The iris algorithm, p.32
The IRIS Algorithm, page 32
All Logan had left was stalling for time. If Simone could hear him, maybe she could work out a better angle for a shot or create a diversion. Given Burns expertise and the situation, he didn’t hold out much hope for a miracle. Hopeless might be too optimistic.
“Is that it, Sheldon? It’s all about the pay for you? Your new Asian friends footing the bill for your retirement?”
“I’m guessing that was you causing the ruckus at the fort,” Burns tried for a smile. “I thought that Skeffington bitch was just reneging on the deal her father made. I don’t know what her problem is. Hell, I gave her Simone’s laptop to keep the peace.” Burns nodded toward the lighthouse. “Never did us any good. If IRIS is on that laptop, we couldn’t find it. Of course, you were kind enough to get it for us anyway.”
“Let Samuel go. You have IRIS. I don’t care about that. Let him go, and I won’t have to kill you.”
“You don’t have to kill me, but I know you won’t stop until you do. If not today, then another day, some early tomorrow—as old Obadiah used to say.” Burns glanced up to the second floor dormer of the lighthouse. He nodded. “She’s up there. Isn’t she? This is just not your day, Logan.”
“Let him go, Sheldon.” He moved slightly forward and to the left, seeking a clear shot. Burns compensated. “You have what you want. You don’t need the boy.”
“Oh, I’m a long way from having what I want, but you are right about the boy. I don’t need him. My Asian friends want him. They believe he’s more important than the IRIS algorithm. He’s gifted, like Simone. Believe me, they’ll treat him like a little king—worth his weight in gold and then some. They’ll treat him better than you ever did or ever could.”
“I just learned I’m his father. Give me a chance to get to know him. You owe me that much.” Logan tried not to look at Samuel while he stalled for an opportunity to kill Burns. He had to concentrate.
“You? A father? You’re no father. You’re a killer of fathers and sons. Do the boy a favor and walk away.”
Logan focused harder on Burns’ eyes, making sure to avoid Samuel’s. He felt the boy’s stare; it hurt worse than any bullet. A fine way to meet your father.
“What happened to you, Sheldon? After all we’ve been through. Were you working the other side all along? When did you lose sight of right and wrong?”
Burns laughed. “Right and wrong? You’re delusional. There’s no right and wrong. Just winners and losers—you told me that. You used to understand that. At the moment, you’re losing, or haven’t you noticed? Things are about to change in a big way. It’s not too late to switch teams.” The rain slowed to a blowing mist, and in the slow pulse of the navigation light, Burns’ face was grey and smiling. “Has she figured out it’s a trap?”
Logan’s heart skipped like a flat stone on a pond, his faith in the power of revenge fading. “Simone, get out of there,” Logan’s voice was quiet, but there was no point in hiding from Burns. “Simone, do you hear me.”
“I’ve been trying to get out since you started talking. The steel door shut and locked behind me when I came in.” Simone’s voice squeaked with frustration.
“I set this up for Patience Skeffington and Peter Fagon,” Burns said. “Dealing with those two, I needed to create my own guaranteed exit. You and your bumbling wife had to get in the middle of everything. Damn it, I hate that it ended like this, Logan. I really do.” Burns pulled a remote from his pocket, held it up for Logan to see. “Charges are rigged on the supports under the main structure. Won’t be that hard for you to disarm. Hell, you know I’m not a demolition expert. It’ll take a little time, and that’s all you have.” Burns pressed a button on the remote. “Five minutes to be precise, and counting.”
“Simone the place is rigged to blow in five minutes. You have to find a way out.” He knew what Burns was doing—giving him no choice.
Burns backed down the gangplank toward the open cargo door and spun his finger in the air. The starboard engine sputtered and fired. The port engine came to life. There was a least one other person in the plane.
“Do yourself a favor. Do the boy a favor,” Burns yelled over the noise of the engines. “Go save your wife and live to fight another day.” He tossed the remote into the turbid water of Mobile Bay. Holding Samuel with one arm, he cast off the single line holding the craft to the dock and stepped backwards into the open door of the plane.
