"Hello," Laura says when she encounters abrupt silence over the line. "Mr. Dames?" She tugs her white iPhone away from her ear and glances at its screen. CALL DISCONNECTED. He didn't know. She gazes at the President's suite on the far end of the illuminated hallway.
"Ma'am, what's your call?" Laura glances at her brooding boss, "Ma'am?"
"She's related to Anthony Banks," she mutters, staring at the telephone before her. "Madam President", the chief calls her out of her trance. "Everyone's awaiting your order." President Clarke gives out a slow exhale, contemplating as she glances at the array of family photos on the bureau. "Call Tom. I want his take on this."
Chief of Staff Laura Oshken strides her way to the President's suite, drawing her stray blonde strands behind her ears. She glances at her phone as she deflects to a narrow corridor. If he doesn't know, then what the hell is he doing in that manor? She breaks into a sprint, now headed to the temporary workplace of the Department of Informatics.
...
The President glares at the beige envelope that lies on her desk, recollecting the unanticipated call from the Owner of Pearl Manor. What just happened? Placing her elbows over the beige incentive, she buries her face in her blanched hands. "If this didn't happen," she mutters, swiveling in her chair to face the mounted portrait of her kids. "I wouldn't have sent you there." She focuses on her son, whose soft blue eyes complement his jovial smile.
"What?" Veronica says as she steps into Hathaway Bridge, glancing at the distant man who eyes the empty freeway underneath. "No disguises this time?" Tom grins as he faces her, his black plaid suit glinting under the harsh sunlight that streams through the truss bridge, "Madam President."
"What a lovely Thursday afternoon," her acquaintance says as she reaches him. He glances around at the officers guarding the premise. "I can't believe it's been fifteen years since this bridge collapsed," he says, studying the steel truss around him. "And I can't believe we took more than a year to track you down," the President mutters, straightening her green pantsuit.
He chuckles, "Well, many things have happened in the past year." He adjusts his round sunglasses. "The ICJ had to rebuild themselves, causing their invaluable agents," he points to himself, "to lay low, so as to protect their loved ones."
"Like how you abandoned your only brother fourteen years ago," Veronica says, recollecting the file she discovered this morning. "That comes under protecting your loved ones?"
"You'll find out soon," The agent replies. "You've already found out about the renouncement papers." He glances at the skyline, "I was wondering what took you so long to find that out. Although I didn't have many resources, it took me just three days to find out everything about you and your family."
The president clears her throat when memories of their first encounter surface, "Well, you'll have to renew it soon, if you want to protect your brother." She checks her watch, "The documents turn into paper in two hours."
"Thank you for your concern," He replies, placing his briefcase on the wide railing. " I will take care of my family matters." He opens the briefcase, "Now, it's time to protect your son." He takes out a beige envelope. "Wait, the Xenos gang are active-"
"It's not that," Tom says, handing her the envelope. The president glances at the lieutenant who stands on the opposite side of the bridge. "I can assure you that I haven't planted a bomb in there," The agent says. It doesn't hurt to be safe. She muses as she waits for the confirmation. When the lieutenant nods in concurrence, the president opens the envelope. Inspecting the verdant documents inside, she lets out a seething exhale. Not again. "I'm not reading this," She hands it back to him. "I told you not to do it."
Tom sighs as he scans the panoramic cityscape, "Your son is very lucky, after what he had gone through fifteen years ago." He grins, "Everyone thought he was going to die, let alone be paraplegic, when the rod pierced through his abdomen." He clasps on to the railing, "To make things worse, the rod was corroded-"
"How is this related to the January attacks?" Veronica asks in a stern tone, trying to drift away from the newscaster's voice in her head. This is a huge catastrophe, here in the capital city of Henwrich. Over 50 people have been confirmed dead, while dozens are critically injured; many of them being elementary school kids who were travelling back to their homes. Here's the live...
"Madam President," The shapeshifter calls, bringing her out of her stupor. "Dr. Anthony Banks saved him just in time," he says, glancing at the envelope. "And that, delayed the activation of his powers."
"What?" The mother says, her blue eyes widening. "But the previous results were negative."
"That was for major abilities," The agent replies. "This is for minor ones." He hands her the file, grinning as his acquaintance hurriedly flips through the pages. "How is this possible?" She lifts her head, "You said this was genetic." She places the documents back in the envelope. "But I am a not a superhuman. I don't have powers."
"It is possible," he replies. "Both parents can have a subset of the genes required, and still not be superhumans." He shifts his stance as the president re-reads her son's test reports.
"Now," the shapeshifter says. "Since you know how cruel the world is, Jason won't be able to live like he did before, if he doesn't get trained to control his powers."
Veronica turns to see the freeway underneath. "The Epsilon Squad has a facility here. So, he can train there."
