Origins

By Mark Henrikson

Key Move Publications, LLC

Copyright Mark Henrikson, 2012

St. Louis Missouri

DON’T MISS THESE OTHER

EXCITING TITLES IN THE

ORIGINS SERIES

              Book 1:  Origins

              Book 2:  Centurion’s Rise

              Book 3:  Reformation (August 2013)

              Book 4:  The Reich (fall 2014)

              Book 5:  The Greater Good (fall 2015)

I need to
credit four very important people in my life for their contributions to the finished novel you will no doubt enjoy.  To my infinitely understanding wife Tracy, thank you for putting up with my typing away until 1:00 in the morning every night for a year. 

Jeff, you went above and beyond the required brotherly love on this one.
  All the feedback you gave along the way was invaluable, and of course this all started with the partial back-story you wrote about the main character.  Thanks for letting me run with it.

I need to thank Donna who is the most influential English teacher in my life, and also happens to be my mother.
  Thank you for insisting your children learn the beauty and potential of the written word.

Last I need to acknowledge my father Brian.
  Growing up you thrilled and terrified my friends and I with bedtime stories conjured from that deranged mind of yours.  I know you adored the first draft of this novel, I only wish you could be with us now to enjoy the finished product.  I think you would be proud.

Most important of all, I thank you the reader.
  Thank you for trusting in the entertainment value of my writing.  I have done my best to ensure that trust was not misplaced.

“
Right this way
, Mr. President,” a secret service agent directed as he opened the door leading to a windowless bunker in the basement of the Capitol Building.  A man sitting at the room’s lone table calmly rose to his feet upon entry of the newly inaugurated Commander-In-Chief.

“I must say, I expected to conduct my first official meeting as President in the oval office to hand over the nuclear codes.  Instead, I find myself in a dingy concrete bunker with you.” the President declared while closing the door behind him.

He casually paced over to the table and took a seat across from the room’s other occupant.  “I was at liberty to appoint my chief of staff, my cabinet, even the Secretaries of State and Defense; but not you.  Your position as Scientific Advisor was untouchable.  I’d like to know why?”

“My appointment is permanent in order to keep the number of people in the know to the absolute minimum,” the man answered.  “Three living ex presidents, two NSA field agents and I are the only individuals on this planet who know what I am about to divulge.”

“I’m all ears,” a suddenly very interested President prompted.

“Tell me, how open
you are to the possibility that intelligent life exists on other planets?” the Science Advisor began.

“I leave that notion where it belongs, with the musings of conspiracy theorists and the ramblings of mental patients,” the president countered with a soft chuckle.

For the first time in the conversation, the other man cracked a faint smile.  “Are those patients crazy, or are we for ignoring them . . . ?”

Chapter 1:  The frequency

CAPTAIN Tyler Williams
raised a clinched fist signaling his team to hold position in the stairwell.  Taking every care not to make a sound, he pulled out a fiber optic camera and slid the tiny wire under the door to have a covert look into the hallway on the other side.  The target apartment was fifty feet down the hall and everything looked clear.  No booby traps, no web cameras.  Not even a kid ready to frantically dial a cell phone at the first sign of the cops.  Everything was quiet, and that made him nervous.

Captain
Williams spoke into the tiny microphone hanging from his ear, “Strike team is in position at the stairwell door.  The hall is all clear.  I recommend we go.”

“Standby,” a hollow voice ordered into his earpiece. 

Tyler’s stomach stirred with the single word reply.  When the deputy chief ran the missions he knew his team’s safety was the top priority.  This assault was different - much different.  This hollow voice and his side kick calling the shots this time made him nervous, and  it really says something when a SWAT team leader who earns a living by kicking in doors not knowing what’s waiting on the other side gets nervous. 

This hot shot came in, flashed som
e fancy NSA credentials and was practically given the keys to the city.  Orders were given, events set into motion, but precious few questions got answered. 

He wasn’t blatant about it of course, but while he smiled and politely deflected questions his eyes told a different story.  There was a ruthless instinct, a willingness to do or sacrifice anything to accomplish a goal.  It lurked beneath the surface and took a fellow ruthless warrior to see it, but it was there.

Finally the radio voice gave further instructions.  “The thermal imaging scan of the target shows four suspects in the living room with a fifth located in the kitchen.  Proceed with your team to the target and take a radiation reading.  You'll keep the display in full view of your helmet cam so we can verify a frequency match.  Is that understood?”

