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Authors: Michael Parks

BOOK: System Seven
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“Helen? Are you awake?
Helen!

“Mac? That you?”

An elderly woman in a
nightgown appeared from a dark hallway. She held a revolver.

“Mac! You nearly got
yourself shot! Come in, come inside. What’s wrong?” She reached for the dining
room light switch.

“No, please leave it
off.” He went to her side. “Helen, listen carefully. Things have gone very
badly for me. I might be framed for a shooting involving two fellow agents.”
Her face fell. “Don’t believe it, Helen. They drew on me and I shot in
self-defense. But there’s a bigger picture involving Kaiya here, her boyfriend,
and some stolen secrets. There is real top-secret stuff driving it all. Now
I’ve been sucked into it and my career is over. I...
we
need to disappear.”

Helen nearly shook
with feeling. “Damn the secrets, damn the murderous bastards! The country has
died, like Frank always said! I wish I’d
never ridden him so hard for saying it, because it was
true!
Mac, all those years you served, all the danger and
sacrifice, and this is how they reward you. The bastards!”

“Easy Helen.” He took
the .38 from her and set it on the counter. “Frank also said there’s nothing
good to come from acting in anger. It is what it is and I have to respond. And
I will be careful. Right now, it’s time to run. I was thinking the Coachman–”

“Take it! By all means
Mac, I’ll never have a use for it. You know where it’s parked. Steve doesn’t
have to know anything, just say you’re borrowing it. Here,” she retrieved two
sets of keys, “take the Mazda, too, it’s set up for towing. Steve still opens
at six sharp, best I know.” She crossed her arms tightly. “Lord, I hate this!
The government’s rotten to the core and the country’s too blind to see it.
Something’s got to give!”

He glanced out the
window. Across the back fence, the lights shone in his kitchen and figures
moved through his bedroom.

He motioned to Kaiya.
“Into the garage, quick.”

In the doorway to the
garage, Mac held Helen’s arms. “We’ve got to go. Do you still have Frank’s old
hats?”

“Of course I do, I’ll
go get you one.”

“Thank you, Helen.” He
turned to Kaiya. The look in her eyes betrayed her confident stance. “Kaiya,
this is it. They’re shutting me down. Technically, you’ve done nothing wrong.
They might just let you go or... they could use you. I honestly don’t know. If
you go with me, you’ll have to trust me and do what I say. It’s going to be a
tight squeeze just getting out of here.”

“Mac, I said you’re
all I have, but... I trust you. There’s no way I can ever trust them. Or
anybody else, really.” The enormity seemed to hit her then, a walloping force.
He understood.

“Fear is okay, it’s
gonna be there. Just don’t let it define you. I’ll get us out of here but going
forward you’ll have to do everything I say exactly when I say to do it. I need
to trust you’ll do that.”

She nodded. “You can,
Mac.”

Helen returned with
two hats, a dark olive green Panama for him and a yellow sun hat for Kaiya. Her
eyes crinkled with a smile as he donned Frank’s hat.

“Frank’s favorite.
Maybe he’ll help guide you. I know he will if he can.”

He embraced Helen once
more. “Thank you Helen. You are the best kind of friend. I’ll be sure you get
it back.”

Helen hugged Kaiya
then pulled back and paused. “My dear, though the darkness surrounds you, you
are carried towards the light. The moment doesn’t reveal much but the journey
eventually does. Have heart, and most of all, have faith. Mac’s on the
job. He’s a good man, a capable man.”
She motioned them on. “Play it smart, Mac. And Kaiya, you support him. You’ll
do alright as a team.”

They climbed into the
Mazda, Kaiya in the back seat. Helen pressed the garage door opener and watched
them pull out.

“Frank dear, see them
to safety. They need all the help they can get.”

Chapter 6

We must travel in the direction of our fear.

- John Berryman 1914-1972, American Poet

 

A banging at the front
door drew Johan to the second floor window. A lone police officer stood on the
porch in yellow rain gear.

Johan tried waiting
him out. The officer circled around to the damaged side of the house with his
flashlight and eyed the down pole before continuing around to the back.

By the flickering
flame of a lighter, he snatched the laptop and its bag and headed for the garage.
He dumped the gear in the Volvo and checked a window.

The officer banged on
the rear door. “Anyone home? Hello?”

He had probably
notified fire and utility services and was awaiting their arrival. Thunder
cracked and rolled.

Johan bolted for the
garage and lifted the door manually. Wind and rain whipped at his face. He
pushed the sedan into the driveway and brought the garage door down. Back in
the car, lightning flashed and thunder broke in staccato. He used the moment to
start the engine.
Covering
karma.
He backed out with his eyes glued to the corner of the house. He saw no
sign of the officer as he drove away in the dark.

The makeup kit.
He slapped the wheel and cursed. Karma, indeed.

Repair crews would
come to fix the power pole. That meant hiding out for the day until he could
return under darkness.
Where and with
whom?
The corrected sketch was out; he mentally flipped through resources
and settled on one woman who could be trusted even if she’d seen it. She might
even believe his story, though he was having a hard time believing it himself.

