Death Becomes Her (The Kurtherian Gambit Book 1) Read online

  Carl sighed inwardly. Carl knew Frank had already talked to the General, in fact he listened in while on the plane, he had hoped that the General would give him an overview and allow Carl to fill in the blanks.

  It wasn’t going to happen that easily.

  “General, while I don’t have a uniform, I can assure you that I work closely with the U.S. government and I am aware you have been updated to some degree already. Not only to permit me to land and speak with you so urgently, but also a little about what is going on.”

  “What I know,” the General exclaimed, “is a short history lesson from a spook in Washington, a ninety-year-old man I had to drag from his house, and a short and mysterious letter attached to a vault that hasn’t seen the light of day in seventy years.” He stopped for a moment, looked like he was in thought and replied, “Since it is underground on Level Five, it hasn’t ever seen the light of day. So why don’t you try to help me understand why this is such a significant event and how you pulled enough strings to land at this base and interrupt our stated mission?”

  While Carl was often in the background and rarely in front of others, that was typically an agents’ role, he wasn’t a mouse. Carl had seen enough action, deaths and close-calls that being stonewalled and pushed by a gruff General wasn’t going to stress him. Besides, when you worked for the patriarch, General Lance Reynolds lost his fear factor pretty easily.

  “General, I can tell you more than you want to know. I have knowledge that Frank doesn’t have and frankly I’m not in your chain of command. While I respect your rank, your role, and your authority, I don’t have to worry about it. I know, for example, that there are things that go bump in the night that scare our best warriors. I work with some of them, General. There are times when our men uncover stuff under rocks, in caves and occasionally in cities both here and abroad that would have you committed if you spoke about them.

  “When our men and women find out about these things, they go up the chain and it doesn’t take long for Frank to find out about it. He pulls them back and he makes a phone call. That phone call comes to me, General. When your most hardened operatives need help, I am on the President’s direct speed dial. If you need me to, I can pull out my phone and let you speak to the President because it goes both ways.”

  Carl finished his explanation as he saw the General about to interrupt. “You’re telling me you’re important enough for the President to contact directly? What makes your family important enough for that?”

  “General,” Carl Replied, “It isn’t my family and I’m not personally important enough. I’m just one of the important aides, so to speak. Like you, I answer to a higher authority and he is someone who has the respect of the President and allows me to call should I need it. It isn’t something that I take advantage of, I assure you.”

  Carl felt a coolness in the back of his mind, a presence that had been absent since he left New York.

  “So, who is this authority and what does he want with this base?”

  “Sir, we were recently on a mission in Virginia for one of the agencies. Our agent was inside a warehouse tracking three others when they blew themselves up taking our agent and a full city block along for the ride. It took over a day and a half to contain the fire. While I do not have the authority to demand you never speak about this, I can tell you that if it is found out that you have, I suspect you may have signed your own death certificate. Is this understood?”

  “No. Why should any of this be held Top Secret?”

  “The families are secretive. Very secretive. They have been that way for centuries. The family I work for is not the only family and let’s say that similar to our geo-political instability and enemies, the families have been at each other’s throats for centuries. For the last seventy years or so, it has been fairly quiet after what went down in Japan. When our agent died, we had enough information for our patriarch to realize that the family which was bombed has apparently re-surfaced, or at least the knowledge of what they were experimenting on in Japan has been found again.”

  “So, you aren’t a family member?” The General was trying to figure out how this guy fitted into the equation.

  “No, I am what they would refer to as a liaison. Sometimes with the government, sometimes with the grocery boy. On assignments I have eyes and ears, responsibility and direct connections to those in the government which are part of the task. I work with the Family Agent, or Agents and carry communications and information as needed. That is why I am here right now, to fill you in on this assignment and make sure that it goes as smoothly as possible.”

  “So, what happens next and what is your job?”

  “Sir, I understand you will receive an important dignitary who is part of an interview which will happen down on Five. If this dignitary accepts the assignment, it is a permanent duty and they will be listed as deceased and a lot of their information will forever be locked away, if not erased.”

  “That black?” In spite of himself, the General was turning from highly annoyed to slightly suspicious and relieved. It didn’t seem as if his group had to do much more than host special VIP Interviews in an old vault and keep it quiet.

  “Very much, that black, General. This agent will officially ‘die’ and will not interact with their old life again. What they become and who they join doesn’t exist so they can’t either.”

  The General took another cigar out of a wrapper and stuck it in his mouth, unlit. “What happens if they fail the interview?”

