Excerpt: Agents of Metal Pt. 2

Under the darkened evening skies, the mission zone was at last getting close. Jo had driven for the last stretch, and just as she had imagined, concentrating on the road had kept too much thinking at bay.

The road was climbing up to a large hill, still covered densely by the forest, but getting sparser as they went forward. That was bad, she knew: up there, they would be exposed easier.

Blowfish eyed the GPS device.

“This is the place. The map's not that accurate, but this is the only possibility in the vicinity,” she said with determination in her voice.

Jo nodded.

They rounded a curve, still climbing upwards, and through a patch of even sparser forest, a clearing and some kind of an installation came into view against the dark sky.

“Stop and zoom with the glasses,” Blowfish instructed.

Jo did as told: she put the Agent sunglasses on at last, and activated the zoom function. Buttons on the rim allowed to adjust the zoom, and Jo went right for the maximum magnification.

A little more than half a kilometer away, the facility looked like an observatory, fenced in with chain-link and barbed wire. Lights shone from lamp posts at regular intervals both near the fence, and then closer to the dome as well.

“Before we go in any closer, I'll do a passive scan for surveillance devices in the perimeter. Don't kill the engine, it won't take that long,” Blowfish said.

The Agent van was inconvenient for the divider wall between the front and the rear: she needed to get in the rear to activate the scanners. Blowfish exited, opened the rear doors, and finally slid the in-between window open, so that they could converse.

“Scanning now.”

A couple of taps on the consoles.

“EM radiation coming from some three hundred meters away. Motion detectors, I bet. And I wouldn't be surprised if there are infrared sensors too,” Blowfish explained.

“How can we beat those?” Jo asked.

“We just move slow. And we have white-painted foil blankets that we can use to cover ourselves. But if we get discovered, we still have the tranquilizer guns. Remember, the drug causes memory loss. If there's a not an inconvenient change of shift, no new guards coming in, the bastards will just wake up after a few hours with no idea what happened. And of course they don't want to talk about the lapse in security, because it's their fault. Knowing SCEPTRE, they would face execution.”

Jo remembered the scientist Apollyon talking about how he would be executed right away without a prolonged interrogation or torture session, if the security breach had been severe enough. That was why he had actually wanted to help her and Ian.

So, if it would appear that a great number of guards would have participated in the breach –

Then they all would be simply executed.

But the guess was that there was only a small crew on the site. And the best way would be real action, to strike like a flash and leave nothing but smoke, Jo thought. It always worked the best. At least in the movies.

And she knew that unlike at the festival, it would not be “mission failure” even if they got discovered. As long as they understood what these eleven locations stood for, and got back alive without too severe injuries, it would be a victory.

“Let's get the blankets out,” Blowfish said from the back, more excited. “It's already dark enough to move.”

“What about the van?” Jo asked.

The engine was still running.

“Yeah. I almost forgot. Let's hide it behind some trees.”

Jo put the van on reverse, and peering into the side mirror, she backed up under the cover of a suitable group of tall fir trees.

“That will do. They will not notice it until they specifically come looking for it,” Blowfish said flatly.

Jo turned the engine off, took her backpack from behind the driver's seat, locked both of front doors, and joined Blowfish in the rear. Jo had not actually looked into the rear compartment yet, and was somewhat surprised by the two large white piles on the floor.

“Those are the blankets,” Blowfish said.

At least they were light, Jo observed. The blankets would not slow them down: the pace would be determined by how fast they dared to go.

“We can run the first two hundred meters or so, before we get into the range of the devices,” Blowfish noted.

And so, they ran.

But that part was quickly over. Then onto the crawling with the blankets over them, which was even slower than Jo had imagined at first.

As her mind wandered, she started to think whether Ian had any paranormal mental capabilities. Maybe he could affect the thoughts of some of the guards. Maybe not. Sometimes he was a bit mystic, with the dissociating and everything. But he couldn't have that kind of mental capabilities, for real.

Or could he?

The possibility of remote viewing for military purposes had actually been researched by armed forces of several countries. Here, and then in Russia, at least.

Jo had decided not to call Ian during their respective missions, but now, suddenly, it felt imperative. She pressed the quick-connect button on her sunglasses. It was a private channel, with none of the other Agents hearing.

The hissing noise told that the communicative channel was open. Ian was listening.

“Ian? Jo here. Where are you now?” Jo whispered.

“Still in flight,” came the reply, surprisingly clear.

“We are at this installation. Could you affect some of the guards to not notice us when we're coming in?”

“What?”

“Never mind. It was just an idea I had. Probably it doesn't work, but you could still try it. Concentrate on an observatory-like dome.”

“Like the Frozen Hell dome?”

“No, smaller.”

“I can try. But I promise nothing.”

“That's all right. Stay alive.”

“Likewise.”

Jo cut the connection.

She had no idea whether Ian had believed a word, or would actually try to concentrate on the guards, but on the whole it had gone surprisingly smoothly. It had been good to hear his voice, but still there had been no unnecessary sappiness. Not at all like last night, when they had been playing guitar and bass.

In truth, it was almost like they had been drunk.

Suddenly Jo hoped for nothing more than an occasion to get properly drunk when these missions, and SCEPTRE's plans, were all over.