Deja View 384y1t

D. J. Reynolds ___________________________ Déjà View A Novel

Copyright © 2021 by Donald J. Reynolds All rights reserved. This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses and events are a product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or locales is entirely coincidental.

Table of Contents

Title Page

Copyright Page

Deja View

The Cure

The Theory

The Assignment

The Test

The Roofie

The Darkness

The Gambler

The Killer

The Orb

The Lake

The River

The Ship

The Hostage

The Plan

The Escape

The Odds

The Blade

Epilogue

Acknowledgements For the encouragement I needed to write this second novel, I want to thank Darcey, Tracey, my brothers Scott and Jim, Olga, Ray, Theresa, my wife Chris, Paulette, my daughter Caryn, Melissa, and so many others too numerous to mention. I thank you all! In particular, I still owe a debt of gratitude to my brother Dean for his role in leading me to this endeavor. I also want to thank Carlene Cobb for her outstanding editing skills and willingness to help me try to become a better writer. I greatly appreciate her efforts and patience.

For Cera. Always ed. Forever loved.

Déjà View

The Cure

“D amn it,” groused Dr . Johnathan Carlyle, tossing another casual shirt to the back of his closet. He was searching for one that was both comfortable and stylish for the long hike with his girlfriend through Arizona’s Salt River mountain range. Nothing seemed right. Sorting through his remaining options, he found a light green polo he felt might work. On closer inspection, he decided it was too worn and flipped it on top of the others. A lightweight khaki shirt with two button-down pockets was his only remaining choice. He removed it from its hanger, held it to his chest in front of a mirror and frowned. Was he trying too hard to impress her? He exhaled an accepting groan. On his drive to Tanya’s apartment, John reflected on how fortunate he was to have met her now that the years of locking himself away in the research lab appeared to be ending. The timing could not be better. Having dedicated his career to discovering a cure for glioblastoma, a deadly form of brain cancer, John had spent the last 17 years toiling over countless failed attempts. But his latest drug, a compound synthesized from the venom of a blue-ringed octopus showed great promise in clinical trials. The drug had already proven it could substantially slow tumor growth, and John was feeling good about it being a full cure once he perfected the dosages. And even if it failed as a cure, he believed with a little more time and effort he could find the answer. Tanya sat on the front steps of her apartment building enjoying the mid-morning sun while waiting for John to arrive. With little else to occupy her time, she reviewed her plan for the day and then decided to freshen her makeup. Before she could locate the compact buried deep in her purse, she noticed John’s aging silver Buick sedan clear the corner. She watched him park hastily on the opposite side of the street and laughed when a garbage truck nearly struck him as he hopped out of the car. How could he not see that? Her feminine charms, she mused, must be working better than expected. Still, she would leave nothing to chance. “Nice shirt,” she called, ing John was self-conscious about his appearance. “Did you bring the canteens? It’s going to be a hot one.” Tanya was twelve years younger than John, and by all appearances out of his league. She had shoulder-length raven hair, which complemented her deep blue-

green eyes perfectly. Her face resembled a New York model, featuring high cheekbones, perfect symmetry, and a strong, slender nose. The twenty-eightyear-old woman was stunning in anything from a swimsuit to an evening dress and could even rock a hospital gown if the circumstances called for it. Although she felt less endowed than she would like for her tall athletic frame and the physical appeal she relied on to do her job, it all worked and worked well. And she knew it. After crossing the street, John slowed his pace. He was hoping Tanya, who appeared to be wearing very short shorts, would stand and give him a good look at her perfectly toned legs. “I heard it might hit over 100 degrees,” he said, rolling his eyes and nodding his head toward the sky. “And yes, I ed the water. Brought some granola bars too.” “You’re the best,” Tanya said. She stood as he reached the steps and greeted him with a ionate kiss. The irresistible taste of her mouth and intoxicating scent of her perfume made John feel like his knees were melting. He held her close, more to prevent falling than to show his affection. Lips still ed, Tanya reached behind his hips and pulled him even closer. As she expected, she felt his arousal. Holding John for a few seconds longer than she wanted, waiting until she was certain her seductive charms had completely captivated him, she released the embrace. “Time to go,” she announced and grabbed his hand, spinning him on his heels before she pulled him toward the car. Frequently surprised by Tanya’s impulsive personality, John was becoming familiar with her sharp emotional changes and was intrigued by her sudden actions. It was one of the many quirky habits he was learning to love about her. “Let’s move,” she said. “We’re killing daylight.” Forcing excitement into her tone, Tanya’s meticulously concealed Russian accent slipped out with the word “killing” sounding like it had a “k” at the end. John barely noticed. The ninetyminute drive through miles of empty two-lane highways to the Salt River Canyon’s trailhead was filled with engaging conversation. With few exceptions, Tanya quizzed John about his research, focusing heavily on the clinical trials and his plans for improving the drug’s results.

“I hope that is not too technical,” he said after completing a detailed description of the drug’s molecular structure. “Not at all.” Tanya combed her fingers through his hair. “That looks better. Now, explain to me how the chemical rings affect the drug's interaction with other compounds.” It thrilled John to have the woman he loved showing such a high level of interest in his work, so he kept talking. A plume of red dust followed John’s car as he crossed the trailhead’s empty gravel parking lot. Because he did not expect to find many mid-week visitors at the remote location, the lack of vehicles did not surprise him. In fact, he was glad to be alone with Tanya. “Which trail do you want to take?” he asked while skidding to a stop on the loose stones. “I’m not sure,” Tanya answered. She gestured to a park map off to her left. “I’ll check it out over there.” After quieting the engine and stepping out of the car, John grabbed his hiking shoes and canteens from the back seat. He placed the strap to both canteens around his neck and leaned against the car to stretch his legs and back before changing his shoes. While John was busy preparing himself for the hike, Tanya made her way to the map which was pinned under a piece of cracked plexiglass at the trail’s sunweathered information center. Although she had already settled her plan days earlier, she studied the map as if she was deciding which path she wanted to take. “I need a really good workout today,” she said. Turning her backside toward John, she slapped her right butt cheek. “Don’t want to get flabby.” John’s eyes fixated on her firm bottom. Not being accustomed to women who were so forward and confident about their bodies, John laughed nervously. “No. No, you don’t. That would truly be a crime against humanity. But from what I can see, there seems to be little risk of that happening.” Tanya said, “I knew I could get a compliment out of you,” then she flashed a flirtatious look followed by an air kiss. “Can you handle the northern route? The map says it is a climb of over 4,000 feet but I’ve read that it has the most spectacular views of the Salt River.” Tanya felt certain he would unquestionably agree to her plan. So, without waiting for a reply, she headed toward the chosen trail. “It’s this way.” She waved her arm for him to follow—and he did.

Having lingered by the car for too long, John trotted across the parking lot to catch up. A few steps down the trail was a barely legible sign that appeared to be used for target practice: Lost Legend Path - 13 miles. John cringed at the thought of walking that far in the midday heat. The sun was at its zenith in a cloudless sky by the time they completed the climb to one of the ridge’s most scenic views. Although the early September temperatures were pushing the ninety-degree mark, the arid, dusty conditions made it feel closer to one hundred. Tanya felt as if she had swallowed sand. “Let’s take a break.” Her voice was grainy and forced. “I’m dying for a drink.” She was hot, tired, and ready to go home. Why is it always work before pleasure? John removed a canteen and handed it to Tanya. “Here, I filled these with spring water. And I brought a few of those powdered lemonade packets if you want yours flavored.” Tanya kissed the side of his face. “I was thinking of a frozen margarita, but this will do. Thank you, sweetheart.” After resting under the shade of a scraggly pine, her thirst now quenched, Tanya wandered nearby talking with John about their favorite restaurant and what she would order the next time they visited. Thinking she might need to rekindle John’s sexual desires, Tanya poured water over the front of her shirt causing it to stick to her stomach and breasts. “That feels heavenly,” she said, tilting her head back. John stared. “I don’t believe there is such a thing as heaven on earth. But looking at you, I would have to it you’re close.” Tanya returned his comment with a playful curtsy. Following her plan, Tanya meandered to the edge of a nearby cliff. She knew John had a fear of heights and was not sure she could draw him close. In hopes of calming his nerves, she half-hummed, half-sang the theme song from The Sound of Music. After finishing as much of the tune as she could , Tanya looked back from the abyss and saw the expected concern deep within his eyes. “What are you afraid of?” she asked. Tanya turned to face the canyon and

seemed to be in awe of nature’s handiwork, itting to herself that the vista was quite impressive. “The view is breathtaking. I can even see part of the river.” A chill shot up John’s spine as he ired the beautiful woman standing less than fifteen feet in front of him—and only inches from death. He was not sure if the sensation stemmed from his concern for her safety or from his own intense fear of heights. Or maybe both. For a few moments, the nagging worry lingered. John wondered what it was in him that Tanya found so appealing. He was smart and wealthy, which he felt was part of it. He knew he was not handsome but thought he had a certain ruggedness that made him appear tougher than he was, maybe even virile. On the outside chance his masculinity was what she most loved, he was determined not to show any sign of weakness for fear it might lessen her opinion of him. He had no interest in moving any closer to the edge and hesitated. “Well?” she prodded. Acting as casual as his shaking legs allowed, John stood and took a few tentative steps forward. Tanya was now the only thing between him and the chasm a few feet away. John pushed up onto his toes and stretched his neck as far as he could to peer into the gorge without stepping any closer. “Truly amazing,” he said. “I love this place,” Tanya said. Turning in place, her back to the rim less than a foot away, she spread her arms wide. “And I love you.” “I love you, too,” John responded without hesitation. As Tanya expected, her hypnotizing eyes, along with her alluring charms, prevailed over John’s lingering fear. Ignoring for a moment how close he was to the edge, he stepped forward into her tight embrace. EEAAK! The distant screech of a hawk echoing through the canyon broke the spell. “I know of a pleasant spot about a mile from here down by the river. Perhaps a cool swim might be of interest.” He gently pulled back from Tanya’s hug expecting she would release him to retreat to safer ground. But she held him close and he felt the strength in her arms as they encircled his chest, her fingers locked together behind his back. His attempt to free himself failed.

“Sir, are you suggesting a little skinny dipping?” Tanya teased in a playful voice. Releasing her fingers and dropping her arms to his waist, Tanya leaned her hips into him just as she had on the apartment’s step earlier. “How do you know I am that kind of girl?” “Um, I don’t. I mean yes, I guess so.” With a sudden drop of her knees and hard twist of her upper body, Tanya spun and pushed John away from her, sending him into mid-air above the canyon. “Then let’s go now!” she snarled, a hoarse growl of bitter loathing pushed the tenderness from her voice. Looking back as he fell, the realization of it all instantly crystalized for him in that airborne moment. She had duped him. But why? His research had the potential to save so many lives. “YOU BITCH!” he screamed. Tanya’s wicked smile widened when John’s flailing body slammed into a sharp limestone outcropping with enough force to snap his backbone and nearly split him in half. Even knowing medical researcher Johnathon Carlyle had spoken his last words, Tanya continued peering over the edge to watch her target bounce off the canyon’s jagged face and land headfirst onto a massive boulder a few inches below the river’s surface. She stared at the crimson-stained water drifting downriver until her bloodlust was satiated. Tanya’s given name was Tatyana. She was a Russian agent working for WISE, a secret organization which she was once told stood for Watch, Infiltrate, Steal, and Eliminate. She understood this was not true but did not care. The organization, as she knew it, was an illegal worldwide intelligence-gathering agency that stole and profited from others’ research. Truth be told, she cared little about this either. Her only two concerns were being allowed to continue working for a group that needed her deadly skills and provided the tools and cover to kill people—preferably men—and get away with it. Over time, she had proven herself to be one of WISE’s most effective field operatives. She wanted to keep it that way and felt concerned that in Johnathan’s case, she may be faulted for doing her job out of order by eliminating her target before stealing his work.

The Theory

“Y es,” Professor Davilaar said, pointing to a disheveled young man sitting in the last row of a small, dimly lit lecture hall. Designed without windows, the room seemed dreary to Kal. Sneaking a glance through the room’s only door, he was awed by the display of colors the early fall day offered. It brightened his already good mood. He smiled and turned his attention back to the student. “Are you saying time travel is theoretically possible?” Professor Kalvin Davilaar, or Dr. Kal as he preferred to be called by his students, was teaching an introductory course in physics. Considered by his colleagues to be a master at simplifying the complex, Dr. Kal preferred covering more advanced topics but enjoyed building enthusiasm for the subject at any level. He expected a student would ask the time travel question at some point during the semester, it almost always was, and he was prepared to answer. “Probably not in the way you’re thinking about it, but yes, it is,” Kal informed the student. Looking at the wall clock intending to use it as a reference point for his explanation, he realized that less than ten minutes of class time remained. Kal moved in front of the lectern. “A long time ago in a galaxy far, far away...” he said in a booming voice, using the Star Wars reference to get the student’s attention. The ploy worked, but he noticed a few confused faces. “I’m joking.” Nobody laughed. “Then say something funny,” a student blurted out. Everyone laughed. Even Kal. “We’ve only got a few minutes left,” Kal said, glancing again at the clock. “So, let me give you a quick answer to your question, and then you can read chapter twelve out of the Fischer text for a better explanation.” He waited while a few students jotted down the assignment. Once everyone looked up, he continued, “Einstein’s theory of relativity states that space and time are relative, meaning an object in motion experiences time at a slower rate than one that is stationary. It’s kind of like the difference between watching a car whiz past you while you are standing on the side of the road and being next to the car while driving at the same speed. In the first case, the car appears fast, and in the other it seems motionless, at least relative to your car. Einstein’s theory states the faster you go, the slower you move through time. But since we are moving so slowly, relative to the speed of light, we cannot detect the minuscule changes. So, at least in

theory, time can be manipulated, which further suggests that time travel is possible.” Considered to be one of the world’s most promising physicists before graduating from college, now at the age of thirty-two, Kal’s genius was unparalleled in the scientific community. To anyone who could understand his work, his research in time-harmonic electromagnetic wave formulation within multi-context fourdimensional space was transformational. If proven correct, his theories would expand Einstein’s theories in areas the man may never have considered. What the scientific community did not know was Kal had already advanced his work past his published findings, past the boundaries of Einstein’s theories. Several students closed their textbooks with a thud, signaling to Kal that class was over. “See you next week,” he called above the noise of students shuffling out of the classroom. “And don’t forget to work on your term paper!”

A light knock on his office door interrupted Kal’s line of thinking. “Professor Davilaar?” a cute coed whispered through the partially open door. “Hello, Pamela.” Kal tried to all his student’s names and thought he got hers correct. “Please, come in.” “It’s Palmer,” she uncomfortably corrected. Like most students, she felt intimidated by Kal’s standing as a world-renowned physicist. Despite his friendly nature and having been invited into the room, she moved tentatively toward his desk. “I’m so sorry. I was close,” Kal said with a friendly wink. “How can I help you?” The young woman was in love with Kal’s crystal blue eyes, if not the man himself. She blushed. Reaching into her notebook, she handed him a few papers. “I was wondering if this is what you want for our term project?” Always willing to help his students but wanting to get back to the schematics he was studying, Kal glanced at the paper and absentmindedly answered, “Sure.” He noticed a look of frustration on Palmer’s face and realized he had come across as indifferent. Kal adjusted to a more earnest tone. “If you write your email at the top, I’ll get back to you by the end of the day. Would that be okay, Palmer?” “Yes, thank you.” She wrote the information and handed him the paper. Before turning to leave, she asked, “Do you want me to close the door?” Secretly, she was hoping he would engage her in a longer conversation. Kal’s mind already returned to the problem he was working on before the interruption. “That would be great.” Kal’s response was flat. He noticed her looking down and biting the side of her lower lip as she shut the door and felt a moment of guilt for his terse reply. Before setting the paper on a stack of assignments he still needed to grade, Kal’s eye caught the student’s oddly shaped pink paper clip. He removed the clip and studied its shape for a minute, twisting it in his fingers and turning it over from

side to side. Kal ran his other hand across his temple and through his short sandy-colored hair to the back of his neck. His hand stopped as a thought began to crystalize. His eyebrows rose as the realization hit him. “That’s almost perfect,” he said to himself. The latching mechanism he had been struggling to design had just been handed to him in the form of a paper clip. Kal turned to his computer and tapped a few keys. A slide of his mouse along with a couple of clicks brought him to a screen. Entering a long sequence of characters twice, after failing on his first attempt, the software came to life displaying a diagram for a complex device. The viewer, as he coined it, was a unique, highly specialized instrument that he expected would provide brief glimpses into the future. It was a time machine, of sorts, although he never referred to it as one. Kal had not told his class the full truth about time travel. The only other person who knew of his discovery was Alec, the tall, lanky computer genius who worked as his software engineer and preferred to be called “Ace.” Ace’s full name was Alec Christian Erickson. He had been employed by Kal since their graduation from college. Kal’s brilliant mind and ability to turn theory into practical use fascinated Ace. For this reason, along with a strong brotherly bond, he hoped he would never have to work for anyone else. Ace’s expertise was in software design, but he was highly skilled at developing specialized hardware when pressed into it. He was frequently tinkering on various side projects, a practice Kal not only allowed but encouraged. Ace’s wiry frame, long brown hair, and preference for dark clothing gave him the appearance of a 1970s rock star. But if he had any ability to carry a tune, Kal never noticed it. Kal was hoping to add Zoe Baxter, a brilliant communications expert, to his team. He realized if he hired Zoe, he would have to confide in her as well. But outside of these two, Kal did not expect anyone else would know of his breakthrough research until he was ready to divulge it. Although far from having a dictatorial disposition, he would demand absolute secrecy on this project. He knew Ace was trustworthy and felt Zoe may be, as well. Suddenly realizing he had burned through an hour adding the locking mechanism to the schematics for his viewing device, Kal logged off his

computer and rushed out of his office. He was late for his meeting with Zoe. The office door locked behind him. Across campus, Zoe waited patiently for Kal to arrive. Studying the Wilmington istration building’s small coffee shop, she found the décor exactly as expected, a boring display of former university presidents’ pictures, more than half of which were in black and white. What she did not expect was the topnotch coffee. From a corner table across the room from the few remaining customers, she sipped from the cup and pondered over what she expected would be a highly confidential conversation with the most intelligent man she had ever met. “Hello Zoe,” Kal called as he approached. “I’m sorry I’m late.” Zoe was a thirty-something expert in cellular and satellite communication. Although she had worked high-profile positions in private industry and within some lesser-known federal agencies, it was her work at the Ladimore Institute in mirrored micro-signal transference that first caught Kal’s attention. This, along with her pleasant demeanor and quick wit, made her a perfect addition to his team. Now, he needed to convince her to sign on. “This is my second cup, and it is otherworldly,” Zoe said matter-of-factly. “Anytime you want to be late for a meeting in this place, I’m good with it.” Kal felt her courteous greeting was letting him off the hook too easily. “Given how much effort I put into studying time, you would think I could figure out how to manage it better.” He raised his eyebrows and shrugged his shoulders showing he felt there was no excuse for his tardiness. The table Zoe selected had four chairs. Rather than sitting across from her as she expected, Kal chose the chair on her left. “So, have you thought about my offer?” Kal pulled himself close, keeping his voice low. “Yes, but I need to have a few more things clarified,” Zoe responded directly. “First of all, I would be leaving a good-paying job and don’t understand how you can afford to pay me on a professor’s salary. No offense intended.” Kal smiled. He purposely left out a lot of details during her first interview and knew this topic would come up. “None was taken. For starters, I only teach parttime. A course or two each semester. More importantly, I own a small medical

device company specializing in magnetic resonance spectroscopy. The company is called ZetaMag. You’ve probably never heard of it. The devices we make measure electromagnetic signals from atomic nuclei within molecules. The technology works great for diagnosing living organisms because it does minor damage to surrounding tissue. I’m not all that interested in it, but it’s very profitable.” “I see. It doesn’t sound too sexy.” Zoe thought Kal was extremely handsome. Her face flushed, wishing she had chosen a word other than sexy. “It isn’t. But you wouldn’t be working there. It just pays the bills. The company you would work for is Grover Paint Additives.” Shifting back in her chair, Zoe frowned. “That sounds even worse.” “Don’t worry. The company is just a front for the...” Zoe interrupted. “I will not get involved in anything illegal!” “No. Oh my goodness. No. It is nothing like that at all.” Kal paused for a moment, allowing the tension to subside. “Everything I am doing is perfectly legal, as is the company, although it is ed in the Cayman Islands to provide additional security. You see, there are a lot of eyes watching me, and I need to be extremely careful. I need to keep my activities as secret as possible. Lord only knows how many government agencies are watching what I do. I’m sure you even worked for one of them. Only Ace and I and you, assuming you the team, will ever know about this project—at least until we prove the process has a real-world application.” Picking up her cup, Zoe swished the last bit of coffee around the bottom as she contemplated the additional information. Swallowing the last few drops, she relaxed. “That stuff should be illegal it so good. Anyway, what exactly would I be doing? You were somewhat vague about my job duties the first time we met.” “That question brings us to a stalemate,” Kal said. As his apprehension about confiding in her grew, his fingers began tapping rapidly on the black marble tabletop. “It seems I don’t want to tell you anything more unless you take the job, and you don’t want to take the job unless I tell you more about it. How can I be one hundred percent sure I can trust you?”

Zoe had a perfect smile, the type typically associated with people who wore braces as a child. “If you didn’t trust me, would you be offering me the job?” She waited for a second allowing the response to hit him. “Plus, I’m reasonably sure you’ve completed multiple background checks and found my resume to be accurate and impeccable. I expect that will get you to about ninety-nine percent certain. I base the last one percent on my word.” Kal itted to himself she made some good points, but it was still an enormous risk to divulge additional information. By nature, Kal was a trusting person. Although a betrayal on a separate project recently tested his fundamental belief in the goodness of people, it was the sensitive nature of his current research that tempered him. Mitigating this concern was his gut feeling that once Zoe understood his project, she would jump at the opportunity and eliminate the need for secrecy. He had searched everywhere for others with talents as diverse and innovative as hers, but she was by far the best. The fact she was unmarried with no close relatives made her an even better candidate as there would be a lesser chance of her sharing sensitive information, intentionally or not. Kal would take the risk. His finger tapping stopped. “Your job,” he said, “would be to find a very specific magnetic anomaly within triangulated cell phone signals. Think of a square, rectangle, or any other trapezoid with an X drawn in the center touching all four corners forming four triangles.” Kal removed a pen from his pocket and grabbed a napkin. “Like this.”

Kal could see he had Zoe’s full attention. “Now imagine this design is made with cell phone signals rather than lines on a piece of paper. If there is a strong magnetic pulse anywhere within the square, then each of the signals will become slightly distorted. So now it looks more like this one, with the dot being the magnetic pulse.”

“Certain characteristics of the distortion within each of the six signals, and in the triangles themselves, provide the exact location and strength of the magnetic anomaly.” Kal stopped to allow Zoe time to absorb the information, a habit he picked up in the classroom. Rubbing her left temple as if forcing the information into her head, Zoe nodded. “Got it. So, I’ve located a magnetic anomaly. Now what?” “Now what?” Kal repeated. “You find a bunch more.” “Why?” Before allowing himself to continue, Kal gauged her level of interest in the job. “Based on what you know so far, would you consider ing the team?” “If this is more than just an Easter egg hunt for magnetic pulses, then yes, I am more than interested.” “Alright, but I am taking a gigantic leap of faith with you,” Kal said. Zoe stared into his eyes. “I know. You can trust me. I promise.” Seeing no other path to move the conversation forward, Kal gave in to his concerns. “The anomaly is actually more of a vortex,” Kal began. “Think of it as an upside-down magnetic tornado strong enough to distort time. The mathematics and physics involved are complex but founded in Einstein's theory of relativity.” Kal paused once again to give Zoe time to think. “Distort time?” Zoe was not following. “As in time travel?” “Yes. As in time travel,” Kal confirmed. Looking around for a hidden camera thinking she was being played the fool, Zoe then centered her attention directly on Kal’s face. “You’re insane!” “No, I’m not. It happens all the time. It has happened to you. It’s called déjà vu.” Kal grinned. “Are you going to sit there and tell me you’ve never experienced déjà vu?”

“Of course, I have.” “Well then, you were in a magnetic vortex, or as I call it a déjà vu tunnel, or simply a DVT for short.” Zoe shook her head no. “Those experiences never make any sense. Déjà vu is just a weird premonition, a trick of the mind.” Following her lead, Kal shook his head no. “You’re wrong. The sensation of déjà vu is not a series of misfiring synapses in your brain. It is real. But since our minds cannot translate the heavy magnetic waves, the future it interprets turns into that disquieting déjà vu sensation, or when the DVT is weaker, more like the feeling of being watched.” “If I’m hearing you correctly, if déjà vu truly represents an actual future event, then that would imply everything that is going to happen has already happened.” She seemed dumbfounded. Kal raised an eyebrow. “Yes, that is the implication.” “That can’t be possible. How?” “It’s complicated. So, you need to consider a few things. For one, it seems like we are sitting in this coffee shop motionless. Would you agree?” “Yes.” “In reality, we are spinning around the earth at about 1,000 miles-per-hour, and the earth is circling the sun 67 times faster than that. Then, our solar system is moving through space even faster, and our entire galaxy is expanding at 1.3 million miles-per-hour.” Zoe appeared to be ing the information. “Okay, but if memory serves me correctly, isn’t the speed of light over 500 million miles-per-hour? Everything you just listed doesn’t even come close to that number. And, at least in the movies I’ve seen, which I it is my entire knowledge on the subject, time travel requires someone to approach light speed.” “You’re close. Light speed is closer to 670 million. That means if you could travel at light speed, you would circle the Earth over seven times in one second.

And that brings me to my second point. Imagine a sun large enough to keep planets in its orbit. Let’s use our sun and the planet Pluto. Pluto weighs roughly 28 sextillion pounds.” Kal could see he was gaining ground. “In case you don’t know, sextillion is a 1 with 21 zeros following it. Although Pluto is small compared to Earth, that is still a lot of zeros. Add to this the fact that Pluto is almost four billion miles away from the sun. Combine the distance and weight, and you’ve got a lot of gravitational pull the sun is generating. And then factor in magnetic forces which are significant too, although they are much weaker than gravity. Unless, of course, you are talking about electromagnetic forces which can reach levels about one million times stronger than Earth’s gravitational pull.” “Silly me.” Zoe flashed her flawless smile. “Of course, the electro gigantic magnetic sextillion gravitational whatchamacallits.” Kal chuckled. “Yes. Now you have it, the thingamajigs.” He looked around to confirm no one had arrived in the café and sat nearby since his arrival. “Then there is the antenna, or in my case the viewer, as I call it. You may know, or probably you don’t, that the velocity of electromagnetic waves is determined by the free space they travel through. More specifically, the permittivity and permeability of the space. Anyway, the types of technology and metals used in collecting the signals, along with the physics of the magnetic vortexes, significantly increase the electromagnetic wave strength, making it extremely efficient.” “Can you explain this to me at the freshman level?” Zoe felt she needed to better understand what Kal was saying before she could make her employment decision. He was explaining things far above her level of understanding. For the next thirty minutes, Kal outlined his entire theory. He explained how the déjà vu tunnels were a function of unique heavy gravitational and magnetic forces which lasted from about thirty seconds to a few minutes in varying degrees of strength. He showed Zoe a diagram of the déjà vu viewer he was deg and explained how the shoebox-shaped device could interpret the data in the magnetic vortexes to provide clear images of the near future. Connecting his fingertips to form a globe, he described how thousands of DVTs exist simultaneously around the earth, how they seem to follow a predictable—yet undetermined—pattern, and that they are all connected at the same time. “Wait a minute. Are you telling me you can look into one of these magnetic

vortexes with that box and see a future event in another vortex on the opposite side of the world?” Zoe asked. She was still struggling with a few of the concepts. “Exactly. But just like the déjà vu that you have experienced and based on the size and strength of the vortex, the timeframes are very near future. At most, a few minutes. Plus, I don’t control them. And that is a critical point. I cannot create them. I can only react to their existence. Which means I must locate them, move to that location at the proper time, and stand near the center of one to be connected into the global matrix of DVTs.” The look on Zoe’s face was nothing short of astonishment. “If you’re telling me that you’ve developed a device that allows someone to stand somewhere here in Chicagoland and see something that is going to happen within the next few minutes in someplace like Hong Kong, then I’m in.” “Once again, you’re close,” Kal said. “What I’m saying is, I’ve developed the technology to stand in Chicago and see a future event in Hong Kong if you can develop the system to predict and detect the magnetic vortexes in time for me to get into the center of one.” He reached out offering her his hand. “Welcome to the team.”

The Assignment

After assassinating Johnathan Carlyle, Tatyana hiked to a different trailhead where she and an accomplice had parked her car earlier in the day. She knew John’s car would be found and understood her association with him, along with other physical evidence in his car and apartment, would likely lead to her being questioned by authorities, which she was. The investigators bought her story about John appearing to have manic-depressive tendencies and how the completion of his research had triggered a deep low, even thoughts of suicide. Tatyana also paid three recent acquaintances a significant sum for an alibi and had the foresight to forge cell phone pictures to further convince the police of her whereabouts at the time of John’s death. She gave an award-winning performance of a grieving girlfriend. It worked as it always had. To Tatyana, the most enjoyable part of her job was seducing and eliminating her target. The more tedious work, at least for this assignment, involved infiltrating countless hospitals and labs to poison the drug samples John had developed. Of course, this meant more people would die from their brain cancer, but she derived no satisfaction from dealing the tarot card of death to strangers in this manner. To her the losses were meaningless. Tatyana’s only concern was to ensure that every patient receiving the treatment died, guaranteeing the drug would be listed as a failure. The process seemed endless. By the time Tatyana completed the job, including stealing all of John’s computer files and unpublished research papers, over four weeks had ed. She was eager to return to her apartment in Novosibirsk, a small town in southwest Siberia, and looked forward to receiving her next assignment. Buried deep in catag the last of her notes, she jumped when her cell phone rang. “Hello, Dirk.” “Good afternoon, sweet darling,” Dirk replied. “Are you ready to come home?” Dirk was Tatyana’s handler and second in command in WISE’s Russian division. In her view, the man was a detestable beast in every way. Secretly, she wanted to kill him in some highly creative, long, and painful manner. She only tolerated his advances and sexist remarks to keep the well-paying job she loved. “Can’t wait to see you,” she lied. “I’m flying to New York in the morning and I leave out of Kennedy tomorrow night.”

“Perfect. I’m guessing you will need a few days to relax after you arrive, but I’ve got two assignments already lined up.” “Are they in the States?” Tatyana asked. She had worked in many countries but preferred America. “The second one is in Chicago,” Dirk said. “First, you will need to take care of a minor problem in England. I’ll give you all the details when you arrive.”

Tatyana’s dark mood worsened as she made the short drive from her spacious two-bedroom apartment to WISE’s Russian headquarters. She was not looking forward to seeing Dirk or his dingy office. Tatyana could only imagine how many female agents Dirk molested and secretly filmed there. She would kill him before being added to that list. Bracing herself as she always did before entering the building, she entered her five-digit code into the security system. Inside, an electronic voice announced her arrival. “You’re early,” Dirk called from his office. “Come on back.” Tatyana had perfected the craft of hiding her emotions, a critical skill in her line of work. “It’s great to be home,” she said. She frowned slightly as she stepped into the poorly lit room. The scent of Dirk’s body odor poorly covered by cheap cologne mixed with the lingering scent of alcohol in the room made her want to vomit. “Care for a drink?” Dirk asked. Glancing at her watch, Tatyana answered, “It’s not even nine o’clock. I’ll , thank you.” Dirk was not an attractive man and his brown, crooked teeth made him even uglier. “Maybe some casual sex is more of your style at this time of day.” Tatyana wondered how this repulsive man had been rumored to seduce so many agents. Money and power, she concluded. Or more likely, he started the rumors. “I’ll on that too.” She could smell his morning coffee breath from across the room. Stepping backward, she casually leaned against the far wall. “Can’t blame me for giving it a try,” Dirk said with a lecherous grin. “Maybe later.” Not wanting to spend any more time in his office than necessary, Tatyana ignored his last comment and pressed the conversation forward. “You said something about a couple of assignments?” “Of course.” Dirk held out two large manilla envelopes. “The first one is in England. It’s a follow-up visit to Bradley Walker. Do you him?”

“Wasn’t he the guy helping that researcher, Clarence Toomey, develop a solidstate lithium-chromite battery?” Tatyana asked, not expecting a reply. She stepped forward, took the envelopes, and stepped back. “You should have seen the mess Toomey made when I crushed his head in that industrial punch press. His brain splattered everywhere. It ruined my new dress. Of course, I had to make it look like an accident, like he was reaching for something when the press accidentally cycled. That was not as easy as you might think. So, what about Bradley? That dumb son-of-a-bitch couldn’t tie his shoes if the laces were made of Velcro.” Chewing on the end of his pen, Dirk choked out a laugh. “It seems that idiot didn’t heed your warning. He’s been digging around Toomey’s old research. We don’t know if he is developing it further or just trying to sell what he knows.” “Do you want him dead?” “No. That might bring too much unwanted attention. England’s MI6 is already suspicious of Toomey’s untimely death and missing files.” Dirk pointed to the envelopes. “You will enter England as Anya Sidorov and leave from there to the States as Sandy Mabry. After you arrive, you can change your name to whatever you want. You know the routine. I’d like you in Chicago by no later than the end of next week, so leave Bradley with a message he won’t forget and get out of England as soon as you can.” Opening the second envelope, Tatyana examined her U.S. port. It was an excellent picture. They all were. Scanning through the other papers, she stopped at Kalvin Davilaar’s headshot. “Finally, a good-looking target, only a notch or two below Hollywood standards, I’d say.” She grinned. “You know, I might enjoy banging this guy. That last one, Carlyle, was uglier than a toad’s asshole. I showed him my tits a few times, which was just enough to keep his attention. If I had to screw him to keep his interest, I probably would have thrown myself off the cliff.” “Off a cliff? So that’s what you did with him. Nice one.” Dirk’s mind switched gears. “But I’ve got to tell you, pretty lady, I’d toss myself over the edge for a piece of you.” Tatyana was done playing nice. “Screw you!” Poor choice, she thought, after the words left her mouth.

“Anytime, sweetheart.” “Just tell me about Chicago.” If her eyes could kill, Dirk would be dead. Leaning back in his chair, Dirk put his feet on the only spot of the desk not covered with official papers or empty food wrappers. “Alright but consider it an open invitation. Kalvin Davilaar goes by the name of Kal or Dr. Kal. Our intel on him and his recent activities are not exactly what I would call clear. Seems he is better than most at keeping secrets. What we know, or at least what we believe, is the medical device company he owns is deg some highly specialized electronic equipment. It seems someone in his company ordered beryllium.” “What’s that?” Dirk explained how beryllium was an extremely rare and expensive metal. He described, as best he could, how the metal’s low density and atomic mass made it somewhat transparent when absorbing X-rays, and how these characteristics made it valued in particle physics, which is what placed it on WISE’s watch list. “So, you see, we don’t know exactly what Davilaar is doing,” Dirk said. “But we know it’s important, and WISE wants it. We’ve been told the man is very humble, almost to the point of seeming unexceptional. But make no mistake, Davilaar is brilliant. I mean, he is a veritable genius, so you are going to have to play this one slowly and with far more cunning than anyone you have ever encountered. I guarantee after you’re done dancing with him between the sheets, your boy toy Kal won’t be telling you any late-night bedtime stories. It will not be that easy. Not even for you.” Tatyana folded the envelopes and stuffed them into her coat pocket. “We’ll see. Sex is a formidable weapon when properly deployed, and I know very well how to wield its power. Is there anything else I should know?” “No,” Dirk replied. Then dropping his feet to the floor, he leaned toward Tatyana and pointed his finger at her face. “Just don’t kill him before you are one hundred and ten percent certain you’ve got whatever he is working on. His medical device company is into some advanced shit too, so it might be easy to get lost in the technology and steal the wrong thing. Take your time and get it right.”

“I always do,” Tatyana said. She turned, hurried out the door, and was out of earshot before Dirk could say another word.

Like most field agents, WISE rarely told Tatyana how to do her job. On most assignments, she found it easier to get information through seduction rather than torture, although she enjoyed it most when she could do both. The way she looked at things, the satisfying part of being a field agent was stealing the target’s work without them knowing it and then creating a bloody accident to finish the task. Follow up work, like the assignment in England, was of little interest, but she knew it was part of the job and had already chosen the penalty Bradley Walker would pay for his betrayal. It was ten minutes past midnight. Brad Walker was fast asleep on his couch in a pair of jeans and a rumpled t-shirt. An empty Chinese food container wobbled on his chest with each rhythmic breath. Brad’s laptop computer, still awake on the floor next to him, was the room’s only source of light. Under closed eyelids, his darting eye movements evidenced his dream state. He appeared to be in a deep REM cycle, but even in a lighter state, Brad would not have heard the assassin enter his apartment. Tatyana glided through the apartment like a snake slithering toward its unsuspecting prey. Dressed in black, she looked like a ninja, adequately equipped with five daggers, each one of the double-bladed knives perfectly balanced for throwing and meticulously honed for precision slicing. Pouring a glass of whiskey from a half-empty bottle she found in the kitchen, Tatyana took a sip. “Good morning, Bradley,” she shouted. Stepping toward the nearby couch, she switched on a lamp and tossed the rest of the drink into his face. Brad screamed and fell to the floor almost landing on his computer. “That’s no way to greet a lady,” Tatyana said calmly. “Don’t you me?” It took a few moments for Brad to clear his head, then immediately recognized the evil, yet gorgeous, woman peering down at him. She scared him to death. “Why are you here?” He knew why. Tatyana poured a double shot from the bottle she was still holding. “I want you to drink this.” She handed him the glass and set the bottle on a nearby table.

“Why? What’s in it?” Brad cried. “What are you going to do to me?” “My dear Bradley,” Tatyana said, using her best Cockney accent. “You have been a bad boy. You disobeyed my very specific instructions. that battery I told you to never look at again? You’ve been working on it, now haven’t you?” Tears formed in Brad’s eyes. He tossed back the whiskey. Switching back to her regular voice, Tatyana continued. “Do you what I said I would do if you betrayed me?” “Yes,” Brad itted. “You said you would wake me up in the middle of the night and cut off my balls with a pair of rusty, dull scissors.” He looked around the room for an escape, for a weapon. “Very good.” She bent down and slapped his face. “And here I was thinking you were a bumbling dumb-shit village idiot, but it seems at least your memory works.” Tatyana removed an old looking pair of children’s scissors from her pocket. They appeared too dull to cut paper, maybe even too worn to cut through fresh Play-Doh. “Guess what? It’s the middle of the night.” Opening and closing the scissors, she deliberately applied pressure on the handle. The blades made an unsettling scraping sound. Brad pushed away. “No. Please don’t, I... I promise...” Before he could utter another syllable, a silvery flash arced through the air ending in a loud thud next to his calf. Tatyana placed the dagger perfectly, pinning his jeans to the floor and leaving his leg with a scratch too small to bleed. “Bradley, this is your lucky day. I do not have a lot of time and do not want to draw any unwanted attention. I will need to make this look like a self-inflicted injury, so I’m going to have to use my knife instead.” Tatyana pasted on a fake frown as she slid the scissors back into her pocket. “And since I don’t think anyone, including you, is stupid enough to cut off both their nuts, I am going to let you keep one. Plus, because I am in an unusually good mood tonight, I will even let you pick your favorite one to keep. But don’t worry, it is still going to hurt like hell. You might even out from the pain.” Beads of sweat ran down Brad's back, chest, and forehead. His eyes strayed as his mind searched for something, anything he could use to save himself, to save

his sex life. “Look at me,” she demanded. Jumping onto his chest, she straddled him further pinning him to the floor. She grabbed both of his ears and twisted his head toward her. “When you get to the hospital, you need to tell them you had too much to drink and then somehow convince them you had an accident. If I find out they did not buy your story, I’ll come back for the other one.” “I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” Brad cried. “I’ll stop everything I’m doing. Please don’t.” Tatyana reached for a couch pillow to muffle his scream. “Thanks for reminding me. If you ever again do anything that even resembles work on that battery, then you will see me again and I will cut off everything else. You’ll be squatting like a woman to pee. Do you understand?” “No.” he pleaded. “I mean yes.” “Yes or no, darling?” Tatyana leaned in and kissed Brad’s forehead. Scooting down below his knees, she removed the dagger from the floor. She pressed the tip into his crotch. Brad’s ragged breathing blocked the words in his head from reaching his mouth. Tears and clear snot dripped across his lips as he struggled to breathe, focus, and speak. After catching a short, hissing breath, his mind cleared momentarily, as he mumbled a few words. “Yes, I under... stand. But no, I beg you, please don’t.” Removing the blade from between his legs, Tatyana leaned forward and held the razor-sharp edge a few inches from his face. She licked the knife’s flat side. “It’s too late for promises.” She turned the point directly toward his left eye. “I could if you would prefer, remove your eyes.” Tightly closing his lids, Brad remained silent. “Ladno,” Tatyana said in Russian. “I’m sorry, that means okay.” Carefully binding Brad’s hands and ankles to ensure no marks would be left, she then pressed her knee into his chest to hold him in place, took down his pants to his knees, and covered his face with the pillow. Working the dagger with surgical precision, she made only a minor cut. “Now this might sting a little.” She tugged hard as if she were removing one of his testicles. Belying her threat, she left it in place. Tatyana had no way of knowing for sure but felt certain a few neighbors

heard his muffled scream. While waiting patiently for Brad’s cries to stop, she cleaned the bloody tip of her blade with his shirt. Then spinning him onto his stomach, she swiftly removed his right pinky finger. Standing to ire her work, she thought it best to deliver one more message and made her way to the kitchen to locate some matches. As much as Brad would miss the use of his little finger, the sight and smell of it burning inches from his face would forever haunt his dreams.

The Test

Kal had gone through a great deal of trouble, almost to the point of obsession, to conceal his work on magnetic vortexes. Knowing far in advance he would need to keep his research private, Kal had years earlier designed and built a three hundred thousand square foot building in a large industrial park on the outskirts of Chicago to house three businesses. On one end of the nondescript beige metal structure was ZetaMag, his medical device company. In the middle was an unnamed warehouse crammed with useless boxes and broken equipment. Grover Paint Additives was painted in small blue lettering on the front door to the last section. As far as anyone other than his team knew, this was the only entrance to the bogus paint company. His secret lab. “Good morning, Dr. Davilaar,” Bill said. The ZetaMag security guard had worked at the company for over four years and could tell by Kal’s demeanor that he was on the run. “You’re in early.” Kal glanced at his watch as if checking the accuracy of the guard’s statement. “Hi, Bill. It is early, but I’ve got an endless list of things I need to get done today. If I could just get that cloning machine to work and make a duplicate of me, life would be so much easier.” Kal followed his comment with a huge smile to make sure Bill knew he was joking. “And for the thousandth time, it’s Kal.” “Yes sir, Kal.” Bill allowed the owner to without scanning his employee’s badge. Past the security desk, Kal took the hallway on his left. Noticing light filtering out of the electrical engineer’s office, he stepped through the doorway. “Good morning, Justin. How is that circuit board coming along?” “What’s it for?” Justin asked. “I’ve never seen anything like this one.” “I know,” Kal said. He could not answer Justin’s question without making up a lie and chose not to answer. “Send me a text when it's finished.” Leaving the office and heading further down the long hallway, Kal turned left to a short corridor which led to a heavy metal door secured with voice recognition and eye scan technology. He peered into the scanner and said his name, last name first. An electronic click from the door’s lock indicated he had ed both tests. The room’s motion-activated lights, which seemed far too intense for the

early morning hour, caused Kal to squint. He waited for his eyes to adjust and then examined the room searching for anything out of place. An empty pizza box in the center of a workbench overloaded with circuit boards and technical manuals showed someone had recently occupied the room. Since he, Ace, and Zoe were the only ones ever allowed access, and knowing Ace sometimes used this space to tinker on projects unrelated to his déjà vu research, he concluded the computer engineer must have worked late. Kal made a mental note to once again remind Ace that the cleaning service did not have access to the room. Satisfied there had been no intrusion, Kal made his way to the storage closet. Stepping inside and closing the door behind him, he then opened a false electrical and toggled four of the twenty-four breakers. A hidden door leading to the back of the warehouse slid open. The concealed path from ZetaMag through the warehouse to Grover Paint Additives at the opposite side of the large building could best be described as a tunnel through a pile of boxes and stacked equipment. It was long and dark. A small red light on the door’s security system served as the lone beacon leading the way to the hidden entrance of Kal’s magnetic vortex lab, or V-lab as it came to be called. Kal had no problem navigating the familiar path and was soon inside.

It was a few minutes after 8 a.m. when Zoe entered the V-lab. Kal was across the cavernous room engrossed in a complex formula written on a whiteboard covered in what seemed to her to be undecipherable mathematical hieroglyphics. Sometimes she wondered why Kal worried so much about security as she felt no one on earth, or any other planet, could follow his bizarre-looking formulaic mural. Kal glanced toward Zoe but did not her arrival, his mind too absorbed in his work. Placing a small box of freshly baked donuts next to the coffee maker, Zoe grabbed a fresh cup and a Boston cream. With her first bite, a drop of filling landed on her blouse. “Nice one, Zo,” she said louder than intended. “What’s that?” Kal asked, now aware she was in the room. “Is there something wrong with this formula?” “You’re a funny guy,” Zoe said. “No, I just dripped on myself. I brought some donuts.” From across the room, Zoe studied Kal as he erased and rewrote what appeared to be a baffling formula three times in rapid succession. He was dressed, as was his style, in blue jeans, loafers, and a chambray shirt. He had the long sleeves rolled up above his wrist. Despite the inconsistency between his casual appearance and the intense battle he was waging with the whiteboard, she thought it was a good look for him. “Thanks. Did you bring me a cinnamon twist?” He had yet to make eye with Zoe as he studied his work. Looking around to see if Ace had arrived, Zoe finished wiping off her blouse. He was not in sight. Strolling over to Kal’s side, she stared at the whiteboard and attempted to make some sense of it. “Kal, I’ve got to hand it to you. It seems you hit the nail right on the head.” Kal used his finger as an eraser. “Not quite, but it's close. I think this step discontinuity has the wrong limit. I’ll have Ace adjust the program.” “Do you think we’re ready to field test the viewer today?” Zoe asked.

Kal glanced across the room at the device before answering. Per his plan, the viewer was a rectangular shaped metal box with a flip-top screen on one end secured by a latch that resembled the pink paper clip a student had left on his desk. Sometimes he felt calling his invention a viewer made it sound too simplistic, but all other designations such as déjà vu viewer or magnetic vortex optical converter seemed clumsy. And for some reason he could not understand considering the extreme complexity of the instrument, he seemed most impressed with himself by the latch’s design. The circuitry within the device, along with the software to run it, had taken years to develop and still needed some enhancements. But the largest problem Kal still faced was having enough power to collect images within the déjà vu tunnels. By the very nature of magnetic vortexes, mobility was required. He had to be inside a DVT to use the viewer, and they could form anywhere. This, along with the energy needed to pull four-dimensional time-harmonic electromagnetic waves into the device, required significant battery power. “If Ace can get these changes made, then I think it is set for its first field test,” Kal said. “That is if you can locate a strong DVT somewhere in the area.” Looking into Zoe’s light green eyes for clues to her confidence level, he found nothing unexpected. She was ready. “How long will it take him?” Zoe asked. Not waiting for a reply, she continued, “According to my charts, there should be an increase in DVTs in the area sometime around noon. That will be our best chance for the next few days.” She licked some chocolate icing off her pointing finger before holding it up, “Although, that large solar storm yesterday may screw things up.” “Screw what up?” Ace called from the doorway. “Did you bring donuts?” He noticed the half-eaten one in Zoe’s hand. Despite being a junk food junkie, Ace somehow never gained weight. Kal waved his hand at the whiteboard. “The entire world is screwed up. But in here, it is this formula that is causing us a problem. And it’s going to mess with your program too.” “Doesn’t sound like too much fun,” Ace said. He made his way to the whiteboard. “What happened to fun? And here I thought this was going to be better than a day at a water park.”

“I never promised you this would be fun. But we are going to give the viewer a try later today and that should, at the very least, be entertaining.” Ace slid closer to Zoe and placed his hand on her shoulder. “I’ll bring the popcorn and you can bring the butter.” Kal and Zoe both sighed. After adjusting his formula one last time, Kal explained the needed changes and plan for the day, and then left the lab. Zoe and Ace went to work preparing for the first viewer’s field test.