"That wouldn't be a wise option," Tom replies, scanning his surroundings. "We need to commence with the plan tonight, if you want Jason to continue living a normal life." The Omega Plan flashes in the President's mind, "No." She glances at him, "The plan is too severe." She steps closer, "And we don't even know where the facility's located."
"Pearl Manor is located in Castor," The agent says, handing another file from his briefcase. The President glances at the photo of the map, a red dot representing the manor. Why didn't we find this? "Usually, our powers are activated by the time we are eight or nine years old. But when that doesn't happen, extreme stress-level situations provoke the activation of these genes." He glances at her, "That's what happened to your daughter last year." The President forces a deep inhalation when resurfacing memories of finding her dead daughter, block her airway.
"The best place he can learn is in that facility," he apprises. "Also, it would be the perfect time to investigate." He looks away, "Maybe cut off the suspicions you may have against them."
"I know your ingenious brother stays there," she counters. "But they might-"
"Have helped the Xenos gang plunge the nation in chaos?" He snickers as he adjusts his sunglasses, "This reminds me, I found your mole."
Veronica flits her gaze to her acquaintance, "Webster?" He nods, "Abraham Webster, Secretary of the ex-Chief of Informatics." He glances at the freeway. "He was given a hefty sum when he upheld his side of the deal."
"Where is he?"
"He purchased an Airton Cafe, which is located near the manor". He points to a black dot several inches from its red counterpart. "Best part is, he's the sole employee there."
The President crosses her arms, meditating her next move. "Your son's powers can be activated at an unpredictable moment, which can not only destroy his career as a diver," He pauses. "But can also endanger his lifespan." He gazes at the mother. "His physician will be the best mentor who can guide him."
"Tom Dames," Veronica says, glancing at the pile of documents on the table. "Now Thomas Banks." She takes two files out from the pile. "His brother is Anthony Banks." She mutters when she opens the first file, glancing at the red TERMINATED seal on the beige renouncement papers. She eyes the second file, "Elizabeth Banks."
She straightens when there's a knock on the door. "Come in," she says when she glances at her computer screen, displaying two people standing in the corridor. Chiefs Oshken and Moorhaven enter the dimly-lit office, the latter carrying a briefcase. "Let's head to the conference room," President Clarke says, getting up from her seat. She, along with the Chiefs, enter the adjacent room. She takes her seat at the head of a ten-seater oak table as her Chief of Staff approaches.
"He said that he wasn't aware of the Owner's decision. He told us to wait for confirmation." Veronica nods, rubbing her forehead. Be prepared for the unexpected. The shapeshifter's voice chimes in her head.
"Ma'am," Sanders calls, standing before two wall mounted displayboards. The President lifts her head, "Yes, please tell me what you've found."
The Chief of Informatics nods in response. "When the informant disabled the forcefields, we could gain access to the advanced communication lines, which we couldn't with just the satellite."
"Though it was for only one minute, we could establish a link with the main systems there." Sanders taps a button on the remote, causing the screens to power on, "Our informant briefed us earlier about the exclusive communication line that only the owner of the manor can use." They pause. "And that's what the owner used to call us here."
"Where is Tom in all of this?" Veronica asks. "He might have been the one to call."
"That's not plausible, ma'am," Laura interjects, handing her a slim, black tablet. The President glances at the photos of the 3 D blueprint of Pearl Manor. "The telephone that has that link is here," she points to the red dot. "This is the 1st floor of the manor." She zooms out the photo, pointing to a blue dot that appears much below its counterpart, "That's the dot representing the informant." Veronica stares at the blue dot, "He was in the underground facility." She leans backward, "Can't we find where the owner and the rest of the residents were at the time?"
"No, ma'am," Chief Moorhaven responds. "It was because our informant had the tracker, that we could find him."
Veronica sighs, "What about his office?" She crosses her arms, "He gave us access to his systems, the one he used to monitor the facility."
"That link is being established now," they reply. "It will take another 20 minutes."Veronica nods, rubbing her face, "You can proceed." Sanders and Laura exchange nervous glances. They nod, "Yes, ma'am." The chief takes in a deep breath when they play the slideshow, "From the established communications link and the call from the owner earlier, we found a recorded conversation that was received a year ago."
"Received?" Veronica says, astounded. "I thought the telephone could only make calls, not receive them."
"That feature was installed on 2nd January 2017," Sanders replies. "This call was received the day prior." The beginning of the January attacks. The President muses. She straightens in her seat, "Play the recording." The chief nods, tapping away in their laptop. "The person who answers the call is Anthony Banks, the then previous owner of Pearl Manor," Laura apprises. "That confirms that the telephone can only be accessed by the owner."
"Hello?"
His voice is still the same. Veronica muses, picturing her son's lifesaver.
