The Trusted

by Michelle Medhat

  Ross was in front of the safe when he felt a sharp tap on his shoulder. That’s it, he thought, somehow they’ve seen me make the switch. Ross knew hesitation would signal guilt. He’d already been sloppy in his reaction with Weitz; he wasn’t going to make the same mistake again. He sighed, annoyed at being interrupted, and turned quickly.

  “Yes? What is it?”

  “Excuse me, Dr. Whyte, I’d like to confirm the contents of the box. Open it please, sir.”

  Still maintaining the irritable scientist façade, Ross opened the box. His heart was thundering in his throat, so loud he thought the officer might pick up on the vibration. But the officer just peered inside. Satisfied that all the pieces were where they should be, he signaled for Ross to close it.

  “Thank you, sir. Please return the box to the safe, Dr. Whyte.”

  Ross nodded, opened the safe, and placed the box inside it. Closing the safe door, he heard a whirring noise as the time lock activated, a time lock that both he and the officer knew could only be deactivated by the president himself. Ross looked back at the officer.

  “All done. Now, if you wouldn’t mind…”

  “Of course, Dr. Whyte. Please continue with your work.”

  The officer returned to his team, and together, they dispersed from the lab, leaving Ross to his own business. With the pen and compound deep in his pocket, Ross walked briskly out of the lab. From the tests he’d carried out, he knew both the compound and pen’s materials did not register on any periodic table, and therefore, they couldn’t be identified by any scanners installed at the Blacksburg facility. Ross swiped his ID through security and left the lab, walking quickly but not hurrying.

  He got into his car and drove to the Taco Express on 8th off Main. Parking at the back, Ross shoved the compound into a bag and waited.

  He was going to get them back. That was all that mattered. His life didn’t count. He knew his career was over. Despite the situation, there would be consequences. The compound was essential to America’s future, and the president wouldn’t hear any bleating from him about his family being in danger. That his position in all this was intractable didn’t mean anything to President Treeborne. Compassion wasn’t in his DNA. He was a sociopath, immune to the emotions of others. But Ross didn’t care if he rotted in jail for treason. At least he’d have the assurance he’d saved his family.

  Chapter 64

  Operatives were dying across the world in a variety of painful ways and always at the hands of Al Nadir. Maide knew that. Some he’d even sent to their deaths, but he’d always kept aloof. They were just a combination of letters and numbers, ranks and grades, a string of competencies and capabilities. Nothing more. Single agents were the best, of course. They had no ties. But in a world of equality, he couldn’t demand for every operative to be single. Many of them were married with kids. Sometimes the wife or husband knew, but more often than not, they didn’t. That’s when things had to be handled carefully. Protocols were in place with procedures to ensure financial stability for the remaining partner and continuity of cover for the deceased. This all went on around Maide, and he remained immune to feeling anything. Their lives didn’t touch him. He was isolated.

  But with Kinley, it had been different.

  Perhaps it was because of the incredible risk they’d taken, the lives they had gambled away. Or maybe it was more than that. Maybe it was all just too close to him. Their little team, Ashton, Kinley, Sam and himself, they were going to change the world. They were going to bring down Al Nadir. It sounded ludicrous now. But then, four years ago, they all had the same belief, a true, pure belief, that they could do it.

  That was before the deaths started to pile up and the lies started to mount. Now where were they? The team was worn out and tired. Ashton was a showman pandering to the political game. Sam was a rebellious maverick. And Kinley, the man it had all revolved around, was dead. All they had tried to achieve was now, but a wish caught in the wind.

  Keeping Operation Snowdrop amongst the four of them had kept the chances of disclosure to a minimum. It had given them free reign to do whatever was necessary for success. But had they been too obsessed with the end game to see what they were really doing?

  Maide shuddered. Had they gone too far? Somehow, at the time, when they were in the thick of it, nothing seemed a step too far. It was all for the greater good, the ultimate goal. Bring down Salim Al Douri. No sacrifice was too great if they achieved it. They had all felt the same way. There had been a sense of unity in all of them to walk the dark path. Only now, that unity had gone.

