CHAPTER 36
Immari Operations Base at Ceuta
Northern Morocco
The major led David out of the building that housed the holding cells, and across a wide courtyard that was crowded with pens. David could hear rustling inside. Were they keeping their livestock here? Sounds he couldn’t make out drifted into the night.
The major seemed to notice David’s interest. He glanced at the pens. “Barbarians waiting for the boatman.”
David wondered what he meant. In Greek mythology, “the boatman” carried souls of the newly deceased across the rivers Styx and Acheron that divided the world of the living from the world of the dead. He decided to let it go. He had more pressing mysteries to unravel.
They walked in silence the rest of the way to a large building at the center of the inner city.
David quickly took in the major’s office. He didn’t want to seem too interested, but several things struck him. It was too large. This was clearly the base commander’s office. And it was sparse. The walls had been stripped to the white drywall and there was very little else: a black Immari flag in the corner, a simple wooden desk with a swiveling metal chair behind it, and two foldout chairs across from the desk.
The major plopped down behind the desk, drew a pack of cigarettes from the top drawer, and quickly lit one with a match. He held the match and looked up at David. “Smoke?”
“I quit after the outbreak. Figured there wouldn’t be any left in a few weeks.”
The major shook the match out and tossed it in the ashtray. “Glad I’m not that smart.”
David didn’t sit at the desk. He wanted some distance between them. He walked to the window and stared out, thinking, hoping the major would tip his hand somehow, give David an opening.
The major blew a cloud of smoke between them and spoke carefully, as if measuring every word before he spoke it. “I’m Alexander Rukin. Colonel…”
He’s good, David thought. Right to the point. No opening. What do I have to work with? The room. A major—commanding a base this large? It was unlikely. But David sensed that there was no superior officer on site. “I was told the base commander would be notified of my presence, should we come into contact.”
“He may have been.” Rukin took another pull on the cigarette. David sensed something changing. Is he changing his approach?
“He’s in southern Spain, leading the invasion. He deployed almost everyone. We’re running a skeleton crew. Our station chief, Colonel Garrott, got picked off two days ago. Stupid son of a bitch was making the rounds, visiting every guard tower, shaking hands like he’d been elected mayor of hell. Berber sniper got him with one shot. We assume the shooter was in the hills, that’s why we added the patrols. And the boomerangs on the perimeter. Now I need to know why you’re here.”
Yes, Rukin was giving him useless details, hoping David would reciprocate, tell his story, make a mistake. “I’m here for a job.”
“What—”
“It’s classified,” David said, turning to face Rukin. How long do I have? Maybe an hour before he finds out I’m a fake? At best, I can buy some time. “Call it in. If you have the clearance, they’ll tell you.”
“You know I can’t.”
“Why not?”
“The explosion.” Rukin read David’s face. “You don’t know?”
“Apparently not.”
“Someone exploded a sub-nuclear device at Immari HQ in Germany,” Rukin said. “Nobody’s calling anything in right now, especially covert ops verifications.”
David failed to hide his surprise. But… it was the opening he needed. “I’ve… been in transit, with no comms.”
“From?”
Now the test. “Recife,” David said.
Rukin leaned forward. “There’s no Clocktower station in Recife—”
“We were in startup when the analyst purge began. Then the plague hit. I barely got out. I’ve been on special assignment since.”
“Interesting. That’s a really interesting story, Colonel. Here’s the reality: if you don’t tell me who you are and why you’re here right now, I’ll have to hold you in a cell until I can verify your identity. It’s my ass if I don’t.”
David stared at him. “You’re right. It’s… operational secrecy. Old habit. Maybe I was a Clocktower operative for too long.” Then David gave the story he had been working on since he crossed the first gate. “I’m here to help secure this base. You know how important Ceuta is to the cause. My name is Alex Wells. If HQ is destroyed, there’s bound to be someone from special ops directorate that can verify me.”
Rukin scribbled some notes on a pad. “I’ll have to confine you to quarters under guard until then. You understand, Colonel.”
