chapter 30
TEAM 2, YEAR: 2016
Time Remaining: 142 Days
Later in the week, Riley found herself heading to the lab solo after another shoulder massage. A week had passed since she and Owen had been attacked and her right shoulder still ached. Owen, to his chagrin, was again meeting with his interior designer to look at the fabric swatches, wood samples and furnishings they had run out of time to cover in the first meeting. Finn had not come back to the hotel the night before and Riley was unsure of his whereabouts.
Riley’s question was answered the moment she entered the lab. Evidence of Finn’s presence lay strewn around the lab. Empty energy drink containers on the kitchen island, chip bags, apple cores and muffin wrappers lay on several lab stations. His sweater hung half off a lab chair and his shoes lay astray on the floor by the fridge. She stuck her head into the dorm room and found him passed out on a lower bunk. He lay awkwardly on the narrow bed, too small for his large frame; one foot rested on the floor and an arm hung limply over the edge. Riley smiled at the sight of him. Working with Finn was never boring.
Riley knew Finn’s future would be bright. She was giving him a lot of leash on this project, leading him down the path they needed to go then letting him take the reins. His instincts were nearly always spot on and rarely did he make a wrong call. She planned to give him a fantastic report when they returned that would level him up to a level three; he definitely deserved it. He worked hard, but he still liked to have fun and she encouraged him. At twenty-six, he was still young and he should be out having a good time.
Riley set her bag in the kitchen, grabbed a bottle of Gatorade from the fridge and toured Finn’s work to see what had kept him up all night. The testing tank had been lined with flat stones. Sitting beside the tank was an open container of Irrefragable Compound. As she studied Finn’s handiwork, she heard the sound of a toilet flushing, a tap running, followed by shuffling footsteps. Moments later, a bleary-eyed, bedraggled Finn was dragging himself into the lab.
“Morning, Sunshine,” greeted Riley.
Finn rubbed his eyes then blinked several times to refocus. He ran his hands through his messy hair. “Hey, Rile. How’s it going?”
“Me? I’m good. How about you? Late night?”
Finn yawned as he nodded and meandered into the kitchen. He grabbed a bottle of orange juice out of the fridge, drank half and set it aside as he set up the coffee maker. “I went on a bit of a hike last night and found some rocks. I hope Owen approves.”
“Did you run any tests yet?”
Finn shook his head and chugged back the last of the orange juice. “What time is it?” He wiped the side of his mouth with his forearm then looked at his watch to answer his own question. “Oh, shit! I’m sorry, Rile.”
Riley sat down at the island. “No worries. It looks like you were burning the midnight oil here so I figured you deserved to sleep. Plus, I just got here myself.” She pointed to her shoulder and rolling it, noticing how much better it felt. “Massage.”
Finn nodded appreciatively. He sat down at the island and grabbed an apple out of the bowl. “Where’s Owen?”
“With the interior designer.”
“Oh yeah, I forgot about that,” He polished the apple on his shirt. “So have you told him yet that we need him to come back with us?” Finn asked.
A guilty smile crept onto Riley’s face. “No, not yet. I’m not sure how he’s going to react.” She was mad at herself not being more upfront with him about the matter.
“If you want my opinion, I think it was smart not to mention it right away. It may have spooked him. It’s probably good to let him get used to the idea before bringing it up.” Finn bit into his apple and smiled. “He’ll do it.”
“What makes you so sure? He said straight up in the beginning that he was very happy that his job kept his feet firmly planted in 2016.”
“Yeah, but that was in the beginning. Plus, who wouldn’t want to travel through time? Let’s be serious.”
“We can’t force him if he doesn’t want to,” Riley reminded him.
Finn smiled at her knowingly. “He’ll come. I see the way he looks at you.”
Riley said nothing as she grabbed a pear from the basket of fruit.
“Is that the great Riley Morgan, blushing?”
The sound of the door opening made Riley and Finn look over as Owen came in juggling six furniture catalogues.
