Chapter Four

I never got the bodyguard Vincent’s last name even though we spent most of the day in each other’s company. It wasn’t that I didn’t want to be on a first-name basis with the guy, but when you’ve suddenly inherited a bodyguard, you like to know the background of the man guarding your life.

“Richmond, like the city.” A non-revealing name for a guy keeping cards hidden. I casually studied his features, trying to determine his makeup. He was six feet nine inches and about 350 bricks worth of muscle. His features, especially his jaw, cut at hard angles to his short, straw-colored hair. Somewhere between thirty and thirty-five, his size bespoke a mountainous region, anywhere from Yugoslavia to the Ozarks. However, with no accent, I wasn’t getting a lead. In fact, his voice was so clear, I started to think he’d had voice coaching to remove an accent, like many actors do.

He was clearly no actor, though. He wore his job on his face, along with his emotions. As his form absorbed a majority of the railcar we sat in, his somber mood was starting to bug me.

When he appeared at Lee’s safe house, it created a whirlwind of problems. He couldn’t be dissuaded from the idea that I was there. When Lee’s “family” started getting rough, he produced a piece of paper that was then brought to me. According to Vincent, Reece had written the note in the hours before we met.

Glass,

If you are reading this after we have had the chance to meet, I am dead and you’ll know why. If we haven’t met yet, my bodyguard Vincent will fill you in. He will tell you things that won’t make you happy. Don’t shoot the messenger.

I always believed death would be my only release from the obsessions I held fast to on Earth. Now that I’m dead, I guess I’ll know whether or not I was able to take any of it with me.

You have a lot stacked against you so I am giving you Vincent. He is being paid through a fund I set up, so you won’t have any worries there. His job is to protect you as if you were me. Of course, me being dead, that probably doesn’t mean as much to you now. I can only say he’ll protect you with everything he’s got.

Last tip, you know that old saying about keeping friends close and enemies closer? It goes double when they’re both.

―CJR

Lee and I left the safe house and met Vincent upstairs, seeing as he wouldn’t fit in one of the laundry carts anyway. I had expected a tail when I left Reece’s office the day before, so I darted down alleys, made quick, unpredictable moves, until I was sure I had lost any possible snoops before heading to the bar. I’d been right to worry. Vincent had me tailed, but I lost the amateur. So, he himself staked out my place until the early-morning hours. When the CIA raided the place, he didn’t want to get caught in a sweep of the area.

Vincent caught a glimpse of Lee’s nephew slinking off nervously from the siege, so he hedged a bet and followed the boy to us.

Lee was miffed that his tail-losing skills were not as good as mine. I promised him I’d teach him some tricks.

Once Vincent had established where we were, he headed back to the office to report in, only to find the place in flames and Reece reported dead.

“Reece left very specific instructions for me, upon his death, to guard you, Mr. Glass, with all the resources I have available to me, including my life.”

“But, Vinny, what if I don’t want you to?”

He grimaced at the name and made it clear with a look that this was non-negotiable. The death of the old man had clearly shaken him. I was not in the habit of taking in strays but decided to let him stick around anyway and keep him busy. That way he’d be out of my business.

Vincent made all the safety arrangements for our travel. He thought it best we leave by rail instead of plane. It was easier to get on and off incognito. We decided that the extra time would be not a hindrance, but a boon. Our prey might surface by the time we arrived. After Vincent left to get things moving, Lee and I returned to the safe room and talked.

“You trust Mount Fuji?”

“Nope, but the energy spent trying to lose him will be better spent in finding Mendelssohn. Plus, Reece had a point. Vincent was close to Reece, and we can use that. He can open doors we can’t.”

Lee shrugged. “Doors, nothing. That man open gates to hell without breaking sweat.”

When my new bodyguard returned, he hustled us to the train station. Cops and Feds were scattered around inconspicuously, looking for someone of my description. I had to give Vincent credit; he managed to move us only when the law was distracted elsewhere. I never noticed a break in our stride, and every time I thought we were going to be spotted, we just weren’t there anymore.

So there we sat, on the nonstop to Nevada, not saying much until Lee finally broke the silence.

“Why we go to Nevada? Why not New Mexico?”

I waited for Vincent, who seemed content to let me explain. Reece obviously had done most of the talking.

“I got a tip from these guys,” I said, casting a thumb toward Vincent, “that Mendelssohn had a girl in Chance City. For the last few years, until March, he was holed up at some government think tank near there. Every time they’d let him out for R & R, he’d head right to her. It’s a sure bet she helped him disappear. She’s our link.”

Lee perked up at the reference to a skirt.

“She ‘good time’ girl?”

“Nah, a lounge singer.”

“Down, tiger,” I said, knowing she was our prey. “Word has it they were pretty tight. If anyone knows where to find Mendelssohn, it’ll be her.”

