Chapter 22

Two men Randy did not know entered the room where he, Sergeant Henri Capoue, and Leslie Jenkins sat. The white man was too short to be a Marine. His gait hinted at a reserved character. Reading about how predatory humans walked with purpose and confidence now had a context. Randy suddenly wondered from which part of Sir Samuel's web of resources these two sprang forth.

Watching the interplay Randy suspected the black guy held command. It was not a case of follow the leader, but the white guy seemed to mirror the other man. He recognized this from how the privates followed Capoue. It seemed that even in this secure room these men were taking nothing for granted. Randy turned his attention to the black man. He physically looked like a scale model of Ray-ray. Little of Ray-rays' kindness reflected in the face, there was something in the eyes. He moved with a slightly longer step. Randy realized he made occasional eye contact with everyone, but also scanned the room as he walked to the table.

"Ms. Jenkins, Randy, Sergeant," The black man spoke. "I am known as Bubba," he nodded toward his partner. "This is Clem." They took seats on the far side of the table.

"Ma'am," Clem spoke. "We need to take Randy back to Zurich." There was a pause. "We intend to use him to force the hand of the group that attacked you in Cambridge."

Randy noticed that little vein in her right temple as it pulsed. Next to him sat not his surrogate mother, but Ms. Howard English teacher of ass kicking. Rumors of what happened to the members of the Tampa Police Department after the Mary Stevens incident at last year's Grad Adventure at Busch Gardens revisited themselves. There was a deep inhale "The last time you people provided security for my children he was shot. My daughter and her classmates were passed off to the Crown." Her voice showed no hint of emotion. She made two fists slowly everyone could hear her joints pop. "If I were not heavily pregnant each of you lot would get his ass beat."

"Randy is about to turn fourteen." Bubba spoke softly, "He is projected to achieve a very high CAP score." Randy turned to look at Leslie. Her eyes held tears. "I could request a variance and seek to have him declared CAP eligible."

Leslie suddenly became silent. Randy was nervous. Suddenly he was no longer confident. He slid his hand under hers. As she took hold of his hand, Randy could feel her fear.

"He is right Randy." She reached up and brushed his hair with her fingers. "Do you want to help them?"

Mr. Jenkins kept reminding his students and his conglomeration of kids that parents and teachers number one job was to create viable members of society. Usually that meant graduation. Today in this meeting, it became him.

He owed Leslie Jenkins nee Howard, teacher, mentor and hell his mom, time to put all that she had given him to use for the future. "If there is a need I will assist." He looked over at Leslie. "I trust you will look out for me." He turned to Sergeant Capoue. "Henri, will you please watch over my mom and the entourage?"

After he heard the "Oui," Randy followed Bubba and Clem out the door.

"He is a survivor petite mère." Capoue added. Leslie leaned into the sergeant. She cried softly.

Randy with the help of Myrrdyn created a plausible scenario. Actually, they borrowed a plot device from a Star Trek the original series, episode 20 to be exact. A synopsis of data transfers and bench line tests popped into existence. They were total falsehoods.

Could this gambit cause enough anxiety to create a misstep? Mistakes had been made, if he could decipher the reasons behind why the additional cleaning sweeps on the moon base. Perhaps he could do more. Anyone who took the time to study knew the AIs constantly monitored each other. He hoped this bluff would cause an error in the King of Clubs activity.

Where Randy felt the true seductive nature lay was in the truth about these reports. Director Cassell had them created for use in this investigation. The specialist from Wayward compiled them. AIs if questioned would state they were of no value what so ever. The last bit of mischief Randy wanted to attribute to the manipulative skills of his little sisters, devious little witches he loved. Simple reverse psychology, he suggested that Director Cassell to confirm that his position as Director of Intelligence dose not give him the authority to circumvent Privacy Mode, to spy on Confederacy Personel.

The next day a V43 Ocelot dropped Randy off on the helipad of Andres' penthouse. Bubba and Clem escorted him to the training center. He spent the day in Arkansas working with Myrrdyn adding layers to the deception. In the evenings, they escorted him back to the penthouse. There he waited for the trap to spring. On the second day, the driver from the Maserati in England showed up on the traffic cameras in the area. Miraculously he still defied all optical physics, as shadows never crossed his face.

They only had one person who entered into the counter conspiracy unknowingly. Once this was complete, every one of his children and grand children would be offered a place on Wayward.

Professor Ali Amir's plane touched down at Zurich Kloten Airport. A woman held up a sign with his name. Amir had always been partial to gingers. He followed her out to a waiting dark gray estate wagon.

