Stranger Aeons: The Armed and Thinking Men

By Jave Harron

Tension in the Twin Cities

The city of our meeting was hardly a major one. We were going to the Twin Cities in Minnesota. Specifically, Minneapolis. It was one of the nicest cities I've ever been to. I recall going there for a conference back when I was going for my Masters. The streets were clean and organized, the people were nice, there wasn't much litter, and there were need skyways connecting most of the buildings. Since they got ten feet of snow every winter, they had to have some way to get around downtown. So, you could walk from one end of downtown to the other without ever going outside. It was pretty interesting. (I always considered it a sort of “beta version” of how an arcology might work.)

Right across the Mississippi River was Saint Paul, the other “Twin City.” Of the two, Minneapolis is the one I spent more time in. It's definitely a beautiful one. It's a nice, Midwestern city and not a scumhole like LA or any city on the East Coast (save perhaps Boston). We got off at the airport, hopped on a tram, and then headed down a few flights of stairs. Paz and Hyun followed behind me, and I used some cash to purchase passes for the light rail line. We descended one more flight of stairs, and ended up on a train platform. It superficially resembled a subway, except it was much cleaner. All three of us were dressed in light jackets and jeans, and carried backpacks with us.

It didn't help that for whatever reason, Granger had decided to send us in to meet with a group of psychotic mercenaries who had been trying to kill us since we met them. He promised us an explanation when he got back, as well as support once we arrived in our hotel. More allies was always a good thing. Especially in a city where we knew very few people.

Eventually, a light rail train appeared heading north. It had doors wide enough to allow wheelchairs and bikes inside. The trains were clean, sleek, and not covered in filth like New York's subways. I looked at a map. We were down at the airport station. At the south end of the line was the Mall of America (a truly overrated place I had been to before). We had several miles to go until we got to our hotel in downtown Minneapolis. I pulled out the latest book I had been reading, “The Singularity is Near” by Ray Kurzweil. Picking up from where I left off, I realized how much I wish it would happen. I also realized Kurzweil was an optimist. Either way, if the maniacs like the ones we were facing were still running free, I wouldn't live to see the end of the year.

We would have guns waiting for us in our hotel room, as well as some other supplies. Our schedule would be pick up our items at an already reserved hotel room, and then head to a meeting spot to scope it out. (Of course, the fun part would be the meeting itself.) I recalled the area they wanted to meet. It was an indoor food court near Nicolette Mall, right on the third floor. I had walked through there once before years ago, and only vaguely remembered it. But I knew that in public, there was less incentive for us to draw guns or perform an assassination attempt. For us, we could hit civilian bystanders. For them, they could draw unwanted attention. In a state with fairly liberal gun laws, even those bystanders could be packing. The last thing I think even our enemies would like is to get involved in a Mexican standoff with us, the local cops, and armed civilians.

I looked up from my book and saw the sleek skyscrapers of downtown Minneapolis getting taller. I could see the former stadium of the Minnesota Twins, the Metrodome, in front of us. Our stop was close, Government Plaza. A bunch of local government buildings were nearby. We stepped off the train, crossed the street, and looked up. Our hotel was located inside of a massive tower. The first few floors were a parking garage. Above that was the actual hotel. Above the hotel were some penthouses. Skyways hung over the streets, connecting the second story of structure with the ones adjacent to it. We continued down the streets, noting how clean they were. We entered the hotel at ground level, and saw a small store to our left. To our right were three elevators. We climbed into one, and pushed the button for the hotel. It was already located six stories off the ground.

We waited in the elevator, and came out in a rather ornate lobby. The main desk was located off to the side. A small locked room made of transparent glass acted as the hotel's Internet access. The rest of the hotel, though, was very ornate. Off to the right was a massive indoor open area. A garden made of artificial plants was constructed around fountain, and a few “pavilions” were placed around. The hotel suites all had their doors facing the indoor area. The elevators were held in transparent tubes, and each had a faux-gold appearance. The place looked like a combination of Aztec, Art Deco, and jungle. It was quite an accomplishment, especially given that all these things were six floors above the street.

I approached the clerk, a bored looking young woman. She looked up from her book and asked, “Can I help you?”

“Yes, we're here with Gabriel Syme,” I added, recalling the name our contact used. At least someone else had read “The Man Who Was Thursday.” “Could you direct us towards his room?”

“Yes, it's Room 401, right on that side,” the clerk gestured to the fourth floor.

“Here, I'll cover it,” I flipped her a Network-supplied credit card. Thankfully, I wasn't paying for it (or getting myself into debt while doing so). She swiped the card, handed us a set of key cards, and I grinned and nodded her way. “Thanks.”