“So what this Mendelsonny look like?”

“I’m not sure anymore. Vincent? Care to give us the skinny?”

Vincent rattled off his facts like a police officer reading from a rap sheet. I glimpsed a possible previous life for our man mountain. He must have been on the force before heading to the private sector.

“Five foot, nine inches. Weight, about one fifty. Blue eyes. Scandinavian heritage, light skin.”

Lee whistled. “Only buck fifty? People call him Slim?”

“Not altogether, no,” I said. “Mendelssohn had a thing about weight. His goal in life was to have zero body fat. He was constantly weighing himself.”

“It got worse,” Vincent interjected. “He started shaving himself completely, like some bodybuilders do. He eventually had all his hair removed when the obsession got worse. He refused to eat anything that wasn’t pure protein.”

Shaking his head, Lee said to me, “What it about you geniuses? You all kinda screwy.”

This drew out a smile from my new bodyguard. Vincent had worked for Reece, a brilliant man with more than a few eccentricities. It must have been therapeutic to hear someone say what he could never voice.

“You gamble?” Lee directed the question at me, still not sold on the idea of Vincent along for the ride. I bounced a questioning look over to the bodyguard, trying to keep him included in the conversation. The more I knew about him, the safer I’d feel. Vincent gave a non-descriptive shake of the head, so I turned back to Lee.

“You mean besides this endeavor? Nope. Can’t.”

“What you mean?”

“Unethical. I studied probability. Not only could I beat every game they offer, my face is known.”

“We have fake IDs.”

“No, Lee.”

“But, but you could play little at a time. Don’t win big, just steady.”

I shook my head. “No, Lee! I’ve done enough things to knock me from the pillars of heaven. I don’t need another. Call it karma or keeping the odds in my favor. I enjoy my occasional poker game with the guys. There is the chaos of people decisions. No math can completely cover for it. Will they take a card or stay? I won’t play blackjack, either. I’d win and what’s the fun in that?”

Lee smiled. “The fun come after with all that dough.”

“No.”

“They have poker ro—”

“No.”

He screwed up his face in disgust and waved me away. He wasn’t content, though. I could tell gears still turned in his head. Why was he so concerned about making money?

“Speaking of IDs …” Vincent reached into a briefcase and pulled out three driver’s licenses that had descriptions close to ours.

“How’d you get these?” I inquired.

“When I saw the mess at your apartment, I figured we might need to travel light. I had busted this guy a while back who knew this other guy who could forge quickly. I had him whip these up.”

“So you were ICPD?” I had been right about Vincent being a former cop.

Vincent seemed unconcerned. “For a while. I did a stint as an MP in the army. Then moved around from state to state, but police work didn’t sit well with me. I needed something less constricting, so I went into the private sector.”

I wanted to ask him more about Reece—how Vincent came to work for him and more about the MASER—but his posture was closed off. He’d given as much as he would give tonight, maybe even more than he wanted.

Lee yawned. We’d been going on adrenalin and coffee long enough. It was time to rest. We retired to our sleepers as the train started its journey through the Rockies.

* * *

I was looking forward to my first solid night’s sleep in the bunk. Having fallen asleep so many times at my desk, the thought of a night spent horizontal was nirvana. Later, Lee would tell me it had been no heavenly rest for him. I tossed and turned as I dreamt and woke him up several times. He didn’t know which was worse, the sounds of the train or my thumping.

While dreamers rarely realize they are in a dream, I have, on occasion, been cognizant of my dream state, though powerless to change the dream to my advantage. I’m told this is called lucid dreaming. I guess my brain is wired differently. I also have total recall when it comes to my dreams. The Atlantis came to me in one, the solution to its problems in another. Now, of course, I wasn’t so sure if those solutions weren’t ideas Reece had whispered into my ear as I slept.

The first night on the train, I dreamt of Tangie.

It’s not as though I hadn’t dreamt of her before. I’ve dreamt about the day we met, key moments in our relationship, the first time we made love … the day she died. Something about this dream was different, as if the events of the past two days had woken something inside of me.

Everything in the dream was fish-eyed, like I looked through the bottom of a bottle. She was there, as beautiful as the day I met her. Her long, molten lava locks pulled into a ponytail, showcasing her cute ears and librarian glasses. She hated the cheaters, but I loved them on her. It made me feel like she was revealing her true identity when she took them off, like some superheroine from the funny pages.

And oh, when she took them off …

In the dream, however, she was the überscientist. She could be cold when she was like this, distant, a theoretical engineer to the core. She ran around, checking and rechecking the link between her power station and my lab next door where I had the radar equipment. I gazed with pride at my partner, my love.

The power needed to bounce the magnetron signal off the moon would be tremendous the first time out. Tangie had designed the transformer to run quieter than conventional power stations, thus cutting down interference. That was her gift. She could take one look at a design and see a way to make it stronger.

