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A car came to stop after a forty minute ride, give or take. Judging by the sounds, they left asphalt roads more than 20 minutes ago, so Aaron safely assumed that now they were way outside Tashkent city borders, deep into nowhere. It was hard to say more as an opaque bag, cuffed hands and legs and closed truck, he was now in, pretty much limited his mental ability, no matter how much enhanced. He tried to analyze and remember the road they were taking, number of turns and time between them, but after some time gave it up. There were too many elements to consider.
This mission was fucked up from the get go. In the briefing he was informed that some independent party offered to the highest bidder an information about highly classified USSR biochemical research in the genome modifications. Sure all this information was more than 20 years old now, but taking into consideration how advanced soviet scientist were in genome control, it still had big value on the black market. The auction was about to take place in Uzbekistan this month. His mission was to intercept this information by any means necessary. No intel on place, or time, or the origin of the independent party, so basically he was walking in blind. The usual day at the office.
They sure worked quickly. He was made within an hour of landing and walking into hot, dry summer, typical for Central Asia. Three-piece suit wasn’t big of a help with that, but unfortunately necessary for the important arms dealer, he was to be. Air-conditioning in his hotel room was a godsend gift. He was just about to take a shower as he heard a quiet hiss and sensed a strange smell in the air. Neuroleptic tranquillizer worked almost instantly; quick and surprisingly efficient even for him.
He came to in a basement suite: no windows, no bed, no utilities; no gun, no shoes, no belt, no handcuffs at first. But after a day and several break-out attempts, two killed, five wounded guards, and his right wrist almost cut in half, Aaron was shackled to the wall. And all this considering that he stuck to the legend, fighting only in half strength, hoping to gain at least something from this mess he found himself in. It was hard to do as locals didn’t ask any question or give any answers as if waiting for someone. Overall summer camp holidays, if not for one thing: he hadn’t had his chems in more than 40 hours now.
The gap was about to become critical, especially for the cognitive blues, as two goons came in. Both were over six feet, square complexion lowbrows. Dressed in Adidas sport suits with thick gold chains over, both with sharpies, they looked low-class thugs, but on Aaron’s trained eye, they tried a bit too much… The way the thug number one quickly surveyed the surroundings, calculating threads and positioning himself right between Aaron and the only exit, the way they moved in pair, like wolves on a hunt, the way each carried al least two blades on them, gave away a good, elite training. Russian Alpha Group more likely, he decided. This mission was becoming more interesting with every second.
“Heard, you’ve been busy, playing with locals?” the thug number two said squatting in front of him. Light Russian accent, almost unnoticeable to the untrained ear, only confirmed Aaron’s suspicions. “Here how it goes: we don’t have much time to waste so I’m gonna give you a choice.” Goon took out a syringe from his pocket. “We are to move you, so am I gonna need to use this or you are letting my friend over here to tag and bag you?”
Clearly Aaron wasn’t thrilled by any of those choices, but the letter at least gave him a bit more of a control, even if only for surveying. He slowly shook his head yes.
“Wise choice” thug number two said standing up and changing places with the other. The first one took out leg and hand shackles of a very strange design. They were wide, metal ovals welded together. No chains, no keyholes, with some kind of a magnetic lock, he assumed. They looked like to be specifically designed for strength bigger than of normal human. Aaron’s senses began to tingle…
***
“Rise and shine, sweetheart!” Aaron heard over his head as the thug number two opened the truck, it seemed like he was to do all the talking. His voice echoed as if in a big empty space of a hangar or a garage. They took him out and drag him through several rooms, corridors and flight of stairs. He could tell them apart as the sound of their footsteps always changed. At the last door thug number two let go of him and opened it with a creak, it sounded thick and heavy and iron… A bunker?
“Doc? It’s Max. I’ve got long time promised present for you” he sounded so pleased with himself.
“Oh, you shouldn’t have.” A mocking woman’s voice answered approaching from the distance. “What have we got here? Please tell me it’s not another LARX one. I’m getting really tired of those zombies…” Her voice was soft and calm with a hint of an accent Aaron couldn’t quite place….
“No, Doc, you’ll like this one. That’s an Outcome.” Oh, shit.
“Really? An Outcome?” with the unfeigned interest in her voice Doc came even closer, “Well unwrap him, then. Let’s have a look.”
They took off the bag and he couldn’t help but wince from a bright light. The situation escalated quicker than he anticipated. Not only were they aware he was here undercover, they knew his program. Highly classifies information even within CIA… Who the hell were they after all?
