Absolute Power (Book 1): Origins Page 3

  “Then let's not make your husband’s sacrifice pointless.”

  The woman who had just given birth, who was afraid for the life of herself and her baby, who knew that her husband would be dead in a minute, clenched her jaw and stepped out into the cold. Phillip followed, closing the window behind them.

  As they climbed down, they heard the SHT man say, “I don't think you have a bomb. I think you're stalling.”

  Petr said something when a gun went off. A strange sound followed and then a second gun returned fire.

  Phillip had parked his car several blocks away. He looked back at Elena, who was trailing along. She was wearing a nightgown, thin as silk and covered in blood. Without stopping Phillip took off his coat and handed it to her. Elena didn't put it on but wrapped it around the baby. She said nothing, not even about the cold or her bare feet.

  Their way out had been blown. Phillip was reasonably confident SHT didn't know he was involved, but they would certainly be looking for Elena. That meant the roads, trains and airports were being watched. He needed a way out of the country. Something fast and something that wouldn’t be connected to the Florians.

  They got into the car, and Phillip started driving. He had a favor to ask. As well as a risk that was too big to calculate.

  Fifteen Minutes Later

  Phillip pulled his car up to an old building. It was well-maintained with beautiful architecture. The One had commandeered it after they seized Moscow. Now it was being used to house officers and VIPs. The street was lined with cars emblazoned with The One logo. Directly in front of the entrance a large truck sat with its motor running. Several soldiers were coming in and out of the building carrying boxes.

  Lieutenant Green found it funny how often hiding in plain sight worked. Probably something that security should have solved a long time ago.

  “How far are you willing to trust me?” He asked Elena.

  “If you're asking, do I think you will turn me in? No,” Elena said to him. “If you're asking, do I think this is a good idea? Then I would tell you I do not have much of a choice.”

  “Fine, as long as we're clear about things,” Phillip smirked to himself. “You'll have to give me the baby. I can conceal something that small.”

  He said the words but didn't exactly understand the concept. It took Elena putting the baby in his hands for him to realize just how tiny it was. The way it shifted in his arms gave him a feeling of holding the most fragile thing in the world. His instincts roared; be careful, don't let it break. Phillip figured out how best to hold the child and then had Elena put on his coat to hide her blood stained clothes. Her golden hair was tousled and slick with sweat. Using the rearview mirror, she did her best to pull it back and used a strip of torn cloth to tie it.

  The two of them got out of the car.

  “I’ll follow you in,” Phillip told her. “If someone looks at you look back and smile. Don't look around. Keep your eyes forward. And if they start to look down say something to them. Last thing we want is them to notice your feet.”

  Taking a deep breath they made their way into the building. Elena went straight for the front door. Phillip noticed a few of the soldiers watching her, but who wouldn't stare at a beautiful woman. The double door was propped open, so they went in and took the elevator up to the third floor.

  They were alone, and Phillip used the opportunity to speak. “There's going to be more of those soldiers up here. Pretend you belong. Like you've been here a hundred times. And when the big guy barks at you don't back down. Tell him you have a message. We need him alone.”

  The elevator stopped, and they went down the hallway. As they walked, more soldiers passed them carrying boxes. They reach the source of the commotion and Phillip went in following Elena.

  The apartment was elegant, spacious and nearly empty. A stack of boxes had been placed near the front, and they pushed past them.

  “Who are you,” A voice snapped.

  Phillip spun around fast. He saw Elena stop in her tracks. A big man lumbered out of the far bedroom. It had been a while since he'd talked to the man, but Porter looked mostly the same.

  “I asked you a question?” Porter growled.

  Elena turned to face him, and Porter was caught off-guard. She was pretty and unassuming, but what Porter saw was Phillip’s coat. Porter's eyes narrowed as he waited for her to speak.

  “I have a message for you,” she said to him, not even a tremble in her voice.

