Chapter 48: Captured

Finch waited just outside the tunnel which led to the last line of defenses before the bunker entrance. In his hands he carried a case of twelve radios. Anna had given him instructions on where to go. She’d also given him a pistol which was strapped to his waist. There’d been no time to do more than show him the safety and pass him a spare clip which he’d stuck in his pocket.

He raced ahead and opened the door. Two guards spun towards him, and Finch wasn’t terribly thrilled to see the signs of panic in their expressions. He handed over a radio and told the men the bare instructions Anna had given for them, then dashed to the right along a hallway until he met another door, this one opening out onto a small, metal-covered opening in the side of a mountain.

The fresh air was so amazing that Finch stopped in his tracks to suck in a few lungfuls before moving on. He found the next group of soldiers not far away, then kept moving.

From one spot to the next, he dropped off radios, slowly winding around the side of the mountain along metal walkways before climbing a ways over well-trampled grasses and low vines.

Finch heard the sounds of gunfire long before he closed in on his next drop-off. He gripped the pistol nervously, keeping it out from his body as he raced to the walled-off strong point which protected the walkways and the bunker entrance. Loud booms were echoing around the mountains, rattling Finch’s nerves, but he was determined to get the job done.

He slid into a concrete bunker where several men and women were waiting, “What’s wrong with the comms?” one of the taller women asked.

Finch had heard that question or variations thereof at each stop. “Jammed. Use this, channel fifty-two, modulation delta, Protocol A3.”

“A3?” the woman questioned as she took the radio and started fiddling with the dials, “We’re supposed to use Farsi to talk to Ops?”

Finch shrugged, “That’s what I was told.”

“Great. I suspect we’re a bit rusty on that one, been a while since boot.”

Finch shrugged again, replying, “That’s the instructions. I gotta move on. I was told to get these last four to the front. Which way?”

A man pointed to one side of the bunker, “Up the steps just beyond, then follow the sunken path another couple hundred yards.”

“Be careful,” the woman with the radio cautioned, “they are engaged right now. You sure you’re up to the task? You look pretty young.”

Finch took a deep breath and spoke more calmly than he felt. “I’ve been running for my life for weeks already. What’s another few hundred yards?” Then he sprinted up the steps and headed towards the sounds of battle.

“Well, I haven’t taken my dose yet today or I’d be sure I was I was trippin’” A familiar voice said behind Gene in the sterile cafeteria near the industrial kitchens at the M1 compound in Israel.

Gene turned and showed his surprise. “Jesus? I was sure you were dead.”

“Three days and I am risen,” the man mused, spreading his arms in a beatific pose, “ye of little faith, do you not believe in your Lord and Savior?”

Gene scowled, in no mood for the man’s quirky humor. “What the hell happened with you?”

Jesus grabbed a banana and sat down next to Gene, “Oh, you know, there was a girl, fell head-over-heals, didn’t work out...”

“Fucking hell, I mean at the Oasis. You got cut open.”

Jesus nodded, “That’s what I’m trying to explain. See, I’d been the recipient of a gift, of sorts, a prototype receiver that let me tap into comms across the world, right into my brain, man. Right into my fucking brain.”

“And someone cut you open to get it. Who? Anna? Charlotte?”

“Both, but they knew something I didn’t.”

“Which was?”

“Victor had my handle, dig? He could hear what I was hearing, and since I knew the old man was still alive, pretty soon, so did Victor.”

“Old man,” Gene repeated, “you mean Bridgewater.”

“Exactly, dig. Plus, word is Victor had plans for me beyond just listening in. He’s got something he wants to test out, see? Something which he could have tried with my implant. So I hear, man, so I hear.” Jesus downed the banana in about three chews and two swallows. “Not really sure what that means, man, but they did me a solid taking that out. Kinda like getting my sixth sense ripped away, but I’m getting used to the downtime, dig?”

“Why’d they just leave you to die, then?”

“Die? Shit, no. It looked bad, man, it looked bad, I know. But I was fine, really. They mellowed me before they took off. No bad dreams for this hombre.”

Gene shook his head, little of the details adding up but he was not really in much mood to argue the finer points. “So what are you doing here?”

“Same old, same old, my brother. Tappin’ into comms, breaching protocols, tappin’ that ass.”

Gene raised an eyebrow.

“Not a euphemism, my brother, there’s some top quality ass in M1. Really top quality. That Holly chick? The old man’s protege? Can’t wait to get on that one.”

