Chaos (Book 4) (The Omega Group) (4 page)

CNN
Special Report

Residents of Avila Beach, California, and the surrounding
areas are breathing a collective sigh of relief today, as the last affected
systems in the Diablo Canyon Nuclear Power Plant came back online. Twelve
nerve-wracking hours after unprecedented solar flare activity shut down the area’s
power grid, and with it the power plant’s primary and back-up systems, the
facility is now reporting complete system functionality.

As the only nuclear plant operational in the state, Diablo
Canyon’s two reactors supply upwards of seven percent of all power used in
California. The brownouts caused by the shutdown, however, were the least of
the area residents’ concerns.

Located less than a mile from the Shoreline Fault Line,
people in the area have long been concerned with the possibility of a seismic
event causing a catastrophic nuclear meltdown. No one, however, predicted the
sun to be the more imminent threat.

Stay with us here at CNN for details on this and other
stories. I’m Danica Dumore, and we’ll be right back.

********

Orano Tulay muted the television set and focused on his boss.
His brown eyes, a shade lighter than his skin, held her gaze as he waited for
her to speak.

Myrine Colson, leader of the Omega Group, answered his
unasked question. “Director Finley wants us to check this out. Although we
don’t yet have proof it’s anything other than a natural occurrence, he has a
source that claims witchcraft is involved.”

“And the director is taking this person seriously?” Orano
wore his usual blank expression, giving away no information as to what he was
thinking or feeling. His taciturn personality had become well known to the
other agents, and he felt no need to change their perception of him.

“I know it’s a stretch,” Myrine said. “But he assures me
this woman wouldn’t have called him if she didn’t have good reason.”

Orano couldn’t decide if he believed that or not, but he’d
learned early on that the Director of the CIA didn’t give orders lightly. Nor
did Myrine. “Where do you want me to start?”

Myrine opened a small file on her desk. “The director’s
contact is Grace McMillan. You’re to meet her in Virginia Beach tomorrow
morning.” She passed him a slip of paper with the address and other pertinent
information on it.

Orano stood to leave. “Who do you want on my team?”

“Take Phoenix. He’s been getting bored training the new
recruits and could use the distraction.”

The moment’s hesitation before Orano nodded his agreement gave
Myrine the opportunity she’d no doubt been waiting for.

“I know you’re accustomed to working with Beck,” she said.
“But her vacation doesn’t end until next week. If there’s even a slight
possibility that Director Finley’s source is telling the truth, we can’t wait
that long. You’ll need to learn to play well with others, Orano. And it
wouldn’t hurt for you to smile once in a while, either.”

Orano’s expression didn’t change. He’d grown accustomed to
advice like that over the years and simply chose to ignore it. For as long as
he could remember, people equated Orano’s neutral facial expression with anger,
and his lack of conversation with hostility. They weren’t always wrong.

Beck, his usual partner, seemed to actually enjoy the
silence that came from being paired with him on missions. She didn’t spew
unnecessary words like most people and allowed him to be who he was without
trying to get him to open up. He watched her back, and she watched his. They
worked well together. Nothing more and nothing less.

He hoped Phoenix would have the same attitude but didn’t
really expect that to be the case. On the few occasions they’d been on the same
team, there were always other agents around, too. He’d never been forced to
spend one-on-one time with anyone other than Beck.

As usual, Orano kept his thoughts to himself. “Yes, ma’am,”
was the only response he gave before leaving Myrine’s office.

The next morning, the two agents boarded the Omega Group’s
jet for the short flight from Jacksonville to Norfolk, Virginia. Phoenix,
wearing his perfectly pressed designer suit, looked more like a wealthy oil
baron’s playboy son than an Omega Group agent. Orano, on the other hand, would
have passed as the man’s surly bodyguard, which suited him just fine. Wearing loose
fitting jeans and a long sleeved T-shirt stretched across his muscled chest was
as close to style as he would ever get.

 Phoenix attempted to make small talk, choosing the seat
directly across the aisle from him. Each statement and question received the
same grunt of a response, until Orano finally closed his eyes, feigning sleep,
and put an end to any possibility of conversation. After they’d landed, however,
he no longer had that protection.

Orano drove their rented Jeep down Highway 264 toward
Virginia Beach. He focused solely on the road ahead and the other drivers in
his vicinity.

“You drive like my grandmother,” Phoenix said now that Orano
could no longer pretend to be unconscious.

