Halon-Seven (13 page)

He found Reese standing stock still in the center of the living room. She seemed lost in thought. He didn’t say anything. Instead, he sat down on the couch and began lacing up his boots, all the while wondering what she was thinking.

After a few moments, she snapped out of her funk and looked around. “I’m sorry,” she said quietly. “It’s different being here, since he’s gone.”

Ahh, that’s understandable.
He had no idea how close Reese had been with Meade. He was only aware of the broad strokes. For example, he knew they had worked together for several years. And that the old man referred to her as his associate. But when Reese introduced herself earlier, she claimed she was Meade’s research assistant. He assumed she was being modest. He knew for a fact that Meade considered her a peer, not a subordinate. But beyond that, Cyrus had no idea what their relationship really might have been. “Were you close?”

She looked at him for a moment and thought, then shrugged her shoulders. “It was hard to tell with Walter. I would say I was as close to him as anyone he knew. But he was a very private person. It’s no exaggeration to say this project was his life. He’d been working on it since he left college. He never married. In the time I knew him, I don’t think he ever even dated.

“This place was more than a home to him. It was his sanctuary. The number of people who have been in this house could be counted on one hand.” She thought for a moment. “I guess you could say we were close. We spent Thanksgiving and Christmas Eve here together the last two years. But I always thought he did that out of pity. My parents died a couple of years back. I think Walter realized the holidays were hard for me. He invited me up here so I wouldn’t be alone.”

Cyrus wasn’t sure how to respond. Certainly it made his heart ache to think of someone like Reese losing her family. Seeing the far off look in her eyes when she spoke of them made it clear that it was still a fresh wound. But that wasn’t what she was really getting at, so he stayed on point. “I think you’re selling yourself short. The Walter Meade I knew didn’t do anything unless it was what
he
wanted. He was a kind and generous man, but, like you said, he was a private man, too. If he didn’t want you here, he wouldn’t have asked you to share the holidays with him.”

It was a tricky subject. She was clearly missing the old man. He wanted to make her feel better, but he meant every word. Meade had had his share of secrets. Cyrus got the sense that he was just now scratching the surface of those secrets. Meade had spoken highly of Reese, had referred to her as his contemporary, rather than as his assistant. The old man had made her a part of his meager private life. Clearly Walter Meade had thought very much of this woman.

With a small sniff, Reese wiped a tear from the corner of each eye. “Thank you. I suppose you’re right. I guess it just struck me as strange, seeing the place without his personal effects.”

“I wondered about that. What happened to his stuff after he passed? You said he didn’t have a lot of friends and even fewer knew where he lived? Who cleaned the place out?”

“That was me. You’re right. He didn’t trust many. But he did leave an extremely detailed will. You must have met Mister Underwood?”

Cyrus nodded.

“Everything was detailed in the will. He asked that I take all of his clothes and donate them to charity. He wanted all of his financial records scanned to disc and the originals destroyed. He even stipulated that I dispose of all his personal toiletries. He wanted the place spotless and ready for you to move in, when the time came. You taking over this house was very important to him.”

“And you were the one who had to do the cleanup and take care of all that? I’m sorry. I would’ve been happy to clean up. It’s the least I could do.”

“Oh, no. You don’t understand. My instructions were just to take care of the clothes, the bills, and dispose of a few things. There was no mess. Walter was the most fastidious person I’ve ever met. The house was immaculate. I think the most I had to do was pick up a couple of books that were lying around. Even the bathrooms were spotless. That’s just the way Walter was.”

Cyrus considered all of that. It was shocking how little he really knew of the old man. He knew some of Meade’s most closely guarded secrets, but that was entirely thanks to a chance encounter some years back. It bothered him that he would never have the chance to know the man better. He had enjoyed their discussions immensely, and it saddened him knowing there would be no further conversations. And it troubled him that Walter had passed some weeks ago, yet Cyrus had known nothing about it. He hadn’t even been able to attend the service.

“Anyway,” Reese said, this time she pulled Cyrus from his funk. “I’m starving. How about that bite to eat?”

