One Rule - No Surrender, page 13
part #2 of One Rule Series
"You know about that?"
"As you said, it was front page news, and the conspiracy sites are still talking about it. It was Ruby Ridge, but this time the good guys won."
"When people die unnecessarily, I don't think of it as winning."
"They attacked, you defended. Attacking makes them the bad guys."
"They believed they were doing the right thing."
"Funny. I think you're more sentimental than your sister." Maggie cocked an eyebrow at her. "Maybe you're a pacifist?"
Mark laughed under his breath. "Not quite."
They walked into the house. Drawers and kitchen doors had been flung open. The contents of the refrigerator formed a small pyramid on the kitchen table. Thalma sprinted up the stairs and found the scene repeated in the bedrooms, with the added motifs of clothing and bed sheets strewn over the floor. No ripped open walls or floors.
"It could've been worse," said Maggie, joining her in the master bedroom. "They didn't break anything that I saw."
"I'm not even sure what they were looking for."
Thalma started gathering up the sheets and clothing. Maggie kneeled on the carpet beside her.
"Can I ask you something?"
"Does anything ever stop you from asking?"
"For someone who just met me, you seem to know me too well." Her chuckle sounded forced. "How the heck did you get Louis out of the room? And then past the police? I could see them swarming around in the woods."
Thalma stuffed some socks back into the dresser drawers. About half of the socks belonged to Louis. She shut down those feelings before they could gather momentum.
"Murphy mentioned something about 'special abilities,' but didn't bother to explain," said Maggie.
Thalma considered what to say, but couldn't think of any reason why she shouldn't know.
"Under certain circumstances, I can fly," she said.
"Ha." Maggie inclined her head, her uncertain smile drifting into one of disbelief. "No - really?"
"Yeah."
"How is that possible?"
"I haven't figured that part out."
"Does it have anything to do with that LSD-35 you asked for?"
Thalma sighed. Again, as much as she preferred to keep that secret, what was the point? It wasn't as if anyone would believe Maggie or that it was likely either she or Murphy would try to exploit that knowledge, but keeping as much about herself secret as possible was a principle she lived by.
"It unleashes certain powers, yes," Thalma replied.
"That's...crazy." Maggie shook her head slowly in wonder. "I mean, some people believe they can fly when they take the stuff, but for that really to be true?"
Thalma gave her a sparse smile. "I'm aware of the ironies."
Chapter 9
"IN THE FULLNESS OF time," said Murphy, "your sheriff will return to his castle in Bum Fuck Egypt, the DHS and FBI will depart Tahoe, and the local police will return to busting gang members for jaywalking. At which point, Thalma should be able to safely return. Assuming she stays out of trouble until then."
Murphy smiled at Mark – Thalma - and Maggie from across the park table on Emerald Bay Beach. He seemed more relaxed than he had recently to Thalma, even more boyishly exuberant and full of himself than usual. He'd even dragged cold beer in the wheeled cooler down the hill. Thalma nursed hers while Maggie imbibed freely. Whatever good vibrations Murphy was feeling weren't shared by Thalma, not while Louis languished a couple hundred miles away in a small south-Nevada city.
"But in the meantime," said Murphy, "we might as well make productive use of our time. Which brings me to this."
He produced two folders from a sealed plastic pouch within the cooler and laid them out on the picnic table.
"This project is a bit of a double-dipper," he said. "Our client is Maxwell "Mad Max" Brunner, the billionaire financier-philanthropist. MIN contracted with him to do two things: first, obtain classified information hypothetically sequestered within the CDC relevant to a connection between the new MMR 2 vaccine and various ill-effects, including autism. Second, if necessary, to counter a planned false flag operation – what WSGI executives call a 'persuasion event' - on behalf of a coalition of pharmaceutical companies. It is to be executed by World Security Group International in Seattle, Washington, with the aim of paving the way for stricter vaccination laws and enforcement in that state and the rest of the U.S."
