Vortexes

Text copyright © 2017 Holly Barbo

Front cover design copyright © 2018 Darkmantle Designs

All rights reserved. Published by Paper Gold Publishing.

This book is a work of fiction. Any reference to historical events, real people, or real locales are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and incidents are the product of the author's imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. No parts of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by an information storage and retrieval system—except by a reviewer to be printed in a magazine, newspaper, or on the Web—without permission from the author. For any inquiries, email papergoldpublishing@gmail.com

Contents

Prologue

~ 1: The Eleventh Hour ~

~ 2: Explanations ~

~ 3: Underground ~

~ 4: Road Going Forward ~

~ 5: Fingers of Blame ~

~ 6: The Danger in Blame ~

~ 7: Simmer ~

~ 8: In the Light of Secrets ~

~ 9: The Danger of Not Knowing ~

~ 10: Trust & Secrets from Each Other ~

~ 11: Danger at the Edge of Darkness ~

~ 12: Unanticipated Information ~

~ 13: Reevaluating ~

~ 14: Plans Awry ~

~ 15: Step Carefully ~

~ 16: Questioning ~

~ 17: With What We Know ~

~ 18: Tip-toeing Through the Minefield ~

~ 19: Sowing the Seeds of Truth ~

~  20: Deny, Distract, Deflect ~

~ 21: Turbulence ~

~ 22: Distract the Public ~

~23: The Race to Control the Narrative ~

~ 24: To Secure a Future~

~ 25: Sprouting Seeds of Information ~

~ 26:  Damaged Fruit ~

~ 27: The Interim ~

Also by Holly Barbo

About the Author:

Prologue

First they came for the Socialists, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Socialist.

Then they came for the Trade Unionists, and I did not speak out—

Because I was not a Trade Unionist.

Then they came for the Jews, and I did not speak out— 

Because I was not a Jew.

Then they came for me—and there was no one left to speak for me.

~Niemöller

~ 1: The Eleventh Hour ~

Hurricane Pamela brushed the city as it relentlessly pushed north, lashing anything in its path with driving sheets of rain. The bitter storm had wreaked havoc when it first made landfall now the winds were down to 90 miles per hour and the accompanying rain blasted and scoured anything it touched.

It seemed precious seconds blew away with every gust. Eighteen minutes remained.

A figure in matte black clothing, darted from shadow to shadow in the closed office building which state-of-the-art surveillance cameras programmed to detect any movement and heat signatures normally monitored. Earlier, he had exposed key wires to the lashing rain. He counted every second. So many things could go wrong.

Less than seventeen minutes to complete his mission before the auxiliary power kicked in, monitoring resumed, and the building would be locked down. Only the hidden room had any electrical current, an anomaly which the Resistance discovered by accident.

The building was deserted. Even the cleaning crew had escaped to their homes ahead of the impending storm. The human shadow didn’t care but moved with a relentless focus. The information was worth everything. Ben’s goggles compensated for the lack of light and a chronometer counted down the seconds on one lens. So far, the mission had gone like clock-work. His heart picked up its beat. Almost there.

The security panel on the camouflaged door didn’t slow him down. He could have broken it with ease but since this mission should be kept secret, Ben had secured a magnetic pass-key earlier in the day. Within a moment he was inside.

Sixteen minutes. The time urgently ticked in his head.

The goal was the computer banks across the room and he had his flash drive and the small box of electronic bugs palmed before the door closed silently behind him. He got three steps into the darkened room when Ben sensed he wasn’t alone.

Double damn. That could be a bullet in the back. He didn’t have time for trouble. The mission came first. The Resistance needed to learn what the government knew about their locations and the whereabouts of those captured.

Ben sprinted across the room, brought up the files on the screen and shoved in the flash drive. Accomplished! Whirling, Ben scanned the room for trouble, his posture a partial crouch, ready for combat. Every cell in his body on alert, it pinged for the fight.

No adversary lunged from the shadows.

His glance swept the room like radar. Ben knew his senses hadn’t lied. Someone was here.

In a corner stood a tarp-draped cube, about thirty inches square. He approached it cautiously.

Kill me before you leave, came a barely audible plea.

Ben pushed aside the covering. Huddled inside was an emaciated woman. The rags hanging on her did nothing to hide the bruises and oozing cuts that covered almost every square inch of skin. Her face was so battered as to be unrecognizable even if she were a friend.

With deep sadness Ben shook his head. The mission’s success had little room for sympathy. I’m sorry little one, he whispered.

