by E L Russell
* * *
Director Davies ordered Meret to stick with the development of the surveillance tool, which he told her was the best use of her time for the team's success. He assured her that he had his best agents on the trail of Debby and Carol's abduction.
It was hard to concentrate. She felt they’d made only baby steps toward finding Katya and none at all in pinpointing the time and place of the damn woman’s impending Genecaust.
Doubts raged inside her. So many lives depended on her ability to find Katya, but would that be enough? Would they be able to get her to give up the plan? Who else was involved? Someone had to be. There had to be someone else who had some knowledge of the event. Piero? Did he know anything? Would he be able to contact Henri? With his life hanging by a thread, would he even live to talk?
Meret stood by Granger’s sleeping form and studied him. His eyes opened and he growled at her and struggled To sit upright. The drugs used to sedate him had been necessary for his recovery, but pissed he was too weak. The doctor’s concern he’d be wild when he woke, was warranted. Placing one hand on his shoulder, she patted his closest arm.
“Granger, it’s okay. Your wounds have healed enough for you to leave here. We’ll soon go back to our apartment at the Zalea.
He glared at her, which wasn’t surprising. She was a member of the bad guys team that had drugged and kept him in bed against his will.
She stared him down but knew it was only because he still weakened by the meds. “I’m going to remove the sedative drip.” She removed the tubes from his Pic line and shut down their monitors.
The scowl on his face lessened a small degree.
She kissed his cheek. “I am your physician in residence and I have released you, but only if you stay in bed and rest until the staff comes and disconnects your IV. Agreed?”
No reaction.
“I mean it, Granger. You have to agree to stay put.”
He gave her a grudging nod and she returned bringing him up to date efforts to track Special Agent Caroline Kennedy and Debby’s whereabouts. She watched him closely to gage his attention span. It drifted occasionally but not too bad. That was to be expected. She handed him a cup of ice water and was reassured when his hands barely shook. The soup she had ordered would clear out the cobwebs in his head.
“Do you feel up to assuming control of the operation?”
He bobbed his head and winced.
“Ah. Still sore. Your head seems to take a beating on a fairly regular basis. It should get better if you quit getting it banged.”
He spoke slowly. “Ha, ha” and immediately raised a hand to his forehead. With his eyes winced shut he “No one’s filled me in on the cloud database. Get Fairchild on the phone and give it to me.”
His bossiness was a good sign he was feeling more normal and she did as he requested, handing him the phone. He mouthed a “Thank you” and fumbled a bit putting it on speaker before resting it on his chest.
After a very short conversation he groaned.Granger listened to the cellphone and frowned. Then, speaking through clenched teeth said, “Damn. No photos of Debby or Jack.” And then handed it to her.
She took it cautiously and said, “Anything else?”
He nodded. “Dr. Witson called Steve from the hospital. Piero has vanished.”
“Damn, I’m not sure he could survive that. Any word on who or how?”
Granger said, “No, and we can’t stop what we’re doing to find for Debby or Jack to chase down Piero. Let Steve handle that one. We’ll do more good finding Debby.”
Meret shook her head. “Well, I’m not surprised they couldn’t find a recent photo of her.” She paused in thought. “Let's say Poppy and Zhen got Katya's DNA doing their first beetle fly-by through PSI Corps' empty offices. They said the company maintains a crew of rented security to protect equipment of some kind. PSI Corps was quickly bought out right after Dirk Donahue blew his brains out and they might have been careless with records trying to get out of the building. How about we get a team to recheck in case the evacuation was not a smooth one? Any recent photos of anyone we discover might help in the search for Henri.”
He shook his finger in agreement. “You may have something. I’ll have Steve get the legal authority to do this on the up and up, and let you know when they plan to begin their search.
* * *
Katya had the driver park the car down the street and wait for her in the alley. Carrying two empty briefcases, she put on dark glasses and walked unnoticed toward PSI Corps. Dressed in the plain persona of the psychologist in her long white starched lab coat, she headed for the main entrance. She knew PSI retained only one of their own long-time security guards to manage the team of rental mall cops they’d hired to guard the place and protect what files remained until they are transferred or destroyed.
In spite of two uniformed guards stationed in the lobby behind locked doors. Katya managed to gain the attention of Benny, a guard she knew well. Once inside she shook hands with him, and that's all she needed to put him under her control.
He escorted her to her old office and would have remained by the door if she hadn't sent him off by saying, “Benny, the word, is ‘later.’ For now, continue with your duties.
She placed her empty briefcases on her World War Two surplus gray desk and opened them for the fistfuls of folders she grabbed from her filing cabinet. Oh, yes, it had been locked but she wanted nothing left to chance. When she finished, she hurried down the hallway to Donahue's office. She picked the lock and sneered at the yellow police tape before ducking under it. Within minutes she located his file on her and proceeded to pile many others the table.
Her phone rang. The caller ID told her it was Benny. Trouble. “CIA agents with guns and search warrants and are taking over the offices. The warrants they showed me are for company records and any remaining smart devices. I thought you'd like to know.”
“Thanks, Benny. You're a good boy.
The word is sleep.”