Tangie had done that with me as well.

In the dream, Tangie strode up to me, her green eyes locked on to mine. I couldn’t see anything else but those eyes, piercing my mind. But then the dream deviated from the memory.

“Behind you.”

I originally left after the double-checks. In this version, Tangie took a hold of my arm and kept me from leaving. She wanted me to see something.

Again she said, “Behind you.”

I turned to look. Behind me was the power station.

Mendelssohn stood in front of it, looking as I remembered him, Mozart-like hair and perfectly balanced body.

From his lab coat, he withdrew two almost identical oscillators, the heart of the magnetron, and held them both out for me to see.

“Which one, Glass?”

I tried to remember which one had been the original but found it hard to focus. They both started oscillating. The one in his right hand glowed soft blue. The left hand started pulsing flashes of red light. Mendelssohn’s laugh reverberated as I spun back to Tangie.

“Get out!” I pleaded.

Her face was boiling. Despite her bubbling flesh, she showed more concern for me than for herself.

“Wake up, Noel. You’re in danger.”

Her head popped like a bloody kernel of corn and I cried out.

I woke to a start, my heart racing, only to find something hideous leaning over me with a gun.

I kicked up, causing the bunk above me to tilt. Lee rolled off it and landed on the back of my assailant. I heard a noise, like that of a capacitor blowing. Feathers plumed up from the pillow scant inches from my head. Lee let loose a string of Asian curses, still not sure what had happened. I grabbed the thug’s arms and pushed my way out of my sack.

I could see now the horrific visage was a mask. It was stone-like in appearance, some sort of South American-looking statue frozen in a hideous scream. The top part of the mask was a cat-creature, maybe a panther or jaguar. The rest of him was garbed in black, military-style fatigues.

My opponent was strong, but the bruised back had sapped some of his will power. I pushed him backward until we toppled over an escaping Lee. Lee crawled into the space between the two bunks, exuding even more curses, while I managed to get the intruder down on the floor. We wrestled but I kept the upper hand.

Lee shouted, “Hold him while I get gun!”

All three of us turned our heads when a loud thump hit our sleeper compartment’s door. That’s when I noticed Vincent’s empty bunk.

The door blasted open and a second masked man was propelled into the fray. He collided with us, twisting me loose from my captive. Vincent stood in the doorway, sandy blond hair askew, blue eyes wild and searching. His quarry wore a similar, but slightly different mask.

Thugly One took advantage of his newfound freedom to leapfrog over me, grab something from my pillow, and fling open the window sash. Unfiltered noise and wind roared into the compartment. He pulled himself up and out before Vincent could cross the sleeper to snag him. Thuglier Two untangled himself from our yoga pile and bolted for the now unguarded door. I jumped to my feet and started after him.

“Wait!” Lee yelled and tossed me my piece.

Other travelers were poking their heads out of their compartments to see what the ruckus was about. Some slammed doors quickly as they saw my prey running down the hallway. We darted from sleeper to passenger car. I couldn’t get a clean shot with people still milling around late-night poker games and snack service. The masked assassin headed toward the caboose, as opposed to the engine. He would bail out the back, I was sure.

I got an opportunity to slow him down as we crossed into the empty dining car. He paused long enough to open the door. I squeezed off a shot, which caught him in the leg. Knocked off balance, he reached into the car for something to grab onto, finding only a coffee trolley. The last thing I saw as he dragged the metal cart over the edge with him was his mask, the top half in the shape of a skull. I heard a sickening crunch I hoped wasn’t just the coffee service.

I moved slowly into the opening and scanned up and down: no one. I spun at the sound of a door opening behind me. Vincent displayed open palms in a friendly gesture. He called to me, but I couldn’t hear him above the roar of the wind. He came forward and gave me a questioning look.

I answered his unspoken question. “I tagged him. Might’ve finished him. No way to know for sure right now.”

“I think the other one is on the roof.”

Reflex had me look up just as I felt a sting at the back of my neck like a mosquito bite. I slapped at it and pulled away a dart, like the type fired from a tranquilizer gun. A chill ran down my spine. I looked up again to find the twisted animal mask standing on top of the next car, gun pointed down at me. The hideous mask laughed, though no sound came from it. I started up a ladder between cars, but Vincent dragged me back. The masked gunman jumped from the roof into the darkness that engulfed the side of the train.

Vincent sounded panicky. “You’ve been injected, Mr. Glass. I need to get you to your room!”

“Injected? Injected with what?” I sputtered.

“A targeting fluid. It’s what the MASER excites to make someone explode.”

“What?”

Vincent was taking me back to our room as fast as I would go. He checked windows and ushered me across each car by using his body as a shield. I doubted whatever he was protecting me from would be stopped by even his bulk. My heart was racing. Sweat poured from my forehead.

