Jaunt (9 page)

Dark Horse held up his holobook, manually scrolling down its screen. “This is the official report from the Department of Defense. Please refer to page one, paragraph seven.”

Tapping a button on their respective holobooks, the group scrolled through the report and found the appropriate text.

“Preliminary scans of the laboratory sub-room U5-5 indicated that at approximately one hundred nineteen hours, tampering with the Secured Sample Lockbox resulted in the absence of specimen X-two-six-alpha-two-one-five-six-four. The person or persons involved does not preclude anyone in this room or complex.”

“Oh, Christ,” Waters muttered, before burying her face in her hands.

Other sighs of disbelief and panic trembled throughout the room as several of the scientists chose to console themselves instead of hearing any more of the devastating news.

Mason flashed a look to Gilmour; one of the jewels was missing. How the hell could this have happened? After all the hard work, and all the precautions....

“Now wait a minute!” Marlane said, her holobook clattering to the table top.

“Colonel, what motive would any of us here have for theft?”

“I am not suggesting any motive, Doctor Marlane,” Dark Horse answered. “I am reporting simply what the DoD has said. Tests will be administered to clear everyone in this complex of any wrongdoing. Allow me to reiterate,” Dark Horse continued, shifting into damage control mode, “no one here is above suspicion, including myself. My superiors have questioned me thoroughly, and will continue to do so as required by military law.”

“Military law,” Marlane spat. “Colonel, I should hope that the military is interested in enforcing their own Civilian Employee Protection Act. Or will we be subjected to the same level of questioning as you?”

“I assure you all,” de Lis answered for him, “the government is interested in protecting the rights of all of its employees here. Please, let’s not reach premature conclusions.”

Roget looked to Marlane. “The military have their reasons, whether you believe them to be legitimate or not, Carol.”

“Than what are they, Doctor?!” Marlane’s hands flew wildly about as she looked to her dejected colleagues. “The Lockbox has been broken into! Nothing here is safe! Any of us could be blamed for this! It will be impossible to carry out the—”

Enough. He had heard the concerns, and despite his status as a foreigner here in this enclave, Gilmour knew his piece must be voiced. “Doctor Marlane, if I may.” The IIA agent pointedly eyed each scientist, making sure he was understood. “The lieutenant colonel has made us all aware of this breach, which cannot be undone, no matter the amount of soul-searching by anybody at this table. It is important that we not lose our resolve, that we maintain our commitment to this project, and our duty. Despite the tragedy this morning, we must move on, and redouble our efforts to determine the nature of the finds from the field.”

Were they listening? He double-checked their eyes, their mouths. Not one of the eminent doctors here, despite the probable and deserved attitude towards this decided non-scientist, looked askance. Gilmour had their ears, and most importantly, their attention.

Pointing to the corridor outside, Gilmour finished, “As an agent of the IIA, my duty is to go out into the field and face danger everyday. Because our hand has most likely been tipped to the Confederation now, we have new dangers, new challenges to face. Does this mean we fold? Hell, no. Complete this mission, finish what Doctor de Lis and Colonel Dark Horse have commanded us to do. I’m not a scientist, but I’ll do my duty to the utmost. It’s the least we can do.”

De Lis found his seat, stunned by the man’s eloquent, and earthy, appeal. He felt envious in a certain way; Gilmour had communicated better to de Lis’ own staff than he sometimes could. Nonetheless, he was pleased; Gilmour had earned their full respect.

“Thank you, Agent Gilmour...I think...that sums up everything.” De Lis turned to Dark Horse. “Colonel, I think that’s good enough for now. Thank you.”

Dark Horse parted his lips, but thinking better, closed them; his years of experience with the military allowed him to understand the doctor’s need to rally his staff. The lieutenant colonel silently offered his best wishes for the difficult task ahead.

“I trust my staff can return to the lab?” de Lis said to Dark Horse.

“Yes...yes. Our investigation will be concluded off-site.”

“When will we be questioned, Colonel?” Valagua asked, moving the subject on.

“The timetable is confidential. Doctor de Lis and I will call each and every one of you when it is your turn.” He then looked to everyone at the table, eliciting their acknowledgement of the plan.

