"I like that one!" Scott said, stabbing at one of the sketches with a finger.
Matt couldn't help but grin. The high-end red gull-wing Camaro reminded him of the car he'd wanted as a teen, only to have his Father insist on something more practical. He wouldn't mind driving it. It would be a nice change from the sedans and classic renovated vehicles he currently owned. Bruce had outdone himself on the disguise side of things. Each vehicle concept changed from off-the-street ordinary into fighting machines.
"A nice hot-rod, don't you think?" Matt asked as he shuffled through the other sketches.
Scott grabbed the Camaro sketch before it could be buried by the others, declaring, "It needs racing stripes. Can it really fly?"
Now that was a good question. "Possibly. I have access to the basic technology, but we'll still have to test the idea. Then there is the complicated endeavor of even building it."
"You could fly me to school!" Without missing a beat, he went on, "I want to be an astronaut. Bruce should design something for space."
"Space will have to wait." So far Mayhem hadn't shown any interest in that direction. Thank all that was holy.
Scott looked through a few more sketches, declaring all of them in need of racing stripes, before going back to his room to see if he could find a toy spaceship. Matt made notes on different colored sticky notes, attaching them to various points in the designs. Answering a few of Bruce's questions on what direction a specific design aspect should take. But there weren't many of those. Bruce seemed to have narrowed in on exactly what Matt had in mind.
A dull thump vibrated the floor beneath his feet. Matt dropped the sketches and raced for the door. He barreled down the hall and down a flight of stairs into the basement. He burst through the door of a long secured storage room just as Alex was taking off one of the masks.
With his heart thumping hard, he demanded, "What was that?"
Alex smiled sheepishly at him. "I think we need a deeper layer of cinder blocks for testing. A boatload more."
Matt looked down to the other end of the long room. Nothing remained of the target. Where several layers of heavy cinder blocks once stood only a shattered mess remained. Beyond that, a secondary protective metal and concrete wall still stood to protect the basement wall. Still stood, but the center displayed a deep impact crater.
Matt stared at it for a few seconds, the sight finally registering. They'd put nearly ten feet of cinder blocks behind the target, just in case. Now there was nothing left? And the emergency wall damaged?
He hadn't expected the mask to be so powerful. He looked over at it with more respect as Alex turned it over in his hands. The main outward features were the smooth display-like surface wrapping over where the eyes should be and the front ventilator and filtration system, taking up the space where the mouth and nose would be.
"Firing gave me an awful headache," Alex said with a sigh.
Matt looked away from the the mask. "What power setting were you using?"
"Barely half of what the display initially said was available, but it drained nearly the entire system. At least we know the mask works."
Matt snorted. "Oh yes, it definitely worked! It could have brought a side of the house down. Wait, you said a headache?"
Alex turned the mask upside down to peer inside. "Could be the mental interface. Perhaps the display. Filtration problem?"
"There were reports of testers having the same issue with the other masks. It's not a problem with only one." Matt tried to think back at what the reports had specifically said. "I'll have to dig out the information, but it was thought to be the mental interface. If they're going to cause a problem for the wearer, they may not be as useful as we hoped. Not to mention that we don't have any of the original designers to help solve a major problem."
"Or it will take the right person to make the correct mental connection for the inner controls." Alex turned back to the table next to the door where two other masks sat. He motioned at the mask at the furthest end, one that allowed the lower part of the face exposed. "Now, the personal levitation mask I had no problem with. Not even a niggle of a headache or strain. The other one I could feel the strain, but it wasn't as bad as this one. Now, one that I have in the storage room I can't even tolerate for a few minutes."
The black and gray masks stared up at Matt, each one uniquely shaped. "Interesting. Which means we'll have to test each of them on each one of us, hoping one fits."
"Which is what testing is for."
"Indeed it is," Matt agreed. Then he gave Alex a grin. "Just one thing. Please try not to destroy the house."
~x~~x~~x~
"Changing out the oxygen canisters," Miles warned, walking over to the table next to the door to grab one. Blue smoke floated through the air of the locked and sealed room.
