Enemy One (Epic Book 5) (99 page)

To the rest of the world, the night of Tuesday, March 27
^th
, in Izu, Japan, was one of glorious victory. It was a night in which the vilest traitors on Earth were thwarted by those tasked with humanity’s protection. But to those who lost something—who lost everything—it was a night that felt anything but victorious. It felt like parts of their souls died. As if life had fallen apart. All that remained was but to pick up the pieces.

But alas, even for those with cause to celebrate—even for those of ill-intent—the tide of victory was about to recede. For in the midst of their vainglory, a dark force was working—a force of the night that was anything but vanquished.

A force that had been there all along.

Tuesday, March 27
^th
, 0012 NE

2050 hours

EDEN Command

THE FORCE WITH which Scott was shoved forward was indicative of the level of contempt his captors had for him. Stumbling forward and falling, his hands were barely able to prevent his already-swollen face from smashing into the hangar’s concrete floor. Gingerly pushing himself up, he pivoted his head to take in his surroundings.

To take in EDEN Command.

Though he knew this was his destination during the flight, nothing could quite prepare him for actually being there. It felt like being thrust into a den of evil. The flight had been fast, scarcely leaving Scott with the time to rationalize the reality he was now in. He was a prisoner of war. A captured terrorist. Unless something miraculous happened—and miracles had been running short as of late—he would likely not leave EDEN Command alive.

It may have been for the best. Though Scott had listened in as best he could to the radio and soldier chatter around him, he had only been able to determine that there’d indeed been deaths among the ground ops team. Their identities, unfortunately, remained a mystery. Were the deaths among the six slayers on-lend from Valentin, and them alone? Were they his closest comrades? Becan? Jayden? Esther? The Falcons? Natalie?

Mark?

The lack of an answer was worse than any answer he could have received, for it teased him with hope he knew was false. There would be no sigh of relief upon learning of the deceased—if he even learned at all. Now that he was here, EDEN had no reason to tell him anything.

Straining in his soreness and fatigue, Scott began to push himself up. Then he heard the footsteps. Lifting his head, he saw them approach.

Though there was a small group marching his way, the two at the forefront were the only two that mattered. Scott recognized them immediately. One was pristine, composed and untouched by the harshness of warfare, with amber eyes and champagne hair that looked regal in its meticulousness. The other was just the opposite—a man hardened by war, of grim countenance and vehement rage. A walking tank, with Scott in his sights. Any gumption Scott had in him to rise to a stand died the moment they appeared. He knew that what was about to happen would hurt.

His pace picking up, Klaus reached down and grabbed Scott by his collar. Through hate-spewing teeth, he reared back with his fist and slammed it into Scott’s face. Scott’s head was rocked sideways as his world spun upside-down. Another hit came. Then another, then another. As Scott’s face took the beating, Benjamin Archer winced semi-disgustedly, his teeth exposed as he observed.

Scott felt blood fly from his lips, then his forehead. He felt his cheekbone crack—his teeth rattled loose. He felt his mind start to fade.

“Captain,” said Archer quickly, nervously touching Klaus’s shoulder. The German paused in mid-pullback. “We do need him to be able to
speak
.”

Looking back down, Klaus followed through with one final strike, smashing into the left side of his head right by his eye socket. There was no strength left in the captured fulcrum. Scott’s head hung as if he was dead.

Clearing his throat, Archer nodded to the guards around him. “Please bring him to Confinement. High-end cell.” Acknowledging, the guards grabbed Scott beneath his armpits. They dragged him away like a corpse. Archer turned to address Klaus. “Thank you for lending your Vectors, captain. I am certain that, without their assistance, this operation would have failed.” As he spoke, his eyes drifted to the transport Scott had arrived on, where other members of the team, including Todd Kenner, were unloading their gear. Quietly, Archer sighed. “As for your decision to involve your friend, Kenner, in what was supposed to be a covert affair…I’m sure we’ll discuss that in due time.”

“When you finish with Remington,” Klaus said coldly, ignoring the British judge’s words, “I want to kill him.” Raising an eyebrow, Archer looked at his massive counterpart. Without another word, the Vector captain walked away.

