“And the formulas?”
“The science looks good,” Ginzberg replied. “We’ll need to recreate them in the lab to be sure.”
“How soon can you get started?” Hallier asked.
Ginzberg looked puzzled. “Forgive me, Colonel,” he said, “but I thought you said everything to do with our work at DLS had been scrubbed. Those were your last orders.”
Hallier nodded. “That was before we regained control of these files. The situation has changed.”
“Very well,” Ginzberg replied. “How do you want us to proceed?”
“I’m tasking you and your team with two primary objectives,” Hallier said. “First, recreate the formulas for Channeler and LEEDA.”
The doctors nodded. “That won’t be a problem,” Ginzberg answered. “And the second?”
“Get me the antidotes for both technologies,” Hallier replied.
“Already done, sir,” Ginzberg said.
“You have them?” Hallier asked.
Ginzberg nodded. “They’re a mandatory part of the formulation process intended to be deployed as a counteragent in the event of an emergency,” the scientist replied. “Based on the depth and the breadth of PROJECT GENESIS we created a single antidote to counteract the combined effects of Channeler and LEEDA. We call it ACHILLES.”
“Is it weaponized?”
“Yes, sir,” Ginzberg answered. “Achilles is delivered as a gas. Once inhaled by the target, it instantly reverses the biological effects of Channeler and LEEDA.”
“How long will it last?”
“Permanently, sir.”
“I need Achilles immediately,” Hallier said.
The men looked concerned.
“Is that a problem, Doctor?”
Ginzberg spoke tentatively. “Sir, Achilles and all of our counteragents are locked in a bomb-proof vault at DLS. But the lab has been shuttered. How are we supposed to gain access to it?”
“Consider yourselves back in business,” Hallier said. “Security is reopening the facility as we speak. You have carte blanche to continue your research. Whatever you’ll need, it’s yours.”
“Thank you, Colonel,” Ginzberg replied.
Hallier addressed the table sternly. “I’m not being benevolent, doctors,” he said. “This situation requires your undivided attention. You’re to get me Achilles and pursue the re-creation of Channeler and LEEDA around the clock. As of this moment your life goes on hold. Your families will be notified accordingly. You’ll eat and sleep at DLS until this is finished. I need results, and I need them fast.”
Hallier stood. “Transportation is ready and waiting for you. I suggest you get started the minute you arrive.”
The men rose from their chairs. “Yes, sir,” Ginzberg replied.
∞ ∞ ∞
Hallier waited for the guard to unlock the interrogation room door. He entered the small room. Tommy Moore sat in the chair, feet curled under him, arms wrapped around his legs. He looked up. “Where are my parents?” he asked.
“Down the hall,” Hallier answered.
“They okay?”
“You mean besides being thoroughly upset with you?” Hallier replied. “Yes, they’re fine.”
“They knew nothing about this.”
“I know.”
Tommy seemed surprised. “You do?”
Hallier sat on the corner of the desk, looked at the teen. “Your parents seem like very nice people, Tommy. If you haven’t already guessed by now, we’re damn good at what we do around here. If they were lying to us about any of this, we’d know it.”
“Are you going to let them go?” the teen asked.
“I see no reason to hold them,” Hallier said. “You, on the other hand, might be here for a while. That is if you decline my offer.”
Tommy sat up. “What offer?”
“Remember what I said to you at your home?” Hallier asked.
“No, sir,” Tommy answered. “To be honest, I was too busy trying not to wet myself.”
Hallier forced a smile. “Special operator raids have that effect on people,” he replied. “I said you had to be stupid, lucky or brilliant to hack us like you did.”
“Yes, sir,” Tommy said.
“Do you know how many levels of security we have in place to keep people like you from gaining access to our data?”
“A lot?”
“That’s right,” Hallier said. “And you circumvented each and every one of them. Which tells me you didn’t hack into us by sheer accident or get lucky. And you’re sure as hell not stupid. So that leaves brilliant. You’re a hacking prodigy, aren’t you?”
“To be honest, sir,” Tommy answered, “there’s not much about computer security systems I don’t know.”
“I figured as much,” Hallier said. He leaned back in his chair. “You’ve put me in a very difficult position, Mr. Moore.”
“I won’t do it again,” Tommy said.
“I can charge you…” Hallier began.
“I promise!”
“… which would destroy your life and pretty much any hope for a decent future you could have…”
Tommy pleaded. “I swear to God!”
“… or I could look the other way on this and put you to work for me.”
Dumbfounded, Tommy stared at the colonel. “Huh?” he said.
“You heard me,” Hallier said. “You come to work for DARPA. With your parent’s permission, of course. But there’s a catch.”
Tommy was stunned. “What catch?” he asked.
“No one can know,” Hallier said. “Not your schoolmates, your teachers… not even your best friend. That’s a lot of responsibility to place on the shoulders of most adults, much less a fifteen-year-old boy. So, the question remains.”
“Sir?” Tommy asked nervously.
“Do you think you can handle it?”
Tommy didn’t bat an eye. He nodded. “Yes, sir!”
“I thought so,” Hallier said.