Normally, he would scowl at such a sight. A properly outfitted lab would have had the equipment contained, with the vapors sufficiently filtered so that the scientists on the other side of the safety room could observe without working in such bulky protective suits.
Not here. Here, they had to work directly among the refining equipment. Right in the midst of the deadly vabors. Atmosphere filters? Safe work environment? What a joke.
"So much to produce. We'll never be able to fulfill this order by tomorrow," Dr. Conterez said, concentrating on the equipment in front of him. He stuttered over his words, showing his growing exhaustion.
"Perhaps our illustrious leader could be persuaded to give us more time," Miles said as he began replacing the spent oxygen canisters that supplied both of their environmental suits.
"No, no, we'll get it finished. We must," Dr. Conterez quickly said. The man had shown a deathly fear of Major Brachili, reducing to trembles and stuttering when they were in the same room. Perhaps that was why he lived when so many other scientists had recently died. Because the Major liked it.
Miles pressed his lips together at that thought. Good minds should be used, not extinguished. Dr. Conterez might still be alive, but living in fear would eventually take its toll. Mistakes would be made. Perhaps deadly mistakes.
…Like the one Miles was now setting up…
"Activating the second vat," Dr. Conterez announced just before flipping several switches on a console.
The lights in the room dimmed for a few seconds before brightening again. Mayhem looked up at them as he finished replacing the last canister. The second set of generators starting up, just on time. Each with the fuel additive secretly dropped into their supplying gasoline barrels.
He calmly straightened up and returned to the tables, his air hose trailing out behind him. The second vat quickly warmed up, the cocktail of chemicals in it starting to bubble. As the vapors slowly rose, moving through a cascade of tubes, vials and filters, the lights dimmed again. As they came back on, the second set of electrical calipers began arcing with energy, turning the vapors a dark blue. At the end of the refining process a dark blue liquid slowly dripping into a large jar. The deadly residue vapor continued to pour into the room, the small fan on one wall furiously working to vent the cloud outside, barely keeping up.
Meanwhile, the clock kept ticking. By the time Miles replaced the canisters two more times several glass containers were full of the precious dark blue fuel additive.
Dr. Conterez sighed as they started cooling down the vats. Slowly the room began to clear of the vapors as the production ended. "Enough for one day. We need more chemicals to produce more. We can spend the afternoon setting up for another run."
"As well as recharge the oxygen canisters," Mayhem said.
He reached for one of the few remaining and connected a secondary air hose from his suit before disconnecting from the group of canisters that had supported them while working. Dr. Conterez fumbled with his canister, and Miles finally took it from him and connected him up properly. He handed him his canister and then handed him another full one. "Take this one, I'll get the other. We don't want the filled getting mixed up with the spent."
"Thank you," Dr. Conterez said, a relieved tone to his voice.
Mayhem took the last of the full canisters while Dr. Conterez opened the door to the lab. After closing the door of the room behind them Miles took Dr. Conterez's arm, changing his direction. "We need to go outside first."
"With our suits still on?" Dr. Conterez asked even as he did as Miles suggested. Then he froze after they exited through one of the side doors.
The guard formally stationed next to it lay unmoving on the ground. All across the compound a similar scene played out. A soft blue haze hovered heavy in the still early morning air and into the trees of the forest beyond. Despite the limited hearing through the suit helmet, the silence was unnerving. No sound from anyone, no talking, no music. Even the birds were silent. Only the low rumble of several generators could be heard in the distance.
Dr. Conterez looked back at the building they'd just exited in horror. "No, we could not have produced so much vapor!"
"A good healthy double batch," Miles started, more than pleased at his handiwork. "Plus the help of the extra generators producing even more vapors from their exhaust along with a temperature inversion ahead of a coming weather change, it quickly accumulated."
Dr. Conterez turned at him, eyes wide, stuttering, "What have you done, Mayhem? When he returns, he will order the death of my family for this!"
"He will not return," Miles said, looking back at him calmly. He pulled Dr. Conterez towards the end of the compound, "Ah, I see a vehicle that will fit our needs."
