Avenging Angels (The Seraphim Chronicles Book 1) (18 page)

TWENTY-FIVE

The woman in black snuck up to the security fence that surrounded the base’s landing area. Still dressed in the same seamless body suit from the arena, she crept in and out of the shadows like smoke.

The fence was twenty feet tall, composed of overlapping strands of razor wire stretched between piers spaced every twenty feet. She placed herself between two of the security towers that were spaced at one-hundred foot intervals around the perimeter. Each tower was fitted with an array of security cameras which were monitored by a sophisticated AI that could watch all the feeds without ever needing a break.

A voice from her headset broke into the silence of the night. “The cameras adjacent to you will be on a loop for only the next thirty seconds. After that, the system becomes aware of the interference.”

“Understood,” she responded. She began to walk backwards away from the fence. She crouched down and scanned the security patrols before she rushed toward the fence. She sprinted and jumped up toward the pier, launching herself up and over the next pier. With one final lunge she used the second pier as a springboard to jump over the razor wire and clear the top. She did a somersault in midair, floating downward. She landed into a roll and sprinted like a cat toward the nearest TRTV.

She paused and searched about her to see if her acrobatics had drawn the attention of the patrols, but they seemed to have missed it. She raced through the shadows, ducking behind one piece of equipment to another, until she made her way to a side entrance of the base.

The hour was late, but it was crucial to avoid detection by any witnesses. The graveyard shift was half done with its patrol, giving her a short amount of time in the locker room to search for the photograph. The voice on her headset spoke again.

“The interior cameras will be looped along the path to the pilot’s ready room. You have ninety seconds to get there. You cannot be seen.”

“Understood,” she responded. She entered the base and began slinking through the bright corridors. She felt like a blotch of ink from an overturned bottle skulking through the base. She heard someone coming around the corner, so she ducked into an empty office to her right. She counted the seconds as she waited for the person to walk by and leave her path clear of witnesses. Once the person had moved past, she continued toward her destination.

Her black suit was tailored for sneaking around in the dark, but stood out like a stain within the bright interior of the base. If one person saw her, the mission would have been botched, and neither she nor her superiors could afford for her to fail. Activating the controls on her armband with the swipe of her hand, a holographic display appeared showing an assortment of control settings. She held her finger to a square that emitted every color of the rainbow in a subtle glow.

Her suit’s color shifted as she moved her finger around the colors until her suit blended against the walls of the corridor. She smiled underneath her hood, placing her hand against the wall. Even to herself, knowing what to look for, she looked like a dull smudge. However, even being virtually invisible, anyone would notice the shadows she cast around her.

She left the office and made her way to the locker room without detection. She slipped inside, locking the door behind her.

She turned away from the door and padded toward the lockers. Each locker was assigned to a different pilot, and there appeared to be up to sixty female pilots stationed on the base. Each metal locker was two feet wide by two feet deep and stood seven feet tall. The agent had to search through the rows of lockers until she found the one with the name plaque that read EVANS.

The lockers were kept secure by biometric scanners. The agent placed her right gloved hand on the scanner to activate the security protocol. The first scanning attempt failed, glowing with a red light. This was not a problem for her.

Turning her palm up, she stroked her left index finger down her right wrist. A holographic console illuminated above her palm, showing a 3D contour scan of a handprint. Now with her finger she drew a circle inside her wrist, and the 3D contour lowered and overlaid itself on the surface of the glove. The glove began to shimmer, taking on every facet and groove of the 3D hologram, resulting in a perfect copy of Evangeline’s palm with the appearance of wet, black ink.

She pressed her hand to the scanner and the second time it glowed green. The woman opened the locker door with a smooth, slow motion to avoid unnecessary noises. Within the locker there was a bench for the pilots to sit on, as well as a storage compartment for the pilot’s helmet. She bent down and reached below the shelf, searching around for the photograph. Her hand stopped when she felt something towards the back left corner of the locker wedged between the seams. She pulled it out to examine it.

She first saw the back of the photograph. It was dirty and smudged, scuffed from repeated handling over the years. A simple, hand-written note was scrawled across the top.

“Matthew, Elizabeth & Evy on the South Coast, 7/16/10.”

