Chiral Justice: A Hard Science Fiction Technothriller (The Biogenesis War Book 3)

by L. L. Richman

To his shock, his Akkadian keepers allowed Sullivan to enter alone.

  José’s heart raced. Is this it? The opportunity we’ve been looking for?

  He stood to greet the assistant director while reaching out mentally to Raphael. The clouded, disjointed thoughts on the other end signaled the other man was sleeping.

  “Sullivan, good morning.”

  José held up a hand to his aide, and Ross paused at the door.

  “Coffee?” José asked.

  The other man smiled, and the way he adjusted his suit cuffs briefly drew José’s attention.

  “That would be appreciated, Mister Prime Minister.” Sullivan turned to the man at the door. “Cream, no sugar, please.”

  Ross shot José a questioning look, and he nodded a silent yes to the man’s query. The door slid closed as the man retreated to get their drinks, and José gestured to the sitting area off to the side.

  He braced for bad news.

  “Okay, lay it on me,” he said, and Sullivan’s brow crinkled in confusion.

  “Sir?”

  José stared at the man, and some instinct told him not to mention the tell he’d picked up on.

  He waved his comment away with a small smile. “Figure of speech. Or maybe you could call it a calculated guess. I’ve only been in office a little over a month, but if I’ve learned one thing already, it’s that there’s more bad news than good.”

  Sullivan’s expression cleared. “Ah, no, actually, sir, there’s nothing too pressing going on at the moment.”

  José’s brows lifted at that. “Really?” He waved the daily brief at the man. “I see here Secretary Jamieson’s recommending we cut the defensive screen in half, at the garrison guarding the Alpha Centauri gate.”

  “Maybe she thinks Asher Dent is less of a threat than the previous administration.”

  José sent the man a sardonic look. “And I’m sure you’re about to tell me that would explain why Treasury’s gone ahead and lifted all sanctions against Akkadia, as well?”

  The other man’s smile turned wry. “Maybe for once, the man in power there is someone we can reason with.”

  José felt the breakfast he’d eaten sour at Sullivan’s words.

  “Reason with?” He shook his head, an uncharacteristic bitterness tinging his voice. “The hell we can.”

  Sullivan’s expression sharpened, but before he could respond, José stopped him with a meaningful look toward his office door. “Coffee should be here soon.”

  A look of understanding crossed Sullivan’s face at José’s unspoken warning to watch his words. The assistant director settled back into his seat, adopting a relaxed pose.

  José clasped his hands and leaned forward, resting his forearms on his thighs. “Okay, besides what SECDEF and SECTREAS have been up to, is there anything else you have for me that wasn’t included in the brief?”

  He saw his secretary appear in the entrance, coffee service in hand. José waved him in as Sullivan began to detail the latest news from the Sol, Proxima, and Alpha Centauri systems.

  He let the man drone on as Ross set down a tray with a steaming carafe and two china cups bearing the parliamentary crest, and then exited.

  “The president of An-Yang has expressed an interest in attending this year’s Founder’s Cup.”

  Sullivan’s statement caught José’s attention, and he sent the AD a sharp look as, with a silent nod of thanks, he accepted his coffee from Ross.

  “I didn’t know he was a fan,” said José as he took a sip.

  Sullivan pushed a sheet of paper across the coffee table between them. “He would like an official invitation from your office, of course, before it is announced.”

  José picked up the brief and scanned it. “I don’t see why not.”

  When his office door closed behind his assistant, José abruptly set the paper down and motioned to Sullivan’s portfolio.

  “Is there anything in there that might be worth an extra layer of security, by chance?”

  He sent Sullivan what he hoped was a meaningful look, dipping his chin and silently urging the man to grasp the request he didn’t dare state aloud.

  The man blinked and then darted his eyes about the room, confused. “No, sir. Everything’s standard today.”

  “Are you certain?” José’s gaze drilled into the other man.

