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OMICRON REPORT
The Academy. 010516 1300 hours.
The New Mexico sun beat down on the dry underbrush and the parched pine trees. Settled in beneath the large ancient trees and among the dry ground were several well camouflaged buildings. Their camouflage made them almost impossible to see from overhead. Each was painted to match the season and built into the rough hills and rocks sat the buildings behind the conspiracy. The largest building on the east side of the gully was the headquarters building. It was built into the old Academy Commons and Central staff building. Today a new team was being assembled, they would be meeting here.
Arriving out of the tunnel from the nearby highway came a dark gray 'kidnapper' van. It slowly made its way down to the gully that held the Academy. Not kicking up dust was a priority; covering dust was hard for the cloaking system to cover. Having borrowed a vehicle hauling cargo from a commercial carrier, the Van's driver had come all the way from Boston. There he lived in a little apartment and rented all the buildings around himself. Cruising past all the hidden checkpoints the van rolled up to a stop outside the Academy. Opening the passenger door he stepped out and put one foot down on the ground. The sun beat down on his pale complexion and made his shoulder length red hair blaze like a flare. he set a pair of Gargoyle sunglasses on his nose and made his way into the building, paying no mind to the Security Ops whom manned the doors.
Waiting inside the Academy in conference room 32 was a pair of men bearing tattoos that were distinctively Yakuza. One was tall, tan, muscled and bald. The squareness of his jaw and the set of his cheeks marked him as Russian. As Ian walked in and took a seat across from them the big Russian introduced himself in a thick accent, "Hellok, mie name is Petyr." Ian grasped his hand and replied, "Mine's Ian." Then he sat back and looked over the third man as he set his hands on all the miscellaneous gadgets strewn about his fishing vest. Something wasn't right about the third man. He wore the same tattoos as Petyr, but didn't look as Russian. His blond hair and narrow eyes made him look aristocratic, but the tattoos on his body gave him a look of ruthlessness.
Petyr was about the say something when Ian jumped in, "How's things? I'm sure you know I'm Ian and that's Petyr. Who're you?"
"Masque," replied the last man. His dapper suit was of the highest quality. The only reason you could see the tattoos was because the jacket was hug over his seat, and his sleeves were rolled up. Petyr, on the other hand made no attempt to conceal his tattoos. He wore a white tanktop and black jeans. Ian wore a cotton button down under the utility vest with raddy old jeans and sandals.
Outside a Cadillac cruised down the secret road from the rest area. Behind the wheel of the STS 32Valve V8 motor was an average build man who looked thirty something. Conservative cut blond hair and blue eyes pegged him as a stereotypical Aryan. Few knew just how good an assessment that was. Security teams checked his Omicron track as he got closer to the Academy and the Sentry gattling guns registered his retina print from one hundred yards. The controller in the Command Bunker turned to his companion, "I hope he doesn't sneeze." That got a chuckle from the other Sec Op. Both knew the truth behind the agency's most infamous op; he'd been cryo-frozen nearly forty years ago when he contracted his own lethal strain of virus. He led the company in virology and wasn't unfrozen until they'd discovered a vaccine to the virus. It was really no more lethal than Small Pox, but he'd cultured it and grown it at age 25.
The Cadillac came to a stop beside the kidnapper van. Coolly the Doctor got out and looked at the truck with a grimace on his face like he was drinking sour milk. "What a filthy vehicle," nothing better fall off and scratch the Cady while I'm inside, he thought to himself. Calmly walking inside and through all the checkpoints he went straight to the Conference room he'd been designated to go to.
Into their conversation he'd stumbled; his lightning fast intellect guessed they had been talking about 'pet weapons.' The short Irish looking one just ended with, "I Luv Blowin' Thingzup!" when the Doctor cut it, "My personal favorite Ian is a shotgun. It's just like a Kodak, 'point and shoot.'" That brought a smile to Masque's face and the Russian beside him restrained a grin. "Allow me to introduce myself gentlemen, I am Doctor Payne."
"Ve were just introducink owr selvas," said the Russian, "I am Petyr." The words rolled off his tongue in a thick Russian accent, though the Doctor knew it had to be a token to the language he used to know. All agents had to speak fluent English as well as two other languages.
The man beside him stood up and although he looked Asian American something just didn't jive in the Doctor's head. Two men with Yakuza tattoos? One had to be fake. "My name's Masque." Yup, here's the fake with a name like that.
"How good to meet you," replied the Doctor.
"You seem to know who I am. How's that?" inquired the tough looking little Irish guy.
"That's because I'm a super-genius." The Doctor spoke with such elegance and control, they could tell it probably wasn't the first time he'd said that. As he completed his declaration he pulled out a chair and sat beside Masque. The four of them were now seated side by side on one side of a large black mahogany table. Doctor, Masque, Petyr, and Ian at the end.