The woman took note of the inscription and turned over the photograph. A young, smiling couple held an infant in their arms, posing on a blanket spread over a sandy beach. Boats in the background peppered the ocean horizon.

“So this is the invaluable evidence she brought back from the Dissident lab?” the woman in black said to herself. She started as a voice reminded her she was still being monitored by her superiors.

“Return to operations. Bring the picture,” the voice said over the headset. The agent placed the photograph against her upper arm. A small incision appeared above the top edge of the picture and, like a drape; the fabric lowered itself, enveloping the photograph into her suit.

“The cameras will be placed on a loop the moment you open the locker room door. You will have only sixty seconds to get out of the building before the system recognizes the invasion.”

“Understood,” she responded. With the exception of the missing photograph, there would be zero evidence of her incursion. Taking the photograph was unavoidable. It was their only clue to Matthew Chapel’s plans, whereabouts, anything. The agent did not know that Evangeline had just sent them on a wild goose chase, and Evangeline did not know how they would respond to the fool’s errand.

Her exit from the building was less eventful than her entrance. The corridors were empty and she managed to sneak through the shadows of the landing area without stopping to avoid the sentries. She reached the fence the scaled it again as before. She hit the ground running and did not stop until she reached her vehicle parked at the edge of a nearby sales lot. It was always the perfect place to hide a getaway vehicle, hidden in plain sight among other vehicles of the same model.

She got in and pulled away from the lot. She drove away without looking back, heading to her center of operations to deliver the photograph for analysis. Once she made the delivery, she planned to enjoy a long, hot shower. The ports along her spine had started to ache again.

Deep within the forty-third level of the Citadel, a man in dirty overalls pushed a janitors cart up to doors of the central water purification plant. His malicious grin beamed in the shadows of the threadbare bucket hat he wore to obscure his features.

Reaching into the chest pocket of his overalls, he pulled out an access card and swiped it through the reader mounted on the wall. The card reader beeped, but the indicator light flashed an angry red light in his face. He swiped again, but the reader again denied him access.

He gritted his teeth, forcing himself to remain calm. He spat on the card and brushed away the grime with his fingers. He had one more chance to gain entry before the system declared his card invalid and notified the plant security.

Taking a deep breath, he positioned his hand above the reader for his third, and final, attempt. If the card reader denied him access again, he would have to use one of his four pre-planned escape routes.

The doors swung open with a band, knocking him and his cart over onto the pavement. A service cart powered through the double steel doors, driven by a large, older man wearing ear protection and whistling a nonsensical tune to himself.

At the sight of the younger man on the ground, the old man stopped the cart and jumped out to help. “Garrett,” he shouted, forgetting the bright orange caps over his ears. “I didn’t know you were there! I’m so sorry! Here, let me help you up.”

Garrett took the old man’s hand and pulled himself into a standing position. “Thanks, Isaac,” Garrett said with practiced ease, “I guess I wasn’t expecting anyone here at this hour.”

Isaac smiled, shaking his head with confusion. Garrett tilted his head and stared at the side of Isaac’s head in an obvious signal to his ear protection.

Isaac let out a boisterous laugh and pulled the gear down around his neck. “The effects of old age, I tell ya,” he crowed. “I guess I spent too many years cooped up in there.” Isaac shook his thumb toward the water treatment plant, his shoulders shaking with laughter.

Garrett did his best to smile and appear amicable, but he was in a rush and could not afford a delay with an absent-minded old man. “Well,” Garrett drawled, “Thanks for helping me up. I’ll see you around.” He turned to pick up the janitor’s cart, and Isaac stepped forward to help.

“I thought I heard you got fired, Garrett,” Isaac said with sheepish eyes. “What’re you doing here?”

Garrett had planned for an encounter like this with two contingencies. He proceeded with his first alternative without skipping a beat. “No, I just asked to be put on the night shift. I wasn’t fired. See!” Garrett held out the expired ID card, “I’ve still got my employee access card. Would I still have that if I’d been fired?”

Isaac’s posture seemed to relax as he stood there scratching his head. “Yeah, I guess you’re right. Glad to hear you weren’t let go. It’s been nice working with you.” Isaac hefted himself back into the driver’s seat of the service cart and drove away with a tip to his forehead.

