Chapter 28 – No Women, No Kids
Monday Afternoon, July 6, 2308
Von Kalt landed his transport on the executive lot and carried Fox’s personal effects to Stanwood’s office.
“Did he have it?” Stanwood asked, without looking up.
“No. He had nothing, just the usual, wallet, watch, eyeglasses. But why the glasses? No one wears glasses anymore.”
“Fox has never been wired,” Stanwood replied.
“Is that a fact?”
“That’s what they say.” Stanwood rose from the desk and went through the contents of the evidence bag. He opened the wallet and handed Von Kalt the extra key card to the Fox house.
“You know, maybe Pierce engineered the while thing. He could have been picked up by his own crew,” Von Kalt suggested.
“Miller and Harris both said he didn’t jump,” Stanwood commented.
“That doesn’t mean he didn’t fake it. No one ever accused him of being stupid.”
“None of this strikes me as especially intelligent,” Stanwood countered. Stanwood looked Von Kalt in the eye. “Where is it?” he asked.
“Where is what?” Von Kalt didn’t hesitate.
Stanwood gestured to the key card, “Do a thorough search of the Fox home. With gloves on, I want you to bring me any amplifiers you might find.”
“Is that all?” Von Kalt asked.
“No. Political support for abstracting Fox comes with a price. I need the immediate family members brought in, alive if possible, but in, regardless.”
“I’ll take a team. But you know what we’re up against here, Alive does not seem likely.”
“We’re talking about a mom and two kids.”
“You’ve seen the files, well, so have I. My men aren’t authorized to know why we’re going after them and giving them DOA orders on women and children is not going to go over very well.”
“The shuttles were registered to the Heart of the City Campground. There are several dozen summer programs running there and some twenty thousand parents and children participating. Unfortunately, their surveillance system is garbage. For now, we’re scanning the campground for any records or camera pops, but I want you watching the house.”
Stanwood gestured to the card in Von Kalt’s hand. “Once you’re finished with your initial search, take that card out to Abby’s Diner in Eagle Rock. Call me once you get there, and I’ll send our sleeper out to meet you. On the off chance that we don’t find Agent Zelena and her children, I want him waiting in the wings.”
“What about Fox’s security outfit?”
“The Washington Security Team has been temporarily pushed out of their residence. There are no agents to log your visit.”
“But you’re serious about this, going after the wife and kids? Isn’t that a little low, even for you?”
“It’s not for me. It’s the price of our partners’ cooperation. Besides, without them, we have no leverage on Fox. And if you had any idea who his wife is, you would know that as long as she’s out there, we are a long way from finished with this.
“Anastasia Zelena was an active spy when Fox met her. He convinced Croswell that he’d turned her and added her to his team. She is the only member of the 3AM Team whose name we do have. No one has ever captured her or interrogated her about anything. She is the worst kind of loose end. And she is extremely dangerous.
“Not to mention his children… Ashley is an incarnation of the AI Fox created, Code-named Astral. The 3AM Project had to be closed when Astral went berserk and murdered thirty-seven members of the technical staff. She is beyond dangerous. She is a walking time bomb. Tell your men to fire on sight. They don’t get any extra points for bringing her in alive. In fact, if they try and take her alive, they will most certainly wind up dead.”
“They’re not going to want to gun down a twelve-year-old girl,” Von Kalt answered.
“The gas might work, but you’ve been warned. Regardless, Fox has enhanced both wife and children with extremely sensitive government technology, and the Attorney General has the documentation to prove it. They are the property of the Republic of the United States.
“There is also a very high probability that Dunkirk will fail in his mission, but Anastasia would have to reveal the extent of her powers, and when the warrants come through for us to seize the Washington Security residence, we will have it all on tape.”
Stanwood returned to his desk. “Now, take that card to our Ultra-Man and tell him to keep his ears on. The minute the wife and kids return home, I want them reduced to evidence.”
“You’re making a mistake. Dunkirk is a freak, I don’t know how you justify keeping him on the payroll.”