“You're welcome!” she said as we all headed for the elevator. The elevator itself was smaller than what I was used to, but it did give a nice view of the lobby. We took up the elevator, and opened the door to our room. There was a few different sections to it. The room had white walls, a blue carpeted floor, and some generic pictures hanging from the walls. The front section had a table that sat four, a bar, a couch that folded out, and a mini-fridge. Behind a door was the second part of the suite. There was the window, a small bathroom and shower, some dressers, and two nice, comfortable looking beads.

There was a cardboard box waiting for us on the closest bed to the window. Hyun went to pick it up, but I pulled him back. I closed the blinds on the windows. Then, I pulled out a pager-looking device from my bag, and turned it on. It buzzed for a few minutes, and then a green light appeared. Hopefully, this bug sniffer was working as well as it did during our tests earlier. I wanted to ensure the room wasn't bugged. There was a chance the bugs would be something more advanced than what it detected, but that was unlikely. There comes a point where paranoia gives way to apathy. I did a quick scan of the room with one eye in a cardboard tube and the other holding a light, scanning for the glint from any concealed camera lens in both main rooms and the bathroom. Finding none, I opened the box up. Inside were some envelopes holding various false credentials, and a set of carry-concealed shoulder holsters with pistols in them. I picked up the oddly shaped yet compact weapon, and examined it. It was loaded with a magazine already.

“Hey, JC, what kind of gear do we have here?” Paz asked. “And why weren't we able to bring our normal sidearms along?”

“This deal is sort of a spur of the moment thing,” I replied. “So, I had to improvise. Instead of our normal weapons, we've all got Hi-Point C9 pistols in nine-millimeter waiting for us. Not the best gun, but not the worst.”

“No Morphium darts, I take it?” Hyun added.

“Correct. Live ammo,” I said grimly. “Not the best thing to have if we need to carry a gun in public, but it was the only thing available at the time.”

“We should have the correct forged permits and permits, too,” Hyun added as the elevator stopped. “Had to pay extra with local Networkers for those on short notice.”

“You guys have their Kevlar vest in your things?” I asked them Hyun and Paz. The vests were the thin sort that an undercover cop could wear. They couldn't stop larger rounds, but against pistol fire, they'd be our only defense. Both nodded. Hyun passed out some of the fake cards and permits, which we placed into our wallets.

Given how well everything seemed to be going on a meeting with some of the Network's most bitter enemies, I was beginning to get suspicious. I half expected a SWAT team to charge in, or a grenade to come flying in, or a sniper on an adjacent building to open fire. We put our things in the room, with Paz claiming the fold out couch and leaving the guys in the beds. We each got changed into our new outfits, putting on the concealed carry holsters, and carrying the false credentials. I called up Granger on a satellite phone, to check about other things.

“Can you name our assets in area?” I asked.

“Male mid-twenties Asian in blue coat, redheaded girl in gray UMN sweater, and middle aged man with a shaved head and olive green sweater. They have d-mikes, cams, and one is packing,” Granger replied. “Those are the only Twin Cities people we can offer. Do not make contact with them. Wear what you said you would earlier. All are ready for the worst.”

The contacts would already be at the food court, if everything would be going according to plan. From how it sounded, it was just few people with concealed directional microphones, wearable cameras, and one with a gun. They knew how we appeared, and how we were supposed to conduct the discussion. They were there to ensure if shit went down, we could identify the guilty party. Of course, if the police got a hold of it, things would get very interesting. But I'd rather face questions from the local police than be tortured to death by the Brigade's goons in some basement. Of course, the Brigade could have compromised them, or they could be novices to using most of those devices, or a million other things. For now, I tried to keep my focus.

So, with assets (hopefully) in place and waiting, we left the room, and locked the door behind us. We took the transparent elevator back down to the lobby, and then headed to the one we had come up on. I pushed the button reading “Skyway,” which would take us to the level just above the ground, right where the skyways were. The skyway we took was covered by carpet, and a small enclosed corridor heading north.

We continued along the skyway, noting some of the things around us. The skyways connected to a veritable maze of indoor walkways, with a number of businesses catering to pedestrians. There was an Italian food place, a Starbucks, a florist, and other businesses. I saw a few stores for a local coffee shop chain, Caribou Coffee. I also recalled most of these places had closed down around 5 PM, leaving the walkways around them a veritable ghost town. But it was not there yet, and we still had a few hours to go before then. I recalled the way to the food court, relying on the local maps. The walkways hadn’t changed that much since I was here a few years ago. We walked through the sleek marble lobby of a business building before reaching the building we desired. The area around the walkways became more packed with stores. We headed up a level, and found ourselves in the food court. Off to one side was a Chinese buffet, and the other side had Indian food. The floor was about what you’d find in any mall, with waxed tiles and generic tables and chairs. Before we took our seats, we surveyed our surroundings.

