BBC Studio—Washington DC
In the few minutes that had passed since the Grand Masters had departed BBC headquarters in London, all six of the preselected mobile response crews had been experiencing a strange sense of numbed, elated panic. And no one was more out of sorts than Cathy West, a twenty-six year old Languages graduate from Birmingham, England.
Cathy had only been with the BBC for four years, before landing what she thought was a plum assignment in the USA just twelve months previously. Fluent in French, Italian, Spanish, and a number of South American sub dialects; her linguistic adroitness had earmarked her as a prime candidate for the America’s Desk position when it eventually became vacant on the retirement of her boss, Henry Gould.
A thirty year veteran of reporting the news from numerous places around the globe, Henry looked on Cathy as his protégé, and pushed her every chance he got. Not that he could do a lot of pushing at the moment – or so Cathy had wrongly assumed – for Henry had been laid up for the best part of two weeks with pneumonia.
Thus, when the Guardian Angels had announced their intention to make a grand gesture on December 1st, Cathy hadn’t batted an eyelid. She was new, she was still learning the ropes in many respects, and rising star or not, there was no way BBC executives would consider letting her anywhere near such a potentially important assignment.
Her hypothesis had proven correct. Against Henry’s wishes, the Overseas Director, Rupert Manning, had made arrangements for a more senior journalist from New York to travel down and oversee things on the day.
But Cathy hadn’t reckoned on Henry’s tenacity.
Woken at 3:00 a.m. Saturday morning by Rupert Manning himself, Cathy had bluntly been informed that she would now be heading the Washington team. Though still far from well, Henry Gould had evidently been haranguing the powers-that-be – night and day – loudly declaring that Cathy wouldn’t let them down; she was just the man for the job; this arena was made for her, and they’d be fools not to let her show them what she could do when thrown in at the deep end...
Whatever else Henry said had moved mountains. And once the implications of responsibility came crashing down, Cathy didn’t know whether to sing from the rooftops or hide in the corner, blubbering.
Fortunately, Cathy’s assigned cameraman, Mike Turner, had wide-ranging experience, having recorded news coverage in warzones as diverse as South Africa to Palestine, Beirut to Mongolia, and more recently, the Sangre Cartel uprising in Columbia. A calm and levelheaded guy, he had been able to spend the hours in between, helping keep her exuberance in check and reminding her that the odds of them actually being chosen for anything meaningful today were next to nothing.
Then the special bulletin had started and Cathy realized odds didn’t come into it any more. The USA was on a short list announced by the charming Guardian Representative, Vladimir Arihkin, which meant Cathy and Mike had spent the scant minutes since then in frenzied preparations – and in Cathy’s case – a renewed state of heightened anxiety.
The Lord Evaluator had gone on to clarify that a contingent of Guardians would be stopping off at their studio, before taking them on to some unknown location in the United States. Where, exactly, remained to be seen.
What a difference a day makes, she thought, as four black-clad urban legends materialized out of thin air in front of her.
*
Yeung Technologies—CEO’s Private Suite—Old District—Tokyo
Phone in hand, Lei Yeung sat alone in his office, immotile upon the bank of TV screens before him, each tuned to a news channel from more than a dozen different lands.
My God! He thought, thunderstruck by the direct action the Guardians were proposing. I’m definitely going to have to revise my initial ideas on how we’ll meet this peril…and after the call I’ve just received from David Collins in the UK, all the more so.
His brain in a whirl, Yeung made haste to sort through the implications of the pointed message delivered verbatim by one of his most reliable agents.
I can appreciate David’s unease. He’s not one given to sensationalism, but this Victoria woman sounds like a force of nature. I know of only a handful of souls who can negate his skills so easily. Even armed as he was, he would have been no match for her. And that thinly veiled threat? I’ll take it for what it was, a declaration of…?
Yeung was disturbed by a light rapping on his door. A familiar telepathic hail caught his attention:
It’s me, Sir, may I come in?
Putting this latest thorn in the flesh to the back of his mind, Yeung extended a verbal and mental invitation to his head of security. “Come in, Harry. Glad to see you back. What have you got for me?”
As Harry entered, Yeung could see his aura was tinged neon red—a sure sign his trusted aide was highly emotional, angry, or excited.
He launched straight into his report. “I followed Espasito to his hotel, and then the airport the next day as you requested, and managed to stay in close proximity without being seen. Over that period, I was able to observe his thoughts clearly up until the time he was called through to the executive lounge.”