Without thinking about the unseasonably cool fall weather, Kal lowered the driver's side window as he approached a small children’s play area in the upscale suburban town of Oakbrook. Excited about the test, he easily dismissed the temperature and studied the park. It was unoccupied. He pulled to the curb. “It’s still a little early to tell, but head toward the north end of the park,” Zoe instructed. Her cell was on speakerphone. In the background, Kal could hear Zoe’s fingers tapping like raindrops in a thunderstorm against the keyboard. Besides deg the magnetic vortex location system, the DVT locator she secretly nicknamed “Malos,” Zoe maintained a bank of cell phones. With over four hundred cell numbers ed to Grover Paint Additives, she developed a process of randomly changing the team’s phones daily, allowing them to call without fear of being tapped or traced. “Got it,” Kal said. A few wet leaves stuck to his shoes as he made his way past the only swing set in the park. Spinning the scroll wheel on her mouse, Zoe enlarged the DVT map. A small red spinning circle was forming within a highlighted section of her oversized monitor. “Alright, you need to be about fifteen feet to the left of the swing set.” She was using a second screen and Google’s street view feature to see the park. “The exact location is +41.8693581 latitude and -87.9138298 longitude.” Zoe provided Kal with seven digits to the right of the decimal place, allowing him to be within a tenth of an inch of the vortex’s center, although she knew he did not need to be quite that precise to draw the signal into the viewer. “Your remote view is near Washington, DC. The coordinates are +38.8771115 and -77.0752016. Did you get that?” Zoe was relatively certain that once Kal was inside the DVT with the viewer on, cell phone communication would be disrupted. She also understood Kal would lodge the location numbers into his short-term memory, eliminating any need to repeat them. Kal had designed the viewer without a keyboard, but for added security he programmed it to respond only to his voice. “Lock at +41.8693581 lat, -87.9138298 long, remote at +38.8771115 lat, -77.0752016 long.” Kal spoke into the viewer’s microphone in a clear, staccato manner. A low-pitched beeping sound told Kal he was almost in the correct spot. On the

viewer’s screen, a green arrow showed which direction he needed to move. He shifted to his right. The beeping changed to a constant tone for three seconds, telling him the viewer was centered in the DVT. Then, awaiting Kal’s instruction, the instrument went dark. The viewer required a constantly changing based on an algorithm only Kal knew. It was the only part of the software he had not allowed Ace to code. “T 282 O 12 negative 5.” The was accepted and Kal watched two blue indicator lights glow. One showed the was correct and the other was a positive-system check. The viewer was ready. Three orange digits above the main screen displayed the estimated time until the DVT would be active. Kal waited until it hit zero. “Power 3. Screen on. Lock remote. G zero. Stabilize H5 V5.” Instantly measuring the strength of the vortex, the viewer reset the timer to the calculated duration of the event. Kal noted he had 93 seconds and turned his attention from the timer to the screen. Kal’s heart sank at the sight of the initial images, the distorted pictures were unrecognizable. Glancing at the battery life indicator, he realized the power was draining much faster than he expected. Screw it, he thought, it is just a test. “Power up 2. Stabilize H6 V6.” If anyone had been watching, Kal might have appeared as a utility worker searching for underground lines, a man standing alone in a field transfixed by a device held tightly in his hands. If anyone heard him calling out seemingly meaningless instructions, they would have thought he was crazy. Nobody was wandering nearby. Adjusting the power and clarity levels required educated guesswork. For the next sixty seconds, Kal tried various combinations until the battery died. It did not matter, the DVT had already faded. During the twenty-five-minute drive back to the lab, Kal did not answer his cell phone. He wanted the blurry image he had seen to crystalize in his head without interruption. By the time he parked in his reserved spot at ZetaMag, his mind had settled on a picture of what he thought he observed and switched to a particular set of formulas he knew needed correction. Going through the same labyrinth he had followed earlier in the day, Kal was soon entering the code to the V-lab’s security door.

“You didn’t answer your cell phone,” Ace said as soon as he saw the door swing open. “Trying to keep us in suspense? That’s totally not cool.” “I know. Sorry.” Kal’s apology seemed sincere enough, but his monotone voice and distant stare suggested he was deep in thought. Zoe’s head popped out above her cubicle. “Did you see anything? Tell us what you saw.” The test of the viewer was straightforward. Kal would center himself in one DVT and remotely view into another. If he could identify objects in the remote target without being told in advance what they were, then the experiment was a success, and his theories proven correct. The tension was growing exponentially as Zoe and Ace waited to hear the outcome. “It was not as clear as I had hoped. We have a lot of work to do,” Kal said. He glanced from Zoe to Ace. “I’m serious. The battery drain is still a huge problem, and I could not get the viewer to focus. The image was almost indistinct.” “Are you kidding!” Zoe exclaimed. “What did you see? Anything?” A wide grin spread across Kal’s face. “Arlington Memorial Cemetery.” “YES!” Zoe and Ace screamed simultaneously. The viewer had worked. For the next few minutes, the team celebrated their achievement. Handshakes, hugs, and high fives were shared by all, even a few whoops and hollers echoed throughout the room. After the excitement waned, Kal's face became unexpectedly stoic. “But there was something else. Something weird, an unsettling pressure on my entire body. I’m sure it was nothing more than some déjà vu kicking in, perhaps further distorted by the viewer tugging on the outlying magnetic waves, but I had the distinct feeling I was being watched by someone, or more precisely something, from inside the DVT.”

The Roofie

Grouper’s Grub and Pub was nearly empty by the time Kal, Zoe, and Ace arrived for a late lunch. From their corner booth, they could see only one other occupied table and a few patrons at the bar. Talking quietly had become a habit when they were in public and the hushed tone was softer than usual as they discussed the successes and failures of the viewer’s first field test. “Adding a second battery to my belt will not be enough,” Kal said. “We’re going to have to switch to a much larger battery. I’m thinking of a backpack type system. And we will need to reduce the power draw somehow. If we’re going to add video recording capability and 360-degree viewing, then we need to solve this energy issue. Oh, and let’s not forget the sound feature. That is almost ready too and will increase the viewer’s energy needs.” Knowing Kal would continually add improvements to the viewer, Ace smiled and sang, “And the beat goes on, the beat goes on,” the only words he could recall from a 1960s Sonny and Cher tune. “Please don’t start singing ‘I Got You Babe’,” Zoe blurted out, thinking of another one of their songs. Their hearty laugh filled their corner of the restaurant. The smell of fish, peppers, and onions wafted through the booth as the server arrived. “Who ordered the fish fajitas?” “I did,” Ace said, raising his hand above his waist. The other two plates held burgers and fries. The server set the meals in front of Kal and Zoe. “Anything else?” she asked. Receiving no response, she turned and disappeared into the kitchen. “Dang it,” Zoe said after squeezing the ketchup bottle. “It’s empty.” “I’ll get some,” Kal offered. Heading to the end of the bar, which held a tray of surplus condiments, he noticed a man watching TV alone and a pretty woman engaged in conversation with a pudgy-faced man. The barstools faced away from his booth, and this was the first opportunity he had to see them clearly. None seemed familiar. Kal did not detect that he himself was being watched as he surveyed the other patrons.

Tatyana had followed the group from ZetaMag to the pub. She had arrived in Chicago only a few days earlier and was not ready to approach Kal, not until she knew more about his habits and preferences. Using only reflective surfaces, trying to avoid looking directly at Kal’s table, Tatyana took mental notes on anything she felt might be useful. Attempting to further conceal her surveillance, Tatyana allowed herself to be hit on by a salesperson who introduced himself as Tim. She engaged him in a way that made them appear to be a couple to any interested onlookers. Disguised in a light brown wig, brown lenses, heavy framed glasses, plain tan skirt, dark blue blouse, and additional padding around her waistline, Tatyana appeared dowdy, although nothing short of a mask could hide her lovely face. Returning to the booth, Kal handed the ketchup bottle to Zoe. “Thanks,” she said with a friendly wink. “Ace and I were talking about that feeling you had in the DVT.” “I don’t know what that sensation was... or what this is,” Kal said, examining his overcooked burger. “I’ve got a good imagination, so the feeling inside the vortex was probably nothing more than my overtaxed brain spinning out of control.” Ace had known Kal since his sophomore year in college, almost twelve years ago. He knew the man to be as logical, self-aware, and rational as anyone he had ever met. Ace felt Kal would only have mentioned the odd sensation if he had been deeply concerned. “Don’t hold out on us. I know you. My guess is the monsters in your childhood nightmares were more afraid of you than you were of them. They probably thought you would zap them with a magnetic-protonlaser gun you cobbled together out of Legos and old household appliances. So, be honest, you were a little unnerved earlier, weren’t you?” “You’re right, Ace. I was,” Kal itted. “Still, I think it was nothing more than the viewer distorting the magnetic waves to the point my brain couldn’t recognize them as déjà vu. Or it could have been some level of paranoia from bringing the viewer into a public space for the first time.” He shoved a french fry into his mouth. “It’s like right now. I just have this uneasy sensation I’m being watched. In the DVT, the feeling seemed unsettling, maybe even somewhat malevolent. In here, it is different. More like suspicion. But I’ve been watching everyone in the room, and no one has looked this way. This brings me to my

conclusion of an overactive imagination in both the DVT and here, and that means it isn’t worthy of further discussion.” Zoe and Ace got the message; this topic was closed. Using a mirrored beer sign, Tatyana noticed Kal’s right foot tapping impulsively against the table leg. She wondered if it was a sign of uneasiness—perhaps he suspected he was being monitored, or maybe it was just a nervous habit. She had no way of knowing and decided her best course of action would be to leave before his group finished their lunch. If Kal had somehow sensed the surveillance, this action would likely eliminate her as a suspect, not that she thought he would recognize her, given her disguise. Tatyana realized she was being overly cautious in reaction to Dirk’s stern warning about underestimating the man and his intellect, but she deemed it best to leave ahead of Kal’s group. Just as Tatyana was preparing to dump the salesman and leave, he bumped her purse off the bar, spilling some of its contents onto the sticky beer-stained floor. “I’m so sorry,” Tim said. “I’ll get it.” Tatyana carried a few items in her purse she did not want anyone to see. Leaning down at the same time as Tim, they bumped heads. “Ouch, that hurt,” Tatyana said, giving the man a playful shove. “A woman never reveals her secrets. I’ll get it.” Stepping off her stool and kneeling to collect her items, Tatyana’s well-practiced peripheral vision caught Tim slipping something into her drink. Her mind reacted instinctively, switching from surveillance to suspicion and concern. Was this man an agent like her? If so, the powder was probably sodium amytal, a truth serum. Or was this guy a pervert intent on molesting her while she was unconscious? If this were the case, the roofie was probably GHB, a common date rape drug. Still kneeling, Tatyana risked a glance at Kal. He appeared to be deeply engaged in conversation. If he noticed her actions, he was making no sign of having done so. A new plan formed in Tatyana’s mind. Her day had just turned from work to play. Palming a small vial of cocaine as she finished repacking her purse, Tatyana slid back onto the barstool. She took a sip from her drink and scrunched her eyes. “Tim,” she said, “would you be a sweetheart and get me another lime for this drink.” Pointing to the end of the bar, she added, “There’s some in that cup near

the server’s station.” As soon as Tim’s back was to her, Tatyana mixed their drinks into one another. She thought about just switching them, but if Tim was a perv, she wanted him to be alert when she taught him a lesson. And if it were a truth serum, the dilution would significantly reduce its impact or possibly allow her to turn the table and interrogate him. With their margaritas blended, she emptied less than half of the cocaine vial into her glass. She was not sure what the drug interaction would do but thought the effects might offset to some degree, or she would just catch a good high. Or possibly both, she hoped. After they finished their drinks, Tatyana ordered another round without asking Tim if he wanted one. “Sir,” she called to the bartender. “We’d like one more please.” “Yes, mam.” He entered the order into the . “On the rocks, no salt?” Part of Tatyana’s new plan required covering her tracks more thoroughly. “My name is Barbara, but my friends call me Barbie,” she said with a flirtatious look. “You know, like the doll.” She hoped if the police ever questioned the bartender about her, the name would stick. “Frozen and no salt would be good.” While finishing their second drink, Tatyana monitored Kal. From what she could gather using only covert observation, he seemed like any of a hundred other suburban office workers. His sandy-colored hair, average build, and expressionless eyes were not particularly striking. None of this, she noted, could be used to her advantage. Her initial plan upon entering the establishment included looking at Kal’s receipt to find out how well he tipped, a clue to his generosity and personality type, but it was now clear that dealing with Tim would not allow for this. A few minutes after Kal and his team had left, Tatyana allowed the game with Tim to continue. “Timmy,” she said while rubbing her hand on his upper thigh, “these drinks are getting to me. I’m getting tired. Maybe it’s time for me to go home.” Tim took the bait. “I’m feeling somewhat sleepy myself.” He was telling the truth, not realizing he had some roofie in his system. “But I’ve got a better idea. Perhaps we could go over to my place. It’s not far, and the bed is very comfortable.”

“That sounds great,” Tatyana enthusiastically agreed. She realized the man was either a very good agent acting like a creep, or he was a creep. She would find out. “Can I drive my car and follow?” She kissed the side of his cleanly shaven face. “I might need a quick getaway in case you turn out to be a perv.” Her last comment caught Tim off guard at first. Did she know? How could she? He did not care. He was too worked up to care. Plus, he thought, having her drive eliminated the problem of returning her to the pub later in the day. Tim readily agreed.

Tim’s apartment was clearly a bachelor’s pad. Besides the stale locker room smell, it was messy. Pictures of football, baseball, and basketball stars covered the walls. Tatyana had been in worse, much worse. Stumbling to the kitchen, an act not very difficult to fake given the drugs and alcohol in her system, Tatyana pretended as if she were ready to out. “Where’s the tequ... tequi... la?” She pushed some dirty dishes out of the way and laid her upper body on the counter. “Tequila,” she sighed and closed her eyes. Watching from the living room, Tim allowed another minute to . His excitement grew as the woman lay motionless. It was time. Tatyana was lighter and firmer than Tim had estimated. At the restaurant, she looked somewhat pudgy, but beneath her skirt, he felt well-defined muscle. He thought about what he would do to her as he carried her into the bedroom and laid her on the bed. Before stripping her, Tim decided to take a few photographs. Since this was his first attempt at drugging someone, he was not sure how much time he had. But from what he had learned on the internet about the drug’s effects, he felt there would be enough to document his fantasies. With a camera in one hand, Tim reached for Tatyana’s blouse and snapped a few pictures. Just as his fingers touched the third button, Tatyana reacted as quick as lightning and caught his hand. She bolted from the bed, still clutching his hand, slid behind him and twisted his arm behind his back. Tim’s camera fell to the carpeted floor without a sound. “Damn, bitch,” he shrieked. “I’ve heard that one somewhere recently,” Tatyana said. “Got anything better than that?” She pushed his arm until she felt the elbow snap and heard him cry out in pain. “You filthy whore, I’ll kill you.” With her free hand, Tatyana reached around his waist, undid his pants, and pulled so they dropped to the floor. She then reached up and stroked his face. “And I’ve heard that one too. Now listen closely,” she blew softly into his ear,

“your elbow is dislocated, and you can’t run with your pants around your ankles.” Tim was sweating heavily. Switching to his other arm, Tatyana effortlessly dislocated his other elbow. His pain-driven scream filled the room. “Are you listening, dear heart? Your assessment of the situation is only partially correct. Someone in this room is going to die.” Hoping to break Tatyana’s hold, Tim twisted his body and pushed against her with all his strength. His efforts only made matters worse as he felt the pain throbbing through his damaged arms. The struggle was brief before they fell to the floor and she landed on top of him. From somewhere she produced a dagger. The blade felt hot against his neck. “Damn it, lady. Just leave. Please. I won’t say anything. I won’t.” At first, Tim thought he had underestimated Tatyana, and that she was trying to prove a point. Now, realizing how easily she could slice his throat, his thoughts were of death. She was not bluffing. “The question,” Tatyana said, “is how? How shall we end your life?” Like trying to locate a specific drop of water rushing down a waterfall, Tim’s racing mind, which was blurred by fear, did not allow him to find the droplet he needed to save his life. Coming up dry, he blurted out the next thought that cleared his mind, “I’ve got money. A lot of money. You can have it all.” Tim’s sweat mixed with the scent of his cologne. The nauseating odor reminded Tatyana of the rank smell in Dirk’s office. Her aggravation grew. She did not move. She did not respond to his offer. Tatyana was in no hurry and wanted the man to suffer. “What do you want?” Tim pleaded. “I promise I won’t ever do this to anyone ever again. Is that what you want? This was my first time, I swear it. I’ve never hurt anyone. I wasn’t going to hurt you either. Just take pictures. That’s all I was going to do.” “Unless you tell me what I need to know, you can bet on it being your last time.” She pressed the knife against his neck making sure she did not cut him. “Are you

a spy? An agent? Who do you work for?” Tim did not understand what she was asking. “NO! I’m a salesman. I told you that. I work for Sandimar Realty. There is a card in my wallet to prove it. You can call my office.” Tatyana believed him but no longer cared. She was enjoying toying with the pervert. “Then you’re a low-life snake preying on unsuspecting women to get your jollies. Well then, how about some role playing? You play the part of the victim, and I’ll be the judge, jury, and... executioner.” “You’re insane. They will catch you. There are cameras in the restaurant. They saw us leave together. Your fingerprints are all over this place. Someone probably saw you come in here.” To Tatyana, the man was a weasel, annoying and smelly. And his pleas were annoying. Tatyana removed her glasses and wig. She shook her dark hair loose and brushed it back with her free hand. “You stupid man. As far as anyone knows, you left with a brown-haired, brown-eyed, frumpy looking woman by the name of Barbie. The car I used isn’t mine, I borrowed it for the afternoon. And the authorities have found my fingerprints at a lot of crime scenes. Counting only murders, I think 12. You’ll make lucky number 13. I’ve never had my fingerprints taken, so they are not on file. And I have some, let’s say, associates who can change police records to eliminate my involvement.” Trying to buck Tatyana off, Tim twisted his torso while pushing his hips upward. His efforts resulted in little more than having the dagger being pressed harder against his neck. “There must be something you want, something I can get you. Please,” Tim cried. “I’m just a lonely salesman.” His voice trailed off as his eyes darted around the room looking for anything he could use to escape. Lowering her head, allowing her hair to brush across his face, Tatyana’s face softened. “I’m sorry, I guess I haven’t made myself clear. I don’t need your money. There is nothing you can help with. And there is no way I am buying the story that this is your first abduction, not that I care about any of the other women you’ve defiled. They’re idiots for not knowing how to defend themselves and allowing assholes like you to exist. I was just looking for a little fun to break up the boredom of my day. I was hoping for some sex, which you could have had if you weren’t so turned on by the depravity of your twisted mind, but now

all I have left to fill my afternoon is to kill you.” As Tim opened his mouth to say something, Tatyana picked up a dirty sock laying on the floor next to them and shoved it into his mouth. He gagged. “But I do have a problem of sorts,” Tatyana said. She was concerned about bringing about unwanted attention. “It would be better for me at the current time to keep the police investigation to a minimum, so I’d prefer to keep this as bloodless as possible. So, please don’t make me use this,” she waved her blade in front of his face. “I know another game we can play.” Tatyana knew she had no reason to kill the man. She realized he was already scared shitless and felt certain Tim would never attempt another abduction, but she was enjoying herself too much to stop. “I’ll give you some options and you scream when you hear one you like.” An evil grin crossed her face. Tim tried to call for help. His muffled cry did nothing more than make him choke on the sock. He fought to pull enough air through his nose to catch his breath. Lightly stroking his face, Tatyana laughed. “You’re not listening. I said scream at the one you want. How about electrocution in the bathtub?” Tim closed his eyes. Tears ran down the side of his face. “No?” she continued. “Well, there’s always a drug overdose? Or you could slip and fall on that messy kitchen floor and crack your head open.” Beneath her legs, she could feel Tim’s heart racing. He remained silent. “Fine, I’ll decide.” Partially hidden under some rumpled clothes was a black leather belt. “This is really no fun unless I can take part,” she said. “What do you think of strangulation made to look like a suicide?” She held up the belt and then wrapped it around his neck. The salesman fought back with everything he had left, but his dislocated elbows prevented any meaningful attack, and Tatyana was too strong, too well trained. He screamed again praying she would stop, still hoping she was just teaching him a lesson. Using her left hand to pull on the belt, Tatyana placed her right hand on his

carotid artery. At this moment she craved the feeling of death in her hands more than she imagined Tim’s fantasy to rape her. This desire she could only reach through near insanity, the insatiable thirst of a serial killer. She felt the pulse in his neck slow until it came to a stop. Keeping pressure on the belt for another thirty seconds, Tatyana basked in the euphoria of her kill. It took another minute for Tatyana to gain her senses, to lose the near madness engulfing her mind. First checking the pictures Tim had taken to make sure her face was not visible, Tatyana left the camera and pants at his feet, and the belt around his neck. She then secured the other end of the belt to the top of the bed’s headboard, making it appear as if the man had hung himself. Confirming the GHB vial was in his pants pocket, she removed the sock from his mouth, wiped the belt clean, and then used Tim’s hands to leave his fingerprints. As Tatyana had told Tim, she was not concerned about fingerprints but needed to eliminate the most obvious signs of her involvement. She realized the police would question the dislocated elbows, but unless one of Tim’s relatives pushed for answers, she thought the case would most likely be closed with little delay. Moving to his computer, she typed and printed a suicide note revealing Tim’s guilt had become more than he could live with. Before leaving the apartment, Tatyana cleaned the keyboard with a tissue, donned her disguise, and took one last uplifting look at her handiwork.

The Darkness

“E xplain that again , Zo,” Ace said. “In some kind of non-techno jargon this time.” Zoe was trying to help Ace understand the updates to her vortex location system. “If I connect to four cell towers in a small area, say a city block, then finding a DVT is relatively simple and accurate. The smaller the area, the better. It’s like finding a lost lens on a single floor tile.” “I’m with you so far.” “Good,” Zoe said. “But now imagine I’m looking for a déjà vu tunnel in a larger area, someplace with fewer cell towers that are further apart, say in the middle of nowhere Dakota. Then it’s more like finding a penny in a wheat field. So, my solution is to add one more cell tower. Instead of a rectangle with four triangles in the middle, I get a pentagon with the cell signals forming a star in the center. That makes ten triangle shaped DVT search areas, which is much more efficient. But this still leaves me with a smaller pentagon area in the middle of the star and, as I described before...” The familiar click of the door’s electronic lock interrupted Zoe’s explanation. Kal was struggling with a heavy box. “A little help here,” Kal called. Ace rushed over and grabbed the box. “Is this the new backpack battery? It’s heavy.” “Thanks. Set it on that workbench over there.” Kal gestured toward a stainlesssteel workbench already overloaded with batteries of every shape and size. “Charge it and drain it a few times,” he instructed Ace. “Let’s see if it’s ready for a field test. Are the changes done on the viewer software? I’d like to test it tomorrow if we can.” It had been a few weeks since the first test, and Kal was eager for round two. He looked at Zoe, “How do the DVTs look for tomorrow?” Setting the box on the table, Ace turned toward Kal, clapped his hands together and snickered. “Listen young-man,” he said like a parent scolding a child, “you slow down or I’m putting you in time out.”

“Sorry,” Kal sheepishly responded, realizing he was hyped up. “It’s been a busy day. Still have a lot to do and my systems are running on overdrive.” “Been there, done that, got the t-shirt,” Ace said. “No harm, no foul,” he continued as he walked over to Zoe’s workstation. Zoe slapped Ace lightly on the arm to get him to stop jabbering. “The DVTs look fine and I’ve spent a lot of time tracking vortexes to improve their predictability,” she said. “Do you have a remote target in mind? Want to see what the Pentagon is up to? Or maybe the People’s Liberation Army in China?” Kal’s face appeared grim. “First of all, I get your point. I know we are playing with fire, or perhaps something much worse than fire. That’s why I’ve gone to such great lengths to hide us and protect the technology. I think the DVTs are too unsystematic to be of much value, but there are those that would kill for a random glimpse inside any part of something like the Pentagon or China’s PLA headquarters. We need to remain vigilant with our security.” “And second of all?” Ace asked. “Oh, yah,” Kal’s expression changed to one of amusement, “I can’t read Chinese, so there’s no point in snooping around there.” Ace grabbed his laptop, moved to the room’s conference table, turned on an overhead projector, connected his computer, and entered a few commands. A wall-sized screen filled with computer code. “Other than the value for this algorithm,” he said, highlighting a section of code, “it’s done. If you get me that value, I’m ready for the test.” “Perfect,” Kal said. “There is one other thing.” Zoe’s voice reflected her concern. “One of the cell connections I’ve been using took a hit.” “Do you mean someone is tracking our activities?” Kal’s eyebrows furrowed with concern. Having designed the vortex location system to check for outside interference on the connection points, Zoe could tell if someone was watching. “I can’t say for sure just yet. It could have been a random hacker trying to steal a signal. But I

did a reverse search and found the hit was from somewhere in our vicinity. This made me even more suspicious. I couldn’t narrow it down to a specific location. And, it has not happened again. I’ve made some updates in my system so the next time it occurs, I can locate the source a lot faster.” “Don’t use that connection point again,” Kal demanded. Sliding over to the whiteboard, Kal picked up a red marker. Studying one section of a long formula, he changed a number and then circled it. “Ace, use this factor.” Dropping the marker in the tray, he scurried over to his workstation and picked up some papers. “I’ve got a speech to give over at the college, so I’ve got to keep running. Can we be ready by tomorrow morning?” Zoe and Ace acknowledged they would be prepared. “Good,” Kal said. He kept talking while walking toward the door. “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you guys.” “Is that the speech on how the Egyptians used alien technology to build the great pyramid?” Ace closed his eyes, leaned his head back, and crossed his arms in front of his chest in a manner suggestive of a mummy. Before the V-lab’s door shut behind him, they heard Kal say with a laugh, “I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you, Zoe.”

The large lecture hall was filled to over fifty percent capacity. Kal waited impatiently to give his keynote address while sitting through what seemed to be an endless barrage of awards and other preliminary matters. Tired of shuffling through his notes, he checked his watch for the third time and then studied the audience. It appeared to be the usual crowd of academics, with a few students scattered about who were probably getting extra credit for attending. Toward the back, he noticed professor Jordinson, the college Dean, was sitting next to an attractive dark-haired woman. Lucky for him. An hour later, after delivering what he felt was a less than stellar presentation, Kal was heading back to his office when Jordinson and the young lady caught up with him in the hallway. “Dr. Kal,” Dean Jordinson called from behind. “I want you to meet my new graduate assistant. Tanya Parks, this is the famous Dr. Kalvin Davilaar.” Kal nodded his head. “Nice to meet you, Tanya. And I’m not famous.” He could not take his eyes off her and did not want to. She was gorgeous. Tatyana had selected Tanya as her American name. Besides being her favorite, it was easy to and rarely caught her off guard. Knowing it was too soon to flirt with Kal but wanting to make sure he would her—not that she believed it would be possible for him to forget meeting her—she extended her hand. “Please, no jokes about my initials being TP.” After he took her hand, she leaned in and breathed into his ear, “Don’t worry, I’m not famous either.” Maybe a little flirting was okay. Tatyana’s perfume and soft breath on his neck woke any of Kal’s senses not already aroused. Rarely at a loss for words, his heartbeat rising, he stumbled, “Yes. Me either.” Concerned he was making a fool of himself, Kal steadied his mind and shifted gears. “I’m sorry, it’s been a long day and I still have papers to grade. Welcome to the department.” Looking intently into Kal’s face, Tatyana smiled. “I’ll see you around, Doctor Kalvin Davilaar.” She made a note to wear flatter shoes as she was taller than him when wearing three-inch heels. “That’s Doctor Kal,” he responded mechanically. Her rare gypsy-like eyes were hypnotizing. “I’m sorry, just call me Kal. And now that I’ve apologized twice in

less than a minute, I’ll just leave. It’s been a pleasure.” Finished with the introductions, they went their separate ways.

The system Kal and Zoe designed for predicting the location of DVTs was becoming more accurate as the timing and location of vortexes were collected and analyzed. Tidal patterns, moon phases, sunspots, volcanic and earthquake activity, interplanetary interaction, and similar large global phenomenon were being correlated to determine the impact they had on DVT formation and duration. Kal’s mantra of “knowing where is good, but knowing where, when, and how long is even better,” had almost become a joke in the V-lab. It was mid-morning and Kal was on the road heading toward the preliminary coordinates by the time Zoe completed fine tuning the search grid. Ace was on the phone arguing with someone about a late delivery of some components he needed for a custom circuit board. Zoe squirmed as she prepared to deliver the new location to Kal. “I’m sorry, but this one is jumping around. It is forming on the other side of the street.” She was referring to a busy four-lane road with a grass median. “The vortex is behind the movie theater, and it seems to be growing faster than most of them. My best guess is you have less than four minutes to get there. The DVT looks to be of moderate strength and based on what we’ve learned so far about these things, I would think it will last two minutes at most.” As Kal worked his way through traffic, he placed a wired headset over one ear and plugged it into his cell phone. He was planning to leave the phone outside the DVT, away from the viewer’s magnetic interference, allowing constant communication with his team. The headset he purchased had an extra-long cord that he felt would do the job nicely. “I’m at the theater,” he announced. “Now where?” “You’ve got about one minute,” Zoe said. “Go to the northeast corner.” She then rattled off the coordinates for the DVT’s exact location and remote target. Repeating the latitudes and longitudes into the viewer, Kal stepped out of his car. A cold drizzle greeted him. “Great,” he hissed to himself, forgetting about the headset. “What’s great?” Zoe asked. He placed the battery backpack over his shoulders and hurried toward the

theater’s northeast corner. “Never mind.” Following the green arrow to the center of the DVT, he placed the phone on the ground four feet away, then waited the required three seconds before calling the into the viewer. Neither Zoe nor Ace knew the secret behind the s, so having them—or anyone else who might be eavesdropping—hear it was of little concern to Kal. The two blue ready lights began to glow. Just as he had done a few weeks earlier, Kal spoke instructions into the viewer’s mic. “Power 3. Screen on. Lock remote. G zero. Stabilize H5 V5.” And exactly as it happened during the first test, his heart sank at the sight of the image. It was black. “I don’t see anything,” he called to his team. “But the power is holding.” Zoe scrolled her mouse and clicked a few keys. Why isn’t he seeing the lobby of New York’s Carford building? “Power up 3,” Kal said to the viewer before Zoe responded. Looking over Zoe’s shoulder, Ace thought he found the problem. The latitude of the remote location had changed slightly. Zoe called the new remote coordinates. “It’s still black,” Kal informed them after making the correction. “UP!” Ace yelled. “You’re in the basement.” He sounded certain but was guessing. “G plus 20.” Kal instructed the viewer to be 20 feet above the base level, or ground level as they more commonly referred to it. “Got it. Got it,” he barked. Kal made a mental note to correct the sea level algorithm. “It’s a lobby. I’m hovering above a lobby. I see a lot of golden hues. I don’t know the building, but the architecture looks old.” Ace and Zoe smiled. “Can you turn the view?” Ace asked. “Look to the side.” Kal designed the viewer to search the full circular area of a DVT. To accomplish this, he only had to command the device to look in a different direction, he did not need to turn his body or the viewer. The system he used for this command was simple, at least to him. When the viewer’s blue indicator light showed ready, the direction the viewer was pointing at that moment became 0 degrees. He

could then tell the device to redirect anywhere in the circle by calling out a number between 0 to 360 degrees, a common number used for degrees in a circle. Kal’s clear viewing angle was relatively small, only about one-eighth of the vortex could be seen. This meant the view would need to be changed seven times if he wanted to see everything around him. The heaviness on his body and the sensation of being watched was stronger than during the viewer’s first test. Kal’s thumbs fidgeted. Rolling his shoulders, attempting to shake the troubled feeling, he tried to convince himself it was nothing more than distorted déjà vu. With only 54 seconds left on the timer, and still having plenty of battery power, he persisted. He rotated the viewer to 90 degrees and examined a different section of the lobby. A small ghostly-white anomaly in the upper right-hand corner of the screen blocked a portion of the image. Another 90 degrees revealed the unobstructed view of more lobby. Turning the view to the last side of the building’s entrance, Kal almost dropped the viewer. “What the fu...” He stared a moment longer. “ALL OFF,” he shouted. The viewer shut down. Dropping to his knees, he pulled on the cell phone’s cord to bring it to his side, unplugged the headset, and hung up. The cold drizzle had increased to light rain mixed with sleet. Still kneeling, Kal turned his face toward the sky. He welcomed the cold droplets stinging his forehead and eyelids, a cold slap to bring him back to his senses. Standing, he realized his pants were wet from the knees down. “That’s just perfect,” he said aloud. Remaining motionless for a few minutes, he allowed his thoughts to regroup. He wanted to laugh at himself, at the craziness spinning in his head, but the encounter was too raw, too disturbing, too real. Moving across the theater’s empty parking lot to his car, Kal removed the battery, slid into the driver’s seat, placed the backpack and viewer on the enger’s side, and headed to the lab. “Hello, Ace. Am I on speaker?” Kal asked. He needed to talk with his team. “Yes, you are,” Ace said. “And please tell us, what the fu... was what the fu...?” “Did, I say that?” Kal rarely swore and did not like the overuse of the f-word. “I’m sorry.” Ace wanted to let Kal off the hook. “That’s okay. We assumed you were going to say fun because it sounded to us like you were having a ball.” “Yah... right.”

“Well, I’ve heard worse from my grandmother, and my mother, and now that I think about it, even from my five-year-old niece.” Ace did not laugh at the joke. Neither did Kal. Zoe was squirming in her chair wanting to get back on task. “You got it right, it was the entrance to the Carford Building in downtown New York. But what happened? What did you see? What scared you?” A few seconds ed while Kal ran the experience back through his mind. “Did you hear anything between the time Ace asked me to look around the lobby and my profane outburst? It would have been just before I swore. Almost swore.” Ace and Zoe looked at each other with blank stares. “Not that we recall. Maybe static. Why?” Zoe somehow missed the implication of the question. “It’s not just what I saw, but what I felt and heard. If you didn’t hear it, then it was either my imagination or a sound isolated within the DVT that the phone’s mic couldn’t detect.” Kal was stuck at a long stoplight. “Occam’s razor. Which is more likely?” Ace cracked his neck to lessen the stiffness, then rubbed his eyes. “Look Kal, so far you haven’t told us what you might have seen or what you thought you heard, yet you’re already retreating to your standard imagination verdict. For crying out loud, what was it?” The stoplight turned green, but Kal did not move. The beeping of the car behind him broke the trance. “Who’s beeping at you?” Zoe asked. “Sorry, I’m driving like crap.” He slowed and moved to the right-hand lane allowing traffic to . “Go on,” Ace pleaded. “The initial front-facing view was clear, much better than the first test,” Kal began. “But almost immediately I had that same disturbing feeling of being watched, maybe a little stronger this time. When I turned the view left, there was

a semi-transparent white spot. It was small and amorphous, a blob. Turing to my back view, everything appeared normal and clear. It was the last turn to 270 degrees,” Kal stopped talking. Zoe had stood and was pacing. “Give him a minute,” she mouthed to Ace. “It was the last turn...” Ace prompted after a brief wait. The rain mixed with ice was freezing to the car’s windshield, making driving difficult. Kal turned the defroster to high, swung into an abandoned fast-food restaurant parking lot, and pulled to a stop. “On the upper left side of the viewer, at least I think it was on the viewer’s screen, I saw the distorted face of a strange creature, a demon. No. It wasn’t a face, it was eyes. Only the eyes. Black, malicious looking eyes. They were large and deformed. Not quite human. The pupils were swirling ink surrounded by ever-deepening layers of murky darkness. Churning outward from the center were flames, pitch-black flames dancing, burning, melting out of view.” The cell phones fell silent. “Then, the sound,” Kal continued, his tone was flat and hollow. “It came from within the vortex. Maybe the eyes were in there too, I don’t know for sure. It was all so confusing. I thought I was concentrating on the viewer, but there is no sound built into it yet, so it couldn’t have been. Maybe it was just in my head.” “What was it?” Ace interrupted. “A voice?” “No, not exactly. It was the caw of a crow, only deeper and distorted, almost as if it were underwater.” Kal paused and took a deep breath. “I’m sure my mind was playing tricks on me, but the call sounded like my name, caw... cawl... kahl.”

The Gambler

Dirk slid a nearly empty vodka bottle into a sliver of light shining across his desk from a nearby streetlight. Watching the light dance as he twisted the bottle, he realized his senses were beginning to dull. Waiting to call Tatyana because of the twelve-hour time difference between Chicago and Novosibirsk had given Dirk a chance to catch up on some well-deserved drinking. He was catching up quickly, maybe too quickly, and decided the hour was late enough. It was just after seven in the morning when Tatyana’s phone rang. She glanced at the caller ID. “Hello, Dirk. Must be something important for you to call so early.” “Sort of,” Dirk said. “I have some new intel and a question. First the intel. Our researchers have picked up a lot of cell phone traffic linked to Davilaar’s paint business. We think he caught us sniffing around, so we have backed off for now. It didn’t seem to lead anywhere. They were just long random connections from cell tower to cell tower. So, we still don’t have any great theories on what he’s doing. Here’s the important thing to , unless he tells you his research involves something with cell phones or cell connections, he’s most likely lying to you.” Tatyana had been awake for an hour and was finishing her second cup of tea. Standing from the kitchen table, keeping the phone pressed to her ear, she leaned down and quietly sighed at the welcome stretch in her hamstrings. Then, continuing to wander about her apartment while listening to Dirk rattle off a list of seemingly useless details, Tatyana stopped at the sliding glass door. The early morning overcast skies appeared to be ushering in another dreary fall day. “I’ve got everything you said noted and cataloged,” she confirmed. “And the question?” “You killed a man,” Dirk answered. “I’ve killed a lot of men. I think you’ll need to be somewhat more specific.” Tatyana knew exactly what he was talking about. “And that wasn’t a question,” she added, just to tweak him. Dirk could almost feel Tatyana’s wicked smile as she toyed with him. “Sorry, my love. Did you kill a man in Chicago a few weeks ago? The crime scene had the hallmarks of your amazingly exquisite work.”

“Thank you,” Tatyana said, accepting the sarcastically offered compliment. “Of course, I killed him. Why do you ask?” If Tatyana wasn’t so good at her job, Dirk reasoned, and if he didn’t so desperately want to bed her, he would have had her killed a long time ago. “You know, I rarely care how you feed your addictions, but this job is too important. We need you to stay focused.” “I know. I’ve never let you down before and I’m not about to start by screwing up this one.” Tatyana’s tone was intentionally harsh. Fascinated by a single ray of sunshine breaking through the heavy clouds, her mood lightened. Switching to a more cheerful voice, hoping to defuse Dirk’s foul temperament and change the course of the conversation, she continued, “But the guy I offed knew you. He said you were a dog. A dog that ate cat turds out of a litter box. I defended you and said you’d never eat them out of a litter box.” Tatyana giggled. “So, you see, I was just defending your honor.” “You’re an authentic piece of work, darling. Trust me, I can defend my own honor. But I still love you,” Dirk said. He despised her more every day. “I’ll check in next week. Call me if something comes up before then.” Dirk hung up and poured another shot.

Kal’s university office was on the third floor of the Brearly building, one of the oldest on campus. The ancient windows, which offered a partial view of a grassy area commonly referred to as the square, did little to stop the chilly fall day from seeping through. The cold leached into his bones. This, along with unsettled thoughts of what he saw and heard during the viewer’s second test, left Kal unable to maintain his attention on the lecture notes for his 11:00 class. Giving in to temptation, and working off a hunch, Kal turned to his computer and typed “ancient mythological demons” into the internet search bar. After a few clicks, he landed on a Celtic demon by the name of Karnthanoc. The sketches and paintings of the demon looked nothing like what he saw in the vortex, but the description caught his attention. He stared at the words on his screen.

“In the ancient Celtic world of demons and monsters, Karnthanoc was known as the father of all demons, perhaps even the devil himself. He was said to live in a cavern below Scotland’s Lough Derne (Loch of The Darkest Eye) which served as a hidden ageway to the forbidden lower world.”

Creaking footsteps stemming from the hallway’s wood floors alerted Kal someone was approaching. He cleared his mind of the nonsense on his screen. “Good morning, Dr. Kal,” Tatyana said as she tapped lightly on his partially open office door. She was wearing a tight-fitting emerald green skirt complimented by an off-white V-neck blouse and matching emerald pendant necklace. “Am I interrupting anything important?” “Not at all. I should be studying my lecture notes, but I got distracted. Please have a seat,” Kal offered. “Again, you can call me Kal.” Tatyana was more lovely than he recalled. “Is this a social visit or did Dean Jordinson send you to do his dirty work?” Selecting the chair that would provide Kal the best view, Tatyana crossed her legs, allowing her skirt to ride up. She observed his eyes. They did not stray

from hers. She could not the last time that happened and was slightly insulted, resolving to try harder next time. “In my experience, work and pleasure are not always mutually exclusive. But he asked me to remind you about the faculty lunch and staff meeting after your morning lecture.” Kal’s face twisted. He hated university functions. “Don’t say anything, but I detest those things. Too many pompous assholes trying to act smart.” Spinning in his chair, he looked out the window. “How about you and I ditching them and grabbing a pizza over at the student commons?” Did I just ask her out? Kal typically took a much more measured approach with women and surprised himself with the invitation. He felt as if he were acting like an impulsive teenager. “The students tell me it’s very good, but then again, consider the source.” “Is that the building over there across campus?” Tatyana asked. She needed to keep Kal distracted for a few more seconds. Removing a miniature listening device from her bra, she reached in and stuck the bug under the lip of his desk. Leaning back, she smiled to herself, not because her ploy worked but because her not-so-subtle show of skin appeared to have its desired effect. “I’d love to, but I have to take meeting notes. Perhaps some other time.” Turning back toward Tatyana, Kal studied her eyes. She was blinking rapidly. Was this a sign of deceit or nervousness? “I think the Dean would put my ass in a sling if I missed any more of those meetings,” Kal confessed, “so I guess I’ll see you there.” Tatyana stood. “Yes, you will,” she said with a practiced coy look. Before leaving his office, she turned and straightened her skirt, providing Kal with plenty of time to enjoy the view, which he did. Kal stared at his notes. After years of teaching the same course, Kal could recite nearly any lecture from memory, and he knew today’s topic exceptionally well. He shoved the notes into his briefcase, picked up his cell phone, and pressed Ace’s number. “Speaker,” he announced as soon as he heard Ace’s voice. Kal had no way of knowing Tatyana had placed a listening device in his office. If he chose to, he could design the world’s most sophisticated counter surveillance bug detector, but since his assumption was someone was always listening, he found it a lot easier to be careful when discussing his work outside

of the V-lab. “I forgot about a faculty meeting and can’t be in until after three.” The V-lab was a large room filled with workbenches, cubicles, a large conference table, computers, shelving filled with everything from reams of paper to circuit boards, and a small round lunchroom table. Ace was at the lunchroom table. He waved Zoe over. “Three o’clock?” Ace repeated feigning discouragement. “Damn it, you’ll be interrupting The Price Is Right rerun marathon.” “Are you ever serious?” Kal asked. “Only about sex, drugs, and rock-and-roll,” Ace paused, “and food.” Kal looked up at the ceiling as if serenity, sanity, or even a suitable response might be found there. None were. “Is Zoe listening?” “I’m here.” “Good. We need to plan the next phase.” Kal was prudently selecting his words. “You know which one I’m referring to?” The first two tests of Kal’s remote viewing system had worked, but neither Arlington nor the Carford lobby allowed him to determine if he was seeing into the near future. A hard rain began hammering the building’s steel roof, making the V-lab sound like a military drum corps was playing next door. Zoe picked up the phone and switched it off speaker mode. “Yes, we are following, and we have an idea. I’ve got to warn you, Ace came up with the plan.” “Am I going to hate it? “Probably,” Zoe said. She laughed and disconnected the call, not allowing Kal to reply. Before leaving his office, Kal sent a text to ZetaMag’s head of security, Roger Platt, asking for a full background check on Tanya Parks.

Kal was returning to his university office after the faculty meeting to drop off his lecture notes and student assignments when he noticed a strange man lingering outside Dr. Ahuja’s office at the far end of the hallway. As Kal made his way down the long, dimly lit corridor, the man glanced up a few times and then checked his watch, as if he may be waiting for Dr. Ahuja to return. Although Kal was concentrating on the viewer’s third test, he realized the large man was watching him, and he thought the guy would look more at home pumping iron in a Gold’s Gym. It did not take a super sleuth to figure it out since Dr. Ahuja ed away three months ago. Kal’s initial reaction to the unwanted attention was to call university security and have the man escorted off the campus. Then, wondering if his research was compromised, he did not make the call. If the man was observing him, Kal wanted to know who he was and why he was watching. What Kal did not yet know is that WISE had sent the man in the hallway, Petrov Vasilevsky, at Dirk’s request. Petrov’s primary mission was to collect intel and pressure Kal into making a mistake. Dirk also felt Petrov’s involvement could help Tatyana by keeping Kal’s suspicions centered on the wrong person. Dirk had made it clear to Petrov that he could use overt tactics, but to leave the dirty work to Tatyana. Only in a backup role, only if Dirk felt Tatyana had failed, would Petrov be allowed direct interaction with Kal or his team. Petrov hated playing second fiddle to Tatyana but would never intentionally disobey orders. Now, having seen Kal for the first time, he already hated the confident-looking, handsome, young professor. He wanted to sucker punch the egg-headed genius and watch the man writhe in pain at his feet before kicking the good looks off the little bastard’s face. Dirk had not told Tatyana about sending the additional agent. He understood when Tatyana discovered Petrov’s involvement, which Dirk expected would not take long, she would be ticked off. In his way of thinking, this was a good thing. It would help her understand who was in charge. After dropping the papers on his desk and checking his voice mail, Kal left his office. Double-checking the door’s lock, he looked in both directions down the long hallway. It surprised him to find the stranger nowhere in sight. He took the stairway to avoid a possible confrontation in the elevator and exited the building

from a side entrance. Scanning the area outside the building, he did not see anyone other than a couple of stragglers from the cross-country team loafing across campus. The morning rain had faded to a fine mist, leaving the odor of wet leaves hanging heavily in the cool fall air. Kal welcomed a deep breath of the pungentsweet smell of autumn as he cut across the grassy square to the faculty parking lot. Feeling tightness building in his chest at the thought of being followed, Kal checked his rearview mirror frequently as he pulled out of the lot and headed toward ZetaMag. He was less than half a mile from campus when he spotted the tail, a dark blue sedan with one oversized occupant. Changing directions, Kal made three right-hand turns and then dropped into the parking lot of a convenience store. He watched the blue sedan roll to a stop a block away. Not needing anything, Kal chose not to raise suspicions and wandered inside the store. Finding his cell phone, he moved to the back corner and called Ace. “What’s up, doc?” Ace said. He was attempting to impersonate Bugs Bunny’s voice. To Kal, he sounded a lot closer to Elmer Fudd. “I’m dealing with a little situation,” Kal said with no noticeable concern in his voice. “So, I’ll be a little later than I thought. Don’t leave, I’ll be there soon.” Grabbing a bag of cheese puffs for Ace and a can of iced tea for Zoe, Kal paid the attendant and left the store. He did not look toward the sedan. Whoever was watching him most likely knew about his medical device company, but he did not want to be followed there. Kal decided to ditch the tail when the opportunity presented itself. As he left the store’s parking lot, Kal punched the gas pedal and turned the car away from ZetaMag. Then he saw his chance to speed through a yellow light, nearly clipping a car turning left in front of him. Two cars behind him, the stranger in the blue car was forced to stop at the red light. Arriving at ZetaMag thirty minutes behind his self-imposed schedule, Kal knew being a few more minutes late would not hurt. Opening the security door’s office without knocking, he found Roger Platt shuffling through a stack of papers. “Another wonderful rainy, cold, fall day,” Kal said as he slid into a guest chair next to the man’s desk. Roger looked up from the papers clutched in his hand. “I’ll bet you’ll never guess how many Tanya Parks there are in this country. Over fifteen hundred,” he

said without giving Kal a chance to guess. “A couple hundred right here in Chicagoland, and about fifteen that live within thirty miles of campus. I printed their pictures.” “Excellent work. Do any of them look like they could win the Miss Universe evening gown competition dressed in a burlap sack?” “Hard to say, it’s mostly headshots,” Roger answered with a half-smirk. “But no, there are no raving beauties in this group, at least not the way I see them. Maybe your taste in women is different from mine. I’ve got a thing for platinum blondes.” Kal took a moment to look at the pictures. “Nope, not in here. It could be she just moved into the area. As far as I know, she only started with the university a couple of weeks ago.” “You’re not asking me to print all two-thousand pictures, are you?” Roger asked, rounding up the number of Tanya Parks. “No. Not at all.” Kal handed back the pictures. “Check alternate spellings of Tanya, you know, maybe T-A-N-I-A. I’ll get you more to work with soon, but unless the woman you find has straight black hair, is in her late twenties or early thirties, and looks like a magazine cover girl, then you’ve got the wrong one.” “Got it,” Roger said. Standing and turning toward the door, Kal hesitated and looked back. “One other thing. A gorilla-sized man in a blue sedan followed me out of the college. I would appreciate you keeping a watch out for anything suspicious and check my car for tracking devices.” “Looking for fishy things is what I do best,” Roger said. Kal was already a few steps outside Roger’s office and didn’t hear his response. As he wound his way through the false lab and concealed warehouse ageway to the V-lab, Kal’s thoughts returned to the viewer’s third test. He was certain the déjà vu tunnels were allowing him to see future events. Now he needed to prove it and it sounded like Ace and Zoe had a plan.

