Project Aura

by Bob Mayer

  "With the update, can you recover the first two teams?"

  Kirtley answered. "The first two teams are no longer a factor."

  Dalton straightened. "’No longer a factor'?"

  "Don't misunderstand me," Kirtley said. "I'm not pulling the plug on their isolation tanks. I'm saying they are no longer a factor in operational terms. If we can find them or recover them, then we'll do it. However, do understand me that they are not the mission priority."

  Dalton reached forward and picked up the pager. He clipped it onto his belt. "What is the priority?"

  "I've just been informed that a special ops team from Task Force Six has been lost in Colombia and we've been detailed to find out what happened to it."

  "Lost a team? How?" Dalton asked.

  "They didn't make extraction and they've missed all scheduled contacts," Kirtley said. "There was no one at primary, alternate, or emergency exfiltration points."

  "Why are we getting called on this?" Dalton asked. "Task Force Six can draw from all of Special Operations. Seems like a misuse of a valuable asset"

  "We need to operate stealthily and Psychic Warrior is best suited for that,” Kirtley said. “Our relationship with the Colombian government is strained at best and Task Force Six is not a sanctioned operation under our agreement with them. Also," Kirtley continued, "the team that was lost was from your old unit-10th Special Forces."

  "What team number?"

  "Zero eight four."

  Dalton knew from the number that the team was from Bravo Company, Third Battalion, not his battalion. But he also knew the team sergeant Mike Garrison. A good man.

  "What was their mission?"

  "Interdict and destroy a large load of cocaine."

  "Task Force Six has no idea what happened to the team?" Dalton asked as he considered the situation.

  "It just seems to have disappeared. If the cartel caught them we'd be seeing it on CNN, so we're not sure what's happened. As I said, the Pentagon wants it handled discreetly, so we've been called in to sneak and peek. This initial tasking is for you and Lieutenant Jackson and Sergeant Barnes," Kirtley said.

  "You've got your men here," Dalton argued, knowing the answer even before he asked the question. "Why us?"

  "My men have to be fitted and then trained as Psychic Warriors. That will take a while, according to the schedule Dr. Hammond has given us. You prefer to have the search for your comrades delayed that long?"

  "I've never been asked my preferences," Dalton said. “They've never really seemed to matter in the course of things."

  Not even the slightest hint of a smile touched Kirtley's face. “True. They don't. I want you, Jackson, and Barnes to prep and depart immediately. My men will observe and learn."

  "Who are you people?" Dalton asked. "CIA?"

  Kirtley shook his head. "NSA."

  "And if we find the team, what are we supposed to do?"

  "Report back."

  "And leave them there?"

  "You can't bring them back via Psychic Warrior, can you?"

  "No, we can't."

  “Then you leave them there, return, and file a complete report. Someone else goes in and rescues them."

  *****

  Valika gripped the arms of the seat while forcing her face to remain expressionless as the Lear dove toward the ocean. From her first time in a plane, the initial jump at the Russian army parachute school at Mukchevo, she had never been fond of flying. She'd enjoyed jumping that first time, simply to be under her own control and out of the plane, where she had to trust the pilot and the mechanic who serviced the plane and even the people who built it. She'd seen the mechanics in the hangers, imbibing hydraulic fluid they drained out of the airplanes to get drunk. Certainly the pilots of this jet were professionals-- Cesar only hired the best-- but she still preferred to be in charge of her own destiny.

  Valika had received her initial training as a member of the GRU: the intelligence arm of the Soviet army. She served as an assassin, working with elite Spetsnatz teams, killing enemies of her country both inside of Russia and out. When the Wall came down in 1989, she had been one of the first to realize her talent might be better appreciated elsewhere. She'd found work with Cesar as he was taking over the reins of the Ring from his father, and she'd been with him ever since.

  Across from her, Souris was engrossed in her laptop computer, her fingers flitting across the keys. They had not exchanged a single word the entire flight from Bogota.

