"You need more?" Major Brichali yelled from across the desk. "You always need more!"
Miles stood his ground, glaring back at him. "You wanted me to head up the research and I'm telling you what we need. Dr. Kilpatrick's research would be a perfect fit. And I mean him, all his research, including all his computer files and all his prototypes."
The Major leaned forward, scowling fiercely, "Is this your way of telling me the masks won't be ready on time?"
"I already told you that they wouldn't be ready. We don't have the equipment here, nor the complete files. If you will recall, they were destroyed in the ISF fiasco. We're having to back-engineer the blasted things! Transfer them to Dr. Corbin and then having Dr. Kilpatrick work with him is the best chance we have of getting caught up," Miles said, raising his voice to the same level as the Major.
A guard at the door shifted uncomfortably as Major Brichali glared fiercely at Miles. Miles kept his gaze steady and just as strong. He would not be the first to turn away.
With a disgusted expression, Major Brichali sat back into his chair. "Fine, your request for that project to be moved to the other lab is approved. You better be right about the scientist's abilities."
"I only work with the best. Dr. Corbin has the best potential for understanding the masks. Then we can see about designing new versions," Miles said, letting his voice drop back down to its normal level.
"Crate it all up and I'll see that it's transported. I'll send a team out for Dr. Kilpatrick."
By the time he left, Miles felt rather pleased with himself. Dr. Corbin would indeed do a good job on the masks. Unfortunately for the Major, it was for Miles that he would be doing a good job for.
~x~~x~~x~
Matt watched the short clip again for the third time. As he'd earlier thought, he didn't like what he saw from the emergency backup module that Emily had managed to save. The replay didn't make it any better. Only squeezed his heart at what the scientists in the building had had to face in their final moments.
What his dear Emily had to face. Without him.
Mayhem had joined with the big-boys. At least, if his suspicions proved correct. He copied out of the cylinder the specific clip and opened a secure data line with his lawyer's office. Another copy of it went to Duane Kennedy at the PNA, pulling an old favor, hoping to help with official identification that could withstand legal scrutiny.
When done, he leaned back in the chair. This complicated things. Mayhem liked working with smaller groups, with him as the leader. This wasn't his normal modus operandi. What was he up to? Planning something bigger? Expanding his operations?
Matt shut down the computer and stood up. With a hot cup of coffee in his hand he headed downstairs. Inside a large and long room with high ceiling sat more equipment organized into groups along the walls or on top of sturdy tables. Alex had organized a work desk for himself near the door. Two of the experimental battery recharging units had been removed after Alex determined they were going down the wrong path. Matt had to agree. When they caused the batteries to explode, it was a bad sign.
In their place sat a new high-powered mainframe and a tall specialty toolbox. A vacuum chamber sat in another corner, currently in the process of growing a new batch of crystals, the mainframe watching their development every second of the way and adjusting the process as needed. They'd already started a few experiments, starting small as they familiarized themselves with the equipment, and taking up where the earlier experiments had ended. The new batch should give them a stronger set of crystals. Hopefully. In a few days, they would know for sure.
Definitely an in-depth project of the kind that was keeping him moving forward at a time he'd come to a near standstill on everything else.
All except with one other in his life.
He went to find Scott, finding him just finishing breakfast with Mr. Simpson describing the fun things they would be doing that day. Scott bounced in his chair, having rebounded from the cold to his usual over-active self.
"Do I get to go to the office with you, Dad?" Scott immediately asked as soon as he saw him.
"Sorry, son. I think you would find it very boring," Matt said as he sat down next to him.
"No I wouldn't," Scott said quickly, almost overturning his cereal bowl. "It would be fun!"
"School will start soon. Wouldn't you like to make some friends before then?"
Scott scrunched his face. "What?"
"Ms. Simpson is going to take you to the playground today. You can make new friends," Matt repeated, as Ms. Simpson wiped away some of the spilled milk. Matt pushed the bowl away from the edge of the table. A flat round robot appeared under the table to start cleaning away some of the mess.
