Tricks and Traps (Gray Spear Society Book 7)

by Siegel, Alex

  "What happened to the project?" Aaron said.

  "Some people died during the experiments," Ford said. "Whistles were blown. There was an investigation. I only heard rumors about what was found in that laboratory, but they were ugly rumors. It was a huge mess and a black eye for the agency."

  "That's when Cantrell was fired?"

  "The whole research team was cut loose. Every scrap of evidence was destroyed, and every file was shredded. The CIA wanted to make sure those experiments never came to light. It was that bad."

  Aaron furrowed his brow. "What about Cantrell?"

  "He disappeared for a couple of years. When he resurfaced, he made contact with me. I certainly didn't seek him out."

  "But you didn't report the incident."

  "We..." Ford paused.

  Aaron glared at him. "What?"

  "We did things in Vladivostok that I'm not proud of. There are still scores waiting to be settled back there. Cantrell could make my life very difficult by giving my name to certain Russian operatives."

  "He blackmailed you."

  "Listen," Ford said, "you don't mess around with that guy. If he decides he doesn't like you, it's a huge problem, and he has a lot of nasty friends."

  "You're a coward."

  "I'm realistic."

  Aaron frowned. "What is your arrangement with him?"

  "He pays me to be his eyes inside the agency. I warn him about trouble."

  "And provide false identities."

  "You know about that?" Ford's eyes widened.

  "Indeed. When was the last time you talked?"

  "He called me a couple of nights ago. He had a problem, but I couldn't help him."

  Aaron took another bite of his donut. "Do you know what Cantrell is doing these days?"

  "He's a businessman. He sells slot machines to casinos and seems to be doing well. I wouldn't be surprised if some of his dealings are shady. He always had a hard time following the rules, but he never shares those details with me, so I don't know. Frankly, I don't want to know."

  "He owns an entire casino."

  "How is that possible?" Ford said.

  "You and your friend have a lot of catching up to do. Call him now. Tell him you're in Chicago on business. You'd like to get together to talk about old times. You'll be wired, of course."

  "That seems like a dangerous plan."

  Aaron nodded. "For you, certainly, but what choice do you have? Cooperating with me is your only way out of this mess. I'm particularly interested in the Indian Head project. Make sure he talks about it."

  "Why does counterintelligence care? Is Cantrell back in the spy business? Is he working for a foreign government?"

  "I don't think so."

  "Hold on." Ford narrowed his eyes. "How do I know you're actually in counterintelligence?"

  "Do you want to see my identification?"

  "Identification can be faked."

  "Very true," Aaron said.

  "And how did you find me? Who tipped you off?"

  "We followed the money trail."

  "That was supposed to be impossible," Ford said. "Cantrell has this complicated money laundering system in place."

  Aaron grabbed a quart of milk from a refrigerator. He went back to the table and sat across from Ford. He chugged the entire carton without taking a breath.

  He wiped his mouth. "We had a conversation with the man who handled those transactions. His untimely demise will be very problematic for Cantrell. Now that I think about it, it's also an issue for you. I don't know how you'll get paid now."

  Ford stared. "I'm starting to suspect you caused the trouble the other night."

  "Yes," Aaron said, "and we're not done."

  "Are you really in counterintelligence? Are you even in the CIA?"

  "Here is what you need to know. We're a shit storm headed straight for Cantrell. His sins are finally catching up to him in a very ugly way. If you don't cooperate, you'll be in our crosshairs like your buddy. You won't survive. As a realistic man, it's up to you to make a realistic decision. There is one other thing. We know where you live and where you work. Neither location will be safe for you."

  "I work in CIA headquarters," Ford said.

  "Room 5051, to be exact. The password on your computer is 'silvercar.' That must be a play on your name."

  Ford let out a long sigh. His fear was so obvious Tawni felt sorry for him.

  "I'm offering you salvation," Aaron said, "a free pass, but you only get one shot. Call Cantrell."

  Ford took a slim, blue phone from his pocket. His shaking fingers made it hard for him to dial.