"Mr. Banks?" A shaky voice speaks over the phone. "Who's this?" Anthony asks. "I'm Thelma Stevens from Blackstone Manor. I don't know if you remember-"
Sanders pauses the recording, "Thelma Stevens was the owner of Blackstone Manor. We have confirmed this with the database we received from the ICJ." They resume the recording.
"Yes, Thelma. Tell me what's happening."
"Mr. Banks. We have an outbreak. Here we're-" A shriek takes over the line. "Thelma!" The physician says, before the call gets disconnected.
"So are you saying that Pearl Manor had no connections to the attack?" The President asks. The chief nods, "That night, the physician came out of his hiding spot with two other residents and brought in a patient."
"That patient was found near Davo Tower, which was near the presumed location of Blackstone Manor," Laura says. Veronica furrows her brows, "So they saved someone. But what about the call from the owner and the evidence that a manipulative device was activated that day, in that manor?"
The Chief of Staff leans forward, "That's what our informant is checking out right now." The President sighs, shifting her glance to the Chief of Informatics, "Who was the patient?"
Sanders casts a weak grin, "The patient's medical records were classified. Anthony made sure only he and the two residents knew of the patient." They move to the next slide, "These are the documents." Veronica adjusts her reading glasses. "The patient is referred to Patient X." They swipe through the documents. "Stop," She says when she notices a photo amidst the numerous logs. "Go back to that photo." The chief nods, their hands beginning to quiver. Their eyes meet with that of their friend, who nods in agreement.
They swipe back to the images. "Okay," The president says, examining the comatose patient lying on a bed, attached to a ventilator. "That patient lost their left arm," Sanders explains, "and was on the ventilator for almost a year."
"For a year?" She replies. "Yes, ma'am," they respond. "That's why the we think that the Manor has a mole." They step forward, "It's because we have evidence that most of the residents weren't even aware that a world exists out of their home."
"I presume that the Owner falls in the grey area," Veronica says, eyes still riveted on the comatose patient. "Yes ma'am," the chief replies. "Wait," She leans forward when she notices something. "Can you zoom in on the patient's left arm?" Sanders nods, clacking keys on their laptop. The President furrows her brows when she notices a birthmark on the patient's amputated arm. That's what Carrie has. She flits her gaze to the masked face, trying to make out the face underneath. "Do we have more images of the patient?"
"No ma'am," The chief answers. "But we got a name." The President shifts her gaze to them, "Who is it?"
The chief presses a button on the remote, causing the documents on the screen to flip away. "This document was created half an hour ago."
Laura exhales slowly, glancing at the President who shifts in her chair, scanning the document.
Veronica stops when she sees a few thumbprints at the end of the document. "Those are the thumbprints of the two physicians and the guardian."
"The two physicians, as in Anthony and Mark," She says, interlacing her shaky fingers. It can't be her. I did several autopsies. "Who is the guardian?" She pauses, "Is it Tom?" The Chief of Informatics steps forward, shaking their head, "We found a match in our database."
The mother nods, taking in a deep breath. She's not dead. She glances at the thumbprint, "That's Jason's." The chief gives a curt nod, "And the patient's name is-"
"Carolina Ann Smith," The mother says, her voice cracking. Then what was the body I buried? She recoils in her seat, rubbing her face. I was wrong.
Ping!
The chiefs check their phones, exchanging glances when they read the notification. "Do we have the interiors of the Manor?" The President asks, getting up from her seat. My daughter's alive. She takes in a deep breath as a gazillion thoughts enter her mind. Wait for the confirmation. She glances at her chiefs, "So-" She pauses when she sees their pertubed faces. Sanders rushes to their laptop.
"Ma'am, we found cell activity in the Manor," Laura says. "It's Carrie's phone."
The President marches to the other end of the room and stands beside the Chief of Informatics who taps away in their laptop. "The phone was switched on twenty minutes ago," They announce, tapping the Enter button. They glance at the President, "Someone's calling her." The mother glances at the screen that displays two connection lines. "The top one is the caller's end, while the other is the receiver's end."
Silence prevails over the conference room when the conversation begins.
"Ms. Smith?" A timid voice makes the first line wave. He chuckles when the receiver remains silent, "Oh, it's the younger one." The president furrows her brows, which arch upon hearing the voice on the receiver's end. "Who is this?" She rubs her creased forehead. Jason?
"Look," the caller says, his deep voice sounding less timid. "Your sister was a mistake. She didn't have what we wanted. But you do. So, if you want to prevent a future attack-"
"Get off the phone," a high-pitched voice demands. It's from the caller's end. The President muses as muffled voices make the first line dampen in amplitude. "I want visuals of Pearl Manor now," she whispers to the Chief of Staff who nods.
"What do you want?" Her son asks, his voice cracking. "Don't give in," she mutters under her breath. "He can give the results of the Cyan Project," The caller protests before the call comes to an abrupt end.
The Cyan Project... Veronica shifts in her stance as flashes of her mother come in. It can't be...