Chapter 8 – Otto Malvinas
Across the canyon from the Fox home, rows of houses were set into the hillside. At the crest, a series of cascading balconies concealed an operations center behind tinted panes. By their dress and bearing, it was clear the occupants were field agents of the highest caliber, all but one.
To describe Fifth Gate Citizen Otto Malvinas as portly would do the man a disservice. Otto had spent a lifetime acquiring his bulk. Weighing a stout three seventy, he boasted of being as wide as he was tall.
Upon learning of the Project Epsilon failure, Otto decided to visit the Fox homestead. He was intrigued by the pipe dream of the MCX, and felt that technological breakthroughs were best intercepted early.
As the owner of the parent company that had recently purchased Washington Security, Otto had come down with his bodyguard to inspect the operation. He and Bell had arrived late in the evening, after eleven, and now stood in the central command room with Captain Faulkner.
The captain explained that the house was filled with surveillance equipment and long-range suppressed weapons, all controlled by a master switchboard. He pointed out that the recording drives were backed up to double-blind positions. Plus, the DOD had vetted all personnel to ensure competence and loyalty.
Malvinas had many questions for the captain, and it was clear the officer's patience was being tested.
Bell asked permission to step outside for a smoke and left the command center.
A young sergeant monitoring the surveillance screens interrupted the captain and chairman Malvinas. He pointed out the arrival of a large truck on the street between the command post and the client. It touched down, and three armed operatives stepped from the back of the truck.
Upon sight of the operatives, the command post came alive with activity, surveillance systems delivering high-contrast images of the mercenaries making their way across the canyon toward the Fox home.
Otto smiled with excitement. "What happens now?" he asked.
"Now it gets fun," Captain Faulkner replied, smiling for the first time since Otto's arrival.
In the glass-walled home across the canyon from Dr. Fox, Captain Faulkner designated Chief Warrant Officer Lee and Sergeant Buckner to suit up and intercept the mercenaries. The other agents at nearby monitors called out relevant conditions as Buckner and Lee pulled on their armor.
Fully equipped, the two soldiers stepped out onto the main deck of the home. Lee snapped down his visor and triggered the up-linked displays and data feeds. With the enhanced optics, they could see the enemy across a dozen spectrums as they moved toward the Fox residence.
Lee and Buckner crossed the deck, strapped in and released their ropes. They vanished over the railing, moments later reaching the ground, several hundred feet below. The canyon floor was spotted with homes. Backyards overflowed onto narrow strips of unclaimed municipal property, all of which butted up against the forest preserve. Lights were out, most families fast asleep.
Inside the command post, on the flickering screens, Faulkner and Malvinas watched the images of Lee and Buckner as they chased down the interlopers, closing the gap as they came down the hillside. The group of intruders had reached the other side. As the ground became steeper, they slowed.
Captain Faulkner stood next to Otto as the surrounding agents relayed details to him. From their place in the command center, the two men could see nothing through the glass walls. It was the monitors that tracked the participants from dozens of angles and across several frequencies.
The mercenaries continued to advance on the Fox residence, oblivious of their imminent discovery by Lee and Buckner.
Captain Faulkner cracked his knuckles in anticipation.
Bell returned to the command post from his cigarette break.
Faulkner sniffed the air, burnt oil and carbon, the signature of a recently fired weapon.
Bell raised his handgun and shot Captain Faulkner in the face. The suppressor reduced the sound to a cough. As Faulkner's men pulled their weapons, Bell shot each of them in turn.
Surrounded by dying agents, Otto licked his lips in satisfaction, right on schedule.
Bell then raised the weapon on his employer, who had just enough time for expressions of both shock and indignation to flash across his face before Bell fired three times into his chest. Otto fell.
In the kitchen, Bell opened cabinets. He grabbed a bottle of lighter fluid and jerked the stove from the wall. He disconnected the gas line and opened the valve.
In the living room, Bell doused the bodies and equipment with the fuel. He balled up a piece of paper and covered it. He knelt beside Otto as the large man choked on his own blood.
Bell stuffed the paper into Otto's mouth and lit an edge. The flames ran across the chairman’s oil soaked skin and clothes. The fire engulfed the handmade silk and leapt to the floor to dash across the room, up the legs of the couches and surveillance terminals.
Soon the entire post was alight.
Bell was halfway down the hill before the gas bleeding out of the kitchen reached the living room. The sound wasn't an explosion, but rather a whoosh, like a jet engine igniting, illuminating the canyon.
Finished with his noodles, Ross paid for the meals, and strolled through the front door, out onto the street.
The agents hadn’t even tried to blend in. As Ross exited the restaurant, their heads rose in unison. In the crowd of people, all hustling to get home for the evening meal, only they were standing still. As he stepped out, only they noticed him.
Ross smiled.
He stepped into the busy thoroughfare and made his way toward the closest man.
The Agent stepped forward, raising a hand as Ross approached.
Ross closed the distance with a quick blast to the agent’s throat. He collapsed toward the nearest building.
Ross continued to move with the crowd as the two following men rushed to their comrade.
Once out of sight, Ross took the first corner into an alley and burst into a sprint. A block later, he glanced behind, only one man followed.
Ross made another corner, and used a dumpster to jump up to a fire escape. The agent didn’t round the corner until Ross was cresting the three-story rooftop.
Ross sprinted for the far side of the roof. He quickly found a sign he could use to get back down to street level and his last view of the rooftop revealed his pursuer coming up on the other side.
The agent fired twice, but Ross was already below his line of sight. He jumped from the sign to the top of a van, and rolled from the vehicle as the agent appeared above him.
As he sprinted down the street-level walk, the massive traffic canyon yawned to Ross’s left. Vehicles whizzed by, just a few feet away, six thousand feet above the surface of the Earth.
Ross reached a taxi stand and heard the agent shouting into a communicator behind him. Ross climbed into the back seat of the first cab. He gave the driver fifty bucks, and staying low, climbed out of the driver’s side door. “Just drive till it runs out,” he said, closing the hatch. Ross slipped back to the second waiting cab, and climbed in as the first taxi pulled away.
“Where to, mister?” the driver asked.
Ross handed the man a bill and said, “Just sit right here for a bit.”
“Your money,” the driver replied.
Ross watched as the agent sprinted up the row of taxis and predictably climbed into the first one, his.
Ross held his weapon on the winded fed.
“Oh, what the shit?” the agent heaved.
“You tell me?” Ross answered.
“You’re not going to shoot me,” the agent said.
“Why not?”
“I’m a Federal Agent.”
“You got any ID?” Ross asked.
The agent rolled his eyes.
“How about a warrant?” Ross asked.
The agent remained mute.
“Out,” Ross said.
“This is me; getting out.” The agent opened the door and
climbed out.
Ross fired, the bullet ripped into the federal agent’s knee.
As he fell backward, he closed the door, saving Ross the trouble of doing it himself.
Ross gave the driver a destination and the agent had enough time to punch the window before he went down and the taxi pulled out.
Ross was impressed with the kid’s stamina, despite the wound to his leg, he managed to keep his feet for a few seconds: impressive.