“He understands orders, like when God told Abraham to kill Isaac. He’ll do things you and your men, even I wouldn’t do. If we could find his compatriots, Morgenstern and Gardner, then we’d have a real team. You wouldn’t believe the jobs they pulled down in South America.”
“I think I might. I’ll let you know if we find anything on Calistan.”
“The average Camp program is three to five weeks. I think we’ll be fine. After all, we have Dunkirk,” Stanwood said.
“That’s not very reassuring.”
“I have every confidence in Martin. I know he’ll follow orders.”
Von Kalt raised an eyebrow. “You want me just sitting on the house? You want me to just hang out for the next three weeks?”
“Is there an echo in here?” Stanwood asked. “Fox will have people who come looking for him. It would be best if you stayed away from White Sands. Stay here; sit on the residence until someone returns. When you see the mother or the children, you notify both Dr. Dunkirk and myself. I’m sending eight agents with you. You’re only job will be to notify me the moment something happens, that will go for all of you. I already have two other teams in the vicinity. No excuses, no mistakes.”
Von Kalt turned and walked from the office.
In the hallway outside, he pulled the Metachron from his pocket and looked at it in his hand.
Von Kalt approached the Fox home. His men waited in the car behind him. He waved the key card at the panel and the exterior door opened.
Inside, he immediately felt something.
It drew him directly to Ashley’s room.
He paused at the door, touched it, listened, and then after a few minutes, entered. He walked directly to the desk.
The evening sun streamed through the windows.
Von Kalt stood, transfixed by the center drawer in the raised shelf above the blotter. He opened the drawer.
He stared at the place where the Micronix was and pulled the Metachron from his pocket.
Von Kalt stood breathing, looking at the amplifier in his hand, and the otherwise empty drawer. After a few minutes, he closed the drawer, never touching the Micronix. It was right there, lying right in front of him, but he could not take it.
Von Kalt did a cursory search of the home, but soon left.
He had some things to think about.
Von Kalt found the seedy breakfast-diner Stanwood had mentioned, Abby’s, on the outskirts of Northeast edge of Angel City, and called Dunkirk. Von Kalt didn’t see the allure of a twenty-four hour breakfast place, but Stanwood assured him that Dunkirk loved it and always ordered enough to choke an ox.
For the first hour, Von Kalt resisted the sizzling flapjacks, maple syrup and coconut-flavored coffee. By the time Dunkirk arrived, a full two hours later, he’d eaten his fill and just gotten his check.
“So you don’t have a problem with this, taking out a woman and two kids?” Von Kalt asked, handing over the key card.
“No. Should I?” Dunkirk asked. The man’s eyes appeared to be on fire. He seemed to have come down with some kind of summer flu. Weighing a stout two-fifty, Dunkirk was sweating on the cool and balmy night. He twitched and bounced with energy, in the quiet, boring diner.
“Not very sporting, is it?” Von Kalt inquired.
“You know who we
’re talking about here? Zelena?! If you haven’t heard the stories, you should look her up.”
“But two little kids?” Von Kalt pressed.
“It’s not so much about the hunt for me.” Dunkirk scanned the diner, his head swiveling in all directions as he answered. “Sport isn’t my thing.”
Von Kalt watched him, wondering if he were on drugs or just utterly insane. The Metachron lay heavy in his palm, below the lip of the table.
“For me, it’s about the moment,” Dunkirk continued. “Every moment is different. They come and they pass, and what was will never be again.”
“You’re in it for the pain then?”
Dunkirk touched his nose.
Von Kalt narrowed his eyes.
Dunkirk rose from the booth, pocketed the key card and exited the diner without another word.
Von Kalt remained, bathing in the smells of fired egg, bacon, buttered toast and fresh-squeezed oranges,
He laughed to himself as he laid out the cash for his meal.
The waitress looked up, curious. “What’s so funny?” she asked.
“My friend loves this place,” Von Kalt said.
“But he didn’t order anything,” the waitress answered.
Von Kalt smiled, “I know. The jokes on him.”
The waitress looked confused as Von Kalt exited the café, laughing to himself.