  He let out a relieved breath when understanding dawned on the other man’s face, and he reached into his pocket, removing a small device.

  Sullivan set it on the table between them, and then shot him a quizzical look. With a small gesture, he said, “We’re now being passively jammed, sir. None of your detail will be able to detect it. Was there something you needed to tell me?”

  José let out a silent breath, once more reaching out to probe for his other self’s mind. Raphael was still sleeping.

  He’s Duncan’s right hand, and you’d trust Cutter with your life, he admonished himself. So shit or get off the pot, Garza old man.

  “Yes. There is something you need to know. I need your help.”

  * * *

  You did what?

  José mentally replayed his conversation with Sullivan, wincing when he heard the alarm in Raphael’s voice.

  You know Cutter’s tried to talk to me several times. I’ve seen him reserve time on my calendar, but Ed declines it every time.

  Raphael made a sound of agreement. Well, what’s done is done. Wish you’d woken me.

  José grimaced. Would it have made a difference?

  No, Raphael replied after a beat. It was a smart move. He’s Cutter’s number two. He wouldn’t have someone he didn’t trust implicitly in a position that high in the NSA.

  José abruptly recalled Sullivan’s seeming tension, the nervous habit he had of adjusting his cuffs, and stifled a sudden sense of foreboding.

  You mentioned the Founder’s Cup? Raphael’s words brought José back to the conversation. An-Yang is an ally. Think there’ll be opportunity there?

  * * *

  The next day, almost exactly to the hour, Jackie Garza arrived at a center for victims of the new psychotropic compound, Frenzy. This press junket was to raise awareness for the dangers of the drug; it was one of the platforms Jackie had chosen to take on as the wife of the new prime minister.

  She smiled as she mounted the steps of the temporary stage that had been set up in front of the facility, and then waved to the holocameras.

  “Thank you all for coming. I’m so proud of the rehabilitation work the Take Back Foundation has done in their first few months here.” She let her smile drop and her expression fall into sober lines as she launched into her speech, which lasted the next few minutes.

  “…and it’s centers like the Take Back Foundation that are making real inroads to combat this dangerous drug,” Jackie concluded. “But don’t just take my word for it. Donating your time here will allow you to see for yourself the genuine difference this organization has made.” One practiced smile later, and Jackie’s duties were finished.

  The agents assigned to her protection flanked her as she swept off the stage and toward the motorcade. From the corner of her eye, she saw two members of her detail slowly slip away.

  She dismissed it, her mind on other matters. Smiling, she waved at the crowd of onlookers and reporters shouting questions, and then turned to duck into the waiting transport.

  {Alert! Incoming! Aler—}

  She looked around, confused at what the vehicle’s security SI was saying and why it had cut off so abruptly. The agent beside her had an entirely different response. He cursed, his hand coming down on the top of her head, urging her inside the reinforced transport.

  A loud, whistling sound pierced the air, and she saw an object smash into the front of the armored vehicle.

  The vessel lurched, and she fought to stay on her feet as shouts of “Missile!” and “Down!” reached her ears. The agent behind her slammed into her and then slumped to the ground, his body dead weight.

  She looked down and
screamed when she saw half of his face had been blown off.

  Another piercing whistle sounded, and then her world exploded in a ball of blinding light, fire, and searing pain.

  * * *

  José raced through the emergency room’s entrance at St. Clair Medical Center, his eyes wild. “Where is she? Where’s my wife?”

  An orderly came up to him, hands held out to stop José from breaching the sterile room he’d just left. “Mister Prime Minister. Sir. You need to stop—”

  “I ‘need’ to see my wife. Where is she?”

  He wasn’t in the same fighting shape as he’d been when he’d been active duty, but he was still a Marine, and unlike Carlisle, he had not let himself go.

  He used his bulk now, drawing himself up to his full height. Stepping menacingly toward the medic, he silently dared the man to try and stop him.

  “Sir,” one of his protection detail warned, and José whipped his head around, eyes glaring his hatred.

