Saturnine

By Laura E. Bradford

"They don't want her. They want me."
Thomas Huxley is an agent in the twenty-sixth century. When his agency is breached and his identity revealed, his wife Zoe is kidnapped.
His friend Ariel, a time traveler, discovers that the kidnappers are working with an old enemy of hers, Bailey Tyler. The kidnappers demand a priceless painting in exchange for Zoe's return.
To find Zoe, Thomas enlists the help of other agents, a young queen, and a military commander. When the rescue plan is stalled, Thomas has to find his wife himself--but he and Ariel may not make it out alive.

Saturnine is a sequel to Flyday, but can be read independently.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Laura E. Bradford
• Release date: Dec 25, 2016
• ISBN: 9781370482344

Laura E. Bradford

Author of Flyday and Saturnine.

Book preview

Saturnine

by Laura E. Bradford

Smashwords (First) Edition

Copyright 2016 Laura E. Bradford

Cover by Robin Ludwig

Chapter One

October 27, 2507

Thomas Huxley clutched a cup of coffee as he waited for his train.

It was late, and by almost five minutes. He glanced at the schedule. He was going to miss his connection, making him ten minutes behind. At this rate, he would barely make it to work on time.

When it arrived, he breathed a sigh of relief, and got on. After two stops, he stepped off at the station in downtown Tenokte, then walked over to the other tracks, to his connection.

A young woman was sitting on a bench, with what looked to be a friend comforting her.

I can’t believe it. Right there in the café.

Did you see it?

I think so. It happened so fast…

He was a little unsettled, but he was in a hurry, and walked on.

To Thomas’s relief, his train was arriving. Lights started flashing, and people gathered by the tracks. His train took him to just across the street from his job. As he emerged from the tunnel, he saw skyscrapers glimmering in the sun. One of them was the home of the Tenokte Inquirer, a news agency.

He greeted everyone on the way in: the clerks, his editor, his co-workers (most of whom seemed busy working on a story), and then he sat down in his cubicle.

He turned on his computer, put on his headphones, and started working. He was a music journalist. He was halfway through writing an article when his wife called. He took off his headphones and picked up his phone.

Hey, she said. How are you doing?

Good, you?

Good. Honey, I know we usually go out for dinner on Friday nights, but do you want to go tonight instead?

Sure. Any reason?

Just want to change things up. I’ll make the reservation. Love you.

Love you too. Bye, Zo.

He put down his phone, then stared for a moment at the framed picture on his desk. It was himself and Zoe, on their wedding day. He smiled and went back to typing, but his phone lit up again. For a second he thought it might be Zoe calling again, but it couldn’t be. The ringtone was a loud buzzing noise, like an alarm.

He looked at the screen, worried. Eve Harper knew his work hours and would not disrupt them. She had emphatically stated that she never would, unless there was some emergency.

He picked up his phone. Hello?

Meet me outside your building.

I’m at work.

Well, leave. Tell them there’s an emergency. It’s true. The Resistance is back. And Eve hung up.

Thomas paused. The Resistance was the name for a group he’d had a run-in with a few years ago. He put a hand on his desk, feeling lightheaded.

Are you okay? asked a co-worker in the neighboring cubicle.

No. I just got some bad news. He put his laptop in his messenger bag and grabbed his jacket. He passed his editor’s office, but she was at a meeting, so he left a voicemail saying he needed to leave for the day due to a personal matter. Journalists came and went throughout the day in their office, going to interviews. It was nothing unusual.

He rushed out the doors, and there she was: Captain Eve Harper, wearing a light gray coat, her platinum-blonde hair pulled back in a ponytail. She was standing beside a white car.

Get in, she said.

He did, though he was always nervous about flying cars. A seat belt harness slid over him and clicked into place. Eve grabbed the controls, lifting the car into the air, and they soared above the city.

You said the Resistance was active? he asked.

Ninety-nine percent sure.

Why?

Agent Caxton went missing. Hasn’t been responding to any calls. Local police think he was murdered.

Thomas sat back, astonished. He had only been in the agency for six weeks, and was still in training, but he knew John Caxton fairly well. Murdered? How?

That’s what I need to find out. Let’s get some coffee. Eve said it calmly, but her knuckles were white as she drove.

Two minutes later, she landed the car on a street. A café was at the corner, a short walk away.

I need to interview some witnesses. There’s two doors, see? A café and a restaurant. Go into the café side. Order something, anything. Stay within earshot, but don’t let anyone know you’re with me.

He thought about the young women in the subway that morning. I can’t believe it. Right there in the café. And he saw what Eve meant. Police had closed the restaurant side, putting up caution tape and directing people away, but the door closest to the street corner was propped open. Thomas stepped out of the car and went in.

A few customers were trying to gawk at the scene, but frosted glass walls separated most of the two parts of the restaurant. They could see blurred shadows of the police officers, but they couldn’t see what had happened.

They’re saying someone got killed, someone whispered.

Over there?

Just this morning.