“Absolutely. You pick the place, and I’m buying.”

That settled, they were ready to go. Before heading to the transport platform, Cyrus ran down to the basement. He wanted to lock up the vault before leaving, but it turned out not to be a concern. Once again, Meade had thought of everything. Activating the teleportation platform must have closed the vault door automatically.

That brought a question to mind. It was curious. Why two transport platforms in the house? One locked in the vault and one upstairs in the closet? The one in the closet seemed much more modern. The one in the vault almost looked like an early prototype. Given the archived records and the reels of film stored in the vault, it seemed the likely case. There must have been a reason Meade hadn’t used the old platform as his ‘daily driver.’ That seemed to be the function of the platform upstairs. It was just one of the many questions he intended for Reese.

He headed back upstairs. Reese was waiting in the spare bedroom. They entered the walk-in closet. This time, the large control panel Cyrus saw inside the door of the closet made more sense. It was a security panel just like the one beside the front door. Meade had installed it there so he could control the security system as he came and went, via the platform.

They stepped onto the platform together, toe-to-toe again. Reese’s close proximity caused his pulse to quicken, and he felt his skin warm. Actually, it was more than that. He could feel the heat from her body. The thought made his pulse quicken further. She could’ve stepped away if she wanted to, he was sure of it. There was enough room for the two of them on the platform, and she knew that he knew. Still, she didn’t move away. That decision wasn’t lost on him.

As before, Reese tapped a series of commands into her smartphone. This was another subject he wanted to discuss. The device in the vault had a simplistic but heavy-duty control panel. But it seemed she could control the modern platforms directly from her phone.

She looked up at him. The corners of her lips curled into a pert little smile. Yes, she could’ve moved away if she wanted.

Moments later there was a flash of light, a pop of his ears, and they were standing in the dark. This time the popping of his ears made sense. The house in Colorado was high up in the mountains, while just about everything in Santa Barbara was close to sea level. Although the teleportation was instantaneous and painless, the human body was still subject to the change in barometric pressure.

—————

Reese stepped from
the transport platform first and made her way to the light switch in the dark. They were standing in the spare bedroom of her two-bedroom apartment. There was a small daybed against one wall and a small desk against the other. The transport platform took up a good portion of the remaining floor space.

“My turn to change,” she said. She pointed down the hall to the left. “The living room and kitchen are that way. Make yourself at home. I’ll only be a minute.”

She left Cyrus and turned the corner into her bedroom, shutting the door behind her. Walking across the room, she looked at herself in the mirror.
Wonderful!
No one looks their best at three o’clock in the morning. She changed out of her t-shirt, selecting a more presentable and form-fitting button-up top. She liked the way it accented her trim waist and
 
full breasts. The top was a little low cut, but she liked that too.
God, am I really doing this?
She felt like a teenager again, which was silly. Then again, she was twenty-seven years old and hadn’t found time for dating in
far too long
. This infatuation was giving her a charge. What was the point in denying herself that harmless fun?

Turning back to the mirror, she pulled her hair from the ponytail and quickly brushed through it. Her raven black hair fell just past her shoulders. She’d been in a rush to get to the office after receiving the automated page on her phone earlier in the night. She’d thrown her hair up in her hurry to get out the door. But now they were going out. And, if she were honest with herself, she wanted to look her best. She was pretty sure she was getting a vibe from Cyrus and wanted to make the most of it.

Just as she was about to turn and head for the door, movement from behind caught her eye in the mirror. She turned with a start as a dark skinned man bolted from the darkness of the closet. He wore baggy clothes and a baseball cap, and he had something in his hand. She drew a breath to scream, but what he had in his hand prevented it.

The man lunged with a stun gun. It was a heavy duty, industrial weapon in the shape of a short baton. Before she could exhale a scream, he touched the end of the stun rod to her side jolting her instantly into unconsciousness.

