The Creator (Scarrett & Kramer Book 1) Read online

  Which Greg took to be a request to keep the bad guys focused downhill and not uphill. He saw a glow, the heat of a human body as it edged around the cold of a rock, and fired a three round burst. The insurgent ducked back out of sight as more gunfire came from Greg’s teammates to his left. There were seven others in the unit. A mixed bag for what should have been a routine hike into the mountains. Greg had two Brits, a Canadian and four Afghanis in the unit and right now they were all doing exactly the right thing, as trained and as expected. That gave Greg some hope that the firefight would have the right result. He put another burst into the area occupied by the insurgents before a glow, as bright as a dawning sun, erupted from the mountainside ahead.

  Greg’s glasses overloaded for a brief moment, leaving his vision a kaleidoscope of dancing images. Voices rang in his ear, his squad taken by surprise and querying each other.

  ‘Open fire,’ Greg transmitted, using memory and instinct to empty his magazine into the insurgents’ bolthole.

  Gunfire rolled like thunder off the valley sides, bouncing back to the members of Hotel Three-Three as they scrambled across shale and stone. A grenade burst in the dark ahead of him, thrown by one of the Afghanis.

  ‘Cease fire, cease fire.’ The command came from one of the Brits who had been on the outflanking manoeuvre. Greg slid to a halt, new magazine in place, heart pounding as his team moved in on the insurgents. He had enough time to scan the terrain around them, saw no threats and followed the others in.

  The gunmen weren’t there. Greg let his mind work on that one as his eyes scanned the flat patch of ground between the two huge boulders they had been sheltering behind. There were plenty of spent cartridges but nothing else. No bodies and no suggestion of remains of bodies left behind from a suicide IED explosion. Greg ordered five of the unit to set up a perimeter around the boulders to guard against attack, before he squatted with one Afghani and the Canadian and asked the obvious question. ‘Where the hell’d they go?’

  All he got in response was a shrug from the Afghan soldier and a ‘no idea’ from the Canuck. Greg sighed. There was no cave or hole in the ground for the insurgents to go into. No escape route that they could have used without the Brits on the hillside spotting them.

  ‘Is the drone still overhead?’ the Afghani asked.

  Greg would have cursed if it wouldn’t have offended the Afghan. The drone had brought them onto the insurgent position in the first place. Controllers back at base camp picking up the heat of their bodies and guiding the special forces team in. ‘Hawkeye, Hotel Three-Three, do you copy over?’

  ‘Copy.’ The disembodied voice came back to him like the speaker was on the ground with them.

  ‘Targets have evaded us. Do you have record of their position? Over.’

  ‘Wait one.’

  Greg stood, stretching his back and wondered if he was getting too old for all this as he waited for the response.

  ***

  Lieutenant Merrill Hope scrolled through thirty seconds of video that showed the last moments of the mountainside firefight for the third time. The growing pressure to give the men on the ground an answer made her pulse quicken. Problem was; she couldn’t. The grainy image, an oblique view from a several hundred metres distance, showed the heat signatures of the insurgents and the special forces team as they closed in. She saw the diamond-bright sparks of muzzle flash before three haloes of light appeared from nowhere and surrounded the insurgents. When she slowed the video, the haloes blinked out of existence leaving behind nothing but empty rock.

  Merrill lifted her head. The control room was nothing more than a big tent filled with ranks of foldaway tables on which lay a myriad of laptop computers, half shut down at this time of night. She was the only occupant on her row except for her Duty C.O. Merrill was half scared of the Major. This was her first tour, and his fifth. He had the scars to prove he had done the hard stuff out on the ground before an IED made him a permanent base camp bunny.

  ‘Major? Could you take a look at something for me?’

  The major came over, leaning past Merrill’s shoulder to study her monitor, his dark eyes watching the video. He asked her to re-run it once, his mouth a hard, unsmiling line.

  ‘Package the video up and mail it to me, Lieutenant

  ‘Yes, sir.’ The major moved away. ‘Sir? What do I tell the guys on the ground?’

  ‘Tell them the cameras were pointing the wrong way. Then tell them mission over and to return to base.’

