October 2nd
Seneca Falls, New York
Everything was falling apart. First, the lab in Ithaca—which was a mere sixty kilometers away—had been destroyed, then the entire contingent of Katharos agents in Georgia had vanished without a trace. Lukas paced through the house, his footsteps echoing off the walls. It was all her fault. Why had he ever let that psychotic woman into his life? He was the rightful heir of Katharos. It was his destiny to reshape the world into an everlasting paradise for his children.
He sighed then shook his head. There was no use lying to himself—without Audrey, he was as good as dead. The CIA, FBI, NSA, and a host of other agencies with three-letter acronyms would track him down the moment he stepped out of the shadows. There was no way to contact his Katharos brethren, no way to resupply his meager stores of food, no way to pursue his dreams of fathering a new, perfect human race. Without Audrey to guide him, he was doomed to languish within the comfortable estate until he died of starvation.
He came to a stop in the living room and sat on a leather recliner, steepling his fingers and staring into the middle distance. There had to be a way to salvage what was left of Katharos and move forward with Borya Tabanov’s vision. If not, billions of dollars and thousands of lives would have been sacrificed for nothing.
Audrey’s ambitious plans to accelerate the timetable had failed. Probably because her motivation was purely selfish—to watch the human population crash while she spent the remainder of her life in opulence, hoarding technology and resources while she built a kingdom in her own image. But the world’s most dominant and damaging species—Homo sapiens—would inevitably bounce back if it was not exterminated completely. The years Katharos spent refining the human genome to create a perfect, immortal species, dubbed Homo aeturnum, would be in vain.
Lukas closed his eyes and inhaled deeply. Perhaps she had been right all along. Maybe the first step toward building a better society was to rid the world of its pests. But even if Lukas could somehow track down the data and resources Borya had left behind—which seemed unlikely—he would be on the run for the rest of his life. Throughout history, the majority of mankind was ignorantly opposed to Eugenics, and the powers that be would not sit idly by while he grew thousands of Homo aeturnum embryos in a laboratory.
He shook his head. As much as he hated to admit it, Audrey had been right. Mass genocide was the only answer. It was the only way to subdue the fools who valued breeding above survival and progress. It would buy him enough time to revive the heart of Katharos.
The Salpalytic Phage Distributor would spread rapidly, sterilizing billions of women in a few short years, maybe less. Birth rates would flatline, and humanity’s will to resist would crumble. People would finally see the folly of their instinctual urges and realize that logic was the key to evolution, that the old way was not necessarily the right way.
It should have been obvious—humans were practicing selective breeding in livestock long before Gregor Mendel paved the way for modern genetics. And people all over the world ate genetically modified crops every day. Why, then, should humans refuse to use science to improve their own offspring? Why allow their children to be born with abnormalities like Down syndrome and Huntington’s disease?
A chill ran down his spine. The dogma surrounding procreation was barbaric, and he was one of only a few men on earth with a practical solution. But now it seemed beyond his reach. He should have listened to Ingram and shared the activation codes for the Phage Distributor. He thought he was protecting himself, but in reality, he had jeopardized his life’s work. The nearest distributor was three hundred kilometers away, in New York City, with thousands of cameras and scores of law enforcement officials in between. On his own, he wouldn’t stand a chance, but how could he even look for help without getting caught? Audrey had handled all the recruitment and vetting, so he didn’t even know where to start.
He wandered into the bathroom and ran cold water in the sink. Cupping his hands in the stream, he splashed the water in his face. After several seconds, he closed the faucet and stared at himself in the mirror. Suddenly, he felt a surge of optimism. All he had to do was find someone like him. And, though he was a newcomer to the United States, he was well aware of New York’s reputation. Over the past few years, the state had become a safe haven for people like him—forward-thinking, intelligent people who put logic ahead of sentiment.
Lukas smiled, and a drop of water rolled off his chin. It was time to meet with an old friend—someone who could provide him with the help he needed.
23
Hillcrest Trauma and Rehabilitation Center
Baltimore, Maryland
Eugene knocked on the door to San’s office, and it immediately slid open.
“Gene,” San said, setting aside a prosthetic leg and leaning back in his chair, “what can I do for you?”
Eugene took a seat across from him and nodded at the prosthesis. “That looks old school. Or does it have a laser cannon embedded in the kneecap?”
The director shook his head. “It’s not weaponized, but I’m hoping it will serve its new owner well. He was on patrol in Yemen and stepped on a land mine.” A hint of a grin played at San’s lips. “The clinic upstairs asked for my help, and even though we have our hands full hunting terrorists, I couldn’t resist. I used to do this for a living, you know.” His voice deepened, and his gaze seemed to stare into the past. “It was the best job I ever had. And sometimes, I wish I’d never done anything else.”
“I understand what you mean,” Eugene said, matching his somber tone. “I worked at a donut and coffee shop in high school. The owner let me have all the free donuts I wanted. Didn’t matter if they had sprinkles, or sugar, or chocolate icing. Any donut I wanted.”
San closed his eyes and pinched the bridge of his nose. “Right. What do you need, Gene?”
