“I’d say that it was composed for a friend…” Fox smirked, “…a friend who eventually became his partner.”
Parris crossed her arms and smiled.
Fox’s attention shifted to the last set of body bags being loaded onto one of the Hexagon helicopters-one that appeared to have suffered the least amount of damage. Several army personnel from the Air Self-Defense Force were present, but he still couldn’t figure out why that one individual stuck out. He knew that he had seen him somewhere.
The side door closed and the Sikorsky’s rotator blades started. With the aid of his crutch, Fox limped a bit closer to the helicopter as others scurried the opposite way to save themselves from the dust cloud that would begin shortly. He stopped when he was close enough to see the pilot and his co-pilot. There he was, the same man he had recognized earlier-and his co-pilot looked familiar, too.
As the dust cloud grew under the spinning propellers, Fox shielded his eyes with his good arm, but still remained fixated on the helicopter as it rose in the air, hovered overhead, and lifted away. Fox kept watch on it just as he saw it disappear over the hills. Then it came to him, and the more Fox thought about it, the more stupid he felt.
“Damn it!” Fox yelled. He couldn’t run, but managed to move very quickly by leaping forward on his crutch. “Sugisaka…Parris, someone answer me!”
Parris was the first to cross his path and ran up to him. “What’s wrong?”
“Everything! How could I be so stupid? I knew I recognized them and I still let them slip right past me.”
“What do you mean? Let who slip past you?” Parris grabbed his left arm, and a worried look grew on her face.
“The data you stole had pictures of all the Clarified individuals. Two of the EMTs that passed us with stretchers, were among them.”
“Are you sure?”
“I’m pretty damn sure.”
Just then, Sugisaka ran up to them. “You wanted to see me, Fox?”
Fox turned to him. “The last Hexagon helicopter that took off-you need to alert Air Self-Defense to scramble some jets to intercept it.”
Sugisaka’s eyes suddenly widened as though he were surprised. “Scramble jets? But-”
“I’ll explain later. Just do it!”
Sugisaka got on his satellite phone, hit a few buttons, and barked out orders in Japanese. Fox limped away, paused, and threw the crutch on the ground.
Parris caught up to him. “Fox, what do you think happened?”
“She slipped right past us. I can’t believe it.”
“She? Who? Do you mean Dr. Marx? Fox, Tanaka shot her. We both saw that.”
“All we saw was her falling to the ground. Her wound might not have been fatal, she could’ve survived.”
Sugisaka came back to them, still holding onto his satellite phone.
“Two jets have been scrambled to intercept. Now, can I know why I had to put in that request?”
“Did you actually see Hashimoto’s body? How bad were his wounds?”
Sugisaka looked at him, perplexed. “I saw his body. If you really need to know, he’s dead. His chest was riddled with gunshot wounds.”
“What about Marx?”
Sugisaka was silent for a moment, as though thinking. “I didn’t see her. The EMTs told me she died from a gunshot wound.”
Fox turned to Parris. “Any guesses who those EMTs might have been?”
Parris didn’t answer-she just gave him a look of understanding.
At that moment, Sugisaka’s satellite phone rang, and he answered it. He spoke for a bit and then turned it off.
“Any news?” Fox asked.
“The helicopter disappeared from radar. Another search has been initiated, this time focusing on the possibility that it crash landed in the sea.”
“Crash landed? Oh come on. You’re talking about two intelligence agents helping a fugitive escape!”
“Fox.” Parris grabbed his left hand.
He looked down into her calming eyes.
“There’s nothing more you can do for the time being,” she said. “I wish there was more I could do right now, but there isn’t.”
“Parris, she planned this. She prepared for this contingency.”
“Would you rather get in a helicopter, fly out on your own and search every bit of the Sea of Japan until you run out of fuel? It’s out of our hands right now.”
She was right, there wasn’t anything more he could do. It amazed him how this woman was able to influence him, and often the right way. He sighed. “Do you always have to have the last word?”
Fox watched Parris smile one of her captivating smiles. “Yes, I do.”
Epilogue
Somewhere west of Kimberly, Northern Cape, South Africa, one year later
The red Bell 407 helicopter cruised at a low altitude through the night sky, above the rocky desert terrain. From their location, the pilot and his female passenger had flown over some of the diamond mines-Northern Cape’s chief industry-but diamonds didn’t concern the passenger. She had inherited a large fortune from her recently deceased husband, the former CEO of a major South African pharmaceutical company.
It was the second time in her life that she’d been widowed. Again, her late-husband was the victim of a massive heart attack. This time, it happened only a week after they exchanged vows at a private ceremony.
She may have lost her greatest achievement just one year ago, but the Clarity drug still served her purpose. Especially since it made it easier to swindle the poor rich fool out of every penny he had in order to fund her own organization, which was still in its infancy. Once it was fully realized, she would be the chief supplier of chemical and biological weapons in the region. She would research Clarity herself this time. And once she was satisfied she would recreate The Promise.
After they flew over a barbwire fence that surrounded what used to be a former apartheid-era, government- run research facility, the pilot brought the helicopter closer to the ground. When the landing skids touched down, Dr. Tabitha Marx stepped out onto the gravel surface. She buttoned the top button of her three quarter length wool coat to block the night chill. She’d lose it later in the day, when the sun came out.
Most people who knew her a year ago wouldn’t have recognized her now, since she had undergone cosmetic surgery nearly seven months ago, giving her a longer nose and higher cheekbones. She had the same youthful look, but with shorter, jet black hair.
As the rotors from the helicopter came to a stop, Marx and her pilot, who was armed with a South African R5 assault rifle, walked to the top of a staircase and descended it into the ground. At the bottom they both continued through a tunnel that was lit only by two flickering light bulbs, until they came to a reinforced steel door. Beside the door was a red-lit keypad and Marx punched in the five-digit code. The keypad switched from red to green. There was a beeping sound and the steel door slid to the side.
Marx unbuttoned her coat as she and the pilot walked down the hallway. She couldn’t help but think that one of the scientists should have greeted her, as they normally did when she came to visit or to work. But that wasn’t the case this time. When she got the phone call an hour ago, telling her that a major hurdle had been bypassed in research improving Clarity, she wanted to witness it herself.
But when she got to the main laboratory, she witnessed something else that made her freeze immediately. The pilot instantly raised his R5 and swept the entire room with it. Of the ten scientists that she expected to see, none were there. There was a muzzle flash from within the shadows ahead and staccato shots threw the pilot against the wall, he dropped to the ground.
