Harbinger

by S L Shelton

  I turned sharply, looking at Nick as a mixed bag of emotions swept through me. “Is Storc okay?”

  Nick nodded. “He was banged up, but he’ll be fine.”

  “You took one to the chest?” I asked. “When was this?”

  Nick looked at his watch. “I don’t know. About ten hours ago, I guess.”

  I shook my head. You really are a badass.

  “Did they at least get the bullet out?”

  He chuckled but grabbed his ribs. “Yeah…I think so.”

  “Come on,” Marsh said, grabbing one side of a case. “Let’s go. Our ride is coming in.”

  Nick nodded and grabbed the other side of the box before Egermayer bumped him out of the way and took it. “I don’t think so, cowboy,” he said. “If you rip your stitches, that mean-ass doctor’ll blame me.”

  I grabbed the corner of the case containing Harbinger’s laptop.

  “You sure you got that?” Nick asked me.

  I shrugged dismissively and nodded for Kathrin to get the other end. When she took her position, I gestured discretely toward the laptop. She shot me a questioning glance.

  “Hey Nick,” I said as we moved it down the hallway. “Where’s this stuff going?”

  “Penny and the analysts are going to start going through it as soon as we get back.”

  I looked back at Kathrin and nodded to her before setting the case down. “Hold up a sec,” I said as I turned and momentarily blocked Nick’s view. “My messenger bag and iPad… Harbinger’s men picked them up. I think they’re in the—”

  “Those are in this box,” Egermayer yelled from ahead of us. “I grabbed ’em already.”

  “Oh…cool,” I replied as I turned back to the case. “I don’t know what I’d do without those.”

  The laptop was now conspicuously missing. Kathrin winked at me as I picked up my end, and we continued to carry the box outside the facility.

  As the helicopter carried us out through the valley several minutes later, I reached into the case in front of Egermayer and pulled out my messenger bag. I set it on Kathrin’s lap before taking a coat from under Marsh’s seat. He looked up.

  “You cold?” he asked, yelling above the engine’s noise.

  I shook my head before nodding toward Kathrin. He reached behind him and pulled a blanket from the cargo netting against the bulkhead.

  “Give her this too,” he said, tossing it across the cabin.

  “Thanks,” I yelled before draping the coat across Kathrin’s shoulders. I spread the blanket across both of us. Before the cover had settled, she’d pulled Harbinger’s laptop from under her jacket and tucked it into my messenger bag. She turned and smiled at me, resting her head on my shoulder.

  “You’re going to give that back, aren’t you?” Marsh yelled.

  I tensed.

  “It’s the only coat I brought.”

  I smiled and nodded, relieved. “Don’t worry—I know how important a man’s coat is to him.”

  The giant was dead, I had my girl next to me and a treasure of INTEL in a laptop that only the two of us knew about…and now I knew the name of who had been causing all our problems.

  Things are about to get very ugly for Combine.

  End of Harbinger,

  Book 5 of the 7 part Scott Wolfe Series

  epilogue

  Thursday, February 3rd, 9:10 a.m.—Arlington, Virginia, The Pentagon

  HEINRICH BRAUN stepped quietly into the back of the briefing room as the reporters jockeyed to have their questions heard by the admiral speaking at the podium.

  “The missiles were of Russian design,” the admiral said, answering a question from the crowd of reporters. “The White House has already put in a request to Moscow to track the serial numbers on the launchers, but as it stands now, it appears they were part of a shipment that was hijacked on its way to Syria. That’s all the information we have on them at this time.”

  “What about the reports of the body of a large man being taken from the launch site as Swiss Forces secured the area?” a reporter asked.

  Braun’s attention snapped to the man who had asked the question before leaning over and whispering to his bodyguard. “Find out who that is and which news outlet he works for.”

  Patrick nodded and then disappeared into the crowd.

  From behind the admiral, Albert Emrick, head of the enhanced soldier programs for the Defense Intelligence Agency, leaned forward and whispered something into the admiral’s ear. The admiral reached over and quickly placed his hand over the microphone as he listened, nodding several times before responding.

