MJ-12: Endgame

23

Something’s different.

Frank looked around the room as one of the North Korean envoys droned on and the translator droned right along with him. Everyone looked rather sleepy as the heat of the day grew, and nobody seemed particularly bothered by anything.

And yet something happened in Frank’s mind, like a balloon deflating. All of the voices he’d been holding back suddenly seemed to just… fade. When he dropped his concentration for a moment, all was silent.

“Rose,” Frank whispered.

Mrs. Stevens looked at him wide-eyed. “Something happened,” she said. “Hard to explain.”

He looked over at Beria, who had stopped writing in his notebook, his pen in midair. The former First Deputy Premier was looking around furtively, and he seemed to catch Maggie’s eye as well, who gave him an almost imperceptible shrug in return.

“Weird,” Frank muttered. “Be ready.”

After about an hour or so, the negotiators took a break. Beria closed his pen, stood up, and walked swiftly out of the building, Maggie and Illyanov in tow, causing some murmurs in his wake. Frank and Mrs. Stevens got up and followed.

Outside, amongst the guards from both sides and some of the other delegates, Beria was talking quietly and hastily with Maggie and Illyanov, but noticed Frank and immediately began walking over.

“What have you done?” Beria demanded.

Outline of an object in his left jacket pocket, too boxy to be a gun, one of the MGB men said in his head.

He’s agitated. Something’s not going to plan, General Davis added. He’s going to be unpredictable — be careful.

Frank smiled slightly. It was kind of nice to have them back. “I didn’t do anything, Comrade. What about you?”

“This is a trick,” Beria said, his eyes narrowing. “Some sort of null generator.”

“I feel fine,” Frank countered. “How about you?”

Beria opened his palm and, immediately, a small flame rose above it. “Then what is it?”

“I don’t know, but I feel better than I have in weeks,” Frank said.

Mrs. Stevens stepped forward, putting herself between Frank and Beria. “Sir, maybe this is a good time to take a step back, think about what you’re planning, whatever it is. You told Frank here that people’s Enhancements had changed. Maybe they’ve changed again. Maybe not. But I think we should get a handle on it, your side and mine, before we do anything else.”

Beria stared at her mutely, as if she were an animal in a zoo, then turned and stalked off, Maggie and Illyanov following him.

“I need to talk to General Harrison,” Mrs. Stevens said. “This can’t be good. You follow him.”

Frank nodded and began walking off after Beria, who was heading for the jeeps on the North Korean side of the building. Before Beria got there, however, four other jeeps roared into the compound from the northwest, setting off all kinds of ruckus amongst the guards.

Danny. And… company?

Beria stopped in his tracks, then wheeled around and headed back toward the main building. He’s panicking, said Dr. Koslov, a psychiatrist Frank had absorbed a few years back. I don’t think you should let him in there.

Frank immediately moved to intercept him — but his path was suddenly blocked by Boris Illyanov, who had been walking behind Beria a second ago.

“Shit,” Frank said. “Move your ass.”

Illyanov just smiled and shook his head from side to side.

“Fine.”

Legs, said a voice in Frank’s mind. It was Yushchenko, the double-agent MGB man from back in ’48.

Frank threw a punch, but kicked out his left leg while doing so. Illyanov easily dodged the fist, but hit Frank’s leg as he tried to move around him, and ended up sprawled in the dirt. Frank immediately followed up with a sharp blow to the head, which put out Illyanov’s lights for good.

He looked up to see several people in Russian uniforms running toward Beria — running with Danny and Cal and Yamato and a couple others Frank didn’t recognize. In about a minute, they had Beria surrounded, and Frank rushed over to join them.

“Hand it over,” Danny said in Russian, a rifle aimed at Beria.

By this time, the rest of the camp was in chaos, the Koreans not quite knowing what to do about this confrontation between people who all seemed to be Russian, and the Americans starting to back away and head for their vehicles.

“What is this?” Beria said, eyes shifting quickly from face to face. “Why have you joined with the imperialists?”

“You betrayed us,” said Maria Savrova — Frank was surprised to see her, and doubly so that she’d confront him like this. “You said we would be at the vanguard of a new order! And you lied!”

Beria grew red. “Your sacrifice was a noble one! You were to fuel a new wave of Empowered across the world!”

“You never gave us the choice!” shouted another Variant, one Frank recognized from their initial surveillance activities in Moscow. “You would have killed us!”

Beria quickly reached into his left jacket pocket, even as he pulled out his sidearm with the other hand.

Here we go, Frank thought.

“Drop him, Mags.”

