NHI, page 22
“The Department of Defense is all in,” Jackson answered. “They’re more interested in the weapons applications of the technology, of course, and we’re happy to present that to them. But they agree that most of this stuff needs to remain secret, including the physics. If anyone got a hold of this, particularly nation state adversaries, things would get real messy, real quick. The DOD doesn’t necessarily know the full extent of what we’re capable of already, but it’s better that way.”
It was Isabel’s turn to laugh, though hers was in disbelief. “So you’re withholding information and technology from the very people funding your research.”
“Like I said, sometimes it’s better that they don’t know the full extent of what we’re capable of.”
“So that way when you turn on them and take over the country, they won’t know what hit them, huh?”
“More like, plausible deniability.”
She waved a hand dismissively at the phone as if to bat him away. She took a moment to swallow down her anger before continuing. “Tell me about this other faction. About the men who killed my brother. Do they have this technology, too?”
“They do,” he said. “They’re led by a former general named Blackwell. I used to work for him two years ago. He’s an idealist turned war profiteer—he won’t let anyone get in the way of corporate profits. If you have something he wants, and you don’t give it to him, he’ll kill you to prevent it from falling into the hands of anyone else.”
“Sounds a lot like you,” Isabel sniped.
Jackson sounded taken aback. “We’re completely different. He kowtows to the military industrial complex, offering stripped-down versions of the technologies his company develops to the highest bidders. He has no plans beyond padding his wallet, no vision beyond which politicians he can bribe into his back pocket. Needless to say, I wasn’t happy with how he was running his business, so I left the organization and founded my own. I have higher goals than simple money and power. Goals for humanity.”
“Oh really, and what are your goals exactly?” Isabel pressed.
“They’re quite simple, really. The preservation and protection of humanity and this world. I plan to gently guide us into a new age of technological achievement and enlightenment.”
“Oh, so you want to be emperor of the world,” she scoffed. “Nothing big. And who better to guide us into the Age of Aquarius than you, right?”
“I do hope to install a one-world government at some point, yes,” he admitted.
She paused in disbelief, waiting for him to say more. Finally: “Care to expand upon that?”
“At the moment, no. But I’ll be happy to during our in-person meeting. I’ve said enough for now.”
Isabel couldn’t help a sarcastic smile at that, though she knew he couldn’t see it. “Funny, but I can’t see an in-person meeting happening anytime soon. Something doesn’t quite add up with your story. If you and this Blackwell already have the tech, why would either of you kill for it? Why go through all these lengths to hunt us down for the research? You say you want no one else to have it. That’s fine, and that part is probably true. But there’s something else you’re not telling me. James has discovered some property or technique that has eluded your scientists, hasn’t he?”
“Why don’t you come in?” Jackson asked casually. “We can talk about it more, and also discuss your future at our organization. Last I heard, you had a hard time finding a job. We could put someone with your skills to good use. We pay extremely well.”
“I’m sure you do.” She pressed the mute button and turned to Garrett. “Heard enough?”
“More than,” he replied.
She un-muted. “We’ll be in touch.” She ended the Signal call, and at Garrett’s prompting she removed the battery and tossed the phone out the window.
“Well that was interesting,” she said to no one in particular. “If a little disturbing.”
“I get the sense he’s definitely holding something back about the research,” Garrett told her.
She nodded. “The question is, what?”
Garrett loitered inside the washroom of a popular coffee chain not far from the airport. Noah was in one of the stalls—he’d begged to use the bathroom, claiming extreme diarrhea, something about how Isabel lying to him about the research had made him sick. Meanwhile she remained outside, sitting in the car, no doubt further contemplating the phone call.
Just as Garrett was. The purpose of that first call had been mostly to extend a feeler, and see what one of the factions pursuing them wanted. Now that they knew, they could plan their next move. Whether that meant a trade for the research, or going into hiding indefinitely, was something they would have to decide. Garrett still wanted to get in touch with the other faction at some point. He was curious what this “Blackwell” had to say.
Garrett paused. The bathroom was completely silent. He hadn’t heard anything even remotely resembling the explosive, watery eruption one might expect from diarrhea. Either the professor had developed a sudden bout of constipation, or he was lying about the need to use the washroom.
“Yo, what are you doing in there?” Garrett asked.
No answer.
Garrett had just searched him, and was positive the professor had no communications devices on him…
He peered through the crack between the door and the edge of the stall. Noah was sitting on the toilet all right, but the lid was closed and his pants were on. He wasn’t texting or anything like that… his hands were empty, resting flat on his knees. His eyes were closed, though his head was leaning forward, as if he struggled to stay awake.
Growing suddenly angry, Garrett kicked the door, hard. “Wasting our time, are you? All right, that’s enough. Let’s go.” He peered through the crack once more. The professor hadn’t moved: his eyes remained closed. “What the hell are you doing?”
He was starting to wonder if the professor had found drugs or something in the stall and had taken them, so when Noah still didn’t answer, Garrett grabbed onto the top of the stall and hauled himself up and over.