The Artificial Intelligence Programming Organization (AIPO) was holding its annual convention in a smaller, lesser-known Las Vegas resort. Most years, Ace did not bother with the event, but this year he had two reasons for attending; to test the viewer and because it was in Vegas. He was fascinated by the mathematics of gambling. For most of the conference’s first day, Ace took the time to attend various AIPO functions. He found the talks and seminars to be of little interest and decided it was time for a late lunch buffet. After eating more than his fill, and not being in the mood to go back to the convention, Ace located the blackjack tables on the edge of the hotel’s lobby. Choosing a five-dollar table, he changed $150 to chips and settled in for what he expected to be a financially rewarding afternoon. A few hours later, matched by the number of watered-down drinks, Ace was up $60 and wanted to test his skills elsewhere. Just as the cashier handed him $210 for his chips, Ace’s cell phone buzzed. It was Kal. “Did you switch?” Kal asked. He was referring to Ace’s phone. “You’re conferenced in with me and Zoe.” “Yes, I changed the phone. We’re good to talk. But first, let me move to somewhere more private.” Ace walked to a corner filled with a wide selection of unattended slot machines. “Go for the Ace man,” he said, feeling sufficiently isolated. “Zoe is picking up a powerful wave of DVTs,” Kal said. Ace knew this meant the global count of DVTs would peak at about one hundred thousand with many of them forming over land. “There appears to be some good vortex activity near both of us. I’ll be hitting the road, heading west. Which resort are you in?” Ace forgot the name of his hotel. “If you are asking about this hotel, it is the same one as the conference.” The cell signal was weak, and he was having a hard time hearing what Kal was asking. “I don’t know where that’s at,” Zoe jumped in. “How far are you from the Flamingo and Bellagio?” “Not far. Walking distance. Probably 10 minutes.”

Zoe’s hands and fingers were flying as she swiftly narrowed the size of the search grids to provide her with more accurate DVT locations. “The way these are forming I’d say they’ll peak in 25 to 30 minutes.” Her eyes were laserfocused on a series of red circles forming on the screen. “Kal, you need to get moving, your target is on the north side of Naperville. You better take I88, the side roads will take too much time. Ace, head toward those hotels.” Checking to make sure the battery was charged to capacity, Kal placed the viewer and backpack into its newly designed custom-built carrying case. “Zoe, call us back in ten to fifteen,” he instructed while rushing out of the V-lab. “Do I have you both?” Zoe asked. It had been closer to ten minutes since they last spoke. Both Kal and Ace acknowledged they were ready. “We still have roughly twelve minutes. Kal, this could be a tough one for you. There are probably going to be a few people around. You need to go to a strip mall on the corner of Third and Maple. Your DVT is forming inside Pellario’s, a small pizza shop on the east end.” “No problem,” Kal said. “Ace, there is a casino behind the Bellagio called the Queen’s Dowry. Yours will be somewhere in there,” Zoe said. Ace didn’t need to know the exact DVT location because Kal would provide him directions based on what he saw in the viewer. “Kal, I’ll call you back in a few minutes with the exact coordinates.” It took less than five minutes for Ace to reach the casino. Upon entering, he was stunned by the main gaming floor’s brightly colored, elaborate royal motif. With some time to burn and expecting the viewer’s test would take less than three minutes, he changed the $210 back into chips and then casually explored his gambling options. In the middle of the room were craps, a baccarat table, and a large roulette wheel. These were surrounded by poker and blackjack tables, which were further ringed by a sea of electronic slot machines and other noisy, brightly flashing games. Staring at the baccarat table, lost in the game’s statistics, Ace jumped when his cell phone rang. “Good to go.” “Just wait, I’m getting Kal on the line,” Zoe said. Ace and Zoe could hear Kal explaining his situation. “Yes sir, that is correct. I know it doesn’t make any sense to be testing your shop for radiation, but it is a nationwide study coordinated through the University of Utah.” Kal was making

up a story on the fly. “They’ve picked very specific locations for testing. You should have received a letter, but you know how that goes. I promise I’ll be out of your way in less than ten minutes.” Ace and Zoe heard someone in the background agree to Kal’s request. Feeling bad about imposing on the shopkeeper, Kal placed an order. “By the way, it smells fantastic in here. I think I’ll take a sausage calzone to go.” Tossing thirty bucks on the counter he added, “Thanks again, and keep the change.” Following the viewer’s green directional arrow, Kal moved to a location next to the women’s washroom at the back of the pizzeria. He checked to make sure no one had followed him into the place before whispering the and instructions into the device. If someone could look nonchalant while talking into a strange device hooked into a large battery backpack in a pizza t while lingering near the women’s room, Kal was not that person. He knew this and his nerves were on edge. Had he known both Tatyana and Petrov had eyes and ears on him from the parking lot, he would have scrubbed the test. Stepping out of the vortex to allow his cell phone to work, having chosen not to use the wired headset, Kal quietly described the scene to Ace. “I’m seeing most of a roulette wheel. Is there a dark-haired man in a yellow shirt nearby?” He moved back into the center of the DVT. “Yes,” Ace confirmed. Kal’s voice was breaking up due to the thick casino walls blocking the cell signal. Ace understood Kal’s situation would not allow him to talk louder or to repeat the information, so he did not ask him to do so. Kal had not heard Ace’s reply. He stepped out again. “It looks like the... picked up the ball from bl... four.” “No, it was red sixteen,” Ace said. He momentarily forgot that if everything was going as planned, Kal would be describing a future event. “I’ll move closer.” Once again centering himself, Kal turned the viewer to look at other parts of the casino. He shuttered and stifled a cry as he reached the 120-degree mark. The demon’s black flaming eyes were watching from his left side. Kal rushed past the evil stare by calling a new direction into the viewer. He was relieved not to hear the unsettling call of his name but had not lingered long on the eyes. Kal wondered if he could only hear its dark voice while returning its stare. He turned the view back to the roulette wheel, trying to change the thought of being

watched. Shuffling the chips from hand to hand, Ace watched as the roulette ball landed on red fourteen. “What the heck, maybe four is next,” he said so gently to himself it was almost inaudible. Splitting the chips unevenly, he placed $110 on black four and $100 on black thirty-one, his age. He knew a single number paid 35 to 1. Before the dealer started the wheel, Ace heard Kal’s voice. “The image is fading,” Kal said still speaking as inaudibly as he could and still have Ace hear him. “Did it... on black four?” To any onlookers, it appeared as if Kal was performing a strange ritualistic dance as he shifted in and out of the DVT at the back of the restaurant to talk on his phone. “Not yet,” Ace confirmed. “Alright. It’s getting hard to see, but it looks like... anded on red seven.” The viewer faded. “That’s it,” Kal reported. “I’ll get the calzone and be back shortly.” Watching the glimmering ball spin around the wheel, Ace pocketed the cell phone and began cheering for his two numbers. “Black four!” the dealer called. Ace had full faith in Kal and the DVT viewing system they had designed but the win shocked him. Not thinking about what he was doing, he pocketed a handful of chips, wanting to at least break even for the day, and slid the remaining stack to red seven. After the dealer determined everyone had placed their bets, she called, “Bets down,” and let the ball fly. “Red Seven!” she announced after the silver marble bounced to a stop. “Big winner on red seven.” Caught up in the excitement for a few seconds, the full impact of his actions soon ed. He had just cheated the casino out of $130,000. Tipping the dealer with a few of the $100 chips, Ace had her place his winnings in a tray. Nervously grabbing the tray, he searched out the cashier’s station. Required to complete a form for tax reasons before being handed his winnings, Ace’s concern grew. They would know who he was. After a few minutes of nervous waiting, the cashier returned with a check. Ace shoved the money into

his pocket, turned, and made a B-Line for the door. When he was only a few steps from the exit, he heard his name called from behind. “Crap,” he said to himself. Ace stopped walking and looked down at the floor. “Sir, may I have a word with you in the back?” Ace turned to see an average looking man in a pin-striped suit waving him toward a nearly imperceptible door hidden next to an oversized queen’s statue. Ace followed. “Wait in here,” the man said as he ushered Ace into a small office with no chairs. “I’ll be right back.” He closed and locked the door. While waiting, Ace tried to think up a convincing story. None came to mind. He looked at the vent in the ceiling, half expecting a poisonous smoke to filter in. Within minutes, the man returned along with a shorter, stockier man who did not appear friendly. “My name is Jim,” the first man said, “and this is Victor.” Victor stared long enough to make sure his presence felt dominating. “We’d like to know how it is you were in our casino for less than fifteen minutes while talking on your cell phone and then walked away with $130,000? I’m sure you can see how this might seem somewhat unusual to us. So, unless you’re a real honest-to-goodness leprechaun, you have some explaining to do.” Ace’s hands and legs were shaking uncontrollably. “I, uh, I’d be glad to give you your money back.” “That sounds a lot like an ission of guilt to me. But if it turns out you’re the luckiest son-of-a-bitch on the face of the planet, then we’ve got no beef with you and you can keep your money, after all, you won it,” Jim said. He was not angry and held a business-like tone. “But if you stole it, we want to know exactly how you did it, and then we’ll decide what to do with you.” Victor cracked his knuckles. “Okay, okay,” Ace said. A lie finally filtered into his mind. “I work as a statistical quality engineer at a precision ball bearing manufacturer. A month ago, I was researching receding limits of carbide precipitation on 52100 chrome alloy steel, that’s a high-grade metal used in bearings for things like, well like jet

engines and roulette wheels.” Ace was glad he paid attention to Kal’s description of the various metals used in the construction of the DVT viewer. Jim crossed his arms. “I see. Go on.” “I discovered that for high-speed applications, the metal performs perfectly, so you have no worries when flying. But with lower friction rates, the precipitation can cause unusual wear on the bearing.” Ace had no idea what he was talking about and could only hope he sounded convincing. “You know, flat spots. And flat spots on bearings can lead to predictable results. I’ve been wandering around Vegas all week watching various tables. I would guess your roulette is older than most, and it is displaying a pattern. Provided the dealer spins and releases the ball at about the same rate, which most dealers do, there is a thirteen-point-four percent chance of guessing two numbers in a row correctly. So, my odds were far better than you’d expect.” Giving Victor the signal to take over the questioning, Jim stepped away. “That’s bull-shit!” Victor walked the remaining distance into the room and closed the door behind him. Moving to within a foot of Ace, Victor grabbed him by the back of the neck and squeezed. “Leave the money on the table. And we never want to see your sorry ass in our casino ever again. We’ll be checking out your story, and if you’re lying, I suggest you have your life insurance limits increased. Have I made myself clear?” “Yes, sir. You did.” “Now get the hell out of here before I change my mind.” After Jim escorted Ace off the premises, he returned to the small office. “What do you think, Vic?” “Well, we’ve heard a lot of stories and, I must it, that one almost sounded plausible.” Victor paused, “But my gut says he’s lying. He wasn’t just lucky. Whoever he was talking to told him something.” “I would have to agree. I’ll get someone to fill in for you here,” Jim said. “I want you to check him out. Do whatever you need to but get to the bottom of it.” Outside the casino, Ace called Kal’s number.

“Why didn’t you call sooner?” Kal asked. “Sorry boss, I had to take a leak.” Ace was still shaking in fear and had to feign excitement. “The numbers hit exactly as you said. It worked! I forgot to time it, but I’d guess you predicted at least two minutes into the future, maybe three.”

Tatyana did not look at her watch. She was angry and did not care if it was 4 a.m. or 9 p.m. in Novosibirsk. It was late, and that was all she knew. Dirk’s phone went to voice mail three times before he picked up. “What, who is this?” Dirk’s eyes were bleary. It was the middle of the night and he was in a strange woman’s bed in an unfamiliar part of town. The drug and alcohol-fueled night were still taking a toll. He tried to concentrate. “Why did you send that moron Petrov to back me up? If that excuse for an agent gets in my way, I swear he’ll meet his end face down in Lake Michigan.” It was Tatyana, and she was furious. Dirk expected the call. He drank from a glass of water on the nightstand to clear his head. “Slow down. I only sent him to run interference for you.” “That’s another one of your damned lies and you know it,” Tatyana spat back. “If you wanted him to help, you’d have told me. I hate that imbecile, but I could work with him for a couple of days if you had asked. As it turned out, we were both watching Kal today at the same time in the same place. Talk about being obvious! No, you sent him in case I messed up. Or maybe in an attempt to force me to screw up. it it.” Dirk thought about what approach might work best to calm Tatyana. He deflected the blame. “You’re right. I told those idiots up at headquarters you could handle this. They insisted and said this was too important to leave in the hands of a single agent. I would have told you, but they asked me not to. If Petrov would have done what he was told, you’d have never even known he was there.” “Are you kidding me? Petrov couldn’t stay hidden under an avalanche. That butthead is as obvious as a pin at a balloon party.” The truth was Dirk wanted Tatyana to fail. Getting her out of his hair was more important to him than whatever Kalvin Davilaar was cooking up. If Petrov messed up the entire assignment, Dirk would blame them both and ask headquarters for new agents. “So, what have you found out?” Dirk asked. He hoped she was done spitting

venom. “Not a lot. It’s really strange. He rolled a large silver case into a pizza t, was in there about fifteen minutes, and then left with some carryout. He was in the back of the restaurant, out of sight most of the time. I couldn’t see what he was doing. Did you hear from Petrov? He probably didn’t do any better.” “No. I haven’t gotten an update from him yet,” Dirk said. “I used my most powerful laser mic, but only picked up something Kal said about radiation. He was whispering and all I could hear were a few numbers. Four and seven, I think.” “What about his cell phone?” Tatyana hesitated before delivering the bad news. “He’s hired a communications expert by the name of Zoe Baxter. She changes his cell phone number more frequently than the diapers on a newborn. Trying to tap his phone is almost impossible. No, it is impossible.” Dirk took another sip of water to clear his throat. “Are you getting close to him?” “We’ve met a few times. He’s interested, of course. I’ll set the hook and will start reeling him in soon. But as you warned, he is smart and meticulously careful. And, I must it, handsomely charming.” “Great work,” Dirk said. He did not feel the false praise was earned or accepted. “Now, get Petrov out of here before I kill him,” Tatyana demanded. It was not an idle threat, and Dirk knew it. Having no intention of removing Petrov from the case, Dirk promised Tatyana he would make some calls to see what he could do. Although he knew it was not her strong suit, he asked Tatyana for her patience.

The Killer

College students packed the Friday night happy hour at Bar 96, partying one last time before heading home for the week of Thanksgiving. Over the years, the number of students cutting class heading into the holiday had increased, so the university istration decided it was better for everyone to close campus for the week, causing the Friday before Thanksgiving to become one of the most popular drinking nights of the year. At a high-top table near the entrance, Kal and Ace were enjoying half-price drink specials along with the electric studentfueled atmosphere. “Dr. Kaahl,” a drunk student called as he headed out the door. “Have a great, a great Thanksgiving.” The way the student slurred his name reminded Kal of the eerie voice he had heard in the vortex. A chill frosted up his spine. “You too,” he called back over the blaring music and cacophony of voices. From various points around the bar, three people had their attention targeted on Kal and Ace. Only two tables away, Tatyana was feigning interest in a couple of female students she befriended. She disguised herself in an auburn wig with long bangs covering much of her forehead, green s, a false nose, and a loosefitting outfit. She added a convincing-enough southern drawl to complete the cover. Petrov was at the end of the bar facing toward the entrance and was not attempting to maintain secrecy. A person unknown to any of them, except for Ace who had not yet noticed the man, Victor “The Vice” Galante had arrived from Las Vegas and was sitting directly across the bar from Petrov. Victor Galante was a stocky man leaning toward being overweight. At 5’10” he was about the same height as Kal, but that is where the similarities ended. Receding hairline with slicked-back dark hair, scarred face, and jack-hammer hands left no doubt in anyone’s mind he was a thug. Earning his nickname from once using a table vice to crush a traitor’s fingers, many considered Victor to be one of Sin City’s most effective enforcers. “Are you ready for another one?” Ace asked, noticing both their beers had little more than a swallow remaining. “Looks like our server is spending most of his time waiting on those girls from Kappa Alpha Theta, not that I blame him. I’ll have to fight my way to the bar.”

As was common for Kal, he had the uneasy feeling that someone was watching his every move. “Sure. I’ll buy the next round.” He scanned the over-packed bar. A glimpse of the man he had seen in his office hallway confirmed his sixth sense was not baseless paranoia. His nerves went on edge, firing his mind into overdrive. “Wait,” he said before Ace stood. “Don’t turn around. There is a gigantic man with a crew cut on the opposite side of the bar, you can’t miss him. He’s the one that tailed me from campus. It seems obvious he wants me to know he is following. Have the bartender send him a drink from me. Make it a pina colada with an umbrella. Tip him a twenty to see if he can get the man’s name.” Kal handed Ace two twenties. While Ace worked his way through the crowd, Kal considered their situation. There was little risk of the man confronting him in a crowded bar. He and Ace were sitting near the front door, allowing a quick escape if needed. And the man would soon know Kal was aware of his presence. Feeling some control over the situation, the tension building in the back of Kal’s neck eased. “Sir,” Ace yelled over the bar while waving the twenties in the air. Ignoring everyone’s calls for drinks, including Ace’s, the overworked bartender pulled a handful of bottled beers out of a cooler and rushed away. While waiting for another chance to flag him down, Ace studied the far end of the bar. The man Kal identified was impossible to miss, like a stranded whale on a crowded California beach. Ace turned away before the man caught him looking his way to check out the crowd on the other side of the bar. Spotting the casino’s enforcer, Ace sighed, “No. God, no. Not him.” A cute brunette coed bumped Ace on the arm, “Did you say something to me?” “Clowns to the left of me, jokers to the right, here I am, stuck in the middle with you,” Ace said repeating the lyrics he recalled from an old 70s tune. He had the uncanny ability to come up with lyrics for almost every situation and was always willing to share them. “What? I don’t even know you.” The student looked confused. “I’m sorry,” Ace sincerely offered. “I didn’t mean you.” He removed his gaze from the young woman and looked at the enforcer. Victor was looking back. He held his stare for a few moments before pulling his finger across his throat, and then glanced over the bar to see if the other man

noticed the threat. If he did, the man made no sign of noticing the gesture. Victor had no idea who Petrov was, but had determined with little difficulty that he was also interested in Ace and his boss. With no luck at figuring out how his casino had been cheated, Victor thought about confronting the fierce-looking man to see what he knew. Why was he following them? Could it be he was an Atlantic City enforcer? Maybe Ace tried to steal some money from them too. If so, Victor wanted to get to Ace first. He needed to protect his reputation. In his line of business, reputation meant everything. Unnoticed by any of them, Tatyana casually eyed the two men watching Kal. To her, they seemed as out of place as four-year-old kids in a cage match, but she doubted anyone else noticed or cared. She did not recognize the second man. But based on his obvious interest in Kal and Ace, she wondered if he was yet another WISE agent. Maybe one from the South American division. Ace acted like a scared child running from a bully when he returned to the table with fresh beers, out of character for the typically light-hearted guy. “What’s got your panties in a twist?” Kal asked. “It’s that man at the bar.” Ace hated to it his failure in Las Vegas and felt guilty for not confiding in Kal earlier. “I know,” Kal said, looking at Petrov. “He got the pina colada and just mimicked shooting me with his finger. Not sure if he is joking or threatening. I’m leaning toward threatening given the fact he has been following me. Either way, he knows we are on to him.” Taking a large swig of beer, Ace wished he had ordered a shot of courage. “Not that man. The one on the other side, the one behind me on the left. Slicked back hair.” Kal shifted for a better view. “Sure, I see him.” Ace gulped from his beer bottle and described everything that happened at the casino. He outlined the story he made up about the roulette wheel. He explained how he knew the man’s name was Victor, and how Victor threatened him with bodily harm if he found out he was lying. “Well, that’s not the best news,” Kal itted. Ace lowered his eyes in shame. Although Kal was not sure why he felt bad for Ace considering the magnitude of

his misstep, he still wanted to lighten the load. “I must it though, that was a pretty good lie you made up about the bearings. And I’d rather be fighting an enemy I know than one that is unseen and unheard. Before we leave, let me take a shot at fixing this.” Pointing toward Victor, showing he wanted Ace to follow, Kal stood and fought his way through the crowd. He tapped Victor on the shoulder. “Sir,” he said, “I’m sorry to interrupt.” Victor spun in his chair. “Dr. Davilaar. It’s a pleasure to meet you. I would guess your partner Ace has already told you my name is Victor, but you can call me Vic.” The contempt for Kal was clear in his tone. “Well, Vic, it seems you already know my name,” Kal countered. He decided not to continue with the meaningless banter. “I would guess you want to know how we cheated you.” Switching to a more menacing tone, Victor thundered, “I want the truth!” He stared daggers into Kal’s eyes. “And I’ll get it. The easy way or the hard way.” “Let’s not drag clichés into this,” Kal said. He remained calm trying to throw Victor off balance. “If you know anything about me, and I think you do, then you know I am a leading expert in magnetics and superconductors. Essentially, I study narrow and broad-spectrum magnetics in adjective and mono-polar environments.” Victor clenched his fist, moving it up to where Kal could see it. “Sounds like the same load of garbage your partner tried to sell me. I ain’t buying it.” Kal grinned. “I knew you wouldn’t,” he said, trying not to sound patronizing. “How about Wednesday afternoon you stop at ZetaMag? I’m sure you already know about my company, and I’ll show you exactly how we manipulated the roulette wheel. That’s the day before Thanksgiving. Will you still be in town?” “I ain’t leaving here without an answer.” Victor’s tone and demeanor were both threatening. “But what’s wrong with showing me right now?” Kal was ready with a lie. “The device we used recently malfunctioned. A highly sophisticated micro-thermo diverter is due in on Tuesday. I’ll need a day to make the repairs.” “Alright, Wednesday it is. I’ll be there at three o’clock. And no tricks.”

“No, sir. There will be no tricks.” Kal already had worked through a plan to deceive the enforcer. Then, almost in procession, Kal and Ace left the bar, followed by Petrov and Victor. Tatyana waited a few minutes before saying goodbye to her new friends.

Still dressed in disguise, Tatyana rumpled her hair, smeared her dark eyeliner, tore her blouse, scraped at her chest with her long fingernails, and dabbed some fake blood across the minor wound. Running from her car parked three blocks away, she was sweating by the time she reached ZetaMag. It was late in the evening. Based on her investigation of the company’s operations, she expected the doors to be locked with only a single guard still in the building. “Help!” she screamed while banging frantically on the glass door. “Please, help me!” Paul Laudner had pulled the Friday night shift. An ex-cop Kal recruited based on his long, decorated career, Paul was not as physically able as he once was but would forever have a police officer’s mind—a willingness to help tempered with a healthy dose of skepticism. Paul had seen a lot of truly terrified people throughout his career, and he could tell this woman was another one. He rushed to the door and unlocked it. Inside the building, Tatyana moved close to the guard while babbling incoherently about being attacked. She forced some fake tears to complete the deception. As Paul tried to calm her, he allowed Tatyana to lean her head against his shoulder. He gently patted her upper back. Then, faster and smoother than a cheetah, Tatyana made her move. Ducking under the guard’s arms, she removed the dagger strapped to her thigh, spun, and held the blade to his neck from behind. “Do as I say, and you’ll survive.” Tatyana then asked him to repeat her instructions. He did. “I’m going to remove your weapon and your wallet and then secure your hands behind your back. If you struggle, the last thing you will feel is my blade slicing through your neck. If you don’t complicate things, I’ll be gone soon with no one ever knowing I was here. Nod your head if you understand.” A lifetime of dealing with perps provided Paul with a level of coolness uncommon among security guards. “But I’ve seen your face, and you promised me I’d survive. How can this be?” “You’re smart,” Tatyana itted. “I’m just getting to that. Turn toward the reception desk.” His hands bound, Tatyana removed his gun, placed it on the floor, and scooted it further away with her foot. Then, opening his wallet, she

spread the contents across the polished granite top. “Let’s see what we have. A home address, a wife, a couple of children, and a few grandchildren.” Paul shifted uncomfortably, knowing exactly where this was heading. “Yes, I think you’re a smart man... oh, a smart cop,” she said, looking at a fading picture of him in uniform. “Do I need to say more?” Paul did not answer. Grabbing him by the back of his neck, Tatyana slammed his head against the granite countertop. She repeated the question. “I’ll report nothing happened here tonight, but you need to promise me you won’t touch my family.” Tatyana pressed her knife into his ribs hard enough to draw a trickle of blood. “You’re in no position to make demands. But since I need to get in and out of here as cleanly as possible, I’ll agree. Maybe we should pinky swear on our little deal?” she snickered. “Now, we’ve got a lot of work to do. Where’s the security camera control room?” After clearing the recording of her entering the building and turning off the cameras, Paul led her to Kal’s office. “This is cleaner than an operating room. Does he ever use it?” Tatyana asked. “I’m the night guard,” Paul answered. “I’ve never seen him pull an all-nighter, and I agree with you that it looks unused.” “Are you telling me you’ve never seen him leave after hours?” Paul looked her in the eye. “I didn’t say that. I meant he doesn’t use this office much. At least not that I ever see.” “Fine. Then show me where he works,” Tatyana demanded. She wanted to slap him for being a smartass but held off. Expecting she would not like his answer, Paul braced himself for some more pain. “I can’t. There’s a lab only he and his team are allowed to enter. It’s highly secured.” A powerful punch a few inches below his rib cage knocked the wind out of him.

“Don’t mess with me,” Tatyana spat. Holding her temper was not a skill she had mastered. “Show me where it is. I’ll get in.” Following Paul back through the lobby to a different corridor and down a short hallway, they arrived at the false lab’s security door. “Interesting,” Tatyana uttered after studying the security system for a few moments. “I’ve seen worse.” Rummaging through her oversized purse, she removed three small devices. The first one, a small black box, she attached below the door handle. Holding another one above the voice recognition system, and the third one which looked like a double-headed laser pen, over the eye scanner, she activated them in sequence. The door popped open. “I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but an old-fashioned pin pad can sometimes be harder to disarm than these.” The motion-activated lights came on as they entered. Working her way around the lab, Tatyana snapped pictures of the circuit boards strewn across the workbench centered in the room. Examining the cubicles, she concluded one of them appeared to have recent use, as evidenced by a few candy wrappers and a half-empty bottle of Coke set next to a keyboard. Checking the closet, she found nothing of interest. “That’s disappointing, but all I need for now,” Tatyana announced. She scanned the room one last time before leaving. A light pattern of dirt on the floor caught her attention. It led directly to the closet. “Wait,” she said. “What’s on the other side of that wall?” Tatyana crossed the room and rapped on it. The wall was made of concrete. “I don’t know,” Paul said from across the room. “A warehouse, I think. Honestly, I’ve never been in there.” Tatyana went back into the closet. She studied the back wall. It was not ed to the side walls and there was slight pattern of wear at the top and corners. Realizing she had found a hidden door, she searched for the lever, button, or security system that would open it. She even opened the fuse box but did not see that it was the key. With no other tools to assist in the search, she itted defeat. “Touché, Dr. Davilaar. You are very clever.” Before leaving the building, Tatyana removed the guard’s restraint. As she promised, she left him unharmed, but the last thing Paul heard before the entrance door closed was her repeating his home address.

By Wednesday, Kal’s team was ready to test the DVT viewer’s newly added recording capability. First, they needed to deal with Victor. “Is the magnetic isolator ready?” Kal asked Ace, who was busy at his desk in the V-lab soldering a small circuit board. Ace was leaning over the board and did not look up. Dangling from his mouth was a piece of red licorice. “Almost. I just need to make it go frizzle-frazzle when he enters the wrong number.” Ace’s part of the “Victor show,” as they referred to it, was to develop a fake magnetic-control box, the magnetic isolator. In Kal’s office, the device would appear as if it were controlling a roulette ball. Back in Las Vegas, when Victor would enter the wrong pin, the circuit boards would fail and burn into unrecognizable bits of metal and plastic. Kal switched his gaze to Zoe. Her light-green eyes were dark with concern. “The cameras and control system are working. I just hope nothing goes wrong,” she said. “I’ve essentially turned my office into a giant solenoid to redirect nearby magnetic fields and curve them towards a single point.” Kal was using his classroom lecture voice. “I’ve increased permeation density and wave strength beyond normal limits to control the metal ball, and because of the doorway, I overcompensated the far-field parameters. So other than edge effects, what could go wrong?” “I have no idea. I’m just glad I’ll be in here,” Zoe said. She was not trying to be funny. “But it sounds to me like you’ve turned your office into a giant microwave oven.” With a soft snap of the cover on the fake control device, Ace announced he was ready. “Your pin is 007. Get it? 007,” Ace said. “As in Bond. James Bond. I’d say Kal Bond, but that sounds a lot like an industrial glue.” “Don’t weird out on me too much, Ace,” Kal said. “Let’s not forget who started this mess.” “Sorry, boss. I couldn’t help myself.” The look on Ace’s face was sincere. He felt bad for getting them into the situation, although it appeared by the size of

Kal’s smile he was enjoying the deceit. “I was going to make Victor’s pin 666, you know, the sign of the Devil, but I used 999 instead.” Kal shook his head and rolled his eyes in exasperation. It was shortly before 3 p.m. by the time they were ready for Victor. Kal was already looking past the con. “Can you check for DVT development later today, Zoe?” he asked while simultaneously checking a text on his phone. “Looks like Vic arrived a bit early. It’s showtime.” Covering the path from the V-lab to the entrance of ZetaMag in less than three minutes, Kal greeted Victor at the reception desk. After some false pleasantries, he led Victor to his office. “Good afternoon, Victor,” Ace said as they entered the room. He was sitting on the edge of Kal’s desk. “I hope our demonstration satisfies your curiosity and you can make it home for Thanksgiving.” Victor was in a foul mood. “Shut your trap and consider the fact I’m not slamming it shut for you as something to be thankful for tomorrow, you lying sack of shit.” “Gentlemen, please,” Kal interrupted before Ace could say something stupid. “Victor, on behalf of Ace, I truly apologize for his deception. I gave him strict orders not to divulge the nature of what I am about to show you. And now that your casino will know our technology exists, perhaps they can better protect themselves against future losses. Please know I did not develop this to steal money but, as you have seen, someone could use it for that purpose.” Shrugging his shoulders at Kal’s apology, Victor watched suspiciously as Ace handed a small black device to Kal. “This better be convincing,” Victor said. He pulled back his coat to reveal a gun at his side. Kal glanced at one of the hidden cameras, giving a slight nod to Zoe signifying it was time to start the Victor show. Reaching into the top drawer of his desk, Kal removed a roll of blue painter’s tape and handed it to Victor. “Here,” he said. “Put an X anywhere on my floor. You pick the spot,” Kal emphasized. “Then take any of these steel balls.” Kal pointed to a tray on his desk with an assortment of small metal spheres about the size of marbles. “Move anywhere across the floor, again your choice, and roll the ball in the general direction of the X.” Following Kal’s instructions, Victor was soon in the office doorway kneeling

like a kid ready to play an old fashion game of marbles. “Does it matter how fast I roll this?” “A little.” Kal was being truthful. “Maybe as fast as a roulette ball would be good. But wait a second, I need to enter the pin into this magnetic isolator. It’s 999.” He entered 007. The device started beeping. “Okay, ready when you are.” Victor aimed to the right of the X and fired the ball a little faster than he thought necessary. Watching the camera views closely, Zoe slowed and redirected the ball with her mouse while Kal aimed the control box at the X. The ball was off the mark by an inch. “I’m impressed,” Victor itted. “But it missed.” Kal had asked Zoe to be slightly off target on the first try. “I could add a laser pointer to the device,” Kal said, “but I think that would have been kind of obvious at your roulette table. Try again. I’ll try to point more accurately this time. Move the X if you want to.” Moving the tape to the other side of the office, Victor tried again, aiming further off target and firing faster. Watching the ball gradually slow and come to rest dead center, convinced him of the device’s effectiveness. “Alright. But if I find out you’ve screwed with me again, I’ll be back, and I won’t be asking questions,” he said. He tapped on the gun handle for emphasis. Handing the fake device to Victor, Kal showed him the on-off switch and reminded him of the pin. After escorting the man out of the building, Kal returned to the V-lab. Ace was already there. “Do you think he’ll be back?” Ace asked. “Once that thing fails, I’m sure they will try some type of electronic forensics to determine what went wrong,” Kal offered as a guess. “So, I hope he waits until he is in Vegas before he uses it. But, to answer your question, yes, I think we will see him again. My best estimate would be this ploy only bought us a few weeks. I’ll try to figure something else out before then.” He turned his attention to Zoe, “Any luck on the DVTs?” “Some. I’ve found one that looks like a whopper if you don’t mind standing out in the cold, in the dark, in the middle of a cornfield.”

“At least it isn’t raining or snowing,” Kal said. “What time are you predicting it will hit?” Zoe clicked on a red circle in the center of her screen. “I’ve made a few minor improvements to the timing algorithm and it is telling me the vortex should be just after seven o’clock. That leaves you a few hours to grab some dinner and get to the middle of DeKalb corn country. So, you better hit the road soon.” “Ace,” Kal said, “have you had time to test the recording feature?” “Sir. Yes, sir,” Ace saluted. “At least as much as possible in a lab setting. It’s still a little glitchy. Kind of like the DeLorean time machine in the movie Back to the Future, if you that one. It seems to me that time machine also landed in a cornfield.” “Nice reference, Ace,” Zoe said. “I try.” “Well, I’ll try it too,” Kal said. “The recording, that is, not the obscure references.” Then, as was becoming routine, Kal checked the viewer’s battery, packed it into its case, gave his team some last-minute instructions, and left the lab. It took the better part of two hours for Kal to reach the location. Pulling off to one side of the rural two-lane road, he was glad to see the farmer had harvested the field. Only the stub of the corn stalks jutted out of the ground. Unpacking the viewer, Kal lifted the backpack over one shoulder and turned on the device. Providing the viewer with coordinates, Kal followed the green arrow. Trudging across rows of harvested corn, Kal’s shoes became caked with black mud, making his feet feel heavier with each step. Finally reaching the center of the vortex, Kal mindlessly brushed clumps of mud onto a dead corn stalk while confirming to himself what he wanted to accomplish with this attempt. Looking at his phone as he placed it on the ground a few feet away, it pleased him to see a few bars on the screen, indicating adequate cellular reception. He was also glad that night had fallen to help avoid detection, but standing alone, deep in a cornfield, on a chilly Thanksgiving eve gave him the creeps. “W 328 N 7 negative 6,” he called into the mic. With the accepted, the

two blue lights showed the viewer was ready. “Power 4. Screen on. Lock remote. G zero. Stabilize H4 V4,” Kal instructed the device. “L1 record,” he added to test the new recording functionality. The picture was blurry. The sense he was being watched from within the tunnel was more intense, more threatening than in prior viewings. His legs started shaking. A stronger DVT, he rationalized. “It looks like a fire hydrant.” He spoke loud enough for Ace and Zoe to hear. Kal secretly hoped describing the ordinary scene would calm his nerves. “How exciting,” Ace said, “maybe a dog will pee on it.” “Zoe, give me the backup location,” Kal said. “I don’t want to record the hydrant, not that it matters for this test.” “Try +35.9956190 latitude and -83.9332994 longitude.” She heard him repeat the numbers. At first, Kal had trouble making out what he was seeing. “Not much better, Zoe. Looks like a stairwell.” “Could be,” she said. Zoe was unsure of the exact remote viewing location. “I was only looking for two strong DVTs to give you plenty of time to test the recording capability. Let me see,” she switched screens. “Yes, you’re looking at an apartment building on the outskirts of Knoxville.” “Up 30,” Kal called, trying to look above the building. “More stairwell,” he reported. “Rotate to 90,” he said to turn the view. “Wait?” He paused. “No. NO. NOOO!” After a few seconds of silence, Ace jumped in, “What are you seeing? The eyes?” “Rotate to 115!” Kal needed a better viewing angle. After a few more seconds, he screamed at his phone, “Zoe, I need you to get the street address right now and then call 911!” Kal’s voice was frantic. “Send the police to the third floor. Tell them you think there is a murder in progress.” Zoe cut the connection to Kal’s phone and followed his directions to the letter. Searching for a better view of the scene, Kal ordered the viewer to 130 degrees. There was nothing he could do but watch the hooded, knife-wielding man cautiously open a door marked Third Floor and disappear down a hallway. He

stared for a few seconds at the closed door, then shook his head to clear his thoughts. Kal switched his attention from the doorway and saw the demon’s eyes. The swirling blackness seemed to be floating in the upper-right-hand corner of the viewer’s screen. Or maybe the eyes were hovering within the tunnel? He could not wrap his mind around what he was seeing or the ominous pressure steadily encasing his body. He wanted to turn away, but his curiosity prevailed. “I can always shut it off,” he said to himself to muster up some courage. His shaking legs felt ready to buckle. “Up 5. Rotate to 120.” The fiery, black eyes were centered within his view. Whether they were on the screen, he still could not determine despite concentrating all of his efforts on what he was witnessing. Kal glanced at the battery level. It was holding, but he knew time was running short. “What are you? Who are you?” he called. His thin, quivering voice conveyed the sound of a scared child. “Kahl.” The dark gurgling voice came from all sides. Turning his body, Kal extending his right hand in the direction he thought the eyes were located within the vortex. A strange tingling in his fingers turned into a warm sensation in the palm of his hand. He stretched further. The warmth changed to a painful burn as the sensation reached his wrist. Reacting to the heat, he pulled his hand back and shook it to clear the pain. “Warn.” The voice was louder and hollow. Without checking the timer, Kal could sense time was running out and the DVT signal fading. “What are you?” he repeated. There was no answer. “Where are you from?” Silence. “Who are you?” After a long pause, Kal heard what sounded like “Sy-nok.” The voice faded along with the vortex.

A serial killer had plagued the larger Knoxville area for over a decade. Dubbed the Thanksgiving Thrasher, the killer who was believed to be a man in his early forties based on some fuzzy security camera footage, always struck within three days of the holiday. His modus operandi was to rape, torture, murder, and dismember young women, but the forensics were unclear on the exact order of the heinous crimes. Unable to detect a pattern in the murderer’s choice of victims, the authorities stationed six teams of FBI and local police around the city. Receiving orders from dispatch on a 911 tip, two Knoxville squad cars and an unmarked FBI cruiser arrived at a three-story apartment building near the corner of Central and Springdale within minutes of Zoe’s call. The six officers came in silently with lights off. Within moments of their arrival, they had feet on the ground with weapons drawn. “The caller said the third floor,” Agent Pearson announced, confirming what the team already knew. “You two stay down here.” He was pointing at a team of local police officers he did not know. “Cover the fire escapes and exits. I was told there are only four apartments on each floor. Agent Dent and I will go up along with Creighton and Schuler. We’ll each take an apartment. If he’s in there, he can’t escape. Let’s move... take the stairs... quietly.” Although Agent Dent was technically in charge of the operation, having recently been promoted to Assistant Special Agent-in-Charge—or ASAC as it was more commonly called—she often allowed her more experienced partner to take the lead. In his early 50s, Pearson was 15 years her senior. He was known within the bureau to be a highly proficient agent with a sharp eye for details and a wickedly sarcastic sense of humor. Other than a similar level of sarcasm and love for the job, Agent Dent had little in common with Pearson. She was small framed with short red hair and preferred a measured approach in most situations. Pearson was a bull in a china shop, a dominating man who emanated respect through his commanding voice, cropped gray hair, and powerful frame. His approach was to shoot first and ask questions later. They balanced each other, making an excellent team. After racing as quietly as possible to the third floor, Pearson felt winded and paused to take a few deep breaths. Slowly swinging open the stairway door, he

winced when the hinge squeaked. He entered the hallway low with his flashlight and gun leading the way and checked for signs of danger. The hallway was clear. Pointing each of the officers to a different door, he whispered, “On the count of three.” If the smell of death were in the air, the pleasant aroma of freshly baked pumpkin pie wafting through the hallway from beneath one of the apartment’s doors masked it. Using his fingers to count down, Pearson silently called, “Now.” Each of the officers banged loudly, announced they were the police, and shouted instructions to open up. Two of the doors opened almost simultaneously. In one doorway stood a woman wrapped in a fuzzy blue robe, and the other held a gangly teenage boy with one hand inside a half-eaten bag of potato chips. The officers entered their apartments to confirm the perp was not hiding somewhere inside. Agent Dent and officer Creighton were having less success. They both knocked a second time, firmly demanding access. A barely audible cry from behind Creighton’s door was all he needed. With a powerful kick, the frame exploded inward, sending chunks of splintered doorframe into the apartment. With his gun drawn, Creighton crouched as he moved in, swinging his gun left and then right. The room was dark, and from what he could see it was empty. He called into the darkness, “Police! Nobody move!” Unable to get a grip on his flashlight, he located a table lamp and lit up the room. Drops of what he felt certain was wet blood led from the living room down an unlit hallway. “In here,” he called to Dent. Agent Dent heard him kick in the door and was already covering him from behind. Knowing the perp used a knife to kill his victims, Dent thought the man might not be carrying a gun but still proceeded cautiously. Taking the lead, she followed the blood trail to the open doorway of the apartment’s only bedroom. Flipping on a hallway light, she stole a glance inside the room. A hooded figure was on the bed, kneeling behind a half-naked woman handcuffed to the metal headboard. The man held a knife in one hand and the end of a cord wrapped tightly around the woman’s neck in the other. Tears black with mascara were streaming down the young woman’s face, and blood trickled from her wounds. “I’ll add her to my list if you come any closer,” the killer threatened in a low, raspy voice.

Dent inched into the room. From behind, she heard Creighton calling for the other officers. “We have the fire escapes covered.” Dent’s voice was clear and confident. “There is no way out. Don’t make it worse on yourself. Let her go.” Dent could barely see the man’s eyes hidden beneath his hood but understood, based on her years in the field, the perp was processing his options. “Don’t do it.” She edged closer. “Don’t do it,” Dent repeated. She spoke in a composed tone hoping to defuse the situation without violence. The perp’s jaw tightened. “I ain’t going to prison.” With her gun aimed at the killer’s outside shoulder, Dent watched the killer’s knuckles turn white as his grip tightened on the noose. The woman choked and gasped for air. There was no time left. BOOM! The sound of the gun blast filled the small room in a deafening roar. Blood from the killer’s nearly severed arm splayed across the room in a crimson arc. The knife fell flat onto the hardwood floor with a dull thud. He released his hold on the cord. Pushing Dent and Creighton aside, Pearson rushed past them into the room. Tackling the perp, shoving him off the bed onto the floor, Pearson knocked the killer unconscious with one thunderous blow to his chin. “Call for an ambulance,” Pearson said. “His arm is barely attached, and it looks like he might have broken his jaw when he fell.” Everyone in the room understood what Pearson was saying. Three hours later Agents Pearson and Dent were at a local precinct wrapping up their report. It was after 10 p.m. and they were ready to leave for the night. “That was outstanding work,” Captain Kline said. “That bastard’s twelve-year reign of Thanksgiving terror has finally ended. The women of Knoxville can all rest a little easier from now on.” “How is the girl?” Dent asked. “Physically fine,” Kline said. “The doctor said she was in a state of shock, though. I guess that would be expected.” Pearson sat down on the edge of the captain’s ancient gray metal desk. “It wasn’t our good work that stopped that creep. It was the anonymous 911 call. What can you tell us about it? We questioned all the tenants in the victim’s building and none of them itted to making the call. And if they did, why would they lie

about it?” “That’s the strange part,” Kline itted. “The call was from outside the area. It was not long enough to get a full trace, but it appears to have come from somewhere in the Chicagoland area. We’ve got the number and will find out who it's ed to, but that will take some time as our initial reverse directory search couldn’t find the number listed in the U.S. database.” Placing his hand over his mouth while pinching his nose, Pearson allowed the information to . “I’ll use the bureau’s resources to locate the number,” he said after removing his hand from his face. “We’ll get back to you when we find something. You know, I’ve been doing this job for a long time, but this is a first. Seems like the perp had an accomplice. Maybe the caller got cold feet or something. But the timing doesn’t work for me. It makes no sense. Something just isn’t right.” “I would agree. It does seem very odd. But I’m bushed, so let’s call it a day,” Dent suggested. “Were the FBI,” she slapped her partner on the back with a laugh, “and you know we always get our man. But we don’t have to figure this one out tonight. Sometimes it’s just better to be lucky than good, and whoever called this in is alright in my book. For now, I don’t care why they called or how they knew.” “Yep,” Pearson agreed. “We’ll figure it out, eventually. Goodnight Captain.” The FBI agents left the police headquarters, both contemplating the strange 911 call.