“We’ve got plenty of time,” he responded without taking his
eyes off the road.

“So, who is this woman to the Director? There’s got to be
some connection there for her to call him directly.” Phoenix flipped through
the small file they’d been given on Grace McMillan for the umpteenth time.

“No idea,” Orano said.

Phoenix placed the file on his lap and turned in his seat.
“Okay, what did I do?”

“What are you talking about?”

“You haven’t strung together more than a few words since we
left Jacksonville. And those were to answer direct questions. Did I piss in
your cornflakes at some point?”

Orano’s jaw clenched. “I don’t talk much. I find unnecessary
conversation … irritating.” He’d known Phoenix for several years but only as a
fellow member of the Omega Group. They weren’t friends, but he held no ill will
toward the man.

“Got it.”

They spent the rest of the drive in silence interrupted only
by the electronic voice from the onboard navigation system. More unnecessary
words, it turned out, as their destination proved an easy find. The Piper’s
Landing apartment complex stood just off the highway.

Orano quickly found the door belonging to Grace McMillan on
a second-floor landing and knocked. When no one immediately answered, he tried
again.

Phoenix checked his watch. “Did we get the time wrong?”

“No,” Orano said, once again knocking.

Behind them, the other door sharing the landing opened. “You
looking for Gracey?” an older woman wearing a long pink bathrobe asked.

Phoenix grinned. “Yes, ma’am, we are. Do you know when she’s
expected back?”

The old woman first looked Orano over from head to toe. He
stood with his arms crossed in what the other members of the Omega Group dubbed
his “annoyed stance.” The neighbor’s scrunched up forehead said she didn’t like
what she saw. When she turned her attention to Phoenix, however, her demeanor
changed. He gave her his best “I’m a nice guy, not an axe murderer” smile, and
she fell for it.

“I’m Phoenix, Grace’s cousin from her father’s side. I
haven’t seen her in a while and, since my friend and I were vacationing close
by, I thought we’d surprise her,” he lied.

The woman looked uncertain for a moment before answering.
“She’s gone away for a few days. Can you come back?”

Phoenix let out a dejected sigh. “No, we’re only here for
the day. Do you know where she went?”

Apparently, Phoenix’s charm was beginning to wear thin. The
woman raised one eyebrow and said flatly. “No, but if you give me your name and
number I’ll tell her you came by.”

Phoenix checked his pockets, then asked, “Do you have a pen
and paper I could borrow?”

“Sure, hang on.” She stepped toward her kitchen, which sat
just to the right of the door.

Phoenix turned to Orano. “That’s too bad. I was really
hoping to reconnect with Grace. After my mother’s passing last month, I
realized how important family is. Oh well, I guess it’s not meant to be.”

Orano stared at his partner, not sure whether to be
impressed by his skills at deception, or disgusted by them. Or both.

The woman returned to the doorway wearing a frown. “I didn’t
mean to eavesdrop, dear, but I couldn’t help overhearing. I’m so sorry for your
loss.” She stepped toward Phoenix and wrapped her arms around him.

When she pulled back, she handed him a folded slip of paper.
“You can find your cousin here.” She eyed Orano and added, “You should show
more compassion for your partner.”

As they headed down the stairs, Orano looked at Phoenix.
“How did she know we were partners?”

Phoenix laughed. “I don’t think she meant
that kind
of partner.”

Understanding washed over him as he opened the car door.
“Oh.”

Once Phoenix got seated, he opened the slip of paper the
woman had given him and frowned, passing it to Orano.

There was one line of text.
Virginia Beach Psychiatric
Center.

********

All mental health institutes, despite their often-beautiful
architecture and landscaping, gave Orano the creeps. Watching the patients
wander aimlessly through the gardens as he and Phoenix approached the entrance
felt almost like voyeurism. He hated witnessing the private struggles of those
people played out before him.

When they reached the reception area, the older woman behind
the counter smiled in greeting. Phoenix took the lead. “We’re here to see Grace
McMillan.” His smile once again put its recipient at ease.

“You have perfect timing. She’s with the others in the game
room right now,” the receptionist said.

“Why is she here?” Orano asked gruffly. If she was crazy,
they wouldn’t need to waste their time questioning her.

