A Gentleman's Game: Part 2 - "Takes Me Nowhere"

[ShockArcl1te]

I know how this will end
But I'm starting up again
Turned around, inside out
Cause this way
Takes me nowhere, I can't - can't see a way out

The Offspring – Takes Me Nowhere

Tremor woke to the altogether unpleasant sensation of being encased in a concrete block with his oxygen tank having run out. Whoever had put him here had timed the drug to wear off around the same point his tank reached empty, which gave him a few seconds to get out. A sharp pulse of vibration from within and the concrete pillar exploded into chunks of rock and a cloud of dust. Tremor fell to his knees and gasped for air, coughing and hacking for a solid minute before he slowly got to his feet, leaning on a nearby crate to steady himself. Gathering his surroundings from the soft winds outside and the repeating ‘klick-klack’ below, he concluded he was on a train. The room he was in was dark except for a handful of lights near the door at the far ends of the cabin. The train car was crowded with crates and boxes as well as various pedestals done in the classic Greek columns.

After some digging around, he managed to find the packing manifest that revealed what train he was on and where it was headed. Apparently he had been smuggled into a shipment of sculptures and art pieces that were being sent to the Oakland Museum of California. “Great,” he muttered to himself, “The other side of the country. The hell do they expect me to…” he paused, noticing the briefcase that had been ‘packed’ with him peeking out of the rubble. Looking at the case he thought for a moment before letting out a sigh. “Why not. So long as we’re playing 007…” he cleared away some of the debris and dusted off the case before undoing the latch. The case popped open immediately to reveal a built in laptop monitor but no keyboard. The rest of the inside had hollowed out slots containing a flip phone and what appeared to be some kind of military issue fighting knife with knuckle guard. He was about to lift up the panel to see what else the case might hide when the screen flickered to life and a woman’s face appeared. She was blond and looked to be in her mid to late forties. He recognized the voice of his interrogator instantly, “Hello Mr. Waltman.” She said in her usual smug tone. Tremor had half a mind to tell her off right then and there except there didn’t appear to be a camera built into the case. Of course there wouldn’t be. This was a recording. Wireless signals could be traced and he guessed they also didn’t like the idea of having a conversation with someone they weren’t close enough to read. “We have placed you on a train headed for Oakland, California. You’ve been in a deep sleep for roughly 32 hours which puts you somewhere in the Colorado mountains.” A map appeared on screen as if to confirm his current location. The image changed to a black and white photo of a middle aged business man with grey creeping into his hairline. He was wearing sunglasses and talking on a cellphone after apparently just getting out of a luxury sedan. It looked like a typical surveillance photo. “This is Mr. Hartshaw. He has made a business of trafficking blood diamonds through the U.K. and into the U.S. for some time now. Recently our employer entered into a partnership with Mr. Hartshaw. The terms of this partnership required that our employer turn over all potential buyers in exchange for a large sum of capital. This exchange is taking place today, on this train. The capital will be transferred via satellite while the list of buyers is on a hard drive that will be handed over once the transfer is complete. Your goal will be to wait until Mr. Hartshaw has the drive and then destroy it.” The image shifted to a picture of what the hard drive looked like along with some basic specs. The whole time Tremor listened, he kept running the angles in his mind. He had an idea of why they would pick him. If they picked some merc then there would be a money trail and a question of loyalty. Couldn’t send one of their own to do it. With Tremor however, they were guaranteed to come out clean. He had no ties to anything other than cobalt and a history of mental instability. Also, if their estimates of his location were correct, he had broken his parole by several orders of magnitude. Still, something didn’t seem right.

“When the job is finished, you can use the ghost phone we’ve included. It’s set to only dial your retrieval team, so don’t think about using it to get in contact with your friends at the school. We’re monitoring the lines on the train as well, so I would advise against that too. In any case, you probably know they won’t bother to come looking for your anyway. You’ve plotted to run away more than once already, and currently they have other matters of far greater importance.” Tremor’s frown deepened. This was to remind him that he was on a leash, which didn’t amuse him at all. He took the phone and pocketed it as the recording continued, “The knife is a precaution. You will find that it’s made of high quality tempered steel with a corrosive resistant coating. In keeping with your vibration powers, it has no screws, bolts or moving parts and is made to withstand extremes of force and weight.” Tremor removed the knife and looked it over, getting a feel for the knuckle guard and then strapped the sheath to his belt. “Finally, a bit of a gift…” The blond smiled slightly, “It can be cold at that altitude, so we left you something to keep warm.” Tremor lifted the slotted panel in the case and exhaled softly, gingerly picking up the carefully folded brown leather jacket. “Good luck Mr. Waltman. We’ll be awaiting your call.” Then the screen went blank. Tremor slipped on the jacket like it was an old friend, instantly feeling better. He shut the briefcase and stood up looking towards the doors that would lead into the passenger cars. It was a pretty sweet deal all said and done. One simple job and he was home free. He sighed. Too bad it’s all bullshit…

**************************************************

The well-dressed woman who had been designated as D1 paced around the makeshift command center they had converted from an old warehouse. Both H1 and A1 were there with her, standing guard on ether side of the warehouse doors. They watched as D1’s impatience had gotten the best of her and it wasn’t long before she was on her cell again. She had E1 on speed dial, but she could make out all of the digital button presses in painfully slow order. There was ringing again and finally someone picked up. No one spoke on the other end. E1 never answered his phone, just questions. D1 tried to assert herself and not sound anxious, “This is D1. It’s been just over 32 hours since delivery. I recommend we move quickly. My team is ready to mobilize and intercept.” There was a pause on the other end and then an old and graveled voice answered. D1 clinched her jaw. The very idea of following such commands made her feel unnatural. He never appreciated her initiative or her power. “Sir, he won’t play the game for long. He’ll figure out our cover story. Maybe he already has. When that happens, there’s nothing to stop him from moving off the board. He’s unstable. Unpredictable. If I could just-“ She was interrupted by the same graveled and quiet voice. There was a fleeting moment of rage and then her expression faded to a calm resignation, “I understand.” She said in a defeated tone. “Yes sir.” And with that, she disconnected. He wouldn’t be taking any more calls tonight.