Chaos Theory – Chapter 19

Target Acquired

2020, 30 miles north of Seattle , Washington – Manticore Facility

Lydecker couldn’t shake the feeling that Elizabeth was hiding something. She’d requested a meeting with the Committee earlier that day and he hadn’t been asked to attend. He fingered the small objects in his pocket and smiled to himself as he walked towards her office. He planned to find out exactly what it was she was keeping from him, at any cost. 

The door to Renfro’s office was open slightly and Lydecker pulled back to listen as she spoke. He hadn’t been invited to this little tête-à-tête either, and he was more than a little miffed at being kept out of the loop. 

Lydecker caught the tail end of the question coming from the man he recognized as Agent Peter Sandoval. 

“…stealth drones?”

“That’s the thing, Peter. I’m reluctant to use stealth drones in what is, after all, a garden-variety police action.” 

Lydecker heard the muffled sound of papers shuffling.

Sandoval’s reply was noncommittal. “It’s your call, Elizabeth.”

She laughed. “Right answer.”

Lydecker couldn’t stand quiet any longer. He pushed the door open and entered the room. Both Elizabeth Renfro and Peter Sandoval jumped up suddenly at the intrusion, mouths hanging open in surprise.

“Deck…” Renfro began.

Lydecker cut her off. “You want to tell me why the executive committee met this morning and I wasn’t notified?

Renfro turned to Sandoval. “Would you excuse us, Peter?”

Agent Sandoval nodded and left the room.

Turning back to Lydecker, Renfro’s tone was cold. “I didn’t notify you because I didn’t want you there.”

He scowled. “Of course you didn’t.”

Renfro smiled icily. “The boys upstairs are on the warpath about that ’09er — Tinga, is it?”

Lydecker’s mouth was set in a tight line. After a moment he spoke. “You’re responsible for the ruckus and you damn well know it.”

She smiled evilly. “The Committee doesn’t see it that way. They see it as another example of operational mishandling on your part.”

Lydecker smiled condescendingly at Renfro. “Taking out an ad on a milk carton was ingenious, Elizabeth. But somehow I don’t think you factored in that she might go deeper into hiding. What, did you really think she’d come out in the open, scared, and say ‘okay, I give up’? Don’t you know my kids by now? They’re better than that, Elizabeth. A helluva lot better than anyone ever expected them to be.” 

His was the smile of a proud father, pleased at his children having exceeded his expectations. He couldn’t resist a jibe to the woman before him. “So, how is your seek and retrieve mission progressing? Have you found her yet?” The look on her face was one of frustration. Lydecker resisted a smirk. 

Renfro slammed a fist on the table. “The subject is need-to-know only, and you don’t need. to. know.” she bit out. “In any case,” she continued, smiling smugly at her nemesis, “The committee has removed you from Project SAR. I’m surprised they didn’t do it earlier, but the important thing is that they’ve done it. And Deck, guess who’s in charge now?”

Lydecker sighed heavily. “You’ve always been a genius at covering your ass.”

She smiled tightly and replied in a voice dripping with honey. “I went to bat for you and I think that I managed to fend off a full procedural review, so say ‘thank you’,” Renfro paused a moment and then added, “I have business to attend to. I think you should go handle the ’09er we’ve got so far. Is 452, excuse me, Max ready to be reintegrated?” she sneered.

Without another word, Renfro exited the room, leaving Lydecker in a state of mild shock. “Pissy little bitch,” he muttered. Renfro’s words finally sunk in. ‘The ’09er we’ve got so far’. What did she mean by that? Was he wrong? Did they really find Tinga? he thought in horror. If Renfro had found Tinga and she wasn’t at Manticore, were they close to recapturing her?

He shook the thought for a moment, realizing he was alone in her office and that there was no one to observe his actions. He could deal with his discovery later. It was time do what he had come to do. Lydecker made his way around her desk and lifted the telephone. Unscrewing the mouth piece, he reached into his pocket and pulled out the two small devices. Picking one up, he went about attaching it to the inner wiring of the telephone.

That done, Lydecker recapped the mouthpiece and replaced the phone in the cradle. He then moved steadily toward the large painting hanging on the center of the wall. Removing it carefully, he pried the frame from the canvas and proceeded to implant the second bug. This one had both audio and visual capabilities. He smiled to himself for the second time that morning. “You’ll get your comeuppance, Elizabeth. My kids will make sure of that.”

Returning the painting to its proper place, he stood back and surveyed the room. Satisfied that he had left no clues to his actions behind, he stepped out into the corridor, closing the door behind him. Speaking aloud he commented.

“Yes, Max is ready for reintegration. Just wait, Elizabeth. Just you wait.”

2020, Post-Pulse Portland, Oregon

Penny Smith hummed a jaunty tune as she went about preparing supper for her husband and son. As she was setting the table, the door opened and Charlie came in laughing, Case in his arms, tickling his daddy.