Garrett watched Isaac drive away before pushing the cart through the open doors and into the water treatment plant. He was glad that he did not have to resort to his second contingency plan. He liked Isaac. He would have regretted having to kill him.

Garrett pushed the janitors cart through the maze of tunnels and corridors leading up to the primary reservoir of Olympus’s potable water supply. “This is where it all begins,” he hissed to himself.

Garrett reached into the garbage container of the cart, digging around until his fingers caught the handle of the metal container. It was cold and heavy. Hefting it out of the garbage brought back the memories of smuggling it out of the lab one vial at a time. It had taken him months to transport the contents to his safe house in the LTZ, but it was worth it.

Ready to fulfill his mission, he carried the container to the edge of the reservoir. The dimmed lights reflecting in the rippling water danced against the faded paint label. Reaching back into the pockets of his overalls he retrieved a pair of thick rubber gloves before pulling off the lid. The gooey yellow liquid inside appeared as harmless as melted butter.

With his heavy boot against the base, he shoved the container up to the edge of the concrete deck until it toppled over and fell into the water. The currents below scooped up with yellow swirls and carried them away to the unsuspecting masses.

With a slight nod of his head toward the bucket descending out of sight, he took hold of the janitors cart to make his way back out of the treatment plant and Olympus.

TWENTY-SIX

Jack and Evangeline left the clinic exhausted. A small gash surrounded by a growing bruise on the base of Jack’s skull was wrapped in a bandage where the male agent had struck him from behind. The doctors had sealed the gash and injected a local pain inhibitor. The clinic physician told him to return in two or three days for a follow-up evaluation. The cut on Evangeline’s throat was minor. It was also sealed, and Jack and Evangeline were discharged to go home.

The evening was late. Both of them seemed to stagger in a daze from the exhaustion. Two officers escorted them home in a security vehicle. Evangeline felt somewhat comforted by their presence. She did not feel like being strong anymore after their assault in the arena. Part of her wanted to vanish to a getaway for the night, but there was a time bomb counting down inside her mind and she wanted to make sure her secrets remained secret. However, her higher priority was getting Jack home. Her other yearning came second to Jack’s safety. She took a small amount of comfort in the steady, noisy breathing against her shoulder. The pain inhibitors had taken effect, and he had started dozing within a few minutes of climbing into the rear seat next to her. He slouched down in the seat while his head bobbed up and down, left and right with every change in the vehicle’s direction.

Her own mind was on the brink of abandonment, aching to escape to the privacy of her unconscious world. She imagined her hiding place and looked at her watch, without taking note of the time. She already knew it was after 2:00 a.m. from glancing at the digital clock on the vehicle’s console during the trip through Olympus. She knew she needed to get some rest; she felt the urgent need to get to the base first thing in the morning to see if the woman who had jabbed a knife into her neck had already come for the photograph. Evangeline wished she could explore her locker on base first, but the physician had ordered Jack to rest, and Evangeline agreed to stay with him all night to make sure he did not have some kind of seizure after suffering a head trauma.

They rode through Olympus in the back of the security vehicle in silence. Jack had started snoring while the officers talked about the excitement at the arena. Evangeline did not want to join in the conversation and re-live the attack. She watched out the window to block out their voices, noting how many people were awake, still enjoying Olympus’s nightlife.

“Olympus never seems to turn off,” she said to herself. Jack’s head flopped against her shoulder as the vehicle made a sharp turn to the right. Evangeline leaned her head over, sliding her arm underneath his, and hugging it tight. Even as he slept, she felt safer sitting with him. He was her ever-vigilant teddy bear, keeping guard over her, even in his sleep.

They arrived home around 2:30 a.m. The officers walked them to their door and offered to search the residence., which Evangeline and Jack declined. She reminded the officers that she was armed and that they had an excellent security system. Jack joked that if an attack happened again, he would pretend to pass out and let Evangeline get the drop on the invader. The security officers did not even crack a smile, and Jack’s sleepy grin vanished at their stoicism. With a courteous tip of their helmets, they said good night and left.

