The Aeschylus

1

“Try it again,” Dutch yelled.

The man turned the key and pushed the button on the control panel. The engine made a thunderous grinding sound, but it didn't start.

“You suck at your job, you know that?”

“Shut up,” the other man said, but he was grinning. It was a good day out, warm sun and no wind. A bead of sweat dripped down his forehead and into his eyes, and he blinked, wiping his face with a gloved hand. He was hunched over, still staring into the network of wires and rods that made up the machine's twenty-year-old driver motor.

“You know, you're giving me wood all bent over like that.”

“My hairy ass is better looking than your last girlfriend, Dutch.”

“You figure it out yet?”

The man found the last two unconnected wires and jury-rigged them together, then pulled a piece of electrical tape out of his toolbox and sealed them. He stood up and dusted his hands. “That should do it.”

Dutch unscrewed the top on his water thermos and took a drink. He looked put-out just having to stand around and supervise, not that supervising was in any way a part of his job. “You sure?”

“Why don't you make yourself useful and go test it?”

Dutch chuckled. He stepped into the cramped quarters of the operator's cab. “Jesus. It's like a pig farm in here.”

“Yeah. Smells better than your last girlfriend too.”

The man stepped out to the catwalk and looked at the ground, some thirty feet below. A brown wasteland stretched in front of him, a flat expanse of sand and rock with boundaries of piled earth in all directions. He thought about how easy it would be to police the mine properly if anyone cared, but no one did. Not to mention, they were supposed to be security staff, not repairmen. As long as the money kept coming, however, he put up with it.

Most of the morning's shift workers were standing around in red vests, talking. A few were eating sandwiches and drinking coffee. No such luck for him; no rest for the wicked.

Dutch turned and pointed. “Hey, do you see that?”

Rising over the crest of the northernmost outcropping, the man saw a helicopter flying in towards them. Flying was the fastest way to get over the mountains, but he hadn't seen a helicopter in months. Even the mine supervisors came in via bus.

“I knew I was going to regret not bringing my rifle this morning.”

“Eh, it was either your toolbox or your rifle. You're a victim of circumstance.”

“That doesn't explain why you didn't bring yours.”

“I didn't want you to feel left out.”

The man checked his pistol — an M1911 tucked into his waistband — then pushed past his friend and slid down the nearby ladder. He jogged across the machine platform, ducked under the huge, diagonal conveyor belt, then hopped over another set of railings. He jumped down onto the machine treads, then another six feet to the ground. Dutch was right behind him. At the bottom, his friend grabbed a case concealed beneath the machinery and popped it open. The man watched, chagrined as Dutch took the long-range PSG-1 out of its case. Within seconds, he had snapped on the stock, connected the wires, and screwed in the bolts that would hold it steady.

“Didn't bring your rifle, huh?”

“Well, I didn't have it up there, did I?”

“How long have we been friends, Dutch?”

Dutch examined the rifle, now fully assembled, then slung it over his shoulder. “Long enough to know it's your turn to take point.”

He slapped his friend on the arm, then began jogging up a nearby hill. The man watched him go, wondering if they were being paranoid. Out here, he knew, there were no police, no government officials, nothing but the law of the Wild West. Better to be paranoid.

The helicopter touched down some thirty yards away, still blowing sand. It was a big sucker, an S-70 long-ranger similar to what the Coast Guard used back in the states. Chances were that this was some special VIP coming in to check out the mine or do a property assessment, but somehow, he didn't think so. Just as he was tensing up, the helicopter door opened, and a woman stepped out. A woman, all alone in this world of men.

The man ran towards the helicopter as it powered down, shielding his eyes from the dust. The woman swayed, then stumbled as she made her way towards him. He ran over to help, but when she saw him, she regained her feet in a hurry.

“You all right, ma'am?”

“Of course I'm all right. I'm sorry, but I don't have much time. I'm looking for your boss, the head of security.”

“My boss?”