Thomas got in line. His heart pounded. If the Resistance had murdered someone, it would be their first murder in five years. He had witnessed the last one. He had almost been the last one.

He saw Eve’s shadow walk in through the frosted glass to his left. She was a bit shorter than the other officers, and her trench coat cast a different silhouette. He could hear some of their conversation.

Here’s the G-men, one of the police officers snickered.

G-woman, actually. Eve held up what must have been a badge. Captain Eve Harper—

Can I help you, sir?

Thomas turned. A young barista was asking for his order. He was now first in line. Um. Iced mocha, small.

Upgrade to medium for a fourth-credit more?

He was trying to see the scene in between the glass barriers. No, a small.

Donation to the Queen’s Children’s Charity?

What? No. Not today.

He waited for his drink. Now he could barely make out the police’s voices over the whirr of machines making coffee, the murmur of cafe conversation, and the noises of the street. He moved closer to the frosted glass.

It’s Resistance, Eve was saying. The agency used to call them the Red Army. The rope. That’s their signature.

"No one’s heard from them in years. And, if you’re the expert, what does that mean?"

What does what mean? Thomas thought.

Soon the barista called out Thomas’s order, and put out a beverage that seemed more ice than coffee. There were only a few seats, all of them taken, but he saw that Eve was making her way out.

He stepped outside.

Eve stepped out onto the sidewalk, snapping on a pair of sunglasses, although it wasn’t sunny. She looked at him and walked over to the car. Until she got in and slammed the door, she didn’t say a word.

"It was Caxton, she said. I’ve got the names of witnesses, but they sent them all away. I’ll have to call them. Local police, they ruin everything. She paused. Sorry."

No offense taken. He wasn’t a police officer, but his father was. Why didn’t you have me go in with you?

I wanted you to hear as much as you could, but I want you to stay undercover for now.

Thomas understood. Eve was not shy about sharing her identity. She had come to the agency saying that cameras and microphones should be their secrets, and that the agents should be as public as police officers.

This murder seemed to make her rethink that logic.

Eve pulled out her tablet, swiping to show him a photo. Thomas took in a deep breath, revolted, as he saw John Caxton’s lifeless body, slumped over and strangled. Caxton’s face was a horrific shade of blue.

Did anyone see the killer?

Everyone saw him. Male. Tall. Dark hair. The murder weapon was a modified garrote—red rope, with a mechanism to tighten and strangle. They call it the red thread. It was used by Peter Masaccio in the past.

She didn’t have to explain who Masaccio (they pronounced it muh-zai-cho) was. He was the leader of the Resistance. A known arsonist, thief, and killer.

"Was it Masaccio?"

I don’t know. I’ll have to show his photo to the witnesses.

And they were asking you what something meant, said Thomas. What were they saying?

Second photo.

He swiped, then saw a broader shot of the body. Spray-painted on the wall, in red, were the words Bombyx mori.

They said that the man had to stand on the table to paint it, said Eve.

What does it mean?

No clue. Someone ran it through a database, and you know they said? It’s the scientific name for a silkworm. But I don’t think they’re angry about silk.

Thomas had to agree.

Eve grabbed the controls and started driving. Thomas looked down at the coffee, mostly to protect it from spilling. He had no appetite to drink it.

And believe it or not, that’s not the worst news I got today, Eve continued.

Thomas was astounded. An agent had just been killed. "What on earth could be worse news?"

She was watching the sky. You’ll see.

She navigated at a dizzying speed, and finally her car touched down in a parking garage by the Capitol building, a skyscraper made of glass and steel. The building was set off on its own, surrounded by a large park. It was one of the most guarded buildings in the Celestial Federation.

They took an elevator down to the subterranean levels, and then walked down a sleek white hallway. Thomas noticed cameras following them. They had their palms and retinas scanned before they could enter.

The Tenokte branch of the Special Intelligence Unit had received an upgrade since the previous summer, after a world leader had been assassinated. The government gave the SIU, and several other agencies, funding to ensure it never happened again. Their base had been moved to a better location, with agents coming from other cities to staff it.

Eve, though a native of Tenokte like Thomas, had spent several years as a detective in Europe. She was thirty-five, old enough to have experience trying to turn agencies around and young enough to believe it could still be done. The Tenokte branch had been on the brink of closure due to a lack of agents. Thomas figured that was why they wanted him back. He had been an agent a few years before, but had to leave due to a severe injury.

Eve entered a control room with dozens of computer monitors. A woman was sitting at them, and stood when Eve approached.

Captain, she said, standing.

Agent Grey, this is Thomas Huxley. The new recruit I was talking about.

Kenzie Grey, said the woman, shaking his hand. She wore a navy blue dress, and had dark skin and hair. Nice to meet you, Agent Huxley. Her tone was friendly without being happy. She looked rattled.

Eve pressed a few keys, and a video came up. This is security footage from this morning, not long after the attack. She paused it.

The video showed the dark entranceway, but Thomas could barely see a blurry, shadowy figure: a woman dressed in dark clothes.

