Demon Mind (Vector Book 2)

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Demon Mind (Vector Book 2) Page 6

by Anthony J Melchiorri


  And then, when the image stabilized again, no one moved. Fire danced over the prayer rugs and even the clothes of the men. They did nothing to stop it.

  “What is going on?” Kasim asked, horrified.

  Weber closed the laptop. “I have no idea. But I have more videos like this from around Syria. A few from Iraq and even in Lebanon. Sometimes people go crazy. Aggressive. Other times, they just freeze like this, as if their minds were turned off.”

  “Could this be a nerve agent?”

  “I’ve never seen anything like it.”

  “It seems like there are two separate weapons being used,” Kasim said. “One that makes people violent. Like the advanced stages of rabies. Another that paralyzes them.”

  “I’m not so sure.”

  “Two different reactions caused by the same weapon?”

  She lifted a shoulder, clearly unwilling to speculate. Weber preferred hard facts.

  “Do you know any weapons that could do something that even remotely looks like this?” Kasim asked.

  “Maybe, like you said, it’s an engineered rabies virus. Or an advanced nerve agent. But I don’t have anything in our databases that makes people act like that.” Weber gestured at the computer screen where a paused video showed the massacre at the mosque.

  “Keep gathering these cases,” Kasim said. “This must be part of a larger terror campaign. Based off the geographic spread, it could be former elements of ISIS.”

  “But some are from Lebanon,” Weber said. “It could just as easily be Hezbollah or Hamas.”

  “True.” Kasim pointed to her laptop. “If this is the weapon Ballard was tracking, then we’re already too late to stop its sale. But I have a feeling these small attacks are just the beginning. A weapon that can alter people like this has terrifying potential. We’ve got to find whoever’s responsible and stop them.”

  Weber picked up her laptop. “I’ll look through all the old research literature and reports from classified weapons again to see if I can find anything to point us in the right direction.”

  The scientist was a thorough researcher. If she hadn’t found anything yet to explain the videos she’d shown Kasim, he doubted she would on a second glance.

  That meant, unless they miraculously stumbled on a clue that told them exactly what this weapon was and how it worked, there were only a handful of other people in the world who might be able to stop this evolving menace.

  It was all up to Wolfe, Cruz, and a single unnamed, potentially unreliable asset in Amman.

  Amman, Jordan

  Skylar was armed with a sniper rifle in a hotel about a half of a kilometer away from the Amman Citadel. Kasim had worked some shady contacts in Jordan to procure the hardware. Given the citadel’s height above the sprawling city, there was nowhere she could get a full view of the top of the hill. But from the room where she had set up, she could at least cover most of the south-facing grounds. Not optimal, but when your stomach was growling and the E-1 working the slop line gave you shit sandwiches, you ate them because it was the best you could get.

  She watched Alex advance past a low-lying stone wall that took him to a crumbling structure she recognized from the map of the citadel.

  The Temple of Heracles.

  All that remained of the temple was a few columns. The rest had fallen or broken in half decades ago. The foundations of other ruined buildings filled the hilltop around the temple, along with a museum, mosque, palace, and a stone wall that surrounded the complex.

  People trickled in and out of the buildings. A group of children kicked around a soccer ball. It slammed against a column. She cringed. If she had pulled that kind of crap when her parents took her to Gettysburg or any of the other historical sites her academic dad dragged her to as a kid, they would’ve made it so she couldn’t sit comfortably on her butt for a week. Her dad taught her to respect history, especially the kind he told her “made America what it is today.”

  And this place obviously had some historical significance to Jordan. Maybe she’d read up on it later.

  Nah, who was she kidding?

  But still, she was impressed. If she ignored the tourists—and Alex—she could almost imagine the ancient civilization that had thrived on the hilltop thousands of years ago.

  She watched a few tour guides beckon to Alex, offering their services. He gave them friendly but dismissive waves.