She continued to grab folders of any work they had assigned to her. Her briefcases full, she pulled two trashcans together and proceeded to dump as many of the recently dated folders as possible. Sprinkling a half bottle of Dirk's whiskey on the piles of folders, she lit a dry piece of paper and ignited both. The CIA would soon be swarming all over the place and Katya had no intention of being caught destroying possible evidence against her. She ran through the door away toward the rear basement where she and Dirk did some of their best training. She held tight to the handles of her briefcases and pressed her arms against folders tucked under her arms.
Thanks to Benny's training, the inner door to the basement staircase remained unlocked and Katya escaped into darkness.
62
Meret gets Lucky
October, Washington - Katya in flight
A SuperFly Bite. Special Agent Steve Fairchild and five other agents poured into PSI Corps empty parking lot with search warrants. With help from Poppy, Meret was able to pair her cell phone with the SuperFly in Fairchild's pocket. The pairing allowed her to join the PSI Corps search in the guise of her SuperFly. Steve asked her to support the team by making a quick scan around the outside of the building, including the roof. Now, all she needed was a bit of luck.
Minutes later, holding her smart phone in both hands like a gamer, recalled her night mission in the Yemen desert. Her new SuperFly needed a name and when ‘Sly slipped into her brain, she kept it. After three rising spiraling runs around the exterior of the building, she aimed Sly up the seven stories for the roof.
Nothing.
She made a second sweep of the roof top before sending Sly higher to scan the neighboring warehouses. The side streets and narrow alleys surrounding the warehouses was not suited for foot traffic, yet a lone woman dressed in white ran toward the only car parked two blocks away. The rear door of PSI Corps lay three blocks directly behind her. It had to be Katya.
Meret's heart accelerated with hope and drove Sly lower. What she saw made her
do three things in rapid order. She contacted Steve, “There’s a woman in a white lab coat carrying a bundle of papers and briefcases” and sent Sly diving for announcing to the team “Target in alley behind PSI Corps corner facing 16th two blocks from the only car. Both facing Southeast.”
She maneuvered the fly above and beyond the car so she could do an about face and then dive low to see the face of woman running straight toward the waiting car. “I’m going for a facial photos to confirm target, but I know its Katya. Hurry. She’s on the same block as her car now, don’t let her get away.”
“Roger that.” The sound of Steve’s heavy breathing assured her he was running.
Once Meret had turned Sly to face Katya she knew she only had one chance to record her face and execute a flip turn with Sly so she could get him close enough to inject Katya with the no-speak virus.
Meret knew she lacked the skill accomplish both, but with Zhen’s programming she only needed to touch the screen in two placed in sequence. She must touch the image of Katya’s face to initiate a video recording and then touch a screen icon to initiate a auto-tag-and-trace of Katya her self. There would be no feedback of success. She had to completely trust Zhen’s technology.
Meret didn’t hesitate and hit the screen faster than she could say, “Gotcha, bitch” as the woman dove into the driver’s seat.
“Shit! My SuperFly’s gone dark. It’s got less than two minutes of battery. Steve, are you with me? Katya got into her car. It was parked facing 16th street. If so, it’s turning northbound. I can only hope it took the video and tagged her before going into recovery mode. It should have had enough juice to hide in her car and wait, while it recharges. At that time, if undetected, Sly, sorry, my name for the SuperFly, will broadcast its location, complete the video upload, and wait for the next command.
Meret looked at her dark screen. “Steve? Can you hear me? Was anyone else on her tail?”
After someone mumbled something in the background he said, “Two agents close to the front door initiated pursuit but never regained a visual. Our monitoring got a good license plate image but no sharp facial for the files. What we have I've entered into our detection database and about to start a search. What's in this new tag procedure and how soon will the SuperFly bot be back on line?”
“Depends on the amount of light where Fly hid. I didn’t realize that Zhen programed a sleep mode when I hit the auto-tag-and-trace option. I guess that allows the bot the time to make a proper chemical tag of the subject’s DNA for identification later while saving power. Until recalled, the SuperFly will remain close to the perp allowing us to follow the subject by following the SuperFly.”
“I see. Help me understand why we don’t insert a physical tag with an implanted device on Katya?”
Meret’s screen remained dark, but her cell still functioned as a phone. “A permanent implantation requires a larger BeetleBot and to answer your first question, It may be anywhere from one to five hours before the SuperFly comes back online. I'm sure as hell glad we got what something for now. As long as Zhen's new tracking app can record and transmit the data once it recharges, that is.
Steve said, “I'm going to check if your tagging of Katya made it to the cloud.”
Meret's glared at her dark screen, figuring she had only had a minute of battery power remaining.
Come on, Sly. You can do it. That’s it. Upload. Upload.
She felt like she was coaxing a chewed up slipper from a puppy. Come on—
“Yes,” Steve hooted. “Hah! Got you, you son-of-a-bitch. The bot uploaded it’s position. We can follow it.”
Meret let out her breath in a whoosh. “Steve, did you say can see my SuperFly's tracking map in real-time? Damn, I've wanted to throw a net over this one for too long. I just refreshed my phone. My screen’s showing a tiny red dot, it’s Sly, my SuperFly, right?”
