The Truth is Out There, Part 6
“We must develop and build weapons to deter those new threats. We must rebuild our infrastructure, which is in a very serious state of disrepair. And we must assure the noble cause of military service remains the high calling that will attract the very best. All this costs money. It costs more than we have. It demands agility—more than today's bureaucracy allows. And that means we must recognize another transformation: the revolution in management, technology and business practices. Successful modern businesses are leaner and less hierarchical than ever before. They reward innovation and they share information. They have to be nimble in the face of rapid change or they die. Business enterprises die if they fail to adapt, and the fact that they can fail and die is what provides the incentive to survive. But governments can't die, so we need to find other incentives for bureaucracy to adapt and improve. The technology revolution has transformed organizations across the private sector, but not ours, not fully, not yet. We are, as they say, tangled in our anchor chain. Our financial systems are decades old. According to some estimates, we cannot track 2.3 trillion marks in transactions. We cannot share information from floor to floor in this building because it's stored on dozens of technological systems that are inaccessible or incompatible. We maintain 20 to 25 percent more base infrastructure than we need to support our forces, at an annual waste to taxpayers of some 3 to 4 billion marks. Fully half of our resources go to infrastructure and overhead, and in addition to draining resources from warfighting, these costly and outdated systems, procedures and programs stifle innovation as well. A new idea must often survive the gauntlet of some 17 levels of bureaucracy to make it from a line officer's to my desk. I have too much respect for a line officer to believe that we need 17 layers between us. Our business processes and regulations seems to be engineered to prevent any mistake, but by so doing, they discourage any risk. But ours is a nation born of ideas and raised on improbability, and risk aversion is not our nation's ethic, and more important, it must not be ours. Those who fear danger do not volunteer to storm beaches and take hills, sail the seas, and conquer the skies. Now we must free you to take some of the same thoughtful, reasoned risks in the bureaucracy that the men and women in uniform do in battle.”
-Rudolf Scharping
Alençon Airport, Normandy – December 13, 1992, 11:34 AM
Anders pulled up to the curb in front of Angela in a rental car. He popped open the trunk and reached for Angela’s bags.
“I can get them,” Angela said.
Anders tossed her the keys. “Good. If you didn’t like the plane, you won’t like the way I drive.”
“Has your dad been teaching you again?” Angela complained.
“Walter’s doing just fine,” Anders said, “Ignoring the divorce. Can we go now?”
Five minutes later, Angela drove down the highway as fast as she could, thanking Adenauer for not placing speed limits on the major Autobahns. It was a much different experience driving on the open highway than in the big city. She could drive faster and better here, and she could blast the radio music as loud as she wanted. And it wasn’t as claustrophobic. In Constantinople, she usually had Demetrios drive. City streets reminded her too much of Vienna sometimes.
As the trees zoomed by outside, Anders tuned the radio station to something they could listen to. All local stations had bad reception here, probably because of the trees. Giving up, he grabbed one of Angela’s tapes and loaded it in. Michael Joachim started playing. He sat back with a big bag of sunflower seeds, which he handed to Angela.
“You know I don’t like sunflower seeds, Anders,” Angela said, rolling her eyes.
“Good time of year for oyster over here,” Anders said, “Ever had Normandy oyster?”
Angela shook her head.
“It’s a dish to die for,” Anders chuckled, “Pardon the expression.”
“What have you been up to, Anders?” Angela said. “Why are you doing this?”
“It’s my job, Angie,” Anders said, “You know me.”
“You’re going mad,” Angela said, “Probably because of the divorce. Or Diana.”
“You know it’s more than the divorce, Angie,” Anders said, “As for Diana, that was more like a mutual dumping. We agreed we weren’t compatible with each other.”
“Yeah, no surprise the Director’s daughter fled to Berlin to get away from you,” Angela said.
“That had nothing to do with my work,” Anders said, “It happened long before X-Division. But I’m glad they assigned you. Haven’t had a second opinion on these cases in forever.”
Angela wasn’t amused. “You didn't mention yesterday the Athanatoi has already investigated this case.”
“The Athanatoi investigated the first three deaths,” Anders explained, “But they suspended the investigation for lack of evidence.”
He spat seeds out the window and turned up the volume.
“But you obviously think there's a connection between the girl's death and her three classmates,” Angela said.
Anders nodded. “It's a reasonable assumption. Except our latest victim is the only one with the unidentified marks and tissue sample.”
“She was also the only one of the group autopsied by a different medical examiner,” Angela said.
Anders grinned again. “There you go again, Angie. Pretty good, as always.”
Angela sighed. “Really, Anders? Pretty good? Better than you expected I'd be? Or just better than you'd hoped?”
“You know, science has its limitations,” Anders said, “And those limitations limit scientists. Only a select few can handle a case like this.”
Angela glared at him. “Don’t you patronize me, Anders. If I'm not mistaken, we're trying to solve a murder, not unlock the mysteries of the universe.”