They sat there in silence for a moment until the conference room door opened. Striding in the room with a confidence that was almost physical came a shadow. Dressed in black from head to toe, he seemed to absorb light. His clothes moved without even creasing. From the jet-black hair, down past the stylish black sunglasses, to his black button down shirt and tie, to the suit coat and pants that likely cost as much as most normal people made in a year. Even the wingtips were black. Not a speck of dust or fuzz anywhere. All he carried was a black attaché case in one hand. He closed the door behind himself and made his way to the far side of the table. They hadn't stood when he entered the room, and he didn't expect them too. The Company was informal like that. As he sat down, his clothes still refused to seem to crease. "Well gentlemen, let's get right to it. I'm Drake. I'll be your controller." He set his briefcase up on the desk and opened it. He took out a small laptop computer or dumb-terminal and jacked it into the desk. Turning it to them he said, "Your mission is an extended mission, it is to locate and eradicate the Gray presence in the American Northwest. You will be one of four teams in the area, and your AO will be the Peugeot sound. Other AOs respectively will be British Columbia, Idaho, and Oregon/Washington. Estimated timeline is two years at the longest, but judging from the data Intelligence has collected things could be heating up."
With a loud tap he clicked a key on the dumb terminal that was facing them. The screen displayed a directory structure full of files. "These are reports, observation files, and collected economic data. They're all linked to Grays. They're your first lead, all 32-Mb of text and data. Your second lead is this," he said as he clicked another key. He wasn't even looking at the keyboard but was hitting the keys looking over the screen backwards. A sound file played, "Yes, bring the bodies to the south dock of Zeus Storage. Bridge street and 10th, 10pm on the 17th."
"That was a cell-phone pickup from Intel. It may be of value. These," he continued as he pulled out two manila envelopes from his briefcase and tossed them at Masques, "are for the Team leader. Masque, that's you. They are the drop, pickup, radio frequencies, satellite latitudes, and protocols for helicopters. The nearest Dynatronics base to you will be down town Seattle. That's real close, which should be an advantage."
Again he reached in and tossed out two Magneto-optical discs. "These discs have more area-specific protocol. Destroy them and the files when you're done reading them all. Don't copy from the discs. The second disc contains target information on one Luc Prasch. he is a researcher at GenTech in Dallas, Texas. Intelligence and technology want to pick his brain. Recover him and deposit him at Dynatronics Seattle, bring his hard drive too. Details are on the disc." He tossed one more disc at Masque, "This last one is another filler. Get it done ASAP too. Target is Silvia Roehl. She lives in Seattle. It's a regular pickup. Get her and bring her in."
"That brings me to my final point. One directory up is the dossiers of your prospective support team. Select four. Ring the secretary when you've made your selections. Tell her and I will come back in." He finished speaking while in the process of standing up. "I trust there are no questions." Then he walked out of the room.
The four looked at each other for a second in stunned amazement. Talk about a one sided conversation. After a moment of silence for no real reason they all looked at the dumb terminal and Masque clicked the icon to bring up the list of dossiers. They flashed on the screen and arranged themselves in Cascade format, allowing the names of the dossiers to all be read at once. Each of them breathed in, not quite a gasp, they were all too tough and seasoned for that. Nonetheless the names before them were well inside the top ten percent of Company free agents. That basically meant the pool of agents that were still not on permanent assignment with any team or that had permanent duty with a department (such as those that perpetually collected materials, ran the stock markets, and recruited agents.) The majority of The Company was made up of such agents. Names like Dodger, Dog, Burke, Kham, Beggay, Otter, Greerson, Lambeck, and Takuan. What a line up! they each thought. Each of these agents was like legends in their field. Dodger practically invented the Ultra-Net or the Matrix. Beggay pioneered the field of Rigging, and was one of the best around. Kham and Otter were both widely known as effective killers and fanatics for the company. Greerson was the best long-range shot on earth. Dog has killed more people than syphilis. Lambeck was known as an even headed, fair, and cunning Sec Op all at the same time. Last was Lambeck, he could supposedly make anything out of bubble gum and toothpicks.
They all exchanged looks. Who to pick? they all thought. "I suggest Dodger for his computer skills and not Lambeck since we already have Ian," said the Doctor.
"I kan agree vith that," said Petyr.
"Perhaps we could also use Beggay for vehicles, since none of use specialize in that field," said Masque.
"You're the boss." Ian looked up at him with a crazy-mad grin. "Let's get Kham, she's a babe; and Otter, who'll be zealous and good cannon fodder. That is, if we need it."
