Chapter 14: Ménage à Trois
Preparations began at noon.
The freighter arrived at the Baltimore port at sun's zenith. The stevedores began to unload the vessel's cargo with their great cranes and machinery. The freight containers were stacked into towers, where they would stay until they could begin the next segment of their journey. Many of these containers would be transferred onto transport trucks, and after being processed through the dock's checkout stations, the trucks would depart on their long and lonesome roads.
One such truck left now, hauling its load through the gate and heading south. It rode for several hours into the afternoon until reaching the city of Philadelphia, its final destination. Despite this, it continued fifteen minutes past the city, driving onto the asphalt strip of an old hangar lying just beyond the limits of the city. Here, the freight container was opened by men who were waiting at the hangar, and its contents – crates of wine – were moved, one by one. However, these crates of wine borne of Italian vineyards were of no importance; it was the stack of crates hidden at the very back of the container that the men sought, placed behind the inconspicuous shipment of wine as a precautionary measure.
These special crates, which housed something that most definitely would not have been approved by customs were they not concealed, were wheeled by trolley into the hangar's interior. This hangar was filled with many crates and containers, as these men used it frequently for similar activities. By dusk, the shipment of Slush Gas had been stockpiled into the central space of the hangar, and the men settled down, standing guard outside the structure.
By midnight, the others began to arrive.
The first party to show up was the Old World Society. Adam Markstrom, Quentin Slater, Laurence Bordeaux, and many other high-ranking Old World delegates parked their vehicles in the large lot, though Alfred Hoffman was not among them; he apparently had some business to tend to in Frankfurt. While Adam thought it a shame that he chose to miss the transaction, he paid little mind to it. Hoffman had already contributed enough by setting up the meeting and vouching for the quality and reliability of the shipment, so he figured that Hoffman had earned himself some time off.
The Apotheosis members made their appearance a few hours later, following their Old World-provided escorts to the site. Vasiliy Ivanenko, Guillermo Castillo, Harlan Frost; the majority of the higher-tier players were there, save Julian Klein and Xavier Torre, who were currently meeting in Frankfurt. Once they emerged from their vehicles, both factions neared each other in formal greeting, each being encircled at a respectable distance by a crew of armed men.
Last, but not least, came the Witnesses.
They positioned themselves at the edge of the woods, arriving with three minutes to spare. From there, the gaping entrance to the hangar could easily be identified in the darkness of night as a result of the lights emanating from within.
"We have arrived," noted October.
"Yes, but just barely," retorted August. "If we had not stopped so that you may procure yourself coffee, we would have arrived sooner. We should have shifted here directly from the Subway Station as I had suggested."
"I thirsted," justified October. "Besides, what is important is that we have reached our destination before the transaction begins."
"In any case, we do not have much time," reminded August. "How shall we proceed?"
October took out his specs to scan the area with its multiple filters.
"I see one of the NSA agents," he announced.
August summoned his own pair to verify the claim, and saw a man lying at the edge of the forest across the field, glowing yellow-white under the Thermal Filter.
"I suspect that he is acting as a scout for the rest of the squad," said October. "I will stay out here and keep watch of the NSA's movements. You should head inside to observe the meeting proper."
"Agreed," said August.
With the click of a button, August scanned the hangar through an X-ray filter, gathering a sense of what was inside. The recon finished, he closed his eyes and shifted to the location he had chosen, behind some of the crates inside the structure. There was a slit between the stacks where he hid, and the Witness peered through; the view wasn't quite optimal, but there were few suitable places to hide in the confines of the hangar, so he contented himself to the partial view of the Slush Gas containers and the many individuals present in the area.
A table was set up before the bio-weapon shipment while the last of the introductions were made. The table was used as the point of negotiation for both parties, and their representatives now converged to it, standing on either side.
With everything set, the transaction was underway.
"Right, gentlemen," said Adam. "Let's get down to business. Have all canisters been accounted for?"
"Yes," said Vasiliy. "Our men have verified that each canister has remained intact during the transportation period. As for the quality of the order, your man Hoffman has already inspected them, so I assume you will take his word for it, though I can also assure you that there is nothing to worry about."