  The blue sea of the Caribbean flashed by below, then suddenly a rocky cliff appeared and the wheels touched down a second later. In her intelligence files she had read this was the shortest airfield in the region, only four hundred meters long, and the first time she landed there had confirmed the data. The screech of brakes and the savage jerk as the pilot went one hundred percent reverse thrust reinforced that. The seat belt dug into her belly and she cursed, as she did every time she landed on Saba, in the Lesser Antilles.

  "Still the problem with flying?" Souris broke the long silence. "I could help you with that. A little therapy using Aura."

  "No, thank you."

  While Valika was almost six feet in height, Souris was less than five feet tall and thin. But there was a sense about the other woman that Valika had never been able to pin down which she picked up every time she looked in Souris's dark eyes. Not a physical threat, but more a piercing gaze that cut through to her core. Of course, the professor's shaved head with the red marks tattooed onto the skin gave her a bizarre appearance.

  The plane stuttered to a halt less than thirty meters from the end of the runway, beyond which the ground dropped once more into the ocean. Juancho E. Yrausquin Airport occupied the only level terrain on the tiny island, etched across a small peninsula on the northeast corner.

  The door to the Lear swung down and Valika let Souris get off first. The sea battered the cliffs on three sides that surrounded the runway. In the fourth direction, the land rose precipitously to a volcanic peak, and a single- lane road snaked its way upward.

  The man who stood on the tarmac next to a shiny Jeep was dressed in very expensive casual clothes. Valika found it amazing that those in the West could spend so much money on a simple pair of pants and shirt. Her own outfit was a nondescript set of khakis that did little justice to her well-conditioned body.

  "Welcome, ladies."

  Souris walked past him as if she weren't even aware of his presence. Valika knew all she cared about were her computers and where they could take her.

  "To what do we owe this honor, Senor Cesar?" Valika tossed her duffel bag over her shoulder as she headed toward the man and the Jeep. Cesar was a young looking sixty. He had well-tanned skin, a startling contrast to the thick silver hair that crowned his head. A nose shaped like an eagle's beak highlighted his face.

  "Ah, my dear Valika." Hector Cesar shook his head. "You must let me take you shopping someday. I can think of many outfits you would enhance." He held out his hand to take the bag, but she ignored him, tossing it into the back of the open Jeep and climbing in after it as Souris took the passenger seat "You both travel light as usual."

  “Just my guns," Valika said. She nodded toward the professor. "And her computer." Behind them a small truck had pulled up to the plane, and the Aura transmitter was unloaded from the Lear's cargo bay.

  Cesar got behind the wheel. "You did well with the American commandos. You both did."

  "You should kill the survivors and dump the bodies at sea," Valika said. "If the Pentagon discovers we hold them they will attack the villa in Colombia to rescue them."

  "They might be useful alive," Cesar said. "And I am here, not in the villa in Colombia, so it is not an immediate concern."

  Valika said nothing further. She was only a piece in the machine, and she didn't know what the big picture was. She hoped this visit would bring some enlightenment. From the results the previous evening, she knew things were developing well after years of work. Where that work was ultimately headed, she had
no idea, nor did she deem it her place to ask.

  Valika held on as Cesar accelerated down the runway, then spun the wheel, fishtailing onto the thin road. It switch backed a dozen times as they gained altitude, heading toward the two-thousand-foot-high peak that dominated the terrain. They passed through a small village where the small whitewashed houses pressed in on either side No one waved a greeting or even looked at them. The few natives who still lived on the island knew their place.

  "Did you know this used to be called Lower Hell's Gate?" Cesar asked as they exited the village and took another hairpin turn.

  "Excuse me?" Valika asked.

  "That was the name of the town. Very imaginative, don't you think? Was that in your intelligence report on the island?"

  It had been, but Valika saw no need to mention that. They rounded a corner and a steel pole barred the way, two men with submachine guns standing nearby. They immediately lifted the pole and waved Cesar through.