The Orb

“I ’ll have a meatball sub and a bottle of water,” Kal said to the cashier at the student commons. His lunch arrived after a brief wait, and he placed it into a worn black leather briefcase for its trip to the Greare library in the middle of campus. The university had recently added a second library which held more computers than books, but he preferred the old sandstone and brick Greare building to the gleaming glass and stainless steel of the newer one. A few weeks had ed since the viewer’s failed recording test. Kal had been too busy at ZetaMag and grading final exams to deal with the problem. Now, with little else to think about during his walk to the library, Kal’s mind contemplated the faulty recording system. Engrossed in his thoughts, Kal did not notice the small puddles from the rapidly melting snow until he felt the sting of the frigid water seeping into his shoes. Looking ahead for a dryer path, he saw the man—the one who had been following him for weeks—watching him from the library’s steps. It was time to take the bull by the horns. He increased his pace, now unconcerned with the puddles. The beastly man did not move as Kal approached. “I know you’re following me,” Kal said. Most of the students had already left campus, but there were plenty of ersby at this hour to ensure his safety. Comfortable with the confrontation, but still nervous due to the man’s size, Kal left a few feet between them. “What do you want?” Petrov removed his sunglasses. “We know what you are doing. We want it.” His face was stern, his Russian accent heavy. It made his words difficult to understand. “Perhaps you have me confused with someone else,” Kal responded. He memorized the man’s face, expecting he would get little additional information. “No. We not make no mistake.” Kal measured his options. Thinking it was not possible for the man to know about his DVT research, he used ZetaMag for diversion. “Everything we do at my medical device company is properly ed. Your company, or whoever you work for, can already see what ZetaMag is doing. It is public knowledge through the U.S. patent office. If your associates in Moscow want my technology, it is nothing more than negotiating a fair price. There is no need for

these intimidation tactics.” He noticed the man’s pupils did not dilate. This suggested to Kal that he missed the mark with the Moscow reference. “I will be watching you. Make no errors, we will get what we want.” Petrov returned the sunglasses to his face and briskly strode away. Kal wanted to tell him the phrase is “make no mistake,” and that he had used a double-negative earlier, but he kept his mouth shut. Undeterred from his lunch plans, Kal entered the library. The odd mixture of musty books blended with the scent of lemon oil used to clean the library’s wooden desks was like a breath of spring air to Kal. He found it invigorating and drew a deep breath through his nostrils, momentarily held the air in his lungs, and then exhaled through his mouth as if performing a meditation breathing technique. His nerves calmed. Taking the elevator to the top floor, he weaved his way to a small table near a set of massive windows at the back of the building. If anyone else was on the floor, he did not notice. Doodling on a notepad while nibbling on the meatball sub, Kal’s mind wandered back and forth between the viewer’s recording problem and the confrontation on the library’s steps. How could the man know? Impossible! That Russian thug must be on a fishing expedition, hoping to pressure me into making a mistake. “That’s not going to happen,” he quietly confirmed aloud. From somewhere in the nearby stacks, he heard a familiar voice. “What isn’t going to happen?” It was Tanya’s voice. Is there anyone not following me? He smiled at the thought of her. Tatyana peaked around the edge of the shelving. “Sorry, Kal. I didn’t mean to interrupt your lunch. Looks to me like you’re a health food fanatic.” Kal’s face flushed light red. “Want a bite?” He dabbed a paper napkin at the corners of his mouth to clear away some tomato sauce. She unwittingly shook her head no. “This place is the best,” Tatyana said. “These books on European history seem to have caught my attention lately. But I’m too lazy to check them out and return them, so I just wander through and read bits and pieces when I find the time.” Over the past few weeks, Tatyana had secretly watched Kal do the same in the autobiographical section. Tanya’s habit seemed too coincidental to Kal. A spy or flirting? He would find

out. “Are you going to the faculty Christmas party on Friday?” “I would, but I don’t have a date. Unless...,” she paused, tilting her head in a coy manner. Based on the women who had shown interest in him in the past, Kal realized he was a decent-looking guy. And even though he believed Tanya was somewhat above his pay grade—allowing logic to prevail over emotion—he hoped she was truly interested in him. Besides the physical attraction he had for her, he liked her sense of humor and knew being with her at the party would raise some eyebrows. He liked the thought of that. Plus, it would provide a pretext for digging into her past. He also liked that thought. “What time should I pick you up?” His face turned a brighter shade of red. “I’ll meet you there if that is okay. Sorry, it’s my first date rule.” Tatyana lied. She wanted Kal to know as little as possible about her, including where she lived. Most likely he would find out about her apartment at some point, but the longer she delayed, the more confident she felt in her deception. “I have had some bad first dates. It seems I’m frequently attracted to the wrong kind of men.” “Am I the wrong kind?” he asked. “Whoever said I’m attracted to you?” she teased. “Now that hurts.” “I’ll meet you in the main foyer at seven o’clock.” Tatyana looked at her phone. “It’s getting late. Got to run. Toodaloo.” Before turning and disappearing from sight, she pressed her hand to her lips and blew him an air kiss, which she noticed Kal pretended to catch. Toodaloo? She is different, he thought. And it seems she doesn’t want me to know where she lives. His suspicions notched up one level.

Wrist and ankle cuffed to the hospital bed, the Thanksgiving Thrasher, Arlo MacQuoid, was under constant guard by two patrolmen. “Sorry, sir,” the officer posted outside the door called to Agent Pearson as he approached, “no one is allowed in.” “FBI,” Pearson barked. He flashed his badge. “Sorry, sir. Strict orders.” Agent Dent pushed forward. “Here,” she said, handing over a court authorization. “Will this help?” “Yep, that’s the magic key,” the officer confirmed after glancing at the document. “Go ahead.” He opened the door to tell his partner that the court had given the agents proper access. Dent moved to the closest side of the perp’s bed. Pearson positioned himself on the opposite side. The killer appeared fully awake. “Looks like they saved my arm.” MacQuoid flashed a look of disdain toward Dent. “I guess you need a little more practice at the firing range.” “Maybe,” Dent said. “Doesn’t matter though. You won’t be lifting much more than a plastic spork with that arm for... oh, let’s say, the next ten life sentences.” Agent Pearson unplugged the pain medication pump while MacQuoid’s attention was fixed on Dent. “As much as I’d like to listen to you two take a trip down memory lane, I’ve got better things to do.” He glanced at Dent and then looked at MacQuoid. “Who was helping you find your victims?” The criminal’s right arm was useless and not secured to the bed. He tugged on the restraint attached to his left wrist. “Take this off and maybe I’ll talk.” Agent Dent squeezed the killer's damaged shoulder. “And I thought we were friends.” MacQuoid grimaced in pain. Dent pointed to the pump’s unplugged cord. “Now, maybe Agent Pearson has someplace he needs to be, but I’ve got all day. Things might get quite uncomfortable for you if you don’t feel like talking.” MacQuoid looked at the officer at the door for help. He turned his back.

“I see. It is going to be three against one. Fine. What do you want to know?” Dent switched to a different question. “Have you ever spent any time in Chicago? Do you know anyone there?” “Chicago? What? Are you trying to pin some more murders on me?” Dent poked MacQuoid’s bandaged shoulder. “NO! I went there on my eighth-grade school trip. Never been there since. Didn’t like the place. Other than that president... what was his name... Obama, I couldn’t name a single person from there.” Dent nodded to Pearson, affirming she believed the man. “Did you have anyone helping you locate victims?” Pearson asked. MacQuoid squinted. “So, let me think... you guys are FBI. Right? Tell me how many times in the history of serial killers, and I’m not saying that I am one, did they have an assistant coordinating their daily activities?” He switched to a highpitched female type voice, “No, sorry mam, Arlo is not available at the moment. He is out murdering someone at the corner of Fifth and Main. Can I have him call you back when he gets in?” Dropping the voice, he continued, “Idiots.” “Could there have been anyone who would have known where you were headed that night?” Pearson asked. “Hypothetically speaking, since I didn’t do it, I’d say no. No way. I’ll never figure out how you found me in that apartment. Um, you do know, we were role playing. My girl is kind of kinky that way.” Pearson stomped on the pump’s plug. “Save it for the jury, asshole. Oh look, I broke it. I’m sorry. Officer,” he called across the room, “I tripped on this plug and accidentally damaged it. When you get a chance, maybe sometime later today or tomorrow, please let the nurse know.” “Sure. I’ll the message to my night shift replacement.” The officer easily picked up on the drift of Pearson’s message. Satisfied with the perp’s answers, both agents thanked the officer for his cooperation and left the room. They did not hear MacQuoid loudly protesting his

unfair treatment. Back in their car, Agent Pearson dialed the FBI headquarters in Washington, D.C., and pressed the extension for the communications research division. “Agent Howland, please.” “Howland,” a woman announced. She sounded bored. “This is Pearson. Security code 72A31X. Any news on the Thrasher’s 911 call?” The sound of a clicking keyboard filled the air. “Here is what we have so far.” Howland now seemed overly dramatic. “The number belongs to a company ed in the Cayman Islands called Grover Paint Additives. It has no known U.S. address. Grover Paint is owned by a REIT, also out of the Cayman Islands, also with no known U.S. address.” “Did you say a reed?” Pearson interrupted. “No, a Real Estate Investment Trust. A REIT,” Howland clarified. “The Investment Trust is owned by another corporate trust out of Colorado. Its name is LosTrust. I know that is not much to work with. We are still digging. Give me another 24 and I should have something more. And one more thing, it may not be important, but there are hundreds of numbers ed to Grover Paint.” “Thanks,” Pearson said and disconnected. He turned his head toward Agent Dent. “Now what?” Dent shrugged her shoulders in reply. “I’m guessing Colorado will be another empty rabbit hole. Might as well wait until Howland comes up with something concrete before we go traipsing across the country. How about we grab a bite to eat and then to the office to see what else they have for us?” Pearson agreed, put the car in gear, and headed to their favorite dive on the outskirts of Knoxville.

It was early afternoon by the time Kal pulled into the ZetaMag parking lot. The previous night’s snow had melted, and the midday sunshine felt closer to spring than early winter. After entering the building and chatting with Bill at the security desk, he headed to the main security office where he found Roger Platt reviewing a recording. “Is there a problem?” Kal asked. He was peering over Roger’s shoulder. “I don’t know yet. There is a gap in this recording. It’s from late in the evening, about a week before Thanksgiving.” “A gap?” Roger held his hands body width apart. “Yes. You know, a gap, a missing segment, a lost period of time.” Kal lifted one eyebrow. “Oh, thanks for clarifying to me what a gap is, I never understood the concept. How long? Was there a power outage? Who was on duty? Did something malfunction?” “We have a software program that checks for deletions and I just found this one. Sorry, I should have done this a lot sooner. The break is about an hour long. I haven’t had time to research it, but I had all the same questions you just listed, plus a few more.” Holding his hands together in a praying manner, Kal pressed his pointing fingers against his mouth as he cataloged the information. “Anything on Tanya Parks? I have a date with her to the faculty Christmas party this Friday, and as much as I want to believe she is interested in me, something about her is not ing the smell test. I can tell you it’s not her perfume though. Whatever she’s wearing is absolutely bewitching.” “Nothing yet. I’ll need more to work with than just her name.” “Another thing,” Kal added, “I confronted the man who has been following me. He had a Russian accent. He didn’t seem to know much, or at least didn’t let on that he did. And he didn’t react when I mentioned Moscow, so maybe he is from Estonia, Georgia, Latvia, Lithuania, Moldova, Tajikistan, or Ukraine. Does that help narrow things for you?”

“Sure does,” Roger chuckled. “I think it might be a good idea for me to check your car again for tracking devices.” “Good thinking.” Kal cuffed Roger casually on the shoulder. “Let me know if you come up with anything on the... what was that thing called again, oh, I know, the gap.” Roger let the sarcasm hang in the air without response. Proceeding through the security gauntlet to the V-lab, the acrid odor of burned electronic components assaulted Kal’s senses as he entered the room. A newly added, brightly decorated, small Christmas tree stood off to one side atop a large cardboard box—one most likely borrowed from the warehouse next door. “Who burned out the string of lights?” he asked. Kal was guessing at the source of the smell, but not questioning the guilty party. “The tree lights work fine. The Santa’s sleigh drone I was building, well let’s just say that crashed and burned.” Ace pointed to a melted pile of plastic on his workbench. “I see,” Kal said. He usually enjoyed hearing about Ace’s side projects, but his mind was elsewhere. Heading directly to the whiteboard, Kal studied some formulas. “Did you retest the viewer’s recording system? I’m thinking there must be something going wrong between the infrared and visible light spectrums, probably around 700 nanometers.” He drew a circle with a blue marker around a wiring diagram in the lower corner. Ace was picking apart the drone and did not look up. “Nan-A, nan-E, nan-I, nan-O, nan-U, and sometimes nan-Y-meters. Could be any of those are the problem, I suppose, but I’ve made some corrections and the darn thing works just fine in here.” Ace pointed a controller at the Christmas tree and the multi-color lights began swirling around as he imagined the magnetic waves did inside the DVT. “I’d agree, it must be some function of the energy inside the vortex causing the issue.” Kal looked at the tree. “Can you do that in all red?” Ace pressed a button and the lights changed to red. “You need to find a girlfriend.” Switching gears, Kal strode over to Zoe’s cubical and peered over the wall from behind. She appeared buried in a spreadsheet displayed across multiple screens. “Can I interrupt?” Kal asked. Zoe jumped. “You scared me,” she itted. “Look at this.” Zoe pointed to a

series of numbers. “And this, and this.” She dragged her finger across various sections of the screens. “Looks like those numbers form a Fibonacci spiral.” Kal easily recognized the pattern. Ace moved to Kal’s side. He was taller and rested his arms across the top of the cubical wall. “Fibonacc-A, Fibonacc-E, Fibonacc-I...” Kal poked him in the ribs. Ace stopped. Zoe enlarged the numbers with a scroll of her mouse. “Actually, they represent a golden spiral. I’m still collecting data on the size and location patterns of the DVTs, but I think they not only follow a perfect spiral pattern over time, but the vortexes are strongest when they approach the center.” “Interesting.” Kal paused to think through the implications. “That would imply DVTs will be easier to predict once we can link them to a specific spiral.” “Exactly,” Zoe said. “Excellent work. And speaking of predicting DVTs, I’ve got the afternoon free. Can you see if any are forming nearby?” Kal was tired and hoped he would not have to drive too far. Switching to her vortex tracking system, Zoe clicked on a series of cell towers throughout the Chicagoland area and pressed the search icon. Within ten seconds, three pink dots appeared on her screen. “The DVT colors range from light pink, those are the weak ones, to the strongest displayed in dark red. I’m not seeing any good ones. Let me try another area.” Going through the same steps except looking in the northwest suburbs, she found a light red dot and clicked on it. “In about 70 minutes, there should be a relatively strong vortex near Lake Zurich. At this time of day, you could be there in 45. But it might form in the middle of the lake, for all I know. I can get you a more accurate location in another 15 minutes, that is assuming this one follows the typical strengthening pattern. Not all of them stay within the standard parameters, and I am still trying to figure that out too. Sometimes I feel like a forecaster at the National Hurricane Center trying to predict the strength and direction of a storm weeks in advance.” Kal looked across the room to see if the viewer’s battery pack was charged. It

was showing full. “I’ll head out now. By the way, did either of you try to find a reference to Sy-nok, or anything similar to that?” “No, I didn’t.” Ace responded. “I did, and I came across something interesting,” Zoe said. “There are a lot of ancient legends involving eyes. Eyes of God, eyes of the Devil, eyes of the unknown. One of them caught my attention only because the reference is linked to cyclonic activity. I found out that in Irish mythology, there was one demon, known as Kerntouth, who would appear as dark eyes within a swirling eruption of flames. According to legend, it would drag its victims to the netherworld.” “Fascinating.” Kal recalled finding the Celtic creature named Karnthanoc from his brief internet search a month earlier and noted the similarities in the name and historical setting, but not in their descriptions. “After a lot of reflection, I’m starting to think this thing is real and not just a figment of my vortex-induced imagination. I must it those eyes in the DVT are by far the most frightful and disturbing thing I have ever experienced, and I do not look forward to seeing them again. However, the bad thing about being me is that my curiosity is insatiable and always gets what it wants. Apparently, my curiosity already accepts the premise that Sy-nok is an actual being, and it wants to know more about it. Plus, I would expect if it wanted me dead, I would already be immortality-challenged.” The euphemism did not click with Ace. “You’d be what?” Zoe and Kal shared a smile. “Taking a dirt nap, achieving room temperature.” Catching the reference, Ace slapped himself in the face. Kal continued, “I need to know with one hundred percent certainty if that thing, the demon, truly exists and spoke to me in English, or if the encounter is a trick of the mind, a phenomenon from warping time inside the vortex. I’m hoping the viewer can record it so you can see what I am dealing with in there. It’s an oppressive and menacing sensation. Kind of like being weighed down by the lead blanket dentists use when they take x-rays, only with a mind-crushing feeling of fury infused with revulsion. Something just short of pure evil.” Ace shuddered from the description. “Well, good luck with all that. I’ll stay here and keep an eye on the womenfolk.” “The womenfolk in here are going to kick your skinny little chicken butt into

next week if you say that again.” Zoe flashed Ace her middle finger along with a friendly smirk. “Hey, Kal!” Ace roared, “her foot is a better time machine than your viewer.” Zoe dropped her chin to her chest in a phony act of exasperation. “Kal,” she said still looking down, “I’ll call when I know exactly where in Lake Zurich you need to be.” She lifted her head and looked him in the eye. “And I’ll make sure I pick a less murderous remote viewing location this time.” They had seen the reports on the capture of the Thanksgiving Thrasher and hoped the authorities would not trace the source of the 911 call, although both Kal and Zoe expected they eventually would. “Yes, a less lethal site would be a plus,” Kal said on his way out of the lab with the viewer in tow. From the ZetaMag parking lot, Kal headed west. He was less than a mile away when he spotted the Russian man’s blue sedan a few cars behind. The car was gaining on him. Kal pressed hard on his BMW’s accelerator in an attempt to elude his pursuer. The fast and nimble 440i allowed him to swerve through traffic at an unnerving speed. Kal’s knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip on the wheel. Not wanting to take his attention away from the road, he risked a glance in the rearview mirror. He was losing the blue sedan, but not as quickly as expected. Knowing there was a left-hand turn ahead, he moved into the right lane. His improvised plan was to cut across three lanes of traffic at close to full speed, a risky maneuver he had seen in several movies and TV shows. Petrov was struggling to maintain the pace. He had police-like training in handling vehicles and had been in countless chases throughout the years, but his skill could not compensate for his inferior vehicle’s performance. Blocked by a rusty blue pickup truck on his left and a white Volkswagen Beetle in front, Petrov traded paint with the pickup forcing it into oncoming traffic. A symphony of horns blared as he shot around the Beetle. With a car on his rear left corner and three oncoming vehicles, Kal estimated the timing as best he could. At the last second, he gunned the engine and swung the vehicle left. The move, which looked thrilling in the shows, was terrifying in actual life. Tires screeched, his body stiffened expecting impact, and his heart

began racing faster than the car’s engine. To his astonishment, he cleared the intersection without crashing. Pushing to full speed for three blocks, he stomped on the brakes, squealed through a right turn, sped up again, and made a hard left into a grocery store parking lot, eventually bringing the car to an abrupt stop between a matching pair of oversized SUVs. He waited. Swerving onto the right shoulder as he reached the intersection, Petrov drove past the mayhem Kal had created. Making a rapid U-turn across all four lanes, he cut through a bank parking lot, ripped through a grassy road frontage, jumped a curb, and turned right onto the street. The chase ended there. Kal’s silver BMW had vanished. It had been ten minutes since he pulled into the parking lot. Kal’s voice sounded ragged when he answered Zoe’s call. “Somewhere near 2081 Plymouth Drive,” he repeated the address. With his hands shaking and his mind still spinning, he decided car chases were no longer on his things-to-do list and uncharacteristically jotted down the viewing coordinates. Waiting another five minutes before leaving his hiding spot, Kal felt relieved that the Russian man’s vehicle was nowhere in sight. Arriving at the DVT location within ten minutes of Zoe’s call, Kal stopped to talk with the homeowner before tresing onto her property. He did his best to convince the uninterested woman he was mapping unused natural gas lines. After receiving her permission, he followed the viewer’s location finder to a spot on the side of the house near a large air conditioning unit. As a man of science, Kal struggled to maintain a relationship with God. But expecting some level of confusion, combined with the alarming sense of being entombed by the demon’s presence as he probed into its existence, Kal prayed he would get some answers and not be injured or killed. To a lesser degree, he wanted to test Ace’s updates to the viewer’s recording system. Although he was unconcerned with the remote viewing location, he noted to himself it was somewhere in Japan. Kal set his cell phone on the air conditioning unit a few feet away, placed it on speaker mode, called Zoe, and faced due north before activating the viewer. He was guessing the eyes were always in the magnetic north section of the vortex. He expected he would only have about ninety seconds before the DVT faded, and he did not want to waste time searching for the strange being. Following the

routine process, including turning on the recording function, it did not surprise Kal to be eye-to-eye with the demon upon activating the viewer. Despite having steeled his mind and body for the encounter, a feeling of dread tore through him. His voice quivered. “Are you Sy-nok?” The black eyes somehow darkened, the shadows deep and empty. Kal waited. “Ky-noth,” a voice gurgled. “You understand English. Do you know other languages?” Kal was following his intuition about the creature. There was no reply. “Do you speak other languages?” “All,” the being finally replied. Kal took this to mean it knew all languages. “How long have you known of humankind?” “All.” The answer echoed in Kal’s ears. All? Forever? Since man’s existence? “Have you encountered man before?” Silence. “Have you spoken with the human race in the past?” Kal thought he heard the word “henge”, but the voice was softer and more distant. Checking the remaining time, Kal noted he had less than fortyfive seconds to get the answer to two more questions. “Are you dangerous?” There was no reply. He did not wait long for a response. “Have you killed?” “YES!” the voice boomed. Pain erupted in Kal’s head. He expected to see blood dripping onto the ground from his eyes, nose, and ears, but there was none. He desperately wanted to shut the viewer off, but in case the recording function failed, he demanded to himself to get proof of the demon’s existence. “Are you real? Am I imagining your existence?” Once again, the creature remained silent. “Prove to me you exist!” Kal shouted. A feeling of terror unlike any he had ever experienced cloaked Kal’s entire body. He fell to his knees. Tilting his head back, he watched the eyes narrow and brighten as they contracted to sparkling-white pinpoints. Then, with a faint whistling sound, a laser-like blue light from one eye merged with a similar green

laser from the other to form a small pulsating, swirling multicolored orb inside the vortex. As the strength of the DVT faded, the orb shot at Kal’s wrist. Expecting an explosion of pain, Kal flinched, screamed, “all off,” and dropped the viewer. To his astonishment, his wrist had not burst into flames, nor was his hand severed from his arm. Outside of the growing waves of distress flooding his mind, the only sensation he felt was an icy burn below the watch’s dial. Sliding his finger beneath its face in search of blood and finding none, he removed the watch from his wrist. The skin beneath revealed nothing, no discoloration, no welt. Then, examining the watch, he discovered a small hole in the face’s center, one which looked perfectly round and smooth, as if a jeweler had used a diamond bit to drill it. “Are you okay?” It took Kal a few moments to Ace’s voice. He stood, took a few deep breaths, removed the battery backpack, and rubbed his eyes. Clearing his throat, he picked up the phone. “I think so, but I’ve been better. I’ll tell you all about it when I get back.”

Ace and Kal arrived in the V-lab only minutes apart, Kal returning from his encounter in the vortex and Ace carrying a large paper sack. “Is that dinner?” Kal asked. “I’m starving.” “Italian beef sandwiches and fries,” Ace said. “Water, tea, and pop in the fridge. Grab something to drink and tell us what happened. It sounded like a game of twenty questions from our end. If that thing said anything, we couldn’t hear it.” Kal set the viewer on the conference table. “Let’s eat over here. Plug the viewer into the projector. See if it recorded anything.” Taking a diet soda from the fridge, Zoe ed them. “We did hear an unusual noise toward the end. It sounded something like a rifle shot through a silencer. What was that?” The three sat together at one end of the table. Ace handed out the food and then connected the projector. With the press of a few buttons, an image appeared on the screen. The distorted video displayed the early morning activities on a street corner in Hakone, Japan. The two-minute recording showed little of interest, and no sign of Kal’s encounter. Ace turned off the projector and viewer. “I’m sure the National Geographic channel would be fascinated with that,” he said over a bite of his sandwich. “That part with the guy picking up a wrapper and tossing in the trash was scintillating. A real jaw-dropper.” Zoe was picking the beef out of her meal, the au jus-soaked bread being more than she could stomach. “At least the recording worked. A bit rough and grainy, but I’m sure you guys can figure that out. So, Kal, you’re on. What happened, what did it say.” Removing his damaged wristwatch and placing it on the table, Kal started telling the events from the end. “Here’s the result of the... as you described it, the silenced gunshot. It fired a hole in this. So, it’s clear the demon is absolutely real and not a figment of my imagination. What you heard at the end was what I can best describe as a cold-laser orb being fired at me. I think the creature hit my watch on purpose in response to my demand for proof it existed. But look at my wrist,” he said. Kal held out his arm, “nothing, no marks.” Ace examined the watch and handed it to Zoe. “You asked if it had killed,” she

said while inspecting the hole on the back of the watch. “Did it answer you?” “Yes. It said yes. The problem is, it only answers my questions using a single word, like ‘yes’ or ‘all,’ so I don’t know for sure if it meant a human being here on earth, but given the context, I can only assume it has killed men at some point in history.” “That would suggest it has had with humans before. I don’t see how that is even remotely possible.” Zoe remarked. Ace unwrapped another sandwich. “Why didn’t it blast you? Sorry. I’m glad it didn’t.” Kal was wondering the same thing. “I have no clue why it didn’t kill me. Perhaps it doesn’t see me as a threat.” “Or maybe you don’t look very appetizing,” Ace mumbled. Kal ignored Ace’s aside. “I have a theory you guys will need to help me research. The thing said its name is Ky-noth, which is reasonably close to the names Karnthanoc and Kerntouth we found in our internet searches. Maybe that is a weird coincidence, but I doubt it.” As was his habit, Kal paused, allowing his team to absorb the information. “It said it understands many languages, and if I construed its meaning properly, it has been around since... perhaps since the dawn of time. Thus, it seems reasonable to conclude it has existed within these magnetic vortexes for a very long time. It has been listening to and learning our languages. Think about that for a minute. This thing is a living history of our world. With millions of DVTs per year, it must have caught glimpses of almost everyone. Neanderthals, Greek philosophers, Jesus Christ, Einstein, you name it.” Zoe fidgeted in her chair as she grappled with the implications. “But that still doesn’t explain with people. I mean, no one in the past could have developed anything like the viewer. Certainly not hundreds or thousands of years ago.” “I’m getting to that.” Kal took a big gulp of water and continued, “When I asked the creature if it had spoken with us in the past, I think it said ‘henge,’ although I’m only about fifty percent sure of what I heard. My theory, the one we need to research, is about the construction and design of ancient stone structures,

particularly the large ones. I’m thinking it is at least possible that vortexes increase and decrease in strength over time. If one of those henges, like the huge one in Wiltshire, England, have enough mass, and were covered in facing stones with some magnetic properties, and were properly aligned, and had multiple rings of stone, and the vortexes were near their peak strength, then our ancestors may have built massive, primitive DVT viewers. That is to say, almost certainly by accident. I know that is a lot of maybes, and I will need to do some calculations to see if this theory holds water.” Fixated on the last few bites of his sandwich, it did not appear as if Ace had been listening to a word Kal had said. “I’ll research the designs of those structures and write a program using size, shape, mass, location, and magnetism ratios as variables. What else do I need to factor into it?” “I’ll let you know. Zoe, based on what you have learned so far, could you try to map the strength and position of the vortexes throughout history. I need a model that will go back thousands of years, kind of like those historical celestial maps. I know there is guesswork involved, but your recent discovery of the golden spiral patterns might help. Listen, let’s take a few weeks off from work and not worry about this until after the New Year.” Kal stood and looked at the Christmas tree, its lights now blinking green and white. “Oh, I didn’t have time to get either of you a gift, but you’ll find a nice Christmas bonus on your next paycheck. Buy yourself something fun. Merry Christmas.” Glancing around the V-lab to see if there was anything he needed to bring with him, Kal headed for the door. “Enjoy the holidays.” “Merry Christmas,” Ace and Zoe replied in concert.

The Lake

After finding the concealed doorway at the back of ZetaMag a few weeks earlier, Tatyana knew Kal’s secrets were hidden inside the warehouse or paint additives company. Despite her best efforts, and those of her team at WISE, the research on these companies came up empty. It was late in the evening on the night before the faculty Christmas party. Tatyana felt unprepared. She needed more information to quiz Kal effectively on his research and was also anxious about what dress to wear. As she prepared herself to break into the ZetaMag building, her mind wavered between the task at hand and the red or green dress. She slid a dagger into a black sheath attached to her thigh. “The red one,” she confirmed to herself, vowing to try on both. Having spent the afternoon researching the blueprints of Kal’s industrial building on file at the County’s permit office, she determined the best access point was through a fire door at the back of the warehouse. She realized the door was designed for egress and would likely not have a handle on the outside. She also knew her skills, aided by a few basic tools, would make opening the door a simple task. The security system was a more difficult problem—one she hoped would not be too difficult to overcome. Although she was highly trained at disarming all types of security devices, not knowing what type of system Kal used left her feeling uneasy. Dressed in black with a ski mask covering her face, and aided by a moonless sky, Tatyana was nearly invisible as she approached the fire door. Reaching into her pouch of tools, her hand landed on a long strip of thin flexible metal similar to the lockout tool used by car thieves. From somewhere nearby, a nearly imperceptible squish of footsteps in the wet grass caught her attention. She stopped moving, focused on the sound, and twisted to her left. A short distance away stood a large man holding a gun. It was pointed at her head. “Move and you die,” Victor threatened. There was no reply. He tightened his finger on the trigger. “Seems like we are searching for the same thing,” he added in a friendlier voice. Victor wanted to defuse the situation before it escalated. Tatyana’s eyes had already adjusted to the darkness. “I saw you at that bar a few days before Thanksgiving. You were watching Kal and Ace. Then you seemed to vanish into thin air. Did mommy call you home for a nice turkey dinner?”

Based on the size of the person standing before him, Victor knew it was not the immense man he had observed sitting across the bar on that same day. But the female voice surprised him. “No. Those jerks sent me on a wild goose chase. Now, tell me what you are doing here and what you already know.” Using the darkness to her advantage, Tatyana removed the dagger strapped to her leg. “Unless you have a death wish, what I know is you better lower that gun.” Victor laughed. He was almost twice her size and was the one holding the pistol. “I don’t think so, sweetie. I need information and you’re going to tell me what you know.” “Sweetie? Really?” Tatyana’s anger spiked. Bending low while lunging and spinning her body, Tatyana slammed her leg into the back of Victor’s knees, immediately dropping him to the ground. Then in one singular movement, she bounced back onto her feet, pinned his gun hand to the ground with one foot, pressed her other foot on his neck to restrict his breathing, landed her dagger on the right side of his head nicking his ear, and removed a second blade from the small of her back. “I’ve killed men for calling me that,” she growled. Victor instinctively grabbed her ankle with his free hand. “Let go or die,” Tatyana’s tone made it clear she was not bluffing. Momentarily lost and struggling to breathe, Victor released her ankle. The tables had turned so fast it took a few seconds for him to think. He realized he was in a life-or-death situation, but his first coherent thought was not to call her “sweetie” again. “We can... help each... other,” Victor croaked as he gasped for breath. “Listen closely, SWEETIE. I don’t need your help.” No sooner than the words left her mouth, Tatyana realized the man could provide a much-needed distraction and changed her tactics. “Now drop the gun.” Victor let go of the pistol. Tatyana kicked it away and eased the pressure on his neck. “Who are you and who do you work for?” “Take your foot off my neck and I’ll tell you everything I know.” Victor knew he was in no position to bargain but making a demand might send a message he was not afraid of her despite his precarious position. Tatyana respected Victor’s bold approach. She would have done the same.

“Okay, but don’t even look at your pistol.” Removing her foot from his neck, she bent down and frisked him. She suspected the man carried an ankle gun and was not disappointed. Motioning Victor to stand, she asked, “Now, who are you?” While brushing wet grass and dirt from his coat and pants and smoothing his hair, Victor gave Tatyana a quick explanation of who he was, where he worked, and how he was duped twice by Ace and Kal. “So, I don’t suppose you are going to tell me who you are.” Victor’s story rang true in Tatyana’s mind, plus he fit the profile of a casino thug and seemed too clumsy to be a trained agent. “That would be a big no,” she replied dismissively. “You need to understand I have no issue killing you right here, right now, tonight in your sleep, tomorrow in your car, or wherever and whenever I choose. And make no mistake about my abilities and desire to do so. On the other hand, if you help me here tonight, I promise to let you live. Then, I want you to go back to Vegas and don’t come back here for at least two months. I’ll be long gone by then. Is that understood?” The message was simple, but Vic was not about to leave town until he got what he came for. He remained silent, thinking about his response. “Do we have an agreement?” Tatyana pressed. Vowing to himself to be more careful from now on, wondering what type of espionage he had stumbled into, Vic finally responded, “I’d say an agreement between killers is a deadly pact, but it seems I have no other option. What do you want me to do?” Tatyana reached down to retrieve the knife stuck to the hilt in the grass near Victor’s foot, intentionally leaving herself open to attack. Victor did not move. Having ed her improvised trustworthiness test, she honored her word and continued with her plan. “Once I get through this door, I’m guessing I’ll have less than thirty seconds to locate and disarm the alarm before all hell breaks loose. I’m fairly sure I know where the control is located and that it’s a closed system. It should only ring in the main security office within ZetaMag and not an outside security service. If you can distract the guard, it might buy me some much-needed time.” “I can manage that.”

“Check your watch,” Tatyana said while setting a timer on hers. She handed his ankle gun back to him and allowed him to retrieve his pistol. “I’ll be at the control box in exactly three minutes from my mark. Are you ready?” “Yes.” “Don’t go overboard with it. I don’t want the guard to become suspicious. Just buy me a few minutes. Now go,” Tatyana ordered. She started the countdown. Kal had done everything he could think of to eliminate as many access points to his industrial building as possible. But he found the adage that you cannot fight city hall to be true, and despite his best efforts, the fire door remained. To mitigate this weakness, Kal designed additional levels of security into the building. If someone released the fire door latch from the outside, a series of hidden floor s would silently redesign the layout of the warehouse. In less than two seconds, a stack of boxes would slide in front of the door to the V-lab, a new corridor of boxes would open to a fake workstation, and a second corrugate hallway would lead to a door within Grover Paint Additives. Beyond that door was a large room filled with a wide assortment of paints and chemicals, and no access to the V-lab hidden behind it. The V-lab’s security would also shut down and its door would magnetically seal. As Tatyana expected, the fire door latch released with ease. Holding the door ajar with her foot, she dropped the lockout tool into the pouch, checked the timer on her watch, and shouldered the bag of tools. The soft whirring sound of shifting floor s had stopped by the time she entered and went unnoticed. Based on her research, she knew the security would be to her right and the blinking red lights made finding it child’s play. She sprinted to it. After setting her tools on the ground, she grabbed a screwdriver, removed the ’s cover, and rapidly assessed the circuitry. Her body released its tension. The alarm was surprisingly simple. With the click of two jumper cables, she disabled it. Tatyana looked at her watch. “Huh, twenty-two seconds,” she muttered to herself. “That’s a personal best.” Searching her way through the back of the warehouse, she found nothing of interest. Toward the front of the building, a workstation with a clutter of circuit boards, drawings, and official-looking papers caught her attention. Stamped in red on two of the documents were the words U.S. Department of Defense. Expecting time was on her side, Tatyana examined them. While she did so, an

awareness that the break-in was too easy and the workstation too obvious began creeping into her psyche. She sensed the subterfuge. But the DOD plans for a high-speed miniature magnetic drone that appeared to be controlled by cell phone signals seemed authentic and, given what she knew about Kal’s research, everything fit nicely together. Maybe too nicely. She snapped pictures of everything. Tatyana explored all corners of the warehouse before moving to the paint company door. Using a standard set of lock picks, she was soon inside examining the room’s contents. Paint cans, mixing equipment, chemical containers, and an assortment of tools filled the countertops and shelves. She ran her finger across the top of a few of the cans. They were covered in a light layer of dust, suggesting to her the room had not been used for some time. Now even more convinced she was being deceived, she looked for a hidden door to the space behind the room. There was none that she could find. Heading back through the warehouse, she checked for other access points to the unexplored section at the back of Grover Paint Additives. After climbing onto a tall crate next to the alarm , she scanned the paint company’s wall. It was blocked by at least eight feet of boxes and equipment. If there was another door at the rear of the building, she could not see it. “I guess that’s it for tonight,” she said to herself, confirming her decision to leave. She eased herself back onto the floor. Then removing the alarm system override, she replaced its cover, picked up her tools, and left the building as quickly as she had arrived.

“Pearson here,” the agent said after answering his cell on the first ring. “This is Agent Howland from communications research.” “Yes. What did you find?” Agents Pearson and Dent were heading to a stakeout in downtown Knoxville. It was early on Friday morning, six days before Christmas, and they were expecting a long weekend of sitting in the car hoping to bust a local cocaine ring. The cell signal dropped but rang a few seconds later. “Pearson.” “This is Agent Howland, communications research.” “I know, I recognize your voice,” Pearson said impatiently. “The security code is 72A31X. What have you got for us?” He pressed the car’s Bluetooth button, allowing the conversation to be broadcast through its speakers. “The company LosTrust, which owns the REIT, which owns Grover Paint, is controlled by a law firm out of La Junta, Colorado. Newhouse and Oldham is the name. Its address is 1407 Newberry road.” Howland did not seem phased by the new-old-new oddity of what she had just said. “I’m still trying to work through the channels in the Cayman Islands to get information on the REIT and Grover Paint, but that little island does a good job of keeping its secrets. If you want to move things along quicker, a trip to Colorado might help.” “This is Dent. Anything on voice recognition? It was a woman’s voice, wasn’t it? Any background noise which might help us locate the source of the call?” “No. Yes. No.” Agent Dent already forgot the order of her questions but felt two out of three noes was not good. “So, nothing on the voice recognition?” she repeated, wondering to herself how someone in the communications division could be so lacking in the skill. “No.” “Anything else?” Dent asked. She intended the question for Pearson.

“No,” Howland answered. Thinking the same as his partner about Howland’s curt responses, Pearson held back a laugh. “Thanks, Howland. Keep digging,” he said. “Unless you come up with something, an address, or in Chicago, we'll go to Colorado after the holiday. That gives you another week or so. Goodbye.” There was no response in return. “Did we miss the course on compressed communications at the academy?” Dent chuckled. “Yes.” Pearson’s sarcasm was matched with an ear-to-ear smile.

A strong, wintry wind devoid of any precipitation blasted Kal as he crossed campus to the faculty holiday gathering in the Wilmington istration building’s ballroom. Entering the main lobby, he habitually stomped his feet to clear the nonexistent snow from his shoes. Somehow surprised by the tastefully decorated lobby enhanced by the pleasant aroma of pine mixed with cinnamon and Tchaikovsky’s March of the Toy Soldiers faintly playing in the background, Kal was overcome with holiday spirit. He began whistling along with the song. Winding his way up the right side of an ornate imperial staircase, Kal turned left to a wide hallway leading to the ballroom. At the entrance, a goddess in a tightfitting red evening gown waved to him. Removing his jacket and running his finger through his hair to smooth the wind-swept locks, Kal did his best not to gawk. He suddenly felt underdressed. Anyone would next to her. Tatyana sauntered toward Kal, greeting him mid hallway. Following an awkward hug with a kiss to the side of his face, she smiled at the red lipstick on his cheek. “Better wipe that off before we go in,” she said. She smoothed her finger across his upper jawline. Kal was not familiar with his emotions trumping his intellect—having his heart outweighing his concerns regarding her true intentions, which were heightened by the video of a person of her stature sneaking around the outside of the ZetaMag building on the previous night. “Beautiful is simply not good enough to describe you. A lot of heads are going to be twisting to get a look. I just hope you don’t get sued for causing whiplash.” He reached in his pocket and removed a tissue. “Did I get it all?” he asked, looking down at the red smudge. “Yes, you got it.” Tatyana too was uncharacteristically brimming with a sense of anticipation, something more than pure sexual desire. She was not comfortable with this feeling. It made her edgy, nervous. “I’m not one for doling out compliments, but you clean up well, Dr. Kalvin Davilaar. Very handsome. Now, shall we go?” Turning, she took Kal’s arm just above the elbow and allowed him to escort her to the ballroom. The university’s president stood a few steps beyond the doorway, welcoming guests into the party. Pointing Kal and his date toward the refreshments, repeating her wishes for a happy holiday season in a well-rehearsed manner, the president could not help but yearn to be as beautiful and refined as the woman

holding Kal’s arm. She silently told herself, Those days are long gone. After two drinks accompanied by forced conversations with vaguely familiar faculty , Kal guided Tatyana to the dance floor. “Enjoying yourself so far?” he asked as he led her into a box step followed by a basic heel turn. “I am now.” She moved closer. “So sweetheart, did you have a rough day?” Tatyana teased. Having emphasized the word sweetheart, she hoped Kal recognized it as a common married couple expression. “Yes, it was exhausting. But I’m starting to feel much better,” Kal said. He was telling the truth. Tatyana felt the time was right to probe into his research. “Tell me what is so exhausting? I mean, when you’re not teaching or overseeing the activities at ZetaMag, what types of things occupy your mind, your time?” “Not to sound arrogant, but those things are extremely complex and difficult to describe in layperson’s . Many physicists can’t follow along.” “Try me. I might surprise you.” Kal needed time to think. He wondered if her line of questioning was the real reason behind the date. “Are you ready to try a sit dip? I took a course in ballroom dancing for one term during my sophomore year in college. Just as a warning, it was my only grade below an A, so don’t be surprised if I drop you.” Kal was glad the move went smoothly, although he knew that was due to her grace more than his ability. After they were upright, he was ready to answer her question in half-truths. “I like to play around in time-harmonic electromagnetic waves. It’s like surfing in an ocean, only using magnetic waves and a computer in place of the surfboard.” “I see. And as you shoot those gnarly curls on your keyboard, what do you hope to accomplish?” A history professor Kal did not care for was staggering their way. His eyes were locked on Tatyana. Kal watched the man closely as he answered her question. “That’s the interesting part. I don’t really know. Nobody knows for sure. It is all just endless theories. I’d like to prove there is a time delay.” He stopped. Had he said too much? Recalling his basic wave theory was already published in the

American Journal of Physics, he continued, “I want to show there is a time delay within the wave, similar to how an ocean wave crests with the back part of the wave being slower than the leading white cap.” “May I break in?” the history professor slurred. In unison, Kal and Tatyana replied, “No!” “Just dance... dance. I’m sorry, just one dance,” the professor insisted. He placed his hand on Tatyana’s shoulder. Without thinking it would be appropriate to allow Kal to defend her honor, Tatyana released her dance hold and spun in place to face the inebriated man. Then in one fluent move, she placed her ankle behind his heels and jabbed her stiffened fingers into his diaphragm. The professor fell backward while gasping for breath, his head bouncing twice against the hardwood floor. A light trickle of blood flowed from the back of his head. The other dancers moved closer nearly surrounding them. A murmur from the crowd woke Tatyana to her reflective actions. As everyone in the room watched, she turned to Kal. She glided her hands up his chest to his shoulders and pulled him into a ionate kiss. Other than the background music, the room went silent. “Let’s find a table in the back,” Kal offered after they both reluctantly released from the kiss. Finding a small table in a partially concealed corner, Kal flagged a server and ordered drinks. Face to face, he gazed into her eyes. “Well, that was unexpected on all counts. Beautiful and dangerous. Tack on being a great kisser, and that makes one highly powerful combination.” “Sorry, I should have let you take care of that jerk. But I get hit on a lot and I have had to learn how to defend myself. Sometimes my anger flares a little.” Kal returned her ission with an unforced smile. “A little?” he laughed. “In that case, I’m pretty sure I don’t want to see the full fury of hurricane Tanya.” “It’s more like a tropical storm, and as far as the great kisser comment goes, I’d say it takes two to tango.” “Where did you learn how to do that?” Tatyana knew what he was asking. “What? Kiss?”

“Well, there’s that too, but I meant to defend yourself.” He was falling for her. Tatyana thought Kal’s question was innocent enough, but also knew he would be digging into her background. “My dad wanted boys.” Her answer was one she was sure he expected. “He taught me how to deal with idiots like that man.” “So where are you from?” Kal asked. “And what occupies your evenings, you know, when you aren’t working?” He did not expect she would say breaking into buildings late at night. Smiling with her eyes, Tatyana avoided Kal’s questions. “Really. Are you going to walk me down the freshman dating path? What’s your major? Do you have any siblings? What dorm are you in?” She sipped from her drink. “I suggest we start with something more interesting. Do you prefer the top or the bottom?” Thinking about Dirk’s warning that Kal would not become loose lipped after a roll in the hay, she figured there was no harm in trying. Plus, she desired him. For the next three hours the verbal shell game continued through the party, into Kal’s car, and to his upscale condo with neither one making much headway into the other’s background. A Hansel-and-Gretel clothing trail leading to his bedroom evidenced the end of questions and the beginning of a night of fulfilling each other’s sexual desires.

At various times throughout the evening, Tatyana had caught glimpses of Petrov’s surveillance. Too busy with Kal to deal with the imbecile, she allowed the intrusion to continue. Now, comfortably cradled in Kal’s arms, she had no desire to see if the agent was still following. The soft click of a door latch from the next room changed her mind. Gently slipping out of Kal’s embrace, doing her best not to wake him, she slipped his t-shirt over her head, tiptoed out of the bedroom, and quietly eased the door shut behind her. Without a whisper of noise, she slid to her right and ducked behind an overstuffed recliner. Her vision was night-ready, but her mind needed time to clear the evening’s alcohol-fueled fog. Scrunching her eyelids shut, she shook her head to clear the cobwebs. The distinct sound of rubber soles releasing their grip on ceramic tiles told her the intruder was in the condo’s small entryway. Although quiet, the footsteps sounded heavy. It had to be Petrov. “Chto ty zdes delayesh,” she whispered in Russian [Translation: “What are you doing here?]. Whoever it was stopped moving. She stood. Based on the direction of her voice, Petrov fumbled toward her through the pitch-black room. Before he made it halfway across, he bumped into an end table. They both winced at the noise, hoping it would not wake Kal. “Stay there!” Tatyana ordered in a hushed tone. She waited for a minute to see if a stream of light would filter out from beneath the bedroom door showing Kal was awake. It remained dark. Satisfied Kal had not been disturbed, she weaved through the room to within inches of Petrov. “Follow me.” She clenched his shirt sleeve and pulled him toward the kitchen, attentively steering the oversized man around any obstructions. Reaching the kitchen, she turned to face Petrov. “You’re a dead man.” Tatyana allowed a twinge of energy to enter her voice. “I figured you’d have him occupied.” He was speaking in Russian. “I was going to search his place and leave. I’m no peeping Tom.” “Your only job here was to offer a diversion, not to collect intelligence. That’s what I do.” “Well, according to Dirk, you aren’t doing a very good job of it,” Petrov fired back keeping his voice low. “I talked with him this morning and he said you’ve come up with zilch so far. Said your break-in last night was another failure. The

DOD plans you sent over are fake.” He puffed his chest and slapped it with his hand. “He gave me the go-ahead to do whatever is necessary to get Davilaar’s research.” With no weapon, no way of killing Petrov without waking Kal, and no way of dealing with his massive dead body, Tatyana did not make a move. Her hands trembled as she struggled to control her rage. “I’ll deal with Dirk later. But right now, I need you to go. If Kal wakes up...” A light from beneath the bedroom door told them it was too late. “Hide behind the counter.” She shoved the ogre toward the far side of the kitchen. “I’ll get him back in bed.” Petrov ducked into position. Tatyana turned to the fridge and reached for a bottle of water. “Me too,” Kal said as he cleared the corner to the kitchen. “My mouth thinks I swallowed cardboard or cotton balls or something dry and dead from the Saharan desert.” Tatyana grabbed a second bottle and handed it to Kal. “Now... where were we,” she teased. Glancing back to the kitchen as they headed to the bedroom, Tatyana could only hope Petrov would leave as she had demanded. A steady pattern of rhythmic breathing told Tatyana that Kal had fallen back into a deep sleep. She waited for ten more minutes to be sure. Once again reluctantly leaving his side, she checked to make sure Petrov had left and then scoured the other rooms looking for anything related to recent research projects. Finding nothing of value, she retrieved her cell phone, went into the bathroom and called Dirk. “It’s late there, sweet pea,” Dirk said, converting the time. “I’ve already heard you’ve been spreading those gorgeous legs tonight. I wish it were me in that bed.” Only the need to keep her voice down stopped her from verbally strangling him through the phone. “What did you tell Petrov? Never mind, I don’t care what you told him. You’ve signed his death warrant. And when I get back home, you better sleep with one eye open because I’ll be coming after you next.” Dirk was growing weary of her idle threats. “Listen up, you little whore. The only reason I’m letting you keep your job is because of your gorgeous ass. And quite frankly, I’m almost to the point I don’t give a shit about that either. You’re an expensive, entitled, incompetent agent. If you don’t get me something soon,

you’ll be reduced to surveilling school crossings in Moscow by the end of next week. Is that clear?” “Glass is clear. I will be invisible. You will never see me coming. One thing I promise, your death will be slow and painful.” She hung up. Dirk called Petrov. “Kill her.” Petrov had already returned to his apartment but was still hyped up from the night's events. Dirk’s call only served to further excite him. He rifled through his pockets for his car keys. They were not there. Mentally searching his apartment for them, he decided he must have dropped them on the kitchen table. He crossed through the living room and could see the keys were not there. A deep voice from a dark corner spun him in place. “Looking for these?” Victor said while jingling the keys. His other hand held a silenced 9 millimeter Beretta. Victor saw Petrov reach for his weapon and fired a shot off to the man’s right side, striking a wooden kitchen chair. Chunks of splintered wood struck Petrov’s arm. He didn’t flinch. “The next shot will be between your eyes. Place your weapon on the floor and move away.” Petrov did not know who the man was or what he wanted. “You need what, money, drugs?” He hated speaking in English. Unsure of the man’s resolve, Petrov set his gun down and scooted it a short distance away with his foot. “Information,” Victor snapped. “I saw you watching professor Davilaar at that bar a month ago. And then tonight you were following him and that woman. I think she is the one who got the drop on me last night outside ZetaMag. You followed them to Kal’s apartment and then left shortly after you arrived. I want to know who she is, who you are, and why you are so interested in Davilaar.” There was no reply. THA-WHUMP! A second round nicked Petrov’s shoulder. “No more warnings.” “You got no idea who you mess with. If you go and no return, I forget you are here. If not, I kill you.” THA-WHUMP! The third bullet shattered Petrov’s left knee. He dropped to the floor. “I’m not a patient man,” Victor yelled. “And these bullets cost twenty-five cents apiece. I will only spend one dollar on you. Can you do the math?” He moved close and trained his gun on Petrov’s forehead.