"Excellent," replied Adam. "There is also the matter of the weapon's formula. I assume you have it at the ready."
A man passed a briefcase to Harlan Frost, who stopped before the table and opened it, showcasing its contents.
"As per the terms of agreement, you will find in this briefcase the formula for replication," explained Frost, a man of English ancestry. "Also included are two small vials of the substance in its natural liquid form, as well as a few samples of human bone tissue that has been affected by the weapon for study."
"Very nice, Mister Frost," said Adam, eyeing the comprehensive set as one would gaze upon the rarest of gems. "If you don't mind, Mister Bordeaux will take a look at these now."
"Not at all," conceded Frost, taking a step back from the table.
Laurence Bordeaux, a man with great expertise in biochemistry and molecular biology, as well as having a seat on the Old World's scientific oversight committee, approached the table and began reading the document outlining the formula's ingredients and replication procedures.
"Well?" asked Adam after some time.
"It's authentic," assured Bordeaux, grinning. "And impressive too, I might add."
He slid the document back into its orange folder and handed it to Vasiliy, who placed it inside the briefcase. The case was closed shut and given to one of the nondescript, low-ranking Apotheosis members standing at the edge of the proceedings.
During this time, August placed a call to October.
"What is the current progress of the NSA?" he asked in a low voice.
"They are mobilizing as we speak," replied October.
August terminated the call, resuming his watch of the sale. His thoughts turned to his colleagues in Sector Beta. Their entire operation depended on the efforts of March and June, who were currently attempting to warn Hoffman of Klein's deception. In his temporal sights, he could perceive the precursors of the NSA squad members storming the scene, an event that was set to occur in approximately seven minutes. Checking his pocket watch, he was concerned that the Aube Division Witnesses would not be able to accomplish their goal in time.
"Now that the product has met your expectations," explained Vasiliy, "there is the matter of payment."
"Certainly," said Adam. "Mister Slater, if you will."
Quentin, along with two other lackeys, stepped forward, each carrying a briefcase. He placed the one he was carrying on the table, and took the other two one by one. Then, he opened the cases from left to right, revealing stacks of neatly arranged dollar bills.
"Here you are, gentlemen," said Quentin. "Two million for the canisters and the extra five hundred thousand as agreed, all in one hundred dollar bills."
Vasiliy and Guillermo took a gander at the large sum of cash with great delight.
"This is good," said Vasiliy. "We will count now, just to make sure. I hope you can understand."
"Of course, Mister Ivanenko," said Quentin. "Please, take all the time that is necessary."
The two Apotheosis agents then began the count. They first checked that the money was not counterfeit, and after being satisfied in these regards, took each individual packet of bills and flipped through them before placing them on the table while all the others stared on.
As the count continued, October contacted August.
"They are slowly surrounding the building," said the Witness. "Soon, they will have covered all the entrances."
August checked his surroundings using the X-ray filter; there were indeed heavily armed men moving about just outside the walls, preparing themselves to strike. The Witness focused his perception once more, but the fate of the weapons sale remained the same; all probable outcomes indicated the successful apprehension of both bio-terrorist factions by the covert NSA squad.
Time was running out.
"What should we do?" asked August. "The NSA squadron will strike in approximately three minutes."
"I am uncertain," said October. "The Non-Interference Protocol is not in effect, so perhaps we should eliminate the NSA agents before they strike."
"By engaging the NSA, we may alter the course of the transaction in ways that could conflict with the Directive," countered August. "There must be another option. Perhaps we should instead instigate a firefight between the Old World Society and Apotheosis. Since they would already be in battle, they would have a better chance at defending themselves against the NSA long enough to escape."
There was a pause on the other end as October considered the course of action.
"This could work," he said at length. "You would have to be swift, however."
"If I work fast, they will not even see me, let alone sense my presence," replied August.
Neither of them liked the option, but options were slim, and they would continue to narrow the longer it took the Aube Division Witnesses to complete their part of the operation. The sale in and of itself was not important; it was the survival of certain key members of both factions that was of interest to the Witnesses, and it was highly likely that some of their targets would be killed off in the coming confrontation.
