Darkness on a Pale Blue Stone (17 page)

They stopped after the shots ended and they were far out of sight regardless.

"Now what?" Jake asked.

"We stop playing nice," Gresson replied.

"Oh, I like that idea," Jake said with a smile.

"I assume there is a back entrance?" Gresson asked Michael.

Michael thought for a moment, then said, "I've only been here a few times, but I'm pretty sure there is a loading area in the back."

"Alright. Michael, you'll have to lead Jake, Lash, and I to Project Blackout. Everyone else, you will stay outside at a safe distance. If everything goes as it should, we will get what we need, meet back with you, and then be on our way," Gresson said.

"Let's do this," Lash said.

They all walked a long path around the building and approached the rear side. There did not seem to be anyone there. Gresson, Michael, Lash, and Jake cautiously crept up to one of the doors.

"It's locked," Jake whispered after he tried it. The holographic keypad was fried, but the lock was still engaged.

"There is bound to be a lot of these," Gresson said. He gave the door a solid kick which, while not enough to break through the lock, separated the door from its hinges. It created a loud bang and screeching noise, but Gresson gave it one more kick. It bent the door enough for the four of them to slip inside.

Once past the door, they heard distant shouts and footsteps.

"Damn it," Lash said. "They know we're here."

"You think?" Jake said.

"Stay quiet and keep moving," Gresson said.

They were in the loading area and used a glow-stick and a lighter to see. The room was full of miscellaneous boxes and a long conveyor belt.

"What do they do here?" Lash asked.

"Storage mostly, but also some auxiliary testing," Michael said.

Gresson threw up a hand to quiet them. They made their way to a door and went through. They could hear running footsteps coming closer. Gresson began to head to the left, but Michael grabbed his arm and led them to the right. There was a large bulletin board on the wall that Michael recognized from his visit. He remembered being led in this direction to the elevators. He hoped stairs were nearby. A minute later, they found the elevators and fortunately stairs were nearby. They quickly scrambled to the floor above as they heard movement not far behind them. They made their way around a corner and stopped, waiting to see if they would be followed.

The footsteps downstairs seemed to proceed into the loading area and soon the four of them heard nothing. Michael exhaled and inhaled deeply, having forgotten to breathe.

"Nice call down there, Michael. I assume you remember the layout of this place?" Gresson asked.

"A little," he replied.

"Any idea where Project Blackout would be?" Gresson asked.

"One of the middle floors. At least, that's where they had newer projects when I was here."

"Okay. So, will it be in its own room? How will we find it?" Gresson asked.

Michael shrugged. "Normally I'd say we need to access a computer. They don't physically track anything."

"Don't tell me we came in here for nothing," Jake groaned.

"We'll have to check room by room and look at the boxes. It will say... Ah, damn. No it won't," Michael said.

"Say what?" Lash asked.

"The boxes have digital ID's on them. Those ID's won't be working now. The only way we can figure out what's in them is to actually look inside every single box in every room," Michael said, resignedly.

"Holy hell. This is gonna take days," Jake said.

"Michael," Gresson said, deep in thought.

"What?"

"When I was at Gimbal in New York, they only had half of the project in the lab, but the computer there said it had been moved here the day before. Help me understand the process of moving a project."

"I swear to god, Gresson. If you left what we came all the way here for back in New York..." Jake said.

"No, our system is usually accurate," Michael said. "Whatever they left was just scrap to be discarded later. I take it we need the full thing?"

"Yes, and whatever else you might need to transplant it into something else," Gresson replied.

"Well, usually a project arrives the same day, but if no one needs it immediately... it can sit for days in processing."

"Was someone going to need it?" Gresson asked.

"Yeah, I was... next month." Michael smiled. "You're a genius, Gresson."

"Okay, hold up. What the hell just happened?" Jake asked.

"There's no way the project is assigned to a lab yet. They wait until the days before researchers show up, otherwise it wastes lab space. It has to be still in processing," Michael said excitedly.

"So, it won't take us all night to find it?" Lash asked.

