FIFTY SHADES OF GRAY MATTER
Chapter 10
AN: Someone asked in a review if the villain in this story was Mark Collins. It isn't. I used Mark Willis who was the CIA guy from 'Area 51' who used them to find the CIA spy plane and pilots then wanted to eliminate the team because they figured out the plane was being used to spy on US citizens. I thought he was creepy.
Thank you to everyone who is reviewing. I can be really insecure about my writing and getting feedback lets me know it doesn't suck. LOL So, thanks a million.
Does anything ever work out the way it should?
He knew that thought was illogical and it was an inefficient use of his brain, but when he heard the gunshots, it was the first place his mind went. He could calculate odds and he could figure statistics in an instant, so why didn't his Plan A ever seem to work? As lightening quick as those notions crossed his mind, Walter shut them out and focused his energy on beginning to formulate a Plan B.
The first inevitable distraction came nanoseconds later when he heard the little distressed noise Paige made and he saw her anxious face. On the heels of that distraction, an alarming idea registered and he ordered bluntly, "Get Ralph out of the computer room. Now. There's video feed from the security cameras that can be pulled up on those monitors. We don't want him to see whatever's going on up there." It wasn't exactly reassuring on his part, but it was the best way he knew to divert her attention away from the circumstances as well as safeguard Ralph from any disturbing images thereby serving two purposes. Concise and efficient was always the way he worked best.
Without uttering a word, Paige left to retrieve Ralph just like Walter knew she would. When they both emerged from the computer cave a few seconds later, he passed them and went in. He needed to assess the happenings on the floor above them. Collecting information would help him to devise a new plan.
Paige poked her head around the door jamb. "What do we do now?" She asked.
Bringing up the security camera views on display, he said absently, "You won't like my answer. It will irritate you."
Walter observed Paige's reflection in one of the screens and noticed when she closed her eyes and turned her face away from the troubling scenes. But when she replied her voice was mostly steady, "Tell me anyway."
"I'm gathering facts. I know you wish I would react more emotionally, but it wouldn't help in this situation. I need to think right now. And facts are exactly what I need to figure out our best options."
The sight of the agents lying on the floor of the cabin above in various states of injury was upsetting to him too, but he had to subdue and bypass those feelings and concentrate on getting Paige and Ralph out alive. Compassion and fear couldn't be prioritized before a resolution could be found. He wished Paige would understand that. There was a time he thought she did, but lately it seemed that his ability to compartmentalize in the heat of the moment only appeared to annoy her. She wouldn't appreciate it, but an android was exactly what she and Ralph needed right then.
"Walter, I get it. I do. What do you need me to do?" Paige's tone subtly indicated a growing trepidation.
He knew it would help her stay calm if she had a task to perform, so tamping down his frustration, he responded with more sensitivity than he normally would and more than he had time for. "We need to get a message to Cabe. He's on his way here and I don't want him walking into an ambush. Also he needs to get an ambulance dispatched as soon as possible after the threat is eliminated. Does your phone get a signal down here?"
"It does if I stand at the top of the stairs by the fire door."
"That's not an ideal place for a phone call. We don't want to give away our location if they don't know we're down here, so you'll need to keep quiet. It will have to be a text message and you and Ralph both need to put all your devices on silent."
With Paige busy for the moment, Walter brought his attention back to the problem at hand. Agent Pickering was down and from what he could tell, Backheim was wounded and close to losing consciousness. He and Zapata were sitting on the floor with their backs pressed to the wall underneath the shattered windows in the living area of the cabin while she nervously tried to stem the blood surging from her boss' thigh. She kept turning terrified eyes toward her partner who was lying on the floor in the kitchen. Because she was distracted she didn't notice, but Walter watched helplessly as an arm eased silently through the casement. The hand at the end of the seemingly disembodied appendage held a taser. Before the genius had time to switch the intercom back on to give warning, the female agent stiffened then slumped to the floor her body jerking and twitching. And a slight figure in a hooded sweatshirt slipped in the window and made quick work of using zip ties to bind up the injured and stunned agents and kicking their firearms to the center of the room. As stealthy as a cat, the figure crept over to the inert Pickering. After the perpetrator checked for a carotid pulse, that agent was deftly bound and disarmed within seconds as well. So much for seventy five percent of their security detail.
Meanwhile in the other cabin, Agent Hart, who looked to be unharmed, was crouched down low beside the wood burning stove. He was furiously trying to raise anyone on the walkie-talkie in his hand; calling over and over demanding a status update. Hart was going to give himself away in a hurry if he wasn't careful.
Walter didn't want the enemy to know he and Paige and Ralph were in the basement, but Hart was in danger of getting himself killed. Against his better judgment, the genius turned on the intercom to cabin number two that housed the irate and confused Fed.
Trying to speak as softly as he could and still be heard, the genius waited until the man took a breath and said, "Hart. You need to stop…"
"O'Brien," the agent thundered, "Hold your position. Can you give me status on the others?"
"I have no intention of leaving the bunker at this point. The other three Feds are disarmed and disabled. You should call for back up immediately. Someone is in the other…"
Agent Hart collapsed as a dark-haired man in a black suit stepped into view and struck him from behind. The man had quite effectively neutralized all their protection.
Oh, boy.
Former CIA operative Mark Willis looked strait into the lens of the security camera, a cruel smile marring his features. "Well, hello again, Mr. O'Brien," he drawled.
Then the screens all went black just before the whole bunker was plunged into darkness.