He landed inside, in front of the professor, and physically shook him. “Hey!”
Noah blinked several times, then finally met his gaze. “Sorry. I don’t know what happened. I… blacked out or something.”
“Uh huh, and where’s the diarrhea? How come I don’t see it dripping down your leg?”
Noah gave him a weak smile. “Oh, wouldn’t you know it? Seems like I’ve miraculously recovered.”
Garrett patted him down again, but found nothing concealed on his person.
The main bathroom door creaked as someone else entered.
Suddenly apprehensive, Garrett peered through the crack into the bathroom common area: all he saw was a middle-aged gentleman washing his hands at one of the sinks.
Garrett roughly opened the stall and hauled the professor out with him.
The gentleman met his eyes, and when the man saw Noah behind him he flashed a knowing smile.
Garrett ignored him and proceeded directly to the exit.
When he reached the car, Noah suddenly threw up, vomiting all over the hood.
“What the hell did you eat?” Garrett asked.
“Noah!” Isabel had rolled down the window. “Are you all right?”
“I need to go the bathroom again,” the professor said. “Swish some water in my mouth. Get the taste out, or I’m going to vomit again.”
Garrett sighed impatiently. He scanned the parking lot and the road beyond. Everything seemed safe.
For now.
“Let him go,” Isabel said. “It’s my fault for lying to him.”
“He’s not sick because of you,” Garrett growled.
He took the professor back to the washroom. He watched as Noah bent over the sink and sucked water into his mouth. The professor swished it around and then spat out the now murky liquid.
After three more times of this, Noah finally turned off the tap and stood straight. “I’m good. Could use some bottled water, though.”
Garrett left the bathroom and lined up with the professor. He kept his eye on the vehicle outside, which he could readily see through the floor-to-ceiling windows. The queue moved slowly, and with each moment Garrett felt his impatience rising.
Finally he just skipped to the front of the line with the professor and picked out a water from the open shelving unit next to the till.
“I just want a water,” he told the clerk, setting down the bottle.
He paid for it and then handed it to the professor.
When they walked out, Garrett swept his gaze over the parking lot once more. Everything was quiet.
They neared the car.
“I’m sorry for doing this,” the professor announced.
“No problem,” Garrett said. “It happens to everyone. We can’t control when we’re sick.”
“Actually, I can,” the professor mocked.
Garrett had only just touched the driver-side door handle but paused, feeling the hairs on the back of his neck stand on end. He shot the man an angry look over the roof of the vehicle. “What—”
“I was stalling,” the professor admitted.
Garrett stared in disbelief. “Stalling?”
“To give them time.” The professor nodded toward the entrance of the parking lot. Three SUVs swerved into the lot and surrounded Garrett and the vehicle.
Garrett immediately withdrew the Glock he had tucked in beneath his shirt.
Several black-clad men emerged from each vehicle. Their faces were covered in balaclavas, their eyes shielded by mirror-like sunglasses. They pointed assault rifles at him from all sides, and looked almost identical to the group of men he’d encountered at Archer’s property.
Except there were a lot more of them.
“Drop it!” someone shouted.
Garrett slowly rotated in place, letting his Glock’s aim pass over those who surrounded him. When his sights reached the professor, Garrett paused, and he cocked his head. The anger had been simmering inside him ever since the professor had admitted to stalling, and now that the man was firmly in his sights, that rage began to boil over.
“Drop it…” one of the surrounding gunmen ordered once again.
In answer, Garrett merely smiled, baring his teeth in a rictus. He aimed directly between Noah’s eyes.
The professor had already raised his hands, but he raised them even higher, now. “I’m sorry! I had to do it. For my family!” He was sobbing.
Garrett’s finger twitched on the trigger.
“Don’t do it!” Isabel shouted from inside the car. “Stand down! Please!”
While he was willing to die for her, now was neither the time nor place. Still, it was tempting to end it right there, right then, by eliminating the man who had somehow turned them in. How Noah had done it didn’t even matter in that moment. All that was important was that he pay.
Going out this way would be almost a relief. And it would be satisfying, too.
At least in the microsecond immediately after he pulled the trigger.
But that was the easy way out and he knew it.
He’d almost taken the easy way out before.
But now he had something to fight for. Someone.
He’d nearly forgotten about her these past few years. And she’d come back into his life so breathtakingly quickly. All because of a daydream.
But… was it even a mere daydream?
Either way, if he squeezed that trigger, Isabel would be left to deal with this conspiracy all alone.
That decided it for him.
He removed his finger from the trigger and held the weapon wide, raising his hands in surrender.
27
Isabel was inside a moving vehicle with her hands tied behind her back and a black hood over her head, a scenario that was all too familiar to her. She was positioned on a jump seat that backed against an interior wall. Garrett was beside her, and Noah was somewhere else in the SUV. She knew all this because before her latest captors had slid the hood over her head, they’d loaded her into the vehicle with her companions.
