The Genesis Cypher (Warner & Lopez Book 6)

by Dean Crawford

  ‘What kind of experiments?’ Lopez asked in an ominous tone.

  ‘The kind you or I wouldn’t want to be involved in. Hellerman will brief you in detail, but what we have on the chatter picked up by the NSA appears to concern something called Deep Trans Cranial Stimulation.’

  ‘I’ve heard of that,’ Ethan said, ‘electrodes placed around the skull to create electrical discharges used to improve memory, heal certain neurological disorders, that kind of thing.’

  ‘In a medical setting, yes,’ Nellis agreed, ‘but the chatter we’ve picked up from the Russians seems to suggest that they’ve been having some success in using this form of stimulation to provoke seizures in patients, during which those patients experience visions of the future.’

  ‘Seizures?’ Lopez echoed. ‘You mean Ivan’s taken to making people ill in order to get ahead of the United States?’

  ‘We’ve done similar things,’ Nellis reminded her. ‘One of your own investigations unveiled the case of the CIA’s Project Stargate.’

  ‘Those were remote viewing projects,’ Lopez said, ‘with willing participants who were mostly military themselves. They weren’t wiring people’s heads to mains power and cranking the switch.’

  ‘How much success are we talking about here?’ Ethan asked, interested despite himself.

  ‘The Russians seem very excited about the prospects,’ Nellis replied. ‘We have several reports that the Kremlin has doubled the funding and that they are obtaining what they call “viable information” on United States assets and operations in foreign soil. The last transmission suggests they’re attaching a high ranking officer to the unit for field operations.’

  ‘Which means, presumably, that they know what we’re going to do next?’ Lopez speculated.

  ‘It sounds like something from a bad movie,’ Ethan said. ‘We’ve already investigated one individual who was able to use technology to get a glimpse of the future, but this sounds like a wild goose chase. Project Stargate was shut down by the CIA because they couldn’t get any reliable intelligence from the people involved.’

  ‘Indeed it was,’ Nellis agreed, ‘but the devil’s in the details. You should note that at no time did the CIA suggest that remote viewing did not work. Their issue was that the remote viewers were genuinely seeing things but were unable to articulate with a sufficient degree of accuracy precisely what they were seeing. On at least one occasion during Stargate a remote viewer correctly identified the construction of massive pipes and underground structures which were presumed by the operators of the project to be some kind of new military installation, as that was what the viewers had been instructed to “visit”. After much research and money were plowed into investigating this new military site, it was eventually identified as an entirely innocent power station. The viewer had correctly seen a place thousands of miles away but a lack of knowledge of what they were actually observing resulted in that particular sighting being deemed a failure.’

  ‘Okay,’ Lopez conceded, ‘but why Syria? Surely the Russians could have chosen a location on home soil, somewhere less turbulent and dangerous?’

  Nellis’s expression turned grim.

  ‘As it turns out a place like Syria is precisely what the Russians needed. Hellerman will explain everything, but right after he’s done I want you both to travel to Utah.’

  ‘What’s out there?’

  ‘A new case if you want it, that ties in with Russia’s brave new world of paranormal investigations.’

  ‘We’re busy with bail–runners right now,’ Lopez said, ever eager to remind Nellis that they were visiting the DIA at their leisure. ‘Why would we want to keep dropping everything we’re doing to run errands for the DIA?’

  Nellis closed the files before him and took a deep breath before he spoke.

  ‘The Secretary of Defense asked me precisely the same question yesterday morning.’

  Ethan raised an eyebrow. ‘SecDef knows about us?’

  ‘As does most of the administration,’ Nellis confirmed. ‘Your work has become highly respected as part of the ARIES team. However, there have been many people asking why we should keep sending you, civilians, on such sensitive expeditions, questions that have arisen many times over the years.’

  ‘So what did you tell him?’ Lopez asked. ‘And what difference should it make to us?’

  Nellis smiled briefly.

