The Soldier

Marcus Logan opened one eye and glared at the phone beeping on the nightstand in his one-room flat in East London. He had no idea who would be calling him at, he glanced at the time, 8 a.m. Hell, he just got off work two hours ago. Logan sat up and reached for the robe at the foot of the bed as a number came up on the screen.

“This can’t be good.”

The phone continued to beep as he moved to his desk, finished tying the robe around his waist and sat down.

“Answer.”

On the central monitor the image of an older, stately dark-skinned woman came into focus. The fact that he was getting an early morning call from the CEO’s executive assistant confirmed this was not a social call from a time-insensitive friend.

The woman on the screen shifted uncomfortably in her chair and cleared her throat.

“Mr. Logan, if you weren’t properly dressed, two-way visual was not required,” she said curtly, her voice soft, with just a hint of a Jamaican accent.

Logan looked down and realized that the top of his robe was hanging mostly open revealing his muscular chest. He was in remarkably decent shape for a man of 42. He carried almost no body fat, and his muscles were still clearly defined under his tanned skin, his face still chiseled. The former Special Air Service soldier prided himself on keeping his body in a fighting trim, even after having been out of His Majesty’s armed forces for nearly five years.

“My apologies, Miranda, but I certainly wasn’t expecting a call so bloody early in the morning,” he said as he closed the robe and retied it. “My shift just ended three hours ago. What exactly is wrong? Which is why I assume you are calling.”

Logan realized his temper was flaring and fought to control it.

“Sorry, Miranda, what’s wrong?”

“We need you to come back in. As soon as you can. You see, there was…”

She paused as if searching for the correct word. “… or is a problem and we need you right away.”

“A problem? What sort? It was quiet as the proverbial tomb last night. I made all my rounds without seeing anything, and hardly a peep from Bessie as well.”

Logan noticed that Miranda glanced to one side as if looking to someone for guidance on what to say next. She opened her mouth as if to say something. Then Logan heard two quick and insistent knocks on his door. Miranda heard them as well and she visibly relaxed.

Logan half turned to glance at the door, then turned back to the monitor.

“And that would be?” he asked, knowing full well who it was at the door.

“The police,” Miranda said. “They wanted me to make sure you were home and . . .”

“And you were to keep me occupied until the constabulary arrived?”

“Something like that,” Miranda said, her voice tinged with a bit of sadness at having to be party to the deception. “See you in a bit, Mr. Logan.”

There were two more knocks on the door.

“Mr. Logan, metropolitan police, please open the door.”

“Just a moment,” Logan called as he stood up. He briefly considered running but ruled it out. No doubt there were officers stationed strategically around his flat. And he wasn’t exactly dressed for a chase.

Logan opened the door. He paused for a moment, eyeing the two uniformed officers evenly.

“Good morning, do come in,” Logan said as he stepped aside. The two officers walked in and looked around. The flat was unremarkable, as one might expect of a former military man. Sparsely furnished and decorated with little flair and mostly blank walls.

“We’re here to escort you to your office, sir,” one of them said stiffly.

“Am I under arrest?”

“Not just yet, sir,” the second one said.

“Grand,” Logan said. “Give me a few minutes to get dressed then we’ll be off.”

“We wouldn’t advise trying to sneak out the back or anything, sir, we have other officers keeping watch.”

Logan kept an affable expression on his face as the officer confirmed his initial analysis.

“Wouldn’t think of it,” he said with a smile. He walked into his bedroom and shut the door.

The Quantum Technologies building was a beehive of activity. There were researchers, company officials, police and several individuals in military uniform. Logan walked over to a tall, heavyset man with a goatee and horn-rimmed glasses.

“What’s all this about, Mr. Blankenship? Miranda was somewhat vague – said there was a problem and not much else.”

“Not here,” Blankenship said. “Follow me.”

Logan followed Geoffrey Blankenship into a conference room containing a large, oval table and chairs.