He traveled north on
dark rural highways and eventually cut west across the sea barrier into the
peninsula town of Den Helder. Just before dawn the stolen Volvo arrived in a
small business district a few blocks from a shipyard. Damp streets were
littered with debris from the night’s storming. Street lights and the
occasional storefront glowed in the summer fog of the coast.

He steered into an
alley between long row buildings, past a bakery truck and a worker unloading
goods to a restaurant and stopped at an alley door with a lamp. Above the door
a sign read, ‘FileZone Internet Café’. He loaded a bowl and let the hash soften
the edges of thought.

Anki Raymer, aka
WinterCat; the ex of a friend who no longer counted as a friend. They’d spent
hours in chat and exchanged email over the last two years. He’d helped her with
her website and sent her money when her car’s transmission died. She’d done
research for him and even drop-forwarded a package for him once. Just a few
weeks earlier she’d extended the invitation to finally meet again. For now she
served best because of the remote location and her business, as well as her
willingness to help with just about anything. This might test her and then
some.

He gently closed the
Volvo’s door and slung the laptop over his shoulder. The two-story row building
loomed over the alleyway. Fog drifted like a comforting blanket all about.
If ever
you are near Den Helder, stop by. Use the back door. I’ll know it’s you if
you...
he pulled the chain three times fast, twice slow. He paused, then
reversed the pattern.

Waiting with hands in
pockets, he glanced down the alley at the delivery truck. The smell of fresh
baked bread conjured an earthy, grounded feeling which he seized, eager to shed
the hunted vibe. A face peered from a small square window. A moment later the
door swung open and Anki wrapped herself around him.

“I thought you might
never come, Gregor.”

Her musky scent and
soft skin made his pulse quicken. He held her at arm’s length, still in the
doorway. Long blonde hair, almost white, and fair skin. In person her beauty
breathed. “Yes, I should have come sooner.”

Her eyes glittered as she pulled him inside.

 

She was everything he
needed.

Several candles lit
the bedroom while the gray of impending dawn fell from a small skylight. The
draw to Anki was powerful – intimacy and sanctuary at once. Lying naked on the
soft sheets, he stared into eyes that said it was okay to shed his shell, his
worries, to release his guard. Arousal slowly stripped the bindings of the
chase. Long hours of driving, of evading the gaze of every passing police
officer, of wrestling with the idea of telepathy, awareness fields, and a
secret government out to silence him... all of it had taken a physical toll. To
lay with her offered a powerful reversal, restoring sanity and a sense of
control.

She massaged him until
the worried thoughts faded and his spirit rose free again, curious and present
in the moment. He explored her in turn, connecting with every touch, every
breath, every whisper of intention. Their lips met, eyes searching, face to
face after years of distant intimacy. As if exhaling, his energies flowed,
colored with amour and desire. Anki responded, breathing deeper. Feeling his
full arousal, she climbed atop him.

Candlelight danced in
time to their gyrations. Every thrust, every kiss drew them closer. Immersed in
a world of pleasure and intimacy, he felt her need for connection. Years of
loneliness without a true mate, seeking an anchor for her love... that, he
understood. His recognition acted like a touch in her place of need, so much so
that she lifted, thrusting faster until a blossoming psychedelic fountain
surged and splayed pleasure through her every sense. Never had he experienced
such vision, such connection with another being. She soared, tossed between
their physical and emotional connections like a windblown flower. He couldn’t
help but touch her yet again, recognizing and feeling everything she was. Once
more she blossomed, vocalizing with abandon, sounding of pain and pleasure at
once. A scene flashed in his mind of primitive peoples coupling in huts
overlooking the sea, howling into the night, celebrating survival and pleasure.
Overwhelmed, he released and slipped into the rushing flight. Thrusting
together, gripping fiercely, they railed towards climax, slipping the bonds.
Pleasure flared into a timeless, consuming intensity. Concepts mingled –
extremes: day and night, good and evil, love and hate, joy and fear. For every
one thing, there was another, no matter the degree of separation. Rock and
sand, root and limb, sea and sky, tears and laughter. Every familiar thought
became an agreement point joining them, drawing them closer until duality ceded
to unity. Bare in thought and soul, they existed as one.

What must have passed
in seconds instead felt like long minutes. The cave’s water drops and time’s mystery echoed from his dream,
splashing across their coupling like a baptism. Vaguely, the sense of another
presence crested, a whisper only, then faded as time contracted and resumed.

Anki breathed against
his ear, the weight of her body earthy and grounding. She raised her head and
probed with her eyes. He blinked slowly, still engaged on deep levels.

The currents of change
were running more swift than ever. He was learning, released from the grip of
fear because of Anki. The universe had delivered him to her and one thing felt
certain – he needed her in ways he knew nothing about yet.

However, for it to
work she had to know and accept his situation.

