She navigated the network of roads as Jericho gazed out the window, looking at the industrious citadel that surrounded him. Although he’d seen it from inside the conference room a little over twenty-four hours ago, he hadn’t really appreciated just how big the place was.
Small, six-person transport vehicles with the GlobaTech logo emblazoned on the sides whizzed by in every direction, carrying people wearing a mixture of suits, fatigues, and overcoats to wherever they needed to be.
The roads formed a large square, and branched out to the corners of the compound. In the middle was a helipad, a large SAM site, and units of troops all kitted out in hi-tech uniforms running drills.
“How can you afford all this without any government funding?” asked Jericho, genuinely curious and impressed in equal measure.
Julie laughed. “Don’t ask me, I just work here.”
He glanced across at her. “Yeah, about that… who are you? Really.”
She smiled. “I’ve worked here for the last six years,” she said. “I did a lot of security work in South Africa for the first eighteen months. Then I was brought in to work for Robert Clark.”
“He’s the guy who died in the terrorist attack, right?” asked Jericho, recalling his brief conversation with her yesterday.
She nodded. “He was a good man, and deserved better than that. We had a… bit of an issue a few years back with internal security. Someone who worked in our Finance and Logistics section—something Jackson, I can’t remember his first name—tried to sell land that GlobaTech owned to a terrorist cell. Robert headed up the investigation following Jackson’s death, and uncovered corruption at the highest level. I was part of the unit that took out the trash. Once that was behind us, the company restructured its hierarchy, sought investment from reputable, private sources, and was able to quickly turn itself into what you see today.”
Julie pulled over beside some steps that led up to the main entrance of the building. As they got out of the car, the doors slid open and Josh Winters appeared. Jericho looked over, and then raised an eyebrow at Julie.
“Be nice,” she said. “He’s here to help.”
“Whatever…” he muttered in response, before setting off up the steps.
Josh greeted him with an extended hand, and Jericho stopped, looking first at the hand, then in Josh’s eyes.
“Let me be clear,” he began, “I don’t like being lied to.” Careful to keep his left eye closed, he took Josh’s hand, shaking it firmly. He tightened his grip as Josh tried to pull away, holding him there. “I told you before I wanted you to be straight with me, and you weren’t. If it happens again, I’ll break your fucking neck. Understand?”
Josh smiled, continuing to shake hands and appearing unfazed by the threat. “Jericho, you are one scary bastard, d’you know that?” He laughed, eventually letting go and gesturing to the doors. “Come on, let’s get you looked at. No more games.”
He walked off, and Jericho followed him through the automatic doors. Inside was a large, open lobby. It looked incredible—the floor was dark marble, and there was a large, circular enclosure in the middle, with trees and plants contained within. Along the right wall was a front desk, with two stunning women sitting behind it, working feverishly away at their computers. Behind them, embedded in the wall, was an enormous TV screen with a graphic of the company’s logo spinning round. All the way around, the walls were adorned with framed images showing the work that’d been done, and the things GlobaTech had accomplished over the years. On the left were three glass elevators in a line.
Jericho let out a low whistle as he looked up, unable to mask how impressed he was. The ground floor stretched all the way up to the roof, six floors above them, where two massive chandeliers were hanging. The floors above were square, built around the central column of space.
“This is our primary Research and Development building,” said Josh, looking over his shoulder. “This is where our technology is born and tested. We have a medical facility on the top floor similar to the one you stayed in.”
The ladies behind the desk stopped working and looked up as Jericho walked past, smiling, which he did his best to ignore.
They headed for one of the elevators, and Josh pressed the button, looking up to see it descending toward them. A few moments later, it landed with a ding and the doors opened. Jericho stepped inside first, followed by Julie, and finally Josh, who pressed the button for the top floor.
“You’re not afraid of heights, are you?” asked Josh, as they went up.
“No, why?” replied Jericho.
