by Ronie Kendig
“You said your brother’s Neiothen. We could find him—”
“You’re going to China. After a man who is not my brother.”
Leif gritted his teeth, watching her rock-solid resolve slide into place.
“I have to return.”
He’d fought enough losing battles to know when to surrender. “Okay.” Then he huffed. “Fine.”
But he couldn’t fight the battle in his head that said, for them, this was the opening of a never-closing chasm.
CHAPTER 10
EN ROUTE TO BEIJING, CHINA
Civil disobedience had never been on his radar, but there were times when a man knew obeying orders wasn’t in the best interest of the collective whole. It was a fancy way of saying their rules sucked. Like a giant vacuum in space. Or a giant vacuum cleaner in space.
Cell had gone to great lengths to secure his promotion within the DIA/CIA team, to get out of the field so he didn’t see his friends die ever again. He’d had one dose too many of that pain.
And yet, here he was. Thirty-three thousand feet in the air, flying straight into another scenario that could leave him minus a few body parts, maybe even kill him or one—or all—of the seven other members of the team. That was why he’d named them Reaper. Because you couldn’t kill Death. Right?
Heading into communist China wasn’t exactly a vacation in the Caribbean. But they’d gotten wind of an event Kurofuji’s Chinese target was hosting and Reaper would infiltrate.
But back to the treason at hand.
He drew in a long breath and stifled it. Fisting his hands over the keyboard, he braced himself. Mercy was like none other—she could hack the best hackers. But she had ethics. A moral base that kept her this side of sexy. The notorious Mei did not. She was cruel and ruthless. Protecting Numero Uno was her soul conviction.
And she’d bought his soul.
Pressing his palms together, Cell touched his lips and stared at his laptop screen. Turbulence rattled it a little. Rattled him a lot. It was like a premonition, warning him not to do this.
He’d asked for help with the code names. The Book of the Wars had a series of code names written into its prophecy. Well, more like tucked in between the prophecies. They’d extracted the names, but it was like knowing the base code of computers was ones and zeros, but knowing nothing else. They had the letters, managed to compile them into the most probable order. Whoever had penned the cipher had foreseen that they weren’t as enlightened as many in today’s world believed and provided the letters in order. Otherwise there would’ve been a million different combinations. Not literally, but might as well have been.
So they had a list of names. Codes. And they’d only been able to match those to current identities. Three identities, to be exact. Nine code names. Three identities.
And therein lay the problem—the other six. Nobody named their kid Bushi. Well, he’d thought so until, upon searching, he discovered it was quite common.
So. Altogether, the book, though corrupted, had nine lines that contained code names. Therefore nine Neiothen. At least as far as the Book of the Wars and the falling-kings war was concerned. There could be more—a truckload more. Who knew? Due to the corruption and being unable to read them all, he’d made the connections slower than molasses in January.
But he still had to match the ones in the book to current names. And the military and intelligence branches complicated things by assigning their operatives or agents or officers—why were there so many terms?—unique names within their own communities.
Which meant Cell wasn’t just sorting out an ancient code name. He was having to find some variant of it within intelligence communities and somehow—it felt miraculous at times—match it to a living person.
“Because matching two sets of code names wasn’t confusing enough.”
Even that work hadn’t netted them all nine identities, just a lot of grief from the team and Dru, as well as accusations of slacking.
Great. Beautiful. What else was he supposed to do? How did he take the name Akin and sort the thousands of possible identities across the globe? Or Wu. Yeah, right. Wu who?
Cell sniggered at his inadvertent joke. But it was seriously messed up. There was only one recourse. He took his hunch and ran with it. If they were all warriors, it was possible they were connected to governments or militaries.
Then there was this very formidable queen of hacking named Mei. She never provided her last name, and good luck trying to track her down. Believed to have top-level clearance in some government, she’d saved many backsides and burned many others who asked for her help. Her services always came with a price: a person’s soul.
Okay, maybe just their job or entire bank account, but it felt the same.
Her price when he posted a Mei-Day for help?
Well, it was pretty freakin’ high. He had to give her all the intel he had gathered on the Neiothen, which could not only jeopardize the mission—what if she had ties to ArC?—but also his career or life. Maybe both. Especially when she realized he hadn’t given her everything. Because there was something and someone else he feared more. The thing he only allowed himself to refer to as “it.”
He couldn’t think about that, or he wouldn’t have the nerve to open the next packet. And they needed the names. Needed to track down the Neiothen.
Never in his job description when he’d re-upped had he seen “track down and neutralize psychotic sleeper killers written about in a thousands-year-old text.” And yet here he was. Staring at the screen doing just that.
You’re stalling.
Yeah, yeah. So what? If Iliescu found out . . .
Exactly. If he found out about it, they’d never get the names. Or at least, not in time to stop ArC.
Cell double-clicked the next packet.
A tone sounded—Mei’s signature, a sort of “the bell doth toll” thing. It reminded a person of the soul they were losing. This time, however, a darkly silhouetted head and shoulders appeared in the video. Ridiculous. Overkill.
“Here are the names connected to those codes,” a masked voice droned. “Do not send me the other names.”
You just want to scare me.
