The Niantic Project: Ingress by Hajra-Lee Felicia

Author:Hajra-Lee, Felicia [Hajra-Lee, Felicia]
Language: eng
Format: mobi, azw3, epub, pdf
Publisher: Niantic Labs @ Google
Published: 2013-05-14T14:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 9

Eventually, all pain is tolerable.

Farlowe had told himself this many times before, a mantra that had become a survival mechanism. First as an awkward kid and then as a gangly teenager. After his failed marriage. And multiple times during various assignments in the field. Manage what you cannot eliminate.

As in the past, he hoped his mental toughness would not abandon him, because Farlowe was nearly insane from the sharp burning sensation that radiated outward from the gunshot wound in his side. The pain extended up to his chest, where it had a bear hug on his ribs, making it difficult for him to breathe. And breathing at this point was also still a little confusing to him, because Farlowe realized that by any measure, he shouldn’t be.

Following his assassination—and he couldn’t think of a more apt word to describe what had happened to him—Farlowe had made his way to the city of Graz in Austria, traveling mostly by bus. He had sat in the back and pretended to sleep for much of the journey, which kept prying eyes and small-talk inquiries to a minimum.

When he reached Graz, he had agonizingly walked the city for what seemed like hours, hiding his injury as best he could. Darkness helped, and thankfully the blood flowing from the gaping hole in his side had long since stopped.

Eventually, Farlowe was able to get a taxi to within a few blocks of the safehouse he knew was located in the neighborhood of Jakomini.

Farlowe paused for a long moment in front of the otherwise nondescript building. His destination was on the second floor, and after readying himself, he slowly made his way up the twisting staircase, using the wall behind him and the thick wooden railing of the banister for support.

Mustering all his willpower, Farlowe shuffled slowly down the long, darkened hallway until he reached the front door of the apartment.

He wished he still had his automatic with him, but he had dumped the weapon a few hours after he was clear of the caves, tossing it alongside a motorway. A man with a gunshot wound is a victim. A man with a gunshot wound holding a gun is a criminal. Farlowe had reasoned that if he passed out and found himself at the mercy of his fellow travelers, it was better to be the former rather than the latter.

The NIA had safehouses located in almost every major city across Europe.

Farlowe could have chosen one closer to the Skocjan Caves in Slovenia, but he decided against it on the off-chance that the NIA’s trigger man would be stopping there as well. So he had endured the longer journey to reach where we found himself now, staring at the gray metal door of the safehouse in Jakomini.

Farlowe knew that the moment he opened the door an alarm would be triggered, but not one audible to the neighbors in the adjoining apartments. Instead, this alarm would be detected by some unknown monitoring station deep within the headquarters of the NIA.

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