“Speak of the devil,” said Finn, making a face at Riley similar to that of an obnoxious little brother. Riley returned it with a warning glare. Finn chuckled to himself, grabbed a banana from the basket and headed back toward the dorm room for a shower.
“How did your meeting go with the designer?”
Owen fanned the catalogues out in front of her. “How are you at furniture shopping?”
“I’ve created a scaled-down model of what I believe we can expect to see when the Elevanium deposit has been fully exposed,” said Finn. He placed the brick of Elevanium into the testing tank, now lined with stones to replicate a cave-like environment. He arranged the miniaturized guns around the Elevanium and set a larger, flat stone across the top of uneven, rocky sides that functioned as the walls of the cave.
“What do you think?” he asked, looking at Riley for feedback.
“What do you think?” she asked back.
Finn looked thoughtfully at his set up. “Well, I think it’s good. I mean, it’s got gaps between the rocks, so I guess some rays will get through, but I’m guessing that loss will be minor. I expect that we’ll still see a considerable decrease in the amount of time it takes to neutralize that brick.”
“Did you remember to coat them with that fragment compound or whatever you called it?” asked Owen.
Finn nodded. “Irrefragable Compound.”
“It’s amazing that a thin layer of a liquid will stop these rocks from being blasted apart,” said Owen leaning in to get a closer look.
“This is nothing. It gets used lots for aid missions. So many third-world countries have these old death trap buildings that collapse on people during earthquakes. We’ll spray a building with this stuff and once it seeps into the structure, even the most dilapidated building will withstand any kind of earthquake or impact.” Finn tossed Riley the remote control. She tossed it back.
“This is your experiment, everything looks good to me. You do the honours.”
Owen grabbed the Multi-Material Scanner off the lab table, turned it on and aimed it at the tank. Even though the Elevanium brick was completely hidden from his view by the simulated rock cave, the white form of the brick appeared on the scanner’s screen. Finn pressed the button. Although there was no visible activity, the trio stared intently into the tank nonetheless. Occasionally Finn and Riley glanced over Owen’s shoulder to check the progress scanner. After four minutes, Finn’s expression faltered.
“Five minutes and forty-two seconds,” reported Owen.
Finn placed the remote control on the lab table and ran his hands through his hair. “Well, that’s disappointing.”
Riley seemed unbothered by the disappointing results. “Well, it was a small improvement. It was just a hypothesis. I guess the surroundings don’t make that much difference.”
“Not enough to rely on them as a booster to the rays,” agreed Owen.
They ran the experiment two more times to be certain, but like their previous experiments, all three trials yielded different results, ranging from two and a quarter minutes to upward of seven minutes. Finn dismantled the miniature cave and set the guns aside on the lab table.
“Well, back to the drawing board,” said Riley. “I wonder what would happen if the surrounding stone was coated in something more reflective, like a foil of some kind?”
Finn glanced at his watch, which did not go unnoticed by Riley. “You got somewhere better to be?”
“I do actually.” Finn smiled. “I’ve got a date.”
“When did you find time to pick up women?
” asked Riley.
Finn looked at his boss with a single raised eyebrow. “Come on Rile, you don’t work me that hard. Let’s just say I’m a good multitasker.”
The forensic investigation into the explosion of Owen’s home had so far yielded no leads. With no fingerprints, footprints, tire treads or real evidence of any kind, the investigation was slowing to a standstill.
Owen felt mental exhaustion beginning to creep in. His mind spun continually during his waking hours. It bounced between speculation over who would want to see him dead to Elevanium and zeno ray guns to sorting out his feelings for Riley. However, what perplexed him the most was that he could not think of a single person who would want him dead. Sure, he had inadvertently ruffled the feathers of a few department heads at work—his work for the International Space Coalition required many equipment upgrades. As a result, several departments had portions of their budgets clawed back to accommodate him. He had received some icy stares in the cafeteria, but he fervently believed that no one was angry enough to blow up his home. He could only conclude it was a random attack or maybe some punk trying to cut his teeth in the explosives game.
