Lieutenant Jim Ellis stepped onto the tarmac from the chopper, its blades still spinning. He kept one hand on his head to prevent his hat from flying off and quickly hustled away from the vehicle. Within moments, the helicopter lifted off again.
“Hey, wait!” he shouted after it, but to no avail. Jim sighed and turned away, scanning the area amidst the Adirondack Mountains. The only thing around for miles was a hangar, runway, and a small, one-story building. Couldn’t even be classified as a building, more like a garage. He figured that was his only option and he approached the structure. The windows were completely opaque, and the metal door had no handle. There was a light above it, but this was switched off. Jim rapped his knuckles on the door a few times, then waited. After a few minutes, he knocked again, a little harder this time.
“What is going on?” He backed away from the door and placed his hands on his hips, looking up. It seemed like this was some sort of airfield, but tucked in the middle of nowhere, and seemingly no longer operational.
Jim returned to the tarmac and followed it to the hangar. He banged on the doors, but still no answer came. Jim huffed in annoyance. “Come on…”
He took his hat off and ran his fingers through his closely-cropped blond hair. He’d received a summons to appear here and was told it was in regards to a highly-classified operation. As a former Navy SEAL and a member of the CIA’s Special Operations Group, those sorts of orders were as normal for him as an inter-office memo would be for a white collar employee. But what was unordinary was arriving at a clandestine briefing and finding no one there to brief him.
Jim reached inside the jacket of his dress uniform and pulled out a cell phone. He’d put in a call to his superiors, let them know that someone must have made a mistake. Maybe the meeting was actually tomorrow, or maybe the pilot got the location wrong. He looked at the display and groaned when he saw the “No Service” message at the top of the screen.
“Great…”
Jim wandered around the small valley, holding his phone up in the air, trying to see if he could get some sort of signal. Every time a single bar flashed on the screen, it vanished almost as quickly. The most consistent thing he got was a “Searching…” message.
As he concentrated on finding a signal, Jim didn’t notice a large patch of grass that suddenly rose from beside the tarmac. Underneath that patch was a gun turret that tracked Jim’s movements. It seemed to wait for him, following him carefully. Jim suddenly got a sense of being watched and when he turned and saw the turret, it opened fire.
Jim leapt to the side, diving towards the small building. He rolled on the ground and sprung up once more, breaking into a sprint. The turret’s rounds followed him, a hail of gunfire narrowly missing his feet. When he was within range, he jumped again, landing behind the construct and pressing his back up against it. He remained there, listening as the bullets pounded into the building, waiting for the turret to run out of ammo.
After a few more minutes, the gunfire stopped, and all Jim could hear was the sound of the cylinder spinning rapidly, slowing down with each rotation until it came to a stop. Jim edged near the corner, peering around it, and drawing his SIG Sauer P229 handgun as he did so. Slowly, he rose to his feet, keeping his back pressed against the building, and he spotted a shadow on the ground. He raised the gun, and saw the shadow approaching closer. Jim sprang out from his hiding spot and took aim. He found himself facing down the barrel of a Beretta M9, held by a man in a green dress uniform with a silver mustache hanging over his grinning lips.
“Good morning, Lieutenant.”
Jim moved instantly, holstering the weapon and snapping to a stiff posture and salute.
“At ease, soldier.” The superior officer holstered his Beretta and offered his hand. “My name’s Thorne.”
“Ellis, sir. James Ellis,” he said, shaking Thorne’s hand.
When the handshake broke, Thorne jerked his thumb at the turret, which had now retreated below ground. “Sorry about the fireworks. We’re testing out some of the security features. And also, I wanted to see if you were as good as your file suggests.”
“And?”
Thorne grinned. “You performed as expected, Lieutenant.”
“Permission to speak freely, sir?” asked Jim.
Thorne chuckled. “Relax, kid. You don’t have to be so formal here. Speak your mind.”
“I’m a little confused. I was told I was to report here for some classified mission, but what is this place?”
“Step into my office.” Thorne gestured to the small building and they walked around to the front. Thorne stood in front of the door, looked up at the light, and said, “Colonel Leonard Thorne.” The light switched on and after a moment, a robotic voice said, {Access granted.} The door slid open and Thorne stepped inside with Jim following.
