Conspiracy (Alex and Cassidy Book 4)

by Nancy Ann Healy

  “I don’t really know,” Alex confessed. “Seems the former first lady will be in Boston late this evening on her way back to Washington. Wants to say hello tomorrow before she leaves.”

  “You’re headed to Natick?” Cassidy surmised.

  “More specifically, Boston. I’ll be here tonight, Cass. I’m not leaving until morning. You leave tomorrow after school so it…”

  Cassidy stepped in front of Alex and kissed her on the cheek. “It’s okay, Alex.”

  “No, it isn’t,” Alex said. “I promised Speed I would be here when you all left.”

  “He’ll understand.”

  “Maybe.”

  “He will,” Cassidy said. “Just spend some time with him tonight.”

  Alex nodded. “I suck.”

  Cassidy chuckled. “No, you work. Dylan needs to understand that, Alex. He’s familiar with work commitments.”

  Alex felt the unintended sting of Cassidy’s words. Cassidy had meant the statement as reassurance. To Alex, the statement smacked of Christopher O’Brien’s parenting style. That reminded her of her father. Neither were models she held in high regard by parental standards. She pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed.

  Cassidy mentally slapped herself. “Alex,” she reached out to her wife. Mackenzie started babbling and squirmed to leave Alex’s embrace for Cassidy’s. Cassidy caught her and chuckled.

  “See?” Alex said.

  “See what?” Cassidy asked.

  “She’s not even a year old and look.”

  Cassidy laughed. “You need to stop comparing yourself to anyone else,” Cassidy said flatly. “And, you need to stop beating yourself up over work.” Cassidy saw Alex about to protest and raised an eyebrow. “I mean it.”

  Alex flopped into the rocking chair. She hated disappointing Dylan. Cassidy had reminded Alex often that change was part of life and so was learning to deal with disappointment. Parenting meant navigating the minefields of both. In Alex’s mind, Dylan had suffered enough loss and disappointment for a lifetime. He hadn’t even turned ten yet. She was acutely aware that Dylan saw her as his hero, and she never wanted to let him down. Lately, she felt as if she had been walking in the footsteps her father had left. There always seemed to be some last minute pressing commitment that she had to attend to. Alex looked up at Cassidy. Cassidy was focused on Mackenzie. Mackenzie was twirling Cassidy’s hair between her fingers, giggling at her mother. Alex watched for a moment and smiled.

  “What was it like?” Alex asked softly.

  Cassidy turned her attention to Alex. “What?”

  “Having a dad who wanted to spend time with you,” Alex said. “I mean, what was that like?”

  Cassidy regarded Alex thoughtfully. She placed Mackenzie on the floor with one of her toys and sat on Alex’s lap. “It was wonderful,” she said softly. Alex nodded sadly. Cassidy put her arms around Alex’s neck. “But, Alex, he was away a lot too. I guess I just don’t remember that part. Maybe that’s because he died when I was still so young.”

  “Cass…”

  “No, it’s okay,” Cassidy said. “I just remember the times he was with me, you know? It’s like I forgot about the times I missed him. I miss him every day. I’ve thought a lot about it lately.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah.”

  “How come?” Alex wondered.

  “I’m not really sure that I know,” Cassidy admitted. “Maybe it’s because we are talking about when to have another baby. Maybe,” Cassidy paused and took a deep breath. “Maybe it’s because sometimes I really miss teaching.”

  Alex narrowed her gaze and pulled away slightly from Cassidy. “Do you want to go back to teaching?”

  “Someday. Yes, I think so.”

  Alex nodded. “If you want to…”

  Cassidy smiled. She could tell where Alex’s thoughts had turned. “Right now, I want to be home with our kids,” she said. “That really is what I want. That doesn’t mean that I don’t miss teaching. Sometimes….Alex, sometimes I need a little time too—to explore other things.”

  Alex sighed heavily. “I’m sorry, Cass.”

  “Sorry? No,” Cassidy chuckled. “You are not listening to me, Alex. You’re just hearing my words and taking them to mean what you think they should. You aren’t listening to what I am really saying.”