"Dere is certain merret to your thinkingk," Petyr said, "though I plan on loosing no vone."
"Then we're agreed. Call up the sec and let us get this show on the road." The Doctor finished speaking and stood up to pace. Already light years ahead of them in the thought process, he brooded.
Masque picked up the desk phone, waited for the green light and pressed 'O'. "We're ready," was all he said and then hung up. He then sent the dossiers they had passed over back to the central computer and left the selection on Drake's desktop.
Drake glided across the floor like one uninterrupted black hole and sat at his desk. "Good choices," he said tapping a few keys. "They will all be here in a moment."
True to his word, they didn't have to wait long. Into the room walked four people. The first was a Native American with long hair. He kept is pulled back and underneath a Def Leopard hat, that matched the greasy overalls he wore only because of the grease. He would be Beggay, the pioneer in mentally controlling vehicles, or Rigging. It was easy to look past his slight build because of the fine looking lady behind him.
She was a huge Asian lady standing almost six-foot tall. Her black hair and charcoal eyes matched the tailored black business suit that wrapped the curves and exquisite shape of her body. Fine teak colored skin and almond eyes added to her exotic appearance. They all also noticed that she carried half a dozen weapons; and they were on base. Kham was as deadly as she was beautiful, to use the old cliche'. She walked in, turned abruptly to the right, giving everyone an excellent profile view and sat down in one of the chairs that lined the back wall of the room. She deftly crossed her smooth shapely legs and leaned back in leather chair. The Native American looked at the chair beside her and then must have thought better of it, grease from his cover-all would get all over it. He walked to the corner and remained standing.
Right behind her, was what could only be described as a kid, walked in the room and with enthusiasm reserved for the young grabbed a chair, sat down, and pulled out a notebook. He was about six-foot and probably over two hundred pounds, All muscle and reflexes, his short brown hair and fresh shave (or utter lack of facial hair) gave him a boyish appearance, and marked him as a Combat Op. If the others had known he was twenty they would have been utterly surprised. The youngest graduate of The Academy possessed an uncanny ability with swords and pistols. That was why Combat had drafted him, now he would be this teams muscle. His perfectly cut suit hid the pistols he carried, and fit him like a glove. Few men so young wore suits that cost so much, it was hard to think of him as well adjusted. Ian, Masque, and Petyr just looked at him though none spoke what was on their mind. Boy, they're sure recruiting them young now. This was Otter, pistoleer and swordsman of great reputation.
Last into the room was a geeky looking guy with long blond unkempt hair and scrawny limbs. He had a keyboard/synthesizer thing strapped across his chest that appeared to plug into his head. Standing in the door way with his eyes closed and fingers tapping on the keyboards, he presented the most interesting figure of the four. His clothes could only be described as 'freaky' or 'grunge' but to the others they just lacked style. Dodger cut the figure of a stereotypical Hacker. For the hacker of hackers, he should.
Drake gave them a moment to appraise each other before he began, "I've explained the mission to Masque, he can fill everyone in later. For the immediate future you will be known as Omni-Team 203. I expect you to work as a team, follow your leader, and listen to your Security Op. I'm a security op; so don't give him any flak. That will be all, unless there are any questions."
Everyone in the room was silent.
"Good then you're dismissed." With that, everyone got on their feet and left the room. Drake remained sitting behind his computer.
"So, where too?" inquired Otter. Kham shrugged when he looked up at her.
"Meeting room 45. We will make our plans there," Masques said in a tone of authority.
After walking a short distance down the gray undecorated hallways of the Academy Head Quarters they reached room 45. It was rectangular, had a table, and ten chairs. The data jacks in the wall were the only indication that it wasn't from 1950. Everyone ambled into the room and took a chair. Masque seated himself at the head of the table, "Ok, we have three priorities now: get the hard drive, get Silvia, and set up base in Seattle. All of it has to be done before tomorrow night. We have to be at the docks of Zeus Storage with our plan in operation to see what is going on. I say we split up and tackle each separately. Ideas?"
"I have need of visiting the Zoo to appropriate materials. That will not take me long and I can then go to Seattle and begin reconnoitering Zeus Storage," the Doctor said.
"I would be interested in setting up our bases in Seattle," Ian said with a grin.
"I should go to Dallas and recover the Hard Drive quickly. Perhaps Masque you should go with me. I will also need one of the Combat ops, and the Helicopter." Petyr spoke in his thick Russian accent and left little doubt this is the way things would be done.
"Ok, that is sound." Masque looked at everyone else in the room, "Well, that means the rest of you should go with Ian and begin setting up our base or bases. Dodger, what are our travel times?"