“Biometric security,” said Thorne. “Voice recognition activates the security check and housed in the lamp is a scanner to verify your identity.”
Jim glanced around the small structure, seeing nothing more than a table and two chairs with an old radio on the table’s surface. Next to the radio, however, was a manila file and Jim noticed the label on the tab bore his name. “I’m sorry, sir, but what’s the point of having that level of security on a place like this?”
“We’ll get to that, have a seat.” Thorne sat in one of the chairs and motioned to the empty one.
Jim carefully sat down, not sure what to make of this entire situation. Everything seemed very strange up to this point and he was starting to wonder if someone at the Agency was playing a practical joke on him.
“I’m sure by now that you’ve heard the rumors spreading throughout the Internet, of seemingly normal people who can perform supernatural feats.”
Jim nodded. “Sure, some sort of new Internet hoax. What’s that have to do with me?”
“It’s not a hoax, Lieutenant,” said Thorne. “The world is quickly being populated by people who can do amazing things. People for whom the laws of physics pose no restriction. Now, I’ve reviewed your file.” He tapped the folder. “In fact, I’ve spent the past few weeks reviewing a lot of files. You’ve got an impressive record—recruited from the SEALs into the SOG. How long have you been with the Agency?”
“About two years.”
Thorne took the file and held it open in front of him. “You’ve consistently garnered high marks. You’ve got a keen strategic mind, you excel in hand-to-hand combat, and your marksmanship is off the charts. In fact, one might say you yourself are superhuman.”
Jim was puzzled. “I’m sorry, sir. Are you saying that…that…” He paused, struggling with the words. “Well…what are you saying?”
Thorne closed the file. “What I’m saying is that I’ve been tasked to put together a special team. A team with some very specific mission parameters. And what I need is a field commander. Someone who can go toe-to-toe with these specials and come out on top.”
“And you think that someone…is me?”
Thorne set the folder back on the table, keeping his fingers on top as he stared at it. “To be honest, I’m not sure. And here’s where the tricky part comes in. I know for something like this, you’d want to know all the details before you can make an informed decision. But unfortunately, I’ve already come close to telling you more than I should. Before I can go into any specifics, I need your commitment.”
Jim realized he’d been sitting forward in his chair and now he leaned back slightly. He stared at the file on the table and still locked there, he asked, “what can you tell me?”
“I can tell you that we’re talking pretty deep cover. No one will know what it is you’re doing. Not even your superiors at the CIA. It’s high-risk, but potentially high-reward.”
Jim fidgeted slightly in his chair. Beyond Thorne’s words, his tone said that this was indeed something extremely important. Whatever this job was, whatever it involved, Jim knew it would be extremely dangerous. But he also knew that his curiosity had now gotten the better of him, and he wouldn’t be able to sleep until he knew just what exactly was going on here. And there was only one way to do that.
“I’m in.”
Thorne smiled and offered his hand once more. “Welcome to Vanguard. C’mon, let me show you around the base.”
“But…what base?” asked Jim after shaking Thorne’s hand. “That hangar?”
“The base isn’t above-ground, Lieutenant.” Thorne stood and faced the wall. “Time to give you the grand tour.”
The wall lowered, and there was a small elevator. Thorne stepped in and made room for Jim. “What are you waiting for?”
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Victoria Hastings stood just outside the examination room, fumbling through her purse. Her daughter was inside, but she couldn’t stay there another moment, not before she managed to calm herself. Keys, her wallet, and various cosmetic products rattled around as she dug through the white leather sack. Finally, she heard a familiar noise and sighed in relief, pulling out a small, translucent orange bottle with pills clicking about inside. She struggled with the childproof lid, her hands feeling like they were covered in grease. And then she dropped the bottle.
“Dammit…” she muttered. Before she could bend down to pick it up, someone else had met her on the ground. A hand with some light wrinkles held the bottle out to her and Victoria looked up into the kind eyes of an older gentleman with a bald head, a thin white beard, and rimless glasses.
“I think you dropped this,” he said.
Victoria managed a faint smile. “Thank you.” She accepted the bottle and stood up, still struggling with the top.