  The conversation he’d had with Sam left him with no other option. They had made a pact of silence to never speak of Piccadilly or Snowdrop again. But Sam had broken that vow with cavalier disregard. Maide had to protect his secret and take the appropriate action if Sam was on the verge revealing it to anyone, most of all his wife. The surveillance worried him.

  Sam’s wife, she was now their biggest problem.

  He couldn’t discuss this with the PM. He had to keep Ashton clear and able to cry plausible denial. But Maide needed to express his concerns with someone who could take a clear, objective view. So he summoned Quentin Ludlow, the foreign secretary.

  As Maide spoke about Sam Noor’s insubordinate behavior in general terms, without specifics to Piccadilly, Quentin nodded and sucked on his cigar. It was clear the smoking ban hadn’t reached him. In their private location, public bans were meaningless. They were the government. They lived by their own rules.

  “But Sam isn’t the real problem, despite his recent behavior,” said Maide and he tensed momentarily before he composed himself.

  “So who is?”

  Maide looked pensive. He lit his cigar, puffed out, lent back, reached into his drawer, and took out a slim-line pen drive.

  “Remember Sarah Masters?”

  Quentin shot a look of fear at Maide as he spoke. That episode had been unbelievable.

  Chapter 65

  Two Years Earlier

  Michael Masters had been with MI6 for over fifteen years. He’d been married to Sarah Masters for twenty-two. They had been just like Sam and Ellie, very much in love. Sarah was the last person in the world to be considered a threat. Michael had been feeling a little under the weather when he’d told her. Just like Sam, he’d had enough of the lying. Michael had wanted Sarah to know. The confession was like a trigger. Something in her snapped. His training couldn’t protect him against his own wife. The attack was made even more sadistic by the place of death: their bedroom. Forensics showed they’d had sex minutes before the attack. Sarah’s prints were all over him and the murder weapon. She’d smashed his skull repeatedly with an ornate, pewter, bedside lamp. It was a wedding anniversary present to her from Michael.

  On the first blow, Michael would have been taken by surprise. Perhaps, he had been looking in the other direction. Shock would have disoriented him. His brain would have told him to react, protect, but the overriding emotions of the heart would have been at odds with taking defensive action against his own wife. He would have been confused for a second. The delay would have given Sarah her second window of attack. By the second blow, his skull would have caved in. By the third he would have been dead.

  The path lab report stated Michael had been hit at least twenty times, maybe twenty-two, a blow for every year of his marriage. It was an attack of frenzied insanity. Michael’s remains had been more liquid than solid. Hardened agents had retched on the spot. How a woman who claimed to have loved Michael could have done what she did to him, nobody could comprehend. After the murder, Sarah vanished. It was like she’d dropped off the world. All the traces came up negative. She was never brought to justice.

  They came to a logical but terrifying conclusion. Al Nadir had gotten to her.

  Chapter 66

  22 March, 2017

  The front door swung open silently, and Sam walked into their apartment. Ellie turned her head towards the door.

  “Hello, darling.” She
leapt up to welcome Sam with a passionate kiss.

  “How was-”

  Sam placed his finger to her lips, silencing her enthusiasm. He daggered her eyes with a raging single look. Ellie stepped back, afraid and full quizzical confusion. Sam grabbed her hand and pulled her roughly over to the desk in the study.

  Taking Ellie’s jotter pad, he picked up her pen and wrote, “Don’t speak. Flat bugged.”

  Ellie looked at Sam, her face drawn and terrified. Shaking slightly, she took the pen from Sam.

  “Who?”

  Sam took the pen and replied, “My people. Checking now.”

  Ellie watched as Sam reached inside his traveler bag, searched amongst his shirts, and brought out a little device no bigger than a square cigarette lighter. She’d never seen it before. It was silver colored with a plastic strip at the top, which resembled the infrared panel on a TV remote. He depressed two little metal teeth at either side of the device. A front panel lowered to reveal a small row of tiny rectangular buttons with a minute red to green scanning bar underneath. Sam pressed the tiny buttons swiftly and the panel lit up. The scanning bar flickered to green, and Sam began to sweep the apartment.

