by Carl Rackman
Brad picked up his desk phone in Federal Plaza. “Special Agent Barnes.”
“Good afternoon, Agent Barnes. I hear Alex is recovering.”
Brad gulped before asking, “Who is this?”
“Mr Barnes, I do not have much time.”
“Josephson?”
The man did not reply. “Mr Barnes, I have been helping you. If you know your biblical history, you will be able to solve the other half of the riddle. Joseph’s son.”
Brad racked his brains for an answer. Joseph had two sons. Manasseh and Ephraim.
Ephraim continued, “I never wanted this plot to succeed. I tried to expose the Voyager photos when they received them. Yes, it was I who gave the raw data to a reporter in L.A. It was I who tipped off Ms Woolf and General Petersen with the messages at JPL. And it was I who gave up the shooter’s location to Ferguson at the Capitol. I tried to help you, and I am glad you have succeeded.” He paused. “
Brad couldn’t help himself from blurting out, “Why? Why did you take such a risk to help us?”
“Because I have a…familial connection to you.”
Brad was astonished. “We’re related?”
“No, not you and I, Mr Barnes. Alex. She is my daughter. Aleksandra, to be precise.”
Brad was shocked into silence.
“You turned her to your cause. You seem to have captured her heart as well. You are clearly a force to be respected, Mr Barnes,” said Ephraim.
“I—”
“This battle is over but the war is far from finished. The Council shall remove Samuelson, and I shall oversee his replacement. But I will not allow them to impose their tyranny over the nations when I know there is so much nobility and beauty in the world.”
“Alex?”
“Yes. I’ve watched her. She has given me much pride over the years. Once I was hardened and vicious, like my colleagues. At that time, she impressed me by her ruthless efficiency and power. But recently I’ve had far more reason to be proud. Through her redemption, I have learned to hope.”
Brad was silent.
“I also give you my thanks, Mr Barnes. You may go your way. Look after my Aleksandra. Be on your guard; you are facing an enemy of unimaginable power who will not be bowed for long. Their nature will be revealed in the years to come. But as I said to Mr Ferguson, eyes up – they are coming.”
“But, Mr Josephson—”
“Wait, Mr Barnes. I have something to give you. Write down this number.”
Brad quickly wrote down the long number on a Post-it note on his desk.
“Pass it to the Keymaster. He will know what to do.”
“What is it?”
“Part of my assistance to you, Mr Barnes. Use it wisely.” Ephraim hung up without another word.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Friday, 3rd February 2017
The White House
Ferguson stood awkwardly in his black-tailed dress suit as the President hung the Presidential Medal of Freedom around his neck. It was the first time the Commander-in-Chief had presented a major award, and he seemed to regard it as much his day as Ferguson’s.
“You saved my life, Ken. I don’t forget stuff like that.”
“Thank you, Mr President, though it was my excellent team—”
“Okay, Ken, enough of the team, blah blah blah. I’m thanking you personally. Don’t forget. You ever need anything, you ask the President.”
“Thank you, sir.”
Agent Bradley Barnes received the FBI Medal of Valor and the FBI Star for his grievous wound in the line of duty. The President thanked him warmly. Though Brad was a Democrat at heart, he couldn’t help being impressed.
The President moved on to the next person in line, Special Agent Christine Savage. He pinned the FBI Medal for Meritorious Achievement to her chest but didn’t say very much to her.
Agent John Berkoff received the same award; he couldn’t suppress his huge grin. The President gave him a hearty handshake and also thanked him personally.
Brad remained near the stage, the grin almost hurting his face as they received their deserved recognition for closing the Voyager case and preventing the assassination of their President.
He couldn’t help feeling the absence of the one person without whom they would have roundly failed. But he knew Alex could never go within a million miles of a TV camera if she was to remain their strongest asset.
Alex was already walking, barely two weeks after being stabbed through the lungs with a carbon steel Ka-Bar. She owed her recovery to her own amazing powers of recuperation and the excellent facilities and staff of the Walter Reed National Medical Center at Bethesda Hospital.
Brad walked slowly alongside with one hand on her arm as she held a walking frame. She stopped momentarily and squeezed his hand. He remembered their very first handshake – hers was firm but her eyes were warm. Now she looked at him softly, and he ached for her.
“So how did the gong ceremony go, Barnes?”
“I’m sorry you couldn’t join in the party, Alex. You should’ve had a medal, too.”
“Barnes. I’ve got three Distinguished Service Crosses and eight Silver Stars. I don’t need any more gongs.”
“Really?”
“I was a super soldier for twenty years. I should’ve had more, but they stiffed me a few times over some crap about which border I crossed.”
“Okay, but it would’ve been nice for the President to meet the woman who really saved his life.”
She grimaced. “I’ll pass, thanks.”
“You always know how to make a guy feel good, Alex.”
“It’s my specialty, but I’m out of practice.”
“I love you, you know.”
“Yeah. Thanks, man.” She laughed, and it no longer hurt.
Brad laughed along. Victory felt good, especially as they had both cheated death in the process.
“Hey, Alex, there’s another thing. Ferguson’s quitting the Bureau.”
“Yeah… I guess he couldn’t follow this.”
“Well – there’s more to it than that.”
“Go on.”
Brad hesitated. He wasn’t sure how much Alex knew, or wanted to know about her father. As far as she had told Brad, he was not the most popular character in her life. He went for the half-truth.
