Chimera

by Orion Gaudio

  He really wanted to tell her the truth—that he saw the faces of everyone he’d ever killed when he closed his eyes. That they haunted his dreams. That he was depressed as hell and it was starting to drag him down. He wasn’t sure how much longer he could take the pressure of it all, but Howard needed him. He was a vital cog in the wheel that was NIA. The work they did was too important for him to abandon. He needed to suck it up and keep fighting for as long as he could.

  “I guess I should go. Howard said he has another mission for me.”

  “Really?”

  She sounded genuinely surprised.

  “Yeah. I went out for a drink last night at the bar near my house. He stopped in and told me. I don’t think he liked the idea of asking me to go back in the field so quickly, but I feel like he wouldn’t have asked if it wasn’t important.”

  “I’m sorry, James. I know it’s not easy. Hang in there. Come and talk to me whenever you want.”

  “Thanks.”

  He stood up and walked toward the door.

  “James?”

  He paused, his fingers wrapped tightly around the door handle.

  “Yeah?”

  “Take care of yourself out there. Be careful. You’re one of the good guys.”

  “Thanks.”

  He walked out of the room and pulled the door closed behind himself. Turner hadn’t expected much when he decided to go talk to Rhonda. Their conversation made him feel a little better about what he did, but he doubted that it would change anything in the long run. He figured he had two options: push himself until he burned out, which would probably mean he would make a mistake and get himself killed… or he could tell Howard he needs to be removed from active duty. Neither was a good option. He needed to refocus because either way he was about to leave on a mission. There was nothing he could do about it at the moment.

  Turner walked down the hallway and walked up to the desk where Jess was sitting.

  “Is he ready for me?” he asked.

  “Yes, I think so.”

  He knocked on the door and entered.

  “How are you?” Howard asked.

  Turner sat down before he answered.

  “I’m good. You?”

  His boss hesitated, which was unusual. For as long as he’d known Howard, the man had always been calm and calculated… ready with a response to anything he ever asked him.

  “Are you ready for another mission?”

  “Yes.”

  Howard nodded and passed him a folder. Turner opened it up. The top sheet was an intel report titled ‘Chimera’. There was a large red ‘Classified’ stamp across the center of the document.

  “What’s Chimera?” Turner asked.

  “It has to do with the mission you just returned from. We found a file on the flash drive that you recovered. It’s what Fei was working on… the top-secret military project that he was planning to pass back to the Chinese.”

  He was fishing for information, but it didn’t seem like Howard wanted to tell him what the mysterious file contained. He decided not to press him because then it would be obvious he’d tried to access it. From time to time, Howard would throw him a bone and tell him the particulars of why a mission was so important, but that wasn’t the case with Chimera. Turner knew his place—he was there to make sure a mission was completed at any cost and not to worry about the particulars.

  “But we got the flash drive.”

  “We did, but it doesn’t end there.”

  Turner raised an eyebrow and flipped to the next sheet. A photo of a Chinese man in a business suit getting out of the back of a car.

  “We think that Fei was able to get some of the information out of the city before you got to him.”

  “Two flash drives?”

  “Yes. Our intel suggests that the one you recovered was just half of the files. They are useless unless they’re both together. Two halves of the same puzzle.”

  Turner frowned and looked up from the file.

  “But, if we have the one flash drive… why does it matter?”

  Turner realized it was starting to sound like he was trying to convince Howard that the mission wasn’t necessary. Not exactly confidence inspiring, especially after the close call he’d just had in New York.

  “Think of it this way… would you feel safe if someone had half the plans to a nuclear weapon?”

  “Is that what this is?”

  “No, I’m just using that to illustrate my point.”

  “Fair enough. I get what you’re saying.”

  “If they get this other flash drive, then it’s only a matter of time before they try again to get the rest of the puzzle. I can’t stress it enough… you have to get that second flash drive. We’re talking global.”

  “Worse than Afghanistan two years ago?” Turner asked.

  “Yes.”

  He swallowed and nodded. That had been one of their most important missions to date. He had infiltrated a terrorist compound and destroyed a ballistic missile with nuclear capabilities. The seriousness of the current situation had begun to sink in, even if Howard was keeping the true nature of Chimera close to his chest.

  “Right… well… what do I need to do?”

  “That guy in the file… we think he has the flash drive.”

  Turner flipped to the next page. A comprehensive profile of the picture man. Zhi Mao. Thirty-seven years old from Beijing. Military background. Connections reaching all the way to the top of the Chinese government. Turner was starting to realize New York was a cakewalk compared to what he was about to do.

  “And you think he’s heading back to China?”

  “Yes. Our intel is solid. It looks like they’re afraid to put him on a plane. They know we know he has it, so they’re taking every possible precaution. He’s traveling by car to Oakland, California. From there he’s supposed to board a Chinese cargo ship.”

  “We can’t intercept the ship once it’s in international waters?”

  “No. There are ten ships scheduled to leave within a five-hour window of when we figure he’ll arrive.”