On the left side of the room, there were two younger people with UMN sweaters on and open textbooks and notes. One was Asian, and the other was a redhead. Every now and then, they’d look up from their notes and around. When they saw us, they quickly looked away, as if jerking back. They were probably nervous, as this was their first time doing something like this. Hopefully, they knew what they were doing. On the other side of the room, the middle aged contact sat reading a newspaper. He was distracted for a second before looking in our direction. The bathrooms were nearby, so our contacts wouldn’t have to go far.

I pulled out my bug detector and scanned the center of the room. To a bystander, me walking with it would just appear to be a man with a pager that would vibrate or beep. It found none, and I began to pace around the food court. I could see the directional mikes of the college students were likely in their bags, as their backpacks were unzipped and facing the center of the food court. There were fewer people than I thought there would be, which was a good thing. Less people around meant less bystanders. With these assholes, I did not want to be too sure.

After scoping out some possible escape routes, we all went to the bathroom, selected a table in plain view of each of our contacts, and waited. This was the most boring and potentially dangerous part. If you got bored and less attentive of your surroundings, someone could be sneaking up behind you. So, I began to breathe slowly, trying to relax myself and get into a meditative state. Not quite a trance, but the type of heightened senses that are useful for this sort of thing.

Luckily (or unluckily), we did not have to wait long. After ten tense minutes, they appeared from the south walkway. A tall, lanky man with a shaved head and generic gray sweater was first to enter. The Macedonian had entered the building. Behind him was a young Japanese woman with short hair, a windbreaker, and smug grin. Flanking her were the other two. There was the golden haired rapist dressed in a Yankees jacket and cap, and the redheaded mad bomber in a green tracksuit.

The Japanese woman saw us, waved, and headed to the table next to ours. Her three other companions all sneered, patting lumps under their clothing. The fools were packing to, and hopefully our contacts were all recording it on camera, if we did need some kind of leverage.

Our table only sat four people, so they slid another one over towards us, and all took a seat.

“Everyone, keep your hands on the table,” I told them. As much as I'd love to shoot them all now, we were in the middle of a public place now. They placed their hands on top of the table, and turned towards us.

“Glad to finally meet you guys!” the woman we knew as Harumi Kaneko grinned. She held a bottle of green tea with some strange dark objects floating inside. “This is the city I went abroad to study in. I have to say, the school here's a very good one!”

“Get to the point,” Hyun muttered. “You drug us out here for something. You've been trying to kill us, and now you want to talk? Typical Brigade bullshit.”

The Macedonian moved his finger around the room. “I estimate they have a few contacts here.”

“If they try anything, we'll put a few new holes in 'em,” the rapist Jean Renault grinned. “And anyone else in the way.”

“Just shut the hell up,” Paz muttered while shaking her head. “After the ship and what you did in Africa-”

“Hey, those were just some nigger bitches in Africa,” Renault grinned. “Gonna kill 'em anyway, so why not have some fun with 'em first? Same with those limeys on the boat!”

“Or the guns we've been running into around the world,” I added. I had to resist the urge to just shoot him then.

“Quiet, guys,” Hyun waved his hand. “Now, they hate our guts too. But they're here to tell us something important.”

“That's the point,” Harumi added, taking a quick sip of the green tea. “As much as I love the Brigade's ideals, our structure has a few flaws compared to yours.”

“Like not being able to trust anyone outside your direct control or social circle,” Hyun added. “Is that why you're contacting us? You need the Network's resources?”

“Most of my contacts were due to his gunrunning uncle,” Harumi nodded and quickly sipped more, and pointed to the Macedonian. “Who you shot.”

“Well, you did have that one handle,” I added. “Instead of sending us to North Korea, you could have just sent us to do your dirty work without us knowing!”

“I know that,” Harumi gritted her teeth. “But because Ivan's uncle's compost, and you came back from North Korea, I was forced to change plans. Originally, I would have preferred only these people and my earlier contacts help me.”

I could see the Macedonian's normally disciplined face slightly turn red as he glared at Harumi from behind.

“Contacts that the Network took out,” Hyun added.

“No, contacts that you took out,” Harumi continued before chugging more of her drink. She was now almost a quarter done. “Ones you killed in your line of their work. The cult leader, the South African, the Condor, and that Russian.”

“His name was Yuri Fedorov,” the Macedonian grit his teeth. “Get that right, please.”

“Yes, yes,” Harumi ran her fingers through her hair. “But there's one piece of history I'd think even you'd be interested in. I'm sure you're familiar with Yamashita's Gold.”

“That's just an urban legend!” Paz protested. “Aside from a handful of trinkets or small stash here and there, no one in the Philippines ever found caves of Japanese war plunder!”

“Legend or not, I'm sure you know that Marcos took that very seriously,” Harumi continued. “He was fairly anal about taxing treasure hunters and seizing anything they might find.”