“Sounds fair,” Waters said after the colonel’s eyes met her’s. She had been with the theoretical studies laboratory for the shortest time of all those gathered here, save for the two IIA agents, but possessed a sense of how the military operated during her formal education with DARPA; Marlane, conversely, was actually one of the few scientists recruited straight from the civilian fields. And, despite Marlane’s vocal protestation, Waters could understand her concerns. All too often in North American history, the military had suspended the rights of the lesser informed and the ignorant in times of crisis, destroying careers and ruining lives in the operation of that juggernaut.

“If there are no more questions...” de Lis paused, and hearing nothing from the group, continued, “dismissed.”

U5-29 emptied out rather quickly, much sooner than usual. Marlane and Waters exited the room together, followed by Valagua, Roget and de Lis. Only Quintanilla remained, and she paired off with the lieutenant colonel away from the other scientists. Gilmour and Mason rose from their seats and approached Dark Horse from around the conference table, holobooks in hand.

The lieutenant colonel paused his conversation with Quintanilla. “Agents....”

Gilmour handed his holobook to the lieutenant colonel. “Colonel Dark Horse, my list of candidates.”

Mason watched the curiously calm Quintanilla exit the conference room without so much as a word spoken, nor a look back to the three.

“Oh yes.” The lieutenant colonel scrolled through the text, inspecting the government bioinfomatics, his head bobbing almost imperceptibly. He tucked the holobook under his arm. “Interesting. I’ll examine them further as soon as possible.”

Gilmour allowed his mouth a slight simper. “Just don’t lose my holobook, sir. It’s my favorite.”

“Ah, yes. I understand.” He patted the device’s exposed top with his right hand, as if it were a pet, then exited the conference room, making sure not to lose Quintanilla’s trail.

Gilmour raised an eyebrow. “What do you make of Quintanilla?”

“She’s cool under all this boiling tension, that’s for sure.” Mason shook his head. “I don’t know. She’s secretive, even more so than when we met her.”

“Is that good or bad in this group?”

“Nothing is at it seems here, James.”

“We’re one short on specimens, Richard,” Waters said, spinning in her seat to face de Lis, who stood at the threshold to her office. “I can’t afford to misstep and risk destroying the remaining artifacts.”

“I realize that, Stacia. Time is of the essence, though. If our worst fears are reality, we may not be able to afford to be careful. We need to be ruthless in our examinations.”

She sighed, hating having her hands tied. “Do you really think there are more jewels to be gathered at these new sites?”

De Lis stepped over to Waters, his arms crossed. “There’s a good probability. Dark Horse is busy preparing a retrieval mission to Russia.”

Her eyes were tired and unfocused; objects in her office blended, melding together as she contemplated this most dangerous of circumstances.
God, if the Confederationdiscovered us....

“I should go, Richard. I’ll be needed.”

He shook his head. “No, Stacia, I need you here. If Gilmour and Mason don’t re—” he caught himself, “aren’t successful, we’ll be lost without our research here. There’s no more to it than that.”

Waters’ eyes met de Lis’. “Are you going?”

He doctor remained mute for a moment, before finally saying, “I haven’t discussed this matter with Dark Horse in any depth. As it stands, I’m still here to carry on this research.”

“As am I.” Waters stood and walked out from her desk. “Which means I need to get back to the lab.”

De Lis remained in her office as Waters headed back to U5-1. He removed his glasses to wipe his eyes clear, the memory of his last web correspondence ripping his mind apart. De Lis had been kind when describing the conversation, hoping to ease the tensions already present in his staff. McKennitt and Rauchambau had not only been displeased, they had given him a royal reaming.

He breathed deeply. If results were not immediately produced, it was let known by the two offices that he would be swiftly retired from active duty in Ottawa. If that did indeed occur, he’d never be able to live with the knowledge that he had let his staff down. They had to succeed. Not for his own sake, but for theirs, and the world’s.

A succinct round of knocks outside Gilmour’s quarters startled him. He set down an auxiliary holobook and scrambled to the door. Once open, his favorite holobook met his stomach with a thump before Dark Horse made himself welcome.