In his shock, Dr. Conterez was easily led. Miles strode confidently into the vehicle area. A black 4-wheel drive SUV sat in the front, the driver nearby on the ground with a can of alcohol in one hand and a set of keys grasped in the other. Grabbing the keys, Miles lifted up his two oxygen canisters into the vehicle to rest between the seats. Noting that the fuel tank was full, he climbed in.
Dr. Conterez opened up the passenger door and then paused. Miles waited calmly, looking at the man. He'd purposely befriended the lonely man. Not by overtures of friendship, but with respect for his scientific work and acting as a buffer between him and the dreaded Major within sight of Dr. Conterez.
Dr. Conterez finally asked, "What do you mean to do now, Mayhem?"
And with that, Miles knew he had the Doctor on his side. Despite the implied demand of the question.
"Your fear of this group was once warranted, Doctor, but no longer. You and I should talk about the future. A good future with the dignity and money one of your expertise deserves. We'll have plenty of time while we drive out of the valley."
Dr. Conterez slowly climbed in, his canisters joining Miles. By the time the winding road took them to the rim of the valley, Dr. Conterez had relaxed. Miles also relaxed, pleased with their agreement.
With one last steep climb they came to the summit of the road. He brought the vehicle to a top next to another black vehicle. He disconnected himself from the canisters and then climbed out while taking off the environmental suit hood. Dagger stood leaning up against the jeep near the front wheels, his muscular arms crossed over his chest.
Miles looked out over the valley below them. A murky blue haze drifted above the treetops as the sun continued to rise. Still not a breath of wind to move the deadly blue cloud. It lay there, soaking into every nook and cranny of the valley. Nothing moved as far as the eye could see.
"Anyone missing?" Miles asked as he shed the rest of the suit.
"Nope, made sure everyone knew of the big mandatory meeting taking place in the mess," Dagger said with a satisfied slow drawl.
Miles turned back to the truck. "Dr. Conterez, the truck is yours. I will contact you later."
Dr. Conterez nodded, climbing over the canisters into the driver's seat. A moment later the vehicle took off down the road heading towards the nearby Amazon River port city.
Dagger watched him go. "Did it work?"
"Very well. The compound is done, and the generators still running will make sure anyone arriving in the next 24 hours will die immediately. Just in case there are any stragglers," Miles balled up the suit and stuffed it into the back of Dagger's vehicle while Dagger climbed into the driver's seat. "What of our other project?"
"Barry sent the data burst like ordered. Said it went off without a hitch. Took out the entire group. So, what now?" Dagger started the engine and shifted the gears.
"No business is safe except crime, which can easily adjust and adapt to the times and new avenues of wealth. Now we go make our money without any interference. New weapons, new vehicles, new technologies for our use. Thanks to that fool, I now have the all the contacts I need to shake the world."
"Evil, Mayhem."
Miles suddenly smiled, and then gave a short laugh. "Evil? Hah, I like that. Is the plane waiting?"
"Yes sir, we'll be at the strip in an hour."
Miles looked back across the valley before it disappeared from view. The jeep began winding its way down the other side of the valley rim in the same direction Dr. Conterez had driven.
Oh yes, things would be much different this time. He would make sure no one ever had the jump on him again, in any way.
~x~~x~~x~
The police car rolled in a spectacular display of fire, shredded metal, dirt and grass flying into the air.
A police car that shouldn't have been there in the first place.
Someone at the research facility must have gotten off a warning before all communications were cut. Major Brachili would have to think about how that might have happened, to prevent it on a future strike. To make an example of the idiot who made the mistake.
Not that the local police had been a match for Major Brachili's new fleet of vehicles. The police vehicles just couldn't keep up and new arrivals had resorted to trying to block the road ahead with their own cars. He felt a keen sense of pride and satisfaction. For all his grand-standing, Miles Mayhem had achieved the impossible; brought the vehicle construction back on-time and improved their firepower. The police vehicle barricades proved no match for them.
Major Brachili looked up from the controls of the laser turret stationed in the rear of the vehicle, safe in the knowledge that for the moment all pursuing vehicles had been taken care of. More were sure to show up when they crossed the state line. In the corner of the display of his Mask, which still registered some of the targeting information from the turret, the energy readings read almost zero.