Santa Barbara, California

Wednesday, 1:44 am (2:44 am Colorado Time)

Cyrus stood on the balcony overlooking the empty beach ten stories below. Beyond the sand, a stunning full moon reflected back in the gently breaking waves of the wide open bay. What Reese’s apartment lacked in space was made up for with an impressive view. It must’ve been amazing to wake each morning to the sound of waves lapping at the shore. He could picture her sitting there drinking coffee and taking in the distant horizon.

The balcony was about fifteen feet wide and close to ten feet deep. Enough room for the small bistro table and chair set off to the side. A thick, wrought-iron handrail ran the perimeter of the balcony. Each apartment along that side of the fifteen-story building had a matching terrace. A privacy panel extended from the side of the building, secluding each balcony from the ones on either side. It offered some semblance of privacy in a building packed with hundreds of people. The apartment certainly had its selling points, mainly the beach and the view, but Cyrus would take the mountains of Colorado any day.

The sound of movement inside the apartment drew him to glance over his shoulder. He expected Reese to be ready any moment.

“All set—” he started to ask as he did a double-take. It wasn’t Reese standing in the apartment, but two burly Latino men in dark baggy clothes, brandishing automatic rifles.

He had only a fraction of a second to take action before the two men opened fire. The balcony offered no protection at all. The tiny table and chair set would do nothing to stop an onslaught of automatic weapons fire, and advancing into the apartment was out of the question. He’d be running into a hail of bullets. His options severely limited, he turned his back on the gunmen, dropped his shoulder and ducked head first over the edge of the balcony. The sound of fully automatic gunfire filled the air even as his feet cleared the railing.

The two men stopped firing a few seconds later and just looked at each other, obviously shocked their target would choose a ten story swan dive over a bullet. One of the men nodded to the other and pointed to the balcony. He wanted his partner to check on the target.

“Really, Holmes?” The second shooter hissed. “Vato just took a header into the parking lot! He’s history!”

The first shooter responded by baring his teeth at the smaller man and pointing again to the ledge. He held his finger to his lips. Keep quiet, the obvious signal.

“Really? You’re worried about the noise? We just opened up on the whiteboy with ten pounds of lead! The deaf old lady next door just had a heart attack, and you want me to be quiet?”

But the look in the eye of the larger man left no room for debate. With a shake of his head, the smaller man headed for the balcony. He tromped through the broken glass—the remains of the sliding glass door—making no attempt at stealth.

—————

Cyrus was hanging
on to the outside of the railing that surrounded the balcony. As he’d thrown himself over the rail, he’d grabbed at the heavy iron balusters, the evenly spaced vertical iron slats between the handrail and the floor of the balcony. His fall had finally been arrested when his slipping grip reached the base of the baluster in each hand. The side of his face, and then his chest, had smashed into the end of the concrete slab that comprised the balcony. It hurt like hell, but it was better than a ten-story fall onto the sandy beach below.

Still, this wasn’t a good long-term plan. It had saved him from the initial hail of gunfire, but—

Oh crap!

He looked up to see that one of the wrought iron balusters had broken lose under his weight. It was bending outward as it gave way. If he was lucky, he had a few seconds before it snapped off entirely.

He heard the sound of crunching glass and knew one of the gunmen was coming to confirm his demise. Two men had fired on him, and Reese was nowhere to be seen. That could indicate there was at least one more assailant in the apartment. He would need to make quick work of these two if he was going to get to Reese in time. The failing iron bar in his right hand had given him an idea. He adjusted the grip of his left hand. It would need to support all of his weight. He quickly worked the loose iron bar with his right hand. It snapped free of its corroded old weld.

He freed the bar just in time. As he looked up, one of the gunmen leaned over the railing and glanced down. The man hadn’t expected to see Cyrus hanging from the base of the railing. His eyes went wide in surprise. He opened his mouth to say something, but never got the chance. Cyrus swung the iron bar at the man’s head with everything he had. The impact sounded like someone had kicked a ripe melon. The man’s body instantly sagged as he lost consciousness. Cyrus dropped the iron bar and used the opportunity to reach up and grab him by the collar. With a solid pull, the body came over the rail and plummeted to the sand ten stories below.