Gilmour inspected the device for scratches, but finding none, greeted the officer.

Dark Horse clasped his hands behind his back and walked a few healthy paces into the abode. “You have good contacts, Agent Gilmour. I’m pleased with their credentials.”

Smiling to himself, Gilmour knew his candidates had been quickly secured and shanghaied to Ottawa. “When are they due to arrive?”

“Within the hour.” Dark Horse swiveled on his tight heels. “That speech you gave this morning at the debriefing...I’ve been waiting for your leadership to exert itself.”

Gilmour picked up a mug and filled it with coffee. “I thought it prudent. Doctor de Lis didn’t seem to be breaking through to the staff. The whole matter with the Lockbox isn’t good for morale, especially these days.”

Dark Horse eyed the silver coffee container like a predator; Gilmour figured the man had been going for nearly thirty-six hours.

“May I?” the colonel asked.

“Certainly, sir.”

“Morale,” he spoke before pouring and sipping his own share of the beverage. “We need that from you and Mason, Agent Gilmour. Now more than ever. Times are not good for us. This mission to Russia...the Secretary is not certain it will succeed.”

“I believe otherwise. Agent Mason and I have penetrated most of the deadliest principalities the globe has to offer. With adequate training and reconnaissance, we’ll be able to do what ever is required of us.”

Dark Horse pursed his lips, the first time Gilmour had ever seen a military man do so. Deep down, the agent sensed Dark Horse was truly troubled. “There will be no training, nor reconnaissance, besides what sensor data the Global Security Network can provide us. We have no time to do this the way Uncle Sam taught us.”

“Improvise.” Gilmour took a swig. “If that’s what’s needed. For our own sake, my men will be capable...more than so, if you ask me.”

“That’s what I wanted to hear.” Dark Horse set his mug back to the table, having only sipped it once. “Thank you.”

Gilmour furrowed his brow. “Something wrong?”

“No,” he said before walking to the door. “It’s damn good. Too bad.”

Gilmour placed his mug next to the coffee container, wondering what the hell he and Mason were in for.

“Here they come now, sir,” the Marine Flight Control Officer reported, breaking her attention away from the monitor to peek out the vestibule’s open-air window.

Gilmour and Mason stepped away from the security checkpoint, pausing five meters from the subterranean entrance of Hangar Building B, a stiff backwash roaring through their hair and clothes. Four grounds crew scurried over to the approaching jumpjet once it had cleared the threshold, waiting with instruments to scan the craft’s hull. The jumpjet landed on the yellow neon tarmac markers and exhausted its thruster gasses, briefly fogging up the hangar.

A moment later, the starboard hatch opened, admitting the grounds crew with their bulky equipment. Exiting after them were three well-dressed gentlemen—Special Agents William Constantine and Neil McKean, along with Chief Grant Louris—each hoisting rucksacks of their own.

“William! Neil! Chief!” Mason shouted, running over to the hatch.

The newly arrived agents dropped their rucksacks and exchanged vigorous handshakes and warm smiles with Gilmour and Mason.

“I see you’ve all made it in one piece,” Mason remarked.

Louris couldn’t hold the smirk cracking over his face. “Those security goons you sent sure made us nice and cozy on the flight here.”

“We’ve got our reasons, Chief.” Gilmour gestured towards the security checkpoint.

“I’m afraid that’s as cozy as it’ll get.”

The five agents crossed the tarmac, signed in, then were expeditiously shown their way into the bowels of the U Complex.

“Normally, you’d receive the standard decontamination shower once you'd entered the complex,” Gilmour said, glancing back to his colleagues, “but Doctor de Lis managed to have that protocol overridden in light of the circumstances.”

“Tell him to reconsider next time, Gilmour,” McKean said. “I wouldn’t mind getting a good delousing from Washington.”

Security in the U Complex tightened hour by hour as more Marines were rotated in to serve throughout the six levels. Before, MPs were only guarding various doors and acting as escorts; now, squads were paired off and actively patrolling the corridors. The new IIA agents were impressed by the show of force, perhaps more so by the open brandishing of M-119s.