It wasn’t much of a shot, but Logan took it. The M4 cracked with practically no recoil, the suppressor acting as a counterweight. Through the red dot sight, Logan saw Burns’ left forearm shatter as the 5.56 mm round tore through it. Samuel twisted and struggled to free himself from Burns one good arm.
“Go! Go! Go!” Burns screamed at the pilot and shoved Samuel toward the rear of the cargo bay. Burns expertly returned fire, laying down cover fire of 9 mm as Logan dove and rolled. Burns struggled to close the cargo door but couldn’t while holding the gun, and with only one good arm. The plane’s engines roared and the pilot veered hard to starboard, away from the dock. Fortunately for Logan, the move prevented Burns from finishing the job. Logan raised his gun to fire, knowing the M4 wasn’t enough to stop the big Grumman.
As the plane moved away, a blanket of silence covered Logan’s troubled mind. The past, the future, all collapsed into that one moment. His one love caught in a madman’s trap. The son he never knew sold to the highest bidder. Those dark years of righteous violence culminated with betrayal. The closest thing to a friend he ever allowed himself poised to destroy him. He charged down the dock. The prop wash blew brackish mist into his eyes. Time slowed. His steps pounded the wooden dock. He dropped the M4 and heard it rattle across the wooden planks behind him. The tail of the pudgy Grumman swung within a few feet of the dock, the props spun up to full rpms.
“I love you Simone!” Stretched out like a swimmer off the starting block, Logan flew headfirst off the dock and willed himself to fly through the open cargo door. He hit the water swimming. One chance before the plane gathered enough energy to slog through the choppy bay for flight. Half a dozen strokes later, his right hand hooked onto the opening. The plane dragged him through the water.
If Burns noticed, he’d shoot Logan in the head. His life’s failure would be complete. He grabbed with his left hand and fought to get his right leg up into the doorway. He slid back down. The plane picked up speed and waves broke over his head, choking him in the salty froth. He slung his leg up again and missed. He worked his hands further forward and dug deep for his last try. His foot caught inside the back of the door. Hands grabbed his neck. The small hands pulled him, desperately tugging. Together they finally hoisted him into the belly of the Grumman.
The aircraft bounced against the waves, working to get a head of steam. Logan gasped for breath and looked into a boy’s face. A shadow of himself looked back. Samuel silently pointed toward the front of the bucking aircraft. Logan rolled to his stomach, looked to the forward bay. Hunched over a medical kit, Burns hadn’t noticed him.
With a final bounce, the plane was airborne. Burns finished taping gauze in place and tore the tape off the spool with his teeth. Logan turned to Samuel, motioned with his bleeding hands for Samuel to stay down. It was now or never. He rushed through the shuddering cargo bay to the man responsible for his wife’s death, the man who would sell his son, the man who betrayed his country.
In an instant of hate and visceral rage, he knew fully the depth of his love for Simone and Samuel. How gladly he poured out the last of himself. There was a God, a righteous, almighty, vengeful God who would set things straight, after he spit his last breath at this filthy pig. Burns swung around, shock and fear in his face. His bloody and bandaged arm hung at an abnormal angle. The gun rose in his good hand. Inside the confines of the cargo bay, the shot sounded like a canon.
CHAPTER 74
It did not take long for the roar of the plane’s engines to fade into the storm. I imagined I heard the distant droning between the rumbles of thunder, but it was probably too far away. It didn’t matter. Logan made the right choice. I was sure he made it onto the plane to save Samuel. No numbers were in my head quoting the laws of probable outcome. There was finally quiet, if not peace.
When Logan and Burns faced off on the dock, I tried to get out of the lighthouse. The windows on the dormers were covered in steel mesh, bolted from the outside. When I opened the small window, I could have sworn Burns stared up at me and laughed. Seeing my little boy locked in Burns’ grasp with a gun to his head, made me lose what little bit of sanity I had left. I ransacked the place for a screwdriver, a hammer, a key, anything to help me get to him. When the shooting started outside, I shot the door and the lock and almost killed myself with a ricocheting bullet. I resorted to another talk with God. As we flew back across the Atlantic, I swore never to do again. I was not hospitable.