  ‘I told him nothing but the truth, that you represent as a team the finest investigative agents that I have here at the DIA. I told him that I wouldn’t send anybody else after this, because they either wouldn’t have the skill set or they would say the same things as all the other agencies do when confronted with cases like yours; it’s a fool’s game, superstition, hearsay and so on.’

  Ethan smiled. ‘And then you show them MJ–12.’

  Nellis nodded. ‘They shut up real fast when I tell them that it was the two of you, and Jarvis, who exposed and destroyed MJ–12’s network. So the deal’s changed and the administration knows that the both of you consider your work for this country done and want nothing more than to return to your lives. They respect that, and if you want to leave then they will understand and I will not bother either of you ever again.’

  ‘Get to the main course,’ Lopez growled, ‘the starter’s gettin’ cold.’

  ‘One per cent,’ Nellis said.

  Ethan sat still for a long moment and said nothing as Lopez leaned closer to the general. ‘One per cent of what?’

  Nellis looked her in the eye as he replied, his hands folded calmly before him on the desk.

  ‘One per cent of whatever Jarvis and his companions took from MJ–12, which according to our most basic estimates amounted to some thirty billion dollars of assets.’ Nellis leaned forward, his eyes still fixed on Lopez. ‘I’m sure you can do the math.’

  Lopez seemed frozen in time for a long beat, and then she leaned back in her seat and examined her fingertips. ‘One per cent each.’

  ‘Shut up Nicola,’ Ethan said as he looked at the director. ‘The administration can’t just make offers like that. How can they offer Nicola and I millions of dollars when Hellerman and yourself presumably received no such offer? It makes no sense.’

  Nellis smiled innocently. ‘Who says they didn’t make me an offer?’

  Lopez blurted out a laugh. ‘You sly old dog, what’s your cut?’

  ‘None of your business,’ Nellis replied, ‘but let’s just say I’m not looking at retiring to a condo in Florida but a small island instead. The point is that the administration wants all of this to go away and it’s a rather convenient coincidence that very few people know about what ARIES has been doing these few years past. Offering a small portion of MJ–12’s ill–gotten gains as a sweetener to finish the game and not talk about it to anybody, ever, seemed like a smart move on the part of the White House and I signed up right away. What you do is up to you but it’s a one time offer.’

  ‘What’s the catch?’ Ethan asked, ever cautious.

  Nellis’s smile slipped slightly.

  ‘To get the money that Jarvis took with him, you have to get Jarvis also.’

  ‘That doesn’t sound so bad,’ Lopez said demurely.

  Ethan nodded, having already figured that the administration would want Jarvis’s head on a plate. Thirty billion dollars was a hefty prize, and one per cent each of that was enough money that neither Ethan nor Lopez would ever have to work again.

  ‘Jarvis is up to something,’ Nellis went on. ‘We need to know what and with whom. The only people who can get close to him is the two of you. You finish the game with the DIA, or you go back to the thankless and never–ending task of mopping up scum off the streets of Chicago.’ He shrugged. ‘Your call. What’s it going to be?’

  ***

  VI

  Lopez led the way into the Defense Intelligence Agency’s Advanced Research and Intelligence Engineering Section after a swift ride down in the elevator. Neither she nor Ethan had exchanged a word during th
e journey so far, both of them mulling over the offer that Nellis had made and wondering whether they were looking at a retirement with more money than either of them knew what to do with, or whether somebody in the administration was taking them for a ride.

  Lopez sighed wistfully beside him.

  ‘You know that one per cent of thirty billion dollars is…’

  ‘I know what it is,’ Ethan replied. ‘I’m trying not to think about it.’

  ‘I can’t stop thinking about it,’ Lopez replied. ‘Man, it’s our ride out of this. We can’t just walk away.’

  ‘That’s ‘cause you signed up on the spot!’

  ‘I only signed my own name. What you do is up to you.’

  Ethan shook his head. ‘You know I wouldn’t let you do this on your own.’

  ‘Thanks, honey,’ Lopez smiled sweetly. ‘Look on the bright side: Jarvis hung us out to dry more than once. It’s time for payback.’