Owen and Riley dropped Finn off at the hotel before heading to the house to look at the garage door panel samples the designer had left. Owen pulled up to the house, unprepared for the jarring scene that greeted him. His ordinarily impeccable yard bore deep scars from heavy equipment. Deep tire marks crisscrossed his neatly-manicured lawn. An industrial-sized dumpster positioned beneath the living room windows overflowed with water-damaged and discarded materials. While the yard looked rough, the house was beginning to take shape. All of the broken glass had been replaced and the black stains on the concrete were washed away.
Riley followed Owen through the front door and up the steps leading to the living room. He was impressed with the progress and wondered if he might be able to return sooner than expected. He was anxious to come home; living out of a suitcase had become tedious and he missed his home.
The workers’ tools were left in the middle of the room waiting to be used again tomorrow. Drop cloths were folded neatly by the wall of the main floor bedroom and several cans of paint stood next to them. The new panes of glass looked so clean that if they had not been tinted, Owen might not have believed they were actually there. The new kitchen looked so identical to its predecessor, he had a hard time making out the differences.
The upper floor of the house received the least amount of damage and was nearly finished. Plush carpet warmed the loft-style seating area above the kitchen. A couch and matching loveseat were arranged in a semicircle around a sixty-inch, flat-panel TV mounted on the wall.
“I think it’s safe to say this house is going to end up in some kind of interior design magazine when it’s done,” said Riley. She sat down on one of the leather couches and caressed the sumptuous leather.
Owen chuckled. “Wouldn’t be the first time. It was featured in an architectural magazine when my grandfather first built it.”
Owen led Riley down the hall and told her the history of the house, how it had been built by his grandfather, who, like his father, was an architect. He explained how his retirement plans had been cut short by a car accident. He took her into the room she had stayed in and explained how this had been his childhood room. He opened the balcony door and stepped out.
“I never liked the glass floor. Took my dad forever to get me to come out here when I was little. It freaked me right out.”
They left his childhood room and inspected the master bedroom. One of the maple dressers was still covered with protective cardboard and a fan blew air into the open closet, drying paint.
Owen sat on the glowing white duvet covering the bed and bounced to get a feel for the new mattress. He took in the room, and a feeling of gratitude for his talented, pain-in-the-ass interior designer overwhelmed him. She had made everything the same, yet somehow better.
Riley was happy that some normalcy would soon return to Owen’s life. She leaned on the door frame and watched Owen take in each detail. He slid his hand across the dresser almost caressingly and opened, then closed the top drawer. He opened the sliding glass door and stepped out onto the patio. Owen motioned for Riley to come out and he leaned on the railing and watched the sun slide down behind the trees.
Riley leaned on the railing beside him. “What a sunset.” A pool of oranges, reds and purples melted toward the horizon. “You’re so lucky that you get to watch this every night.”
Owen looked at Riley, mesmerized by her. Her beauty seemed amplified by the warm colours of the sunset. She smiled at the sight of several pelicans floating down the river.
Sensing his gaze, she looked up at him. “What?”
“Thank you.” He gently tucked a loose tendril of hair behind her ear. “I was in such a rut after my father passed away. Looking back now, I don’t think I even realized how depressed I was. You’ve been a breath of fresh air and you’ve reminded me how to live again. Thank you for giving me my life back.”
He ran his index finger across the cut on her neck and collarbone. The wound had completely healed, thanks to the seemingly magical healing properties of LiquiStitch. A faint pink scar and a memory were the only evidence that remained from that evening. He traced the arch of her eyebrow gently with the tips of his fingers then caressed her cheek.
Riley felt a shiver shoot through the length of her body as Owen brushed her collarbone. As his hand moved up her neck and gently brushed her cheek, she felt her control sliding out of her grasp. She turned toward him and he ran his hands over her hair then leaned in. Fireworks went off in her brain as he kissed her. She pulled him close, her mind unable to recall any of the reasons for why having feelings for this man was a bad idea.