  “We’d like to thank the Swiss security forces for their rapid response in that matter,” the admiral said, avoiding the question from the reporter. “Had it not been for their quick and concise actions, we might be having a very different sort of briefing right now. I’m certain the Secretary of State will have much more to say along the lines of gratitude to the Swiss, but for now we are all just very happy to have the Secretary back from the G8 in one piece.”

  A storm of questions assaulted the admiral after the deflection. “That’s all we have for now,” the admiral added. “As more details come available, we’ll update you. The State Department will be covering the effect these actions may have had on the agreements reached during the G8 conference.”

  He turned and left the podium, ignoring the shouted questions about the origins of the threat. Emrick noticed Braun standing in the rear of the room before nodding his head to the side, inviting Braun to join him in the hallway. Braun turned and slipped out of the same door he had entered through before turning and walking around the corner. There Emrick was waiting for him.

  “This is a hell of a mess,” Emrick said, leading Braun into a side room. “Gold Rush hasn’t been on anyone’s radar in nearly fifteen years, and suddenly we’ve got reporters asking about giants.”

  “The source of that line of questioning is being ascertained right now,” Braun replied. “But more important to me is why you didn’t inform me you had enhanced assets still embedded with the CIA?”

  “We don’t,” Emrick said firmly. “All projects were scuttled or moved to DIA after Clinton uncovered the funding ties.”

  “Then explain this to me,” Braun said as he held up his phone and started a video playback.

  On the tiny screen was footage of an active battle going on within a courtyard. Harbinger appeared in the frame and began firing a large weapon.

  “That’s Harbinger,” Emrick said. “He was your asset—”

  “Watch,” Braun said snidely.

  From the top of the screen, someone jumped into the frame, landing on Harbinger and stabbing at his head with a rifle barrel.

  “Holy shit,” Emrick muttered.

  “Watch,” Braun repeated.

  In an instant, the attacker had stepped onto the giant’s chest and then wrenched the weapon from Harbinger’s hands before turning it on him. Braun paused the video after the first few explosive rounds were fired into Harbinger’s back. He then used his fingers to expand the frame, zooming in on the face of Harbinger’s attacker.

  “Who is that?” Emrick asked.

  “That, you fucking idiot, is Scott Wolfe,” Braun hissed. “CIA.”

  Emrick turned pale, and suddenly Braun knew that Emrick was familiar with the boy.

  “That’s not possible,” Emrick whispered.

  “And yet, the evidence would suggest otherwise,” Braun replied. “Anyone capable of interacting in that manner with a Gold Rush participant must be enhanced…there is no other explanation.”

  Emrick shook his head, staring at the still image of Wolfe.

  “Now, what programs do you have in active use by the CIA?” Braun asked.

  Emrick shook his head more insistently before looking at Braun. “None,” he replied. “There are no programs in use by the CIA…none of ours anyway.”

  “But you recognize Wolfe?” Braun said, accusing.

  “No,” he replied firmly
. “But I recognize the name. He was asking questions at one of our vendor facilities.”

  Braun squinted his eyes, suspicious. He could tell Emrick wasn’t telling him everything. “I want all the information you have on Wolfe and the vendor he was investigating.”

  “You’ve got a lot of balls asking for anything after getting one of my Jagger assets killed,” Emrick said, suddenly finding his backbone. “In the last ten days, I’ve had joint chiefs up my ass, threatening to go to Senate Intelligence over it.”

  Braun smiled. “Which ones?” he asked.

  Emrick shook his head. “It’s under control for the moment, but now that Harbinger has everyone talking about giants, it’s going to get ugly. We may already be exposed.”

  “You have no idea how ugly it’s going to get,” Braun replied. “Get me the information on Wolfe and the vendor. Your projects belong to Combine.”

  “They belong to the DIA,” Emrick snapped in a threatening hiss.

  Braun smiled again. “Who do you think the DIA belongs to?”