  Porter made a noise in his throat then looked around. He gestured to the kitchen and led the way. It had been one of the first rooms to be packed, so there was no reason for anyone to enter. Leaning against the stove Porter folded his arms and waited. When the door closed all the way, Phillip showed himself.

  “Lieutenant Green,” Porter stared at him for a while then said, “I don't even want to know what you've gotten yourself into.”

  “You will want to know,” Phillip said to him. “And you will want to help us because you're a good man, even if you are narrow minded.”

  Using his full height, Porter looked down at Phillip. He wasn't making a winning argument. That was until he revealed the baby. Now Porter shifted and took a protective posture. It was because Porter was a good man. Because when something as innocent as a child needed help, he couldn't ignore it.

  “This is Petr Florian's wife and his new baby,” Phillip explained.

  “The diplomat?” Porter had heard of the man. “You were running him through OID this whole time? So then Red Iron sympathizers are looking for them?”

  Phillip grimaced. He knew the next part wasn't going to go over very well. “SHT,” he told Porter whose eyes flared. “They just want to be a normal family. Now they’re being told they have to go from conscription into the Red Iron to conscription into The One.”

  “It's not the same thing,” Porter's tone said he was yelling but he spoke in a whisper. “The One is a globally sanctioned entity. The laws that were created are there to protect Norms and Super-Humans. We might not like them, but it's for the best.”

  “We might not like them?” Phillip repeated Porter's words and that only annoyed him.

  “I have my opinions on how things should be run,” Porter said. “But there's a right way and a wrong way to change things. Breaking laws only proves to people that you can't control yourself, and you're not to be trusted. No one listens to a mad man screaming in the street.”

  “And sometimes no one listens unless you scream,” Phillip said. “And what are you going to do, bide your time till Rodgers quits and then take his place?” The two men had unconsciously crossed the room to shout in each other's face. Phillip checked himself, looked around and took a step back. “I don't even know what I'm arguing about. Up until thirty minutes ago I was towing the company line, ready to protect and serve. Then I saw my friend Petr die...”

  “Then use the story to explain why these amendments are wrong,” Porter said. “If you run off and hide, no one will know.”

  “A line has been crossed, John,” Phillip said. “By everyone.”

  “It’s not too late to change things,” Porter tried, but the words only spurred Phillip on.

  “Exactly.”

  Porter rubbed his face and scratched his hair. It was a sign that he was giving in; all Phillip had to do was give him room to think.

  “What about your friend?” Porter asked. Phillip didn't catch his meaning, so he clarified, “The one with that Board.”

  “I was going to use him stateside,” Phillip explained. “But as of now I have no way to get there.”

  Porter laughed and shook his head as he guessed the plan. “You really want to hide in my luggage, all the way to New York?” He asked Elena.

  One Week Later, New York

  An abnormal fog was pushing in from the ocean. It made it difficult for Porter to find the warehouse in the dark. As he drove the small sedan down the docks, he swore. Sometimes it would be nice if coincidences stayed coincidences. The odds that a fog
would come in at the same time this meeting was scheduled were slim. What it said to Porter was that there were a lot of Super-Humans out there running under the radar. He was a little embarrassed that the idea hadn't occurred to him before. Now that the Free Flight laws made it illegal to be an unregistered Super-Human, this underground organization would gather more recruits.

  Porter pulled up to a building marked nine and got out of his car. He found the door unlocked and slipped inside. For anyone else, showing up to a secret location without backup was stupid. At least Porter knew he wouldn't die, but there were worst things. He hoped that the people Phillip trusted were actually trustworthy.

  Near the front of the warehouse, Porter found a crowbar and took it with him. His belongings, along with Phillip and Misses Florian were being stored here. Phillip spent the better part of twenty-four hours remodeling the container; air vents, sound baffling, and a way to discard waste. Porter didn't envy the two of them with a baby, having to spend a week in a six by six box. It was smaller than the cell they'd be put in if they got caught.

