“It’s about fucking time,” Arthur said. “Why were they able to broadcast anything? They were supposed to be shut down.”
None of the men responded as Arthur turned from the television and back to the table. “Okay people. We’ve got a lot of ground to cover and not much time. I want ideas. Let’s hear them.”
The next few hours passed quickly as they officially launched the investigation – informing and coordinating agents across the country. If any good had come from 9/11 it was the vastly improved inter and intra agency communications. Within the span of three hours they would have just over seven hundred law enforcement officers from four federal agencies actively involved with the case. Arthur thought things were progressing nicely.
7:43 pm PDT Eureka, California
Sarah watched as Albert pulled the Politically Correct Express to a stop in front of the house. She and Seth stood next to the now empty tractor-trailer, talking. Sweat soaked their shirts and they were tired after unloading all the equipment. A long, hot shower was going to feel great.
Albert and his six passengers got out. He had rounded them up at the airport, four women and two men – two whites, two Asians, a black and a Latino. They looked like the adult cast of Zoom. Even though in this day and age people generally moved freely around the globe, they had decided it would be better to have Carriers who would be essentially invisible. They should just blend into the background. To that end, Seth had planned each one of their missions based on their ethnicity.
“Good to see you all again,” Seth said as he walked over to the small group and shook hands. “I hope you had pleasant flights.”
Two of them grumbled something about delays, but that was irrelevant. All that mattered was that they were all here now.
“This is Sarah Burns,” Seth said as he turned to Sarah, who walked over and shook their hands.
All of them were from liberal academic enclaves, Wellesley, BU, Harvard, and they were wide-eyed and idealistic. That idealism had been a critical factor in their ultimate selection. During the three month world tour Seth had spent lots of individual time with each of them – gotten to know them very well and had told Sarah he was convinced that these six were the perfect recruits. That they were paying each of them five hundred thousand tax-free dollars certainly helped but fervent belief was an absolute requirement. Money couldn’t buy loyalty and they weren’t taking any chances – the importance of silence could not be emphasized enough.
Sarah was still amazed at how easily Seth had managed to get fanatical devotion from them. No wonder the military loved young, smart people – properly indoctrinate them and you got a no-questions-asked group. According to the FBI, the average age of a suicide bomber was twenty one and this group standing in front of her proved out the demographics of fanaticism.
The first stars flickered to life in the rapidly darkening sky as Sarah said, “Everything’s ready. The test was an overwhelming success and we’re just waiting for you. You should all be very proud of what you’re about do. This is a defining moment in the history of mankind.”
The Carriers looked at her as if in a trance – servants awaiting their commands. Several exhibited different nervous ticks – a jittery leg, hyper-blinking and one who continuously rubbed his hands together and for the first time Sarah wondered if maybe going young was a mistake. They were idealists – dedicated, loyal but they were still kids with limited life experience.
“I’m the only one who knows your names, and they’re safe with me,” Seth said as he stepped forward and handed each of them a small blue bankbook. “I’ve created numbered Swiss accounts for each of you.”
Several of the Carriers squealed with excitement as they opened up the official booklets that confirmed the deposit of the promised money. A half million dollars was something to squeal about.
Seth let them enjoy the moment briefly before saying, “We want to start the process tonight. You’ll be leaving tomorrow. I’ll give you a full briefing later.”
Sarah knew each of their life stories. Two of them were from rich families – both with fortunes in excess of four hundred million dollars. The other four were from poor to very poor families – both sides of the spectrum. The rich could afford their idealism and the poor had seen the cycle of poverty and hopelessness that unwanted children caused first-hand. Some of them were those children. These kids were each motivated for their own personal reasons.
“Do you have any questions?”
They stood silently. Their mission was simple – a chance to help humanity, see the world, and make some easy cash – any college student’s dream.
“All right then,” Seth said. “Follow Sarah. She’ll show you to your rooms.”
Sarah led the way and the Carriers followed. Things finally appeared to be moving smoothly again.
Chris’ arm throbbed constantly now. If he kept it pressed against his side, the knee-shaking spikes of pain diminished but he felt feverish and light headed – getting sicker by the hour. A foul odor seeped from the soiled bandage. He paced the room. Being cooped up like this was making him crazy. He needed to make something happen and in order to do that he had to get out of this room. And, he needed medical attention, badly.
As he paced, he heard the faint squeak of a floorboard in the hallway and a small folded piece of paper slid under the door.
He stared at the square of white paper on the floor, picked it up and read the single sentence. ‘You are not alone’.
What the hell was this? He had never felt more alone. Was someone sympathetic to his personal plight? Was there someone else locked up here or hiding? Maybe it was a trick. Possibilities raced through his mind and as he contemplated this development, he heard the muffled thuds of people ascending the stairs. This time the door swung open, and Sarah and Seth walked in. Chris slid the note into his pocket.
“How’re you feeling?” Sarah asked.
“Not good,” Chris replied. “What are you going to do with me?”
Seth and Sarah exchanged quick glances before he said, “Nothing – for now. You’re staying right here.”
Sarah stood next to Chris, and before he could react, she plunged a needle into his shoulder.
“What’s that,” he exclaimed, recoiling.
“A sedative.”
He turned to Seth who slowly unrolled a medical kit on the bed. The shiny tools wrapped inside the cloth bundle glistened maniacally as the light in the room glinted off them.
The sedative was already kicking in. “What are you doing?” Chris slurred.
“Setting your arm,” Sarah replied. “If we let it go much longer, you’ll get gangrene and we’d end up having to amputate it. That wouldn’t be good.”
Seth pushed him down onto the bed. His colorless lips pressed tightly together, making his mouth look like an old scar on his angular face. Chris felt like he was in a coma – alert but incapable of communicating.
They unwrapped the gauze from his arm. Sarah grimaced as she looked at the wound.
“We’re going to have to open it up,” Seth said as he pulled out a scalpel.
As the blade touched his arm, Chris wanted to scream but he was paralyzed. He watched in horror as they slit his forearm open and blood streamed from the cut. The antiseptic shininess of the scalpel, its obvious weight, the effortless way it parted his skin made it seem alive, as if it were far more than just a simple cutting tool.
The procedure only took twenty minutes, but to Chris it was a lifetime. They clearly weren’t doctors, but they got the job done. They sutured him up, wrapped his arm with fresh bandages, gave him another shot and left the room.