“And?”
“It’s as you suspected, Boss. He thinks you weak, and a fool for not taking a more insistent line. From what I can fathom, he intends to do something about it himself; first, to exact payback in a manner he thinks befits his station; secondly, as a means to elevate his status in the eyes of the other Apostles.”
“Oh, really? What is he planning, do you know?”
“No, Sir, he went beyond my range before I could ascertain those details. The only thing that’s certain is his desire to act. But, I did find something else you might be interested in, if only to have it addressed.”
“Go on.”
“When I scanned him, I saw definite signs of a coercive matrix within the sub layers of his psyche. It was faint – as it’s designed to fade as time passes – but someone has been fucking with his head and ensuring his naturally bluff and aggressive tendencies are hard for him to resist at the moment. I only spotted it because he’s been under that impulse for a few months now and it’s left a form of mental bruising that’s slow to heal.”
Intrigued, Yeung asked, “And do you know who it is that’s been tinkering with our brash newest addition?”
“I’m sad to say that I do. Although she tried to hide the evidence of her tampering, the after-impression of her mental signature revealed the culprit as one of our own, Member Geraldine Connor. That’s why I was so long getting back. I’ve been checking things out, her end and delving into any unaccounted discrepancies.”
Hailing from Los Angles, Geraldine Connor was thirty-two years old and your stereotypical blonde bombshell, an in-your-face, all-you-can-eat buffet of highly charged sensuality and pheromones. Highly empathic and compulsive, she had been an influential member of the board for the past two years following the death of her similarly talented mother, Janet.
An astute businesswoman, Connor specialized in blackmail and the bartering of secrets, as vouchsafed by the endless stream of unwary and well-connected customers to her extensive Escort and Pornography Empire. A business that was – in itself – all perfectly legal, and which kept the Council’s coffers well filled in more ways than one.
Yeung was nevertheless genuinely surprised by this revelation. Only yesterday, Geraldine had been attempting to badger Yeung into visiting her in America to sample all the delights her home town could offer. “Are you sure about this, Harry?”
Harry opened his mind fully, displaying the irrefutable evidence of betrayal he had painstakingly uncovered and collated during the past few weeks.
After double checking the information before him, Yeung was forced to agree, the facts seemed indisputable. Young, headstrong fools. Aloud, he said, “Thank you, Harry. That will be all.”
Once his head of security had left, Yeung spent time applying his considerable intellect to the complex dilemma facing him, before swiftly arriving at an acceptable way forward for each separate component.
My suspicions would seem to be well founded. The Guardians are choosing candidates from among the general populace, and have been for some while now. I’ve just got to determine how they do that? Is it purely a resources issue or down to superior technology? Whatever the method, they’re well practiced, so it behooves me to tread carefully; perhaps by patient observation to begin with until we can determine the line of least resistance?
In the meantime, this training academy of theirs may present us with possibilities we haven’t yet considered, particularly if we can discover where it is.
And, if we can’t follow that thread, at least we now know there are those out there who, for whatever reason, declined the Guardians. Maybe they might be open to an alternate offer? But how to let them know such an alternative is available?
Making a few notes to follow up on later, Yeung then turned his attention to the predicament presented by his wayward Members.
Such a waste of a fine lawyer. For all his expertise, Luigi lacks stability and good judgment when it comes to personal matters. So what would Geraldine seek to gain from that? Power, influence, support…or a way to remove someone she sees as a rival? That notion appealed to Yeung’s nature, though he was quick to dismiss it. Ah, but he’s one of our own, and an Apostle at that. Such fruit is forbidden her unless sanctioned by my order.
And as for Luigi himself, the temptation to see how this lunacy pans out is rather intoxicating. He does have considerable assets, after all, and it would be the perfect opportunity to test the Guardians’ tenacity without risk to our organization.
Yeung ran through several scenarios, mentally. But in each case, the underlying nuance of Victoria’s warning – so recently delivered – came back to haunt his thoughts.
Yes, whether Luigi is successful or not, he can’t win. Outright failure will result in ostracism and such a loss of face that he’ll never recover. And if he actually pulls it off…?
The elderly crime boss put himself in his enemy’s shoes.
Their response would be terrible, especially if they manage to exact it out of the public eye. That’s why I need to distance the Council from his scheme as much as…?