  In a daze, like a programmed automaton, Ellie followed Sam. Standing behind him while he scanned, she could only look on and admire Sam’s cool diligence. She didn’t know what to do. She was inadequate. Insignificant. His world was so different. She had no experience, no knowledge to help him.

  He said nothing, just kept scanning. His concentration was fixed on the little red/green bar. Nothing else mattered, not even her. Nothing detracted his absolute focus. Ellie could see that. She knew she was seeing her husband for the first time. This was the Sam Noor he’d kept hidden.

  Ellie opened her mouth to acknowledge her realization. In his peripheral vision, Sam saw the flicker of her mouth move. He grasped her arm tightly and placed his finger up to his lips. The cold anger in his eyes forced her silence. Ellie nodded reluctantly.

  Sam left her side and walked quickly into their bedroom. Ellie stepped in behind. She looked around. The unmade bed. Sheets curled and twisted. Faint impressions of their bodies. Evidence of their passionate intensity. It was all before her.

  She watched Sam scan with vigorous persistence, his face grave. What kind of sick bastards play a game like this? Ellie stared at the bed, and then at her husband sweeping across the air conditioning panels, and she wanted to be sick. Their precious, personal moments had been seen by others. It was nothing less than violation.

  Ellie ran to the bathroom, pushed her head into the toilet and retched. Turning on the tap, she cupped her hands and splashed cold water on her face. But her face didn’t feel cleansed. Shivering with indignation, Ellie returned to the lounge.

  She sat down. Her teeth chattered. Her knees knocked. It was like a force was shaking the life out of her. She couldn’t carry on like this. More revelations. More secrets. More lies. This nightmare rollercoaster would never end.

  She looked across the lounge. The door beckoned; the rush to leave was physical.

  Ellie was on her feet, her bag on her shoulder, before she knew what she was doing. She peered back into the apartment. Sam was still sweeping the bedroom. She turned back and moved slowly towards the door. One last look.

  Chapter 67

  Ross sat in the car with his hands on his thighs, grasping them to quell his panic. He hadn’t had any further proof of life, but he hoped the kidnappers would keep to their word.

  That’s all he had. Hope.

  At that moment, sitting in the car, smelling the Mexican fast food wafting out of the ventilator shaft in front of him, and waiting for someone to make contact, he had hardly any hope left.

  He thought of Zoe. Bile rose within him. He held down the urge to vomit. Had they done the same to Patsy? Oh my God!

  Who were they? How did they know about the quantum compound?

  Then, Ross realized, there was only one organization who could do what they’d done.

  Al Nadir.

  “Dr. Ross Whyte?”

  Ross span around on hearing the voice thick like molasses from the video. He cursed himself for being so lax. Ross never even heard the door open. He never felt anyone at all. He must’ve been so deep in thought to not hear. He felt foolish and exposed.

  “You have what I need?”

  Ross nodded. “It’s here in the bag. All of it.”

  The man opened the bag and saw the compound. “Where’s the pen?”

  Ross took the pen from his pocket and handed it to the man.

  “Kept them separate. Good thinking. Don’t want to attract attention, do we? Al Nadir thanks you for your diligence.”

  So his theory was right. They were Al Nadir.

  Ross took in the man settled beside him. He was an everyday-looking, middle-aged, typically American kind of guy complete with beer gut, Red Sox t-shirt, faded jacket, jeans and a baseball cap. Ross wouldn’t have given him a second glance. He didn’t look the stereotypical terrorist. But that was always it with Al Nadir. They had broken the mold, and the archetypical terrorist of yesteryear no longer played a role in their new order.

  The man smiled and pocketed the pen inside his jacket.

  “My family! I’ve done what you asked. Now return my family.”

  Ross kept his voice measured and quiet. He didn’t want to appear too forceful. Nor did he want to agitate or annoy the terrorist.

  “My, you’re a demanding guy, aren’t you? Surely you expect us to test this first.”

  Ross looked startled, and then his calmness slipped away as he remembered his family, terrified and in pain. And Zoe. What they’d done. His unbridled anger took over.