  “Go on.”

  “I’m telling you that you need to stop thinking that your work demands somehow marginalize your parenting. It doesn’t. I promise. You spend time with all of us whenever you can—quality time. That’s what Dylan and Kenzie will remember…and whoever else might come along,” Cassidy winked.

  “You know what I wish sometimes?” Alex asked.

  “That I would make tacos more often?”

  Alex laughed. “That too,” she said. “I wish that I knew what it was like to miss my father that much. I just question what he would think all of the time or why he did the things he did. I don’t have those memories.”

  “That’s not true, love,” Cassidy said. Alex looked at Cassidy in confusion. “Every time we go to Boston you think of him. Every time you build a model with Dylan, you recall him afterward. Think about those things more,” Cassidy suggested as she placed a tender kiss on Alex’s lips.

  “Bahhh!” Mackenzie’s melodious voice carried through the room. “Moooo,” she laughed. Alex and Cassidy both looked down at their daughter. Mackenzie looked up to her parents’ inquisitive gazes. “Mooooo!” she repeated the sound.

  Alex moved Cassidy and sprang to her feet. “Kenzie! That’s the cow. What does the cow say?” she asked excitedly.

  “Bahhhh!” was Mackenzie’s reply.

  Cassidy broke out into laughter. “She is definitely yours,” she laughed. “So many languages already—doesn’t get that from me.”

  Alex pursed her lips. “Do you pass any farms on your way to the cabin?”

  “What? Probably. Why?”

  Alex picked Mackenzie up and looked at Cassidy seriously. “Maybe if she sees a real cow…”

  Cassidy covered her face and shook her head. Alex was relentless. It was utterly adorable to Cassidy. She rolled her eyes playfully, stepped up to Alex and kissed her. “I’ll see what I can do about the farm animals. You see what you can do about teaching her how to do dishes and clean her room before she reaches her teen years, Alfred.”

  “Ha-ha,” Alex retorted. Cassidy winked and started to leave the room. “Hey, Cass?” Cassidy turned back. “Thanks.”

  Cassidy looked adoringly at Alex holding Mackenzie and nodded. “I’ve told you before,” Cassidy began, “I married a butler for a reason.” She left the room smiling. If only she realized how lucky these kids really are.

  ***

  Fallon swirled the beer in his bottle while he listened to Hawkins. He still was not certain what to make of the agent. Who was she, really? Why had Jane Merrow sent her to Tate? Why did Tate think she should work with him?

  “Where have you been hiding?” Hawk asked Brady.

  “I wasn’t hiding. You don’t have to hide where I was. It’s that hidden,” Brady joked. Fallon looked at Brady with disdain. “Skeptical, Brian?”

  “Understatement,” Fallon replied.

  Brady nodded. “All right, just remember that I suggested a double,” Brady said as he raised his glass of scotch.

  Hawk took a sip from her glass of water and smirked. “So? Daniels is here in town meeting with some interesting people.”

  “Not that interesting,” Brady said. “Not that surprising either.”

  “No?” Fallon asked. “I suppose where you have been is more intriguing.”

  “It’s definitely a bit more difficult to believe. Let’s save all of that for later, shall we?” Brady suggested. “Daniels is no surprise. You’re following the wrong leads, kids.”

  “How so?” Hawk asked.

  Brady swirled his scotch again and sniffed it appreciatively. He took a small swallow and savored the burn. “Daniels is here on business.” />
  “Yes,” Hawk agreed. “But whose business? And, what is on the agenda?”

  “I think you already know that. They want to choke out MyoGen. They’ll do it any way that they can. If they can’t stop the merger with Carecom in the board room, they’ll seize it another way.”

  “What other way?” Fallon asked. Brady’s rueful smile made Fallon’s stomach turn violently.

  “You think they’ll use a heavy hand?” Hawk asked.

  Brady’s expression grew dim. “What do you know about MyoGen, Hawk?”

  Hawk shrugged. “Officially or unofficially?” she asked. Brady remained silent and waited for her to answer her own rhetorical question. Hawk groaned. “Officially, the cutting edge of pharmaceutical development, not just experimental drugs, the process of manufacturing those drugs.”

