Cliff Ryder - Out of Time

“You don’t have to tell me that,” Denny grunted.

“We’re on the verge of needing a total scrub, and with the initial threat still intact. I don’t want to have to send another asset out on this one. The risk of exposure is too great, even if the threat is nullified.”

“Yeah,” Kate said, turning back to her file, “it’s bad. Do what you can. Report back when she’s out of the system.”

Denny nodded, but Kate never saw it. She was already immersed in a copy of the plans for the MRIS complex in Beijing. Denny left her to the work, and returned to his own office and the console where he was currently logged in to Room 59.

He sat down and began to type.

When the words appeared on the screen, Brin nearly jumped out of her skin. She’d been sitting alone for nearly an hour. Every two minutes she’d reentered her message to keep the screen active.

She’d considered giving up but then the words appeared from nowhere.

“Hello, Brin.”

“Who is this?” she typed at last. “Is this the same person I spoke to before?”

“Yes, Mrs. Tempest, this is the same person.

You were warned not to return to this chat room.”

“Yes, and I was asked to contact my husband,”

she returned quickly, typing furiously. “How did you expect I would reach you with that information without coming here? I don’t have a business card for you, do I?”

There was nothing for a moment, then a new message popped up.

“Has Alex been in contact?” he asked.

“No,” Brin typed immediately. She decided that at this point she had no other allies in this, so there was no sense holding anything back. “He and I have a private, anonymous e-mail drop,” she typed, thinking quickly and trying to word the message as clearly as possible. “I’ve left dozens of messages for him, but there has been no response.

He usually doesn’t respond or leave messages there. We only created it for emergencies. I always thought he was at least checking it, but now I’m not sure.”

“I’m sure he checks it if he can,” he replied.

“What the hell is that supposed to mean? Why couldn’t he? What kind of security job keeps you from being able to use a phone or check e-mail?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss the nature of your husband’s work,” he typed. “There are security concerns, and I hope you’ll believe me when I tell you that lives could be at stake. One of those lives belongs to Alex. I’m not surprised he hasn’t contacted you.”

“Where is he?” Brin typed. She didn’t really expect an answer, and for a moment after she received one, she stared at it dumbly.

“All I can say is he’s operating in the Far East.

Even that is more than you should know.”

“The Far East?” She typed the words before she thought about it, then added, “Not the Middle East?”

There was a hesitation at the other end, and Brin’s anger bubbled over again. She slammed the computer desk for the second time that day and pushed away from the screen. Was anything she’d been told true? Had Alex lied to her about every aspect of his work, down to the location? If he’d been able to do that without giving himself away through guilt or tripping himself on a lie, how much else had he lied about? What kind of man had she married, and who was he? Really.

“Brin?” The word appeared on the screen and floated unanswered for a long moment, and she stared at it. Finally, whoever it was continued typing.

“I don’t know what Alex told you when he left—this time, or any other time. I assume he told you he was going to the Middle East and you are angry with him for lying. Let me tell you a few things very quickly that I do know about your husband that are important, and we’ll see where it leaves us.”

Brin slid no closer to the screen, but she watched.

“Alex Tempest is one of the good guys. He’s trained to a level that I suspect even you don’t understand, and the work he does is the sort that actually makes a difference in the world. I can’t tell you what that work is because there are overarch-ing issues involved that I can’t ignore. There are jobs that overshadow the men and women who accomplish them. What Alex has done, he has done because it was necessary to protect you from the danger he faces on a regular basis.

“I’m sure he’ll be home to you soon. I imagine at that point the two of you will have a lot to talk about. Right now, I’d say he needs you in ways he never has before, and I’d hate to see that clouded over by actions he meant as protection.”

Tears rolled down Brin’s cheeks, and she shook her head angrily. She knew this person, whoever he was, had to be right. If he was not, then the things that did matter, the love she and Alex shared, their life and dreams together, their time with Savannah—all of it would be a lie. She knew in her heart it was not, and so she had to find a way to get through this anger. She had to find and fight for her husband.

She slid back to the computer.

“Whoever you are—whatever you are—I know my husband is a good man. Right now, I want only one thing from you. You sent him out there, somewhere far from home. You sent him out there, and he isn’t back. You wouldn’t be contacting me if you thought everything was okay. He’s sick and I want you to get out there and bring him home to me. Am I clear?”

“We are doing all that we can. I’m going to ask you again not to come back to this room. If you access the system again, I’ll be forced to lock out Alex’s account, and if he can’t access it, he can’t get in touch with us. Believe me, I’m really hoping he’ll be back and logging in personally soon. I also hope he contacts you, Mrs. Tempest, and I hope that he’s home soon.”

Brin reached for the keyboard, ready to pound out an angry reply, but the window closed and she was returned to the outer chat room, filled with her own message repeated over and over. She closed the program and sat back, lost in thought.

Oddly, her mind returned to the lab and the work she’d been immersed in. Something was tugging at her mind, and she couldn’t quite locate it. Then it hit her. The Far East. The research had come from the MRIS complex near Beijing. It was a long shot, but if Hershel Rand had connections in the Beijing office, and if she could think of a way to ask for his help without giving away anything important—not too much of a stretch since she had no idea where Alex was or what he was doing—she might be able to enlist his help in finding Alex. At least it was a starting point.

Maybe she could even request a business visit to China to consult with the original research team.

She suddenly felt worlds better. She was thinking and planning, and she knew that, whether or not they were useful in the end, there were things she could be doing. At least she’d be geo-graphically closer to him than she was now. Alex had always said that if she had a plan and an open road, she could do anything.

Alex opened his eyes and his first thought was that that bastard Dayne had cut out both of his eyes. He couldn’t see. Then he blinked, and felt no pain, and calmed slightly. He did his best not to move. It was very hard to concentrate through the pain. Every twitch brought a new spasm to his thighs and his hands. He was so cramped he wasn’t certain he could move at all, should he decide to do so.

Then there were the more natural pains. His shoulder ached. It was numb, but the pain had begun to spread down his arm and back. It didn’t feel infected, not yet, but he was certain no care had been taken in applying his dressing. His head throbbed, as well, sending a ringing through his ears when he coughed drily.

He took stock of his body, bit by bit. He had no way to know how much more “fun” Dayne might have had with him after he passed out. For his body, unconsciousness was a simple escape mechanism. He’d hoped that they would believe he’d lost too much blood from the gunshot wounds and just passed out. They didn’t know much about him, so they wouldn’t be surprised to see him display a sign of weakness. Apparently, his ruse had worked.