divert him long enough for Colonel Ross and his cronies to perform their operation.
As far as the world knew, Shanda Kerwin-Knight had been killed by a drunken fuel truck driver, her body vaporized beyond recovery in a fiery inferno over a month ago. It was the perfect cover story for a perfect abduction.
How Colonel Ross knew the young woman was pregnant and how his team managed to time such an impromptu abduction were still unsolved mysteries, part of the bigger puzzle he was determined to piece together.
Sparks stared at the telephone lying on his desk. “I could stop all of this with one phone call.” But the price of that call could very well cost him his life. He expected his office and phones – with the exception of his scrambled line – were probably bugged, as well as his home phone lines.
If he called Denton, he would also be placing the elder attorney in jeopardy. Mere humans were susceptible to bullets, and there would be several for every person who disrupted Operation Homegrown or contacted Erik Knight.
Knight, however, was impervious to bullets of any type. When Knight became his other self, there was no known limit to his physical strength and endurance. The silvery metallic substance of his flesh was immune to any conventional weapon. What especially interested scientists was how the silver warrior had healed himself after the savage combat with the Seelak monstrosities. The titanic being generated a massive field of bio-organic energy and harnessed that energy at will. Based on eyewitness accounts, the weapon he’d used during his combat seemed to flow and shift physical composition according to the wielder’s desire.
Upon his acceptance as an operative, Knight had been deliberately vague concerning his capabilities and had sternly warned against involving his family or friends in any manner during the course of his contract with the federal government. Martin Denton and the representative from the OSI had assured him that his family would now enjoy the privileged protection of the United States Government.
Sparks laughed at the irony; a player in the governmental food chain apparently decided that the contract with Knight was no longer valid. Erik Knight was an unapproachable, un-controllable resource with seemingly unlimited potential locked within him – too much will and raw, unknown power for the government to simply take by force. Knight’s child would most likely have the same genetic mutations.
All the pieces were in front of him in this overwhelming wealth of information and all he had to do was take the time to study it. Sparks required the knowledge as leverage if the stakes of the game were raised too high for his comfort.
Knight was the wild card in the deck, the vial of nitroglycerin that needed only be jarred to explode with devastating effect. Should that explosion occur, Sparks wanted to be far away when it happened, but not too far away that he couldn’t conduct a body count after all the broken parts had landed. It was time to clean house not only for his country, but for his own personal redemption.
He gathered up the documents and placed them in his office safe. They would still be there tomorrow, when his mind was fresh and sharp. He locked the safe, gathered his suit jacket and headed out of his office.
He paused by his secretary’s desk. “Nancy, it’s 6:30; go home. You’re making me look like a slave driver.”
She raised her head, smiling. “In a few moments, sir. I just need to finish this last document.”
* * * *
Nancy Bertoni waited until her supervisor vanished into the elevator before she reached for her private cell phone. She touched one number and a pre-programmed series of digits dialed to a soft tune. The voice that answered on the other end was hard as granite.
“You wanted to be informed if certain documents were being accessed,” she began. “Everything on your list and then some. Mr. Sparks is ‘Eyes’ cleared. He’s pulling up
As far as the world knew, Shanda Kerwin-Knight had been killed by a drunken fuel truck driver, her body vaporized beyond recovery in a fiery inferno over a month ago. It was the perfect cover story for a perfect abduction.
How Colonel Ross knew the young woman was pregnant and how his team managed to time such an impromptu abduction were still unsolved mysteries, part of the bigger puzzle he was determined to piece together.
Sparks stared at the telephone lying on his desk. “I could stop all of this with one phone call.” But the price of that call could very well cost him his life. He expected his office and phones – with the exception of his scrambled line – were probably bugged, as well as his home phone lines.
If he called Denton, he would also be placing the elder attorney in jeopardy. Mere humans were susceptible to bullets, and there would be several for every person who disrupted Operation Homegrown or contacted Erik Knight.
Knight, however, was impervious to bullets of any type. When Knight became his other self, there was no known limit to his physical strength and endurance. The silvery metallic substance of his flesh was immune to any conventional weapon. What especially interested scientists was how the silver warrior had healed himself after the savage combat with the Seelak monstrosities. The titanic being generated a massive field of bio-organic energy and harnessed that energy at will. Based on eyewitness accounts, the weapon he’d used during his combat seemed to flow and shift physical composition according to the wielder’s desire.
Upon his acceptance as an operative, Knight had been deliberately vague concerning his capabilities and had sternly warned against involving his family or friends in any manner during the course of his contract with the federal government. Martin Denton and the representative from the OSI had assured him that his family would now enjoy the privileged protection of the United States Government.
Sparks laughed at the irony; a player in the governmental food chain apparently decided that the contract with Knight was no longer valid. Erik Knight was an unapproachable, un-controllable resource with seemingly unlimited potential locked within him – too much will and raw, unknown power for the government to simply take by force. Knight’s child would most likely have the same genetic mutations.
All the pieces were in front of him in this overwhelming wealth of information and all he had to do was take the time to study it. Sparks required the knowledge as leverage if the stakes of the game were raised too high for his comfort.
Knight was the wild card in the deck, the vial of nitroglycerin that needed only be jarred to explode with devastating effect. Should that explosion occur, Sparks wanted to be far away when it happened, but not too far away that he couldn’t conduct a body count after all the broken parts had landed. It was time to clean house not only for his country, but for his own personal redemption.
He gathered up the documents and placed them in his office safe. They would still be there tomorrow, when his mind was fresh and sharp. He locked the safe, gathered his suit jacket and headed out of his office.
He paused by his secretary’s desk. “Nancy, it’s 6:30; go home. You’re making me look like a slave driver.”
She raised her head, smiling. “In a few moments, sir. I just need to finish this last document.”
* * * *
Nancy Bertoni waited until her supervisor vanished into the elevator before she reached for her private cell phone. She touched one number and a pre-programmed series of digits dialed to a soft tune. The voice that answered on the other end was hard as granite.
“You wanted to be informed if certain documents were being accessed,” she began. “Everything on your list and then some. Mr. Sparks is ‘Eyes’ cleared. He’s pulling up
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