  “And, unofficially?” Brady asked.

  “Experimental programs for the CIA including sleep deprivation studies, altering sleep patterns, the utilization of drugs for interrogation purposes, genetic engineering for bioweapon applications.”

  “Long list,” Brady interjected. He set his scotch on the table and sat back in the booth. “You’ve heard of The MK-Ultra Project.”

  “Mind control?” Fallon scoffed. “What does that have to do with MyoGen and Carecom?”

  “Agent Fallon, what does everyone fear the most?” Brady questioned him.

  Fallon looked at Brady curiously. “Death,” he answered.

  “Good answer. Think about this for a minute,” he said. “For years, people have feared a nuclear accident or attack. Now, we find chemical and biological warfare at the center of political debate. The media latches onto it, just like they latch onto new designer drugs, new breakthroughs in medicine. Disease, Agent Brady, potential infection, a potential disaster is what the public is fed. MyoGen, Carecom, Rand—what do they do? They provide a solution, right? It might be for profit, but they provide the public with some assurances that there is hope when these infections strike. The public might claim to hate them. They might mistrust them, but they depend on them. We need them. They provide the perfect cover for the development of the ultimate weapon.”

  Hawk scratched her brow. “Are you saying that MyoGen is working on mind control?”

  Brady laughed. “The entire complex is working on mind control, Hawk—yours, mine, everyone’s. That’s what we do, right? It’s always about control, who has it and how they will use it. What better way to maintain control than to control thought itself?”

  “That’s insane. No one can do that,” Fallon said.

  “Really?” Brady challenged the agent. “You don’t think people can be programmed, Agent Fallon?”

  “No.”

  Brady chuckled. “Well, whether or not you believe it, Agent Fallon is really of no consequence. The fact is that most people in our field do believe it works. They believe that enough that they have invested trillions of dollars in research over the last century. Billions in altering perception any way that they can. You want to know why MyoGen is so key. Ask yourself where the power lies, Fallon? Control perception and you have gained control.”

  “I don’t…”

  “The details aren’t the important part, Fallon,” Brady said. “The perception is. Ivanov sees MyoGen as The Holy Grail. MyoGen is not a new entity. It only has a new name. Perception, Agent Fallon, is everything. MyoGen’s mother was Drake Industries, sister to Rand. Once upon a time, they were DR Development, Drake, and Rand, Agent Fallon. The two split in 1973. Why? Perception. Just two months later, the CIA destroyed the files on MK-Ultra, most of them anyway.”

  “So, Ivanov wants to merge them again?” Hawk asked.

  “Ivanov wants what MyoGen has. Even I don’t know what that is,” Brady said. “I only know that the work continued at MyoGen.”

  “Mk-Ultra?” Fallon asked.

  “In essence. It was called Project Lynx—second sight. Carecom has eaten away at the complex slowly,” Brady explained. “Rand has still had a healthy hand in MyoGen. Don’t fool yourself. If Alex succeeds, she’ll be cutting off more than a funnel to monetary assets.”

  “You’re saying that Alex and Krause don’t know about this program at MyoGen,” Hawk surmised.

  “That’s exactly what I am saying.”

  “How is that possible? Nothing can stay that well-hidden,” Fallon argued.

  Brady chuckled. “You’d be surprised what people will believe,” he said. “They see what they want to see, Agent Fallon. They believe what they are told. They just have to choose who to believe. Perception equals control. Control equals power. People do not like to lose their power,” he said.

  “What are you thinking?” Hawk asked. “They’ll discredit Alex somehow? She’s smarter than that, Steven. You know that as well as anyone.”

  “Intellectually? Yes. They will hit her full force, implicate her by leveraging people’s darkest fears,” Brady said.

  “Fuck,” Hawk mumbled. “They’re going to attack here.” Brady nodded.

  “Attack with what?” Fallon asked.

  “What people fear, Agent Fallon. Imagine an explosion that’s fallout is more explosive than all the flames it evokes. Imagine, your research is the reason for thousands of deaths. Imagine you lose everything. The people you love, the business you’ve built, and the identity you have created for yourself. That is how they will strike.”