"If we find the processing room, it'll take us minutes," Michael replied.

"And we were just about to search through thousands of boxes. You guys have got to do your homework before we do any more cross-country missions," Jake said.

"Any more? Who says we're doing this again?" Lash asked, jokingly.

"Yeah, true. I-95 can burn after we're done for all I care," Jake said.

"Alright, Michael. Take us to the processing room," Gresson said.

They made their way back downstairs to the entrance of the loading area.

"It should be on the opposite side," Michael whispered.

They crept into the expansive room and immediately realized they were not alone. Lash flipped off her lighter and Gresson tucked the glow-stick in his coat when they saw lights across the room. The men from the front entrance of the building were searching the area with their own large-sized glow-sticks. Gresson led the group silently along the right side of the room, hoping to avoid walking in the paths of the men.

They only made it a third of the way across the area when one of the men began walking in their direction. Gresson motioned for the others to stay behind as he made his way toward the oncoming light. Gresson hid behind a large plastic container as the man passed by, only a few feet away from the others. Gresson silently leapt up at the man and punched in his wind pipe while tearing his gun from his grip. The man reached for his now-concave throat, trying desperately to breathe. Gresson ended his suffering with a quick snap of his neck. He caught the body before it hit the floor. Gresson hid the glow-stick and the body in the nearby plastic container and returned to the others, having left for no more than fifteen seconds.

As much as the others wanted to remark, the nearby presence of at least two armed men kept them silent. They followed Gresson across the room until they reached the far side. Gresson went to press the door open, but it was locked.
Damn it,
he thought.
No way we're getting out of here quietly.

He motioned for the others to stay put as he went over toward the two nearby men. The group watched him disappear into the darkness, only to reappear as a shadow in one of the men's lights. They heard a punch and groan as one of the lights was extinguished. The other light suddenly moved quickly in that direction, but stopped after an echoing gunshot, followed by a
thump
as a body hit the floor.

After a full minute of silence, Gresson returned.

"Wow," Jake said. "Did they even need to bother with Secret Service when you were president?"

"I did not make a habit of showcasing my abilities while in office," Gresson replied, making his way to the door.

"Right..." Jake said.

Gresson threw his body against the door and it crashed open. Michael had predicted correctly. They now stood in the processing room.

"You gotta be kidding me," Lash said, as she noticed a conveyor belt that ran through the wall from the loading area, complete with a gaping hole, a hole large enough for them to have crawled through.

Gresson sighed. "Oh well," he said.

Jake shrugged and said, "Seriously though, I think taking down those guys was a lot cooler than crawling through a hole. Just saying."

Michael began to search the room for Project Blackout. Jake nearly tripped on something lying on the ground. He knelt down to get a closer look. It was a metal orb.

"What is this?" he asked.

"Securi-drone," Lash answered. "They're mobile cameras. Usually, they'd be patrolling the building."

Jake threw it against the floor. "Ugh, I
hate
robots."

Lash turned to Michael. "Any luck?"

"Not yet, but I'll find it," he replied.

"Find what?" a female voice said. She stood on the other side of the room next to three others, all aiming their guns.

Chapter 23

Charleston - August 17, 2012

"Samantha?" Michael asked in shock, recognizing the woman.

"Michael," the woman replied with hesitation, also surprised.

"What are you doing here?" he asked.

"I should ask you the same thing," she replied.

"We just need to pick something up and then..." Gresson said.

"I don't know you. The only reason you all aren't dead is because I know Michael. So he's the one who talks," Samantha growled, but there was a subtle tone of panic in her voice. She was dangerous by choice, not by nature.

"Dammit, Sam. What's gotten into you?" Michael asked his former boss.

"Shut up. Why are you here?" she asked.

"Don't tell her, Michael," Gresson ordered.

"Just a project from New York. That's all we need. Then, we'll leave," he said.

"Can't do that. Sorry. Now get out. I'll let you live if you go now."

"Michael, tell 'Samantha' that..." Gresson began.

