Chapter Nine

Warner was lying back on a small cot mounted to the wall of his quarters which were little better accommodations than a jail cell, though the door did open and close freely.  He had stowed his belongings and was trying to rest briefly, but he was unable to get his mind to stop racing long enough to sleep.

He was thinking about Linda and about what kind of life they could share if he were to just leave the agency behind.  He couldn’t get her out of his head, and the image haunted him of the two of them in a beautiful place happy and far away from the agency.  He tried in vain to focus on his mission, but the harder he tried to rip her image from his mind, the farther into his mind her face crept.  Her piercing eyes, her soft skin- every thought of her was delicious.  Even her name was like a warm ocean wave washing over his cold, exhausted body.

A buzzer sounded from the direction of the door.  Warner jumped to his feet, startled, and opened the door.  He saw Redmond and two security guards standing before him all of whom wore unrevealing countenances, yet still gave Warner a sense of unrest.  The two armed guards stood like bookends behind Redmond on either side of him.  They clutched their rifles with menace and blank expressions.

“Agent Warner, I’m glad to see you are awake,” said Redmond with forced pleasantness.

Warner responded quickly, “Yeah, well, I always have trouble sleeping in space.”

“If you’re feeling up to it then, we’d like to escort you to the briefing room and show you how you fit into the plans for countering the resistance up here on the station.  If you need a little while longer to rest, though, we can wait until later.”

“No, it’s ok, just let me wash up.  I’ll be with you in a minute.”

Warner left them standing at the door and dressed quickly.  After washing his face, and putting on his boots, he left his quarters with the three of them.  He fell in line, behind Redmond and in front of the two guards.  

After being led through a maze of corridors and ramps, Redmond stopped at a large metal door with a hatch opening.

“This is our operations center,” he said as he spun the hatch and swung the door open.

He motioned Warner inside, who stepped in and saw a large room with two levels.  Across the lower level was a wall sized screen split into several smaller screens, all of which monitored the various computer systems on the station in dizzying array of flashing pictures and lights.  On the upper level was a row of keyboards and racks of other data input and storage equipment as well as a large round table and chairs that bolted to the floor.  A man dressed in a long overcoat was standing with his back to Warner typing on a keyboard.  His frame was extremely tall and lithe, and his clothing black.  His extremities were exaggerated and thin, and the stark contrast between his white skin and black hair suggested something unnatural. As he heard Warner enter the room, he addressed him without turning around.

“I’m glad to finally meet you face to face.”

The stretched figure turned to face him.  His eyes were sunken, dark and cold, and when Warner looked at his face he felt as though he was viewing something part human, and part pure hate.

“Agent Warner,” he hissed slowly, his voice barely above a whisper.  A smile which looked more like a grimace of pain than an expression of pleasure spread over his face as he stretched his long arms toward him as if to beckon him closer.

“Who are you?  How do you know me?”  He was terrified of this thing that resembled a man in everyway, but clearly was not – at least not completely.

“I have known you for years.”  

A few steps forward and much of the distance between them was closed.

“I have been watching you closely.”

Warner could smell a foul smell hanging strongly in the air and getting stronger with each step closer he took.  Warner recoiled out of instinct and backed away quickly toward the door.  Suddenly, he was grabbed violently from behind by two large security guards.  

He shouted “Hey!” and began to struggle, but as soon as he did this he felt a sharp blow to the back of his head.  With a loud thud everything went black.  

His body went limp and Warner fell in a heap to the floor.  He was aware of a coppery taste in his mouth, a loud ringing in his ears, and superbly sharp ache emanating from the rear of his crown.

The world became very dream-like at that point.  A rag was stuffed in his mouth and taped around the back of his head.  He struggled weakly to prevent it, but he felt a boot pin his head to the floor as it was inserted and he went slack.  A black bag made of rough burlap was placed over his head and tied around his neck.  Warner was vaguely aware of his hands being tied behind his back, and then his body was heaved over someone’s shoulders who grunted slightly under his weight.

They left the room and made their way back into the corridor.  He tried to count steps and maintain a sense of direction, but his head was pounding and through the burlap things were hard to discern.  After only a few turns he was already lost in the darkness.

“Take him to the sub-basement and tie him up,” he heard the cold voice hiss from behind him.  There was a stark flatness that made him sound harsh and unmusical.

“He won’t talk,” warned Redmond with disdain.  “His allegiance to the agency is too strong.”

“You just leave that to me.  I’ll find out what he knows about our plans,” hissed the stranger with enthusiasm.

As the blood began to collect in his head, Warner could feel his blood pressure increasing.  He could hear his heart pumping in his temples, and he could taste the foul dryness in his mouth as struggled to keep from gagging on the dirty rag.  Out of instinct he began to thrash his feet and torso, fearing he was close to going unconscious.  He writhed and kicked, but he knew he was powerless even if he got free.

As he squirmed against his captor’s shoulder, he could hear angry mumbling from the security guard that carried him.  Warner landed a solid kick to his leg and was dropped hard on the catwalk as the guard yelled something unintelligible at him.  He landed on his back and the wind left him instantly.  He struggled to gasp air through his nose.  He fought against the rag which was now threatening to cut off his breath completely just as his respiration began to get faster and heart began to pound harder in his chest.

He could hear voices all around him, but could not get a fix on any of them or defend himself in any way.

“He won’t stop moving!  I can’t get him.” 

Then he was kicked hard in the stomach.  As he rolled away from the direction of the kick and struggled to gain his breath, another kick landed in his back near his kidney.  Then a rash of kicks and curses ensued seemingly from all directions.  Warner tried to ball himself up pressing his knees to his chest to protect himself from the onslaught.  His last fleeting thoughts turned to Linda in his moment of despair.  Would he see her again?  Was this the end?

Then he thought about Gray.  Where was he?  Surely Gray was looking for him, but would he know where to find him? 

He knew he was at the mercy of people who wanted him dead.  So why was he not yet?  It left him with a sinking feeling that the worst was yet to come.

Mercifully, consciousness left him.