  ‘Yes, sir.’ Merrill could follow orders, even if the commander of Hotel Three-Three asked her to repeat them in a way that said he didn’t believe her about the cameras.

  She mailed the video to the major before rolling her chair back. She wasn’t certain she was doing the right thing when she went to stand next to him and ask. ‘What do you think it was, sir?’

  ‘Sometimes, Lieutenant, it pays us not to think.’

  Her silence made him look up. ‘Sir?’

  He sighed, leaning back in his chair, and said, ‘I send the video up the line. Someone else looks at it then bumps it further on. Someone will analyse it and we never find out what it was or why it was.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And we do our job tomorrow to safeguard our people and by the end of the week we’ll have both forgotten about this.’

  Merrill tried to smile. ‘That sounds like an order, sir.’

  She didn’t get a smile in response. ‘It was,’ the Major said. ‘Now, is your vehicle still airborne?’

  ‘Yes, sir.’

  ‘Then bring it home, Lieutenant.’

  Merrill scuttled back to her desk, keeping her eyes down and hoping the major wasn’t still looking at her. Bringing the drone back was simple enough. The GPS way-points were already programmed in and all she had to do was send the command to initiate them. The drone could make its own way back and all Merrill had to do was land it but for that she had a twenty-year-old corporal who had grown up playing computer games. She stole a glance at the major, but he had his head down. She went back onto the server to look at the video again, but it had gone, the folder now empty. Merrill decided it wasn’t the right time any more to ask questions. She watched the GPS track of her drone as it came back towards the base and tried to forget about haloes of light and disappearing insurgents.

  ***

  Ben Scarrett liked this time of day. It’s his ‘blue-sky thinking moment’. An opportunity to put his feet up on his desk, lean back with his eyes closed and sip at a cup of takeout mocha from the coffee shop that doubled as a staff restaurant. He got away with it most days because management held daily reviews around about now. Today, he found out, was different.

  ‘Enjoying yourself, Ben?’

  Ben’s feet hit the floor. The mocha slopped in the cup but didn’t spill out as Ben’s boss, Hank Taylor, stopped filling the doorway and came in to fill the room instead. Taylor was a bear of a man, and Ben knew that he wasn’t a cuddly teddy bear type all the time. Right now his bearded face showed at least the glimmer of a smile that put Ben at some sort of ease.

  ‘If only the taxpayers could see how you earn your money,’ Taylor said.

  ‘I’m sure most of them would approve.’ Ben put his drink down on the table and settled back into his chair.

  ‘Yeah.’ Taylor sounded disbelieving.

  ‘Shouldn’t you be at the daily management review?’ Ben asked.

  ‘Something came up,’ Taylor said.

  By now he had joined Ben on his side of the desk. His bulk blotted out the light from the picture window that gave Ben a grandstand view of the staff car park. Reaching down, Taylor used the mouse on Ben’s desk to browse through several folders on Ben’s desktop monitor. He ended at a secure location in which sat just one video file. Taylor double-clicked the file and stood back to let Ben watch.

  Drone image, Ben thought. Night time. Somewhere spooky.

  The video played out. Ghostly images of men in combat that ended in three doughnuts of bright ene
rgy that left residual flashes on the overloaded camera. ‘Oh, my God,’ Ben breathed. He dragged the video back, pausing at the moment of energy eruption. ‘Isn’t that the most beautifulest thing you have ever seen?’

  ‘To be honest with you Ben, I think it’s the most goddamn ugliest thing I have ever seen.’ Taylor reached forward and stabbed a finger at the screen.

  Ben stopped listening. Taking the frozen frame of the video he dropped it into a second piece of software that analysed the light spectrum of the energy eruption and produced a scrolling list of electromagnetic readings.

  ‘Man oh man.’ Ben sat back. He turned to Taylor, eyes wide open. ‘Tell me we picked up a tell-tale?’

  ‘Nothing,’ Taylor said.

  ‘Nothing?’ Ben frowned. ‘You mean nothing, like in Keyhole, Amethyst and Isis didn’t even pick up any kind of energy backwash?’

  ‘Exactly that.’

  ‘No power drains?’

  ‘None.’