Dodger tapped away at the Deck strapped around his neck, "By my scholarly computations it will take thee approximately two hours to Dallas, forty-five minutes to Austin, and six hours to bring thee back to Seattle. That is for good Sir Masque and Sir Petyr. Geometry indicates that it will take one hour to get the Zoo for the good Doctor of Payne, and a mere two and a half hours for his speedy return trip to the rainy city of our holy mission. His holiness has the advantage of a supersonic Learjet steed. The remainder of our company will labor but three hours in flight aboard a airliner in the future used goods market."
Everyone looked at him like he was speaking Greek. Otter couldn't help but giggle in a deep chortle, Kham turned to him and slapped him once across the shoulder. "Ah... thank you Dodger," Masque said. "Then lets get to it. When we land in Seattle, Beggay, you meet us on the tarmac. Also, in your file it said you were a scrounger, or materials appropriation specialist. We can give you lists of what we need?"
"Roger Boss. If it's not red hot or bolted down its mine; and if I can pry it loose it's not bolted down."
"Great," was all Masque said. Everyone got up and either left the room to gather what they needed or gave Beggay a short list on a piece of paper or a disc.
Downtown Dallas. 1600.
Rolling down the street in a appropriated Lincoln Continental, Petyr and Masque surveyed the GenTech building in downtown Dallas. The winding multi-level highway overpasses and the towering sky scrapers made this one of the largest metropolises in the U.S. Air conditioning inside the car protected them from the 100 degree heat outside. "How's it look Dodger?" asked Masque into his radio.
"Pray thee hold one." -- What the hell was it with that accent... Masque patiently waited as they passed the building and parked street-side just as a limo pulled away from a five-star hotel across the street. As he and Petyr disembarked Dodger's voice filled their ears from their implant communicators, "Thy falsified identifications have been put in place and are solid as the Cliffs of Dover." -- "Good. Is Kham in position?" Masques asked as he made his way through the throngs of people crowding the streets in late afternoon.
"Most Verily. The chromed lady of death awaits inside. Our Mistress of Death has an appointment scheduled for fifteen minutes after thy." Dodger was over two thousand miles away, hacking through GenTech's computers but he still managed to sound like he was right next to you. He would be their eyes and ears and the-little-voice-in-their-head this mission.
"Roger, keep me informed of anything interesting." Then he turned to Petyr and gave the ready-to-go signal. Both of them turned and marched into the building and headed up for the twenty-third floor. Prasch was in room 2313. When they got up there he would be in a meeting with his supervisor that Dodger had scheduled. Masque then set up an appointment for himself by calling the secretary and impersonating Prasch's voice. He and Petyr would use that time to go in and take his hard drive.
After riding the stainless steel elevator up to the twenty-third, and walking the gray carpeted floors around the seas of cubicles they came to where Prasch's department was. Petyr stood to Masque's left flank as Masque took care of the introductions, "Hello miss, I'm Doctor Franklin here to see Mr. Prasch." The pretty young, if slightly overweight, secretary said, "Yes, he's in his office. Please go right in." She smiled up at the mask Masque wore, his dark hair, strong jaw line, and black eyes were supremely handsome and she was obviously very taken by him. Returning her smile he walked by as Petyr scowled to himself. Both had seen Kham in the small sitting room, she was reading a trade magazine, and neither paid any attention to the other lest they attract attention.
Petyr passed Masque in the hallway and got to the office door first. The floor was divided in quarters, each walled off from the other. Inside each section there was a central walled in area that held bathrooms, emergency exits, two conference rooms, and the break rooms. On the perimeter of the section were offices that were walled off and had doors. In between the center building and the outer offices were four rows of pairs of cubicles facing each other in a true corporate hell. They were on the southern end of the section and actually had windows to the outside. Petyr entered the room as Masque stood watch at his back. He might have been surprised for a second, but gave no notice of it. Lucas Prasch was seated in his office. "Excuse me, do you have an appointment?" Prasch asked.
"Yes, nice to meet you," Petyr said. As he extended his hand and Lucas grasped it, the weak soft grip turned to jelly as Petyr squeezed his nerves. The numbness and pain shot up Lucas' arm before he could scream, he collapsed to the floor. Masque then stepped in and shut the office door.
"Shit. Did you have to kill him?" -- "Do not vorry. I would not kill him," Petyr answered. "Now find that drive."
Masque looked around the room and a feeling of FUBAR crept into what remained of his soul. The office was perhaps eleven by thirteen feet, it contained two desks on each wall, with shelving stacked up over the desk, shelves between the desks and cardboard boxes on the floor piled in paper. Besides the paper, manuals, and notes that covered every square inch of desk space there were also components to hard drives strewn all over. From cases, to heads, to swing arms and disc media. Each was in plastic baggies and labeled for this lot or that, with serial numbers and test dates. It appeared that Mr. Prasch was in the hard drive business. But they knew that already from their preliminary searches on him. There were also five computers in the room. Two towers under separate desks, a Sun workstation on a desk, a Cray mini-super in the center of the room, and another mini-tower PC sitting on the windowsill. The five monitors and radio keyboard only added to the clutter. As Petyr moved the body against the wall he looked up at Masque, "What are you waiting for?"