“And you’re a doctor of medicine, not a doctor of philosophy,” Anders said, “Man, I always get that messed up.”
The radio sputtered for a second. The music resumed, as normal, but Angela could hear a low loud hum emanating from just behind the song. Anders heard it too. He shot upright and looked every way outside.
“Stop the car!” Anders yelled. “Stop the car!”
Angela slammed the brakes hard, and the car lurched to an abrupt stop. Anders jumped out and popped open the trunk, rummaging around for something. As Angela got out, Anders pulled out a can of spray paint and sprayed a large X on the asphalt.
“You know that’s probably illegal,” Angela said.
Shrugging again, Anders tossed the can back in the trunk, shut it, and got back in the car. Angela got behind the wheel and drove off.
“What the hell was that about?” she demanded.
“Probably nothing,” Anders said.
Alençon - November 14, 2015, 3:43 PM
“…resignations include the Ministers of Defense and the Environment, the KNMB and RSB Directors, the Megas Domestikos ton Aeras, and…”
“…Schröder appeared in court for the first time today…”
“…number of indictments issued by the Minister of Justice is unprecedented in modern…”
“…connections with the Flight 549 tragedy and the bizarre massacre at KL Kodima…”
“…involved in the murders of several individuals closely tied to members of the X-Division…”
“…Kaiserstrasse office is believed to be used for money laundering…”
“…were unable to hold back the massive crowds which forced their way inside…”
“…a state of emergency has been declared by several mayors…”
As the radio talked about the continuing chaos elsewhere, Angela peacefully drove the Impala down a familiar forest road. She hadn’t been here in over fifteen years, yet she still remembered each twist and turn. She slowed down as she passed a familiar red “X” Anders had spray-painted onto the road 23 years ago. Speaking of Anders, she looked over to where he slept in the passenger seat, his headphones playing her Walkman’s music. Olga sat in the back, on her phone. She was probably checking X-Division’s social media accounts, as always. They had really blown up since Theresa published her story. Anna and Diana had remained in Mainz to look after Annie and Walter.
She drove into town, past the age-old sign reading “Welcome to Alençon, the friendly city!” On a nearby telephone pole sat dozens of flyers for lawyers and church sermons. A lot of the storefronts had been boarded up. Two new churches loomed over Main Street, which was dusty and empty. Pedestrians looked at her as she drove past, wondering what such an old car was doing in the relatively newer town.
“Not the reception I expected,” Olga said.
“We’ve made some friends,” Angela said.
“I’m not surprised,” Olga said.
“I sent word ahead to Theresa,” Angela said.
“Theresa Novak?” Olga said.
“Not her,” Angela said, “An old friend of mine.”
They arrived at the Haus residence. Angela cut the engine and took the Walkman back, waking Anders up. He rubbed his head and stretched.
“We there?” he said.
“Just arrived,” Angela said, “Wake up.”
They got out of the car and walked up to the front door. Angela knocked on the door, and Theresa Neumann opened it.
“You’re here,” she said, “Thank goodness.”
Angela hugged Neumann. “Nice to see you again.”
“Come in,” Neumann said.
They walked inside and sat in the living room.
“This is Olga Kirova,” Angela said, pointing at Olga.
“She joined us just after…you know,” Anders said.
“Hey,” Olga said.
“Nice to meet you,” Neumann said.
“How are things going?” Angela said.
“Things haven’t been the same since Ray…” Neumann’s voice trailed off.
She shook her head. “It’s been hard, but we’re doing just fine.”
A teenage girl walked down the stairs and noticed them.
“Angelica, sweetie, we have some more visitors,” Neumann said.
“More?” Angelica said, looking exasperated.
“Just for today,” Neumann said, “Some family friends. Why don’t you introduce yourself?”
Angelica approached them and looked at Angela.
“Hey,” she said, “I’m Angelica.”
“I’m Angela Hansen,” Angela said, holding out her hand, “You know, when I last met you, you were just a baby.”
“Mom told me all about you,” Angelica said.
“That’s why you’re named Angelica,” Neumann said.
“She always shares that, first chance she gets,” Angelica said.
"Must be exciting times," Angela said.
"Not really," Angelica said, "It was nice at first. I even told everybody I wanted to join the Athanatoi because of you. But now they just want to talk about my dad. He disappeared when I was a baby, Mom probably told you, but they're saying they found his name in the leaks. And the next thing you know, everybody at school’s talking about Dad.”
“I'm so sorry,” Angela said.
“Things have been rough these last few weeks,” Angelica said, "It's hard processing all this, especially for Mom. She and Dad went through a lot as teenagers. And now this..."
“It’ll get better,” Angela said, “I'll make sure of that."
"And what about my dad?" Angelica said.
"I don't know," Angela said.
Meanwhile, Olga turned to Neumann.
"Where's Nick?" she asked.
"Upstairs," Neumann said, "But be careful. He's a little...delicate."
