Crossover Earth '98
Copy Cat Steve Stackhouse
Darkness.
Nearly complete. The hotel itself is in a remote corner of the interstate where few pass except during the hunting season. No cars are on their way through and only a single streetlight casts its erie glow through the cracks of the venetian blinds over the window. The soft hum of the air conditioner acts as white noise, covering what little sound there is.
The flash of light is sudden and blinding. A draftsman's lamp has been attached to the small table in the corner, lighting that one area while casting dark shadows onto the figure beside it. A white three ring binder filled with plastic cover sheets sits there, the legend "TAHIRA" in bright red block letters scrawled across the front. A pile of books lays on the edge of the table: medical journals, anatomy guides, and a dog-eared copy of How To Win Friends And Influence People.
A massive pair of hands reaches towards the notebook, rapidly flipping through the pages. Newspaper articles, faded photographs, a college transcript... an odd collection of items, recalling an odd history. "A Thesis on Neuromotor Enhancement Applications," "23 Dead In Explosion At Lancelot Technology Offices," "Police Search For Only Survivor, Fischer Seen Fleeing From Scene," "Police Discover Link Between Lancelot And Superior Bombings," "'Cheshire' Strikes Again, Northeast Medical Labs Damaged In Terrorist Attack," "Two Hospitalized After Explosion In Hayhima, GA," "The Unabomber, The Oklahoma City Bombing, and Cheshire - What Do They Say About Our Society?"
"Nine Dead in Latest Explosion." The last article, facing a blank page. But not for long. There is a rustling of paper followed by the quiet and distinctive *snip* *snip* of a pair of scissors. A new pair of articles is added to the scrapbook before the hands once again dissolve to darkness.
"Six Murdered In New Lancelot Technology Explosion. Fischer Prime Suspect." "Clinton Declares Search For Cheshire, "Top Priority.""
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>online
>Connecting to internet
>Please wait
>Connection established at 100K
>mail
>Checking for new messages
>You have 2 messages
>message 1
>(saving attachment as c:/temp/la50998.txt)
5/10/98 - 12:10 pm
Tahi-
Thought you were on vacation? Didn't think you'd ever make a slip this
bad. Or is this an attempt by the Feds to pin a murder rap onto you? Wouldn't
surprise me with that Glover guy in charge. He's the type who'd kill his own mother
to put a drug dealer away for a week. Oh well, you know what they say, you can
always tell the morals of an agency by the person at the top, and we all know about
Clinton.
- The Silver Streak
>reply? no
>message 2
5/10/98 - 7:43 pm
5. ... d4
I see you've been a busy lady. Maybe I'll be seeing you down Los Angeles way, assuming I can catch up to you this time. Adding a half dozen to your list?
B. Key
>reply? yes
>Entering Editor
Spaz -
6. cxd4
You and I both know that's not me, so you can put away your little mind game. OTOH, feel free to search for me in LA for the next year or so... ;)
Bobbi
>WARNING! Active trace detected. Disconnecting.
>You are now offline.
Tahira closed her notebook with a heavy sigh and glanced around the spa. Los Angeles? Milan, more like. If you're going to go on vacation using somebody else's money, you may as well go first class and this place had all the necessary amenities for natural relaxation.
Not that it looked like she was going to get anything resembling a relaxing vacation anytime soon. With an exhausted heave she pulled herself out of the chaise lounge and called one of the 'directors' over...
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Glass crunched under his shoes as Brian Key walked across another terrorist bombing site. Number seventeen, to be precise. Unlike wines, they didn't get better with age. They just spoiled and turned to vinegar.
"Shit," Joel muttered under his breath as he followed behind, pulling a soiled white handkerchief from his pocket and holding it across his nose. "What were they storing in there? Smells like a hundred open latrines crossed with a couple of angry skunks..."
"Thank you for that lovely image." Tanya glared over at Joel, her lips cutting off each word as it fell from her tongue, "The smell is bad enough as it is without you trying to add my lunch to the decor."
Joel's mouth opened to shoot back a reply but he didn't have a chance as Brian turned and cupped his hand over it. "Don't even get it started. We've got a lot of work to get done, and it doesn't help that we're already behind. Tanya, go do the prelim's in there. They should've left everything as it was except for the bodies, but we ARE talking the L.A.P.D here."
With a dangerous glare, Tanya turned on her heel and stalked off past the police tape into the gutted remains of the building. The laboratory had once been a two-story affair, most of the space being a single large room with only a couple of offices for administrative work in the back. Now it was just an empty shell of a building. Only the relative isolation of it had prevented damage to the nearby properties.
Joel let out a low snort at the retreating figure and muttered, "Well it DOES smell like that..." A slightly hesitant glance over at Brian showed no indication that his aside had been noticed so he began anew, "Do you think this one was her?"
"Not sure yet. Patience, kid. The evidence will show up soon enough." Brian's tone wasn't quite fatherly, but there was a feel to it. Joel had the talent if he'd only learn to develop it. He could be a top-flight investigator. Maybe even one of those cyber-jock types the Director was always suggesting they add to the operations. Come to think of it, that might be better, given his tendencies. "Get your gear out. I want a sweep of the perimeter to make sure nobody's been wandering around, then go in and see if you can find the unit itself."
Joel turned and began to pace quickly around the site, pulling a foot-long piece of electronics from a case at his hip and beginning to sweep it slowly back and forth. "Why am I bothering?" he hissed out under his breath, "Nothing ever comes..."
His quiet complaints came to a stop as the gadget began to flash lights up and down it's length. "Well I'll be.." he managed after a couple of moments and began to quickly triangulate in, using the readings he was receiving. A quick glance over his shoulder and he realized that Brian was still inside the compound, so he reached down and plucked a tiny recording bug from one of the pillars. "Got ourselves a watcher, do we?" he asked no one with a slight smile, shutting the device down and pocketing it before continuing on his merry way...