He caressed the back of her neck as her hair cascaded over his hands. He felt her wrapping her arms around him and running her hands gently up his back. She was so slight in comparison to him, so slender. She kissed him with the same passion and intensity she brought to everything she did—one of the many qualities he loved about her. He picked her up in his arms, carried her through the balcony door and laid her gently on the bed.
Riley had never experienced sensuality like this. Maybe it was that men from eighty-five years ago had more class, but Owen was different in a way she could not define.
Owen’s reservations about getting involved with someone who would be leaving in five weeks had disappeared. He had never felt anything like what he felt for Riley; he knew that if five weeks were all they had, then he would take whatever time he could, if she would have him. He realized that worrying about getting hurt did far more damage than actually taking a chance. He needed her, and now that he had realized it, it seemed so obvious. He did not want to waste a single moment of whatever time they had.
They lay together for hours, talking about their past and getting to know each other on a level more intimate than Elevanium and zeno ray guns. Owen explained that he had done his fair share of dating over the years, but he never found anyone that he felt he could spend the rest of his life with. Since his father’s heart attack, there had been no time for dating. Riley explained to Owen how during a particularly long operation, she got a special leave pass to come home for two days on Valentine’s Day. She planned to surprise her husband—and surprise him she did by catching him in bed with a stripper. When she had finally cooled off long enough to talk about it, he told her he was leaving her. He packed his bag and left her that night—alone in the home she had bought them, reeling and devastated. To add insult to injury, he later sued her for the house and for the emotional trauma he claimed he sustained from her being deployed so often. Everything she had worked so hard for—her home, retirement savings—were nearly all taken away from her. Although she never talked numbers, Owen suspected her ex-husband made out like a bandit. From what he had been able to piece together, her job seemed somewhat hazardous and assumed she was compensated appropriately. The only bright side, she pointed out, was that she was
young enough to recover financially. She had a new roof over her head and still planned to retire young enough to enjoy life. As for romance, she dove into her work and put men on the back burner for years, until Owen.
Owen looked at his watch. “Okay, you’ve got to be hungry now. It’s nearly twelve.” He felt absolutely famished, but he would rather die of starvation than leave his bed while Riley was in it. He slid the dark strands of hair that he loved so much from her face.
Riley pushed him onto his back and crawled on top. She clutched his hands above his head, pinning him down as she kissed his neck. “The only thing,” she said between kisses, “I’m hungry for,” she nibbled on his ear, “is you.”
“Omigosh, Rile,” Owen said out of breath, “that was…I don’t even know what that was.” Riley collapsed on top of Owen, her head nestled underneath his chin. He wrapped his arms around her. The sensation of the sweat between their bodies enhanced the closeness.
“Here’s my theory on sex,” she said matter-of-factly. “The first time you make love with someone, it’s like buying a car. On your first test drive, you take it easy, you don’t want to be too aggressive. No sharp corners or abrupt movements. It’s like a how-do-you-do, getting acquainted kind of thing. Then, if you liked it and you want to test drive it again, you’re ready to put it through its paces and see what it can do.”
Owen laughed, then kissed the top of her head. “I can’t wait for the next test drive.”
Riley’s smile faded; she knew she had to ask Owen about coming back to the year 1200 with them. To wait any longer would be like lying, and that was not how she wanted to begin whatever it was they now had between them. She sat up and pulled the top sheet around her. The contrast of the crisp, white bedding glowed against her tanned skin. “Owen, I have to ask you something.”
“Sure. Anything.” The gravity of her expression startled him. Was she having regrets?
“I apologize because I should have mentioned this on day one. I need you to come back with us. To meet up with Team One in the year 1200. We need your help. If something goes wrong, if the deposit is hard to… We just need you. Finn and I just don’t know enough about this kind of stuff. This operation is highly unusual for us. Finn and I are more go-in-guns-a-blazing kind of people. This Elevanium stuff is more your thing.” She worried he would be upset for springing this on him, for asking him to do something she already knew he wanted no part of.
Owen watched her, biting her lip and looking uncharacteristically nervous. He caressed her cheek. “You had me at ‘I need you.’” He grabbed her by the hand and pulled her down on top of him. “On two conditions.”