  The man must have realized Garza was tightly wound, for he held up his hands. With a nod, he indicated the hallway where the orderly stood. “The doctor, sir.”

  José wheeled back around to face the woman.

  The look on her face told him everything he needed to know.

  “Fuck!” he roared. “No!”

  His knees buckled, and he would have slammed to the floor if two of his detail hadn’t stepped up to support him on either side. He stumbled forward, agony ripping through him.

  The doctor lifted a placating hand. “She’s not dead yet, sir, but she is in grave condition.” She shook her head. “It’s going to be touch and go, and the next few hours will be critical. But we’re doing everything we can; you have my word.”

  Her voice had gentled as she spoke that last, and José gathered himself enough to give her a wordless nod of appreciation.

  She spared his detail a sweeping glance, and then her eyes returned to his. “We’ll keep you updated.”

  José shook off the hands that held him as the doctor retreated behind the doors of the operating theater.

  “Get the fuck away from me.” He glared at the agents surrounding him, hating that he didn’t know who he could trust and who was traitor.

  “If— If— you want to watch, sir, there’s an observation room….”

  Garza rounded on the orderly when the man began to speak.

  The young man took a step back, eyes wide, and his voice faded on a hard swallow. Pointing to a stairwell, he then turned and bolted back the way he’d come.

  “Bully for you, Mister Prime Minister. You just scared the shit out of one of the people trying to save your wife’s life.”

  The voice came from his left, one of the men he knew was on Akkadia’s payroll.

  José closed the distance between them and slammed the heel of his hand, hard, against the operative’s chest. “Do not mess with me right now,” he growled.

  He spun and took the steps three at a time, his chest tightening the closer he came to the viewing area.

  Thank stars the place was empty.

  Stepping up to the clearsteel wall, he looked down into the operating theater. Two teams of doctors hovered around a surgical suite, the blue glow that outlined the area telling José they were encased in an ES field.

  Their movements were urgent, and he could hear low calls being made from the anesthetist as she relayed vitals to the chief surgeon—the man working urgently over the broken body of his wife.

  Outwardly, José fought to remain calm. Inwardly, guilt ravaged and tore at him.

  I did this to her.

  His body thrummed with the need to take action, his mind racing as he turned over everything he’d done or said, scrutinizing it for where he went wrong. He kept coming back to the one data point he couldn’t ignore. The lone outlier.

  His meeting with Sullivan the morning before.

  Damn it all to hell, how did they find out? Is Sullivan a traitor, or did they detect the jamming field?

  Jackie’s body looked so fragile from this far away, lying behind that sterile field. A sense of helplessness settled over him, the kind a man only felt when he’d failed those he loved. His presence here was less than useless, but he could not find it in himself to turn away while others fought for his wife’s life.

  This is all my fault.

  The explosion that had nearly taken her life was being investigated as an action taken by drug cartels, but the hard glint in Ed’s eyes as he’d delivered the news earlier said otherwise.

  A secured link had snapped into place between them, the words the man pushed into his head confirming what Ed’s expression had telegraphed.

  {We have eyes everywhere. There is nothing you can do that we will not see. Try to reach out for help again, and I promise you, she won’t survive.}

  José heard steps behind him and turned to see the object of his hate approaching.

  “How is she doing?” Ed asked, a patently false sympathy painted on his face.

  If the blistering rage that welled within José at that moment could have been transferred to pure energy, the man would have been incinerated on the spot.

  He stared at Ed, hanging onto the thinnest thread of control.

  The man knew it; he actually smiled.

  {This is your one warning. It would be a shame for your children to grow up without a mother. It would be even worse if the prime minister should find himself both a widow and childless.}

  José froze at the man’s next words.

  “I’ll be leaving soon to pick up your daughters from preschool. Under the circumstances, I felt it best if I handled their safety… personally.”