We’re guessing she’s a Resistance operative. But we have no idea how she got into the base without triggering any alarms.

Thomas had an idea. He knew a small group of people who could bypass security systems and doors. What did she do?

Got into our computer system, and accessed an unknown number of files, said Kenzie.

If all our suspicions are confirmed, we just lost an enormous amount of classified data to our enemy, Eve added. A lot of the files are encrypted, and we’re not sure how many they’ll be able to open. At best, they have a few mission logs. At worst, they have the identity of every agent. In light of that, I’ve ordered every agent to check in at the base, for a briefing.

Agent Melo declined to come in until this afternoon. But he’s lying low, said Kenzie. Agent River still hasn’t answered my call.

She’s not one to miss a check-in. Where is she?

Kenzie tapped the keypad, and a map appeared on the main screen. We can’t reach her cell phone signal. We traced her most recent location to her apartment, at eight o’clock this morning. But if she left, she may be headed to see Agent Melo. And— She opened up a screen. She booked a hotel room for tonight. We don’t know if she’s there now.

Alexis River was Caxton’s partner in the field. If his identity was discovered, River is likely the next target. Send teams to her apartment and Agent Melo’s. I’ll talk to the staff at the hotel, and try to see why she booked a room.

Kenzie nodded. She looked down at the empty chair in front of all the computer screens. Caxton used to coordinate everything.

I know. Stay away from cafés, for the foreseeable future. Eve went to the supply room and grabbed a black duffel bag, sifting through it. Blasters, zip ties, machete…

Machete? said Thomas.

Eve tossed the bag over her shoulder. Just in case. Want to come along on a boring mission?

Sure. He’d already left work; he might as well stay on and see this out.

She handed him a blaster. This has six pulses before the battery runs out. It should be more than you need. Only press it if it’s life or death. Otherwise you’ll have to do a lot of paperwork.

Thomas took the blaster. He had fired the weapon in training, and felt fairly comfortable with it. Got it.

I don’t expect we’ll use it, but who knows what the Resistance is planning. Better have it and not need it, than need it and not have it.

Do you really think River’s at the hotel?

I don’t know, she said. But it’s worth a look.

They took off in Eve’s car at once. As her car lifted in the air, Thomas thought of the security footage. It reminded him of a woman he’d met once before. Someone had assured him she wasn’t coming back—and yet, there she was.

Eve pushed the car as fast as it could go. Thomas gripped the door handle tightly. It took only a few minutes for her to reach the Monarch Hotel, but it felt like an eternity. When Eve zoomed into the parking lot of the Monarch Hotel, he let go of the handle.

Thomas could see a valet service by the doors, but Eve parked close to the back. She slid an earpiece on and made sure it was working. Wait one minute and then follow me, she instructed. Stand by the elevator, but look like you’re not with me.

Eve pulled up a profile of Alexis River, showing Thomas the photo. River didn’t look any older than thirty in the photo, which he guessed was a few years old. She had wavy, red-gold hair, and pale blue eyes.

Eve stepped out, slamming the door, and walked up to the hotel.

Thomas waited, then got out of the car. The hotel was quite majestic, made for visiting dignitaries and government officials.

Eve was at the front desk when he walked in. She showed a badge, and the clerk told her something. Thomas couldn’t hear the conversation. He walked over to the elevator, and she approached behind him, carrying her jacket. A crowd of people had gathered, and the elevator opened. As soon as people streamed out, the group walked in.

What floor? someone asked Thomas.

Um—

Seven, please, said Eve.

The same, Thomas said.

Thomas was looking at the numbers light up. Two, several people stepped off. Three, four, it stopped again, and people got on. Five, six, seven.

When the elevator doors opened, Eve strode over and walked down the hall, knocking on door 722. A do not disturb tag was hanging from the doorknob. Thomas heard water running from inside the room, and then it stopped.

A shuffle of footfalls, a murmur of a voice, and then the door opened. Standing there, dressed in casual clothes, her curly hair wild, was Alexis River.

Can I help you? she said.

Eve seemed to breathe a sigh of relief. Captain Eve Harper, said Eve. I need you to come with me to the base.

I’m sorry, but you must have the wrong room, River said, loudly.

Eve reached up to her com, pressing a button. That was the signal that they needed backup. The only problem was, most of the agents were at apartments across the city. River, is everything all right?

River moved to slam the door, but Eve wedged her foot in it. She pushed it open and entered the room, blaster drawn. Thomas followed suit, blaster ready, his gaze sweeping around the corners. They had stepped in to a large and expensive suite, with brick walls, a kitchenette, a living room, and a closed door which must have led to a bedroom. This lavish for an agent, especially one who lived in the same city.

You need to leave now, said River, backing up toward the sink.

Who else is here? said Eve.

Thomas heard a noise and whipped around. He was staring at a dark-haired man who had just closed the bedroom door.

Masaccio, Thomas thought. He lifted his blaster and fired at the man, but