"You'll have lots of fun, Scott," Ms. Simpson said, returning to the sink to wash out the rag. "You can meet my nephew. He's about your age, too."
Scott didn't look convinced, but didn't let himself become depressed. He continued to talk away while still eating the cereal, barely taking time to chew. Matt lingered with him, enjoying the ramblings. Which Scott loved. His eyes sparkled as he told him all the things he wanted to do at the playground.
Only when Ms. Simpson took Scott up to his room to change his cereal-encrusted clothes did Matt get ready to leave himself. As much as he didn't want to, it was time yet again to return to the world of business.
The limousine glided through traffic with typical grace, but he had to admit he wouldn't mind driving himself. It was how he'd courted Emily after he'd figured out that flaunting his wealth with chauffeured cars didn't work. Maybe he should see about bringing to the mansion something from his classic automobile collection. Or, maybe something new?
Although, it did give him extra time to go through more work as he traveled to and from Denver. By the time he arrived at the Trakker Westwind Electronics building, he had a good idea of what needed to be done that day. Ms. Malcomb's steaming cup of tea on the desk signaled that she'd arrived earlier, but was nowhere to be found. Matt settled in the office behind hers that he'd appropriated for himself. When the phone rang, he automatically picked it up himself.
By the time he set the phone down all humor had left him.
So, it was happening again, and the data file he'd sent didn't look like it would make much of a difference for the police investigation. No clear shot of Miles' face, they'd said. No definitive identification. He was tempted to put a call into Duane.
As of on cue, the phone rang again.
"Please tell me you have better news," Matt said as soon as he picked up the receiver and confirmed who it was.
"How about a preliminary identification based on the weaponry and the few identifying marks we could find in the video." Duane answered, "United Freedom Front, a rather small group trying to make a name for themselves around the world. Currently no National affiliations. A group that would definitely be interested in working with Mayhem and the technology he likes to employ as a way to increase their visibility."
Matt frowned, trying to place the name. Which he couldn't do. They must be a very small group. Although deadly, as the evidence proved. "How much of a threat?"
"At this point, almost none. That will need to be upgraded after the attack on your research facility."
"The police investigators is at a standstill. Despite Emily's identification and the clip you analyzed, they won't move forward. Say they can't positively identify one of the men as Miles Mayhem. Is anyone going after this new group?"
"As far as we can tell they aren't presently in the country, Matt. We know too little about them to know where they are based. No one can do much of anything, other than pursue U.S. arrest warrants for the few people in the video we can positively identify. Even with Mayhem, we know his voice, but his face is never seen. Getting a conviction at this point will be nigh to impossible. Especially with the high-powered lawyers he has on his side."
"You're starting to sound like my lawyer," Matt said, slamming a drawer on the desk shut.
"I'm simply telling the truth as I see it now."
"I do appreciate that." He tried to mean it. In a way he did, but that didn't stop the frustration at yet another roadblock.
"I was hoping you would. I'll see if I can put any feelers out about this group. If they are increasing their activity elsewhere in the world, I want to know about it. I'll keep you posted."
The call ended. Matt sat back and glared at the telephone, the receiver nestled on top in its cradle.
On his own.
He turned his chair to look out the floor to ceiling windows and down at the street below. The glass of the office building across the street reflected the pale blue of the sky. Across the city trees were turning brilliant shades of red and orange.
Snow wouldn't be far behind. He looked forward to seeing how Scott would react to a good few inches. So far the only snow he'd been around had been on family vacations and the occasional flurry surviving for a few hours in southern California.
The thought of his son brought another frown. During breakfast, he'd babbled non-stop about a story he made up about a 'lost Queen' of an imaginary kingdom. Ms. Simpson found it highly amusing and was proud that Scott was so imaginative. Matt knew better. He knew who the "lost Queen' was. He needed to see about finding a good counselor in the area to help.