So I’m captured again. Heading toward who knows what?
Maybe it was for the best. She getting so very tired of running.
Which faction had her now? Was it Jackson’s? Or did the men belong to the former general named Blackwell? The man who had apparently ordered the execution of her brother?
A sudden jolt to the side told her the vehicle was slowing down.
Already?
“Was this roadblock here on the way in?” someone asked.
“Negative,” came the tense reply.
“Be ready for anything,” another answered.
She heard the subtle metallic clinks and muted thuds of rifles being slung down from shoulders.
She suddenly started giggling like a madwoman.
“Shut up!” one of her captors said.
But she couldn’t help it. “It’s happening again. Again and again and again. I’m stuck in an endless loop. I— oof!”
Something hard struck her in the ribcage and she doubled over. Felt like a rifle butt.
“Isabel?” Garrett hissed.
She was in too much pain to answer. His leg was pressed against hers, and she felt it tense up.
“I’m fine,” she finally managed, hoping to prevent him from doing anything rash. Her side still throbbed painfully, but she’d live.
A knock came at the front window and she heard muted talking.
All of a sudden all hell broke loose.
Her heart quickened as sharp reports emanated from the front driver-side area; each shot reverberated through the enclosed space, jolting her senses and heightening her rising sense of fear. She felt blind and helpless.
She hadn’t actually believed it was going to happen again. Or had she? She didn’t know anymore. Either way, life had decided to play one big, cruel practical joke on her.
She had been laughing moments before. Now, her hood was wet with tears.
Why me? Why why why?
Everything was repeating. Garrett was going to die, just like her brother.
While she lived.
Please not again. Please make it be me this time. Or both of us.
“Go!” It sounded like the sliding doors of the SUV flung open then, and the muffled thuds of men disembarking echoed throughout the confined space. Gunfire erupted shortly from the right side of the vehicle. Instinctively she ducked.
It’s all going to repeat. Garret is going to die.
“Garrett, what do we do?” she asked frantically.
In answer he leaned his upper body against her and pressed his hooded face into hers as if probing, searching… and then without warning he bit into the cloth next to her chin. She pulled away in shock and in the process tore off the hood entirely.
Beside her, Garrett held the empty head covering between his teeth, having bitten through the fabric of his own hood to latch onto hers.
Repeated gunfire drew her gaze from Garrett toward the right side of the SUV, and she watched her captors return fire from behind the cover of the half open doors. One of them dropped right in front of her with a gunshot wound to the head.
No no no!
She returned her attention to the interior of the SUV and gasped.
NO!
At her feet, Noah lay collapsed on the floor next to the jump seat opposite her. Either a lucky gunshot had ricocheted from the interior of the SUV and struck him, or the attackers had specifically shot at him in that initial exchange at the front, as he would have been readily visible from the open driver-side window. That latter thought only heightened her sense of dread—Blackwell had definitely sent in men to eliminate her once and for all.
“Isabel! My hood!” Garret’s voice drew her eyes back to him. He still had the hood over his head.
Her side still throbbed from where she’d taken the rifle butt earlier. She took a moment to push down the pain and the nearly overwhelming fear. Then, doing her best to mimic what he’d done, she leaned forward and latched onto the bottom rim of his hood with her teeth.
“Agh!” Garrett exclaimed.
She’d bitten too deep, chomping down on some of his skin beneath that hood.
She immediately released him. “Sorry!” Her eyes stung with tears.
I can’t do this.
She trembled as more gunfire echoed behind her.
“Try again!” Garrett ordered.
She blinked away the wetness and tried to ignore the loud gunshots as she latched onto his hood once again with her teeth. She strove to be more careful this time and only bite fabric... judging from his silence, she’d succeeded.
She still had her hands bound behind her back of course, so all she could do was yank her chin upward and hope that would be enough to lift away the hood. Garrett helped her by sliding downward at the same time, and in moments the hood slid off completely. She let the fabric fall from her mouth.
She saw a big red bite mark at the bottom of his chin, but Garrett seemed hardly aware: he stood up immediately and hurled himself between her and the half-open doors of the SUV. She hadn’t realized it, but their two remaining captors had stopped firing and had instead turned their rifles toward her.
Garrett was shielding her with his body.
She screamed, and it was heart wrenching. “No!”
The men opened fire.
Isabel collapsed to the floor of the SUV and sobbed. “No. No. No.”
She couldn’t bare to gaze at his dying body. Couldn’t bare to even look up. She simply wept there at the floor of the SUV, her body in a pile.
“No… Garrett…”
It had happened again. Why? Why!
But then, incredibly, he was kneeling beside her. “Isabel.”
“Garrett?” she asked hopefully. She saw no signs of injury. No blood, no nothing. Was she imagining it? Or looking at his ghost?
She studied him in confusion. “How? They fired…”
“No, they didn’t get a chance.” He nodded toward the opening. “Look.”