  The gate was probably unnecessary. This was Cesar's island. She'd studied it years ago, before she accompanied Cesar on her first trip here and the decision was made to make this the heart of Aura's development.

  Saba was the smallest inhabited island in the Lesser Antilles, about a hundred miles southeast of the Virgin Islands. Saba and the surrounding islands of St Martin, Curacao, St Eustatius, and Bonaire were originally claimed by the French in 1625, but that didn't last long, as they were taken by the Dutch in 1636. The larger islands were used as way stations and slave markets, but Saba was pretty much ignored due both to its small size, less than five square miles, and the lack of any harbor or even a beach for ships to off-load. Over the centuries, a handful of people, mostly ex-slaves, had made the island home.

  Cesar's father had come to Saba just after the Second World War while sailing in the area. Valika had to allow that the old man had had great foresight. While everyone else began using the Caymans to funnel their money offshore, Cesar's father decided to have his own private island. He bought out the people. Those who stayed owed everything to Cesar's family. The islands of the Lesser Antilles had been given self-government after the war, which meant essentially that Cesar's father and now Cesar ruled. It was not a tourist destination, had no industry or business of note, and thus was basically unnoticed among the many islands in the region.

  From a security standpoint it was almost the perfect setup. Valika had positioned snipers on the flanks of the volcano that dominated the center of the island, able to cover all avenues of sea and air approaches. Two radar dishes were secreted near the top of the volcano, on either side, each covering 180 degrees. Infiltration from the sea had been-and still was-Valika's greatest concern. The two tiny beaches where a very small craft might be able to land with great difficulty were mined. Sensors had been strung along the cliffs that faced the sea for the rest of the shoreline. It was as secure as Valika could make it, although she always came up with a way to improve the defenses each time she came here.

  They pulled up to a ten-foot-high concrete wall that blocked the road and extended fifty meters in either direction, following the rise of the land, before doubling back out of sight. The double doors in the center swung open and Cesar drove through. Valika noted the guards on the parapet inside the wall, making sure they were alert. Souris had not said a word since getting off the plane, nor had she reacted to anything they had discussed.

  Cesar stopped the Jeep and shut off the engine. "We have a meeting to attend."

  They walked into the mansion, passed through a large foyer and into a centrally located atrium where a half dozen men in expensive suits were seated around a small conference table set to one side. Valika recognized them from previous meetings of the group: the leaders of the six major families that made up ninety percent of the Colombian drug cartel. The Ring. Cesar's father had founded it not long after taking over Saba, and it was one of the most closely kept secrets in the world, although Valika knew that Western intelligence agencies were aware it existed. So far, Saba still remained a secret, as the West focused its energies on Colombia, the source of the cocaine.

  Valika had extensive files on each of the men present and contingency plans to destroy each of their cartels if Cesar gave her the word. Loyalty was never a certain thing when billions of dollars were involved. The Ring controlled an annual take of over two hundred billion U.S. dollars, and she knew that given the slightest sign of weakness on the part of Cesar, the jackals would be after him.

  Cesar went to the remaining seat at the head of the table. Valika took a position to his right and slightly behind. Souris moved to a chair in the shadows beyond the table and sat there.

  "Gentlemen," Cesar said, nodding at them. He leaned back and clasped his hands contentedly on his lap. "Last night was a success. We have Senoritas Valika and Souris to thank for that" He turned to the old man seated to his immediate right, the eldest member of the Ring. "And, my comrade, Senor Naldo, you have them to thank for stopping the Americans' attempt to interdict a rather large shipment of your product and kidnap your son."

  Valika could see that Naldo was not about to shower thanks on her. The men were never happy with her presence. She had run into the macho Latin attitude of South American men in all her dealings. A woman who killed, who was involved in their business, was a threat to their manhood. And Souris's mere presence was enough to add a level of unease to any meeting. This was the first time they got to see the American scientist and she could see many curious glances in Souris's direction.