Only fifteen minutes left.

Please. It would be a mercy. Tears dripped down her face and she stifled a sob.

The computer beeped, and he left the side of the cage to get the flash drive. After erasing all signs that anyone had accessed data, Ben began attaching the tiny spyware bugs in unnoticed, inconsequential areas.

Please! Don’t leave me like this. She whimpered in a ragged voice and her chest heaved with emotion. They’ve scheduled my dissection for 9 A.M. The men took delight in taunting me. Just another method of torture... but it’s an awful way to die, as if I’m not human. Save me that last indignity. the battered woman pled in a shaky whisper, tears rolling down her face, leaving shiny streaks over the swollen skin. Her soft sobs ripping at his heart.

He leaned down full of gentle regret and stroked her cheek with one finger. Why are they going to do that?

The injured woman wiped at the tears with weak and trembling hands. Shaking her head in exhausted defeat, she answered. Beside the fact they want to see how their drug testing worked, they know there’s something odd about me and they don’t like mysteries.

She pointed to his torso. Are the hairs on your arms erect? I have that effect on people. They picked me up in the latest purge but instead of shipping me away to a work camp, they were considering keeping me and forcing me to finish my research on certain neuro diseases. Then they noticed the hair-raising reaction and wondered if something inside of me could be harnessed and amplified for a weapon.

Ben brushed at his arm and the back of his neck absently. Neurological? Hmm. I heard some improbable rumors that someone high up in the president’s council might be afflicted with a neuro-muscular condition. Couldn’t be confirmed, and it wasn’t the sort of thing you could ask openly. Most likely would get you shot. He knelt to study the doomed woman, tamping down the pity. He’d seen too much of this in the last few years. In a way it was more deadly that his years as a soldier.

She dropped her head in a weary nod. I don’t know how you learned about that. No one is supposed to know. It’s fatal to whisper it.

And the hair-raising phenomenon?

She shook her head in hopeless defeat. Is just me. I seem to either resonate or have a different polarity and give off a static charge. Perhaps it’s both. I don’t know. I got into medical research partly because of that anomaly. Her voice dropped off as her energy waned.

I’m really sorry. Can’t leave any evidence I’ve been here. If you die or disappear they would question. He touched his ear and listened to an unseen voice. His voice became crisp with the question, What’s your name?

Emma Ando came the tremulous whisper. Emmaline Maya Ando.

Well damn. We thought you were dead. You’ve been missing for, what, six months? I guess plans have changed. It can’t be helped. We leave them with a mystery. He touched his ear again and nodded. Studying the lock, he mused to himself, I wonder if the key-card works for this too. Passing the card through the slot he heard the lock snick open. How clumsy is that for security?

The woman fell out of the cage with a groan suppressed behind tightly clenched lips and lay there panting in pain as her muscles visibly knotted and spasmed. In short choppy words she groaned, My clothes... are in the... cupboard behind you.

He brought the bundle within seconds and she searched the pockets. With a grunt of satisfaction, the woman drew out a necklace with a slender multi-colored crystal. That’s all I need. Put the rest back like you found them. It will add to the riddle of my disappearance.

Clever. Will they notice that little trinket is gone? he whispered.

She shook her head. Doubt it. I had it in a hidden pocket and they didn’t pay much attention to what I had on. Eyes tightly clenched in pain, she slipped the pretty stone over her head and sighed with relief. The agony that had tightened her features and strained her breathing, ebbed somewhat. Let's get out of here.

We’ve just under ten minutes left. Ben looked at her as he considered her condition. I don’t think you can travel the way I came in and you’ll freeze outside as you are.

I only need to get as far as the visitor’s lounge on the main floor. Is that possible?

Behind his goggles one eyebrow raised. It’s a little tricky, but yes, we can go that way. I’ll leave them another mystery. He closed the door to the cage and replaced the drape.

Hang on. I know this is going to hurt you. I’m sorry but there is no other way. Ben slipped her over his shoulder and moved to the door.

The woman gave a pain filled moan then went silent.

Opening it a crack, both listened. They could only hear the muted sounds of the storm. He slipped into the corridor and closed the door, hearing the snick as it locked.

With a small smile he glanced at the bronze Agency plaque mounted on the wall and slid a tiny listening bug in a chipped section under the frame.

The path to the visitor’s lounge crossed an open space which could be seen from the front glass doors. If anyone happened to look in, they’d be exposed. He stopped in the shelter of a column and studied the problem. At least with the power out there’d be no lobby lighting showing their movement.