“What do you need me to do?” Tommy asked.
“Nothing for now,” Hallier said. “You’ll go back home with your parents. We’ll provide you with an encrypted laptop which you’ll use for any assignments we send to you. There’s one more condition.”
“Name it.”
“You don’t black hat or otherwise hack another website ever again. The second you do this offer is rescinded, permanently.”
“I won’t, sir.”
“Good,” Hallier said. He extended his hand. “Welcome to DARPA, Mr. Moore.”
Tommy smiled. He shook the colonel’s hand. “Thank you, sir. I won’t let you down.”
“No, you won’t,” Hallier replied firmly. “You ready to go see your parents now?”
“Yes, please, Colonel.”
“All right,” Hallier said.
“They’re not gonna believe this,” Tommy said excitedly. “Me, working for the Department of Defense.”
“As a civilian contractor, Mr. Moore. Nothing more.”
“Yes, sir. But you’ve got to admit it.”
“Admit what?” Hallier asked.
“It’s really frickin’ cool!”
Hallier forced back a smile. He opened the interrogation room door for Tommy. “Go see your parents,” he said. “Down the hall, second door on your right.”
“Thank you, sir,” Tommy replied. He left the room and hustled down the hallway.
Hallier closed the door. He walked to the corner of the room, lifted a telephone handset from its cradle, and placed a call.
“General Ford’s office.”
“Colonel Quentin Hallier for General Ford.”
“One moment, Colonel,” the secretary replied.
Ford picked up the call. “How can I help you, Colonel?”
“Sir, I’m calling regarding projects Channeler and LEEDA.”
“There’s nothing to discuss, Colonel,” Ford replied. “They’re shut down. DLS is dead. So is GENESIS.”
“With respect, sir, there’s be
en a development. We’ve been able to recover the files.”
“How is that possible?” Ford asked. “You said the EMP took out everything… that there were no backups.”
“That was our initial assessment of the situation, sir. We’ve since been able to secure the data from an outside source. One not previously available to us.”
“What about Commander Egan?”
“With your permission, sir, I’d like to assemble a special ops team to track him down.”
“How?” Ford asked. “He has no biomarkers. He’s a ghost.”
“I may have a solution, sir,” Hallier replied. “It’s unconventional, but I think it might work.”
“I don’t care what you have to do, Colonel,” Ford said. “Egan’s off his leash, and we both know the risk that poses to national security.”
“Yes, sir.”
“All right,” Ford said. “You can proceed. But do it fast. Find him and bring him in, one way or the other.”
“Copy that, sir.”
Ford hung up.
Hallier placed a second call.
“Federal Bureau of Investigation.”
“Assistant Director Ann Ridgeway,” Hallier said.
“Please hold.”
The call was picked up seconds later. “This is Ridgeway.”
“Ann, it’s Quentin.”
“Good afternoon, Colonel,” the Assistant Director said. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”
“I need your help.”
“Of course. What can I do for you?”
“I need to speak with Agent Quest,” Hallier said. “It’s an emergency.”
CHAPTER 7
“TELL ME WHAT HAPPENED, JORDAN,” Chris asked. “What did you see? Who is the thin man?”
Jordan sat back in her chair. “I don’t know,” she said, “but he seems to be in charge.”
“Of what?”
“Some kind of tactical operation. But it doesn’t feel military.”
“What do they have to do with the children?” Chris asked.
Jordan recalled the details of the conversation she had overheard in the jungle. “He wants to put them to work,” Jordan replied. “Some kind of forced labor.”
“Where are they?”
“I’m not sure,” Jordan said. “But I know it’s nowhere close by.” Jordan stared at the needle sheath in her hand. “Commander Egan is with them. The energy signature from the needle cover is a direct connection to him.”
“You saw him?”
“Not exactly,” Jordan replied. “But I felt him there, in the distance, out of sight, watching the men.”
“Did he see you?” Chris asked.
Jordan shook her head. “I don’t think so.”
Chris stood. He walked around the room, considered the magnitude of what Jordan had just told him. “You know what this means, right?”
Jordan nodded. She placed the needle sheath back into its secret compartment within the Chinese puzzle box. “Commander Egan is alive.”
“More than that,” Chris said. “It means that you can track him. DARPA needs to know about this. You need to contact Hallier.”
Jordan’s cellphone rang. She checked the display: RIDGEWAY. She took the call.
“Good morning, Assistant Director.”
“Good morning, Agent Quest. I need you to come to the office as soon as possible.”
“Yes, ma’am,” Jordan replied. “May I ask what this is about?”
“I just got off the phone with Colonel Hallier from DARPA,” ADC Ridgeway replied. “He needs to speak with you right away. He says it’s an emergency. Is Agent Hanover with you?”
Jordan stared at Chris. “Yes, ma’am.”
“Good. How soon can you both be here?”
“Within the hour, ma’am.”
“Very well,” Ridgeway said. “I’ll be expecting you.” She hung up.
“That was Ridgeway,” Jordan said. “We have to go in.”
“Did she say why?”
“Colonel Hallier needs to speak with me.”