Thalma's first thought at the word "Seattle" was her mother. Had she remarried? Was she still working? Did she ever think about her daughter? Well, screw her.
"Why would Brunner hire you to do this?" she asked.
"His grandson developed autism shortly after an MMR 2 vaccination. Up to that time, Brunner was fully in favor of mandatory vaccinations and all the other trappings of state/corporate power, as are most billionaires. His grandson's illness caused him to switch teams from the Big Club – at least on this issue - something that almost never happens among the corporate elite. He's by no means a saint – not that I'm in a position to judge – but when he claims he wants to bring about positive change that 'doesn't benefit only the interests of the few' I tend to believe him."
"You think the CDC is concealing information about the MMR 2 vaccine?" Thalma asked.
"So says an informant who works on their IT team. Unfortunately, she's not willing to risk her career and prison time to physically remove the information and hand it to us. However, she's happy to grease the wheels by providing passwords and technical search data. I assume you share your sister's computer skills, Mark – her maze of dummy corporations is no mean feat – but since Margaret has a degree in computer forensics, she would be the obvious choice for the assignment. She is not, tragically, expert in either infiltration or exfiltration – activities at which you and your sister seem to excel."
"But I'm a fast learner," said Maggie.
"Perhaps Mark will be willing to teach you to perform some of his special skills."
"Like flying?"
He smiled. "So you've had that conversation. I preferred to have you or Thalma divulge that, Mark. But we're going to be working together very closely, so some secrets will be hard to keep."
For not the first time Thalma found herself wishing she'd never consented to working with these two – never opened her private life to their incessant probing - but she knew that was more about her obsessive need for self-protection than any negative fallout that might come from that. She ought to praise fate or the heavens that they'd showed up instead of regretting the loss of her paranoid self-womb.
"Where is the data stored inside the building?" Thalma asked.
"It's all in here." Murphy tapped the folders. "Including plane tickets for a flight tomorrow morning, if you're game."
"Sounds good to me," said Maggie. "I could use a change of scenery."
Thalma shrugged. She had been quite content with the scenery.
"Very good," said Murphy. "I'll say goodbye for now. Please keep me apprised on relevant developments."
HUMIDITY HUNG over them like a wet blanket in what was for Thalma a depressing contrast with the cool-air heights of Tahoe as she and Maggie picked up their rental vehicle and exited Hartsfield–Jackson Atlanta International Airport early the next afternoon. They drove toward The Ritz-Carlton, a few miles north of the CDC building.
A package from an unidentified courier was delivered to Thalma's hotel room. Maggie joined her there and they pawed through the box's contents: several zip-tie handcuffs, two packets of C4, two cans of Instasteel "liquid metal" propellant (a super-powerful two-part spray resin designed to temporarily seal doors), various non-lethal weapons and door-lock break-in devices - including a TEK micro-torch and an Addison Universal Keycard. They studied Murphy's documents over Chinese takeout.
Thalma had a sinking feeling as she thumbed through the pages showing the exterior and inner layout and a detailed schematic of security systems within the CDC Headquarters Building. The object of their desire was the Sensitive Compartmented Information Facility (SCIF) located in the seventh and eighth floors.
"Wow," Maggie groaned. "I'm ready to go back to shooting white supremacists with room temperature I.Q.s. Lucky I have an expert in 'infiltration and exfiltration' along."
"I think Murphy might've overstated my qualifications a little."
"But you have experience working with security systems?"
"Not high-level government building security."
A crack appeared in Maggie's normal cocky smile. "You're not kidding, are you?"
"No. I'm not sure where Murphy got the idea otherwise. But I do know something about explosives and brute-force break and enter stuff. We don't need to defeat the security system. We just need get through some doors and then stop people from reaching floor seven long enough for you to get what we came for."
Thalma pushed the papers away and dropped back in her chair. She was starving, as usual, but the takeout tasted like chemically sweetened cardboard. Probably MSG, though they'd sworn none of their food contained it.