“Thanks to Dr. Zhen, it's all real-time. We now have the capability of tracking this bitch all over the world. Let’s play out this rope and see if she can lead us to the people she’s working with.”
Meret watched the little red dot move slowly across the overlay of Northwestern Washington, D.C. “Steve, let’s discuss putting an implant in Katya. All of our work depends on the SuperFly’s ability to hide and recharge. A implant is a good back-up until we decide to bring her in.”
“You make a good point, Meret. I’m also going to tell the Director we’ll need a team on the ground prepared to re-tag or bag her in case the tracker the BeetleBot fails.”
* * *
Katya glanced several times in her rear-view mirror to see if she’d been followed.
Stupid. Stupid, stupid.
She’d almost been caught.
After an hour of seemingly aimless driving, she saw no indication of a trail. She pulled into a valet car park and took the elevator to the mall’s fourth-floor. Entering an upscale beauty parlor, she requested a blonde pixie hair cut and a redo of her nails to her favorite shade of blood-red.
Lost in planning, it was moment before she noticed the stylist laying long lengths of her hair on the counter. When she glared at the woman, the stylist stammered a response.
“I thought ya might want to, um, sell your hair.”
“You were going to ask?”
“It’ll, um, cover the manicure.” The girl was shaking by now and Katya savored it. It satisfied something deep within her to see people squirm.
“Toss in a pedicure, and it's a deal. And bring another girl to do it while you do the manicure.” She needed to get out of there. They would still make a profit, but money wasn’t the object. She knew the hair was worth a few hundred, but no one pulled something off on her without her approval.
* * *
Meret’s cell phone’s screen suddenly came alive with an aerial view from the SuperFly’s view of Katya emerging from the mall wearing jeweled sandals, blue shorts, and a short sleeve white-collar cotton shirt. Katya seem fail to notice a tiny silver fly landing atop her new blonde pixie hair cut. Meret watched as Katya presented her ticket to the valet parking attendant who scampered off to get her car. She also witnessed Katya stealing a BMW key chain from a hook behind desk and observed her walk up the ramp. When Meret noticed her old car pass down the circular ramp on its way out, Katya raised her arm and squeezed the lock button on the BMW’s key-chain setting off an alarm. Within seconds of Katya’s trolling, the about to be stolen BMW gave up its hiding space, betrayed by the sound of its horn.
Later on the Interstate, Meret observed Katya repeatedly admiring her shiny fingernails and glancing in the rear-view mirror admiring her sassy, short hairdo. She heard her proclaim, “There’s no fucking with me.”
Knowing there was no two-way audio, Meret spoke to the screen. “Consider yourself-fucked.”
63
Team Play
October, Washington - Half-Time Huddle-Up
Meret returned to Langley’s quiet, windowless, low-lit, basement looking for Granger. Standing against metal guardrails of the deck, she overlooked scores of cubicles now supported two teams of agents. Silhouetted figures, illuminated by images generated from her BeetleBots and SuperFlys confirmed the CIA’s renewed commitment to find Henri, and others behind the pending Genecaust. Their serious work kept them fully engaged in one task or another. Trying to orient herself she scanned the dim room below. It always seemed bigger then she remembered. “If only I could see Granger’s—”
Ah, There he was.
She descended the stairs and wove her way to one corner of the workroom to join Granger. As she approached a large round table she observed him in an animated discussion with four other agents. She almost didn’t see Director Davies and three men approaching the table from the opposite side.
The five of them reached the round table at the same time Granger and his four colleagues stood. It appeared everyone knew each other and after man-shakes all around, Director Davies introduced her and they all sat.
She sat across from Granger. His self
-assured voice brought the meeting to order and he appeared to be in top form. “In anticipation of this meeting, I encouraged Director Davies include Director Bob Watson, The Director of National INTELligence, to participate in our next steps. Bob immediately green-lighted this meeting and arranged for our guests, Director Richard Roe, Homeland Security, Director. Frank Jones, NSA and Director Tomas Smith-Patrick, FBI. I'm expecting this debriefing to bring everyone up to speed of our efforts to undo an imminent biological threat to the Homeland. As you know, it has long been a practice for each agency to a hand-off the results of their operations to the other National agencies after they have been concluded. The threat we now face is moving too fast for hand offs.”
Granger paused. “I've been appointed to direct a joint operation involving Homeland, NSA, FBI, and as of this moment, the CIA. My office is preparing copies of our field reports and analysis for everyone, including Dr. Meret Mather, our special genomic consultant.” He leaned on the table with both hands. “We're almost on to something. Recent events have shed light on some of the details of this threat. We appreciate the opportunity to hear your thoughts before we take the next step.”
Meret watched with some concern. Granger suddenly seemed tired and she glanced at Davies.
Davies acknowledged his opening and Granger sat. “Let’s kick this off. Bob and I will be meeting with POTUS within the hour, so give our new team members a summary while we wait on the notes.”
Granger rubbed his temples and Meret wondered how much his head still hurt. God. The man was a stubborn as a mule and probably hadn’t even looked at the pain pills the nurse gave him when he was released from the hospital.