THE PHOENIX EGG
Richard A. Bamberg
Text Copyright © 2005 Richard A Bamberg
Text Copyright © 2017 Richard A Bamberg
All Rights Reserved
Published in the United States of America
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition, including this condition, being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.
First Edition published in 2005 by Invisible College Press.
Second Edition published in 2017by Verðandi Press
Cover images by LaVie Photography, Seattle WA
ISBN-13: 978-0692572955 (Verðandi Press)
ISBN-10: 0692572953
9876543210:
DEDICATION
This novel, like all of them, is dedicated to my friends and family.
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CONTENTS
CHAPTER 1
CHAPTER 2
CHAPTER 3
CHAPTER 4
CHAPTER 5
CHAPTER 6
CHAPTER 7
CHAPTER 8
CHAPTER 9
CHAPTER 10
CHAPTER 11
CHAPTER 12
CHAPTER 13
CHAPTER 14
CHAPTER 15
CHAPTER 16
CHAPTER 17
CHAPTER 18
CHAPTER 19
CHAPTER 21
CHAPTER 22
CHAPTER 23
CHAPTER 24
CHAPTER 25
CHAPTER 26
CHAPTER 27
CHAPTER 28
EPILOGUE
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
With grateful thanks to Rene’, Robert, Del, and DeAnna.
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CHAPTER 1
Fog rolled in from the Pacific, deepening the twilight gloom of Darwin Street. Lights came on in the Victorian townhouses, and a shadow passed across the curtains of the second floor of 3909.
In the darkness between the globular illuminations of street lamps, a white minivan with a PP&G logo idled at the curb. From the rear of the van, John Blalock, a muscular, compact man, could see the front of number 3909 and even the shadows on the second floor. However, John concentrated his attention on a pair of computer screens. On one screen, encrypted data flowed in a gibberish stream of alphanumerics, on the other deciphered text revealed the true purpose of the man in the townhouse.
John manipulated the image, revealing that the text flowed down still another screen. Another man sat at that terminal. Tom M. Blevins, a balding computer programmer who upon turning forty had taken to augmenting his income through the sale of company secrets. The image panned right and took in a cluttered office. Books were stacked on every surface; crumpled fast food bags littered the floors overflowing a little plastic trash can, and green light from a thirty-gallon aquarium reflected garishly off the walls.
John typed, and the screen of encrypted text split on the horizontal and a decrypted version appeared on the lower half. John studied the data for a moment and then smiled as he had seen enough. He took mirrored shades from the desk and slipped them on until they touched the gold contacts on what looked like an antique hearing aid hanging over his left ear. The image from Blevins’ townhouse appeared on the left lens.
He opened the side door, snatched his overcoat from the chair, and stepped down to the sidewalk. While scanning the street, he slipped the coat on and rolled the collar up until it touched the brim of his battered Henschel hat. A row of parked cars lined both sides of the street and disappeared into the fog, but he was alone. He left the coat unbuttoned, slid the van’s door closed, and triggered the remote locks.
At the front door of the townhouse, John glanced around, seeing no one, he pulled a pair of steel picks from a case and knelt in front of the door. Although he’d worked this lock a couple of days earlier, breaking and entering was never easy when his thick fingers had to manipulate the delicate picks. His teeth clenched as though that would help make the pins align. The last one lifted into place, and he rotated the lock. The bolt slid back with a soft clack. He exhaled softly.
John stowed the picks and stood. He aimed a small silver case at the LED on the door’s security panel and pressed its only switch. The case transmitted a series of signals, and the LED shifted from red to green
He slipped inside and closed the door behind him.
A single low wattage bulb barely illuminated the faded print of tiny blue birds in the wallpaper. A pair of doors led to the left, and a narrow set of stairs went up the right-hand wall. The air smelled of garlic and spices from Chinese takeout. John listened. The townhouse was quiet save for the soft bubbling of an aquarium pump. He closed the door and climbed the stairs.
The stairs had groaned with his weight on his first visit. This trip John kept his feet close to the wall. At the upper floor, he paused in the hallway. The image in his sunglasses showed Blevins hadn’t moved. John stowed the glasses in his shirt pocket.
Moving slower, listening, careful of every step, he crept down the hallway toward the only room with a light on. As he drew near, he could hear Blevins typing on a keyboard.
John’s hand went to his belt and detached a foot long metal rod. Holding it behind him in his right hand, he stepped into the doorway.
Blevins hunched over the computer screen. Five steps before John reached him, the man reacted.
Whirling toward John, he reached under his jacket.
“Don’t,” John said and took another step.
Blevins didn’t reply, but metal glinted in his emerging hand.
John snapped the telescoping baton its full length and lunged forward. His hand swept upward and chopped the weighted baton against Blevins’ fingers.
Blevins uttered a single a cry of pain, dropped a small revolver to the floor, and yanked his injured hand back. Without hesitating, Blevins stood and jabbed at
