CHAPTER TWO: FIELD WORK
Once there was a place called OSI where miracles happened.
FORTY-THREE YEARS AGO
The smashed, burning car lay overturned in the ravine, and the woman watched in horror. Her six-year-old son was trapped inside.
The child would have died had it not been for the unexpected arrival of a hero who braved the flames to pull him out.
The mother should have thanked the stranger. Instead, she recoiled in fear when she saw the gash in the stranger's arm and the electronic components the wound revealed.
"What are you?" she gasped.
Miracles do not always make people happy.
Later that day, Steve Austin leaned against the examination table, remembering the question the terrified woman had asked him. He still didn't know the answer.
Oliver Spencer, director of the Office of Scientific Operations, tried to comfort him but didn't know how. Human emotions baffled Steve's boss. His human resources department normally dealt with these uncomfortable issues for him.
"I'll get Miss Manners in here," said Oliver.
"I want her replaced," said Steve. "I don't want a permanent nurse again. It gets too personal."
Human emotions are difficult to understand—especially by those who experience them.
"We'd better sort this out, Steve," said Jean Manners who'd overheard everything.
She had been with him through every step of his recovery. She had listened to all of his doubts. She had even witnessed his rescue of the little boy. She knew that he felt like less than a man.
But to her, he was so much more.
"We're not talking about a nurse assigned to a case," she said. "We're talking about a man—and a woman—and feelings."
Their eyes met.
"I'm in love with you," she confessed.
The fact is, love is simple. It is humans who are complicated.
TWO DAYS AGO
"We're pleased with the progress you're making with Mr. Mendez," said Eli Spencer, director of the new Office of Scientific Intervention. "He's making exceptional progress."
He was complimenting Dr. Jessie Goodwin, the young doctor in charge of José's recovery, who sat across from him. José's surgeon, Dr. Endo, was also there.
"Thank you," said Jessie. "José deserves the credit. I think he could move even faster if we step up his physical training."
"We want you to ask him out," said Eli Spencer. "On a date."
Jessie knew this job was unlike any other, but she was not prepared for this.
"Look," she said, gathering her thoughts. "I've heard Dr. Endo's speech about how we have to build up his confidence—restore his faith in his 'manhood' so to speak. And I know that you and Dr. Endo would like to set him up with someone on the recovery team—"
"We put two buxom nurses on his team, and he's not responding to them," said Spencer. "He's responding to you. For some reason, he likes the brainy type."
Endo agreed. "Jessie, we need you to do this."
For a moment, Jessie buried her face in her hand. She knew they had no right to ask this of her, but she didn't know how to refuse. She had already compromised her principles for this job.
She looked up, her face a mixture of incredulity and surrender.
"A date?"
TWENTY-ONE MINUTES AGO
In a darkened room, a pair of computer screens glowed, one of which showed a live image of Dr. Jessie Goodwin in a fashionable restaurant, eating.
"How's your salad?" said the voice of José Mendez, the unwitting videographer. The live image of the beautiful doctor streamed directly from his bionic eye to the darkened room in real time.
"I like it," said Jessie. "It's got mushrooms."
A small group of important men watched the image of the young woman from comfortable chairs in the darkened room—known to them as the War Room.
"So my top speed is 88 miles an hour," said the voice of José. "That's good right?"
"Impressive."
"Eighty-eight. With a flux capacitor, I'd be a time machine."
"What the hell's he talking about?" asked the OSI director.
"It's a film reference," explained Endo. "Back to the Future."
"I'm glad we're spending some down time together," said José.
"Asking you out doesn't mean I want to have sex with you."
Spencer snapped. "For crying out loud!"
"I said we should use someone more experienced like April," said Endo.
"I don't trust April," insisted Spencer. "We needed Jessie. She's . . . sincere."
The woman on the screen was apologizing. "I don't date much. I'm bad at this."
"I'm not trying to have sex with you," said José.
"Is he gay?" asked Agent Wade Kirkland from the back. "He signed up under Don't-Ask-Don't-Tell, didn't he?"
"He's not gay," said Endo. "See? His eye is focused on her—"
"Good! He's just a moron!" said Spencer.