“Allow me.” He extended his hand and Victoria resigned herself, passing it to him. The man removed the top and handed it back to her. Victoria dropped two white pills into her palm and closed the bottle, then returned it back to the abyss that was her purse. She clasped her hand over her mouth, slipping the pills inside, then walked past the man to a water fountain. With a quick drink, the tablets were swallowed.
“Mrs. Hastings, I presume?” he asked.
Victoria looked up, brushing some loose strands of hair behind her ear. She stood, wiping the lingering water droplets from her lips. “I’m sorry, do I know you?”
“No, not yet. Dr. Howard McCabe.” He offered his hand and Victoria shook it, while she stared at the plastic badge clipped to his white coat, identifying him simply as VISITOR.
“You don’t work here?” she asked.
“No, but I’m a specialist in the field of genetics. Your daughter’s case was brought to my attention and—”
Victoria backed away slightly, clutching a hand to her chest. “What do you mean it was brought to your attention? What do you want with my daughter?”
“Oh no, it’s nothing to be worried about,” said McCabe. “Mrs. Hastings, I’m only here to help your daughter. I understand you made an appointment because…there’s been a change?”
Victoria bit her lower lip and looked away at some of the other staff milling around. Nobody paid them any attention.
“I can’t help your daughter unless you talk to me.”
She dropped her head and then slowly nodded. “Yes…she’s…things are different.”
“May I speak to her?”
Victoria gestured to the room. “I’m guessing you’ve read her file?”
“I did. She’s been changing her appearance? Transforming into people she sees on television, photographs, what have you?”
Victoria nodded. “At first it was involuntary, like a spasm. Once she realized it had happened, she’d return to normal. But then yesterday…something changed. She turned into something different entirely. Something…well…”
Victoria opened the door to the exam room. McCabe stepped inside and sitting on the exam table was Erin Hastings, dressed in sweat pants and a hooded sweatshirt. Her head hung low and McCabe couldn’t see the girl’s face. Her hands were stuffed into the pockets of the hoodie and she stared at the ground.
“Hi Erin,” said McCabe with a warm smile. “I’m Dr. McCabe. I’ve come to consult on your case.” He offered his hand. Erin remained still, but shifted her body towards her mother, who simply nodded.
“It’s okay, honey.”
Erin shifted back towards McCabe. She removed her hand from the pocket and grasped the Doctor’s in her own. It was slim, as one would expect from a sixteen-year-old girl. But what caught McCabe’s attention was the skin color. Erin’s hand was a pale green color and had an odd texture to it. It wasn’t the same as human skin, but something almost…putty-like.
“Can you lower your hood for me, Erin?” he asked.
Erin hesitated again, but after a moment she lifted both hands to the black hood and pulled it away from her head, letting it hang loosely around her shoulders. The skin had that same pale green color as the skin on her hands. There was no hair on her head, not even eyebrows. Only two small slits where her nose should be and small holes on the sides of her head for her ears. Her eyes were an almond-shape and they had no pupils, just pale yellow sclera.
McCabe tried not to stare too much. Instead he simply maintained his smile. “I imagine this must’ve been very tough on you, Erin.”
“At first, it was kinda cool,” she said. “I mean, being able to look and sound like anyone I wanted. I’d always change back to myself when I lost my concentration. But then I just started changing into…” She paused and gestured to her face. “This.” Erin sighed and looked into McCabe’s eyes with her own pupil-less ones. It was disconcerting for the scientist, but he made no indication of his discomfort. “Is this because I messed around with it too much? Y’know, like how you’re not supposed to pop a zit or pick at a scab or something?”
If you discover this tale on Amazon, be aware that it has been stolen. Please report the violation.
“Well…” McCabe adjusted his glasses. “I can’t be certain until I’ve had the chance to run some tests. But I think it’s pretty safe to say that this is not the case. I’d say this is almost like a…a template form you’ve adopted.”
Erin shuddered a bit. “Y-you mean this is who I am now?”
“Do you play sports?”
Erin furrowed her brow. She turned to her mother, but Victoria’s face also looked mystified. She glanced back at McCabe. “I’m on the swim team…”
“Okay good, that’s a start,” said McCabe. “When you first jumped in a pool, could you compete in swim meets?”