“Think this has anything to do with Commander Egan?” Chris asked.
“What other reason would he have to reach out to me?” Jordan asked.
Chris opened the door for Jordan as they left the library. “That’s a very good question,” he said.
“My car or yours?” Jordan said.
“You look better in your Maserati than you do in my Camry,” Chris joked.
Jordan laughed. “My wheels it is.” She hugged Marissa and kissed her children goodbye. Lucy followed them to the door.
“Mind if I drive?” Chris asked.
Jordan smiled. “Not a chance.”
Jordan drove through the gates of the mansion, waited for them to close behind her, then rounded the corner. A gray sedan was parked down the street. Jordan caught a glimpse of the driver. Through the tinted windows she could make out the profile of a man talking on his cell phone. Jordan checked her rear-view mirror as she drove past.
Chris took notice. “What’s up?” he asked.
Jordan shook her head. “It’s nothing.”
“Something caught your attention,” Chris pressed. “What is it?”
“The car back there,” Jordan said. “Something about it feels wrong.”
Chris shrugged. “Since when is it illegal for a guy to stop and make a phone call?”
Jordan nodded. “You’re right,” she said. “Forget it.”
“I know what you’re thinking, Jordan,” Chris said. “But it’s been years since the home invasion. Everything’s good now. The bad guys are dead. You, Marissa and the kids are all safe now.”
“I know,” Jordan replied. “I guess the fear will never be entirely gone, no matter how hard I try.”
“Considering what you and your family went through that’s understandable,” Chris said. He took out his cellphone. “If it will make you feel any better, I’ll call it in. The local cops can swing by and check him out.”
“That’s okay,” Jordan replied. “It’s just me. I need to get over it.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.”
“Good enough,” Chris said. He smiled. “Sure you won’t let me drive?”
Jordan laughed. “One-hundred percent.”
The man parked in the gray sedan waited until the Maserati had driven down the street and rounded the corner. From his jacket pocket he removed a notepad, checked his watch and recorded the time. His picked up the mini binoculars from the passenger seat beside him, turned his attention back to the mansion, focused the lenses and panned the windows of the estate. He watched the housekeeper as she removed crystal glasses from a rosewood hutch, set them on the dining room table and began to polish each piece. The girl was in the library. He could not locate the boy or the dog.
This was his third week watching the family. He had staggered the dates and times so as not to arouse suspicion and changed surveillance vehicles frequently. Last week, he had rented a truck from a moving company and parked in front of a house for sale adjacent to the Quest estate. The week before his vehicle of choice had been a cargo van which he had disguised with magnetic signage to appear to be in the pest control business. His last visit had been eight o’clock yesterday morning. Red Honda Civic. He’d watched the housekeeper pull out of the garage, then followed her from a distance as she drove the children to school. He knew their names: Emma and Aiden. The dog was Lucy. The housekeeper was Marissa. There was a private security detail. He observed their operatives as they followed Marissa whenever she traveled with the children. They shouldn’t be a problem. He had plenty of experience dealing with such individuals. When he wanted to get to the children, he would.
A black SUV rounded the corner at the foot of the street. The security detail. He had seen the vehicle before at the school, recognized it immediately.
He slipped the binoculars into the glove box, started the car, backed into the driveway of the house next door, then pulled out and drove down the st
reet. The SUV slowed as it passed. The tinted windows of the car prevented him from being seen. He knew they had already noted the license plate and make and model of his car. No matter. They would never see it again.
He would be back tomorrow in a different vehicle at a different time, waiting, watching. Eventually, when the moment presented itself, he would act.
CHAPTER 8
“TEQUILA?” HERNANDO DIAZ asked.
“Thank you,” Ben Egan replied.
The director of the orphanage turned in his chair, opened the glass doors of the bookcase behind him, and removed a bottle of Jose Cuervo and two small glasses. He poured the drinks, then slid a glass across the desk to Egan.
“What you did for Teresa was incredible,” Hernando said. “How did you do it?”
Egan sipped the drink, considered his response. “I was born with the ability,” he lied. “It’s a gift.”
Diaz nodded. “I’ve heard of such things,” he said, “but I thought they were the stuff of movies. Today you proved that isn’t so. You are a miracle man, Mr. Egan. A gifted healer.”
Egan thought of the chaos and destruction he and the late Dr. Jason Merrick had brought to the University of Southern California’s Long Beach Campus days earlier and the death of Taras Verenich, whom he had murdered after teleporting to Costa Rica from the University. He was anything but a gifted healer. Back in the United States he was a DARPA super-soldier, a trained assassin, the living embodiment of the GENESIS project, and now a wanted man. But here in La Fortuna he was merely Ben Egan, an American tourist drifting across the country, living one day to the next. He smiled at his new friend. “Thank you,” he replied.
Hernando sighed. “I’m concerned about my kids, Ben.”
“How so?” Egan asked.
“I don’t think the orphanage can survive for very much longer.”
“What do you mean?”
Hernando stood from his desk, walked to his office window, looked outside. Marcella was watching over the children as they played in the yard. “The wolves are at the door,” he said, “and they’re hungry.”
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