Thanks for being so patient in waiting for this update and for keeping the reviews coming. I rarely enjoyed LV this past season and since Nikki has left the show I probably won't follow it anymore. I do still have some stories I want to finish about Danny and Mary so once this is complete you'll probably see a couple more from me before I'm done. Thank you again for all the wonderful feedback. It really does make me want to work on these as much as possible. Emmy
Chapter 11 - The Lost Boys
"This better be good, Jack."
Ed was beyond annoyed as he sat at a back table of a seedy strip club in the worst part of town. A handwritten message had arrived at his office that afternoon and he'd instantly recognized the code as one Jack Keller had used to contact him in the past.
"What's the matter, Ed? Don't you like my choice of meeting places?"
"I could care less if you wanted to meet in a sewer in Bangkok just as long as there's a point. Now, do you have info that might help my friend or were you just in the mood for a show?"
Giving Ed a smirk, Jack reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a slip of paper–handing it to his companion before turning his eyes back to the stage.
"It's a list of names," Ed said matter-of-factly. He recognized most of them as having worked for the Agency–his own name and Arnie Siegel's were at the bottom of the list.
"Got it in one. I guess that's why they pay you the big bucks, huh, Ed?"
"I am so not in the mood for your shit right now, Jack. Tell me what this has to do with Danny."
Without answering the question, Jack handed Ed a large, flat envelope, taking a sip of his drink as the older man emptied the contents onto the table. Inside it was a map of the country which was marked with dots in red and blue–some of them marked through with black X's.
"What am I looking at?"
"The red dots are the current locations of all the people on that list." They were scattered throughout the country and Ed noted the two dots in Las Vegas that must have represented himself and Arnie.
"And the blue?" Ed asked, noticing that each red dot had a corresponding blue dot only a short distance away.
"The blue dots are the locations of all the men in Danny's unit. All but one of them lives or works within an hour of the operatives."
"I'm guessing you don't think that's a coincidence."
"Nope."
"What are the x's?" Ed noticed that three of the red dots and three blue dots were crossed out.
"The x's are all dead. The deaths happened within days of each other, but nothing about them would appear to be connected in any way."
Ed looked again at the map. There was a set of red and blue dots crossed out near San Francisco and in Atlanta, a lone blue dot in Michigan which Ed assumed was Danny's friend Kent Beckner and then a red dot in Vegas.
"Is this Arnie?" Ed asked, pointing at the map. He'd been trying unsuccessfully to contact the man for days and Jack quickly confirmed his suspicions.
"A homeless guy found him this morning in an abandoned building in Henderson. Looks like suicide, but he'd been dead for over a week."
"Jesus, Jack. What the hell is going on?"
"I think that Danny's unit is being used as assassins. They take out their target and then they're eliminated after having served their purpose."
Jack's theory made sense, especially considering the evidence he'd managed to compile. Ed looked at the map again, his eyes fixed on the symbol that represented Arnie. "Do you think Danny killed Arnie? He's the closest one to Vegas."
"No, because Danny'd already be dead if he did. You said Beckner was in Vegas, right?" When Ed nodded he continued, "I'm thinking they used him and then eliminated him once he returned home."
"Who's doing this, Jack?"
"That's the million dollar question. I definitely think this experiment was started by someone with the CIA, but something went wrong, Ed. I'm getting the sense that this is out of their hands and they're just doing damage control."
"They don't let things get out of their hands, Jack."
"This one did. Think about it, Ed. You know how they work. It's too much too fast and there're too many people involved for it to be under them anymore."
Jack was right. Something didn't feel right about all this. It was too out of control and even with everyone being eliminated there were too many loose ends and too many questions for family and friends to ask. Too many people who knew these guys were having problems and could try to tie things together. The CIA didn't work like that. "Somebody went off the reservation, Jack."
"No doubt in my mind about that, Ed. You ever heard of an outfit called Strategic Vision Innovations?"
"They're a defense contractor–they designed visual guidance systems during the Gulf War–real cutting edge stuff. I worked an op involving a scheme to sell some of their technology to Saddam."
"Yeah, officially they're out of business. There's no trace of them past 1999, but there's currently a contract linked to them labeled 'status unavailable–green light hold.'"
"So they're working for the Company," Ed surmised, recognizing the label for projects that were connected to the CIA. "What's the mission objective?"
"No idea, but one of the guys on that list worked for them–the one who was killed in San Francisco. Apparently, a faulty water heater sparked an explosion. According to his wife he did freelance work for the government after SVI disbanded. She said he was working on a big project and had been really stressed in the weeks leading up to his accident."
"Freelance work, huh? I've heard that one before. So maybe they were conducting the experiment under the radar; the Company pulled the plug for whatever reason and they decide to keep it going," Ed brainstormed, his mind slowly putting all the puzzle pieces into place.
"Prove to them that it can work," Jack added before Ed supplied another piece.
"By killing off a few former agents who've fallen out of the Company's good graces."
"And one of their own who might have disagreed with their methods."
