Kreffel - Jaunt

Jaunt - Erik Kreffel

Give me one good reason why I shouldnt put a bullet through your skull, Yastanni!

Special Agent James Gilmour spat, leveling his sidearm against the temple of Doctor Nouhri Yastanni, who cowered on the bedroom floor of his four-star Parisian hotel. His head held taut by Gilmours partner, Special Agent Greg Mason, Yastanni answered in his thick Iranian accent, Whatre you doing in my room?! Im here for the trade show! My government will be very displeas

We dont care about your leisure activities while youre in town! Drawing his face closer to the stunned man, Mason produced a palm-size black canister. Look familiar?

Where and how did you receive these neutronic particles? Why do you have this canister, which was reported missing from the Sudbury Quantum Laboratory last month?!

Shivering under the combined grasp of Gilmour and Mason, Yastannis mouth contorted, forcing out the weak words, Ive...Ive been producing them for the past sixteen months...since Ive...received seed particles and schematics for a neutronic device from a mole code named HADRON in North America....

Gilmour nuzzled the barrel of his pistol into Yastannis sallow skin. And...?

The neutronic particles are being funneled to the Confederation government in Russia...theyve paid me one hundred million euros for every batch of particles I can produce that will yield a neutronic warhead

Who is HADRONs handler?! What is HADRONs location?!

II dont know...contact was arranged by someone in the Confederation

Gritting his teeth, Gilmour fought against every fiber of his being not to strike Yastanni in the gut. Youd better hope you have a good advocate, Doctor...youre gonna need one now. Have you got all that, Mason?

Every second, Mason said, removing a circular device adjacent to his left eye; it was a webeye, which had recorded in its blue iris the proceedings of Yastannis capture for his prosecution. Hes going down.

The agents pulled Yastanni to his feet and smoothed out the wrinkles in his suit jacket and trousers, making him presentable again. Yastanni started to straighten his tie, but Gilmour slapped his hands away.

I think thats good enough.

Ready for your day in the World Court? Mason taunted. Youd better clear your schedule for the next few years....

Hey, Chief! Weve got Nouhri! Web A.D. Leeds! Gilmour shouted, craning his head back.

Already on it, acknowledged Section Manager Chief Grant Louris, the pairs immediate supervisor. He left his observing post at the rooms threshold and walked into the corridor brandishing a holobooka multi-purpose holographic ledgerin his left hand. Keeping Yastanni in line with his pistol between the doctors shoulder blades, Gilmour wore a triumphant smile. Thanks, Doctor...you just made our sweat all worthwhile. He glanced to Mason. I think hes sorry, dont you?

Mason clapped Yastannis arm and pulled him forward. Sorry he got busted!

Racing out the hotel, Gilmour, Mason, Chief and a squad of Parisian gendarmes headed towards an idling paddy wagon, scurrying before the webmedia converged with their skycraft to witness the catch.

Keep your head down! Gilmour barked. A sack had been placed over Yastannis head, but he was still lit by the sodium lights from the hotel front despite the agents best efforts.

The trio hoisted Yastanni aboard the paddy wagon, but instead of a waiting celebration, another agent, Tommy Bell, pulled the trio aside at the wagons rear doors.

Agents! A.D. Leeds is recalling you immediately! Hes scrambling a jumpjet to take you back to D.C. this evening.

What?! Gilmour flashed an indignant look to Louris, but Chief merely shrugged. Mason not so subtly dismissed the greenhorns message. Agent, were going to Brussels to arraign Yastanni. Thosere the laurels, got it?

Im sorry, sir. A.D. Leeds has invoked Clause 452.

452...that was an immediate recall back to the Intelligence and Investigation Agencys HQ, with grounds for permanent dismissal from the Agency if disregarded. Whatever the hell was going on, Gilmour thought, Leeds wasnt fooling around. The only thing he could think of that rated so high in the IIAs protocols was an international incident on par with Congress declaring war.

Gilmour shook his head and sighed. Talk about a whimper.

Im sure there will be others thatll be a bang, Louris said, the weariness in his voice betraying his decades of service to the IIA. Agent Bell, web A.D. Leeds our acknowledgement. Boys, looks like were going home.

Fighting off the flight lag back to Washington, Gilmour and Mason put on their best professional countenances and swiftly made their way through the IIAs stuffy basement corridorsa relic of the defunct Federal Bureau of Investigationand towards the Level Three Conference Room, where they expected Leeds to be waiting for them. Instead, Agent Bell diverted the pair to the office of Leeds secretary.

Harold Leeds and his secretary were inside, as was a slight figure, an Ivy League professor-like look to him. Tension oozed from the place, making Gilmour pause.

Agent, why are we going here?

A.D. Leeds orders, sir. Bell gestured the pair inside, then locked the door. Gilmour and Mason noticed that Leeds didnt appear particularly pleased by this older man in his battered tweed coat and tie; he had all the hallmarks of someone who normally disdained the work of the intelligence community, let alone be seen wandering the Agencys recesses.

Doctor, Leeds said, these are my top agents in the Global Intelligence Directorate of the Washington Bureau, James Gilmour and Gregory Mason.

The visitor, his once-red hair flecked with silvery strands, extended his hand. Pleased to meet you. Im Doctor Richard de Lis, of the theoretical studies laboratory in Ottawa. I have been sent here specifically on orders from Solicitor General Rauchambau and Secretary of Defense McKennitt to secure both of you.

Gilmour shook de Lis hand. Why us?

There is a situation in Ottawa demanding the critical attention of the IIA

Just a moment, Mason interrupted. I dont think you realize the severity of the situation my partner and I are currently embroiled in. Weve invested years in uncovering the ties the Confederation has with illicit neutronic technology trafficking

I understand, but this operation has been declared a Presidential Priority, trumping all else, de Lis declared. Your presence has been requested from the highest echelons, agents. As of now, all other assignments you have are on hold. Without you at my disposal, the balance of power in the world could be lost to the Confederation or the Central Asian Conglomerates. And I dont mean temporarily. Beneath the doctors near-stoic demeanor was a twinge of fear. I mean forever.

Your sidearms and badges! the Marine sergeant at the check-in gate barked to Gilmour and Mason as the agents and de Lis appeared. Behind the sergeant were two other Marines brandishing conspicuous M-119 semi-automatic rifles, each weapon twice the thickness of a mans forearm.

Gilmour opened his jacket, eliciting a stern Slowly! from the sergeant. Gilmour complied and handed over his pistol, then displayed his badge prominently enough that the spit-polished and starched MP couldnt possibly mistake it for anything but governmentissue. After accepting Masons two items, the sergeant gestured towards the gate, handed the two agents small RFID chips, then announced, Cleared. Upon your exit from this facility, reclaim your sidearms from the armory with those chips.

Gilmour looked to de Lis with contempt, waved a less-than-conciliatory hand to the MP, then walked past the gate, which, he was sure, was now thoroughly scanning his body for other illicit devices or materials.

Nice welcome mat you lay out here, Mason said to de Lis once the trio were out of earshot.