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Vance took another gulp of coffee and wiped out all satellite footage of Encounter Five’s liftoff, per his usual arrangement with Zathcore. After it passed through the Fold and reached Ellis Three, he would take similar measures. Like the firm’s last three missions, Space Traffic logs would falsify landing and excavation coordinates, and corresponding satellite feeds from Ellis Three would show bogus imagery—courtesy of his backdoor algorithms that deleted and substituted feeds in real-time. Zathcore paid a handsome fee for his efforts to protect their privacy. It was a risky gig that could land him life in a Sanctuary work camp, but it funded the lengthy search for his daughter.

  Vance performed a few more menial tasks, then closed his eyes and thought of that glorious day when his Lydia would be back with him under the safety of the Phoenix Barrier.

  Free of skin cancer.

  _____

  Kendall Rouhoff had been waiting in Rankcon Corporations’s 42nd-floor lobby for ten minutes too long. Burning up, he removed his coat and swore under his breath. CEO Leland Kronemeyer was playing the upper-hand like all his clients did.

  Whatever.

  At least he’d made the most of his downtime by chatting it up with the cute brunette receptionist. She bought his lie about him only being thirty-eight years old. They all did.

  She looked up from the receptionist desk and brushed her hair back. “Mr. Kronemeyer will see you now.”

  Kendall stood and winked. “I’ll call you when I’m in the area again.”

  He entered the office and shut the door. “It’s about time,” he mumbled as he took a seat across from the CEO’s obscenely large desk.

  Leland spun around in his chair. “Excuse me?”

  Kendall tried not to gawk at the old man’s face, but it was hard not to. Jagged scar tissue sagged from his jawbones, the result of a terrorist attack that took out his wife and kids thirty years before, and left the old man with a prosthetic leg and a chest cavity stuffed with artificial organs. He hadn’t cracked a smile since, and he couldn’t if he wanted to. The bizarre thing was he wanted it that way, despite his doctors insisting they could stitch on a brand-new face. He’d heard something about Leland not wanting to lose his identity—he’d already lost everything else he held dear.

  Except for his global empire, of course.

  “How are you doing,” Kendall said, smirking.

  “I’ll be fine after I have the information you promised me.”

  Kendall slid the thumb drive across his desk. “It’s all there —launch footage, itineraries, personnel. Everything you asked for.”

  Leland snatched it. “Splendid. Your services have been exemplary thus far.”

  “Did you expect anything less?”

  “My prior experiences with contracted services have been short of satisfactory.”

  “Not mine. Not ever.”

  Leland’s leathery cheeks reddened. “Let's cut the crap now, shall we? Your initial payment of one million will be wired to your various offshore accounts this afternoon.”

  “Make sure your people follow my instructions perfectly or the IRS will be all over it,” Kendall replied.

  “Spare me the lecture. This isn’t the first time my staff has handled these types of transactions.”

  “Maybe I don’t trust your staff,” Kendall said. “And, while we’re being upfront with one another, I can’t say I enjoy doing business with a firm that has a monopoly over the entire world’s safety. Know what I mean? I’ve got a cousin trapped in Sanctuary 52 who’d love to put a bullet in your brain. Can’t say I blame him.”

  Leland leaned back in his chair, folded his arms and faintly narrowed his thick eyebrows. “Are you finished with your insults, Mr. Rouhoff?”

  “Finished with the insults, yes, but not finished with some special requests.”

  “I’m listening.”

  “I’d like an extra hundred grand tacked onto my next payment for the hassle of having to ignore my conscience more than usual on this job. Then another three hundred grand added to the final payment.”

  Leland leaned forward. “Anything else?”

  “Nope. That’s about it.”

  “I’ll see what I can do. When is your next consultation with the database manager from Space Traffic Control?”

  “I’m meeting with Vance Tremont in a few days.”

  “To discuss what?”

  “What do you think? He wants his estranged daughter transferred out of Sanctuary 29 to a Barrier City of his choosing so she can get proper treatment. She doesn’t have long, Leland. If we don’t act soon, he’ll bail.”

