The Fusion Cage

III

‘I’m just saying that it doesn’t have the same kind of ring to it, you know?’

‘No I don’t know, and besides it’s not up to you any more is it?’

Ethan Warner folded his arms and shrugged as he looked up at the new sign his partner, Nicola Lopez, had installed above the door to their office. Lopez was beaming as she surveyed her work, her dark and exotic eyes sparkling with delight as she set an electric drill down on the sidewalk and pulled a band out of her pony tail to release a fall of dense black hair that reached half way down her back.

The original faded paint of Warner & Lopez Inc had been replaced with a brand new Lopez & Warner Inc in polished aluminium plate that shone in the dawn sunlight as Ethan surveyed it. The change of name had been Lopez’s idea — her insistence, when they had agreed to reform their partnership. After Ethan’s prolonged absence from the business, during which Lopez had struggled on alone, he had found it difficult to justify denying her the indulgence.

‘We’re going to have to buy new paperwork, business cards and register the new business name change with the IRS,’ Ethan pointed out.

‘Already done,’ Lopez replied, still admiring her handiwork.

‘You’re enjoying this.’

‘Yes I am,’ she said. ‘Things get done when I’m in charge.’

‘Speaking of which, what’s next on the list of jobs? Do we have much work coming in to this brave new empire of yours?’

Lopez’s studied delight deflated somewhat and her shoulders slumped as she led him into the office.

Ethan Warner pulled off his leather jacket and tossed it onto a couch beside the door. The small office contained little more than two desks, some filing cabinets, a security safe, a cooler and a small television. Posters on the walls portrayed numerous bail — jumpers in the Chicago area, right out as far as the border with Michigan. Bail bondsmen wasn’t a glamorous part of their work, and nor was being hired as private detectives, but it paid the bills.

‘Seventeen cases as of this morning,’ Lopez informed him as she surveyed their current case — load. ‘All bail jumpers, none of them high value and all likely in the Chicago metropolitan area or within easy reach of it.’

Ethan nodded as he gave the walls a cursory glance. ‘Not quite what was here before I left. Have you cleaned up Chicago’s streets single handed?’

‘It’s tough trying to do a two — person job on your own, case you hadn’t noticed,’ Lopez shot back with a dirty look. ‘Our reputation for speed and success took a hit for the year you were hiding out in the middle of nowhere, and the competition picked up the slack.’

Ethan raised his hands, not wanting to provoke Lopez into an argument.

‘I know,’ he said. ‘Let’s just get onto the best — paying case we’ve got and go from there, okay? Any word from the DIA?’

In recent years Ethan and Lopez had been fortunate enough, or unfortunate enough depending on how he looked at it, to have been contracted by the Defense Intelligence Agency to investigate cases the rest of the intelligence community had rejected as unworkable. The connection to a high level agency like the DIA had come from a former colleague of Ethan’s named Douglas Jarvis. The old man had once been captain of a United States Rifle Platoon and Ethan’s senior officer from his time with the Corps in Iraq and Afghanistan. Their friendship, cemented during Operation Iraqi Freedom and later, when Ethan had resigned his commission and been embedded with Jarvis’s men as a journalist, had continued into their unusual and discreet accord with the DIA where Jarvis continued to serve his country.

‘Nothing,’ Lopez admitted. ‘They’ve been quiet since Argentina.’

Ethan thought back briefly to their last investigation that had reached its conclusion high in the mountains of South America, when they had first encountered armed forces deployed by an unknown but extremely well equipped organisation that seemed to operate entirely outside the US Government. The discovery that he and Lopez had sought to protect, the remains of an alien species excavated from ancient Incan tombs high in the Andes, had been confiscated by the mysterious group in return for them escaping with their lives.

‘I suspect the DIA has their work cut out for them right now,’ Ethan surmised as he flopped down into a chair. ‘Whoever went up against us represents a huge threat if they can operate with impunity from the government. Jarvis won’t want to face them in open battle again without further investigating just who the hell they are.’

Lopez winced as she leafed through a case file. ‘Jarvis doesn’t face anybody in open battle, Ethan. He just sends us in to do the shooting for him.’

‘He’s in his sixties, Nicola,’ Ethan pointed out. ‘Hardly an age for crashing through doors.’

Lopez shrugged, munching on a donut as she read from the file of an alleged Mickey Cobras killer by the deceptively impressive name of John Valiant, who had skipped bail out of Cook County a month earlier. Like most members of the Cobras gang, Valiant was an African American operating out of the Fuller Park area of the city, the gang’s collective operations involving drug trafficking, extortion, robbery and murder. Arrested for the homicide of an enforcer from the rival group Gangster Disciples during a drugs dispute that turned into a gunfight on the corner of West 35th Street, Valiant had been sprung on bail and vanished.