  ‘That’s…’ Ben thought about saying impossible but he had learned enough in the last couple of years since joining the Agency that the impossible was probably possible given that someone threw enough money or brain power at it. Problem was the money and brain power thrown at this didn’t belong to the US of A or one of its allies. And to tell the truth Ben didn’t even like the thought that one of their allies might be doing this anyway because that would put them a generation ahead in technology.

  ‘You’ve been wasting your days away here,’ Taylor said. ‘Too many coffees and trips to see Rita Tsang down in Transportation. It’s time to earn your salary.’

  Ben drummed his fingers on the table, not liking the sound of that. ‘Like how?’

  ‘There’ll be an aircraft waiting for you at Andrews at fourteen hundred taking you to an undisclosed destination. That gives you enough time to clear your desk, get home and get packed. One word of advice, don’t forget your passport.’

  ‘Where am I going?’ Ben leant back in his chair, looking up at his boss.

  ‘I’m not cleared to know.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘Yup, really. Now, what are you loitering here for?’

  ‘Just felt like it,’ Ben said, with a sinking feeling.

  ***

  No rush hour traffic meant Ben reached his home forty minutes faster than usual. He left his car out front, as close to the entrance of his condo as he could, and made his way up to the third floor. He’d lived here for almost three years, and had a feeling that he might not be seeing it for a while. During the drive home he’d thought about calling the building’s agent and ending his rental. The reason he couldn’t sat in the middle of the living room floor. Ben ignored Chrissie as he went to his room. He packed the bare minimum in clothing, a few toiletries and an e-reader. He went back through the living-room, side-stepped Chrissie in her Child’s Pose and checked to see if she had retrieved the mail from downstairs. There was nothing for him, two periodicals for her. Back in the living room he watched Chrissie uncurl from her pose.

  She opened her eyes and said, ‘You’re home early.’

  ‘And leaving.’ Ben showed her his case.

  Chrissie came over and looked at him. ‘How long for?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s kind of hush-hush.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound good.’

  ‘I’m sure it’s nothing. I’m an analyst, remember? Anyway, it’ll give you a chance to get your hippy friends over to cleanse this place of my bad karma.’

  ‘They are not hippies,’ Chrissie said. ‘They just worry about the influence you have on me. Especially because of the work you do.’

  ‘Isn’t that what I said?’ Ben tried to hide his smile. ‘I’m part of the Evil Empire that rules this country. They need to sanitise you because you being so close to me might infect you with my misdeeds.’

  ‘Ben.’ Chrissie could sound very lecturing sometimes. ‘They just worry about me, and about you as well, in a nice kind of way.’

  ‘I don’t mind,’ Ben said. ‘Fact is the work I do, the work we all do over there, keeps people like your hippy friends safe and allows them time to be idiots.’

  Chrissie bit down on her reply. For a moment their eyes met and then she was hugging him. ‘Take care,’ she said.

  ‘You know me, Sis,’ Ben said.

  ‘Exactly. Did you volunteer for this?’

  ‘No, first I knew about it was an hour ago.’

  ‘Then definitely take care because the government doesn’t care about you. They just care about results and I don’t want to lose my big brother.’

  ‘Because you’ll have to move out of this apartment?’ Ben teased.

  ‘Of course,’ she said, turning away so her blonde hair flicked into his face. ‘You know I only care about material things.’

  ‘I’ll keep paying the rent,’ Ben said, ‘and I’ll leave the car for you to use.’

  Chrissie turned to face him, her face concerned. ‘Are you coming back?’

  ‘Of course I am.’ Ben laughed and reached out to tweak her nose just like their dad used to when they were kids.

  ‘Good.’

  She picked up her yoga mat and avoided looking at him. Chrissie could be emotional some days and tough as nails others. Ben guessed it was best to make this quick. ‘I’ll call a taxi and message you when I get to wherever I’m going.’

  ‘I’m out at a group tonight. I can ask the others to cast a spirit shield to keep you safe.’

  ‘I’m sure I won’t need it,’ Ben said.

  He saw his sister close the door to her bedroom certain there were tears on her face but knew she didn’t want him to acknowledge them.