Not ready to it defeat, Petrov swung his massive fist upward into Victor’s crotch, doubling the man over. With his other hand, Petrov knocked Victor’s gun loose. It dropped to the floor out of reach a few feet above his head. A torrent of pain from his damaged knee flooded his body as Petrov tried to inch closer to the weapon. “Blyad,” he swore in Russian as his outstretched arm only allowed his fingertips to brush against the gun’s handle. With one final excruciating push, he scooped up the weapon only to have Victor’s boot land squarely on his jaw knocking him on his back. A second violent kick knocked the pistol free. Victor struggled to gain his composure. Stooping over, still holding his groin, Victor retrieved his weapon. Then, just as Tatyana had done to him the previous night, he stood upright and placed one foot on Petrov’s throat and the other on the hand closest to Petrov’s gun still lying on the floor. “I have no reason to kill you, so don’t give me one. Now start talking.” Expecting he would overtake his attacker if he cooperated, Petrov choked out, “VISE. Double-U, I, S, E. I vork for VISE. So does Tatyana.” Sensing a slight decrease in pressure on his hand, Petrov yanked as hard as he could. The assailant appeared to be off-balance. With his good leg, he swung at Victor’s knees. Instinctively extending his elbows as he twisted and fell, Victor landed hard with one elbow thumping against the tile floor and the other crashing into Petrov’s throat, crushing the man’s windpipe. Victor’s gun flew from his hand. Pushing himself into a sitting position, Victor watched Petrov gasp for air. Knowing the man would die within minutes, Victor picked up his gun and mercifully fired a round into Petrov’s forehead. “As promised, that’s one dollar’s worth.” Searching the apartment, Victor found a roll of packing tape and a few large black garbage bags. He did not want to leave the man’s rotting corpse smelling up the place and decided it best to dispose of the body in Lake Michigan. Hours before the sun would rise over the lake, Victor slipped Petrov’s body into the icy waters off a rickety pier somewhere north of Chicago.

The River

Singing to a holiday -like melody she was making up as she went along, Tatyana caroled to herself, “Christmas lights are twinkling, winter snow is glistening, and I’ll be killing someone tonight.” It was early Sunday evening, two days after her date with Kal, and the merciless desires of her baleful heart burned strong. She needed to squelch the strange emotions of attachment she was feeling for Kal and felt returning to her murderous ways was the answer. As she prepared herself for the night, Tatyana moved in no particular pattern between the bathroom, bedroom closet, and kitchen, where she was breaking off bites from a large snowman shaped sugar cookie. Doing her best to look like the Julia Roberts’ hooker character in the movie Pretty Woman, she slipped into a tight-fitting short blue skirt. iring herself in the mirror, she continued singing her twisted holiday tune, “by the gifts beneath the tree, wrapped in red and gold and green, I’ll be killing someone tooo-night.” The short blond wig and ruby red lipstick were perfect. “Julia Roberts, eat your heart out.” Completing her disguise with tall black boots, she took a second look into the full-length mirror and realized the skin-tight outfit left no hiding places for her dagger. Searching through her jewelry, Tatyana located a hairpin knife. It was not her favorite weapon, and it did not match the outfit, but she could make it work and pinned it to the wig. Checking the mirror again, she frowned at the adornment, moved it to the back of her head, then with a half-grin concluded whichever unlucky man picked her up would not be looking at the hairpin. Just as she reached for her cell phone to place it into a small handbag, it rang. “I’ll be killing someone tooo-night,” she sang, knowing it was Dirk. “YOU’RE DONE!” he screamed. “Pack up your shit tonight and get on the first plane you can find to Moscow. I’ll meet you at the airport along with a few people you don’t want to know from WISE headquarters.” Tatyana recalled threatening Dirk but knew that would not have resulted in this level of retribution. “Let me see if I’ve got this straight. You want me to fly halfway around the globe so you can torture or kill me just because I told you to sleep with one eye open.” She ed the exact words she used to threaten him. “I’m thinking that would probably not be in my best interest.” “We found him in the lake, just as you promised. You’re done,” Dirk repeated.

“Who? Who was in what lake?” Dirk’s fury was escalating. He spoke in a deep, intimidating tone. “You know who. Petrov! They plan to crush your throat just like you did his. You can try to run and hide, but they’ll find you. And soon. If you come in, they may take mercy and kill you quickly, but I wouldn’t bet on it.” “Petrov’s dead?” Dirk could hear the surprise in her voice. “I will not cry a river of tears for that buffoon, but I didn’t kill him. When, where, how was it done?” “Clue? You want to play a freaking game of Clue?” He coughed to clear his throat; the action calmed his voice. “The police found his John Doe body this morning in Lake Michigan. We had not heard from him as expected, so WISE checked into it. He was shot in the head and his windpipe was crushed. The initial autopsy determined he had been dead for 24 to 48 hours. The frozen condition of his body made it difficult to pinpoint the exact time. His face was bloated in the forensic pictures, but it was definitely him.” Still hungry, Tatyana strode to the fridge and idly scanned its contents. “I’m telling you it wasn’t me. When was the last time I used a gun? Really? A knife or strangulation, sure, but not a gun. Did WISE check his apartment? Any idea on the weapon used? Any signs of a struggle?” “Yes, we checked his apartment. There was blood. And we found some 9mm casings. Four of them to be precise.” Dirk heard the refrigerator door shut, which he felt was not the action of someone caught red-handed. “It was Victor.” “Who?” “I’d bet it was this Las Vegas enforcer by the name of Victor Galante,” Tatyana clarified. “He tried to get the jump on me when I infiltrated the ZetaMag building last week. I thought I already told you about him.” “No, you didn’t.” Tatyana took a sip of iced tea and closed the refrigerator. “You were probably drunk when I told you. He is a big guy and carried a 9mm Barretta. I know that is a common size weapon and doesn’t mean much, but he’s looking to settle a

score with Kal, and I think he knew about Petrov. I don’t know why Victor would have killed him. Petrov probably ticked Victor off somehow. I thought I sent that son-of-a-bitch high tailing it back to Vegas, so I’ll it that this is, at least in some small way, my fault.” Scratching his head, Dirk contemplated the additional information. Her slight ission of culpability was unexpected. His anger softened. “I’ll see if I can get WISE to back off, but I’m coming there. No debate. I have a new agent I need to get out on assignment next week, so I’ll be there just after the New Year. I want updates no less than every 48 hours. Is that...,” he was going to say “clear,” but ed her response the last time he used the word, “understood?” The lack of Dirk’s sexual innuendo in their conversation seemed out of character to Tatyana. He always had something dirty to say and must be extremely angry. “Yes, sir,” she replied military-style and hung up. Dropping the phone into her purse, she checked the mirror one last time, donned a faux fur coat, and left the apartment. To Chicagoans, the city could seem like the coldest place on earth. For a woman from western Siberia, the late-night temperatures and blustery wind were only slightly unpleasant. Opening her coat, allowing it to billow around her, Tatyana strutted at the edge of a red-light district. An old rusty sedan slowed and pulled to the curb next to her. “I’m looking for a date,” the man hollered, leaning toward the open enger window. He could not believe his good fortune but based on her appearance was not sure he could afford her. “You’re in luck.” SNAP. Tatyana had mastered the art of popping gum. “I’m available. I charge by the hour and I ain’t cheap.” SNAP. “My place is over there,” she pointed to a seedy-looking motel where she had already paid for a room. “I’ve only got one-fifty. Is that enough?” The man was ogling her breasts. Receiving what appeared to be a tentative nod, he put his car in park, hopped out, and walked with Tatyana to the motel. After entering the first-floor room, Tatyana made sure the drapes were fully shut, and the door locked. Continuing to play the part, she allowed the man to undress her. She did not mind. She was comfortable with her body and knew being naked

would intensify the kill and further lull her addiction into temporary submission. Pushing the man onto the bed, she climbed on top. “Hey,” he protested, “that’s not how I like it.” In a blur of motion, Tatyana pulled the slender knife from her wig and sent the blade deep into his side, covering his cry with her other hand. Leaning into his ear, she whispered, “I’m half-price tonight. One-fifty bought you two hours instead of one.” The man’s eyes opened wide in terror as his brain ed her meaning. Pinned to the bed, he twisted his head to the side and screamed, “NO! Someone help...” With a precision puncture to his vocal cords, Tatyana cut his protest short. “Hush my darling,” she said. Placing the blade off to the side, she wiped away the tears streaming down his face with her thumbs. She looked deeply into the man’s terrified eyes. “Don’t worry. I will make the pain go away soon, my dear.” Her tone was almost motherly. Then, cut by tortuous cut, she kept the man alive, intending to complete the bloody offering to her murderous soul at the stroke of midnight. It was a few minutes past 12 when the hotel door shut behind Tatyana. She had left the man alive. “He will bleed to death,” she said, trying to convince herself. With the confession doing little to console her hunger for death, the failure began gnawing at her saneness. What was Kal doing to her heart? Not being able to come to with the sense of guilt filtering into her mind, she wandered down the deserted street toward her car with a blank stare.

The click of the V-lab’s electronic lock let Ace know Kal or Zoe had arrived. “Happy Boxing Day,” he called from the lab’s central workbench before seeing who it was. Ace knew nothing about the United Kingdom’s holiday other than they celebrated after Christmas. It was Kal, he was carrying a cookie tin. “Where’d ya get those?” “One of ZetaMag’s vendors sent them. They were at the front desk.” Kal opened the tin and peered inside. “They sure smell good.” Replacing the lid, he set the box next to Ace. “So, the obvious question is why are you here? I said you could take this week off.” “Got tired of binge-watching Christmas movies.” Ace looked inside the tin and selected two cookies that looked like chocolate rum balls. “A friend asked if I could build a countdown clock for New Year’s Eve that shoots off miniature fireworks at midnight. That’s right in my wheelhouse. Pyrotechnics and microelectronics.” Ace leaned back in his chair. He stretched his arms over his head. “If I could make it pop out of a cake, well then, that would be the cat’s pajamas.” Kal choked out a laugh. “Did you actually say the cat’s pajamas? When were you born? The 1920s?” A second click of the door lock interrupted the banter. “Hail, hail, the gang’s all here.” Ace sang the wrong melody but did not care, thinking the song had to date back to at least the early 1900s and probably needed a new sound anyway. It did not surprise Zoe to see both men. “Is this the workaholics anonymous meeting? Should I put on a fresh pot of coffee?” “Coffee sounds great, but I’ll get it.” Gesturing toward the tin, Kal added, “if you move fast enough, you might be able to snag a cookie. But watch out, he bites.” After making the coffee, Kal headed to his desk. Working through a series of diagrams for over an hour, he grunted and threw up his hands. “Damn it. Ace! I think I’ve got a negative bias temperature instability issue on this new circuit board design for the viewer. Can you take a look?”

“Save them to the server’s G-drive,” Ace answered. “Are they the boards for the expanded viewing capability or energy reduction?” “Both.” “I see, killing two birds with one stone again.” Kal stood, stretched his back, and crossed the room to Zoe’s cube. “What are you working on?” “I went to Chicago’s history museum before Christmas to see what they had on Irish lore, to research Ky-noth or Karnthanoc or Kerntouth... the evil eyes. You know, thousands of people from Ireland immigrated to Chicago. Anyway, to make a long story short, I ended up speaking with Dr. Patrick Walsh, an expert in Celtic history. He said he recalled a age in a book referred to as the Demon’s Mistress, which tells of a strange event at a Neolithic structure now known as Newgrange. The structure, which he said was built with over 450 tons of stone, dates before England’s Stonehenge and the Great Pyramid of Giza. He told me he believes some builders of this circular burial chamber may have helped design Stonehenge.” Kal sat on the edge of Zoe’s desk. “And this book, the Demon’s Mistress, did it reference Ky-noth?” Zoe pointed to her screen and nodded her head. “Look at this email from Walsh.” Kal read it out loud so Ace could hear.

Hello Zoe,

It was a pleasure meeting you. Perhaps we could meet for lunch? I’ve translated the section of the book I told you about. It reads, “A midnight’s wind, spinning with eyes as dark as death, ashened [sic] Padterik our holy man, his earthly body seized (taken or removed) by the devil Kinth.” There is no other reference to this being of which I am aware. I hope this helps.

Patrick

Without looking up from his work, Ace began repeating in a child-like manner, “Zoe’s got a boyfriend.” After the third time, he heard “shut up” echo through the lab from both Kal and Zoe. “He did ask you out to lunch,” Ace said. Without interruption, he continued, “Kal, is there any chance you’d let me try to use the viewer? I’m not as concerned about being lasered into a molten pile of mush as I was at first, and I’d like to experience this K-creature up close and personal.” CRACK! A firecracker exploded filling the room with a sulfurous odor. “Oops. Sorry. Better pay attention to what I’m doing.” “I’ll think about it,” Kal responded after a moment of reflection. “We don’t know much about this thing. It said it has killed. And this reference Zoe was sent, albeit a weak one, suggests the same. Are you sure you can handle yourself? It might react to a perceived threat.” Ace pressed a switch, turning off the power to his soldering gun. “Done,” he announced. “In all seriousness, I’d like to try the viewer. It scares me a little and I know there is a risk, the same risk you face. But it doesn’t seem to perceive you as a threat, so I don’t know why it would see me as one.” Zoe stood up so she could see Ace. “He brings up a good point. ,” she said, turning to face Kal, “Ky-noth, if that is its name, seemed to know who you were. You even thought it said your name. If so, it seems logical it would know about me and Ace.” “I’ll tell you what, if both of you want to work this week on the viewer’s updates, I’ll consider letting Ace try it.” Kal took a few steps toward Ace. “But I’m warning you, it is not just the sight of the thing, or speaking with it, that is so... so disturbing. There is more, much more. A sense of dread. It is what I would imagine being buried alive would feel like. A feeling so dark it seems hard to breathe.” The lab went silent. “Think about that before you make up your mind. Anyway, I’ll be in and out of here over the next few days, I’ve got a lot to do, and then I have a New Year’s Eve date with Tanya.” “Kal’s got a girlfriend,” Ace snickered in the same childlike voice he just used and then repeated the saying a second time.

Kal smiled. “Seems that way. I did send her a dozen red roses,” he itted. “And she bought us tickets to the Chicago auto show next month. But as much as I like her, there still seems to be something wrong. She is too tight-lipped about her past. From what little I’ve learned so far, her story is not ringing true in my ears. It seems I’ll just have to take one on the chin and go out with her again to see what I can dig up.” “Poor Kal,” Zoe said, drawing her finger from the corner of her eye down her face as if chasing a teardrop. “Alright, enough about me. If you two are up for it, and if there are some decent DVTs available, let’s shoot for a January 1st test of the viewer’s energy reduction update.” “I’m in,” Zoe said. “Me too,” Ace agreed.

Victor was struggling to hold the thermal camera still as his body shook in the bitter cold. Hiding behind the ZetaMag building in a small grove of overgrown, snow-covered Juniper bushes at 4 in the afternoon in near-blizzard conditions was the last place on earth Victor wanted to be. “This better be worth it,” he said to himself, hoping the images he expected to collect of temperature changes inside the building would make his suffering worthwhile. Then, promising himself he would never again complain about the Nevada heat, he pulled the hood to his newly purchased parka over the knit cap already covering his head. With pellets of wind-driven ice pelting his face, Victor swore under his breath and tugged on the hood’s drawstring, leaving him with only a small viewing tunnel. Through his heavy gloves, Victor fumbled with the thermal imaging camera setting. So far, all he could detect was a rodent foraging around the outside of the building. He knew infrared detection would not penetrate the building’s exterior walls but theorized he could detect changes in the wall temperatures around closing time to determine where in the building people were working, where Kal and Ace might be hiding their secrets. He knew this meant a long wait. “Warning, it’s your boss,” Victor’s cellphone rang. “Warning, it’s your boss,” it repeated three more times before he could remove his gloves and press the connect button. “Hold on a second, Jim,” Victor called into the phone. Pushing back the parka’s hood, he put the phone to his ear. “Go ahead.” “Are you making any progress?” Jim asked. “It’s slow here right now, but in a couple of weeks we’ve got the Consumer Electronics Show and you know how busy it gets. If there is any way possible, I’d like to have you back by then.” “I know, but this thing with Ace and his boss Kal is turning into a real-life spy novel. There are two Russian agents, I’m sorry, there were two Russian agents from a group called WISE that are after the same thing I am. One of them is face down in Lake Michigan. But that was not my intention,” Victor confessed. “At the moment, I am literally freezing my ass off trying to figure out where in this massive building to set up a spy camera. It doesn’t make any sense to plan a latenight break-in without first determining where these guys are hiding their secrets. The building is too big. Trust me, I’d love nothing more than to leave this freezing hell hole.”

“Alright,” Jim said. “Do what you can and then get back here. Talk later.” For the next three hours, Victor stood in the dreary, icy darkness staring into the camera. The heat signatures showed the ZetaMag section of the building in red and orange, indicating warmth. The center was displayed in grays and black suggesting a colder, and probably unoccupied, area. On the far end of the building, in the section he knew only as Grover Paint Additives, the color faded from orange to dull yellow. After days of watching the building, Victor had seen no one enter the paint company directly. Everyone, including Kal and Ace, only entered and exited the building through ZetaMag. He thought it could be an automated thermostat lowering the temperature in the paint company section of the building, or, he surmised, this could be where Ace and Kal were working. Before turning off the thermal camera, not wanting another surprise attack like the one he suffered from Tatyana, Victor used the device to scan the area to see if anyone was in the vicinity. Finding nothing of concern, he turned off the camera, placed it in a duffle bag, and trudged through the snow to the Grover Paint end of the building. On the side of the structure, Victor found a natural gas meter attached about waist high. He preferred a higher vantage point for the tiny spy camera, but there appeared to be no other place to attach and conceal the camera’s small battery pack. Cold and weary, he convinced himself the location was good enough. From where he stood, the soft whir of the drill cutting a hole through the building’s steel skin vanished in the wintry wind. He could only hope no one was inside the building listening to the sound. Snapping the camera into place, Victor then fastened the battery under the gas meter with a zip tie and turned the camera on. Examining his work, he slid the battery pack closer to the building to better conceal it. Pleased with his efforts, he checked the area to make sure he did not accidentally leave something behind, filled his lungs with a satisfying breath, gasped at the bitter cold stinging within his chest, and vowed never to move to Chicago.

It was slightly more than 90 minutes before the residents of La Junta, Colorado, would ring in the new year. The unseasonably warm day led to a comfortably cool evening with a slight breeze and clear skies. Agent Dent expected every part of Colorado to be covered in three feet of snow at this time of year and was pleasantly surprised at the lack of snow and warmer-than-expected conditions. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say we were in Times Square waiting for the ball to drop,” Dent casually remarked as she watched a lone man stumble across an empty downtown intersection. “And to think, we could have been partying in Knoxville, the party capital of... Knoxville.” Agent Pearson removed his hands from the steering wheel and pumped them above his head. “Celebrate good times, come on.” His tone was one of a bored teenager. The car’s navigation system announced their arrival, “The address is 300 feet ahead on your right.” Agent Pearson drove at a snail’s pace past the Law Office of Newhouse and Oldham. As expected, the building appeared unoccupied. “Recalculating. Turn left at the next intersection,” the nav system broadcast after determining the vehicle had moved past its target. Pearson switched it off. Locating a dark alley, he pulled in and parked. Dent reached for a large duffel bag in the back seat, scraped it against the side of Pearson’s face while struggling to get it over the headrest, and then placed it between them. Pearson zipped the bag open and removed black caps and black jackets, none of which were labeled FBI. Unsnapping a side pocket, he located gloves and costume glasses, the black-rimmed type with a fake nose and mustache attached. They were entering the building illegally, using a “midnight search warrant,” as Pearson called it, and he was certain there would be cameras. “I don’t want to wear those stupid glasses,” Dent complained. She thought Pearson would give her a lecture on the time it would take to get a valid search warrant, or on Colorado’s penalties for breaking and entering, but her partner did not react to the complaint. “I’d like to be in and out in less than an hour,” Pearson glanced at his watch, “or at least before midnight. Are you sure there is no security system?”

“No alarms, just entry cameras,” Dent said. “I know, I know, it is almost impossible to believe a small family law practice in this booming metropolis doesn’t have armed guards, attack dogs, infrared detection, and hidden pressure switches, but they don’t.” With no further discussion, Agents Dent and Pearson stepped out of the car and scanned the alley’s dark recesses to make sure nobody was watching. After confirming they were alone, the agents left the alley and headed directly to the law office, waiting until they were at the side entrance before putting on the fake glasses. Pearson turned the door handle almost expecting it to be unlocked. It was not, but the handle was nothing more than a standard Schlage doorknob, the type used in most residential homes, and was easily thwarted. An eerie screech of rusty hinges filled the entryway as the door opened and then closed behind them. Inside, the building was quiet. If Dent’s security research was wrong, there was no sign of it. Moving through the building with penlights leading the way, Pearson gestured Dent toward a room of tall filing cabinets. She entered the room. Pearson continued past four offices before he spotted a storage room overflowing with racks of boxed records. It did not appear as if the law office digitized and stored its records electronically or, based on the haphazard appearance of the boxes, in any organized manner. The task of locating the s for LosTrust, which they expected would lead them to Grover Paint Additives, suddenly seemed daunting. “Nothing,” Dent said, sneaking into the records room after hours of digging through files. Startled, his hands and mind buried deep in a box labeled Corporate / Offshore, Pearson reached for the gun holstered to his shoulder. He quickly realized it was his partner, relaxed, and removed his grip. “Not funny. How long have we been at this?” “Let me put it this way, we are a few hours into the new year. Did you bring the champagne?” “Again, not funny.” Agent Pearson's eyes were bloodshot. Exhausted, he was not in the mood for games. Dent knew it would be best not to push Pearson’s buttons too much harder.

“After striking out in the file cabinets, I found a taped to the bottom of a keyboard. I’m no computer expert, but from what I could find in their databases, there was nothing on their systems involving LosTrust or the paint company.” “I’ve got a couple more of these damned, poorly labeled, disorganized boxes left,” Pearson said. He was pointing to two boxes on the floor. “So far the only thing I found is a crumpled yellow sticky note with GPA and 630-889-3002 scribbled on it. Could be Grover Paint Additives or a reference to someone’s grade point average for all I know, but at least it is something. You wouldn’t happen to know the location of area code 630, would you?” Dent lifted a box onto a table. “These are heavy.” “No shit Sherlock, my back is killing me,” Pearson said. He rubbed his lower back and then his neck, “and I’ve got a knot the size of a grapefruit to prove it.” “Cry me a river. I got a nasty paper cut,” Dent chuckled. “So, to answer your question, one of my cousins lived in a town just outside of Chicago. It was Downers Grove, I think, and I think her area code was 630.” Finding nothing else of interest, Pearson closed the box and opened the last one. “That’s a lot of thinking. Check it on your phone.” Dent googled the area code and confirmed it was from Chicago’s western suburbs. “Yep, looks like Chicago is our next stop.” After sifting through the last box and finding no additional information, Pearson checked the pictures of the file room on his phone before he entered. It appeared as it did when he arrived. “Did we miss anything?” Agent Dent was too weary to care. “I don’t know but I’m casting my vote for some sleep.” It was shortly after 3 a.m. by the time the agents left the law office. A fresh dusting of snow covered the town. Concerned someone would notice their footprints on the sidewalk leaving the building, Dent followed directly in Pearson’s footsteps, making it appear as if only one person had been to the door.

Then walking back to the entrance, attempting to make it look like someone had arrived and left, Agent Pearson followed the footprints a second time. With the deception complete, Dent examined their less than perfect attempt. “Let’s hope it melts or gets covered in fresh snow before anyone notices.”

On bitter days—days when temperatures would only rise from nighttime belowzero lows into the single-digit range—Zoe struggled to find DVTs. Kal told her there was no theoretical reason that he could think of why this correlation would exist, but Zoe knew her observation was accurate and did not argue the point. Now, a few days past the start of the new year, Chicagoland’s weather appeared to be warming from a six-day deep freeze and she was expecting to locate some nearby vortexes. “What are you seeing for today? Any good DVT tunnels?” Ace asked. It was late morning, and he expected Kal would soon arrive. “Since it’s not quite as cold as it has been, I figured you could find some DVTs, and I was thinking Kal might let me have a try with the viewer.” “Are you being redundant on purpose?” As much as she enjoyed working with Ace, Zoe felt the man could be irritatingly ignorant. “The ‘T’ in DVT stands for tunnel,” she said using air quotes. “So, essentially you are asking me if there are any good déjà vu tunnel tunnels. Don’t you see how that could be annoying?” “Don’t you mean annoyingly annoying?” Ace’s hardy laugh masked the sound of Kal entering the V-lab. “Happy New Year,” Kal announced to get their attention, he had not seen either of them for over a week. “What’s so funny?” Still howling, Ace blurted out, “redundant redundancies.” He laughed even harder. Zoe cupped her hands over her ears. “Kal, it wasn’t funny to begin with. And even if it was, it was one of those times when you had to be there to get it.” Kal chuckled to himself, not at the humor, but from the sight of Ace holding his sides in pain from laughter. Doing his best to ignore Ace, he made his way to Zoe’s workspace. “How are the DVTs looking? I’ve got the afternoon free to test the viewer’s updated systems.” “It looks like I’ll be able to scrounge up one or two in the area,” Zoe confirmed. “First though, I want the details of your date with Tanya. Are you a couple yet?” She was slightly jealous of Tanya but knew a workplace romance with Kal was

not a good idea and never pursued it, secretly wishing he might someday show an interest in her. “She’s great. I like her a lot. I mean, what is not to like? She is smart, funny, caring, and of course beautiful. But at times, I still felt like we were in a verbal boxing match. She keeps hitting me up about my research and I keep jabbing at her past,” Kal said, punching the air to emphasize the boxing metaphor. “Neither one of us is landing any solid punches, so I still know very little about her background. Here’s one odd thing, on New Year’s Eve we had a little too much to drink...” “Maybe a lot too much?” Zoe interrupted. “Okay, way too much, and I thought I heard her say ‘spasiba’ to the bartender when he handed us our drinks. So, I asked Janet Ulrich—she is the linguist professor over at the college—and she said it sounds like the expression for thank you in Russian. I know I was feeling pretty good that night, but the phrase was so odd, so out of place, it stuck with me. And if Tanya is from Russia, why would she hide it? Why the big mystery?” “I’ll bet you a fifty she’s a spy.” Ace was not sure if he meant it as a joke. “Maybe double-D seven,” he snickered. Kal gave Zoe an embarrassed look and shrugged his shoulders apologetically before speaking. “Is there such a thing as double-B? She’s not that big on top.” “Gentlemen, there’s a lady in the room,” Zoe said, not truly offended by the guy talk. “Didn’t you take the sexual harassment training?” “Sorry,” Kal said. “Getting back to the vortexes, what do you have?” An image of a sunny beach was displayed on Zoe’s screen. Moving her mouse to wake the computer, she found a DVT forming in a nearby town. “The good news is it looks like there will be one in the Woodland mall, so you won’t have to stand outside in the cold. And the bad news is it's in the Woodland mall where hundreds of people will be returning unwanted Christmas gifts.” Kal figured most gifts had been returned by now, but he got her point. “We can hope it's in some remote corner of a large department store. What’s your prediction on the timing?”

“A little more than an hour, 75 minutes at most.” “Kal,” Ace called from his chair. “Is there any chance I can try it this time?” Kal hesitated, still feeling unsure about the risks. “I’ve been thinking about that since you asked last week.” “Ladies and gentlemen,” Ace said in an overly dramatic fashion as he waved his hand toward an open section of floor. “The decision you have all been waiting for. Welcome the world-famous Dr. Kalvin Davilaar.” Ace’s underlying message that he was being overly dramatic was clear to Kal. “I’ll be outside the DVT to direct the questioning to the eyes, or the thing, or... we really do need to settle on what to call those demon eyes. Ky-noth seems right to me.” Ace jumped from his chair, “Alright! I’ll pack up the viewer and battery.” In less than an hour, Kal and Ace were inside the mall heading for a large sporting goods store, which is where Zoe thought the DVT would form. Ace had the backpack strapped over his shoulders and the viewer inside a holiday gift bag. After a short walk and ride down an escalator, they were centered inside the store. Kal scanned the isles. It was midday and there appeared to be few patrons milling about. He attached the viewer to the battery and supplied it with the exact coordinates. “Looks like we lucked out,” Ace said, “it’s pointing us to the back, toward the bicycle section. I can’t imagine that area will be busy this time of year. Can we give it a try?” Kal was still not content with the location. “Let’s keep it short. I expect Ky-noth will be situated on the north side of the vortex.” Kal pointed toward a rack of bikes. “Which I think is that way. So, stand in that direction when I turn it on. DO NOT cry out when you feel, hear, and see it. If you do, we will need to shut down immediately.” “I’ll try not to.” “We have about three minutes until the DVT is at full strength,” Kal said, checking the viewer’s timer. “I’m going to take another look around to make

sure nobody is nearby.” Kal was unaware that Tatyana had followed them from ZetaMag to the mall. Disguised as a pregnant woman with long blond hair flowing from beneath a white knit cap, she unzipped her coat, revealing a considerable baby bump. Other than tinted glasses, she had done little to mask her face and was being careful to stay as hidden as possible. From the second-floor balcony near the camping gear, Tatyana caught glimpses of Ace and Kal as they hooked a shoebox-size device into what appeared to be a black backpack, a battery she assumed. Turning partially away as she pretended to look at camping stoves, she then shifted to her right for a better view. Satisfied no one was watching, Kal whispered the and instructions into the viewer. The vortexes were too small for two full-grown men to occupy simultaneously, and he did not want to crowd Ace, so he stepped aside and watched. Ace’s eyes became fixated on the screen. “What are you seeing?” Kal asked. The remote location was in the middle of Australia’s Northern Territory. “A heard of cows, I think.” “Rotate to 10,” Kal quietly called to the viewer. “Holy shit,” Ace’s legs almost gave out at the sight, Kal’s dire warnings now seemed severely understated. “Ask it where it is from,” Kal instructed. Ace appeared frozen. “Ace, find out where it is from,” he repeated a little louder. “I’m Kal’s, I’m Kal’s friend. He wants to know where you are from.” The eyes were becoming impossibly darker. “Where are you from?” Ace said again after a few seconds of silence. “FAR,” boomed in the DVT. The pressure on his body felt like he had been plunged to the ocean floor, his lungs like they were burning from the inside out. His knees buckled. “I’m okay,” he groaned, letting Kal know he wanted to continue. Ace had been in the vortex for less than a minute, but Kal would not allow him

to suffer much longer. His friend appeared to be ready to out, his breathing was becoming shallow and rapid. “It all looks dead,” Ace said. Kal was confused. What was Ace seeing? “One more question,” Kal said, “is he the only one of his kind?” Ace could barely form the words. “Are you the last one?” From somewhere within the vortex, he heard the creature's deep, gurgly response, “YES.” Ace cringed from the pain in his ears. “All off,” Kal said louder than he wanted. The order came too late. Ace’s eyes rolled up into his head, his eyelids fluttered then closed. His body crumpled to the floor. Mesmerized by the strangeness of the scene unfolding below her, Tatyana moved closer to the railing, unaware she was no longer concealed. She strained to collect important details. Ace had fallen to his knees while asking questions to the ceiling and then blacked out. Kal apparently controlled the voice-activated box held by Ace. The backpack looked heavy, and Kal seemed uncharacteristically jumpy. What was this strange device? What was its purpose? Why was Kal dragging it all over northern Illinois to use it? She realized stealing the device and killing Kal would not be enough to fulfill her mission. She would have to learn how to operate the device and learn its secrets before eliminating Kal. This thought brought a sudden surge of emotions that assaulted her to the core of her being. Her simple task to murder Kal was growing increasingly difficult to envision as she fought to control emotions she had abandoned during her abusive youth. Kal kneeled at Ace’s side and gently shook him awake. Checking his pupils for signs of distress and finding nothing of concern, Kal helped Ace to his feet. He then heaved the backpack over one shoulder, placed the viewer back into the bag, and led Ace out of the store. Only the tunes from an indie rock station playing at a nearly imperceptible level were heard during the long drive back to ZetaMag. Ace was silent and Kal did not press for details of the encounter knowing—based on his experience—his friend would need time to make sense of what he had seen and heard. By the time Ace seemed aware of his surroundings, they were sitting at the lunch table

in the V-lab. “Zoe, us over here,” Kal said. “I think he is ready to tell us what happened.” “That was almost as much fun as dropping a brick on my head—twice,” Ace said. His humor appeared to be unscathed. “Zoe, I can’t recommend giving the viewer a try. I don’t know how Kal does it. That demon is well beyond everything and anything Kal has ever described. It was pure bone-crushing, mind-blowing, evil blackness from the depths of Hades So, from now on, I think I’ll hang around here with you.” He looked at the fridge. “Wow, I’m hungry.” Concern was growing in Kal’s mind. The sensation of malevolence was close to Ace’s description, but the pressure was not as intense. If Ace’s lost consciousness was due solely to the creature’s power and not the heavy magnetic forces, then the being might be growing stronger. Kal kept that thought to himself. Zoe was eager to hear what happened. “Tell me, what did it say, what did you see?” “Well, Kal wanted to know where it was from and if it was the only one of its kind,” Ace stood and searched the small kitchen area for something to eat, having failed to find anything in the fridge. He sat down with a handful of Double Stuffed Oreo cookies. “The only thing it said was ‘yes’ to my question about being the only one. And ‘far’ to the other question.” He shoved a cookie into his mouth, and continued, “But I’m sure there were more of them. I don’t know how it showed me this, maybe it planted the image in my head, or I saw it in the DVT somehow. It was all very confusing, disorienting. Anyway, there was this huge, strange-looking city with oddly shaped jade-colored, metallic-looking buildings that appeared to have been half-melted into lumps of clay. The ground was black, the skies blood red. Through the center of it all was a wide rushing river of shimmering silver, like mercury, only a little darker. It was overflowing with what appeared to be dead bodies of beings that looked like white blobs with multiple limbs. Similar in appearance to a squid or octopus, only with lifeless, colorless eyes. They were being carried over a cliff into a black inferno, its flames fueled by the creatures falling into its gaping mouth. I got the impression it was a mouth, something alive, not just the open door of a furnace.” Ace stopped to pick some cookie dough from his teeth. Zoe shifted her gaze from Ace to Kal and then back to Ace. “Did you feel

threatened?” Rubbing his forehead, Ace thought about the question for a few seconds. “No, not directly. But like I said, the overall feeling was suffocating. Imagine drowning while being able to breathe, as if all the oxygen was removed from the air. It was like that.” “Any sounds or smells?” Kal asked. “Only from the river.” Ace pinched his nose. “It’s hard to describe the dreadful odor. Take one-part acid, and one-part puke, then mix it with sulfur, rotting flesh, and something horribly bad smelling and you might get close. And the river had this unusual sound. Not frightening. More like a damaged music box with deep pinging notes that echoed like...” Ace paused to find a reasonably close analogy, “like an injured wolf’s whimpering call in a desert canyon.” With a deep breath, Ace popped the last cookie into his mouth. “Nope, I wouldn’t want to go swimming in that river.”

The Ship

By mid-January, Chicago was in a deep freeze with daily highs rarely clearing the single-digit mark. At these temperatures, snow was limited to lake effect, leaving suburban children with little to use for snowball fights or sledding. Like Tatyana, Dirk felt quite at home in these conditions. The weather reminded him of late fall, and he thought it would be a pleasant break from the blistering articcold he left behind 30 hours earlier in Novosibirsk. It was past sunset by the time Tatyana returned to her apartment after a day of researching Kal’s patents and the myriad of published works. Dirk had broken into her apartment and was waiting for her in the dark at the kitchen table. “Good evening, Dirk,” she said, recognizing the man’s sickening odor from the moment she cracked open the door. “I know you were expecting me soon,” Dirk said in English. Having attended university in the States, Dirk’s accent was minimal. “How did you know I was waiting here?” he asked, changing to their native language. His voice was weak from lack of sleep. “It was either you or a dead skunk.” Tatyana switched on a living room lamp. “You need to shower, brush your teeth, and then shower again.” “Gladly,” Dirk said. Leering at her, he added, “Would you like to me?” In the blink of an eye, two daggers sailed across the room, one cutting through the coat of Dirk’s right arm, pinning it to the table, the other knife catching his left sleeve. Removing a third blade sheathed at the small of her back, Tatyana held it ready to throw. “Are you thinking of having children someday?” Dirk glared. THUMP! A third blade stuck in the chair between his legs. Then, like a magician pulling an endless string of handkerchiefs from a closed fist, a blade appeared in each of Tatyana’s hands. “Enough,” Dirk ordered. He was certain if there was an Olympic knife throwing event she would medal, probably take gold, and he did not want to be the bullseye of her next dagger. He also thought it wise to stop testing her limits. “What have you...,” Dirk grunted as he removed the dagger pinning his left sleeve to the table, “sorry, what do you have for me, anything new?” After describing all she had learned and witnessed over the past few weeks,

including the strange events at the mall, Tatyana explained how she was getting close to Kal, how he was starting to confide in her. She read Dirk’s face and could see he was unimpressed. “I’ve also been keeping tabs on Victor. I’m sure he has learned a lot since our first encounter.” “We should find out what he knows,” Dirk said. “If we need a third person, maybe we can persuade him to cooperate with us.” “I don’t trust him,” Tatyana snapped. “Well, I don’t know him. But as best as we can determine, Victor was the one who took out Petrov. Despite what you might think, he was a respectable agent. And certainly not easy to kill.” “He was an idiot.” “Back to the issue at hand.” Dirk knew even after Petrov’s death she would hate him and dropped it. “Let’s piece together what we know. We’re reasonably sure Kal’s research has something to do with cell phones or cell signals. We know Victor is here from Las Vegas because, because why?” “Because Kal and Ace somehow cheated his casino. I didn’t press him for too many details. I think he said something about controlling a roulette ball or wheel, but I got the impression he was angrier about being deceived twice than whatever happened at the casino.” “Right. Then you watched Kal, and later Kal and Ace, use a device that appeared to be a computer the size of a shoebox fueled by a large battery. And by using this thing, Ace was knocked unconscious. Is that about right?” “Yes,” Tatyana agreed. She retrieved her knives from the kitchen table and sat on the living room couch, mindlessly polishing each blade with her blouse. “There are no patents filed for anything that resembles what I saw, and the bulk of Kal’s research is far too complex for me to understand. We will have to get Kal or Ace, or maybe his other assistant, Zoe, to tell us what that thing does.” Dirk's eyes were red. “I can’t think. I’m too tired. But those dots are not connecting in any meaningful way.” “I know,” Tatyana said. “That’s why I am still digging away at this. I don’t want

to pull the trigger too early and risk losing this technology.” “But you will pull the trigger?” Dirk questioned something he thought he heard in her voice. “I am referring to Kal.” Tatyana’s eyes darted back and forth, confirming his suspicion she was uneasy with the thought of killing Kal. Over the ten years he had known Tatyana, he had never seen her emotions impede her work. In his mind, he was not sure if she had any emotions other than anger and hatred. He worked with a lot of agents, but she was the only one he believed who was born a ruthless killer, environmentally conditioned as a child to despise people, particularly men, and who was naturally gifted in the arts of espionage and assassination. Could Kal have somehow poisoned such a perfect asset? Tatyana sensed Dirk’s concern. “Not to worry, I will kill him when the time is right.” She was not sure if her voice betrayed her words, her growing doubt. “Good, because if you don’t, I will.” Dirk yawned. “I’ll sleep on your couch tonight and find a hotel later. I’ll try not to stink up the place too much.” Tatyana shuddered at the thought. “Only if you take a shower first. I’ll donate the towels to a pig farm when you are done. I’m warning you,” she added, “I’m a very light sleeper and my knives will be close to me. If you want to survive the night, do not come into my room for any reason. Even if you catch yourself on fire and want me to extinguish the flames melting the skin off your face, you better knock first.” Dirk knew Tatyana’s warning was not another one of her meaningless threats. “One more thing,” he said, “I think we should say hello to Victor tomorrow. Do you know where he is staying?” “Yes, I’ve been watching him watch them. He’s staying at a decent-looking motel. It’s not far from here. Maybe he will share a room with you. He stinks too.”

“That goes to the other gates.” Dent tugged on Pearson’s arm to turn him. “The exit is this way. And look over there,” she said, pointing to a floor to ceiling window, “we will be driving through a blizzard.” Arriving at Midway Airport less than 18 hours after Dirk’s entry into the States, they were welcomed by the same wintry conditions. Pearson checked his phone for messages. “Do you see a sign for car rentals? The local office doesn’t seem to have one available for us to use.” After a short wait for a rental and a long drive to a hotel northeast of Chicago, the agents used their FBI credentials to get an early check-in. It was shortly after 11:30 in the morning by the time they were heading for their rooms. “I’m going to take a long, hot shower,” Pearson said as he pressed the third-floor elevator button. “It’s just stupid cold here and I feel dirty. I’ll stop by your room in an hour. Does that work for you?” “Sure. I’ll wait to call Howland.” While Pearson showered, Agent Dent examined her case notes and then called her mother. “Sorry, mom, I’ve got to go, Pearson is here... I know... tell dad I love him... I know... I’ll call later... bye.” She hung up the phone and peered through the door’s peephole to confirm it was her partner. “Feeling better?” she asked as Pearson entered. “I’m good,” Pearson said. “I could go for a Chicago style pizza, but I guess that can wait until dinner. Are you ready to make that call?” Dent nodded in agreement. “FBI communication division.” The female voice seemed too cute for the bureau. “Agent Howland, please,” Pearson said. “Security code.” Agent Pearson gave the receptionist the code. “I’ll connect you.” “Communications division, Agent Howland speaking.”

“It’s Dent and Pearson,” Dent announced. “We’ve got you on speaker.” “Security code.” The expression on Dent’s face was pure exasperation. “We had to give it to the operator just to get to you.” “A security code is required.” “72 Alpha 31 X-ray,” Pearson said. “Good afternoon agents. How can I be of assistance?” “You don’t know the answer to that question?” Howland agitated Dent by needlessly following the book. “I’m sure you’ve got our case in front of you. Never mind. What can you tell us about the 630-area code number?” Howland knew what Dent was looking for but did not care for her snotty attitude. “You’ve got four active cases. Please be more specific.” “It’s the MacQuoid case,” Pearson said. “I don’t the case number.” “Thank you. The phone number is ed to a person by the name of James Morrison in the town of Wheaton, Illinois. He lists himself as a high-school guidance counselor on his tax returns. Looks like he has had the number for just over three years.” “What’s so funny?” Dent was not in a good mood and did not understand Pearson’s reaction to the name. It took Pearson a few seconds to wipe the smile off his face. “James Morrison? Jim Morrison,” Pearson emphasized. “He was the lead vocalist for the Doors.” Dent looked lost. Pearson shook his head and rolled his eyes. “They were a 60s rock band. The guy was a legend. He died a long time ago, in the early 70s, I believe. In my humble opinion, he was right up there with Lennon and McCartney.” Dent pressed her lips thin. “Well, I’ve never heard of him.” She turned her attention back to the phone. “Howland, just in case Jim Morrison—dead or alive —is not our man, who owned the number before him.” A few moments of silence were followed by tapping on a keyboard. “Well?”

“I’m sorry, the computer is slow. Wait. Here we go,” Howland announced. “Pestle Medical Equipment Company. It’s in the town of Oak Park.” Pearson chuckled again. “Jim Morrison and Pistol Medical. What are the odds?” “That would be pestle, as in mortar and pestle, not a pistol,” Howland clarified. Lightly smacking his hand against his forehead, Pearson winked at Dent, suggesting he was going to poke fun at Howland. “Got it,” he said in his best official-sounding FBI voice, “murder and pistol. Anyone own the number before that?” “No,” Howland flatly said, not taking the bait. “It could be someone had it before 2010, but that would be another records search in a different database.” “Check it when you have time,” Dent said curtly. She hung up without saying goodbye. “So, Agent Pearson, will it be Morrison or Pistol?” “That yellow sticky note looked older than three years.” A sarcastic remark about something yellow and sticky couldn’t quite form in his mind. “I say we start with the pistol company.” The agents arrived at Pestle’s reception desk by early afternoon. A middle-aged woman with a nameplate stamped Traci Mead–Director of First Impressions greeted them. “Gorgeous day,” she said. Her voice sparkled with an overabundance of cheerfulness. “How can I help you?” Both agents said their names while flashing their badges. “Oh my goodness, am I in trouble?” “Not at all,” Dent said. “We’d like to speak to whoever is in charge. Is the company’s CEO in the office?” “That would be Charlie O’Keefe.” “Is he here?” Dent asked. “She,” the receptionist corrected. “Sorry. Is she in?” “No, she’s out for the week. Maybe you would like to speak with our COO,

Skyler Houskamp.” “That would be great.” Dent was growing impatient. “Could you ring her and see if she has a few minutes?” “She is a he.” Pearson laughed to himself as he listened to Dent’s legendary interrogation skills being thwarted. He could tell Dent was about to lose it and broke in, “Would you please point us to his office.” “Pestle Medical,” the receptionist said, answering the phone. She waved the agents down a hallway to her right. An odd vanilla scent wafted into the hallway from a candle burning on Skyler’s desk. “May we interrupt?” Dent asked from the doorway. “We’re FBI.” Skyler’s face remained buried in a report. “Come on in,” he said. His mind did not the agent’s presence. After circling a number and scratching some notes in the margins of the report, he looked up. “Who are you?” “FBI,” Pearson said. “Are we in trouble?” Skyler’s brows furrowed with concern. “Nothing like that.” Dent had grown accustomed to people thinking they were in trouble when the FBI came calling, unsure if they were a lot of guilty people around or if it was human nature to think that way. Not expecting to find anything sinister, she eyed the report Skyler was reviewing. “We just want to know if you have ever heard of a company called Grover Paint Additives. There is a phone number we found that was ed to your company. It may be connected to one of our investigations.” The agent’s question confused Skyler. “We sell medical devices. Not paint.” “Do you paint the things you make?” Pearson asked. “Maybe Grover Paint is a supplier?” Skyler swished air back and forth in his mouth, making his cheeks alternately puff out as he contemplated the question. “Most of our equipment is made with

circuit boards, wire, batteries, and stainless steel. I’ve been with the company for over 15 years and don’t recall anything we’ve ever painted other than the walls. And I’ve lived in this area my entire life and don’t seeing a company called Grover Paint Additives. Sorry.” A knock on the doorframe stopped the conversation. “I need to interrupt. I need a signature on this delivery order, like pronto. We’ve got a very upset customer.” The delivery man walked in and handed a document to Skyler. “Did I hear you talking about Grover Paint?” the man asked. “Do you mean the one near ZetaMag? I deliver equipment to ZM at least once a month. Grover is in the same building. But there are never any cars in front of the paint company, so I always figured it was out of business.” Dent smiled at Pearson. “Once again, sometimes it is better to be lucky than good,” she said. After thanking Skyler and the delivery man for the information, she asked for directions to ZetaMag. As they turned to leave the office, she bumped her shoulder into Pearson’s upper arm to get his attention. “But that still doesn’t explain why the sticky note had PGA scrawled on it with a phone number linked to this company.” “And THAT is why they call it an investigation,” Pearson chuckled. “And THAT is why this job so much fun.” He had no way of knowing the case would soon take a dangerous turn.