The woman on the screen calmed down. The meal ended without further incident. José paid the check and followed his date out.
"They're outside the restaurant," said Spencer. "Send in the robot."
"Deploy the robot," said a technician into a headset. "Deploy. Deploy."
The other screen came to life with an image streamed from the robot. Its hand was briefly visible as it grabbed Jessie's purse. The image moved quickly through crowds of people as it fled the scene.
"He took my purse!" She turned toward José. "I can't believe he took my purse!"
Spencer jumped out of his chair. "Why are you standing there, you idiot? Go be a hero!"
José ran down the block after the thief and turned the corner into the alley.
Seeing the thief climbing onto the roof, José leapt thirty feet into the air and landed on a rung near the top.
The thief turned around, grabbed the top of the ladder, and pulled. The entire ladder was wrenched upward with José on it.
When José reached eye level, he got another close-up of the thief's face. Hairless except for a goatee, the thief sneered at him pitilessly.
"You're not a purse snatcher, are you?" said José.
NOW
José punched the thief hard on the jaw through the rungs of the ladder.
Spencer shouted at the screen, "Solid hit!"
By the time the punch landed, however, the thief had let go. The thief was momentarily staggered while the ladder—with José on it—abruptly dropped six feet (as far as it could go before hitting the pavement three stories below), and started to tip backward.
"He almost knocked the face plate off," said Spencer.
"No," said Endo who hated being reminded about the robots' face plate issues. "The robot let go of the ladder, so the impact was lessened."
José looked behind him, saw that the falling ladder was tipping him onto the roof of the adjacent restaurant, and leapt clear.
KLANG!
The ladder struck the top of the restaurant a moment after José did. Luckily he landed with his feet on a flat section of the roof.
"He used the ladder to control his landing," approved Spencer.
"We fixed that face plate problem years ago," reminded Endo.
"But how does he get back to the other roof?" Spencer wondered. "He can't jump that far."
José looked at the other building and estimated the distance. Then he picked up the detached ladder and began to run with it.
"He's pole vaulting!"
But he wasn't. Instead, he threw the heavy ladder like a javelin. It landed with one end on the other roof.
"He's created a makeshift footbridge," said Endo. "He's not foolish enough to take unnecessary chances."
Scrambling across the span, José accelerated as much as the fragile ladder would allow, but he could not be certain what he would find on the other side.
"When he reaches the top, he'll have good momentum," Endo observed.
Clearing the roof, José found the thief waiting for him and aimed his kick for the thief's jaw. The thief grabbed his leg and used José's momentum to swing him toward the opposite side of the factory's roof.
"Uh oh."
José tumbled painfully and collided with the low wall at the roof's edge, making the observers in the darkened room wince in unison. "Ooooooooo."
"He smacked his head," said Spencer.
"But he partially broke his fall with his hand," said Endo.
The spectators now had two perspectives of the fight displayed on their screens—one from José's eye and one from the robot. José's view showed the robot uprooting a 10-foot-tall metal smokestack to use as a club.
"Your robots have improved, Doctor."
"I just gave this one a little more attitude."
José tore loose a 5-foot section of 12-inch-diameter pipe to use as a weapon.
"That won't work. It's too cumbersome."
Each combatant charged the other with their improvised weapons. The thief raised his smokestack to use as a pike aimed at José's chest. José swung his pipe beneath his opponent's weapon and let go.
"He's using it as a projectile!"
José sidestepped the thief's pike as the jagged edge of the projectile hit the thief in the leg.
KRAK!
José's eye zoomed in on the sparks bursting from the torn pant leg. A gash in the thief's shin revealed exposed electronics.
"It's damaged!" said Spencer. "End the test! Now!"
José grabbed the thief angrily by the jacket, ready to pummel him. "What is all this?" he demanded. "Who sent you?"
The thief narrowed his eyes and held a fist under José's face. Unseen nozzles between his knuckles sprayed mace in José's vulnerable left eye.
"Won't mace damage him?" Spencer wondered.
"No," assured Endo.
