Manipulator (16 page)

Chapter Thirty One

Date: December 9th 2035

Location: Wilson Place Hospital, New York

“I NEED A DOCTOR IN HERE NOW!” Owen heard somebody shout out nearby. He wasn’t awake yet, and everything that he was hearing was muffled, like somebody was holding his head underwater in a fishbowl. He knew he had to wake himself up as quickly as possible and find out what was going on. He forced his eyes open to see a scurry of bodies in his field of vision, all gathered around the bed which Marcus Ortega was lying in.

They shot Marcus!
 
He remembered

Forcefully, he kicked his spirit back into the world of the living. Even though both of his arms still felt heavy and full of pins and needles, he forced them to life in order to rip the portable PRoGRaM equipment off his head. He lay on his back on the makeshift bed down the side of the private hospital room, his head tilted to the side, watching people in front of him try and save Marcus Ortega’s life whilst he lay there, barely able to do anything.

With tremendous effort, and eventually with the help of Nick, Owen managed to get himself sat upright. Using his hands to support his bodyweight and keep himself sat vertically, he saw that the man he had met earlier, Doctor Raybould, was in the room, over by the side of Marcus Ortega’s bed. He had two nurses by his side and they were desperately trying to revive and stabilise Marcus from the shock that his mind had just been through.

Why is Marcus affected?
Owen wondered, suddenly confused by the situation out here in the real world.
He wasn’t plugged into PRoGRaM in any way that could have caused any damage to his mind. It can only mean one thing... But could somebody have really cracked our system? It is a portable device after all, it doesn't have all the safety features of the one we use back at base…

“Time of death, three forty-five,” Doctor Raybould called out as he pulled off some latex gloves from his hands and threw them in a bin nearby. He left the room quickly, leaving the nurses to handle the rest. He shot a hard looking glance at Owen as he left the room, as if somehow this was all his fault.
It probably is.
Archer thought guiltily, still sat feeling helpless as he waited for the feeling to come back into his limbs.

The next fifteen minutes passed slowly, achingly so, as Owen was still recovering from the ejection from the PRoGRaM digital world. He could tell just by looking at her that Kate was suffering the same way he was, although she didn’t seem to be showing it as obviously as he did.

Finally, the hospital staff left them in peace, leaving only the three of them in the room. The porters had moved Marcus’ body, leaving Owen and his team alone. Silence hung between the three of them. Owen didn’t know what to say, or where to even begin.

“What happened… “ Nick began. “I didn’t think it was possible…”

“It’s not your fault,” Owen chipped in solemnly, trying to take some of the guilt away from him. “I should have thought about this before we took onboard a field operation. The blame lies with me.”

“With all due respect, can one of you please tell me what happened in there?” Kate asked, desperately wanting to know what Owen and Nick were talking about. Without her having the technical know-how that the two of them had, she felt lost when they started talking about PRoGRaM’s mechanics.

“Someone cracked our PRoGRaM device remotely,” Nick said. “They overloaded some of the programming and switched some settings around without me even knowing it. It allowed Marcus’ headset to become a form of execution. Someone out there pretty much guaranteed that death inside PRoGRaM would cause Marcus' death in real life too.”

“What?!” she responded, shocked that something like that was even possible. “It was like an assassination! How did that happen?”

“The portable device hasn’t exactly been used in the field properly before. We’ve never really gone over some of it’s security protocols," Owen admitted. Right then, Kate suddenly understood why Owen was so sullen about everything that had happened. FBI’s Special Projects team was going to come down hard on him for letting this happen to Marcus. They probably hadn’t even authorised the use of a mission with the portable PRoGRaM equipment. Owen’s personal connection to the case was impairing his judgement.

“And you have no way of finding out who it was that shot him?” Kate asked, trying to find something good to come out of the situation.

“No,” Nick answered bluntly.

“I should have caught him,” Owen said. “It’s my fault he got away. I’m sorry.”

“It’s not your fault," Nick responded. "There was no way we could have caught him. Not with the programming that he was using.”

“They were trying to stop Marcus from telling you something,” Kate said, trying to steer the conversation back around to the task at hand.

Owen thought about it.
It makes sense.
But then that meant that somewhere out there, somebody really was conspiring against him. Someone was trying to stop him from finding out the truth. Until today, he had just been playing along with the game, going along with what he was hearing. He wasn’t anywhere near convinced that Annie’s death
was
in fact a targeted attack. This changed all of that. Someone, somewhere, was out to stop him from finding out what was really happening.

“We need to find Alex and Ethan before something happens to them,” Owen stated. “If this is all really going down, and someone’s out to silence Marcus, it stands a good chance that someone could be after the other two guys as well. I don’t believe that the events of today were all just a coincidence.”

Owen felt a rhythmic buzzing coming from his inside jacket pocket. He felt around for his phone, and managed to grab it, take it out, and look at the caller ID.

Shit.

“Agent Archer,” he answered seriously. It was his superior from PRoGRaM's FBI Special Projects Division. Owen's boss. It was rare he ever heard from the man. For him to contact Owen like this, then something bad must have happened, or an incredibly big job involving their skills must have arisen. Considering what had just happened regarding PRoGRaM and Marcus Ortega, it was more likely to be option number one.

“You need to get back to the New York Analytic Base. Right now,” the deep male voice on the other end of the phone said.

Beep. Beep.

They didn’t even wait for a response or give any further information. They just hung up the phone.

Shit.
Owen thought.
What’s happened now?