  “Listen, you bastard! I’ve done everything you asked. Now give me back my family.”

  The man listened and smiled, as if a toddler was having a tantrum.

  “Just a second.”

  He waggled his finger with some condescension at Ross. Then, slowly, he brought the compound and pen together. On contact, the compound lit up, shining brilliant light into the car.

  “Well, Dr. Whyte, it seems you have, indeed, delivered.”

  “So, my family? They’ll be returned? I’ll see them today?” The desperation in his voice couldn’t be shielded.

  “Why, of course, Dr. Whyte. You’ll see your family. You’ll see them very soon.”

  Ross smiled in relief.

  “Oh, yeah, I’d say you’ll be with them real soon. Look.”

  The man held up the live feed on his phone to show Dr. Whyte his family. Ross watched as the blindfolds were taken off and they looked into the camera.

  “You’re all gonna be together,” drawled molasses-voiced man.

  At that point, a man came into the picture and blasted the son, the daughter and, finally, the wife. Clear, clean shots straight to the head. Ross screamed out and grabbed at the phone.

  On the other side of the car, a new man arrived, raised his hand and shot Ross in the head.

  “Like I said, all together real soon,” repeated molasses-voiced man coldly as he got out of the car.

  Chapter 68

  It was obvious Treeborne would never be able to keep the quantum compound bomb. His need to tell everyone how wonderful he was, and how he was ‘saving the planet’, coupled with his insatiable sexual appetite, meant the days of the bomb in Treeborne’s hands were going to be very few.

  Aswa-da queried the Observation Screen on ‘quantum bomb’, ‘Earth March 22, 2017’ and ‘President Treeborne’. The inherent analytics within the sentient crystals propelled different instances onto the Screen.

  A White House aide that was in the pocket of Al Nadir got wind of the new weapon. Aswa-da watched Salim Al Douri receiving the news. His handsome, chiseled face descended into a homicidal mask of rage. He screamed like an insanely petulant child that he ‘had to have the weapon’.

  Aswa-da followed Salim’s actions. The woman who’d delivered the message slipped into view. Tall with dark hair flowi
ng and bright but menacing black eyes, she tried to placate Salim’s ravings. She was Salim’s number two, Sabena Sanantoni.

  “Babes, we’ll find out what it is,” said Sabena, adopting a gentle, soothing tone.

  “Those motherfuckers in the US can’t get the edge on me now. That’s not possible. What did our asset say again? A bomb of unthinkable capability. It could take all our bases out in one hit. Is that what that fucker Treeborne is planning to do? Is that prick Ashton behind him? I’ve got to know, Sabena. I can’t be out like this. They’re planning to take me down. I’m not going to sit around and watch them do it.” Salim was spitting words like bullets. His handsome face reddened, and his eyes grew wide as his anger increased.

  “Salim, darling, we’ll find out what it is they’ve got, and we’ll take it from them.”

  Sabena draped her arms around Al Douri’s shaking body. Aswa-da watched as she calmed Salim with her words and touch. Her lips dropped down to his neck and she started to kiss him. In parallel, her hands wandered down between his legs and she cupped him with aggressive passion.

  “Listen, Salim. No-one fucks with my man. Leave it to me. I’ll get you the weapon. I promise.”

  “I’ve got to have it, babes. I’ve got to,” muttered Salim impatiently, moving in close to Sabena. Then he grasped her waist tight, staring at her with vicious obsession. “See to it. Use everything you’ve got. Take it from Treeborne. Bring it to me. I need it. Like I need you.”

  Salim’s lips dropped onto Sabena slightly open mouth and he thrust his tongue inside, fiercely pressing down and almost suffocating her. Sabena’s eyes dilated. Far from showing fear, Aswa-da knew, she loved every savage second.

  Another instant in the Observation Screen query brought up Sabena on a mission in Dallas. She was in disguise using Hans Stein-Muller’s meta-material face cream made of nano-bots that could change her facial structure externally. It effectively created a cloak of her real face and masked it with the newly programmed one.