He shrugged. “Just wondered. I know some people are, and glass elevators aren’t the best if you struggle with such things…”
He shook his head. “I’m fine.”
“Good. We’ll get you checked out, and once we know you’re okay, we’ll discuss how we want you to help us. Now, you’re not gonna get angry and do a runner again, are you?”
Julie smiled, but Jericho frowned. “Do a runner?” he asked, not fully understanding the reference. “I won’t try to leave again, if that’s what you mean.”
“Excellent, because now the CIA knows you’re alive, we’re not just running low on time—we’re out of it.”
The doors opened again and Josh stepped out, heading left down a bright corridor, naturally lit due to the outside wall being made entirely of glass. Jericho and Julie followed, and they all walked through a large set of double doors at the far end.
Inside looked like a futuristic hospital, and expanded back and to the right, running the full length of the corridor they had just walked down. There were hospital beds surrounded by equipment—which reminded Jericho of the one he woke up in—along the left wall, with a glass partition forming a square room in the corner, filled with lab equipment. To the right of that, along the back wall was an area made up of opaque glass, with a sign that announced it was an operating theater.
In the middle of the room were various workstations with an array of computers and paperwork on them. Each was manned by a man or woman wearing a white coat and protective glasses.
Josh led them off to the right, toward the far end. A woman wearing a striped top, navy pencil skirt and heels looked up from behind a desk as they approached, moving round to greet them.
“Mr. Winters,” she said with a smile. “What can we do for you?” She glanced at Jericho, but said nothing.
Josh returned the smile. “Hey Gloria, I need you to give Mr. Stone here a once over. He underwent surgery last week to replace a damaged eye, and he took the bandages off today and experienced—”
“It hurt like hell, ma’am,” Jericho said, stepping forward.
She smiled sympathetically. “I’m sure it did,” she said. “I’m Gloria, and I’m a senior consultant for GlobaTech’s medical research division. If you don’t mind, I’d like to take a closer look at your new eye...”
She turned and walked back to her desk, picking up a penlight. Without much hesitation, Jericho followed her.
“Just take a seat on the edge of the desk,” she said, looking back up.
Jericho did, and Gloria moved in front of him, leaning close and clicking the light on. He tried to relax and ignore what his instincts were telling him about being there. He found himself thinking back to earlier that morning, when Julie was doing the same thing.
“Just stare straight ahead and take some deep breaths,” she instructed.
He did, and she shined the light into his left eye, examining the reactions professionally. After a moment, she moved away again and clicked her light off, placing it on the desk before turning to face Josh.
“Okay, the good news is, the eye has taken—the surgery was a complete success, and it will function perfectly... once it’s adjusted. This, however, takes time, and the bad news is, you removed the bandages sooner than we would’ve liked. There’s some damage to the lens, as it wasn’t strong enough to deal with the light. It’s not permanent, but it will set your recovery back a couple of w
eeks.”
Jericho nodded. “So I’m not going to go blind, or need it removing or anything?” he asked.
Gloria smiled and shook her head. “Not at all. Think of it like it’s first thing in the morning and it’s sunny outside... You can’t open your eyes straight away, because they’ve not been used in a few hours and will be sore when the light hits them. Same thing here, except your eye hasn’t been used ever, so it’ll take a bit longer for it to get used to the natural light.” She moved around her desk, opened one of the drawers and took out an eye patch. She handed it to Jericho. “Wear this for a couple of weeks,” she said. “Then take it off every two hours for thirty minutes for the following week. Then you should be good to go.”
Jericho took it reluctantly, regarding it in his hand before looking first at Julie, then at Josh, before addressing Gloria. “Can I not just wear shades?” he asked.
She shook her head. “Even the most expensive sunglasses you can buy won’t stop enough of the UV radiation the sun emits to actually be effective. You need total blackout for two weeks, otherwise you do risk more severe, longer-lasting damage.”