Masque wiped the bewildered look off his face and began taking off the covers to the computers with the compact toolbox he carried in the attaché case. Kham interrupted him, "There's a janitor at the desk out here." The small powered screwdriver made mincemeat out of the screws and within three minutes all the covers were off. But things hadn't gotten better. There were a total of nine hard drives in the computers. The mission said get his hard drive; singular. But there were nine, NINE! Then I guess I'll have to take them all, Masque thought to himself. Again things didn't get better. After a short pause Masque looked up from the hard drive in front of him and responded, "What?, that doesn't seem right."
True to the instincts he'd honed over almost a decade in the company things got worse again. Almost at the same time Kham's voice and Dodger's broke onto the implant communicator lines. "The janitor has drawn a gun and is shooting the secretary," Kham reported coolly as Masque and Petyr heard the report of a 9mm sub-machinegun, probably a MAC10, firing one shot.
1609
"Good sirs, intruders in the northeast emergency stairwell. Without doubt they have hard-disconnected the cameras in the well. I see them coming out and making haste down towards the offices on the south building wall." Dodger let them know what was going on. That stairwell was in the upper corner of the section of office they were in. The corner that served both the section they were in and the section north of them, where they met at the corner.
"Copy that." Masque reported as he made a snap decision and drew his vibro-knife. Four of the hard drives were already out, and he used the knife to cut out the remaining five hard drives in under a minute. Petyr meanwhile coordinated with Kham.
"Where are they Kham?" he sub-vocalized.
"The four janitors here have split in half. Two heading down the aisle towards you two. They're going slow, cautious. I'll take care of the two here."
"Good vork," replied Petyr as he hopped up out of the office onto the metal braces in the ceiling above the ceiling panels. A step or two later he was above the aisle the two janitors were coming down. He cracked the panel in front of himself and watched them as they moved towards the office with Masque in it. Twenty yards. Ten yards. Five yards. Now. From the squat he jumped off the brace and crashed through the panel that had served as his peephole. Landing nimbly on both feet he triggered three rounds from the fifty-cal. Morningstar pistol. The caseless action cycled cleanly through three repetitions and launched the 400 gr. projectiles toward Petyr's point of aim. His aim was true and each round did exactly what he wanted. The first round shattered the lead gunman's leading forearm that was gripping the front-pistol grip on his MP5 and then lodged into his chest since he was facing Petyr. With a scream he started to topple over backwards as the second round passed through his chest, just where the collar bones come together below the neck. The third round hit the second gunman in the forehead and exploded his face outwards at Petyr as the hydrostatic pressure on his skull caused a whiplash effect. The bullet then passed out the back of his skull rather unspectacularly. Quickly taking in what was going on around him, Petyr called to Dodger on the Comm, "Kill the lights on the floor. Do it Now." Instantly the floor was cloaked in darkness. Then Petyr heard three short screams and a dazzling light come from the receptionist's desk.
The muzzle blast from Kham's special purse micro-sub gun lit up the front office. The dying screams of the janitors could barely be heard over the bedlam rising as the office workers scattered in the cordite confusion and flying bullets. "Beware Czar sir, eight nasties coming at your rear quarter." Petyr turned and crouched against the wall, loosing three more of the big slugs. One plastered a assailant in the chest as he came around the corner. His companions chose the remain around the corner. One held his MAC10 and squeezed the trigger while he chose to remain behind cover. Petyr could tell that none of the bullets would hit him so he remained still. "Lady Kham, the other eight are moving west then would be most likely to come south in a pincer movement.." -- "Gothca," was all she said.
Masque had heard all this over the radio as he removed the last hard drive and swung in the door of Prash's office. Petyr was crouched across from him in the bullet scarred hallway. Masque gave him a smile and then stuck his left arm around the door jam, using it to shield his body as he squeezed the trigger on his machine pistol. Petyr recognized a covering action when he saw it and began to move quickly down the cubicle walls. His body was pressed flat, with his back against the wall. His left arm too held his weapon as he presented the smallest possible target to the enemy. Making his way away from the reception desk, one assailant stuck his head out around the corner. He promptly received a slug impacting at high velocity with his skull as a reward for his stupidity. Masque had a second to look left down the hall away from Petyr as he reloaded to see Kham jumping the cubicle walls making her way towards the other group. Jumping over the last wall she landed in their midst, Masque lost sight of her as she went below the far cubicle.