“No, of course not,” said Erin. “I had to work my ass off at practice every day.”
“Erin Marie Hastings!” her mother huffed. “You know better than to use language like that!”
McCabe tried to stifle a chuckle, recalling his own mother’s similar admonishments. “I think you hit on my point, Erin. It took practice and conditioning to develop your swimming abilities. Your shapeshifting abilities are no different. Just like anything else, it will take time to develop, but in that time, you will become more proficient. Right now, your shapeshifting happens somewhat involuntarily. But with practice, it will be easier to shift at will and to hold that shape.”
“How do I do that?”
“Well, that’s actually why I’m here,” said McCabe, now turning slightly to include Victoria in the conversation. “I represent an organization that helps people like Erin learn to master their abilities.”
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Koji Asano dove beneath the Pacific waves. Since the incident in Waikiki a few months earlier, he’d learned to cope with his newfound abilities. Koji had discovered almost all his senses had been enhanced to superhuman proportions.
That was only the first step. When he finally left the hospital, having grown accustomed to the new senses, he returned to his work as a surfing instructor. A particularly strong wave knocked him off his board and while he was under the water, he noticed something strange.
He wasn’t holding his breath. In fact, he was breathing as normal.
Koji had since noticed other changes. He started to feel a…craving whenever he was beneath the waves. Particularly a craving for seafood. Koji had memories of growing up in Hawaii, trying to catch fish by hand when he’d see them while swimming. They were always too fast for him, or if he had managed to grab them, too slippery. Now though, he found he could move far quicker than them, even maintain a firm grip.
In his dives, Koji had noticed a shift in his physiology. His skin had become gray, not to mention shiny—almost leathery. Claws appeared at the edges of his fingers and he was able to tear into live fish without any difficulty. It was a temporary transformation, and so far he’d only managed to make the change while in the water.
Koji swam to the surface, bursting through the water. He’d shifted back from his shark-form and now swam towards the shore. Once he reached the shallow area, he stood and walked the rest of the way. An older man with a thin white beard stood on the shore watching him. The man wore swimming trunks, a Hawaiian floral shirt, and a fisherman’s cap, with sunglasses and a white nose indicating the application of zinc.
“Something you need, Grandpa?” asked Koji.
“Actually, I was hoping to speak to you,” said the man. “My name’s Howard McCabe.”
Koji picked up his towel and patted himself dry. “Yeah well, if you want a surfing lesson, I’m not so sure you could handle it. No offense.”
“I tried surfing once when I was younger,” said McCabe. “Couldn’t stay up for more than a few seconds.”
“So what do you want?”
“How’d you like a drink?” asked McCabe. “My treat.”
Koji wiped the water from his face and stared at the elder man for a few moments. Then he smiled and said, “sure, why not? I could use one.”
“Good,” said McCabe. The two men walked from the waterfront to a small hut on the beach where a bartender was on duty. McCabe spoke first. “Can I get a Mai Tai? And for my friend here…?”
“Rum and Coke, don’t skimp on the lime,” said Koji.
The bartender nodded. “You got it, Koji.”
“Must be nice, living out here,” said McCabe.
Koji shrugged. “Guess I never really thought about it. Parents came here before I was born. Hawaii’s pretty much the only home I’ve ever known.”
The drinks arrived and McCabe paid the bartender, plus a healthy tip. He held up his glass. “Cheers.”
The edge of Koji’s lip raised slightly and he clinked his glass against McCabe’s. “It’s not often some old dude buys me a drink. Just so we’re clear, I don’t swing that way.”
“Hah!” McCabe sipped his Mai Tai. “Don’t worry, Mr. Asano. You’re not exactly my type.”
“Good,” said Koji. The bartender gave him two lime wedges instead of one and he squeezed them both into his drink, then left them on the counter before tipping back his glass.
“Actually, I’m more interested in something that happened a few months back. In a Mexican restaurant,” said McCabe.
Koji stopped mid-sip and lowered his glass. He glanced down at his hand, flexing his very-human fingers. “What about it?”