  ‘Jarvis also saved our assess more than once,’ Ethan pointed out as the elevator doors opened. ‘Are you really going to send him to a lifetime in a security max prison for one indiscretion?’

  ‘That’s called a woman’s prerogative isn’t it?’ Lopez murmured as they walked into the ARIES Watch Room.

  The DIA’s secretive ARIES section was located below ground level, shielded from prying eyes both beyond and within the agency. ARIES’ heart was a giant pool of computer stations arrayed before banks of large plasma screens showing news feeds from around the world with analysts scrutinizing all manner of classified documents, talking quietly into microphones as they worked. Essentially the hub of the DIA’s intelligence gathering force, what came into the room rarely left except to be investigated by agents like Ethan and Nicola.

  Lopez led Ethan to a small, private office with mirrored windows and closed the door behind them. As they entered the office they were greeted by a slim, bespectacled and bearded young man with an infectious enthusiasm radiating from his gaze.

  ‘Guys, you’re back!’

  Joseph Hellerman had worked for the DIA for several years and was one of the chief technicians specializing in novel technologies. Ethan considered him something of a ‘Q’ character from a James Bond movie, but Hellerman’s near–genius level intellect had saved them from certain death on numerous occasions.

  Lopez embraced the young technician, having developed something of a soft spot for Hellerman over the years.

  ‘We were never far away,’ she replied as Hellerman shook Ethan’s hand.

  ‘What’s all this we’re hearing about Ivan poking around in the future?’ Ethan asked.

  Hellerman gestured to a nearby computer screen mounted on the wall of his office. ‘Look at that picture and tell me what you see.’

  Ethan and Lopez looked at the screen and saw the image of a young girl, crying and in pain as she ran toward the camera amid the smoldering ruins of a city, smoke billowing from recent explosions behind her.

  ‘War zone,’ Lopez replied with a sigh that suggested she had seen far too many such images over the years, ‘child victim of a misdirected military strike of some kind.’

  ‘Looks like Russia,’ Ethan said, glancing at the Soviet style buildings in the background and barely visible billboards bearing Cyrillic text. ‘Maybe Chechnya, or Ukraine?’

  ‘Ukraine,’ Hellerman confirmed. ‘And this one?’

  The image switched to one of a baby swaddled in blankets, also crying and apparently in pain, and on its arm was a crudely carved scar of a Nazi Swastika.

  ‘Jeez,’ Lopez murmured, ‘enough already, what’s your point?’

  Hellerman leaned against his desk as he replied.

  ‘Both images are of victims of Ukrainian aggression against Russian forces operating in the defense of their people,’ he said, ‘at least that’s what Russia wants you to believe.’

  ‘Propaganda?’ Ethan asked.

  ‘Precisely that,’ Hellerman confirmed. ‘The crying girl fleeing the destruction is in fact a Russian actress in a staged scene, and the baby was crying for food and doesn’t have a swastika carved into its arm – that was added later by Russian computer artists. It’s all a part of a war being fought to win the hearts and minds of the Russian people and propel its president into a position of global power that will rival in both method and results what Hitler achieved in the 1930s.’

  Hellerman began flicking through images on a computer screen as he spoke, most of them looking like shots obtained by journalists working in war zones around the world.

  ‘Fake images abound on Twitter and Facebook, or its Russian equivalent, Vkontakte. The crying child fleeing the bombs was posed, a direct copy of the real life image of a Vietnamese girl running naked after a napalm attack during the Vietnam War, her body badly burned. It is still believed that single real–life image was responsible for America losing the conflict, as it turned public opinion so strongly against the administration. In Russia, images like these are being posted daily in their hundreds on a pro–Kremlin site called Antimaidan, with allegations that Ukrainian maternity workers disfigured the baby’s arm with the swastika to humiliate the mother, a woman from the Donbas region in east Ukraine and the widow of a pro–Russia fighter. In fact the crying baby image is a stock Internet photo that appeared years before on the US website Popsugar, notably without the swastika.’