  He walked along rows and rows of wood crates. His boots echoed off the concrete ground. The container he was looking for was on his right and at the bottom of a large stack. Luckily they weren't literally boxed in. Porter knocked seven times on the wood boards. Five knocks came back from the inside and Porter returned the code with three more. He jammed the crowbar in between the boards of the crate and pulled. The wood splintered, then came free. One corner of the box opened and Porter went around doing the other. After that, gravity and Phillip finished the rest.

  Phillip looked terrible. His beard was coming in thick, and his skin was pale. The interior of the box reeked almost as badly as Phillip. Elena stayed where she was in the crate, holding the baby.

  “Have a pleasant trip?” Porter smiled.

  “I could see how you might think you’re funny,” Phillip said, “But you're not. Is my guy here?”

  “Somewhere,” Porter answered. “Probably waiting to make sure it’s not a trap. Want to go take a look around?” He asked Phillip, then said to Elena, “Misses. Florian, stay put for a bit.”

  Porter needed a moment to talk to Phillip alone. It was obvious enough, so Phillip went along. The two of them walked back the way Porter had come.

  “What's up?” Phillip asked when they were out of earshot.

  “You still want to go through with this?” Porter had to try one last time.

  “You mean escape from Russia in a box?” Phillip knew what he was asking so said, “Or do you mean, how can I disagree with what The One is doing?”

  “Tell me this, do they do more bad than good?” Porter asked.

  “Not yet,” Phillip replied. They stopped at the foreman's office, and Phillip peeked through the window. He didn't expect anyone was inside, but he learned to expect the unexpected. It was all very counter-intuitive spycraft.

  “And you think you can do more from the outside than on the inside?” Porter asked.

  “I'm angry, John,” Phillip stopped walking. “I'm angry that I let it get this bad without noticing. I'm a goddamn spy, and I didn't see this coming. But I see where it's going, and I have to do something to change the course. It's one thing to fight a war in someone else's backyard. It's another to fight it at home, and you and I both know that when this gets bad it's going to be global. Civilians versus Super-Humans. Super-Humans versus Super-Humans. The military versus Super-Humans.”

  “And I think I can fix it,” Porter said, “and I wouldn't mind some help. I already have an idea.”

  An enormous man, nearly seven feet tall with dark skin, came out of the shadows. It was impossible to believe that someone of his size could have snuck up on them.

  In a deep voice he said, “To stop any force you need an equal and opposite force. To turn it back, you need something more.”

  “Or the planning to deflect it,” Porter retorted.

  “We'll leave that up to you,” the big man said. “The people I work for have their plans and no one gets very far by dividing their efforts.” He came closer and put out his hand. “People like to call me The Dragon Slayer.”

  Porter shook his hand. “Yes, I know, I was there. It's hard to imagine the man who killed a Red Iron General can get around without being noticed.”

  “I would say the same thing about the famous Major Porter and the infamous Lieutenant Green,” The Dragon Slayer said. “Phillip, let’s see the woman. I need a word with you.”

  Porter took the hint and let them go. He wasn't exactly sure why he was waiting around. His part was over, and they'd disappear with the woman. Maybe it was sentimentality. Phillip had been his go-to-man throughout the war. If Porter wanted troop movements, the position of a Red Iron Colonel or a Russian official to look the other way, Phillip was the one who could do it. There was a mutual admiration and trust between them. Thinking about it now, he supposed that Phillip was one of the few people he could call a friend.

  When he spotted Phillip walking back towards him, he waited. The Dragon Slayer wasn't with him, and he wondered what had happened. As Phillip got closer, Porter could see that he was smiling.

  “Let's go,” Phillip said.

  “What, they reject your application?” Porter asked.

  “No,” Phillip replied, “he made a convincing argument.”

  The two of them left the warehouse and closed the door behind them. Then they got into Porter's car and sat for a moment.