“Understood command,” Tyler responded as the butterflies in his stomach took to full flight.  Storming an apartment that most likely harbored five very dangerous suspects was bad enough.  Dealing with radiation took things to a whole new level.  Were these terrorists assembling a dirty bomb on US soil?  Were the radiation levels dangerous to the point his team might die of cancer in a few years?  The assault team wasn’t given any hazmat gear, just an oscilloscope to analyze the radiation's frequency.  Despite his concerns,
Captain William signaled his men into action.

Quietly the five officers sporting full body armor and assault rifles made their way down the narrow hall. 
Captain Williams crouched low as he neared the apartment door and the four men behind him did likewise.  Tyler took a few moments to inspect the doorframe and knob for any wires or pressure plates that would get tripped when they entered the room.  Once satisfied the door was not rigged to blow he took out the oscilloscope and ran a scan.  Begrudgingly, he took extra care to make sure the suits back in the van got a good look through his helmet camera.

The scan was about to finish when the apartment erupted with shouting in Arabic.  All five officers instinctively snapped their weapons to the ready but held their silent position in the hall while the voices died down to a low murmur once more.  Still on edge,
Captain Williams stepped back from the door and waited for further orders.

The hollow voice spoke once more into his ear.  “Radiation readings verified.  The mission is a go.  Apprehend all occupants with non-lethal force.”

“Stack up,” Captain Williams whispered as he undid the safety and wrapped his index finger around the trigger of his trusty MP-5 assault rifle.  “On my mark.”

Three officers collapsed onto Tyler’s back while the fourth stepped around in front of the door and brandished a battering ram.  “Go!”

The door’s wooden frame exploded into the room as the door whipped open, imbedding the door knob into the wall.  All five officers rushed in and repeatedly shouted at the top of their lungs, “Police, on the floor now!”

Captain
Williams was the first inside.  He paid no attention to the four men in the living room as he trusted his team implicitly to handle their business.  His assignment was the target in the kitchen.  The MP-5 barrel never left his line of sight as he crossed the carpet threshold and stepped on to the linoleum flooring of the kitchen. 

His eyes locked on the target and he instantly adjusted his aim right between the young man’s eyes.  The target just stood in the middle of the room with a bucket of fried chicken in his hands and a profoundly stupid look on his face.

Tyler immediately closed the distance and delivered a crushing blow to the target’s face with his elbow.  The kid slammed into a row of lower cabinets on his way to the floor and came to rest face down.  Captain Williams released his rifle, allowing it to hang from its shoulder sling, while he jammed a knee right between the suspect’s shoulder blades.

Tyler curled both hands behind the target’s back and quickly b
ound them with a set of zip tie handcuffs.  With his assignment complete Captain Williams tended to his team leader duties.  “Report?”

“Living room is secure, all four targets are in custody without incident,” a voice shouted from the other room.

“Command, all five suspects are in custody,” Tyler reported.

“I can see that
Captain Williams.  Verify the source of the radiation readings,” the emotionless voice ordered.

Tyler panned his oscilloscope around the room and followed the crackling sound as it grew louder.  He approached a cabinet door on the entertainment center and the device squealed almost above his ability to hear.  Carefully he opened the door to reveal a glowing green light indicating the power was on to a video game consol.  Tyler stepped back and looked at the enormous television housed in the entertainment center unit where a virtual game of soccer was being played.  The Iranian national team was in the process of stomping the United States five to one.

“Are you also seeing this command,” Tyler mocked.  “It’s certainly a crime to see the mighty team USA get pounded like that, even on a video game.”

“Hold the suspects there,” the stern voice barked over the radio.  “We’re coming up.”

**********

Mark stormed into the tiny living room of the cramped New York City apartment.  If anger were a tangible force it would have flattened every man in the room upon his entry.  He was positively fuming and looking for anyone to receive a venting of his frustrations.  It was bad enough this raid was turning out to be yet another wild goose chase, but having a little piss ant grunt mock him brought his temperature to a boil.

He stared down the room leaving no doubt that Captain William’s smart-ass remark would be the last such statement.  With dominance of the room established, he casually paced around the apartment and came to rest in front of the five suspects.  Mark towered over the boys who were on their knees, hands bound behind their backs and heads buried in their chest. 