A layer of snow covered Kal’s shoes and the hem of his pants as he trudged across Falcon Crest Country Club’s fairways toward the sixth tee box. The brisk wind cut wickedly into his face. Scanning in all directions, he expected to find no one else subjecting themselves to the torturous conditions—only the desperate need for secrecy drove him to endure the bone-chilling temperatures. Staring for longer than he thought necessary and seeing no movement, Kal believed he was not being followed. Satisfied he was alone on the desolate course, he imagined himself a lost hiker trudging across Alaska’s frozen tundra. Although Kal was pleased Zoe discovered a way to find DVTs in the unusual arctic conditions, he was questioning his sanity. Already satisfied with the viewer’s capabilities and the proof his theories were correct, he was content with putting the project on hold until spring. But the strange creature changed things. The assumption that he was dealing with an intelligent alien life form, that the being had mastered travel across the universe, and that it knew of compounds and physics he expected would be far beyond man’s current understanding, were now far more tantalizing than seeing random glimpses of the future. He would endure almost anything to learn the creature’s secrets, including subjecting himself to weather akin to an Antarctic expedition. Dropping the lost hiker daydream, Kal began hardening his mind for an encounter with Ky-noth. Unsure if the demon was growing stronger, not knowing if his experience would be as dicey as Ace’s, Kal placed his cell phone on speaker and set it on the edge of a nearby bench in case he needed to reach out for help. Checking the viewer, he centered himself within the DVT. “Can you still hear me?” he called to Zoe and Ace. “You’re going to have to talk louder. We can hear you, but just barely,” Ace said. Kal had left the phone’s corded mic in the car and did not have time to retrieve it. “I’ll do my best,” Kal said not quite yelling. Turning his attention back to the viewer, Kal waited until it was time and then spoke the code into the machine. “Power Max. Screen on. Lock remote. G zero. Stabilize H3 V4. L1 record,” he said after the viewer’s two blue ready lights began to glow. Purposely facing north, expecting the demon’s eyes to be directly in view, he braced himself by inhaling deeply and squaring his stance.

Kal’s disorientation was instant and much worse than earlier encounters with the being. It was like standing in the center of a tilt-a-whirl at midnight, the vortex spinning and undulating around him, the black eyes glaring at him from all sides. “Ky-noth,” Kal’s voice was frail. “You showed my friend a vision of death. How did you survive?” An immense pressure drove Kal to his knees. Everything was going black. He was being forced into a hostile, dreamlike state. At some level, he knew the bitter wind was battering his body, yet he could not move his limbs or direct his thoughts. To the extent he could control it, Kal allowed the creature to take command of his mind. The dream was clearer than a movie. It was as if Ky-noth had transported Kal to its planet. He could see the vast river precisely as Ace had recounted, a solid mass of dead or dying creatures howling their last gasps of life. The odd pinging melody of cries stung his ears. The nauseating smell, almost more than Kal could handle, left a taste of bile in the back of his mouth. Then, with a flash of blinding light, he found himself inside one of the jade-colored buildings. Kal felt like he was floating near the ceiling. Below him, a group of multi-armed beings moved about briskly, frantically testing a burnt orange syrupy-looking fluid flowing through strangely shaped machines, some of which were firing blue, green, and white lasers into the mixture. A treatment? Somehow, he realized they were working on a cure. Toiling alone in a far section of the room was another creature, larger and slightly darker than the others. It seemed older. A scientist? The enigmatic machine the being was constructing had a dull golden hue. It was shaped like a child’s kite but without the tail and appeared large enough to hold the being. Three of the creature’s arms busily fastened large glossy-gray cylinders along each of the kite’s edges. Fuel? An escape pod? Yes, it became clear to Kal this was an interstellar ship. The creature stopped working and turned its bulbous head upward, toward Kal. Its eyes were black, burning pits of despair. They were Ky-noth’s eyes. Kal woke from the dream in a fetal position, his body wrapped around the viewer as if he were trying to shield it from the wind. He was warm despite the cold temperatures and the wetness seeping into his clothing from the snow melting beneath him. How long had he been out? It felt like hours. Forcing his body to move, Kal rolled onto his hands and knees. Hovering above the viewer, his mind clearing, he stared in disbelief at the timer. Only 75 seconds had elapsed. If he could force his brain to re-engage, he could ask more questions. The timer was ticking down from 93 seconds.

“You ex... escaped.” Kal’s thoughts remained scrambled. The creature did not acknowledge his statement. Kal’s mind switched. “Were you on our planet before the age of man?” “NOOO.” Kal was not sure what else he wanted to ask, his muddled thinking preventing him from forming a coherent line of questioning. Time would expire soon. “Kynoth, you acknowledged you’ve killed before. Did you mean man or animal?” There was no answer. “Have you killed both man and animal?” “Same,” it dimly gurgled. From Ky-noth’s perspective, Kal reasoned, man is an animal. It was a poorly worded question. Kal needed to be more specific. The timer estimated less than 30 seconds remained. His mind switched again. “Are you in all vortexes?” Kal was trying to determine if the viewer was drawing the creature into his DVT or if it could exist in more than one at a time. The question was tough to phrase. Did the being know what he meant by a vortex? “Do you exist in only one place? Can you see many parts of our planet at the same time?” How else could he ask it? Sounding something like a large muddy bubble of air surfacing from the bottom of a murky lake, Kal received an answer. Ky-noth had said, “One.” The timer stopped, showing the vortex had faded. Almost three minutes, Kal noted, Zoe had found a strong tunnel. Kal’s body felt heavy. He had never competed in an ironman, or any triathlon for that matter, but imagined he felt like an under-prepared athlete stumbling across the finish line after 20 hours of biking, swimming, and running. He released the backpack before picking himself off the ground. “Kal! Are you there?” Zoe called into the phone. Kal had forgotten they were listening. “Yes. I’m fine.” He sucked in a large gulp of air. “Exhausted, wet, freezing to death, and a little unnerved, but otherwise fine. I’d like you both to stay there, I need to work through some theories with you.” Stumbling to the bench, he ended the call and pocketed the phone. Turning, he stepped to the backpack, struggled to hoist it onto his shoulders, picked up the viewer, and then, aided by a strong wind to his back, sluggishly made his way across the golf course to the relative warmth of his car.

Agents Dent and Pearson started out with a wait-and-see approach because of the late afternoon hour. They were monitoring a large man with slicked-back dark hair watching ZetaMag from inside his car. If the man was from the FBI, he had unquestionably failed surveillance school. A newer model BMW heading toward the ZetaMag parking lot seemed to catch the man’s attention. He ducked. “Let’s run the plates,” Dent said. “Of which one?” Pearson asked. “Well, I was thinking about the BMW. The other one looks like a rental.” While Pearson checked the plates using an FBI phone app, Dent watched the Beemer pull into a reserved spot close to the front of ZetaMag. An average-size man, who appeared to have been on the losing side of a snowball fight, exited the car. After retrieving a large metal suitcase from the enger seat, the man rolled the bag to ZetaMag’s front entrance. He disappeared down a hallway. “Davilaar. That man must be one Doctor Kalvin Davilaar,” Pearson said, motioning his head toward Kal. “The other one is owned by Hertz. I’ve got someone digging into who is currently renting it.” His cell phone buzzed with a new text message. “Wow, that was fast,” he said to himself as he read the message. “I love working for the FBI. Victor Galante from Las Vegas, Nevada is our rental car friend.” Struggling to find any connection, Dent’s face went blank. “If Davilaar or ZetaMag have anything to do with Grover Paint, then having a person from Vegas involved would appear to be an oddly shaped piece of an already strange puzzle,” Dent ruminated aloud. “We’ll follow him when he leaves.” “Or, assuming he is staying in a hotel, we could run a credit card search and locate him that way,” Pearson said. “Then instead of chasing him all over the place, we could get that pizza I’ve been thinking about all day. There isn’t anything in this case that appears to be on fire, at least nothing that can’t wait until tomorrow. Plus, we need some time to research the good doctor and the ZetaMag company.” Dent considered the idea. “Fair enough, but let's at least wait until Galante leaves to see which direction he turns.” Pearson agreed.

Frequently surprised by unexpected visitors or forgotten meetings, Kal kept a few extra sets of clothing in his ZetaMag office for those occasions when he needed to make himself more presentable. Changing into a pair of black jeans and a black button-down shirt before heading to the V-lab, he searched his closet for some dry shoes. The black cross-trainers with a large neon green stripe he found did not match the ensemble, but he thought they were better than the offwhite Sperry boat shoes, which were his only other option. Pasting get more shoes into the do it later section of his brain—a part he rarely visited—Kal hung his wet clothes over his office chair and left the room. After entering the V-lab and saying a quick hello, Kal headed to the whiteboard. He called Ace and Zoe over and began outlining everything they knew about Ky-noth. Expecting he could inductively narrow his theories about the creature to a few of the more promising ones, Kal explained to Ace and Zoe his experience in the vortex as he followed the encounters with the creature in mostly chronological order. While Kal talked, Zoe updated a list of questions he wanted to ask it. “A sense I was being watched,” Kal said, staring at the top of his list for the third time to make sure he had missed nothing. “The fact is, you were being watched,” Ace clarified. He was tossing and catching an apple. Keeping his hands busy helped him think. “Kal, do you know if those shoes come in adult sizes too?” he added with a wry grin. Kal glanced at his shoes. He itted to himself they looked ridiculous. “You’re missing the point. We know now that Ky-noth was watching me, but at first, it only felt like I was being observed. It is a minor point, but we need to be precise.” “You once told me precision is a concept relative to the observer, tools available for measurement, and the context in which we perceive it,” Ace said. “So, not to be overly argumentative, but it did see you.” “Whatever. Anyway, the first time I asked Ky-noth how long it has been on earth,” Kal paused and moved his finger next to the fourth bullet point, “I thought it replied ‘all,’ which I interpreted to mean since the birth of our planet.” Kal moved his finger down the board. “Today when I asked if it had been here

before the dawn of man, it clearly said ‘No.’” Kal sighed and drew a line between the two observations, and then, changing to a red marker, added a question mark. Zoe had remained silent to this point. “I’m ninety-nine percent certain the first time you asked how long it had known of humankind, and today you asked if it has been on earth since the age of man. Perhaps it interpreted man as human beings, homo sapiens, and the term humankind as a modern man, a person capable of speech, abstract reasoning, and some control over its environment. Maybe it nuanced the two words.” “That seems possible,” Kal itted. “It might not matter, but for now let’s say it has been here at least six thousand years, since the time of the first known civilizations. Now, on this side,” he gestured toward the right side of the whiteboard, “let’s outline things we think we know but haven’t directly heard or observed. Things like a possible connection to the Newgrange structure or Stonehenge.” After a couple more hours of discussion, Kal felt satisfied that everything he and Ace experienced, along with the online research they completed, was properly outlined. “It looks like we’ve covered the who, where, and when fairly well. I need to find more on the what and the why. Why earth? Why is it still here? Why does it kill? Why didn’t it kill me? What does it want or need?” Kal glimpsed at Zoe’s list. “And a lot more. Then, moving from the five-Ws, I get to a very interesting question. How? How did it get here? I mean, I think it got here in that kite-shaped ship, but what is the technology, and how does it work?” “Don’t forget the other how’s,” Ace leaned his chair forward on its front legs. “How many candles are on its birthday cake? How can it eat its cake without a mouth? It’s getting late and you can probably tell I’m getting hungry. Can we pick this up tomorrow?” “Sure,” Kal said. “Kal?” Zoe looked as if something was bothering her. “I know you want answers to all of those questions, and probably more, but it seems Ky-noth is growing stronger, or at least your sessions in the DVT seem to be increasingly more dangerous, more intense. Intentionally or not, it might kill you. Is it worth the risk?”

“I know, Zoe. I know,” Kal’s expression was a mix of excitement and concern. “I was thinking the same thing. Just because it hasn’t zapped me with one of its lasers... or those projectile orb-like things... doesn’t mean much. It might not know human limits. Although, if it has been around for as long as we think it has, then I would guess it knows what it takes to kill a person either intentionally or by accident. Maybe not.” Ace stood to leave. “It’s the maybe not that would worry me,” he said, emphasizing his concern. “The thing is,” Kal said, “I have this sense, this feeling, it wants or needs something. Look at it from Ky-noth’s perspective. Since it arrived here thousands of years ago, we are the first ones to control the power of a DVT. Thus, it seems logical Ky-noth sees us as being able to help it somehow.” Kal stopped and drew a circle around the words kite / ship. “It’s just a wild theory but I think it wants to leave earth, to go back to wherever it came from. If we can help it, and gain some knowledge, the risk-reward profile is not as clear-cut as it may otherwise seem.” Calling back from the doorway Ace said, “That’s an easy one, just tell the Kydude that it almost killed you last time and to cool its interstellar jets. See you tomorrow.” The door shut behind him. With a slight turn of her head toward Kal, the look on Zoe’s face told him what she was thinking, Ace’s seemingly ridiculous comment might work. “I’m leaving too. See you tomorrow.” “Have a nice evening,” Kal said without thinking, his mind already returning to the creature. Turning to the whiteboard, he stood motionless, absorbing, organizing, filtering, and contemplating the information gathered so far and this day’s events.

The Hostage

An hour after watching Kal arrive at ZetaMag, Victor decided it was time for action. Besides being needed at the casino and having experienced enough Chicago winter to last a lifetime, he felt he had collected sufficient intelligence to ferret the truth out of the tangle of lies he was certain to hear. He expected Zoe would be the weakest link and had already researched her background. She lived alone in a modest home buried within a sprawling suburb of seemingly identical homes, a near-perfect setting for a private interrogation that might be met with resistance. Victor was uncertain but thought someone had followed him from ZetaMag. After wandering the streets of a nearby neighborhood for over 30 minutes, Victor could no longer locate the car and convinced himself the threat was either imagined or whoever shadowed him had given up. He drove to Zoe’s neighborhood and waited. It was shortly after six in the evening by the time Zoe arrived. Parking her car in a detached garage, she struggled to carry her purse and three large bags of groceries up the steps to the side entrance of her two-story home. Less than a minute after the door shut behind Zoe, Victor was on the move expecting to catch Zoe with her attention focused on putting away the groceries. In a manner he felt would not be noticed by any nosy neighbors, Victor casually strode to the side door. Easing it open, he pulled his gun and slipped into a small entryway. From the nearby kitchen, he could hear a cabinet door faintly creak and the soft humming of a tune he did not recognize. Faster than it seemed possible for a man of his size, Victor spun around the corner into the brightly lit room with his gun raised. “Don’t move!” Zoe’s scream dwarfed the explosion of an oversized jar of jalapenos shattering against the ceramic tile floor. “Quiet!” Victor ordered. “Cooperate and you won’t get hurt.” It took a few seconds for Zoe to recognize the man she had helped Kal and Ace deceive. “You’re Vi... Vincent.” She glanced at her purse, which held a can of pepper spray, and her cell phone. What was she thinking? Her only chance was to play along. “What do you want from me?” “The name is Victor, not Vincent, and I want information.” Noticing Zoe’s gaze darting toward her purse, he stepped over to the counter, grabbed it, moved to

the fridge, opened the freezer compartment, and tossed it in. “I need you to tell me what Kal is doing and how he is doing it. Then I’ll need to check it out, to see if your story is true. If I determine you haven’t lied to me, the last thing I will need is for you to forget I was ever here.” With the flip of his wrist, he waved his gun toward a stool. “Sit down. Do we have an understanding?” Nodding her head in agreement, she tried to clear her mind. Her entire body was shaking. “Yes. Yes. I’m, I mean, I’ll cooperate.” “Tell me about the lab?” Victor began. “What lab?” A hard slap across her chin brought tears to her eyes and streaming down her face. “Last warning,” Victor snarled. “I can always get Ace to tell me what I want to know in some slow and painful way. Of course, you’ll be dead, so it won’t matter much to you.” With a metallic click, the gun’s hammer locked in place. “I’ve got a video camera watching the three of you working in the back of that paint company, which looks a lot like a LAB to me. So, once again, tell me about the lab. What are you doing in there? How did Ace control the roulette wheel and steal our money?” Zoe’s tears slowed as she gained some control over her emotions, her fear. She did not want to tell Victor the truth, but at the same time did not want to get caught in a lie. She felt like a novice tight-rope walker high above the circus floor taking that first step onto the wire. “I write programs and develop systems to track what Kal refers to as magnetic anomalies. They are like invisible magnetic tornadoes. That’s my job.” Holding the gun to her head, Victor started a countdown, “Five... four... three.” “WHAT?” Zoe screamed. “I’m telling you the God’s honest truth.” “Seems to me like more of the same made-up magnetic crap Ace and Kal have been feeding me.” Victor was trying to bluff the truth out of her. He did not want to kill her. “I know. I know. You have been told a lot of half-truths.” Zoe stared deeply into his eyes. “You need to understand that Kal is the world’s leading authority on theoretical magnetic properties. It seems everything he does deals with the

physics of magnetism. I swear I’m telling you the truth. I don’t understand onetenth of what he tells me. I just locate the anomalies.” “You must know something about how he controlled the roulette ball at my casino, and the steel ball in his office. But as much as I am still pissed off about being deceived, I have to it that it was an impressive show. And I’ve seen every magic act in Vegas at least twice.” Zoe realized Victor’s ission about the spy camera meant he probably knew about the viewer and backpack. His line of questioning suggested he did not know how they were used. “My understanding is he is developing something for a high level, very secretive branch of the military,” she said. Zoe was trying to avoid a description of the viewer. “I promise you, it is not being designed to steal money from casinos. That was just a test, and Ace wasn’t supposed to bet that much money. He wasn’t supposed to bet any money.” Zoe paused and repeated quietly, “It was just a test.” “Here’s the deal,” Victor began. “Give me the basics of how this system works, how Kal uses that device I’ve seen him hauling all over the place. Then I’m going to leave here and have a late-night chat with Ace. If he gives me precisely the same story, then I’m done with all these cloak and dagger games. But just in case my little plan doesn’t work, I want to know how to get into the lab.” “I don’t think you can.” “What? Break into the lab? Why not?” “Even if I give you my code to the lab’s security door, you can only get there by going through ZetaMag. The guard will want to see your ID. Then you have to go through another work area that only myself, Kal, and Ace can get into. It uses voice recognition and eye scans. After that, you need to get through a secret door that has a constantly changing security code hidden inside an electrical box. If you get that far, my pin to the lab is based on the cubed root of the current day’s date. It is the first four digits on the right side of the decimal point. There is probably more security too. I don’t know, something he hasn’t told me about, something like facial recognition. Kal is extremely paranoid when it comes to the work we do in the lab.” Victor tugged on his ear. “It’s a metal building. I can get into it from the outside, I’ll just clip the electricity and then cut a hole in the side.”

“I don’t want to get you mad.” Zoe slid the stool a few inches away from Victor. “I’m not trying to insult your intelligence or anything like that, but you need to understand Kal is a genius, pure and simple. If he is not as smart as Einstein and Hawking, then he is at least playing in the same sandbox. I know he has alarms in the lab if the power is cut, and alarms if motion is detected. He has laser sensors and pressure switches and probably a backup power source. On top of this, he has a sophisticated magnetic disturbance monitor. Even if you were in the lab naked and stood perfectly still, it could detect the movement of the iron in your blood, and, of course, it would set off the alarms.” Zoe wasn’t certain how many alarm systems there were in the V-lab but felt her warning sufficiently covered whatever Kal had actually done and would serve as a deterrent. “More of the same magnetic bullshit.” Victor appeared frustrated. He was struggling to believe most of Zoe’s answers. “Tell me how that system in the metal suitcase works.” “I told you, it is well beyond my ability to understand. My job is to triangulate cell signals to locate the center of a magnetic force. Ace writes the programs to Kal’s specifications, although I think Kal does some coding. Then Kal uses the monitor, the control box, to... um, control things.” “Who was running the control box in his office on the day I was sent away with that fake device?” “I don’t know,” Zoe lied. “My job is to triang...” Victor put his hand over Zoe’s mouth. “Stop. I get it. You find the magnetic tornadoes.” He looked around the small kitchen for a door that might lead to a basement but did not spot it. “Do you have a basement?” “Yes. Why?” The thought had not yet occurred to Zoe that she would be held hostage. “I need to lock you up,” Victor said in a manner suggesting this was obvious. Grabbing the only thing she could reach, a half glass of water in a plastic cup, Zoe threw it at Victor’s head, scrambled off the stool, and sprinted toward the bedroom hallway. WHAM! Victor slammed Zoe into the wall from behind before she had taken her

fourth step. She collapsed to the floor with a painful cry. “I was wondering when you were going to try something,” Victor said. He would have been disappointed if she had not made an escape attempt. Helping her off the floor and leading her to the basement, Victor used zip ties and duct tape to secure her hands around a steel post. Then, removing some green and beige checkered cushions from a musty smelling couch, he blocked the basement windows. “There,” he said, examining his work, “scream away. No one is going to hear you. I’ll be back after I visit with Ace.” He paused, reached for her chin, and turned it toward his face, “If his story matches yours, this will have a happy ending for you. If not, well, let’s just hope it agrees.” “It will,” Zoe said more confidently than she felt. Together, she and Ace had cooked up the story she had told Victor, although much of it was true. And, having avoided telling Victor too much about how the system worked, she expected—or hoped—Ace’s story would fit well enough. While listening to Victor leave the house, Zoe thought she heard the refrigerator door open and close before the sound of the outside door shutting hit her ears. What did he take? Her purse? Water? Her cell phone? Tugging hard on the restraints, she winced in pain. Escape did not seem possible.

It was Wednesday night. To Ace, this meant it was time for an evening at his favorite hangout for a greasy burger and a few beers. “Over here, Kal,” he called, waving his hand as soon as Kal entered. He turned and caught the bartender’s attention. “Two beers,” he said, holding up three fingers. The bartender knew Ace’s sense of humor well and smiled. “Is the game on yet?” Kal asked as he approached. He was not a basketball fan but knew it was an appropriate question to ask in an establishment adorned with layers of sports memorabilia, the largest of which was an aging, full-size poster of Michael Jordan pinned to the ceiling. “I always get the feeling he is going to dunk the ball right onto my head,” Kal said. He pointed upward while dropping onto the barstool next to Ace. “The game is just starting. So, did you come to any meaningful conclusions on,” he stopped, turned his head from side to side studying the crowd, then continued, “the thing we were working on?” “Not really. I don’t want to talk about it here, but there is something you need to know. Something that is worrying me.” He took a long pull on his beer. “Oh my, now that’s good.” He studied the bottle’s label for a moment, took another sip, and leaned closer to Ace. “Someone broke into the warehouse a few weeks ago. They didn’t make it into the V-lab, but they are definitely on to us. I’m guessing it is that guy with the Slavic accent, the one who has been following me, but, then again, I haven’t seen him lately. Plus, the person who broke in appeared smaller than him on the security tapes. To make matters worse, Victor is back. The cameras caught a clear shot of him on the same night as the break-in. Zmag’s security chief, Roger Platt—you know him, don’t you—thinks Victor was serving as a distraction that night so it is likely he is working with someone.” “Hey, Ace. See ya,” a call came from his gal pals Olga and Theresa, who were leaving the bar. “See you guys later. Next week?” he shouted back. “Sorry, Kal. You were saying?” “We’ll talk about it tomorrow. Just be on your guard.” Switching his mind off, away from his theories and work, had never been easy for Kal. A friendly game of darts along with a few beers, or more recently a night with Tanya, was as close as he could get. “Darts? Five bucks a game?”

“Hey, big shooter, did you say ten?” Ace was already out of his chair. Beer, bar food, more beer, darts, and pointless conversation ran late into the night.

Flipping on his motel room light as he entered, it startled Victor to see a man he did not recognize sitting on the bed with a gun resting in his lap. In less than a second, Victor pulled his weapon and pointed it at the man, who did not move. Victor stepped closer, “Who are you?” From behind, Victor felt the icy blade of a knife against his throat. “Hello, darling. We meet again,” Tatyana gently blew into his ear. “I thought I asked you to crawl back into whatever hole you climbed out of. But you didn’t listen. Instead, you thought it would be a good idea to kill one of our agents.” “I needed information and he wouldn’t give it to me. We got into a fight and he tripped me. My elbow crushed his throat when I landed, so I put him out of his misery. I guess it just wasn’t his day.” Tatyana skillfully slid the knife against Victor’s skin, leaving only the slightest trail of blood in its wake. “Drop the gun,” she demanded. “We want no more accidents.” Dirk stood and moved closer. “This is Dirk,” Tatyana said, making the introduction. Dirk rammed his fist into Victor's gut, dropping him to the floor. “He is very pleased to meet you,” she added. She looked down at Victor curled in a fetal position and smiled. “That is for killing Petrov,” Dirk growled. “But you still owe me.” Holding his side, Victor climbed to his feet, leaving the gun he dropped on the floor. A deep breath told him there were no broken ribs. “I owe you? How much? I’ve got a twenty, but I’d like some change.” A thundering punch in his side put him on the floor for the second time in less than a minute. This time Victor thought he heard something crack. “Alright, alright, what do you want?” Dirk helped Victor up. “Do you know Tatyana?” Victor turned to look at her. “Yes, we’ve met. Sort of. It was dark, and she didn’t exactly introduce herself.” This was the second time she had gotten the better of him, a fact he would not soon forget. Her beauty did nothing to diminish his dislike of her. “Petrov told me your name,” Victor said, looking at Tatyana. His mind searched for more, “And... and that you work for an organization called WISE. I guess that makes you the real wise guys.” He grinned at his clever reference to the mafia’s nickname.

“Funny,” Tatyana came back with a roll of her eyes. “As much as I’d like to kill you right now, Dirk has this ridiculous idea that you can help us somehow.” “This Professor Kal is a smart one,” Dirk interjected. “If you prove to be helpful, perhaps we can find a way to overlook that minor accident with Petrov.” “Do I have a choice?” “Not if you want to live,” Dirk snapped. “In that case, Victor Galante at your service.” “Have a seat,” Dirk said. He directed Victor to a broken-down desk chair. “Why are you after Kal?” “He tried to steal a lot of money from my casino. Actually, his partner Ace did.” “How?” “Exactly!” Victor barked. “That’s what I want to know so I can make sure it never happens again.” As much as she hated it, Tatyana sat next to Dirk, who had returned to his place on the edge of the bed. “Tell us everything you know.” For the next fifteen minutes, Victor told his story from the day Ace arrived in his casino to the evening’s encounter with Zoe, treading lightly on his murder of Petrov. “But Ace wasn’t home,” he finished explaining, “so I came here to wait until later.” Tatyana switched her gaze to Dirk. “Some of that seems to fit, but a lot of it doesn’t. I saw Ace use that box. It looked like he was talking to the ceiling and then ed out. No. Whatever they are up to has nothing to do with controlling a metal ball, or anything else as far as I can tell. They are seeing something or communicating with someone somehow, and that is why they need Zoe and all of those cell tower connections.” “I want a look inside that lab,” Dirk said. “Don’t confront Ace just yet,” he added, pointing at Victor. “I’m guessing Kal is already on edge and there is more we need to learn before confronting him. Check on Zoe tomorrow morning and

have her call in sick, then we will meet you at midnight at the back of ZetaMag.” “What about all of those alarm systems?” Victor asked. “Child’s play,” Tatyana said. Her chin, which was jutting out with confidence, softened. “That is, other than that magnetic alarm system Zoe described. I’ve never heard of such a thing but knowing Kal, it seems plausible. I’ll meet with him tomorrow, maybe a quickie for lunch, and see what I can find out.” Dirk almost asked if he could meet with her and Kal for lunch. He held off. “Any questions?” “No,” Victor confirmed. “Zoe in the morning and break-in at midnight.” Plopping onto the bed after Tatyana and Dirk left the room, he wondered what he had stumbled into and whether he would survive it.

The Plan

“T he equation for Coulomb's law accurately describes the force between multiple objects whenever the objects act as point charges.” Kal was in the heart of his late-morning lecture when he noticed an official-looking man and woman trying to get his attention from outside the room. He did not like being interrupted mid-thought and held up his pointing finger, noting he would be with them in a minute. A few students turned to look. “A charged conducting sphere interacts with other charged, other charged objects to...” Frustrated with losing his line of thought, Kal stopped mid-sentence. “I’m sorry,” he announced to the class, “give me a minute.” He walked to the hallway, shutting the door as he left. “I’m in the middle of a lecture,” Kal said before Dent and Pearson introduced themselves. “You are welcome to .” Pearson showed Kal his badge. “This is Agent Dent and I’m Pearson.” “We were listening,” Dent said. “I don’t think Coulomb’s laws are the type we practice. Can we meet with you after class?” “What is this about?” Kal knew the answer. “Phone numbers.” Pearson was hoping to get a reaction with his terse reply. Kal ran the palm of his hand across his cleanly shaven chin. As he suspected, the ghost of Zoe’s 911 call was here to haunt him. “Phone numbers?” He tried to sound confused. “What phone numbers?” Dent watched Kal’s face closely as she spoke. “One somehow connected to Grover Paint Additives. Does that mean anything to you?” “Yes.” Kal dropped the lost child act. “My office is on the third floor of the Brearly building. That’s on the other side of campus. Room 313. I’ll meet you there in about thirty minutes after I’m done with this class session.” “Perfect,” Pearson said. “We will see you there.” After watching the two agents leave the building, Kal shuffled to the front of the classroom, stepped to the lectern, and stared at his notes.

“Who was that?” a student asked. “Did they say FBI?” The question woke Kal from his stupor. “Yes, it was. It’s no big deal, but I need to meet with them, so I need to cut this class short. Does anyone care if I call it quits for today?” A few students said, “No,” and they all stood to leave. Kal followed the students out and headed directly to his office. “Double Aces,” Ace said, answering on the second ring. “Is Zoe there?” “She called in sick. Something about an earache and a doctor’s visit. She didn’t sound good. But I can fake that sick voice too,” he coughed in a hoarse voice. “The FBI is onto the phone number Zoe used to call 911, and they know something about Grover Paint.” Kal was looking out his office window. “I see them coming now. Did they speak with you?” “No sir,” Ace said. “And I did not speak with them either.” “Good. I’ll try Zoe’s phone. Bye.” With no answer from Zoe, Kal could only guess he was the first one on the FBI agent’s list. He had some idea about what they were going to ask and prepared himself to lie, as truthfully as possible. “Come in and have a seat,” he said as the agents entered his office. Pearson appeared to be twenty years older than Dent, but Kal sensed the granite-faced female agent was calling the shots. He looked directly at her. “You were asking about a phone number ed to Grover Paint.” “Yes,” Dent confirmed. “May I ask why you are so interested in my paint company?” Pearson chuckled. “Is it okay with you if we ask the questions?” “Of course. Sorry. I’m very inquisitive by nature.” “What does Grover Paint Additives do or make?” Pearson typecast Kal as a nutty professor. He expected his office to be a jumbled mess of papers and books, but to Pearson’s surprise he found the opposite, which made combing the office for information an effortless task. Only a worn copy of a comic book titled

X-Men: Days of Future Past seemed out of place. Kal opened a side desk drawer and removed a faded dog-eared brochure. “It was a company I founded when I was still in college, probably around age 18.” He handed the brochure to Dent. “Some of what I did there is still government classified, and no insult intended, but I can’t tell you everything until you can provide me with proper clearance. Let me just say, the paint I invented had some very special properties, magnetic properties. It could make things much harder to identify. I’m talking about radar systems. Imagine a paint that could bend radio waves and make a rowboat appear to be the size of a battleship, or a tank the size of a sports car? My additives might have been able to do something like that.” “You spoke of it in the past tense,” Dent observed. “But your ZetaMag building still has one suite with Grover Paint’s name on the front door.” “You’ll have to check with my lawyers and ants about that. I think I need a physical location within the U.S. for royalties, or patents, or tax purposes, or something.” Kal waved his hand toward a wall of awards and diplomas. “I’m a leading physicist who makes a damn poor business manager. Ask me about formulas related to the eigenstate thermalization hypothesis and I’ll bend your ear for an hour. Give me a question about a bookkeeper’s balance sheet and I’ll look back at you like a lost puppy.” “The phone number,” Pearson said. “Why does the company still have a phone number and who is using it?” “I’m doing some research in magnetic disturbances and I use cell signals to locate them. Grover Paint already had a lot of phone numbers I used to maintain secrecy with the government parties involved, so I just kept them. It’s not like I have hundreds of phones lying around.” Agent Dent stopped writing on her notepad. “Two more questions. Do you recall where you were on the evening before Thanksgiving? And does anyone else have access to those numbers?” Kal tilted his head backward, stared at the ceiling, and scratched his head as if searching for an answer. “We were working in the lab,” he said, returning his gaze to the agents. “Me, Ace, and Zoe. I don’t know how late we stayed. Maybe until six or seven, maybe even later. Zoe is my communication specialist. She has access to all the numbers. She might even have a computerized log of the

ones she used and when she used them. I think she has a doctor’s appointment today, but if you want to stop at ZetaMag tomorrow, I am sure she can answer any questions you have about them, the phone numbers that is.” Tatyana turned into Kal’s office without knocking. “Oh, I’m sorry,” she apologized, seeing two people seated across from Kal she did not recognize. “Just looking for a lunch date.” She caught the agents’ eyes, pointed to Kal, and with a wide smile added, “with him.” Agent Dent stood and turned to greet her. “I’m Federal Agent Dent, and this is Federal Agent Pearson.” Pearson remained seated, nodded, and studied the woman’s face. “I’ve somehow landed on their most wanted list.” Kal said. Hoping her reaction had not revealed her concern, Tatyana shook Dent’s hand. “Again, I apologize for interrupting.” With a slight turn and drop of her head, she flashed Kal a demure look. “Lunch?” “I think we are about done here,” Kal said. Both agents bobbed their heads in agreement. “Great. I’ll stop by your office in a few minutes.” Sending Kal an air kiss, Tatyana turned and disappeared down the hallway. The clicks from her heels against the wood floor were close together and fading rapidly. Her pace was brisk. Both Dent and Pearson noticed. “I don’t know why,” Pearson offered, “but she looks familiar. I’ve got a thing for faces. It seems I never forget one. I’d sure like to forget my ex’s though,” he smirked. With no additional questions, Dent agreed with Kal to meet with him and Zoe the next morning at ZetaMag. Excited about his lunch plans, Kal ushered the agents out of his office, engaging them in small talk as they headed toward the elevator. “I’m going this way,” Kal said. He pointed down a long hallway as the elevator doors opened. “See you tomorrow.” He waited until the doors closed and then half-walked, half-jogged to Tatyana’s office. Kal popped his head into her office. “What are you hungry for?” Striking a demure pose, Tatyana answered, “You.”

Surprised by the provocative suggestion, Kal hesitated a second, “Um, sure. Is your place closer?” He was falling for her and was desperate to find out anything he could about her past, something which would allow him to dismiss the lingering sense of doubt haunting his subconscious. Tatyana’s mind was a jumbled mess of emotions. She needed to kill, to feed her addiction to death. It had been far too long. But her assignment, her commitment to the job, was telling her not yet. Tatyana knew Kal’s secrets would die with him if she pulled the trigger—or plunged the knife—too soon. She had to wait. And she could not stop thinking about him, it was an intimacy beyond anything she had ever experienced or imagined. Feelings she never knew existed were welling up within her broken soul. The internal conflicts were ripping her apart. She was no longer certain she could complete her mission. “Is it closer?” Kal repeated. Tatyana appeared lost. “I’m sorry, sweetheart. I’m not good with distances.” Tatyana’s instincts about men were always accurate. She knew Kal did not trust her. How could he? He knew nothing about who she was, and he was too intellectual to allow his heart, his physical attraction and obvious feelings for her, to prevail over his mind. And without his trust, she knew he would never reveal his secrets to her. “My place is a little further but quicker to get to from here.” “Sounds good. I’ll drive,” Kal suggested. It took only 15 minutes to reach her apartment. While Tatyana freshened up, Kal explored the living room and kitchen. Although nothing seemed out of place, it struck him that the tantalizing scent of her exotic perfume, blending perfectly with a lingering jasmine aroma, betrayed the bland, faceless furnishings. A small set of Russian nesting dolls, matryoshka dolls he recalled from a trip to Moscow, was the only item he thought did not come from a Bed Bath & Beyond. “Are you hiding from me?” Tatyana called from the bedroom. As much as Kal wanted to take his time undressing to scan for clues in the bedroom, her allure was overwhelming. For the next thirty minutes, his primal needs trumped his desire to understand. His energy spent, Kal laid on his back with Tatyana’s head and arms resting on his chest. Then, until the clock pushed them back to work, they each skillfully

weaved the conversation, teasing only tidbits of the information they both wanted.

A sharp rap on the door woke Victor from a late afternoon nap. “Federal agents,” Pearson called through the door, “please open up.” Victor slid his legs over the edge of the bed, rubbed his eyes, sat up, sipped from a glass of water, and slicked back his bed hair. “Open up,” he heard the agent demand a second time. “I’m coming!” Victor yelled back. “This party just keeps getting better and better,” he grumbled under his breath realizing the FBI was involved. He wanted out. Through a small gap in the drapes, he peeked outside. There were two of them. With no further thought, he ran. Picking up his wallet, gun, car keys, and sunglasses from a table while rushing toward the bathroom that he recalled had a small window, he shouted, “Just a second.” “He’s running,” Dent barked, reacting to the change in Victor’s voice. “I’ll cover the back.” She was on the move before Pearson could argue. It was in these situations Pearson was glad they teamed him with a younger agent. He still enjoyed a good foot chase but knew his body would make him pay for it later. Searching the parking lot, he located Victor’s rental car and decided it was a better position should the man leave from the front door or somehow get past Dent. He raced to the car and lowered himself onto one knee behind the trunk. Inside the hotel room, Victor reversed direction after seeing that the bathroom window was too small, or his gut too big, for him to squeeze through. The front door was his only option. He ran back to the drapes and looked in both directions. Neither agent was in sight, but he knew at least one would be nearby. Taking a second look through the parking lot, he spotted the male agent. Trapped and realizing the stupidity of his spontaneous decision, Victor cracked the door open, held out his gun, set it on the ground, and hollered, “I’m unarmed.” “Come out slowly,” Pearson shouted. “Backwards, with your hands behind your head.” He did not need to call for Dent as she already circled back after seeing the size of the bathroom window. Pearson saw Victor was cooperating and stood with his gun aimed at the man’s back, ready to fire at the sign of any unexpected movement. “Good, now don’t move.” Dent was on Victor in less than ten seconds. After cuffing him, she shoved Victor into the hotel room. “You didn’t think that through, did you?”

“Sorry. I panicked. It’s just that I’m tired of this shitty hotel, this freezing shit hole of a town, this shitty assignment, and those two-faced shit heads from ZetaMag who’ve been lying to me.” “That’s a big load of shit,” Pearson joked after retrieving Victor’s gun. He moved into the room and shut the door. “Can we trust that you are done with your escape plans?” “Yes.” Victor’s tone was sincere. Pearson nodded at Dent. She knew this meant to remove Victor’s cuffs. “I’m Agent Dent, and this is Agent Pearson. Can we safely assume you are Victor Galante of Las Vegas, Nevada?” She could tell he matched his picture, but Victor confirmed he was. “We’d like to speak with you regarding your surveillance of ZetaMag.” Pausing, she added, “Not that you have much of a choice unless you prefer to remain quiet and do some time for illegal possession of a firearm.” Victor had completed a three-year stint in prison for assault with a deadly weapon and had no interest in returning. “Of course. What do you want to know?” “Let’s start with everything and go from there,” Pearson said. For the second time in less than 24 hours, Victor explained the events which led him to Kalvin Davilaar. Conveniently leaving out the murder of Petrov, he then described Tatyana and Dirk’s confrontation and their plans to break into the lab hidden within the ZetaMag building. “WISE,” Pearson pondered aloud. “That is one nasty bunch of well-funded killers. Without us, you won’t live to see the weekend. You can try to run and hide, but I promise they will find you.” The connection between the woman he met in Davilaar’s office and WISE was bubbling in his subconscious, not quite breaking to the surface. “If you work with us, we’ll do our best to keep you safe. I can’t make any guarantees, but it’s your best shot.” “Got it. I don’t like it, but I got it. What do you need me to do?” “Only two things for now,” Dent said. “The first thing I need is for you to keep us informed. Don’t risk it too much. If you can’t call, then try to text. We’ll be watching from somewhere nearby. We will do our very best to keep you and

everyone inside ZetaMag out of harm’s way. But don’t underestimate those killers from WISE. They are determined and ruthless. It is probably too late to get some other agents here, but we will do what we can.” “What about the locals?” Victor asked. Pearson gave Dent a no way in hell did he want the local police involved look. “Not yet,” Dent said. “They will just get in the way. From the sounds of it, there is not enough time to coordinate everything. So, the second thing is we need Zoe’s address so we can free her. That’s it. Any questions?” “Yes. Why didn’t I become a dentist?” Pearson handed Victor’s gun back to him. “I’ve heard dentists have one of the highest suicide rates of any profession. Chances are you would already be dead.” As the motel door closed behind him, Pearson heard Victor say something about listening to what his mother told him. On the drive to Zoe’s home, Pearson placed a few calls in a failed attempt to get intel on recent WISE activity. From what little he could gather, the bureau was aware of at least one WISE agent working in the Chicagoland area, but beyond that everything he needed required additional clearance. He would have to wait until his supervisor approved the information request. The red tape was infuriating. Ringing Zoe’s front doorbell, not expecting her to answer, Dent pulled her coat collar up to shield her ears from the biting cold. “This wind is nasty,” she murmured. Pearson was looking into the unlit house through a side window. “She’s not coming,” Dent said, “I’ll try the side door.” It took her six long strides to clear the edge of the house. Thankful to be shielded from the wind, she paused before taking the last few steps. “FBI,” she yelled while banging loudly. Dent considered the distorted cry for help from somewhere in the house—most likely the basement based on Victor’s story—an invitation to enter. Not expecting any foul play, she left her gun holstered and entered the home, trailed closely by her partner. “I’ll check the house for intruders, and you take the basement,” Dent ordered. Pearson followed Zoe’s cries to the basement door, switched on an overhead light, and took the steps two at a time. Hidden behind the furnace, it took him a few seconds to locate her. “Are you okay,” he said before reaching her. She was

sitting on the floor leaning her head against the steel post that she was straddling with her legs. It looked like a painful position. “I’ll get you out of this in a second.” “My ass hurts like crazy, I have to pee, and I’m thirsty as hell, but I’m not injured. Who are you?” Zoe asked. While removing the duct tape and cutting the nylon restraints, Pearson explained they were FBI and that Victor informed them of her situation. “Why did he do that? I mean, I’m glad he did, but why?” Freed from the post, she rubbed her wrists. They were not as sore as she expected. Before Pearson could answer her question, Zoe held the palm of her hand toward his face, “Please hold that thought because I can’t hold my bladder another five seconds.” She sprinted up the steps. Pearson took his time following behind. After finishing in the bathroom and gulping down a glass of water from the kitchen faucet, Zoe filled her glass and took another big swallow. “That’s better,” Zoe said. “Let’s sit in the living room, these wood stools are too hard for my aching ass.” Dent and Pearson followed her from the kitchen to a small living room. Zoe selected a dark blue overstuffed leather recliner. The agents took opposite ends of a matching sofa. “So, back to Victor,” Zoe said as more of a question. “Has anyone other than Victor shown any interest in your work with Kal?” Dent asked. He did not know if Zoe was aware of the WISE agents. “No one but Kal, Ace, and me know much about the research. Well, maybe Kal has told his girlfriend Tanya a little, but knowing Kal he probably didn’t say much, not that anybody could understand half of what he does. It is all very complicated. I recall he mentioned some guy with a heavy Russian accent was following him, but he has said little about him lately. And speaking of Russia, that girlfriend of his, I don’t know her all that well, but I don’t trust her, and Kal said he thought he heard her say something in Russian on New Year’s Eve after they got plastered.” Zoe was rambling. “I’ll take that as a no.” Dent scribbled something in her notebook before continuing. “Do you...” Pearson jumped up from the couch as if a snake had bitten him in the butt. Thanks to Zoe’s wandering tales, he thought he made the connection he had been searching for. Kal’s Tanya might be Victor’s Tatyana. Kal’s girlfriend could be

an internationally wanted assassin. He needed to confirm his suspicion. “Do you have her picture?” “Tanya?” Zoe asked. “Yes. Tanya,” Pearson confirmed. Dent was not sure where Pearson was heading with his line of questioning but knew he was on to something. “Maybe he forwarded a picture of her in a text message.” “I don’t think so, but I’ll check.” Zoe suddenly ed Victor had put her purse in the freezer. “Oh, no. My cell is in my purse, and my purse is in the freezer. Victor tossed it in there. That means my batteries will be dead. No, they’ll probably be destroyed. We can try to thaw it out, but I’m ninety-five percent sure we’d be wasting our time. Wait... I guess it doesn’t matter, but Victor might have taken my phone before he left the house. This morning he made me call into work sick, but I used his phone. Anyway, I don’t recall Kal ever sending me a picture of anything.” “That’s okay,” Pearson said. He knew it would be quicker to get a positive ID using facial recognition, but there was nothing he could do about it. “We need to get going.” He was looking at Dent, his voice pleasant yet stern. He turned back to Zoe. “It might be a good idea for you to stay someplace else tonight, a hotel, or with a friend. Meet us at ZetaMag tomorrow morning, I’m sorry to be so cryptic, but the less you know, the better off you will be.” Dent could see tears welling in Zoe’s eyes. “I’m so sorry.” “I’m fine,” Zoe said. She brushed away the tears. “Just a little tired and sore.” Agent Dent kneeled in front of Zoe and gently took her hands. “Look at me. We won’t let anything happen to you. Unless you hear from one of us, simply do as we have asked, and you will be fine. Get some rest and we will see you in the morning.” Leaving Zoe to collect her thoughts, Pearson and Dent led themselves out of the house. Pearson waited until they were in the car before revealing his concern. “How much do you know about WISE?”

“I’ve never dealt with them directly,” Dent confessed. “But I’ve been through a few briefings, so I know of them.” “I ran across their network about 15 years ago in a case involving an advanced light-weapon system. It was a laser-guided miniature rocket launcher with longrange capability and was unbelievably powerful. The thing was smaller than a baseball bat, weighed only a few pounds, and could hit a military jet moving at full speed. Anyway, their MO is to steal technology and then eliminate anyone who has the knowledge to recreate it.” Pearson put the car in gear and pulled away. “I think Kal’s girlfriend is the same person as Victor’s beautiful WISE agent. I seeing her face in one of those briefings you talked about. If I’m right, she is close to getting Kal’s invention and he will be her first target. The break-in they have planned for tonight tells me Tatyana and Dirk are still searching for answers. And they won’t murder Kal until they know what he has developed and know how to use it.” “Sounds like we are on a short runway,” Dent said. She directed Pearson toward a Walmart. “If you are thinking about a stakeout, it could be a long chilly night and I’m going to need some warm weather gear.”

The waning moon, just past being full, meant two things to Tatyana. It was lighter than she preferred for a break-in, and the cloudless sky would allow temperatures to drop below zero. It was the light that concerned her. “It’s almost midnight,” she whispered to Dirk. “Victor should be here soon.” “PSSST.” Victor was on the side of the building peering around the corner. He motioned Tatyana and Dirk to him. “This is the security camera I told you about,” he said after they arrived. “I know the lab is behind this wall.” Dirk pressed his gloved hand against the metal structure, then removed his glove and rapped on it with his knuckles. “It seems to be heavier than most siding, but it doesn’t sound too thick. I’d guess it will take about four minutes to cut a hole. Probably less.” “Once I’m inside,” Tatyana said, “it will take me a few minutes to find and disable the alarms. If it is like the security system in the warehouse, it is not hooked to an outside security firm. But I found out it rings Kal’s phone, so I broke into his apartment this afternoon and disabled his charger. I checked his cell battery around noon, and it was already low, so it should be at zero by now. And from what I learned during our little lunch rendezvous, the iron detection system Zoe described is probably not true. I asked Kal if he invented those magnetic bracelets that they sell as a medical cure. He laughed and said blood has some limited magnetic properties, but unless you hook the bracelet into a superconductor, it couldn’t do anything. To be safe, let’s give ourselves ten minutes to cut through the wall and disarm everything.” “I’ll do the cutting,” Dirk said. He removed a small, oddly shaped metal device from a duffle bag and fumbled with it as if handling it for the first time. “We stole this technology about a year ago. My understanding is it uses something similar to cold fusion to generate enough heat to cut a paper-thin line through metal. It doesn’t make a sound.” Victor knew what this meant. He was once again in charge of distraction. “I noticed a dumpster with a stack of wood pallets on the other end of the building near a loading dock. If I start a good-sized fire and call the fire department, the security guard will certainly check it out. That should buy us at least ten minutes.”