  She had wanted to be down there too. They had considered having her run security on the historic grounds instead of being perched up here. But Alex hadn’t wanted to spook Ballard’s asset. He was feeling extra cautious after how they’d almost run the guy off on the phone.

  Alex was approaching the edge of her sight line, headed toward the domed Byzantine church.

  “Vector Two, any potential contacts?” he asked over the comms.

  She scanned the faces in her sight lines. Local families picnicking. Tourists taking pictures. Couple of security guards with their eyes drooping closed. “Plenty of contacts but none screaming ‘spy.’ At least, not that I can see.”

  The northern side of the citadel was frustratingly out of view. If she had been flying a drone or, hell, her old Bell AH-1 SuperCobra, it would have been a metric crap-ton easier to watch Alex’s back. Right now, she felt as useless as a parachute made of concrete.

  That was probably one of the reasons why Ballard’s asset had chosen this place. There was also only one entrance and exit manned by security guards.

  If Alex ran into trouble, it had to happen where she could see it… or her partner was on his own.

  She drew her scope back to the entrance. Security guards by the gates chatted with the tour guides. Judging by the rifles strapped over their chests, if trouble did show its ugly maw, these guys were prepared to respond.

  But was that what this mission had come to? Hoping some random guards would be able to save Alex if she couldn’t? If one thing had been drilled into her mind in the Marines, it was that you never left a brother to skip into the field of fire alone.

  “Vector One, it would be a lot easier to watch your back if I could, you know, actually watch your back,” Skylar said. “I can pack it up and move.”

  “Hold tight,” Alex said. “Last thing I want to do is scare off our contact.”

  “And last thing I want is for you to end up with a bullet in the back of your skull while I twiddle my thumbs.”

  “Then don’t twiddle your thumbs.”

  “Damn it. I’m serious.”

  “Keep your eyes open,” Alex replied in a cool voice. “That’s all you can do.”

  She dragged her scope over the crowds, searching for someone, anyone that looked out of place. Skylar focused for a second on a bearded man taking a long drag on a cigarette. He seemed shifty—or maybe she was just paranoid.

  Suddenly the scratchy sound of a voice booming over a megaphone blared into her hotel room. She leaned away from the scope.

  More voices joined in.

  Salat time, Skylar realized.

  Muezzins were announcing the evening Azan, the call to prayer, from the minarets of mosques across the city. Their calls collided like waves rolling over the shore.

  The time for prayer marked when the asset had planned to meet Alex.

  Skylar did her best to let the sound wash past her. She focused on the narrow world through her scope again. Her aim bounced from face to face. She wanted to see just one person starting to stand. Starting to head toward Alex.

  Someone that might be their target.

  Come on. Where are you?

  Then she spotted a guy seated just beyond the museum at a bench under a wizened, leafless tree. Mid- to late fifties. Gray mustache. An unbuttoned suit jacket over a white, sweat-soaked shirt tucked into black slacks and a red tie curving over his belly. He flicked a cigarette butt to the dirt and ground it out with his heel.

  Before that cigarette was even smashed into the soil, he already had another lit and poking from the corner of his mouth. Sweat trickled from
his receding hairline.

  It was warm out. But this guy looked especially sweaty. Nervous. Just like that virgin at the strip joint.

  Bingo.

  -6-

  Alex paused near the museum. The maghrib—or sunset—call to prayer still rang out around the city, echoing off the buildings. Panes of orange light bled over the citadel grounds, the shadows of buildings and people stretching. Gulls squawked and circled the citadel, swooping low.

  “Vector One, possible contact at the bench near your position,” Skylar called. “Thirty yards to your northeast. Under the dead tree.”

  Alex turned toward the direction Skylar indicated. Right away, he spotted the target. The guy’s head swiveled back and forth like he was trying to unscrew it.

  He didn’t look dangerous. Nor did he carry that air of calm confidence Alex might expect from a man who knew his tradecraft. Instead, this guy looked like a mouse that wanted an owl to swoop down and carry him away.

