“This is a TL-K5 series. But technically it’s just a tablet device, from many years away.”
TL-K5 series? The question rolled through Ethan’s mind, but what came out was, “What’s a ‘tablet device’?”
Wallace tapped on the surface of the machine as he spoke. “It’s like a miniature computer. This can process a thousand times or more information at a faster rate than a hundred of those clunky desktop models you’re stuck with in the department; more than the city’s mainframes too.”
Ethan barked out a laugh. “Okay, sure.” He shook his head, but was willing to play along for the time being. Still, that device does look very … future-y. Unease prickled through him.
Wallace looked up at him, one eyebrow quirked like he was about to let Ethan in on a deep dark secret. “Let me show you something.” He made a swiping gesture with his hand across the screen and up into the air like a wizard summoning a spirit from the Earth.
As though springing forth from the man’s fingertips, an image planted itself in the air before Ethan’s face. He jumped back, hands up in a defensive motion, eyes bulging. “What — what is that?” In his mind he yelled the question, but it came out as a hoarse whisper.
“This is the future, Mr. Tannor. Have a look.”
Ethan stared in amazement at the levitating show that unfolded halfway between him and Wallace, and his first thought was: Where’s the man behind the curtain? Where was the Great and Powerful Oz who controlled the witchcraft his eyes were seeing but couldn’t comprehend?
He snuck a peek at Jackman again, hoping to discover he was the one behind the crazy light show. But the man stood silently, hands clasped behind his back. His face held no surprise; it was obvious he’d seen this display before. Ethan looked back at the moving images, which appeared to be a collage of news clips.
He forced himself to focus on what he was seeing, to convince himself that these were just camera tricks or special effects. In the back of his mind he suspected he was asleep somewhere, the fluid from the tranquilizer still flowing in his veins and this was some sort of drug induced nightmare.
When he saw the face of Vice President George Bush float before him, hand on a Bible as he took the oath of office, his wall of resistance began to crumble. He watched silently as the United States went to war in the Persian Gulf and stared, transfixed, at other images that floated past. An older version of Arnold Schwarzenegger — a man he only knew as The Terminator or Conan the Barbarian — was standing in a suit and tie at a podium giving a speech, words at the bottom on that screen showing that he had become Governor of California. Momentous events and other horrors proceeded to unfold, and then came footage of tanks rolling through the streets of New York City. The Statue of Liberty bombed into pieces.
Ethan looked away at that point, his jaw clenching. “Shut it off,” he growled.
Wallace complied, and the holograph closed in on itself, jetting back down to return to its point of origin. He stowed the tablet back inside the desk. “When diplomacy dies, anarchy will rule.”
For several beats, Ethan remained quiet, processing what he’d seen. Finally, he found his voice. “Alright, let’s say I do believe you.” That sounded lame, even to him. How could he not believe what he’d seen? Special effects in movie-making weren’t that sophisticated. Not yet, anyway. “So where do I fit into all of this?” He swept his eyes around the room, part of him still hoping to catch a glance of The Great and Powerful Oz playing tricks on him.
Wallace approached Ethan and stood within arm’s distance. “We need a candidate, and your record is more than par for the course. You joined the Air Force at nineteen, crossed from blue to green, and ended your military service as an Army Ranger. Shortly afterwards you began your police career and with the backing and influence of your uncle you secured yourself a spot as a detective in record time.”
Ethan averted his eyes to hide the unsettled feeling that came over him. The man wasn’t reading from a file, he was recounting Ethan’s life from memory.
Wallace continued, “You’re proficient in at least two forms of hand-to-hand combat, and according to your armed services vocation and battery tests you scored high enough for any position. Most of your military files are classified, but with the right phone calls I could have access to them. I doubt that’s necessary, though; considering the unit you were in, you saw your share of the battlefield.”
“So, you can recite my dossier, that’s phenomenal,” Ethan said, tasting bile on his tongue. He brought his eyes back around to Wallace. “But if you want me to take this on blind faith, you’re doing a horrible job. This is the second conversation I’ve heard in as many days that makes no sense.”
“Would you be referring to your visit to St. Jeremiah’s?”
That also took him by surprise. How long have they been following me?
“Don’t look so shocked, Ethan. I always keep tabs on my agents, even if they are mentally unsound.”
“He was one of yours? How exactly did he end up there?
“Our operation has always worked on the fringe.” Wallace’s mouth twisted into something resembling a smirk and a frown in one. “We’ve blackmailed Secretaries of State, foreign ambassadors, military officials, you name it. They’re all fair game. Everything you see around you is expensive to run and we need to get the funding from somewhere. We only ask for a blank check and no questions.”
“So what backfired on your agent then?”
A shadow crossed over Wallace’s face. “One general in particular didn’t like the idea of his secrets being used against him — and no guarantee we wouldn’t ask for more — while we filled our coffers. Truth be told, we probably would have.” He opened a drawer.
Ethan peered to see what was retrieved. It was just another cigar, which Wallace promptly clipped and lit. After offering a few puffs of smoke to the ceiling, he continued, “The general had men tail our agent and nearly beat him to death.”
“You didn’t pursue this general?”
“Have you been listening? Our whole point is to remain invisible. The general called our bluff; we lost, end of story.” Another cloud of cigar smoke drifted upward. “We attained our funding elsewhere.” He paused, looking at the Cuban like it held the answer to many questions. “Secrets. Dirty little secrets are everywhere in Washington, and they can cost people so much if exposed. Do you have secrets, Mr. Tannor?”
Ethan shrugged. “If I do, they’re a secret from me. I’m an open book; straightforward, like the laws I enforce.”
“Indeed.” Wallace cast a sideways glance at him. “And this partner of yours … Mr. Hansen?”
Ethan’s rage was quick and uncontrollable. He lunged forward, hands balled into fists. Jackman’s response was lightening fast as well. He spun sideways, moving in to slam a warning palm on Ethan’s chest.
“You leave him out of this!” Ethan spat, pressing against the restraint of Jackman’s outstretched arm.
Wallace responded with a thin smile. “I had no intention of bringing him in. But if you decide to part company with us after the conclusion of our discussion and return to your previous life, I suggest that you refrain from bothering him with these matters. In other words, don’t go telling him about a secret group of Russians hell-bent on America’s destruction.”
The flush of blood ebbed a little from Ethan’s face. He glanced down at Jackman’s hand, which still rested on his sternum. He swatted it down and away. Reaper made a sound of bemusement at the impotent display of bravery and stepped back, resuming his former stance.