And suddenly, all the pieces of a deadly jigsaw fell into place.
Plausible deniability! I like the sound of that…after all, I did warn him off in front of the entire board. The only fly in the ointment I fear might be our young Miss Connor. But as the saying goes, ‘if three’s a crowd…?’
Yeung reached for the secure m-pad to place a vital call to Member Papadakos, who he was sure wouldn’t be put out in the least at delaying the start of her current assignment. He knew she loved the beaches along the Pacific coastline at any time of the year, and the opportunity to hit the shops there before Christmas would put her in an amiable mood for what needed to be done.
What a difference a day can make to your plans, he thought, as the line connected and began to ring.
*
Langley, Virginia.
Section 6, Parapsychology Investigations Response and Research Unit—Angel Project
Ryan Lee was concerned.
For one thing, he couldn’t believe how quickly the world could turn upside down when karma decided to throw a wobbly. Friday felt like it was a million miles away now. A shame, for life had been good then; great in fact, ending on a high note with approval being granted for the battery of tests that would allow them to ascertain how valuable their latest catch was.
Those trials were scheduled to begin after lunch today, and Ryan had gone to sleep in the duty room quite content and looking forward to what Saturday would bring. Even his chief, Gregory Harris, had been too excited to go home, and had spent the night on a fold-out bed in his office, no doubt dreaming of better things to come.
The first time Ryan became aware something might be amiss was when he’d been awoken at 6:00 a.m. by the Deputy Director of National Intelligence, Georgina Kent, stating that he was to wake Harris immediately and send him up to the George Bush Conference Room where a briefing of section heads was due to start in fifteen minutes time.
Ryan himself had then been instructed to call in the Angel Project’s dayshift straight away. The only inference he’d been able to wrangle out of their tightlipped deputy director was, “We’ve hit unexpected snags and the mood for what we’re doing might change.”
What those snags were, exactly, had been left unsaid, and Ryan had been stewing over them ever since.
When his colleagues arrived just over an hour ago, the atmosphere was understandably tense, with everyone complaining that they felt as if they were being forced to walk around blindfolded in a maze.
Then the program had started, beamed live from Broadcasting House, London, to just about anywhere that could receive a signal. Of course, they had breathed a huge sigh of relief. One look at Vladimir Arihkin was all it took, for surely, such a genial looking ambassador wouldn’t be the bearer of bad tidings?
How wrong they’d been. The amiable Lord Conciliator went on to prove that a wolf really could appear in sheep’s clothing, by disclosing – only at the last – that the Guardians had a tactical grasp on international events that would put most covert agencies to shame.
In no uncertain terms, Arihkin had revealed his people knew exactly what each nation had been up to in seeking to gain the advantage in the so-called psychic arms race, and that they were determined to do something about it.
Needless to say, Liz Watkins, the shift leader for the day, remained glued to the screen, as did most of her team, Ian Cooke, Brian Hooker, and Colum O’Hagan. Sarah Smith – the only one missing – had already entered the assessment room with Maggie Creegan by then to be briefed on the preceding day’s activities, and the planned curriculum for the child if things were still allowed to proceed as intended. Even so, the small portable TV was on in the background, and from the repeated glances both woman kept casting its way, they were following along.
Less than one minute ago, Harris had returned, ashen faced and obviously flustered. Refusing to talk to anyone, he’d locked himself away in his office to the chorus of multiple incoming calls.
Studying his friend now through the plate glass window, Ryan could see Greg becoming hot under the color and slowly turning purple with rage. The veins on his temples are up…that is not a good sign.
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Someone took a seat next to Ryan.
“Hey, Ryan,” Liz murmured through clenched teeth. Jutting her chin toward their beleaguered boss, she hissed, “What do you think they’ll tell him to do?”
“Hell, Liz, I don’t have a clue. Though from what that Conciliator guy said, I think it’s obvious they’ll come for us. We were on the list.”
“We don’t stand a chance. Did you see those light sabers they had?”
“Plasma staffs,” Brian Hooker interrupted, “they call them plasma staffs, and they look a nasty bit of kit.”
“Whatever,” Liz replied. “I bet those things would slice through the titanium doors of this place like a hot knife through butter.”
“Or us,” Ryan chafed, consumed by a sudden worry.
“What?”
“Think about it Liz, if we’re told to resist, do you seriously think anyone will come and help out, or call us to a weapon’s locker to collect our Guardian killing ray guns?”