Lowering his chin and looking forward again, Archer said under his breath, “Charming.” His attention shifted as an EDEN officer approached him from the direction of the transport. Plastering on a cordial smile, Archer waited to be addressed.

“Moderate casualties, Judge Archer,” said the deep-voiced British officer. “We have one Vector lost and one missing, though we’re trying to ascertain her whereabouts.”

“Well, that’s strange,” Archer said, clasping his hands behind his back as he strolled back through the hall.

The officer followed in tow. “As I’m sure you’ve been made aware, Hector Mendoza has been killed.”

Blinking, Archer said, “I wasn’t made aware.” He bit his lower lip and paused. “That is a pity.”

“Some of the outlaws escaped into Atami, apparently aided by the Japanese Yakuza. We’re trying some leads now.”

“They’ll be found.” Archer’s tone was unconcerned. “Did anyone find what the outlaws were looking for? That…device, of sorts?”

Frowning, the officer answered, “No, sir. No trace of anything.”

“How terribly, terribly odd.” Genuine confusion came over Archer. He angled his head deep in thought.

“We did take another prisoner.”

At that, the judge nodded. “Yes, the pilot. I know. I’ve requested she be kept at
Sydney
until we can arrange for a transfer here—soon, I hope.”

“No, sir,” answered the officer, clearing his throat politely, “I mean from the ground site. At the place in the forest where Marshall turned and we lost a Vector.”

Eyes narrowing curiously, Archer stopped and looked back at him.

“One of the outlaws we found there was still alive. He’s riddled with bullets, but he’ll live. He’s been transferred to a hospital in Tokyo—”

“No,” said Archer, cutting him off quickly. “I want him transferred here, at once. I’ll not risk losing another captured outlaw to shoddy hospital security.”

The officer dipped his head. “As you wish, judge.”

“The more outlaw prisoners, the better,” Archer said, a faint, yet charming smile diffusing his prior sternness. Turning and with his hands behind his back, he said to the officer as he left him behind, “Never hurts to have another card in the hand!”

*
      
*
      
*

The floor of the cell hit Scott hard as he was unceremoniously dropped onto it, wincing even as the unbeaten side of his face impacted it. He felt disoriented. Dead. With every ounce of strength he had left, he reached out with shaking hands to sit himself up. As the glass door sealed behind him, Scott looked back, making brief eye contact with the pair of guards standing outside of it before they turned their backs to him.

Crawling to the side of the cell, the fulcrum propped himself up sideways against the wall, his face hidden from view as it faced the other way. With his busted lip quivering, Scott’s battered face twisted as emotion came tumbling out. Losing to saline what little sight he had left around his swollen eyes, Scott lowered his head and surrendered to suffocating tears.

The War Room

“MISTER PRESIDENT!”

The urgent shout came from across the War Room. Malcolm Blake turned his head, then excused himself from the small gathering of judges and officers around him. Making his way past the rotating, holographic globe, he placed his hand against the back of the chair belonging to the communications operator who’d called for him. “What is it?”

The operator’s voice was shaking. “Sir, it’s about Chernobyl.”

Norilsk, Russia

STANDING IN THE concourse of
Northern Forge
’s tram station, Valentin Lukin waited nervously, the keeper’s hands sweating as he clasped them behind his back. Along with numerous others standing behind him in waiting, he watched as the light of an approaching tram appeared from around the bend.

EDEN Command

“THAT’S IMPOSSIBLE,” Blake said, eyebrows furrowed in something akin to panic. “Tell them to check again.”

Staring at the display screen in front of him, the operator nodded as if to indicate that it’d already been done. “It’s like I’ve said, sir—they have. Again, and again.” Swallowing hard, he looked back at the president. “There are no dead bodies in the rubble.”

“Sir?”

Blake turned as another War Room officer addressed him.

“Director Kang would like to see you in his office.”

The president’s eyes trailed downward. Though he nodded his head in response, he said nothing. Hesitating and with a gradually heavying countenance, he looked at the primary communication station in the center of the room, his gaze locking onto the object that had made all of this possible.