The door to the office swung open and Ms. Malcomb walked in. From the bun on her head, to her tailored suit and skirt, to her polished shoes, the woman gave the outer appearance of a model of efficiency. His anchor while he'd been getting his feet under him again.
She set a small group of envelopes on his desk. "Good to see you in, sir. I have mail that needs your attention."
"Thank you," Matt said as she also set down a cup of steaming hot coffee in front of him.
"All in a day's work, sir. Are there any special projects for today?"
Matt motioned to the stacks of paper and reports on his desk, "Other than trying to avoid getting killed by an avalanche of paper? Not at the moment."
"Very good, sir. I'll be at my desk if you need anything."
Matt took a sip of his coffee as she walked out, softly closing the door behind her. He dove in, taking care of the mail first. Then came the reports. Most were from the Trakker Industries various subsidiaries around the world. Others from business partnerships. Then came those from the Trakker Foundation of their current charitable activities, including a personal request from one fo the directors for permission to start work on an education program in a severely economically depressed area.
The work consumed him through the day as he answered questions, had Ms. Malcomb write up his own questions to send back, as well as composing and sending his own correspondence. With a huge dent to the stack now gone, he moved on to the secondary items not needing immediate care. He caught sight the title of one of the reports now in front of him. From one of his security firms? He pulled it out from under two other reports, flipping it open to read.
Within a few minutes he reached across the desk to the phone, summoning Ms. Malcomb into the office.
She immediately appeared, an eyebrow raised, "Yes sir?"
"Ms. Malcomb, please close the door behind you." He waited until she closed the door and then motioned her to one of the comfortable chairs in front of his desk. Did he have a right to bring her into this? But he needed someone. He didn't have the time and ability to go out and do it himself at the moment. He took a deep breath. "How long have you worked for the company?"
Ms. Malcomb smiled, laugh lines forming around her mouth and eyes. "Since before your Father invited you into the business."
"That brings back memories." Matt said, glancing at the pre-Raphaelite landscape painting hanging on one of the walls, the first piece of art he'd bought to celebrate the momentous occasion. He'd thought when he'd seen it for sale at auction that it was appropriate for the office of someone who would someday run one of the worlds largest corporations. The first work of art of his own personal art collection, adding to the larger one the family owned. "Out of anyone in my company, I believe I can trust you with a very special project."
"Of course. My loyalty is well-known. What would you like me to work on or find out?"
"More of a gathering mission, but one that will need very careful handling. And you mustn't be noticed. I don't want you endangered."
She looked at him for a moment the humor leaving, her eyes studying his face. "Dangerous?"
"It has the potential, after what happened with Emily. If you would prefer I ask someone else, I will."
She closed the tablet on her lap and slipped the pen into the wire binder. Sitting back with her hands primly folded in her lap, she asked, "Okay, spill. What needs done?"
In the end, she simply nodded, saying "I'll get right on it." and left the room.
He should have known she wouldn't balk at taking it on. Nothing ever seemed to phase her. He quite willingly accepted another secretary to help him while she was preoccupied.
Leaving the office at the end of the day, he felt exhausted but satisfied with what he'd been able to accomplish. A few more days of hard work and the desk would be cleared off. Officially caught up with business reports and correspondence with his many companies around the world. He sat back and tried to enjoy the ride home in the limousine, to relax after such a productive day, but to no avail. Perhaps he would feel better once he knew all the loose ends were tied up.
The moment he stepped through the door of the mansion, his cell phone started ringing. Taking it out of his pocket, he quickly answered, holding it with one hand as he used the other to take off his jacket. He smiled at Alex as he came into the foyer.
Then Matt's smile froze, and then quickly disappeared. "When? Are the police there? Are you alright? Good. No, go home, we'll talk in the morning. Thank you for calling me."
Alex crossed his arms, stopping near the foot of the grand staircase leading to the second floor. "More bad news."
Matt hung his coat in the closet, "This morning I asked Ms. Malcomb to collect together the obsolete prototypes for the mask project from anyone who had been a part of the project in the past. One of my security firms has heard of interest in discarded ideas. She arrived at Dr. Kilpatrick's laboratory to find it surrounded by police and a fire crew. She overheard one of the police talk about a bullet to the head."