“God, I was not surprised that you were right about me dying, but you have to admit getting blown up in the Middle Bay Lighthouse is a little extreme. I’m just saying. ” I wondered if God got my humor. I certainly did not get His. We would be able to discuss it in person soon. “Will I be able to see my father? Talk to him? There is so much I wanted to tell him. How sorry I was for letting his son die. You know I have spent my whole life wishing it had been me. I wanted to tell Lester I forgave him for hating me.” Tears rolled down my cheeks. I felt so calm. Not sad, but happy, relieved. I did not hear God distinctly as I did the day I killed my brother—maybe you have to be a child to hear Him clearly—yet, I think He told me it was going to be okay. I was going to die. But it was okay.
***
Logan didn’t slow down as a bullet tore through his left side, scalding his gut. His hatred and desperation propelled him forward. Burns rose to his feet, Logan smashed head-on into his chest, the perfect linebacker tackle. Burns bent backwards and smacked down hard on the floor. Logan drove the top of his head upward into Burns’ chin, splintering his teeth as Burns squeezed off a wild round. He grabbed Burns right wrist and pushed his gun hand to the side. Reaching down with his other hand, Logan clenched the bloody bandage on Burns’ wounded arm, a human vice. Burns screamed, a wounded tiger far from beaten. Logan saw stars when Burns head butted him. Burns got off two more rounds, bullets clanging through the metal bay of the plane.
***
I logged on to my laptop to see pictures of my Samuel one more time. I also needed to delete them. Embedded in a precise sequence of pictures was the complete code set for the IRIS algorithm. A form of steganography I invented to hide the mathematical secret of the universe. It seemed ironic now. Almost childish. I hid the algorithm inside pictures of Samuel, but the real truth—what I had hoped to hide from everyone, including God—was that the secret was within my son. Samuel was born knowing.
“God, I did what a mother is supposed to do. What a mother has to do. I would sacrifice the whole world to save my son, not the other way around like you. You are God; you should know that.”
***
Logan’s head reeled from the head butt. Letting go of Burns’ wounded arm, he grappled blindly, searching for something to use as a weapon. Burns rolled to his left, gaining leverage, and struggled to point the gun at Logan’s head. Logan reversed pressure and let Burns' own momentum carry him over on top. Logan’s knee came up hard into Burns’ groin and at the same time pushed Burns’ gun downward. Another shot rang out.
“Samuel… stay down!” He couldn’t help it. The words just came out. Another mistake.
Burns squeezed the trigger, bullets flying toward the back of the plane, toward Samuel. Knowing the gun would be coming for his head, Logan let go of Burns’ wrist. He knew Burns didn’t want to shoot Samuel—he was the golden goose. He also knew Burns would shoot Samuel if he didn’t let go. Finally, he was right about something. The cold steel crashed against his brow, blood quickly filling his left eye. He was losing this fight.
***
I smiled at the precious pictures of my son, our sandcastle on the beach, dinosaur costume at Halloween when he was five, the 2,000-piece, Lego fractal he made when he was eight. Finally, my favorite, the picture of the two of us with tin foil helmets and swords made of yardsticks and duct tape. We defended the castle from marauding bandits and grumpy dragons. When things got too bad, we raised a righteous army and went forth to vanquish evil in the name of the Kingdom of the Great Oak—just like my little brother and I did before my eighth birthday.
“Goodbye, Samuel. I hope you know how much your mother loves you. We’ll be together again one day.” I deleted the files and executed the panic routine to wipe the entire hard drive. It would take more time than I had left, but the salty bay water should do the rest. The first charge shook the lighthouse violently. The old refrigerator jumped a foot off the floor and wobbled as it came back down on its tiny wheels. For a couple of seconds, I thought I had gotten a pardon for my sins then the second set of charges exploded.
One side of the lighthouse went down hard. The world tilted forty-five degrees as it slid off its legs into Mobile Bay. I fell hard against the wall. Always a magnet for trouble, I watched as everything not nailed down slid on top of me. Water crashed as the first floor entered the bay, groaning in protest. The sky became visible when the roof cracked open. Trying to right myself, to crawl toward the opening, I discovered my legs were pinned. The refrigerator and other junk held me tight in their embrace. Ocean water rushed in, as I lay angled to the sky.