  “But if we reward him too quickly, he might bail regardless,” Leland said, tapping his fingers on the desk. “The vital role he needs to play is still sixth months away.”

  “It’s a risk we have to take. He expects Rankcon Corporation to uphold its end of the deal if there’s any hope he’ll stick with us for another six months.”

  Leland laughed. “Doesn’t that fool know I have the power to evict him from his cozy Phoenix Barrier with one phone call?”

  “Come on, Leland. You're smarter than that. Threatening words never foster long-term loyalty; rewards do. Any dog trainer could tell you that,” Kendall said. “Vance isn't one of your personal servants you can push around and expect unfettered obedience. You have to treat him the same way you treat all your other three billion customers who pay an ungodly fee for your services. Vance isn’t in the best frame of mind. There’s a good chance he’ll jump off a ledge if his daughter dies. Then it’s a sure loss for all parties involved.”

  The CEO tapped on his desk with his index finger. “My staff will work out the appropriate arrangements for Mr. Tremont’s daughter as promised. Any updates in Zathcore’s itinerary?”

  “Vance is still saying Zathcore’s crew is scheduled to receive landing coordinates from Elliot Gareth five days before they reach Ellis Three’s orbit, around six months from now. Right now, all the crew knows is that they were hand selected by Elliot for something extraordinary. Whatever Elliot has planned, he’s acting cautiously.” Kendall flashed a smug grin. “If you want my opinion, Elliot hates Rankcon Corporation for turning his Barrier technology into a global empire. Can’t say I blame him.”

  Leland clenched his jaw, then smiled. “Any other pertinent information I should be reminded of before we adjourn?”

  “Yeah, one last thing,” Kendall replied. “I don’t know what your plans are with Elliot Gareth or Encounter Five, but I’d rather not know. What Rankcon Corporation does with the information I provide is none of my business. I have to sleep at night, know what I mean?”

  The CEO spun around in his chair and re-positioned some picture frames behind him on his desk. One picture showcased his late father, Charles Kronemeyer—the iconic billionaire who founded Rankcon Corporation during the Great Reconstruction.

  “My father didn't accept mediocrity, nor do I,” Leland said, his back still turned. “I expect Vance Tremont to cooperate fully or your services will be terminated. Am I clear, Mr. Rouhoff? You can leave now. I have an entire planet to run, and that makes me a busy man.”

  Kendall made a bee-line for the door.

  _____

  Leland grabbed his gold-embossed black cane and tottered to one of his corner windows, his cane clanking against the black-marbled tiles. He should have had his leg recalibrated years ago, but he liked the feel and sound of the cane. He’d heard through the grapevine that several execs with offices on the floor below him said he sounded like a one-legged horse whenever he “clopped around.” And for that reason alone, he always made a concentrated effort to smack it against the floor as hard as he could. How dare they mock him! He could have every one of the gossiping backstabbers tossed into the world’s foulest Sanctuaries tomorrow if he wanted to. But he would never commit such a flippant act of retaliation. He was a patient, tolerant man, like his father before him, and they knew it.

  His pulse relaxed as he peered at the Manhattan beehive forty-two stories below. Wasn’t
it all just marvelous? Bodies in trench coats scurried about on the sidewalks. Hover-rails zigzagged in multilayers around skyscrapers. Such a wonderful, prosperous city with little to no violent crime, like all the Barrier cities. His corporation, the one founded by his father forty years ago, kept it and all the world’s thriving metropolises alive. Like an artificial heart. Where would they be without Rankcon Corporation’s protection?

  They’d be in economic shambles, Leland thought. Like the Sanctuaries and the violent people who lived there. Rankcon Corporation was doing its part to preserve the very best of humanity, and as far as he was concerned, the rest could turn to dust.