He would have to get with Mayhem on that. He'd barely used the mask during infiltrating the building and in making their escape and the batteries were already depleted. To make it worse, the vehicle charging apparatus recharged the Masks at a much too slow rate to make the Mask useful in a long skirmish.
However, all in all, the mission had been a success. The technology could be built upon and perfected for the next operation.
He reached down to reposition the valuable briefcase between his legs. No matter what, no matter how sure he was that their other stolen treasures would be well-taken care of by his people in the other vehicles, he would not let this particular treasure from their mission out of his sight.
He lifted his head to look at the turret targeting display when he noticed blue smoke filtering out of the air-conditioning vent. A noxious odor filtered into the mask, burning at the lining in his nose and throat.
"What is wrong with the vehicle?" Major Brachili demanded.
The vehicle swerved to the edge of the road, slamming him into the center console. As the tires caught the soft soil at the edge of the pavement, the vehicle yanked into the ditch in a shower of dirt and debris. The seatbelt dug into the Major's shoulders as they came to an abrupt halt. The driver slumped over the steering wheel, not even twitching to the Major's demands of an explanation.
The smell of burning fuel, smoke and rotten trash filled the cab, choking and searing his lungs. Air, he needed air. Major Brachili yanked off the seatbelt and grabbed the door handle.
The door wouldn't budge.
He pounded on it, pain flashing up his arm at the force. Through the limited peripheral view allowed by his mask he saw the co-driver stopped struggling with his door and instead collapsed against it, as unmoving as the driver.
Blue smoke continued to condense in the cab.
The smoke.
The smoke itself was dangerous!
With the last small charge in his Mask, Major Brachili fired the Mask laser at the passenger-side window. The glass exploded into a dangerously sharp cloud, bloodying the top his bare hands as he threw out the briefcase and then clawed himself out of the vehicle. The jagged metal of the window frame cut at his body.
He dropped to the ground and crawled away, dragging the briefcase with him, coughing furiously despite the filters in his Mask. Toxic smoke continued to billow out of the vehicle as the engine softly purred as if nothing were wrong.
As his eyes cleared a little, he found the other vehicles ahead, all in the ditch or having rolled a distance off the road. From one billowed flames along with the deadly smoke. Only from two of the vehicles did anyone stir, and only from those who'd worn the Masks.
One was brave enough to shut down the vehicle and raise the hood. Major Brachili crawled towards the vehicle. Another survivor reached up for his Mask and Major Brachili shouted, "Don't take off your Masks! The smoke is toxic!"
"It's the new converter." He recognized the voice of Bigeson as the one looking under the hood. "Must be something wrong with it."
The Major's Mask picked up the sound of helicopters. With shear will-power, he forced himself to his feet, stumbling the rest of the way to the vehicle. No, he wouldn't give up so easily, not after accomplishing so much. "Can you get it working without killing us?"
Bigeson yanked at the engine, his fist coming up with a piece of metal and trailing tubes. The engine sound altered, now with a rough edge. But it still ran. "We're restricted to the normal engine and fuel. But it should work."
"We're leaving!" The Major announced to anyone who could still hear.
Six people of varying physical condition crowded into the large black SUV, Bigeson at the wheel. Major Brachili dropped the briefcase in the foot-well of the passenger side, keeping the window rolled down despite the near freezing weather outside. He coughed violently, doubling over as pain ripped through his lungs and stomach.
"We won't be able to outrun anyone without the additive boost," Bigeson warned between his own coughs.
He would kill Mayhem for this. A design flaw such as this could not have slipped through his oversight. He was positive it had been purposefully planned. A planned assassination.
With him as the target.
A white border-patrol helicopter appeared over the road in front of them, slowly settling down to the pavement. The side door slid open, revealing a man aiming an automatic rifle at their vehicle. Several bullets bounced from the armor plating of the hood, another taking out one of the side mirrors.
"I have it!" one of the men in the backseat shouted.
A flash of light from the laser turret in the front grill of their vehicle caught the helicopter broadside. In an explosion of flames, it jerked and spun itself into the brush on the side of the road. Their vehicle safely raced past.
The day was quickly unraveling. No doubt, reinforcements would soon be on the way, especially if the Border Patrol had been given permission to open fire.