“Let’s get you to bed,” Evangeline said with her own dozy grin. She appreciated that Jack was feeling well enough to make jokes after their long night, but his humor became less and less funny the longer he was awake. He had reached the point where his comments were just obscure.

“That sounds really good,” he said, stretching his arms and yawning like a grizzly bear. “But I won’t be held responsible if you try to take advantage of me in my weakened state.” The pain inhibitor’s effect as a sleep aid had made a second appearance after their short walk into their housing complex and ride in the lift. She led the way down the hall as Jack shuffled into the bedroom. She helped him shed his clothing onto the floor before he collapsed on the mattress. He started to snore before Evangeline could cover him with the sheet, and she gave him a tender kiss on the cheek.

Evangeline walked into the bathroom, changed into her pajamas, brushed her teeth, and pulled her hair into a ponytail. She stood before the mirror, examining herself. The cut on her throat looked like one of the nicks Jack got from shaving in the morning. It was too small to be of any concern, but remembering how she received it sent shivers screaming up and down her spine. She shuddered, and then shook her arms and head to repel the image of the dark silhouette from her mind. When her spasms stopped, she crept out of the bedroom and into the kitchen. Her body was exhausted, but her mind was racing, so she decided to relax with some herbal tea. As she placed the kettle on the stove, she looked up at the old family clock in the next room.

The pendulum swayed back and forth, counting off the seconds with every tic. The clock was an antique, passed down on her mother’s side of the family, from mother to daughter for generations. Yet another twinge of ache and regret coursed through her heart, knowing she would never have a biological daughter of her own to inherit such a priceless heirloom after she was gone. Evangeline thought of Tori, her virtual daughter. The AI girl had been a sweet gesture from Jack, for certain, but it would never be the same. You cannot really give a gift to a program.

“Tori, are you awake?” she whispered. Tori materialized in the doorway of the kitchen, rubbing her eyes with the back of her hand. Evangeline smiled in wonder at how well Jack’s behavioral programming enabled Tori and Addison to mimic the behavior of living children. When Tori finished rubbing her eyes, she looked up at Evangeline.

“Did you have a good date night, mom?” she asked in a sleepy voice. “Where did you go?”

Evangeline smiled. “Well, it was quite an adventure,” she answered. The conversation was all part of the girl’s programming to be inquisitive and thoughtful. To Evangeline, it felt as real as any conversation she had had with a living child. “We went out to dinner at a new place, and then we played at Ground Zero.”

Tori put her hand on her hip and tilted her head to the side. “Did Daddy cheat again?” she asked. Her eyes squinted as she contemplated his consequence if the answer was yes. Evangeline covered her mouth and giggled. Tori’s adaptive program allowed her to imitate the opinions and attitudes of those she interacted with most. As Evangeline studied the girl’s saucy pose, she felt as if she was looking in the mirror, and she suppressed another giggle. She wondered if she really looked that stern when she learned that Jack had bent the rules, once again, in his favor against other players in the arena.

“Yes, Daddy cheated,” she answered, smiling. Tori opened her mouth to say something, but Evangeline interrupted her. “But, tonight it was okay that he cheated.” Tori’s mouth closed, and then opened again, a little like a fish.

“How is it bad to cheat, but it was okay to cheat tonight?” she asked with a quizzical expression. “Was he cheating to help you win because you got in a fight and he was making it up to you?”

A single laugh escaped Evangeline’s lips. She poked her head around the corner and listened. Jack’s snores were still resonating down the hall. She let out a sigh of relief that her guffaw did not wake him up.

“No! Nothing like that,” she answered. Tori continued to stare, waiting for an explanation. Evangeline knew it was just her inquisitive programming, but she decided to indulge her virtual daughter. It felt good to be able to say things to Tori. Like most living children, Tori did not judge what people said to her. She just listened. Evangeline suspected that Jack had created something akin to a therapist subroutine.

“There was some trouble in the arena, and Daddy used one of his special cheats to protect us.”

Tori calculated for a moment. “Daddy’s a good guy to have around, huh?” Evangeline felt a wave of tenderness wash over her heart. Part of her wondered how long the phrase had been in Tori’s buffer, waiting for the right moment to be said. She could not help but smile as her eyes became misty.