“Anything.”
“One. Let’s not talk about Finn when we’re lying in bed together naked?”
Riley laughed, relief flooding over her like a waterfall. “Deal. And the second?”
“Can you tell me exactly what it is that you do?”
She fell silent. “You won’t like it.”
“Try me.”
“I’m a Level Six, Black Ops Field Operation Lead.” She watched his expression for a reaction and saw uncertainty. She explained further. “Black Ops is an elite, covert team that gets called into, let’s say, high-risk or high-value situations to neutralize threats, recover hostages or terminate illegal activities.”
“I feel as though that’s the textbook explanation,” said Owen, one eyebrow raised.
She nodded. “Think final stage, hostage-type situations or stings for criminal organizations.”
This made sense to him and comprehension dawned on his face. He imagined her on the street wearing a Kevlar vest, leaning over the hood of a car looking at building schematics and handing out orders. That seemed alright. Risky, yes, but she seemed more than capable of handling that type of situation. “Okay, so you develop the strategies that your team executes to bust up a drug ring or negotiate for hostages?”
“Well, yes and no. We kinda bat clean-up. If we can, we try to negotiate. But generally, if Black Ops is involved, the window for negotiation has passed. I organize strategies to neutralize volatile situations after the discussions and negotiations have failed. I lead the execution of the plans. I’m at the front. And we don’t deal with domestic issues. Everything I deal with is international. Mostly overseas and South America. Lots of terrorism. But it’s very quiet and very top secret. Never, ever in the news. We plan, we execute, we get out.” Riley knew Owen now understood; his colour had drained and his pallor matched the white duvet.
Owen fell silent, taking in the full enormity of what she did. Certain aspects of her made sense now. Her keen observation skills, fast reflexes, combat capabilities and her physique. Not to mention how she could emerge from an attack by nine men and be no more bothered than if Finn had left an empty milk carton in the fridge. Knowing she put her life literally on the front line for others—for the people of their country, as well as for the freedom of people in countries that were not even her own—made him incredibly proud and doubly terrified.
Time Remaining: 141 Days
Riley and Owen arrived outside Finn’s hotel room door and just as Riley reached up to knock, it suddenly opened. A girl walked out, startled by their presence. She smiled nervously as she walked past, blushing as though she had been caught doing something wrong. Riley recognized her as the Maid of Dis-honour from their night at The Beach. Riley laughed to herself as she and Owen entered. Hearing Finn in the shower, she prepared to wait and give him the gears for being late. When they entered the room, they both stopped dead. A stunning brunette in a white tube top and a flowing floral skirt sat on the edge of the bed.
She smiled at them unapologetically. “Beautiful morning, eh?” With one of her long tanned legs crossed over the other, she finished buckling her wedge sandal. She grabbed her handbag off the pillow, stood and slung the bag’s wooden handles over her shoulder. She glided toward Owen and Riley, wished them a good day and disappeared out the door.
The running water in the shower stopped. Owen, unable to stop laughing, sat on a chair in the corner and waited. Riley seated herself neatly on the untouched bed and noticed as she did so, the empty energy drink cans filling the small blue recycling box at the foot of the dresser. Finn strode out of the bathroom with a towel around his waist and nearly jumped at the sight of his new visitors.
“You guys scared the crap out of me!” He looked at his watch and then to Riley. “I know, I’m late. I’m sorry. I had a hard time getting up this morning.”
“I hope you didn’t have that problem last night,” said Riley. She smiled at him knowingly. “Did you have a good date?”
“Oh,” said Finn, nonchalantly, “it was alright.”
“Seemed better than alright to me, we met your dates,” said Owen. “You’re not kidding about being able to multitask.”
Finn’s expression quickly changed from respectful discretion to exhilaration, like it killed him not to spill the beans. “Oh my God!” He spoke each word like they were their own sentence. “2016 is awesome! Did you see those women? Omigod, they were so hot! I haven’t slept, I’ll never sleep again. That was so insane! Oh, and I wouldn’t sit on that bed.”