“Shit! I didn’t think of that.”
Spinning in his seat, Colum O’Hagen gestured back toward the main screen, “We’ll find out soon enough. The Grand Masters have just disappeared from the studio.”
Everyone jumped as Greg Harris slammed his way out of his office. “Listen up people – you’re not going to believe what we have to do.”
As he started filling them in on the delights about to come their way, they couldn’t fail to notice the stress etched in granite upon his blanched, sweating brow.
Lee thought to himself, He’s ready to pop. And to think only yesterday he was the happiest I’ve seen him in a long time. What a difference a day can make!
*
Langley Virginia
Outside the New Building—CIA Headquarters.
Reality became insubstantial, losing both texture and color. Cathy West caught her breath, the gray limbo freezing her lungs as it suspended the flow of blood through her veins. Then she blinked, and everything came back into focus in glaring solar bright clarity.
Yeeha! She screamed to herself unashamedly, like a child at a fairground, what a rush. Suddenly desperate for air, Cathy inhaled raggedly and turned on the spot to take in her new surroundings.
The latest extension to grace the headquarters building at Langley had been designed to flow into the preexisting structure with seamless grace. Indeed, the new frontage displayed flowerbeds, landscaped gardens and manicured walkways to such good effect, that not only did they mask the sheer acreage of the surrounding satellite parking lots, but they reminded Cathy of being back in university.
Aesthetic waterfalls and modern sculptures positioned on either side of a panoramic sliding doorway leading into a terrariumlike lobby only added to the impact. Sadly, the welcoming ambiance this would have created was somewhat spoilt by the multitudinal alarms and red lights, wailing and flashing from all quarters at once.
From her position fifty yards along the main concourse, Cathy could see armed guards rushing to take up their positions as if their lives depended on it. Jesus, talk about a severe case of overreaction?
While she appreciated the sight of a BBC News crew on their front lawn wasn’t what the CIA would have hoped for at this time in the morning, it wasn’t Cathy or her cameraman – Mike Turner – who had caused such an adverse reaction. That particular honor was reserved for their escorts now arrayed in a loose circle about them, four black-clad Guardians.
The Grand Master, recognizable to some from the earlier televised exclusive, motioned with his hand and they began strolling slowly as a group towards the main doors. A small crowd that had been taken unawares by their arrival parted like the red sea before him.
He smiled warmly to those he passed, “Good day to you. Please don’t be too alarmed, we’re only here to pick up a few people, and then we’ll be out of your way.”
As they walked, Cathy activated her mini-fleck link to splice into what Mike was actively viewing through his eyepiece, and kept going through the commander’s last minute instructions in her head, given to her just before their departure from Washington:
“Relax as much as you can, act naturally and simply report what you see and hear as it happens around us.”
He had indicated a dusky Mediterranean woman, identifying her as the BBC crew’s protector. “Helene will be looking after you, so the rest of the team and I can get in and out with the minimum of fuss, and not have to worry about you, okay?”
Cathy had to pinch her arm on several occasions to remind herself it was all real and she wasn’t dreaming. Mike, on the other hand, had just nodded briefly, before continuing to check his equipment, clearly unfazed. A fact not unnoticed by the Guardians.
The Grand Master had then revealed their call signs for the operation.
“So you don’t get tongue-tied or mixed up over names, just refer to me as Alpha. Helene is Bravo. Don’t forget, she will shield you from anything unpleasant. That man over there will be Charlie,” the Guardian expounded, “our specialist healer. And the other lady is, believe it or not, Delta. We will be communicating mentally, as it’s a lot faster, but will speak out loud if we need you to do anything specific or for the benefit of viewers at home. Do you both understand?”
No sooner had they nodded in confirmation than Cathy felt as if she’d stepped through Alice’s looking glass. One moment, everyone was clustered together in the green room back at the studio, then – after a disconcerting frost pins-and-ice needles feeling accompanied by a moment’s disorientation – they were here, standing in the cold sunshine in the middle of a pack of startled people.
In a loose huddle, they moved toward the sensor operated ingress, all the time making sure to encourage bystanders who were doing their best to get out of the way.
When they reached the atrium, however, they discovered the power had been cut. Peering inside, Cathy could see people in and out of uniform fanning out into a defensive cordon. She made haste to mention the quickly escalating animosity.