“Perfect.” Tatyana’s look was sincere. “Meet us inside and cover the hole behind you.” She handed him a pouch filled with plastic clips. “These will hold the metal patch in place.” From the roof of a nearby building, Agents Dent and Pearson could see most of what was happening at the back of Grover Paint. Having arrived in Chicago with little more than their clothes, badges, and weapons, and not expecting to do much more than standard questioning, they had little technology to assist in their surveillance. Fortunately, the moonlight reflecting off the snow-covered ground made it appear closer to dusk than midnight, and the binoculars they purchased during the Walmart stop were reasonably effective. “It looks like Victor and Tatyana are inside,” Dent said. She adjusted the binocular’s focus ring and stared. “So that must be Victor,” Pearson said. He directed Dent’s attention to a shadowy figure running across the back of the building. Somewhere in the distance, he heard fire engine sirens. “Should we bust up this little party?” Pearson took the binoculars and watched Victor enter the building and close the hole behind him. “No. We’d only get them for breaking and entering. Plus, there is a better-than-average chance their lawyers would get them out before sunrise. I don’t think there is anyone in the building for them to harm, and I don’t like our odds. It will be three against two, or possibly two against two, with them holding Victor as a hostage. Let’s wait and see what happens.” “What about the security guard or guards?” Dent asked. She was concerned with their safety. “If they check the perimeter and spot the intrusion, then we will jump in to help. But I don’t think the Grover Paint end of the building is accessible from ZetaMag or has a guard on duty because it would have been a lot easier for Tatyana and Dirk to overtake a guard than it would have been to go through all of this effort.” “Maybe,” Dent said. “You’re probably right, I’m sure they want to get in and out without being noticed. I hope this doesn’t take too long, I am freezing my tush off.”

Pearson pursed his lips, trying not to smile. “You’re a good-looking lady, but to be fair, you ain’t got much of a tush to freeze.” She met his comment with a punch in the arm. Inside the building, Tatyana scoured through piles of equipment while Dirk tried to access the computers. Victor stared at the whiteboard half-covered in formulas. Puzzled, he studied the other half. A series of meaningless bullet points under the heading Ky-noth was all he found. “Here is the device they have been using,” Tatyana said, calling Dirk over to a large worktable. “The battery is at one hundred percent.” Frustrated by the computer’s security, Dirk gave up and ed Tatyana on the opposite side of the lab. “Can you turn it on?” “There is no switch that I can see.” Tatyana turned the metal box and examined all sides. She unhooked a lid covering one side of the device. “It is probably voice-activated. But it has a screen, so he must be looking at something.” “Yah, roulette wheels,” Victor said as he approached. “Tatyana, isn’t that a door over there,” he said, pointing to his left. Tatyana tried to picture the building in her head. The door would have been toward the back of the warehouse. “It must have been hidden somehow. That wall was completely covered in boxes and dusty equipment when I broke in through the fire door last month.” She realized how paranoid, smart, and tricky Kal actually was. “Forget the door!” Dirk roared. “We’re after this thing. Let’s just take it, our guys will figure out what it does and how it works.” Tatyana knew Dirk was wrong. “You do not yet appreciate how paranoid, smart, and tricky Kal is,” she said, using the words that had just filtered through her mind. “I am absolutely certain he has a failsafe built into this. Any attempt to open it without a , or perhaps if you try too many codes, will most likely result in the guts of this thing somehow being destroyed.” “That’s what happened to the fake control device they gave me,” Victor said. “The circuit boards fried to dust when I entered the wrong PIN.”

In a fit of anger, Dirk grabbed a screwdriver off the workbench and threw it at the wall. It stuck like a knife blade into the drywall. “Damn it all. This is all your fault.” He turned and stared into Tatyana’s piercing eyes. “You dumb bitch. You should have had this his figured out by now.” The flash of Tatyana’s dagger arced across the room like a bolt of electricity. It landed Robin Hood-style dead center in the screwdriver's handle. A second blade appeared out of nowhere. She held the point at Dirk’s heart. “You warned me from the start not to underestimate Kal. Now you can see for yourself what I’ve been dealing with. You can either take back those words or...,” her voice dropped and slowed, “I’ll cut your heart out right here... right now.” Tatyana’s face was no longer one of a beautiful woman, it had the dark, lifeless look of a deranged killer. Dirk had to bring her back. “Sdelay eto.” Do it he said in Russian. He opened his coat, put his hand over hers, and pulled the knife to his chest. “DO IT!” “Let me do it,” Victor said. He was trying to defuse the situation. The last thing he wanted was to have another WISE agent’s death linked to him. Increasing the pressure on the knife, Tatyana’s arm muscles tightened, her hand quivered in anticipation. Then, as if being woken from a dream, she pulled the blade away and returned it to a sheath hidden beneath her coat sleeve. “Could you get that for me,” she said, tossing her head toward the dagger stuck in the screwdriver. Dirk sagely obliged. “It’s almost two in the morning,” Victor announced. “What’s the plan? We won’t figure this out by standing here staring at the damn thing.” He was hoping whatever Dirk had in mind he could relay to Dent and Pearson in time for them to help. “We need to go back to Tatyana’s place and get a few supplies,” Dirk said. “Truth serum, syringe, handcuffs, a hood, and whatever else she has that might help us drag the truth out of Kal.” “Might I recommend a vice or some vice grips,” Victor suggested. Dirk and Tatyana returned his comment with blank looks. He realized they had no way of knowing his nickname was Victor the Vice. “I’ve found them to be quite effective,” he added awkwardly.

Dirk ignored Victor’s suggestion. “Then we’ll come back here before daybreak and wait until Kal shows up. You need to stay with us until we’re done with him.” “Then are you going to kill me?” “That’s a possibility,” Tatyana said. “Just keep this in mind, the last guy who betrayed me is down to nine fingers and almost lost his left nut. And that was for something much less important than this.” Victor was lost in the middle of a corn maze and wanted out. Comfortable with severe methods to extract information or to teach a lesson, Victor wanted nothing to do with premeditated murder. If he ed the FBI agents as he promised, they might be able to help. But if Dirk found out about his treachery, Victor would surely meet his maker. A bead of sweat trickled down his spine. Maintaining the rooftop vigil, Dent was struggling to stay awake. “I think I’m in the late stages of hypothermia. Can’t keep my eyes open.” It was Pearson’s turn with the binoculars, and she was lying face down doing her best to hide from the relentless wind. Pearson thought twice about calling her frigid. “Yep, it’s colder than an ice cube in the Artic out here. But I’ve got good news. They are on the move. Let’s get to the car.” “Thank God!” Dent said louder than she should have. Quieting her voice, she continued, “I haven’t seen any cars drive by for over an hour. It’s going to be tough following them without being noticed.” “It seems you’ve forgotten that FBI stands for follow behind invisibly.” Pearson’s joke fell on deaf ears. “We’ll follow lights out for as long as we can. And if Victor is driving, he won’t rat us out. It looks like Victor is clo the hole behind them, it’s time to move.” Dent didn’t reply, unsure if her frozen limbs could move. It was after 3 a.m. by the time Dent and Pearson gave in to their exhaustion. Victor and the WISE agents were holed up in an apartment, and Victor had yet to them. “Let’s grab some sleep,” Dent offered. “There’s not much more we can do tonight, and we’re expected to meet with Kal at ZetaMag in less than five hours.” Pearson nodded in agreement, put the car in gear, and headed to their

hotel.

The Escape

The strain from Zoe’s ordeal left her physically drained, but her mind could not relax enough to surrender to sleep. She tossed and turned in the dark until she gave up on any chance for a decent night’s sleep and reluctantly turned off the alarm forty-five minutes before it was set to awaken her. She noticed the time was 5 a.m. Groaning from the pain of being held captive on the basement’s concrete floor, Zoe gingerly rolled off the bed and headed to the bathroom. She hoped a long, hot shower would soothe her aching muscles. It did, and in less than an hour she felt refreshed and ready for work. Before leaving for the day, she searched the fridge for something that looked good, some comfort food. Nothing fit her mood. With her stomach growling and her heart set on a cinnamon cream cheese coffee cake, she made up her mind to swing by her favorite bakery on her way to work. Searching the area around her garage through her kitchen window, she saw no sign of danger, only new drifts of snow. Heading for the door, she suddenly ed her purse was still in the freezer and laughed at herself for not removing the frozen handbag earlier. She retrieved it, hoping her cell phone was not damaged, and was soon in her car heading toward the bakery. “What do you have there?” the ZetaMag security guard asked Zoe. She was holding a large white box with both hands; a small paper bag was balanced on top. “A coffee cake for us, and a muffin for you.” Zoe set the box on the entrance counter, scanned her ID, and handed him the bag. “I couldn’t sleep, and the morning news is too depressing to watch, so I thought I would get a jump on the day with something sweet.” The guard looked inside the bag. “Blueberry. My favorite. That was very thoughtful of you.” He turned to look down a hallway. “So, other than Justin, who is toying around with a strange-looking, eight-sided circuit board, an octasomething he said, you’re the only one here.” After a brief discussion about the weather, Zoe took the hallway toward the fake lab. “Octahedron,” she called back to the guard, the word hitting her out of the blue. While making her way through the security labyrinth, Zoe thought about the program she was writing to calculate historical vortex cycles. Kal was

expecting her to find a link between the DVTs and various ancient stone structures and had been asking for an update on her work. Using her sore butt to push open the V-lab door, her hands still occupied with the box, Zoe backed into the lab. “Good morning, Zoe,” she heard from an unfamiliar female voice. A flat thud from the coffee cake hitting the floor closely followed Zoe’s scream. Even if the door had not already shut, she was too stunned to run. “So glad you could us,” Tatyana said. Her voice was soft and measured. “We were getting bored.” We? Zoe had not yet turned to face the intruders. She felt dizzy. Do not faint was her last conscious thought before blackness engulfed her mind, and she fell to the floor. Waking to a blurry image of a sideways beach, Zoe struggled to comprehend its meaning. She shut her eyes, cleared her thoughts, and concentrated. It was her screen saver. Her head was resting on her desk. Forcing one eye open, she stared at the lower right corner of her monitor. At least ten minutes had ed. Pain shot down her neck as she lifted her head. “Kal should be here shortly,” Dirk said in response to Zoe’s moan. Zoe sat upright and tugged on the thick plastic zip ties they used to bind her wrists together. “Not again,” she whimpered. Her gaze went from her hands to Dirk, to Tatyana, to Victor, and then back to Dirk. “Who are you and what do you want?” “My guess is you already know what we want,” Dirk growled. “It seems you already know Tatyana and Victor.” “I know her as Tanya.” A glimmer of hope filtered into her mind. Victor had helped the FBI. Maybe he was not with Tatyana and the disgusting looking man hovering over her. “We know you are a superb liar,” Dirk said. “Victor told us your storytelling is right up there with Dickens and King, so we’re just going to wait here for the entire team to show up. And then we will get the truth.” Dirk moved closer to Tatyana. “My... associate here is highly skilled at extracting it. She knows more

ways to inflict pain than anyone I’ve ever known. It is very impressive. You’ll see.” The buzz of the electronic door lock caught everyone’s attention. “The guard said you brought coff...,” looking down the barrel of two guns, Ace stopped midword. He heard himself say, “Damn it,” but was not sure if the words cleared his lips. “Over here,” Dirk said, waving his gun to a chair near Zoe’s cubical. “Secure him,” he ordered. He was speaking to Victor. Ace froze in place. Victor moved behind Ace, bound his hands, and then gave him a shove to get him moving. “Okay,” Ace said. “I get it. No need to get pushy.” Dirk grabbed Ace’s bicep as he approached and shoved him into the chair. “I was just explaining how difficult, how painful, it can be to get people to talk. But we’ll wait until the last guest arrives before we start.” Moving to the lunch table where he had set their bag of supplies, Dirk removed a large needle. “This is— what’s the word you Americans use—this is excruciatingly painful when shoved into an eye.” Ace twisted toward Zoe. “Are you hurt?” “No,” Zoe replied. “What are you going to do with us?” Ace asked, turning his attention and body back to his captors. He noticed Tatyana did not look at him. “That depends on you,” Tatyana said. She was digging through her tools. “Do you know if Kal is planning on being here this morning? If not, you will need to call and convince him that you need him here, and you need him here now.” “And if I refuse?” Ace could not believe he was challenging them. “Then Zoe loses some fingers. And then her hands. And then, well, I think you get the idea.” Tatyana removed a large glistening butcher’s knife from the bag. Ace realized it was stupid to play games and dropped the bravado. “He’s not teaching today, but I don’t know his schedule. If he is following his normal

routine, he should be here soon.”

“Did you hear about the fire last night?” the ZetaMag guard asked Kal before the door had closed behind him. “What fire? Here?” The guard nodded his response. Kal reached into his pocket to retrieve his cell phone. “Ran out of batteries last night. I guess I need to get a new charger. Any damage?” “Not that I know of, but I wasn’t here. Marty was on duty. He told me it was near the dumpster. Someone must have been driving by and noticed because they called 911.” Kal had charged his phone in the car and paused to search for any messages he missed. “I see it now. Around midnight. Seems odd. Fires don’t start themselves. Were there any inside alarms?” Kal clicked another button on his phone and found the answer to his question. “Never mind. Is your boss in?” “Roger called and said he’s stuck in traffic. A bad accident on 88.” “Okay. Let me know when he comes in. Oh, by the way, two FBI agents should be here shortly. I’ll be in my office. Please bring them back.” Stopping for a cup of coffee and then swinging through the engineering office to chat with Justin before heading to his office, Kal arrived only minutes ahead of the agents. “Good morning. Please have a seat,” Kal offered. He waved his hand toward a pair of guest chairs on the opposite side of his large wooden desk. “Not to be offensive, but you both look like you were rode hard and put away wet.” “It was a long night,” Dent said. “And we have some bad news.” “Does it have anything to do with a break-in last night?” Kal asked. “Yes,” Pearson answered. “If I understand things correctly, it was on the side of the building where your secret lab is located. Or should I say formerly secret lab?” “You saw someone break-in?”

Dent held up three fingers. “Three of them.” “Did they take anything? Who was it?” Putting his hand on Dent’s shoulder, letting her know he wanted to deliver the bad news about Kal’s girlfriend, Pearson cleared his throat and swallowed. “It was dark and if they took anything it would have been something small. They weren’t carrying anything when they left, at least nothing that we could see. The perps were Victor and two Russian agents from an organization called WISE.” The word Russian caught Kal’s attention. “Don’t tell me.” He put his hands over his eyes and sighed. “It was Tanya.” “Very perceptive,” Pearson said. Kal’s eyes shifted down and to his left, they appeared glassy. “I’m very sorry. I know you have feelings for her.” Pearson waited a few seconds before continuing. “We think her real name is Tatyana. The other agent goes by the name of Dirk.” “Tatyana,” Kal repeated in a lost voice. Pearson continued, “All we know about Dirk is that he calls the shots. Our s in the bureau are working to get us additional intel on them. I’ve encountered agents from WISE once before. They are extremely dangerous and will stop at nothing to get what they want. And, to state the obvious, they want something you have.” Pearson and Dent could almost hear the gears grinding in Kal’s head. His stare had become deep and distant. Allowing Kal a few more moments to collect his thoughts, Pearson continued, “We suspect the casino issue, the 911 call on Thanksgiving eve, the one which helped us catch the Thrasher, and whatever they are looking for in your lab are all connected. It seems you have weaved quite an intricate web. It would be very helpful if you could bring us up to speed.” “Where are they now! Where are Victor and Tanya... Tatyana?” “At a hotel across town. Why?” Dent did not understand Kal’s concern. “We’ve got Victor on our side and he is going to us before they make another move.”

“Are you sure? Maybe Victor is already dead or is playing you.” He dialed Ace’s number before either agent could respond. “Ace didn’t answer.” He stood and pressed Zoe’s icon. Her phone went to voice mail. He sprinted out of his office. “Follow me,” he yelled from the hallway. Dent and Pearson caught up with Kal at the entrance to the fake lab when he stopped to scan his eyes. “What’s in here,” Dent asked. “Nothing much.” Kal did not want to waste time explaining his intricate security system. The door lock clicked. He burst through the room to the closet. The agents were on his heels. “On the other side of this closet wall,” he said while fumbling with several breakers in the fuse box, “is a warehouse and the entrance to my lab.” The back wall opened and Kal sprinted through the tunnel of boxes to the V-lab security door. “I think they are all in here.” “Wait! Let us go in first,” Dent said. She pulled her gun. Realizing the buzz of the door’s lock spoiled any chance for a stealth entrance, Dent went in low with her pistol leading the way. “Drop it or Zoe dies.” A heavy voice resonated through the room. “I know your partner is on the other side of the wall. Guns on the floor.” BOOM! Drywall exploded next to Dent’s right shoulder. “Now!” “Alright,” Dent dropped her pistol to the floor and kicked it away. Through the open doorway, Pearson’s gun skittered into the lab. He stepped into view with his hands held at shoulder level. Kal followed. “Good,” Dirk said. “Tatyana, frisk and cuff them.” Tatyana checked the agents for weapons, removing one hidden gun from each, then shackled their wrists with each other’s handcuffs. She did not touch Kal. “Check him too,” Dirk demanded. “And get all of their cell phones.” Reluctantly, Tatyana moved toward Kal. Avoiding eye , she ordered him to turn around. After a half-hearted pat-down, she announced, “He’s clean.” Kal remained silent. “Do you want me to restrain him?” “No. If he does anything stupid, this one dies.” Dirk slammed Zoe in the back of her head with his open hand. A whimper of pain escaped from the force and

suddenness of the blow. “Everyone take a seat at the table. Kal has some explaining to do. He will be the one who determines who lives and who dies.” “It’s going to be okay,” Kal said to Ace and Zoe. “I’ll cooperate.” Dirk waved Tatyana to his side. “Watch this one,” he said, pointing to Zoe. “Cut something off if you think Kal is lying.” He moved to the table and sat across from Kal. “What are you working on? What does that device over there do?” Kal could not stop himself from staring at Dirk’s disgusting sneer. He shut his eyes and focused on the question. “Time travel,” he exhaled. Dirk turned to see if Tatyana was preparing to remove one of Zoe’s fingers, ears, or another part of her anatomy. An almost imperceptible nod told him she thought Kal was telling the truth. Her blade did not move. “You expect me to believe you can travel through time. I think you’re trying to buy some time. Nobody is coming to your rescue!” Dirk shouted. “It’s true. If you don’t believe me, just look at your new friend Victor and these FBI agents. Why do you think they are here? We did not manipulate that roulette wheel. I saw the marble land on those numbers before it happened. Ace knew exactly what numbers to play.” Victor laughed. “Another lie. Just like the magnetic control device.” “No, it isn’t. And these agents are here because I saw a suspicious-looking man entering a hallway from a dark stairwell a few minutes before he was there. Zoe called 911 and told them the location. They caught the Thanksgiving Thrasher before he killed his next victim, and now they are trying to figure out who made that call. We did.” Dirk waved his hand in front of Kal’s face. Kal stopped talking. “Wait. Let me think.” Dirk stood and circled the table twice before sitting back down. “If you can time travel, you would be the most powerful man on the face of the planet. You could win the lottery every week. You could travel back in time and change what is happening right now. We wouldn’t be holding you at gunpoint. You would have known we would be here.” “It’s not time travel in the way you are thinking of it. I don’t physically move back and forth in time. The fact is, at most I can only see a few minutes into the

future. That is what the device you found does. It’s like a small TV but I can’t control what to look at, or when I can use it.” “Turn it on. Show me how it works,” Dirk demanded. “I can’t,” Kal grimaced as the words left his mouth. “I just told you, it doesn’t work like that.” “Tatyana! Cut something off.” Dirk didn’t care for Kal’s attitude and still wasn’t buying his story. “NOOO!” Kal screamed. “I’ll show you when I can. I just don’t know when that will be.” Dirk pointed his gun at Ace and pulled back the hammer. “I don’t have time for this shit. Show me now or he dies.” “Please. Let me explain,” Kal pleaded. “Please.” “You’ve been explaining.” Dirk crossed the room and placed the barrel against Ace’s temple. “You’ve got one minute.” “Alright. Let me think. There are these naturally occurring vortexes, strong magnetic areas, or tunnels, that can bend time. When they are near you or me, we sense them as déjà vu. But unlike our brains, that device I built can decipher what is in the tunnel, it can make sense out of them. But I can’t make the tunnels appear,” Kal looked toward the ceiling and held his hands out to the side above his head, “like a cosmic magician.” Lowering his arms, he returned his gaze, “I can only find them. That is what Zoe does, using a pattern of cell phone signals. The other thing is there are a lot of vortexes linked to one another at the same time. So, once I’m in one, I can use the device to see into another one of them wherever in the world it happens to land. We call these remote locations. There are thousands of them, but most are over the oceans or empty land. Only a few are near something like a casino or other interesting targets. So, the bottom line is I can only show you how my device works when there is a vortex we can look into, and I don’t know when or where that will be, or what remote location we will see. If we are in a typical vortex pattern, I am sure there will be one somewhere nearby within the next 36 hours.” Dirk removed the gun from Ace’s head. “Tatyana, what do you think?”

“Everything fits. I believe him.” “Alright. Let’s find one of these things. You better hope it doesn’t take 36 hours because I won’t wait that long.”

“Let me get this straight.” Roger Platt was at the front of ZetaMag talking with the security guard. “You said two FBI agents arrived a few hours ago.” “Yes.” “And you didn’t see them leave?” “No. I’ve been here the whole time. They didn’t leave,” the guard confirmed. “What about Kal? Did he leave?” “Nope. Look, his car is still here.” “I know his car, but he could have left with those agents.” Roger looked right and then left as if searching for clues. “Well, I’ve checked Kal’s office and they aren’t in there. And he didn’t answer his cell.” “He is probably in the lab with his nose buried in some project. Or he’s helping the FBI with a case. You know the rumors as well as I do. Kal is into some very sophisticated stuff. And he is always coming and going with that big metal suitcase. What’s up with that?” Roger knew Kal allowed no one in his lab other than Ace and Zoe. As the head of security, he was the only other person who knew about the workspace hidden in the back of Grover Paint Additives, but even he did not have access. “Let’s put this together. There was a fire last night at the same time the interior alarms were triggered at the far end of the building, and then the alarms were turned off, or perhaps disabled, after only a few minutes. We got two missing FBI agents, and now Kal won’t answer his phone.” The guard appeared puzzled. “What are you thinking?” “I’m thinking in most cases two plus two equals four.” “What does that mean?” “It means I want you to keep a close eye out for Kal or those agents,” Roger said. He held up his first two fingers in the shape of a V and pointed at his own

eyes and then at the security guard’s face. “Let me know the minute you spot them. I’ll be in my office checking the recordings and sensors from last night and this morning.” Expecting Kal would be safe with the FBI agents by his side, Roger chose to wait before hitting the panic button.

Dirk’s patience was growing thin. “It’s been hours! Why can’t you find one of those damned tunnels?” He was looking over Zoe’s shoulder. “Your boss said there are thousands of these things. Find one and find it now.” For effect, Dirk ejected the magazine from his 9mm Russian Makarov pistol, examined the bullets, slammed the magazine into place, and pulled back on the slide to load a round into the chamber. “A lot is working against me and this takes time,” Zoe said more angrily than she should have. “A large solar flare yesterday is throwing off my readings. That means I have to narrow my search grid, and smaller grids slow down the process. I’m certain I can find one if you let me. So far, the only DVT... the only tunnel nearby that looks promising is somewhere in the middle of the Joliet Federal Prison.” She pointed to a pink circle on her monitor. “I think you would agree that is not an ideal location. But the DVTs tend to form in a golden spiral pattern. And now that I found one, I’ll follow the pattern to a much less populated area. If my calculation is correct, there should be one about 30 miles northwest of here.” “Tatyana,” Dirk called to get her attention. “When I leave here with Kal, I’m taking Ace and that big, ugly agent with me for leverage. That means I will need Victor with me to cover my back. I want you to stay here with Zoe and the other agent. And I’m going to want two cars in case something goes wrong. While we’re waiting for Zoe to find something, I need you to go with Kal and bring his car around to the side of the building. Park it next to ours.” For the first time in her life, Tatyana did not want to face the target of her treachery. She would risk almost anything to avoid being alone with Kal. “Let Victor do it, he’s better suited for the task of a dimwit.” She lolled her head toward her shoulder, drooped her tongue, and pulled her hair back in an impish imitation of Victor’s appearance. “Nyet!” Dirk snapped. Her disobedience was intolerable, her attempt at humor inappropriate. “You will raise less suspicion.” Tired of empty threats, Dirk stepped over to Ace, balled his hand into a tight fist, and swung at his jaw. CRACK! Ace’s head dropped to his chest; blood oozed from his mouth. “Let that be a warning to everyone.” Dirk glared at Kal and then scoured Tatyana’s face. It appeared to be one of a cold-blooded killer. Maybe he misread her

feelings for Kal and the meaning of her reluctance to follow his orders. As much as Kal wanted to lash out, he understood it would only result in more senseless brutality. “Stop it!” he shouted. A look from Pearson told Kal he needed to calm down. “Please stop it.” His voice was softer. “We’ve been cooperating and will continue to cooperate as long as you don’t hurt anyone else.” Kal’s whimpering pleas lit Dirk’s short fuse. In a move as quick as a cobra strike, he raised his pistol and fired. The gun’s roar and pain in his left arm struck Kal at the same time. Wildly twisting and stepping away from Dirk, unsure if a second bullet would follow, Kal tripped over his own feet and landed face down on the cold concrete floor with his right hand covering the wound. As much as it hurt, he could tell the bullet had done minor damage. “Oh, I won’t hurt anyone else. I will kill you all!” Dirk fired another round, intentionally missing to the side of Kal’s head. “I’m almost to the point that I don’t give a rat’s ass about your invention. I’ll tell the commander at WISE that this was a wild goose chase, that your research is about as useful as a hooker in a convent.” He turned to look at Zoe’s screen. “Tatyana, put a bandage on his arm and cover it with his coat.” Dirk ran his filthy fingers through Zoe’s long blonde hair. “I’m sure this pretty young lady is going to find something soon. Aren’t you darling?” He leaned down and kissed the top of her head. “No,” Kal pleaded. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it the way I said it. I’ll cooperate.” “Yes, you will,” Dirk hissed. “If you try anything, if you do something stupid, I’ll crush Ace’s skull with my bare hands. Then I’ll have my way with this little bitch before putting a bullet in her lovely face. And these worthless pieces of shit from the FBI will each get a bullet to the back of their head. Now get moving.” Pearson was running scenarios and outcomes through his mind. Perhaps after Tatyana left with Kal, he could bull rush Dirk and hope for the best. But with his hands, and the hands of his partner, cuffed behind their backs, it was an extremely risky maneuver. Ace was still out of it, Zoe was too small and inexperienced to help, and he wasn’t sure how Victor would react. He assumed Victor was playing the middle and might choose to stay out of the fray depending on how the attack unfolded. A better option, knowing Dirk planned to

take him with, was to get the key to his cuffs and then defuse the situation when the timing was right. If he waited, they would be split up and Dirk might be distracted with Kal’s device. Yes, this could work. But everything in his plan hinged on Victor. Whose side was he on? Pearson would find out. Hearing the door shut behind Kal, Pearson used his peripheral vision to determine Dirk’s position. He was watching Zoe’s screen. Nudging Dent, he whispered, “Key.” Coughing lightly, he caught Victor's attention. “Hit me,” he mouthed. Pearson moved his eyes down and to his left and rolled his left shoulder. “Hit me,” he silently repeated. Victor was not sure what Pearson was up to but figured a show of force would work to his benefit with Dirk. Plus, he got to slug an FBI agent. “What are you doing,” Victor yelled. He rushed over to the table, stopping inches from Pearson's nose. “Get out of my face,” Pearson struck back. “Your breath stinks worse than bat shit.” Victor jumped back from the table. Glancing at Dirk, he noticed a look of amusement. “If Dirk didn’t need you for leverage, I’d kill your sorry ass right now.” “It’s okay,” Dirk yelled, “you can kill him. I’ll still have Ace and the other agent to use as hostages.” Victor knew he was going to have to make it look good. Rearing back on one leg, he kicked Pearson in the shoulder as hard as he could, glancing the blow only slightly to reduce its impact. Grunting in pain—which was not an act—Pearson toppled out of his chair, intentionally knocking over his partner as he fell. Dent kept the handcuff keys in a small pocket on the side of her belt and unlatched it as she dropped to the floor. She felt Pearson’s hand frantically searching and turned to her right, allowing him easier access to the pouch. Unaware of the game Pearson was playing, but thinking the agent might need more time, or perhaps a better distraction, Victor stood over the agent, kicked him in the stomach, then bent down and held the muzzle of his gun between

Pearson’s eyes. “What was that about my breath? I don’t know what the two of you were planning, but I don’t want you near each other.” He pulled his gun away and stood upright. Dent felt a light tug on her belt. Pearson’s hand relaxed. He had the key. She struggled from under Pearson’s massive frame and kneeled. “You stupid prick,” she snapped at Victor. “We’re handcuffed, weaponless, you’ve got hostages, and that bastard is going to kill us soon. The only thing we could plan right now is our funerals.” Victor slid closer to Dent. The slap of his hand against her face rang out like a firecracker in a metal bucket. “Well, don’t plan on me giving your eulogy.” The roar of Dirk’s laughter filled the room. “That’s enough,” he said, catching his breath. “I need to keep one of them alive. At least for now.”

Kal and Tatyana walked through the warehouse and false lab to the front of ZetaMag without a single word being uttered. They were both hoping to leave the building without being confronted. “Hey,” the guard called. Kal’s hand was on the exit door’s handle. “Roger was looking for you.” Kal turned. “We were in the back. In the lab,” Kal said, realizing Roger had probably searched for him. “And Roger doesn’t have access to that area.” “I’ll let him know you’re okay. I don’t think he wanted to talk with you, he was just worried.” The guard’s brows furrowed as his mind switched to Tatyana’s presence. “I’ve been here since six this morning. I don’t recall seeing you come in.” He recognized the woman as Kal’s girlfriend, but her name escaped him. Tatyana was at a loss for words. “I. Uhm.” “There was a break-in at her apartment complex last night. She was worried and ZetaMag is a lot closer than my place, so I let her sleep on a couch in the lab. Sorry, but we’re in a rush. Tell Roger I’m fine and that I’ll catch up with him later. See ya’.” “Next time she stays here, let the night guard know to turn off the lab’s alarms. She set them off.” “Nice cover,” Tatyana said after the door was closed behind them. “I don’t think he carries a gun, but if he had one, I would have let him shoot you.” Kal’s tone was dismissive. “Let’s just get this done. The car is over here,” he said, not thinking that she would recognize his BMW and knew where he parked it. Silence once again reigned until Kal’s car pulled behind the only vehicle on the Grover Paint side of the building. “Now what?” he asked. “Last night, we cut a hole in the side,” Tatyana said. She pointed to the building’s back corner. “We’ll go in that way.”

“What if I refuse? Will you kill me right here? Right now? I’m sure your plan is to kill me as soon as you learn how to use the viewer. And then you will murder Ace and Zoe. So why wait? Why should I go along? You are nothing more than a ruthless, heartless killer. I should have known, but I fell for your beauty and calculated exotic charms.” From out of nowhere, or so it seemed to Kal, Tatyana produced a blade. She held it in her lap. She stared down at the glistening metal while mindlessly twisting it in her hand. “You’re right. That is who I am. That is what I am and have always been. You would have figured it out soon enough if you hadn’t already.” She paused. “I could tell something was different in my apartment yesterday. Your ion was less intimate, less sensual. It saddened me.” She placed the dagger between them on the car’s console. “You are going to die today at my hands or Dirk’s. I can’t stop that.” Kal did not make a move for the knife. Even if he wanted to kill her, he now understood she was a skilled assassin. He suspected any movement toward the dagger would likely result in his death, either by plan or trained reaction. “What about Ace and Zoe?” “Unless they do something to get themselves killed, they will only be hurt— hurt badly—and then sworn to silence. Our agency will maintain a close watch on them for at least a year. If they keep quiet, they will live. If not, then I can’t promise anything.” “Why should I believe a word you are saying? This technology in the wrong hands will have global consequences. Possibly war. For the sake of the world, it would be better to lose a few lives rather than risk the lives of so many innocent people.” Kal was not telling the truth and had no plans on being a martyr. He designed the viewer’s code system with a failsafe. The algorithm he used for the changed every day, and three failed attempts would render the device useless. He was hoping his threat of self-sacrifice would somehow provide control, a way out, or, much less likely, a change of heart. “I realize you have no reason to believe anything I tell you.” For the first time since Kal had entered the V-lab Tatyana searched his eyes. “But you are a man of logic, so consider this, it is relatively easy for us to kill one person and make it look like an accident. Killing five people is tough to cover up. The agency prefers to remain as secret as possible. And as much as they demand the

elimination of the... competition, they want to keep the death rate to a minimum to avoid unwanted attention. The standard protocol would allow Zoe and Ace to survive.” Kal turned off the car’s engine and reached for the door handle. “Sounds like a corporation. Like they measure death as a return on investment. It’s hideous. You’re hideous.” Tatyana looked away to hide a single tear rolling down her face. She remained silent.

Everyone in the V-lab heard Kal and Tatyana enter before they saw them. Clipping the metal plate back into place, Kal fell a few paces behind. Using this to his advantage, he searched frantically for something he could use as a weapon. No knife, sharp implement, or blunt object was in sight. This left him with the faint hope that the mid-morning blizzard-like conditions which were predicted to increase throughout the day could somehow help when they split up in search of a DVT. “I’ve got a gun to Ace’s head,” Dirk shouted as a warning to the unseen visitors. “Did everything go according to plan?” Tatyana popped out from behind a shelving unit overflowing with electronic equipment, circuit boards, and similar supplies. “Relax. We only spoke with the guard at the reception desk, and Kal covered for us perfectly. Any progress on finding one of those magnetic tunnels?” Dirk’s smile answered her question but left Tatyana wondering if his teeth had ever felt the bristles of a toothbrush. “Great. I’d like to get this done. What are we dealing with and when?” “I’ll let Zoe explain,” Dirk said. Zoe was physically, mentally, and emotionally drained. The last 48 hours of hell had pushed her to the breaking point. Dismissing the thought that a swift death might be better than forcing her mind and body forward, she sipped from her water bottle before finding the energy to speak. “The outside temperature is wreaking havoc with my location system, but it looks like there will be a moderately strong DVT just after the noon hour. It is forming near South Elgin High School. I can’t quite pinpoint it yet, but I would guess it will be near the field house. And, according to the internet, they canceled school because of the severe weather, so nobody else should be there. The roads will be bad. You will need to get moving if you want to be there in time.” “If we miss it?” Dirk asked. “At the moment, I don’t see any more activity for the rest of the day. This is probably your only chance.” She leaned back in her chair and shut her burning eyes, unconcerned with what might happen next. “Explain the process,” Dirk said. He was speaking to Kal, who had taken a seat

at the lunch table. Kal stood and walked over to the viewer. “Obviously,” he began pointing to the backpack, “this is the battery. You need it and this device which we call the viewer. The viewer does all the work. It locates the center of the magnetic vortex and connects into the matrix of tunnels. As Zoe said, we refer to the tunnels as DVTs. There are thousands of DVTs you can choose to look at through the screen. That is to say, you can look at them one at a time.” “Tatyana, Victor, keep a close watch on everyone,” Dirk ordered. “If they do so much as scratch an itch...” Dirk did not finish his thought. He moved next to Kal, holstered his weapon, and picked up the viewer. “It’s heavier than it looks. Tell me how I can tell that it is seeing into the future.” “That is a little tricky,” Kal itted. “Other than taking Victor’s word for it, I suppose if you could see an accurate clock somewhere, you could compare it to your watch. There should be a two or three-minute time difference. You better check your watch first to make sure it has the correct time. Zoe,” Kal called across the room, “see if there is a DVT forming somewhere near a clock. Big Ben, the Deira Clock Tower in Dubai, anything.” Dirk grabbed his coat. “Let’s get going. Kal with me. Victor, follow behind us with Ace and him.” He pointed at Pearson. “Tatyana, that leaves you with the girls.” Agent Dent shifted in her chair and glared. Dirk flashed a disgusting grin. “You’re not the prettiest of the bunch, but I’ve never done an FBI agent before. Maybe when I get back.” He winked at her. “No pillow fights without me, girls.” Dent tugged on her silver bracelets, knowing her efforts to escape were futile.

It was approaching noon by the time the two cars pulled into the nearly empty high school parking lot. A single car buried deep in a drift gave witness to the winter storm’s impact on human activity. The blustery wind blowing snow across the parking lot in waves hid the school in a veil of white. “What’s next?” Dirk asked. “We need to get the DVT’s precise coordinates from Zoe,” Kal said. Tatyana picked up on the first ring. “Hello, Dirk.” “Is everything under control?” “No problems here,” Tatyana reported. “What do you need?” “Ask Zoe for the coordinates. Never mind, put us on speaker.” Dirk did the same. “Zoe,” Kal said, “did you find anything we can use for the remote site?” “I’m not a leading expert in world clock locations but I did some work at the University of Arkansas a few years ago, and they have a clock tower, Old Main, I think they call it. I found a DVT near there. But I’m not certain you will be able to see the clock. That’s the best I can do.” “Fine,” Dirk said impatiently. “Your coordinates are 41.9865462 lat and -88.3252480 long. The remote latitude is 36.1214597 with a longitude of -94.1533383.” “Got it,” Kal acknowledged. “How much time do we have?” “It is forming a little earlier than I thought. You’ve got about 12 minutes.” “Is that all you need?” Dirk asked Kal. “Yes.” “Tatyana,” Dirk said, leaving the phone on speaker mode, “After we’re done, I’ll call you back.” Wanting to send Kal a clear reminder of his command over the

situation, he continued, “If Kal or Ace give me any trouble, I’ll want you to shove a knife into Zoe’s neck. Let her bleed out slowly, make her suffer.” He disconnected the call. Exiting the car, Kal removed the battery from the back seat and hoisted it over Dirk’s shoulders. After plugging the viewer into the power source, he handed it to Dirk, turned it on, and repeated the viewing locations. “Unlock and flip open the screen covering,” Kal directed. “You will see a green arrow and should hear a beeping sound. We’ll follow the arrow until the beeping changes to a solid tone.” Holding Ace and Agent Pearson at gunpoint, Victor ed Dirk and Kal at the side of Kal’s car. “What do you want me to do?” “Simple,” Dirk said. “If anything looks like it is going even slightly wrong, shoot the agent. If Kal doesn’t continue to cooperate, kill Ace. I’ll be busy with this device, so keep a sharp eye.” Working their way across the slippery parking lot, the group followed Dirk to the south side of the building where the wind-driven snow was piled into a threefoot drift. “It is telling me to go further north, but I obviously can’t go through this brick wall,” Dirk said, informing the group of what he was seeing on the viewer. “Left, or right?” They met his question with silence. “Right, I guess,” Dirk said, answering his own question. After another thirty yards of trudging through the drift, Dirk found a side entrance. Time was running short. “Shoot the lock,” he ordered Victor. “Stand back. It’s metal and might ricochet.” Victor twisted sideways holding the pistol as far away from his body as he could and turned his head before firing. The blast of his gun instantly disappeared into the howling wind. He kicked at the door. It flew open. A stale smell of sweat mixed with an odd, burned rubber odor assaulted his nose as he stepped inside. Only a single mercury vapor lamp dangling from the center of the massive structure was lit, but there was enough daylight filtering through reinforced glass windows, along with a matrix of skylights, to provide Victor with an unobstructed view of the entire space. It appeared deserted. “Nobody here. We’re good.” Dirk was the next to enter. Following the viewer’s arrow, he made his way to the free-throw line of the third basketball court. BEEEEEP. The viewer signaled it

was centered within a DVT and went silent. Kal looked over Dirk’s shoulder. The timer was counting down from 34 seconds. He stepped away. “Are you ready?” “I think so,” Dirk said. A surge of anticipation followed by a wave of concern from the unknown sent a shot of adrenaline through his system. He tightened his hands on the viewer to keep them from shaking. “Alright. I am going to say a ,” Kal instructed. “If the machine is ready, a pair of blue indicator lights will go on. Then I’ll call out the commands to activate the viewer. You should see something that looks like the campus that Zoe described.” “It’s down to 13 seconds,” Dirk reported. Kal calculated the . “F 27 J 1 Plus 0.” The blue lights began glowing. “Power Max. Screen on. Lock remote. G zero. Stabilize H2 V2. Everyone, stay back.” The group huddled near Dirk, staying a few feet away as Kal demanded. Only Kal and Ace knew what to expect, what danger lurked in the vortex. As fascinated as Pearson was with the viewer, he kept his mind on removing the handcuffs. With little noise in the field house to use as cover, and every noise resounding throughout the space, Pearson could only hope the clicking release of his cuffs would go undetected. He looked at the others concluding they were too absorbed with the viewer to notice, but still shuffled his feet to cover the metallic clatter. “I see it.” Dirk’s voice had increased by half an octave. “I mean, I see a campus. I don’t see the clock tower.” A heaviness was tugging on his shoulders. He rolled them to ease the pressure. “Up 10, rotate to 120.” Kal was guessing at the direction for magnetic north where he expected Ky-noth would be waiting. Dirk’s head snapped upward. He dropped to his knees. “What...?” Pulling his gun faster than he had ever done before, Dirk fired into the air above his head, toward the demon’s eyes staring down at him.

Pearson could not see what had frightened Dirk, but he knew this was his chance. He pushed Victor and Ace aside and dove toward the man kneeling a few feet away. Inside the DVT, Ky-noth reacted to the man’s aggression as if it too could see the future. Its eye’s shrunk to pinpoint lasers. A large swirling sphere of energy formed where the laser beams met. Before the report of Dirk’s weapon had faded into the rafters, the orb struck his chest. Airborne, Pearson braced himself for impact by lowering his shoulder and tucking his head. His plan was simple, knock Dirk’s gun loose and take command of the situation. But at the precise moment that Pearson had expected to feel the pain of impact, a plume of acrid smelling dust shot into his face. Instead of slamming into Dirk as he expected, Pearson landed hard on top of the viewer, sending a shower of sparks skittering across the floor. What just happened? How could he have missed? His mind searched for answers. Unable to comprehend that Dirk had been vaporized, Pearson spun onto his back to reexamine the situation. BOOM! A thunderous roar shook the field house walls. A fiery dark void hovered directly above him. They were eyes. The seething eyes of a child’s nightmare. Pearson froze in place, his mind telling his body not to move. Feeling the cold handle of what he thought must be Dirk’s gun resting against his side, Pearson forced himself to reach for it. Kal could see Ky-noth. He shook his head in disbelief. It had somehow escaped the confines of the DVT. What had he done? Had his device somehow unleashed the being when Pearson landed on it? As Pearson’s hand circled the weapon’s grip the eyes narrowed. An orb fired through the weapon, striking Pearson’s hand. He screamed and rolled onto his stomach in pain. The fingers on his right hand felt like they were on fire. He reached with his left hand to check for injury. A surge of panic instantaneously followed a moment of relief at the absence of blood. His right hand was missing. “NOBODY MOVE!” Kal screamed with every ounce of energy his lungs could generate. “I think it is reacting to a threat.” Victor stood in silent awe. He watched the lasers broaden into blackness, into the churning dark eyes of a devil. He looked away but could still feel the emptiness of the eyes burning through him.

“Ky-noth, stop.” Kal pleaded. He waited, knowing the being was sometimes slow to respond. “Death.” The word was intelligible, but not threatening. “Yes. Death. You killed him.” After a moment of reflection, it occurred to Kal that Ky-noth might be referring to its death. Perhaps it could not survive outside a vortex. “Do you mean you will kill again, or that you will die?” “Yes. Survive... soooon.” This was the first time Ky-noth had replied with more than one word. Before Kal could ask another question, he noticed the darkness fading. Then, like the faint sound of a balloon being filled with helium, a word that sounded like “Help” faintly whistled through the room. Ky-noth vanished. For the next minute, the snap of a gnat meeting its end at the hands of the lone mercury lamp would have been the loudest sound in the room, but there was no gnat, only pure silence. With a moan of pain, Pearson broke the group’s spell. “Victor.” Kal stepped over and shook the stunned man by his shoulders. “Victor, cut Ace loose.” Kal released his grip on Victor, spun, and rushed over to Pearson. Still dazed, Victor haphazardly searched his pockets until his hand landed on a set of keys. Attached to the keyring was a small Swiss Army knife. He cut the plastic ties securing Ace’s hands. The simple act seemed to wake his mind. “I’m out of here. I don’t want to be anywhere near here if that thing comes back.” He turned and headed for the door. Kal was kneeling at Pearson’s side. “Ace, find Dirk’s phone and call for an ambulance.” Pearson was face down on the floor with his arms tucked beneath him. His frame heaved upward as he sucked in deep breaths. The muffled sound of swearing was heard with each exhale.

“Let me have a look,” Kal said. His voice was soft, concerned. Gently lifting and pushing on Pearson’s shoulder, he helped the agent roll onto his back. Pearson shuddered as he struggled to his knees. His vision cleared. He and Kal looked down at his wrist at the same time. His hand was gone, but it appeared as if it was severed off years ago. There was no scarring, no burned flesh, no blood. Only the phantom pain from his missing fingers was causing Pearson any discomfort. His mind did not want to believe what he was seeing, what his other hand had felt. “No,” he called resolutely. “Ace, put down the phone. There is nothing a hospital can do, nothing to reattach.” He stared at his wrist for a moment longer demanding himself to internalize the meaning of losing his hand. “Dent and Zoe need our help.” He leaned further back on his heels and scanned the floor as if searching for the missing appendage. “Damn,” Pearson said in little more than a whisper. Then filling his lungs, he screamed, “SHIIIT!” Pearson’s anguished cry filled the field house more completely than a thousand screaming fans. Ace rarely had a serious thought, but the day’s events had left him feeling tired and somber. He moved to Pearson's side and reached out his hand to help the agent get onto his feet. “I’m so sorry.” He wanted to say more, but the words were lost. “Don’t even think about hugging me.” Pearson hunched over to place his hands on his trembling legs, his brain not yet ing this action was no longer possible. A sense of embarrassment punched Pearson in the gut as his wrist slipped off his leg. He bolted upright and amicably poked Ace in the chest with a finger from his left hand as he dove his right wrist into his pocket to hide it. “I don’t like hugs and still have a wicked left hook, but I’d like to save it for Tatyana, so keep your meat hooks off me.” He looked over Ace’s shoulder at Victor, who was almost to the door. “Victor, come back here,” he yelled. “You’re not out of this just yet.” The trauma of losing his hand had left him confused and without a plan but he knew the man could still be helpful. “Shiiit,” Victor quietly repeated Pearson’s tortured cry.

The Odds

Kal placed the viewer and battery into the trunk of his car while the other three men piled into the vehicle. Before ing them, he checked the viewer for damage. It had a few minor scratches on two sides. A full diagnostics check would have to wait until Zoe was safe. Kal slid into the driver’s seat, fired up the engine, and turned the heat to full blast. He held his chilled hands to the vent. “Pearson, Victor, we are heading into your area of expertise. Have either of you come up with anything yet?” “First, let’s use Dirk’s phone and text Tatyana,” Pearson said. “We’ll let her know everything went according to plan and that we are heading back. You didn’t catch his PIN, did you?” Kal shut his eyes, envisioning the call Dirk made to Tatyana less than 30 minutes earlier. His eyes popped open. “The idiot used 3475. That spells his name using the letters below the numbers.” “Not to be a wet blanket, but why wouldn’t Dirk call her?” Ace asked. “I’m certain he told her he would call. Not send a text.” “Give me the phone,” Victor demanded. He punched in the PIN and searched for Tatyana’s number. “Dirk,” Tatyana said. “I’ve been wondering what happened.” “Hey, Tatyana. It’s me, Victor. Everything went perfectly until Dirk spun off the road and got stuck in a snowbank.” Victor looked at Kal and pointed to the car’s accelerator. Kal gunned the engine. “They are all pushing us out. We’ll be back in an hour or so.” Victor put his hand over the phone’s microphone and held it at arm’s length. “Victor, get out here and help push,” he called, doing his best to imitate Dirk’s voice. Bringing the phone back to his face, he continued, “Sorry, Tatyana, I guess I’m needed. Bye.” “Do you think she bought it?” Kal asked. “I must it, your impression of Dirk was pretty good.” “I don’t know how she thinks,” Victor said, “but I am guessing she will be a little suspicious. I think she is always suspicious, it’s in her nature.”