  ‘How do we know all of this?’ Lopez asked.

  ‘From a NATO Colonel in the Soviet army called Aivar Jaeski, an Estonian born career soldier who revealed all of this in an interview with the EUobserver in Riga, where he worked as deputy director of NATO Strategic Communications Center of Excellence, or Stratcom. The principal of the Russian program used to be called propaganda, but is now far more sophisticated and widespread and is referred to as “psy–ops”, or psychological warfare.’

  Hellerman shut off the images as he went on.

  ‘Jaeski said that the Russian psy–op mission was a campaign to use very carefully selected messages for targeted audiences in Ukraine, inside Russia and in the West which would support the statement made by Vladimir Putin in 2005, that the “greatest geopolitical catastrophe” of the last century was the collapse of the Soviet Union.’

  ‘Tell that to people who used to queue for hours for a loaf of bread,’ Lopez replied.

  ‘Russian state TV lies openly to its people,’ Hellerman said, ‘and uses actors to play various roles in its reports of Ukrainian “war crimes”, with the same faces appearing as an activist, then as a widow, then the mother of a deceased soldier, a refugee, or an anti–Maidan participant. It’s a wonder that such blatant theatre hasn’t been noticed by the Russian people for what it truly is, but somehow it seems to work in generating sufficient outrage and support for Putin among ordinary Russians.’

  ‘Russians don’t have the same access to world news that we do,’ Lopez replied. ‘Just like North Korea or China, the government controls what the people see and doesn’t provide or allow any independent coverage from a free press.’

  ‘We get the return to glory message that Putin has been trying to mete out to the people in Russia,’ Ethan said. ‘What does this have to do with Nellis’s briefing?’

  Hellerman turned and picked up a bizarre contraption from the desk beside him.

  ‘Know what this is?’

  Ethan looked at the device, which resembled a cycling helmet smothered in wires and electrodes.

  ‘Trans Cranial Stimulator?’ he hazarded.

  Hellerman’s eyes widened. ‘Well done. You’ve used one before?’

  ‘It sharpens his brain, if not his wit,’ Lopez said, ‘and Nellis mentioned them.’

  ‘Remarkable devices,’ Hellerman said, ‘I’ve tried it myself. They use mild electrical currents to stimulate specific areas of the human brain to promote creativity and memory function, suppress negativity and so on. There’s quite an industry building up around these things already, largely unregulated as ever, and that’s causing a few problems as people use the devices to
extremes and find themselves suffering issues as a result.’

  ‘What kind of issues?’ Ethan asked.

  ‘The seizure kind,’ Hellerman said. ‘A few notable incidents occurred during the early days of availability of these kinds of devices, and as a result the Russians appear to have taken advantage of that and instigated a program devoted to attempting to provoke “second sight” in subjects. Worse, they appear to be doing it whether the subjects want them to or not.’

  Second sight was something that Ethan had heard about before, a supposed ability of some people to predict the future, often only seconds ahead. Although rejected by mainstream science as myth, there were quite a few instances in history of people demonstrating an ability to predict future events, although no incidences of them being able to do so at will.

  ‘Second sight appears to be a transient phenomenon,’ Hellerman explained, ‘that emerges only briefly and then vanishes again. However, like many paranormal events, they seem to congregate around one particular sub–set of humanity.’

  Lopez winced. ‘Young girls.’

  Hellerman nodded. ‘More accurately young girls who are socially awkward, stressed, under pressure and so on. The Russians are fully aware of this and according to intelligence gleaned from the NSA, they’ve despatched teams into war zones to extract girls who fit the description of individuals who may be capable of second sight.’

  Ethan felt a plunging sense of dismay over how low the Russian military had sunk.

  ‘They target orphaned girls,’ he said, predicting Hellerman’s explanation himself in a somber moment of personal second sight. ‘They’re troubled, with nobody to protect them and living in a combat zone where if abducted there’s nobody left to notice.’ Ethan thought for a moment. ‘The Russians are working in Syria.’