Time for a change of plan. "Head for the border."
Bigeson glanced over at him. "We have a plane waiting…"
"I'm sure our little traitor took care of that, as well," Major Brachili barked out.
Bigeson muttered under his breath. The vehicle slowed and then turned south on a rough dirt road. As another coughing fit racked his body, he tried to clear his head to recall what plan this would be. Plan D or E? Or had it been even further down the list than that? As the SUV roared over a sand dune, he tried to visualize his mission planning sheets.
The trip would have been exhausting anyhow, but for men who were perpetually wracked with violent coughs it turned into sheer torture. One of the men in the back stopped moving a short time after a particularly bad bout.
A squadron of black helicopters appeared over the horizon just as they crossed the border into Mexico. One small victory in a day turning into a disaster. The U.S. Military wouldn't dare follow them into another country's airspace.
The engine of the vehicle continued to run, no black smoke in appearance. What had Mayhem done to the new design? The Major took the time for the rest of the journey to plan out his torture. He would start slow, then build. Extracting everything out of the old man. He would beg for death. And Major Brachili would wait a very long time to finally give it to him.
Bigeson slowed down as they reached better roads, no doubt to not attract attention from any patrolling local law enforcement by the use of excessive speed. Surely by now, the US authorities had alerted the Mexican authorities. By the Majors estimation, word should filter down to the locals in several hours time. At which point they would do nothing, just as the Major had planned.
Unless that plan had also been sabotaged. His eyes narrowed. He couldn't count on anything from the mission planning notes. He must move forward as if everything within them were compromised.
"Turn east," Major Brachili ordered as they came to a wider road.
"Sir?" Bigeson asked as they turned. "We will be expected…"
"Yes, expected," Major Brachili interrupted. The power in the Mask completely died, disabling even the internal display. He pulled off the Mask, breathing in the air streaming in through the window. "We can't assume any plan is now safe. We're heading to see an old friend instead."
Bigeson yanked off his own mask as he turned east, throwing it to the console between their seats. He wiped away the sweat dripping from his face, blinking his eyes quickly to keep them clear.
Major Brachili rested his head against the back of the seat, letting it slip to the side to lean against the door frame. Too weary to move, he let the air blow against his face. Bigeson managed to drive the entire way without stopping, a feat the Major promised to reward him for later.
The large fuel tanks on the vehicle edged towards empty as a tint of salt entered the air, the air growing noticeably warmer and more humid. With his guidance, Bigeson turned onto smaller roads.
Gated posts of the estate came into view. A deep breath of the salty air brought on another coughing seizure, this time accompanied with a splattering of blood. The level of silence from the back of the vehicle told him they may have arrived too late for some of them.
Two guards with automatic weapons aimed at them stood in front of the gate. The Major leaned out the window, shouting in Spanish, "Major Brachili to see Mr. Carlos Bedlow. I have a standing invitation."
It took several more minutes and shouting with a strength that left Major Brachili shaking before the gates were finally opened. A jeep with a machine gun mounted in the back pulled up behind them and followed them down the winding dirt path that led to the main house of the estate.
The reason for the delays became clear as they pulled into one of the side courtyards at the edge of the luxury compound. Carlos Bedlow stood under a covered veranda, surrounded by guards. Occupants peered out in quick snatches from some of the windows, only to disappear again into the house.
So, the estate was currently occupied. Good. He wouldn't have to risk trying to contact his old friend through potentially compromised communication channels.
Bigeson brought the vehicle to a stop near the veranda, shutting down the engine. The Major slowly opened the door and swung himself out. He caught himself, grasping the metal frame of the vehicle to keep from falling. With sheer determination, he found his feet. One of the rear doors opened, proving that at least some of his men had survived the trip.
He kept a hand on the vehicle as he made his way to the front of the vehicle, keeping a smile on his face only through shear willpower. "Good day! I apologise for the interruption."
Mr. Bedlow regarded him with a fake smile of his own. "I was not expecting a visit to my vacation home today."
The Major willed himself not to cough, trying to stand up as straight as he could as a hand remained on the warm hood of the vehicle. "We had problems."