  He hobbled back to his desk and picked up a picture of his late wife and daughters, caressing their faces with his finger. So innocent, so lovely, their deaths brutal and senseless. They were stolen from him by a lone Sanctuary terrorist he should have seen coming. The man was disguised as a waiter at a hole-in-the-wall Italian restaurant in lower Manhattan. One Leland and his family often visited because the food was exquisite. The waiter, an Asian man he’d never seen before, placed a serving plate in the center of their table. He bowed and raised the lid, revealing an explosive device. It detonated within seconds. Piercing screams from his wife and daughters. Blood and carnage everywhere. It was all just a distant, horrific memory now.

  He repositioned the picture and gazed back out the window.

  After Zathcore’s true landing coordinates were revealed in six months, he’d never have to see Kendall Rouhoff’s smug face again, nor would he lose any more sleep over Encounter Five. The detonator planted under the aft port thruster would activate remotely, and his Zathcore headache would go away. All that mattered were the coordinates.

  Finally, after thirty-five years of searching…

  8

  Nathan and Bennie exited the hover-rail terminal a block away from the E=MC2 Cafe in San Francisco’s Aerospace District. NASA and several engineering universities had facilities nearby, and this joint had been his and Aidan’s favorite stop for a quick bite. Bennie said the Worm Hole Haddock was his personal favorite, and also highly recommended the Space-Time Tuna.

  He reached into a satchel and tossed Nathan a wad of black hair. “Put this on.”

  Nathan unfurled a black pony-tailed wig, matching beard and dark sunglasses. “Are you serious, Bennie?”

  “It’s a necessary precaution. Preston’s seen a dozen pictures of your mug over the years.”

  “When?”

  “Nearly every time we met Aidan for a drink. He was always bragging about you—‘the gutsy investigative journalist who wasn’t afraid to grab the bull by the horns, and a chip off the old block.’ Frankly, I was sick of hearing about you. No offense.”

  Nathan grudgingly put on the disguise, certain he looked like a member from that old rock n’ roll band, ZZ Top.

  Bennie grinned. “You look tough with long hair.”

  “You do realize I look suspicious, not to mention ridiculous?”

  “Shut up and humor an old man, will ya?”

  Pounding techno music rattled Nathan’s skull as they entered the cafe. The room was long and narrow. Einstein’s formulas were scribbled all over the walls. He trailed Bennie as they navigated around tables of young people. Smirks and finger-pointing were directed their way as they meandered toward the back. They were staring at Bennie, Nathan lied to himself. Today he was sporting a bright yellow jogging suit.

  “Einstein would be rolling in his grave if he knew this establishment botched two of his equations,” Bennie shouted over the music, pointing at a wall.

  Nathan rubbed his ears. “You and dad actually enjoyed coming here?”

  “What kind of question is that? This place is great.”

  Preston, as planned, was seated by himself at an isolated table in the back. His shaggy white hair and baggy Hawaiian shirt sharply contrasted the crowd of patrons in skintight silver clothing, matching eyeshadow, and shaved heads—the latest fashion statement amongst teens and twenty-somethings.

  “Now remember,” Bennie said. “Don’t reveal your identity until I give you the cue. Got it? We’ll yank his chain a little before we get down to business. I can’t wait to see that old buzzard’s face turn white when he finds out who you are.”

  Nathan nodded. He had no choice but to play along, right? Whatever it took to get Preston to open up about the distasteful article he published about his father. Bennie had gotten them this far, so he had to give him some credit.

  Bennie slapped Preston on the back and took a seat across from him. Nathan sat down next to Bennie, who placed his ball cap on the table.

  “Let me guess,” Bennie said, scratching at his scalp. “Looks like General Relativity Rainbow Trout you got there, am I right?”

  “Yeah,” Preston mumbled, not looking up.

  “Speak up. I can’t hear you over the music.”

  “I’m talking plenty loud.”

  “You couldn’t wait five minutes for us to get here before you started stuffing your face?”

  “I was hungry, Bennie. Got a problem with that?”

  Bennie leaned back. “Relax, old sport.”

  Preston grunted and dusted crumbs off his pants. He pointed at Nathan. “Who’s that?”

  “An old pal who’s in town for a few days,” Bennie said.

  “Looks like a bum,” Preston said.

