Shadow Tyrants (Oregon Files 13)

The British woman had continued her speech as if she were the Kammandant of a concentration camp. “I want to impress upon you the gravity of your situation. Whole countries are searching for you, but none of them will find you.” She gestured to the carefully hidden airliner above them. “The world thinks this plane was shot down in a terrorist incident off the coast of Iran. Pieces of it will be found, but you won’t be. Eventually, they will give up searching for it. And you.”

“What’s this all about?” one of the passengers yelled out. Some of them advanced like they were going to start a fight, but the guards raised their weapons at a flick of the Brit’s finger. The rebellious passengers stepped back.

“We have a very special project for you to work on. You are some of the best minds from the tech sector and academia. With your help, we will accomplish something that will change the future of our world.”

“Then why not just hire us?” Lyla asked.

“Because we need more than just your expertise,” the Brit replied. “We need your access. By the end of the day tomorrow, we will have full penetration of the computer files in your various organizations. Everyone thinks you’re dead. Any glitches your institutions find in their computer systems will be attributed to software malfunctions. None will suspect that you’ve aided us in hacking into your own databases. The top secret information that we acquire will save us years of work and will be the catalyst we need to finish the project. That is, of course, if you help us.”

“And if we refuse?” Lyla said. A few people grunted their agreement.

The Brit’s lip curled in a frightening grin. “I don’t think any of those who are left will refuse.”

She turned slightly and nodded.

The guards took aim at the other group. Just before they fired, Lyla had the horrifying realization about what was going to happen.

The guards fired at the helpless passengers just a few yards away from her. They were mowed down in cold blood while the survivors screamed in terror. Lyla might have been screaming the loudest. She clutched the nearest woman and hugged her close, sobbing together about the appalling sight they’d just witnessed.

The Brit was unfazed by the carnage. Her lack of empathy was sickening.

“Those people were not useful to us. I hope this shows you what we will do if you don’t cooperate. We will not hesitate to make more examples. Do your work and you will be treated fairly. That is all.”

The Brit then nodded to the lead guard and turned to leave. Lyla hadn’t seen her again, but she’d never forget that dead-eyed stare.

Since then, she’d never given up the hope of seeing her parents again, but that hope was diminishing with every passing day. She tried to enjoy the simple things, like this excursion out into the sunlight, stomping through the mud, smelling the ripe odor of the flora damp from the fresh rainfall.

When they got to the beach, the guard, an Indian, took out a cigarette for his ritual smoke. Lyla often tried to talk to whoever was with her to see if she could build a rapport that would someday work to her advantage. She didn’t feel like it. She sat on the sand and ran her hands through the fine grains while she stared at the calm ocean. She always looked for signs of a ship, hoping that this would be the day that someone would see her being held captive by an armed man, but today was no different. The sea was empty to the horizon.

The guard’s radio squawked, and he dropped his cigarette into the pile with the rest of the butts.

“Can’t I have a little peace for a minute?” he complained to the caller, lifting his cap to wipe his brow. He looked at Lyla. “She’s even being quiet, for a change.”

“We just got the word,” came the reply. “It’s Bedtime.”

Lyla stiffened when she heard the word, but she didn’t look at the guard. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw him stand up straighter at the news.

“Really? No drill?” Lyla remembered the drills where they were hustled back to their cells as part of the protocol.

“Really. Get back here with Dhawan. Now.”

“Affirmative,” the guard said into the radio. Under his breath, he added, “Finally.”

“Let’s go,” he said to Lyla.

She remained motionless as her mind raced for what she could do.

“I haven’t had my full time out here.”

“I don’t care.”

She stayed seated, options flashing through her mind, none of them good.

“I said, let’s go,” the guard repeated. “Don’t make me haul you up.”

She slowly got to her feet, watching the guard as she did. His attention was focused on getting back to the facility, and he still had his assault rifle slung idly around his shoulder. He didn’t think she’d know that today was any different and would dutifully return with him.

But if she was going to die on this day, she might as well do it out in the sunlight.