“You’re a figment from my reading and Nataly’s new-age mysticism, all of it. Enough of this, now. I’m going to sleep.”
The golden man closed his eyes, and nodded. “That is best for now. I’ll complete my task, reinforce what has been given to you, and give you a restful sleep with simple dreams. But in the future I hope you’ll think of me, and search me out again. We have issues to discuss.”
“Sure,” said Eric, and again felt his lips move. A strange scent remained in the air, and there were faint scuffling sounds close by. He tried opening his eyes, moving legs and arms, but nothing would respond. His mind was suddenly fuzzy, and as consciousness faded he felt his right leg jerk once.
When he awoke in the morning he was instantly alert, jerking back the covers and leaping from the bed. Everything he’d experienced the night before was instantly remembered. He checked the doors, the windows, even the floor around his bed. Nothing was disturbed. He browsed the kitchen, the bathroom, found a faucet dripping slowly, and tightened a cold-water handle to stop it. The lights on the alarm clock on his nightstand blinked at him. There had been a power outage or surge in the night. He looked up at one corner of the ceiling, saw the faint red spot of light from the camera there, still on, but the recorder could have been affected. If there had been loss of power, the alarm clock indicated it had been shortly after eleven, soon after he’d retired.
His suspicions were confirmed when he went down to the basement. The video recorder was off, sitting on standby, and the tapes ended just after eleven. He remembered the sounds he’s heard, and he’d been without surveillance, totally vulnerable, yet nothing had happened to him other than a bizarre waking dream.
He turned to go up the stairs again, and saw a dark spot at the inside edge of the lowest step. He touched it, felt a soft crust, then liquid. The color was right; he sniffed at the liquid on his finger.
It was blood.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CONCERNS
The lights were low, the video monitor on the table darkened. Mister Brown and Mister White sipped tea and spoke in near whispers. They had checked the room for listening devices, Brown had activated his random wave generator, and they were reasonably certain they were alone in the room.
“You seem certain we can trust him,” said Mister White.
“I do. He’s been evaluated at all levels. There are no commercial interests pulling at him. His loyalty is to his government, and his experience is just what we need.”
“He’s a killer.”
“Yes, he can be that. He has also survived by his wits for many years. It won’t be simple to predict his reactions or movements. Natasha will give us what she can, but her time with him is limited.”
“Her father would be proud,” said White.
“Indeed, but I’m concerned about her. She has developed feelings for the man, and I don’t want to see her hurt.”
“She’s an adult. And there are certainly no racial issues.”
“That’s not what I mean. You know me better than that. I just hope her attachment to Mister Price doesn’t go too far. At worst he could soon be dead. At best he will be gone when his job here is finished.”
“So what’s the next step?” White leaned closer.
“We have to tell him about the portal. I’m convinced our saboteurs are using it to come and go. Davis has not cooperated with us in the placement of guards. He insists his people cannot stand in total darkness for hours at a time. And even when the bay is active I can’t get him to regularly photograph all personnel coming in and out of the portal. It’s too simple to hide a face from a video camera placed only at one position.”
“So how can Price help with that?”
“If he knows how parts and key personnel get in and out of the base he can talk to Davis as a security expert and pressure him for better surveillance. He also needs access to the portal bay if he has to pursue someone. He at least has to know where it is.”
White grasped Brown’s arm. “He cannot be told the exact nature of the portal. If he reported that to his government there would be a panic. It could destroy everything we’ve worked for.”
Brown patted White’s hand. “I agree it could shock people in the agency he works for, but I know for a fact that people much higher than any agency know all about the portal and its origins. And they are the people who initiated this project with us. For now, it’s enough if Price knows where the portal is and can get to it. But if he ever has to use it we’ll have to tell him everything. Do you agree with me?”
“Yes, for now. Even Davis doesn’t know the mechanics of the portal. He just thinks he does.”
“But he’ll have to allow Price access to the bay so he can see its operation. I’ll talk to him right away. Things will be happening fast, now. Price has what he needs to fly the star craft. If that leaks out, our adversaries could make a move quite soon. Make sure our people are never far from Price. We just came close to losing him.”
“Will you tell the others?”
“No. We still can’t be sure there aren’t other conspirators acting with Watt.”
“Why not have Price kill him right away?”
“Not until I know their overall plan, and everyone behind it. Watt surely knows our suspicions. For now, I think sabotage will cease, but I worry about assassinations. And it could happen to any of us. I’m going to see Davis, and demand that he introduce Price to the portal bay. Hopefully he’ll do it quickly before Price demonstrates his new knowledge of the star craft. Things will likely be chaotic after that. I’ll want regular reports from your people on any reactions from Reds or Blues. It has been far too quiet lately.”
“I really don’t think they’re involved. Watt is working alone, or with secret service personnel loyal to him,” said White.
“I tend to agree, but let’s keep a close eye on our so-called allies anyway.”
The two men shared a laugh about that, and adjourned their meeting.
Outside it was close to sunrise. Inside, the control room was nearly dark, and only one man sat at the console. It was the time of low priority transmissions, and only a few people were in line. Dario Watt had presented his authorization, and enjoyed an herbal tea while waiting his turn. His aide sat with him, a small man with a prominent nose. Dario smiled pleasantly at him.
“I’m sure you have a good explanation for me, Degan. It was a simple mission. How could it have been such a failure?”
Degan swallowed hard. The sight of such a smile on Dario Watt’s face could mean death to the receiver. Only honesty and humility could save his life.
“I have no explanation, Sire. They were ready for us, and cloaked when we came through the tunnel. Three of my people did not return, and another was slashed badly. We didn’t even get to the first floor of the house. They either knew we were coming, or were there on permanent guard. Only a handful of us knew about the operation at the last moment, Sire. There couldn’t have been time for a warning.”
Watt nodded. “They’re using him. Something else must have been going on, and we were unfortunate to arrive at the same time. Back off for now, but be ready to move at an hour’s notice. Has your team returned?”
“For medical treatment. I’ll have them early tomorrow. We have a little house in Cottonwood.”
“That’s close enough, but I want one of your people, cloaked if necessary, to be with me at all times.”
“I understand, Sire.”
“No, you don’t. I’ve raised the suspicions of the Council, and they are also capable of murder.”