  He made his way down to the lobby, called a taxi firm from his cell phone and waited outside in the warm sun for the cab to arrive. He squinted up at the blue sky where the jet stream tore apart the vapour trail of an airliner.

  ‘Spirit shield,’ he said as the cab pulled up in front of him. ‘Whatever will she think of next?’

  ***

  Ben was almost impressed when he found he would be the only passenger on a US Air Force C-21. The aircraft waited for him on the apron at Joint Base Andrews, engines idling.

  ‘So where are we going?’ Ben asked the co-pilot as he strapped himself in.

  ‘West.’

  ‘How far?’

  The co-pilot shrugged. ‘Well, you’ll be staying there but we’ll be back in time for dinner.’

  ‘Any idea where I’ll be staying?’

  ‘Of course I know.’ He gave Ben a withering look. ‘I filed the flight plan.’

  ‘So where are we going?’ Ben asked.

  The co-pilot smiled. ‘I can’t tell you. It’s a secret.’

  And with that the co-pilot disappeared into the cockpit with the pilot, the flight deck door slamming behind him. Ben sighed as the C-21 started taxiing towards the runway. He knew what the military was like, the next time he saw either of the flight crew it would be at the destination. He settled back in his chair, closed his eyes and wondered what the hell Hank Taylor had dropped him into this time.

  Chapter 2

  ‘Welcome to Kenyon Base, Mr Scarrett.’

  The blonde, twenty-something US Army Captain had the bluest eyes Ben had ever seen. She also had a flawless complexion, high cheekbones and a crushing handshake.

  ‘Mind me asking what state Kenyon is in, Captain Kramer?’ Ben asked as he got his hand back, glancing at the name patch on her uniform.

  ‘Nebraska,’ she said it with the kind of smile that made Ben think this wouldn’t be such a bad place to be.

  Kenyon was unlike any military base he had ever seen. The land lay flat, almost featureless, apart from a few scattered structures. A couple of hangars, three or four office blocks, some sheds and a fuel farm. It made him wonder how many people were actually based here with little in the way of accommodation blocks. A bowser had already parked alongside the C-21 and the ground crew were filling up her tanks. The C-21’s jerk-off co-pilot was out doing
a walk-round inspection of the aircraft. Ben ignored him and said to the Captain, ‘Are we in the right place?’ as his eyes scanned spaces between the structures and the empty terrain that stretched as far as the eye could see.

  ‘We sure are.’ She gestured towards the Humvee she had driven up in.

  ‘It’s just that there isn’t much to see?’

  ‘We’ll explain everything to you,’ Kramer said.

  Ben got into Humvee. Kramer drove across the blacktop runway at speed. Ben studied her profile. She had a neat nose and nice jawline. Hair tied up in a tight bun. He’d always like a girl in uniform and, apart from her handshake, Captain Kramer was a fine example of a girl in uniform. They were heading for one of the aircraft hangars. Kramer slowed the Humvee as they neared the structure so they coasted into the shade of the interior. There were two helicopters and another C-21 in view. A dozen or so uniformed men and women were working on the aircraft or cleaning equipment they had laid out in neat rows.

  Kramer parked the Humvee. ‘Leave your bag,’ she said. ‘We can get it if you stay.’

  ‘If I stay?’ Ben hurried to catch her up as she strode towards an elevator.

  ‘You’re being interviewed by General Dawson. He decides if you stay or go back.’

  She pressed the call button and waited at parade rest.

  Ben said, ‘How many personnel are here?’

  ‘That’s need to know, and until the General approves you I can’t tell you.’

  The elevator arrived, door clanking open, Ben asked, ‘How long have you been based here?’

  ‘Need to know,’ she said again as they entered and the door closed slowly behind them. There were buttons for ten floors, all below ground level. Kramer pressed the lowest one.

  ‘Does Captain Kramer have a first name?’ Ben asked and before she could reply he held up a hand to stop her. ‘Don’t tell me, need to know.’

  She almost smiled; Ben caught the twitch of her lips as she turned to look him up and down and that made him all the more interested. ‘I’ll be sitting in on the interview,’ she said as if he should be worried.