Mirrored Man: The Rob Tyler Chronicles Book 1

  I don’t know, do we? She wasn’t sure how to respond, but decided to proceed with caution. “Yes. Of course we know each other.”

  Rob looked at her skeptically. “How?”

  “We work together.”

  “Work together? Where?”

  Let's not get ahead of ourselves. “We're colleagues. Friends,” she assured him.

  “We're friends?” he asked with an apologetic shrug.

  June nodded. “What's the last thing you remember?”

  His boyish smile disappeared. Does she know more than she's letting on?

  “Do you remember the crash?” she asked.

  An image of the Blackhawk, its blade nearly slicing him in two when it hit the ground and rolled on to its side, popped into his mind. “Yes.”

  June smiled. “What about Walsh? Do you remember Benny Walsh?”

  Rob thought of his conversation with Sack. “Walsh told Sack that I was leaving.”

  June's expression went from a hopeful grin to a confused frown. “Sack?”

  “My observer, big guy, mustache, poor attitude.”

  June leaned back against the door. She had no idea who Rob talking about, so she waited.

  Seeing her reaction, he asked, “Where am I? Where's Sack?”

  What if this is the clone and it has disjointed memories of Rob's life? She remained silent.

  His demeanor changed in an instant. “Where am I?” He asked forcefully.

  “Georgia,” she answered as calmly as she could.

  “Georgia?” If they were in the small eastern European country, that would explain his surroundings. Had something else gone wrong during the extraction? Were we forced to improvise? Trying to make sense of it only made him more confused. “What happened? Why didn't we go back to Tajikistan? How long was I out?”

  June's eyes went wide in confusion. She had no idea how to respond.

  “What happened? Where's Sack?” His frustration was growing.

  June’s mind raced. She feared that if this was the clone, the side affect might have manifested itself here in some unexpected way.

  Unsatisfied with her silence, Rob hefted the pistol to his chest menacingly. “Look, lady—”

  June wasn't impressed. She decided that it might be best to lay it all out on the table. “I think that we’d better compare notes,” she said, looking intently at him. “My name is Doctor June Phillips.”

  She spent the next thirty minutes explaining all that had happened since the two met, from the cloning project to all of the details that she could remember of their conversations, even those about his wife and family. Rob listened intently to the tale, asking a question here and there to clarify. But for the most part he remained silent. He knew none of the people that she mentioned except his wife and Benny, and knew nothing about any experiment. One detail disturbed him, though, more than all the rest. She told him that he had kids, a boy and a girl. Twins, in fact. But he had no memory of them whatsoever.

  “So, what's the last thing you remember?” she asked again.

  “The last thing that I remember before being in this car was being in a firefight in Afghanistan.”

  “Afghanistan. You never told me anything about Afghanistan.”

  “Well, don't feel bad. It was a secret. But that's the last thing I remember. We were being picked up by the chopper—” He stopped. “You said we're colleagues. Are you in the military?” He eyed her suspiciously.

  “No, but I work for the government.”

  “What's your security clearance?”

  She thought about it, but she honestly couldn't remember. “Um … it's like, classified, I think.”

  “It's, like, classified, you think? What are you, like, a valley girl?” He used a rather derogatory term from the eighties.

  “What?” she asked, not understanding the reference. But that was the least of her concerns. She needed to get a feel for who he was and how much memory he had. “What year is it?”

  He was put off guard with that one. “What?”

  “Just answer the question, please.”

  “Two thousand one.”

  June’s eyes widened. “Two thousand one?”

  Rob smiled. “Why? What year is it in your world?”

  “So George W. Bush is president.”

  He gave her sideways look. “Uh huh.”

  “And nine eleven?”

  He frowned. “Nine eleven?”

  “September eleventh?”

  That, he recognized. “What's my birthday got to do with anything?”

  It was her turn to frown. “Your birthday?”

  “Yeah. September eleventh is my birthday.”

  “And that's all?”