“I know about you, son. About how you slept in a sensory deprivation tank for close to a month. About how you’re more comfortable in water than on land.”
Koji slammed down his glass and stood. “Who the hell are you? What do you want?”
McCabe lifted his hands, palms towards Koji, fingers held up. “Easy, son. I don’t want to cause you any trouble.”
“Got a funny way of showing it,” said Koji.
“How about we go for a walk?” asked McCabe. “If you don’t like what I have to offer, then you never have to see me again. How does that sound?”
Koji looked down at the older man for a few moments. He was almost ready to start a fight here. But he knew that would be a mistake, so he took deep breaths to calm himself down.
“Okay,” he said. “Let’s talk.”
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Dominic Vaughn stepped from the shadows into his penthouse apartment on Manhattan’s Park Avenue. He was dressed all in black, including a mask to disguise his features. The jewel thief reached for the mask and pulled it off, smoothing down the jet-black hair that reached just past his chin. He reached for his belt, where a small satchel hung and removed it. Upon opening it, he placed his gloved hand inside, feeling the uncut diamonds contained within.
“Good evening, Mr. Vaughn.”
Dominic spun, but saw no one. The voice sounded like it was altered by a voice modulator of some kind. It was tinny and unearthly. He stepped closer to the wall and hit the switch, but nothing happened. Dominic tried the switch a few more times, still to no avail. Instead, he took the small flashlight attached to his belt and turned it on, shining the light around the room.
“You won’t find me that way, Mr. Vaughn. Mostly because I am not really here.”
“Who are you?” asked Dominic, rapidly turning from side to side, flashing the light wherever he could.
“A friend. Or at least, I hope that is what you will consider me.”
“Yeah well, friends don’t break into friends’ houses and stay hidden like a coward.”
“But I already told you, Mr. Vaughn. I am not in the room with you.”
Dominic stepped backwards, slowly. He knew every square inch of his apartment, and so stepping to the right to avoid the white leather couch in his living room as he backed towards the balcony window was second nature.
Light filled the room once the television turned on, and Dominic stood right in front of it when it did. The sudden brightness dazed him and he raised his arms to block out the light, tripping as he did so and falling onto the glass coffee table with a loud crash. Dominic sat up, brushing the broken shards from his body, and he saw nothing but white static on the large television screen.
“I apologize for this slightly impersonal introduction, Mr. Vaughn. Unfortunately, you are a very difficult man to get ahold of. Especially given your extra-curricular activities.”
Dominic quickly moved to the television, pulling the plug from the power outlet. The TV went dark. Then a ringtone came from another room, specifically Dominic’s study. He rushed to that room and on the desk perched in a charging station was his cell phone, and the display showed an incoming call from an unknown number. Dominic answered the phone and slowly brought it to his ear.
“Mr. Vaughn, it does not need to be this way. We can speak face to face. I believe that would be easier on both of us.”
“What do you want?” asked Dominic.
“Just to talk.”
“Where are you?”
“Go to the balcony.”
Dominic lowered the phone, but kept it in his hand. He opened one of his desk drawers and took a small pistol, holding it carefully as he returned to the living room. He aimed the gun at the doors and raised the phone to his ear. “Okay, I’m there.”
“Come out onto the balcony, Mr. Vaughn. Please.”
Dominic cautiously moved closer and closer to the large doors. With the phone still held in his hand, he unlatched the door and pushed it open, still pointing the gun forward. Dominic moved onto the balcony and turned from side to side, aiming the gun the whole time.
He was alone.
“What is this, some sort of sick joke?”
“Not at all, Mr. Vaughn.”
That inhuman voice came through not only the phone, but Dominic could hear it nearby. From above. There was a bright, blue glow and he turned his head upward. Hovering above was some sort of metal, humanoid being. Its reflective, chrome frame was highlighted by glowing blue lights, particularly the eyes, but it had no mouth that Dominic could make out. The strange robot landed on the balcony right in front of him.
“Good evening, Mr. Vaughn,” it said. “My name is—”
Dominic opened fire, emptying the small gun’s ammunition. The bullets had no effect and the strange being just looked down at itself, and then back at Dominic.
