CHAPTER NINE: SONYA
I traveled in a golden wolf from the savannah of Africa far to the Mongol steppes. I went in the hopes of leaving the chaos of the Roman Empire behind to build a new civilization, one without constant conflict. In this new and beautiful land, I planned a grand experiment, to birth a culture based on peace and enlightenment, to deviate from the Quasing idea that humans can only innovate through war. I placed my hope in a young boy named Temujin, son of a chieftain.
Ray yawned as he sat in the tinted car in the Grant Park North garage. He checked his watch; three more hours until the café upstairs on Michigan Avenue opened. He could get a bagel then.
They’d been sitting in this damn spot for three days now. That new vessel had to come back one of these days for his car. Marc said it was a possibility the mark might return, though Ray was pretty sure the Prophus couldn’t possibly be that stupid. But then – if the vessel wasn’t aware of the Holy One in him yet – he might. And it was an opportunity the team wasn’t going to pass up.
Still, he and Chako had been in this same spot for almost seventy hours now, only switching off to stretch and get food. Ray was sure the car was getting rather pungent with two unwashed men practically living in it. Another day though and their replacements would come. He’d had similar assignments in the past; uncomfortable, but it was the life he led. A lifetime ago, when he used to work for the DEA, Ray had spent nearly a week observing a Mexican freighter until the drug deal went down. This job at least was close to fresh coffee. In any case, it was better than sleeping on his ex-wife’s couch in Detroit.
The garage was mostly empty of cars, except for a dozen or so scattered around the lot. Ray had a direct view of the vessel’s car. Ray rubbed his eyes and shook his head, trying to ward off sleep. He’d give Chako another hour before waking him to change shifts. If he was lucky, the vessel would appear and he’d be the one to capture him. Then his ascension to a Holy One would almost be assured. After six years with the Genjix, he might actually become one of them. His life would change then. Ray shifted again in his seat, massaging his numb legs, trying to work some circulation back into them.
A figure wearing a parka came down the stairs and walked toward the vessel’s car. Ray took out his binoculars and studied him. He couldn’t make out his face, but he was the right size. Ray nudged Chako. “We got a hit.”
Chako was instantly alert, peering out the windshield. “A little warm this time of year for a parka, would you say?” he said.
“To the point of it being unusual,” Ray replied. “Looks like he’s trying to hide his face. We might have our vessel here. Go check it out. I’ll cover you.” Ray touched his earpiece and reported in. “We have a possible hit moving toward the vehicle. Verifying now. Stand by.”
Ray pulled out his pistol while Chako got out of the car and sauntered towards the figure. It had to be the mark. Who else would come at four in the morning? The figure by now had reached the Ford and was peeking through the driver’s side window. Ray got out of the car and knelt next to the front tires, his gun trained at the possible vessel’s shoulder. He had to be careful with his shot. Marc was explicit about taking him alive.
Chako had reached the figure by now and they were exchanging words. Ray was too far away to make out what they were saying. Then suddenly, Chako reached into his pocket and fell. Ray heard the distinct sound of a silenced pistol go off in the otherwise quiet garage. Ray took careful aim and squeezed the trigger, hitting the vessel.
The parka-clad figure collapsed out of view behind another parked car. Ray stayed low and moved to the next aisle, and found Chako lying face down on the floor. Lying next to him was a gray parka. Immediately, Ray ducked behind cover and scanned the area. This vessel was supposed to be new! The Prophus must have gotten to him. He moved behind the vessel’s car and looked for any signs of movement.
After several minutes, Ray decided to get out of the open and retreated back to his car. Whoever was here was very quiet; obviously a trained agent. He’d have to drive the car up to Chako, get the body in, and get out of here. Otherwise, he was a sitting duck.
Ray got to the driver’s side, opened the door, and slid in. Just as he sat down, a figure appeared from the back seat and slugged him in the side of the face. Ray fell out of the car and onto the floor. Immediately, he got up and reached for his gun. The figure knocked it out of his hand and gave him a sharp blow to the neck. Ray gasped for air as he slammed into the concrete wall.
The dark figure approached. He was short and slim, and wore a hood shadowing his face.
Ray blindly lashed out, swinging with his fists. The first blow caught his assailant in the forehead. He heard a woman’s voice as she grunted and blocked the second and third punch. Then she came forward with her right elbow and smashed his nose, breaking it. Blood flowed down his face as he fell back against the wall again. This definitely was not the new vessel. Ray swung a desperate right hook. She danced out of the way and connected with a kick to Ray’s midsection, followed by a leg sweep that sent him crashing to the floor.
The figure got on top of him and jammed a gun into his cheek. He could smell the aroma of mint gum as she spoke. “Weeks of surveillance, two agents sitting in a car, Homeland Security access. This is above and beyond your usual hunt orders. Why do the Genjix care so much about this host?” Ray tried to roll over and push her off, but she just pistol-whipped him twice on the face, the second swing cracking his cheek bone. “Unless you guys found a discount broker, Homeland network access can’t be cheap,” she said. “Answer me, Genjix.”
“Go to hell, bitch,” Ray snarled, his vision obscured by the blood pouring from his broken nose.
“You first.” She pistol-whipped him again. “This is for going against your own species.” The Prophus agent pulled the earpiece out of his ear and spoke in it. “You have two dead bodies and two hours before rush hour begins. Clean up your trash.” That was the last thing Ray heard before she pulled the trigger.
Sonya drove up to the apartment building and parked on a side street. She took off the bloodstained outfit and changed into her workout clothes. It was some time until dawn and the streets were still quiet.
She checked the mirror and wiped the blood off her face. There was a cut above her eyebrow where the Genjix agent’s ring had cut her. She frowned and shook her head in disgust; always the face. Getting caught like that by such an amateur was sloppy work. She went into her first aid kit and applied some hydrogen peroxide on it. Her hands trembled as she dabbed her cut.
Though she’d been with the Prophus for four years, she was still new enough to fieldwork to get the shakes. The old-timers said that’d go away with time. Sonya clenched her fists and took a deep breath. When she felt calmer, she finished up her patch job. She probably wouldn’t need stitches. She checked her handiwork in the mirror, grabbed her laptop, and typed up a few notes.
Relay the Homeland expenditures. The Genjix are spending a small fortune on this job. Maybe we can find the source on the inside and cut it off.
Sonya nodded. “If the Genjix have been tracking this new host through Homeland, I want to get a map of all the street cameras. The new host can avoid detection better if he knows where not to walk around with his face exposed.”
Good idea. Are you sure you want to start this assignment this morning? You have had very little sleep lately.
Sonya craned her neck and stretched. “I am a little jet-lagged, but it’s nothing I haven’t done before. I was looking forward to that time off in the Caymans – but it’s nice to be back in Chicago. It’s been almost two years. Tell Command they still owe me a vacation. A training assignment shouldn’t be too tough. I haven’t had the chance to read the new host’s file. I assume you did during the flight? Why do you think they want this new host so badly?”