  “Right, so I need to get on that ship.”

  “Yes.”

  Turner tapped his foot on the floor as he tried to think of the best way to go about getting the flash drive from Zhi.

  “What about getting it from him before he reaches the ship?”

  “Seven identical cars left New York three days ago. All took separate routes. We have no idea which one he’s in.”

  Turner sighed and shook his head. He knew their window was going to be small.

  “What kind of protection does he have?”

  “We figure three guys per car, all heavily armed.”

  “So, we’re talking at least twenty guys?”

  “Yes.”

  He took a deep breath and tried to think about what would give him the best chance. He was usually confident in his abilities, but that was still a lot more than he felt like could handle… especially given the fact that he couldn’t seem to shoot straight.

  “Any suggestions?”

  “We have an agent for you to rendezvous with when you get there. He’ll pick you up at the airport in a silver Chevy and has access to a boat. You should be able to identify which ship Zhi Mao is getting on, then you can slip aboard, get the flash drive from him as it starts to leave the port. If you can get off the ship unnoticed, the other agent can come and pick you up.”

  It sounded straightforward enough when Howard explained it, but he knew that things rarely went according to plan. There was always some kind of complication that threw a wrench into things and left him to improvise.

  “Who’s the agent on the ground?”

  “There’s a file on him in there.”

  Turner flipped to the last page and saw it. Henry Rollins. CIA. Seven years’ field experience. Expert in sabotage and counterintelligence. The list went on. He seemed like a sufficiently capable agent.

  “Do we have a rendezvous point?” Turner asked.
/>   “He’s going to pick you up at the airport.”

  He nodded. They avoided planes whenever possible, assuming the mission took place on US soil, but he knew they were on a tight schedule and it was his only chance to get to Oakland before Zhi.

  “OK, sounds good.”

  “You can go see Nick, he has your documents ready.”

  “Anything else?” Turner asked.

  “No, but I do want to thank you for going on this mission. I know you didn’t get much time to decompress after your last one, so I hope you understand why I need you for this.”

  “Thanks… and I do.”

  “Good luck.”

  “Thanks.”

  He stood up from the table and walked out of the room with the file in hand. He wanted to look over it some more before he left since he’d have to leave it behind. His objectives were straightforward enough, but he wanted to be as prepared as possible.

  The door to the document room was open and he walked in. Nick was sitting at his desk and looked up. It was a claustrophobic room… shelves covered in boxes and random stacks of paper against the walls, a large printer, a lamination machine in one corner, and various other tools of the trade that Turner couldn’t even identify. It was a one-man operation and Nick was the best at what he did. He’d never directly asked him, but Turner had heard whispers that the young man had been a hotshot at the NSA before being recruited to work for NIA. Given the quality of work Nick turned out on a consistent basis, it was easy to believe.

  “James… I was told you’d be coming in.”

  “I hear you have something for me.”

  “I do.”

  He rolled his chair to the shelf behind him and grabbed a manila envelope and dumped the contents out on the table.

  “Ohio driver’s license. Two credit cards with matching names. They each have a ten-thousand-dollar limit. Birth certificate, a utility bill that matches the address on the license. Basically a full kit. Also, plane ticket out of Pittsburgh. Window seat near the back. You can pick that up when you check in for your flight.”

  “Am I going to need all this?” Turner asked.

  “Probably not, no… but I’d rather you have it and not need it.”

  “Fair enough.”

  “Anything else?”

  “Not from me.”

  Turner picked up the license. His new name was Even Spath and he had blond hair twice the length of his own.

  “What’s with the hair?”

  Nick chuckled.

  “That wasn’t my idea.”

  “Howard?”

  Nick nodded.

  “Yeah, but I used a wig from the closet to compile the image. They’ve got it set aside for you.”

  The closet was the domain of Rene Tillerson. She was responsible for every facet of their disguises from wigs to clothes.

  “Perfect.”

  He put everything back into the envelope and headed toward the door.

  “Good luck,” Nick said.

  “Thanks.”

  Three doors down was the closet. The door was open and he walked in. Rene was sorting through a rack of clothes when he entered the room.

  “James… good to see you.”

  “Rene… how are you?”

  “Did you bring back the mustache and hat I gave you?” she asked, in a serious tone.

  “No, sorry. Things… they got a little dicey.”

  She shook her head.

  “Try not to lose the wig I’m giving you. I’m quite fond of it.”

  She took her job just as seriously as anyone else who worked there. Rene had been in the costume design business in Hollywood for the better part of twenty years before getting an offer from NIA that she couldn’t refuse.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  She handed him the wig and ran his fingers through the hair. It was real, just like the ones she’d given him before, and if the photo on the license was anything to go by he thought he’d be able to pull off the look.

  Rene retrieved a carry on suitcase and a gray suit on a hanger.

  “I’ve got two changes of clothes packed for you. It should be enough. The suit is flame resistant, but don’t go getting yourself lit on fire.”