José let go. The thief leaped off the edge of the building like a monkey, leaving Jessie's purse a few feet away from where José knelt with his face in his hands.
"Not that it would matter," said Endo. "We can make more eyes."
O'FLAHERTY'S RESTAURANT
7:26 P.M.
José found his way back to street level. His best clothes were ruined and his left eye was red and puffy. "I saved your purse," he said in a pale imitation of triumph.
"José! What happened?" She ran to him and tried to examine his face for injury, but he looked away in embarrassment.
"I don't know," he admitted. "I may be the world's first bionic man, but it seems the second one has already turned to a life of crime."
"We should call the police."
"I already called Spencer on my cell phone. He said the police shouldn't be involved, and I agree. Let's just get out of here."
"I'll drive."
DR. JESSIE GOODWIN'S APARTMENT
8:44 P.M.
José sat in Jessie's kitchen with a towel over his shirt. The eye washing Jessie had given him took away much of the stinging, and now she examined his eye with a pen light.
"How does it feel?"
"Good,"
"Liar." Jessie turned off the pen light. "The effects shouldn't be permanent, but I want to look at it again in the morning to be safe."
"You're the doctor."
She walked to her refrigerator. "Can I get you something? Water? Iced tea?"
"I should go." As dates were concerned, José knew this had been a disaster.
Jessie felt responsible. "I didn't thank you."
"I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
"No, no, you're not. What you did tonight was brave."
"Whatever I did, it wasn't brave. It was just . . . weird." José walked toward her door. "I really should go. Spencer wants to see me first thing tomorrow."
Jessie followed him to the door as he opened it. "Tell me what he says. Unless, you know, it's classified or something."
"He owes me an explanation," said José. "A good one."
José stepped into the hall, but Jessie stopped him with a hand on his arm. They looked at each other.
"Thank you, José," she said. "Not just for the purse, but for what you said earlier—about trusting me. That means a lot."
"To me too," he admitted.
She put her hands around him.
She pulls him closer, but not for a kiss.
In a voice so soft, he wondered if she'd said anything at all, she whispered, "I don't trust them either."
An expression of empathy—or a warning?
She stepped backward into her apartment, putting a finger to her lips before closing the door.
He does not know, but the fact that she chose to whisper to his natural ear—instead of the special one—will trouble him later.
THE FOLLOWING MORNING
ELI SPENCER'S OFFICE
"You must have a lot of questions," said Spencer.
"I'm not the first, am I?" said José.
"No, you're not," admitted Spencer, leaning back in his chair. "We didn't want to alarm you by telling you too much too soon, but now that you've seen it with your own eyes, you need to know what we know."
Spencer's speech included several strategic pauses to make it sound unrehearsed and believable.
"The man you fought last night was a Russian spy."
José stroked his chin. "I guess that explains the Vladimir Lenin goatee?"
Spencer spun his computer monitor around so José could see it. It showed a blurry image of the purse snatcher.
"We've known for some time that Russia has its own bionics program—a program decades ahead of ours. The footage uploaded from your eye revealed that your 'purse snatcher' is a man we know as the Petrograd Stalker. We don't know his real name, but he's been linked to the deaths of six agents.
"We don't know how many other bionic men the Russians have. So far, we've identified fourteen, but there are certainly more.
"In response to this threat, the OSI recruited Dr. Endo to create our own bionic task force. But even a genius like Endo can only do so much in the limited time he's had. The team he assembled had to build our bionics program up from scratch, and all of his efforts to catch up to the Russians have resulted in you."
Pause dramatically. Stand up. Gaze out the window vigilantly.
"We had hoped that the Russians didn't know about our program, or about our facility here in Colorado, but your encounter last night proves that there is a leak in our organization."
Turn. Make eye contact.
"The Russians know about you."
"After the mace," said José, "he could have killed me."
"The fact that he let you live means he doesn't consider you a threat—yet. He used you to send us a message. We can't expect to be that lucky next time."
Step forward. Lean over the desk dramatically.
"Make no mistake, these men are killers. To fight them, we have to be smarter than they are—and every bit as ruthless. They will not be reasonable. They have no reason to negotiate. These bionic agents—and those who protect them—have to be killed."