“You’re looking swell,” Frank said. Status report.

Maggie smiled. “The uniform’s not flattering.” Trouble brewing.

“Better than you think. Like Rita Hayworth on a USO tour.” I’m not buying it.

“I was going for Garbo.” Fake-double protocol in place.

“Really?” Frank said. “You don’t have the hair for it.” Still not buying it.

Maggie rolled her eyes. “But I got the chops. Left jacket pocket. See you later.” Double-agent confirmed. Check left jacket pocket. Will rejoin when appropriate.

With that Maggie walked off and the crowd was asked to take their seats. Frank checked his pocket and, finding nothing, went to his assigned seat — front row, good sightlines, and right next to Mrs. Stevens.

“Well?” Mrs. Stevens said as Frank sat down.

“Garbo.” She’s still on our side.

“Really?”

“Yep.”

“Oh, thank God. Anything else?”

Frank looked over to Beria, who had taken a front-row seat behind the North Korean negotiators. “Left jacket pocket.”

Immediately, Beria’s eyes grew wide and his hands began to tremble, as if he’d seen the scariest fucking thing imaginable. Which, knowing Maggie, he probably had.

“It’s over, Comrade,” Maggie said, stepping forward. “You’re really gonna want to give me that.”

Beria began sobbing uncontrollably — but he still held his pistol in his right hand, and a small device in the other. “No!” he wailed. “We are so close! A new dawn for all the Empowered!”

Danny walked over to Maggie’s side, sharing a small half-grin with her before turning to address Beria. “It’s over, Comrade. Let it go.”

“Never!”

Beria roared in agonized rage and lifted his gun, firing a shot toward Maggie. At the same time, he fumbled with the device in his hand…

… until a shot burst cleanly through his wrist, causing him to drop the detonator…

… which quickly flew away from him and landed several meters away.

Move. Now, came several voices in Frank’s head.

Rushing forward, Frank hit Beria with a left cross that sent the Russian sprawling.

And then all was silent.

Frank turned to check on Maggie, only to see her kneeling on the ground, holding a prone Danny in her arms.

“Oh, shit.” Frank rushed over and slid down next to them. “Move, let me see.”

Maggie relented and Frank went to work. Shot entered through left lung, between fifth and sixth ribs. Short range, likely reached his heart as well. Breathing shallow, pulse erratic. Emergency surgery needed stat. If a disembodied voice could sound grim, this was very grim indeed.

“Get off him!” Frank shouted, pushing Maggie back. “I need a knife! Now! Cal, get over here!”

One of the Russians offered him a rather wicked-looking field knife, which he used to cut away Danny’s uniform as Cal slid down next to him. “Oh, no. Oh, Danny, no.”

“Give him as much as you can,” Frank said.

Cal placed his hands on Danny’s shoulders for several long moments as Frank began to make a ventral incision over Danny’s heart.

“Frank.”

Frank looked over at Cal — who hadn’t aged.

“I can’t get him, Frank. I think he’s gone.”

Agreed. Breathing and pulse have ceased.

Frank shoved Cal aside and prepared to pound the hell out of Danny’s chest to try to revive him.

Then the world went dark.

Frank.

In the blackness, Frank could hear Danny’s voice. “Don’t go,” he pleaded. It was all he could say.

I’m already gone. Just shut up and listen.

“What?”

They’re not aliens or anything like that. The things beyond the vortex. They’re people. People who have passed on. They latch on to the living, giving them abilities.

“Why?”

To get out. The A-bomb. It ripped a hole between the living and the dead. It made them want to come back. All of this, all of our Enhancements — all designed to keep us fighting each other. To build up to another bomb to release more of them.

Frank tried to look around in the darkness for Danny, but saw nothing. “What happened?”

I think they did something back at Mountain Home to keep them from communicating. They were trying to push us. They nearly succeeded with Beria. They wanted him to detonate the H-bomb with Variants at ground zero to open up another vortex.

Frank thought back to the voices, how insistent they were. “So what now?”

Tell them to keep a lid on the vortex. Tell the Russians too. We have to keep them out. You’ll all still have your abilities, but we need to be careful now. Tell them, Frank.

“I will. I’ll tell them.”

Frank. I’m sorry. I tried to protect us.

“You did good, Dan. You really did.” Frank wanted to cry, but somehow knew he had to keep Danny talking. “Stay with me, pal.”

Tell the others. Be careful with their abilities. Tell them I tried. Tell—

Danny’s voice was suddenly cut off. Frank screamed into the darkness, but could hear nothing.