"So no attempt to shut down the security system?" Maggie placed two fingers down on the internal security schematic. "It seems to show a central power relay for the cameras and sensor in the SCIF. Wouldn't destroying those lines prevent alarms from going off?"
"I doubt it. Cutting the power line itself would trigger an alarm at the security station and maybe outside the CDC complex. How long do you estimate it will take to download the data?"
"Assuming all the informant's pass codes and her information about the access computer are correct..." Maggie made guppy-smacking sounds with her lips. "If Murphy's law is merciful – and it should be, considering our employer – then somewhere between 5 and 15 minutes. The security people will probably know we're there in a few minutes, if that long." She tapped the schematic. "The nearest security station is on sixth floor. According to Murphy's info, they walk the seventh floor every hour or so, but we don't know when. They could be there when we show up."
"If they are, we'll try to avoid them – or take them out, if necessary." Thalma tapped the tranquilizer gun. "There are only supposed to be six guards working in that security station."
"Only six." Maggie's smile was sickly. "Will we be carrying real guns?"
"No. I don't want even the possibility of that escalation. There's a good enough chance that we could hurt someone innocent as it is."
Maggie frowned as if she was about to protest, but shook her head. "Okay. I don't want to hurt innocent people, either."
"I'll seal the sixth floor stairway doors with the liquid metal resin and blow the two elevators with C4 – hopefully before they're onto us. If they find a way up, I think the toys Murphy sent us would be enough keep them safely incapacitated for several minutes."
"How are we going to get to the seventh floor?"
"Through the roof, I guess."
Maggie perused the schematics. "Looks like there are three locked doors between us and the data. I assume we won't have trouble getting through them with that Addison thingie?"
"In my limited experience, the 'Addison thingie' can handle any conventional key lock. Maybe the CDC uses something better – in which case we'll use the micro-torch."
Thalma sorted through the three different non-lethal weapons, checking out the instructions/descriptions. One pair consisted of flash grenades that blew a combination cayenne and CS spray in a roughly fifteen-foot radius. Two other explosive canisters would blast ropes of sticky foam over a similar area. Thalma was familiar with flash grenades and had experimented with sticky foam herself: a few thick strands of that on your body – especially your legs – and you'd be waddling around like a drunken duck.
Last but not least was a revolver that fired up to six tranquilizer darts. The instructions claimed they would quickly incapacitate a normal-sized man. She'd use that as a next-to-last resort. Her last resort was her – well, his at the moment – own body. She'd developed some skill in holding back, but multiple attackers could make restraint problematic. She could only hope it didn't come to that.
"You didn't mention how we're getting on the roof," said Maggie, sucking down a strand of noodle through her full lips. "I assume it's going to be on Mark Airlines."
"Unless you have a better idea."
"How is that going to work, exactly?"
"We'd drive somewhere close to the building in the middle of the night, and go from there."
"You'll carry me on your back or something?"
"No, I'll be wearing my backpack to carry this stuff. I'll just carry you in my arms."
Thalma wasn't looking forward to that for reasons beyond the obvious risks. In part, the intimacy of it – a physical closeness with someone who wasn't Louis made her uncomfortable. And Maggie was so exuberantly...physical. Well, not mincing words, sexual. She might be gay, but she was obviously bubbling over with female hormones, and Thalma's body had always responded to the presence of strong physical cues from others – one reason she avoided people. Thalma liked men – had never been attracted to women – but Mark? God only knew.
"As cozy as that sounds," Maggie murmured, "would there be a safety strap or anything? You know, in case you let go?"
"I won't let you go. Don't worry about that."
"You're as strong as Thalma?"
"A little stronger."
She gave Thalma a small smile. "Then I guess I shouldn't worry."
THEY PARKED their rental Ford Focus near the Peavine woods and Candler Field a couple of hundred yards west of the CDC complex. Thalma had popped two of the four LSD-35 pills she carried with her. She was definitely starting to trip the light fantastic as Maggie maneuvered the small car into the bushes at the edge of the Candler Field parking lot. Maggie watched her with worried eyes after killing the engine.