More like terrify. And it was working.
“These files are dangerous.” Even with the voice masking, he heard a thick Asian accent. “I have too much to protect and will not sacrifice it for you. So I’ve added a subroutine to this package.”
“No,” Cell muttered, grabbing his screen as if it were her shoulders.
“I cannot have this come back to me. I can’t risk it. So once the packet is opened, you will have forty-five seconds to record these names. Then they, along with your system, will be destroyed.”
No no no. Cell snatched up his laptop and ran down the gangway of the private jet to the briefing room. Grabbed pen and paper.
“I am sorry,” Mei went on, “but I must be sure you have not copied this to other drives or systems, so the program is already digging through and following every variant of this information. Any system with these names will crash, too.”
“Son of a biscuit!”
***
“What’s going on?” Leif stood in the door to the small briefing room aboard the transport, scowling at their harried comms expert.
Cell didn’t look up from the pad of paper as he feverishly scribbled. “Nothing.” He grunted, shaking his head. “Everything.” His gaze again hit his laptop, and he twitched away. Frozen, brow knotted, he stared at the screen as color drained from his face.
“Cell?”
Whatever he’d read made him seem ready to puke, and he lowered his head.
“I can get you a barf bag,” Leif offered as he slipped closer, eyeing the laptop.
Cell started mumbling. Though he hadn’t looked up, his gaze flickered back and forth, evidenced by the twitch of his eyelashes.
“Cell.” Leif leaned around him to see the screen.
Lightning-fast, Cell slapped his laptop shut. Straightened. Swall
owed. “It’s nothing. Just”—his blinking eyes weren’t focused—“ticked. I got hit with a Trojan.” He lifted his computer and the pad of paper. “Didn’t see it coming. System’s probably toast.”
“I can fix that,” Maddox said from the gangway.
“Not worth the time.” Cell bobbed his head toward Leif but didn’t meet his gaze. “Got a mission, remember? China.” His half-hearted attempt at a smirk failed. “I have to get on the horn and requisition a new system. ASAP.” He scurried out of the room.
It bugged Leif. He’d seen ticked before, and that wasn’t ticked. That was scared.
Arms folded, Maddox squinted after Cell. “He’s acting . . . odd.”
Leif nodded.
“Cell?” Lawe said with a grin as he pushed into the cramped quarters. “He’s always been odd.”
“Yeah, but not like that,” Maddox amended. “He’s Barc-odd, but not . . . weird-odd. Maybe I should—”
“Leave it,” Leif said and motioned to Saito and Culver. “Let’s group up.” They didn’t need to borrow trouble—there was plenty to go around right now. When Cell was ready to talk, they’d listen. “Let’s go over the plan for Beijing.”
“Since Cell’s laptop is fried, I’ll get mine,” Maddox said.
Five minutes later, the team assembled in the briefing room. Since Fuji had information on the executive of the defense ministry and the schematics to his home, he’d eliminated their guesswork on which location would be targeted. The executive’s summer residence was situated in the mountains, just outside a nature preserve. Heavily wooded. That both worked for and against them. For because most of Reaper were Caucasian and would be easily noticed in that private setting. Against because it was very hard to get a line of sight on anyone through trees.
“This summer residence used to be a lodge at a nature preserve, but it was gifted to General Chang,” Leif explained. “He doesn’t own it, but it’s his to use at will. It’s remote, yet not too remote—a perfect location to host a party for his wife’s birthday. They have armed security, as well as motion sensors. Lawe and Devine, intelligence suggests this spot”—he pointed to a location on the wall screen—“should give you the best vantage. However, if line of sight is obstructed, get where you need to be. You’ll have twenty-four hours to slip into position without being seen or tripping those sensors.”
Devine scanned the images, rubbing her lower lip, then nodded.
“We’ve learned that Chang requested a security assessment from local company Whole Solutions. Unfortunately that officer was exposed an hour ago for his involvement in a scandal. Saito will be replacing him. Maddox will pose as his date. Representing the company”—he indicated Saito—“Zhao Li will also have his security detail. Wise man that he is, he happens to have a few former American special operators on his payroll and will be taking this opportunity to show them off. That’d be me, Culver, and Baddar.”
“Nice,” Culver said. “Do we get a pay raise?”
“We get to live.” Leif eyed Cell. “You’ll be holed up in a security van. It’s tricked out so you can set up shop to keep tabs on us.”
“We’re going in wired?” Culver asked.
“Private encrypted channel. They’re expecting us to be wired, since we’re security contractors for Zhao,” Leif said, nodding to Saito. “Concerns, holes, or questions?”
“What will General Chang think about an Afghan commando working his property?” Baddar asked. “They ally with the Russians and are not very friendly with my people.”
To say the least.
“If he questions your integrity,” Saito said, his words suddenly heavy with a Chinese accent, “then he questions my honor. That is unacceptable.” He glanced around. “Where is my sword?”
Laughter tittered through the room.
“If things go ape in there,” Lawe said, “who do we shoot first?”
“We?” Devine eyed him, amused.
“It’s a team effort,” Lawe amended.
“Mm,” Devine demurred.