Five minutes and five seconds. A touch on his arm got Ben's attention and Emma pointed to the receptionist's station. The lounge lay in the deep shadows beyond that polished public barrier. Holding her securely against his shoulder, in a crouching run Ben dashed to the shelter of the half-wall and counter.

He knelt behind the desk and slipped the key-card under the edge of the elegant, leather trimmed writing blotter. Squeezing her leg in reassurance he noted the time. They had one more exposed area to cross, and he still didn’t know why the lounge was safe for her. Against all instincts, he wanted to trust the young scientist. If she was wrong, they both would die and with them, the information he carried that the Resistance needed.

Three minutes, fifty-nine seconds.

A particularly strong gust of wind sent a sheet of rain pelting against the glass doors. In that moment he dashed across the open space with his precious cargo.

The design of the visitor’s lounge would welcome and put pampered clients at ease as they waited for their appointments. In the far end of the room was a gas fireplace, now unlit, which would fill the space with a warm charm.

Ben slipped the groaning girl off his shoulder and to her feet but kept an arm around her. Emma looked about to collapse at any second. We’re almost out of time. The security cameras and motion sensors will come back online within two minutes.

Body trembling, Emma staggered to the center of the comfortable waiting area where a partial wall of stained glass stood. It split the space between the seating near the fireplace and the quieter lounge where magazines and books nestled beside armchairs. A guest could step around the beautiful room divider to be on either side of the rectangular space. When lit the firelight would captivatingly highlight the colored panes in the picture.

Ben hardly glanced at that sort of art anymore. It seemed all the high-end offices had something like this circular glass room divider. Pretty but not unusual. The seconds ticked by.

One minute, ten seconds left to escape or be caught and face torture and death.

She gripped his hand and pulled him close. With a whisper barely heard above the storm outside said, Come on. Don’t let go of me for any reason.

He nodded. Whatever she had in mind it had better work. Ben slipped both hands under her armpits so he wouldn’t hamper her movements. He could feel her trembling with exhaustion and pain.

Fifty seconds.

As she clutched her necklace the young woman focused her gaze on the lovely stained glass. Her other hand stretched toward the colored panes fingertips just short of touching the pattern that radiated out from the center in shades from blue to green.

As he watched, the round pattern shimmered slightly... opening like an iris of an eye, expanding until there was a space in the middle big enough to step through.

Emma clamped her scarecrow arms against his hands and stepped forward. Now!

Twenty seconds.

Emma’s body and the part of him holding her, moved into the portal. Shocked, he realized he couldn’t see the fireplace on the other side and Emma began to vanish. He held on tight and followed.

They emerged in a shadowed space much different from the elegant building they had left.

Ben looked around the messy room, disoriented. What just happened? Wherever we are, it’s been searched.

Home. came the faint response.

Hearing the shaky words, he pulled his gaze from the disorder to see the woman’s eyes roll back in her head and caught her before she collapsed, lowering her gently to the floor.

He knelt beside Emma and touched his ear piece. His voice shook slightly, I got Emma Ando out of there. We’re at her home... wherever that is. Put someone on it and find us. I can’t tell you how we got here. Some sort of sci-fi shit that I’m sure has a reasonable explanation, I just don’t know what it is. She was in retched shape when I found her and getting us here must have used up all of Emma’s energy reserves. She could still die from her injuries, he nodded to the voice in his ear. Out cold and breathing shallow. Answers will wait but we need to get out of here. It's been tossed. They’ll be looking here when they discover her gone. He listened to the voice. Yeah. A wounded animal will head for home, instinctively sensing safety. We haven’t much time. Arrange it ASAP while we still have darkness and the storm for cover.

With skill and a gentle touch, Ben checked the pulse in Emma’s neck. It was weak but steady and the hair on his arm still stood upright. She’d make it. We’ll need to talk, he whispered to the unconscious woman.

~ 2: Explanations ~

Forty minutes later a team of three black-clad figures slipped in a side door which Ben held open against the buffeting wind. Stay here. We need to minimize any sign of our presence. Don’t want wet footprints tracking through the house. I’ll bring things to you.

We’re parked around back.

Ben gave a curt nod and looked toward the female corpsman. Anne, I’ve been through the house and grabbed clothes and stuffed them in the grocery bag. Since they already searched the place. I’m hoping they won’t notice a few things missing. You’re on point. I’ve a feeling Emma has crucial info we need. He handed her a plastic bag with long handles which she slipped over her shoulder and watched as she secured its weight so it wouldn’t interfere with her gun hand.