  Emrick froze, his mouth poised to speak, but then he closed it again.

  “That’s the smartest thing you’ve done today,” Braun said before turning and leaving the small room. On his way out, his bodyguard jogged over to him.

  “The reporter is James Folger,” Patrick whispered, “with the Guardian.”

  Braun nodded. “Call BRE and get an active data mining job running on all of his communications over the last forty-eight hours… I want to know who he’s been talking to.”

  “Yes, sir,” Patrick replied.

  “And put a trace on the funds that Loeff stole from us,” he said, almost as an afterthought. “Even if we have to send assets out to interview the couriers.”

  “Yes, sir,” he said again.

  “We don’t have much time,” Braun said before Patrick walked away again.

  As he watched his bodyguard disappear around the corner, Braun felt a tug of excitement at the coming changes.

  I have to move the rest of Combine’s funds before the board chooses a new executive officer, Braun thought, smiling grimly. I wonder if they will allow me to carry out Spryte’s termination orders.

  A wave of arousal swept over Braun at the thought.

  **

  To be continued…

  Acknowledgments

  To my friend, Don Cooper, whose fount of wisdom seemed inexhaustible. I couldn’t have asked for a better friend. I will miss you every day for the rest of my life. And to Karen, who brought Don into my life. I love you both.

  I wish to, once again, thank my editor, Brenda Errichiello, for her continued efforts on my behalf. Her insights and keen eye have brought out a shining prize. Additionally, Melissa Manes swooped in at the last minute and offered her excellent editing services. She went from being a vocal fan to an integral part of the Harbinger project. Thank you, Melissa.

  To my wife, Diane—my Gretel—, who remains my greatest supporter. I wouldn’t have ever been able to bring this series to life without your constant and devoted efforts. Thank you.

  I'd also like to thank all of my beta readers and those who have given me feedback on the series, particularly Jon, Ralph, Kevin, James, Melissa, Charlotte, Mark from Down Under, Wendy, Bodo, and Linda. Your opinions and suggestions add to my growing understanding of this dynamic and memorable cast of characters.

  Thanks to Geoff, Bodo, Hülya and my beautiful Gretel for the help with the Deutschsprachigen. Like Scott, I know more than I let on, but only enough to get me in trouble. I’d be lost without my German speaking friends.

  For my cheerleaders and enthusiastic friends—particularly Trudy, Wendy N., Dom, J.C., David, and Ralph… Who needs a publicist with friends like you? Thank you for your vocal praise of the series.

  For my proofers…thanx a gazillion. I know it’s not easy cleaning up after me, but Brenda, Melissa, and Jan, you make me look good.

  And finally, as always, I'd like to thank our children…grown adults, all of you, with your own opinions and interpretation—thank you, Megan, Lauren, and Alex. I love you.

  Look for Scott Wolfe's return in

  Predator’s Game

  Books by S.L. Shelton:

  Hedged

  The Scott Wolfe Series:

  Waking Wolfe

  Unexpected Gaines

  Danger Close

  Wolfe Trap

  Harbinger

  Predator’s Game

  Splinter Self (Coming 2017)

  Back story: Lt. Marsh

  Follow S.L. Shelton at:

  wolfeauthor.wordpress.com

  www.goodreads.com/WolfeWriter

  facebook.com/SLShelton.Author

  SLShelton.com

  I hope you enjoyed reading Harbinger. If you did, I’d like to encourage you to post a review on Amazon and on www.goodreads.com. Feel free to contact me on Twitter if you have any questions or thoughts about the stories. I love hearing from my fans…you make this process a joy for me.

  Very best regards,

  S.L. Shelton

  Twitter: @SLSheltonAuthor

  excerpt from Predator’s Game

  February, 11th, 2011—National Naval Medical Center, Bethesda, Maryland (Eight days later)

  I hated hospitals.

