No Man's Land

by David Baldacci

  “From a long time ago?” asked Puller.

  Rogers glanced up at him.

  Puller said, “I think she also tried to kill you. I mean very recently. At the Grunt.”

  Rogers kept his gaze on Puller.

  “Those guys who attacked the bar? I don’t see them doing what they did that night unless they were paid to do it. And the only thing worth killing there was you.”

  Rogers eyed him suspiciously. “Why do you care?”

  “We know about the four women who were killed,” said Knox. “And their bodies buried around this area.”

  “Five,” said Rogers. “It was five women, not four.”

  Puller went rigid and Knox gave him a nervous glance.

  “Five?” said Knox. “But only four bodies were ever discovered.”

  “They took her. They took the fifth one.”

  “Where was this?” asked Puller.

  “Fort Monroe.”

  “Who took her?” asked Knox.

  “Them! They took her.”

  “Did you kill those women?” asked Knox.

  Rogers said nothing. He just sat there taking measured breaths, his head bowed, his hands clasped in front of him.

  “Did you know that her name was Jackie Puller?” asked Knox. “The fifth person that was killed?”

  Rogers looked at her from under hooded eyes. “No, it wasn’t.”

  Puller stiffened some more and then relaxed. “Then who was it?” he asked. “What was her name?”

  “Audrey Moore.”

  “Why did you kill her?” asked Puller.

  “Who said I did?” Rogers said sharply.

  “Assuming that you did, would it have been random?”

  Rogers started to rub the spot on his head again.

  Puller licked his lips and said, “Do you know what happened to Jackie Puller?”

  “She has your last name. Who was she to you?”

  “My mother.”

  “None of the women were mothers.”

  “In my wallet there’s a picture of her from the investigation file. Can you look and tell me if you ever saw her around here?”

  “Why do you think I care?”

  “Will you just please do it? Please?”

  Rogers stared at him for a few moments and then took the damp wallet out and found the picture.

  “Do you remember her?” asked Puller.

  Rogers put the picture back into the wallet and stuffed it back into Puller’s jacket. “I never saw her. And I would have remembered her.”

  Puller gave an imperceptible sigh of relief. “So these other women worked with you?”

  Rogers said nothing.

  Puller said, “This was three decades ago. Why are you back here now?”

  “Unfinished business.”

  “Claire Jericho?”

  “Unfinished business.”

  “We’re not working with her. If anything, we’re working against her.”

  “But you’re also looking into the murders of those women.”

  “Did you kill them?” Puller asked.

  Rogers rose. “I need to decide what to do with you two. But no decision is going to turn out right for you.”

  “So you saved us to kill us?” asked Knox. “How does that make sense?”

  “You think any of this is supposed to make sense?” Rogers paused. “Was Jericho really in Building Q tonight?”

  “Yes,” replied Puller.

  “And she tried to kill you?”

  “Yes. But I doubt there’s any way we can prove she hacked into my car’s computer.”

  Knox said, “What did they do to you, Paul?”

  “Why do you give a fuck?” snarled Rogers.

  “It’s our job to give a fuck,” barked Puller.

  Rogers rubbed the back of his head again. “I…I was the test.”

  “The test? For a super soldier thirty years ago?”

  Rogers nodded dumbly.

  “Was Jericho in charge of the program?” asked Knox.

  Rogers shook his head. “Not technically. It was Chris Ballard’s company.”

  Knox said, “I know that name, Ballard. He’s retired now.”

  “To the Outer Banks in North Carolina. Big mansion on the beach.” Rogers paused and then added, “He’s dead. Or he should be.”

  They both looked at him, startled. “Why do you say that?” asked Puller.

  “Because I threw him out a window four stories up. But then he came back to life.”

  Puller glanced at Knox, who was staring at Rogers, her face drawn in concern.

  Rogers saw her look. “I’m not screwed in the head, lady. It couldn’t have been the same guy, of course. But another guy who looked like the one I killed was out on the beach the next day. I don’t know what the hell is going on.”

  “Why did you go there? And why did you throw who you thought was Ballard out a window?” asked Puller.

  “To get information on Jericho. And when he told me squat I chucked him out the window. He deserved it after what they did to me.”

  “Why didn’t you just leave the test program?” asked Knox.

  “You think I had that option? I was a prisoner.”

  “But you did eventually get away,” pointed out Puller.

  Rogers nodded. “I planned it for months. They never saw it coming. See, they built me too good. They didn’t figure in cunning and my ability to lie. They gave me that and I used it against them.”

  “So they messed with your mind too?” said Knox.

  “They messed with everything. You know how strong I am. But that was nothing compared to what they did up here.” He tapped his head.

  “How so?”

  In answer Rogers picked up a screwdriver from a can on the shelf, placed the tip against the palm of his hand, and pushed it in. Blood spurted out as the tip disappeared into his hand. He gave no reaction.

  Puller eyed him. “They took away your ability to feel pain.”

  “They took away everything that made me human.”

  Puller said slowly, “They made you…the perfect killing machine.”

  “Only they forgot that your target might not always be the enemy,” said Knox breathlessly.

  “My enemy became whoever was in front of me,” said Rogers dully. “I had no control over it.”

  “Josh Quentin works for Atalanta Group. That’s Jericho’s new company. It’s in Building Q.”

  “I got in Building Q the other night. Climbed one of the walls up to the top.”

  “How the hell did you do that?”