Blankenship closed the door behind them. In addition to Logan and Blankenship, he noticed one of the researchers in the room whose name escaped him, a young-looking man with bright red hair. There were also a man and woman in military uniform. He wondered where the Police representation was. .

“We just didn’t want to say too much on an unsecure phone line. To cut to the chase there was a theft last night.”

“So, I assume we are not talking about office supplies, then,” Logan said looking meaningfully at the military types in the room.

Blankenship stifled a chuckle.

“No, definitely not office supplies.”

“Is this him? The security guard from last night?”

Logan turned to see a tall, slender brunette walking into the room. Her loose hair hung midway down her back. She carried herself in a way that radiated self-confidence.

“Police Chief Inspector Elizabeth Robinson,” she said by way of introduction.

Logan took the offered hand, getting a much firmer handshake then he expected from the young woman.

“Marcus Logan. And yes, to answer your question, I was on duty last night.”

Before the Inspector could ask any questions, Logan turned to Blankenship.

“Right,” Logan said. “So, what exactly was taken and from what area?”

“Pardon me, Mr. Logan, but suspects generally do not ask the questions, the police do,” Robinson said.

“My apologies, of course,” Logan said. “No one had told me that I was a suspect in all of this.”

“You were on duty last night and had full access to the building. Additionally, there was no evidence of a break-in at all. The only reason you are not in handcuffs and talking to me at headquarters is because of your military record and the support of Mr. Blankenship.

“One correction,” Logan said. “As Mr. Blankenship can confirm, I do not have full access to this building, the most secure labs, are well, just that, secure and only the primary researcher and their team members are allowed entry. And even that is only during working hours. So, after hours no one should be inside those labs.”

Blankenship nodded immediately.

“Of course,” The police inspector said. “But before we continue, could we move to a more private location?

“A moment,” Blankenship said as he touched a control panel. The conference room’s glass windows immediately darkened and the lights in the room increased to compensate.

“That should do,” he said. “No one can see or record anything inside this room.

He looked at the screen on the desk.

“And there are no recording devices of any kind that we did not authorize. The room is now secure.”

Robinson looked at one of her assistants who pulled out a small pocket device and scanned the room. He nodded.

“Very well, then,” she said. “Let’s get started.”

“Before we begin, everyone needs to be aware that these proceedings will be completely recorded, audio and visual,” Robinson said, indicating a device she had placed at the center of the table. “The recording will be made here, and simultaneously at police headquarters.”

“We do have that capability, Chief Inspector,” Blankenship said as he touched the control monitor again causing indicator lights on the cameras in four corners of the room to come on.

“I’m sure you do,” Robinson replied, “but we must have our own recording. Protocols and all that.”

“Of course,” Blankenship said. “But we will still make our own recordings of these proceedings for our records and for Logan to use down the line.

“if needed,” Blankenship said, looking meaningfully at Logan who gave an almost imperceptible nod in return.

Robinson nodded.

“If I may,” Logan said. “What exactly was taken? It would be helpful if I knew exactly what we are talking about here.”

Blankenship looked at one of the miliary men who nodded his approval.

’It’s a computer chip we’ve been working on,” he said. “The goal is to make our command-and-control computer systems impervious to an EMP.”

Logan looked puzzled.

“And who would be launching a nuke at us capable of actually producing an Electro Magnetic Pulse with enough energy to actually take down our defense computer systems?”

One of the military men walked over.

“There are several actors in the world that still have the capability to execute such an attack,” he said. “And we must be prepared for it if it comes.”

“And you are?” Logan asked.

“General Richard Blaze, British Defense Force.”

Logan nodded. “A logical plan of action.”

“And our Stephan Forrester was our lead researcher on the chip.”

Of course, Forrester, Logan thought to himself as the name and face finally registered.

Robinson then stepped up.

“Now that we’ve got that settled if I may continue?”

Logan stepped aside and gestured grandly towards the researcher.