  “Vector, got a hit,” Morris said over the comms. “Yosef Jaber. The dude is an administrator in Jordan’s Customs Department.”

  “Copy,” Alex said.

  He gave a final look at the crowd. There were at least a good thirty, maybe forty people around him. None looked as promising as the man Skylar had spotted.

  Alex strode toward Jaber. The guy had a big gold watch around his wrist—Cartier, Alex judged—and the tailored, albeit untidy, clothes gave him the air of a government administrator who was more than satisfied to sit at his desk and make a little extra cash by looking the other way at the right time.

  Alex had seen the type before. It didn’t matter which country they came from. Unlike the other government workers proudly supporting their country, doing their best to contribute to something bigger than themselves, these people snuck into positions with just enough power to make sure dirty money found its way into their pockets.

  Jaber locked eyes with Alex when he was only five yards away.

  “May I?” Alex asked, gesturing to the empty space on the bench.

  “I was saving the spot for a friend,” Jaber answered, cigarette between his lips.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” Alex said. Might as well test him. “Would that be Mr. Ballard?”

  The color drained from Jaber’s face, and Alex watched his Adam’s apple bob. The guy tried to loosen his tie and play off his shock.

  Too late.

  He’d already revealed himself.

  Alex sat.

  “You are…” Jaber began. The man’s eyes searched the other people wandering around the citadel.

  Alex wondered if he was looking for backup. Waiting to spring a trap, maybe.

  His heart thudded heavily against his ribs. He felt the adrenaline ready to surge through him like greyhounds at the starting gates.

  “I’m the guy you talked to last night, Yosef,” Alex began. Jaber reeled backward like he’d been slapped in the face. “Yes, I know who you are.”

  “But… Ballard told you.”

  “No, he didn’t. I’ve got my means.”

  Jaber straightened. “Did you come to kill me? To arrest me?”

  “You don’t seriously believe that, do you?” Alex asked. “If you did, why would you be here today?”

  “I wanted to make sure…” Jaber began. “No one can know about the arrangement I had with Ballard. You must understand, my life depends on it. I have a son, fourteen. He cannot be hurt.”

  “You have my word,” Alex said.

  “Your word isn’t enough.”

  Jaber pulled his suit jacket open just enough to reveal a pistol stuck in his waistband.

  “Vector One, did he just flash you a weapon?” Skylar asked.

  She could hear the conversation over Alex’s mic, but she missed the nonverbal cues. There was a single click on the comms. That was Alex subtly tapping his mic to indicate an affirmative.

  Nobody threatened her partner. She kept her scope firmly centered on Jaber’s belly. She traced the aiming reticles up, pretending like she was slicing a knife right through the fool.

  “Sure you don’t want me to take his skull off?” she asked, zooming in on the guy’s wrinkled forehead.

  Two clicks.

  That meant no.

  She didn’t move her aim. If Jaber tried to pull something, she would turn that wrinkly piece of garbage the guy called a brain into gull food.

  “I’m not here to hurt you,” Alex said calmly to Jaber. “I want to know what happened to Ballard.”

  “You don’t know where he is?”

  “What can you tell me about the last time you had contact with him?”

  “You didn’t answer my question,” Jaber said.

  “Answer mine first.”

  “Why?”

  “Clearly you came here for a reason. Either you fear for your life or you’re tempted by the promise of a payday.”

  Jaber was silent.

  “Maybe both,” Alex added.

  Jaber adjusted his jacket and buttoned it. Fabric looked like it was straining against the man’s paunch, but Skylar took that as a sign he was willing to cooperate. The threat of the gun was nothing but a bluff.

  Alex was right. He wanted something. Bad.

  She surveyed the people surrounding the area again while her partner worked.

  “Talk,” Alex said. “Or whatever money, whatever security Ballard promised you, it’s all off the table.”

  “But my—”

  “Talk.”

  “The last time I spoke with him was nearly a month ago,” Jaber said.

