Marty directed his griffin to land in front of the small building buried in the middle


    of a small forest of trees. He dismounted and looked around. He didn’t see anything


    moving.


    “It’s smaller than I thought it would be.” Ren tried to stand on weak legs. He looked


    around also, gauging what he needed.


    “This is just the top,” said Marty. He waved his hands around. “These trees used to


    have cameras mounted with hidden guns everywhere. The catapult for the jet was


    over there somewhere. And the land area is far away from anyone trying to get up


    here.”


    “Do you think anyone has been up here in the last few years?” Ren nodded when he


    felt his legs would carry him.


    “Doubt it.” Marty walked toward the door. “The Foundation was supposed to


    maintain property rights until the Scouts were declared dissolved. As that last


    member, I’m the only one who can declare that. And I haven’t.”


    Marty flipped the lid up on the scanner next to the door. He put his hand on it. The


    door slid out of the way. He walked inside the darkened greeting hall.


    “Secretary?” Ren pointed at the dusty desk in the middle of the room.


    “Not really,” Marty paused at the desk. He hit a switch. The lights came on. “Barry


    used this as a checkpoint for the defenses. He liked to direct fire at anyone trying to


    get up here without permission.”


    “Really?” Ren frowned at that information.


    “Barry created the Scouts from this place.” Marty hit another switch. Screens lit up.


    “First he recreated himself so he would be stuck in a bed for the rest of his life.”


    “This is where he created the parts for Mr. Robot?,” said Ren. “That’s beneath us?”


    “Yeah,” Marty nodded. He flipped another switch. “He had a lot of money, and


    bankrolling his research was easy for him to do. Building this place happened before


    he had his accident. Afterwards, it was his lab and workplace to get back on his feet,


    then it became home to the Scouts. I am kind of surprised the place hasn’t been


    looted. I haven’t been here in a while.”


    “Your foundation probably didn’t send anyone out.” Ren looked around for another


    door. “If it was locked up when you left on your last mission, that should be good


    enough.”


    “All right,” said Marty. He hit another switch. A panel slid out of the way. “Let’s go


    down and see what’s left of the place.”


    He led the way into an elevator. He pushed a button to descend. Ren looked around


    at the metal bullet.


    “No stairs?”, Ren asked.


    “They’re on the other side of the building,” said Marty. “This is the fastest way down


    into the guts of the place.”


    “What happens if the elevator fails?,” asked Ren.


    “I don’t know,” said Marty. “It’s never happened.”


    “That is not really comforting.” Ren closed his eyes as the cab dropped from under


    his feet. He held on to the rail provided in the cab at waist height as his feet left the


    floor. Then the bullet slowed to a stop. His shoes settled to the ground just before the


    elevator announced its arrival.


    “Don’t worry,” Marty waited for the door to slide open. “If anything happens, you’ll


    be stuck in here for a while.”


    “That’s what I am worried about,” said Ren. He followed the other man out of the


    elevator. “I suppose we should look at any recordings related to your flying out to


    Idaville. You do have recordings?”


    “I think so,” said Marty.


    Marty led the way to a room full of complicated machinery. He blew dust off the


    equipment. It had been sitting there a long time in the hopes that someone would


    come back and use it. He looked around until he found a log book. He flipped it open


    to examine the contents.


    “The last call to be logged in was Idaville from someone in the Department of


    Defense,” said Marty. “I should have looked at this log book years ago. A Mercer is


    put down as the primary.”


    “Primary?,” asked Ren.


    “When a call came in, the person who sent the call was the primary,” said Marty. He


    handed over the book for Ren to examine. “Secondary sources are people on the


    ground calling when we got to the scene. The primary is usually a source inside some


    other organization needing help.”


    “Did Mercer have enough pull to fake a trail of evidence?,” asked Ren. He ran his


    The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.finger down the column, reading the names of the other primaries. “This was his third


    call. The other two were for Pearl Harbor and Midway.”


    “Pearl Harbor was some kind of theft,” said Marty. He closed his eyes as he tried to


    remember a case from eleven years ago. “Midway was some kind of monster.”


    “Why the calls from the Department of Defense?,” asked Ren. “I assume they have


    their own response teams to handle problems.”


    “I don’t know.” Marty searched his memories. “I don’t remember why we were


    called.”


    “Can you find out?,” asked Ren. He went back to the names. Mercer was the only one


    with only three calls. The rest of the names were repeated multiple times across the


    country. Most were emergency situations they thought the Scouts could handle better


    than the local force on the ground.


    Another name called from the Department of Defense more than Mercer. Why was


    there a change in the caller? That might be something. How did he find out?


    Would the man take a call from Marty after all these years? Maybe that was the way


    to go if he wanted to follow this line of inquiry. He checked the phone number. It still


    might be in use.


    He noted that it was different from the one Mercer used. Different offices? Different


    departments handling the same kind of problems? Would the other man know what


    was going on?


    Was Mercer really an official in the Department of Defense? That was a key question.