Our compartment was empty. “Where’s Lee?”

“He went to talk to the conductor.”

After we were inside, Vincent alternated between apologizing and cursing. “Damn! I fell into their trap. I’m so sorry, Mr. Glass. This is all my fault.”

He wasn’t making sense. “What just happened, Vincent?”

“I heard a noise at our door. I got up and saw one of them leaving. I chased him, thinking I could take him out quickly and get back in time to stop the second one I knew would be coming. I’m sorry. I’m such an idiot! Damn! Damn! Damn!”

Vincent pounded his fist against the wall with each curse. He left a dent in the wall and elicited echoed curses from the neighboring cabin. His carefully manicured professionalism was unraveling, and I could swear he picked up an accent that was definitely not English in origin.

“Who were those guys? Did I see right? What were those masks they had on?” I was on edge. I paced the cabin back and forth.

“They’re the Hero Twins. Guatemalan killers. They modeled themselves after the Mayan myth of two brothers who killed the lords of the underworld and won humanity’s freedom. The one you shot is the hunter; the other is the jaguar.”

“Why would Archdeacon hire assassins? If he knew where I was, wouldn’t he just stop the train?”

Vincent incessantly repeated, “I don’t know! I don’t know!”

I swear the lug was sulking. Lee came back into the room and told Vincent, “They say they move us to new room.” He noticed me. “Hey, Glass? You know your neck bleeding? And you don’t look so good.”

“Vincent was just about to explain all that. Seems like I’ve been doped with something, right?”

Vincent finally stopped pacing and plopped down on his bunk. I don’t know how it supported him. He took two controlled breaths. All signs of the accent were gone when he spoke. “I don’t know much about technology. Reece would just start talking, and I’d try to keep up.”

I’d seen Vincent keep up. He was selling himself short, or maybe he was downplaying his intelligence for effect. Either way, he wasn’t going to tell me everything. That much I knew.

“The MASER takes too long to kill a living being because of the amount of water in our bodies. So the group that developed the weapon invented a drug that makes the MASER work faster.”

I hated to admit it, but despite the junk floating through my veins, the scientist in me was curious and excited. “How does it work?”

“I’m not sure. Something about priming the molecules.”

“What?” Lee blinked confusion.

“The MASER,” I took over, “causes molecules to speed up, creating heat and eventually resulting in a cohesion breakdown.” I apparently hadn’t done any better explaining. Lee looked at me like a dog trying to understand why the Yanks keep making the World Series.

“So drug make things blow up faster?”

Vincent and I nodded.

I continued, “However, since the microwaves are pushed forward on a radioactive carrier, prolonged exposure at smaller amounts can create the effect we saw in Reece: cancer or radiation sickness or even blood disease. That’s why it was taking them so long to kill Reece. They probably didn’t have this drug a year ago.”

The bodyguard nodded. “Reece only recently discovered its existence. That’s when he really started getting paranoid. While the damage was done and he was marked for death, I think he was afraid they planned to take him out sooner, before he could spill what he knew to anyone.”

“Not anyone, the only one person in the world who would believe him is me. They didn’t want him to get to me.”

Lee was unconvinced. “He big, important man, this Reece. Why could he not go to papers?”

Vincent was embarrassed. “The boss has … had done some questionable things in the past. It wouldn’t take much to discredit him.”

“So,” I said, getting the topic back on me, “I have this drug in me, which means they can kill me anytime?”

Vincent shook his head. “Depends. There are two MASER designs. One is a personal weapon, though it requires a backpack. It’s line of sight and has little range. The other is mounted on a tripod and has greater range and power. The Hero Twins are most likely using the personal one since hauling the other around is time prohibitive. It helps that we’re moving, so we’re safe on the train. I imagine they’ll try something when we get off, though.”

“Try what?” asked Lee.

Vincent wasn’t sure. “Anything from grabbing Mr. Glass and finishing him in some undisclosed location to waiting in an alcove and irradiating him without us ever seeing it coming.”

“This drug, does it concentrate in one part of the body, or does it spread out?” I asked.

Again, Vincent wasn’t a huge help. “It’s been known to settle in the motor cortex of the brain.”

“But that …” I was aghast. Vincent nodded.

“What that mean?”

I put my mitts on either side of my head and showed Lee. “Pop!”

“Or,” Vincent added, “if you’re really unlucky, you might just end up a vegetable.”

Now Lee was just as worried as the rest of us. “Yuck.”

“Yeah.” For a guy such as me, whose whole life had been built around his intellect, it was the worst type of life or death.

“Can you help me get my trunk from the back?” I asked.

My omniscient smile worried Vincent. “Why? What do you have in there?”

“Insurance.”