“Ferguson’s mystery informant gave us an account number in Switzerland, which Dima hacked. It had a serious sum of money in it, which he decided to confiscate. Permanently. Well, Ferguson is going to look after it.”
“How much is ‘serious’?”
Brad paused for effect. “A lot. A hundred and fifty billion dollars.”
Even Alex was impressed. “A hundred and fifty billion?”
“Ferguson has an idea. He’s offering us all jobs. You, me, Berkoff and Savage, even Dima. We’re going into business for ourselves. Against all enemies, foreign and domestic.”
“Count me in. Though my rates have gone up now I’m private sector. The way of the world, Barnes.”
“Whatever you want, I’m sure he’ll pay it. Ferguson’s calling it Project Sentinel. He wants to be called Control. Nothing psychological there, right? Dima is in, codename Bear. Berkoff wants to be Bedrock, and Savage is Typhoon.”
Alex rolled her eyes. “‘Typhoon’? Shouldn’t she be ‘Librarian’?”
Brad was surprised. “Easy, Alex! She’s not an ass-kicker, but she’s a brilliant agent.”
“Whatever. See, I kinda like Mirage. I’m going to stick. So what about you?”
Brad drew close to Alex so he could feel her proximity, like goosebumps. “I was thinking maybe ‘Voyager’. You know, after ”
Alex rolled her eyes again. “Really, Barnes? Was ‘Pussycat’ already taken?”
Brad feigned hurt. “I know you’re not totally hard, Alex. You’ve got a soft centre. You don’t have to pretend in front of me, y’know.”
She just squeezed his hand again. “Okay, Barnes. But seriously, anything but Voyager. Promise me.”
He laughed. “I promise.”
“Now walk me back to bed. I need to rest up if I’m going to work out how to spend my cut of that hundred and fifty billion dollars!”
Epilogue
Saturday, 18th February 2017
Much Hadham, Hertfordshire, England
The big Jaguar cruised up the crescent of Robert and Fiona Martin’s gravel driveway until it stopped in front of the large, converted farmhouse with a rolling crunch of fat tyres.
The driver got out, walked around to the back door and opened it for the slim, blonde woman with the tan. He proceeded to unload her two suitcases from the boot of the car.
She stood still for a moment, her sun-kissed blonde hair incongruous with the grey, wintry skies overhead. Looking up at the timber beams set into the façade of the imposing house, she gathered her jacket around more closely as a stiff breeze swirled clumps of dead leaves at her feet.
“Callie!”
Tears sprang to her eyes when she saw the smiling face of her brother waving from the door. Behind him, his pretty English wife appeared with a self-conscious wave of her own. The younger of their teenage daughters squeezed past and came running down the path to greet her. She was almost as tall as Callie, and her bear hug was unexpectedly strong.
“Hi, Aunt Callie! You look gorgeous!”
Callie was speechless.
Fiona beckoned her over and called out, “Ron will bring the bags, Callie. Come inside and get warmed up!”
She reached the doorway, and the tears began to flow as she lingered in her brother’s warm hug.
“I can’t ever thank you enough, Robbie.”
“It’s okay, Callie, I gave up keeping score on how many you owe me,” said Robbie.
She sniffed back a laugh.
Fiona gave her an air kiss on both cheeks and disappeared back inside with her daughter.
Robbie and Callie were alone in the hall.
“They lied, Robbie. They lied about the photos. They’re not fakes. They’re-”
“It’s okay, Callie. Leave it. We’re working on a plan. The story just buys us some time. We’ve got a lot of preparation to do.”
Callie wiped away tears. “How did any of this happen?”
Robbie just stroked her cheek. “We’ll figure it out in time. Don’t worry.”
She nodded. “Thanks for getting me out. I don’t know how you did it.”
Robbie laughed. “Thank the ‘special relationship’. The Prime Minister herself asked the President to pardon you. He likes her, you know.”
“Well, whatever you did, I can’t thank you enough.”
Robbie winked. “Anyway – did you have a good flight?”
Callie nodded, reaching for a tissue from her pocket.
“I’ve never been so relieved to take off. I thought right up to the end they might change their minds. I still wonder if they’re going to come and take me back.”
Robbie was grinning.
“What is it?”
“Speaking of flying… there’s someone waiting to see you.”
Callie’s heart almost stopped. “Is it-”
The door to the lounge opened, and the tall figure of Matt stepped out, his own face wrestling between happiness and tears.
Callie’s emotion burst out in thick floods as she ran to grab him. For the first time in months, she finally dared to hope again.
Author’s Note
Voyager is a work of fiction, although it is set in a realistic world and many locations may be familiar to readers. However, even the “real” locations described have been tweaked, if not deliberately misrepresented, to fit the story.
Voyager was written without the cooperation or endorsement of NASA, JPL, DSN or any other real-world organisation that features in the story. Any inaccuracies or mistakes regarding the superlative work done by these entities are down to the author’s fanciful imaginings. This novel should not be regarded as authoritative or even descriptive of the actual workings of any of the agencies, organisations or companies described.
The inner workings and procedures of the security services of Great Britain and the United States are gleaned from internet and other public sources. Any correlation of the events described in Voyager with the real world practices of these agencies is coincidental.
The characters, conversations, situations, conflicts and opinions expressed in the story are pure imagination, and do not reflect any actual person, organisation, agency or programme; any resemblance to actual persons or events is unintentional and purely coincidental.