“A Mister AJ Trenton. Do you know him?”

He smiled. There was nothing like an American city girl out of her depth. “Well, that would be me, Miss. I'm AJ. And I don't have a boss.”

Something that might have been embarrassment flickered in her eyes, then disappeared. “Great. Then I don't have to look for you.”

Then, she bent over and threw up.

2

The conversation Kate had with Michael that morning had been short, all things considered.

“We need at least one executive to accompany the team, and I'd like it to be someone from your department,” he told her once she had been back in his office. “This could be a public relations nightmare, and we need someone we can trust. On top of that, we need someone who can handle himself. This could be a field trip, but if Mister Bruhbaker is right, it could be like being a combat photographer in Iraq.” He paused, looking at her. “You've been around the block, Kate, and you know everyone in your department. I trust your judgment. Who's going to be up for this?”

She knew what she was going to say before Michael had finished. “I'm going.”

“What?”

“I'm going. If you need an executive down there so you can spin it when the shit hits the fan, it's going to be me.”

“Oh,” he said, frowning, “I don't think that will be necessary. I didn't mean to imply it should be you.” He laughed. “Oh, no.”

“I'm serious.” Was she? The shock of the last twenty-four hours was still sharp in her mind.

“I don't know if that's a good idea. If anything were to happen—”

“Who else are you going to get? Lopez? Grant? You don't need one of those hundred-and-twenty-pound-panty-waists for something like this, Mister Lucian. I don't have much, but I do have guts. And I just inherited fifteen percent of a company I didn't earn. Why don't you let me prove I deserve it? Whatever is down there, I'll find out. I'll make sure my father's company is protected. Our company.”

Michael clasped his hands behind his head, then nodded as if coming to a decision. “All right. I'm sure Smith will be quite glad.”

“Smith?”

“Yes. Mister Geoffery Smith, the man who was giving the presentation downstairs. I was thinking about sending him if no one from your department was willing.”

Kate stared at him.

“Well, he is the most informed about the situation, and he's been with us for over ten years.”

“Oh no,” Kate said. “I'm sure he would have been the right man. Did you tell him?”

“Well, now that you're here, there's no need.”

“You should tell him anyways,” Kate said, putting on her best serious face. “See if he puts up a fight. I don't want to go stepping on anyone's toes.”

Michael looked at her a moment. “You're having me on. Aren't you?”

“I am,” she said, and she smiled. She still felt like she was riding a roller coaster, but she hadn't lost her sense of humor yet.

He shifted the topic back to her, and they chatted for another few minutes, working out the legal implications of Kate's departure. When they were done, she made to leave, knowing she had precious little time before she would be in the air.

“There's just one more thing,” Michael said.

Kate looked back.

“You won't be going directly to the coast. You're making a bit of a detour first.”

“Oh?”

Michael's face soured. It was the first expression she'd seen that made him look unattractive. “There is a man, a Mister AJ Trenton, we would like you to intercept en route. He's an American on a work visa in Chile. Since it won't be more than a few hundred miles off course, it shouldn't be a significant delay, and you can rendezvous with Bruhbaker and his team in Argentina this afternoon. Trenton's a bit of a wild card, really.”

“Let me guess. He's the former head of VO security. Is that right?”

Michael looked astonished. “How did you know that?”

“I have my sources.”

Before Kate left the bathroom, she had heard Johnson talking about him to someone in the men's room. His voice had come drifting in through a vent over one of the toilet stalls. “I don't know what they're thinking, trying to get Angus back on site. The guy's a fuck-up, and he's always been a fuck-up. Yeah, one shouldn't talk about one's predecessor, I know, but come on. What do they think he's going to do?” His conversation partner had theories, but Kate didn't care about those.

The memory made her smile. All of the wits of a CIA operative, and here you are working as a secretary. It was a gross exaggeration, but Kate thought it a nice way to justify standing on a toilet with your ear to the wall.