With odds not in his favor, Aaron calculated possible way-outs, trying the handcuffs once again and looking around. They were in the lab, underground, no windows, with sophisticated equipment by the walls, all too familiar for him from his regular checkouts. The woman that stood in front of him was small, lean and a bit younger than he expected: in her mid thirties, wearing white coat. dark-haired, hazel eyes behind the glasses, looking directly at him.
“Outcome five. Also known as Aaron Cross. I have his data for you, in case you need it.” Max was all business now. No more playing pretend. He took out some folders and passed them to the woman. She took some time to study them.
“Tracking device?”
“Jamming from day one…”
“Day one? How long off meds?”
“Well. He was held for 38 hours, before that, who knows.” That got her attention.
“He should have been brought to me earlier.”
“I was informed only a couple of hours ago. Locals seemed to be searching for a better deal.”
“See to that.”
“Yes, Ma’am.”
“How long since you’ve been medicated?” She directed her question to him. Aaron decided to give them nothing as they already knew more than enough…
“Well prep him. I’ll be in a minute” she told to Max and moved away to another door.
“Yes, Doc.” And to him, “I guess it’s your stop, man.”
Holding him by the arm-pits they dragged him to the cot in the center of the room under the bright operational light. It had restrains on. Oh, no! No way in hell he’d submit to this without a fight. Growling he began to struggle, kicking and hitting and biting. It was damn hard to do with hands still firmly cuffed behind his back, and ankles held together by the shackles. At least he was able to give a mean elbow blow to the thug number one’s nose, causing him to swear loudly in Russian.
“That’s enough!” Max voice was dangerously quite as he jumped and pinned Aaron down to the floor. At once he felt a sting to his left shoulder and his body began to betray him, muscle by muscle. He didn’t black out this time but couldn’t move an inch.
“Fuck” Aaron managed, feeling completely helpless.
“Maybe later, big boy” the thug number one finally spoke, “I haven’t done with you” he said and kicked Aaron in the ribs, hard.
“Otstavit’!” Aaron knew an order when he heard one, even on another language. With one swift move Max lifted up and put him on the cot. They restrained him firmly, legs first, removing the cuffs. The restrains were leather, similar to those used in mental hospitals but enhanced with iron cord to again deal with extra strength. A wide belt across his hips was pinning his body to the cot, leather handcuffs were attached to it. It gave him a possibility to move his upper body, but not much.
Aaron realized he was breathing shallow as a sheer panic began to rise inside him. He willed himself to calm down and assess the situation. The brain felt fuzzy, slow, like in a thick heavy mist, probably because all this adrenalin rush and struggle and no food or water all these days or, and what was even worse, the cognitive function began to degrade.
“Listen guys, I think, you’ve got me confuses with someone.” An attempt, however weak to slip out from this mess. “This Aaron whatever, that’s not me. My name is Doug Collins, check it out, I came, -”
“Sorry, man, there is no talking your way out of this.” Was it a hint of sympathy in Max voice?
Doc came back, bringing some test tubes.
“Here, Doc, packed him nice and easy,” Max said moving away from the cot.
“Not that easy, I see” pointing as the broken nose of the goon number one, Doc began to arrange the equipment around: switching the machines, lighting the microscope, starting the centrifuge.
“Don’t worry, Doc, got him sedated, won’t hurt a fly now”.
Doc groaned exaggeratingly loud and irritated, “First this gap in medications and now the sedative! Are you deliberately making my life more difficult as it already is?”
“Part of the job description” Max answered with a big wide smile. “It’ll wear off in several minutes with his metabolism.”
She shooed them away from the laboratory, staying along with Aaron in the room. Sitting by the table with all the equipment some of which he couldn’t quite recognize, she continued manipulations, not paying much attention to him. Pause lingered as he observed her actions, calculated and calm. She knew exactly what she was doing, mixing some liquids, placing them in centrifuge, checking the results on the computer screen. This woman kind of reminded him of another, but he forced those thoughts down deep inside. Not the place, not the time.
Minutes passed… OK, all this was going nowhere and the uncertainty was killing him.
“So, Doc?” he started, pleased to see how she jumped a bit, startled by his voice. “Glad that I came across you. Will you have a look at my hand here? I cut it somehow.”
She stopped entering data to the computer and really looked at him for the first time.
“I’d better leave it to the nice doctor. Sure you’d enjoy her care more than mine.” She said with a smile that didn’t quite enter her eyes.
