“And when we are done, you can go back to your work and we will go back to ours, and your pretty little family of freaks can live without looking over your shoulders...as long as they behave. While you might have deemed those two girls harmless, we are already developing ways to...negate their potential.”
“So, let’s break this down,” I say. “You have Woodstock and Alessi as collateral. You’re willing to look the other way when it comes to Lilly and Maigo. And you’re going to let us go.”
“Yes.”
“In exchange for what?” Collins asks.
“Do your jobs. Destroy the Tsuchi. Kill Nemesis.”
“And leave the bodies,” I say.
“Yes. You may not like what we do,” Cole says. “You may not approve of our methods. But you are going to appreciate the results.”
Again, I keep my quips to myself, because I fear he’s right.
“Now, let’s go back to your original question. Where are the Tsuchi? While we have been unable to track them, scattered reports of sightings and attacks have been filtering in all night. The smaller of the two is heading south. It will reach Los Angeles valley, and the millions who live there, at daybreak. The second, larger specimen is headed our way, and can wait.”
“Our way?” I ask, turning back toward the window. “I thought it already left?”
“Looks can be deceiving, my friend.”
I’m about to tell him he’s not my friend and to screw off, among other surly things, but then the lights overhead blink off, plunging us into momentary darkness. Then the roof—the whole friggin’ roof flickers and disappears. What the... The walls go next, transporting us outside. I spin around, watching the hallway and empty rooms pixelate and blink out of reality. The floor beneath my feet transforms from linoleum to bare concrete. The whole thing, including Cole. “A hologram?” I ask myself.
“But we touched it.”
“Holodeck tech...” I say, in awe. “No offense, but if I ever get a chance to play with this, I’m going to have to program myself some Deanna Troi.”
“As long as I get Jean Luc,” she says, and we fist bump to seal the deal.
I turn in a circle. We’re not in Lompoc. Never were. The air is hot and dry. The hard-packed sand around us stretches for miles in every direction, ending at distant mountains, revealed by the sliver of a rising sun. Other than that, the only thing I can see is an airplane, the likes of which I have never seen.
“I know where we are,” I say, looking at Collins. “This is Groom Lake.”
“Where?”
“Area 51.”
A phone rings. It’s coming from the plane.
Collins and I walk cautiously toward the blaring ring, which is the only sound for miles. The phone’s glowing screen lights the way. I recognize the model. It’s a Devine phone, putting us back in touch with the emergency services we coordinate. I answer it.
“Like the plane?” Cole asks. “Get in. You’re racing the sun.”
“Hate to break it to you, but neither of us can pilot this thing.”
“No one can,” he says. “It’s a prototype VTOL X-35. Now, get in.”
VTOL stands for Vertical Take Off and Landing. Looking at the thing’s weird, almost diamond shape, I’m surprised the thing can even fly.
“In case the impending destruction of a major U.S. city isn’t impetus enough, I failed to mention that Hawkins, Endo, Lilly and Maigo are en route...to LAX. Their flight lands in an hour. In fact, they’re not far from you now, albeit thirty thousand feet up. Would be a shame if the Tsuchi was there to greet them instead of you.”
“You didn’t mention Joliet,” I say.
“Injured, I’m afraid. But alive and well. Her hospital stay will be short.”
Good to know, I think, and then I shift back to the topic at hand. “So, how do we stop it?”
“Everything you need is on board.”
I look at the strange vehicle’s lowered ramp, and then to Collins. She gives an almost imperceptible nod. We ascend the ramp together and stop when we see who’s waiting for us. “Aww, c’mon.”
24
I recognize the uniforms of the two men, but not their unmasked faces. But the size difference gives away their identities, or rather, their codenames. They stand in the large plane’s cargo area, side by side, arms crossed, faces set on intimidate.
The smaller man, and by smaller, I mean he’s my size—the other man is a giant—has the high and tight hair of a military man, but the skin and confident eyes of Denzel Washington. I reach my hand out to him. “Silhouette, right?”
“Agent Hudson. Nice to see you again.” The man’s smile and voice match Denzel’s, too. I really don’t like this guy. He takes my hand, a firm shake—not the crushing squeeze that alpha males deliver to prove their prowess, but which actually reveals their insecurity.
I turn to the bigger man, and point at him. He’s a good foot taller and wider than me. All of that extra bulk is muscle. He’s bald, but bearded. “Bruticus.” He frowns. “No, that’s not it. Grape Ape?”
The giant gives me all his attention, unfolding his arms and clenching his fists. “You think you can take me, little man?”
“Me? Hell no.” I hitch my thumb at Collins. “But she’d kick your ass.”