‘He could be anywhere,’ Ethan pointed out as he observed the file. ‘The Cobras have enough cash behind them to tuck him away anywhere around the country.’

Although smaller in number than most of their rival gangs, the Cobras were successful enough to command the title of super — gang according to the US Attorney.

‘You said to start with the highest value target,’ Lopez pointed out.

‘Highest profit is what I meant,’ Ethan replied. ‘There’s not much point in us tracking Valiant down if it takes us two months to do so.’

Lopez dropped the file as if it had vanished from existence as she looked across her desk at him.

‘Then you should say what you mean,’ she informed him. ‘This is why I’m in charge now.’

Lopez popped the last morsel of donut into her mouth and smiled as she ate.

‘Okay then, go for your life,’ Ethan suggested. ‘What’s our next target?’

Lopez was about to reply when a new voice interjected.

‘Missouri.’

Ethan turned in his seat to see Doug Jarvis standing in the office doorway, his hands in the pockets of his neatly pressed pants as he leaned against the jam.

Lopez almost coughed out her donut as she shot to her feet.

‘Change of leadership,’ she said hotly. ‘You’re dealing with me, now.’

Jarvis raised an eyebrow at Lopez as he glanced questioningly at Ethan.

‘She’s the boss,’ Ethan explained with an airy wave in Lopez’s direction. ‘Humor her, for both our sakes.’

‘It’s not about humor,’ Lopez insisted. ‘This business gets things done when I’m at the helm, and I’ll decide what cases we’ll be taking on.’

Lopez stepped out from behind her desk and perched on the edge of it as she folded her arms and raised an enquiring eyebrow at Jarvis. ‘And how can we help you?’

Jarvis, his elderly features sparkling with bemusement, moved across to a spare seat and sighed as he sat down.

‘The DIA has detected an anomaly out in forest country in south Missouri, and wants us to check it out.’

‘You mean,’ Lopez corrected him, ‘you want us to check it out for you.’

Jarvis glanced at Ethan again. ‘How long’s this been going on?’

‘It feels like years already.’

‘Hey, grandpa!’ Lopez snapped as she clicked her fingers in Jarvis’s face. ‘I’m standing right here, so state your case or take a walk.’

Jarvis was unable to prevent his mirth from spilling over and he laughed. ‘Ownership of business deeds doesn’t a drill sergeant make, Nicola. Take it easy.’

Lopez smiled without warmth. ‘I’ll take it easy when I’m happy that any work we take on for you benefits the people concerned, and not just you or the government.’

Jarvis inclined his head in agreement as he replied.

‘Five days ago, three hundred people vanished without a trace from a town called Clearwater. The town now looks as though nobody has set foot in it for fifty years. I want the both of you to go down there and find out what the hell happened.’

Lopez’s studied indignance vanished almost immediately as she digested what Jarvis had said.

‘How is that possible? Did some sort of time warp just whisk them away or something?’

‘Intelligence resources detected a powerful energy emission in the area and a very bright light, but other than that we have absolutely nothing to go on.’

‘Why us and not DIA agents or paramilitary troops?’

‘DIA boots have already been on the ground at Clearwater, two agents sent down to take a look at the scene. They didn’t find anything significant but my boss doesn’t want to expose our awareness that anything untoward has occurred there, in case … ’

‘Majestic Twelve,’ Ethan finished the sentence for Jarvis. ‘You guys think they’re involved.’

‘Nellis can’t be sure but similar events in other countries mean that this could be an MJ–12 job, and he doesn’t want to let them know that we’re onto them. He wants you two to go and take a look and figure this thing out.’ Jarvis glanced at Lopez. ‘That’s if you’re not too busy, of course.’

Lopez studied her fingertips for a moment.

‘We may have the time to take a quick look,’ she replied. ‘How come the media’s not all over this story already? They’d have a field day.’

‘Nobody knows, as far as we can make out,’ Jarvis replied. ‘There are ghost towns all over Missouri state and many others, a legacy of the gold rush and mining towns long abandoned. It seems like a cover up, but what we don’t understand is why they’ve decided to shut this town down, what they’ve done with the residents, and how come it is that if they’re still alive they’re not talking to anybody about what happened to them.’

Ethan looked across at Lopez, who in turn stood up and offered Jarvis a mild grin.

‘We’ll take the case,’ she said. ‘How are we getting down there?’

‘That, I’m afraid, is up to you,’ Jarvis replied. ‘Unless the case develops enough for Nellis to prioritize it, the days of military jet flights on commandeered aircraft are long over, although you can still bill the office for gas use — after all, you’ve only got to travel one state over. Have a nice day.’