“So you want us to look for Yamashita's Gold?” I turned my head back in disbelief and snickered. “Might as well send us after the Amber Room! Or Big Foot! We've got a better chance of finding those!”

“Laugh if you want, but I have a personal interest in a particular stash,” Harumi continued, sipping her bottle now down to halfway. “My grandpa fought in the war. He was a medic, and stationed in the Philippines until the Japanese withdrew. He died when I was young, but I found an old journal of his.”

The look on Harumi's face turned to one of interest. “My grandfather had been stationed on some remote island. As the Americans and Filipinos retook the country, he wrote about a feverish construction project on the island. They were digging some sort of bunker. Several shipments began arriving of unknown origin, and were placed inside.”

I noticed Jean reach for something in his jacket, but put his hand back on the table at the last moment. My attention suddenly shot in his direction. He shot a grin back at me. He was screwing with me.

“And you're sure this is gold how?” Hyun asked. “It could just be a stash of munitions or something.”

“It might, but the project was abruptly terminated, and the bunker buried again. They left in a hurry, and the jungle soon covered up any trace they had been there. But they did leave minefields and booby traps all over the place,” Harumi continued. “Now, if it's not gold or war plunder, I still want to know what was in there.”

“Then why don't you and your mercenaries hop a plane to the Philippines and start digging?” Hyun rolled his eyes. “Doesn't seem like you'd need our help for this so far.”

“That's the annoying part,” Harumi continued. “There's never a specific mention to what island he was stationed on, or even the approximate location! There's a lot of God-forsaken remote islands in the Philippines.”

“Do you even know what unit he was a part of?” I asked. “Then that can make tracing him easier.”

“Yes,” Harumi continued. “The 161 Division under Yoshida Takeo. The problem is, most of their records were destroyed during the surrender. So, tracking them is a bitch.”

“How many people in the unit are left alive, then?” I added. “Did you try to see if any of his old comrades were still alive?”

Harumi nodded as she finished off her drink. Some of the strange, dark specks remained at the bottom of the plastic bottle. “All are dead now, save a few ended up missing in action,” she continued, eyes opened wide. “They could have been forgotten on that island, went native, or countless other things. So, that's why I need your help. Just tell me where it is. I need to know. If you do this, you'll never hear from us again. I'll pay you anything you want. Even if it is damn gold!”

Either she was desperate or putting on a damn good show. Her three associates were unsure of how their boss was behaving.

“Use the Network alias for contact,” she said. “I'm not asking you to help me now. Just think over it, and let me know!”

“Boss, why are yeh cryin'?” the mad bomber, Patrick Murphy, added. His sudden entry to the conversation stopped us for a second. “Don't cha get all teary on me now!”

“Well, that about wraps it up,” Harumi said, her eyes clearly teary. “I have a whole collection of World War II artifacts! I'll send you pictures if you want to look at them! Now, I have to go!”

Harumi walked out the back door, taking her bottle with her. The Macedonian and Murphy walked out with her, and Renault turned back at us. “Don't even think about blackmailing us with this. We're also wearing a wire,” he grinned. “Just because our boss is having one of her moments doesn't mean we're as emotional as her.”

“Oh, I know that,” I muttered at him. “You're too busy being a sick fuck to care.”

“As long as she pays. The Brigade's got involved in some interesting stuff, for sure,” he nodded. “Like see that bottle of hers? She likes mixing some ashes from Holocaust in with her tea when she wants good luck.”

We stared at him in disbelief. Was obsessed young woman really that crazy?

“Well, I better split,” he grinned. “Don't worry. I'm sure we'll meet again. We Retrogressors will settle our business with you.”

With that, he sneered and walked off to rejoin the others. They vanished down a skyway, and disappeared.

“Well, that was a waste of time,” Hyun replied. “I hope Harry's got a good reason he sent us out here.”

“Guys, think of it like this,” Paz added. “Either she's a great actor, or obsessed about that. We find what the boss is obsessed with, and we can use it to draw them out.”

She smashed her hands together. “Then we get them all.”

“I like the way you think,” I grinned. “But we have to make sure they're not doing the same to us.”

Hyun and Paz nodded. We left the food court, and headed back to the hotel. We were supposed to have had one of our contacts follow these 'Retrogressors' out, but they split up and vanished. If we found where they were staying, we'd just call the cops (or at least more local Networkers) and be done with them. But sadly, it wouldn't be that easy. At least the meeting didn't end with a bloodbath.

Granger later would give us his explanation. He wanted to draw out the Retrogressors so that the Network could track where they were based out of. They had been operating out of Tokyo. However, that was not where we would go to next. In order to exploit our enemy's obsession, we first had to find a lead. That would be our next step, and that would be a hard one even for the Network's resources. At least we weren't going to make some Faustian deal with those assholes.