"Yes, I know. The US military is now in contact with Mexican authorities. Seems they are quite concerned about what you may be taken," Mr. Bedlow said, glancing back at the other men trying to get out of the vehicle. "Your friends in the Mexican government won't be able to help you this time. There are too many big names now involved."
"We will soon be gone. I have a ship waiting," Major Brachili said, trying to recall which of his friends may be available at a nearby shipping port. At this point, even a fishing trawler would work. "But I must wait for the cover of darkness. My men and I will not bother you while we wait."
"Were you successful in your raid?"
The Major struggled to suppress another cough, but wasn't distracted enough not to notice something. He responded slowly, mindful of the briefcase in the vehicle that he didn't want his old friend to know about. Old friend or not, Bedlow always looked out for himself. It was one of the things the two men had in common "No, not for what we went for, but we did find other useful information that we transmitted to our base. In another few months, I believe we can do more business with each other. I think you'll be very interested in our offerings."
Mr. Bedlow smiled with a glee that disturbed the Major. He also found it disturbing that none of the guards had yet lowered their weapons. "My open invitation to use my villa did not include using it as a staging ground for your strikes. Nor do I wish to deal with one who has made enemies with so many of my good clients."
Major Brachili blinked. "What?"
"The ICN no longer wishes to deal with you. They have a new technology supplier," Mr. Bedlow said. He stepped back towards the house, saying louder, "Do not destroy the vehicle, I want what is inside."
Mr. Bedlow disappeared into the house. The Major had just enough time to scream out a short string of obscenities before the sound of automatic fire drowned out his last words.
~x~~x~~x~
Matt didn't like not being in the loop. His efforts to track down the United Freedom Front were suddenly leading to dead ends, no matter how many favors he called in. Or the people in his own companies and charitable organizations that he asked to keep an eye and ear out. A group that was suddenly so active couldn't just disappear, no matter how small they might still be.
An old friend from New Mexico calling him to shoot the breeze turned out to be the break he'd been waiting for. Nothing beat a local rumor mill. Much less witnesses to highly unusual road activities near the Mexican border. Moments after the call ended he was on a secure line to Duane Kennedy.
"Someone used simple mask technology down near the border two weeks ago," Matt said as an introduction.
Duane sighed into the phone. "Should I even ask how you found out?"
"Several police vehicles were totaled in the chase plus they downed a border patrol helicopter. State and federal personnel were injured and killed. Do you really think it's that much of a secret to the locals?" Matt played with a pen while waiting for Duane's delayed response.
"We have it taken care of. The group was neutralized."
"Did you retrieve the mask technology? What were they doing out there? I know there are several research facilities within a small radius. When will they go on trial?"
"Sorry, all of that is confidential information." Duane immediately responded.
The call ended soon after. Matt spent the rest of the day working off the frustration in the work-out room and then working into the early morning hours on the project in the basement.
~x~~x~~x~
Dagger laughed softly to himself. Miles ignored him, studying the designs. "We are on time?"
The heavy-set older man on the other side of the table smiled genially, hooking his fingers in leather apron strings. He could pass for a dark-skinned Santa Claus, if it weren't for what he really did in his 'toy shop.' "It will be ready, Mayhem. You design, I build."
Miles studied the designs one last time before nodding. "Design approved. Keep me updated. I look forward to your first delivery."
As soon as they were out the door, he muttered, "And what was the laugh for?"
Dagger nodded his head back at the nondescript warehouse. "Them. As soon as they knew they would only be dealing with you, how fast they were to please."
"Yes, a little reputation can be a useful thing."
"A difference. The United Freedom Front had a reputation, but only for being trigger-happy at the slightest provocation, issuing threats, and not paying well. You bring good money and a respect for expertise, and with that comes the respect and willingness to work for you."
"Money makes the world go round. And it's about time we gathered a little ourselves." More than time. Miles stepped into the passenger side of the SUV while Dagger slipped behind the wheel. "And the others?"
"You were right. Tony Hunt and the others loyal to the Major were out on the raid. All of them haven't been seen or heard from since. Rupert, Gordon and Diego are on-board."