  It might have been because of the disjointed memories I had of them when I was ten. Two years’ worth of hazy, broken, and frightening imagery can leave a negative impression on someone—or maybe I just hated hospitals because people went there to be sick or die. In either case, I was tense as I came through the service entrance and made my way to John Temple’s room.

  When I arrived on his floor, the first thing I noticed was the plain-clothes security guy at the other end of the hall. He was pretending to read a magazine, seated in a row of those familiar institutional chrome reception chairs. His sunglasses would let him keep a watchful eye on the hall without revealing that he wasn’t actually reading. Of course, he was still wearing sunglasses inside a dimly lit hospital.

  I lingered at the far end of the nurse’s station, watching John’s room for a moment. There was someone in there with him. Moving to keep out of the guard’s view, I sat in a chair on the other side of the counter so I could get a better look.

  Penny Rhodes!

  The woman who had quite possibly given Harbinger’s men the opening to the Farm and who’d suspiciously started working in John’s section right before Kathrin’s safe-house was blown, was hanging over John, speaking in a quiet voice.

  You can’t seriously be buying into her bullshit, can you, John?

  Then she leaned over and kissed him on the cheek.

  No. My heart contracted in my chest.

  She turned to leave and I pulled out my phone, putting it to my ear before turning my back to the corridor. When I turned to watch her pass, it looked as if she was wiping tears from her eyes.

  As soon as she turned the corner for the stairs, I walked toward John’s room. Instead of rising, sunglasses man whispered something into his collar. Two more men appeared—one from John’s room and the other from across the hall. Both wore street clothes and had suspicious lumps beneath their waist-length lightweight jackets.

  “Can we help you, sir?” said the one who had appeared from John’s room.

  I leaned forward to peek in, prompting him to raise his hand and the other guy to reach, almost imperceptibly, toward the weapon dangling beneath his denim jacket.

  “Wow!” I said. “Where were you guys last month when he needed you?”

  “Who’s there?” I heard John call from the other room.

  I kept my eyes on the two watchmen. “It’s me, John,” I said, hoping I wouldn’t have to say my name aloud.

  “Let him in,” John replied before the first guy moved aside.

  I walked past without another glance. When I entered the room, I was surprised to see John was out of bed, sitting in the chair next to his window.

  “Did you get all the way over there by yourself?” I aske
d as he turned.

  He grinned. “I had a little help. But yeah…mostly.”

  I walked around the bed with my hand extended. “It’s good to see you,” I said as he grasped my hand…weaker than normal. “The way Nick talked, I thought they had you on life support or something.”

  John chuckled as his guard walked back into the room. “Take a break,” John said to him. “And close the door on your way out.”

  “Yes, sir, captain,” the man replied and then did as ordered.

  I turned back to him, one eyebrow arched high. “Still calling you captain? You’ve been out for what…fifteen, sixteen years?”

  John tipped his wrist up and looked at his watch. “Oh…about thirty-five hours now.”

  “What?”

  John nodded and leaned forward. “Apparently, I had been prematurely discharged from the Navy,” he said in a hushed tone. “They discovered the error after my insurance company refused the claim on my house…gave me fifteen years of back pay to boot.”

  I burst out in laughter at the interesting abuse of bureaucratic position…no doubt on the part of the director. I shook my head.

  “Yep,” he added as he sat back. “My official retirement date was two days ago.”

  “It’s nice to know someone’s got your back,” I said, sitting on the edge of his bed.

  He nodded and then a worried crease settled between his eyebrows. “How are you?” he asked. “I heard that big guy did a number on you.”

  I wanted to answer honestly—that I was already healed and about to go hunting again, but then I’d have to explain how I’d recovered from my injuries so quickly. I wasn’t ready to have that conversation with him—especially since he was so cozy with Penny Rhodes.

  “A little better each day,” I lied. “I should be back up to full speed in a week or so.”

  He shook his head. “I’d forgotten how nice it is to be young and invincible,” he said as he looked back out the window. “Enjoy it while you can.”

  That sounded like self-pity…certainly well-earned but rather troubling nonetheless.