  SCIF

  Task Force Blue HQ

  Humbolt Base

  Micah was on an intercept with the SCIF just as Sam rounded the corner and headed his way.

  “Hey, stranger,” she smiled up at him as she came to a stop and the SI that controlled the entrance challenged their ID tokens.

  “We have to stop meeting like this,” he joked as the doors slid open. He reached out, tagging her gently on the elbow, just above where a medical gel pack encased her wrist. {How are you feeling?}

  {Perfectly fine. I told you; these types of injuries respond very well to nanorepair.} She waved her hand at him.

  {And that’s why you’ve been avoiding me?}

  Sam shot him a stern look. “I’ve been busy.”

  She tilted her head to indicate the open door, and then smiled mischievously. “At least your stomach’s not growling like it was last time I saw you.”

  He groaned. “Hopefully this won’t last that long….”

  There were only two SCIFs on Humbolt Base. The Secured Compartmentalized Information Facilities were fully sandboxed, able to block all external access.

  Such extra measures were enacted only when extremely sensitive intelligence material needed to be shared—or in this case, special instructions given to the star nation’s top special operations team.

  Micah followed Sam inside, his eyes sweeping the room. There were eight people in attendance. Next to Jonathan sat Katie Hyer, and beyond her were Thad and Gabe. Cutter was flanked by Colonel Valenti and Harper Kinsley—the only NSA analyst fully read in on Task Force Blue and the chiral project.

  If Micah had to gauge by the expression on her face, whatever Harper was here to share wasn’t something they were going to be very happy to learn.

  Other than Jonathan and Hyer, Micah was the only member of the flight crew in attendance. To his surprise, though, Ell was there as well. He hadn’t realized she was still on Ceriba; he wondered about her inclusion.

  Duncan Cutter looked up as they entered, smiling when his eyes landed on his niece.

  “Hello, Sam,” he greeted.

  She murmured a hello in return as she slipped behind those already seated, angling for the two open chairs beside Micah’s twin.

  Once everyone was settled, Cutter cleared his throat and gave Valenti a nod.

  “Takeko, activa
te SCIF,” the colonel said, her words directed to the SI embedded inside her head.

  The doors sealed, and Micah felt the familiar silence that came when his wire’s connection to the base’s network was severed.

  {The SCIF has been secured,} announced the SI’s voice, and Micah caught the look of unease that passed between Thad and Gabe. So did Jonathan.

  Yeah, kind of creeps me out, too, his twin sent along their private connection.

  Being different usually does that to people.

  Micah felt annoyance behind the glare his doppelganger leveled at him.

  Don’t compare the experimental tech in her head to what happened to you. It’s not the same thing. No one’s looking at you like that, so quit talking shit.

  Cutter’s voice brought an end to their mental conversation.“Thank you all for coming.” The director’s gaze swept the table. “I don’t have to tell you that what you hear goes no further than this room. I’ll be adding to that number as the need arises, but for now, consider this information close-held. I believe you all know Harper Kinsley. She has something to show you.” He sent Harper an expectant look.

  The analyst turned to the holoscreen at the far end of the room, and it lit up. Micah was surprised when the recently appointed prime minister’s face appeared.

  Raphael Garza. He’s only been in power, what? Three weeks? asked Jonathan.

  Something like that, yes. Micah pulled his gaze from the image and turned back to Harper, his curiosity piqued.

  “We intercepted a message, dropped from a deep cover agent on Eridu,” she told them.

  Thad leaned forward. “I take it this has something to do with the prime minister. Is his life in danger?”

  Cutter and Harper exchanged glances.

  “Yesterday afternoon, Garza’s parliamentary press secretary announced his cabinet appointments,” the director said.

  Micah frowned at the apparent non sequitur. His gaze swung to Gabe when he saw the former NCIC agent straighten. “I saw that. Frankly, it surprised me. Garza’s a Marine and a strong supporter of the military. I thought he’d be with us on this, but the people he selected….”