My feet got wet, then my knees, my waist. When the water reached my chin, I accepted the fact that I wouldn’t be blown to bits. I would drown. I took a deep breath just before my head went under the water.
***
Logan grabbed a piece of metal tubing rolling around on the floor and swung wildly, catching Burns on the side of the head. The tubing was short and light, didn’t do much more than piss him off. He whacked at Burns’ head while frantically squirming out from under him. Burns tried to push up with his bad arm. It crumpled under the strain, the bone twisting further backward. Logan flipped over and got both arms around Burns’ massive chest from behind. He stood him up, keeping the gun away from the back of the plane, twisted him into an arm lock, hyper-extending Burns’ good arm. The spasm in Burns right hand fired the gun directly at the cockpit, before he dropped it. The plane rolled to port. The pilot was hit.
As the plane rolled, the two men lost their balance, sliding toward the open cargo bay door. Logan’s head hung out in the open air. Burns on top sneered through broken teeth. “You’re definitely a hard man to kill, Logan, but every man has to die sometime.” Burns grabbed Logan by the belt and lifted.
***
The water was only a few inches over my head when the old lighthouse stopped its slide. My arms were free and my hands splashed above the waterline, searching furtively for something I could use to pull my head above water. My lungs began to burn. My diaphragm heaved, begging for oxygen. Breathe! I quit thrashing. I could not hold my breath any longer. First a few bubbles escaped, then a few more, then all the air rushed out of me. I couldn’t stop my lungs from doing what they had been doing all my life. I breathed in the water and gagged. Convulsed. Geometric flashes of color danced behind my eyes. Everything that was me began to fade away. Exactly as I read somewhere, it was peaceful.
***
The plane banked further, and Logan felt himself slipping out the door. Burns grappled for a hold. In one last burst of effort, Logan arched his back, pressed down with is left leg, and kicked up with his right. Eyes wide with horror, Burns flew over the top of Logan and through the door. Burns didn’t scream. He didn’t make a sound. He just disappeared into the darkness.
Logan crawled to the cockpit. The pilot was dead. He took the copilot’s seat and leveled off the plane. Logan had been in enough aircraft to know the basics. Enough to know that landing was the hard part. Samuel slipped quietly into the cockpit.
“Samuel, get in the jump seat behind me and tighten the seatbelt really good. This is going to be rough.”
“Yes, sir. Be sure and put the flaps down and stay above stall speed on the approach.”
“You know how to fly?”
“I play flight simulator on the computer a lot.”
“That makes you the expert here. Tell what to do.”
CHAPTER 75
There really was a bright light to guide you to the other side. My father called my name from a great distance. His voice was not serene, peaceful, or happy, but angry and distraught. Maybe this wasn’t heaven. I should have known. I convulsed and vomited saltwater. This was definitely not heaven. My momentary peacefulness was replaced with terror and uncontrollable retching. This is hell.
***
Logan collapsed on the beach. The wrecked plane sank into the Gulf of Mexico behind them. The swim to shore had been short but agonizing. Samuel had clung to his back. His slender arms wrapped around Logan’s neck, a blessed reminder that death would have to wait a little longer. The salt water of the Gulf eagerly greeted Logan’s wounds as he breast stroked through the breakers to the shores of Dauphin Island. Samuel’s presence forced Logan to focus. He must not succumb to the exhaustion, the loss of blood or will. This mission wasn’t over until Samuel was safe.
“Samuel, where are you?” He struggled to his elbows, white sand caked on the side of his face. “I can’t see you.”
“I’m right here.” Samuel’s voice was soft and innocent, unafraid. Despite the recent horrors, he wore the trust of a child. Simone had done a good job with him. “You need to go to the doctor. My mom says men don’t like to go to the doctor because they’re afraid of what they might hear, but you need to go anyway.”
Logan started to laugh, but the pain in his gut stopped him short. He’d heard Simone say that a long time ago. A greater pain stabbed him. He left Simone to die alone in the lighthouse.