Alex grimaced. "Not good. I knew him. He was the last of the original core scientists, until his recent retirement."
"There's more. Ms. Malcomb found out this afternoon that Dr. Swift was murdered, all his research and prototypes stolen."
Alex flinched, jerking his head up, "Good lord!"
Matt shook his head as he rubbed the back of his neck, "Mayhem doesn't want anyone else to have the technology. Alex, can you take a break from the hard drive to help Ms. Malcomb tomorrow? I would like to see the rest of the old prototypes under lock and key as soon as possible."
"Done."
"Where's Scott?"
Alex nodded towards the living room. "Enjoying his favorite television show. Ms. Simpson had to leave about an hour ago. Some kind of family emergency."
"Thank you for watching him."
"Matt." Alex's voice stopped Matt as he was headed towards the living room. "Scott keeps asking where his Mother is. He seems to think you might know."
Matt looked at Alex for a moment, and then closed his eyes. He chastised himself. He should have known that the quick talk they'd had before wouldn't satisfy a boy of Scott's active imagination. He'd had an inkling with the 'lost Queen' issue. He should have prepared better for it. Prepared sooner.
Opening his eyes again, he nodded. "Thanks for the warning."
~x~~x~~x~
"You did what?" Miles demanded, unable to believe what he'd just heard.
"You wanted information, you got it!" the Major snarled back, giving a warning look.
If it was supposed to put off Miles, then the insolent Major was majorly wrong..
"This Mask is nearly worthless. What was in his brain was important!" Miles yelled back. How could this person be so stupid? The dark mask sitting on the table between them mocked and laughed at them as the humans argued over top of it. "He could have helped design amazing masks, and now that knowledge is gone forever!"
"You are a scientist yourself, Mayhem. Surely, you can put together something better."
"Do you have any idea how long it will take to catch up? The men were geniuses! By killing Dr. Swift and Dr. Kilpatrick all ideas and possible breakthroughs are now gone. Their research and knowledge were invaluable to this technology! They helped make the breakthroughs."
Major Brichali's fists came down hard on the table, making the mask jump. "If they don't join us, they are dead! The rest is your concern, Mayhem. You go too far. You are not the leader here, you will not make the decisions. The decisions I make are final, and you will cease arguing or contradicting them!"
"You demand results, and then proceed to sabotage our efforts by your 'orders'. We will not be on time. Only the basic masks are even close to test readiness. We have no suitable battery solution to allow independent functioning. Do you really believe that great scientific minds grow on trees?"
Major Brichali scowled at him, his forehead creased into a myriad wrinkles. His eyes glittered as dangerous as any upright swaying cobra. "Beware for your own well-being, Mayhem. Do your job and finish decoding the information we retrieved. Prepare diagrams for the masks you now have. Now leave, I am finished quarreling with you."
To say "As you wish" and calmly walking out of the room with the mask took every ounce of strength he possessed. The guards eyed him as he stalked down the hall. Returning to the research building Miles found Dagger moving supplies out of the storage room and into the individual labs.
With the mask safely stowed away in his office, he returned to the storage room just as Dagger walked win with a crate balanced on one shoulder.
"Do you have their trust?" Mayhem asked silently.
Dagger looked up as he positioned the crate on one of the lower shelves, a scowl on his own face. "These people are crazy, Mayhem. War is one thing, but no profit? What good is money if the world is destroyed, anyway."
Mayhem smiled with a false calm. And he did feel calm. Because he had a plan. "Oh, you will have the spoils of profit, Dagger. If you do exactly as I say."
~x~~x~~x~
"Vroooooom!" Scott roared, pushing a toy car across the short weave tan and white carpet of the room.
"Yes, he's doing fine. He's already made several friends at school," Matt answered Bruce over the phone. The toy car ran over his foot and then under the desk, Scott continuing to provide the accompanying sounds.