  His frown returned. He was tired of the senseless questions. “Yes, that's all.” He sighed heavily. It was time for her to start doing some answering. “You said that we're in Georgia. The state, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “And, that there's a military base around here somewhere?”

  “Yeah, but I don't know where.” She stopped listening to him and started thinking. She was encouraged that he had memories from as far back as 2001. From all that she had been told, she would expect the clone to have memories from the week before Rob's scan at best, but definitely not from nine years ago. However, the prospect of him having moderate-to-severe memory loss could prove equally devastating to their current situation. There has to be a way to determine if this is Rob or the clone. And then she remembered the cut on his hand from the accident with a paring knife the day before the scan. “Let me see your hand.”

  Rob was taken aback. “What?”

  “Your left hand. Let me see it,” she demanded as she turned on the overhead light.

  “I asked you a question,” he said in annoyance.

  “Let me see it!” she snapped, gritting her teeth.

  Not really understanding why, he held out his hand.

  Turning it so she could see the base of his thumb, she grinned. There it is! A wave of relief washed over her. She leaned in and grabbed him around his neck, drawing him into a hug. “Oh, Rob! Praise Jesus! It is you.” She was ecstatic.

  Rob was thoroughly confused. He awkwardly returned the hug, patting her on the back. “Who were you expecting? And what’s so special about my hand?” All he could see was a small sutured cut that he had no idea how he had gotten. He looked at her smiling warmly back at him. He still couldn't confirm anything she had told him, but he couldn't ignore the evidence of his own senses. There was no doubt he wasn't in Afghanistan. And there was another strange detail in her story. She referred to Benny as a captain. The man he knew was a lieutenant commander.

  “Tell me about this captain.”

  “About what happened tonight?”

  “Yeah. What was his name?”

  “Walsh. Benny Walsh.”

  The name hit home. He knew Benny Walsh. How could she possibly know him? “And you said he was a captain?”

  “Yes.”

  Rob quickly did the math. He hadn't seen Benny in some time, but he couldn’t have made captain in such a short span. “Well, I know Benny, but I know him as a lieutenant commander. What did you say happened to him?”

  June's expression changed to a combination of fear, sadness, and horror. As she covered her mouth with her hand, tears started streaming again. “He killed him. He shot him in the head. I saw—”

  Rob held up his hand to silence her. “Who killed him?” he asked, not wanting to believe her.

  She sniffed and wiped her face with her mud-covered sleeve, smudging her cheek. “I don't know. He was wearing a poncho. I couldn't see him. I've seen death before, but never that close.”

  “Think,” he pressed.

  “The only person in the truck who had a poncho on was the Air Force security guy.” She tried desperately to recall his name, but it escaped her. Unlike the other security personnel, he had never entered the lab. She had only met him once, when he had arrived. She shook her head.


  Rob's thoughts were beginning to lose what little cohesion they had. “You said that there's a base close by.”

  Taking the hint, June started the SUV. “Yeah, but the sergeant … he’s in the Air Force. What if—”

  Rob held up his hand again to silence her. “What if it’s the Air Force that’s trying to kill us?”

  Rob had paid little attention to the truck they were in up to this point. But when the dash lights came on, he noticed the screen at its center. At first he thought it was part of the stereo system, but as he studied it he noticed a compass with the letters GPS below it. He stiffened. “We better go, now!”

  “Okay,” June said tentatively, not understanding his sudden urgency.

  He pointed to the screen. “That’s a global positioning system?”

  “Good idea! You can search for someplace for us to go while I drive.”

  What June didn't think about was that GPS devices hadn't become popular until recently. They weren’t widely used in early 2001, the time that Rob was apparently living in.

  “Bad idea.”

  She shot him a confused look. “How come?”

  “Because if we have a GPS device, then whoever might have the ability to track us.”

  As if entering on cue, the sound of a speeding vehicle, followed by a screech, shattered the still of the night. A black SUV slid to a stop on the road barely 500 feet away.

  The hairs on the back of Rob's neck stood up. “We’re in danger.”

