Nightstalkers

CHAPTER 16

Ms. Jones’s desk was getting disturbingly cluttered as Pitr placed objects on it in order. She knew the Nightstalkers thought her some sort of obsessive-compulsive about having a clean desk. Some thought she wasn’t even real, and they were correct in a way, since sometimes she really wasn’t in that chair in the office when they thought she was. None knew about Pitr, who entered and left through her private chambers behind the steel behind her desk, hidden in the shadows and never when the team was in the Den. She spent most of her time in the bed when she wasn’t talking to Moms and/or Nada or in-briefing a new member in her chambers. Even sitting was exhausting. On the really bad days she just used the holographic projector.

But she was real and she had a very specific reason for everything she did.

Right now Pitr had laid out the objects in the correct order in which she had to consider their connections:

The hard drive from the Fun Outside Tucson and the “fun” happening in North Carolina, delivered to Pitr by Support just minutes ago. It had initially been programmed by:

Henry Craegan’s file, including the taunting e-mail from him to:

Doctor Winslow’s file. How had:

Burns found out about the e-mail and the connection? His file lay there, too, along with:

The situation report via Moms from Senators Club, which was getting thicker with each secure e-mail and Satphone conversation transcription.

Ms. Jones immediately made one connection. “Burns learned of Winslow by accessing Craegan’s e-mail records on the hard drive.”

Pitr nodded.

“Still no word where Burns is?”

Pitr shook his head. “No. Support is on it.”

“What about the report from the University of Colorado Acme Asset?” Ms. Jones asked.

Pitr’s American accent was much better than hers, with barely a trace of his Russian roots. This was because he actually went out into the world and interacted with people away from the Ranch and Area 51. He was slightly younger than Ms. Jones, handsome in a rugged way with gray hair just starting to tinge his temples. His most distinguishing feature was his smile, revealing perfectly aligned white teeth and making him appear to be a person without a trouble in the world. Ms. Jones often believed it was that smile that had caused her to make the decision that changed everything back on April 26, 1986.

“The report was inconclusive,” Pitr said. “Worse, the Acme has disappeared. It might be a rather unsettling coincidence, except, of course, we don’t believe in coincidences.”

“No, we don’t.”

“But we had no record of a Rift there.”

“Perhaps Mister Burns had something to do with that disappearance to accelerate the movement of the hard drive back to Area 51,” Ms. Jones said. “It had been scheduled for pickup a week later, so there was a shuffle in assignments. That’s why we got the initial Package report wrong and a rookie Courier ended up getting assigned a priority-one Package.”

“That’s likely.”

“Have Support follow up there,” Ms. Jones said. “Find out what happened to the Acme. Start with the student who signed the drive over to the Courier.”

Pitr leaned over her and adjusted the drip in one of the three IVs that fed into a shunt in her chest.

“The good news,” Pitr said, because Pitr always focused on good news — someone had to, “is that the Nightstalkers have finished off a third of the Fireflies and the Rift didn’t act abnormal as it did in Tucson.”

“That in itself is cause for concern,” Ms. Jones said. “First that it was different in Tucson and then it wasn’t different in North Carolina. Is it not the same program?”

“I don’t believe so,” Pitr said. “Doctor Winslow had time to work on it. He’s older, so we might assume he went the old way.”

Ms. Jones looked at her desk. “There’s five things there.”

“Ah,” Pitr shook his head. “You aren’t a believer in Doc’s Rule of Seven, are you?”

“He has a valid point,” Ms. Jones said. “I have often deconstructed the events which brought you and I together and changed our lives and they more than fit his theory.” Ms. Jones closed her eyes. “I must constantly remind myself of things, Pitr. Both good and bad. The Nightstalkers think I make speeches to remind them, but it’s as much to remind myself.” She lifted a hand, staring at the red scars and then pointing at Pitr. “You were so gallant when you flew your helicopter in to Chernobyl that early morning after the reactor blew.”