  “Sergeant Deacon-Slater didn't seem like the type of man to change opinions,” Porter said.

  “DS, always knows what he wants to do,” Phillip said. “The guys pulling the strings are the ones that make it complicated.”

  “You can stop there,” Porter said starting up the car. “Tell me plain and simple, you staying at The One?”

  “As long as I can stand it,” Phillip replied.

  “How are you going to explain showing up in New York?” Porter sped through the dock. The fog had miraculously cleared in the last couple of minutes.

  “Do you know how many times I've disappeared and shown up two countries away?” Phillip waved a dismissive hand. “Tell me, how are you going to explain to the ladies that you’re younger than you look?”

  “What?” Porter asked confused.

  Phillip ruffled the hair at his temple, and Porter took a moment to glance at himself in the mirror. The hair there was going grey. He'd first noticed it after being captured in Russia but hadn't paid it much attention. Now it had grown to a long streak that faded behind his ear.

  Porter grunted and ignored the comment. Then said, “Flip.”

  “Yeah.”

  “I'm going to enjoy calling in the favor you just incurred here.”

  1989, New York

  An old man stood staring into a mirror remembering when he wasn't so old. AJ Rodgers rubbed the socket where his eye used to be. The eye patch that had once bothered him seemed normal now. He still had all his hair, except that it was white. On cold days, his knee hurt like hell where it had been shattered. The cane that he'd been using for the last twenty years felt weightless in his grip. It was a perfectly balanced instrument. AJ didn't have to check the sword inside to know it was clean and finely honed. A sword master like him would have nothing less.

  “The kid is late,” Porter said. He was sitting in an armchair near a massive window.

  AJ's office overlooked The United Nations Plaza. It was an excellent view considering the glass was eight inch thick bullet resistant material. He hated it; it made him feel disconnected. He hated the office too; for the same reasons. The One Director yearned for the old days, before the war, even before The One. The best times were when it was just him on his own, hiding in the shadows and scaring the crap out of criminals. Now he was relegated to giving orders from a desk thousands of miles from the action.

  “Kid?” AJ raised an eyebrow as he turned around. “Major Kelley is only six years younger than you.”

  “I still remember him as t
he boy genius from that show he had in the sixties,” Porter said.

  AJ laughed because he remembered him the same way. The image of a tiny seven year old in shorts and a bow tie was ingrained in his mind. Billy Kelley would stand behind a podium answering all sorts of nonsense the audience asked him. It was hard to believe that the tot had grown up to be Major William Kelley. No matter how much money his family had, they couldn’t wash that out of existence. Of course, recently he'd been using that to his advantage. AJ had to hand it to him, he was a brilliant strategist and maybe that would be enough.

  “It is impressive how he turned everything around,” AJ said.

  “You mean the embarrassment of being found out as a Super-Human and not a genius?” Porter asked. “Or getting people to stop calling him Billy.”

  “The newspapers ate him alive,” AJ recalled. “That was back before The One had changed the reputation of Super-Humans. To take that much ridicule at that age.”

  “It sounds like you’re trying to convince yourself,” Porter noted.

  “You know I hate this, John,” AJ replied.

  Porter was reading the morning paper and looked up. “What? The speeches or quitting?” He didn't mean it to sound as angry as it did. “Sorry, sir. I'm not too happy about it either.”

  “Then take the damn job,” AJ's voice got louder.

  “No offense, sir,” Porter put down the newspaper, “but I'm not going to make the same mistake you did. I can do more good in the field than in an office. Out there I have a chance to shape the future of The One without getting tangled in the red tape.”

  There was no point arguing with him because AJ agreed. He took a seat across from Porter and held his cane between his legs. The silver head of a cat adorned the handle, and its ruby red eyes stared at him.

  “But when this is all over you'll take the promotion?” AJ asked.

  “I have to,” Porter replied.

  “Ah, yes, your pet project,” AJ said. “I never figured you for someone to play the long game.”