  They watched in fascination as the vehicle wheeled around, headlights pointed in their direction, as its driver ignored the road and came barreling over the curbs, shrubs, and anything else in its path. The GMC ripped up gravel and turf alike as it careened toward them.

  22 Playing chicken

  THE BLACKHAWK HELICOPTER had been buzzing the scene of the crash for nearly ten minutes with its spotlight illuminating both the truck and the woods to the north. But Eddie was hardly aware of any of it as he squatted next to the body of Captain Benny Walsh. Holding up the mud-caked sheet that Officer Kelly Mueller had used to cover Benny's lifeless form, all Eddie could think about was the face of Special Agent Jo Turner. His partner and friend of five years was dead, and at the moment that was all he cared about. After several long minutes of staring at nothing, Eddie’s eyes at last turned to focus on the body before him. Benny was dead, and he was not the victim of some senseless accident like Jo was. This man that Eddie barely knew lay in the mud, undignified and discarded like refuse, the victim of an unknown assailant, loose somewhere in the woods of Houston County, Georgia. Benny had been murdered in cold blood.

  Like most of the others, Eddie had been briefly knocked unconscious when the truck overturned. He had awoken battered and bruised, and bloody from a cut above his right eye. As he had gone about checking the others for signs of life, he had discovered Jo's body. He had also discovered that three of the truck’s other occupants were missing. June Phillips, Sergeant Covington, and either Commander Rob Tyler or his clone were nowhere to be seen.

  After happening on the scene and finding Benny's body, Kelly’s first order of business had been to secure Greg Mathers, who was wandering aimlessly about the area, to the truck with handcuffs until he could sort things out. Next, he had found Eddie climbing out of the trailer.

  When Kelly started asking questions, Eddie had immediately identified himself as a federal agent and, upon verification, had taken over the scene. He’d had Greg released so that he could attend to the injured, and then had ordered the other deputies that Kelly had radioed for to close more than 16 miles of Highway 96, from Highway 247 to Interstate 16. He had then requested assistance from General Stillman and the Air Force to secure the crash site. When the base commander dispatched her personnel to deal with the situation, she had angrily assured Eddie that she would be personally overseeing the disaster.

  Eddie squatted there, staring at the body without uttering a word until Kelly asked, “Special Agent, are you alright?”

  Eddie heard the question, but he honestly didn’t know how to answer.

  “Are you okay, Special Agent?” Kelly repeated.

  Eddie stood without speaking and looked past the deputy. He saw Jimmy Bennett cradling his left arm and Don Cook clutching his right side. Both had been injured in the crash. They were still in their scrubs, leaning against a patrol car, and they both had the same look of confusion and disbelief on their faces.

  Kelly accepted the fact that Eddie wasn't going to answer, so he gestured to the captain’s body. “Did you know him? Was he a friend?”

  Eddie considered the question as he looked back at Benny's body. He had gotten to know the captain about as well as coworkers could in the nearly three weeks they had been together, but he couldn't call Benny Walsh a friend. In fact, at the moment he felt no more emotion for this man than he did for any of the victims whose untimely demise he had investigated. “Not really.”

  “Well, I'm sorry anyway.”

  Eddie nodded.

  “What about the woman?”

  Anger welled up in him now. Not at the deputy, but at himself. He was responsible for the loss of his partner. He took a slow, deep breath. “Yeah, we were friends.”

  Seeing Eddie fight to keep his emotions in check, Kelly nodded but kept silent. They had been waiting for the Air Force security personnel to respond for more than twenty minutes and thus far, they hadn't seen anything but the chopper. “Look, Special Agent. I know this is your crime scene, but is there anything I need to notify my people about? I mean, it's been almost half an hour. Do I need to put out a BOLO for your people?”

  Eddie had no idea how to answer the deputy's question. Those who were missing were of great concern, considering the fact that one or more of them probably killed Benny. But he couldn't compromise protocol by giving too much information to the local sheriff’s department. He checked his watch. It was 3:02 AM. How much longer will it be before base security arrived?