"Professor Amir," she spoke with a North Carolina accent. "Your accommodations have changed. I am taking you to a penthouse on General Cusian Quai."

"May I inquire as to why?" Recent events had made him a bit shy as to changes in plans.

"Raj Kapoor, your assistant at the university contacted your travel company and requested a change." She paused weaving in throughout the traffic. "There was a bed bug infestation at the hotel you were designated to use. The insecticide they used is very invasive with an extended half-life. It proves to be very detrimental for the insects, entomologists such as you study."

"Thank you," Amir played the scenario over in his mind. Young Kapoor had married Amir's third daughter. Raj's family had abandoned him when he sought to earn his degree. Slowly the boy had become like a son. Amir sent a text to his daughter Sanji.

As the traffic thickened, the wagon still sliced through. Amir barely noticed the direction changes, he found himself unconcerned. Not wanting to distract the driver, he waited for a reply. Once confirmed he decided to nap in the backseat.

He was awoken by the sharp change in elevation entering the parking structure. The ginger driver dropped him off at the elevator.

"Enter your wife's birth date into the key pad." She winked at him. "Your luggage will be brought up shortly."

Once he entered the date, the elevator doors opened. Amir stepped inside.

The image on the screen showed the old man swaying slightly. The unknown music must have stirred an old memory. As the car passed between floors, the image jumped as the contacts reset.

Isaac radioed that the old man was on the elevator. Having hacked the building, he had access to the security cameras and building control systems. He started looping the feed to cover their activities. He started humming My Favorite Things slowly in a low minor register. Turning to his left, he signaled thumbs up to the team leader Gunter. Isaac then activated subroutines and initiated applications to the tune.

Gunter signaled the rest of his men. The quick coded burst grabbed the team's attention. All in his line of sight turned their eyes to Gunter. He signaled one target in the elevator. Once confirmed, it relayed to each individual in a fortified or flanking position.

The unfinished ninth floor provided an advantage. No one would see the activities that were about to transpire. A seven figure sum had been deposited into the firm's account. This was a rush job. Whoever did the area survey for the asset deployment appeared to be very thorough. Gunter decided to add a few men in reserve just in case this proved too good to be true.

After they bagged the old man, the second team would breach the penthouse and collect a computer geek young punk. Once they had proof of the targets, the second larger deposit would be made.

Isaac then entered the final subroutine taking control of the elevator system and ordered the old man's car to the empty ninth floor. Raising his arm, he counted down on his fingers. Before he finished the seven men on the floor readied their weapons.

When the door opened, there was silence. A short blonde, in a leather bustier, panties, and a spiked collar, greeted the mercenaries hired to kidnap the professor. A large black man wearing a deep green Michigan State sweatshirt, on her left, and an angry looking American redneck in a flannel shirt and crimson cap Embossed with a script 'A' at her right accompanying her.

Zeke stepped forward flanked by Hans. "Halt! Halt!"

The redneck made a fist bent his right arm in an 'L' shape and then grabbed the top of his right bicep with his left hand. Giving the gunmen a classic up-yours insult often seen on the football pitch when a player defers from beating a referee. All three figures then raised machine pistols.

The mercenaries' response fell into the realms of reaction and self-preservation. On the unfinished floor, the bare concrete reflected the sound of the suppressed gunfire. After several short controlled bursts, a new reality slipped over the mercenaries. The three people never returned fire; they never ducked out of the way. The blonde was blowing a raspberry. The images disappeared. Thirty individual one hundred and eighty degree stunners fired simultaneously.

A flash announced an arrival via the transport locus in the floor of the elevator. Dressed in basic green and grey fatigues, Priscilla Percy stepped out of the elevator. "Just who chose to dress my avatar in that black leather?"

Clem and Bubba followed behind her. Bubba spoke first. "I have no idea." He turned to glare at Clem.

"Director Cassell had me watch the Hellfire Club episode of the Avengers." Priscilla turned to glare at Clem. Clem's response reverberated in his mind, as his eyes grew wide. Bubba took a big step to the right giving Priscilla extra room. "I'm somewhat backard's," he turned up the Alabama accent, "but I ain't stupid." He pointed at the men on the floor. "It worked."

Priscilla turned to face her subordinates. She crossed her arms. "Myrrdyn," she spoke aloud. "The next time my avatar is dressed other than by specification, I want the authorizer's avatar and these two's avatars, ' she glanced at here subordinates, "to appear in pink camouflage mankinis."