Jericho looked at Josh, who shrugged back at him. “Doctor’s orders,” he said. “So suck it up. Two weeks is nothing to rock the Nick Fury look, and then you’ll be back to normal.”
Jericho frowned. “Who? Anyway, it’s easy for you to say that—you’re not the one walking around without the ability to judge distances properly. And I wouldn’t be in this position if it wasn’t for you, violating my human rights by giving me this fucking eye without my consent.”
Gloria cleared her throat, and looked uncomfortable. “Mr. Winters, if you don’t need me for anything else, I’ll leave you to it.”
Josh smiled and nodded. “Of course, thanks for your help, Doc.”
She exchanged silent pleasantries with everyone and excused herself.
Josh waited until she was out of earshot before replying. “Technically... yeah, I suppose we did ‘violate your human rights’, as you keep putting it, and I’m sorry about that. But, no offense big guy, it’s time you cracked open a can of Man The Fuck Up juice and got over it. We’re at war, here, okay? And you are a high-ranking target on the enemy’s shit list. We did what was necessary to save your life, and we took an opportunity to do you a favor, in the hope that once you were back to your full strength, you’d maybe do something for us in return.”
Jericho took a deep breath, standing to his full height and width as he buried the flash of anger that just surfaced inside him. He didn’t always care for Josh’s tone, but he could see the man had a point. While he was still trying to piece together everything he’d been told about the last twenty-four hours, he knew enough to understand that he’d need help if he was to stay alive long-term. He was very aware of how the CIA could operate, if need be.
He let out a sigh. “I’m sorry, alright? It’s been a long couple of days, and I’ve had a lot to deal with. I know you stuck your neck out for me, and I’m grateful for it.”
“Forget about it—you have every right to be angry. That’s the only reason we handled you leaving the way we did. So go easy on Julie as well, alright?”
Jericho looked across at her and smiled. “You are pretty bad ass, I’ll give you that.”
Julie smiled back sheepishly. “You have no idea,” she said. “But we’re good.” She held her fist out, which Jericho bumped—the universal gesture of camaraderie among soldiers.
The three of them huddled together in silence for a moment, as Jericho put the eye patch on and adjusted it for comfort. He cracked his neck and looked around, getting use to the sensation of it covering his eye. It was made of leather with a hardened outer surface, and consequently he was more aware of it than he had been about the bandages.
“So here’s the pitch,” said Josh. “All cards on the table. The coming days and weeks are going to be hard. The CIA is unofficially dedicating practically all of their resources to finding Adrian. And now they know you’re alive, they’ll be coming for you too. Whether you like it or not, Jericho, the president of the United States, with the CIA director’s help, orchestrated a terrorist attack on the entire world, covering it up and framing someone else beautifully. Adrian has all the evidence implicating them, which is why he’s a target. He’s working on a plan, but he needs our help running interference to buy him some time.”
Jericho paced away, resting again on the edge of the nearby table and crossing his arms. After speaking with Julius Jones, and having had CIA operatives come after him already, he was inclined to believe, no matter how difficult it might be, what Josh was telling him.
“How can I help?” he asked.
Josh took a step forward, standing next to Julie. “There’s a lot of work to be done,” he said. “Obviously, GlobaTech as a company is doing… well, everything, in an effort to help the people and the countries affected. We’re doing that publicly, and with President Cunningham’s official blessing—for what that’s worth. He hasn’t authorized foreign aid of any kind to assist our efforts, he’s simply playing the savior and saying the U.S. has the best resources, meaning us. Behind closed doors, however, we’re launching our own investigation into what El Presidente is doing in the aftermath of all this—how he intends to capitalize on his grand scheme coming to fruition. Whatever he’s got up his sleeve, I doubt we’re going to like it all that much, and the more we know, the better our chances of stopping him. That’s where you come in.”
“You want me to help investigate the president?” he asked.