“Yes,” answered. “Daddy’s a great guy to have around.”

The teapot started whistling and Evangeline walked over to take it off the stove. “Tori, it’s time for bed,” she said as she pulled a cup from the cabinet. Tori yawned and turned toward the doorway.

“Goodnight, Mom,” she said and dissolved out of the room. Evangeline finished making her tea and carried it to the table. She sat down in the chair that faced the window as she sipped from her steaming cup. Her mind had not settled down. Sip after sip, she held the hot cup in her hands and focused her mind on the sensation of heat transferring from the aromatic liquid and cascading through her body from her mouth. She imagined the aches and stress as swirling curly cues of smoke evaporating through her pores, carried away by the warm summer air coming in through the window.

She breathed in the last drops of tea, releasing a deep, cleansing breath, and set her cup down on the table. She did not think about putting it in the sink. As usual, Jack would find it in the morning and take care of it. With a lingering stretch, she pushed away from the table and walked into the front room.

This was her favorite room in the house. A small loveseat faced the front door, and on the opposite side of the room was a sofa similar to the one her father once had in his study. It was not quite the same, but the color and texture of the fabric reminded her of her childhood days, sitting and reading while he worked. Behind the sofa sat a small, sparsely filled bookshelf. Physical books were expensive and rare. As Evangeline grew older, she understood that her father’s collection had been worth a fortune, and it saddened her to think how she took the precious books for granted when she was young.

The clock hung on the wall above the bookshelf, looking ancient and delicate. She stared at it for a moment before reaching up and removing it from its peg in the wall. It was made of wood, real wood, not the synthetic woods used everywhere else in Olympus. Most people saw the clock and mistook it for a replica. Evangeline was not inclined to correct their misconceptions. The clock’s authenticity was second to its real value.

It was an old cuckoo clock. The inner workings which made the little lark pop out and sing had broken decades before Evangeline had been born. No one her family had ever bothered to have it repaired; she was not even sure anyone alive would have the knowledge to fix the damaged cogs, wheels, and springs. Evangeline carried the clock back into the kitchen and set it down on the table next to her empty teacup. She took a moment to compose herself before she proceeded with what she had been planning during their trip home from the medical clinic. With extreme care, she opened the little hinged door, exposing the pendulum’s connection to the rest of the clockworks.

She took the pendulum by the shaft and lifted the hook off the metal ring from which it hung. She held it in her hands and stared at the clock. The image of a coffin passed across her mind. The pendulum seemed as fragile as a butterfly in her trembling hands. She had to close her eyes and take several deep breaths to compose herself before the next step.

Her heart raced as she took a firm grip on the shaft with one hand and began twisting the bob of the pendulum with the other. With an agonizing slowness, the bob began to unwind off the threads and pull away from the shaft. Once she removed the bob, she paused and took another deep breath. The last time she had looked at the contents of the pendulum had been a few days after she returned from her last off-world mission. She had hidden the secret away and had sworn to herself never to look at it again. The memories it brought to the forefront of her mind were just too painful. Besides, there had been no reason on earth for her to see or touch what was concealed within ever again.

She tipped the hollow shaft downward, with the opening pointed toward the table. She held her breath and cupped her hand at the tip before she began shaking the delicate metal tube. With one hesitant jostle after another, the yellowed, brittle paper began to peek out from the opening. She pinched it with her fingertips and pulled the two slips of parchment from their hiding place.

With great gentleness, she unrolled the papers and smoothed them out on the table. She laid them out side by side and her eyes drifted back and forth between them. She had not thought about which one she would read first, though she had them both memorized. She started with the shorter one for no other reason than it did not make her heart ache with each stroke of her father’s penmanship.

After reading and puzzling over the second piece of paper, she returned her attention to the first. She had kept that one hidden since her parents disappeared when she was thirteen. It was a letter written by her father, which he had made her promise that she would not read until he and her mother came home from their research trip. Evangeline had first read it when her parents had been missing for a month, before rumors began to circulate and authorities declared him a renegade and a traitor, along with her mother.

The letter made her ache for her father’s embrace after every nightmare.