Point slowly, authoritatively.
"You, José, have to kill them."
José stared into space. This explained the intensity of his training—not to be a spy, but to be an assassin.
"We're waging a secret war," continued Spencer, "one where traditional rules of engagement don't apply—one that the American public can never know about." He sat behind his desk. "I know that's a lot to lay on you, but that's how it is. The Russians have a bionic army at their disposal."
José's boss sighed heavily.
"And we have you."
DARKWELL SPECIAL PROJECTS LAB
RESTRICTED ACCESS; LOCATION CLASSIFIED
Dr. Endo was nearly finished repairing the robot when Spencer entered the room.
"How did the meeting go?" asked the doctor.
"As planned," said Spencer. "He came into my office angry, and he left scared."
"I would have gone with the North Korean story."
The OSI director shook his head. "You think the Russians aren't scary anymore, but they are. I called his attacker the 'Petrograd Stalker.' That rattled him." Spencer leaned back against the workbench. "By the way, the beard was a little obvious. He recognized the Lenin influence."
Endo studied the robot's face. "Ah. You're right. Other than that?"
"No complaints."
Endo pulled off the face plate to make the change. "I think Jessie should be doing more to engender the sense of entitlement we're trying to nurture."
"We can't expect too much from her without letting her in on the big picture," Spencer warned. "Does she know that we were watching her date?"
"She's not a fool. She must suspect."
"She'll get with the program soon. So will José."
DARKWELL BIONICS LAB
6:00 P.M.
Jessie was supposed to be working on the bionic simulator. The device (part mannequin and part machine) mimicked José's bionic physique as much as possible from its mounted metal post. The duplicate bionic eye was still where she had left it the day before—between the thumb and forefinger of its upraised hand.
Jessie's attention was instead focused on the image on her computer screen. It was the blurry image of the purse snatcher from the night before.
"What are you doing, Dr. Goodwin?" asked Endo.
"Looking at the footage I recovered from José's eye," she admitted, "trying to learn something about Russian bionics."
"Mr. Spencer already has people working on that—people with more experience."
"I know, but they don't like to share," she said. "What's ferroxidrine?"
"Pardon?"
"Ferroxidrine." She spun her chair around to face her boss. "It's a drug you gave José prior to surgery. I've never heard of it, and it doesn't appear in our database."
Endo frowned. "As you know, many of the drugs developed by the OSI remain classified. You're new here, and your Security-6 clearance doesn't give you access to all of our files."
"But José has a right to know what he's been given."
Endo stepped closer—too close— and looked down at her. "His security clearance is the same as yours," he reminded her, "so no, he doesn't. It's six o'clock. Time for you to go."
She looked back at her screen. "I have something I want to—"
"Now," he reiterated. "I need these resources for another project."
She gathered her things and left.
In the corridor, she saw Agent Kirkland approaching from the other direction. "Evening, Jessie," he greeted, attempting a smile which came across as a leer.
"Kirkland." She pulled the front of her coat closed as she passed.
At the end of the hall, she paused to look back. She saw Kirkland enter the Bionics Lab, and she remembered something Endo had said a moment ago.
"Another project?"
JOSÉ MENDEZ'S QUARTERS
6:24 P.M.
Worried about her patient, Jessie decided to pay him a visit before leaving the complex for the night. When she knocked on the door of his private quarters, Amber the nurse answered the door wearing her usual spandex workout gear.
"Hi, Dr. Goodwin."
"Hey, Amber. How's the workout buddy?"
"He's really motivated today."
Amber led Jessie inside where they found José slugging the punching bag that hung in his workout suite. April was offering encouragement and holding the bag—not that it needed holding. It weighed close to a ton and hung from the ceiling by a network of logging chains.
José didn't acknowledge Jessie's arrival, staying focused on the training.
Amber leaned toward Jessie's ear. "I wouldn't talk to April if I were you. I think she's jealous of you."
"Of me?"
"She's been trying to get José to open up to her, but he acts like he doesn't notice." Amber seemed annoyed. "He's not himself today. He's being mean."
"He can hear you," Jessie reminded.