  “I’m just strong. And I have artificial skin on my palms and fingers, and on the bottoms of my feet, so I can dig into whatever I’m climbing.”

  Knox exclaimed, “Why doesn’t anyone know about any of this?”

  “Because four, or rather five, women died,” said Puller. “So they buried it.”

  The next instant the jolt of pain hit Rogers so fiercely he bent over and threw up. He staggered back, clawing at his torso.

  “Paul, what’s wrong?’ shouted Puller. “Can you cut us loose? We can try to help you.”

  Rogers tore at his clothes, ripping them off his body until he stood before them in only his skivvies. Both Puller and Knox stared at the hideous scars up and down his body.

  “Omigod,” exclaimed Knox.

  Rogers was bent double by the agony. He tore at his head, pulling a hunk of his scalp free. Blood poured down his face.

  He looked up at them.

  “They did that to you?” asked Puller, eyeing the scars.

  Rogers moaned, leapt over them, and threw open the back doors of the van. First he picked up Knox and hurled her through the opening. Then he did the same with Puller. They rolled and tumbled before coming to rest still bound tightly and groaning in pain.

  When Puller managed to look back the van had started up. The next instant he heard tires squealing. The van roared off, turned a corner, and was gone.

  Chapter

 
55

  KNOX WAS FALLING through open space, so fast that she knew she would die as soon as she hit something solid. It was not survivable. This was it.

  She opened her eyes and saw Puller staring down at her.

  “What the hell?” she managed to say in a garbled voice.

  He held up his Ka-Bar knife. “Lucky I was able to reach this.”

  He helped her up.

  “Where are we?” asked Knox.

  “Not sure.” He pulled out his phone. “But let’s see.”

  “It still works?”

  “Waterproof,” he said, hitting some keys.

  “Williamsburg is a mile that way,” he said, pointing to his left.

  They started walking in that direction.

  “Should we call somebody, let them know what happened?” asked Knox groggily.

  “Who exactly would that be?”

  She looked at him. “I…I guess you’re right.” She glanced back over her shoulder. “Paul was…it was so terrible, Puller.”

  “They screwed with his brain so he could kill and not feel bad about it.”

  “You mean they made him a monster.”

  “But the monster didn’t kill us. He saved us.”

  “So he could get information.”

  “He got information and he still let us live.”

  She nodded slowly. “Does that mean the mind control thing they built into him is wearing off?”

  “I think more likely that whoever Paul was before is reasserting itself.”

  “So what do we do now?”

  “Clearly Jericho tried to kill us tonight. She’s afraid of what we might find out. So I say we keep working to justify that fear.”

  “She may not know that we’re alive.”

  “That’s right.”

  Puller’s phone buzzed. It was a text. From his brother.

  In all caps it said, CALL THIS NUMBER NOW. NO MONITOR. BTW RICKY STACK HAD NO CHANCE.

  Knox was looking at the screen. “Who is Ricky Stack?”

  “The biggest kid in third grade who tried to take my lunch.”

  “What happened?”

  “He learned the error of his ways. That’s Bobby’s way of confirming that it’s him on the other end of the text.”

  He called the number as they walked along. His brother answered on the first ring.

  “Are you okay, Junior?” he asked immediately.

  “Why wouldn’t I be?”

  “Because three hours ago an unauthorized use of a DoD satellite was made in Hampton, near Fort Monroe. In fact on the grounds of Fort Monroe. That was too much of a coincidence for me.”

  “So that’s how they took over the car.”

  “Come again?”

  Puller quickly explained what had happened.

  “Claire Jericho,” Robert said in a hushed tone.

  “You know her?”

  “I know of her. She’s at the very highest levels, John. I mean, she meets with the Joint Chiefs. She goes to the Oval Office. I’ve heard her lecture. She’s brilliant. Beyond brilliant. Once-in-a-generation intellect.”

  “She’s also a monster, Bobby.”

  “How so?”

  “Are you sure there’s no one monitoring this?”

  “I’ve bounced this signal off so many pieces of sky hardware and encrypted it to such an insane degree that I’m surprised we can even understand each other.”

  “Okay.” Puller took five minutes to tell him about Paul. When he was done his brother was silent for so long that Puller was afraid someone had intercepted the call and taken his brother away.

  “John, this is not good.”

  “Tell me something I don’t know. The thing is the women that were killed? I think they all helped build Paul. And this last victim, Audrey Moore, I’m sure will have the same sort of connection.”

  “So he killed them in retaliation?”

  “I’m sure he would have loved to kill Jericho, but he probably couldn’t get to her. The five women were the next best thing.”

  “Jesus,” said Robert. “Talk about guilt by association.”

  “Bobby, if this Jericho is such a rock star, how come Knox and I have never heard of her?”

  “She wants it that way. Even when she comes out and speaks it’s only to a select few. No publicity at all. She’s always in the background. She has people run the companies she ostensibly works for.”

  “Like Chris Ballard thirty years ago and Josh Quentin with Atalanta Group now?”

  “I know about Ballard, and I know a little about Atalanta Group. I don’t know Quentin.”

  “Well, Quentin is passing government secrets to a bar owner in Hampton. And she’s passing them on to some French-speaking guy in Williamsburg.”

  “What?” exclaimed Robert. “Do you have proof?”

  “I have pictures. I can send them to you. Maybe you can run this French guy down. Knox was going to try, but you might have a better shot.”

  “What sort of government secrets?”

  “I’ll send you the screen shots I took. Knox says it looks like it has to do with cell mutation and organ regeneration.”