 

Anki sat cross-legged
next to his stretched-out form, touching. Blithe talk soon turned substantial
as he prepared a way to breach the subject of the setup in Rotterdam, to
explain how he’d not murdered anyone. She floored him before he could begin.

“So what did the woman
do?”

He returned her gaze,
unable to reply. She already knew, yet she’d taken him in, even slept with him.
Without fear.

Moments passed. An
impulse rose and he followed it: to attempt to communicate without words.
Slowly, his truth, that of innocence, naturally saturated as his only thought
or feeling... it seeped beyond, made available for her to sense. Nothing
forceful, just – available.

She searched his eyes.
Recognition rippled. Reciprocation flowed back. She’d felt his truth – and was
relieved. Relieved, because her own instincts had been right.

The moment passed, an
extraordinary communication.

“So what
did
you do?” she asked.

“I received a link to
an encrypted file. Something I didn’t ask for.”

She cast about, trying
to assemble. “What?”

“The link was to a
documentary of sorts. Secret. It was very... disturbing. It came with a warning
to go into hiding. Said I was in danger.”

“So you left.”

“Within half an hour.
I went up the street to watch the apartment. To see if anyone would show up.”

“And?”

“Men arrived. In
minutes. Went straight up to my apartment. That was Saturday. Monday night I
heard of the murder and knew I was framed. Because I have their damn video.”

Anki sat, absorbed in
thought. A distance formed between them.

“Talk to me, Cat.”

She looked over.
“You’re different, Gregor. What you just did is nothing I’ve felt before. You
entered
me.
You were inside me, part
of me. I felt it, let it begin, then I couldn’t stop you.” She searched his
eyes. “You know what I’m saying. And then just now... you conveyed your
innocence without a word, yet completely. I have no doubt.”

He nodded.

“What does the video
show?” she asked. Her eyes probed feather soft.

Informed, she could
make her own decisions. That was fair and necessary, so he described the video
and the dream after viewing it. He spoke of the Comannda and how they could
enter the flow of thought in others, of how they could travel the world without
a body and find people by using memories and emotions. He explained what the
video showed of wars, disease, culture, and technology and how they had been
used to keep mankind distracted, divided, and unevolved.

By the time he
finished, Anki’s uncertainty was plain. Not doubt, rather the opposite: she
grasped and accepted the situation, as if familiar with the possibilities. The
question was whether she wanted to become part of his predicament or not.

She withdrew tightly,
stood, and walked to a large white candle. She passed her hand over the flame,
once, twice. He tried penetrating her field, her essence, but could not.

Great
. Unseen agents sought him and she shielded him off like an
afterthought. Surely they would, too. It felt like an intermittent blindness. He
had to become more adept. He had to be able to intrude without permission.

She held her finger
directly over the candle’s flame, testing her own limits.

“Anki–”

She turned and
regarded him briefly before rejoining him on the bed. She put her finger to his
cheek, the heat tremendous.

“You just described my
greatest fears. That you found proof is sad. A big part of me wants to ignore
you and pretend it’s all crazy talk.” She looked up to the skylight. “But it’s not.”
She stared, deep in thought. “For all I know I could live the rest of my life
with you. I might. I feel it. But there is danger now, here, and wherever you
go...” She trailed off.

Johan sat, silently
churning.

They didn’t talk
further. Instead, she led him back into the Eros like two lovers fleeing their
village, hiding in the lush forest to partake in the sins of the flesh.

• • •

The five gathered
again, skimming surface tensions, coordinating efforts. They sought the subject
detected before, having had a sufficiently strong impression. They received
another hit but the input lasted less than a minute; intense enough to lead
them to the northern reaches of the Netherlands but brief enough to strand them
again.

“Peak signature,
probable climax.”

“Sex, yeah.”

“Definite male. High
probability match for subject A2.”

Each agreed.

“Settling in, then.
Safe region bound by Amsterdam on the west, Apledoorn on the south, and
Groningen on the east.”

“I say coastal
regions. I sense big water.”

“Noted. I have a
tentative harmonic that we’ll work with. Confirm with the director, this is
solid.”

“Confirmed.”

“Come on, A2. Let
yourself go a bit, swim in it. You know you want to.”

 

Director Tomov frowned
at the latest report.

Signus 1’s
triangulation was underway on A2 in northwestern Netherlands. They were close
to isolation, the target now responding to tracking measures.

That was the good
news.

People were missing. Austin
Bakken first, though there was no question as to who intercepted him. The wiped
shuttle bus – their way of protecting operatives. Austin’s girl and the agent,
Payant, had gone on the run. G2 teams would track them shortly unless the
priests were dabbling there, too.

The picture of Austin
stared back from the screen. Over twenty-four hours since they’d taken him and
the predictable had not occurred. Recover physical assets and determine what
the subject knew. If nothing, release. If exposed, eliminate. Neutral
notification in either case. The communication hadn’t arrived, which meant
either they still had custody of him or had run into a problem.

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