Cliff Ryder - Out of Time

Below on the tarmac, Liang followed the course of the plane a moment longer, then veered off. If their pursuers had seen Alex jump, they paid him no heed. All three vehicles followed Liang, the pack of cars parting to drive around the plane rather than under it.

Alex looked around and found Jin seated in a canvas cargo net, grinning at him.

“Good to see you again.” Jin laughed. “That was quite an entrance.”

“I’m known for my entrances.” Alex chuckled.

“You think we can get out of here before they get someone in the air and catch us?”

“Probably.” Jin leaned into the cabin and spoke to the younger man at the controls. Jin checked his instruments, barked an order, and the pilot increased the plane’s speed. They banked away from the airport and gained altitude fast.

“I called the customs officials,” Jin said thoughtfully. “I am sure that I saw a black sedan and a pair of SUVs loading suspicious cargo. It was my civic duty to call in the warning.”

Alex stared at the little man for a long moment, then burst into a quickly regretted fit of laughter.

His sides ached, his shoulder was killing him, but, for the moment, he was alive.

Alex didn’t breathe easily until the plane’s wings were banking southeast toward South Korea. Jin seemed unconcerned, as if he’d done this a hundred times before. Alex sank back in his seat, shut his eyes and willed the pain in his legs away.

During the flight, Jin dragged out a first-aid kit and set to work on Alex’s wounds. They needed to get him cleaned up to prevent infection from setting into his shoulder. Jin worked quickly and efficiently. He dressed the wounds, and then handed Alex a package. It was sealed in brown paper, covered in odd symbols.

“What is it?” Alex asked.

“I received a package and was told to get that to you. They said you were supposed to pick it up before you left—thought it might come in handy.”

Alex opened the package. There were two small brown plastic pill bottles inside. He read the instructions on the label, and took two of one and one of the other before sticking them in his pocket. He thought about what they meant, and it all came crashing in on him. Denny Talbot knew about the MS, knew that he hadn’t told them and that he’d endangered the mission by going at all. Then an image of Brin and Savannah surfaced. He shook it off.

When they touched down in Seoul, Alex waited for customs to check the plane, let the authorities check out his paperwork. There was nothing at all in his possession that could be considered illegal, so he turned his bag over to them and let them check it. Aside from a brief question on how he managed to get so injured, which Alex explained using the old serviceman’s standby—a drunken bar brawl over a woman—the whole affair was done in fifteen minutes and Alex bid his farewells to Jin and made for the main terminal.

There were two hours of downtime before his flight back to the States. He knew he had to lay low, just in case. No matter how well things were going, it always paid to err on the side of caution. He slipped into the men’s room, quickly washed up and changed his clothes. With his hair slicked back and wearing street clothes, he looked every bit the American tourist, if a bit under the weather. He walked into the bar then, sliding into a dark booth and ordering a whiskey. From there, he watched the door and the clock, hoping no one would notice him.

There were other Americans in the bar, all loud and full of good humor. Alex eventually fell in with them, using his businessman cover and buying them all drinks. Within a few minutes, they were chatting and laughing it up like old pals.

Nobody even looked at them twice. Once they called for his flight to board, Alex was away into the night, just another anonymous American on his way home.

But he knew home wasn’t exactly the same anymore. His body had gone south on him and it would have to be dealt with. He’d thought to be done with all of this once the mission was completed. But it wasn’t really completed. Somehow that damnable weapon had ended up in Brin’s hands. His orders had been clear. Kill everyone associated with the project. Destroy the weapon.

Surely they wouldn’t make him kill his own wife?

Or had they already sent someone else in to do it?

All the way home, he struggled with possibilities. It was the end game, a time of diminish-ing options. The way Alex saw it, he had exactly two. The first was to take his family and disappear.

The only other option was to go in and take out the U.S. branch of MRIS himself. If he didn’t, he knew someone else would, and they wouldn’t worry about whose wife was in what laboratory or about a little girl who needed her mother.

Either way, he wasn’t sure he’d be able to keep them safe if the worst happened.

The flight was the longest of his life.

The plane touched down in the States without incident, and Alex didn’t waste any time getting outside and into the first cab in line. He gave the man the address, then leaned back and tried to sort out his thoughts. It wasn’t going to be easy to convince Brin to leave town on short notice. Her work was important to her and she knew nothing about Room 59. None of it would make any sense to her. She wouldn’t have a choice, though, even if he had to drag her kicking and screaming himself.

There was also the separation to think of. He’d been gone too much lately, and now that he knew what he was facing, it seemed as if the minutes were more precious than ever. He was going to have to explain all of that to Brin, but not until the mission was complete. Not until he’d extracted her from the danger he knew she was in, and was certain she’d be safe.

The cab pulled up in front of his house and he tossed the driver a twenty-dollar bill and climbed out without looking back. Something was wrong. He’d known it the minute his feet hit the curb, but it wasn’t until he reached the front porch that it hit him.

It was almost seven in the evening, and Brin’s car wasn’t in the drive. There were a couple of lights on in the house, but they always left a few on so would-be burglars might be fooled into thinking people were home. The front door was locked. Alex dug under the bushes on the left side of the porch, slid aside a flat slab of rock, poked his finger into the dirt and came up with a small key box. It required a four digit combination to open it, and he rolled the tumblers into place. It was more difficult than it should have been as his hands trembled. He was ready to curse the MS, and then he stopped, took a deep breath, and his hands stilled. It had nothing to do with the disease this time. It was all nerves.

He slipped the key into the lock and it turned easily, then he pocketed it and entered the house.

He heard nothing. Closing the door quietly, he put his bag down in the hall. Then, with quick deliberation, he made the rounds of all the rooms. He found no one, including Brin.

Alex finished his search and frowned. It wasn’t like Brin to be at work so late. Savannah had to be picked up by a certain time, and Brin hated pawning her off on a babysitter. She feared that with both parents working, Savannah wouldn’t get enough personal attention. It was possible that she and Savannah had simply gone out or something, but his instincts were screaming at him that something was wrong.

He sat down in front of the computer and booted it up. As the cursor blinked and the cooling fans hummed, he wondered what he was going to face when he logged into Room 59. Denny had to know by now what had happened, and how close things had come to failing in Beijing. The mission had been sloppy, poorly executed, and he never should have accepted it. None of that was going to go over well, particularly the part where he’d kept his MS to himself until he was in too far to be recalled.