"Our core. Good. Time to head back and start training. I want to be ready the moment the vehicles are ready." Plus secure the remaining assets of the now defunct United Freedom Front.
So much to ready. Miles couldn't wait to pull the trigger and make use of it.
~x~~x~~x~
All things considering, Matt didn't view it as over-kill when he gave out a general Trakker Industries order for all research and development sites to clamp down even tighter on security. Some of the managers immediately complained as they were already annoyed and tired of the previous security lock-down. Of the 'overwhelming and overbearing security measures' as one of them had put it.
But Matt knew. It would only be a matter of time.
A week later the caution paid off. A group of masked invaders hit a vehicle development building. The high-powered military prototypes had been locked away inside a new titanium encasement. The damage to the building as the invaders tried to pierce the protected room had been severe, but the building had been safely evacuated, and the data and prototypes adequately protected. A response by the nearby National Guard helped the police repel them. No arrests were made, but at least no lives had been lost, despite what he'd heard were major vehicle damage and destruction.
Then came a voice he hadn't heard in years.
"Good grief, is this Buddy?" Matt asked in disbelief, straightening in his desk chair.
The voice on the other side of the line laughed softly. "No lectures about going on the straight and narrow? I needed to ask you something."
Matt could visualize the medium-height man as he'd last seen him. In Cairo, looking just like one of the natives, with his usually sandy-colored hair tinted dark. He'd looked just like any of the locals in the bazaar. Who knew what he looked like now with his gift at being able to fit into any crowd without raising suspicion.
"So long as it's not to help with any, um, target."
"No. I wouldn't ask that of you, of all people. Have you ever heard of the United Freedom Front?"
Matt froze, his eyes fixating on the steam rising from his coffee, his hand clamping down on the receiver held to his left ear. "Please tell me you aren't involved…"
"No way! But, I just heard something interesting. They'd taken over a valley about fifty miles from here. Now the military is involved with some project in the valley, and it isn't a fight. We're seeing body bags taken off one helicopter after another. Looks like the whole group might have been wiped out."
Matt's mind flew to all his reports, all of the sudden dead ends in trying to track the group down. "All of them?"
"Between here and something that happened just south of the US border, my sources say. The military has been quite pleased to have another trouble-making group taken out. Matt, they found some technology out there." The line crackled for a moment, distorting the last few words.
Matt didn't need to ask him to repeat it. He rubbed his forehead, another headache building. "Let me guess, some that belongs to one of my companies."
"Yours and several others. You might want to contact the government down here to get it back, if they're willing to release it. Just thought you would like to know about your lost merchandise."
"Thanks for the tip, I appreciate it. Anything else interesting going on?"
"Nope, that's it. Hah, a whole phone call, and not one lecture."
"Buddy, does your mother know what you do?"
Buddy laughed and ended the connection.
As it turned out, getting an agreement from the government for a return of what technology they found, provided Trakker Industries paid for the transport, was the only part that went well.
Matt's efforts to alert the PNA and the police department to the new development didn't go near as well as he hoped. Duane's bosses still didn't see the threat. On top of that, the California police detectives used the new evidence as a way to close the case on the attack on the ISF Research International building. To them, the perpetrators had been found and stopped. Permanently. No need to pursue charges against dead people.
Even after attending the inquest a few weeks later, his lawyers presenting Matt's case, they still closed it. The conclusion: the United Freedom Front had been responsible for the deaths. The group was now destroyed by means unknown. Case shut.
Miles Mayhems name cleared. He hadn't even been mentioned in the final report.
Needing to keep it together for Scott's sake was the only thing that kept him going. Every moment Scott spent in school he was in with the masks, testing them, figuring out how they worked, planning new designs. At night and on the weekend, Scott became accustomed to where Matt could be found, setting up one corner in one of the research rooms where he could play with his toys or do his homework.
Matt worked himself to the bone, falling into bed each night exhausted. Sometimes sleeping, sometimes not. Getting up each morning wondering if this would be the day Mayhem would attack someone else. Someone unable to defend themselves.
And the thought kept driving him forward. No one should lose someone like he'd lost Emily. He wouldn't let it happen again.
He had a promise to keep. Even if no one else in the world would help him.
To Be Continued…