"Oops." Amber looked toward José, but he continued to punch the bag. "Not that he seems to be listening. Something's upset him. He's never pushed himself like this before."
"It's getting late," said Jessie. "You should go."
Amber and April gathered their things, but José continued punching the bag relentlessly.
"José?" Jessie wasn't sure if he had noticed her arrival. "How's the eye?"
"Fine," said José, swinging his bionic right arm.
"Everything else?"
"Fine," he said, swinging his left.
"Kirkland still making you miserable?"
"He's doing his job. I should be doing mine."
"Nobody says you're not."
"I know, but I could do more." He stopped punching the bag and looked at her. He was actually sweating now. "Last night opened my eyes. The threat I'm facing seems more real now. Know what I mean?"
"Real," she said to herself. Her patient was in no position to know what real was. "Listen, I have something . . ."
José returned to the bag. "Can we do this tomorrow?" he panted, his punching arms accelerating to a blur. "I want to work on my core."
When she left, he was too busy to say goodbye.
ELI SPENCER'S OFFICE
8:28 A.M.
"I've got your first mission."
"Good," said José. He'd been offered a seat but preferred to stand. "I've been hoping for another shot at the purse snatcher."
"That'll come soon enough," said Spencer, leaning back in his expensive chair. "First, we deal with the leak at the OSI—the one who's been tipping off the Russians."
"You know who it is?"
"The mole is being dealt with. Your job is to get the mole's contact before he can deliver the information."
Spencer leaned forward and turned his flat screen monitor around so José could see it. "His name's Talbot, and he's well acquainted with your purse snatcher."
The wispy-haired man whose face appeared on the screen didn't look like much of a threat to José. In fact, the old codger appeared almost friendly.
"He looks old."
Spencer stood up, leaning over the desk. "Do not underestimate this man. He's an experienced Cold Warrior and a killer. If he sees you coming, it's over."
Spencer looked away, as if remembering a painful memory. "What makes him especially dangerous is the unfortunate fact that, until recently, he was one of us."
"American?"
"He was OSI."
"Oh," said José. You want me to catch Talbot and bring him back?"
"No."
"Ah."
José had hoped for more time, but it seemed events were overtaking him.
"We talked about this," continued Spencer. "These are evil men. They're a threat unlike any this country has ever known, and you, José, are our only defense. If they're not stopped, we'll have a whole army of bionic 'purse snatchers' at our door. No one wants that."
José stared at the old, almost friendly face on the computer screen.
"No," he admitted. "We sure don't."
He looked his boss in the eye. "When do I start?"
"We have a plane waiting."
DARKWELL MEDICAL CENTER
9:40 A.M.
Jessie arrived at work to find Amber without her usual counterpart. "Where's April?"
"She didn't come in today. Just as well, since José's not here."
"Not here?"
"They sent him on a mission. Very hush-hush. Top brass won't tell us what it's about."
She feels a pit in her stomach.
She knew this moment would come, but not so soon.
The boy is physically ready for anything, but she doubts his emotional state. The encounter of two nights ago left him unbalanced.
She wonders if, somehow, that was the "purse snatcher's" intent.
NORTHERN CALIFORNIA
8:06 P.M.
It would have been hard for José to imagine a lonelier road than the one where the unmarked OSI van had stopped. There were no signs here because the road had no name. The trees were too dense to see the stars.
"Your target is hiding in a cabin twelve miles north of here," said Kirkland. "The distance won't be hard for you to cover, but you'll want to stay off the road and out of sight. We'll be monitoring the live feed coming from your eye.
"If you need guidance, just ask. We'll hear your voice through your own ear, and we can send text messages to your bionic eye. Any questions?"
José checked the gear in his pack, but there wasn't much. Most of what he needed had been built into him.
"Nope."
"We'll meet you at the rendezvous point at 0600. Don't be late."
José walked into the forest alone—but with many eyes watching him.
The boy is nervous.
He feels as though his life is about to change again.
He is right.
He is about to meet me.
APARTMENT OF DR. JESSIE GOODWIN
8:19 P.M.
Too many secrets.