  Bennie introduced Nathan as Denver.

  Denver? Nice. Nathan liked the sound of it. Better than bum, at least. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Preston.”

  “Oh?”

  Bennie cleared his throat. “I told Denver about some of our shenanigans in the old NASA days.”

  “Like what?” Preston said.

  “Like the time us three birds came here on a thirty-minute lunch break and Preston decided to lollygag in the men’s room and hold up our order. Aidan was peeved, so he ordered Preston a coffee, poured in a shaker-full of pepper and put the lid on. Preston came back fifteen minutes later, took a swig and spit it out all over his pretty plaid shirt.”

  Preston rolled his eyes. “Mind telling me how you and Denver know each other?”

  “We share a mutual acquaintance,” Bennie said, nodding at Nathan. “Don’t we Denver?”

  Nathan nodded.

  “Denver here was in the area on business and dropped by at the last minute to say hello. I told him you wouldn’t mind if I brought him along. You don’t mind, do ya, Preston?”

  Preston wiped a glob of tartar sauce off his shirt. “Should I?”

  “Denver and I might go for a dip later at the aquatic center a few blocks from here,” Bennie went on. “You’re welcome to join us.”

  “No thanks.”

  “You sure? I told Denver nobody wants to see an old buzzard with his shirt off, but he insisted you come along. Didn’t you, Denver?”

  Nathan rolled his eyes. Good thing the sunglasses were dark. “Uh…sure.”

  Preston set his fork down. “What part of no thanks do you not understand? And put your nasty old hat back on. If that glare on your forehead were any brighter I’d have to use your buddy’s sunglasses just to look at you without going blind.”

  “Good one,” Bennie said, slapping his knee. He stood and snapped his fingers at the waitress, a mousy young woman. She brought over some menus and threw Bennie a disgusted look.

  After she left, Bennie winked at Nathan. “So, Preston, where’s the luau?”

  “I beg your pardon?” Preston said.

  “That Hawaiian shirt of yours. You look like you’re on your way to a pig roast. No wonder every college kid in this place is looking at us.”

  “Me? They’re looking at you two fools,” Preston shot back.

  Bennie howled.

  Nathan wasn’t sure how much more he could take. He cleared his throat.

  Bennie caught the hint. He folded his arms and leaned back. “Tell me, Preston, have you written any articles for the Journal of Aerospace Engineering lately?”

  Preston
shifted in his seat. “Excuse me?”

  “Do you have it, Denver?” Bennie said, snapping a finger.

  “Sure do.” Nathan took out his SyncSheet and read, “The Other Side of Aidan Gallagher by Preston Sherrick.”

  Preston squirmed.

  “I’m as troubled by Aidan Gallagher’s suicide as everyone else,” Nathan continued. “Aidan was a close friend and colleague. We served nine years together in the Global Communications Task Force, and twenty-two more with NASA.”

  Preston stood. “I take it you two punks came here to interrogate me.”

  Bennie sprang to his feet and pointed at Preston’s chair. He was the taller and more fit of the two, and he and Preston knew it. Preston slowly sat back down.

  Bennie sat and grinned, clearly enjoying himself. Even so, Nathan didn’t know how much longer Bennie could keep Preston contained without making an even bigger scene. He skipped over a few paragraphs as Bennie pulled his chair closer to the table.

  “Unfortunately,” Nathan continued reading, “I came to know a darker side of Aidan Gallagher most were not aware of. He was deeply troubled by the Ellis Three Crisis, as many are, and I believe that distress catapulted a severe relapse of depression. He was humiliated by his condition and didn’t want his family to witness his mental dilapidation. I believe he retreated to his remote cabin to wrestle his demons privately. There he could bask in the tranquility of the Alaskan wilderness and forget about the Ellis Three Crisis. Aidan was a deeply spiritual man. I’m sure he read Biblical scripture and prayed night and day, hoping to return as a new man several months later. Tragically, he did not return, nor will he ever. I shall miss you, Aidan Gallagher, and I hope your troubled soul is finally at rest.”