Michael studied her. “You're right. He was here during the construction of The Aeschylus, and he visited the platform twice while it was being built. He might be the only employee who has any first-hand knowledge of the structure, as unfortunate as that may seem.”

“You mean ex-employee?” Kate inquired.

“Yes, and he didn't leave under the best of circumstances.”

Kate sighed. “So I'll have to convince him to come along for the ride. Is that what you're saying?”

“That's right. I'll send the paperwork with you, but we'd like to gain his expertise as a consultant.”

“This just keeps getting better.”

“If he refuses, you'll accompany the team without him, but for the amount of money we're offering, he shouldn't.”

“I'm sorry for saying this, Michael, but this seems highly unusual.”

“It is. His presence was requested though, and we all have to play our part.” Kate looked at him quizzically, but he didn't elaborate. “If he has terms or conditions, do your best to accommodate him. It was made very clear how valuable he could be. Mister Trenton knows the platform inside and out. He knows the security detail, and he knows safety protocols if anything goes awry.”

“Are you saying I can trust him?”

“Absolutely not. But you can trust his knowledge and his expertise. It's why we agreed to foot the bill for this.”

Michael adjusted his tie. Kate noticed again that it was gorgeous Thai silk, and that it perfectly matched the blue of his eyes. He really was quite handsome. “Are you sure you want to go? If you stay, I could take you to dinner, and we could talk about media strategies.”

Kate smiled, and as charmed as she was, she wasn't a secretary any more. That was last month. “I'll see you when I get back.”

And then, she left.

3

Kate followed the former security chief across the flattened landscape, trying not to focus on the rancid taste in her mouth. Great first impression there, kiddo, she thought. But she didn't have time to apologize; AJ was keeping a fast pace.

They passed under two more mining machines. Kate thought they were the biggest damned things she had ever seen. A few years back, she had gone with her father to Cape Canaveral to witness the final launch of the space shuttle Discovery. The machine transporting the shuttle to the launch site was the size of a small building, a huge, flat tank with twelve treads and four levels. The mining machines here dwarfed even that behemoth. They stood on two enormous sets of treads, spaced far apart, with a bridge-like shaft in between. The heavy end consisted of several engines, an operator's cab, and a huge, round wheel that looked like the world's largest band saw. The wheel had buckets instead of teeth, each caked and chipped with dirt.

“It's called a bucketwheel,” the man said, looking over his shoulder. “World's largest land vehicles. These here are a little bigger than the ones in the states. Not as big as the ones in Germany, though. You ever been to Germany?”

“Yes,” Kate said.

“Really?” He looked surprised. “Yeah, I should guess you'd be well-traveled. I guess you'll be immune to my foreign charms, then.” He smiled at her, showing a row of pearly-whites that could only belong to a well-bred American.

She looked at him sideways. “I think you're about as foreign as I am.”

“Really? Where are you from?”

“Cuántos años ha estado viviendo en Chile, AJ?”

“Uh,” he said, pausing.

“Ningún años. Creo que aproximedente diez meses que han estado aquí. Correcto? Eres un Americano, y un mentiroso pobre.” You've been here ten months. You're an American and a bad liar. She could have said the same thing in English, but somehow, it wouldn't have had the same effect.

“Que coño es esto?” he muttered. What the fuck is this?

“You have an accent,” she said matter-of-factly. “And you look like you'll carry that sunburn for years before you ever tan.”

“Lady, you have one hell of a thing to learn about tact if you're hoping to get something from me.”

“Why would you think I'm trying to get something from you?”

“Why else would you be here?”

He led her up a dirt mound, towards a set of mud-spattered trucks and a mobile office. As they approached, she looked behind her and realized she couldn't see the helicopter any more. She knew her Black Shadow companion had probably gotten out by now, but he was nowhere in sight. Kate felt tension crawl up her back. There was no one else around, no workers, no foreman, no other security agents. The mine was vast, the workers few.

