Reese's lap. 'You gotta piss, you gotta piss, whatya want me to do, hold it for ya?' he sneered.
Reese felt his bladder let go. He thought he could control it enough just to let the pressure off a little, but once he felt the warm trickle of urine soak his underwear and warm his leg and crotch, his bladder hadn't understood at all what the plan had been and it let loose in a flood.
'What the fuck is this?' the man asked, standing and sliding his chair back.
'Look, I just couldn't hold it,' Reese said, feeling anger rise.
The man stood and started walking toward Reese.
Reese, through his embarrassment, fought with his restraints so he could get loose and strangle this son of a bitch. All he had wanted to do was to get paid for information the corporation had requested, and instead he found himself in some serious shit in a place that scared the hell out of him. Though his anger was blocking a lot of sensory input, he saw the man stop and look over his shoulder. He heard footsteps on the concrete floor, then someone patted his shoulder.
'Good morning, Mr. Reese,' the same man he had spoken to last night in the club said in greeting. The brute quickly turned away and went back to the card table.
Reese looked up into that face again. The, man had changed clothes, was now dressed in jeans and a blue, button-down shirt.
'You've had an accident I see. Well, those things will happen at times like this.'
'Wh... what... do you want?' Reese desperately tried to sound as indignant as he could, but it came out as a pleading, mewling sound.
The man smiled and patted him on the shoulder again and pursed his lips, then smiled.
'Oh, Mr. Reese, I want so much from you. And you know what?'
Bob Reese just looked up at the man who had made his life into this nightmare.
'You're going to tell me whatever I want to know,' the man said in answer to his own question. Then he grabbed one of the chairs near the table and swung it over and sat in it backward, his tanned arms resting on the top of the backrest. 'It's going to be hard at first, because you will want to resist. You will think to yourself, 'I'm a man, I should be able to hold out for a while,' but then'--the man looked at the spreading stain of urine on his captive's trousers--'you will tell me all there is to know.' Farbeaux reached into his pocket and pulled out a small notebook. He opened it and flipped through a few of the pages. 'Now I wish to know the reason for the Group's interest in this most bizarre episode. It must be the technology, am I correct?'
'Look, there has to be a mistake, I have always given you the best information, your superiors will be very angry that I am being treated like this.'
'To start with, Mr. Reese, let me introduce myself. My name is not Tallman, it's Colonel Henri Farbeaux. Does this name
The very moment the man mentioned his name, a slow, crawling coldness came to Reese and he literally felt the blood drain from his face.
The Frenchman smiled and patted Reese's right leg, then held his fingers up and rubbed them together, feeling the wetness. He smiled and gently rubbed them on his captive's shirt.
'To start the morning's festivities, Mr. Reese, tell me of this incident of yesterday in more detail than you did last night.' Farbeaux paused a moment to light a cigarette, then blew the smoke toward the ceiling. 'I understand from New York that Director Compton has declared an Event scenario. Would this have anything to do with his missing men back in '47, perhaps? But let's not get ahead of ourselves; let's start with this flying saucer, shall we?' Farbeaux asked, knowing that Hendrix had been alerted that the Black Team he had sent here was missing and had undoubtedly ordered another in. Farbeaux knew his time was short.
'Centaurus would never approve of you hurting me,' Reese said hurriedly.
Farbeaux smiled. 'Robert, I think we'll leave the company out of this one. I'm keeping the information you give me for selfish purposes. Besides, my friend, they have already ordered your termination by others; you're a danger to them now. Your only chance is to convince me of your value. Your reward will not be money, but your very existence. Surely worth the truth, is it not?'
Farbeaux once again patted Reese's leg, then reached out and brought up an unseen leather case and unzipped it. Inside, gleaming in the dim lighting, was a syringe. This he quickly and expertly plunged into a small vial, then he held the needle up and lightly pressed the plunger. A small, thin stream of amber liquid shot into the air.
'Let's begin, shall we?'
ELEVEN
Gus was astounded at the scene before him. Scattered from one end of the high rocky valley to the other was what looked like the remains of a plane, a large plane. Material resembling tinfoil was spread in clumps and patterns that suggested it had hit pretty hard and dispersed over the wide area encompassing the valley. He slowly made his way down a small incline, over some large rocks, and entered the valley he had visited a hundred times before. He didn't notice it right off, but the feelings of being alone and afraid had ceased as soon as he'd gained a foothold on the rock-and debris-strewn soil. A slight breeze ruffled some of the metal and produced whispered whistles that seemed to penetrate to the core of the old man's being. The area reminded him of a ghost town, only this wasn't one made up of buildings and streets, but of wreckage on a mountain reputed to be haunted.
'Hello!' he called out into the valley.
Two pairs of eyes watched as Gus stood and waited for an answer. The large eyes of the small visitor were blinking rapidly in terror at the approach of the man. The other, smaller pair of eyes watched malevolently. They never left the man as he examined the wreckage. It growled deep in its throat. The small clear yellowish claws scraped the rock it leaned against.
Gus stepped farther into the debris field and carefully nudged a piece of the twisted metal with the toe of his boot It was maybe five feet by four feet and seemed extremely light. He bent over and ran a finger over the surface of the bright silvery material. It was cool to the touch despite the rising sun's reflecting off it. As Gus curled his fingers around it and lifted, he expected one end to come up, but when the entire piece lifted off the ground, he was so surprised he dropped it again. It seemed to float down and landed softly on top of his right boot. He jerked his foot out from under with a small yelp escaping his lips. He then nervously looked at some of the other bright pieces of material around him, and that was when he noticed that hardly any of the objects had escaped the violent crash unscathed.
Toward the center of the crash area and strewn among the debris were several large container-like bins that looked somewhat intact. Most had small bottles on top of them that looked like oxygen cylinders. The old prospector walked to the nearest one for a closer inspection. The box or container or whatever it was stood a little over three feet in height and was oblong with a length of five feet or so. The front panel, or what Gus thought might be the front, was made of a clear material resembling Plexiglas. He peered through it as if he were looking through a window, holding his hand up to shield his eyes from the glare of the rising sun. When his hand came in contact with the clear panel, it warped and turned to a gel-like substance that first wobbled, then fell as water to the sands below. At the moment the substance fell, Gus felt a small electrical discharge strike his hand where it had touched the gel panel. He quickly stepped back, immediately disgusted with what he had touched. That was when he saw lying in the middle of the casing another viscous material that stank to holy heaven. It covered the entire bottom of the container and was murky and brownish. It was still bubbling around what looked like the remains of small bones and a little bit of fur floating on top. Gus looked from it to the small canister-like tanks on the top. There were three total, and one was still dripping a blue liquid into the mess that lined the floor. It looked as though whatever had been in there had been killed by the stuff in the small cylinders.
The old man shook his head, knowing he was guessing at things he knew nothing about.