A pulse of jealousy and anger caused Gene to growl but he said nothing.

“Oh,” Jesus said, “I forgot. She’s your chick, dig? I remember. Didn’t stop you from doublin’ up with Charlotte in that groovy Oasis spot. Damn hot one, that Charlotte.”

“She’s not my chick, Jesus.”

“Good,” he smirked, “you won’t mind me tapping her ass, then.”

Gene’s instinct was to punch the man, but he restrained his impulses, barely.

“This ass,” Holly said from the entranceway, shifting her hips to the side and wiggling her butt a bit, “you gotta do more than get high and talk about my ass behind my back, Jesus. I’m easy, but not easy enough to bend over for you.”

“Hmph,” Jesus chortled, “not the word I heard, dig?”

“Don’t care what you heard. This ass is not yours. Ever.”

Gene knew that seemed like an overstatement given how ready and willing Holly had been over the weeks to have sex with most anyone. Perhaps the time spent with him and the unexpected, somewhat-unwelcome closeness they had developed made her draw a line somewhere just above Jesus’s level.

“Whatever, bro,” Jesus told Holly, “I get plenty ‘round here. Trust me.”

“Don’t you have work to do?”

He shrugged, “It can wait. I was hungry.”

“And now you’ve eaten. Get the fuck back to work before I tell your XO about you taking mushrooms before flying that chopper a few weeks back...”

“Shit,” he said calmly, “dude knows, trust me. I got a whole Amazonian pharmacy in my bunk. Sometimes I just randomly take shit, don’t even know what it might do.”

“Somehow I doubt that’s true, though you wish it to be. How about I tell your XO about that little confession. Sure you want someone searching your room right now?”

Jesus sat up, his eyes crossed enough for Gene to be fairly certain the man was high right that second. “No need to get pushy, dig? I’m outta here.”

He left quickly, and Holly brought a cup of coffee over to the table.

Bridgewater, Silver, and Marisa walked in suddenly, “Gene, Holly. Good. I have news.”

Gene stood, as did the young blonde.

“We have a plan to retake the Cambridge. It doesn’t involve you two.”

Holly protested, “What? Why?”

“Details don’t matter right now. You’re not going to idle. What’s important is that I’m going with Marisa and a couple of techs. What we need to do won’t be easy, but we’ve worked out the plans. Gabriel thinks he’s in control of my boat, and for now, he’s right. But he’s wrong about who his allies are in this fight. He’ll find out too late how wrong he is.”

Holly looked certain to press her father, but she stayed silent.

“What about your mole?” Gene asked, then remembered too late that had been told in privacy for his ears only. Holly knew, certainly, and Marisa and Silver had been outside of suspicion, but that didn’t mean the latter two were aware of how close the infiltrator had gotten to Bridgewater.

The man flinched, one of only a spare few signs that Bridgewater didn’t have complete control over everything before him. “Ears only, Gene. Remember?”

“Sorry...”

“It’s fine. I’ll bring these two up to speed shortly. As to your question ... I have a couple of suspects, both of whom are currently in Tirano and didn’t come here. Unless they’ve tapped me some other way, they won’t be able to pass on this plan to the Cambridge.”

“So what am supposed to do, then?” asked Holly, fidgeting.

“You’re taking Gene back to Tirano.”

“I thought it was under siege,” Gene muttered.

“It was. It is,” Bridgewater replied. “But by the time you get there, there will be an opportunity to get inside. I need you there right now.”

“I thought you wanted me safe, Bridgewater,” Gene said. “I’m not complaining, my kids are there, but why move me somewhere under attack.”

The man leaned closer and said quietly, “Because, despite my mole, I trust your safety more to Anna and those in Tirano than I do here. Spider’s the real deal, but some of these others,” he said, raising his head towards the door behind him, “are lazy layabouts who I don’t trust enough to tie my shoes.”

“You talking about Jesus?”

“What? No,” Bridgewater said, suddenly grinning. “No. That guy sure acts the part, I know, but he’s as solid as anyone. I trust him almost as much as I do my daughters. Don’t believe everything you see, Gene.”

Gene didn’t bother to point out the concerning manner in which Jesus had acted the few times Gene had met him, instead saying, “Fine. So Holly and I go to Tirano, you get back your sub. What then?”

“Working on that. If I can get control of the Cambridge fast enough, we can better track and reach your wife and Utah. Holly, I’m sure you remember your algo?”

“Of course,” the blonde replied, “it’s nearing Malta from the west.”