  “What did you talk about?”

  Jaber hesitated. “I don’t know if I can tell you.”

  This guy was impossible. Skylar wanted to climb up there herself, reach into the back of his throat, and drag every word from his mouth. She didn’t know how Alex kept so patient.

  “You have to tell me,” Alex said. “That’s the only way out of this situation for you.”

  Alex waited for the man to talk, but Jaber said nothing for a few seconds.

  “Will you make me ask for every single detail?” Alex asked. “I can’t protect you. I can’t pay you if you don’t help me help you. Think about your damn son, Jaber.”

  Ah, there was the crack in his patience. The slight heat of anger tremoring in his voice. Not such a perfect Boy Scout after all.

  “This information will jeopardize my life,” Jaber said.

  Alex’s voice went low. “Not talking is jeopardizing your life.”

  “I provided Ballard information,” Jaber said. “That’s all.”

  “What kind of information?”

  “There are others in my organization that make it easier for people to smuggle weapons, drugs, and goods across our borders. Do you understand?”

  “Let me guess. Those people pay you off so you don’t report them.”

  “Yes,” Jaber said. He sounded weak. “And I had an arrangement with Ballard. I would leave him a new cell phone when I heard about shipments from these people.”

  Skylar saw a pair of men looking Alex and Jaber’s direction. The two men stood and slowly started down a dirt path toward the bench.

  Each had a slight bulge under their jackets.

  Not a good sign.

  “Vector One, two contacts headed your way,” she said. “They don’t look like they want to picnic.”

  One click on the mic.

  Then she did another sweep and cursed.

  “Vector One, I got two security guards peeling away from the front gate too,” she said, still searching across the grounds. “Maybe it’s a coincidence, but I’m seeing three guys closing in from the northwest too, headed up from the palace.”

  Another click on the mic.

  “Oh, son of a… Two more knuckle draggers from your southwest. You and Jaber need to leave. Now.”

  “Did you come alone?” Alex asked Jaber.

  “Yes.

  Alex stared at him, saying nothing.

  “I am telling you the truth.
No one but Ballard and I knew about our arrangement.”

  “Then can you tell me why the security guards are headed our way? Or those men by the temple and the others from the mosque?”

  Jaber shrank into the bench. He stuffed his hand under his jacket as if to draw his pistol. Alex placed his hand over Jaber’s arm and tightened his fingers.

  “Stop looking so suspicious,” Alex said. “Calm down.”

  “You brought these people here!”

  Jaber wasn’t the type to get nominated for any Oscars, so Alex believed the panicked look on his face. Whoever these people were coming to crash their party, they weren’t Jaber’s doing.

  “Did someone follow you here?” Alex asked.

  “I don’t think so,” Jaber said.

  “You don’t know?”

  “I… look, no one has bothered me since Ballard disappeared, and then you show up and—”

  “We need to move,” Alex said. “Come with me. Stay calm and walk normally.”

  The man was still sweating bullets, and his cheeks were red. His acting skills weren’t getting any better with Alex’s coaching.

  “I said walk normally,” Alex repeated.

  Jaber’s bottom lip quivered.

  “All nine of your new friends will be on your position in seconds.” Skylar said over the comms.

  Alex could see the two security guards headed toward them from the visitors’ entrance. From his periphery, he saw the shapes of the others moving in from the temple. Without making it obvious, he couldn’t look back at the other men advancing from behind.

  “We’re going to need to get off the citadel and find a new spot to talk,” Alex said. “Understood?”

  Jaber managed a nod.

  “Vector Two, do we have a clear exfil?” Alex asked.

  Jaber shot him a scornful look. “I thought you said you came alone.”

  “I did,” Alex said. “I just happen to have friends in high places. Now you want to ask more questions, or you want to live?”

  Skylar’s voice came over the comms next. “I don’t see another good way out except the gate.”

  “Gate it is,” Alex said, making a beeline for it.

 

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