    The earlier calls might have been to build trust. Then they lured the Scouts into the


    trap with that established rapport. It sounded right in his head. How did they prove


    it?


    He knew they were on the right track. He wondered if the man had used his own


    name to build that trust in him. That would make things easier for them.


    “Okay,” said Marty. He had left and came back while Ren had been looking at the log


    book. “I found the two other cases that Mercer called in.”


    “Can I?” Ren handed over the log book for the files. He went through them slowly.


    He didn’t think the scale needed the heroes. They were small crimes involving service


    personnel.


    He made some notes in a pad before handing the files back. He considered what he


    had learned. Everything seemed straightforward. He just didn’t have a motive other


    than hatred for the Scouts. That didn’t narrow the field.


    “Does your phone work?,” asked Ren. “I would like to call and see if Major Ricther


    is still in service.”


    “I don’t know.” Marty picked up receiver. A dial tone emerged. “Looks like the


    Foundation kept that up too.”


    “Good,” said Ren. “I feel like this Captain Mercer is the key to our mystery. If we can


    locate him, then we can find out the rest.”


    “No magic?,” asked Marty.


    “We still have that to fall back on.” Ren took the phone. “I would rather use more


    mundane methods that can be proven in a court of law so I don’t have to try to


    explain how I charmed something to work for me. People still tend to frown at magic


    use.”


    “I can see that.” Marty leaned against the counter holding the equipment off the floor.


    “Powers are treated the same way.”


    “Objectively subjective testimony tends to be flawed,” said Ren as he dialed the


    number from the log book. He didn’t expect anyone to answer, but if they did, it


    would make his confirming questions easier to ask.


    He listened to the bell at the other end. Someone picked up. “Major Richter’s office.”


    “I am hoping to ask Major Richter some questions,” said Ren. “I’m looking into the


    death of the Hazard Scouts.”


    “Hold on,” said the voice. A switch sounded to show the line was being changed.


    “This is Ricther.” This voice sounded more precise.


    “My name is Ren,” said Ren. “I am helping Martin Morgan look into the deaths of his


    fellow Hazard Scouts. I noticed that there is an entry for a Captain Mercer as a


    contact. I was wondering if you knew him.”


    “A Captain Mercer from ten years ago in this department?,” said Ricther. “First


    name?”


    “It’s not listed in the log book,” said Ren. “He had two earlier calls about problems


    on Pearl Harbor and Midway. They concerned a joint project with Watson Security.”


    “That narrows things down a bit,” said Ricther. “Do you want to hold on, or let me


    call you back?”


    “I imagine it will take some time to verify what I have said,” said Ren. “We’ll be here


    at the Scouts base for a bit longer before we move on to follow up on other leads. Do


    you still have the number?”


    “Yes, I have it,” said Ricther. “I’ll call when I have something.”


    “Thank you, Major,” said Ren. He hung up the phone. “Major Ricther said he hadn’t


    heard of anyone named Mercer. He is hoping to look him up in the personnel files for


    us.”


    “Do you believe him?,” asked Marty.


    “Did he believe me?,” said Ren. “He has no reason to help us on the basis of our short


    conversation. I expect him to call back with something, or send someone out here to


    talk to us in person.”


    “I see what you’re saying,” said Marty. “We might have a unit of infantry coming to


    confirm our identities.”


    “If he calls back, we might have something we can use,” said Ren. “At the very least,


    he can confirm or deny that Mercer worked in his branch of the government. That will


    give us something.”


    “You think Mercer wasn’t a real government official?,” asked Marty. That would go


    with everything else they had discovered so far.


    “There are various possibilities in play,” said Ren. “We have to rule some of them


    out. Confirming a government connection will help us narrow down our suspect


    pool.”


    “What happens if he wasn’t government?,” asked Marty.


    “Then we’ll have to trace down this alias until we hit a dead end,” said Ren. “Then


    we fall back on the more obscure evidence that we have already gathered.”


    “So everything depends on this Major believing you are who you say you are,” said


    Marty. He rubbed his forehead.


    “Yes,” said Ren. “I think he will help.”


    “Why would he?”, asked Marty.


    “His name is in the log book the most right before the Scouts were ambushed,”


    explained Ren. “I feel that he had enough of an arrangement with your partners that


    he would want to know what happened to them.”


    “All right,” said Marty. “That makes sense.”


    “Now I am going to take a nap and meditate about everything we have learned.” Ren


    nodded at his partner. “If Ricthner has something, I am sure he will call back in a few


    hours.”


    “There are some guest rooms.” Marty led the way to a set of stairs. “They’ll probably


    be dusty.”


    Marty headed down the stairs. He stopped in a hall like any of the other halls they


    passed. He went down until he reached the fifth door. He pushed it open. Dust


    covered everything, but the bed didn’t have a sheet or blankets.


    “I’ll get you a blanket from the closet.” Marty turned and walked down the hall. He


    opened a door and grabbed a blanket off the shelf. He shook it out, and carried it


    back. He handed it over. “This should do for the amount of time we’ll be here.”


    “Thank you,” said Ren. “I appreciate it.”