  "You have taken a lot of our money." The man who spoke was the one on the opposite end of the table. Valika recognized him and wasn't surprised at his outburst:Alarico, the youngest of those gathered here, who had been grandfathered into the Ring because his now deceased father had been a founding member. She took half a step forward but Cesar raised the pinkie on his left hand, indicating for her to be still.

  Alarico continued to address Cesar, ignoring Valika. "I myself have contributed ten times what the shipment last night would have cost Naldo if lost to the Americans, so I assume he has given a similar amount. That is not a profit. I want to know what exactly has been accomplished with our shared resources. I-and the others here-joined the Ring because of your father, because he promised us a new direction through unity, but years have gone by, your father has passed on, and you have told us little. You tell us of tests, use words one would need a dictionary for, and speak of things that make little practical sense."

  "Your father joined the Ring because my father would have crushed him if he didn't," Cesar said in an even tone. "And you, my dear Alarico, stay for the same reason."

  Alarico stood, his chair falling back. "I did not come here to be insulted."

  "I am not insulting you," Cesar replied calmly. "I am mentioning facts. I called you here to tell you our new direction and what you have been paying for." Cesar leaned back in his seat and gestured for Alarico to sit. Reluctantly, the young man did so.

  "It began about ten years ago in the United States. They built a facility to work on developing a new type of weapon. Professor Souris was in charge of this research. The place was called the High-Energy Research and Technology Facility. The Americans were planning to develop various weapons that utilized radio waves. One of those programs was called HAARP-which stands for High-frequency Active Auroral Research Program."

  Valika could see Alarico roll his eyes, but Cesar either didn't see it or chose to ignore it.

  "Two years ago, a good portion of the money that you contributed to our organization was used to lure Professor Souris away from the United States and to our lovely island. Before she left, she took all her research data and the prototype of the HAARP computer which she has developed into what we now call Aura."

  Valika was watching the men's faces, noting their reactions. Even though she was Cesar's security chief, the inner workings of the Ring he kept to himself. He had never confided in her what his ultimate plan for Aura was. She could tell some of the men around the table
already knew the information he was giving them; to others it was completely new. That gave her an idea of Cesar's confidence in the various men.

  "What is this HAARP and Aura?" Naldo asked.

  "I will get to that," Cesar promised. "First, though, let me ask you all to think about something. We are very rich from our work, are we not?" He didn't wait for an answer. "But we are always being threatened. The Americans with their Task Force Six have taken their drug war illegally into our own country, and the world turns a blind eye because we are criminals. What are they then when they thumb their nose at international borders and assassinate people? Are they not criminals also, hiding behind a flag?

  "Up until now we have dared not fight back, because we did not have the means to do so with any hope of surviving. And then there are others who seek to take our part of the market: the Mafia, the Russians, now even the Chinese Triads with support from Beijing are getting stronger and stretching their muscles overseas into our markets. There is no future in this."

  "And?" Alarico asked impatiently. "What future are you crafting here on your private island?"

  "The means to keep track of our enemies and when necessary defeat them. To make them fear us."

  "How?" Alarico's question earned him hard looks from the other men at the table.

  "Professor Souris has developed a computer called Aura that-"

  Alarico snorted. "You've used our money to make computers? The Americans are supposed to be scared of a computer?"

  Valika could tell that Cesar was controlling himself with great effort. "In a manner of speaking. The computer is just one piece of the entire system."

  "I am an old man," Naldo said. "I am not, how do you say, technically proficient. My grandchild knows more about computers than I do. I do not see the connection between what you are speaking about now and what happened last night, not that I do not appreciate what happened." Naldo nodded slightly toward Valika, the equivalent of a standing ovation in this group.

  Cesar nodded in turn. "I will let the expert explain it to you as best she can." He crooked a finger and Valika took a step back as the American came out of the shadows. "Professor Souris has been in charge of developing Aura."