Callsign: King - Blackout

SEQUENCE/CONSEQUENCE
1

Paris, France, 1835 UTC/Local

Bill Downey studied his reflection in the ornate gilt-framed mirror and liked what he saw.

“My goodness,” he said, managing what to his ear sounded like a spot-on impression of Cary Grant, “Aren’t you just a handsome devil.”

He experimented with a few different smiles as he adjusted his bow tie, smoothed the wrinkles from his rented dinner jacket, and then spritzed a few mores ounces of Axe body spray around his neck and throat.

“Oh, yeah,” he said to his reflection, now sounding nothing at all like Cary Grant. “Watch out, Paris. I’m getting lucky tonight.”

His streak of good luck had actually begun more than two months earlier when, completely out of the blue, he had received an invitation to attend the Global Energy Future meeting in Paris. A lifelong resident of the American Midwest, Downey had never even considered taking a European vacation; his idea of a getaway involved palm trees, fruity cocktails adorned with umbrellas, and lots of women wearing bikinis. But this was an invitation he simply couldn’t refuse.

As operations manager of Omaha Public Utility District station 4-a coal-fired 1,200-megawatt producing power plant on the banks of the Missouri River-attending regional conferences was part of the job. The city usually picked up the tab for travel and lodging, and supplied him a stingy per diem, but that hardly made up for the long hours spent poring over charts and statistics in an endless succession of Powerpoint presentations. That the GEF conference was a much higher profile event-not just regional or even national, but global in scale-taking place in the legendary City of Lights, barely made an impression on him…until he read the invitation letter more carefully. Oh, there would be speeches and presentations, but the conference organizer was handling the logistical side, to include business-class air travel and a week’s stay at the legendary Hotel Ritz, with complimentary concierge service. The sponsors of the event seemed to have very deep pockets and no compunction regarding how their money was spent. The program for the conference was built around three six-hour days, leaving ample time for site-seeing and nightlife, culminating in what promised to be a spectacular casino event aboard a private riverboat on the Seine. As he reviewed the letter, Downey’s first thought had been: This is too good to be true. But after another reading, that had changed to: This is too good to pass up.

The conference itself had been unremarkable, focusing on vague strategies for dealing with the increasing need for more energy production in developing countries, the importance of retrofitting existing power grids and developing a comprehensive energy policy that included alternative and renewable sources-what Downey thought of as hippy-dippy bullshit. But the short presentations, which he wasn’t even obligated to attend, had passed quickly, while the nights had been amazing. The concierge had directed him to the best nightclubs in the city and although he hadn’t managed to close the deal with any Parisian ladies, he’d had a lot of fun trying. All his life, he had heard that the French, and Parisians in particular, were rude, stuck-up and hated Americans, but that had not been his experience. Of course, that might have had something to do with the Platinum AmEx card the conference organizer had given each attendee.

Downey was still primping when an insistent knock disrupted his musings. He shot a glance at his watch. Six-forty, he thought. He had arranged to have a car waiting at quarter to seven, but there was no reason not to get a head start on the night’s activities. Odd that they came to the room, but whatever.

He ambled through the luxurious suite and threw open the door. “You’re early…”

His voice trailed off as he found himself once more facing his reflection. No, that wasn’t right. A mirror would show a perfect image of him, as he was now, one hand on the doorknob, a quizzical expression on his face. This was something else; him in every detail, standing motionless with a determined, but faintly amused expression. “What the-?”

With an almost unnatural swiftness, the double stepped forward into the suite. With one hand, he swept the door closed behind him. The other hand reached out for Downey, who caught just a glimpse of the oblong black object in the newcomer’s hand as it was pressed against his abdomen. A loud crackling sound filled his ears and every muscle in his body contracted instantly. He went rigid and a burning pain spread through his extremities. A moment later, Downey dropped where he stood, his legs folding awkwardly beneath him. He was still conscious, but that mattered little; he felt as if he had been unplugged from his body.

He saw the face that was an almost perfect duplicate of his own hovering above him, but even as he struggled to regain control of his flaccid limbs he felt a sting in the side of his neck and his world quickly dissolved into darkness.