Alpha turned to the cameraman. “Are you getting the hard line reaction to our presence, Mike? Please note in particular, they are not only equipped with handguns, but there appear to be people joining them with both low and high caliber rifles. And if I’m not mistaken, are some of them toting stun grenades as well?”
Mike panned his videocorder from side to side. “Just do your thing, and I’ll do mine. I’m alternating between natural view and close-up so the folks back home can see the extent of the overkill and what these jokers are packing. Cathy and I are patched through to each other by a live mini-link, so don’t sweat it. We’ve got this well covered between us.”
The Grand Master looked impressed. Flashing a thumbs-up, he returned his attention to the obstacle ahead. Waving to those arrayed inside, he called, “Hi. Look, you know who we are and why we’re here…”
In response, several of the more determined security protection personnel lowered their centers of gravity and trained their weapons directly at him.
Continuing his attempt to reason, Alpha declared, “And I’m sure you’re equally aware that cutting the electricity isn’t going to make a damned bit of difference. The entrance is made of glass. I’d prefer not to damage anything if I’m forced to give the motor mechanism a bit of a nudge, so I’ll tell you what. If one of you would be so kind as to think where the controls are and how they work, I’d be very grateful.”
Unused to the wiles of mental mischief, someone among the reception staff must have considered exactly what Alpha needed.
“Thank you very much.” He smiled, clicked his fingers, and the two huge panes retracted with a distinctive hum.
That hum was drowned out a fraction of a second later by the sound of weapons discharging. Phutum – Phutum – Phutum – Phutum!
Thick smoke began forming a fluctuating veil across the lobby. Bright flashes and percussive reports punctuated the curtain a heartbeat later, generating shockwaves that stirred those mists into an agitated brume.
Inspired, Cathy’s gaze snapped left and right, up and down. She commenced a new narrative, concentrating on the damming evidence as it unfolded about her. The ultimate professional, Mike followed her lead and endeavored to capture everything in resplendent digipixel-glory.
Bravo’s hand on her shoulder alerted Cathy to something she’d missed within the protective environs of her invisible cocoon.
The waiting security force hadn’t been content to respond with flash-bangs and stun grenades alone. Now Cathy was able to gather her wits a little, she could see their opening statement had also included a shocking volume of Taser darts.
More than a dozen barbs had been arrested, midflight, by the denying substance of the shield encompassing her. Hanging in the air not five feet from Cathy’s face, they continued to spit and spark, reminding her of fulgurous dandelion seeds.
Somehow, those aimed at the outlying Guardians had struck home, and from the rapid tempo of urgent clicks assailing Cathy’s ears, their operators weren’t keen to let go of their triggers.
How did they manage…?
Even so, such enthusiasm seemed a wasted effort, for none of those strikes had any discernible effect that Cathy could see. Throughout an attack that lasted more than a minute, Alpha, Charlie and Delta stared back at their aggressors, impassively.
Ah, I see. Cathy breathed a sigh of relief. It’s a demonstration.
Noting the mounting disbelief among the guards, Alpha spoke. “There really is no need for this, you know. You’re just tickling us and we’re only here to retrieve citizens of your own country who don’t deserve to be incarcerated in the way they have been. So, when are you going to grow up and start communicating?”
His comments were like a red rag to a bull. The massed ranks opened up with everything they had, engulfing the Grand Master’s party in a torrential onslaught of lead.
Cathy flinched in spite of the intervening screen, and was rocked to her core as the deadly barrage continued for more than thirty seconds.
She caught sight of movement in her peripheral vision and reflexively adjusted to incorporate the development into her commentary. “As viewers will note, some of the officers here are using the desks and counters as cover and are edging out toward the sides of the foyer. I can only assume they are angling for a better shot. Like me, I’m sure you’ll be asking yourselves why America’s finest are doing all they can to take down the Guardians – who don’t forget, have two civilians in their midst – when no violence has been offered in return?”
As the assault continued unabated, Alpha calmly turned to his companions and briefly looked to each of them in turn.
He must be issuing instructions, Cathy thought.
Alpha’s extrasensory presence answered in her head: That’s right. Charlie will soon disappear for a few minutes to retrieve the documentation we require that shows exactly what’s been going on here and by whose authority. Don’t be anxious when he suddenly leaves us, he won’t be gone long. For now, though, I’m going to end this silliness. I can sense you’re intuitive, so I’ll leave this psychic channel open to let you listen in to our open exchanges. Try not to let it distract you from your own job.