“That was rude.” It reached out and took the gun from Dominic, crushing it in its hand like it were paper. “As I was saying before your interruption, my name is Zenith. And I am here to—”
Dominic darted back inside the apartment. Zenith sighed and followed. “Mr. Vaughn, please, I am not going to hurt you.”
With the shadows as cover, Dominic vanished into nothing. Zenith raised his arm, generating a small orb of electricity and used it to illuminate the apartment. His sensors moved around but could find no traces of any lifeforms. But there was a strange form of energy present.
----------------------------------------
Dominic appeared on the roof of the building adjacent to his, stepping from the shadows. He chuckled a bit at his good fortune at having escaped the strange robot. Just what was that thing anyway? Why was it after him?
“Mr. Vaughn.”
Dominic froze as he heard that same, bizarre voice coming from behind him. “No, this can’t be happening…”
“I am not here to hurt you, Mr. Vaughn, I promise you that,” said Zenith. “But I need—”
“Get! Away!” Dominic spun on his heel and held out his hand. Some sort of ebon energy fired from his palm, completely engulfing Zenith. The blast had no effect, but Zenith could detect something odd in the energy. Dominic’s eyes went pitch-black when he fired and once the blast ceased, they returned to normal.
“What…what the hell just happened?” he asked, staring dumbfounded at his hand.
“It would seem that your abilities extend beyond mere teleportation.” Zenith rose from over the edge of the building, hovering closer towards Dominic. Once he landed, Zenith raised his arm, pointing it at Dominic. Almost instantly, parts around the arm shifted, until it formed into a small cannon with some form of energy crackling around the barrel.
“I do not wish to hurt you, Mr. Vaughn. But I grow weary of these attacks on my person when all I want to do is talk.”
“Talk about what?” asked Dominic.
“About what has happened to you, about what you can do, and about how I can help you,” said Zenith.
Dominic chuckled. “Yeah right, help me. I’m young, rich, and have superpowers. How the hell can you help me?”
“I know all about you, Mr. Vaughn.” Zenith lowered his arm, the cannon shifting back into his hand. He slowly approached the dark-haired man. “I’ve been monitoring reports of jewel heists all over the world. Security systems being mysteriously circumvented. No signs of forced entry, or any entry for that matter. The only evidence that a crime even occurred being the missing jewels.”
“What does that have to do with me?” asked Dominic.
“I managed to investigate some of these sites. There is an unknown form of energy lingering in the atmosphere. I found a way to track it, and thus, it led me to the apartment of one Dominic Vaughn, son of wealthy investor Michael Vaughn. I’ve done research on you, Mr. Vaughn. Thrill-seeking is something of a hobby of yours, is it not? And what greater thrill can one get than theft?”
Dominic shook his head. “You can’t prove shit.”
“As a matter of fact, I can,” said Zenith. “And now that I have analyzed your energy signature, it would only be a matter of time before I am able to circumvent it and neutralize your means of teleportation.”
Dominic slowly backed away from the robot. “So what is it you want, huh?”
“I am not acting alone, Mr. Vaughn. I work with certain people who are quite interested in your unique abilities,” said Zenith. “They propose a partnership.”
Dominic was close to the shadows now. Once he moved inside them, he would be able to transport himself somewhere else. But he knew if he tried, this thing would just follow him again. Just like before. His only opportunity was to hear the robot out.
“What’s in it for me?”
“Well for one, the evidence I have linking you to your crimes will never be unearthed,” said Zenith. “And two, the type of partnership they propose would no doubt lead to the sort of excitement a man such as yourself craves.”
----------------------------------------
“Just so we’re clear on the nature of your report, Lieutenant…” The man who sat at the table in front of Anita Jordan had a higher rank than she’d ever seen before, at least up close and personal. He and two other superior officers sat at a long, wooden table in an otherwise empty room and Anita stood in front of them, in military dress uniform.
“According to your statement, your convoy was attacked by militants. No survivors, but somehow you came out unharmed. You then awoke in captivity, a prisoner of some warlord who called himself the Kurgan.”
“Actually sir, he referred to himself as the Khagan,” said Anita. Smart, she told herself. Correct the man whose job it is to decide whether or not you committed treason.