  "Neville?" he said. "This is Sterling. Guess what? I just landed in Chicago. The agency sent me here for a meeting. It was a last minute thing and completely stupid, if you ask me. Anyway, I'll be done by noon. I know you're in the area, so I was hoping we could get together. We can have a few beers. My flight home isn't until the evening... Hang on. I need to write this down."

  Aaron took a small notepad and a pen from his pocket and handed them over.

  Ford jotted down some notes. "That's great," he said. "Two o'clock shouldn't be a problem. Yes, I'll be alone. Just have a cold one ready for me. I'll see you then." He hung up.

  "Well done," Aaron said. "If you behave, you can take that fight home tonight and return to your family. All will be forgiven and forgotten. In the meantime, my friends will keep you company." He pointed to Tawni and Norbert. "They'll make sure you don't miss your important meeting." Aaron stood up. "Good day. Hopefully, this will be the last time I see you."

  He went to the front door. Norbert unlocked it and held it open for Aaron. Sheryl caught up to him and followed him out.

  Tawni walked over to Ford. "Do you want a donut? They're good."

  "No," he said. "I lost my appetite."

  "A shame." She munched on her powdered donut.

  * * *

  Jack woke up with a pounding headache. His mouth tasted like something had died in it. He tried to swallow but his throat was too dry.

  He staggered into the bathroom. With a plastic cup, he drank water from the tap until his stomach felt bloated. He used the toilet and produced a large amount of urine. He must've been asleep for a long time. He took a hot shower to wash off the funky smell.

  He felt a little better. He had no fresh clothes so he put on a bathrobe. He left the guest quarters.

  Aaron was with Sheryl in the workout area. They wore karate outfits and gray belts. She was kicking blue pads that he was holding.

  "Harder," he said. "Kick like your life depends on it!"

  She attempted a straight front kick. The move was clumsy, and she almost fell over. Sweat had soaked her white uniform.

  "Sir," she pleaded, "please, let me take a break."

  "The enemy doesn't give breaks. If you can stand, you can fight. Let God's breath give you a boost. Kick!"

  Jack shook his head. Aaron was a harsh instructor, but he always got the best out of his legionnaires. He had turned Norbert into a fearsome warrior despite a lack of talent. Now Tawni was blossoming under Aaron's tutelage. She had made a scary amount of progress in just two months. She was already past the point where she could beat Jack in a fight, and he considered himself pretty tough.

  Sheryl kicked again, and this time she did fall over. Aaron rushed forward to catch her in his arms before she hit the floor. He gently helped her stand up.

  "Take five minutes," he said, "but don't sit down."

  She groaned.

  He turned to Jack. "I'm glad to see you're finally awake. I hope you're feeling better. Smythe is on the roof. Go up there and let him give you a check up."

  "Yes, sir," Jack said.

  He still felt dazed as he made his way to the roof. The sunlight hit him straight in the eyes. He blinked and squinted for a moment.

  Then he saw something extremely strange. Bethany and Leanna were suspended a few inches in the air. Their arms were stretched out in a crucifix position. Beams of shimmering white li
ght went from their eyes up to the clouds. All their hair was gone, including their eyebrows.

  Smythe was using a stethoscope to listen to Leanna's heart.

  Jack walked over. "What the fuck, sir?"

  "We think God is upgrading their brains."

  "Making the girls even smarter?"

  "I would presume," Smythe said. "He wants His project finished, and they weren't getting it done. Apparently, failure is not an option, but miracles are."

  Jack stared at the ongoing miracle. He had seen some strange things during his time in the Society, but this one ranked high on the list. A glow was leaking out of the twins' ears. He wondered if they were in pain.

  "Why are they bald?"

  "Their hair fell out," Smythe said. "I think their skulls are changing composition. By the time the Lord is finished, they won't be human anymore."

  Jack touched Bethany's smooth scalp. The skin felt very warm and hard. He jerked his hand back in surprise.

  Smythe turned. "How are you feeling?"

  "Not very good," Jack said.