  “When?” Hawk asked.

  “When we least expect it.”

  “We need to see Alex,” Hawk determined.

  Brady shook his head. “Someone else will deliver her the message, Hawk. That isn’t our role.”

  “Then what is?” Fallon asked. “We have to stop…”

  “We have to change the perception, Fallon.”

  “How do you suggest we do that?” Fallon asked.

  “We visit Rand and make a contribution.”

  “I was afraid you’d say that,” Hawk said. “When do we leave?”

  “Have another drink,” Brady suggested. “We have more to discuss before he arrives.”

  “Who?” Fallon asked

  Brady smiled deviously. “Ah, Agent Fallon, that is a question even I cannot truly answer.”

  Chapter Six

  March 1st

  “What is this place?” Eleana asked Jonathan Krause. “You really think there is something here?” she asked skeptically.

  Krause took in their surroundings methodically. The building seemed to be whispering something to him. He had found it curious how easily he had gained information from the locals. How, he wondered, had Claire Brackett not been able to acquire the same knowledge? Claire might have been cocky, but Krause would never have denied her abilities to leverage difficult situations. Claire Brackett was an adept agent, a master manipulator with more than one formidable weapon in her arsenal. He’d been rolling a number of possibilities over in his mind.

  “There is something here,” he said quietly. He looked at the paint peeling ceiling, allowing his eyes to scan over it slowly. Krause listened to every subtle sound. His eyes fell to the floor which was littered with old papers, bent metal framed desks, and remnants of paint that had peeled and fallen like snowflakes. Krause thought it the perfect setting for an apocalyptic film. He momentarily entertained the notion that he might be in one and he chuckled.

  “Jonathan?” Eleana’s voice stirred Krause from his thoughts.

  Krause turned, his hand still hovering over his sidearm. “The question isn’t if there is something here. I just wonder…”

  “What?”

  “If what we are looking for is looking for us.”

  “Do you think we are bait?” she asked.

  “I don’t know. I think we were led here by whoever Claire has been tracking.”

  “Do you think she’s here?” Eleana wondered.

  “No. Something tells me Claire gave up the ghost.”

  “Because of us?”

  “I don’t know,” Krause admitted. “It just…I feel it….Some
thing is not right.”

  Eleana followed Krause closely, nearly walking in his footsteps. She could see them. His boots left a print in the dust and paper as he walked through the large room. She followed his line of sight to a narrow hallway a few paces away. It was dark. Eleana imagined that at one time this structure had been impressive. The locals had indicated that it had once served as a school. Eleana caught a glimpse of a paper lying in the debris. It commanded her attention immediately. Little existed here in any discernable form. There were a few signs that indicated exits, and there was the furniture, but otherwise nothing that pointed to what had occurred here. Had it been abandoned as a result of force or left for some benign reason to fade into oblivion? She crouched down and retrieved the paper at her feet. She studied the faded writing:

  Первое главное управление

  16 июня 1992

  Реферировано

  Проект Монарх

  “Jonathan?” Krause turned and accepted the paper from her hand. Eleana watched the crease in his forehead deepen. “This is a KGB document,” she said. He looked up and met her gaze.

  “First Chief Directorate? Project Monarch? Jonathan, Monarch has never been proven…”

  Krause nodded and tossed the paper back on the floor. Project Monarch had been billed over many years as the hysterical idea of conspiracy theorists. Several notable people had claimed to have been part of the sub-project under the CIA’s infamous MK-Ultra Project. Krause let his eyes roam over the floor for any other discernable documents. He had been in the business long enough to know that almost every theory that gained traction had some roots in fact. Facts might be distorted, even created, but if a claim gained traction, it had been allowed to for some reason. Either someone wanted to create a distraction from a viable program or someone determined that some fragment of the truth in public discourse would benefit their objective. Both programs had supposedly been abandoned in the 1970s. Krause groaned inwardly. His eyes narrowed in on a paper crumpled by the last desk inside the room. He moved to retrieve it.

  Первое главное управление