For Kham the fun was just starting. With the last wall behind her now and the eight former assailants totally surrounding her, she had them just where she wanted them. No matter where she struck out she would hit one. Her machine pistol in one hand and the extended razor claws on the other she was ready for battle. She stepped at the one showing the most fire. All were dressed much like the janitors out front. Wearing normal coveralls and utility belts they carried MAC10's and assorted tools. After her short step the claws on her hand were buried up to her knuckles as she plunged it through his chest. She stepped around him while sweeping two others with her machine pistol on her right. Once behind him she withdrew the knuckle blades messily and brought the blades down through the shoulder, chest, and abdomen of the man in front of her. She proceeded to roll up their flank and chase them to her center as they opened fire on full auto. No bullets touched her, but they did obliterate the walls behind her and thoroughly ventilated their companions. One by one she finished them off.
Petyr was at the corner now as Masque reloaded again. He reached in his pocket and withdrew a smoke grenade and tossed it around the corner. "Fire in the hole," he said through the mic. The light pop and pressure wave threw the fine dust of the 'cold' smoke grenade around the office hallway. Petyr stepped around the corner low and fired off a whole magazine at the men around the corner. Seriously injuring and killing all of them he stood up and reloaded.
Masque opened his Comm channel, "Kham join up on us now. At the southeastern corner by the emergency stairs. Meet us here." Then he radioed the chopper, "Blue Duck come in." --- "Chhhk! Blue Duck here. What's up, over. Chhhk!"
"Meet us on the roof for an immediate extract. Copy." -- "Chhhk! On the roof for an immediate extract. Out. Chhhk!!"
Masque ran up to Petyr as Dodgers voice again came over the radio. "Gentle men. The Dallas PD has gotten a call and is routing the SWAT team to your location. Be advised that exiting stage left would be advised. Similar vile janitor teams are one floor below you. They just entered the stair well I don't have camera coverage on."
"Very good Dodger," Petyr said. Masque came up beside him and Kham crashed through on of the cubicle walls behind them. Her chests were heaving and a fine beaded sweat marked her brow. Masque was covered in the chalky white dust from the blasted gypsum board and cubicle walls. Petyr looked over both of them in a quick visual inspection for injuries that their adrenaline could be masking from them. Masque looked ok. Kham looked ok, except for the piece of white bloody intestine sitting just above her right breast on the rose red pattern blouse she was wearing underneath the tailored suit coat. Petyr reached out and brushed it off her breast with his left hand as she looked like he was going to kill him. He then caught it before it fell to the ground, looked her in the eye and said, "Very messy Kham. Veery messy." Holding the intestine up he flung it at the wall over his shoulder and it stuck.
Masque spoke up, "Ok people, we head for the stairs and the helo on the top floor. It is eight stories up. Kham you cover here. Petyr you go first and then cover us on our way out." Masque looked at both of them and nodded. Petyr bolted off at a Olympic pace towards the door and lowered his should into, knocking it clean off its hinges. He planted on his lead foot hard and did a one-eighty. Crouching he covered them with a clean field of fire on the far side of the hallway as them. Masque was only five steps behind him and ran by him in a flash as Petyr went into a covering position. Just as Masque headed up the stairs, on the far end of the hall the group of janitors came up out of the stairwell. Kham emptied her sub-gun, knocking three to the ground and then dashed down the hallway as Petyr continued the barrage. His slugs claimed another four, and sent the others for cover. Two seconds later Kham was at his side and headed up the stairs. Standing as he dropped another smoke grenade Petyr joined them in a race for the roof.
Once outside they boarded the helicopter hovering just above the gravel rooftop. The agile Native American at the controls was Blue Duck and upon seeing him they all again wondered why he had deer antlers fixed on top of his flight helmet. He looked over at them while maintaining perfect control of the helicopter even in the heavy gusting winds on top of the skyscraper. He beamed at them a huge smile from underneath his heavy black Mirror-LED virtual cockpit helmet. Flipping up the goggles/viewscreen he waved them on franticly while traversing the 15mm chaingun under the nose towards the door in case of trouble. Only thirty yards from the door, they still broke sweats running in the over one hundred degree Texas weather. As they ran towards the helicopter they could barely see it the LCD camouflage was so good, just dust kicked up from the gravel was all that gave away the helicopter. As Petyr slid the side door closed, Blue Duck was already lifting off at a blind rate of climb. "Chhhk! Glad to have you aboard. Where too? Chhhk!" The best helicopter pilot in the company had a bad habit of inserting the static breaks in his radio conversation even though the Company used crystal clear high-power digital communication.