"Damnit, Jack. This is bad. How could they do that to these boys? They served their country with honor and valor and how do we repay them? By scrambling their brains and sending them home as ticking time bombs with no idea what's in store."
Sensing the desperation in Ed's voice, Jack decided to get to the heart of the matter. "You heard from the kid?"
"No. He left Mary a message, but we couldn't trace the call. She's checked with all the guys in his unit that were reachable. None of them have heard from him yet."
"You know, Ed. Your name's on that list too."
"I can't worry about that right now. Besides, the only way to stop this is to figure out what they're doing and how."
"I've exhausted my sources."
"Then find some new ones," Ed snapped as he stood from his chair.
"I'll keep digging." Jack assured him, unfazed by the other man's harsh tone.
"I owe you," Ed told him quietly before heading towards the door.
"Yes you do," Jack called out to Ed's retreating form. "And don't think I'm going to forget it either."
"Charlie, are you in there?" Danny yelled as he pounded on the apartment door. "It's Danny McCoy!"
Danny had sent the microchip Dr. Sheppard pulled from his head along with all the test results to Mike via FedEx and then headed out of New York to Chicago to visit Charlie Bain–another member of his unit who had served with him in Iraq. It had taken him almost two days to get there, but without using his credit cards the Greyhound seemed to be his only option. Unfortunately, Charlie didn't seem to be home.
"Hey, keep it down out there! I'm trying to watch my soaps."
Danny was startled by the voice of an older woman across the hall who had opened her door but kept the chain securely in place.
"I'm sorry, ma'am. I'm looking for my friend Charlie–Charlie Bain. Does he still live here?"
"He lives there. Haven't seen him in a few days though."
"Do you know where…" Before Danny could finish she had slammed her door, effectively leaving him without an answer.
Danny sighed in frustration, both at the woman and the fact that he'd obviously missed his friend. He needed this to not be a dead end. He needed to talk to Charlie…to Rick and Fred too. Maybe if they all worked together they could figure out what was going on and if that didn't work they could go public. One vet with strange dreams might be ignored, but if they all came forward someone would have to listen to them.
Pulling a prepaid cell phone from his pocket he scrolled through the numbers looking for the one for Charlie he'd called earlier. His eyes settled on the main number for the Montecito he had dialed the day before and his heart ached with the thought. He had called from a stop along the way and asked to be put through to Mary's voice mail. He knew he was a coward for leaving her a message, but if he talked to her–actually heard the pain and hurt he was sure would be in her voice–then he knew he would have been on a plane back to Vegas and he just couldn't do that yet.
Shaking thoughts of Mary from his head he found Charlie's number and dialed it again. Almost simultaneously a phone began ringing inside the apartment and Danny decided that something wasn't right. Reaching into his pocket he pulled out a small tool kit and began working on the lock. It was old and didn't take much for Danny to get it to give, but when he pushed the door open the chain stopped its progress. Danny knew that could only mean one thing. Someone was in the apartment and either couldn't or wouldn't answer the door. Giving the door a hard shove with his shoulder he managed to break the chain with little effort and walked carefully inside.
"Charlie?" Danny asked, hesitantly, but there was still no answer. Glancing around the tiny apartment he took notice of the coffee table full of empty beer bottles and the smell of rotting food in the kitchen. Making his way to the bedroom, Danny immediately saw his friend lying on the bed.
"Charlie!?" He called out, but the minute he stepped closer he knew it was too late.
Charlie Bain was on his back, his eyes staring blankly at the ceiling, a needle protruding from his arm. Danny could see the remnants of what looked to be a heroin high gone bad, but there was something more going on here. There had to be. Charlie had never been shy about admitting his former drug use, but he'd been clean for almost five years and was proud to share that with anyone who would listen. What could have happened to send him back down that path?
Glancing around the room Danny noticed the television in the corner. It was on, but muted and he fought the urge to turn it off. It seemed so inappropriate–the cheerful, smiling faces of The Price is Right dancing across the screen while his friend lay there dead. Suddenly, a sharp pain behind his eyes sent him to his knees as the light from the window cast a blinding glare across the room. His thoughts immediately turned to Mary. She was always so good when he had an episode and he wished that she was there to help him through this one. Strangely, the second he thought of Mary his mind was bombarded with images. It was as if his whole life with her was flashing before his eyes and he couldn't make it stop. Then suddenly, the images changed and he was seeing things he didn't remember--things that he knew hadn't happened and that he prayed to God never would. He saw her crying, a devastated expression on her face; he felt the sting of her slapping him; he saw her in front of a house surrounded by flames; he saw her standing over her father's body with a gun. Then the images shifted to his father. Danny was standing alone over a coffin, his father dead, face pale, eyes closed. And then as quickly as the images began they were gone and his eyes flew open to reveal a stark white room with no doors or windows. Noticing the other occupant of his prison, Danny turned to him with a questioning gaze, "Where's Mary? Where's my father?"
"They're gone, Danny. It was the only way."
"What are you talking about?"
"You'll never be what I need you to be as long as she's with you."
"But I need her. I need them."
"You don't need them, Danny. You don't need anyone but me."
"No, Ed. You're wrong."