The receptionist, Nurse Weber according to her nametag,
straightened her shoulders and crossed her arms over her chest, mimicking his
own stance. “We aren’t at liberty to divulge that information to just anyone.
Perhaps you should tell me who you are and the purpose of your visit.”

Phoenix gave Orano a pointed stare and stepped between him
and the nurse. “I’m sorry, Nurse Weber. My partner is a bit uncomfortable in
these places. His older sister has been institutionalized for most of his life.
He loves her so much ….” Phoenix pinched the bridge of his nose, letting his
voice trail off in an Academy Award-worthy performance. “I’m sorry. It’s just
difficult for him. As for why we’re here, Grace is my cousin. We came to visit her
today and were told that she’d been admitted. I didn’t even know she had a
history of mental illness. What kind of cousin doesn’t know such an important
thing?”

Nurse Weber placed her hand over Phoenix’s and gave him a
sympathetic grin. “There was nothing for you to know, dear. She’s here on a TDO
for recent symptoms.”

“A TDO?” Phoenix asked.

“Sorry. A Temporary Detention Order. She’s had a bit of a
rough time and was brought here yesterday for evaluation. You can see her if
you like. I’m sure a visit from family would be welcome.” The nurse pointed
down a long hallway. “It’s the first room on the left. Please try not to upset
her.”

She’d directed that last comment at Orano, but he didn’t
respond. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that his silence would be more
helpful than his words. He would just hang back while Phoenix spoke to Director
Finley’s source.

They entered the game room, a large, brightly colored space
with tables and chairs scattered about. Board games and art supplies covered
most of the furniture, but they failed to give the space a playful feel. An
orderly, wearing crisp white scrubs, leaned against the wall, intently studying
whatever played on the screen of his smartphone. Phoenix asked him to point out
their target.

Grace McMillan sat alone, gazing out the window, her long
red hair pulled into a sloppy ponytail, revealing slightly hunched shoulders.
Orano couldn’t see her face from his vantage point, but he could imagine the
defeat that would be etched into her features.

Phoenix sat in the empty chair next to Grace. “Ms. McMillan?
My name is Phoenix. Director Finley sent me and my partner to speak with you.”

“Oh, thank God,” Grace said. “I thought you wouldn’t come when
you found out about this.” She waved her hand in the air indicating her
surroundings. “I’m not crazy, I swear. They put a curse on me after I called
Robert. I’ve been trying to reverse it, but ….”

Orano gave Phoenix a droll stare from behind the delusional
woman. But before he could suggest they leave, Grace bolted from her chair.

“The president is infected with Monkey Jell-O!” she yelled,
then slapped her own face, hard.

The orderly rushed to her side and placed his arm around her
shoulders. “Maybe you two should leave now,” he said, as he turned to lead her
from the room.

As she turned around, her eyes grew wide. “Orano?”

“Gracey Sherwood?” Orano couldn’t believe what he was seeing.
“Is that you?”

The orderly tightened his grip on her, but she wouldn’t
budge. “It’s the curse. They’re trying to make me look crazy so you won’t
listen to me. Please, you have to believe me,” she begged.

Orano just stood there. It’d been ten years since he’d last
seen his childhood friend, and words escaped him. Phoenix stared, waiting for
an explanation, but Orano remained silent.

“Get me out of here,” she said. “I’ll prove to you that
everything I told Robert Finley is true. Come on. Give me the benefit of the
doubt. You owe me that much.”

Orano finally found his voice. “I’ll do what I can.”

With that, Gracey allowed the orderly to move her to the
exit. As she reached the door, she turned and spoke over her shoulder. “It’s
good to see you again, Sparkles.”

You, too,
Orano thought as Gracey left the room. When
he turned back to Phoenix, he saw the wry smile the man wore.

“Sparkles?” he asked.

Orano’s brow furrowed as he glared at his partner, grunting,
“She could be telling the truth.”

“Look, big guy. I can see you know each other somehow, but half
the people here probably blame their affliction on curses, or aliens, or microwaves
frying their brains. She might be gorgeous, but she’s obviously crazy. Let’s
just call it a day and head home.”

Orano agreed with his partner—on both counts—so he didn’t
argue. What could he have said? She did appear to be mentally unstable, and
they had no reason to take her outlandish claims seriously. But he couldn’t
make himself abandon her. He’d done that once, many years ago, and wouldn’t do
it again. Orano pulled his phone from his pocket and pressed the speed dial.
“Myrine? I need your help.”