AJ pointed to one of the trailers. “Home base,” he said. “Follow me, Miss.”

“You really don't know who I am, then?”

“Should I?”

“You probably should, but it's good that you don't.”

“Whatever you say, lady.”

He unlocked the door, and she stepped inside. The trailer was small but unremarkable, housing little more than a few desks and computers. It smelled faintly of old sweat. AJ shut the door, and as if on cue, shook out a handful of dust from his hair. He might have been a redhead at one point, but there was too much grunge to tell. He walked over and sat down behind one of the desks, cleaning the inside of one ear with a pinky finger. Kate made a little noise of disgust.

“Now,” AJ said, “are you an assassin, or do you generally need something from me?”

“An assassin? What the hell are you talking about?”

Behind her, Kate heard the sound of a metal click. She'd been to the shooting range enough times in her life to know it couldn't be anything but the sound of a gun.

From the back room, a man came walking towards her, holding both hands in the air. He looked a few years younger than AJ but was wearing the same type of uniform. He had straight brown hair and the kind of easy, unremarkable face that made most middle-aged men look soft, but Kate saw his eyes and knew better. Then her pilot appeared, holding a Beretta to the man's back.

The man in front turned to AJ and shrugged. “He's a sneaky old guy.”

AJ sighed. “Yeah, I can see that. Were you actually dumb enough to get ambushed inside a room this small?”

“Oh no. He caught me sighting you two over by the rocks. I don't know how he found me.”

“Think he saw the scope?”

“Yeah, probably. He's tricky for an old dude.”

“You think?”

And then the man spun, wrapping one arm around the wrist of his assailant and smashing his elbow into the man's face. The twist was like a whirlwind, so exact it looked routine. Two seconds later, he had the gun in hand and the pilot was on the floor, wheezing.

Kate turned back to see AJ holding a pistol on her. He had been easing it out the whole time she had been distracted with him picking his ear. She cursed under her breath.

“You all right, Dutch?” AJ asked.

“Sure,” the man said. “I said 'tricky.' I didn't say 'fast.'”

Kate looked at her pilot and watched as he pushed himself to his knees. His nose was bleeding, but he looked more insulted than hurt.

“You all right, Mister Marten?”

“Yeah. Don't touch me.”

The man called Dutch was looking at her. “Your pilot's good, but he should stick to the wheel. He doesn't have the speed for this.”

“Piss off,” Marten said.

Kate put one hand on her hip. “And I suppose you just let him walk you all the way here with a gun to your head?”

He smiled at her, and in that moment, he looked downright creepy.

“Enough,” AJ said. “Now. You were just about to tell me what it is that you want?”

4

By the time Kate finished, she felt out of breath. She had been talking fast, and she held nothing back.

“Is that all?” AJ asked.

“Yes, now can you put that thing away? Jesus.” It came out sounding braver than she felt.

Dutch glanced at his friend and shrugged, then tucked the gun in his belt. AJ did the same, still regarding her warily.

As soon as they were done, she took a thunderous step towards the desk. “Is that how you treat all your guests? Luring them out here and then pulling a gun? You asshole!” Behind her, Dutch started to laugh, but she spun on him. “Asshole!” she repeated. It was the only word that fit.

“Christ, I'm sorry, lady.” He had an aw, shucks kind of look, as if she were the bad guy in this.

“You have to admit, it looked pretty suspicious,” AJ said. “Your friend there was sneaking around with a gun. He pulled one on Dutch. It's not exactly the best way to start diplomatic relations.”

Greg Marten grunted. “Neither is setting up a sniper a hundred yards from a defenseless woman.”

AJ shrugged. “We didn't know who you were.”

“I'm not helpless,” Kate broke in.

“Clearly not,” Dutch said.