Josh shook his head. “My plan is to put together a small team of exceptional soldiers, operating... quietly, shall we say, whose sole purpose is to stop any attempts the president makes to do whatever it is he’s trying to do.”
Jericho stood to his full height, tall and proud. “Count me in,” he said.
Josh smiled. “Excellent. Now, you need to remember something, Jericho: you’re not a soldier anymore. You’re not a CIA asset, you’re not in charge of the D.E.A.D. unit, and you’re not a member of the U.S. Armed Forces. Are we clear? You’re now an independent contractor. You don’t answer to anyone except me and Ryan Schultz. You’re a GlobaTech employee, and we’re a company, not an army. The sooner you realize that, the better off we’ll be, alright?”
Jericho nodded. He’d been a soldier of some kind his whole life. He’d always thought the private sector was for people who either couldn’t make it, or had retired. But looking around, listening to Josh, seeing what the world had become… GlobaTech was more than just a private military contractor—they were keeping the planet together, and were the only ones in a position to protect innocent people from what was coming—whatever that might be. How could he not want to be a part of that?
“When do we start, Josh?” he asked, smiling.
“Right now,” he replied. He stepped to one side, nodding to Julie. “Meet the other member of the team—Julie Fisher.”
She smiled and Jericho nodded once. “Figures,” he said. “Who else?”
“There’s another guy en route,” said Josh. “You’ll like him. For now, it’ll just be the three of you. I’ll be providing support from here for the time being, while I can.” He glanced at Julie. “Would you be so kind as to show Mr. Stone to his quarters?” He turned back to Jericho. “You can stay on base for now, if that suits?”
Jericho nodded. “Works for me. I don’t have a permanent residential address. I stayed on base with D.E.A.D, and before that I moved around different army bases ever since I was a kid, so I’ve never needed one.”
“Perfect. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I’ve got a meeting with Schultz. I’ll leave you both to it.” He flashed a smile at Julie as he left the room.
Julie watched him leave, and then turned to Jericho. “So, do you wanna buy a drink?”
He frowned. “It’s not even lunchtime…” he said.
She shook her head and laughed. “What’s your point?”
He thought for a moment, and th
en shrugged. “No point, I guess. But I think after everything, you owe me at least one beer!”
She laughed. “Dream on, big guy. First round’s on you.” She poked his shoulder and then walked off, leaving him standing alone in the room.
He looked around for a moment, and then headed for the door. He shook his head and smiled to himself. “Hope you know what you’re doing…” he whispered, walking out of the room and down the corridor, after Julie.
WASHINGTON, D.C, USA
April 20th, 2017
08:57 EDT
The black stretched limousine slowed to a stop outside the front doors of the White House. The driver got out and opened the rear door, holding it as Director Matthews climbed out, standing tall and straightening his military uniform, absently dusting his shoulders and feeling the four stars beneath his fingers.
He strode through the entrance, past security, and down the hall to the left, heading toward the West Wing. He had been summoned to a meeting with the president less than an hour ago, and he’d headed straight there from Langley.
The corridors were bustling with noise and activity, and as he walked through the building, almost everyone he passed stopped and stared.
He entered the West Wing, and was greeted by Gerald Heskith, the White House chief of staff. He was a short man, who looked older than he was—the wrong side of forty with some excess baggage on the waist. He’d been Cunningham’s main advisor throughout the campaign, and many would argue he was the main reason they won. Consequently, he was the obvious choice for the position.
“Tom, good of you to come so quickly,” said Heskith, extending his hand.
“Of course,” replied Matthews, shaking it firmly.
“Come on, he’s waiting for you.”
Matthews followed Heskith through the offices and into the waiting area outside the Oval Office.
“Can you please tell the president that CIA Director Matthews is here for him?” Heskith said to the receptionist. She nodded and picked up the phone, dialing an extension and briefly relaying the message.
D.E.A.D. Till I Die: An Action Thriller (GlobaTech Book 1) Page 9