They’d found it abandoned in the ruins of
Hami Station
—left there like a prize to be claimed. Through it, EDEN Command had been able to listen in to everything the Nightmen were planning. They’d heard Chernobyl specifically named as the Nightmen’s rallying point, confirming what Oleg Strakhov had told them. They heard about the plan to hijack a train, giving EDEN the ability to set up their ambush. It had clued them into the fact that the Nightmen had stolen their access codes, prompting EDEN to briefly switch over to their backup satellite network while a new set of codes was put in place. They’d heard all of this discussed by Remington and the man called Antipov themselves.

It was a Nightman helmet with a functional internal comm, tuned right into the channel the Nightmen had been using. All the while Blake stared at it, the featureless, expressionless helmet stared right back at him. Its poker face was unwavering.

Norilsk, Russia

AS IOSIF ANTIPOV stepped from the front door of the tram, his smoky eyes found Valentin. Smiling, the eidola chief marched confidently in the keeper’s direction. Behind him, Grigori Saretok and his legion of fulcrums began to emerge.

“Keeper Lukin—so very good to see you.” Antipov offered Valentin a Nightman salute. It was returned in kind.

His hand clutching Varvara’s as to not lose track of her, Yuri Dostoevsky slipped through the crowd, dodging the occasional leashed necrilid as they sniffed at their new surroundings. Emerging from the throng, Dostoevsky and Varvara’s eyes searched for anyone familiar.

“I hope everything you find here will be to your satisfaction,” said Valentin as they marched down the halls.

ANTIPOV SMILED PLEASINGLY. “I am sure that it will be.” Lifting his chin and drawing in a breath, he said, “You have done very well, Lukin. Above and beyond what was asked of you as keeper.” He glanced at those following behind him. “Could someone please inform the medical bay that I am here? I would like to see my daughter.”

EDEN Command

OLEG WAS SITTING ON a medical bench near the V2 that’d returned him to EDEN Command when an officer approached him. Wincing as the nurse treating him tended to his wounds, he turned his head to the officer as the man leaned down to whisper a three-worded report.

Blinking back in disbelief, Oleg looked up at the officer with an expression of total befuddlement. The officer nodded his head slowly as if to reaffirm his words, before he turned to walk away.

Though the officer was gone, the befuddled look on Oleg’s face remained. Staring ahead blankly and open-mouthed, the former eidola no longer seemed to notice the pain of his wound being treated. He seemed completely attuned to the revelation he’d received.

At something that should not have been.

Norilsk, Russia

“I WOULD BE LYING if I claimed to understand all of what is happening,” Valentin said as he and Antipov walked on. The keeper looked at him with concern. “Why did you not want me to release Lilan’s video? Why was it necessary to send Remington and his comrades to a place where you knew EDEN would be waiting for them? And why send us to
Hami Station
for access codes that you knew EDEN could change as soon as they heard you speak of them? I understand why I was tasked with leaving behind a helmet, but…”

Quietly, the eidola chief chuckled. “What is the most effective way to ambush someone?” he asked. Valentin shook his head, indicating that he didn’t know. “Make them think the ambush was their idea.” He lifted his chin. “I did not need access codes—just for EDEN to know that I possessed them. You see, Lukin…a well-designed machine has many parts, but not all of them touch.”

EDEN Command

DIRECTOR KANG WAS already waiting when Blake knocked on his door. When the president stepped inside, the scent of aging pine needles hit his nostrils.

“President Blake,” said Kang, the old Chinese man pacing about the back of his desk. “Congratulations on a wonderful day.”

With trepidation, Blake closed the door behind him, though at no point did his stare deviate from Kang’s. “Thank you, director—”

“I hear that Todd Kenner was present on this mission,” Kang said, cutting the president off. “Would you care to explain why?”

Blake rubbed his bald head, blowing out a breath before answering. “Yes, well, it appears that the good captain of Vector was…keeping his friend informed. He admitted to us that he told Kenner about the operation. Whether he asked Kenner to partake or Kenner volunteered on his own, I don’t know for sure, but Captain Faerber definitely knew that Kenner would be there.”