Jessie had changed into her own clothes—a tee shirt and jeans—but she didn't feel comfortable. She was preoccupied by the screen on her laptop.
I'm only a Security-6.
Dr. Endo doesn't tell me anything—and I don't like not knowing how my work is being used.
Not when we're playing at being masters of the universe.
Her screen displayed a live image of the Bionics Lab where Dr. Endo was working late.
I did it.
I just arranged my own private surveillance feed inside the Bionics Lab at work.
The image was streaming live from the duplicate bionic eye. She had left it between the thumb and forefinger of the bionic simulator's hand. By remotely swiveling the simulator's wrist, she could see any part of the lab from her own apartment.
Jessie, you're so sneaky.
Dr. Endo took off his coat. Jessie watched him do it as her fingers glided deftly across the touchpad of her computer.
Swivel wrist to the right. Tilt up. Stop.
I see you, Endo. You're going to show me what you do in there after all of us Security-6's go home.
Magnify 800 percent.
Endo's keyboard came into sharp focus.
And if you type your password into that keyboard, doctor, you'll show me a whole lot more. . . .
NORTHERN CALIFORNIA
9:54 P.M.
The cabin looked deserted. Antiques lay rusting among the overgrowth around it, evidence that someone had once lived here, if not recently. But José knew that looks could be deceiving.
He is cautious.
His eye zoomed in on the front door and panned across the front-facing windows. No movement could be seen inside.
A text message appeared over the image in his eye.
That's it. Use the rear entrance.
Under the cover of darkness, José crept around the trees on the periphery of the yard on his way to the back of the cabin.
He makes no sound that a man can hear.
He reached the back door, taking care to stay low, under the windows.
He listens. If anyone inside is breathing, he will hear it. If any heart within is beating, he will know it.
Of course, he has only been trained to recognize HUMAN heartbeats.
He slid a lock pick into the key slot. After a few moments of probing, his bionic ear told him the lock was open.
José entered a small darkened kitchen and switched to infrared mode to see more clearly. The kitchen was vacant, yet orderly, as if someone had been there recently.
Then, something unexpected . . .
ERROR
You are no longer connected to the internet.
Initiating auto diagnostic
It was his eye's first error message. It took him a moment to remember how to clear the message from his field of vision.
"Huh."
Undeterred, he does what his training tells him to do.
He continues the mission.
OSI "WAR ROOM"
RESTRICTED ACCESS; LOCATION CLASSIFIED
In the darkened room, a team of technicians tapped their keyboards in vain. "There's some kind of interference at the source, sir," said one. "I don't understand."
"I do." The OSI director stood up. "Our target's been tipped off! Get a drone in the air! If there's a heat signature bigger than a cat within half a mile, blow it the hell up!"
NORTHERN CALIFORNIA
José searched the cabin, ending up in the living room. He was no longer in a defensive crouch. There seemed to be no reason for caution.
"Uh, guys? I don't know if you can hear me, but nobody's here."
Now José begins to question his mission.
What is he really doing here?
Did he really come here to kill a stranger on the word of a man he did not trust until yesterday?
José stepped outside, abandoning stealth. He needed to think. The cool mountain air felt good, and the stars could be seen clearly from here.
"Maybe this was all a test," he thought out loud.
His opponent struck savagely from behind.
WHUMP!
This is how I meet the boy.
I attack him—not out of fear or hatred, but because his ignorance makes him dangerous, and I have no words to make him understand.
The back of José's head erupted in an explosion of pain. He landed on his hands and knees, but quickly turned himself around in the dirt to look up at his attacker.
He couldn't see a face. The full moon was behind the thing, making details hard to distinguish, even in infrared, but he got the impression of an enormous silhouetted figure eight feet tall and covered in shaggy hair.
"RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGHHHHHHH!"
The creature knew the effect that his roar had on unsuspecting humans, but it was sometimes necessary to establish dominance in these situations.
He was stunned. I had the advantage of surprise.
No one expects to be attacked by Bigfoot.
That is how the boy's story begins.
Now it is time to tell you mine.
To be continued . . .
NEXT CHAPTER: The saga of Bigfoot . . . in his own words