  Smythe listened to Jack's heart for a moment. Then the doctor checked Jack's eyes and ears.

  "How do I look, doc?"

  "Physically, you seem OK," Smythe said. "You slept for half a day, so you should be well rested. What's happening inside your head?"

  Jack heard the jingling of the monkey machines in the distance. It wasn't loud, but it was impossible to ignore.

  "I'm pretty screwed up. I really want to go back to the casino, but at the same time, I know it's the worst thing for me. I can't think clearly. I'm stuck in a bad dream."

  Smythe frowned. "I did a little research this morning. We could try naltrexone. It's a drug used to treat alcohol dependency, but it might help you. There is also buprenorphine. Of course, these are long shots. Gambling addiction is usually treated with therapy, not medication, but this isn't a normal addiction."

  "I'll try anything."

  "Let's go down to the medical lab. I want to give you an EEG."

  They went downstairs.

  Sheryl was resting, but she was slouched over and clearly wanted to sit down. Aaron was using the time to punch a heavy bag. His bare fists struck with a shocking amount of force, probably enough to kill a man. Legionnaires tended to become ridiculously strong after a few years of service, and that was certainly true in Aaron's case.

  Smythe and Jack continued to the medical lab. Jack sat on the operating table while Smythe fussed with his equipment.

  "Is this going to hurt?" Jack said.

  "No. I'm just going to tape pads to your skull and look at your brainwaves."

  "What will that tell you?"

  "Maybe nothing," Smythe said. "I'm just grasping at straws here. The team got some interesting information today. The guy who owns the Pot of Gold Casino is Neville Cantrell. He was a spy, but the CIA fired him six years ago. He was part of a secret research program involving doctors and psychologists. It seems likely the monkey machines are a product of those experiments."

  "Now I feel like a lab rat."

  "That's not far from the truth. Hold on. I need an extension cord." Smythe quickly left the room.

  Jack noticed some white pills on the floor near the wall. They were the knockout pills he had accidently spilled last night.

  They gave him an idea. It was a bad idea, maybe the worst in his life. It was so wrong it made him sick.

  Regardless, he was compelled to get off the table. He swept up the pills with his hand and dropped them into the pocket of his bathrobe.

  Smythe returned with an extension cord and used it to power the EEG machine. Jack recognized the device from movies and televisions shows. Several pens were positioned over a scrolling sheet of paper on a flat bed.

  It took a long time for Smythe to attach all the electrical pads to Jack's skull. All the while, Jack heard the jingling sound. It was making him twitch.

  Finally, the EEG machine was running. Jack saw his brainwaves recorded as squiggly lines on the paper.

  "How does my brain look, doc?"

  "Like wavy lines," Smythe said.

  "You're funny."

  "To be honest, I'm not an expert on EEG readings. I'll have to consult with another doctor to get an official interpretation."

  "How are you going to do that, sir?" Jack said.

  "I'll use a fake identity. In the meantime, all I can give you is a rough assessment. These readings don't look like they should. They're more characteristic of somebody who is still sleeping. Maybe a stimulant is the right treatment for you. My prescription is three cups of fresh, hot coffee, enough to make you sweat. Let's see what that does."

  "Yes, sir. As long as I'm brewing a pot, do you want some?"

  "Sure," Smythe said.

  Jack went back to the workout area. Sheryl's training had switched from kicking to stretching. She was attempting to do a full split and grimacing in pain. Aaron watched with his arms crossed.

  "The doctor ordered me to drink coffee," Jack said. "Sir, are you interested?"

  "Yes," Aaron said. "Hot and strong."

  "Sheryl?"

  Sheryl grunted and nodded. Her stretched legs were quivering.

  "Reach down deep," Aaron said softly. "God's anger is a limitless source of strength and endurance for us. It will help you get through this."

  "It hurts," she whimpered.

  "I know. Part of the process."

  Jack went into the kitchen. He assembled the coffee pot from parts on the drying rack beside the sink. He used a grinder to produce a big pile of fresh ground coffee.