“Now Dr. Forrester, when did you first notice the chip missing?”

“When I arrived this morning, I noticed something amiss in the clean room.”

“Something amiss?” Logan asked. “Please explain.”

Robinson glared a bit at Logan but said nothing.

“Some equipment was slightly out of position,” Forrester said. “I know I’m considered a bit odd for it, but I do have this tendency to remember exactly where I leave things – exactly where a piece of equipment or furniture was left.”

“Go on,” Robinson prodded.

“So, it seemed that one of the equipment in my lab were slightly out of position, so I looked around a bit. It didn’t take me long to notice.”

Logan wanted to ask the obvious questions and felt since it was his company and his responsibility he had the right, but he had noticed Robinson’s look when he spoke up before, so he remained quiet.

“Noticed what?” Robinson asked.

“Noticed that the safe was open,” Forrester replied. “The safe isn’t visible from the main lab, so it probably would not have been noticed by Logan on his rounds last night.

“Of course, I immediately checked the safe and found that the chip prototype was gone,” he said.

Logan nodded. “So, what has this got to do with me? Surely, you don’t suspect me of pilfering the thing. The fact is even if I had access to that room, which I do not, I would not have the combination to that safe.”

“Unfortunately, that is exactly what the evidence suggests,” Robinson said. “Mr. Logan, according to the AI, you were the only one in the building last night and made several rounds of the building, including a stop in Dr. Forrester’s lab.”

Logan looked at Robinson.

“Of course, I was on duty last night, but like I said earlier, my rounds do not include entering any of the labs,” Logan said. “I check the doors and if they are locked, I continue on my way.

“I was never in that lab last night.”

“Logan, according to the AI you were,” Blankenship said. “And there is a recording of you entering the clean room and opening the safe.”

“That’s impossible,” Logan said firmly. “I don’t know the access code to the safe, Bessie would have to do that.”

“Nevertheless, the evidence from Bessie is clear. I am afraid I have no choice. Your employment is immediately terminated.”

Blankenship said, extending his hand. “I’ll need your ID badge and key cards please, Logan.”

Two uniformed police officers took a step towards Logan.

“This is a load of bullocks, and you know it,” Logan said.

“Logan, I don’t know what to believe,” Blankenship said. “All I know is the chip is gone, and all the evidence we have at this point seems to implicate you. Our security teams will continue to work on this but for now, please. Don’t make this more difficult than it needs to be.” `

Blankenship extended his hand and looked Logan in the eye. His face seemed to be pleading for Logan’s cooperation.

Logan sighed handed over the requested badge and key cards.

“And of course, all of your access codes have been revoked,” Blankenship said.

“Of course they have.”

Logan turned on his heels and headed for the door but was stopped when Robinson momentarily stood in front of him.

“Oh, and Mr. Logan, don’t leave town.”

Logan stopped for a second. “Of course not, Chief Inspector, wouldn’t think of it.”

Robinson stepped aside and Logan left the room. He immediately left the building, with half of his mind wondering why he wasn’t arrested on the spot.

###

Logan walked along the A3211, Whitehall Gardens on his right and the River Thames flowing quiet and brown on his left as it has for hundreds of years, Big Ben chimed the hour behind him. Ahead stood what remained of the London Eye, which like most of the city had fallen into disrepair. He walked briskly with both hands in the pocket of his leather aviator jacket, ignoring small electric-powered cars and trolleys that hummed past him almost silently. He paused at the intersection of the main street and a side alley between two office buildings and looked around, unable to shake the feeling that he was being watched.

Moments later, even as he was mentally chiding himself for being paranoid, he felt someone come up close behind him and felt the unmistakable press of a gun in his back.

“Afternoon, mate, now why don’t we take us a little stroll through the gardens, you and I.”

Judging by the position of the gun and the direction of his assailant’s voice, Logan judged him a bit shorter than he was. The mugger pushed the gun a little harder into Logan’s back.

“C’mon, now, don’t make this difficult.”