  “They won’t remember the interview, they come out of the vault and will be checked out medically. Depending on their physical condition, they can either stay or be placed back in active rotation.”

  The General reached for the envelope on his desk and lifted it up for Carl to see. “What about the absolution for the debt of honor?”

  “Sir, you write one yourself and place your new suggestion on the inside of the vault and close the door. It can only be opened by someone from the family, and only closed by someone here in the Base.”

  “What happens if we don’t allow anyone to be interviewed?” While Lance was slowly coming around to understanding what was needed, he still didn’t like the feeling that he was being forced into a situation set of one choice.

  “Would that be ‘don’t allow’, or ‘don’t find anybody’?” Carl knew which question the General really asked, but he knew who the selected agent was, and he needed the General to ask the right question and to not only know, but to believe what the options were for his people.

  “I would like the answer to both, actually.”

  “Well, if there are not any which fit the criteria, and the selection is done by the agency whose representative you spoke with earlier, and the family agrees, then there is no dishonor and the base commander writes his letter and closes the vault.”

  “And if we don’t allow it?”

  Carl visibly sighed to the General, hoping he would be able to convince him.

  “Sir, if that happens then the patriarch, or should he not be available, then his children will make sure that the person responsible, and all of the men and women he is responsible for, will be considered dishonorable.

  “I am not of the family, sir, so you have to understand that I am explaining this as ‘what will be’, not that I personally have a say, OK?”

  Carl waited for the General’s agreement that he understood Carl’s qualification. The General squinted at him while he chewed on his cigar, coming to some conclusion before nodding his head.

  “Alright, when a person of responsibility is considered dishonorable by a family member, and there is no ‘higher’ member of the family to request a review, that person and every person who reports to them will be judged dishonorable.”

  “So, what happens to those considered dishonored?”

  “Death, General. The family will consider it a bad relationship and not suffer a dishonorable relationship.”

  While a little clinically detached from the conversati
on, Carl just had to tell himself, ‘Wait for it...’

  General Reynolds made Carl wait about five seconds before he proverbially blew his stack.

  “Are you seriously threatening a General and his complete base? Are you doing this on MY base, to ME, in my OFFICE?” His face was completely red, two microscopic black of eyes of destruction were aimed at Carl.

  OK, Carl thought, that was pretty impressive. Maybe not to Michael’s level but certainly pretty damned intimidating.

  The General’s phone buzzed and Patricia’s voice could be heard coming out of the loud speaker. “General, is there something wrong? The Sergeant is still out here if you need him, sir.”

  Lance looked down at the phone and stabbed the button with his rock-solid finger, “No, but tell him to stick around.” Releasing the call button, he looked back at Carl, who stared back composed and ready to let him cool down, if he would.

  Lance worked to get his emotions under control, remembering that this wasn’t the person threatening his people. He was just the liaison. Lance’s real target was his boss.

  In a quiet voice, he asked “and just when do I get to talk to the family member? When does he arrive?”

  “Sir, he already has.”

  —-

  Michael could tell from his connection with Carl that he had just been introduced to the General and they were about to start talking.

  He had been through a lot of the base, and Michael had made it down to level five by floating through the environmental system and checked out the vault with the guard outside.

  After confirming that everything was acceptable and his knife was still located in the vault, he turned to leave the level and go back towards the Generals office.

  While the DNA from the previous three candidates might theoretically be in the hermetically sealed vault from seventy years ago, they wouldn’t be able to trace anything to the two who had successfully passed the interview and they knew about the third one.

  He never fully became physically in the vault when he was in the interview so he wouldn’t leave any evidence.

  He went back to the Base and started checking out the different buildings. He could tell the difference in the personnel from the last time he was here.

  They certainly felt different this time. They, as a country, weren’t being attacked presently as they had been in the past. The country’s efforts weren’t as determined and their purpose wasn’t as sharp as that generation’s had been. Whether they had wanted a war or not, they stood up, signed up and shipped out.

  Here and there on the Base he ran into individual’s who were going through the motions of their lives. Others were bright, determined and seemed focused and accomplishing something. Michael wasn’t sure what. However, they were certainly going somewhere with determination, he noticed.

  He chose to walk around the Base a little. Although he wouldn’t be noticed by others he was in fact corporal, it allowed him to get a better feel for the base that flittering around as myst wouldn’t provide him.

  He selected a building which seemed to house soldiers and walked through the opened door behind by two servicemen who were leaving. He walked past the guard on duty and another group talking around the front desk.