Rick, Mitch, I’ll bring Emma to you. She’s in rough shape, be careful. He disappeared into the gloom of the dense shadows.

He pulled a large navy-blue blanket from the pile of searched belongings on the floor of her bedroom. Then, Ben returned to the collapsed woman. Her breathing was deeper indicating perhaps Emma had slipped into an exhausted sleep. After laying her on one side of the spread quilt, he carefully rolled her in the thick material until it covered her battered frame.

Emma woke to the sensation of being restrained and began to thrash in panic.

Shh, shh. It’s alright. Emma, remember me? Ben? I’m just wrapping you up so we can carry you to the van. You’re safe. Hold on, now. Okay?

The wild fear ebbed from whisky-hazel eyes as she looked at him over the bunched edges of the blanket nodding.

Do you need anything from here?

Her eyes pooled with emotion. They killed my puppy when they didn’t get what they expected from my answers. Her breath shuddered in grief but she took a deep breath and whispered, The crystal?

The one you had is in your pocket and I found a finger-sized one over there, under the edge of the sofa near an upturned basket. Do you need it? It’s not quite as rainbow colored like the one you have with you.

Bring it. Please. Her eyes closed in exhaustion.

He slipped his arms under her back and knees and with swift steps returned to his team. Handing the wrapped woman to the larger man, Ben nodded toward the door, I’ll lock it like it was and meet you at the van in a minute. He paused lips pursed and stared at the team before he closed the door. She needs fluids. See to her wounds.

Anne nodded as they silently stepped into the storm.

He secured the door then picked up the towel the three had stood on and tossed it into the washer partially filled with dirty clothes that Emma had left over six months before. Ben took a quick detour back into the living room and scooped up the crystal with green to purple coloring before heading for the window with the broken latch. Slipping over the sill he balanced on the tip of his toes, long enough to slide the window shut and jump to the bricked garden path.

Once in the van he turned to Emma who lay on a gurney, hooked up to an IV and now covered with several snowy gauze bandages. He stroked a patch of skin on her arm. How are you feeling? Can you talk? I really need to understand what happened.

She looked up at him and he could see the bone deep weariness haunting her eyes. Emma’s voice was weak, but he could see the determined tension around her bruised lips. He stroked her arm again. Don’t exhaust yourself. You’ve been through more than many could stand.

I’m better, thank you. It’s a long story and I must tell it chronologically. I gave you the altered version I’ve been telling my interrogators, but you deserve the truth. She closed her eyes let the memories of three years earlier sweep over her.

She’s been gone a few days and felt the need to immerse herself back into her work. Getting an early start Emma stopped on her walk to work and bought a paper from a coin-operated news bin outside the coffee shop before going into the warm environment.

Minutes later she emerged on the sidewalk again carrying an insulated cup with steam rising from the lid in wisps above her hand. The lovely young woman crossed the street and entered the park, the newspaper tucked under her arm. She usually took the most direct route to the office, but she had time. A stroll through the trees would allow her a few peaceful minutes to sift through some problems she had to resolve... to stuff the thoughts into mental boxes. It was a way to cope.

The path lay dappled with light and shadow from the sun trying to make it through the trees. Within a month the leaves would be gone but for now the fall breeze played with the shafts of sunlight and caused the park visitors to fasten their coats and scarves more securely. The crisp air had a fresh, moist scent. For Petersburgh autumn was coming in with a bite.

Ahead were several small tables set up for checkers in a flat spot between trees. A grey-haired man, wearing a cabbie cap and a brown tweed scarf sat at a table alone. He stared at a board apparently lost in thought. A glance at her watch revealed there was time to indulge herself with a game.

A smile quirked the corners of Emma’s lips and she approached the table. Want an opponent for a game of Checkers?

The man looked up and the corners of his pale blue eyes creased in pleasure as he nodded. We called it Draughts when I was a child. Sit. It will be nice to have an adversary, the dapper gentleman corrected in an accent reminiscent of misty days in Scotland.

Emma’s smile froze on her face as she slipped onto the bench, laying aside the newspaper and taking a sip of the Irish Cream flavored coffee as she studied the board. I didn’t recognize you, my friend. I’ve missed seeing you and your wonderful newsstand, Oliver.

He glanced at the paper beside her and snorted at the headline: LOYALTY IS REWARDED. Em, yours are the black pieces. Play as if we’ve watchers. He paused as once again his eyes slid to the folded newspaper. "Many of us favored getting rid of the gossip and tabloid journalism but