Eugene slid a computer tablet across the desk and waited for San to scroll through the first few paragraphs in the report. “Things aren’t going well with Stokes. She’s hasn’t provided any useful Intel, and she’s still highly combative, even though we’ve kept her awake for the past forty-eight hours. The CIA interrogators are having better success with the two additional agents we captured in Georgia, though, and they’re sending us data dumps every few hours.”
“Do you think we should send Audrey to the CIA for questioning?”
Eugene shook his head. “She’s too much of a security risk, even in their hands. And I think we have leverage here in the building that we can use against her. Something she’s actually afraid of.”
San folded his arms across his chest. “You mean Jarrod.”
“Yeah.”
“I don’t like it. We’re supposed to be providing him with therapy, not using him to capture and torture prisoners. We’ve already used him too much since he arrived.”
“I don’t have anything…graphic…in mind.” Eugene dismissed the notion by waving his hands. “But I’ll talk to you about it later—after I’ve had a chance to iron out the details with engineering and Stokes has a few more days to stew in her cell. And I agree, we’ve been using Jarrod more than we should.”
San nodded and scrolled through the report some more. When he had finished, he set the tablet down and said, “Was there something else?”
Eugene leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Have you heard from Janson?”
“No, I haven’t. But I understand her reluctance to accept my calls. We hurt her, and I wouldn’t be surprised if she never returns at all.”
The black-ops team leader was quiet for a long moment. “She has every right to be bitter. But I’m not convinced she would go AWOL just because she’s pissed at us. Not right now, anyway.”
“What do you mean?”
Eugene showed his palms. “The bio-terror threat level is insanely high. And she’s been an operative for years—I’m sure she’s had to follow orders she didn’t agree with in the past. To ‘shut up and color,’ as they say. Why walk out on us when we nee
d her most? It doesn’t follow.”
“What are you suggesting?”
“I’m not sure yet. But she’s too professional to stay away this long just because her feelings were hurt, which means she has another reason for being gone. An agenda.” Eugene’s gaze turned steely. “And when one of the most lethal people on the planet is planning something behind your back, it’s a good idea to look over your shoulder. We need to find her, and we need to talk to her. Face-to-face.”
San studied him for a moment. “I’m still not sure what you’re asking for, Gene.”
“Wire-taps, facial recognition, GPS tracking.” Eugene pointed at the ceiling. “The usual NSA Voodoo.”
The director blinked. “You can’t be serious.”
“Why not? If she’s gone off the deep end, she’s a serious threat to our operations. If she hasn’t…” He shrugged. “Then we need her back on the team.”
San shook his head. “I’m not ready to start spying on my own people. And I don’t believe she’s planning anything nefarious. I think she has a good reason to be angry and needs some space.”
Eugene nodded slowly, trying to hide the annoyance he felt.
“That being said, I’m not ready to abandon her. Keep trying to contact her, and if we don’t have a response in three days, I’ll put in a request for surveillance.”
The call went to voice mail for the tenth time. Eli listened to the outgoing message; he closed his eyes and gathered his thoughts. But when the tone finally came, he found himself at a loss for words. He had left too many messages, begged too many times for her to call back. A voice mail wasn’t good enough. Not anymore.
He paced circles around the living room of his one-bedroom apartment and dialed again. The ringtone chirped in his ear six times then went silent. He waited for the familiar greeting but heard nothing but faint white noise. He frowned and looked at the call log, wondering if he had been disconnected. The seconds still ticked by on the screen.
His heart leapt into his throat, and he pressed the phone tight against his ear. “Janson? Are you there?”
There was no response.
He checked the call log once more, then listened for the sound of her breathing. “Okay, fine, you don’t have to talk. Just…don’t hang up. Please?”
The white noise continued, which he took as a sign that she was willing to listen. “I can’t imagine what you’re going through, and I won’t pretend that everything is going to be okay. You’ve been through hell for the past few weeks, and it sucks. You lost someone you loved, and then the people you thought you could trust lied to you in the most awful way possible. No one should have to feel alone, and especially not you. Not after everything you’ve sacrificed.”
He took a deep breath, dreading what he had to say next. “But this isn’t you. The Janson I know never runs from a fight and never abandons her teammates when they need her.” He bit his lip and fought back tears. “When the fire started in Siberia, I thought I was dead. There was no way out. I gave up, said my prayers, and waited for the end until I passed out. But instead of dying, I woke up and saw you. It didn’t make any sense for you to rescue me. You should have finished the mission on your own and left the rest of us to die.”
He swallowed. “But…you didn’t. It wasn’t just about the mission to you. It was about the team, too—keeping as many of your people alive as physically possible. And I thank God every day you were on that Op with me. But right now, I’m having trouble believing you’re the same person. Because I need you more, here and now, than I did in the fire. And so do millions of other people.” He took a deep breath and felt a stabbing sensation in his chest. It pained him to say this to his best friend, but he knew he had to.
“You’re letting me down, Janson. You’re letting us all down. And you know what? Ford was no friend of mine, but you can bet your ass he wouldn’t walk out on me when I needed him most.”
No longer able to hold back the tears, he ended the call and threw his phone against the wall.