  The passageways were a little narrow, and he had to switch over to myst a couple of times so that others wouldn’t bump into his body. Although most people would just be bewildered, it wasn’t worth the small chance that they would talk later and start wondering.

  Besides, he could feel the General getting excited through Carl’s emotions. Somewhere up ahead, he could feel a particularly bright spirit but it was possibly time to be a little more involved with Carl, or at least more aware of what the General was talking about.

  He wouldn’t interfere with Carl’s job, but he would protect him should the General feel too threatened and start pushing back too hard.

  Switching back to myst, Michael went as quick as he could to the General’s office, that location hadn’t changed since he was here last time.

  —

  Bethany Anne slowly finished the calming exercises she practiced often.

  Always competitive in everything, Bethany found that Death would be one adversary who wasn’t going to give her a fair break.

  She didn’t mention it to Martin, but she had seen three other specialists about her condition. None of them could figure out exactly what she had, it was obvious from her white and red blood cell count that it was eating her up alive.

  She had tried a blood transfusion one time, and while it helped, it only cleared up a few things for a couple of weeks. The next blood test came back normal, which meant totally messed up.

  The doctors confirmed it wasn’t in her bones, or in any of the expected locations where blood cells and blood were either produced or cleaned.

  It was as if there was a specific defect handed down the generations and her mom had apparently passed it on to her.

  Well, this genetic disease would apparently die with her.

  She wouldn’t shed any more tears on what could have been. She had been through that stage already and while she had needed the emotional relief, she couldn’t help others if she was an emotional wreck.

  That, she had figured out, was her purpose. She had a driving desire to help others that couldn’t help themselves. She had no issues ignoring those who wouldn’t help themselves and it was a poor day when someone tried to take advantage of the system, at least around her. As passionate as she was when someone needed help, she was just as passionate about confronting those who took advantage of the generosity of others.

  With her present case load, she was looking into older cases where the people were all dead. It suited her focus, these people certainly couldn’t help themselves and if she suddenly fell down dead, there wasn’t a problem with bringing someone up to speed on the case before it became cold.

  In her early twenties, Bethany had figured out her problem. She tried to be the best in anything that would get her father’s attention. It took her over a year and four different self-help, healing and psych books to break the emotional and psychological struggle it was causing in her life. She still enjoyed it when her father was proud of her, but it wasn’t something that the sun would rise and set on as those feelings had once felt.

  Since she wasn’t in the same branch of the military, and Reynolds wasn’t that uncommon a name, she wasn’t often attached as being the General’s daughter. She didn’t shy aware from it, she was proud of her father. She had just been brought up to be self-reliant. Wanting to stand on her own two feet was part of the whole package, really.

  She looked down at her watch, 18:15. She grabbed her jacket, badge and purse. Time to meet with the General and find out why he had sent for her.

  —

  “Where?” General Reynolds looked down at the calmly composed man in the chair. While Lance was six-ways to Sunday pissed, the coldly logical part of his mind recognized that Carl wasn’t responding to his physical and verbal tirade.

  Lance gave it to the man, he stood his ground.

  “That, General, I don’t know. However, I can tell you he has been on the Base for at least thirty minutes and since he doesn’t drive, I imagine he came aboard the jet with me.”

  “What, you don’t know? That seems unlikely.”

  “What seems more unlikely? That one person could hide aboard a jet if I wasn’t paying attention, maybe in some room – it is a personal jet – or that I am here telling you that same person would decide the fate of every person in your command?”

  “Both, this isn’t an either or question.”

  “Well, he is a spook’s spook. There is no one I have encountered in either of the CIA or FBI who feels comfortable with him, and the NSA stopped trying to tail him about thirty years ago, which was before I started working with him. The last time a senior level bureaucrat became too involved trying to learn about the families, the bureaucrat was found very dead. Somehow he pulled his own arm off and then used
it to accidentally shoot himself six times. This was inside a very secure location, and trust me, none of the video tapes were of any use.”

  “What? Did they go static-y or just not work?”

  “No, they worked fine. There was just nothing on them. No one entered or left the building or his office from when he was last seen coming back from dinner, to when he was found later that night when an aide from another office saw light coming from his office and went to ask him a question. After the investigation, it was learned that the bureaucrat had been trying to find out more about the family and had hired a few private investigators with some slush fund money.

  “There were three private investigators. The detectives talked to two who couldn’t remember ever working on the project, but invoices were found where they billed out hours to the politician. One other was located in a psych ward; apparently he had a total mental meltdown and couldn’t even feed himself, much less talk coherently anymore.”