“I understand,” David said. I’ve bought some time. Would it be enough to get out of here? One goal dominated David’s mind: finding Kate. He needed information to do that. “I do have one… request. As I said, I’ve been in transit. I’d like to hear any updates you have. Anything unclassified, of course.”
Rukin sat back in the metal chair, seeming to relax for the first time. “The rumor is that Dorian Sloane has returned. Naturally he was arrested outside the Antarctica structure. But they say he carried a case. The morons in charge took that case back to HQ and it blew up the building. Darwinism at work, if you ask me.”
“What happened to Sloane?”
“That’s the strangest part. The story is that in interrogation, he killed a guard and ripped open Chairman Sanders’ throat. Then, get this, they kill him—double tap to the head, close range. An hour later, he walks out of the structure. A completely new body—with all his memories. Not a scratch on him.”
“Impossible…”
“And then some. The Immari are desperate to create this mythical story around him. It’s working. The rank and file worship him now. The end of days, Messiah, rapture rhetoric… here in Ceuta and every other place that flies the Immari flag. It’s nauseating.”
“You’re not a believer?”
“I believe the whole world is circling the drain and Immari International is the only piece of shit that floats.”
“Then… let’s hope it continues to float. Major, I’m a bit exhausted from my trip.”
“Sure.”
Rukin called two soldiers in and instructed them to escort David to quarters and arrange for round-the-clock guard.
Alexander Rukin stubbed out the cigarette and stared at the words on the page.
The door opened, and Captain Kamau, his second-in-command, entered.
The tall African spoke slowly in a deep voice. “You buy his story, sir?”
“Sure. It’s about as real as the Easter Bunny.” Rukin lit another cigarette and peered into the pack. Three left.
“Who is he?”
“No idea. He’s somebody though. A pro. Maybe one of ours, probably one of theirs.”
“You want me to call it in?”
“Please.” Rukin handed him the strip of paper. “And put him under heavy guard. Make sure he sees nothing more than what the Allies can already see from the air.”
“Yes, sir.” Kamau studied the ship of paper. “Colonel Alex Wells?”
Rukin nodded. “I’m not certain it’s a fake name, but it’s strangely similar to Arthur Wellesley.”
“Wellesley?”
“The Duke of Wellington. Defeated Napoleon at the Battle of Waterloo. Never mind.”
“If he’s a fake, why don’t we take him now? Interrogate him?”
“You’re a good soldier, Kamau, but you’re lousy at intelligence work. We need to know what we’re dealing with here. He could lead us to a bigger fish or reveal a larger operation at work. Sometimes you use the small fish as bait.”
The major stubbed out the cigarette. He was good at waiting. “Bring him a girl. See if he’s more talkative with her.” He glanced at the cigarette pack again. “And get me some more smokes.”
“The commissary ran out yesterday, sir.” Kamau paused. “But I heard Lieutenant Shaw won some in a card game last night.”
“Really? It’s too bad they got stolen. Some men are sore losers.”
“I’ll see to it, sir.”
David rubbed his eyelids. He was certain of two things: that Major Rukin hadn’t bought his story, and that he couldn’t shoot his way out of here. David decided he would rest, then try to take the guards at the door. After that, he wasn’t sure.
A soft knock interrupted his internal debate.
David stood. “Come in.”
A thin woman with flowing black hair and light caramel skin stepped in, quickly closing the door behind her. “Compliments of Major Rukin,” she said softly, not looking at him.
The girl was beautiful, truly. The more of this world David saw, the less he liked it.
“You can go.”
“Please—”
“Go,” David insisted.
“Please, Mister. There will be trouble for me if you turn me away.”
In his mind’s eye, David saw the girl climbing on top of him after he’d fallen asleep and running a knife blade across his throat. He wouldn’t put it past Rukin. He couldn’t take the risk. “There could be trouble for me if you stay. Go. I won’t tell you again.”
She exited without another word.
Another knock, more urgent this time.
“I said no—”
The door opened, revealing a tall African man. He nodded to the two guards and walked in, closing the door firmly.
A single phrase ran through David’s mind. Game Over. “Kamau,” he whispered.
“Hello, David.”