"Take us out to the suburbs and put us down. We need to get back in there to clean up our mess," Masque said in an authoritative voice.
1730
Two men strode into the hustle and bustle. Lab techs and coroners men moved about. Both took off their sunglasses as the one on the left spoke up. "I'm Agent Kieffer and this is Agent Witherspoon. I appreciate all the work you've done on this scene but I'm taking over from here on out. GenTech deals in information and encryption technologies as restricted by the 1972 Government Information Act, so this is inside my jurisdiction. Who's in charge here?" Wearing a newly acquired suit in dark blue, a matching conservative red tie, a white shirt with thin blue stripes and polished black shoes; Masque definitely commanded the lobby on the twenty third floor of GenTech. Petyr stood beside him dressed in all black suit with a white shirt on. A plain-clothes detective walked up and extended his hand, which Masque grasped firmly, "I'm glad you're here. My name's Lou Preston. This is a weird one. We got fifteen dead, what looks like janitors, and twelve wounded office personnel. Oh, and one unconscious... ah, what's his name Ted?"
A young enthusiastic man in a poorly fitting suit looked up, "Dr. Lucas Prasch."
"Yeah, Lucas Prasch, his office looks like it was gone through."
"Ok. We'll take over from here." Petyr turned and walked back to the office with a black garbage bag in his hands. There he injected Dr. Prasch with a shot of the Cocktail while questioning the Paramedics about what was wrong with the Dr. When the orderly reached for his chart, Petyr stuck him.
Masque meanwhile allowed Detective Lou to show him around the floor. Making use of sleight of hand, the detective never saw him lift eight of the 'janitors' ID's. He also was fast enough to cut off four fingers to get prints. He'd get these to Dodger who would search out their real identities. Petyr should be collecting the Computer cases, which had vibro-blade cuts in them. They were something he couldn't let fall into the hands of anybody that might analyze them and decide to reverse engineer something that could duplicate the process. That would mean losing control of a Company Technology; something every SecOp feared.
They spent another three hours on site with the Detectives before leaving. Masque promised he would contact him tomorrow from his office and that they were just going back to the Federal Building in down town Dallas to pick up some supplies. But that was an utter fabrication.
As they walked out of the building lobby and got in their stolen Federal Fleet vehicle Masque keyed his radio, "Dodger, erase our FBI ID's and all associated material. We're through here."
Seattle, WA. 1700.
Dr. Payne was tired after the three hours of airplane travel. He'd stopped at the Zoo to gather supplies, and picked up Michelle who was his civilian assistant. He'd shared the world of the conspiracy with her and then bound her life to his in the explanation. It was something she could never forget. Both of them walked down the folding stairs of the Company supersonic Lear Jet. A unmarked faded blue delivery van, much like UPS of the USPS uses, was parked up against the side of one of the aircraft garages. "Otter here Doc, what's up?"
"Good I'm glad you're here. Bring that truck up that you're in and help us unload," the Doctor replied. Michelle had already begun to bring the heavy plastic sealed crated of materials from the zoo down to the tarmac. The Doctor also carried boxes of medical gear and specimens down too. As Otter got out of the truck and rolled up the rear door the Doctor approached him and asked, "So what is the rest of the team up to?"
"No report from Dallas, but we're in good shape here. Though I swear to God, tomorrow they're going to have reports of the largest crime spree in Seattle history. Dodger, Ian, and Beggay are taking everything they can get their hands on. They're like a bunch of goddamn kids! You should see it!" Otter said as he let out a short high-pitched giggle. "Beggay has stolen eight vehicles; three right off the BMW display floor, the other five from a Police impound lot. Dodger has made two trips to the Radio shack and Circuit city, as well as a computer manufacturer here in Seattle. Ian meanwhile has stolen two truckloads of steel, a pickup full of god knows what from a construction site, and delivery truck from Grainger industrial supply. I've been driving around picking up this and that. Can you believe Dodger actually gave me a credit card and a shopping list?!?"
"Whoa. Lets go for a ride and a steak," the Doctor said with a charismatic smile that immediately set the Combat Op at ease and instilled him with confidence. During Otter's story Michelle had completely loaded the truck. Otter waved at the Company pilot, but the Doctor declined any friendly gesture.
The Doctor and Otter drove lazily around Downtown Seattle for nearly a half-hour before either spoke. It was Otter, "Are we going to drive past all the Zeus Storages in Seattle three times each?" -- "Do you have anything against it?" asked the Doctor coolly. -- "No, I was just wondering how long I would have to wait for my steak." After visiting all seven of the Zeus storages and ascertaining which was the one they were to meet at they stopped at a Black Angus steak house. Otter had taken several rolls of film and was now very hungry. Luckily for him it was their all-you-can-eat steak night. The Doctor though had other plans.