“Correct, though Gabriel has only recently stopped following the route. We’ve sussed him out, though,” the man beamed, “and Utah’s not taking Tamara to Sicily, at least not the north side. It turned a few minutes ago, now heading in the same direction as the Cambridge. It might not be coincidence. It’s possible Utah and Gabriel are in this together, though I doubt Utah would do so without getting something pretty significant in return. The Mantis is off-net right now, so we’re not sure where he comes in to this currently. Our best bet is to take the Cambridge and cut off Utah. You two are going to Tirano. A jet will get you to Bergamo and I want you on it in five minutes. From there, you figure out how to get to Tirano. Understood?”

Holly nodded and Gene grunted but did the same.

“Good luck, you two,” Bridgewater said, sticking out his hand and shaking Gene’s.

Holly closed in for a hug, holding her father tightly. Gene heard him whisper, “I’ll be fine, Kitten. I’ll see you again soon.”

“That better not be a lie this time,” she hissed in reply before looking at Gene with a serious expression and then heading towards the door.

Logan held very still behind two thick trees growing out of the same massive trunk. He’d been following the soldiers for almost two hours, slowly trailing the last in the line as far back as he could without losing sight of them. Being naked and the air cool, he was shivering horribly, his feet completely numb. Logan knew he was in trouble when his pain numbed somewhat and his head started to feel thick and unfocused. He had to find warmth soon or he would never live long enough to destroy the device which had shut down communications with the bunker.

He listened a moment, sure the soldiers which were lagging behind at least thirty others had started moving again, and his legs, barely able to move, started pulling him in their tracks.

Gunfire had been heard ahead some distance, more in echo than direct, but it grew louder the further he went. It wasn’t quite a heroic moment to fear that he would be shot, but his weak state and his shivering body made it difficult to force down such thoughts and be brave. He pressed on anyway.

Logan was almost certain that the two people he’d heard talking from the intake were in with the soldiers ahead. The man’s voice was distinctive and commanding, and Logan had heard him talking several times to a woman whose tones matched those he’d heard earlier. That meant the device had not gotten away, which gave him hope that he might be able to take it from her.

His shivering was making his teeth chatter, and the pain in his jaw was growing minute by minute. At least the pack on his back protected a small part of his skin from being so cold.

The voices grew louder and he stopped again, able to look out from a thick line of bushes and see that the soldiers had formed a circle around a campfire, joining another dozen or so. There were hurriedly downing cans of something edible and throwing back canteens. Logan crept closer.

He made out the commanding voice again and listened.

“ ... three are going to Delta. Get there! I want first on my left, second on my right. I’ll be in the middle with third. We’re pushing through that breach ahead. Ammo and weapons only. We jump in sixty seconds.”

Logan saw shouldered packs being slung to the ground as the men and women grabbed extra clips and brought rifles to the ready position. A minute later, they rushed off at a measured pace towards where gunfire was intensifying.

He crept forward, enough to snag several of the packs. Logan raced back to cover, then pulled out socks and shirts and underwear, finding a few that fit alright if very loosely. The pants were harder to size, but in what had to be a woman’s pack (because Logan spotted tampons) he found a pair of camouflage trousers which he could fasten with a tied off belt. He returned to the campfire, warming himself quickly, feeling coming back to his feet and fingers and sending shards of icy pain through him as his nerves came back to life.

Logan rummaged through the other packs but couldn’t find any shoes which fit him. So he put on six pairs of socks to keep warm, then downed a spare canteen of cool water. He swallowed quickly, then steeled himself again, carefully heading in the direction the soldiers had take gone.

Right towards the battle.

Tamara confirmed that the console did nothing when she tried to maneuver the sub. Buttons pressed gave no obvious response. At one point, she’d slammed her hands down hard in frustration, but the blinking lights and the low drone of the engines never faltered.

She returned to the room and saw that Haul had managed to move himself a few inches towards the bed. She kicked his leg and he groaned through the gag.

Her frustration was compounded by the sub’s small size. Other than the cockpit and the bedroom, there were only two small storage closets, a single marine toilet, and a tiny shower with a sink inside the stall. There was no where to go to get away from the man held captive in the bedroom without either sitting on the commode or staring into the darkness out the front of the boat.

“How did you track me?” she asked without expecting a response. Tamara had retied the blindfold around Haul’s eyes and when his silence was his only reply, she checked his restraints and pockets for the third time in the last hour.