Looking first to Delta – who grinned and nodded – and then to Bravo, Alpha returned his consideration to the matter of the assembled goons. The incoming blitz actually intensified under his scrutiny. Then he raised his hand.
An abrupt stillness fell across the hall.
Through her mini-link, Cathy could see that Mike had managed to capture the image of the thousands of bullets that now hovered in front of them like an occluding swarm of angry metallic hornets. Alpha gestured, and the slugs dropped to the floor in a cascade of tinkling dross.
The Guardian leader was so furious he could only express himself by way of a harsh whisper. Nevertheless, in the ensuing silence each word rang with the clarity of a hammer striking an anvil. “Are you really that stupid?” he growled, “do you realize what would have happened if we’d erected a hard shield instead of a density barrier? Can you even begin to comprehend how many of you would have been cut down by ricochets? And all because of your own lack of professionalism and self-control.”
Comprehension dawned. Some turned pale. Others staggered to nearby chairs. A few even had the decency to appear ashamed.
“Enough!” He shouted loudly, at the same time mentally signaling to Delta: Okay, take them!
Delta stepped forward two paces, raising her right arm and clenching her fist as she did so. A number of the protection staff reacted instinctively and resumed their firing postures.
By the time they had managed to bring their hands up, their weapons had been yanked from their grasps, slings, or holsters, into what looked like a constellation of tiny spinning black holes that now warped the intervening space between the two parties.
Shocked, they retreated several yards. Cathy could tell by the horrified looks cast their way that some were clearly worried they might be swallowed themselves.
Still linked telepathically, Alpha picked up on Cathy’s emotions and addressed their suddenly – not so confident – opponents himself.
“Oh don’t worry. Despite your totally unjustified hostility, we won’t respond in kind. The Guardians value human life, which is why I’m going to make sure you don’t have any further opportunity to hurt us, or anyone else for that matter.”
Without warning, both he and Delta brandished their plasma staffs. Twin beams burst to life spontaneously. Slamming them into the ground, they unleashed an undulant wave of emerald green force that rolled outwards in an ever expanding circle. Everyone the rippling halo encountered fell to the ground, unconscious. The building shook; its fixtures and fittings continuing to rattle long after the floor and walls had absorbed the potency of the cryptic energies just released.
It was only then Cathy realized that Charlie had vanished, off doing whatever his part of this mission was.
The Guardians spent a few moments employing their telekinesis to remove any remaining Taser darts from their uniforms. That completed, the group moved forward again, toward the older part of the building.
Cathy took her time, ensuring not to step on any of the prone figures now littering the floor and ensuring those looking on at home would be able to witness for themselves the fact that not one CIA employee had been injured beyond being rendered unconscious.
Behind her, Bravo dropped back a few paces. “Nothing to be concerned about, I’m just giving myself room to maneuver should the need arise,” she explained. “You’d have to be over a hundred feet away to start testing the limits of my shield.”
“That’s good to know,” Cathy replied gratefully.
Busy concentrating on capturing everything he could, Mike didn’t even bother replying. That drew smirks from the other Guardians, who seemed to enjoy the oasis of calm he radiated in the middle of such a tense situation.
Reaching the end of the access strip, they turned left and continued on past startled workers toward the inner sanctum of the most coveted intelligence agency in the western world. A few minutes later, at a point close to where old and new merged, they found Charlie waiting for them outside an impressively armored door. He had a mixed audience with him, comprised of suits – all busily gabbing at different volumes into their scroll phones and m-pads – and uniformed staff who didn’t quite know how to react. That they were aware of events at the main entrance was obvious, for none were keen to offer resistance.
The Guardian commander made eye contact with his team member. Cathy didn’t miss how Alpha’s brows knitted in response to whatever information was being transferred into his mind.
He looks upset?
Alpha nodded and tuned to the camera. “For those of you watching who might be wondering where my colleague has been, he has just secured all documentation held at this facility relating to something called the Angel Project. Those files will be delivered in full to this country’s leader later this evening. Heavily sanitized copies will be prepared and passed to a selection of your major news networks as soon as is possible.
“That project is the reason we are here today. In a few moments, we will venture beyond the portal where my colleague is standing. There we will find a number of American citizens, ranging in age from just five years old to eighty-four. Yes people, you heard me. We have minors and retired folks down there who don’t know what’s going on. From what we have ascertained so far, all but one are here against their will, and all have varying degrees of psychic ability. It is our understanding that they have been subjected to invasive scientific procedures sanctioned as part of a precursive regimen intended to condition their compliance and prepare them for deployment against the enemies of the United States.