The phone went silent, and she let it slip from her fingers. In the darkness, tears moistened her black eyes, and a sob forced its way through her lips.
“He’s right, you know.”
She glanced at the man beside her, who appeared perfectly clear even though her vision was blurred. “I—I know he is.” She pawed at the air, knowing her hands would pass through the hallucination. “But I can’t go back now. I’m too close. In a few days, I’ll be ready to fight Jarrod. Then, things can go back to the way they were.”
Clint shook his head. “Things won’t go back to the way they were. If you kill him, they will never take you back.”
“They took him back after he killed you.”
“That was different, and you know it. People make mistakes in the field. But this…this is premeditated murder.”
“He deserves to die for what he did to you.”
He set his square jaw and glared at her. Then, in an instant, he was on his feet with his arms crossed. “Don’t you dare use me to justify what you’re doing. You know damn well what I would do in your shoes. I’d suck it up and follow orders because killing these terrorists is more important than getting revenge.”
“Stop it,” Janson said squeezing her temples between her palms. “Just…get out of my head!”
Her thoughts quieted, and she glanced up, believing he was gone. But he was still there, and there was a pain in his expression unlike any she had seen while he was alive.
“I’ll go. But do yourself a favor and stop pretending this is about me. If you’re going to kill him, it’s going to be the most difficult thing you’ve ever done in your life. To win a fight like that, you can’t have any doubts when you step into the ring.”
He turned away, and Janson felt a pang of regret for asking him to leave. “I’m—I’m sorry. Don’t go.”
His form began to fade away, and she jumped to her feet. “Clint, I love you.”
He glanced back at her before disappearing completely. And he didn’t say another word.
24
October 4th
Hillcrest Trauma and Rehabilitation Center
Baltimore, Maryland
Jarrod followed Eugene into the team room where Yuri and Eli were gearing up. Yuri glanced up, gave Jarrod a nod, and returned to jamming 7.62 millimeter rounds into a polymer magazine.
Eli watched Jarrod for a moment then said, “Hey, Jarrod, how’s the training going?”
“I believe it is more difficult for Felicity than it is for me. But I am improving. I passed my most recent simulation on the third try.”
“Nice.” Eli strapped a chest rig on over his body armor then buckled on a utility belt. “And how do you feel about today’s mission? It might get ugly, you know.”
“Jarrod’s going to be fine,” Eugene said, clapping Jarrod on the back. “The training is helping him with decision-making, not turning him soft.” Eugene beckoned for the others to follow and strode over to a steel table. He dropped a computer tablet on top, which began projecting a holographic display in the air. “Our objective is a storage facility where we believe Katharos is hiding experimental weapons. As far as we know, the building is undermanned and only has two guards on duty at any given time.” He swept his hand through the air, rotating the three-dimensional image of a two-story building with a single door and no windows. “But we have no way of knowing what kind of firepower they have inside—the roof is shielded against our radar imaging systems.”
He zoomed the image out, showing an overhead view of a five square-mile area. “The building is near Rockwood, Pennsylvania. It’s on a hilltop overlooking the Casselman River. The terrain is steep to the west—a sheer drop of about four hundred feet, so watch your step. Ideally, we’ll stay close to the trucks, so the hillside won’t matter much.” He zoomed the image closer and pointed at a pair of white lines. “Our primary infil will be a gravel road that connects the property to Route 653. We’ll have to move slowly to sweep for mines, but Jarrod w
ill move on foot to an overwatch position just east of the building and warn us of any incoming threats.”
Eugene closed the projection and glared at Jarrod. “You will stay in the overwatch position until I call for backup or tell you to move. Understand?”
Jarrod nodded. He had no way of predicting what he would do when he reached the overwatch site—there were far too many variables in play—but Eugene didn’t need to know that.
“As for you two, pack a basic load-out, but make sure you bring at least one non-lethal weapon. Our first priority is to roll up the guards—securing the weapons cache is secondary.” He glanced at his watch. “We have at least a three-hour drive ahead of us, so there’s plenty of time to discuss tactics on the way. Are there any questions?”
There weren’t any, so Eugene crossed the room and began to undress. He squeezed into a suit of black armor, grumbling to himself about the sizing, then pulled on a pair of pants over top. Leaving the back of his armor unzipped, he lifted a load-bearing vest off of a hook on the wall. The vest was preloaded with a radio, a night optical device, six magazines, a first-aid kit, and three fragmentation grenades. Carrying the vest over to a workbench, he swapped out the frags for flash-bangs.
By the time Eugene holstered his FNS-9 Longslide pistol, Yuri and Eli were ready and waiting. “Let’s roll out,” Eugene said, shouldering his load-bearing vest and heading for the door.
The team barely made a sound as they strode through the gray corridors. Their equipment was secure and padded in all the right places, dampening the noise of shifting magazines or vests rubbing against armor. Jarrod wore no gear or clothing of any kind. The oily black metamaterial armor covered his body from the base of his neck to the bottoms of his feet and would serve as the only weapon he needed.
When they reached the loading bay, a pair of SUVs were already running. A young security guard with close-cropped hair jogged across the room as they entered, his eyes wide with admiration.
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