Hunted

Chapter 21: The Plan

The security at Syntek corporate headquarters was always smotheringly tight, and nowhere was it tighter than the underground complex used by Kevin McDade and his secret team. Only one elevator even descended far enough to reach the place, and it was programmed to stop at a security station one level up before it could proceed to McDade's level. Once there, one had to traverse another monitoring area, complete with the finest robotic security system and highly sensitive scanning sensors. Even Robert Clark obediently let himself be poked and prodded by the security team and waited patiently through the scanning process. He knew better than anyone that what McDade and his team did was to be kept private, not only from the public, but from all but the most trusted Syntek employees, in this case only himself and Wayne Gilger.

Gilger trailed behind Clark like a well-trained puppy, following at his heels but not too close. He had only been to this level three or four times himself, and never felt comfortable here. It was apparent that McDade and his people considered anyone else's presence an interruption. At least in this instance he and Clark had been invited.

The corridors here were nondescript, the walls, lighting and occasional unlabeled and locked doors unremarkable. But Gilger knew that behind them were communications equipment, weapons stores, test areas, training gyms, and living quarters for a team and leader who only left the center on business. He and Clark went to the only open door and walked into the least interesting place on the floor-the briefing room.

For such a high-tech company, the plain wooden table and the metal chairs seemed out of place. Even the presentation equipment was old-fashioned and dated, such as the twelve-year-old holo-viewer Kevin McDade stood by as they entered. He nodded for them to be seated and the door behind them swung shut. Gilger, out of the corner of his eye, just caught a glimpse of one of the team members sliding back into her seat. She had silently moved to and from the door with catlike grace, probably without even thinking about doing so.

These people give me the creeps, Gilger thought to himself. Their faces and physical dimensions differed, but they all sat with the same perfect rigidity and had the same rock-faced, focused expression that McDade wore when in the presence of his "superior officers." Their bodies were trim and solid. He thought they looked like a crew ready to be planted on a remote alien world in hopes of creating a perfect breed of humans. His line of thinking was interrupted as McDade called the meeting to order.

"On behalf of the Special Operations Task Force, I'd like to welcome you gentlemen to our briefing," he said formally. "Mr. Clark, if you'd like to address the team before we begin?"

"Thank you." Clark leaned forward casually, letting his elbows rest on the table as if to show the others that he enjoyed some amount of freedom that they didn't. Rather than trying to better their physical perfection, he showed he did not personally need it. With this one gesture-of poor posture, no less-he had established that he was in control. Gilger made a mental note of it for later use.

"I don't think I need to spend a lot of time emphasizing the importance of what Mr. McDade is going to lay out for you now. I know you've all worked very hard, and McDade has let me know how well prepared he believes you to be. You are only a handful of people in an organization that employs over 36,000 throughout the world, but in the next few weeks you will largely determine the fate of this corporation. When you've successfully completed your mission, we might well see Syntek double in size in the next decade. I'm sure you will all be able to carry out your assignments in the most effective manner, and I can speak for myself and Mr. Gilger, as well as the rest of this corporation, in saying that you have our endless gratitude, not to mention a hefty bonus check to look forward to."

Clarke smiled at this, and the others let grins flash across their faces, which disappeared almost in the same instant they began. They were like machines, trained to know a smile was the thing to do at that instant, but then immediately reverting to proper, stoic expressions.