Kate put her hands on her head. “All of you, just shut up.” They did, and for a moment, the room went silent. “Now, can we get down to business or what?” They all nodded. Kate was starting to feel like an elementary school teacher in front of a particularly unruly class, but for now, she had their attention and didn't want to waste it. “I didn't come down here to disrupt anyone's life. I came to offer terms, and that's all. Valley Oil is willing to compensate you for your time. They don't think you'd be gone for more than twenty-four hours. All your transportation is arranged, so all you'd need to do is say yes.”

“How much?”

Kate turned to Dutch.

“How much are they willing to compensate?”

Kate threw up her hands. “They're not willing to compensate you, Mister—”

“Jones. Henry Jones.”

“Right, Mister Jones. And here I thought you were Mister Dutch. How silly of me.”

“That's a nickname,” he said. “You know, like a pseudonym.”

Kate blinked.

“You know, so people don't know who I am,” he said with perfect lucidity.

“I can't tell you how much. The offer is for Mister Trenton.”

“How much?” AJ asked.

She turned to the desk. “Maybe we should speak in private.”

“Nah. How much?”

She looked at Greg Marten, who only shrugged.

When AJ asked again, she told him.

Dutch whistled. “That's pretty good, boss.”

“I'll take it,” AJ said. “But I want the same for Dutch. He's coming with us.”

“I can't authorize that!”

“Geez, lady. No need to shout.”

Kate rubbed her eyes. “Look. I can't authorize what I don't own. I'm not some top level CEO, here. I'm just a grunt, like you. I'm just doing my job, and here you are—”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Dutch said. “I'm not a grunt, AJ. Are you a grunt?” He looked back to Kate. “I don't think we're grunts.”

“Whatever it is that you are,” she said, speaking over him, “you're not authorized to allocate funds for the mine. I'm not authorized to allocate funds from your former employer.”

Dutch pointed to his companion. “His former employer.”

Kate took the paperwork from out of her hand bag and slammed it onto the desk. The noise made all three men jump. Dutch actually looked scared. Had he really been holding a gun a few minutes ago? She thought right now she could reach out and take it from him like a mother confiscating a toy. She was half tempted to do it.

“This is the contract and liability form. They told me the job was only for Mister Trenton, but seeing as this is my call, I guess I can put up with Mister Jones for the duration. But let me make this clear: there will be no second payment. What you do with the money after it's yours is none of my business. So if you want to split it, I suggest you do it then. Now you can fucking take it, or you can fucking leave it.”

“All right, all right,” AJ said. “No need to get ugly, lady.”

“McCreedy. Kate McCreedy is my name.” She pointed a finger at him as she said it. She felt absurd doing it, just letting it hang out in front of him, but she thought it got the point across.

AJ looked at her finger a moment, then grabbed it with his free hand and shook it. “Pleased to meet you, Kate.”

She yanked her hand back. “Let's stick to 'Ms. McCreedy' for now, okay?”

“Sure,” he said, signing the paper.

“And I guess it's nice to meet you too, Angus.”

Dutch sputtered a laugh. When everybody looked at him, he looked confused. “What? Who?”

“I'm afraid we don't have much time,” Kate said. “I can give you half an hour to get your things together and get your replacements down here, but not much more than that. We've already wasted too much time.”

AJ stood up. “I'll make the call. Stanski and Richards can cover for us if it's only going to be a day.”

Kate couldn't get out of there fast enough, and when AJ picked up the phone, she took it as an excuse to head outside. It was hot, and the wind had picked up, blowing brown dust through the air in translucent waves. Her head still hurt, but one thing was going right: the first part of this was over. She was already tired, and the thought of putting up with the two chuckleheads in the trailer for the rest of the day made her head spin. She'd done her job though, and Michael would be happy. That, at least, was a pleasing thought. With her stake in VO, she wasn't going anywhere even if she failed, but it was nice to succeed anyway. It was nice to make friends, especially friends like—

The door to the trailer clanged open, and Dutch took two steps into the sun. He swiveled his head, finding Kate by the side wall. He frowned.

“Wait. Seriously,” he said. “Is his real name Angus?”