On the advice of the counselor, Matt had switched to using the home office for at least half the week. He was slowly becoming accustomed to the distractions, although he occasionally did find himself wishing for the solitude of the office in Denver.
As the councilor had guessed, Scott thrived with him working from home. Providing the young boy with a sense of security. Although at first Scott had camped out in the home office every spare moment, the visits were becoming a little less frequent. The diminishing nighttime nightmares were also a sign Scott was settling into the new home and the new family dynamic. Feeling more secure. Starting to look at the old family mansion as home and a safe place.
"Good to hear," Bruce said. Scott scooted out the other side of the desk, forcing Matt to swivel his office chair to the side to allow room. "Now, you want to tell me what you and Alex are up to?"
"What do you mean "up to"?" Matt asked, rescuing his coffee cup before the toy car could make a plunge into boiling lava.
"Saved at the last second!" Scott announced, unfazed at being thwarted. Then he continued his adventure out the office door, for the moment leaving the home office in peace.
"The sly fox is always up to something, foretold by his silence," Bruce said with a chuckle.
Matt pulled his office chair back into position behind the desk. "It's nothing for you to worry about. How is the job going?"
"And he changes the subject," Bruce sighed. "The last few days have been tense. We had a violent break-in at the other site."
Matt leaned his head against the back of his chair, squeezing his eyes closed. "Please don't tell me it was weapons related."
"A compact ammunition, expands and hardens with the heat of the weapons discharge. I'm not in the project, but it's affected the entire company."
Matt pinched the bridge of his nose. "Anyone hurt?"
"Fortunately, no. However, the lab was destroyed with a purposely set explosive. Matt, I hate to bring this up, but it looked like the same type of explosive we saw in the ISF building."
"Are you sure of that?"
"I can't be sure without testing, but I was one of those asked to assess the damage here. I found a few parts from the detonator. Turned them over to the police, of course, but they were the same."
"Many groups use the same detonators," Matt said, trying to ease his own mind.
"You don't believe that anymore than I do. Now, do you want to tell me what you and Alex have been up to for the last several weeks? He keeps calling me about equipment setup. And a rather eclectic and interesting mix of equipment at that."
Matt took a sip of coffee. He should have known Bruce would figure out they were working on a project. The man was an engineering genius. "We're… working on something."
"Then count me in. What needs to be done?"
"Whoa, wait a minute. You have a life of your own."
"Knowing you, you have a plan developing. I can be moved out there in a matter of weeks. I wouldn't mind finding work at a company unaffiliated with weapons research. Perhaps I will apply at your toy company in the engineering department. That's something I've always been interested in."
"Why do I have a feeling you already know what I'm up to?" Matt said, a little amused as Scott reappeared with another toy car in his hands.
Bruce chuckled again, "Because we've known each other for so long. Want to give me details?"
"Not over this phone line."
"Then I'll call you later tonight from your L.A. offices on a secure line. We can discuss it further."
"Look, Dad! It transforms!" Scott said, pushing and pulling the car until it turned from an ordinary family sedan into a tank. He set it on his desk calendar with a triumphant grin.
Matt picked up the tank and looked at it. He rolled it over in his fingers. Inspiration from a child's toy?
Why not?
"I'll be waiting for your call, Bruce. How do you feel about a side engineering project involving advanced vehicle design?"
~x~~x~~x~
Miles fumed as the conversation between Major Brichali and several visitors whirled over his head. Looking over at the door, he found one of the armed guards looking straight at him with a hand on his firearm. The sight only fueled his fury.
Knowing his anger would soon get the better of him, he stood up. "If you will excuse me, gentlemen. I have an experiment I must attend to before it destroys itself."
He walked swiftly towards the door. It wasn't as if the bozo's needed him for the meeting. He could feel Major Brichali's glare drill a hole in his back. His eyes defied the guard to pull his weapon on him. The way Miles felt now, he would wrestle the thing away from him and use it on several of the people in the room. The young goons might be surprised how spry 'grandpa' could really be.