“Very well,” Logan replied, “After you.”

The mugger chuckled.

“Very polite of you, mate, but you go first.”

Logan nodded and started to walk slowly into the gardens, once one of the jewels of London, it was in a similar state to the rest of the city, ill-kempt and dark as the lights that once illuminated it ceased working years ago. As they entered the shadows, Once Logan judged they were far enough into the gardens to avoid any involvement from passersby on the road, he pretended to stumble over a tree root, forcing the man to bump into him. The moment he felt the gun at the small of his back, Logan quickly spun around, bringing his right elbow up to catch the pistol and force it to the side. His quick spin caught the mugger by surprise and by the time he could squeeze the trigger, the gun had moved passed Logan enough that the bullet smashed harmlessly into the ground.

Logan continued around, bringing up his left hand and smashing the mugger across the bridge of his nose, the palm of Logan’s hand breaking it in one strike and splattering blood all over both the man and Logan’s jacket.

“Now you’ve done it,” Logan said as the mugger fell to his knees, holding his broken nose in both hands. “I just had this jacket cleaned.”

Logan took a hold of the man’s hair with one hand and pulled him to his feet. He looked behind him and spotted a pile of trash, mostly empty boxes. He pulled on the man and tossed him roughly into the pile. He then bent down and picked up the gun. He pulled back the barrel to chamber a round and then aimed it at the whimpering figure in the trash.

“I have half a mind to save the police the trouble of arresting you and taking you to trial,” he said coldly. “But fortunately for you, I’m going to listen to the other half today.”

He uncocked the weapon and slipped it into a jacket pocket. From another pocket he pulled out his phone.

“Dial Metropolitan Police.”

“Specify,” the phone said.

“Nearest location.”

“Working,” the phone said as Logan’s exact position was determined by the phone’s GPS.

A moment later, the phone beeped, which was immediately followed by a ringing sound.

“Baxley district, Inspector Greyson Overby speaking, how may I help you.”

“Yes, this is Marcus Logan. I’m in the Gardens just off A3211 north of Derby Gate, roughly opposite the Eye. Someone just tried to mug me.”

“Very well sir, we’ll send a unit down to take a description, but I must tell you that it’s highly unlikely that we’ll ever capture the bloke. We just don’t have the manpower to track down common muggers these days.”

“Inspector, you needn’t worry about tracking him down. I’ve managed to, shall we say, convince him to wait for your unit. But do hurry up about it.”

“Right,” the inspector said. “We’ll have someone over right away.”

“Cheers,” Logan said, then he closed the phone. He sat down on a nearby bench to keep an eye on his former attacker as he waited for the police.

###

After he finished with the police for the second time that day, Logan walked the rest of the way to his friend’s garage. As usual, no one was in the front office, so he walked directly back into the shop area, which was mostly empty except for a 2095 Jaguar and a significantly older Bentley.

He walked up to the Bentley and stopped beside it. He knelt beside the car where a man was lying on a dolly. Most of the body was underneath the car, with only the legs protruding. From underneath the car came the regular, rhythmic sounds of someone snoring rather peacefully.

Logan smiled, then stood up and gently nudged the sleeping mechanic with his foot.

“Come on David,” Logan said.

“What, who’s that?”

“It’s Logan, and I need my car.”

“Hang on a moment, Logan.”

A second later David Spano pushed himself out from beneath the Bentley. He stood up to his full height of slightly above 5 feet. He sported a goatee, close cropped black hair with flecks of gray. Dark brown eyes and a wide white smile complimented his face. When Spano spoke, his English contained traces of his Caribbean heritage.

“I was just finishing her up,” David said as he stood up and acted as if he were wiping grease from his hands.

Logan placed an arm around Spano’s shoulders.

“Of course you were. Is she ready?”

“As ready as I can get her, Marcus. It’s a miracle that the old car still runs.”

“Well, she has too. I couldn’t afford a new one when I was working, and I certainly can’t now. They sacked me.”