Pitr grimaced, not liking it when her mind went back to that time, because it would lead only one way. “You did all you could.”

“I did not and that is why we are here.” She sighed. “I worry about Nada and his Protocols. They followed Protocol that night.”

“They followed Protocol after already having made many mistakes,” Pitr corrected her. “It was the mistakes that caused the Protocol to go wrong. You were the only engineer there who kept telling them to stop. Who pointed out the mistakes they didn’t want to acknowledge.”

“They were worried about their bonuses,” Ms. Jones allowed. “And no one wanted to call Moscow.”

“You made that call.”

“Too late.”

“You saved my life,” Pitr said.

“And many others died.”

“You did all you could,” Pitr repeated. “You are the way you are now because you went in that bunker and pulled out the man who made mistake number seven, as Doc would label it.”

“He died in my arms,” Ms. Jones said.

Pitr shrugged. “I never understood that.”

That surprised Ms. Jones. “That he died?”

“That you went in and got him,” Pitr said. “All these years, it is not consistent with your speeches, even the speech you gave me that day. I was young and only thinking of medals and duty and honor. Of flying above and dropping my concrete on the tower. And you stopped me. You told me there was no honor dying for a mistake.”

“Ah, Pitr,” Ms. Jones said, “you misremember. I told you that mistakes happen, that is part of life and death, but once you know it’s a mistake and you let people die for it in ignorance, that is murder. Your commanders knew everyone they sent over that tower would die, and yet they said nothing. That is indeed murder. I knew many in Pripyat would die if not evacuated immediately, yet did not force that issue. I live with that every day.”

“You were a junior engineer, not a general.”

“I should have contacted Kiev and given them a warning. This was a case where concealment, the second of our Cs that Moms lectures the team about, was criminal. It is why I talk to her constantly to make sure we are not having another Pripyat or Kiev. We will always have more Chernobyls.” She pointed weakly at the material on the desk. “I fear things are accelerating with this incident. There are times when things are not as they appear.”

“But going back to my point,” Pitr said, “you ran into that room and pulled out the man who started the disaster. But you saved my life and stopped me. The two are not consistent.”

Ms. Jones smiled weakly. “But that is the point, my dear Pitr. Today, I would not run into that room to save a man already dying. Today I would let you fly over that tower, but first I would make sure you knew exactly what flying over that tower meant. That it was a death sentence. Then you would have a choice. Today I would scream to Pripyat and Kiev in every way I could about what was coming. They had time, but the people in charge at Chernobyl and then in the Kremlin did not want to admit a mistake.”

“There was collateral damage,” Pitr said. “There almost always is.”

“There’s no such thing as collateral damage,” Ms. Jones said. “The definition of collateral is being an accessory. Being part of. That’s where the co comes from. People who are ignorant cannot be collateral. They are victims. People have to know and make choices. That’s why that door is the way it is.” She nodded at the exit to the Den. “Why everyone on the team hears everything and knows everything. When a Nightstalker dies, it is a terrible thing but it is not a tragedy, because they know the dangers and they know why they are dying. Everyone on the team is expendable, which sounds harsh, but it is realistic. Someone has to be.”

“You take too much responsibility,” Pitr said.

Ms. Jones laughed her cough. “Still, you don’t understand. Telling people the truth relieves one of responsibility. It is then their decision what they do, not yours. It is only when you lie or deceive them that you continue to hold responsibility.”

Pitr rubbed a hand across his chin, a bit unnerved. “What is wrong?”

“We have done well so far,” Ms. Jones said. “We have stopped a half-dozen incidents that would have been the equivalent of a Chernobyl or worse over the years. But we have never had something like Burns in the history of the Nightstalkers. Someone from the inside going outside. Going rogue. Bringing one incident,” she pointed at the hard drive, “to another incident. That worries me.”

“And there are times you’re not worried?” Pitr asked.

Ms. Jones reached a hand up. Pitr took it in hers.

“You are a comfort to a crazy old lady, my dear Pitr.”