“How’re my boys?” she asked affectionately, ruffling Case’s hair and leaning in to kiss her husband hello. 

Charlie carefully lowered Case to the floor. “Go wash up, kiddo.” As the little boy scrambled off, he turned to Penny, pulled her against him and captured her lips in a long, sensuous kiss. They pulled away at the sound of Case making slurping noises.

“Mommy and Daddy sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g,” he chanted in a sing-song voice. 

Penny scooped him up in her arms and rubbed noses with her son. “Where did you learn that song, baby?”

Case tilted his head back and gave Penny a silly smile. “At school, Mommy! Marybeth taught it to me.”

Charlie joined in, having shed his suit jacket and tie. “Oh, really, kiddo? Who’s Marybeth?” he asked as he took at seat at the table and began to dish the food onto their plates.

“My girlfriend,” came the child’s serious reply.

Penny and Charlie exchanged amused glances and held back their laughter. Lowering Case onto his chair, Penny took a seat and they began to eat.

Charlie regaled his beautiful wife with details of his day when she was suddenly overcome with uneasiness. Goosebumps popped up all over her body and the back of her neck tingled unsettlingly. She quickly raised her hand and put a finger to Charlie’s lips, stopping her husband mid-sentence.

It was eerily quiet. Bending close to Charlie’s ear, Penny whispered. “Don’t say a word; trust me. Follow me.” Confused, Charlie rose from his seat wordlessly and stood next to his wife.

Penny picked up Case. “Listen carefully, baby. Remember Princess Tinga from the castle?” she asked. He nodded silently, eyes wide. “Well, the evil King is outside. We have to be very, very quiet, okay?” He nodded again. Penny handed Case to Charlie and pushed them urgently into the closet off the utility room. “Stay here, stay quiet. No matter what happens, promise me you won’t make a sound and you won’t move.”

Charlie caught the change in his wife’s eyes and his own questioned her with a concerned gaze. “What’s going on, Penny?” 

She shook her head. “No time right now.” She lowered her eyes as tears fell. “I should never have lied to you, Charlie. I’m so sorry.” 

“What are you talking about? Penny, what’s happening?”

Her reply was quiet, apologetic. “My name is Tinga, not Penny. I wish I had time to explain,” she stopped suddenly as the faintest sound of footsteps reached her ears. She shook her husband’s shoulders and pleaded. “Please, whatever happens, don’t make a sound!” She turned to leave but looked over her shoulder. “I love you,” she whispered brokenly. The look on her husband’s face caused her heart to constrict painfully, but the soldier in her knew it had to be done. She hurriedly shut the door and shoved the washing machine in front of it. 

Tinga made a mad dash for the window off the kitchen. It led down into an inner courtyard that was inaccessible from the outside. Tinga had chosen this exit because it was the only one no one knew about. There was access to the sewer tunnels; the only way in or out of the courtyard. She was halfway out the window when the door crashed open.

Tinga looked up to see a familiar face and she sighed in relief. “Brin?” she asked breathily, sagging to her feet just beside the window. “You came for me! Thank god!”

X5-734 smiled coldly. “Oh, I came for you alright, big sister. You should have known better than this. A family? What are you, crazy? Did you think Manticore wouldn’t find you?” With that, she motioned behind her and four heavily armed X5s stormed the apartment. Two came sailing in the front window and another stalked towards Tinga from the bedroom. 

She leaned back, the window edge just at waist height, and rested her hands on either side.

“Don’t even think about it, Tinga! I won’t hesitate to shoot,” 734’s icy words ripped at her heart.

Tinga stared at the girl before her. Her sweet sister Brin was gone, replaced with a coldhearted soldier. “What did they do to you?” she cried.

734 raised her gun and pointed at Tinga’s heart. “Made me better.”

Tinga shook her head in disgust. “They brainwashed you.”

734’s calculating eyes and tight posture sent shivers down Tinga’s spine. “That’s where you’re wrong, big sister. They made me remember what I am. You don’t stand a chance.”

Tinga shook her head, hair flying and eyes flashing. “Bite me!” In the blink of an eye, she had somersaulted backwards and out the window, bullets whizzing past her body as she fell 4 floors to the courtyard below. Zigzagging to avoid the bullets flying at her from above, Tinga removed the manhole cover and lowered herself into the sewer.

X5-734 signaled to the team to go after Tinga. She then made a sweep of the house, searching for her sister’s husband and child. When she came to the utility room, she noticed the washing machine blocking a door. Carefully scrutinizing every inch of the room, her eyes took in the recently disturbed dust balls around the machine. Glancing to the side she could see the almost invisible imprint that betrayed the washer’s previous position.