"You look like you're in outer space," she said. "You sure you're gonna be all right?"
"I'm way past all right," Thalma said with a soft laugh that sharpened the furrows between her blond partner's eyes.
"Damn," Maggie moaned. "Well, hell, this should be a once in a lifetime experience. I just hope it's not my life's last experience."
Thalma giggled, quickly covering her mouth as Maggie shot her an appalled look. That was the other part that worried her: the giddy confidence, the sense of near-omnipotence, which came with the high. Still, that had never stopped her from carrying out a mission. If anything, her reflexes and ability to focus seemed enhanced. Unless that was the drugs talking. She started to giggle again, but caught herself.
"Dude," said Maggie. "Suddenly I am not feeling good about this."
"Stop being such a wuss and focus on what you need to do in the building." Thalma smiled, enjoying the dent in the girl's usual irrepressible self-confidence. "Oh, and don't look down."
"Great pep talk, flyboy."
Thalma strapped on her small backpack and Maggie belted on her waist pack. They pulled down thin ski masks over their faces. .
Then came an awkward moment as they faced each other. Thalma held out her arms.
"Come to poppa, as they say."
"I liked you better when you had no sense of humor."
Maggie stepped forward with a shy frown and wrapped her right arm around Thalma's neck. She hopped up and Thalma hoisted her against her chest.
"Ready?" she asked.
"Not really."
"I'll take it slow at first."
They rose at the leisurely pace of a helium balloon, drifting over the trees as if riding the gentle west breeze. Thalma gradually accelerated, and the breeze became a wind. Maggie clung to her neck tightly enough to qualify as a front naked choke hold. Fortunately, the density of muscles in and around her throat – one of her WASP classmates had charmingly described it as a "linebacker neck" – made deprivations of oxygen and blood by mere mortals a demanding task.
"Oh, shit!" Maggie whispered.
"What?"
"I forgot your advice about not looking down."
"It's not really that bad, is it?" Thalma couldn't keep the euphoric smile off her face. Flying, she suspected, would never get old. It was one of her favorite dreams come to life.
"Maybe I should've mentioned I'm not all that fond of heights."
Maggie's teeth chattered despite the humid seventy-degree air.
Thalma was grateful for the lack of moonlight as they ascended to perhaps twice the height of the approaching twelve-story CDC Headquarters before dropping down near the doorway on its western end. In Thalma's hands, the Addison Universal Keycard opened the door in less than five seconds.
Automatic lights flickered on as they entered a terrace with windows facing out on the night. The nearby elevator opened without an issue, and they dropped smoothly to the seventh floor. It seemed strangely plebeian. Just like a thousand other times Thalma had ridden an elevator. The descending numbers of each floor appeared just as they always did.
On the seventh floor, Maggie took the Addison keycard and headed for Room 72, about halfway down the hall, while Thalma set up a C4 charge in the elevator and descended the stairway to the sixth floor entrance, spraying half of the "A" and "B" Instasteel cans in the door joints near the handle and at the top. She'd never used the stuff before, but it quickly gelled in a hard rubbery mess that looked tough as a carbon steel weld.
Thalma's jog toward the elevator and stairway at the opposite end of the hallway was interrupted as the Room 72 door flew open and Maggie stepped out with a struggling young woman in her arms.
"Would you mind taking her? She's cute but a total pain in the ass."
"Who are you? You can't – "
Thalma gave her a light slap – what she thought of as a "love tap" – and the girl sagged in Maggie's arms. Thalma scooped her up by the waist and continued her run to the other elevator and stairwell as Maggie retreated into the room.
The young woman was coming to as Thalma finished rigging the C4 in the second elevator. She dragged the girl in a stumbling run toward the stairwell, and popped open the door just as two men with drawn handguns burst through the sixth floor door below. Thalma left the girl standing on the landing and stepped back while the men aimed their pistols uncertainly. She smacked the door closed and sprayed the remainder of the Instasteel into the cracks.