  A moment later, his question was answered as the sound of engines approaching caught their attention. They turned to face a column of vehicles, topped with flashing blue, red, and amber lights, speeding from the west.

  Eddie shoved his hands into his pockets. It’s about time.

  In the lead was a white security police sedan followed by two ambulances and a myriad of support vehicles. Kelly strained his eyes against the lights to see into the first car, guessing correctly that Colonel Talbot, the security police squadron commander himself, would come. “Don't worry. This guy's alright,” he told Eddie.

  Eddie wasn't worried.

  The colonel exited the car quickly. He was wearing desert fatigues but had no sidearm, which Eddie would have found odd had he not been preoccupied by the thoughts of Jo's death. The officer walked toward them as he surveyed the area. His hawkish features gave him an air of complete control. He was in his early forties with sandy-colored hair, and he carried his one hundred eighty pounds on his five-foot-eleven frame with an easy confidence. He extended his hand. “Special Agent Perez?”

  “That's right,” Eddie answered, his hands still in his pockets.

  Under the circumstances, the colonel gave little thought to the special agent’s lack of pleasantries. “Jim Talbot. Looks like we've got a situation here.”

  “You could say that.”

  “Good morning, Kelly,” Talbot acknowledged the sergeant.

  “Colonel,” he replied.

  Talbot turned his full attention to Eddie. “I've briefed my people about the sensitive nature of this event, and they are all professionals,” he said reassuringly, his Texas accent giving away a hint of his personality.

  “I appreciate that, Colonel.” Eddie watched the Air Force paramedic crews grabbing gear from their vans as Greg directed them to the injured.

  “My orders are to take command of the scene and transport you and the others to the hospital. Immediately after that, you’ll be interviewed by the base commander General Stillman.”

  Ed
die didn’t blink. He expected the Air Force to take over. “My partner is in the truck. I'm staying until the M.E. arrives.”

  “When you're ready, then,” Talbot said.

  “Thanks,” Eddie replied.

  “Kelly, I’m gonna need you to hang out here with me for a while,” the colonel said, turning his way.

  “No problem,” he answered. The two walked over to where some of the men had begun the process of photographing the scene.

  Eddie joined Don and Jimmy as they were being looked after by the new arrivals. He was uncharacteristically thankful that all of this was now in someone else’s hands.

  * * * * *

  THE BLACK GMC WAS closing the distance fast as it roared across the parking lot, its headlights bouncing wildly up and down with every parking block that the driver charged over.

  “I'll drive,” Rob said calmly, reaching for the door handle. But before he found it, June had the SUV moving … and headed straight for the other vehicle.

  “Ever played chicken?” she asked.

  “Been a while,” Rob said, replacing his seat belt.

  Seconds apart now, the driver of the GMC seemed intent on ramming them, but June timed it perfectly. She swerved right, then left around it, and then accelerated toward the road.

  “These fellas are serious,” Rob said grimly.

  “Which way?” she asked. They heard the GMC's tires screech again as the driver wheeled around to begin the chase.

  “Right.” Rob chose that direction for no better reason than that the GMC had come from the left. He watched as the black SUV slid around to start after them, white smoke billowing behind it, trying to find traction on the wet pavement.

  “Good tires on that thing.”

  June took a bit more care bullying her way over the curbs and landscaping, striking only a few of the concrete blocks. “Remember, I don't know where I'm going,” she stated calmly.

  Rob, impressed with the change in her composure, looked over at her. “Just drive,” he said with a smile. “Navy,” he said. “It's not just a job, it's an adventure.”

  At that, she gave him an incredulous look. How can he be so calm?

  “Tough crowd. Just drive fast, you're doin’ fine.” He turned to see the more powerful GMC rapidly close the distance between them.

  June looked back and forth from the rear view mirror to the road. As they rounded a curve, she saw through the trees the lights of a convenience store at the coming intersection.