Gripping the sides of the machine, she maneuvered it away from the door and brushed her hands off. Taking a step forward, she flung the door open, revealing the determined face of her brother-in-law, Charlie. The little boy in his arms was crying, his eyes wide with fright.

“You must be Charlie.”

“Who are you?” Charlie demanded, scared but defiant as he faced the enemy. “What did you do to Penny?”

734 was entranced by the little boy. “He’s beautiful,” she breathed, eyes fluttering to fight back tears. “Is this Case?” she reached out to stroke the little boy’s cheek but Charlie clamped a hand around her arm.

“Don’t touch my son!” He scrambled to his feet and pushed Case behind him protectively. “Who are you and how do you know our names?”

734 looked up at him in a daze. “I – I – I’m…Brin,” she whispered. “I’m Brin.”

Charlie stared at her in confusion. “Penny’s sister, Brin? I don’t understand.”

Composing herself, Brin replied in a clipped tone. “It’s probably best that you don’t. If you want to live, don’t mention anything that happened here today. If you know how to contact any of the others – do it. They’ll help you. I have to go.” Lowering her voice to a trembling whisper she shook her head, biting back tears. “Keep my nephew safe.”

Brin fled the apartment leaving Charlie staring after her in shock. Contact the others? Which others? What the hell just happened?! 

She’d been running for over an hour, blurring through the city streets that were darkened by winter and blanketed in snow. Tinga cursed her luck. The prints she was leaving were like a neon sign above her head flashing ‘target acquired’. She quickly removed her sweatshirt, thanking whatever powers that be that she had donned two layers earlier that day. Working the sleeves of her sweatshirt into her belt loops, she noted with satisfaction that the top reached the ground behind her. As she moved, it quickly covered her tracks.

She kept running, the chill of the night pervading her bones, but still she plod on. Tinga finally reached a remote diner off the highway between Portland and Salem. She sent a silent plea to the Blue Lady, begging Her to watch over Charlie and Case.

After making sure the surrounding area was clear, Tinga crouched in the bushes. She waited a long time, until she was confident she’d lost her pursuers. Slowly, she rose from behind the winter brush and stretched her cramped muscles. Her body ached from the strain, the cold and from exhaustion. 

Making her way into the diner, Tinga kept her eyes downcast. She walked slowly towards the payphone at the back of the room and inserted a quarter. When the voice message came over the line, Tinga held back her tears and struggled to keep her voice level so as not to attract unwanted attention.

“Zack? I’m in trouble. Manticore’s on to me. I need help. You have to get my family – I had to leave them behind. I know how you feel about them, Zack, but please, don’t leave them unprotected.” Glancing around the room to ascertain there was no threat to her person, she noted the waitress behind the counter. The woman’s eyes were wide and frightened as she looked between Tinga and the carton of milk she held in her hand and back again. 

Tinga focused on the carton. Her eyes homed in on the picture displayed on the side; it was a picture of herself. The caption beneath read: WANTED: Murderer. If seen, report to you local authorities immediately. Do not attempt to engage. Subject is highly volatile and extremely dangerous. 

Her eyes widened and flashed fear when she saw the waitress back up slowly and disappeared into the kitchen. “Shit! Zack – just do it!” Tinga hastily hung up the phone and blurred out the door.

She ran until her chest felt like it would explode, and the feeling in her fingers and toes had all but gone. Standing off to the side of the road, she stuck her thumb out at the passing cars, hoping someone would pick her up and take her – anywhere – as long as it was far away from Oregon.

She had no idea how long it would take for Zack to find her. Tinga wracked her brain, trying to remember if he had mentioned any locations in their last conversation.

“I saw Krit in San Francisco. He’s so stubborn; refused to leave. He and Syl are going to get themselves killed. How the hell am I supposed to protect you all when you won’t listen to me?”

For the first time ever, Tinga thanked the powers that be for making Zack so pigheaded and overprotective. She might never have heard that, or remembered, if he hadn’t felt so strongly about protecting them.

The sound of a truck slowing caused her to raise her head. The door of the rig opened and she hurried toward it, stumbling in her haste to get out of the cold, and off the road.

The phone jangled. A hand reached out and picked up the receiver. 

“Renfro here.”

“This is Captain Monaghan of the Salem PD. We’ve had sighting of that girl wanted for murder. She was last seen at a diner on the I-5 just outside of Salem, Oregon. Subject was on foot and running scared.”

Elizabeth Renfro smiled. “Thank you,” she said, hanging up the phone and turning to Agent Sandoval. “We’ve got her, Peter. Make sure X5-734 and her unit are in place. We’ll get 656 this time, and with any luck, she’ll have information on the others.”

Donald Lydecker sat in his office, listening intently through the earpiece and watching the small screen in front of him. The audio and visual feed from Renfro’s office was coming in loud and clear.