“This helps explain why we came in through the main entrance to Langley as opposed to the stand-alone reinforced bunker access the Angel Project also possesses – situated in the woods a quarter of a mile away to the west. We needed you to see for yourselves just how involved the higher echelons of government are with this venture…” He pointed to the shining titanium panels adorning the exterior façade of the hatch, “They have their own private entrance inside the headquarters itself.
“And speaking of the administration, it may also amuse you to know that one of the gentlemen in front of us just offered my colleague a job, and asked that he pass that invitation on to the rest of us.”
Smirking, the Grand Master shrugged and leaned closer to the camera. “Ah, the burdens of possessing the correct curriculum vitae…”
Then he sobered and inclined his head toward Cathy and Mike. “My scans of the area show it gets confined as we go in and down. We’ll do our best to give you as much room as possible to capture what’s going on, but stay close. There are a number of obstacles we need to overcome that involve deterrents harmful to your physiology, okay?”
Both reporters nodded, and subconsciously edged closer to Bravo as everyone moved toward the final stage of their journey.
Charlie turned to consider the electronic checkpoint barring their way. From what Cathy could determine, it was comprised of a straightforward keypad and bar-coded swipe card port.
A faint thrumming sound intruded, followed by a loud buzz. The door slid away into a recess, drawing a shout of alarm from the younger of the suits. The security detail looked to a silver haired older man for direction, but a warning gesture from Delta confounded any permission to engage. Evidently, the rutilant sphere of sizzling plasma – roughly the size of a basketball – that she manifested only inches from their feet was enough of an incentive to remind them not to be stupid.
As the Guardian team filed into the hall beyond, Delta moved her incentive into the threshold and expanded its dimensions until the way was blocked. “That should hold for fifteen minutes or so. By then, it’ll be too late to stop us.”
Cathy turned to find her reflection staring back at her from the dimmed interior of a waiting elevator car. Have they cut everything in here too?
Charlie must have heard her sub-vocal musing.
“I’m on it.” He rushed to examine an automated sentry port, similar to the one outside. “How boring, you think they’d imagine something different. Hang on a tic…”
Closing his eyes, Charlie concentrated on the task at hand and fell still. Within seconds, two green dials illuminated on the screen in front of him, as did the overhead lights within the lift. Soft background music started to play, a discordant jazz version of “Fly Me to The Moon.”
Delta cringed and chewed on her knuckle. “Damn, the torment must start the moment they bring you in here.”
“Well, get used to it,” Charlie retorted, “I’ve looped the power supply so it can’t be disturbed for another five to ten minutes. That’ll give us enough time to listen to this crappy track and whatever else they want to insult our ears with. Oh, I’ve also neutralized the charges on the elevator cables and breaks, just in case they get decide to get sneaky.”
“It wouldn’t pose much of a problem to us, anyway.” Delta mumbled quietly to Cathy and Mike.
“Why’s that, telekinesis?” Mike queried, expressing himself aloud for the first time since they’d entered the building.
“Well, would you credit it, he speaks,” Delta replied, punching him on the arm in a playful manner. “Right the first time; all of us have it in varying degrees…”
But she hadn’t done teasing him. Pressing her nose firmly into the lens of his videocam, Delta vented her grievance on the watching public, “God, some people. They just don’t know when to shut up!”
Regardless of the setting, everyone burst out laughing.
The sound of their receding hilarity caused the stranded suits and security detail to wonder what on earth was going on.
*
The unfortunate agents trapped within the secure rooms of the Angel Project over four hundred feet down could only wait and listen with mounting trepidation as the Guardians made their inextricable way toward them.
A succession of reverberating booms tolled out the gradual obliteration of every checkpoint like a death knell. As each post met its end, the groaning, shrieking complaint wrung from the weakening infrastructure grew louder and louder. Vibrations and after tremors became ever more pronounced. In due course – amid the confusing panoply of stuttering illumination, swirling dust and falling debris – the bombardment reached a crescendo. Everyone held their breath, waiting for the final nail to be driven into their coffins and the inner doors to be blasted from their hinges in triumph.
When it came, the simple knock and accompanying sound of grinding hinges was more chilling than an explosion could ever be.