"Hey, shut up!" Samantha screamed waving her gun in Gresson's direction. He ignored her.

"...we will be taking what we need. If they intend to be obstacles, they will be removed. I am extraordinarily tired of delays."

"Sam, listen. You have no idea..." Michael started.

"Get the hell out!" she yelled.

"Sam! What's going on? What the hell has turned you into a murderer?" Michael asked desperately.

Samantha laughed maniacally for a moment, then her face turned to anger. "A murderer? I'm no murderer." Her tone turned grim. "I'm just protecting my property."

"Your property? What are you talking about? Since when did you even work here?" Michael asked.

"I don't care about Gimbal, Michael. This place is mine because I claimed it. That's how things work now!"

"Why? What's so special about this place?"

Samantha was taken back, expecting it to be obvious. "It's the same reason you're here. Technology. In the next few months, those who have it will be the only ones with power."

"Most of this stuff doesn't even work anymore! And you're willing to kill people for it?"

"People are dying anyway! We told them to leave, but they didn't!"

"So you shot them in the back?"

"They were going to tell others..."

"You're insane, Sam. You're just going to get yourself killed, long before you gain any 'power' or whatever you're after."

"Oh, Michael. You wouldn't know much about that. You have no idea how to take charge, do you? Heh, that's why you kept that bitch of yours."

Shame and fury flowed through Michael. The shame was due to his past affair with Sam. He had hoped it would remain in the past after he had come clean to Alice many years ago. He was furious that his old boss and former mistress was now holding a gun to him and insulting the woman he loved. His fists clenched, his jaw tightened, and the rage began to build. Eyeing the three men beside her he said, "Seems like you have enough dogs to play with now. Why are you still after me?"

Samantha smiled and replied, "You are so cute when you're mad."

She had been distracted long enough. Gresson, who had already pulled his gun from his coat, now aimed it at Samantha and her companions. Lash quickly followed with her shotgun and Jake with his pistol.

Fear crossed Samantha's face. "Alright, let's calm down. If you leave now, no one needs to get hurt."

"Again, we need what we came here for," Gresson said. "Leaving without it is not an option."

"We can't just let anyone walk in here and take what they want," one of the men beside Samantha said.

"I know that!" she yelled back.

Gresson slowly stepped over to Michael.

"Stop!" Samantha demanded.

Gresson whispered to Michael, "Find the project. Now." Gresson motioned toward the line of shelves and tables in the room holding various equipment and boxes. Michael's eyes began to scan.

"Tell me, Samantha. How do you intend to hold this place?" Gresson asked.

"The same way we're stopping you from moving. These men are trained security from Gimbal."

"And you think they are good enough to kill us all before we kill you?"

"Who do you think you are..." Her voice trailed off when recognition set in. She had not seen Gresson's face very clearly in the dark room, but she now recognized his voice. "Who... who are you?"

"My name is Gresson. And I assure you that, as Michael attempted to explain, you have no idea who you are dealing with."

"Oh, bullshit. President Gresson is dead." Uncertainty hung in her voice.

At this moment, Michael found Project Blackout. He recognized its container and while it was not labeled, he had no doubt about what was inside. It was black, the size of a small suitcase and sat only a few feet away. "Gresson," he said quietly, trying to let him know.

Gresson heard Michael and turned to Lash and Jake. He lifted his glow-stick to his face and said, "What's the name of the project we're here for?" The others were initially confused by his rhetorical question, but Gresson got the message across when he covered up half of his glow-stick with his hand.

"Hey, what are you..." Samantha said.

"Michael..." Gresson said. Simultaneously, he and Lash put out their glow-stick and lighter, darkening their half of the room. Michael grabbed Project Blackout. They all ran under the cover of darkness as Samantha and the security guards opened fire, but they had no clear targets.

"Get them!" Samantha screamed as Gresson and the others ran through the loading area, heading for the exit. The broken door to the outside let in the only light. The four of them struggled to navigate through the dark room as bullets whizzed past and ricocheted off the floor, containers, and conveyor belt.