"Very well, then," said October. "Still, we should wait a little longer. But in the event that the outcome is not changing, then we will have no choice but to enact our plan."
August continued to look on, preparing himself for the possibility of having to get involved, a possibility whose likelihood was increasing with every passing second. He knelt down at the edge of the stacks, slowly drawing his pistol as Vasiliy and Guillermo terminated the counting process.
"It's all here," noted Guillermo.
They replaced the money packets into the briefcase.
"We are satisfied," announced Vasiliy. "The weapon is all yours."
"Splendid!" said Adam, clasping his hands.
The two approached to shake hands, a gesture to seal the deal.
"I hope you find the opportunity to put the weapon to good use," said Vasiliy.
"Oh, I'm sure we will," replied Adam. "In any case, it's been a pleasure doing business with you. Who knows, perhaps we'll have the honour of meeting each other again on the battlefield someday."
Vasiliy smirked, sharing the sentiment; neither was naive enough to believe that business would change the fact that they were rivals, and that they would eventually be forced to destroy one another if somebody else hadn't done them in first.
After this exchange, Adam ordered his men to begin securing the shipment for transport.
Quentin then approached him.
"Who would have thought that Hoffman had such good taste?" noted Quentin.
"I suppose I'll have to give him my thanks when I see him again," said Adam. "Let's get these canisters out of here. I don't feel like sticking around here all night."
Quentin nodded in acquiescence before taking his leave to oversee the retrieval of the canisters.
August peered out a little. The outcome wasn't changing. He could not wait much longer; the NSA squad members were now in place, waiting on the word of their commander.
Adam summoned Bordeaux to his side, deliberating on their plans for the bio-weapon.
"If you'll excuse me," said Adam suddenly, removing his phone.
He distanced himself from the main area to take his call.
"Ah, Hoffman!" said Adam in delight. "How is Frankfurt?"
Hoffman told him how Frankfurt was.
After his colleague had finished speaking, Adam replaced his phone in his suit pocket. Bordeaux was rather concerned when Adam neared him with a most solemn of faces.
"What is it, Markstrom?" he asked.
Without stopping, Adam brushed him aside.
"We've been sold out."
Adam halted in the middle of the hangar and drew a handgun to the Apotheosis crew. The Old World's crew instantly aimed their own weapons when they saw their leader initiating possible hostilities, causing the men of Apotheosis to do the same. In moments, every man in the hanger had his gun drawn on the opposing faction, with Vasiliy being the last.
"What is the meaning of this?" cried the Ukrainian man, outraged.
Then Adam fired, but not at Apotheosis; he instead turned about and shot the first NSA agent to enter the building, and the others loyal to the Old World turned around as well, opening fire on the government operatives, who retreated. Apotheosis began to fire back at Frost's command, aiming to take out the NSA operatives both in the front of the building that were using their own cars as cover, or those flooding in the back through the rear entry.
None of them noticed the suited man moving into the fray with incredible speed, only to return to his original hiding place moments later when he realized that his colleagues have succeeded in their task. At this moment, June placed a call to August, asking him whether it was working. August confirmed the positive outcome of their efforts before placing a call to his fellow Crépuscule colleague.
"October," spoke August into his MultiCell. "March and June have succeeded."
"Affirmative. I will come inside to assist you in controlling the situation."
In an instant, October found himself on the opposite side of the hangar from where August hid, and both began to observe the unfolding bloodbath.
The NSA, while fewer in number, were heavily armoured and more organized, most of them placed behind the vehicles of the terrorist cells just outside the mouth of the open hangar. Near the mouth of the hangar was the Old World, defending two fronts; for as the firefight prolonged, members of both factions were inadvertently shot by the other, causing both to openly fire at the opposing group. Led by Vasiliy and Frost, Apotheosis engaged the Old World in the front and the NSA operatives tried to gain access through the back. Guillermo had escaped through the rear door and had made his way around to the front with a few of his men, using the transport truck as a shield while they attacked the NSA agents flanked behind their cars.