Kal nodded in agreement and then tapped Pearson lightly on the shoulder to get his attention. Pearson did not move. He appeared lost, perhaps in a state of shock. “Agent Pearson,” Kal said, speaking as if trying to wake someone from a deep sleep. “Agent Pearson, do you have a plan?” Pearson held his handless arm across his chest in a manner suggesting he needed to protect it from further damage. He turned his head away and stared out the enger window. “You knew about that, that thing, didn’t you? What is it?” “Yes, I knew it was in there, but I couldn’t tell you.” Kal knew there was nothing he could say or do that would ease Pearson’s sorrow. “As difficult as this is to imagine, it is a being from another time, another planet. When Ace used the viewer, and the last time I used it, the creature knocked us unconscious. I thought if I asked the creature the right questions, it would do the same to Dirk. I sensed—or hoped—that Victor was on our side and then we would be in control of the situation. I guess to say I screwed up is a major understatement. I’m so sorry. I truly am. For what it’s worth, I’ve got a lot of money and can,” Kal stopped, thinking the offer of money might insult Pearson or seem insincere. “Did you know it could kill?” For the next 45 minutes, Kal explained all he knew about the creature. He told Pearson about his watch being destroyed by the laser, the connection the being seemed to have with ancient stone structures, the myths, the facts, and its name. He described the visions of Ky-noth’s planet, and that it somehow knew Kal’s name from the moment he first entered a DVT. “Ky-noth,” Pearson repeated the name. “It owes me a hand. Maybe this creature can regenerate or un-vaporize it.” “I hadn’t thought of that, but I suppose it’s possible. After all, it has survived for, well, I don’t know how long, but thousands of years at least. And who knows how far it traveled to get to Earth, probably hundreds, maybe millions of lightyears. I am sure it has powers and technology we can’t fathom, and regeneration may be one of them.” Kal did not believe what he was saying. His voice reflected the doubt. “My concern, my theory is Ky-noth is like a dolphin out of water. Outside of the magnetic vortexes, Ky-noth will eventually die, but just like a dolphin that needs to stay wet to survive outside of its normal environment, Ky-noth needs to stay near the DVTs. Wherever a DVT exists, Ky-

noth may be there. And if people are nearby, they might meet your fate, or worse, that of Dirk’s. It could hurt a lot of innocent people. We need to find it and help it get back into a vortex. When we do that, if we can do that, I will ask if it can restore your hand.” Ace spoke up from the back seat, “And how do you plan on getting it back inside of a DVT? Oh, by the way, if you see a McDonalds, could you swing through? I’m starving.” “You’re always starving,” Kal said, dismissing the request. “It should be obvious our priority is to help Zoe and Agent Dent. And I’m still thinking about what to do about Ky-noth after we rescue them. If we rescue them. So, McDonalds will have to wait.” “Trust me,” Pearson said. “We’ll get Zoe and Dent out safely.” “Well then,” Ace continued, “here is how I see it, they’ll be hungry too and a few more minutes under Tatyana’s watch won’t matter.” Ace leaned forward into the front seat and pointed off to the left. “There’s a McD’s a few miles up ahead. I’ll buy.” Agent Pearson slumped against the car door. “As dumb as it might seem, a little fuel in our bellies is a good idea. It’s already been an exhausting day. And it could be a lot longer unless that Ky-noth thing has already died. Do you have any idea how long it can survive outside of the tunnels?” “Your guess is as good as mine,” Kal said candidly. “You heard what I heard, so it’s possible I misinterpreted what Ky-noth meant. I it my theory has more holes than swiss cheese, and it is likely our time frames probably don’t match. What I mean by that is a short time to Ky-noth could be a week or a thousand years. Or, as you suggested, it could already be dead or dying. From an objective perspective, we know it can kill, it said it would kill, we know it is outside of the DVTs, and we have seen it react to aggression. It would be a good idea for you to call the Bureau and ask them to keep you informed of any 911 calls about strange creatures. Can the Bureau tap into the global 911 system? Ky-noth could be anywhere.” “I’ll find out. Victor, hand me,” Pearson paused and looked at his wrist, “give me Dirk’s phone.”

Ace followed Victor into the V-lab holding his hands behind his back as if they were still restrained. “You got what you came for!” Ace loudly protested to provide cover for Pearson, who was entering through the hole Dirk had cut the night before. “You said you would let us go if we cooperated.” Victor pivoted toward Ace. He aimed his gun at Ace’s left knee. “Shut your stupid face. I’m tired of your nonstop, incoherent blathering.” “It’s not incoherent.” A punch to his stomach, which looked harder than it was, sent Ace to his knees. “We told you that you would live but never promised you would walk away unharmed. Dirk told us he still wants to get the software you wrote that controls the viewer, and he needs Kal’s algorithm. We’ve got a lot more to do, so just keep quiet and sit down somewhere.” From the corner of his eye, Victor saw that Pearson had cleared the opening. A thumbs up told Victor he could proceed. Keeping a pistol pointed at Zoe, Tatyana forced Dent to stand. “Where is Dirk?” Using the agent as a shield, Tatyana pressed the point of her steel blade against Dent’s throat. “Don’t screw with me,” she warned. Victor nonchalantly walked in Tatyana’s direction. “Kal twisted his ankle when we were pushing the car out of the snow. He may be a genius, but he’s got the coordination of a toddler. Dirk and Pearson are helping him get the battery and viewer.” He thumbed toward the door and moved into Tatyana’s line of sight. “They are right behind us.” Tatyana lowered the gun and relaxed her knife. She stretched to her right to see the doorway. Waiting until Tatyana was leaning all her weight onto one foot before making his move, Pearson stepped out of the shadows from behind. CLICK! He locked the gun’s hammer in place. “Don’t move!” Just as Tatyana was ready to drop, spin, and drive her knife into the agent’s leg, she saw Victor raise his weapon. It was pointed at her chest. She glared at him. “You lousy traitor. I should have guessed. What was it you said the night we first

met?” Her face burned hot with anger. “I think it was an agreement between killers is a deadly pact.” She dropped both weapons to the floor. “There is no place on earth dark enough for you to hide. I’ll find you and rip you apart piece by bloody piece.” “That is going to be tough to do if you’re dead,” Victor snapped back. “Now, move away.” He waved his gun to her left. After removing his restraints in the field house, Pearson had slipped the key into his right pocket. Holstering Dirk’s weapon, he reached across his body with his left hand. After a few frustrating seconds, his fingers located the elusive piece of metal. “There you go,” he said after struggling to remove Dent’s shackles and handing them to his partner, “lock ‘er up.” Grabbing the cuffs, Dent turned to secure Tatyana, then instantly spun back toward her partner. Her face flushed with a look far beyond confusion. “How? Are you okay? What the hell happened to your hand?” “First, get her cuffed and frisked. The thing that did this is on the loose, and you might be right, I think it came straight from the underworld. Kal will have to explain it because I can’t.” “Are you in pain?” “No. Now get her cuffed.” Dent clicked the cuffs in place behind Tatyana’s back. After removing two daggers, four throwing knives, a stiletto, and a hairpin knife, Dent led Tatyana across the room. “Sit there,” she said. She shoved the assassin toward a stool next to an empty workbench. Moving back across the room, she tossed the blades onto the lunch table. They clanged like a broken wind chime before coming to rest in the center with one spilling onto the floor with a final clank. “Is that everything?” Ace asked. He picked up the one that landed on the floor and placed it with the others. “I’ll bet you anything she’s got another one up her butt.” Using a pair of bobby pin-shaped devices, which doubled as lock picks, Tatyana had secured a small blade in a black pouch to the base of her skull. Hidden beneath her long dark hair, it went undetected. “Why don’t you take my under-

wire bra while you’re at it,” she growled at Ace. She wanted to direct attention away from her head in case Ace’s suggestion resulted in a more thorough search. “I’ve got the metal in it honed to a deadly point. I’ll even let you check if you aren’t too scared.” Victor walked between them. “If you children don’t mind, I’ll let Kal know everything is under control in here, and then I’m going to high tail it back to Vegas. I’ve had enough of this crap to last a lifetime.” Victor stepped close to Tatyana. “It has been a pleasure.” He lifted her chin, forcing her to look up at his face. “It’s just unfortunate you’re going to hang yourself in your prison cell. You’ll see. I’ve got friends in those places... or friends in low places as Garth Brooks once sang.” Victor winked at her before releasing his hold. He turned toward the agents, “You didn’t hear that.” “Hear what?” Pearson said. “Thank you for your help.” “It’s not like you gave me a choice. If you are ever in Vegas, please do not look me up,” Victor said. His look was sincere. “I’ll get Kal.” “Tell him to bring the burgers,” Ace called as Victor opened the V-lab door. Victor stepped back and took one last look around the room. Landing his eyes on Ace, he pointed his finger, “I’m still pissed at you for getting me into this mess.” “Yah, well, just don’t forget the burgers,” Ace said. Victor gave a tight-lipped smile in reply. While waiting for Kal to arrive, Pearson began outlining the events in the field house, leaving out most of the details about the creature that took his hand. Everyone listened in stunned silence other than Ace, who was busy checking the fridge for something cold to drink. Kal soon entered with three large bags. The smell of burgers and greasy fries preceded him to the table still covered with Tatyana’s hardware. “Wow,” he remarked, “looks like we won’t be needing any cutting utensils. I’m guessing these are Tatyana’s.” “Good guess,” Ace said between bites of a Big Mac he snatched out of the bag before Kal set it on the table. “We decided not to check her ass, so there could be more.”

“I’ll on that,” Kal said. Pearson and Dent each grabbed a burger. “Have you come up with anything?” Pearson asked. He was struggling to remove the wrapper but refused help from Dent. “I think so. It seems obvious we’ve got to get Ky-noth back into the system of magnetic vortexes. It will not be easy. It might even kill us. Or it might not work.” “Sounds promising,” Pearson grunted. “I’ll need you to check on whether there have been any of those 911 calls we talked about. Ace, you need to get the viewer and battery out of the car and then test every function on the viewer. Replace any bad circuit boards and charge the battery. No, charge all the batteries. You know, even the smaller ones we don’t use anymore.” Kal paused and rolled his eyes across the top of his head as if searching for more instructions. “You’ll need to figure out how to connect them. I am thinking we will need some extra power. As much as we can get. Remind me, do we have redundant power restrictions in the viewer’s hardware and software?” Ace reached for a bag of fries. “Anyone want these?” Hearing no protests, he picked up the bag. “No. There are no software controls, and you know better than I do that we have load limiting transistors, but the voltage sensors and power dissipation are set to theoretical maximums. That means the viewer can withstand a voltage overload for a substantial length of time.” “How long is substantial?” Kal asked. “Gee-whiz. I don’t know. I was talking about electrical currents, so probably only a few milliseconds. Far less than a second.” “That will have to do.” He turned to Zoe. She appeared as if she were about to out. “Are you okay?” She looked at Kal but did not answer. “I need you to find some DVTs. Hopefully, there are still some this afternoon. Can you do that?” Her slight nod told Kal she heard him. “Good. Dent, you keep close tabs on Tatyana and see what you can do to help Zoe get over her state of shock.” Kal marched to the whiteboard, erased a large section, and started writing a series of complex formulas. “It will take me some time to get these calculations right.”

It was mid-afternoon by the time Kal finished reworking a series of formulas and relaying the software modifications to Ace. The building creaked and moaned in resistance to the gale-force winds slamming into its sides, giving a more ominous feeling to his growing sense of concern. Pearson’s conversation with his FBI s filtered back into Kal’s consciousness. “What did the Bureau offer? Pearson?” With no response, Kal looked around the lab and found the agent sound asleep in a well-worn leather executive chair. Kal studied him for a moment. The constant twitching of the man’s shoulders and arms suggested a nightmare was haunting him. Probably Ky-noth. “Pearson!” Kal called. “Yes.” The agent’s eyes popped open. “What did you find out from the agency?” Pearson’s face was somber as he stared at his wrist. “Well, there is some bad news and then there is some more bad news. Which do you want to hear first?” Ace groaned. “The bad news, I suppose.” “It seems there have been at least three unusual calls of people being killed or, well, for lack of a better term, vaporized. Based on the descriptions, it seems to fit what happened to me. The callers described things like darkness, fear, eyes, lasers. One was in California, another in New Zealand, and I don’t recall the third. And the other bad news is we are on our own for now. The agency can’t get anyone to us until the morning.” Agent Dent walked over to Ace’s workstation and looked over his shoulder. Ace was erasing, copying, and adjusting sections of code. “So, what exactly is your plan?” Ace knew she was addressing Kal and continued to update the viewer’s software. “I’ve adjusted the viewer to allow for a higher level of power,” Kal said. “I’ll increase the strength of the magnetic draw until the device provides enough energy to draw Ky-noth back into the vortex. At least that is the idea. There are a lot of risks. A lot that can go wrong.” “Like what?”

“Like losing your hand,” Pearson interjected. Kal stared at Pearson for a moment. He brushed away some moisture from his eyes. “Yes. Or worse. It’s likely the viewer or batteries will explode. Or maybe both. My plan is to create a power surge when Ky-noth is near a vortex. And to create the surge, we need to plug the smaller chain of batteries into the backpack. Even if this is done from outside the vortex, the reaction will be instantaneous, the milliseconds Ace mentioned earlier. Plus, I don’t know how Ky-noth will react. I may have misinterpreted what the creature meant. It might kill everyone. And then, even if everything works, I can only theorize at what will happen when, and if, it implodes back into the DVT.” “Explosions, implosions,” Ace blurted while tapping away at his keyboard. “Can we do this without any type of plosions?” Kal ignored his friend and continued, “Then there are the increased magnetic waves. Medical scanners that use magnetics, things like MRI machines, are around 100,000 times more powerful than the Earth's magnetic field. With these machines, patients sometimes report things like nausea and dizziness. Although the viewer works on a different principle, I call it proximate magnetic wave dispersion, it can negatively affect the human body, particularly at the levels I am going to push it to. It may cause permanent brain damage or possibly even death. It would be nice to test this in a controlled study with rats or mice, but Ky-noth has already maimed or killed five people that we know of, including you and Dirk, so we need to try something and try it now.” “What are the odds this will work?” Dent asked. Pulling a chair beside Ace, Kal plopped down. “If my theory is accurate, maybe eighty percent. If not, then zero.” Ace stopped typing. “Great. So, what are the odds you are correct?” Kal was contemplating the same thing and did not reply. Zoe stood and moved across the room. Standing behind Kal, she placed both her hands on his right shoulder. “I’ve got three DVT targets in the area. One appears weak, the others are moderate to strong.” Kal welcomed the warmth of Zoe’s hand and placed his left hand over hers.

Tatyana watched the display of tenderness. A wave of jealousy closely followed by anger flooded her emotions. “What do you intend to do with me?” she snapped. “I guess that depends on Kal,” Pearson answered, not knowing who Tatyana was addressing. “Kal, who do you need to take with you?” “I’ve been thinking about that. I’ll want Ace to bring his laptop in case I need to make some last-second program changes.” He stopped and looked at Pearson. “To be blunt, I don’t hold out much hope that Ky-noth can help with your hand. But I’d like to try should the opportunity present itself, so you need to come with.” Kal paused again to think about the others. “I’ll need Zoe here to monitor the DVTs. That leaves Agent Dent and Tanya... I mean, Tatyana. And don’t take this as an insult to your abilities, Agent Dent, but Zoe has already been through enough and would probably like to be alone, so I would prefer to get you and Tatyana out of here too. I doubt we will need your help with the viewer. Is there a local Bureau office where Tatyana can be detained?” “You can bet your sweet ass I’m coming with you,” Dent said. “I’m the agent in charge. I don’t know how I can help, but I am definitely going with. Unless we can safely secure Tatyana somewhere here somehow, then she will have to come along. She’ll be my responsibility.” “As long as everyone understands the risk, I won’t argue,” Kal reluctantly agreed. “But consider what happened to Dirk and Pearson before you commit.” Kal spun in his chair to face Zoe. “What time and where are the DVTs forming.” Zoe had caught her second wind. She rushed over to her computer and updated the most recent DVT search. “The first strong one is fairly soon. You will have to hurry to make it. Looks like it is close to the new Comiskey Park or White Sox park or whatever they call it these days.” “Are the South Siders playing today?” Ace’s joke fell flatter than a pancake hitting the floor. “You’ve only got about an hour to get there. The good news is you will be driving in the opposite direction of rush hour traffic. It will still be tight. The other appears to be near Chicago’s north lakeshore. That one is forming shortly after the first one, which is a little unusual. I don’t know, maybe 30 or 40 minutes from where you will be. That solar flare has upset the normal pattern.

By the time you get downtown, I’ll know more.” Kal jumped from his chair. Grabbing his coat off a workbench, he sprinted to the battery charging station. “Perfect, they’re all at capacity. Ace, you grab the viewer. I’ll need you to finish that coding in the car. Pearson, help me carry some of these batteries to the car.” Kal watched Dent put on a knit cap and reach for her gloves. She appeared resolute in her plan to go with. “Agent Dent, please get Tatyana ready. We need to move.” In less than a minute after informing Kal of the DVTs, Zoe was left alone in the V-lab. Only the clicking of her mouse and the constant sound of the wall’s protest against the wintry winds covered the sound of her heartbeat pounding in her ears.

The Blade

“J ust south of 26 th off of Emerald Avenue is an alleyway.” Zoe was connected through the car’s sound system. “It is forming somewhere near there.” January sunset in Chicago was just before 5:00, and despite the clear skies, it was already growing dark. Kal pressed forward faster than he felt was safe, he had skidded sideways a few times on unseeable patches of black ice and was growing less confident in the road conditions by the second. “How much time?” “It starts in four, maybe five minutes at most. It is not the strongest vortex. My best guess is you will have 90 seconds once you’re inside.” Zoe pointed her mouse to the second DVT. “The other one on the north lakeshore is much better. There aren’t any more that I can find right now, but I’ll keep looking.” Kal was stuck behind two cars at a stoplight. “Go around them. Run the light!” Pearson yelled from the back seat. Straining to lean as far forward as possible, Kal looked both ways, swung the wheel hard to his left, and stomped on the accelerator. The tires spun on an icy patch before catching pavement and lurching forward. Flashing his lights and honking his horn, Kal burst into the intersection. The lights of a pickup truck filled the view to his left. Veering to the right, Kal narrowly avoided being tboned by the truck. Steering back to his left, the car skated and clipped the front fender of a parked car. “Keep going,” he heard someone holler from the back. Mounds of snow had been piled high on the streets, leaving Kal with no places to park. The only spot he could locate near the alley was in front of a fire hydrant. “Might as well break another law,” Kal said as he slid to a stop. “Ace, do you have the ready?” “A few more seconds. I’m saving it... there.” Kal was out of the car by the time Ace responded. “Bring it back here,” he said, and popped open the trunk. Fumbling for a moment before getting the backpack battery properly connected, he then turned on the viewer. After plugging Ace’s USB drive into a port on its side, Kal called out, “On. New System .” He tossed the backpack over his shoulder and waited. A red light on the viewer went dark, indicating Ace’s program changes were complete. He picked up the viewer, called out the DVT coordinates, and began following the green arrow. “Ace,

grab the other batteries. Follow me.” The alleyway was a frozen, rutted obstacle course with tipped garbage cans and dumpsters haphazardly parked between mounds of dirty snow. Kal tried to move faster than the slippery surface allowed and fell to his knees twice before the viewer's beeping switched to a continuous tone. Ace and Pearson followed close behind. Agent Dent hung back with Tatyana outside the car at the alleyway’s entrance. Calling the and instruction into the viewer, Kal checked the time. “The DVT is already active, and I’ve got less than 95 seconds. Hand me the other batteries and then stand back,” he called to Ace. “Power plus 2,” Kal said, increasing the viewer's strength. He did not sense Ky-noth was near. “Nobody move!” A man stepped out of the darkness. “Give me your wallets and nobody gets hurt.” The man swung a large gun across the group. Instinctively, Pearson reached for his weapon with his right hand, “FBI,” he shouted. His wrist bounced off his side before he realized his error. Searching with this left hand, he fumbled to grasp the pistol’s handle. “Power plus 2,” Kal repeated. The viewer was a few steps from its new maximum level. Kal needed to wait for Ky-noth before plugging in the extra batteries and maxing out the viewer. The mugger was confused. One man, who appeared to be talking into a strange device, had ignored him. Another one threatened him with his wrist. And a third man was backing away from the first man. “I said nobody move.” “FBI,” Pearson yelled for the second time. This time his weapon was aimed at the perp. The timer was down to 40 seconds. Kal could feel a familiar pressure building rapidly. Ky-noth had found him. “Nobody move!” “What?” The mugger shifted toward Kal, leaving his weapon pointed at Pearson. “That’s what I said. Now, nobody move.” “I think we all got it,” Ace mumbled quietly, “nobody move.”

It was too dark for Agent Dent to see what was happening in the alleyway. She heard shouting and wanted a better view but needed to maintain control over Tatyana. She held her ground. “Ky-noth,” Kal called into the void. “I think I can help you.” The timer was down to 12 seconds. He calculated this was not enough time to execute his plan. “Chicago’s north lakeshore in thirty minutes. Do you understand?” A booming sound echoing like a distorted crash of lightning in a winter storm filled the alley. “YEEES.” The mugger felt the strange weight of Ky-noth on his body. He looked around and then up. Fierce menacing eyes appeared to be looking down at him. He fired his weapon upward, then turned away. In a state of confusion, he fired at Pearson. Agent Pearson returned fire. At the sound of gunshots, Dent shoved Tatyana forward. “Move,” she screamed. “Stay in front of me.” A flash of light brighter than any firework she had ever seen stopped her in her tracks. “Wait,” she ordered. A pungent, almost sulfurous odor followed a blinding, silent blue-green flash. It took a few seconds for Ace and Kal’s eyes to readjust to the darkness. The perp and Pearson were gone. Only their guns, cell phones, and a few chunks of metal remained where they once stood. “GOD! NO!” Kal screamed. His body felt weak. Losing the battle to steady himself, he collapsed. “All off,” he cried, knowing time was out and the batteries needed to be saved for the next encounter. Ace’s feet flew out from beneath him as he stepped toward Kal. Cautiously lifting himself off the ice, he then baby stepped to Kal’s side. He kneeled and placed his hand on Kal’s back. “It’s not your fault,” Ace said, trying to console him. “He was protecting us.” “You’re wrong,” Kal sobbed. “Good people are dying because of me, because of what I invented. It is all my fault.” “There is no way you could have known any of this. You know better than anyone that pushing the boundaries of science can be dangerous.” He paused to think of examples. “Marie Curie died from her discovery of radium and x-rays,

and Benjamin Franklin was killed by the lightning bolt that struck his kite.” “No, he didn’t,” Kal corrected, “He didn’t even fly a kite in a thunderstorm. That is a myth.” Ace’s trick had worked. He switched on the logical side of Kal’s brain. “I know he didn’t, and as tragic as this is, it was an accident. You never intended any of this to happen. There is no way anyone could have predicted that an asshole with a gun would show up in the middle of a DVT session. I guess he got more than he bargained for. And Pearson’s death is tragic.” Ace’s eyes welled up. “And you warned us multiple times of the risks. But we still have a creature on the loose. Now, are you going to fix it, or do I have to do all the hard work around here?” Kal knew Ace was right. There would be time to mourn later, time to consider the consequences of his actions, his discovery. “Help me up.” Tatyana and Agent Dent arrived at the same time. “Where is Pearson?” Dent asked. She noticed his pistol was on the ground next to an area of darkened snow. Kal stood and stared into her eyes. “He is gone.” “What do you mean gone? I didn’t see him leave.” “Ky-noth took him. Some idiot must have seen us pull up in my BMW and thought we would make an easy target. When the guy fired his gun at Pearson, he returned fire. Ky-noth must have thought it was under attack and vaporized them. Both of them. I am so very truly sorry.” Tears formed in Dent’s eyes. She brushed them away and hardened her face. Turning toward Tatyana, Dent slapped the killer’s face hard enough to leave a clear handprint. “This is all your doing. You and that bastard Dirk forced this upon us. I hate you. I’ll make it my mission to see you rot away in prison for the rest of your life.” Tatyana remained silent, emotionless. Hearing Dent’s perspective eased Kal’s conscience a little. She was correct. If Dirk had not interfered, Ky-noth would not have escaped. Still, it was his invention. “There is nothing we can do here, and the clock is ticking. Ace, grab the guns and the extra batteries. Let’s get moving.”

“Let me drive,” Dent said. “I can get us there faster.” Kal finished loading the trunk and shot into the front enger seat. Ace and Tatyana were already in the back. “Go that way,” Kal said, pointing to his left. “We are heading to an area near North Avenue Beach. That is a 45-minute drive on a good day, and we have less than 40 left. I’ll set the car’s GPS and call Zoe for an update.” Dent slammed the car into reverse, backed onto the street without looking for oncoming traffic, shifted again to drive forward, and followed the GPS instructions. Within minutes they were heading north on Lake Shore Drive at emergency vehicle speeds. The salted roads were free of ice allowing Dent to weave through traffic with relative ease. “Kal?” Zoe was waiting for an update. “What happened? Where are you?” “I’m putting you on speaker. It’s not good. Agent Pearson was killed.” Zoe was silent. “Zoe. Are you still there? Zoe!” Kal had to wake her from the shock. “I, I don’t know what to say. That’s horrible. Is everyone else okay?” “Yes.” Kal did not sound convincing. “Watch it! There is a truck changing lanes.” Dent pulled the car hard left. “Sorry, Zoe. We are heading north on Lake Shore going about 100 miles per hour. Agent Dent is driving. I didn’t have time to contain Ky-noth. My best guess is it had a hard time locating me since it is not inside the network of vortexes. The magnetic pull would not have been as strong. But it knows where we are heading. What can you tell me about the next DVT?” “It is forming offshore. Maybe 20 or 30 yards into the lake. It is going to take you a few minutes longer to get there because the DVT is further north than I thought, closer to Fullerton beach. But the good news is the vortex is due west of the main parking area near the Fullerton Parkway exit so you will have easy access to the lake. The DVT coordinates are 41.9265922 and negative 87.6286487 degrees. You have about twenty-five minutes left.” Ace leaned in from the back seat. “Is it a strong one?”

“It is off the charts.” Zoe clicked on a graph of prior DVT readings. “One of the best I have seen, three standard deviations from the mean. You should have at least two-and-half minutes. Kal, it looks like this is going to be your best shot for a few days. I don’t see any more tunnels anywhere and the vortex spiral we are in is shifting away from us.” A hard pull to the right sent the cell phone flying from the console onto the floorboard somewhere beneath Kal’s feet. Blaring horns filled the cabin. “Oops,” Dent said. Searching for the phone with his hands, Kal kept his eyes on the road. Locating the device, he switched the speaker off and held it to his ear. “I better go.” “Kal, are you going to be okay?” Tears streamed down Zoe’s face. She was mentally and emotionally drained and Kal’s dire warning of what might happen in the vortex was lodged in her head. “I assume you mean if Dent doesn’t kill us before we get there,” Kal said. He dodged Zoe’s question and with one last goodbye ended the call. After entering the new location into the car’s navigation system, Kal pushed back into the seat and contemplated his theory, his calculations, his life. “Exit right 500 feet,” the nav system announced. “That ice on the lake looks nasty,” Kal observed. It was dark outside, but enough light filtered from the streetlights onto the barren lake for him to get a good look. The scene appeared more like an ice planet in a low budget science fiction movie than a frozen lake. Huge chunks of ice jutted above the surface with smaller shards pointing in all directions surrounding them like sentries guarding a king’s treasure. It appeared deadly and menacing and cold. Skidding sideways to a stop into the empty parking lot, Dent switched off the engine. “You’re on, Kal. Looks like I bought you about five or six minutes.” “Ace, I’m going to ask you for the impossible,” Kal said as he swung open the door. “I’ve been thinking about the control factor between the FET amplification and near field propagation. I want to increase it to a 0.405 limit. You’ll need to do it on the move and in less than four minutes. Agent Dent, grab the spare batteries. I’ll get the viewer and backpack ready.” “I don’t want to leave her alone in the car.” Dent checked her pocket for the

handcuff keys to make sure Tatyana had not lifted them. “Maybe I’ll lock her in the trunk.” “Who?” Kal called from the back of the car feigning a lack of understanding. “I get it. I hate her as much as you do.” Dent’s voice was sharp. “The trunk or with us?” “She has a better chance of getting killed if she is with us. Take her with.” Kal’s own words staggered him. His love for her had turned into hatred quicker than his heart could bear. And even though he could think of few things more wicked than her diabolical plot to seduce him, steal his invention, and then murder him, it still hurt to let go of her. He blamed himself for being too naïve, then blamed Tatyana for being pure evil. Scooping up the batteries with her left hand, Dent shut the trunk. With Tatyana in the lead, they followed closely behind Kal and Ace. It was a short, treacherous trek to the DVT’s location. The small ice shards Kal had seen from the street were larger than they had appeared. There were thousands of them pointing in all directions, each one with edges sharp enough to slice through leather. And as difficult as it was to navigate through the field of splintered ice, the more difficult problem was the mounded ice. Kal held a great appreciation for nature’s raw power but had little understanding of the forces used to break, lift, and push massive sections of ice on top of each other to form jagged hills too steep and dangerous to climb. All he knew about the mounds was finding a path around them tore through valuable seconds. Then there was the wind. It seemed to be blowing from all directions. It cut deeply into his bare hands and battered his face. After what seemed like an hour, but was much closer to the remaining time, Kal arrived at the center of the vortex. He set the viewer on the frozen lake and prepared it for the system update. Checking his watch, he realized ing the new parameters would steal valuable time within the vortex. He would have to trust his initial calculations. With his back to the wind, he pulled in a deep breath of frozen air. “Power 5. Screen on. Lock remote. G zero. Stabilize H3 V3.” Kal did not need to enter a remote location, and to conserve power did not record the session.

Unlike their experience on Chicago’s south side, it was only a matter of moments before Ky-noth’s presence was felt. The pressure felt darker and heavier than prior encounters. Ace and Tatyana backed away. Dent stood her ground only a few feet away from Kal. She was prepared to help Kal with the batteries when he called for them. “Ky-noth,” Kal screamed into the wind. “I’m going to overload the viewer. The magnetic pull should be strong enough to help draw you back into the vortex. You will need to be close to me, close to the center of the magnetic tunnel.” A growl filled the air. “DIE.” Kal was not sure what the being was trying to convey. Was it a warning, a message, or a threat? “HEELLLP,” crashed down from above. With Agent Dent and Ace mesmerized by the creature, Tatyana backed further away. Sitting on a ledge of ice, she brought her cuffed hands under her feet to her chest. Then, reaching to the back of her head, she removed the hidden metal picks and small knife. Within seconds, she was free of the cuffs. “Yes. I’m going to help. I’ll count down three, two, one, and then overload the system. You will need to be ready.” Kal was yelling above his head trying to keep his words as clear as possible and thought he might be talking too swiftly for Ky-noth to comprehend. Time was down to 110 seconds. “Do you understand?” A sound similar to a bowling ball rolling down a lane rang out from above, “IIISHHTAR.” Tatyana moved around a large boulder of ice. With the small blade clutched tightly in her hand, she waited out of sight. “I don’t understand,” Kal called. “Do you want to get back into the vortex?” “YEESS. I.” Kal turned to Agent Dent. “Alright, set the batteries next to me and then move back. I want you out of the way.”

“No,” Dent stepped closer. “Let me do it. You call the instructions from over here and I’ll plug in the batteries.” “I can’t let you do that,” Kal demanded. “This is my problem and I’ll fix it. Please leave the batteries.” Another booming sound echoed from the sky, “AAHND.” Checking the timer, Kal’s heart began racing faster. Only 65 seconds remained. “There is no time for debate. I refuse to call out the instructions and the viewer will only accept directions from my voice. Ky-noth might kill a lot of innocent people before we get another chance.” Dent reluctantly took a step away. She realized Kal would not consent to her demands. “SHIIIP,” Ky-noth boomed. Like a cat pouncing on its prey, Tatyana made her move. Gliding gracefully across the frozen lake, she was on Dent before the agent realized what was happening. Tatyana’s tiny blade cut through Dent’s coat. Too short to inflict much damage, the knife’s edge only nicked the agent’s shoulder blade. Tatyana did not care. The blade was only a diversion. She wanted Dent’s gun. Dropping the batteries, Dent spun to face her attacker. It was too late. Tatyana had already knocked the agent’s feet out from under her and grabbed her weapon as she fell. Dent’s head bounced hard against the frozen surface and rolled to the side. With her right cheek against the ice, she remained motionless. “The viewer is mine.” Tatyana was pointing Dent’s gun at Kal. She bent to pick up the batteries. “Move away.” “Go ahead and fire. Ky-noth will kill you just like it did Pearson.” “Then perhaps we will both be dead in this twisted Romeo and Juliet story.” Tatyana stepped closer to Kal and placed the barrel against his chest. She held it to his heart. “Now move!” Kal had already removed the backpack. He set the viewer down. “You’re no Juliet, you never loved me.” With 20 seconds left on the timer, Kal stepped

away. “Hell has a special place for monsters like you.” Kneeling next to the backpack, Tatyana dropped the batteries to the ground. Her gun still aimed at Kal she stared at him and murmured too soft for him to hear, “I’m sorry. I love you.” She reached for the battery cord and raised the gun toward Kal’s head. “Countdown. Now.” Despite everything Tatyana had done, and all she was capable of doing, Kal believed the words he saw her whisper. Tears froze to his face. “It’s okay, Kal.” Tatyana’s voice was warm and reassuring. Kal was lost. If he didn’t follow her demand, she might fire the gun and they would likely both die. If he maxed out the viewer’s power, Tatyana might die making him the heartless killer. But he could not put more innocent people at risk and needed to act. Time was working against him. “I’m sorry too,” he said loud enough for only her to hear. He wanted to say more. With his heart breaking, he looked up at the dark eyes burning above them. “Ky-noth,” he yelled. “Get ready.” A cloud of darkness encircled the area surrounding Tatyana. She felt its energy seeping inward from all sides. The pressure was immense. Her eyes felt like they were bleeding, her organs like they were being crushed. Kal took another step back. “Three, two, one. POWER OVERRIDE!” On cue, Tatyana plugged in the batteries. If there was such a thing as black lightning, a dark energy field isolated on a single point followed by a strange gurgling whoosh of thunder, then that is what took Tatyana from the face of the earth and destroyed the viewer. Only a few chunks of broken metal remained where she once stood. In the center of the debris, spinning on its point like a child’s toy top, was Tatyana’s small blade. It whistled a fading tune until it lost momentum and toppled onto the ice with a soft plink. Ky-noth’s overpowering heaviness vanished. Kal rushed to Dent’s side. Ace ed him. They lifted her head gingerly and studied her face. Her eyes were half closed. “Oh, my head,” she groaned. “What happened?” Kal felt certain the creature had made it back into the system of vortexes but

realized Ky-noth might have only disappeared as this DVT faded. Time would tell. “Let’s get back to the lab,” he said. He and Ace helped Dent to her feet. “I’ll fill you in on the way there.” Before leaving, Kal stepped over to the ruined viewer and retrieved Tatyana’s knife. Holding it to the sky, the nearby city lights bounced off the silvery blade. Engraved in its center was T-K. Were these her initials or their initials? He shrugged his shoulders, pocketed the knife, and pulled his coat tight around his neck before turning to catch up with Ace and Agent Dent.

More than a week had ed since Agent Pearson’s funeral. Having been divorced with no children, the only family attending his services had been his ex-wife and his aging mother. Kal, Ace, and Zoe, along with Agent Dent and a handful of friends and coworkers, were the only others there to pay their respects. Standing with Kal in front of Chicago’s FBI office rehashing the day Pearson died one last time, Dent thought about how few people were at his funeral, how few seemed to care for the man she so deeply respected, a man who helped save the world from Kal’s technology falling into the hands of truly evil people. At some level, she was not sure if anyone other than those directly involved believed the story. Dent itted to herself if she had not been there, she would not have believed it either. “I’ll miss him. He was a fantastic agent, a great mentor, and a wonderfully caring man.” “I didn’t know him that well,” Kal reluctantly itted. “He died protecting Ace and me, and that will never be forgotten. I wish there was more I could do.” “Well,” Dent said, “there is one thing we haven’t talked about.” “What’s that?” Agent Dent held her hands with the palms up in front of her until Kal placed his hands into them. She held them tight and searched his eyes. “Promise me you won’t make another one of those devices. Please let that technology die.” Kal waited a few moments before responding. “I’m deeply pained to say this, but I can’t make a promise I won’t keep.” Kal’s heart ached from having to deny her request. “It may seem like a cliché to you, but I don’t want Pearson to have died for nothing. Maybe in its current form, the viewer is dangerous. But just like you have taken an oath to protect our great nation from all enemies, I have a responsibility to use my God-given talents to push science forward for whatever benefit it may someday provide. And this obligation includes the viewer technology.” He pulled Agent Dent into a hug. “Right or wrong, that is what I believe. I hope you understand and can find some way to forgive me.” “It is not the same,” Dent said. She pushed away from the embrace. “I’m stopping bad things from happening. It seems you are making them happen. But

I suppose I get your point. If you help me honor Agent Pearson so he will be ed, then I guess I can try to see things from your perspective.” “Let me know how best to recognize his service, his life, and I will gladly provide the resources. By the way,” Kal said purposefully switching subjects, “I don’t know your first name.” “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you. It’s Tanya!” She stared into his disbelieving face for a moment before bursting into a laugh. “It really is.” Kal was momentarily speechless. “Okay, Tanya. I can promise you this, I will keep you informed of my research. If anything unusual occurs, like strange creatures or suspected surveillance, you’ll be the first to know.” Agent Dent’s phone rang. It was her boss. She let it ring and reached her hand out to Kal. “Fair enough. I guess I couldn’t stop you even if I wanted to. I’m sorry, I better take this call.” Releasing from the handshake, Dent turned her back toward Kal. She did not hear him say one last time how sorry he was for what happened.

Despite making good time in the midday traffic, the drive from the FBI office to ZetaMag seemed longer than usual. Kal was grateful for the clear skies and warm sunshine. The large puddles from melting snow piled high on both sides of the freeway made it seem as if it were sprinkling when tire spray covered his windshield. Hopes for an early spring filtered through his mind. Kal pulled into the ZetaMag parking lot, shut down the engine, and sat quietly contemplating Agent Dent’s request. Was she right? Should he stop his research and tell Zoe her employment would end? Kal felt this was the safest and smartest course of action, but it was the last thing he wanted to do. He liked Zoe and was not ready to abandon her or his work. Leaving the car, Kal plodded toward the entrance. His eyes were downcast as he entered the building. “Afternoon, Dr. Kal. Haven’t seen much of you lately,” the security guard said. “From the looks of you, it seems like you’re having another rough day. Is there anything I can do to help?” “Hi, Craig,” Kal answered halfheartedly. “I’m okay. Just let Roger know I am here. I’ll be in the lab with Ace and Zoe.” On his way to the V-lab, Kal stopped in the center of the warehouse. The pure blackness was Ky-noth’s presence, the odor of decaying boxes was the smell of the creature’s spent laser. He could almost feel the creature’s weight bearing down on his body. Ky-noth’s call for help reverberated in Kal’s soul. He was certain the being wanted something more from him. It needed Kal’s help. He forced his mind away from Ky-noth to focus on the fresh, springtime weather. His mood lifted slightly, As he continued through the warehouse. “Where is Ace?” Kal asked. He could only see Zoe from the entrance to the Vlab. “Where do you think?” Zoe said. She pointed to the kitchen area. “He’s got his nose stuck in the fridge again. How have you been?” Kal took a seat next to Zoe. “Looks like the FBI has wrapped up their investigation. Dent asked me to stop the research.” “Did they say anything about the organization Dirk and Tatyana worked for?”

Zoe asked. “No. Not much. The other man that was following me was Petrov. They told me he was another WISE agent. They found him in Lake Michigan some time ago. So, WISE lost three people. I overheard some talk about the CIA infiltrating the WISE headquarters, but I don’t know what that might mean. Dent told me to keep a close watch as they will likely want retribution. She told me to call her at the first sign of danger.” Dragging a chair across the room with one hand while holding a large sandwich in the other, Ace ed them. “What did you say about stopping the research?” “I told Agent Dent we would continue our work, but I’m seriously considering ending it.” “Who was it that sang Don’t Stop Believing?” Ace asked. Zoe crumpled a piece of paper and threw it at his face. “Don’t you dare start to sing. We get your point without hearing your version of that old, uhm, Journey song... which is who I think wrote it. Kal, they held me hostage, threatened me with death multiple times, and I’m still in. Plus, I added a very expensive security system to my house, and I’d hate to see that go to waste.” “If you are both in after what we went through, then I am too. I don’t think anyone else knows this other than the contractor who built it, but there is a basement level right below us. We could move the V-lab down there and beef up the security to help keep us safe. I’d like to understand what Ky-noth wanted and learn some of its technology. I don’t know, it could have benefits beyond our imagination.” Ace used a paper napkin to wipe up some mustard that had dripped onto his jeans. “You built this place with a hidden dungeon and didn’t tell me. How cool is that?” “So, what’s next?” Zoe asked. Standing and moving to the whiteboard, Kal picked up a marker. “Once again, let’s go over what Ky-noth said that day on Lake Michigan. I the first thing it said was ‘die’ because I didn’t know what it meant.” He wrote the word die toward the top of the whiteboard. “Then a call for help. Ace, what did you

hear when I asked Ky-noth if it was ready to be pulled into the vortex?” Staring at his shoes while searching for the answer, Ace's face brightened. “It could have been ‘ishtor,’ or ‘ashter,’ or something like that.” “That’s right. Now I . It confused me,” Kal itted. “I know it said ‘yes’ when I confirmed whether it wanted to go back into the vortex. Then Kynoth said ‘I’ or maybe it meant its eye, as in seeing or sight.” Kal continued writing the words in the order in which they recalled Ky-noth had said them. “Then things got even crazier after that. I’m not sure what I heard.” Ace was incessantly tapping the heels of his feet as he tried to think. “If I correctly, it said ‘ahnd’ and then ‘shit.’” “Probably ship,” Kal suggested. He wrote ship. Zoe stood and took the marker from Kal. She crossed out a few words, leaving ishter I ahnd and ship. “Easter Island! Could its ship somehow be hidden on Easter Island?” Kal was shocked at the thought. He studied the words on the whiteboard for a few moments. “That is an excellent theory. That island holds another large misunderstood megalithic stone structure. It seems possible Ky-noth could have used déjà vu tunnels to ask our ancient ancestors to build things like Stonehenge, Newgrange, and the heads at Easter Island. I would guess Ky-noth intended them to serve as communication portals. The ancient builders probably misinterpreted what Ky-noth wanted and designed alters or built monuments instead, although my calculations are proving the design and mass of England’s Stonehenge could have worked as a portal in some rudimentary way. I think Kynoth wanted a phone, so to speak.” “Those heads on Easter Island kind of remind me of Ky-noth,” Ace said. “Do you think it could have a ship buried there, or maybe in the ocean somewhere close by?” A growl from Kal’s stomach reminded him he had missed lunch. “Is there anything else to eat around here?” Ace ripped off half of his sandwich and handed it to Kal. “Then again, this line of thinking could be a load of bullship.” Ace chuckled at his wordplay.

Walking to his desk after taking a bite of the sandwich, Kal opened the top drawer and removed a schematic. Grabbing small pieces of tape from a dispenser, he strode back to the whiteboard and attached the drawing. He stepped away allowing Zoe and Ace a chance to absorb the picture. “I’m no rocket scientist,” Ace blurted out, “but that ain’t no rocket. Looks like an industrial version of a copter type drone.” Zoe stood and stepped closer to the drawing. She studied the picture for a few seconds and then reviewed the design notes. “Penta-drive magnetically shielded optical vortex viewer,” she read aloud. “Well, that is a mouthful. It’s a fivebladed DVT viewing drone.” “Exactly,” Kal confirmed. “I’ve been working on the design for some time. It would allow us to fly to the DVTs. That should be a lot safer and much quicker than driving all over the place. If we are going to continue this research, I want to develop this further.” Stuffing the last bite of his lunch into his mouth, Ace mumbled, “What are the issues? Oh, let me guess... battery power.” “Of course,” Kal laughed. “Only now we would need enough power to run the drone and the viewer. And as tough as that is to overcome, the magnetic shielding for the drone’s motors is an even bigger problem.” “Explain,” Zoe said. “In grade school .” Maybe for the first time, Kal took notice of Zoe’s beautiful light green eyes. “I’ll do my best. A transient electromagnetic disturbance is a momentary burst of electromagnetic energy that can damage electronic equipment. The more common term is an electromagnetic pulse or EMP. In nature, for example, this could come from a lightning strike. But there are also weapons that can create an EMP. Essentially, these weapons leave buildings standing but destroy all electrical and communication systems.” “I saw a movie once about a dystopian future that was a result of an EMP war,” Ace said. “It left the world with no cars, boats, phones, and God forbid, no fastfood ts or refrigerators.” “That is how it works, at least in concept. The magnetics in the viewer is not a

pulse but is at least five times more powerful than the strongest documented EMP device. Before I can use the drone as a viewer, I must find some way to shield the motors from this magnetic impact. Even considering the advances we made with protecting the viewer’s circuit boards from the magnetism, that is not an easy task. I’ve made some progress using a variety of exotic materials and close field reverse polarization.” “I am hearing an ‘and’ in there somewhere,” Zoe said stressing the word and. “Yes, there is,” Kal itted. “And... try to imagine the type of people or governments who might be interested in having technology that could shield their electronic devices from electromagnetic energy bursts at a level five or six times higher than their enemy’s most powerful EMP weapon. My fear is they would make WISE seem like kittens. I’m not sure that is a path I want to go down or one which I would want you to follow.” Zoe stepped over and kissed the side of Kal’s face. “Don’t take this the wrong way because I trust you, but what do you say we just build another viewer like the one that was destroyed. Hold off on the EMP stuff, at least for now. Maybe we can find out what Ky-noth wants or needs. Learn its secrets as you suggested.” Zoe paused. “You know, I wouldn’t mind a trip to the Pacific islands.” “Well, I’m in for whatever,” Ace said. He winked at Zoe. “Can I get a kiss too?” Moving close to Ace, Zoe bent down bringing her face near his as if she were going to oblige. Then she whispered in his ear, “No.”

Epilogue

Two high-pitched beeps followed by a three-second hollow tone resonates in the command center of the alien’s ship. With a single wave from one of its exoskeleton’s tentacles, the creature known as Ky-noth silences the alarm and wakes a series of alternating triangular monitors arranged in an arc above the ship’s main control . It studies the displays of blinking, pale orange dots and leans back in its chair. The magnetic vortexes that Ky-noth needs to traverse the planet are weaker and more sporadic than it prefers. “Grmph ga,” it says to narrow the search grid, hoping to find a portal near a being it knows only as Kahl, the first of Earth’s human species to master vortexes, the first who might be capable of helping it repair and refuel its ship so it can return to its home planet four million lightyears away. Encouraged by Kahl’s abilities, Ky-noth remains frustrated by the rudimentary tools the human uses to connect into the vortexes and is once again disappointed to find no sign of the man accessing the matrix. “Shuh dahk tli eey,” the creature directs the system, changing its search to lifesustaining energy. A monitor to Ky-noth’s right shows a sequence of portals where it knows the Earth’s largest land animals roam. With a light tap on two monitors, it locates a herd of beasts plodding along a large savanna and selects the nearest vortex. Moving into a small chamber next to the ship’s control center, Ky-noth presses a series of codes into a before releasing its exoskeleton to free its fluid form. It slides into the grid of magnetic vortexes, transports to the grassy meadow, and waits inside the invisible portal for its chance to feed. Limited by the vortex’s short duration, Ky-noth prepares to absorb the energy from anything that moves into its view. It understands the life-force it removes will kill the carbon-based animal but feels fortunate to have landed on a planet with seemingly abundant life. Then, just as the vortex begins to weaken, an enormous beast wanders into its center. Ky-noth reacts instantly, narrowing its eyes to emit white lasers that change in the atmosphere to emerald green. In a flash as quick and deadly as lightning, the one-thousand-pound water buffalo dissipates into little more than a pile of ashes. Ky-noth’s needs are fulfilled and the vortex begins fading, so the creature returns to its damaged ship to wait again, as it has for thousands of years.

Don Reynolds has earned two master’s degrees and a doctorate in various business fields. Now semi-retired, he has focused his attention on writing. Don hopes his sense of humor and imagination will prevail over the well-practiced discipline of business to create stories which captivate and entertain his readers. Currently residing in southwest Florida, he can be found on the beach when not at his desk writing.