Olga and Anders went upstairs and found Nick sitting on a bed, looking at the carpet. He had changed dramatically in the years since they last met. His broken and choppy hair had streaks of gray. His eyes were bloodshot. His skin was covered in dust and bruises. His hands trembled uncontrollably. His clothes were tattered and torn. He was constantly muttering something under his breath. Downstairs, Angela literally felt the fear and nervousness he gave off, becoming terrified herself. She struggled to keep herself composed. Neumann and Angelica also looked a little fearful, although Angela seemed to have absorbed most of Nick's emotions.
"Nick?" Anders said. "You okay?"
Nick stared at them and stopped muttering.
"Thank God you're here," he said, "We don't have much time."
"Much time?" Olga said.
"We should get going," Nick said, "I may have had about half an hour's head start over those Sentinel goons."
"How long have you been here?" Olga said.
"An hour," Nick said, "They could show up at any moment. They could've followed you here."
"We'll tell Angie downstairs," Anders said.
Downstairs, Angela, Neumann, and Angelica sat on a couch to move further from Nick upstairs.
"You remind me a lot of my own daughter," Angela said, hoping to take their minds off their dread.
"Really?" Angelica said. "How old is she?"
"I don't know," Angela said, "22? I haven't seen her in so long."
"How do you know then?" Neumann said.
"I think that's right," Angela said.
"What happened with her?" Angelica said.
"I gave her up for adoption when she was little," Angela said, "It's a dangerous line of work. I wanted to keep her safe. I promised I'd come back for her someday."
"Let's hope it's sooner and not never," Neumann said.
Angela heard cars screeching to a halt outside, followed by doors slamming and men shouting. Nick's dread turned to panic.
"They're here!" Angela said, drawing her gun.
Anders, Olga, and Nick rushed down the stairs. Anders drew his gun. Olga checked the door.
"Nick?" Angela said. "What happened to you?"
"It's a long story," Nick said, "But we need to go now."
"Driveway's surrounded, street’s blocked off,” Olga said, "We can't take the Impala."
"We can go into the woods from the backyard," Angelica said.
Everybody looked at her.
"The woods?" Neumann said.
“There’s a path us kids used to take,” Angelica said.
“Have you been hanging out with those kids again?” Neumann said.
“Not anymore, but I remember the route,” Angelica said.
She opened the backdoor and pointed at the trees.
“Head straight ahead until you find a dirt path,” she said, “Turn right onto the path and continue until you reach the end of the woods. There should be a train station within a mile.”
“Thank you,” Anders said.
He and Olga led Nick out the door.
“Before you go, could I ask something of you?” Angelica said just as Angela started after them.
A little later, there was a knock on the door. As soon as Neumann opened it, Billy Marks stormed in, accompanied by several super soldiers.
“Billy?” Neumann said, recognizing him, “What are you doing barging into my house?”
But Billy’s expression remained blank.
“Ma’am, this is a matter of national security,” he said, robotically holding up an RSB badge and a picture of Nick, “We have received word that a known fugitive by the name of Nick Larsen has passed through this town recently. Have you seen him?”
“No,” Neumann said, “Billy, what’s going on? You’re not yourself. Don’t you recognize me?”
Billy tried to look at Neumann, but he couldn’t. He looked straight ahead and walked past her.
“Ma’am, I must repeat, this is a matter of national security,” he said, “Nick Larsen is in possession of state secrets, on top of being a convicted terrorist and murderer wanted in four provinces. We do not know when he will strike again.”
“Come on, Billy, we both know that’s nonsense,” Neumann said, “Have you watched the news? The RSB can’t use national security as an excuse to barge into people’s houses anymore. I don’t care if it’s you barging in. Now, you’re on my private property. I’m going to ask you to leave. I’m not going to ask again.”
Billy grabbed Neumann by the throat and slammed her against the wall. Angelica screamed, but two more super soldiers pinned her to the opposite wall. One frisked her, taking her phone and scanning it with a device. Billy drew a pistol and aimed at Angelica.
“You do know where Nick Larsen is,” Billy said, “I saw how you reacted to his picture. Now, tell me where he went. I’m not going to ask again.”
“What the hell, Billy?!” Neumann said. “You were never like this! Not even when we were in the hospital! What’s gotten into you?! What did they do to you?”
“I haven't changed a bit,” Billy said, “Please make this easy for the both of us. Tell us where the fugitive Nick Larsen went.”
“You’re not the Billy I knew,” Neumann said, “I would never help you.”
“Fine,” Billy said, “Then you wouldn’t mind if—”
“Sir,” one of the other super soldiers said, holding up his device, “I’ve accessed the girl’s phone data. You should take a look.”
He showed the device to Billy. Displayed was a selfie of Angelica with Angela by the backdoor.
“On second thought, we should’ve checked her social media and cloud storage first,” he said.
“They’re escaping through the woods,” Billy realized.
He dropped Neumann. She fell to the floor, coughing and groaning. The other super soldiers released Angelica.
“You meet up with Agent Moreau and apprehend Larsen and the others,” he said, “I will stay here and keep an eye on the witnesses.”