The Witnesses, impartial to the skirmish, mustered their collective focus in guiding the event along one of the near-infinite branches on its probability tree. With surgical precision, the Witnesses kept the multi-sided battle under control, letting things flow naturally and reining them in whenever the integrity of the Directive was threatened. August was pleased that their Aube comrades had achieved their goal, for if Hoffman's call had arrived but a moment later, the outcome would have become irrevocably unsalvageable; now the outcome had been steered in less grim direction.
It wasn't totally over, however, so the Crépuscule agents remained centered in their observation, especially as things veered into gradual chaos.
For soon, as their rosters dwindled, the factions lost coherency, and the three-way battle degenerated to a strategic mess, with all present simply trying to save their skins. The Witnesses tried to manage the situation from their hiding places, but with bullets streaming in all directions and people running everywhere, it became a gradually difficult feat.
Quentin reloaded his clip, staying close to Bordeaux. Clenching his teeth, he darted into the fray for more protective shielding behind some crates. But the moment he set foot beyond the safety of his temporary haven, he saw in the corner a familiar figure, crouching behind some crates. A suited man, bald, naked-browed.
...The protectors...
And that was his last thought, for October's presence distracted him long enough for an NSA agent to tally a clean kill by headshot, and Quentin fell to the floor, limp, with Bordeaux screaming his name and popping out of cover to avenge his death, killing the NSA agent that felled his ally.
It was at this moment that the Witnesses realized they had lost control.
August shifted to October's location.
"He spotted me as he was running," explained October. "I did not anticipate that he would, and could do nothing to prevent his death once he did."
"We must end this," said August. "Too many outcomes are forming."
"Yes, but how?" asked October, still distraught that he had allowed an important target to die.
August knelt still in mental calculation as the warlike cacophony blared around them. He watched as a bullet pierced a crate, and the solution came to him.
"I have an idea," said August, enlightened. "We must act quickly. Follow my lead."
August sped out from behind the crates, and October followed. They were moving extremely fast, but as they walked through the fray, everything around them from their perspective slowed to a near-total halt. Bullets lagged their way forward in the air. Armed men inched across the battlefield, their steps sluggish and prolonged, while smoke and debris clung to the air like ornaments. The Witnesses traversed through the carnage as space and time played itself for them frame by frame; when they encountered Vasiliy frozen in the air, bullet tearing through his chest, they picked up their pace.
They arrived at the Slush Gas shipment, which had been half-emptied before the NSA began their infiltration. August then slowed himself down a bit, causing things to speed up slightly in his eyes. He began to select some of the bullets that streamed through the air and gently altered their trajectory with a cup of the hand, sending them into the heart of the shipment instead. October, now understanding his partner's machinations, did the same. Their Pulse Pistols, though powerful, could only inflict blast damage, and were not very precise, whereas the bullets from the guns of the humans were small and compact, making it easier to pierce holes in the Slush Gas canisters.
They sped and slowed themselves at their discretion, since they had to wait for ammunition to come their way before steering them into the shipment. The billowing mass of the gaseous bio-weapon began leaking out of the holes in their holding crates, phantasmal fingers reaching out, impatient in their desire to ensnare all living things in their deathly grip. Once the canisters were sufficiently wrecked, the Witnesses moved away from the frozen cloud and shifted back into the forest surrounding the hangar.
The battle continued in that four second timeframe that began the moment the Witnesses set out from their hiding spot, and some could have sworn that they saw split-second ghosts flittering and dancing around the Slush Gas crates. They did not get to see much else, however, for the combined gases of six canisters rapidly expanded outward. Those closest to the shipment suffered the swift demineralization of their bones, dying in agony. The battle ceased entirely in seconds, and everyone in the hangar still unaffected by the invisible killer made for the exits. The Witnesses watched their movements closely, ensuring the survival of important players through probability manipulation as they fled the scene in their vehicles, moving far away from the smouldering grave of their fallen comrades.
The Witnesses remained until every last breathing man and woman escaped the premises, unsure whether they have succeeded or failed their mission, whether the Directive had been compromised. Without the Overseer to tell them, they had no choice but to depart through the Roads Less Traveled By, not knowing that they would soon find out the answer to their present questions and many, many more.