looked like a stooge as always, finishing eating something and wiping some food from his mouth.

“Will Siddoway be at the weapons presentation meeting next month?” asked Mueller, his back to them, still looking out the window.

“Oh yeah, along with some big wigs from FBI, CIA and Homeland Security,” Vincent answered in a serious voice.

“It’s the perfect moment for him to fall,” stated Mueller.

“So, what’s the plan?” asked Vincent.

“The plan is we’re going to wipe him out,” Mueller answered, turning around, facing them, and putting his hands in his pockets.

“Could you be more specific?” Vincent asked.

“I’m talking about wiping out his files,” Mueller answered. Everything he’s ever designed, sketched or thought of I want in my back pocket. My engineers’ idea books are drying up.”

“So what do you suggest?” asked Vincent.

“Take this,” stated Mueller, handing him a piece of paper from his desk. “You’re to contact that name and buy him out. Go seven digits if you have to. I want this guy on my payroll. Am I clear?”

Seymour adjusted his glasses, thinking as he paced the floor, his hands in his pockets. He stepped to the window and stared at the city lights. The reflection of his well-dressed and handsome face showed in the window.

“Seymour? Any brilliant thoughts for me?” asked Mueller.

“If you want Siddoway, you need to go after his online files,” Seymour responded, turning to Mueller.

“Go on,” said Mueller.

“In other words, any document he ever uploaded to the Library of Congress and had copyrighted needs to be in your name, not his,” Seymour added.

“I’m listening,” Mueller said, folding his arms.

“Give me a week,” Seymour stated. “And you can consider his work yours and the name Dr. Alex Siddoway erased forever.”

“I like it. You got it,” Mueller replied with a dark smile.

“What do you want me to do, boss?” asked Marcos, swallowing his last bite of sloppy hot dog.

“For starters, wipe off the damn ketchup from your suit, you moron,” Mueller answered in a rude tone.

Marcos’ eyes bugged as he moved his bulky body offline, feeling stupid.

“Marcos will help me break into Siddoway’s place when the time comes,” Vincent stated. “We’ll make sure he’s cleaned out.”

“Good. Don’t leave any papers behind. Not even a damn box of Kleenex,” Mueller responded.

“I always find what I’m looking for when I make my entries, don’t I?” stated Vincent in a cold voice, scratching his neck, pulling his greasy ponytail that was sticking in his suit collar part of the way.

“This time, be extra neat,” Mueller responded. “Just like the way you handled the Henderson deal.”

“You know sabotaging client records is one of my specialties,” stated Vincent.

“Threaten or take out anybody who stands in our way,” Mueller added.

“We’ll wait until Seymour finishes the online stuff,” he added, cleaning off his glasses. “Then I’ll get started.”

***

It was late in the evening; Chris and Scott just finished the last package of weapons for the day in the lab. Chris sighed with relief.

“Whew, that was a lot of work,” stated Scott.

“It’s time to go home and get some sleep,” stated Chris, standing up, stretching. “So, what do you like to do for fun, Scott?”

“Me? I hang at my place a lot, watching movies,” Scott answered, closing a weapons case. “I’m a gamer too, so I contact a lot of people around the world with my gaming system at home. It’s exciting to me.”

“You like those
shoot-em-up
games?” asked Chris.

“Oh yeah, they’re my favorite,” Scott answered.

“Meet any girls that way?” asked Chris.

“Nah, but if I do it’s because their avatar is a warrior princess or something,” Scott answered.