  While the coffee was brewing, he sat at the kitchen table with his face in his hands. He was miserable. The jingling of the monkey machine played over and over in his head.

  He felt an overwhelming compulsion to return to the casino. However, he was under house arrest. Aaron would never let Jack go, no matter how much he pleaded and argued. If he tried to escape, he would be killed for blatant insubordination before he got out of the building. The place was full of hidden automatic weapons. Somehow, he had to get away without anybody noticing. There was one way to do it.

  Jack pounded his forehead with the palm of his hand. He was caught in an impossible situation. He hated himself for even considering the idea.

  Finally, the coffee was done. He poured four steaming cups.

  His hand reached into the pocket of his bathrobe and found the white pills. He fought the urge with all his willpower, but he wasn't strong enough. The monkey machine was too tough an opponent. He dropped one pill into each cup of coffee.

  He left the kitchen carrying two cups in each hand by the handles. Without speaking, he delivered them to Aaron, Sheryl, and Smythe. Jack averted his eyes the whole time. He couldn't have felt worse about what he was doing.

  He took the last cup to the security booth and knocked on the door.

  The door opened, and Nancy was standing there with her usual generous smile. Her frizzy brown hair stuck out in odd directions.

  "Is that coffee?" she said. "Great! You're my hero."

  Jack gave her the cup and followed her into the booth.

  "How do you stay so happy all the time?" he muttered.

  "Why wouldn't I be happy? I have a great life. I get to do stuff like this all the time." She pointed at a set of architectural plans lying on the security console.

  He examined the simple line drawings. "What's this?"

  "The Chinatown project. I'm designing a backup headquarters. If we have to abandon this place, we'll need somewhere to go. Might as well start preparing before it's a crisis. We don't want to repeat the mess that happened last time." She sipped her coffee.

  Jack nodded. "I haven't been over there."

  "The building is perfect. It's practically a fortress already, and we haven't even started the big security upgrades. It's like the place was originally built for us. The only major problem is the proximity to the river. The ground is wet, so anything deep will have to be watertight."

 
"Just like the old headquarters on Wacker."

  "Yes," she said, "but now we have new materials to play with. There are high-tech clays and plastics that form a tough permanent seal." She drank more coffee.

  Her eyes were starting to droop. She was looking at him instead of the monitors.

  "Did Kamal go home?"

  "Yes," she said. "He was here all night."

  Out of the corner of his eye, Jack watched the internal surveillance feeds. Sheryl and Smythe were already down and out. Aaron was staggering.

  "Nancy!" he yelled sluggishly. His voice came through the speaker in the security booth.

  Nancy looked at the monitors. "What? Sir! What's going on?"

  "Watch out for Jack. He betrayed us." Aaron fell on his face.

  She had a gun in a holster. Jack slickly stole the gun, backed up, and aimed at her head.

  Her eyes widened. "What are you doing?"

  "Just drink your coffee."

  "Jack..."

  "Do it!" he yelled. "I'm not screwing around. I'm getting out, one way or another. I can't leave you awake in here. You'll kill me before I reach the parking lot."

  Nancy looked down at her cup. "Is it poisoned?"

  "It's just a sleeping pill. It's safe. Come on!"

  Jack fired the gun past her ear. The bullet broke a monitor behind her.

  Her hand was shaking as she drank her coffee.

  "Do you understand what will happen to you?" she said.

  "Yes. I'll get to play the games again."

  "Jack, you're not thinking clearly."

  "Shut up!" He waved the gun menacingly.

  "I've known you a very long time. This isn't you. Please, I'm begging. If you back down now and apologize to Aaron when he wakes up, he might let you live. If you leave headquarters, you're dead. No place on Earth will be safe for you."

  "Drink!"

  She drank more coffee. She was having trouble staying upright.

  "Now lie down on the floor," he said. "Quickly!"

  She almost fell over as she went down.

  The closet containing the cash and gold was in the security booth. Jack threw open the door. The pile of gold bullion on the floor was impressive but useless to him. He grabbed thick stacks of hundred dollar bills from the shelves instead.