  He cracked a smile.

  “I’ll do my best.”

  “And try to bring the suit back in one piece… I spent a lot of time on that.”

  She custom tailored most of the clothes in the closet and was always disappointed when he came back with even the smallest rip or tear.

  “I will.”

  She raised an eyebrow and reluctantly handed the suit to him.

  “Safe travels.”

  “Thanks.”

  Turner smiled at her and walked out of the room. He was all set for his mission. Flying presented its own unique challenges… including having to arm himself when he got to his destination. He assumed the agent he was meeting in Oakland could provide him with whatever else he’d need for the mission.

  He went into the bathroom, changed into the suit and put on the wig. Turner looked in the mirror and shook his head. Blond wasn’t a great look on him, but the quality of the wig made it passable for travel. One of the reasons the agents avoided flying when possible, in addition to not being able to take their guns with them, was that there were cameras everywhere. One slip-up during a mission could mean they were clocked by airport security and could be detained. That could lead to hours of questioning and the involvement of the local police. It was something he’d avoided up to that point in his career, and he wasn’t eager to experience anytime soon.

  11

  Turner made it to the Pittsburgh airport in a little under two hours and had just enough time to park his car and get to the check-in counter before the mandated cutoff time. He stepped up to the counter and handed the woman his license.

  “Where are you traveling to today?”

  “Oakland.”

  She picked up the license and looked him up on her computer.

  “And do you have any bags?” she asked.

  “Just a carry-on.”

  “You’re all set to go, Mr. Spath. Have a great flight to Oakland.”

  She handed him back his license and his ticket. He flashed her a smile and nodded.

  “Thanks.”

  He looked down at his ticket as he walked toward the security checkpoint. Gate A6. Turner was familiar enough with the airport that he knew it would only take him a couple of minutes to reach his gate once he cleared security.

  The airport was busy and the line for security stretched fifty people deep. Traveling for pleasure was one thing, but Turner preferred to fly in and out of a busy airport when he was on a mission. It meant that the staff, including anyone watching the cameras, had more to focus on and it was less likely that he’d ever be pulled aside for additional scrutiny. The line moved quickly enough and he lifted his suitcase onto the belt a few minutes later. He made it through security without a hitch and was tying his shoes on the other side just a few minutes later.

  Turner made it to his gate just as boarding had started, which was all part of the plan to keep as low of a profile as possible when traveling. He found his seat and lifted his suitcase into the overhead bin. A guy sat down next to him as he was getting settled in.

  “Hey,” the man said.

  Turner nodded in response.

  He was still feeling a little worse for wear after the previous night, so he closed his eyes and rested his head against the cool wall of the plane as it pulled away from the gate. They were airborne a few minutes later.

  A ding came from the PA system as the pilot came on.

  “This is your captain, Henry Twist, speaking. I’m joined in the cockpit today by First Officer Gary Smith. Our flight time today is just a hair under five hours. Our cabin crew will be coming around in a few minutes to offer you a snack and a beverage. Please sit back and enjoy your flight.”

  Turner took a deep breath and tried to calm his mind. He wasn’t afraid of flying, but i
t did make him uneasy. It wasn’t the possibility of a crash… that didn’t bother him. The part that he struggled with was being trapped at nearly forty-thousand feet with no way to escape. Ingrained in him from years of training and missions was a need for an escape route. Any time he went anywhere, he was always analyzing the situation and his surroundings… and looking for a way out if things went south. Flying didn’t give him that chance. If anything happened, he would have no control over the situation.

  As he sat there, his mind kept drifting back to Fei and Ying. The look on their faces was one he’d seen since his first mission—the terrifying realization that death was coming. Killing had never been easy for him, which Rhonda had assured him was a good thing, but he couldn’t help feeling something had been different with them.

  He gave his head a slight shake and opened his eyes. As tired as he was, he had too much on his mind and he knew he wouldn’t be sleeping on the flight to Oakland.

  12

  The plane touched down just as the sun was setting in Oakland. The last few rays of light bounced off the bay as they taxied toward their gate. Turner stifled a yawn and unbuckled his seatbelt the moment the audible ding passed through the cabin. People started to move toward the front as they exited.

  Turner waited until the man sitting next to him was clear of their row to get up and retrieve his bag from the overhead compartment.

  “Have a good night,” the cabin crew said, as he reached the front of the plane.

  “Thanks.”

  Tuner ducked down a little as he left the plane. He made his way through the airport and took a deep breath as he exited to the passenger pickup area. The cool night air was refreshing after having been trapped in a plane for five hours.

  He spotted the silver Chevy with tinted windows almost instantly. The driver waved to him. Turner opened the back door and tossed his suitcase on the seat. He got into the front passenger seat and put on his belt.

  “Rollins,” he said.

  “Turner.”

  He pulled away from the curb.

  “Any updates on Zhi?”

  “We’ve been tracking the cars. The first one should get into the port in about an hour.”