He stared at her over the rims of his small glasses, the light from above shining off his bald head. “Yes, the Khagan. A man who leads an organization called the Red Fist. An organization which, mind you, we have no record of and has a base of operations inside of a hollowed-out mountain.”
“I never said it was hollowed out—”
“You will only speak when you are given permission, Lieutenant, do I make myself clear?”
Anita shut her mouth and nodded.
“So this Khagan, he shoots you and nothing happens. The bullet somehow flattens against your body. He invites you to join his organization, you refuse and he orders your death. Without any sort of body armor or cover, you are able to withstand the force of several enemy combatants firing on you with automatic weapons and even managed to survive an attack from a rocket launcher by, and I quote, ‘flying through the roof of the fortress.’”
The officer shut the file and removed his glasses. “This has got to be the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever read in my entire life.”
“It’s all true,” said Anita.
The officer turned to the other two men at the table. Both of them held similar skeptical visages. One of them, who still had hair, leaned forward, folding his hands and laying them on the table.
“Put yourself in our shoes. What seems more likely? That someone of your background—”
“My father was Muslim and he’s been dead for ten years,” said Anita.
“Betrayed her squadron to terrorist forces within Afghanistan—”
“And I should also remind you that I am an American citizen by birth,” she continued.
“And has been caught and comes up with some outrageous tale of secret societies and—”
“If she betrayed her squad, why would she return? And why wouldn’t she have a better cover story?”
The men at the table had incredulous looks and were staring past her. Anita turned as well and at the door saw a man in uniform with a silver mustache, hands clasped behind his back.
“You’re not authorized to be in here, this is a closed session,” said the man at the center of the table.
The newcomer walked past Anita and took a folded piece of paper from his inside pocket. He handed it to the man in the center. “Colonel Leonard Thorne. This order from the Commander in Chief says I have every right to be in this room, and that this case is now under my purview.”
The man in the center stared up at Thorne, his brows arched. “You can bet I’m going to follow up on this.”
“Be my guest. In fact…” Thorne reached inside his pocket and took out a cell phone. “You can use my phone.”
----------------------------------------
Thorne closed the door after the three officers left. He walked to the front of the room and leaned on the edge of the table. “Sorry about that whole thing. Guys like that find it hard to believe what else is really out there.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I have no idea what’s going on here,” said Anita. “Things went crazy in Afghanistan, then once I return to my base and submit my report, I’m immediately whisked away back to the States and then thrown in front of those three? This wasn’t an investigative hearing, this was an interrogation, wasn’t it?”
Thorne nodded. “It was. Truth be told, they would have interrogated you at some black-site if they had their way. We were able to get you back over here, but they got to you before I could arrive.”
Anita sighed and closed her eyes. “Just tell me, please, what is going on?”
“The world’s different, Lt. Jordan. Things are changing rapidly, and things are going to come to light soon, things that we’ve spent the better part of the past year trying to keep secret, at least as long as it takes us to make preparations.”
“Preparations for what?” asked Anita.
“You’ve been through quite an ordeal, and the last thing I want to do is to add to it,” said Thorne. “I’m sure you’d like nothing more than an honorable discharge and return to civilian life, find work as a doctor somewhere, am I right?”
Anita nodded. “After what happened over there, I’d say that’s a pretty sound assessment. All this happened against my will, and now I’m being held under suspicion simply because I was in the wrong place at the wrong time.”
Thorne turned slightly and picked up one of the folders left behind. He opened it and flipped through the details of Anita’s report and, without looking up at her, said, “I wouldn’t go that far.”
“What do you mean?”
Thorne closed the file. “I believe everything you wrote. And based on what you learned from this Khagan character, I’d say he could be a real threat. Something that bears further investigation.”
“What are you saying?” asked Anita.
“I’m saying that you’re about to be promoted, Lieutenant,” said Thorne. “Not officially, of course. But your unique abilities will prove very useful to the unit I’m putting together. The only question is do you want a chance to prove your story, and the chance to defend your country on a completely different front?”
“That’s…quite an offer, Colonel,” said Anita. “I have to admit I’m curious. Any chance you could tell me more about it?”
Thorne had a wry smile. “No. I need you to commit first. So what do you say?”