“Just don’t shoot us,” Culver snarked.
“The legitimacy of our presence on-site is delicate at best, so do not fire unless being fired upon,” Leif said. “Two hours till wheels down. We get in, find and stop Fuji, then exfil ASAP. This is a nightmare waiting to happen.”
CHAPTER 11
EN ROUTE TO BEIJING, CHINA
The team had spent the last hour going over scenarios, contingencies, placement, and throwing barbs at one another. Mercy slipped out of the briefing room to use the lavatory, and when she emerged, she caught sight of Barc in the seating area, head in his hands. She went to her satchel and drew out her tablet. No way could she hand over Natalia, her laptop. But she couldn’t stand to see him digitally handicapped. It was like he needed a pacifier to keep him happy.
She walked over to him and held it out.
He straightened and eyed the pad. Hesitated. “Thanks.” Though he took it, he didn’t access it. Didn’t even try.
“Okay, Barc,” she said, folding her arms and arching her eyebrow. “What happened?”
He snorted as if about to argue, then deflated and sighed. “I got stupid.”
“Got?” She couldn’t resist the taunt.
He almost smiled, but the heaviness lingering over him really bothered her.
“You do realize computers can be replaced, right?” she teased. “It’s really not the end of the world.”
“I don’t know,” he said. “We are, after all, trying to stop a group racing Armageddon. How much more end times can you get?” A shadow flickered through his face. “Never thought I’d see it, ya know? Where everyone wants to kill everyone. Where you can’t tell friend from foe.”
“Yo.” Mercy turned him toward her. She pointed to herself. “Friend. Say it with me—frieeeend.”
He squinted, his mind clearly not on her teasing. “Does it bother you that we’re digging for names just to go kill these people?”
“You’re Bruce Banner-ing me, Barc. I’m impressed, but I’m not going to date you.” When even that didn’t get a smirk, she eased down onto the seat next to him. “They’re killers. And they will kill unless we stop them. We’ll try to do that without lethal force, but Reaper is authorized and must use that force if necessary in order to stop this madness. They’re targeting one person, but we know better. It’s never just one person who gets injured. There’s fallout.”
Head back against the leather seat, he shook it. “I thought leaving the field would get me out of these situations.” Sorrow tightened his features. “I don’t like it, Merc. I don’t like what’s happening to”—his expression tightened—“the team. To us. This isn’t . . . I can’t . . .”
“Can’t what?”
He gave another quick shake of his head. “Never mind.” He roughed his hands over his face. “I did something really stupid.”
“You already said that.”
“But I didn’t say that I recruited Mei to help me with the code names.”
Mercy punched to her feet. Drew back her elbows. “You what?” Heart crashing against her ribs, she glowered at him. “You are not that stupid!”
“I couldn’t figure it out,” he admitted. “I—”
She slapped his arm.
“Look—”
She slapped his head. His arm again. Smacked him in a rapid-fire revolution.
Cell scampered out of his seat, covering his head. “Mercy, stop. Stop!”
She shoved him. “You are the biggest idiot. I cannot believe—Mei’s acid! She burns and kills everything. You cannot—how—augh!” She dug her fingers into her scalp and turned in a circle. “I knew you had some harebrained moments, but this—”
“Would you please just listen?”
“That—” She drew in a sharp breath. “She is why your system is fried!” Hand to her forehead, she paced. “Barc, how . . . why . . .”
“Because the code names in the Book of the Wars had no meaning. I followed a hunch, and it proved
right. Each code name is tied to another code name, which is current-day, modern. Military. With Mei’s help, I . . . made a connection. The worst of it is that she now also has the information.” Grief clawed his features. “And now she is in danger for helping me.”
Mercy widened her eyes. “She said that?”
Barc hesitated. “Not directly, but she came unglued in her last message. She’d promised to help—with her usual caveats—but this time she said no more.” He raised his hands in frustration. “I mean, not that it matters. Without the book, we can’t get the rest of the names anyway.” He let out a long, painful breath. “It scares me.”
“What? Being without a laptop?”
“No, being without the names,” he growled. “Without a way to get ahead of ArC—and we have to do that or we’re dead. Because they are some serious slag, ya know?” He looked like he’d eaten a bowl of pea soup.
Mercy touched the side of his face. “Where is my fun, quirky Barc?” It really worried her to see him like this. “You’re so serious.”
He pushed her hand away. Which was even more proof that something was seriously wrong. He never did that. Ever since they’d met, Barclay and his adorable, rule-abiding self had been champing at the bit for a chance to date her. They’d tried it, but . . . meh. Wasn’t right. Yet he never gave up.
That was it. Rule-abiding. And with Mei, he’d outright disobeyed Dru.
This was worse than she’d thought. What drove a man to violate his prime directive? To go where no man had gone before? And how did she pull him back from the dark side?
“This is quite the role reversal,” Mercy murmured. “You going against a direct order. Me sitting here wanting to slap you back in line.”
“You did slap me. A lot.”
“Apparently not enough.” She planted her hands on her hips. “What’s going on, Barc? There’s more. I can tell. It’s written all over your face.”
Surprise colored his cheeks. “It’s not fair.”