Walking in they were greeted by the hostess but before she could finish the Doctor just glared at her, "We'll seat ourselves. Thank you." He walked in and took a circuitous route around the restaurant until he found what he was looking for. A short pudgy man wearing large coke-bottle glasses was seated at a table dining on calamarie. Wearing a worn business mans suit and scuffed up shoes he somehow held a posture of respect and one of dignity. Pale and with a buzz cut that seemed to accentuate his receding hairline, he looked up at the Doctor and said, "Would you care to join me?"
Walking over to stand across from him with Otter not far behind (and in an offensive posture) he said, "Why certainly." Pulling out the chair and seating himself, Otter did likewise. "Otter why don't you go get some steak?" Being a bright boy for the age of 24 he took the hint the Doctor wanted to be alone and scrammed.
"Now, how did you send me an email?" the Doctor asked.
Looking up from the squid the pudgy man replied, "That does not matter. What I have does. It is information you will find very useful. I ask nothing in return except periodic updates of the information you gather while in my city." -- "Ah, sir, but it is very important to me how you got my email."
"Let us say I am a private contractor and know these things. I cannot assure you that I am not a security risk. You should take measures to insulate myself from you; for your good as much as mine. The information I give will always be good and you can verify it all you like." He reached down and slid a briefcase from under his chair. Placing it at his feet he then slid it under the table to the Doctors feet. The Doctor lifted it up and set it on his plate. Clicking both latches open he flipped open the lid rapidly whilst staring the gentleman square in the eye. The pudgy man never flinched. Then the doctor took an innocent looking pen from his shirt pocket and placed it in the briefcase using the lid to shield the pudgy mans vision. He waved it around, using the head of the pen to sweep for any remote detonated bombs. Finding none, he looked at the contents. Several large overflowing manila folders, a bound stack of papers the size of a ream, and multiple magneto-optical discs were inside. As he completed his review of the case's contents the pudgy man got up. He had finished his calamari quickly and wiped his lips on the napkin as he stood. "I hope you find this profitable as you stand to gain much from it. We will speak again. My number is on a slip of paper in the top folder of the briefcase."
He turned to leave when the Doctor spoke softly, "If this is any double cross or an attempt at misleading me, you will die." -- "In that I trust," he said as he walked away.
Seattle, WA. 0025 010517
Forty-five minutes after leaving the GenTech building Masques team was at Dynatronics Austin, TX. There they dropped off the recovered Hard Drives and continued to Seattle, where they landed six hours later. As they rolled out of the USAF C-130 they'd electronically stowed away on, Beggay met them at the bottom in a yellow Ryder van. Masque, Petyr and Kham left the rear cargo and climbed into the cab. Beggay looked over and gave a big smile through lips holding a massive wad of Red Man crewing tobacco. On the dash was the bag of tobacco and a hand-held radio. "So how'd things go?" he asked.
"Zuperb," replied Petyr.
"Take us to the base," ordered Masque. -- "Ah, which one? Ian has set up three." -- "The primary." With that Masque opened a encrypted frequency to the whole team. "All team members report to the main location. First briefing will be held at 0100. Out." He then opened his briefcase and pulled out the financial figures he'd been given from Drake. He'd read them the whole trip and was not about to stop now.
Twenty minutes later they were all assembled at the base. Standing around the large table that had been acquired for the warehouse stood all eight team members (Blue Duck said he'd rather loiter in the Helo in case of trouble.) Papers were strewn about as well as black and white photographs. Ian had just finished a short explanation that he was working on the roof security, that the sewers were secure, and not to touch any of the 'mousetraps.' that permeated the building. He chortled a little and he and the Doctor shared some inside joke, while Masque and Petyr stood looking at them as if they were crazy (and indeed they were.) These 'mousetraps' were in everyone's room, near large structural members, on the roof, and by all sensitive computers and file cabinets. Hmmmmm...
"So what will our divine course of action be good sirs?" asked Dodger. He stood there with his eyes closed and tapped away on the keyboard hanging from his neck. Petyr spoke up, "I theink we should conzentrate on the Zeus storage issue, then get this Mrs. Roehl."
"That is agreeable," said the Doctor, "but first I would like Dodger to work on a few things. First erase all records of this warehouse, all the cars Beggay has stolen, and of the teams presence in Dallas. Then find what you can on Zeus storage."
"Meanwhile we can all continue setting up?" asked Ian pronouncing the 'up' like 'oop' while looking around at Beggay, Dodger and Kham.
As Masque sat down to go over the reams of data in front of him he looked up at the team surrounding him. Looking at each of them in turn, he picked up the first stack of print outs, "Good, it looks like we have our work cut out for us."
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