Part Two
Now, it was six AM, and still not so much as a single beep from the Geiger counter, and Smita had raised nary an ear. Rachel sighed. “Probably in DC, or something. And here I was thinking that this assignment was going to be so exciting.” James grinned. “Well, when you’ve been doing this job as long as I have, you might change your mind about wanting excitement. I’ll take a quiet night any time.” They continued walking. Soon, James wrist buzzed, and the data readout in his sleeve flashed. “Message from HQ. Let’s see what we’ve got,” he said. The message scrolled slowly: SYNDICATE SLIPPED US. OUR DETECTORS AT O’HARE AND LAS DETECTED EDEN ISOTOPE. PROCEDE DIRECT LAS VIA GROUND TRANSPORT. –XAVIER.
“Vegas it is,” intoned James. “Pity they won’t let us fly out there. I guess the Syndicate had better airborne monitors than we thought,” he added. An hour later, they were on the turnpike, heading west, in James’ late-model Mercedes. As Rachel slept, and Smita restlessly moved around her cage, James mulled over possible reason the Syndicate would have to bring the Eden Microchip to Vegas. How odd, considering that it had came from Easter Island in the first place, to take it all the way to the east coast, and then back west. He hadn’t come to any conclusions when his wrist buzzed, and another message came through: POSSIBLE LEAD. CALL HQ FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS. –XAVIER. James yawned, and pulled off onto the shoulder. He poked Rachel in the shoulder. “Mind driving? HQ wants me to call them.” “No problem,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “Give me a minute to wake up.”
“Xavier here,” the sharp voice on the phone said. “Xavier, it’s James. XC19QRT,” he said, giving the specific verification code for that hour. “James. One of our mobile sensors saw a short blip, showing a possible location southwest of Decatur, Illinois. We’d like you to check it out. Our source indicates it might be at a chicken farm.” Just a few hours later, they pulled up to the gate. The Geiger counter and Smita couldn’t find anything. Must not be here anymore. Still, they would do a quick interview with the farmer, before heading west again. “No, can’t say I’ve seen anything real suspicious-like lately,” the farmer drawled, while showing them some of his prize layers. “But the coons have been takin’ a few more than usual this year.” After thanking the farmer for his help, Rachel and James headed back to I-70, and started west again. Rachel called Xavier, and let him know what had happened. He promised to get the research department on the possible chicken connection.
“Vegas it is,” intoned James. “Pity they won’t let us fly out there. I guess the Syndicate had better airborne monitors than we thought,” he added. An hour later, they were on the turnpike, heading west, in James’ late-model Mercedes. As Rachel slept, and Smita restlessly moved around her cage, James mulled over possible reason the Syndicate would have to bring the Eden Microchip to Vegas. How odd, considering that it had came from Easter Island in the first place, to take it all the way to the east coast, and then back west. He hadn’t come to any conclusions when his wrist buzzed, and another message came through: POSSIBLE LEAD. CALL HQ FOR FURTHER INSTRUCTIONS. –XAVIER. James yawned, and pulled off onto the shoulder. He poked Rachel in the shoulder. “Mind driving? HQ wants me to call them.” “No problem,” she said, rubbing her eyes. “Give me a minute to wake up.”
“Xavier here,” the sharp voice on the phone said. “Xavier, it’s James. XC19QRT,” he said, giving the specific verification code for that hour. “James. One of our mobile sensors saw a short blip, showing a possible location southwest of Decatur, Illinois. We’d like you to check it out. Our source indicates it might be at a chicken farm.” Just a few hours later, they pulled up to the gate. The Geiger counter and Smita couldn’t find anything. Must not be here anymore. Still, they would do a quick interview with the farmer, before heading west again. “No, can’t say I’ve seen anything real suspicious-like lately,” the farmer drawled, while showing them some of his prize layers. “But the coons have been takin’ a few more than usual this year.” After thanking the farmer for his help, Rachel and James headed back to I-70, and started west again. Rachel called Xavier, and let him know what had happened. He promised to get the research department on the possible chicken connection.
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