OK that was much more alarming for him. She shouldn’t have known that. No way. It wasn’t even in his file. He was sure about it. As if she was in his head.
“Who are you?”
“Let’s just say an independent party.”
And it all clicked together: the briefings, all the intel on the mission, the Alpha Team.
“So the auction was just a bait, wasn’t it?”
“Oh, you are quick,” she checked the computer screen where some kind of diagnostic was running and moved to face him. “All it took was just to spread the word ‘genome enhancements’ and just to wait for people with pills to come looking” She smirked, “like bees on honey, or flies on…”
She pulled his pill case from her pocket, placing it on the table.
“Very ineffective mean during the undercover operations if you think of it… More like a huge bright comic bulb/cloud above your head saying, ‘I’m an Outcome, come take me’.”
He desperately tried not to look at the pill case as she continued, “Have you ever thought of why would they make you have it? It’s very ineffective, dangerous, risky… ”
By that time he understood that she wasn’t expecting any answer, so he just let her talk. What was it with the baddies and their need to monologue, he thought…
“On the other hand it is a very potent leash, to keep you compliant, within bounds…”
The computer beeped once, announcing the end of the ‘phase one’. She moved her chair toward the cot, slowly, announcing her every gesture, as if dealing with a wounded animal.
“It’ll just take readings of your blood pressure, heart rate and temperature,” showing of a bracelet she slowly put in on his right wrist. “Those I will apply on your chest.” Four sensors looked like standard medical equipment.
Gently and unhasty she unbuttoned his used-to-be-white shirt and stared applying the sensors, lingering a bin more than necessary on the smoothing them on the skin. Sensations had already returned to his extremities, so he felt every touch.
“Like what you see?” he asked, leaking his lips, slowly, deliberately. She startled as if caught on a very naughty thought, unable to look away from his lips and how they moved.
“Cause how it looks,-” he continued lingeringly raising his upper body as far as the restrains went. “Is nothing comparing to how it’d feel.”
As if mesmerized, she moved toward, lips almost touching, breath mixed. Hand on his chest, feeling heat of the skin and strong beat of the heart.
“Not.gonna.happen.” smiling she pushed him gently on the cot. “A really good try, though.”
“Can’t blame a man for trying” he responded with the laugh.
“Oh, no. I’d have been offended if you didn’t.” this time a smile reached her eyes, warming them. He was pleased to see a bright blush still on her cheeks.
Computer beeped once again and she returned all her attention to it, entering another data. Aaron took this opportunity to put his thoughts together. His physical condition began to really alarm him: he felt weak and tired, couldn’t quite focus on one thought, his mind felt fogged and slow. Trying to shake it off he concentrated on what she was doing.
From where he was lying he wasn’t able to see most of the screen, but the keyboard was quite visible. It was bilingual, with Cyrillic letters. By the way she was typing, he understood she was entering data in Russian. It was important somehow, bothering him… He willed himself to concentrate, running back all the events on this day. And it hit him: both Doс and Max being Russian (or at least knowing the language) nevertheless spoke English. Why? For him, he understood, it was all for him… Revoking all the dialogue in his mind, he got what was nagging him from the start.
“What tracking device?” he asked, trying to sound calm, indifferent.
She stopped typing, looking a bit perplexed by the question, than the realization filled her eyes, “Oh, you are good, aren’t you?” Moving back to the cot she placed her hand on his right side, an inch above the waist line. “It’s here, small pill, satellite feed, thermosensitive. Another leash to keep you grounded. Not that efficient though. We’ve been jamming it from the get go.”
He listened quietly, cataloging the information to check it out later if possibility arises. Actually he didn't doubt any of it. It wasn't just possible, but very in style of his superiors.
“Have you ever thought why are they doing that? If they don’t trust you like that when you're efficient, what would they do the second you expire you usefulness?”
“Are you trying to turn me, Doc?” he asked, letting his voice to sound doubtful, as if open for a suggestion. If that was the case, surely he could play that card.
“Nah… Just a mere suggestion that maybe it’s a time to start thinking for yourself?”
“I would, honestly,” he smiled, moving a bit, shifting his arms “But I’m a bit tied up right now”.
A smile, genuine this time was interrupted by yet another beep, this time from the centrifuge. It stopped and opened reveling only one test tube.
“Have you ever wondered how much of you is you?” She took it out and filled the syringe of its content. “The sense of humor comes with the intelligence. But was it always inside you or it's theirs creation? As with honor, kindness, will… please work a wrist” She asked moving to the cot again and tying a tourniquet just above his elbow.