“Sacked, why?”

Logan paused. He didn’t want to reveal too much if he ever hoped to get his old job back.

“Something was stolen on my watch, and they think I had something to do with it,” Logan said.

“I’d ask what this something was, but I would guess if you’re not telling me, it’s probably classified and also, I probably wouldn’t understand all that much of it,” Spano said.

“Definitely correct on point 1, and probably on point 2 as well,” Logan said with a laugh. “I’m hoping Willie can fill me in. Well, let me pay you and I’ll be off to see Willie.”

Spano shook his head.

“That’s all right, my brother. If you’re out of work, you need to hold onto every credit you’ve got. You’ll pay me when you can. And tell Willie I said hello.”

“Will do,” Logan said as he slid behind the Bentley’s wheel. He fired up the eight-cylinder engine.

“See you, David.”

Logan wheeled the car out of the garage and into the streets of London.

###

Logan walked up to the locked gate of a midtown apartment and pushed the button next to the name Alonso. He waited about a minute and when there was no answer, he pushed again, this time holding the button a bit longer, getting him a curt response.

“Who the hell is it?”

The voice had just a trace of a Spanish accent and sounded sleepy and annoyed at the same time.

“It’s Logan, Willie, I need a favor.”

There was a pause that stretched for a moment or two. Then the electronic latch on the gate buzzed.

Logan pushed the door open, walked inside and up the stairs to Willie’s second floor apartment. He knocked twice on the door. After a brief delay he heard a soft whir and looked up to see the security camera tracking him. He looked up at it, smiled and waved.

“How are you, old chap?” he said to the camera just as the door silently popped open.

The apartment was dark and in its usual state of disarray. Plates of half-eaten food were on the table and counters; discarded clothes draped over the couch and chairs. Not finding Willie in the living room, Logan almost reached for the Beretta he had relieved from the mugger earlier, then silently chided himself for his paranoia. Willie had let him in, hadn’t he?

Logan walked over to Willie’s banks of computers in the living room and looked at the monitors, trying to make sense of the electronic gibberish they were displaying. He was just about bored with trying to figure the displays out when he heard the toilet being flushed. A few moments later Willie Alonso walked into the room. The dark-skinned man was in as good a shape as Logan, if not better. His hair was long and pulled back in a ponytail. He moved smoothly, almost catlike. He immediately went to the big leather chair at the largest computer monitor and sat down.

“Not even a hello? Not very hospitable of you, mate.”

Willie didn’t say anything but just gave Logan a sideways glare before returning his attention to his computers.

Logan pulled a chair over and sat down.

“What in the world is bugging you, Willie?”

Willie glanced at him, then put his hands on the keyboard and started typing.

“You don’t mind if I finish up this little project, do you?”

Logan turned Willie’s chair, so the two men were eye-to-eye.

“I asked you what is wrong, Alonso, and I expect an answer.”

Willie reached down and forced Logan’s hands off his chair, then turned back to his computers.

“Don’t you cop that superior officer crap with me, Logan, we’re not in His Majesty’s Service anymore.”

Logan stood up and ran his hand through his hair.

“I’m sorry, old man, you’re right of course. But I’ve had a hell of a day.”

“Well, I don’t give a hoot about your day, just don’t take it out on me, especially if you want me to help you with something,” the tall Spaniard said. “What exactly do you need? You do need something don’t you?”

Logan took about 15 minutes to fully brief Willie on the day’s events, from the loss of the chip to the attempted mugging.

“So, you want to know what’s so all-fired important about this chip that’s gone missing.”

“Precisely,” Logan said. “Can you find out?”

“Give me a day,” Willie said as he turned back to his computers. Logan knew better than trying to continue the conversation. Willie was already halfway into the ’net in ways that most men couldn’t even begin to imagine.

“Don’t bother getting up, I’ll show myself out,” Logan said as he quietly left Willie’s apartment.