What are you up to, Elizabeth? Even as he asked himself the question, Lydecker knew the answer. He slammed his fists down on his desk in frustration. Tinga. They’ve got a lead on one of my kids, goddammit! If Renfro gets her hands on Tinga…!  

He couldn’t let that happen. It was time for a chat with Max. He had to tell her the truth; the real reason he had spared her reindoctrination, why he was helping her. She might be their only hope.

The cab of the eighteen-wheeler was warm and dry. Tinga awoke to the sound of the driver talking into his CB.

“Prancer, this is Fat Joe. I’m on the Big Road, headin’ down the left coast from Salem. Got a beaver ridin’ shotgun. My 10-20 is 87 miles North of Gay Bay, doin’ double nickle. Backin’ out.” 

“10-4, Fat Joe. Prancer backing out.”

Fat Joe turned to the hitchhiker he’d picked up the night before. “G’mornin’ ‘lil lady! Hope y’all slept well!” he said cheerily, smiling brightly at her. Fat Joe’s voice held a Southern twang and the words rolled off his tongue like honey. Tinga stared at the man, completely lost at the trucker lingo he’d used.

“I never thanked you properly for picking me up last night, sir” she offered with a shy smile.

“Please, call me Joe. And aint nothin’ to it, honeybee. It were a real pleasure to help such a lurvely lady. We should be in Gay Bay soon enough. I kin drop you at the truck stop just inside the city. That be okay?” he asked, his brow furrowed in concern.

“That’s fine,” she smiled gratefully. She turned to the side, closed her eyes and drifted back into a restless sleep.

Joe watched his passenger toss and turn, obviously dreaming something disturbing. His heart went out to the girl who looked so fragile, scared and alone. He thought of his own daughters and how lucky he was to be able to protect and provide for them.

Agent Sandoval entered Renfro’s office, out of breath. Panting, he began to speak. “We’ve intercepted a radio transmission from a truck on the interstate bound for San Francisco. ETA 0920 at the truck stop just inside the city.”

Renfro clapped her hands in glee. “Send the retrieval team. If necessary, shoot to wound, not to kill. We need her alive. She’s invaluable to us.”

A couple hours later, Tinga woke again. Joe looked at her out of the corner of his eye. “Honeybee, nice girls don’t hitchhike unless they’re in trouble. You runnin’ from someone? T’aint my business, but y’all looked purty scared last night. S’only reason I picked y’up. It’s illegal to take hitchhikers, y’know.” 

Tinga swallowed. “Yeah. Abusive boyfriend,” the lie slipped easily from her tongue and she wished she didn’t have to deceive the man who’d been so kind to her. Tinga reached out to gently touch his arm. “I know that you took a big risk, Joe; I can’t thank you enough.”

He batted her hand away and blushed, a bit embarrassed. “Now lookee here, miss. T’weren’t no trouble. You’re a good girl – I kin tell, I kin always tell. Y’all have enough money to get around the city? It’s a strange place, Gay Bay is.”

Tinga’s eyes welled with tears that she fought vainly to hold back. Joe took that as a ‘no’ and reached into his pocket. Pulling out his wallet with one hand, he flipped it open and removed a wad of bills. “Y’all take this, y’hear? Don’t want t’hear you say ‘no’, neither.”

She wordlessly reached for the money. Her eyes locked with Joe’s in silent acceptance and gratitude. They pulled into the city a few scant minutes later. Joe veered to the left and came to a halt just inside the truck stop. “Y’all take care now, honeybee. Good luck ‘n Godspeed.” 

Tinga leaned over and hugged Fat Joe. “Goodbye and thank you again.” She alighted from the truck and waved to him. He tooted the truck horn and waved back, before driving off.

Tinga let out a deep breath. She was free. Now all she had to do was find Krit and Syl, and then Zack. They’d help her get Charlie and Case back; Zack would know what to do.

A dark van rolled slowly behind her. Tinga glanced over her shoulder, a bit apprehensive of the approaching vehicle, and quickened her stride, finally sprinting as fast as she could. There was nowhere for her to hide. She looked around frantically, pleading silently with the powers that be to deliver her from hell.

Suddenly, the vehicle sped up and passed her, pulling to a halt. 6 masked figures jumped from the van and leapt at at her. Tinga lashed out at her attackers, kicking and punching, but they extended tazers, shocking her to the ground, rendering her helpless. As she was being loaded into the van, she reached weakly for the masked form swimming before her eyes. But before she could remove it, a foot shot out and connected with her head, sending Tinga into oblivion.

When she awoke, a familiar face greeted her. “Welcome home, big sister,” Brin said as she stepped aside. 

A bleach-blonde woman with piercing blue eyes and an equally chilling smile approached the metal slab and peered down at Tinga.

“We’re so glad to have you back, 656. So, very, very glad.”