The conversation behind him continued unabated as he gained the door, the guard most likely having been given a signal to allow him to pass. He stopped in half-way down the hallway for a moment, taking a deep cleansing breath.
It helped. The rational part of his brain kicked in again, free from the anger, the frustration, the resentment, intent on working this situation to his advantage. And, if possible, he could include a bit of revenge.
Miles continued on his way down the hallway, heading towards the rear door that would spill him out onto the open space dividing this building from the research building. He noticed for the first time how unusually empty the halls appeared. Perhaps the 'great leader' decided that the riffraff that comprised his group would be a detriment to his planned hope for an alliance with the ministers.
"General Mayhem?" a voice behind him asked.
Miles stopped and looked back. Mr. Hiutsu walked quickly towards him. Most considered him as the weakest and quieter of the ministers, a perception Mr. Hiutsu purposely reinforce with his slightly dowdy appearance, large glasses and bumbling gait. Miles knew better than to believe in the image.
Very interesting.
"I informed the Major I wished to see your lab," Mr. Hiutsu said as soon as he caught up.
"I am no longer a General. Call me Miles Mayhem. This way," Miles said, motioning with his head towards the open area between the buildings. He led the way out the nearest door into the grassy center compound. He slowed his walk down as much as possible without attracting attention. He almost whispered, "If you have anything private you wish to speak of I suggest you do it quickly."
Mr. Hiutsu's expression didn't change a bit. "Always a pleasure to speak with someone so mentally quick. I was asked to convey an important message. The ministers are concerned about the ambitions of this group."
Miles nodded. "Ah, so this is a scouting mission, not to make an alliance. The Major will be ever so displeased."
"Of sorts. However, we are in need of a good organizer for future, shall we say, projects. A few ministers viewed the Major as a potential candidate, considering his organizational skills and points of contact. However, we are far more interested in you. Unlike Major Brichali, we know you will not be here for long. You are a leader yourself, not a follower. I'm sure the Major is about to find this out to his extreme detriment."
Miles kept up the slow pace of the walk, the research building quickly approaching. With their time almost at an end, he got right to the point. "What are you proposing? What's in it for me?"
"Safety. You need safe refuge from the law enforcement of the PNA while working on your own projects. We can provide that. In exchange you lend us your expertise on our projects." Miles felt a subtle movement in his jacket pocket, and he knew something had been slipped in. "Contact us when you have dealt with this situation and we can discuss specifics. I think you will find our projects very interesting, and potentially very profitable."
They arrived outside the laboratory, and Miles said lowly, "We're no longer safe in this area."
"I have said what I wish to."
Mr. Hiutsu entered the building. Miles followed, noting again that the halls were empty. He led the way to his personal laboratory.
As he entered, he once again looked in disdain at the facilities. Surely, he had risen above this? He went through the motions of showing him the simple experiment he'd used as an exit excuse, making sure the security camera saw him.
As he suspected, Major Brichali and the other Ministers followed them shortly. Major Brichali proceeded to boast about their ground-breaking research, and the skeleton of a new kind of civilian assault vehicle being built in the next room. The Ministers looked on with feigned interest, taking turns asking questions. After an hour of being shown around the facility they declared themselves ready to leave and report their observations to the Council.
Left in peace, Miles continued to work slowly on simple experiments as his mind processed all the ramifications of his short conversation. It would change things. Potentially, greatly for the better. If he moved forward the right way. If he could remove the roadblocks between him and success.
"What did he want?" the Major demanded from the door suddenly.
"To see the quality of the laboratory, of course. He was impressed with our endeavors and successes despite the primitive nature of the facilities," Miles said, continuing his work without pausing.
Major Brichali grumbled something under his breath before slamming the door on his way out. Most likely on his way to listen to the whole conversation in the lab from the recordings taken by the eavesdropping devices sprinkled around the room.
Miles narrowed his eyes again as he measured out an exact quantity of acid. Oh yes, things were about to change.
To Be Continued…