Aaron winced, trying in vain to move away. “What are you doing to me?” Really not liking the way his voice cracked a bit, he had no choice but to look how Doc calmly, quickly, professionally inserted some substance into his vein.
“Nothing that hasn’t been done before.” She answered as she removed the needle, “Just a little help, a platform for the future…. Don’t worry you won’t feel any difference, nor will you remember much from this encounter…” Her voice began to fade away, breaking, words stopped making sense… He felt the world began to spin and blur.
He was out cold before she finished her sentence.
Doc stayed by his side some more, watching over his vitals as his temperature began to rise, sweat broke and he began to shake violently. Soothing him with the soft touches of the cold wet cloth, she spoke to him, in calm reassuring voice, telling that it’s going to be OK, that he’s strong, a fighter and it’s all going to be over soon.
In several hours as his fever broke and he noticeably calmed, she called for Max.
***
First thing Aaron heard when regained his consciousness were the gun shots. They were closing to him with every minute. He tried to open his eyes, feeling dizzy, tired and lightheaded. His mouth was dry, body ached and head hurt like hell. Sitting up was a problem so he focused on the seeing part. He found himself in the same basement as before. Dim light, tatty walls, rug on the floor.
Aaron shook his head, trying to regain focus and remember. He recalled being brought here, then escape attempts and then… nothing… blurry lights, muffed voices, several words… The more he tried to think back the more his head hurt. He groaned, taking his head into the hands as blood’s hammering in his temples. A chain around his neck rattled, he took out the metal case attached to the chain, slid it open and revealed several empty rows where the pills should have been. Four sets, for at least 80 hours. From which he had memories of 40 at best… Not good.
A door flew open wrested by several men, entering in military formation.
“Agent Cross?” one of the men asked, lowering the gun after making sure that the room was secure. Precise actions, by the book. Though they were dressed as local police, Aaron recognized American training. “Lt. James Gibbons, Second Georgian airbase, we’re here to take you home, Sir.”
It could be another trap or a trick so Aaron didn’t say anything, waiting him to continue.
“Extraction code is alfa-51-8-double O-1-echo, Col. Stevens is waiting you at the base, asked to tell you that you still own him 57 bucks.” All three parts of the password were correct and Aaron allowed himself to relax a bit.
Lt. Gibbons continued with the smirk, “Gosh that’s a long password. Ready to roll?”
“Yes, Lieutenant” Aaron tried to get up, only to fall down on the rug again. “Guess I’m gonna need some help here”.
Two solders helped him up, holding him by the hands. That was vaguely familiar, but he couldn’t quite place the memory. They carried him out through several corridors and staircases to the big truck parked in front of the building. Several bodies were seen lying around the corners on their way out.
***
On the street all was quiet, locals long used to all unrests, shootings and police raids. As most of the group were dressed and drove a police car, no one paid much attention. Except for maybe two people that were sitting in the nearby tea bar.
“What happened?” a woman asked, keeping her eyes on the truck as Aaron was mounted in.
“Malfunctions in our jamming equipment, Doc, very unfortunate.” Max answered with the smile, no trace of a Russian accent in his voice…
“Very unfortunate, indeed. Are we clear? Anything that could lead them to us?” She returned the smile, sipping her tea.
“Nah… I’m pretty sure about the locals and the equipment. Him I worry about.” Max traced the truck as it passed by. “How much will he remember?”
“Do you doubt my expertise, Max?”
“Doc! How could you even think that?” he answered with the exaggerated horror expression. “You’re the brains here, I’m just the brawn.”
“Don’t sell your self short.” she finished her teabowl and gestured for a refill. “He won’t remember much, just some bits of information, some ideas, and whole lots of doubt. Fine chemistry tuning, some behavior adjustments. Just enough to balance his enhancements and to ensure he’ll act the way we need him to, when the time comes.”
“They could find chemicals in his blood” he still sounded a bit unsure.
“Not with their equipment. Max, your doubt really begins to hurt my feelings. What’s on your mind?”
“No, Doc, it’s not you. It’s just…” he paused thinking. “Are you sure that this is the right way? It’s just one man. Too many ifs and chances for everything to go awry.”
“The strategy proved to be efficient, Just look at Bourne and what he’s doing to Treadstone. If you ask me, I do believe in that one. He looked promising. Mark my word, Max. One day Aaron Cross will burn Outcome program to the ground.”