Chapter Thirty Two

Date: December 9th 2035

Location: New York

The three of them hit the road as fast as they could. Together, they quickly left the situation at Wilson Place hospital behind as they got into their Jeep and fired it back to their New York Base. Owen took the drivers seat, purely because he knew that he was better at driving under stressful conditions, and right now, there was nothing more stressful than this. Especially if their boss, Richard Sterling was involved.

To be fair to the man, he usually left them alone and let them to get on with their jobs without interfering. But if he was getting involved, then the shit really had hit the fan.
What the hell has happened?

Richard Sterling was the head of the Special Projects Division of the FBI. With an ex-military background the man had a tough personality, and was more than a little rough around the edges. He was in his late fifties or early sixties, but Owen was never good at getting anybodies age right. Sterling was a man that nobody was willing to cross paths with. Combine that with the fact that he looked as tough as nails with his balding head, emotionless face and solid eyes, he definitely wasn’t somebody that you wanted to disappoint.

This was the exact thought that was going through Owen’s mind as he blasted his way through the early evening traffic, cutting up other motorists in an attempt to get back to the Analytic Base as quickly as physically possible. The sirens on their car screamed out loudly as Owen fired the car around the final corner, tyres squealing as he did so. Finally, they caught line of sight on their base of operations, and that was when the three of them saw just what lay ahead.

“Oh my God,” Kate gasped from the back of the Jeep. Nick stared at the scene from the passenger seat, lost for words. Up ahead of them, something terrible had happened.

It looked like there had been some sort of bomb blast.

Owen didn’t say anything. He just took in the situation, mouth agape. He saw flashing lights of every kind. The fire department, multiple ambulances and the N.Y.P.D. were all scattered out up ahead of them. Owen even recognised a few members of the FBI's Special Projects Division hanging around.

Smoke was gushing into the air as the New York Fire Department finished tackling the blaze in what was left of the building. The N.Y.P.D. had the area surrounded, trying desperately to keep the growing crowd of onlookers away. Owen slowed the car down as he moved up to the edge of the cordoned off area.

Several police officers tried to wave his vehicle off down a nearby street, automatically assuming that he was just another driver trying to get a look at what was going on. Owen stopped the car at the edge of the police tape as he wound his window down. He was just about to flash his FBI badge, but a voice stopped him cold.

“He’s with me,” a deep, dark voice shouted loudly from behind the line of police tape. The young officer didn’t need to be told twice, especially by the man who was calling out. Owen saw Richard Sterling walk towards their team’s Jeep, appearing from behind several officers at the edge of the restricted zone.

“Archer,” he stated coldly, looking straight into Owen’s eyes through the open drivers side window. This was the closest Owen was going to get to a greeting from the man. “Get in here," he said. "We need to talk.”

Owen put his foot back on the accelerator as the officers granted his Jeep access to the secure area. Inside, he parked up the Jeep at the nearest free space. Looking in his wing mirror, he saw Sterling marching towards their vehicle.

“Just you,” he said, pointing to Owen. Without waiting, Sterling turned and started walking away. Owen quickly clambered out of the drivers seat and out of the Jeep. Slamming the door behind him, he jogged to catch up to Richard Sterling who was stood looking at the mess of a building that lay before them. Together, he and Owen stood in silence, watching.

“This operation of yours,” Sterling said, his words getting right to the heart of the issue. “It’s being shut down. Someone is out there with some kind of personal vendetta against you, and we cannot get involved. Someone’s torched this place. We should be damn grateful that they didn’t take anything. I’ve had some of the techies down here to confirm that your PRoGRaM device was incinerated in the blast. That’s a damn sight better than losing it. You’re lucky people got out of this alive, because I’d hold you
personally
responsible for any deaths.”

“But we had authorisation to do this,” Owen said, trying to justify his actions.

“From who? The Chief of the fucking New York branch of the FBI?” Sterling shouted, his wide eyes looking angrily at Owen. “Owen. He will let you do whatever the fuck you want. You know why? Because one of his people are working with us. He’ll give you authorisation to do anything. It looks good on him, and one of his agents gets all the free training she needs.”

Owen didn’t have any answer for him, so he kept quiet, nodding in response to everything that Sterling said to him. “Owen, we outrank ever other fucking department in the Bureau. When shit like this happens, you need to come to
me
,” Richard said disappointingly, still staring at the smouldering building in front of him.

“You’d have stopped me,” Owen said, finally finding the courage to stand up to him. Sterling took a second to realise that Owen had answered back to him.
I didn’t think that the man had it in him.

“You’re damn right,” Sterling said unquestionably. “I would have stood up to you. I wouldn’t have let you wander off on this stupid fucking personal mission that you’ve got going on. And guess what? None of this shit would have happened,” he said, his voice getting gradually louder and angrier as he spoke.

Sterling turned and snatched a clipboard out of the hands of a nearby officer who had been waiting patiently nearby the entire time, not wanting to interrupt their conversation.

“It’s over Owen,” Sterling said, cutting the conversation dead in its tracks. “Get Nick over here, I want him to sign over all of the portable PRoGRaM equipment to me. I know you’ve got it all in the back of that truck. It wasn’t in the Analytic Base.”

Owen didn’t say anything, instead, he nodded back to the man and did as he was told. Together, he and Nick both signed over all of their PRoGRaM equipment to Sterling and his team from Special Projects.

“Take a few weeks off,” Sterling said to both Owen and Nick. “Let all this just evaporate and in a few weeks I’ll see what we can work out. I’ll call you. And I won’t lie… your careers are probably both fucked up now.”

Using that as his goodbye, Richard Sterling merged back into the crowd of police officers and FBI agents surrounding him, continuing to do his job from the shadows.
That’s probably the last we see of him again for a long time.
Owen thought.
It’s over.