Eventually each suspect stole a glance upward to see what the agent was doing and quickly averted their eyes when they met those of the agent.  Mark looked right through them one by one.  He fought back the impulse to smile when he noticed a wet spot develop down one of the suspect’s leg. 

Mark took in a long, deep breath and let it out slowly.  He was satisfied the quiet intimidation served both his purposes.  The suspects were pissing themselves, and the extra seconds allowed him to get his temper under control.  Anger lead to mistakes and this was no time to get sloppy.

“This apartment is rented to Hasim Ullah,” Mark said in a soft yet frightfully intimidating voice.  “Which one of you is Hasim?”

The five young men exchanged apprehensive looks, but not a word was spoken.  They were either scared speechless, being loyal to a friend, or following training procedures.  Mark intended to discover which in short order. 

He glanced at the entertainment center proudly featuring a 60-inch flat screen television.  Slow and deliberately he looked back at the captured
suspects and locked eyes on the boy with the soiled trousers.  Mark never allowed his eyes to move from that menacing stare. With a lightning fast motion he grabbed a revolver from the holster of the nearest SWAT team member, fired a round that hit the television dead center, and then leveled the weapon at the kid he was staring down.

“It’s a simple question, don’t make me be impolite,” Mark said in the same soft voice.

“I’m Hasim,” a hesitant voice croaked from the anorexic looking kid on the far left.

Mark paced over to the suddenly verbose prisoner.  Hasim glared up at him with hatred oozing form every orifice.  Mark absorbed the hateful stare without any regard as he squatted down to Hasim’s level and casually rested the muzzle of his pistol between the suspect’s knees.

“Hasim.  I have one simple question I need answered,” Mark said in a calm, level voice.  “Why are we getting a radiation reading from the cabinet over there?”

Hasim furrowed his brow and shook his head side to side.
  “What . . . what radiation?  What . . . what are you talking about?  We’re just playing games.”

“Oh Hasim, that’s the wrong way to go here,” Mark cautioned.

“We . . . we just bought the system last week on eBay,” Hasim stammered.  The young man flicked his head to the side in an effort to keep the sweat out of his eyes.  “We’re just some college students goofing around.  What’s with the guns and armor?  We’re just playing games.”

“Well,” Mark said as he straightened his legs to once again stand towering over his suspect.  “You’ve played your games at your house.  Now let’s go to mine and see if they’re still fun there.”

Mark fastened his suit coat button and walked over to the SWAT team leader.  “Take these suspects to the station along with everything in the vicinity of that entertainment center.”

“What about the redecorated TV?” the smart-ass
captain asked.

“Leave it in the same state of disrepair we found it,” Mark answered without batting an eye.  The
captain looked like he wanted to say more but thought better of it and simply went about following his orders.

Mark took a seat at a desk in the corner of the cramped apartment and started thumbing though a two-drawer filing cabinet to pass the time it took to empty the room.  Most of his efforts were spent scrutinizing the passports and visa documentation of the five boys. 

The suspects were led out of the apartment amid a flurry of curses, threats, and blathering on about civil rights.  The evidence was quickly removed by the police officers and soon only Mark and a local NSA agent he borrowed for this assignment remained. His partner wasted no time speaking his mind on the matter.

“You know that video game console was the source of the frequency,” Ryan started.  “They were set up like the rest so why are you going through the time and effort to interrogate these kids?”

“If you believe their story,” Mark corrected.  “Even if they’re telling the truth, one of them knows something useful about the seller of the system.”

Agent Ryan regarded his superior with a disapproving look.  “And you think shooting a hole through their expensive TV will enlist their cooperation?”

“It’ll serve its purpose.  Besides, don’t feel too sorry for these kids,” Mark said as he tossed Ryan a set of fairly convincing fake student visas.

Ryan whistled softly, “Well, well.  Someone’s in this country illegally.  If we get fired for an inability to find the source of the radiation frequency it’s good to know I have a fallback job running down illegal aliens.”

Mark allowed himself an inward smile; if Ryan only knew.  Returning his thoughts to the task at hand, Mark gestured for the two of them to leave the apartment.  They stepped into the hallway without shutting the splintered door and proceeded towards the stairs.

“Aliens are a hot issue in this country these days,” Mark commented.